Mayday! Mayday!

The ship is going down! (She/They) (Lv.23) (2001)

[drowned-captain]

I haven’t forgotten about you guys! The next chapter is still in progress (it’s gonna be a big ‘un). I refuse to be one of those writers who just never comes back! A bit slow because I started a new job (you can probably guess what it is if I told you it’s 3-4 12hr shifts a week) BUT IM STILL HERE I PROMISE <3

[drowned-captain]

The Rebound - Pitfighter! Vi x Fem! Reader - Ch. 6

A/N: I am so sorry for the delay! I was focused on my studies. I took the exam, then I couldn’t focus on writing because I was too worried about whether I passed or not. I found out yesterday that I did pass! Having said that, please allow me a few extra days for the next chapter than my typical 7-10 day posting routine so I can prepare myself for my job. Once all that is taken care of, things should go back to normal. I strive to give my audience quality writing rather than trying to speed through it and have the story suffer. I know that this chapter is a bit shorter, but I wanted to give you guys at least something! Thank y’all so much for your patience <3 - Captain

MDNI (18+ only).

TW// Mature themes like violence, drinking, drug use, infidelity, mean/triggering thoughts, toxic codependency

Word Count: ~3.8k

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You can’t recall when the hell you got home last night. It was almost like you woke up from a dream that was too realistic— the kind when you wake up and briefly forget where or who you are. An annoying, dull headache brushes against your skull as you kick your bedsheets off of yourself. You groaned, slowly sitting up as your headache lightly pulsed. It would have made you want to smack yourself for drinking too much last night, but every beat of pain came with fond memories of your night with Vi.

You chuckle to yourself at how dorky the two of you probably looked on the dance floor before you managed to grab some drinks. You stand up, putting a hand to your mouth to stifle a gag. You groggily walk to your bathroom and drink from the faucet to tame your nausea and hangover. You pick your head up and look at yourself in the mirror, feeling nasty for not at least washing your face before crashing out into the bed. Your eyes quickly catch some discoloration on your neck, your heart feeling like it stopped. 

You squint at the mark, your stomach flipping in a way that completely overpowered the nausea. It was faint. Bruiselike. Just enough to make your brain jump to conclusions. You put both your hands on your head, trying to squeeze out any ounce of memory that might have brought this upon yourself. You and Vi were dancing pretty closely… Did the two of you put gentle hands on each other? Well yes, how else can you steady each other after bottomless drinks? Was it your hand that tugged her closer to you by her belt loop? No, no. You did that because someone tried to dance between you guys. Her face got pretty darn close to yours. But how else were the two of you supposed to hear each other? Was dancing always that intimate? It couldn’t have been from anyone else! Vi would never let someone else do that; she was so serious about mending the friendship after all. Is it normal for new friends to be that way?

You press a finger to it, expecting the soreness of a love bite, but all you feel is a dry and chalky residue. Your brows furrow as you smear it.

‘What the hell…?’

Then it clicks. It was most likely a smudge from Vi’s gloves when she grabbed your neck to steady herself mid-laugh on the way home. You exhale, half in relief and half in exasperation, before shaking your head at yourself. You then peel off last night’s clothing to freshen up and to go about your day.

You felt refreshed after a much needed shower. It didn’t completely douse out the hangover, but you still felt a lot better. You catch a glimpse of your reflection again: bare s/c) skin, damp hair, and tired eyes. You lean in once more, a tiny smile forming in the corner of your mouth. Just tired eyes. For once, you didn’t see hollow sadness in them; they were just tired from last night’s shenanigans. 

Most mornings were the worst. You wake up groggy despite sleeping most of the day, your face hurting from constantly crying, and feeling the weight of grief shackled to your ankles. But this time, nothing.

You blink, almost startled by your realization. Partying with Vi last night, laughing until your ribs hurt, stumbling in the streets afterwards— it had taken up all the space in your mind. There had not been any room left for reminiscing about your ex. No bitter flashbacks, no ache in your chest, no empty feeling gnawing at you the moment you woke up.

Vi was good for you. With her, you didn’t have to think about the past that much.

You ate some of your subpar leftovers for breakfast, or lunch, whatever time of day it was. You then linger in your apartment longer than necessary. There’s nothing stopping you from heading out; It’s not like you have any real obligations other than wondering about how much more cogs are needed for you to make ends meet by the end of the month. But you hesitate anyways, unsure of what exactly you’re waiting for. Your fingers tap against your thighs idly as your eyes flicker toward your door.

You could go find Vi. You know where she lives after all.

The thought comes so quickly and so naturally that it catches you off guard. You were not much for drinking or nightlife before, but now? You woke up feeling like crap, but it wasn’t the same kind of misery that used to linger after you spent countless nights dwelling on the past. Your ex hadn’t crossed your mind once since last night. But the more you stay put, the more memories of them you recall. You stare at the floor, trying to preserve what memories you had of last night before the haunting of the past smothers all that goodness. You have to make new memories– better memories—and it will start with Vi.

Vi is good for you.

Before you could even move, there was knocking on your door. It made you jump.

When you pull the door open, Vi is standing there with her hands in her pockets. Her expression is relaxed like she belongs there.

“Morning, (Y/n),” she grins, “You look alive. I half expected you to be crawling on the floor to get to the door.”

You blink, caught between relief and confusion. “Vi! What are you doing here?”

Vi tilts her head, her bangs coming off her face. “Last night you asked me to come by tomorrow. Tomorrow is now. You said something about needing help selling shit, or something. Don’t tell me you don’t remember?”

You frantically search for any recollection of that conversation. Nope. Nothing.

Vi shakes her head, “ I knew you were out of it last night, but I didn’t think you were that bad,” she laughs. 

You laugh with her, albeit from confusion and not because it’s funny to you. “I’m gonna be honest with you, Vi, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Vi shakes her head once again with a smile, looking down at the floor before looking back at you. “So… you want me to come back later then?”

“No!” you protest quickly. You clear your throat. “No, no. I actually do need to get rid of some stuff. I didn’t have enough time to sell everything I wanted yesterday.”

Vi leans against the doorway before saying, “Alright, let’s get to it then. I told Loris to find a good spot, so once we find him we’ll get started. Where’s the stuff? I can carry it for you.”

Your eyes dart to the large bag by the door. It was in the exact same spot as you tossed it yesterday. Vi follows your gaze, leaning forward a bit to get a better look. You look at her as she leans forward, spotting the pink roots of her hair. You hum, curiosity piqued. You’re glad she came.

Vi watches you as you grab the bag on the floor. You pretend not to notice her trying to take a peek at the rest of your apartment before you let yourself out. She takes your bag from your hands, not giving you a chance to protest.

As the two of you walked, you kept looking at her. Especially her hair.

 “If you stare any longer, my face will have a hole burnt through it,” she jokes, her powder blue eyes meeting yours, “but if I have something on my face, you better not let me walk around with it.”

“Oh! Sorry. I didn’t know that you were a natural pinkette,” you explain, your face warm from being caught, “I don’t see a lot of Zaunites with pink hair. At least not natural, from what I can tell.”

Vi clears her throat, looking away. “Ah, yeah. I prefer my hair black right now.”

“I like your black hair too. I am curious about what you look like with your natural hair color, though.”

Vi pauses before flashing you a playful smile. “Stay curious.”

You exhale through your nose, rolling your eyes.

Vi wasn't sure if she felt guilty about lying to you. You never actually asked her to come by. But what was she supposed to do? Let her new friend struggle to make ends meet? The thought didn’t sit right with her. Besides, selling things was better than sitting around wondering when she’d be able to fight again. 

Yeah, lying to a friend is shitty, but she knew that her loss and absence in the arena probably took a hit on your pocket. At least by helping you sell your things, you are guaranteed to end the day with a pocketful of cogs. But there was another part of Vi that still felt that ache in her pride. You wouldn’t have had to resort to getting rid of your stuff if she was a better fighter. She felt a sense of purpose to have people– especially her friends like you and Loris– to be able to rely on her for something. That sense of purpose—of being needed by someone, of being useful—was something she hadn’t felt in a long time. For all the mistakes she’d made, maybe this could be her chance to do something right. At least for you.

Vi hadn't expected to become attached to anyone so quickly. But here she was, silently caring about how you were doing, even if she isn’t showing it right now. She wasn't used to letting people in—certainly not someone like you, who seemed so... different from the rough edges of Zaun. Yet, when she saw you that first night, when you seemed so downcast and out of place, something about that vulnerability struck a chord deep inside her. 

You needed her.

There was a HUGE part of Vi that was drawn to you because she desires being needed. It wasn't just the fighting, drinking, and amnesia from the past that she craved—it was the idea that she could be the one to help you, to fix something that had been broken. But every time she looked at you, she felt that strange, gnawing feeling deep in her chest. It wasn’t pity. It wasn’t sympathy. It was something else. Something that made her feel like maybe she could distract herself from her own mess if she focused on yours. 

Her gaze lingers on you. She has failed the people who were dearest to her time and time again. But you’re still here. She fucked up with you twice, but you’re still here.

‘Let’s do it right this time.’ Your voice echoes in her head. She has never been granted forgiveness that quickly. Not by her own sister or by Caitlyn. But you did.  

However, she couldn't shake the thought that maybe she was doing this for the wrong reasons. Maybe she just wanted to feel like she was still someone worth relying on. Someone who mattered. But she wouldn’t admit that. Not to herself. Not to you.

You’re an escape to all that she has done wrong. You, (Y/n), will be everything she has done right. 

*

The two of you meet up with Loris by the heart of Zaun. If you were here alone, you would rather get yanked by your eyelashes than attempt to sell anything by yourself in this area. The place is gritty, bustling with people who’d either sell their grandmother for a cog or buy something without blinking an eye. 

“I’m glad you two are here with me,”  you say, giving Loris a small smile as you settle your bag onto the ground. You don’t want to look like you’re overreacting, but the weight of the situation is heavy in your chest. “I really appreciate it.”

Vi rolls her eyes, but the smirk she gives you is softer than usual. “You don’t have to thank us,” she grumbles. “We’re just helping you out, that’s all. Don’t get all sappy or I might start calling in favors and make you owe me your life or something.”

“Seriously?” you laugh, “How could I not thank you? It feels wrong not to.”

“You’re giving me cavities here, cupcake,” she jokes, nudging you with her shoulder. Her strength is evident, making you stumble back a few steps, but you don’t mind it at all.

“Cupcake?” you scoff, “That’s what you called me that other night.”

Vi stiffens, a look of shame crossing her face. “Oops, sorry. It’s a dumb nickname. I shouldn’t be calling you that. I used to call my—”

“I kind of like it. But don’t overuse it, alright?” you interrupt, pulling a pair of pants from the bag. Vi laughs dryly, acknowledging your words with a nod.

When she smiles at you, when she makes that sharp retort or that dry joke, you find yourself laughing without thinking. It feels so damn good, like you’ve been holding your breath for too long and now you can finally exhale. But at the same time, there’s something unsettling about it. You know you’re not looking at Vi like a person, at least not entirely. You’re looking at her as a way to escape, to forget what you’ve been trying to outrun for so long. The nagging memories of your ex, the broken promises, the pain that’s still lurking beneath the surface—it all fades when Vi’s around. 

These thoughts begin to haunt you because you don’t want to need anyone that way. You don’t want to rely on someone else just to feel okay, just to fill that emptiness inside you. You know deep down that it can get unhealthy very quickly, that leaning on Vi so much is only going to cause problems. But for now, at this moment, it feels safe. Maybe that’s enough.

Loris and Vi help you out with selling some of your valuables. Their intimidation factor made you feel secure— it was like having two scary dogs. People were more willing to give you a fair price for things rather than trying to haggle with you to lower the prices so much. The negative side about it, however, was that most people seemed too afraid to approach. Only the people who looked somewhat more well-off gave you a chance. 

“Loris, can you try smiling?” you ask him, “I feel like we’re a bit too scary.”

“I’m jollier than Vi on a winning streak,” he remarks. “Trust me, kid, it's not me.”

He gestures towards Vi, who is glaring down every passerby with her arms crossed. She probably doesn’t mean to, but she’s scowling.

You take a few side steps towards her. She looks at you, her face relaxing. “Hey, (Y/n).”

You put a hand on her arms, encouraging her to unfold them. “You can relax, you know.”

“I always look like this!” She looks down at herself.

“If you keep it up, you’ll get wrinkles.”

Vi couldn’t help but chuckle at your words. She tries a more relaxed posture, putting her hands in her pockets and leaning her weight on one hip. “Is this better, ma’am?” she teases, giving you the fakest toothy smile you have ever seen.

You laugh, bumping her with your hip. “You know what I mean!”

The dimming light of Zaun’s sky was casting long shadows across the crowded streets. It made everything appear colorful; the neon lights highlighted concrete surfaces in greens, yellows, and purples. You stood on the edge of the marketplace, your arms crossed tightly over your chest, as you watched people bustle around, haggling and shouting, their voices a blend of desperation and excitement. The weight of the day pressed against you, and you found yourself feeling smaller than usual within all the chaos. 

Vi rummaged through your bag of items. There wasn’t too much left, but she was determined to help you get rid of the last of your stuff. She and Loris were the kind of people who made this kind of thing look effortless, while you had to fight yourself to not crumble under the weight of it all. 

“You can relax, you know,” Vi teases, making you eat your words, “You gonna stare at the ground all night?”

“I’m just tired,” you muttered, glancing at her.

“I think we sold enough,” Loris chimes in, “We could walk you home, (Y/n).”

Vi looks at Loris, then back at you before saying, “Wait! You don’t have to leave now. We didn’t get a chance to go out and do something else. Oh, but… if you’d rather go home we could catch up tomorrow or something?”

You didn’t catch the desperate undertone of her voice. Something, or rather someone caught your eye. A figure, standing on the opposite side of the street. You froze when you saw them. Someone you wished stayed in the past.

Your ex.

They stood with their back to you, chatting with other people. They were completely unaware of your presence. The sight of them, so familiar and so distant, made a lump form in your throat. All the happiness of being with Vi and Loris that you enjoyed was quickly overshadowed by your ex lover’s very presence.

You hadn’t seen them since you kicked them out. The way things ended between you two was still too fresh to process. You weren’t ready to completely process it. It didn’t help that they looked the same as when you saw them last: casual, laid-back, and oblivious to the weight of the pain and suffering they left on you. They had the same mannerisms as they sold a box of their special shimmer to the people who have fallen on hard times. You turned a blind eye to this behavior in the past, but seeing it happen again before you made all the feelings of guilt, shame, and disgust well up in your chest. You were just as shitty of a person as they were for looking past that. 

The image of their empty vials of shimmer lying about the ring flashes through your head. Seeing Vi struggle to fight back. The image of her laying on the floor. Now with the knowledge that it was their damn formula that they sold to The Pit, and the knowledge that they indirectly nearly ended Vi’s fighting career was enough to make you nauseous. 

“(Y/n)?” Loris speaks, sensing the shift in your demeanor. You looked like you were about to pass out. Now Vi turned her attention to you. 

“Hey,” Vi called out, walking up next to you. Her voice was soft. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer. You were too fixated on watching your ex.

 Without thinking, you took a step back. Your wide (e/c) eyes unblinking, your gaze never leaving them.

Vi tracked your movements. “You alright?” she asked, her voice filled with concern.

They never even looked your way.

Vi, noticing your stiffened posture, stepped in front of you. She looked back to see who or what you might be looking at, but she couldn’t tell where exactly. She faced you again, softly putting her hands on your shoulders. “Hey, let’s get out of here.” Her voice was far from stern or harsh. It was gentle. Nurturing. 

You swallowed hard, still swimming in the feelings that whirlpooled around you. 

“They didn’t… They don’t even… They don’t even know I’m here…” you muttered under your breath, fighting the stink of a sad and angry sting in your eyes.

Vi gently nudges you, her expression serious, “(Y/n), look at me.”

Your eyes focused on hers rather than looking past her.

“Let’s just get away from here, yeah? Come on.” She turns you around, letting Loris grab your things before the three of you disappear into a quieter area. 

*

The alleyway was silent except for the distant sounds of Zaun’s hustle. Loris stood guard while Vi comforted you. She was trying to coax you into a better mood, but everything felt heavier tonight. You already cried on your walk to this area, but now you were just pissed. You were so fucking angry at yourself for letting their presence take away the glee of being with your two friends. You were mad because you didn’t expect this whole situation to hit you that hard. Most importantly, the brief self-reflection about you ever being involved with someone so distasteful made you feel like the dumbest thing to ever exist. You were fuming.

“Come on…” she says softly, almost pleading. Her voice is higher in pitch. This was an unspoken challenge wrapped in warmth to her.

You fold your arms, turning your body slightly away from her. You hated her seeing you like this. You felt like a child. You had a scowl on your lips.

Vi doesn’t give up on you. She nudges your shoulder with hers, the softness of it was a clear invitation for you to look at her. You try to ignore it, keeping your eyes averted. But she’s too persistent.

“Cupcake…?” she draws out the word.

Damn it. Your mouth twitches, the muscles in your face wanting to betray you. The nickname had no right making you smile. But Vi noticed that microexpression. A smirk spreads across her face as she steps in front of you. You turn your head away, but she follows. She’s so close now that you can feel the soft puff of her breath on your skin. 

“You know you want to,” she says with a grin, hands in her pockets. She’s beginning to enjoy this. “C’mon. You want to smile so bad.”

You grit your teeth, your jaw tightening. You are fighting your own face. You can feel the edge of a smile creeping onto your face. Vi’s silly confidence had a way of blowing away the angry cloud on top of your head. She was like a beacon of light that you couldn’t avoid. It was so new to you. 

“I don’t…” you start, but speaking made it hard for you to maintain your angry face.

Vi’s grin widens, “You don’t?” she raises her scarred eyebrow as she leans in just a bit closer. “Your mouth is kinda twitchy. Go on, let me see those teeth. Come on. I won’t tell anyone!”

The challenge in her eyes. The warmth of her smile. The way she was so damn close to you— you break. You can’t help it. Your lips curl upwards, and despite your last efforts to look mad, you end up laughing softly.

Vi steps back, nodding in satisfaction, “Ah, there it is!”

You roll your eyes, rubbing your face from the soreness of fighting it. “Whatever. You’re ridiculous.”

“I know. But at least I’m fun.” 

“You two make me sick.” Loris calls out, glancing over his shoulder.

The two of you exchange a glance and laugh. For a moment, the two of you stand there. Your tension fades as her presence grounds you. 

“I won’t pressure you to talk to me about it. But whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here for you. Okay?” she puts a hand on your shoulder. You nod, giving her a real smile that she deserves. That she earned.

Even if you weren’t ready to open up fully, it felt a little easier to breathe.

End of Ch. 6

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5

Ch. 7 (IN PROGRESS)

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Taglist Cupcakes: @ren-ren23 @captain-crabbo @baylegend6 @winchestergirlspn @charcoal-heart @brbaabs

Sorry again for the delay and shorter chapter! I'm hoping to make Chapter 7 the longest chapter since I'll be taking a few days.

[theliteraryarchitect]

Quick Writing Tip: Make a Note to Your Future Self in Your WIP

This one saves me on the regular. When you’re done with your writing session, make a note to yourself in your document about what you were working on and what you intend to do the next time you open your WIP. It helps if you make this note right at the spot you were working on, and another reminder at the top of the document. I like to change the font color and increase the size so I see it right away the next time I open my document.

You might not always go back to what you were working on before. But this trick can save you a lot of time reading through your WIP and trying to remember where you were going. Plus it can keep your WIP from becoming a giant mess of half-started ideas and editing tweaks.

Some examples of recent notes I’ve made to myself in my WIP:

“…working on adding more detail to the dormitory scene. Two more paragraphs to go… left off HERE.”

“…got confused about the layout of the house and stopped to make a map. Refer to map and finish editing this scene.”

“…changing scene from past to present tense… left off HERE”

“…finish writing the breakfast scene”

At the very least, making a note to yourself will give you a clear direction the next time you approach your WIP. If you choose not to follow it, that’s fine, but it’s nice to have the option, and it only takes a few seconds to jot down a reminder to yourself.

[drowned-captain]

This! I also highlight or add a side comment on elements that I want to come back to in my stories for later :) I use google docs for my stuff before I paste it onto my blog, so when I open up the doc again, I am forced to scroll through every note and highlight like a reminder.

[sncinderdoodles]

Questioning how any one has time for a revoloution when Vi is just running around looking like this

[drowned-captain]

The Rebound - Pitfighter! Vi x Fem! Reader - Ch. 5

A/N: WE HAVE REACHED HALF A DOZEN CUPCAKES! I REPEAT: WE HAVE REACHED HALF A DOZEN CUPCAKES! Muah muah <3 I feel so loved rn. So Ima love y’all back with an even longer chapter >:D Would’ve gotten this out much earlier, but I’m currently studying for one of the most important exams of my life!! Sorry about the delay. That exam is coming up, so I'll have a lot more time to get these chapters out sooner. I hope y’all enjoy

MDNI (18+ only).

TW// Mature themes like violence, drinking, drug use, infidelity, mean/triggering thoughts, toxic codependency

Word Count: ~ 8.3k

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Vi’s soreness woke her up the following day. Her head was pounding, her neck was stiff, and some of her bruises hurt more than she was used to. She blamed the lack of alcohol in her system for feeling this kind of physical pain, inhaling sharply through her teeth as she sat up. It took her a moment to remember how the fight went, causing her shoulders to slump. She chewed the inside of her lip, feeling anger bubbling in her veins. When she swung her legs out of bed, she knocked the plastic cup of water over. 

“Son of a…” she grumbled, seeing the liquid spread on her floor. She left it there, angry at herself for placing a cup of water on the floor in the first place. 

The first thing she did after leaving her bed was to beat the hell out of her punching bag. Her body begged her to relax, but she ignored its warnings. The exhaustion won anyways, making her punches sloppy. The smacks of the punching bag didn’t ring in her apartment like they always did. This pissed her off even more. She yelled in frustration, now pacing her apartment like a caged lion. 

She sat back down on her bed, cringing a bit for stepping in the water with her socks on. She then stared at the floor as her leg bounced.

Being the crowned champion of The Pit was all that she had. That was one of the biggest things that made her proud of what she does best. She knows that she let a lot of people down for not winning. That’s all she ever does: Let people down. Maybe that’s what she actually does best.

Vi sighs and runs a hand through her oil-colored hair, then holds her head in her hands as she stares at the floor. Looking down made her headache worse, but she felt like she deserved this pain for freezing in the arena. 

Her eyes tracked the fallen cup ahead of her. She reached over and picked it up, looking into it. She brought it to her lips and tapped the bottom of it, only getting the one drop that didn’t spill out into her dry mouth. As if it was some sort of potion, the thoughts about losing the fight came to a halt. There was a feeling of anxiety in her chest as she remembered how nasty her attitude was with you. 

“Fuck.” She whispered, putting a palm to her face. God, she felt horrible. She gripped a lock of her hair in frustration. She knew that you didn’t deserve all that bullshit from her.

There was a soft knock on her apartment door.

“Fuck off, rent isn’t even due for another few weeks!” She yells out. When there’s another knock, she huffs in annoyance and goes to her door. She opens it, her nose wrinkled, “What the f— oh,” she calms down, “Loris. Didn’t expect you to show up this early.”

She lets him in before going back to sit on her bed. He looks around briefly, noting that there are in fact less empty bottles laying around. 

“I just wanted to see how you’ve been holding up,” he puts his hands in his pockets, “It was a pretty rough night, wasn’t it?”

“I’ve reminded myself of that a million times before you showed up,” she sighs, her head drooping, “I still can’t believe I let some doped up cheaters beat me. It’s not like it’s the first time I fought someone under the influence of shimmer.”

Loris takes a few steps towards her, then pauses when he steps in the puddle. He looks down at it, then back at Vi. She was still holding the cup. Vi takes notice of the little scene, and she sighs again with a remorseful look on her face. 

“There are so many varieties of shimmer out there nowadays. Who knows what that formula had in it?” He steps back, removing his foot from the puddle of water beneath him.

“I was an asshole to her, wasn’t I?” she mumbles, looking at the empty cup in her hands. Loris stays quiet for a moment, averting his gaze. “Wasn’t I?” Vi repeats, clutching the cup hard enough for it to bend.

“You were,” Loris finally says, his voice even. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

Vi lets out a bitter laugh, her thumb rubbing the edge of the warped plastic cup. “I guess it’s what I do best, huh? Screw things up so bad that people end up leaving me for it.”

Loris leans against the wall, crossing his arms. “You’re good at a lot of things, Vi, but self-pity shouldn’t be one of them.”

She shoots him a sharp glare but says nothing. The silence that stretches between them feels heavier than her sore muscles, and for once, she doesn’t try to fill it with anger. Instead, she stares at the cup in her hands as if it holds all the answers she doesn’t want to face.

“Apologies go a long way, you know. I really think you two can talk it out.” Loris says after a moment.

Vi scoffs, but it lacks her usual fire. “Yeah, because a half-assed ‘sorry’ is going to fix everything.”

“It’s a start,” Loris counters, “She doesn’t deserve to carry the weight of your bad night.”

Vi huffs, shaking her head, but the corner of her mouth twitches upward for just a second. “Do you know where she lives?”

Loris shakes his head, “Sorry, Vi. I wish I knew.”

Vi lets out a frustrated sigh, resting her forehead against the kinked plastic cup. “It’s probably too late anyways. There’s no way that someone like her would want to stick around after I’ve been a piece of shit to her not once, but twice.” She curses under her breath, dejected.

Loris, concealing a smile, crosses his arms. “Why do you care so much about this situation anyways? Isn’t she just some random person? Forget about her. People come and go, as you’re very familiar with. After all, you don’t know her and she doesn’t know you.”

Vi is quick to give him a look between being shocked and angry. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why would you kick me while I’m already down?” Then, her expression becomes more confused, as if she doesn’t exactly know why you matter to her either. She stands up slowly, her bed creaking. “...I just feel like she might understand me. Talking with her the other night– the night that you bailed on me, by the way– left me feeling like I had someone to relate to.” She stacks the cup with the other two nearby.

Loris raises one of his eyebrows, the corners of his mouth fighting to turn into a victorious smile. 

“Then I had to fuck it all up,” Vi continues, “Please, Loris. Will you help me find her? I don’t– I can’t forgive myself if I never make it up to her. You’re right: she didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of my stupid tantrum. And she seems like she…” Vi recalls a deep pain within your (e/c) eyes during all the times you two have spoken, “...She seems like she could really use a friend.”

The man nods his head, finally letting himself smile, “Sure, if it means you’ll give yourself some time to recover before getting back to your gigs.” He steps out of her apartment.

Vi grabs her black jacket on her way out, her movements sluggish but purposeful. As she glances back at Loris, he gives her a small nod of encouragement. The two of them split up to look for you.

*

As usual, you were being a hermit in your bedroom. You didn’t sleep a wink last night because you were too consumed by the disappointment over everything that happened yesterday. Your shoulders ache from how tightly you’ve been holding them, and your stomach twists every time her face flashes in your head and her words echo in your ears. You press your palms against your temples, willing yourself to relax, but it’s no use.

Everything was on loop in your mind, her sharp words replaying like a broken record. “You don’t know a damn thing about me.” Each time, it stung a little more, making your fingers curl tightly into fists around your unkempt hair. You bit your lip to keep yourself from crying, though you weren’t entirely sure who you were angry with—her or yourself.

‘Ugh, why do I even care this much?’ you angrily think. 

Here’s the thing: You were hoping to begin a new chapter in your life starting with making a friend out of Vi. The idea of waking up and looking forward to spending every day with a new friend was deliciously desirable. You thought that this journey after being fresh out of a relationship would come much easier since Vi was presumably going through the same thing. You had it right there! A much needed blank slate. A new best friend on a silver platter. At least, that’s what it looked like to you.

You hated that you even spoke to Vi in the first place. It would have been so much better for you if you were just another person in the audience, collecting winnings and living a decent life through the bets. It would have been much easier if Vi was someone whose only meaning to you was a cash cow. You hated yourself for getting your own hopes up. You hated yourself for not seeing that Vi’s friendship was too good to be true.

Vi being the only reason you have something to take you away from the hellfire of your thoughts was something you didn’t realize you needed. Gosh, you needed it. You need her to distract you from it all. Talking to her about your situation, even if it was just for that one moment, was liberating. And here you are, feeling like you were pushed back into a cage.

You wrinkle your nose in anger. ‘Why did she have to play with me like that, then? Why did she get my hopes up about seeing her again?’ 

Your face then softens, suddenly feeling bad for getting upset at Vi. 

It was too easy to blame yourself. It was comfortable to blame yourself. You felt selfish for even being upset about this whole ordeal. You wanted to be mad at Vi, but it felt too self-centered. 

‘You only have yourself to blame, so blame yourself. Do you really think that someone showing you an ounce of sympathy is a sign that they are meant to be your friend? Your self respect was already crushed into dust, and somehow you made it become even worse than that.’ You sniffle, but stop your tears immediately. It makes no sense crying over Vi. You already have that spot taken by someone else. Vi, on the other hand, is someone you do not know a damn thing about. 

To you, she is a heartbroken fighter who drinks alcohol as a hobby. So what else is there to her?

You sigh, dragging your hands down your face as you try to stop the storm in your head from raging on. The rational part of you knows it’s ridiculous to spiral like this over someone you’ve only spoken to a few times. But the other part—the louder part—is shouting that it all meant something, that Vi was supposed to be the start of something new, something good.

Instead, you’re stuck here, reeling from what felt like rejection. You glance at the clock on your wall. It’s almost noon, and you haven’t even stepped out of your room. Your apartment feels stuffy, like the walls are closing in on you. The bed creaks as you stand up, and for a moment, you just stand there, staring at the floor, wondering if you should bother leaving the house or just let the day waste away.

‘Maybe some air will clear my head,’ you think. Or maybe it’ll just give you more room to stew over everything.

As tempted as you were to take all your cogs and soothe yourself by buying things, you knew that being stingy is going to save you for now. An idea suddenly popped into your head, but you were not too happy about it. 

You step into your little closet, shifting through articles of clothing you have. A large chunk of your belongings were gifts from your ex. You sigh, grabbing a beautiful (f/c) shirt. 

You had been here in your apartment, and your partner was absent for nearly the whole day. When they finally came home, they brought you that blouse and claimed that they bought it from a vendor in Piltover. You happily accepted it despite the smell of perfume lingering on the skin that you kissed in appreciation. 

Everyone in Zaun knows how hard it is to come across nice things like this shirt, especially items from Piltover. You were too scared to wear that blouse in public because you were worried about getting it dirty or having it torn off your back. The only times you were able to appreciate it on your body was when you were out and about with your partner and their friends. After all, nobody would dare touch the girl of a shimmer lord on the rise. 

You bring a finger to your mouth, tempted to bite your nail. You really did not want to get rid of some of your stuff. You owned a lot of nice things! You groan in frustration, lightly tapping yourself on your cheek to remind yourself that this is a desperate time.

So then you start clearing out your closet. You left yourself with clothes that would not make you that big of a target to rob in the streets. You stuffed the clothes into a bag that luckily wasn’t heavy enough to make you carry it like some giant snail. For protection, you grabbed a switchblade that you kept hidden under your mattress.

When you left your apartment complex, your anxiousness was heightened. You stayed as vigilant as you could, taking only routes that you knew were less populated than others. Each step felt heavier than the last, your grip tightening on the strap of the bag as if it were your lifeline. The streets of Zaun were quieter in these parts, but even the occasional glance from a passerby sent your heart racing. Every shadow seemed to stretch longer, every corner held the potential for trouble.

Your other hand brushed against your concealed switchblade, fingers brushing against its cool, reassuring surface. This wasn’t your first time walking these streets alone, but somehow, it felt different now. More vulnerable. You didn’t have a pack of people with you, nor do you think you look intimidating enough for people to leave you alone.

Most people in Zaun knew how to fight defensively, including yourself. But you would feel a lot more secure if you had Vi’s fists and her courage. You almost felt envious at the thought that she can walk wherever she wants to in Zaun and come out of every conflict without a bruise. You wished that you didn’t have to flinch at every sudden noise. 

‘Good for her, I guess.’ You think. 

You walked past an alleyway, spotting the silhouettes of two Zaunites in a heated embrace. You roll your eyes and keep walking.

As you walked, the weight of the bag on your shoulder felt less like a collection of clothes and more like a physical burden to carry. There were memories stitched into every seam, moments you wished you could hold onto and ones you wanted to forget, all bundled together and ready to be discarded.

‘Fucking hell! It’s just useless stuff!’ you tell yourself.

That nice shirt you almost kept wasn’t just a shirt—it was a promise you’d let yourself believe in. A promise that someone cared enough to bring you a piece of a better life, even if it reeked of a lie.

The irony of it all hit you as you passed an old, crumbling building with boarded-up windows. Here you were, clinging to fragments of a life that was never as stable as you wanted it to be, walking through a city that never stopped reminding you of how quickly things fall apart. Maybe this was just the way of Zaun—everything temporary, everything borrowed. As temporary as romantic relationships. As borrowed as precious time invested into a friendship that would never bloom.

You glance around at the passersby, wondering who might be willing to cough up a few cogs for some quality clothing. Selling these clothes felt like ripping off a layer of yourself, but desperation made the decision for you. 

You drop the bag to your feet, grabbing the first shirt on the top. You contemplate putting it back in your bag since it was a favorite of yours, but you fight your urge.

“Any takers?” you announce, feigning confidence despite the pit in your stomach.

With each passing minute, your chest tightened. Would anyone even stop to look? Or worse: would someone take one look at you and try to snatch it all away? You sigh gently and wonder if you just made yourself a target. Paranoia about being tagged and robbed some other time might haunt you for a little while after this.

A wiry woman approached, her eyes darting to the shirt in your hands. "Nice fabrics you got," she muttered, fingers twitching at her side, "I’ll give you five cogs for it."

You clenched the fabric a little tighter, your lips pressing into a line, "Five? This is worth at least forty."

The lady sneered. "Forty?" she laughed, “You think anybody just has forty cogs on them, girl?”  She stepped closer, her voice low and threatening. "Take the five, or you’ll end up with nothing.” Her eyes dart to the bag at your feet. You fight the urge to scoff at her bluff– you’ve seen much better intimidation tactics.

 "Look, I know how this works. But this isn’t just some scrap—I know the quality, and so do you. Ten cogs, and it’s yours.” You keep a steady voice, kicking the bag behind you so it’s against the wall. Just a precaution.

The woman snorted, crossing her arms, "You think I’m some kind of idiot? I can get something like that off a pile for six at best."

"Then go find it," you shot back, refusing to back down, "You won’t get this kind of stitching in Zaun unless it’s straight from Piltover. Ten’s a steal, and you know it."

"Eight," she countered, her voice sharp. "Final offer. Take it, or I walk."

Your jaw tightened, but you nodded, "Deal."

You felt the sting of losing something worth far more than eight cogs as you handed her the shirt. At least you got something out of it, right? 

*

Vi was looking into every crowd and peeking through every window hoping to catch a glimpse of you somewhere. The day was already almost over. 

She spots Loris exiting a nearby brothel, and he makes eye contact with her. They meet halfway, an unamused expression on Vi’s face, “You really think (Y/n) would be spending her time in there?”

Loris shrugs, “I thought she might work there or something.” He smooths his hair into place.

Vi facepalms. Then after a moment, she looks up at him, “...Does she?”

“Nope.” He rubs his neck, wiping lipstick off of it.

Vi stands there with Loris, feeling somewhat hopeless. “Keep looking around, I guess.”

Loris nods, walking off in some other direction.

Vi does a double-take when some lady walks by wearing a very familiar shirt. For a moment, she thought it might be you. Vi pushed her way through a few people until she was right behind this person. She studied this person’s clothing. This is, without a doubt, the shirt you wore a couple of days ago. 

She puts a hand on the lady’s shoulder, forcefully spinning her around. The lady gasps, quickly shoving Vi’s hand off of her, “The fuck do you want?” the lady barked, a disgusted look on her face.

“Where did you get that shirt?” Vi asks, her eye contact intense.

The lady opened her mouth to answer, but then her face became smug, “Oh you’re Vi, aren’t you?” She brought a hand to her mouth and giggled into it, “I don’t need to be sitting in front row seats to recognize everyone’s favorite fighter. Hah! I’m glad I didn’t bet on you yesterday. That would’ve been tragic for me.”

Vi clenches her fists, her nose wrinkling in annoyance, “Where did you get that shirt?” she repeated, more upset at the fact that this lady ignored the question. Vi could care less about this person’s lame attempt at rubbing in last night’s failure.

The woman smirked, clearly enjoying the tension she was causing, “What’s it to you? You planning to fight me for it, champ?”

Vi took a step closer, towering over her, “I’m not here to fight. Just tell me where you got it.” Her voice was sharp, low, and carried a weight that made the woman’s smile fall slightly. Vi’s eyes then narrow before she speaks, “You didn’t fight anyone for it, did you?”

“Geez, relax!” The woman exclaims, putting her hands up in defense while taking a step back. “Some poor sucker sold it to me earlier. She wanted forty cogs for it, that greedy bitch! But I got it for eight.” A smug look crosses her face.  “Whats’a tough girl like you wanting prettier stuff like this for, huh? You gonna change your look, Vi? ‘Cause if you are, I’m willing to trade this shirt for your jacket.”

Vi’s eyes darkened, the muscle in her jaw twitching. “Not happening. Last chance—where did you see her?”

The woman shifted her weight back and crossed her arms, “She’s near that old pawn shop– it used to be called Benzo’s, or something. Couple of blocks away from it. You can't miss her. She’s hawking clothes to anyone who’d listen. Looked desperate, too. Pretty sad if you ask me.”

Vi took a step forward, forcing the woman to flinch. “I didn’t ask for your opinion,” she said, her voice icy. Without another word, Vi turned and pushed her way back through the crowd, her chest tightening.

You were out here somewhere, and judging by the description, you weren’t doing great. She quickened her pace, her mind racing as she tried to shake off the gnawing guilt. If she found you, she’d make this right—she had to.

*

By the end of the day, you got rid of most of your nicer clothing. As hard as it was to part with all those gifts you loved, your pockets were a bit heavier because of it. These things would have sold for what they were worth in a place like Piltover, but for obvious reasons you couldn’t bring yourself to make the trip over there and back. 

You keep a hand on your hidden switchblade as you make the long journey back home. There was a growing sense of paranoia creeping up your spine. Each step felt heavier, the weight of your earnings barely enough to outweigh the gnawing unease in your chest. The adrenaline amplified your sense of hearing. Every miniscule noise like distant voices, your own footsteps, the buzzing of neon lights, and even the scampering of street rats and alley cats were completely ignored. Your eyes would lock on to every poster with a face on it, almost scaring yourself into thinking that it was an actual person against the wall. Most of it was just Piltover’s wanted posters for Zaun’s hero, Jinx. 

You briefly wondered if a person like Jinx had to worry about running out of cogs. Maybe she was! Ever since Silco disappeared and fell off the face of the world, you wondered how she supports herself nowadays as his supposed ex-subordinate. In a way, you somewhat understood. The absence of Silco caused a rise in other shimmer drug lords which included your ex lover. You lived relatively comfortably with the cogs that they made from it, and now you’re struggling without them.

Yeah, maybe you do understand the Jinx hype in your own way. Though most people look up to her for pissing off Piltover, you feel like you can relate to her on a deeper level like no longer having someone to take care of you. 

‘Who am I kidding?’ you think bitterly, ‘I’m grasping at straws to have anything–no, anybody to relate to. I don’t know a damn thing about Jinx and her life.’ Now you are walking around feeling extra lonely than you are paranoid.

You pass by a pawn shop that you were sure was closed down. When you were younger, rumor had it that some ogre-like creature killed the shop owner. There was some back and forth about it actually being enforcers who killed him rather than some cryptid. Who knows? That was ages ago, and that shopkeeper is nothing but a name that most people have forgotten. If he was alive today, maybe he would have given you the cogs that you deserved for your high quality stuff. 

You felt yourself go cold when a figure stepped out from the shadows ahead. His face was obscured by a hood, but his posture screamed trouble—shoulders squared, stance wide, and a glint of something metallic surrounding his knuckles. Your shoes scrape against the floor as you come to a stop.

"That’s a nice little haul you’ve got there," he said, nodding toward your bag. His voice was low and rough, dripping with malice. Your legs tense up, wanting to run away. But this guy was not carrying anything, unlike you. He could catch up to you easily. 

Gravel and broken glass crunch under his boots as he walks towards you, a low chuckle coming from him.

"I don’t want any trouble," you said, keeping your tone even, though fear made your stomach churn.

He smirked, taking a slow step closer, "Then hand it over, and there won’t be any."

Your hand moved instinctively to your pocket, fingers wrapping around the blade’s handle. "I don’t think you want to do this," you said, hoping to sound more confident than you felt.

The man laughed, but his eyes darted to your pocket, catching the subtle motion. “A pretty thing like you wouldn’t know how to use whatever thing. you're hiding.”

“Try me.” You say, but your voice cracks. You try to hide it by clearing your throat, “You might find yourself surprised.”

 "I said, hand over the bag," he growled, tilting his head at you like he already owned it.

Your grip tightened on the switchblade in your pocket, your mind racing. Fighting him was a last resort—you weren’t sure you’d win, and even if you did, it could go south in so many ways. For a moment, the tension hung thick in the air, each of you waiting to see who would flinch first. But this moment of silence had you figure out that this man in front of you is full of shit. In other words, he’s all bark and no bite. If he wanted your stuff and was confident that you couldn’t defend yourself, he would have jumped on you by now.

“Threaten me again, and I’ll start yelling,” you say, finding your confidence, “I saw some enforcers a couple of streets away. They’ll hear me. I’ve got pipes.” You hope he buys your lie.

The man scoffs, “Enforcers wouldn’t care about a Zaunite screaming for hel–”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU SAW JINX?” you yell. The man flinches.

“H-hey! Wait–” he begins.

“WHAT? YOU KNOW WHERE SHE’S HIDING?!” you screech loud enough to hear yourself echo in an alleyway nearby.

He reaches his hand towards your face, probably in an attempt to shush you. Before he can touch you, you jump back and reveal your switchblade. A satisfying click comes from it as you hold the blade towards him. He puts his fists up, clutching onto the brass knuckles in his fist. However, he lacked confidence. His posture was very weak now, and he kept looking around for any signs of people approaching. The two of you shift around in a circle.

There was some sort of noise coming from down the street, which seemed to scare the man enough to look behind him. 

“Shit!” he whispers from under his breath. "Whatever," he muttered, his tough guy swagger cracking. "Keep your damn bag."

He shoulder checked you before he slinked away into the shadows, leaving you standing there, heart pounding and legs trembling. You would have waited until he was out of sight before making your own escape, but you had to get going before he realizes that you lied.

You’d managed to walk away unscathed this time, but the thought lingered in your mind as you hurried home: next time, you might not be so lucky. Your walking turned into a light jog, hearing nothing but your own heartbeat in your ears. You looked around desperately for any nook you could hide yourself in until you felt safe, but none of them seemed secure enough.

You suddenly felt a tap on your shoulder blade, making you yell out. You swing your arm, still holding the switchblade. 

Your blade cut through the air, barely missing its target as a hand shot out and grabbed your wrist. "Easy," came a low, familiar voice, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins drowned it out.

You twisted your arm, trying to free yourself from the grip. They dodged your next swing, their movements controlled, almost lazy, as if they were playing with you. You sweep one of your legs, tripping them. However, they manage to catch their balance because of their grip on your arm.

"Let go!" you snarled, lashing out with your free hand.

"Calm down, would you?" They grunted, catching your wrist again after it came in contact with their cheek. They then hold both of your arms firmly. "It’s me!"

You struggled, your breath ragged, your mind refusing to register their words. "Get off me, man!"

"Dammit, (Y/n), it’s Vi!" she snapped, her voice sharper now, the sound cutting through your panic like a blade. Your movements faltered, your heart still racing as you slowly opened your eyes, finally recognizing her under the dim light. The switchblade slipped from your fingers and clattered to the ground.

“Hey,” she says softly, shifting her weight as she slowly lets go of your arms.

Your knees felt weak, and you leaned back against the nearest wall, covering your face with your hands. "Shit," you muttered, shaking your head. "I—I didn’t know it was you."

Vi crouched down to pick up your blade. She examined it briefly before holding it out to you. "You’ve got a hell of a swing, though. Ah, but I have a tip for you: keep your eyes open next time.” She chuckles lightly as she rubs her cheek, looking at you and hoping to see if you’d laugh too. But you weren’t.

You don’t reply right away. You take your switchblade from her and retract the blade before putting it away. You slowly put your free hand to your chest, feeling your heartbeat. “What are you doing here?” you finally manage, your voice low and wary.

She takes a deep breath, “I… I came to apologize. For how I treated you. For what I said. I—I shouldn’t have taken my shit out on you.”

You blink, taken aback. Her words don’t feel rehearsed. Instead, they’re awkward and clumsy, but you can tell she means it.

“Why now?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at her. “You made it pretty clear last night how little you think of me.”

Vi winces, the sting of your words evident in her expression. “I didn’t mean it. Not a word,” she mutters, looking down at her boots. “I was pissed at myself and took it out on you. I know that doesn’t excuse it, but I just… I didn’t want to leave it like that.”

You study her for a moment, torn between giving her your back or shaking off the whole situation. A HUGE part of you was skeptical. This was not the first time you experienced something like this with someone else…

However, there’s something in her voice that made all the difference—a vulnerability that you only had one glimpse of before. You decide to test her.

You cross your arms, your posture stiff as you glance off to the side, “Why should I believe you?” you ask, your voice tight. “People always apologize to rid themselves of a guilty conscience. Not because they actually care.” You would know from personal experience…

Vi flinches but doesn’t back down. She walks over to stand in front of you, “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care.”

You stay silent.

“(Y/n), please look at me.”

Slowly, your eyes meet hers. Her expression was soft, and this is the first time you’ve seen her without smeared makeup and dried blood all over her face.  

“I have not cared about anything for months,” she says, fighting the urge to put a hand on your shoulder, “I… The things I’ve been through. I thought I would never be able to feel anything other than pain and abandonment. Until I met you. I’m tired of fucking up, (Y/n). I’m tired of feeling like this. I truly want us to be friends.”

You study her face, searching for any hint of insincerity, but all you see is raw honesty. It makes your chest tighten in a way you aren’t prepared for.

“I’ve heard those words before,” you say, your voice quieter now but still guarded, “from people who ended up proving me right.”

The look of hurt on Vi’s face was enough to make you feel bad about shutting her down like this. 

“Do you… still want to be friends with me?” she asks, finally breaking eye contact. She looked defeated, and on the inside she felt anger towards herself rising up.

You sigh, the weight of hesitation pressing against your chest. Testing her like this feels cruel, especially when you can see how much she’s trying, but a part of you can’t shake the fear of letting someone in again. Still, the idea of being alone with your thoughts, with the constant reminders of home, feels worse.

“You really think being friends with me is going to fix anything for you?” you ask, your voice is snappier than you intend, but there’s a flicker of vulnerability behind the words.

Vi looks at you again, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “I don’t think it’ll fix anything,” she admits, her tone steady but soft, “but maybe it’ll help. For both of us.”

A distraction. That’s what this could be. For her, for you. Maybe even for both of you.

You exhale slowly and finally meet her gaze, arms still crossed as you tilt your head slightly. You want to throw up from the rollercoaster of feelings you went through in less than ten minutes. 

“Let’s do it right this time.” You finally say. 

A small, relieved smile falls upon Vi’s face. It’s amazing how different she looks when all of her tension is gone. You blink a few times, not trying to make her uneasy with your staring. You’re still hesitant, still unsure, but for now, you let the wall between you drop just enough to let her in. Just enough to give you both something to hold on to.

You readjust your bag, resuming the walk back to your place. Vi stays put, unsure if she should follow. She wasn’t even sure where you were going. You look over your shoulder, stopping in your tracks. Vi, trying to stifle her burst of happiness, catches up to you.

“Wanna get a drink?” she asks.

“Tempting, but I have to drop my stuff off.” You pat your bag.

“The night is still young. We can go afterwards.” 

“Tempting, but my apartment is a long way from the strip. Don’t you have a fight to get to?”

Vi shakes her head, “Nah, I promised Loris that I’d give it a break today. Yesterday kind of took a toll on me.”

You snuck glances at Vi. There was a new bandage on the bridge of her nose that wasn’t there yesterday.

“You really took a beating, huh?” You ask. You mentally scold yourself for testing her once more, but you couldn’t help it. Your defenses really wanted to see if Vi would explode on you like she did last night. And if she does, then so be it. It would just feel outright shameful for you to have given her another chance so soon.

“It’s nothing. It’s all just a part of my job.” Vi said it in a tone that tried to play it off like it’s no big deal. Her ego was still very much bruised on the inside, and something about you witnessing that embarrassed her. Furthermore, she felt ashamed as the memories of taking it out on you and Loris (but mostly you) resurfaced. Before you can speak again, Vi says, “(Y/n), I know I already apologized for it, but I want to apologize again. That whole day was just terrible. I had a bad morning, drank a bit too much, and my head wasn’t in the game. I let a lot of people down, but I think you got the worst of it.”

“It’s alright, Vi,” you say, shrugging, though you aren’t entirely sure if it is. You can't shake the feeling that she's hiding more than she's letting on, but you don't press. “We all have our bad days.”

She snorts humorlessly. “Yeah, well, it was a shitshow. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. The day I was having shouldn’t have mattered. You didn't deserve that.” Vi kicks a small stone, watching it roll away. “I’m not asking for you to forgive me.”

“I… I was really pissed at you this morning,” you admit, your voice quiet. “I wanted to stay mad at you, keep up the distance, you know?” You pause and let out a shaky breath, feeling a sting in your chest. “But I can’t. I don’t think I have the right to be. I mean... everything you’ve been through, including the multitude of stuff I don’t know about, I think you’ve got more to be angry or sad about than I do.”

You find your thoughts turning inward. You’d been so quick to throw up walls with Vi, to hold onto the anger from last night, to remind yourself that it wasn’t justifiable for her to treat you the way she did. But as you watch her walk beside you, looking so much like the person you will call your new friend—vulnerable and trying—fills you with guilt. You feel like you haven’t been very fair to her.

Vi glances at you, the hard edge in her eyes softening. Vi shakes her head, the smile she gives you was the gentlest you’ve seen in a while from anyone. It’s almost like she's proud of you for letting that much out.

“Hey. Do not downplay your feelings like that,” she says, her voice uncharacteristically gentle, though still firm. “You don’t think you’re also going through a lot? Just ‘cause I’ve been taking hits from people doesn’t mean I get to shove all the stuff you’re dealing with into a corner.”

You walk a few paces in silence, the space between you comfortable for the first time today. It felt good to have someone acknowledge your pain. “Thank you, Vi.”

She runs a hand through her hair, definitely not used to hearing those words. She shrugs, but smiles as she does so. 

The lights have started to become less neon, less saturated. More softer yellow lights were around instead. Vi looked around at the somewhat nicer buildings. Even as a kid, Vi never really explored this part of Zaun. She looked at you curiously and put two and two together: you’re financially struggling. 

“So… how long have you been living in this area?” she asks, now following you instead of walking beside you.

“Ah, nearly four years.” You find your key before spotting your building.

Vi raised her eyebrows, a look of realization on her face. To test her theory, she asks “You got roomies?” 

You look back at her, wondering if you should lie. It’s not like Vi is a bad person, right? Should you tell her?

“...No,” you finally admit, voice soft. “I live alone.”

Vi’s eyebrows furrow, her lips pressing together in thought. “That can’t be easy,” she says, her tone careful, like she’s trying not to overstep. “This place… rent must be a lot.”

You simply hum in agreement, trying to play it off like it was nothing. You find your unit, unlocking the door and pausing. With your hand on the handle, you feel unsure if you should invite her in or not. The thought of someone else stepping into your space feels daunting—like giving her a glimpse of the parts of you you’ve been trying to keep hidden. This was way too soon. You clear your throat and look at Vi with a sheepish smile. 

“Uh, I know we just stitched back our newfound friendship, but I don’t think I’m ready for you to come into my apartment yet.” You then chuckle awkwardly.

Vi blinks, then lets out a breathy laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. “Yeah, no, I get it. You’re not ready for me to see the tragic state of your apartment, huh?”

You roll your eyes. “It’s actually clean, thank you very much.”

“Ah, so you’re the tragic mess, then?”

You stifle a laugh. At least this means she’s not upset with you for having her come all this way.

Vi then takes a step back, nodding in understanding. “No, I get it. I’m just happy that you’re back home safe. I should get going, then.” Vi turns on her heel and walks a few steps before looking back at you with a grin, “But now I know where you live, (Y/n), so you bet I’ll come looking for you if I don’t see you around.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” you laugh, opening your door ajar.

“Whatever scares you more.” She teases.

Guilt tugs at you. She’d walked all this way with you, and now she’s walking off. You don’t even know if she’s going to go home or if she’s going to go drink by herself. You can see Vi hesitate again, and she turns around to face you once more. 

“You sure you don’t wanna just say screw it and go straight to the bar? No bags, no rules, no complications.”

The suggestion almost tempts you, but you shake your head. “As much as that sounds like a perfect disaster, I’ve got to at least pretend like I’ve got my shit together for a few minutes.”

Vi hums, rocking back on her heels. “Fine, fine. I’ll be a patient, responsible friend for once.”

You snort and push your door open just enough to toss your bag inside before pulling it shut again. “There. My responsible moment of the night.”

“So, drinks?” she asks after a beat, her usual brashness returning as she gives you a sideways glance. You can tell that she’s trying not to show her excitement too much.

You chuckle despite yourself. “Yeah, drinks. Let’s just... take it slow, okay?”

And just like that, the night stretches ahead of you—uncertain, but a little less lonely than before.

*

The bar is packed, the low hum of conversations mixing with the distant bass of the music. Vi leads the way, navigating through the crowd with the ease of someone who’s been here more times than she can count. You follow closely, the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke thick in the air. Your feet were killing you from all the walking you did today, and sadly there were no seats open at the bar. 

Just as the two of you step in line to order some drinks, a voice calls out from behind you two.

“Well, well. If it isn’t everyone’s favorite frontrunner.”

Vi tenses beside you. It’s subtle, but you catch the way her shoulders draw up just slightly before she forces herself to relax. When she turns around, her expression is already set: a lazy smirk, cocky tilt of her head, the perfect facade. 

The guy who spoke leans against a nearby table, drink in hand, eyes flicking over her with barely concealed amusement. You recognize those thick forearms. Next to him is the agile woman from the other night, leaning against him with her hand on his chest. 

Vi exhales sharply through her nose. Her eyes darted between the two of them. “And you two are…?”

“That’s cute. You forget who we are? Or did we knock your noggin around too hard?”

Your eyes flick to Vi. She’s good at hiding it, but there’s something restrained in the way she stands, like she’s fighting the urge to react. You nudge Vi, already feeling protective over your barely-established friendship. “Just ignore them, Vi.”

The guy looks at you then, really looks, like he’s only just now realizing you’re part of the equation. His face twists into a smirk. “You got yourself an accessory?”

Vi steps in before you can answer, her voice flat. “Not everyone needs a floozy by their side,” she sneers, glancing at the lady beside him. The woman’s face wrinkles in anger. The man growls, slamming his drink down on his table before standing up straight. It was loud enough to make the ambience pause for a split second. When he takes a step towards you two, Vi takes a step forward, guiding you behind her with her arm.

“Hey, man,” the four of you turn to the bartender, yelling out, “Save it for the ring, or all of you are getting kicked out!”

The brute huffs, backing off. He returns to his table and his woman, picking his drink back up. He tips his drink toward Vi in some mock gesture of acknowledgment. “Next time, try to stay on your feet, Vi. I don’t think anybody finds you capable of walking a straight line in general.”

Vi growls, “I was wanting a rematch anyways!” She takes two aggressive steps towards him before you grab her by her arm and pull her back. “It’s not worth it, Vi. Come on.”

The man and woman laugh, then the woman speaks up, “Is she your new parole officer or something?”

“Say that again!” Vi barks, those words striking a nerve. You dig your heels into the ground as you try to keep Vi from taking another step, but holy hell this girl is a tank.

“Vi, just leave them! Come on,” you practically begged. Vi kept her eyes glued to the couple before letting you lead her away.

You drag her to the furthest end of the bar area away from her previous opponents.

“Sorry, (Y/n). I made us lose our place in line.” Vi sighs, still visibly upset.

“Don’t worry about that. You okay?” you ask, voice low.

Vi lets out a breath, rolling her shoulders like she’s shaking something off. That wasn’t exactly a yes or a no. What about their words triggered her so much?

“Ignore them, they’re stupid,” you say with a little laugh, trying to lighten her mood. Her face is still tense, and she’s not even looking at you. You notice how her jaw stays tight, her fingers flexing like she’s itching to throw a punch. The tension in her shoulders hasn’t eased one bit, and it doesn’t sit right with you. You could keep talking, try to get her to open up, but something tells you she doesn’t want to dwell on it.

So, instead, you do the next best thing. You move.

You sway a little, rolling your shoulders to the beat, then step in front of Vi, moving in sync with the music. At first, she doesn’t react, still caught in the storm of her own thoughts, but you don’t stop. You let yourself loosen up, exaggerating your movements just enough to catch her eye. A huge part of you feels stupid and awkward. It’s been a few years since you went out to dance at a club, and it probably would come more naturally to you if you already had a drink in your system.

She finally looks at you. “The hell are you doing?”

“Dancing. Duh!”

You can see Vi trying not to smile. “That’s a very interesting dance you got going on there.”

“Dance interestingly with me!” you grab her arm and pull her to the dance floor. The strobe lights should mask any further awkward dance moves you do. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Vi mutters, but there’s a smirk playing at her lips now.

“Maybe,” you say, shooting her a wink, "but at least I’m fun.”

She begins to dance too, and her willingness to participate catches you off guard. “You really don’t look like the dancing type!” 

“Just because I throw hands doesn’t mean I can’t dance,” she counters, getting closer to you so she doesn’t lose you in the crowd and the flashing lights.

But even as the two of you dance the rest of the night away, you can’t shake the feeling that whatever happened in that fight last night—whatever’s still sitting in Vi’s chest—hasn’t been left in the ring.

End of Ch. 5

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 6

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Taglist Cupcakes: @ren-ren23 @captain-crabbo @baylegend6 @winchestergirlspn @charcoal-heart @brbaabs

half a dozen cupcakes right thereeee^ YAY! My bakery grows >:3

[violetscowgirl-deactivated20250]

guys I have smth to confess. I love vi.

artist - @PaulineKlime on twt

[drowned-captain]

I’m feral

[paranormaltheatrekid]

fucked up hurt/comfort. the person who stabbed you tends to your wound. the person who killed your loved one helps you grieve.

[drowned-captain]

The Rebound - Pitfighter! Vi x Fem! Reader - Ch. 4

A/N: RAAH THANK YOU FOR THE LOVE ON THE LAST CHAPTER IT MEANS A LOT TO ME :)) I LITERALLY WENT TO BED SMILING BECAUSE OF Y'ALL AAAH Y’ALL HAVE NO IDEA asdjkfadslfjnaei I also did a crap ton of research and watched a lot of videos on writing fight scenes, so I hope the next one is better! Also, I made this chapter a little longer because we are almost at half a dozen cupcakes in the tag list :) Enjoy!

MDNI (18+ only).

TW// Mature themes like violence, drinking, drug use, infidelity, mean/triggering thoughts, toxic codependency

Word Count: ~ 6.3k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Despite the wonderful time you had at the bar last night, you had a restless night. You swore that you wouldn’t think about your ex when you got home. You told yourself that you would just head straight to bed. You even walked through your apartment with your eyes closed! All you wanted to do was hold on to the glee of winning some cogs and the time you spent with Vi. All you wanted was to savor the sweet, savory bliss of forgetting everything wrong with your life.

But it all just slips through the cracks between your fingers like sand. You had a wonderful time, but no one to talk about it with. Your acquaintanceship with Vi ended up reminding you of your lack of companionship in general. When you were with them, their friends became your friends. Sure you never hung out with those people without your lover, but they were still your friends, right? But the minute you cut ties with that liar, it was radio silence from all of them. None of them even bothered to check up on you.

They all forgot you as fast as you shut the door on your relationship for the final time.

‘Geez, my so-called ‘friends’ broke up with me.’ you thought. It was hard to find friends in this city in general. You could always put that jinxer fit on and pretend to care about public figures like more than half of Zaun is. You could find some people to call friends through that. You could. The issue is pretending–you’re so damn tired of pretending. You almost can’t help it; three years of a horrible relationship made you an expert at the art of it, and it was getting so damn exhausting. 

You remembered your conversation with Vi about cycles and loops and whatnot. So as much as you wanted to rot in bed until it was time to get ready to place another bet, you decided to get out of bed earlier. You probably got a total of four hours of on and off sleep, but whatever. 

When you looked at your messy bed, you had forgotten that you were using some of your ex’s shirts as pillowcases. You strip one of the pillows of a shirt and hold it in your hands. Your thumbs brush its semi-worn out fabric, and you slowly bring it to your nose. Their scent still lingers on it. There were faint shimmer stains on it (their own line of shimmer stained clothes pretty badly). You walked up to your window, pushed the curtains aside, and opened the pane. You look down onto the street and watch the tops of people’s heads moving along below. You weren’t too high up– maybe about three stories. You hold your hand out the window, clenching the shirt. You slowly uncurl each finger until you let it go, and it floats down to the ground.

A couple of people were quick to notice it. One person grabs it only to be shoved by the other person. There is a yelling match of “I saw it first!” between them. You shut the window and let their yelling fade into the background. A part of you regretted tossing that shirt. You almost wanted to pounce on those people from your window and demand that they give it back. Instead, you fought your own tears as you went about a half-assed morning routine. 

When preparing food from your half-stolen bag of semi stale fish meat, you instinctively made servings for two. Your eyes kept glancing at the extra serving on the stove as you slowly ate your (possibly radioactive) meal. At least you won’t have to cook later, right? 

You get dressed into one of your favorite outfits. You might as well get some air this afternoon so you don’t have to run all the way to the arena like you did last night. You take half of your cogs with you and stuff them into a trusty bag before slinging it over your shoulder and taking off.

You walked along the bustling streets of Zaun and looked around for something to do. You stop along a bridge, walking up to the rickety railing and overlooking part of the city. It’s been a while since you were able to stop and appreciate the beauty of this place that only Zaunites like yourself can understand. Even though Piltover quite literally casts a big shadow over Zaun, it cannot snuff out the popping colors that glow even in daylight hours. You have never personally been to Piltover (not like you want to, especially because of the current political issues and all the rising problems with enforcers), but even in the distance it was very ‘sterile’ looking. In other words, not so fun.

You suddenly feel a heavy hand on your shoulder. You nearly jump out of your skin, clutching the strap of your bag as you bounce backwards, smacking the hand that touched you. Your face was twisted in aggression, glaring at whoever thought it was a good idea to sneak up on you. 

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” a bearded man spoke. Your face relaxed a bit, recognizing him as Vi’s handler. Still, you didn’t appreciate getting spooked. Plus, you don’t know anything about this guy other than he saved you from possibly needing a cast or three. But he could be dangerous! If only you could take someone as broad as he is down like Vi can with her opponents. 

“The name’s Loris,” he holds out his hand for you to shake, “I think I saw you at that one bar a few days back. I’m one of Vi’s friends.”

You hesitate slightly before shaking his hand, “(Y/n).” You can smell alcohol on him, but he doesn’t seem wasted. He can tell that you’re still standoffish, so he turns away and leans his elbows on the rail of the bridge.

“Mind if I stand here with you for a moment? I gotta clear my head for a second before I go about my day.” He itches his beard, staring off into the distance. You stand there in silence, still suspicious. Most people who strike up a conversation in this city out of the blue probably want something, and you will not give him anything.

“I don’t own this bridge, so do what you must. I guess.” You state after a few moments of thinking.

He chuckles a bit at your tense tone before he takes another look at you, “You look like you’ve been through the grinder. It’s tough out here, isn’t it?”

You look down at yourself and frown a bit, “Gee, thanks.” So much for wearing your favorite fit.

“I meant your demeanor,” he pauses, choosing his words carefully, “You look like you’ve been dodging some of life’s punches. Metaphorically speaking, of course. Ain’t no bruises on that mug of yours. No offense, just an observation.”

“What’s it to you?” you ask defensively, crossing your arms. You’re still not sure what to make of him. 

Loris shrugged, leaning more heavily on the railing. “Nothing, really. Just... I’ve been there. Lost a lot before I got to where I am now. Figured I’d say something in case you needed to hear it.”

“Not to be rude or anything, Loris, but I don’t think I’m in the mood for unsolicited advice, or…whatever you’re trying to do here.” 

He gives you a sidelong glance, his eyebrows raising at you skeptically, "Fair enough," he says, straightening up from the railing. "Didn’t mean to step on your toes." He stretches his arms behind his head, giving a small grin. "Just figured I’d try to be neighborly, but I’ll back off."

You’re a little taken aback by how easily he relents, expecting some pushback. Instead, he fishes a cog from his pocket, idly rolling it between his fingers as he looks back out over the city. “I appreciate what you’ve done for Vi.”

You tilt your head. “She told you about me? Wait. I haven’t even done anything for her. I’ve only spoken to her, like, twice. And the first time didn’t even go so well. I don’t even know her all that much.”

“No, she has not spoken about you. But you’re the one who had her go home both times with a cup of water, right?”

“That’s… yeah. Everybody should drink water with their booze. No biggie.”

Loris pockets his cog and pushes away from the rail, the metal making a creaky noise. "Well, don’t let me keep you. Gotta grab Vi for some pregaming soon—busy night ahead."

Before he walked away, he looked at you again, his expression softer. “Take care of yourself, (Y/n). And... try not to let whatever’s chasing you catch up.”

With that, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving you to wonder how someone you barely knew could read you like that. 

*

Vi was tossing out her empty bottles outside of her apartment. She dusted her hands off and let out a somewhat satisfied sigh. She was up earlier than usual, which kind of felt nice for a change. There was another part of her, however, that gnawed at the back of her mind. Being awake and sober meant that her brain was free to juggle memories of Caitlyn around while reminding her of all the love that she lost in her life. It felt like there was a hole in her chest. How can a heart feel so heavy when there was an entire chunk missing from it?

She clenches her fists and shakes her head as if all the haunting memories and thoughts will fly off of her. If only it worked that way. It didn’t help that she dreamt of her last night. She dreamt of the life that she envisioned with Caitlyn; Waking up to her. Their hands combing through each other's hair. Seeing that adorable gap-toothed smile. Feeling her soft, perfect skin. Breathing in her scent. Walking the streets of Piltover together and basking in the sunlight.

She spun around and punched the wall behind her with an angry snarl.

“Well that was a close one.” Loris spoke, staring directly at Vi’s arm. If he were just a few inches closer, she would have probably punched him right in the chest. 

Vi lets out a heavy sigh, shaking her hand off, “Hey, Loris. Sorry, I didn’t know you were right there.”

“Water under the bridge,” he hums, turning on his heel to rest against the alley’s wall, “You’re up early.”

“Maybe I just wanted to pregame longer.” Vi straightens her jacket out, the black leather squeaking with her movement.

Loris’s eyes look past Vi, seeing a large bag with the necks of glass bottles sticking out of it. He doesn’t say anything about it. 

“Shall we get started with it, then?” he asks, pushing himself off the wall.

Vi leads the way. After a few moments she speaks up, “Make sure you tell me when you’re behind me. I could’ve accidentally hurt you.”

“Eh, s’alright. That would be the second time I’ve snuck up on someone today.”

Vi shakes her head disapprovingly. “You have to stop that. Not everybody takes kindly to that shit.”

Loris chuckles lightly, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah, yeah, I hear you. But sometimes, it’s the only way to catch someone in their natural state, you know?" He thought about the way you looked out towards the city. The way your eyebrows were furrowed in thought. He almost laughed at how high you jumped when he spooked you even though a part of him felt kind of bad for it.

Vi side-eyes him, her mouth pulling into a line. "That’s one way to earn a black eye."

"Noted," Loris says with a smirk, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Though, between you and me, I think most people are too distracted to notice me sneaking around. The current state of Zaun has everyone clouded nowadays.”

Vi snorts softly, her hands in her jacket pockets. "You’re not wrong about that." She glances down at the cracked pavement beneath her boots. "Guess you’ve been busy keeping tabs on everyone, huh?"

"Only the important ones," Loris replies, his tone more serious now. "Speaking of, you alright, Vi? You seem… tenser than usual."

Vi slows her pace, her jaw tightening. "Just didn’t get much sleep, that’s all," she mutters, deflecting.

Loris doesn’t push, but the knowing look in his eyes says he doesn’t buy it. Instead, he switches gears. "Fair enough. Maybe the fight tonight’ll help clear your head. Nothing like knocking someone out to shake off the cobwebs, right? And if that’s not enough, there’s always a celebratory drink afterwards.”

Vi’s face softens. Her heartbeat quickens just a bit in anticipation. The image of you sitting at the bar blurred out Vi’s looping memories of Caitlyn. This time she wasn’t too fucked up to remember the conversation that she had with you the other night. She really, really hopes that you’ll be there to talk some more. 

Loris catches a brief glimpse of Vi smiling. It makes him smile.

*

The day gets late enough for you to head to the arena. It was nice not having to rush for once, so you follow the crowd without a worry. Maybe you could get a front row seat this time!

However, something catches your attention. Your ears picked up on some gossip ahead of you.

“I heard Vi is guaranteed to lose tonight,” says one voice.

“Many people were saying that yesterday, but they were wrong. Did you see that guy? There was no way she was supposed to beat him, but she did. She always wins,” responds the other.

“I’m serious! Today she will lose. The Pit’s losing money because the majority are betting on Vi. I heard that tonight the opponent will be . . .” 

You struggle to hear the conversation as more people follow the crowd, drowning that gossip with other voices. You think about it for a second. Should you not bet on Vi tonight? But that one guy says that she always manages to win. That one opponent seemed to have the biggest advantage being quick, big, and sturdy. Vi did take him down. You nod to yourself.

‘Yeah, gossip is just gossip. Vi never loses, right? That’s what everyone says.’ 

You get to the arena early enough to place a bet. You give up all the cogs you took with you and receive your ticket. When you were picking a seat, you decided to sit somewhere near the front. Hopefully you wouldn’t get queasy from seeing blood fly off of the fighters up close. 

You feel a tap on your shoulder, so you look behind you. Upon seeing Loris, your face lit up in surprise. 

“Oh! Loris, right? I guess you’d be here. Being Vi’s friend and all.”

He takes a step down, sitting next to you. You tense up a bit, not expecting him to move seats.

“Eeyup. Always here to support her.” He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He looks at you. “So you are a fan of hers, huh?”

You grip your ticket tightly. "This is my second time here, so it might be too soon for me to put a label like that on myself. I will admit, though, she’s something else in the ring."

"That she is," he says, his voice tinged with pride. "Vi’s got more fight in her than anyone I’ve ever met. But," he pauses, his tone lowering slightly, "it’s not just about the wins for her."

You tilt your head, curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"

Loris straightens up, offering a small shrug. "Just saying, it’s not always about the glory. Sometimes, it’s about proving something to yourself. You know what I mean?"

‘Prove what exactly?’ you think, ‘If she’s going through her own grief, then is there more to punching someone’s lights out as a coping mechanism?’

You shift in your seat, recalling the gossip you overheard earlier, "Do you think she’ll win tonight?"

Loris looks at you for a moment before responding, his gaze steady, "She’s got the fire in herself to win. But I suppose anything can happen."

You nod slowly, the weight of his words settling in. As the crowd grows louder and the arena begins to fill, you can’t help but feel a mix of excitement and unease. Tonight's fight feels different somehow, and you wonder if Loris senses it too.

The stadium lights shut off, then the arena spotlights beam onto the pit. The crowd howls with excitement. You and Loris stay seated and quiet. Your leg bounces as you sit, feeling your clothing become a bit warm from the nerves. When the referee called out Vi’s name, you and Loris clapped. 

Then you see her. She steps into the ring, arm raised into the air as nearly the entire audience cheers for her. Her steps are just a bit unstable– perhaps she’s been drinking beforehand. You slow your clapping upon seeing the opponent enter the ring. Then another opponent. 

“Tonight is going to be a little bit different,” the referee says through the speakers, “Frontrunner Vi here has been tearing shit up for the past few months.”

The crowd hollers in agreement.

“Now, Vi is no stranger to fighting two people at once,” he laughs into the mic, “Does everyone think our champion has what it takes?”

The crowd screams louder. You want to cover your ears even though you agree with them all. However, you can feel your palms dampen at the thought of Vi having to fight two people. But if everyone seemed confident in her, and if she’s done it before, then she should be fine. 

The bell rings, and the two opponents waste no time closing in on Vi. One is a tall and lean woman, with quick movements that scream agility, while the other is a hulking brute, slower but with arms as thick as Loris’ neck. Vi, her posture loose but ready, cracks her knuckles as a determined look crosses her face.

The agile one darts in first, aiming a sharp jab at her ribs. Vi sidesteps effortlessly, grabbing her arm and twisting it, using the momentum to slam her into the brute. The crowd roars as the two stumble apart, clearly thrown off by her opening move. 

The brute growls, charging at her like a bear. Vi plants her feet, waiting until the last second before pivoting out of his path. She drives her elbow into his side as he barrels past, a sickening thud echoing through the arena. The brute grunts in pain but doesn’t go down, swinging a massive fist toward her head.

Vi barely manages to dodge it, feeling the end of his knuckle brush against her ear. The movement leaves her exposed to the agile one, who’s already recovered. She lands a quick kick to Vi’s thigh, causing her to fall. Vi quickly rolls out of the way when the brute slams his fists onto the ground. She springs to her feet, but is kicked down again by the slimmer one. The brute takes the opportunity to grab Vi, lifting her and squeezing the air out of her.

Vi swings her head back, making contact with his nose. He loosens his grip, and she drops to the ground, spinning to deliver a knee to his gut. Vi clutches her stomach, attempting to catch her breath. The agile one circles Vi as the brute covers his nose, staggering backwards. He shakes blood off of his hand, snarling in anger.

Vi’s eyes flick between them, calculating. When the agile one lunges, she ducks under his swing, grabbing his arm and spinning him around. Using her momentum, Vi launches her into the brute, the two of them crashing to the ground in a heap.

Vi, victorious, raises her fists high as the crowd chants her name.

In the crowd, you excitedly cheer for her. You look at Loris, whose face drops in horror. You quickly look back into the ring.

The two opponents are standing back up, throwing empty glass vials at the walls of the pit as they wipe their mouths. From where you were sitting, you can see a familiar substance dripping from their lips. Shimmer. 

Vi looks back at her opponents, quickly putting her fists into a fighting position. You can see her face from where you sit. Her body language says ‘come at me’, but her eyes are laced with fear. Like she’s remembering something. Like she has seen something like this before.

The look of Vi’s opponents was enough to scare sobriety back into her. She feels like she’s fifteen again. She’s seeing flashbacks. Tears well up in her eyes.

As Vi is frozen in her stance the brute rushes in again, landing a right hook before slamming a heavy blow into her ribs. She gasps, doubling over, and the agile one takes the opportunity to sweep her legs out from under her.

Vi hits the ground hard, the breath knocked out of her once more. The crowd falls into a stunned silence as she struggles to get up, her arms trembling under her weight.

“Get up, Vi!” someone shouts from the audience, their voice nearly drowned out by the growing murmur of uncertainty. You look to whoever shouted; their voice was close enough to you. You caught a glimpse of the cloaked figure from yesterday. You turn back to the fight quickly. 

The brute grabs her by the arm, hauling her to her feet. She swings wildly, desperation in her eyes, but he blocks her punch easily. The agile fighter moves in, landing a brutal uppercut that snaps her head back. Blood gushes from Vi’s nose as she struggles to find her footing.

The brute’s fist comes crashing down, and this time, she doesn’t get up.

The bell dings, signaling the end of the fight. The crowd erupts, but not in cheers—there’s a mix of shock, anger, and disbelief. If there was any cheering, they were concealed by angry yelling.

You sit frozen in your seat, your heart sinking as Vi lies on the ground. Loris stands abruptly, his face a mask of worry. “I need to check on her,” he mutters, darting toward the ring. You stand up from your seat, peering over the pit. Vi’s eyes are barely open, her breathing heavy.

You watch helplessly, gripping your ticket so tightly it crumples in your hand. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Vi was supposed to win. She always won.

But tonight, the champion had fallen.

*

The ringing in Vi’s ears was almost enough to drive her insane, but she was too out of it to express her discomfort. Her vision was blurry and coming in and out. She could barely hear any talking, if there was anyone speaking. She felt her body moving, some pressure on her sore belly as the ground beneath her got further away from her vision. 

Her eyes fluttered open, trying to process what was happening. She is lowered to the ground, propped against a wall.

“Vander?” she mumbled out, her eyes trying to focus on her rescuer. Her head lols to the side, eyes shutting. Loris gently pats the side of her face, making her open her eyes again.

“You with me, Vi?” he asks. Vi grumbles, then winces as she puts a hand to her face.

“That’s it, come on. You’re okay,” Loris sighs.

Vi groans in pain, holding her sides now, “What the fuck happened?” she squeaks out, “Where are we?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he answers, “Just breathe. We’re near the locker rooms, but don’t worry. No one’s gonna hurt you here.”

“Those fuckers. They cheated, didn’t they?” she hisses, picking dried blood off of her upper lip.

“Don’t worry about it.” Loris repeats himself. Vi angrily tries to stand up, but Loris forces her to sit back down, “Damn it, Vi. Won’t you stay put?”

“I want a rematch. I was too tipsy, my head wasn’t in the game,” she demands. 

“You can ask for a rematch later. You have to rest right now, Vi.”

*

You curse to yourself, now owing The Pit money. At least you didn’t bet all your cogs; there were still some at your apartment. You wish you bet half of the half that you brought with you. The people around you were reasonably upset. In fact, you would be upset too if you had zero connection with Vi.

Despite barely knowing a thing about her, maybe it’s the fact that you had a full-on conversation with her yesterday that made your worry for her quickly eclipse your disappointment about the bet. Maybe it’s the fact that both of you have established a connection over having suffered the same kind of emotional pain. Maybe it’s the fact that she looked so hopeful to see you again. Maybe it’s the fact that she seemed genuinely interested in becoming your friend. Maybe it’s the fact that you want to be her friend. 

You fan your face with your hands, anxiety creeping up on you. You search the crowd for Loris, but can’t find him anywhere. You choose a random direction to walk in and stick to it. After a few moments of walking, you find yourself at the entrance of the ring. Hoping that Vi and Loris were around there somewhere, you cautiously enter the dark hall.

“Loris?” you whisper-shout. “Vi?” But there is no response.

You can see the ring ahead. You linger at the arch, looking around to the best of your ability to make sure that no one is around. You step into the light, looking up at all the empty seats in the arena. You don’t understand how Vi can do something so scary like this. A bunch of people screaming at you and having the weight of the title of ‘champion’ on your shoulders was enough to make you lightheaded. 

You look at the floor, seeing old bloodstains on the concrete. You wonder how much of Vi’s blood is forever merged with the floor beneath you. You wonder how many peoples’ blood are also a part of this pit. Your shoe crunches on some glass, stopping your thoughts. 

You crouch down a bit, seeing some dried purple shimmer stains among the pieces of glass. There was one vial up ahead that wasn’t completely shattered, so you reach over to it and pick it up. Your fingers trace over the intact part of the vial, turning it in your hand. But then you squint your eyes when you feel an embossment on the glass. You bring it close to your face, then immediately drop it. You stand up and back away from the scene, feeling the hairs on the back of your neck stand up because you recognized the embossment as your ex’s signature. 

You run out of the arena. You wouldn’t put it past The Pit to use shady tactics for monetary gain, but out of all shimmer dealers it HAD to be theirs. You duck into an alleyway, looking at your fingers. There were tiny glowing droplets of shimmer on them, and you frantically wiped your hands off on the wall. 

As you steady your breathing, you sink to the floor and hug your knees to your chest. Your mind wanders to all the times your ex would come home with heaps of cogs from selling their special formula. They would use their own supply sometimes just for the heck of it, and it would scare you. Luckily they never forced you to try it, but they would offer it to you constantly. You would never touch that stuff. Once, they got mad at you for refusing to help them sell it. Having an involvement in ruining people’s lives messed with your moral compass. You exclaim in frustration and bury your face in your hands, getting upset at yourself for even considering selling shimmer before you placed your first bet. 

You pick your head back up, wondering if Vi was okay. Where could Loris have taken her?

Standing up, you walk around cautiously. There weren’t many people around. Most of them were hanging out in corners. Your nose burns with the smell of smoke and shimmer as gravel crunches beneath your shoes. Some people held out their hands for a spare cog, but you ignored them. Not like you had any on yourself at this time. 

Eventually, you see the back of a familiar figure up ahead. You quicken your pace, “Loris!” 

He turns around and slows his pace, letting you catch up. When you reach his side, he has Vi in his arms. Her face is wrinkled into a grimace.

“Vi!” You gasp out, putting a hand to your mouth upon seeing all the blood and bruises on her body. Her eyes slowly open, finding you.

“Well, this is embarrassing,” she croaks out, trying to find it in herself to laugh. “You saw my ass get handed to me. Now I’m being carried like a fucking baby.”

“Stop it,” you say almost in a scolding tone, “How do you feel? Are you alright? Could I get you something?” You bombard her with questions. 

Your concern makes her scoff, a smile creeping onto her face. “I could really use a drink right now, (Y/n). That would make me feel a whole lot better.”

“I’ll get you one, just… hold on, okay?” You dig through your bag, struggling to see anything from how dark it is. 

“Sweet as a cupcake,” Vi mumbles, closing her eyes, “Sweet things are hard to come by in Zaun, ya know.”

You give her a quizzical look, not like she can see your confusion. 

“She’s concussed.” Loris explains. That explains it, you guess.

You find some spare napkins at the bottom of your bag, clutching them in your hands. You look around as you walk, spotting a shortcut to the bar strip through an alleyway.

“I’m sorry, cupcake,” Vi whines, her face scrunching up in a mixture of grief and pain, “I could’ve been better.”

Now you were very confused, but she was probably talking about her performance in the ring. 

“It’s a straight walk to Vi’s apartment. Go get her a drink. I won’t be too far when you’re done.” Loris motions to that alleyway with his head. You nod at him, taking a light jog to the shortcut. 

The strip was not nearly as lively as it was. The people who were standing around were moping about losing their bets, therefore having to reason to celebrate. You were let into the bar without a problem, and it sure as hell was a lot emptier than usual. You have never seen such unenthusiastic dancing in your life. 

No one was really talking at the bar either. 

You rush over towards the bartender.

“Ah, the water girl.” He greets as he polishes some glasses. 

“Just one water please,” you drum your fingers on the counter in anticipation. It only takes him a few moments to grab you a plastic cup with stale water in it.

“I heard Vi lost tonight’s fight. I guess I won’t be making much today.” He sighs as he hands it over to you.

“None of us made anything today, so welcome to the club…” mutters a random customer.

You hightail it out of there, not caring enough about engaging in conversation with the bartender or other customers. You walk quickly, trying not to slosh the water around too much and spill any. 

You quickly find Loris and Vi again. You dampen the napkins from your bag in the water and lightly dab Vi’s nose to clean her up. She hisses in pain, nearly swatting your hand away.

“Let me get the blood off of you.” You say firmly. Vi’s eyes open, and she tries to pick her head up. You lightly press her forehead down so she is fully resting on Loris’ forearm. “Down.”

“Let me walk. I want to walk,” she grumbles, wiggling out of her lying position. Loris gently sets her on her feet. Vi stumbles as her feet hit the ground, her legs barely holding her up. “See? I’m fine,” she mumbles, though her knees wobble dangerously. Loris steadies her with one arm, but you’re already stepping closer, the cup of water trembling slightly in your hands.

“You’re not fine, Vi. Just let me—” you start, but her sharp glare cuts you off.

“Don’t baby me,” she snaps, though her voice cracks halfway through. “I’ve had worse nights.” She leans heavily on Loris, her bravado faltering as her breaths come shallow and uneven.

The street feels suffocating now, the smell of smoke and sweat clinging to the damp air. Somewhere in the distance, a bottle shatters, followed by muffled shouting. You glance nervously over your shoulder, half-expecting to see shadows closing in.

“You don’t have to prove anything,” you say softly, trying to meet Vi’s gaze. “No one’s judging you for losing.”

She laughs bitterly, rasping like sandpaper, “You think they’re not judging? This city eats the weak alive. If you lose, you’re nothing.”

You try not to take her sudden snappiness to heart, but her icy glare was enough to make you look away in submission. Her ego was probably more bruised than her body was. Nonetheless, her words hit harder than they should, dredging up memories you’ve tried to bury.

“They cheated, Vi. It shouldn’t—” Loris was also cut off.

“I don’t fucking care, Loris!” she snaps.

“Vi,” you say, your voice gentle, “you’re not nothing.”

She looks at you then, her eyes glassy but piercing. For a moment, it’s as if she sees right through you, past your carefully constructed walls. “You don’t know a damn thing about me,” she murmurs, her voice softer now but no less sharp.

You step back, stung, but Loris steps in. “Enough, Vi,” he says firmly, “You’re concussed, confused, and bleeding. Save the tough act for later.”

You walk with them, trailing slightly behind. Eventually, the three of you climb up a small flight of stairs up to a shady-looking building. There is a rickety staircase attached to the right of it, so you and Loris carefully bring Vi over to it. She shrugs both of you off, putting a foot on one of the stairs and supporting herself with the railing.

“Did you get me a drink?” she asks, looking back at you. You quietly hand her the water cup. You brace yourself, expecting her to throw it at you. Instead, she takes it upstairs with her.

You relax, watching her leave. You exchange a glance with Loris, who rubs the back of his neck, looking equally drained. The faint creak of the rickety staircase echoes above, each step sounding like it might give way beneath her.

"Don’t take it to heart, (Y/n). There’s plenty of venom in her words, but she means no harm. She’s not in the right state of mind either," Loris mutters, breaking the silence.

“Has she ever been in the right state of mind?” Your voice is laced with bitterness.

“You know,” Loris surmised, “She really did look forward to seeing you tonight.” He ignored your question.

“Did she tell you that?” you scoff, skepticism in your tone.

“Not exactly, but last night she was probably the happiest I’ve ever seen. She kept looking to the sky today like she was waiting for time to pass,” he looks down at you, a smile on his face, “You seem like you’d be a great friend for her. Like I said, I appreciate what you’ve done for Vi. And I am thanking you for what you’ve done for her today.”

You exhale through your nose, unsure if Loris was just telling you that to make you feel better. 

For a moment, the two of you stand there, listening to the sounds of the city creep back into focus. The buzz of lights, the low hum of voices muffled by brick walls. It’s almost peaceful if you ignore the sour stench of garbage and the flickering street lights overhead.

“You gonna hang around?” Loris asks, his tone neutral.

You hesitate, glancing back at the staircase Vi just climbed. There’s a part of you that wants to follow her, to make sure she doesn’t collapse in that dingy apartment. But another part of you—the part that remembers the weight of Vi’s concussed words—deems it inappropriate for you to intrude in her personal space. You were reminded that the two of you were far from that level.

“Nah, I think she wants space.” 

“Alright then. Don’t worry too much about her, (Y/n), I’ll see how Vi’s holding up tomorrow.”

You nod at him, “Take care, Loris.”

As you turn to leave, you can’t shake the feeling that Vi’s words will stick with you long after tonight. ‘You don’t know a damn thing about me.’ She was right—but the question gnaws at you: Do you want to? And if you do, will you end up losing yourself in the process? Did yesterday's conversation mean nothing to her? Because for a moment, it meant a lot to you. 

The thoughts linger, heavy and suffocating, as you walk away into the neon haze of the city night.

End of Ch. 4

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch.3 Ch. 5

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Taglist Cupcakes: @ren-ren23 @captain-crabbo @baylegend6 @winchestergirlspn @charcoal-heart

[tadpole-art]

Were they ever really that different?

[maskenjager]

I can't unsee this

[3liza]

99% of "mysterious disappearances" esp of people in their 20s who start acting weird for 48 hours and then vanish are not mysterious, thats just when a lot of reality-obliterating mental illness tends to kick in and it's pretty easy to get a short circuit in your brain that makes you go family guy death pose in joshua tree national park. it's not any less tragic, it's just a documented phenomenon and not particularly predictable. its a big reason the medical advice is for people with a family history of schizophrenia to completely avoid weed and psychedelics. "people just go crazy sometimes" is a principle of human health that used to be a lot more accepted prior to the american midcentury and to a certain extent thats a healthier way to conceptualize and prepare for the risk, as opposed to the modern assertion that anyone acting weird is dangerous and broken forever.

[3liza]

you should have a rough outline of a plan for if any of your loved ones experiences psychosis, it really does happen a lot. UTIs can cause psychosis. taking drugs, even safe drugs, or prescription drugs, can cause psychosis. i was once prescribed a heavy regimen of vitamin D because i was deficient, but the doctor never told me to stop taking it, so i moved to california, stopped being deficient, and developed vitamin d toxicity with downstream hyperparathyroidism which triggered significant hypomania that was undetected and uncontrolled for yeeeeeeears. i just slowly got Weird and started making impulsive decisions based on slightly out-of-gamut beliefs. i drove cross country by myself to have a love affair. the love affair was real, the series of decisions leading to burning down my life in pursuit of it were based on not great brain function however. etc. you see what i mean. churchill mentioned depression being the "black dog who stalks us" (one reason for Churchgrim's multi-referential name) but theres another, stealthier dog called Insanity and it's closer to some people than others but man it sneaks up on you. every time i see one of those "guy gets weird and drives into the wilderness forever" missing persons stories i think "yeah i could totally pull that off"

[oarfjsh]

"van gogh cut off his ear what a lunatic" you are 3 nights of bad sleep, getting unexpected upsetting news and taking a substance as benign as coffee at the wrong time away from doing the same hope this helps

[monstyra]

some vi

[drowned-captain]

The Rebound - Pitfighter! Vi x Fem! Reader - Ch. 3

A/N: Writing fight scenes are HARD AND I TRIED MY BEST IMSOSORRY. SHORT AND SIMPLE I GUESS. Also I just wanna note that this fic is gonna be a semi-slow burn cause I don’t plan on ending this fic too soon. 

MDNI (18+ only).

TW// Mature themes like violence, drinking, possible drug use, infidelity, mean/triggering thoughts, BEGINNING OF TOXIC CODEPENDENCY 

Word Count: ~ 4.5k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the announcer calls out Violet’s name, she cracks her neck and knuckles before walking to the center of the ring. The crowd is hollering for her, and she looks around at the blinding lights. The light amount of alcohol in her system made it all less overwhelming; it’s just another day. She looks forward to beating the absolute hell out of her opponents. She needs this. She needs to blow off the steam that consumes her entire being. 

Her opponent was then called to the ring, a burly dude twice her size. He laughed at her as he took his place in front of her, looking down with a sneer. Vi puts her fists up and wrinkles her nose slightly while she glares up at her opponent. The second that the bell rings, the thug strikes first. 

Violet feels the ache of the blow onto her forearms. With a yell, she deals a blow to his gut. He snarls at her, kicking her to the floor. Violet rolls, avoiding being stomped on by the brute. She springs to her feet from a lying position, but the foe avoids her kick-up. The evasiveness of the challenger fuels her rage. It gives her a speedy boost, and the cartilage of his nose crunches upon impact, quickly speckling her face with warm crimson. He staggers backwards with his hand over his nose, leaving a window of opportunity. She uses all her might to tackle him to the floor, pinning his arms to the ground with her knees. Her fists fly to his face, painting her knuckles red. He manages to sit up, using his strength to free his arms and shove her off of him. 

The two continued to fight it out, the two of them paying no mind to the heckling of the audience.

*

“Who ya betting on?” A somewhat raspy female voice asks you. You briefly glance at the cloaked person next to you before quickly turning your attention back to Vi. 

“Vi,” you answer, your eyes glued to the fight before you. You’re at the edge of your seat struggling to keep yourself from springing to contribute to the crowd yelling at the fighters. That guy is huge! There’s no possible way that this would end well for everyone betting on Vi. 

“You seem pretty tense. You got no faith in her, or what?” she asks in a somewhat playful tone. You look at her again, but her hood is shadowing her face pretty well. You can only make out the glow of red-violet irises. 

“I haven’t placed a bet before, so I’m a little nervous,” you turn away again.

“I’ve been betting on her for a while. She almost never loses, so you’ll be fine,” the cloaked woman says with a dismissive wave of her hand, “You’ll be swimmin’ in cogs in no time!”

The crowd and yourself exclaim at the sound of Vi’s opponent’s jaw cracking. You cover your eyes, cringing at it being loud enough to hear from where you were sitting. The thud of the brute’s body onto the floor signified the end of the match. The cloaked woman laughs, jumping up from her seat and cheering at the scene. Most of the crowd cheers harder when Vi is announced the winner.

You couldn’t stop yourself from cheering at the success of the fight. You were utterly relieved that you probably would not have to resort to stealing. The audience starts to disperse to collect (or to give up) their gambled cogs.

“So, where do I go to collect the–?” you wanted to ask the woman, but she was gone. You look around in a daze, trying to find her among everyone else. When that failed, you just followed the happiest looking people in hopes that they were on their way to do what you also needed to do. 

*

Violet meets up with Loris outside of the arena. She takes the black leather jacket that he was holding on to for her, muttering a thank you before donning it. 

“You walking home this time?” He asks as they walk together against the crowd.

“Of course not. We’re going out again,” she says without even looking at him. Her eyes remained straight forward towards the path of her favorite bar.

“You don’t think we should give it a rest this time, Vi?” He asks. 

Violet scoffs and shakes her head, “No. My body and hands are fucking killing me. I need something to numb it all with.” 

Loris stays silent, not wanting to argue against it. He has tried to convince her to cut back on the alcohol before, but it mostly ended in her cussing him out for it and drinking a lot more than normal. Other times she just ignores him. This whole situation was not fine— to him, at least. Vi usually pays for his drinks which would normally make him happy, but his concern has been growing because it seems like she is indulging more and more every day. It’s been getting hard for him to watch her go down this kind of path, and she refuses to get herself out of that downward spiral.

“I might sit this one out tonight,” he says, “but I’ll be in the area to make sure you get home safe as usual.”

“Yeah, just leave,” Violet growls bitterly, shoving her hands in her pockets and walking a bit faster, “You never want to hang out anymore.”

“I’m still here for you, Vi,” he says, hovering his hand over her shoulder, but he stops himself and drops his arm to his side instead, “just be safe. Alright?” He slows his pace, watching Violet walk ahead of him. 

Loris pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, dragging his hand down his face as he slows to a stop. He then saw that Vi had stopped in her tracks in the distance. He followed her gaze to people in line collecting their winnings. He shrugs, turning on his heel. There’s no use trying to figure out what Vi might be thinking over there.

Violet is frozen in place and absolutely fixated.

You are collecting your earnings from the bet you placed, fighting the urge to get too giddy about it. You think about going home, but the thought of your little rush of happiness crumbling into ash once you enter your apartment and remind yourself of things…

It’s better to celebrate instead. It has been a few days since you had a little drink after all. You pocket your tiny windfall of cogs and head towards that party strip of Zaun. 

You weren’t too worried about being mugged for your earnings because some people were already preoccupied with fighting each other over larger bets. You personally didn’t get too much; eight cogs can only help you win so much. You make a mental note to stay vigilant in the future once you can afford to bet a little more and win much more.

You look around the street as the neon lights reflect off of your (s/c) flesh. You didn’t have the intention of spending too much money—you have to start saving up for next month after all. Better yet, you have to start saving to at least move apartment units. That might take for-fucking-ever, but at least it would feel like a fresh start after all you’ve been through in that shitty relationship. You stand aside to let other people walk by and do a little eenie-meenie on your surroundings, and chance leads you to select that bar you visited a few days ago. Must be fate.

You cross the street towards that bar with a little pip in your step. Your mind was preoccupied with which beverage would be the best (and not too expensive) to celebrate the success with. The bouncer let you in, not seeming to recognize you. Luckily you arrived a bit early, so the dance floor and the bar were not too busy. You quickly sat at the bar before it could get any more occupied.

“I’ll start off with some water,” you say to the bartender. Zaun’s tap water was far from clean, but you didn’t want to accidentally upset your head and stomach like you did the last time. You’ll deal with your potential kidney problems when you’re older. 

You were given a plastic cup of good ol’ plain Zaun water. You took a little sip; already used to the strange aftertaste of it. You drum your fingers on the counter while you think about what kind of poison you want. 

The barstool next to you scrapes against the floor which makes you shut your eyes automatically. There were plenty of other empty seats at the bar, yet someone decided to choose the seat right next to you. On instinct, you rotate your stool just a tad to send a silent message that you were not interested. 

“Two shots of raspberry vodka,” says the voice next to you. Your eyes slowly open upon hearing that familiar voice, feeling the whoosh of air from the bartender walking by to grab some shot glasses.

You slowly turn your head, instantly recognizing Vi. You had no idea that Vi frequented this bar in particular. In fact, you didn’t expect her to even be here or in the party district at all given how brutal that fight was. Regardless, you didn’t stare. There’s no way she would remember you, right? She was absolutely intoxicated! You were pretty out of it yourself, but you were able to remember that night. A part of you felt a bit anxious about if she actually remembered the conversation you two had that almost resulted in her getting aggressive with you. You quickly glance at her again to see if her ‘handler’ was with her, but he wasn’t. Shit. 

You grab your cup of water and take another sip as you feign cluelessness.

The bartender returned with Vi’s shots, and she slid one towards you. It clinked against your water cup right when you put it down. You look at Vi, who was already in the middle of drinking her shot. She put the empty shot glass down, clearing her throat. She turns her head to look at you, her eyes calculating.

“You seem familiar,” she tells you, resting her elbows on the counter. This less shitfaced version of her didn’t seem that bad, but you did just watch her break someone’s jaw not even an hour ago.

“I don’t know a damn thing about you,” is the best response you can give her, but you say it in the most polite tone you can muster without it sounding too fake. Your statement jogs her memory a bit, and you pick up on the glimmer of recollection in her eyes. She looks at the cup of water you protectively held in your hand, her fuzzy memory of you clearing up a bit.

You grab the little shot glass that she slid to you, giving her a nod of acknowledgement, “Thank you for the shot, by the way.”

Violet glances at the water cup you set down before looking back at you again. 

“What was your name again?” She asks as you down the shot.

“(Y/n),” your tone was careful, still unsure of her intentions. Even if she was a little more sober than the first time, you shouldn’t let your guard down.

“Ah, I remember,” she says gently, “Listen, whatever I said to you the first time. I’m sorry for it. I don’t remember exactly what I told you, but…” she trails off. 

You just nod, “Thank you for your apology, Vi.”

It was so unusual to see a tough looking girl like Vi— who beat the absolute crap out of a dude who towered over her— sound so gentle and sincere. Despite her intimidating, punky appearance, she seems pretty alright.

The two of you sit in silence for a moment before she speaks up again, “So you came to watch the fight, huh?” 

You nod, taking another sip of your water.

“I honestly thought you were a goner the moment I saw that guy walk into the ring, but you ended up wiping the floor with him.”

Vi chuckles, feeling unusually shy. She has had plenty of people compliment her on her fighting, but for some reason it hit just a tiny bit different coming from you. 

Vi opened her mouth to say something, but you spoke up first, “I’m also sorry, by the way. It was rude of me to assume things about you. For all I know, you could just be having a good time every day in your routine. And… there I go again. Assuming stuff.”

But you were right the first time. Vi couldn’t remember exactly what you said before, but she remembered feeling very defensive over it. 

“Water under the bridge,” she shrugs. 

There was another moment of silence. The awkwardness was starting to make you feel uncomfortable. 

The bartender comes by and gives Vi a bottle, “Here’s your usual.”

You look at the bartender and ask him to surprise you with anything. 

Vi takes a swig of her drink, wiping her mouth afterwards. You smile a bit, trying to strike up a conversation to break the silence, “You must be pretty popular at this bar. The bartender already knows what you like.”

She shrugs, her facial expression hardening just a tad, “It’s nothing to be too proud of.”

Whoops! You weren’t sure if that insulted her. 

You then looked at her hands, then at her face, “Are you in any pain at all? You seem to keep it together pretty well.”

Violet was caught off guard by your question, “Yeah, I am,” she averts her gaze. She knows that you probably meant physical pain, but it felt good to hear somebody ask her a question like that. If only you knew about the emotional pain that she was in. She would love to talk about it; there is a sense of comfort in sharing things with a stranger after all. She wasn’t sure how to instigate that conversation. A part of her was still feeling embarrassed for how her first impression might have been to you.

You simply nod in acknowledgement, unsure what to say. Should you say sorry? Would that be weird?

The bartender returns with some kind of cocktail for you. Violet looks at it curiously, then watches you take a sip. It tasted kind of nasty, but oh well. You contemplate just leaving because it didn’t seem like Vi was receptive to conversation at the moment. But your curiosity kept you planted to the barstool. After all, Vi is going to be your ticket to keeping yourself fed and housed.

“So, what’s the secret to winning every fight? Besides being the strongest person in the ring,” you inquired.

Vi seemed to relax a bit, and you couldn’t help but notice a sense of relief in her eyes and body language, “I could tell you, but then I’d have to fight you,” she joked. You laughed a little bit, happy that Vi seems a bit more relaxed.

“I wouldn’t want your hands to hurt even more than they probably already are,” you snorted. 

The two of you sit with smiles on your faces. You try to down more of your disgusting spiked sugar water, physically recoiling after a mouthful of it. Vi snickers at your reaction to it, then curiously surveys the inside of your glass after you set it down.

“What even is that?”

“I don’t even know. Dumpster water with syrup, probably,” you explained, drinking some water.

“May I?” Vi reaches for your beverage, and you nod. After she takes a sip of your mystery drink, she puts it down and shakes her head, “Wow, yeah. That’s pretty bad.”

“Here,” you hand her your water cup. She takes a sip of your water, staining the rim of it with black lipstick. She looks into the cup of water, her face softening. 

“Hey, (y/n),” she begins, her eyes still glued to the cup of water, “Could I confide in you about something?” 

A rush of nervousness flows through you, but you tilt your head curiously.

“Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever get out of this cycle. It's like... fighting, drinking, rinse and repeat. But nothing ever changes,” she sets the water in front of you, grabbing her own drink and rotating it in her hands. She shifts in her seat, fingers drumming against the glass. You stay quiet, waiting to see if there is anything else she wants to share.

“That’s just how I feel right now. Thanks for letting me spew that on you,” she takes a long drink from her bottle.

You look down at your own alcoholic beverage, “If I’m being completely honest with you, Vi, I came here to celebrate because I needed to celebrate. But I’m honestly not so sure what I’m celebrating anymore.”

“You’re trying to numb something, aren’t you?”

Your eyes quickly darted to Vi, your eyebrows raised in surprise, “Is it obvious?”

“You’re not the only one,” she commented, “I guess we have something in common.”

She holds out her bottle to you, and you hesitate before taking it from her and giving it a taste. It was definitely better than the concoction you were trying to stomach. 

The bar was starting to get progressively noisier, and the music was gradually being cranked up. The two of you have to lean closer together to keep on chatting. The bartender would come back with more drinks for Vi, but she seemed to be taking her time with drinking them. She was more preoccupied with talking to you.

“I guess I can say that I’m somewhat relieved to know that I’m not the only one stuck in a loop,” Vi shares. The two of you were so physically close that you were able to see some of the scars on her face. Her smeared black makeup didn’t completely hide some of her bruises. Some old, some new.

“I’ll tell you what makes me chase my tail if you tell me yours,” you bargain. 

Violet feels her guard wanting to come back up, but what the hell. It’s not like she has anything else to lose.

“Heartache and heartbreak,” she admits. Your mouth hangs open a bit. Vi looks at you expectantly as she waits for your own reason, “So what’s got you on repeat?”

“Would you believe me if I said it’s the same as yours?”

“Hah! Hurts like a bitch, doesn’t it?”

You laugh a little, surprised by her bluntness. “Yeah, it really does.”

For a moment, the two of you sit in companionable silence. The noise of the bar swirls around you both, but it feels distant, like you’re sitting in your own little bubble.

“Are you new to getting your heart broken?” you ask her. Your eyes scan over her appearance.

Vi looks down at her clothing, feeling her face heat up in embarrassment, “I’ve been heartbroken before, but this time was different. I don’t know if I’m ready to drop all the details, though. Ugh, it’s all just so stupid.”

“No it’s not,” you interject, “it really does fucking hurt. We can feel what we want to feel about it all. Sure, we can act out. Feeling is not stupid. As long as we don’t fall further than expected…”

You found yourself being somewhat of a hypocrite. Letting yourself rot at home was one thing, but now you’re looking for excuses to go out and drink rather than pulling yourself up off the floor and facing your grief head-on. And here you are giving lectures that you wished someone would tell you. But wait! You need this. You have to go out from now on, remember? Betting on Vi’s fights is supposed to help you. This is beyond your control for sure; everything is fine. 

Vi, on the other hand, hung on to your words. In a way, you made her think about what she is doing to herself. She then wondered if you, yourself have ever been a party person before your situation. She hoped that casual drinking was a part of your routine. Or are you falling into bad habits like she is?

But the truth is that neither of you were ready to separate yourselves from this kind of lifestyle. The pain of being home and alone hurt too much. 

Vi pauses for a moment before asking, “Ever think about what comes after?” Glancing at you sidelong.

“After heartbreak?” you clarify, toying with the straw in your drink.

She nods, “Yeah. Like... do you keep looking back, or do you find something to push forward?”

You take a moment, considering her question. “I think I’m still trying to figure that out. I’m just kind of stuck. But I do know that in the end, moving forward is the only choice.”

Vi hums in agreement, taking another swig of her drink. “Moving forward sounds nice. I just don’t know what the hell that looks like anymore.”

Her words hang in the air for a beat, and you feel an urge to respond, but you’re unsure how much to say. Instead, you offer softly, “Maybe it doesn’t have to be a huge leap. Just... a step at a time.”

Vi looks at you, really looks at you, her expression somewhere between skeptical and thoughtful. “A step, huh?”

“Yeah,” you say, shrugging. “Baby steps. Like... sitting here and actually talking about it with someone.”

For a second, you think she might scoff, but then her lips curve into a wry smile. “Alright, you get a point for that one.”

You search for the cogs in your pocket, leaving some on the counter. Vi watches you, her face flashing with a bit of anxiety, “You’re heading out?”

“Yeah, I gotta go home before it gets too late. Plus, it’s getting too rowdy here.”

“I can buy you another drink,” she offers, pushing your cogs towards you.

“Agh, nah. After what I was just given, I don’t think I’m in the mood for any more.”

“Let me pay for your drink, (Y/n). It’s the least I can do for your company. You shouldn’t have to pay for a drink that sucks after all.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, “You don’t have your own bills to pay?”

“I get paid pretty well in The Pit. I insist,” if her voice didn’t give her away as pleading, her eyes certainly did. Her silvery-blue irises contrasted against all the black eyeshadow she wore, making them even more intense to look at. For a person who can whoop ass, she very much had a ‘kicked puppy’ look to her.

“Fine. Just this once, though,” you stand up, waving the bartender down. 

A feeling of relief washed over Vi, “Thank you.” She wasn’t sure why she was thanking you, “Stay safe out there, alright?”

The bartender comes back with two plastic cups of water. You leave one of them with Vi.

“It seems like you have to catch up on your drinks,” you note, “better stay hydrated if you’re going to finish all those bottles.”

Vi turned her head to the counter before her. The bartender, who was already so familiar with how much Vi drinks on the daily, had left a bunch of bottles there. All but one of them were untouched. For the first time in a while, Vi felt overwhelmed with how many beverages were waiting for her. It really put things into perspective.

“Heh, right. You should remind me to drink more water next time,” she grabs the cup of water that you left her and swirls it around.

“Next time, huh?” you echo.

“Yeah, but as long as you don’t get too naggy about it,” she replies, her voice holding just a trace of warmth beneath its usual edge.

“Alright, well… be safe tonight. It really was nice talking to you, Vi.”

She huffs out a laugh, shaking her head. “I didn’t think I needed that conversation, but I did. Thank you. You as well, (Y/n).”

As you head for the exit, you can feel her gaze linger on you. Something about it leaves you wondering what she’ll do next—and whether you’re about to find yourself pulled deeper into her world.

As soon as you step out into the street, you hear Vi call out to you. When you turn around, she is squeezing her way through the crowd of strangers.

“(Y/n)! Wait, real quick. Are you coming to the next fight?” 

“Maybe!” You shrug. Of course you were going. You need the money!

“Well, if you do, let’s hang out again.”

Vi was trying to read your face. She didn’t know if she was coming off as weird or desperate. Little did she know, you were very on board with this idea. Not only do you get to have a reason to not return to the apartment, but you finally get to make a friend. 

You nod slightly, a smile creeping up on your face, “Sure. Let’s hang out again soon, Vi.”

She watches you leave before returning to her seat. Luckily nobody decided to steal it (everybody knows that they’d get torn a new one if they dare steal the champion pitfighter’s seat). Vi looked at all the unfinished bottles before her with a blank expression on her face. She decided to finish at least two more bottles, leaving the other ones untouched. After paying for her drinks and yours, she takes the cup of water with her. 

Loris was already waiting for her outside. He immediately puts a hand on her shoulder to steady her walking, but she shrugs him off and just walks her usual route. She brought the water to her mouth and drank it, but she took her time with it compared to the way she downs alcohol.

“You feelin’ alright?” he asks, observing Vi’s movements for any signs of wasted dizziness. But she seemed a little more sober than usual, which struck him odd. 

“Never better,” Vi responds. Her tone was dry, but there was something about her energy that definitely shifted. He notices the water cup in her hands but doesn’t say anything about it. 

Vi says goodnight to her friend before heading up to her little studio apartment. The door pushed away some glass bottles. The clinking noises normally wouldn’t bother her, but tonight she groaned in frustration at them. She shoves them all to a corner with her boot and silently tells herself to throw them out tomorrow. Vi passes the old, dusty cup that you gave her during the first night and she does a little double-take. With a small chuckle escaping her lips, she stacks the new one on top of the old one.

End of Ch. 3

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 4

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Taglist Cupcakes: @ren-ren23 @captain-crabbo @baylegend6

[drowned-captain]

The Rebound - Pitfighter! Vi x Fem! Reader - Ch.2

A/N: Hey y'all! Happy New Year. I just want to thank you guys for the love on my first chapter! It's very encouraging and lets me know that I'm doing something right, haha. Anyways, I greatly appreciate you all for checking it out and I look forward to continuing the story between you and our favorite edgy girl. Btw if anyone knows the name of currency in Zaun, please let me know. A quick search brought me to a reddit comment that said the currency might be called 'cogs', so until I know what it is for sure, I'll be using the word 'cogs'. Enjoy!

MDNI (18+ only)

TW// Mature themes like violence, drinking, possible drug use, infidelity, mean/triggering thoughts

Word Count: 3k

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The ache of a hangover was Violet's usual alarm system. Her eyes fluttered open as she brought her hand to her forehead as her face twitched into a grimace. Despite the lack of lighting in her room, the lights of Zaun peeking through the slits of the makeshift curtain was enough to make her eyes squint. Her legs were elevated on her bed, the rest of her body on the floor. She slowly rolled over and stood up, empty glass bottles around her clinking and wheeling away with every nudge of her body.

A low groan erupted from her mouth when she picked herself up all the way, and she staggered a bit on her way to the bathroom. Oddly enough, she did not throw up from the hangover as she normally does each morning. The headache was still pretty bad, but compared to the past few weeks it seemed like one of the more tolerable ones. Did she do anything differently last night? She ran the sink and looked at her reflection as she tried to remember any unusual forks in the road that interrupted her continuous downward spiral. Maybe Loris took her home earlier than usual-- she couldn't remember too well.

Violet splashed her face with water, not bothering to clean off the entirety of the black smudges of makeup on her face. Instead, she just used yesterday's makeup smears as a guide for today's makeup. When all was done, she dragged her feet back to her room, kicking away empty bottles. She jumped slightly when her boot kicked something that did not sound like glass. It sounded way different. Her eyes tracked an empty plastic cup that was in the middle of rolling underneath her bed. She bent down to pick it up before she lost interest in it. With furrowed eyebrows, she rotated it in her hand before bringing it to her nose. It didn't smell like alcohol, so what gives?

Her mind fog cleared up slightly when she remembered a blurry image of (s/c) skin and (h/c) hair. A bitter feeling. The shape of that stranger disappearing into the crowd. A plastic cup of water.

Instead of tossing the empty cup aside like she has countless of bottles, she set it aside on a higher surface. Before she walked out of her little apartment, she glanced back at that cup once more before leaving.

Violet's self-destructive cycle continued. Pregame before the fight, whoop ass, party, go home, tear up the punching bag, pass out. Pregame, fight, hookup, home, scream, wake up. Pregame, brawl, drink, go home, keep punching the bag, look at the plastic cup, wake up. Look at the plastic cup, fight, hookup, go home, punch it out, watch the dust collect on that plastic cup, wake up. Pregame . . .

*

It had been a few days since you went out to that club/bar thing. When you had woken up the day after, you had a nasty headache and the longest episode of nausea you've had in a while. That alone was enough to deter you from going back, but the temptation lingered and grew as time passed. All of your ex's stuff that you swore you'd give back or throw out? It's all still there. It's all still painful, and you want to get away from it. Yesterday you were about to start the cleanse with throwing at least one of their shirts out of your window, but instead you captured the scent of them on the fabric and couldn't bear to let it go. Not having the mental strength to get rid of at least ONE item pissed you off.

You really wanted to go back to the bar. The mind-numbing poison was just so delicious, and it took away a lot of the mental anguish. If people pour alcohol on flesh wounds to prevent infection, you can too. After all, your heart feels absolutely necrotic. One more trip tonight shouldn't hurt, right? Even if the last time ended on a somewhat bitter note because of that Vi girl. But it's okay! A person as wasted as she was definitely wouldn't remember such an interaction.

You had your own little cycle. Lay in bed, neglect your needs, cry, scream, wake up. But as the days passed, your food supply was running dangerously low. You had to search every inch of your apartment for spare change to pay the month's rent, so you don't have enough for food anymore. You could have sold your ex's things, but if you couldn't even toss a shirt out of the window then there was no way you'd be able to hand their belongings to a stranger.

Your ex-partner was the main provider of your needs, and you were unemployed. Finding a secure job that pays well in Zaun was as easy as unbaking a cupcake, let alone finding a job that was not shady as hell. Your ex was the reason you were able to even have a nicer apartment in the first place. It was far from being as nice as the idea of a Pilty's boiler room, but an apartment like yours is considered luxury in most Zaunite eyes. But like hell you would try to find a job like theirs-- a shimmer distributer. Too much competition, and it would take ages to become one of the big dogs like the ex is. Not only that, but the thought of contributing to ruining lives makes you feel a bit queasy.

Nonetheless, you were no stranger from doing what you had to do to keep yourself alive. You have to eat.

You are now walking the streets of Zaun, keeping your head low as usual. You lurked around the market area of the city as you tried to remember your old shoplifting strategies from when you were a kid. Unfortunately, there were not as many people around as you'd like to use for cover in case you get caught by any vendors. To help yourself blend in with most people, you wore some striped pants that most Zaunites had made a trend out of. Furthermore, you wore a face cover that hid the lower part of your face, and had applied dark makeup around your eyes to help you conceal your identity.

You stuffed your hand in your pocket and felt what little currency you had, which was just half of a handful of cogs. You slowly walked by a little shop selling a variety of fruits. The vendor was busy conversing with a couple of people. A part of you started to hesitate, but you knew that it was either act now or go hungry.

You grabbed a fruit, quickly hiding it away in your bag. Luckily, the vendor didn't notice. You let yourself walk around some more, disappearing into an alleyway to let some time pass before trying again. Your adrenaline was through the roof! It had been about three years since you've last stolen something. A part of you missed this thrill, so the guilt wasn't hitting you as hard as you thought it would.

You came back around, noticing another vendor that sold some bags of fish. This one would be a bit harder. That little stand was not busy, and the vendor seemed wide awake. You take a deep breath and walk confidently to the stand.

"Welcome. How many pounds of fish meat are you asking for?" asks the vendor. The young lady smiles at you, brushing her thumb against the large blade in her hands. She can't be that much younger than you, which is a good thing for your scheme.

"Hmm," you place your hand under your chin in thought, scanning the display.

"Everything is fresh enough," the vendor says with a chuckle, "the further to the left you get, the more meat there is." She fans her arm across her products, and you take note of the bigger bags on the left. Too big and too risky.

"You catch these yourself?" you ask, smiling at her.

"I do. My father taught me everything I know," she says proudly.

"Your father sounds like he really cares about you to teach you such a valuable skill. You must make him very proud! I wish I knew how to fish well enough to catch this many!" Your voice is very sweet, and your charm seems to be working because the girl's body language has relaxed tremendously.

"It's really fun. I can go on and on about all the strategies I've learned, but I don't want to bore you with all that," she muttered.

"No, no, please do tell! You might help me out one of these days."

"I mean I could, but that would mean less business for me!" she jokes. You make yourself laugh at her teasing, but you honestly do not care right now.

"It's so refreshing to speak to someone so kind here," she says, "Everyone is so on edge all the time."

"Tell me about it," you agree, sweat beading at your forehead from your internal tension.

"Anyways, have you made your choice?"

"I think I might have enough for that big bag over there," you point to one of the bags on the leftmost side.

"Ah, thirty-five cogs."

Of course you don't have thirty-five freaking cogs. You reach your hand into your pocket, only grabbing just a few.

"I might have enough--" you hold out your hand to give it to the vendor, but you make yourself drop them. They roll on the counter, and you can hear some of them fall to the ground.

"Oh, crap! I'm so sorry!" you gasp.

The girl bends down to grab some of the fallen cogs, "Oh, no worries!"

While she is distracted, you snag one of the smaller bags of fish and quickly stuff it into your bag. The girl stands back up with the fallen cogs in her hand, "Uhm, you only gave me seven cogs."

"What? Hold on, let me check my pocket for more," you shove your hand in your pocket and grab three more cogs.

"Dang. I think I overestimated how much I have."

"Ten cogs can get you a smaller bag," she waves her hands over the right side of the stand, "but it also has older meat in it."

"It's better than nothing," you utter, handing her three more cogs reluctantly. The downside of this ploy is that you have to lose a bit, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

She hands you one of the smaller bags, and you nod a quick thank you. As you depart, you hear her voice yell in a demanding tone.

"Hey! Wait a minute!"

In the past, those words were a telltale sign that you should run now. But for some reason, maybe because it has been a long time and your confidence isn't at its highest, you freeze.

She already caught up to you, and you turn to face her. Her blade was held securely in her hands. Your legs are tense, like they knew they should run but you cannot.

"I couldn't help but notice something," she says, her eyes narrowing at you. Your eyes dart to her weapon, and on instinct you slowly clutch on to your bag of loot.

"You're a fellow Jinxer!" she says, lightly bumping your stripe-panted leg with her shoe. You breathe a sigh of relief, but you mask it quickly with a laugh. You were finally able to look at this girl properly. She looked like an ordinary 'Jinxer' -- dyed blue hair, striped pants, and bold makeup.

"Yeah! Totally!" You reveled, looking down at your pants.

"I couldn't tell at first because I could only see your upper half, but I had a feeling you were cool like that!" she squeals, "Jinx is literally the best thing to ever happen to Zaun. Piltover will never catch her. Am I right? Her wanted posters are so iconic that I bet it'll end up on a flag one day," she gushes.

'Wow. I had a feeling that she was annoying, but she might be worse than I thought.'

"Yep! She's too quick for them! And... stuff."

Looking past this annoying girl, some man was in the middle of checking out the unattended stall. He was grabbing some of the bags and beginning to scamper off with his pillage. As if this vendor girl had some sixth sense, she throws her cleaver in the direction of the stand, and it hits the man in the knee. The man yells out, falling to the floor.

"What's your name?" she asks.

Your eyes went from watching the man try to crawl away to looking at the merchant in front of you, "My name? It's Caitlyn," you lie. Your brain threw out the first name that came to mind; the one that Vi called you for some reason.

"I hope to see you again, Caitlyn," she beamed, "Now if you excuse me, I have a crook to take care of."

And with that, she leaves you alone. You let go of another breath that you didn't know you were holding.

"Holy shit," you whisper to yourself. To think that could've been your kneecaps or something. You make a mental note to avoid the fish stand for a long while.

As you make the journey back to your apartment, keeping your haul close to you, you notice advertisements on the walls for The Pit. You walked past the fliers, and after thinking for a moment, you take some backwards steps to read it again. You tear one of them off of the wall and stuff it in your pocket before continuing on your way home.

When you finally get there, you sort through your two bags of fish meat. You cringe slightly at touching the raw meat, slightly disappointed that you were not able to snag at least one more bag. This amount would probably last you a week at most. When you were done cleaning them and putting them away, you return to your room with the fruit that you took. The skin of the fruit crunched in your teeth as you emptied your pockets. You had about eight cogs left to your name.

The folded paper slipped out of your pocket when you tried to search your pockets for more cogs. You pick it up and read it over again as you eat the fruit.

Your eyes glance over at the scarce amount of currency, then back at the paper. Your mind went to the scraps you call 'this week's ration' that you had to steal, then you focused on the paper in your hand again. You heard the man's scream in your head, being able to picture yourself getting cleaved in the legs too. Again, you read the paper. You look around your comfortable apartment. Back to the paper.

You trace your finger to the list of the names of the contestants, trying to figure out which name sounds the toughest. Which one of these names sounds like a winner?

The name 'Vi' catches your attention. The memory of her trying to peacock herself to you by proclaiming herself as "top of the food chain" or whatever comes to mind. Her knuckles were pretty damn bloody. Her name wasn't as intimidating as all the other show-offy names, but what the hell.

You quickly change your clothes, shedding your Jinxer disguise. The area The Pit is in is quite the distance from your area, so you make haste. You grabbed the last of your cogs in your hand, holding them close to your heart before taking off. You had to evade a lot of crowds as you ran through the city, fearing to be late for the fight.

Luckily, you made it pretty early to the arena. Your dark makeup from earlier was smeared down your face, your chest heaving from all the running. This is not your most graceful moment.

You waited in a queue to place your bet, bouncing on your heels anxiously as you contemplate changing who you're betting on. Your ears are picking up on people discussing who and why they are betting on specific people. But you frequently hear the name 'Vi' among the people, which is a little reassuring. You look into the palm of your hand at your last cogs, a worried look on your face.

'I guess I'm really going to bet the last of it,' you think to yourself.

Then, you're up next. You walk up to the person behind the counter.

"Let me guess, you're placing a bet on Vi," says the man. You blink at him, wondering how he knew. He makes a gesture with his hand around his face, "Your makeup. Lots'a her fans got that whole smeared black makeup kind of look."

Oh.

You place your eight cogs on the counter. The man looks up at you with a raised eyebrow, "That's it?"

"Yeah." You answer shortly. The man stifles a laugh while he picks up the currency, shaking his head as he grabs a ticket for you and says, "Okay then."

You follow the rest of the crowd to the seating area. You take a seat in the far back of the arena while you wait for the match to start, which seems like it's only a matter of minutes. With your leg bouncing in anticipation and ticket clutched in both hands, you say a soft prayer to whatever god will listen.

For a moment, you wish you never placed a bet in the first place. The only memory of Vi you have is her being completely wasted. How in the world is a person like that a frontrunner? You should have just grown a pair and sold your ex's things. If Vi loses, you might as well make the most of your last month in your nice apartment before fleeing from the area completely to avoid being put on some kind of hitlist for not paying rent. Or worse: ask them to come back.

Before you know it, the announcer's voice is filling the entire arena. The fight has officially begun.

End of Ch. 2

Ch. 1 Ch. 3

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Disclaimer: Please do not pour alcoholic beverages on wounds.

If you are struggling with alcohol use, I found a website that can help you find resources here.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist Cupcakes: @ren-ren23 @captain-crabbo

[izbnart]

Made an arcane fan animation hehe

[thetruearchmagos]

@theprissythumbelina

[angelexile]

Do you role play?

sometimes i pretend i’m a fully functioning adult

[drowned-captain]

The Rebound - Pitfighter! Vi x Fem! Reader - Ch.1

A/N: Hellooo this idea came to me in my mind brain. This is going to take place during the time of Vi’s pitfighter era (duh). I’m kinda hitting the ground running with this one, so bear with me lol. I’m aiming for some angst and drama! This is pretty much the first fic I’m writing so I hope you readers enjoy! I’m also writing this on mobile (and I’m kinda new to posting on tumblr) so I apologize for any possible weird formatting. This will most likely be a multi-part story :) Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!

MDNI! (18+ only).

TW// Mature themes like violence, drinking, possible drug use, infidelity, mean/triggering thoughts

Summary: You are a Zaunite going through a breakup. Your partner was once your entire world for nearly three years until you had enough of them going behind your back. After being reclusive in your home for weeks, you decide to rejoin society. You find yourself curious about Zaun’s latest fighting champion, but she might have other intentions with you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You are laying in your bed like you have been for the past few hours. Or has it been days? Weeks? Who knows. The only time you made yourself get up was to grab a snack or to go to the bathroom. Other than that, being curled up in a bunch of blankets has been all the comfort you can give yourself without the usual embrace of your ex-partner. You have a photograph of the two of you pinched between your fingers, the image blurry from the pooling of tears in your eyes. You adjust your head on your pillow slightly to lay your cheek on a dry spot, inhaling deeply through your nose and cringing at the snot retreating back into your nostrils.

You roll over on your bed, facing the empty spot next to you. Your face crinkles in sadness at the absence of the person you considered your everything. In frustration, you shove the pillow next to yours and it falls off the bed, hitting the floor softly. Your mind wandered to how many people that lying rat had laid down in the bed you two shared. Your fist clenches in rage, and you merely slam your fist at the spot next to you. Your hand just bounces easily, encouraging you to sit up and toss the picture you were holding elsewhere as you slammed your fists into the bed. A frustrated scream escapes your lips before you tire yourself out, leaving you panting and wiping tears, snot, and saliva off of your face with your already soggy sleeves.

You remain seated there on your knees, just staring at the ruffled mess underneath you. The anger and sadness in your mind tore each other apart like a couple of fighting cats, and you slump into yourself. You finally pick your head up and look around your room, and all you see are reminders of them. Photographs, trinkets, and clothes that they couldn’t come collect because you were serious when you told them to never come back. You know that you’ll have to return them eventually, but it’s just too painful to even touch their possessions. You’ve had enough of surrounding yourself with these painful memories.

You bring your shirt to your nose and take a congested whiff, and despite having your nose compromised your head recoiled at your own stench. Groaning, you scooted yourself off of your bed. Your knees and ankles popped from not being used in a while as you walked to the bathroom. You glanced at yourself in the mirror and sighed at your state.

Your hair was stuck to your face from the tears, your eyes were swollen and red, entire face shiny from the oil buildup. You have to pull yourself together, girl!

After a much needed shower, you felt a little bit better. You wandered off back into your bedroom, briefly glancing out of the curtain on your window to see what time of day it was. It appeared to be later in the day, maybe too late to go out and actually do something. However, the pain from your surroundings was enough of a deterrent to encourage you to step out anyways.

You threw on some casual clothing, finishing it off with some light makeup. For the first time in a while, you felt pretty. It was almost like a little makeover for your depressed self… but you would’ve felt a lot better about it if the makeup you used wasn’t one of your many “I’m sorry” gifts from your ex lover.

You sigh, slipping some shoes on before locking your place and heading out into the streets of Zaun. It didn’t seem like much changed around the street except for the growing trend of people dying their hair blue.

Zaun’s noises were a much needed change from the echoing of your own sobs in your bedroom. You keep your head low as you wander around. You don’t really care where you end up— you just have to get some (not so) fresh air. You pretend not to hear whistles that you know are directed at you. In another world, the attention might have been nice. You left your apartment feeling pretty, but your mean mind once again beats you down.

‘If you were as pretty as you think you are, you wouldn’t have been cheated on. You weren’t pretty enough to them since they did what they did MULTIPLE times.’

You shake your head, feeling tears threatening to gather along your waterline. You sniffle and pick your head up, looking up at the darkened, foggy sky to blink the tears away. As your head returns to a neutral position, your eyes catch a glimpse of some posters on the wall that you walked along. The wall had many of the same poster, but most of them had been drawn on with blue spray paint. Your analytical eyes were quick to find a readable one.

It said something about where to place bets for tonight’s match in The Pit. There were the names of some contestants listed below, but you couldn’t care less about the names of the people getting their teeth punched out tonight. Judging by the distant noise, it doesn’t seem like it’s too far at all. However, the crowd of people coming towards you— some cheering and some angry — tells you that you just missed the fight. Oh well.

You walked against the crowd, letting yourself keep walking. There was distant music that was getting closer and some colorful lights coming from many buildings. You looked around, realizing that you had wandered into the ‘livelier’ strip of Zaun. People walking by smelled of alcohol, sex, and cigarette. This would normally bother you or warrant your face scrunching up, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care at the moment.

With your shoe dragging to a stop, you look around the area and contemplate going back home for a few seconds. But you shake your head.

“No, I’m tired of being at the apartment. I’m going to treat myself,” you say to yourself with a determined look on your face.

“Treat yourself to a psych ward if you’re going to stand there talking to nobody,” says a random guy to your left. A bouncer.

You turn to face him, your face twisting into an awkward smile.

“You gonna go in or not?” He asks, crossing his arms. You look past him, your eyebrows raised at the amount of people in there. You can hear the bass of the music booming through the walls.

“Uh.. sure. Yeah. I’ll give this place a shot,” you say, clicking your tongue and winking at him for your lame pun. He just scoffs and stands aside, opening the door to let you in.

When you step inside, you contemplate turning right back around. There are so many people in here that you can feel sweat landing on you from all the dancing people. You awkwardly shimmy your way through the crowd until you reach the bar area. A groan escapes your mouth when you see that the bar is also pretty backed up. But alas! Someone gets off of one of the barstools. You shove your way past people and take a seat, sighing at the slight relief of not being elbowed or having your shoes stepped on by people lost in the music.

The bartender makes eye contact with you, and you yell out for two shots of raspberry vodka. After a few moments, the bartender slides two shot glasses of the tinted liquid in front of you.

As you reach for the glass on the right, a bandaged hand has already grabbed it.

“Thanks,” says the woman, throwing her head back and downing the shot before slamming it down on the counter. Her forehead bonks onto the counter as well, black hair sprawling out.

Your mouth is agape and your hand is still in midair above where your now empty shot glass rests. Your eyebrows furrow in irritation, and you nudge the drunk girl’s shoulder with your hand.

“Hey! That was not for you. You’re going to have to pay for that shot,” you say. The woman rolls her head to the side, an annoyed scowl on her face.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” she growls, her words slurring. She peels her face off of the counter and runs a hand through her hair, fixing her bangs into place.

Before you can say something to defend yourself, you close your mouth upon seeing those wrapped up hands of hers; the bandages on her knuckles were stained with blood. Her glossy eyes meet yours, the scowl on her face relaxing a bit upon seeing your face.

‘This girl is probably one of those fighter people. Better not agitate her even more.’

You quickly break the eye contact and grab your only shot left and down it, feeling the burn all the way down to your stomach.

“Who are you anyways? You don’t look like you belong here at all,” she says, leaning in a bit so you can hear her past the music.

You honestly can’t tell if she’s trying to find a reason to escalate a fight or if she’s genuinely trying to have a conversation. Glancing at her, you can see bruises on her face even underneath her smeared, black makeup.

“This was the only free seat,” you say, not making the contact with her in fear that you’ll get socked in the jaw. What if she perceives eye contact as a threat?

“Lucky me,” the girl says with as she plops her chin onto the counter. You breathe a sigh of relief now that her posture is a bit more relaxed.

“So do you have a name or not?” she asks again.

Finally turning your head to look at her properly, you answer, “It’s definitely not as important or well known as yours might be.”

Her silvery eyes glance up at you, “You watch the fights then?”

“I can assume that you’re one of those pit fighters judging by your, um…” you look at her bloody knuckles once more and at the bruises on her face, “demeanor.”

The woman lets out a laugh, “You’re a such a dork,” she slurs, picking her head up. “You could just say no. But I’ll have you know that I’m at the top of the food chain in that pit. You should come see me.” She flexes her bicep, and you glance at her beefy arm before looking back at her smug face. Drunk people are so damn weird.

“….Right,” is all you can say.

“Now how about that name of yours?” She asks with a smile, “I would like to know the name of the lady who bought me a shot.”

“I didn’t b— ugh.. whatever. It’s (y/n).”

“I like that name. Caitlyn is such a pretty name,” she says, smiling weakly.

“I said (y/n).”

“That’s what I said. (Y/n).”

You roll your eyes and disengage from the conversation by turning slightly away from her in your seat.

“You’re not going to ask me my name?” She asks, using her foot to turn your barstool back to her.

“…What’s your name?”

“Vi,” she answers, resting her head on her hand. You just nod, feeling awkward. Needing more liquid confidence, you wave the bartender down again and order a lemondrop martini.

“A martini, huh? Aren’t those usually called princess drinks?” Vi says with a wink.

“Since when?” you raise one of your eyebrows at her. Vi just laughs.

After the bartender brings you your drink, you take a sip and cough a bit at the strength of it.

“You don’t drink very often. I can tell,” Vi says with a playful smile.

“You seem to drink too much judging by your behavior,” you retort. You somewhat chug the rest of the martini, already feeling the buzz in your head. You order shot after shot, not really paying attention to the flirtatious stuff that Vi is telling you. You wonder if your ex lover did the same shit to the people they brought to your bed.

“I’m just having fun,” Vi says, having ordered some beverage for herself and taking a swig.

“No you’re not,” you say, the alcohol helping you speak your mind, “If you’re anything like me, you’re here to forget. To numb some type of pain.”

Vi’s face and body language went from drunken flirt to mild shock.

“Yeah,” you say, looking at her, “I don’t belong here, you’re right. But neither do you, is what I’m thinking. That’s what I’m reading off of you.”

Vi lowers her drink, staring at you.

“See, you know I’m right ‘cause you have nothing to say,” a smile on your face as your words slur.

Vi’s face turns into a scowl again, “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

“I don’t want to know a damn thing about you,” you bark, narrowing your eyes at her, “So stop flirting with me and get a grip.”

Vi stands up from her seat, her body tense. A bearded man who sat on the other side of her put his hand on her shoulder, making her sit back down. You were scared for a brief second, but you didn’t let it show. Thank goodness Vi had some sort of friend with her to keep her in check.

You reach into your pocket and pull out your wallet, leaving some cash on the counter.

Vi looks at her friend, briefly coming to her senses. She then huffs, her attitude completely changing. She takes a few gulps of her drink before saying, “You should really get a grip on yourself too, then. Don’t let it get like this,” she glances down at herself.

You don’t say anything in response, but you know she’s right. You have to practice what you preach.

You wave the bartender down once more, making a gesture. The bartender comes back with two plastic cups of clear liquid, and you push one towards Vi.

“Sober up, Vi,” you say. You stand up from your seat and take your cup of liquid, making your way through the crowd towards the exit.

Vi grabs the cup you left, taking a sip and expecting it to burn, but it doesn’t. It’s just water.

End of Ch. 1

Part two is here!