Chapter Text
The amber glow of the Piltover street lamps reflected in the puddles below Vi’s feet. She stared at them as she walked, watching the light dance and waver in the ripples. She felt the pattering of rain hit her hood and her back, soaking the worn-down fabric of her jacket. She didn’t mind, the cooling sensation was welcome after the heated events of the evening. The rainwater swirled with the tears as they streamed down her cheeks together, and she hoped her hood would cover her face enough for nobody to tell. She breathed in tandem with her steps, hoping the rhythm would beat out the vision of Caitlyn that she left behind.
Do yourself a favour, Cupcake.
Her fists clenched in her pockets impossibly tight, her fingernails embossing crescent moons on her palms. Her jaw held her teeth so tightly together that the bone could crumble under the force alone. She was wound so tightly she thought she’d explode, and there was no defusing the ticking bomb inside her. She walked swiftly like she had somewhere to go, but the only thing she was running from was the words she left behind her.
Go back to that big, shiny house of yours.
She cruised expertly down the familiar nooks and crannies that took her back to the Lanes. For anyone who hadn’t navigated it before, it would take the utmost thought and focus to reach the bottom in one piece. Unfortunately for Vi, her experience betrays her and leaves her with only her thoughts to keep her company. She racked her brain for places to run to seek refuge from her emotions. There was no home anymore, and even if there was she didn’t want it. An outlet, an escape from the feeling is what she was searching for. Something to forget.
And just… forget about me, okay?
Her boots led her down a dingey, dark alleyway to with flickering streetlights illuminating a grimy door. The back entrance to the brothel wasn’t as glamorous as the front, yet what was really glamorous in the undercity to begin with? Madam Babette herself leaned against the cold white brick, taking a long drag in from a large pipe that appeared comical against her short stature. She nodded at Vi with a knowing matronly smile, able to see underneath her hood and into her puffed eyes.
“I thought I gave you the night off, doll.” Her voice was gravelly but the kindness behind it made it soften, “What brings you here again?”
“Just.. decided I needed the money, I guess.” She shrugged, tilting her gaze away to conceal the tears the Madam already saw.
Babette hummed with understanding, striking another match to light her pipe once more. She knew that wasn’t true, but pushing Vi to talk about her feelings was a losing battle. She gestured her head towards the door, welcoming Vi inside. As Vi turned the rusting handle, the smell already seeped deep into her nostrils. Incense swirled with sweat and steam as a pink fog rolled out of the opening. She stepped inside, navigating to the dressing room to compose herself. With the late hour, all the ladies in the building were long occupied with patrons and the dressing room was refreshingly quiet. She schlepped herself down on the bench, her heavy head in her hands. She couldn’t even bring herself to cry anymore, all that was left was an empty cavern behind her eyes.
Exhaling tiredly, she rose from the cushioned bench and approached the sink. She scooped handfuls of water over her face, composing herself before meeting her own gaze in the mirror. The sunken eyes and reddened cheeks that she found only made the pit in her stomach grow. She hated that this fucking top-sider had her wrapped around her finger, moving her to more emotion than she had let herself show her entire duration in Stillwater. Much to her own surprise, Vi didn’t want to smash the mirror in front of her or tear down the rotting wallpaper from the walls. She didn’t want to fight, just to forget.
As Vi shrugged her sopping clothes to the floor, she realized that she was in exactly the right place for forgetting your troubles. Every working girl or sleazebag patron in here was running from skeletons in their closet. She could walk into any one of the rooms here and let someone fuck her until she forgot her own name, much less her Piltover problems. Jinx’s sister was a popular request in the Brothel, she was a hot commodity and there were a lot of folks who would pay a significant premium to stretch her, bend her, fill her to their heart’s content. It didn’t take her long to don her uniform, consisting of a deep navy blue velvet brassiere that dipped down her sternum, with matching panties. Garters on her thighs held up stockings tinted a matching blue, all of which contrasted nicely with the gold bangles decorating her wrists and ankles. None of it was her style of course, but something about the colour appealed to her.
She strode confidently down the dimly lit hallway, muffled noises of pleasure and pain flooding her ears as she walked. Her eyes were on the prize, the big spenders in the lounge at the back of the building. As she approached the hand-crafted beaded curtain, she made out a familiar figure through the partition. A shiver ran down her spine, settling at her tailbone as realization flooded through her. Against her better judgement, or maybe becase some deep part of her craved the beating she’d receive, she walked forward into the VIP lounge. Her muscles tensed as her suspicions were confirmed, and her eyes locked with the woman in front of her.
“Violet… what the fuck are you doing here?”