𝙄 𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙚 { Vi X Reader OC }

REAL?

WARNING: NSFW

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The Last Drop was a graveyard of memories.

Lavender stood in the wreckage, bottle in hand, the burn of cheap whiskey crawling down her throat. The walls were scorched, the ceiling caved in places, the once-bustling bar nothing more than a ruin. And yet, in the swirling haze of alcohol and nostalgia, she could almost hear the laughter, the shouted bets at the card tables, the clink of glasses over hushed conspiracies.

She stumbled toward what used to be the bar counter, running her fingers along the charred wood.

"Don't let 'em push you around, Lav." Vander's voice, gruff yet steady, floated through her thoughts. He had taught her how to throw her first real punch here, right where the bar met the floor. Vi had been watching from the balcony that night, the weight of her gaze making the lesson feel like something bigger than just a fight.

Violet.

A ghost she couldn't shake. Even now, she felt her in the walls, in the ash under her nails. She had loomed over this place, over all of them, like some untouchable force for years. And Jinx—

Powder.

For years, Lavender had lived in the dark, tending to the Pinkette's sister, tucking her in at night, indulging her twisted little games. She had spent every waking moment trying to keep Jinx together, only to be torn apart herself.

Lavender exhaled sharply, lifting the bottle to her lips again. The drink was a poor substitute for the missing piece inside her, the one Vi filled, if only for a day. For so long, she'd ached for her return, felt the weight of her absence like a hole in her chest. But now Vi was back, and everything was...off.

Like she didn't feel the same gap Lavender had been drowning in for years.

She swallowed hard and took another drink. Then another.

The alcohol blurred the edges of her thoughts, softened the ache. It made it easier to remember the good times, back when Vi was the loudest thing in the room, leading them all into trouble with that stupid, cocky grin. When they'd sneak drinks from behind the bar and dream about the futures they'd carve out for themselves.

Futures that never came.

She laughed, dry and bitter, her voice lost in the ruins.

The bottle slipped from her fingers, clattering against the floor, spilling whiskey across the soot-covered wood. She was about to curse when the front door creaked open.

Her head snapped up.

Heavy boots. A shadow stretched across the threshold.

She staggered to the stairs, gripping the railing for balance as the figure stepped into view.

Sevika.

She was framed by the dim light from the street, looking like she belonged there—like the ruin of this place didn't phase her like she was part of it. Her gaze landed on Lavender, taking in the drunken sway, the empty bottle at her feet.

Lavender huffed out a breath, slurring, "What, you come to drink with me? Or just to gloat?"

Sevika sighed, stepping forward, her metal fingers flexing at her side. "I came to make sure you didn't drink yourself dead in a fucking tomb."

Lavender smirked, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Too late."

Sevika just shook her head, stepping further inside, closer. The Last Drop had ghosts, but neither of them had ever been the type to run from them.