the sun began to break through the clouds over the paddock as you checked the race data on your tablet. everything should have felt routine—another race day, another round of chaos—but the tension between the two figures in front of you was undeniable.

vi leaned against a stack of tires, her red bull jacket slung over her shoulder, a trademark smirk on her face. caitlyn stood a few feet away, her mercedes uniform pristine, arms crossed, gaze sharp. the two locked eyes, glancing at you now and then, waiting to see where your loyalty lay.

“so,” vi broke the silence, her voice teasing. “think you’ll stick with the mercedes crowd today, or are you finally going to hang with a real team?” she winked, making caitlyn stiffen.

“i didn’t know red bull specialized in charm offensives,” caitlyn shot back coolly, narrowing her eyes. “though i guess with your lack of wins this season, you need distractions.”

vi straightened, her grin widening. “ouch, piltover. didn’t know you were so salty about last week’s loss.”

“losing?” caitlyn scoffed, her gaze briefly flicking to you. “i believe i was on the top step of the podium, wasn’t i?”

before vi could respond, you cleared your throat and stepped in. “alright, save it for the track,” you said, trying to sound firm but not quite managing.

vi chuckled, leaning closer to you. “don’t worry, i’ll make it worth your while to root for me. maybe dinner after i win?”

caitlyn took a step forward, her composure slipping. “assuming you don’t crash out before lap 10,” she snapped, cheeks faintly pink.

the air thickened, and you focused back on your tablet. “i’m just here to make sure you don’t turn the track into a demolition derby,” you muttered, glancing up to find both of them staring at you—vi with a playful grin, caitlyn with a faint frown.

this wasn’t just about racing anymore. and judging by the way they kept throwing subtle jabs and stealing glances at you, it was going to be a long day.