Crocodile Tears ── Lady Dimitrescu ౨ৎ˚₊

im craving some fluff fic right now, and I think you're going to nail this one. how about a stubborn Sevika not letting the reader take care of her when she's sick? it's like she's hiding from the reader and acting tough or silly when she's clearly not okay.

𝑺𝑰𝑪𝑲 𝑶𝑭 𝒀𝑶𝑼

Sevika x f!reader

Synopsis: A cold has recently been going on around the Undercity, and when Sevika catches it, she as stubborn as ever to try and ignore her feverish state, ultimately leading to you dealing with a messy bundle of sass.

Request: Anon 🤍

A/N: Just a short yet silly fanfic of Sevika and a running fever (it was fun to write).

It started with a cough. Just a little thing, scratchy and low, like she’d swallowed the end of a cigar wrong. You wouldn’t have thought much of it if it weren’t for the way Sevika immediately shut up afterward, like she was waiting to see if you noticed.

You did.

The problem was that she noticed you noticing, despite her hope that you’d think she had only fallen quiet over the noise of the bar.

“Doll,” she warned, lifting a hand as if that would stop you from speaking. “Don’t.”

“Sevika—”

“I’m fine.”

Ah, here we go.

The woman had been acting off all day. She wasn’t touching her drink (which, in itself, was a glaring red flag), her usual sharp scowl had dulled into something more sluggish, and worst of all, she was being too quiet. Sevika was never loud, but she always had something to say, even if it was just some grumbled remark about how stupid someone was being. But now? She just sat there, arms crossed, looking miserable but too damn proud to admit it.

You folded your arms. “You’re sick.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re literally sweating.”

“It’s hot in here.”

“It’s the middle of winter.”

She huffed, shifting in her seat at the bar. “Then someone should fix the damn heat.”

“Sevika.” You reached out, brushing the back of your hand against her forehead before she could swat you away. Her skin was burning. You gave her a pointed look, but she just glared right back, as if sheer willpower would convince you that she wasn’t, in fact, dying of fever.

She turned away. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah? Prove it. Stand up.”

Sevika scoffed and pushed herself up from the barstool, only for her legs to buckle beneath her immediately. If you hadn’t caught her, she would’ve face-planted right onto the grimy floor of The Last Drop.

“Uh-huh. Fine, my ass.” You tightened your grip on her waist, helping her stay upright while she grumbled against your shoulder. “C’mon, big mama. We’re going home.”

Sevika groaned, but she didn’t have the strength to argue, not when standing up alone had already proven to be too much effort.

She was sick. Really sick.

And you were about to have the worst time convincing her to let you take care of her.

The next challenge was actually getting her home.

Sevika, even half-dead with fever, was as stubborn as a damn mule. She refused to let you carry her, claiming she could walk just fine on her own. That was a bold-faced lie, of course. She nearly tripped over her own feet twice before you started guiding her yourself, one arm around her waist as you led her down Zaun’s damp alleyways toward her apartment.

She didn’t make it easy.

“You—you’re making a big deal out of nothing,” she slurred, leaning heavier against you with every step.

“Yeah? You just tried to pick a fight with a mailbox.”

“It was looking at me funny.”

“Sure it was.”

She made an irritated sound in the back of her throat but didn’t argue further. Probably because she knew she’d lose.

By the time you finally got her inside and onto her bed, she was half-asleep, mumbling under her breath about how you were “too bossy for your own good.”

“And you’re too stubborn for your own good,” you shot back, rolling your eyes as you pried her boots off. “Now stay put while I get you some medicine.”

Sevika didn’t respond. You thought she had actually, finally, fallen asleep—until you came back with a glass of water and found the bed empty.

Your eye twitched.

“Sevika.”

No answer.

You checked the bathroom. Nothing.

The kitchen? No sign of her.

It was only when you turned toward the closet that you noticed the faintest shuffle of movement in the shadows, realizing this large woman of a girlfriend was hiding in a closet that could barely fit half her size, especially with her clothing.

You sighed. “Are you seriously hiding from me right now?”

“No.”

A blatant lie.

“You are sick,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Get back in bed.”

“I don’t need to be in bed.”

“You almost passed out earlier!”

She grumbled something incoherent, but when you stomped over and yanked the closet door open, she just squinted up at you, her tall frame awkwardly hunched in the cramped space.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

She blinked. “Hey, doll.”

“Bed. Now.”

She groaned but didn’t resist when you pulled her to her feet and shoved her back toward the mattress. She collapsed onto it with a sigh, one arm thrown dramatically over her eyes.

“You are so difficult,” you muttered, draping a blanket over her.

Sevika just huffed, her breathing heavy. You could tell she was exhausted, no matter how much she tried to act otherwise.

“You wanna keep pretending you’re fine,” you said, voice softer now, “or do you wanna let me take care of you?”

She hesitated.

Her pride was probably waging a violent war against the undeniable fact that she felt like shit. But after a long moment, she shifted, peeking at you from under her arm.

“Just this once,” she muttered.

Your lips twitched. “Oh? Just this once?”

“Shut up before I change my mind.”

You chuckled, brushing some of her damp hair away from her forehead before pressing a cool cloth against it. She melted under your touch, though she’d never admit it.

“See? Not so bad, is it?”

She grumbled but leaned into your hand.

You’d take that as a win.

For the next day and a half, Sevika was in absolute hell. Not because of the fever, but because she had to endure you fussing over her.

You forced her to take medicine.

You nagged at her to drink water.

You made her soup, even though she swore she hated soup (yet somehow, the entire bowl mysteriously disappeared when you weren’t looking).

She complained the entire time.

“Stop hovering.”

“I’m not hovering.”

“You’re literally watching me breathe, doll.”

“Making sure you still can breathe, actually.”

Sevika groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “This is worse than the fever.”

“Oh, bite me.”

“I would, but you’d probably shove a spoonful of medicine in my mouth the second I opened it.”

“Damn right, I would.” You teased, half-jokingly.

Still, for all her grumbling, she didn’t stop you.

And when the fever finally broke, and her strength came back, she sat at the edge of the bed, rubbing a hand over her face.

“Ugh,” she muttered. “I feel like I got run over.”

“You look like you got run over,” you teased, ruffling her already messy hair.

She scowled but didn’t swat your hand away. Instead, she glanced at you, something unreadable in her gaze.

“Thanks,” she said gruffly.

Your lips curled. “For what?”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “You know what for.”

You grinned. “Say it.”

“No.”

“C’mon. Just say it, baby.”

“Absolutely not.”

You poked her cheek. “Sevika.”

She grunted.

“Vikaaaa—” you cooed her name, a smirk playing on your lips as you leaned into her.

She groaned, pushing your face away. “Fine. Thanks for taking care of me, you insufferable brat.”

You beamed. “Was that so hard?”

“Yes. Excruciating.”

You laughed, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to her forehead before she could complain. “You’re welcome, you stubborn thing.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t hide the small, almost reluctant smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Maybe, just maybe, she’d let you take care of her again next time.

Even if she would make you drag her out of the closet first.

A/N: BIG MAMA.

sub!vi getting her shit disrespectfully rocked <3

✄ sub!vi who's sprawled out across the couch when you come home from work, spending her day off taking some well needed rest

✄ sub!vi who immediately notices your pissed off look, knowing it was gonna be a long night

✄ sub!vi who doesn't resist your harsh hand when pulling her in - kisses all teeth and tongue, free hand grasping at every inch of flesh while her other held onto the collar of her cotton tee

✄ sub!vi who lets you drag her to the bedroom, following after your every step like a shadow

✄ sub!vi who waits patiently on the bed as you rush out of your work clothes, baby blue's staring right at your strap as you shuffle the harness on and lube it up

✄ sub!vi who welcomes your body clambering onto hers, calloused hands gentle and soothing on your waist as she spreads her legs for you

✄ sub!vi who's gentle presence contrasts with your strung out and exasperated one, letting you pour your frustrations past her lips and down her throat as forcefully as you need to

✄ sub!vi who sighs quietly at you grinding your strap against her, mouths moving in sync while the silicone rubs against her clit

✄ sub!vi who can't take it after a while, pulling away from the kiss to beg you to just put it in her

✄ sub!vi who agrees with your degrading teasing, giving you puppy eyes in hopes you'll let up

"yes, yes, i'm a desperate slut. just c'mon, please? i need you in me."

✄ sub!vi who moans when she feels you fill her up. not high pitched, not pornographic - it's raw, nearly broken from the teasing alone

✄ sub!vi who hardly gives herself time to adjust to the stretch, already grinding into you before you have the chance to move

✄ sub!vi who reels at the sudden emptiness as you pull out, only to immediately get stuffed again with a swift slam of your hips

✄ sub!vi who gets very little warm up before you start to pound into her, skin slapping against skin full pelt as you grab her ankles to push above her shoulders

✄ sub!vi whose breathing picks up at the pace, coming out as choppy gasps melded with small mewls

✄ sub!vi who rocks into you desperately despite her position, struggling to lift her hips up off the mattress, causing you to snicker

"gettin' greedy now, violet?"

✄ sub!vi who feels the sharp sting on her scalp before her eyes snap open - your hand grasping her hair near the roots, forcing her to look down

"look at yourself. sluttiest fuckin' pussy. aren't you ashamed?"

✄ sub!vi who can hardly form a response, a high pitched mewl tearing from her throat as she tries to close her eyes, only for her hair to get yanked farther

"did i tell you to close your eyes? huh? open that shit right now."

✄ sub!vi who cums not too long after, vision spotting as white hot pleasure floods her veins and arteries

✄ sub!vi whose thighs shake as you abate your movements, rubbing her clit to see her squirm and kick out before smoothing your hands down her thighs

✄ sub!vi who feels your hands grab at her not too long after, shifting her to lay on her back, head hanging off the edge of the bed

✄ sub!vi who feels the head of your strap prod at her lips, her eyes still closed as your voice floods her ears

"clean your mess up."

✄ sub!vi who barely opens her mouth before it's forced open, silicone bottoming out in her throat

✄ sub!vi who gags and chokes, shaky hands on your hips as you fuck her face

✄ sub!vi who swallows around the girth of the dildo, trying to relax as her eyes flutter close again

✄ sub!vi who gasps for air when you finally pull away, arms falling limp when you step out of her reach

✄ sub!vi who doesn't talk much as you clean her up, only answering the more important questions of "are you okay?" or "i didn't push it, did i?"

✄ sub!vi who lets you carry her to the bathroom, setting her in a warm bath while you change the sheets

✄ sub!vi who comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later, looking slightly more alive as she dries off and gets dressed

✄ sub!vi who lays down in bed with you, clinging to your form with her face buried in your neck

✄ sub!vi who gets to pick the movie for doing such a good job for you, falling asleep to heavy praise and kisses

alr everyone thank saturn for helping me w this one or go sit in the corner

taglist : @hihihhihahahha @lolitalovess @peskylez @saturnhas82moons @kylorey25 @lipglosskxsses @mars4hellokitty @hwasddeongbyeoli @foralltheprettygirls @meow4510 @therealhexstrap  @sunflowerwinds

A make out drink with this ladies would heal me!!!🙇‍♀️✂️

mdni. sub-bottom vi. fem-top reader. strap-on usage. fwb. vaginal sex. degradation.

wc; 1,160

thinking about being friends with benefits with vi. despite the casualness of your relationship, she’s always so needy for you, and you love how addicted your own best friend has become to your touch—to the way your hands and mouth and cock can reduce the tough, headstrong woman to a desperate, mewling mess. it’s a heady feeling, knowing that vi can't get enough of you.

she texts you at odd hours, short and direct—you free?—as if you’d ever say no. and when you show up at her place, she’s already waiting by the door like an overeager puppy, hair messy, lips red and parted, pupils wide as if she’s been thinking about this all day—and you know she has been. she’s always desperate for cock, but it’s not her fault; with how well you take care of her sweet hole, of course she’s become dependent on you for her pleasure.

she needs you to be rough with her, to be mean, and you’re the only one who knows how to use her exactly as she craves, how to put her in her place. no matter how much she tries to hide it, you’re completely aware that vi gets off on the roughness, the dominance, the sheer ownership in your touch, and you’re more than happy to give it to her—to use her strong body for your own twisted pleasure.

tonight, she’s laying on her stomach, atop her bedsheets, while you ride her ass. in this position, her pussy is so much tighter than usual, it’s almost hard for you to fuck in and out of her, and her glistening cream is obscenely glazing your strap.

your hands grip her hips bruisingly, guiding her onto your cock as she buries her face in her pillow, stifling the sounds of how desperate and whiny she is. her body shudders beneath your touch, trembling because you’re filling her just the way she needs, and she’s clawing against her bedsheets like a misbehaving cat.

”you love it when—mmf, i fuck you like a bitch?” you murmur against her ear, and she gasps as if she’s been burned, like your words have struck a cord deep inside her.

she doesn’t answer right away, too caught up in the way you’re using her little pussy for your own entertainment, her breath coming out in sharp, uneven bursts—but eventually, she blubbers, ”yes, yes, i love it so much—mghff!”

”what are you, then?” you press, breathlessly.

you pull your hips back until only the tip of your cock is being gripped within her tight heat, before slamming back inside her in a single, harsh thrust, keeping her hips pinned to the bed so she has nowhere to run. vi keens like a wounded soldier.

”a bitch—aghh! i’m your bitch!” vi sobs, and she’s trying to fuck back against your strap—trying to feel you as deep inside her gummy, pink walls as she possibly can—but you won’t allow her to.

you admire the way her ass ripples every time your pelvis bounces off of her, the firm globes of muscle jiggling, and it’s hypnotizing. the lewd sound of skin smacking against skin echoes throughout her obsolete bedroom, mingling with the obscene wet noise of vi’s creamy pussy being fucked into submission.

you press kisses to her shoulder blades, licking over her tattoos, before groaning, ”yeahhh, that’s right, fuck—ahh, guess you’re not so dumb after all.”

vi whines louder than before, as if she’s agreeing that your cock always fucks her stupid without fail.

she has no choice but to clench down around your thick strap stretching her open, relishing in the way it kisses her cervix with each punishing drive of your hips. vi’s arousal is dripping down her thighs now, the dirty sound of her juices squelching plays in your ears like music. you’re using her as if she’s a cocksleeve, as if she’s nothing more to you than a toy for you to fuck, and it’s making her eyes cross with irrevocable pleasure.

you continue your relentless pace, hips grinding forward with a brutal intensity that rocks vi’s entire body with each thrust. you swear you can feel her pussy clenching and fluttering around your strap, gripping it like a vice; a boa constrictor squeezing the life out of its prey.

the dirty view only spurs you on, pushing you to fuck into vi’s tight heat with even more animalistic fervor, determined to make her come undone until she can’t even speak, until static fills her ears and her brain melts out of her head.

”unghh—! you’re fucking me, you’re fucking me,” vi slurs mindlessly. she sounds like a desperate whore that’s been fucked stupid. you know she’s getting close, that her tongue has probably lolled out like a dumb dog by now, that her chin is most likely drenched in her own drool.

yeah. she’s your bitch, alright.

snickering, you dig your nails into her ass, spreading her cheeks apart so you can see the nasty way her pussy is gripping onto your cock with added clarity, and then you deliver harsh smacks to each globe. vi squeals—as you expected her to—and her pale skin blossoms red like roses in the spring.

she tries to get up onto her knees, but you’re sitting on the back of her thighs. she tries to fuck back onto your cock, but you harshly press her hips to the bed. she can’t run from the pleasure, she can’t find relief, all she can do is take it.

with newfound ferocity, you pound away at her ass as if it personally offended you. the flesh of your hips is clap, clap, clapping against vi’s rear perhaps faster than the speed of light, and it’s exhausting, it takes immense strength and determination—but you’re determined to make vi come so hard she cries.

you spit onto your fingers and then slip your hand underneath vi’s muscular body, rubbing two of the digits against her clit with the precision of a brain surgeon. you know exactly how much pressure to apply to her clit, how fast she likes it to be, which side of the little nub is more sensitive than the other—and vi orgasms then, intense and sudden.

milky white cream leaks from her cunt in splotches around your shaft and it almost looks like you, yourself, came inside her. you groan at the sight, unabashedly, and rub your fingers harsher against vi’s clit, until she’s flinching away from your touch and sobbing. 

you remove your fingers from her clit and trace up the length of her spine with your tongue, before pressing soft kisses to her shoulder blades, feeling the way her skin is buzzing beneath your lips. and vi’s panting harshly against her pillow but not saying a word, so you know you successfully fucked all thoughts from her head.

gently, you pull your cock out of your best friend’s pussy, while she can only lay there trembling.

taglist; @marvelwomenarehot0, @marieeeluvsyou, @mxchi-mxxn, @el-amor-que-tu-quieres, @jinxvex, @mwahbabe, @teddybearbutch28, @stupendousbananasharkcop, @nahcala, @ellieslob, @idontwannabehereatm, @rhian88, @kyur1jinx, @vivispace, @girlbeatings, @thatgrlnany @blackdykegirlblogger, @imfckngfantastic

(2/13/25)

‘cause i hate to wait so long

★vi x f!reader

part one

wc: 4.9k

cw: hurt/comfort

notes: tried my best to make the transition to the end smooth, and i liked how it turned out, kinda get vi on an astronomical level on this fic lol 🫢

It had been a great weekend. The two of you traveled to see your parents, and as always, your mom loved Vi. Sometimes, you swore she liked Vi even more than she liked you. Every time you called to say you were visiting, she asked what dessert Vi wanted and happily made it just for her.

Being back in your hometown meant running into old friends—and with old friends came old flings.

But even though you and Vi had to stand through a thirty-minute conversation with your high school ex in the middle of a bakery, you thought everything was fine. Vi hadn’t seemed particularly bothered at the time, so when you got back home and she started acting off, you assumed it was something else. Probably work.

She had been sharing a studio with some new guy who got on her nerves, and you had heard her complain about indecisive clients more times than you could count.

You weren’t worried.

Not at first.

But then, the little things started piling up.

She left your messages on read for days. She made excuses to avoid staying the night. She canceled plans at the last minute.

And now, standing in her studio, watching her avoid your gaze, you knew.

“Vi,” you started carefully, hands shoved into your pockets, “is there something you want to talk about?”

She shrugged, still not looking at you. “I don’t know. You’re the one who came over unannounced.”

Her tone was flat, detached, and it sent an uneasy feeling crawling up your spine.

“I came over because you’ve been acting weird,” you said, voice steady, but your heart was anything but. “You’ve been avoiding me, and I want to know why.”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair, but still wouldn’t meet your eyes. “It’s nothing. Just work stuff.”

But you knew her. And this wasn’t just work stuff.

So you took a step closer, crossing your arms. “Vi.”

Vi finally looked at you then, and something flickered in her expression—something tired, something unsure.

“What?” she asked, her tone sharp, irritated.

You ignored it. You weren’t sure what was happening, and the last thing you wanted was for this to turn into a fight if it didn’t have to.

“Just tell me the truth,” you said, voice careful but firm. “Please.”

She exhaled sharply, her jaw tightening, fingers curling into fists at her sides.

“I…” She looked away, shaking her head. Then, quieter, “Do you miss her?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Your ex,” she said, voice clipped. “You know, the one we ran into last weekend.”

You frowned, utterly confused. “Miss her? Vi, what the hell are you talking about?”

Vi let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through her hair. “She just seemed so... put together,” she muttered. “Talking about her medical degree, how she wanted to travel the world. And I don’t know, I just thought—” She cut herself off, shoulders tensing. “I just thought maybe you should be with someone like her.”

Your head jerked back like she had slapped you.

“Are you serious right now?” You scoffed, a disbelieving laugh escaping before you could stop it. “Vi, you hate when people put words in your mouth, and now you’re doing the same damn thing to me?”

Her eyes flashed. “I’m just saying it makes sense! She has her shit together, she knows exactly what she wants in life, she doesn’t—” She stopped, jaw clenching so tight you could see the muscles twitch.

“She doesn’t what?” you pressed, stepping closer. “Say it.”

Vi hesitated, then finally snapped, “She doesn’t come with all the baggage I do, okay?”

You stared at her, stunned.

“This again?” Your voice was rising now, frustration boiling over. “Vi, do you ever get tired of pushing me away before I can even think about leaving?”

“I’m not pushing you away!”

“The hell you aren’t!” You threw your hands in the air. “Every single time we get close, really close, you find some reason to run. And now? Now you’re making up some bullshit excuse about my ex to convince yourself that I’d be better off without you?”

Vi’s nostrils flared, but she didn’t deny it.

You let out a humorless laugh. “Unbelievable. You know what, fine. If that’s what you really want, if you actually think I’d be happier with someone else, just say it. Say you don’t want me.”

Silence.

You crossed your arms, your jaw tight with frustration. “Go on. Say it, Vi.”

Her eyes burned as she snapped back, her voice rising. “You know you would!” She let out a harsh breath. “It’s not an opinion, it’s a fact! I’m not good for you! You just said it yourself—I keep finding reasons to push you away. Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I don’t hear the shit my own mind tells me every single day?” She let out a bitter laugh. “Maybe we should just end this now. Before either of us gets hurt.”

That did it.

Your anger flared, white-hot, because how dare she?

Like you weren’t already hurting.

Like you weren’t already attached.

Like your mom didn’t greet her with a smile and a homemade chocolate cake every time you visited.

“You always say that,” you spat, voice shaking. “Like it’s some kind of mercy. Like you’re doing me a favor. Before we get hurt? Vi, I’m already hurt!”

She flinched, but you didn’t stop.

“I have never once doubted my feelings for you. Not for a second. But you? You doubt everything. You push me away and then act like it’s inevitable. Like you’re just sparing me from some big, tragic heartbreak when the only person breaking my heart right now is you.”

Her breathing was ragged, hands clenched into fists at her sides, but she didn’t interrupt.

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh, blinking against the sting in your eyes. “You know what? Fine. If you think this is the right thing to do, if you really believe I’d be better off without you, then I won’t fight you on it anymore.”

You turned, yanking open the studio door. But before you stepped out, you hesitated—just long enough to deliver one last blow.

“Hope you’re finally free from me.”

And then you walked out, slamming the door behind you.

There were a lot of things in life you weren’t sure about.

Like whether the degree you earned was what you actually wanted to do for the rest of your life. Or what you were going to have for dinner. Or if you’d ever figure out how to fold a fitted sheet properly.

But you were sure about Violet.

You were sure she was the love of your life.

You were sure that one day, you would marry her. That you’d grow old together. That maybe—maybe—you’d even have kids, even though that was one of the things you weren’t sure about.

Even with everything life threw your way, you were sure about her.

But sometimes, love isn’t enough.

No matter how much you give, no matter how patient you are, no matter how many times you try to show them—I’m here. I’m not leaving. Please, just let me love you!—it doesn’t always work.

Because love is a two-way street, and if one person keeps building walls instead of bridges, eventually, you run out of ways to reach them.

You had tried. God, had you tried.

You stayed through every storm, through every fight, through every moment she tried to push you away. You picked up the pieces when she shattered, even when it meant cutting yourself on the shards.

But there’s only so much a person can take.

There are only so many times you can be pushed away before you finally stay away.

And as much as you hated proving her right, after the hundredth time she told you to leave—you did.

And it was the worst pain of your life. Worse than that time you tried to ride your pink bicycle down a hill and broke both of your arms. Worse than any heartbreak you’d ever imagined.

Because she was supposed to be your forever.

──────────────────────

Vi would be lying if she said that after your awful encounter at the coffee shop, she didn’t wait for you to call her—maybe to yell at her some more, to say all the things she knew she deserved to hear.

Because even if that was the only thing she could get from you, she would take it.

Anything was better than the silence.

But you didn’t call. You didn’t text.

And she understood why. She wasn’t stupid. If she didn’t try, you couldn’t keep trying for her.

She just didn’t know how.

Vi had spent her whole life in survival mode—fighting, running, enduring. She knew how to throw a punch, how to take a hit, how to push people away before they could hurt her first.

But feelings? Talking? Healing?

She didn’t know what any of that looked like.

So she did the only thing she knew how to do.

She screwed things up a little bit more.

Yes, resorting to drinking wasn’t healthy. No, it wouldn’t solve her problems. But it would make them go away for a while, and right now, that was all she needed.

That’s how she found herself in the nearest nightclub she could find, a whiskey glass in her hand, watching as colorful lights flashed around her. The bass pounded through her chest, drowning out the thoughts she didn’t want to deal with.

“Rough night?”

Vi barely turned her head as some random red head slid into the seat next to her at the bar. She was pretty, in that effortless kind of way, with a confident smirk that told Vi exactly what she was after.

“You could say that” Vi muttered before downing the rest of her drink.

The girl leaned in, her fingers ghosting over Vi’s bicep. “Well… maybe I can make it better.”

Once upon a time, Vi might have taken her up on that offer. A distraction, a warm body, something to make her forget for just a little while.

But the only touch she craved—the only lips she wanted—weren’t here.

Vi sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Not tonight.”

The girl pouted, but she didn’t push. “Suit yourself.”

As she walked away, Vi signaled the bartender for another drink. Because if she couldn’t have you, she could at least have the illusion of feeling something.

──────────────────────

You were woken up by the sound of your phone buzzing on your nightstand. Groaning, you reached for it without much thought, still half-asleep.

“Hello?”

At first, all you could hear on the other end was breathing—slow, uneven.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

A beat of silence. Then, a voice you hadn’t heard in weeks.

“Can you open your door, please?”

Vi.

You sat up instantly, now fully awake. “Vi? What are you talking about? It’s three in the morning.”

“I just—” A loud thud echoed through the phone, followed by a muffled, “Fuck.”

Your brows furrowed. “Vi, what the hell was that? Where are you?”

“I just need to talk to you” she mumbled, her words slightly slurred. “Please. You can yell at me all you want, I just… I just want to hear your voice.”

You ran a hand down your face, exhaling sharply. “Are you drunk right now? Seriously?”

Silence. Then, barely above a whisper—

“Yeah.”

You closed your eyes, gripping the bridge of your nose. The last thing you wanted was to let her back in after everything, after the pushing and pulling, after the damage she’d done. But a bigger part of you—the part that still ached for her, that never stopped worrying—was already swinging its legs out of bed and heading for the door.

You cracked it open, and there she was.

Vi stood in your doorway, hood up, hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket like she was trying to make herself smaller. Even in the dim glow of the hallway light, you could see the exhaustion in her face—red-rimmed eyes, the way her shoulders sagged like she was holding the weight of the world.

“You look like shit” you muttered.

She let out a breathy chuckle. “Yeah. Feels like it too.”

You should’ve slammed the door in her face. You should’ve told her to go home, sleep it off, leave you alone.

Instead, you stepped aside.

“Come in.”

And she did, wobbling slightly as she walked in.

She looked so out of place in your living room. The red jacket she always wore stood out against the neutral tones of your space—like a warning sign, like a memory that never quite faded.

You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to ignore the way your heart clenched at the sight of her. “What do you want, Vi?” You didn’t even try to mask the exhaustion in your voice. “Why are you here?”

She exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over her face before finally meeting your eyes for the first time since she arrived.

“I don’t know” she admitted, voice rough, unsteady. “I was supposed to go home. I was going home, and then I just… got here.”

You let out a sigh. “That’s not an answer.”

Vi winced, shifting on her feet like she was struggling to find the right words. But words were never her strong suit, were they? She had always been better with actions—though most of them were reckless and self-destructive.

She ran a hand through her hair, sighing. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

You clenched your jaw, looking away. That wasn’t fair. That wasn’t fair.

After everything she’d said, after everything she’d done—after making you leave—she still expected you to be here, to pick up the pieces when she was falling apart.

"You don't get to do this, Vi” you whispered, barely trusting your voice. "You don’t get to throw me away and then show up at my door like I’m supposed to fix you."

Her breath hitched. "I know. I know, and I’m—" She hesitated, the words getting stuck in her throat. "I fucked up, okay? I fucked up so bad, and I don’t know how to fix it."

You swallowed the lump in your throat, blinking away the sting behind your eyes.

"But I want to…"

You could count on one hand how many times you'd seen Vi cry. And most of those times had been involuntary—after waking up from a nightmare, lost in the haze of half-conscious panic, when her body betrayed her before her mind could shut it down.

But now, she was standing in your living room, crying. Her shoulders shook, and she wiped furiously at her eyes, like she was trying to erase the evidence of her own weakness.

"I've said it before, but it's true this time. I promise." Her voice cracked—raw, desperate. "And you can yell at me all you want. You can throw every awful thing I said back in my face, because I would rather have you angry at me than this." She sucked in a shaky breath. "Being apart hurts. The silence is killing me.”

You closed your eyes for a brief second, trying to steady yourself. This isn’t fair.

"You think I wanted to leave?" you asked, voice quiet but firm. "You think I wanted to spend nights wondering if you were okay, if you were sleeping, if you were eating? Do you know how many times I almost called you?"

Vi's lips parted slightly, like she wanted to say something, but no words came out.

"I loved you, Vi. And I spent so much time trying to prove to you that I wasn't going anywhere. But no matter how much I tried, you never let me in."

"I was scared" she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I know" you said. "I know. And I still tried. But you made me believe that I was never going to be enough for you."

Vi took a step closer. "That's not true."

"Isn't it?" you asked, shaking your head. "You were scared I would leave, but you were the one who kept pushing me away. Over and over again."

Vi exhaled shakily, her hands clenching into fists at her sides.

"I want to be better," she said, her voice raw with emotion. "I don’t want to keep running. I don’t want to keep ruining things." She looked at you, her expression open—vulnerable in a way you weren’t sure you'd ever seen before. "And I don’t know if I deserve another chance, but if there’s even the smallest part of you that thinks I do…"

She hesitated.

"Then I’ll spend every day proving to you that I can be better."

Your heart felt like it was being crushed. You loved—love—Vi. You always have, and you probably always will. But feeling so insecure, so scared all the time that you would wake up one day and she would just decide this was over, made you think twice.

"I… I love you. I really do." Your voice wavered as you let out a humorless laugh. "You were the only thing I was ever certain about in my life. You were my forever."

Vi took a step closer, her breath hitching. "I still am…"

"How can I be sure?" Your voice cracked, anger and exhaustion mixing into one. "How can I know that you won’t wake up one day and decide that I’m too good for you? That you don’t deserve me? Or some other crazy shit your brain makes you believe—and just leave? Do you have any idea what that would do to me?"

Vi flinched, guilt flashing across her face.

As much as you tried not to be angry—because she was drunk, because she was vulnerable—you were only human.

"I know you're scared" you said, your voice tight. "I know you think you aren’t worthy of my love. But have you ever stopped to think about how I feel?"

She stayed silent.

"When you look me in the eyes and tell me that I’m just like everyone else? That I’ll leave? That I’ll hurt you?" You shook your head, your nails digging into your palms. "Do you think so little of me?"

Vi's lips parted, but no words came out. All she could do was stare at you, her blue eyes filled with regret, sorrow, and something deeper—something she wasn’t sure how to voice.

And for the first time, maybe ever, you saw it hit her. The weight of what she had done. The hurt she had caused. The damage she had left in her wake.

“I’m sorry” she whispered, her voice breaking under the weight of her own emotions. Quiet tears still flowed down her face, unchecked. “I’m sorry I hurt you so bad, but I promise I’ll be better. I promise I’ll do anything and everything in my power to never make you feel like that again.”

You let out a deep breath, the anger you felt still simmering in your gut.

“Can we talk about this tomorrow?” Your voice was tired, drained. “When you’re sober and I’m not angry anymore?”

Vi nodded, quickly, almost desperately. And the look in her eyes made you doubt everything all over again. It was like she had this power over you—one puppy dog-eyed look and you were gone.

But you couldn’t let that sway you. Not again.

“You can sleep on the couch” you said, turning away before she could break you down any further. “I’ll get you some blankets.”

Vi stood there for a moment, watching you disappear down the hall. She wanted to convince you that she meant it this time. That she wasn’t going to run, wasn’t going to push you away again.

But after everything she had done, after all the times she had broken your heart—what right did she have to ask you to believe her?

So she didn’t. She just sat down on the couch, burying her face in her hands, listening to the sound of you rustling through the closet.

Hoping—praying—that when morning came, you’d still listen to her.

──────────────────────

You didn’t sleep. You spent the whole night tossing and turning in your bed, too aware of the woman in your living room, too aware of the decisions you had to make. The weight of it all pressed down on you, the endless cycle of pushing and pulling, of loving and hurting. You lay there, staring at the ceiling, counting the minutes, then the hours, as your mind ran in circles.

You tried to convince yourself that it was simple. That love should be enough. If you loved each other, you should just betogether—happy, whole, like life was a perfectly wrapped gift waiting to be opened.

But life wasn’t a fairytale, and love wasn’t always the answer.

That was never the question in your relationship. You knew Vi loved you. And she knew you loved her. But love alone couldn’t erase the damage, the doubts, the nights spent wondering if she would hurt you again. Love couldn’t fix the way she closed off the moment things got hard, or how you were always left picking up the pieces.

You turned onto your side, pressing your face into the pillow with a frustrated sigh. Sleep wasn’t coming—not when your mind was a storm of thoughts crashing into each other.

Lying there, restless, wasn’t helping. So you got up, dragging your feet to the kitchen. Maybe a cup of coffee would bring you the clarity you needed, even if it meant breaking your self-imposed caffeine ban.

You had just poured yourself a mug when a voice made you jump.

“I thought you were trying to quit coffee.”

Vi stood at the kitchen entrance, her hair a mess, eyes still heavy with sleep. In the dim morning light, she looked softer—almost like the Violet you used to know, before everything fell apart.

“Yeah, well,” you muttered, wrapping your hands around your mug for warmth, “I couldn’t sleep, so I kind of need this right now.”

You took a sip without thinking, the heat grounding you for a moment—until your eyes landed on the words printed on the ceramic.

World’s Best Girlfriend.

Your stomach twisted. She had gotten it for you on your birthday, grinning as she handed it over, laughing about how “cheesy” it was. At the time, it had been a joke. Now, it felt like a cruel reminder of everything you had lost.

Vi’s gaze flickered to the mug in your hands, and for a second, you thought you saw something break behind her eyes.

You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to act normal, pretending it didn’t sting as much as it did. You gestured toward the cabinet. “You know where the mugs are if you want some.”

She hesitated, her fingers twitching at her sides. “Yeah… okay.”

She moved across the kitchen, opening the cabinet with an ease that shouldn’t have felt so natural anymore. As if she had never left. As if she still belonged here.

The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating, but neither of you knew how to break it.

So you just stood there, eyes locked, memories playing like an old film reel in your mind.

You remembered the time Vi tried to bake you a cake for Valentine’s Day, how the middle was still raw, and you both ended up eating the edges with spoons, laughing the whole time. You remembered that one New Year’s Eve when you sat on the kitchen floor, eating instant noodles and drinking cheap champagne because the party you were supposed to go to had been a bust. You remembered the lazy mornings, the soft kisses, the way she used to sneak up behind you and wrap her arms around your waist as you made coffee.

But you also remembered the fights. The slammed doors. The cabinets shut with a little too much force. The nights spent crying, feeling like the love you had wasn’t enough to keep her.

Vi exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of her neck. “Do you remember that time you got a little too invested in sourdough and kept trying to make a starter? And you read somewhere that keeping it in a warm place helped, so you left it in the oven?” She gave you a small, lopsided smile. “But then you forgot about it and preheated the oven for something else, and the house smelled like burned bread for a week?”

A surprised laugh burst out of you, unbidden. “God, yes.” You groaned, shaking your head. “And then you made it worse by trying to air it out with a box fan, but all it did was spread the smell into every room?”

Vi chuckled, her shoulders relaxing just a little. “In my defense, I thought it was a solid plan.”

You snorted, taking another sip of coffee. “It was a terrible plan.”

The moment lingered, stretching between you like a fragile thread. For a second, it almost felt like things were normal, like the past few months hadn’t happened.

But they had.

“I miss you,” you whispered, barely audible, like you were afraid of the words themselves—afraid she would hear them, afraid she wouldn’t. “I missed you every single second.”

Vi sucked in a sharp breath, her fingers twitching at her sides, like she wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if she was allowed to.

You set your mug down with a quiet clink, steadying yourself. You were done crying. You had spent too many nights crying over this already.

“And I spent the whole night weighing the pros and cons of this relationship. I just…” You swallowed, gripping the edge of the counter. “I’m so scared, Violet.”

Your voice cracked on her name, and Vi flinched like you had physically struck her.

“I know,” she murmured, her gaze never leaving yours. “I am too.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? We’re both too scared. Scared to lose each other, scared to stay, scared that loving each other won’t be enough.”

Vi took a hesitant step forward. “But I don’t want to be scared anymore,” she admitted, her voice unsteady. “I don’t want to keep pushing you away just because I think it’s easier than letting you stay. I just—” she exhaled, shaking her head, “I just need to know if there’s even a chance. Even the smallest chance that you’ll give me one more shot.”

You stared at her, at the woman you had loved for so long, the one who had broken your heart and was now standing before you, asking for another piece of it.

And the worst part?

You wanted to give it to her.

So you nodded, hesitantly, barely daring to breathe. “I don’t want to regret this, Vi. I’m exhausted from this push and pull. But I love you too much to let you go.”

Vi’s lips parted slightly, like she couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. Then, slowly, a smile broke across her face—small, hesitant, but real.

“Maybe it’s a little selfish. Maybe I’m insane” you admitted, exhaling shakily. “But yes, I’ll give you one more chance.”

Vi let out a breath she had been holding, something like relief flashing across her face. “I won’t waste it,” she swore, stepping closer, cautious but hopeful. “I swear on—” she let out a breathless chuckle, shaking her head, “on every bad decision I’ve ever made, I won’t waste it.”

You arched a brow. “That’s a lot of bad decisions, Vi.”

She laughed, and the sound was so familiar, so her, that your chest ached. It was the same laugh that used to fill your apartment, the same one that made you fall in love with her in the first place.

“Yeah, well… I guess I have a lot to make up for.”

You studied her for a long moment, searching her face for any sign of doubt, any crack in the resolve she was promising you. But all you found was sincerity—raw and unfiltered, painted across her expression in a way that made it impossible to doubt her.

So, once more, you let yourself believe her.

And when she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around you, you let yourself melt into her.

Like you always did, like you always would.

Her grip on you was firm but not desperate. Not like she was afraid you would slip away—more like she was certain she wouldn’t let go this time. Her fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt, her face tucked against your shoulder, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she breathed.

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself a single moment of peace.

“But I’m still mad at you,” you muttered, your voice muffled by her body against yours.

Vi let out a breathy chuckle, the sound vibrating against you. “Yeah,” she murmured. “I’d be mad at me too.”

She didn’t try to defend herself, didn’t try to justify the things she had done. She just held you, letting the weight of everything settle between you.

And somehow, despite all the pain, all the uncertainty—she knew, deep in her bones, that everything was going to be okay.

──────────────────────

i love healer x protecor trope! So your touchstarved!vi x medic!reader was awesome! How about something like healer protecting vi and vi healing the healer?

I looove when characters roles have to be reversed.

Protector!Vi who prides herself on keeping you safe. She's always watching you when you go out and picking fights with the men who make you uncomfortable. This of course leads to a lot of split knuckles and bruised cheeks. Healer!Reader who always takes care of her and cleans her up afterwards. You always wrap her knuckles and the ice pack to her face.

But one specific night you're out at the bar with her and your friends. Mel is off with Jayce, Jinx is in a corner with Ekko, and you and Vi are alone. That is, until some overconfident man decides it's his sole purpose in life to disrupt your peace. He comes over, running his mouth about how awesome he is and how he'll be the best you've ever had. Vi tries to tell him you're taken. In her defense, she didn't immediately jump up and resort to violence.

But then he's getting angry and he calls you a whore, says you're ugly anyways. You fully expect Vi to punch him, but she doesn't. Because you do. The moment happens so fast that you can't even process it before Ekko and Jayce are dragging him out and Vi is pulling you to the bathroom.

She's wetting a paper towel and gently wiping your knuckles. A smile rests on her face. It makes you smile in return.

"Usually I'm the one cleaning you up." You remark.

She chuckles, brushing a piece of hair from your face.

"For what it's worth, I'm very proud of you for sticking up for yourself." She tells you.

"Thank you..." You look up at her for a moment as she throws away the paper towel. "Can we go home now?"

She nods, holding your hand. "Yeah baby, we can go home."

☆ gf!sevika ‹ who snores loudly. at first, it was hard for you to adjust to this habit of hers but now, you can't go without it! it's like a white noise that allows you to sleep like a baby ›

☆ gf!sevika ‹ who fell deeply in love when she first saw you, back when you were working at the brothel ›

☆ gf!sevika ‹ who, despite her confidence and somewhat snarky attitude, became extremely flustered when you finally admitted you loved her. i swear, the whole world did stop at that moment for her! ›

☆ gf!sevika ‹ who wakes you up with her thigh between your legs, teasing you so seductively that you can't contain your sweet little moans! "c'mon darling, it's time to wake up! I want your moans to be the first thing i hear from you!" ›

☆ gf!sevika ‹ who became the talk of the town after everyone knew how much younger than sevika you were. not that she minds tho, she loves being the expert when it comes to showing you the most pleasurable things in life. ›

☆ gf!sevika ‹ that always expects you to have a lighter in hand, just in case she wants to smoke. she just needs to squeeze your upper thigh and you know it's time to take the lighter out! ›

☆ gf!sevika ‹ who has a biting kink! oh believe me, this woman loves to look at herself in the mirror and see your teeth marks on her skin. it turns her on so fucking much! ›

☆ gf!sevika ‹ who always uses her cape to make an entrance, in the bedroom is no different! this woman will showcase her new strap-ons using her cape for theatrical effects! ›

☆ gf!sevika ‹ who goes feral when you call her "handsome" or "good boy". the last time you did, she made sure your voice was gone from how much she made you scream and moan. "you look so handsome on top of me, baby.", that was all it took! ›

Vi x Reader knew each other when they were younger before everything went downhill with the incident with the explosion, and later they meet again as pit fighters in the arena. After the match, as they tend to the other's wounds, they catch up and over the time they spend together in and out of the arena, they eventually become a couple and move in together.

Fight Me

masterlist!

synopsis: my take on the above request, where instead of becoming a couple and moving in, they get heated (18+ but I’m a coward and can’t write smut)

pairings: vi x reader

The whispers in the underground fight scene were quiet, but the whispers were all saying the same thing: there’s two people to beat, and they’re fighting tonight. 

The Hound versus The Bandit. 

The air in the pit was thick with sweat, blood, and the anticipation of the fight to come. Bodies pressed against the rusted railings, eager to witness another brutal clash between two of the underground’s deadliest brawlers. The energy was electric, charged with the weight of bets, debts, and grudges waiting to be settled. 

You stood in your corner, rolling out the tension in your shoulders, feeling the familiar heat of the arena lights overhead. The rough wrappings around your knuckles were tight, already stained from past battles. You had fought in this pit before—won in it before, you could do it again. 

The Hound stood across the pit, flexing her fingers, rolling her neck. Even from this distance, you could see the glint of something dangerous in her eyes. 

She was watching you, sizing you up—not just as an opponent, but as something more. Something familiar. 

Your stomach twisted, but you shook it off. You had fought countless people in this pit. This was no different. 

The announcer’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, you know the names! You’ve heard the stories! But tonight, only one walks out victorious! Will it be the relentless force of nature—The Hound—or the cunning, untouchable legend—The Bandit?”

A roar of cheers and jeers rose from the crowd, coins clinking, fists pounding against the rusted railings. 

The Hound smirked, and she cracked her knuckles. “Didn’t think I’d see you here,” she called over the noise. 

Your chest tightened. Her voice—it had been years, but you could still hear the echoes of it from a life before this one. Before the explosion. Before everything fell apart. 

You steadied your breathing, meeting her gaze. “Didn’t think you’d recognize me, I’ve made myself pretty faceless down here.” 

She tilted her head, her slightly tipsy, cocky smirk never wavering. “Please. I’d recognize that stance anywhere.” 

The referee raised his hand. “Fighters ready?” 

You shifted your weight, planting your feet. 

Vi rolled her shoulders, dropping into a stance you remembered all too well. The referee’s hand dropped, the bell rang, and the fight began.

Vi came at you fast—faster than you remembered, faster than anyone else in these pits. You barely dodged the first blow, feeling the air shift as her fist grazed past your jaw. She was strong. Stronger than before. 

You countered with a quick jab, catching her just below the ribs, but she barely reacted. She just grinned. 

“Oh yeah,” she muttered, eyes flashing with something exciting, something exhilarating. “I missed this.” 

You missed this too—the fight was a blur of fists and instinct, muscle memory taking over where words had failed. Every blow exchanged was a conversation of its own—questions asked in the form of jabs, answers given in the crack of fists meeting flesh. 

Vi fought like she had something to prove. You fought like you had nothing left to lose. 

The crowd around you roared, but their voices faded into the background, drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears and the weight of Vi’s gaze locking onto yours with every strike. 

She was testing you. And fuck if it didn’t wet your entire body on fire. 

Your fist connected with her jaw, snapping her head to the side. She staggered but barely hesitated before retaliating, her knuckles slamming into your ribs, knocking the wind out of you. You gritted your teeth, biting back a groan as you stumbled. 

Vi, grinned through the sweat and the blood smeared at the corner of her lip, didn’t let up. “You’ve gotten better,” she said, breathless. 

You wiped a trickle of blood from your chin with the back of your hand. “So have you.” 

The fight didn’t last much longer after that. 

It wasn’t that one of you was leagues above the other—no, this was a match of equals. A battle between two people who knew each other’s tells, who had grown up mirroring each other’s movements before life had thrown them into opposite corners of the ring. 

But in the end, Vi took the win. 

She had you pinned, her weight pressing you into the cold ground, your wrists trapped in her grip. Your chest heaved beneath her hips, every breath labored, every inch of you aching. 

For a moment, neither of you moved. 

The crowd’s cheers rang hollow in your ears. 

Vi’s smirk softened just slightly as she hovered above you, her breathing ragged. “Still think you’re faceless?” she asked, voice low, teasing. 

You swallowed hard, feeling the warmth of her breath against your flushed skin. “Guess not.” 

The referee declared her victory, but Vi didn’t move—not right away. Not until her fingers briefly, almost hesitantly, squeezed yours before letting go. 

And just like that, the fight was over. 

————————————

You found her later in the back room, unwrapping the bloodied bandages from her hands. 

Vi barely glanced up as you entered, but the smirk was already on her lips. “Came to gloat?” 

You scoffed, stepping closer, the adrenaline from the fight still buzzing in your veins. “You won. Why would I gloat?” 

She hummed, flexing her fingers before wincing slightly. Without thinking, you grabbed the roll of fresh bandages from the table, stepping into her space. 

Vi raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest as you took her hand, carefully wrapping her knuckles. “Still good at this,” she murmured, watching you. 

You didn’t look up. “Did a lot of patching up over the years.”

Silence settled between you, thick with unspoken words. With memories of a time when fights weren’t for survival, when your fists weren’t used to hurt but to train, to prepare for a future that should have never come. 

Her fingers twitched under yours. “I looked for you,” she admitted suddenly. “After… everything.” 

Your hands stilled. 

You exhaled slowly. “I know.” 

Vi tilted her head, her eyes searching yours. “Then why didn’t you—?”

You cut her off before she could finish the thought. “I didn’t want to be found. I wasn’t the same.” 

Her jaw clenched, and for a moment, you thought she might argue. But then, something shifted in her gaze—understanding, maybe. Or acceptance. 

You finished wrapping her hands, but before you could pull away, Vi caught your wrist. 

“Neither was I,” she murmured. 

The weight of her words settled deep in your chest, and then, before you could second-guess it, before the past could creep in and drag you both back down, you leaned in. 

Vi met you halfway. 

The moment her lips crashed into yours, it felt less like a reunion and more like a collision—messy, desperate, something inevitable finally set into motion. 

She pushed you back against the table, hands gripping at your waist, your fingers tangled in her damp hair. The tension from the fight, from the years lost between you, snapped like a frayed wire. 

Vi’s hands were rough, calloused from years of fighting, but they moved against your skin like she’d never forgotten the contours of your body. Her body was pressed tight against yours, heat rolling off her in waves, her breath mixing with yours in the small space between hurried, hungry kisses. 

You barely had time to breathe before she lifted you onto the table with ease, standing between your legs, her finger digging into your hips just enough to send a shiver through you. She kissed you like you were still fighting—teeth nipping at your lower lip, tongue tracing against yours in a way that made your head spin. 

Your hands explored familiar territory, fingers pressing into her back, tracing the muscle that had only grown stronger since you last knew her this way. your nails raked against her skin, and she groaned against your mouth, the sound sending heat pooling low in your stomach. 

Her lips trailed long your jaw, then lower, her teeth scraping the sensitive skin of your neck. You let your head fall back, a breathless laugh slipping out between gasps. “Still cocky,” you murmured. 

Vi laughed against your skin, her hands slipping beneath your shirt, fingertips brushing against your ribs, then your chest. “You like it,” she muttered, her voice rough, her lips pressing against your collarbone before he bit down, just hard enough to make your breath hitch. 

You did. You really, really did. 

Your fingers tangled in her hair, tugging her back up to meet your lips again, swallowing the growl she let out in response. The years apart, the pain, the battles fought with fists instead of words—it all burned away in the fire lit between your bodies. 

She pressed you further onto the table, the cool surface grounding you against the sheer blaze of her body. her hips rolled against yours, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips, The friction, the desperation, the way her body fit against yours like she was still made for you—it was too much, and not enough all at once.

“Vi—” her name left your lips in a breathless plea, “come on, fight me.” 

She grinned against your skin, her voice husky. “Yeah, I got you.” 

If you enjoyed this one shot, please check out my other series!

“i can’t help it, you’re fun to mess with” modern Vi au ? 🩷

✮⋆˙𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 modern!vi x reader ✮⋆˙𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 none ✮⋆˙𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 hi so i had this little thing in my drafts and changed a few things to fit the request !! i hope you like it ♡︎ also - modern vi has a special place in my heart (i just know she'd be a smug bastard)

♡︎ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ♡︎

Vi was sprawled across the bed, shirtless, hair still damp from her shower, one arm lazily slung around your waist. You were both on your phones, legs tangled under the covers. Her thumb scrolled absently, while yours hovered over your latest post.

You tried to act casual, but Vi caught the smirk you were failing to hide.

“What did you do?” she asked, suspicion in her voice.

You bit your lip, turning your phone so she could see the photo — a perfectly timed shot of her mid-workout, abs flexed, expression intense, the caption: “yes, she’s mine. no, you can’t have her.”

Vi blinked. “When did you even take that?”

“I have my ways.”

A beat of silence. Then her phone buzzed.

“Oh my god.” She stared at the flood of likes and comments. “‘Vi could ruin my life and I’d say thank you’? Damn.” She let out a low whistle. “These people are thirsty.”

You laughed. “Can you blame them? Look at you.”

Vi rolled onto her side, grinning. “You like showing me off, huh?”

You shrugged, smug. “You’re hot. I’m proud.”

She leaned in, brushing her lips against your neck, voice dropping. “Keep talking like that and I’ll give ‘em something new to thirst over.”

“Vi!” you squeaked, pushing at her chest as she laughed.

“You started it,” she said, scrolling again. “Wait—this one says ‘gym? I thought she carried hay bales on a ranch and threw people for fun.’”

You raised a brow. “Did they lie?”

Vi chuckled, clearly loving every second of it. “Nope. But now I feel like I should go shirtless more often.”

“Please don’t,” you deadpanned. “I don’t need a full-blown internet meltdown.”

She winked. “Too late. I am the meltdown.”

You groaned and buried your face in her chest. “Why are you like this?”

She kissed the top of your head. “Because you love me, i can’t help it, you’re fun to mess with”.”

You roll your eyes at her, smug idiot - unfortunately, you really, really did.