Hello 😊

HELLOO! (⁠☆⁠▽⁠☆⁠)

My name is Rai, I am 18 years old, my pronouns are she/her, I am pansexual and demisexual and I love quiet activities like reading, sketching, paper crafts, mehandi art, cooking, and stuff. I am an introvert, and my MBTI is INFP

♡

I enjoy watching horror and thriller movies. My favourites are Lights Out, Train to Busan, Tumbbad, and the Conjuring series. I love animated shows like Arcnae (utterly obsessed) and The Blue Eye Samurai

♡

I love reading and yapping about the recent book I've read. I mostly read fiction but dabble in socio-political and history books ^⁠_⁠^ I enjoy sweet and spicy food, especially noodles, idk I just have a special love for them. I love watching anime, especially slice of life or something with a huge emotional impact, my favourite being Bananafish

✿

Would love to meet people here and get to know them ʕ⁠っ⁠•⁠ᴥ⁠•⁠ʔ⁠っ

Racists , homophobics, transphobics, misogynists,etc Please don't interact get help instead :⁠-⁠) respectfully so

“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.

University Vi headcannons - ⭐

a/n: i wrote some for Caitlyn so here are some for Vi

~

University Choice: Vi would go to University College London (UCL), studying Criminal Justice or Forensic Science—she’s always been passionate about justice and law.

She’s definitely not the study-all-day type—more of a get-in-and-get-out kind of person.

Prefers hands-on learning, especially when it comes to practical labs or field trips, where she can do real-world work.

Hates group work—she’d rather do everything on her own than rely on others.

Barely studies for exams—she trusts her instinct and experiences more than textbooks.

Her idea of revision is reading summaries the night before an exam.

Loves lectures that involve action or conflict, especially when there’s a good debate involved.

She’s notorious for debating with professors, especially when she disagrees with something.

Doesn’t really care about grades—as long as she passes, she’s fine.

Always last-minute cramming, but still somehow pulls through with decent grades.

Reputation as a “badass”—Vi has a tough exterior, and people respect her because she doesn’t take crap from anyone.

Despite her tough-girl persona, she’s surprisingly popular—people love her energy and boldness.

She’s part of the boxing club, where she’s known for her impressive skills.

The go-to person for advice if someone’s being picked on—Vi doesn’t tolerate bullies.

Loves late-night hangs with her friends, where they either talk about the latest crime cases or watch old action films.

Rarely attends parties, but when she does, she’s the one leading everyone to the dance floor or winning drinking games.

People who are close to her know that Vi is a softie at heart—her reputation as a “tough girl” is mostly an act.

Vi tends to hang out in a small but loyal group of friends, mostly people she trusts.

Doesn’t deal well with fakeness—if someone is pretending to be something they’re not, she’ll call them out.

People know not to mess with you because Vi always has your back.

Vi’s university style is a mix of casual but tough—hoodies, leather jackets, denim, and combat boots.

Loves wearing jackets with patches or anything that adds a bit of flair.

She’s more into comfort than style, but she somehow makes it look effortlessly cool.

Always has her signature fingerless gloves on, even in lectures.

Dark denim jeans—either ripped or perfectly fitted, depending on her mood.

Vi’s style can be described as sporty chic—always ready for a workout or a spontaneous adventure.

Wears minimal jewelry, usually a watch and a couple of rings—simple but effective.

Her university bag? A sturdy backpack, perfect for carrying books and personal gear.

Hoodies and T-shirts with band logos are her go-to for casual days.

Loves oversized coats during winter, especially ones that make her look like a bouncer.

Vi is incredibly protective of you, always making sure you're safe and looking out for your wellbeing.

Loves to pick you up after class and sometimes gives you a ride home if you’re not too far.

Always surprising you with little gifts—a new book she thinks you’d like or a sweet treat from the local café.

Vi loves physical affection, so expect a lot of hugs, back rubs, and sneaky kisses between classes.

She’s a big fan of holding hands—especially when she feels the need to keep you close.

When she’s stressed, she’ll come to you for comfort, laying her head on your lap or asking for cuddles.

Shares her snacks with you, even if she pretends not to, claiming, “It’s just because you look hungry.”

Loves cooking for you, and while it’s not always gourmet, her homemade meals feel like a warm hug.

She’d sneak into your room when she’s feeling tired, just to fall asleep next to you.

Vi is overprotective but in a playful way—if anyone dares to flirt with you, expect her to step in, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

Gets jealous when other people get too close to you, but she tries not to show it—she’s just protective.

When you’re feeling down, she’ll make you laugh or tell you how amazing you are.

Surprises you with spontaneous dates—be it a late-night walk around campus or a picnic in the park.

She’s always making you laugh, even on the worst days.

Teases you affectionately, calling you cute nicknames like “sparky” or “wild one.”

Vi adores when you wear her clothes—especially her oversized sweaters.

Crashes your study sessions by sneaking in and distracting you with a kiss.

Never hesitates to stand up for you—even if it means confronting someone who’s been rude.

If you're feeling insecure about something, Vi will remind you of how amazing you are in her own straightforward way.

Always invites you to hang out with her friends, and she makes sure everyone treats you well.

How She Deals With Exam Stress

Vi deals with stress through physical activity—boxing, running, or even punching a bag.

Hates studying for long periods, so she takes frequent breaks to blow off steam.

Gets easily frustrated when things aren’t clicking, but she always pushes through.

When she needs to focus, she locks herself away in her room, no distractions.

Rarely asks for help, even though she definitely could use it sometimes.

She’s the type to procrastinate until the last minute—but somehow still gets decent results.

Listens to loud music when she’s stressed, blasting rock or punk to drown out everything else.

Takes long walks or does a few laps around campus to clear her head.

Gets easily overwhelmed, but she relies on you to keep her grounded.

Treats herself with chocolate or junk food after a tough study session.

Has a favorite diner where she takes you to get burgers and fries after a long week.

Hates taking public transport—she prefers walking or riding her bike everywhere.

Loves movie nights, especially action films or anything with a lot of explosions.

Her idea of a perfect day is hanging out with you, grabbing food, and watching a film at home.

Loves showing off her tattoos to anyone who’ll listen—each one has a story.

Always checks on you if you’re feeling stressed about assignments.

Can’t stand overly competitive people—she’d rather just enjoy life and not turn everything into a contest.

Adores when you play with her hair, especially when she’s tired.

Loves quirky cafes, especially ones with board games—Vi’s competitive streak comes out when she plays.

Always texts you first after her last lecture, even if it’s just to say, “How’s your day going?”

Could eat pizza every day, and she’s probably the one who introduces you to new pizza places.

Plans spontaneous trips just to get away from university stress—weekend getaways are her thing.

Is definitely a morning person, but she still stays up late to keep you company.

Sings along to songs in the car when you’re driving, but only if no one’s around.

Always keeps your favourite snacks stocked at her place, so you’ll feel at home whenever you visit.

vi x gn!reader | jayvik

synopsis: you and viktor observe your partners get up to stupid shit.

a/n: very much based on vi and jayce being bookstreet when together.

"what are you doing?" viktor asks, seeing you perched by the window as you look out of it. "any interesting birds about?"

"yes, i'm a cat, haha," you reply dryly, shooting viktor an amused glance as he chuckles. "no, look." you gesture with your chin to vi and jayce who are currently on the roof of the opposite building. "i have a tale of idiocy to share."

"oh god," viktor sighs. "what happened?"

"so vi," you start, pointing to vi who's standing over jayce. jayce who happens to be creating something; he's creating wings. "said that she bets she could fly if she flapped her arms really fast and had a running start."

viktor already looks tired. "mhm, and did you say that's physically impossible?" he asks, and you nod solemnly.

"i did," you say. "and jayce backed me up...for a minute before vi somehow convinced him it was physically possible."

viktor shrugs. "not surprising. vi is very persuasive."

"unfortunately," you agree. "so they spent the afternoon drafting up plans for wings made of cardboard." you give viktor a look. "y'know, a prototype."

"of course," viktor says. "all good projects need one."

your lips twitch with the beginnings of a smile. "anyway, i'm watching to see the inevitable failure and rush out with medical aid."

viktor eyes you for a second, a little weary.

"won't bones be broken?" he asks and you shake your head, pointing at the large pool a few feet below. the height is enough to hurt but not to break any bones on impact.

"ah," viktor says, leaving you laugh as you pat his shoulder.

"my girl and your boy lose all semblance of intelligence when they're together." you tease and viktor laughs.

"well, they do share one braincell so of course it vanishes when they're together."

Big Chested S/O | Arcane Women

request for arcane women with big titty gfs

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genre: smut (minors dni)

characters: ambessa, caitlyn, grayson, mel, sevika, vi

cw: fem!reader, big chested!reader, titty play, titty sucking, marking (vi), titty slapping (grayson), strap on sex (grayson, sevika)

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Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa cannot keep her hands to herself. She had invited you to soak in the bath with her and cleared the attendants and guards from the room when you first entered, leaving the two of you alone. You're sitting between her legs with your head against her chest.

Within minutes, her hands reach around to your chest. She squeezes roughly; she treasures you, but you're a grown woman and can take some rough handling.

“Touch yourself for me”, she all but orders, and you listen, hand slipping beneath the warm water to play with your slit while she gropes your tits and rolls your nipples between her fingers. “Does that feel good?”

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Caitlyn Kiramman

DIABOLICAL ORAL FIXATION.

Cait finally comes to bed and finds you lying awake with a book. “You didn't have to wait for me,” she says, crawling over to your lap instead of her own side of the bed.

“I'll always wait for you, you know that”, you sigh in response. She pulls you into a kiss to show appreciation before trailing her lips down your neck and collarbone. When she gets to your chest, She lifts her head to look you in the eyes before leaning down again to take one of your nipples into her mouth, sucking on it. She presses a finger to your hole as she pulls away from your chest.

“Can I touch you while I suck on these gorgeous tits?” she asks, smile splitting into a grin as she lowers her head back down.

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Grayson

She likes to watch them bounce as you ride her strap.

“Yeah, just like that”, she grunts as you bounce on the toy. She calls it training. She knows it's not right to engage with a subordinate in this way, but when you make such a pretty picture to look at, who is she to deny herself? She's not making eye contact with you though, focused on your chest in her face. When you slow down a little, thighs burning with the ache of riding, she brings a hand up to harshly slap them. “Why are you slowing down? I'm not finished with your training,” she says, hands gripping your hips to assist you in gaining back your pace. “If you keep up just like that, I'll give you a reward.”

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Mel Medarda

Mel asks you to model topless for her so she can paint you. You have to get her back on course multiple times because she keeps getting distracted by your tits.

“I thought you were a woman of composure”, you tease as she gets caught staring again. She rolls her eyes in response.

“I've been finished for five minutes; I just wanted extra time to stare at them,” Mel says matter of factly. You get up from where you've been posing, engulfing her in a back hug as you examine her artwork. It's impressive. She paints you in such a sensual light. Your hands drop from her hips to her thighs. “While I was painting your chest, I was thinking about having them as my next canvas.”

“Yeah? If you show me how much you like them, I'll think about it,” you say as she turns in your arms, ready to walk you over to her bed and worship your chest with her mouth.

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Sevika

Sevika likes to feel them rub against yours as she fucks you nice and deep. She thrusts her hips, grinding her cock inside you. You'd been begging for her to get the strap and fuck you, and now that she's inside, you're a drooling mess. She's completely covering you, pressing her muscular body on top of yours. The way your sensitive nipples rub against her chest as she rocks against you makes her eyes roll to the back of her head. Skin-on-skin contact is Sevika's weakness.

Sevika has a very short list of things that get her going, and your tits are top of that list.

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Vi

After a rough fight, Vi will find an empty room, back you up against the wall and let out all her pent-up energy on your tits. She loves to leave marks, decorating your chest with hickies and bite marks. She's enthusiastic, letting her actions tell you how she feels. She's desperate with how her tongue drags along your skin, and her teeth sink in. Her mouth is too occupied to speak, but you can hear the curses she grits out between biting and sucking on your precious skin. She's also a proud woman, and knowing you have her marks on you fuels her to do more. Your boobs are the perfect destresser for her.

“Fuck, look at you”, she growls, admiring her dirty work. “Always so fucking pretty.”

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Thank you so much for requesting, I'm so abnormal about the arcane ladies, I need to write more for them. I hope you enjoyed!!

Sevika is my favorite character but it is hard for me to analyze her because I feel her ending is so unfitting for the rest of her writing and feels so forced it makes me second guess every other thing that was established about her, it is truly sad to me how the conclusion for such an interesting character ends up being imo a lazy way to tie lose ends for the rest of the abandoned Zaun vs. Piltover class war plot line.

I was thinking about this because I found this concept art of how Sevika would use Silco's office as her room after his death and it is so harrowing how for Sevika her entire life was Zaun's liberation.

The thing about her is, unlike Silco who at least had Jinx, she 100% sacrificed her whole personal life for revolution and thus perhaps her compromise to it was even higher than Silco's and then she becomes part of the same system that she spend her whole life fighting against? How do we make any sense of that?

I see Sevika leaving Vander, because of his refusal of fighting against Piltover, as such an important point for her character and I would argue probably the most important we see in establishing who she is, her ideologies and how much she is willing to sacrifice for that dream. Then Act 3 happens and it is such a weird watch for me because clearly the writing was trying to re-establish her as a sort of Vander figure with the whole "we don't hand over our own people" thing (even though I would argue her motivations where ideological while Vander's were personal), her giving a speech on Vander's statue, under his shadow. It feels like an attempt to make her into a "good-zaunite" by making her into a completely de-fanged version of herself and what that ends up meaning is her becoming non-threatening to the status quo and instead becoming part of the system, legitimizing it and therefore protecting it.

In this regard I think that Sevika choosing to follow Silco might be as important as her abandoning Vander. I find their relationship very interesting because they have similar ideologies and Silco is so dependant on Sevika and they both know it, for over 7 years she could have abandoned, betrayed or disposed of him but she didn't because she understood that violence was the only way to liberation and in that path she did all sorts of reprehensible things just like Silco for that ultimate goal again with the understanding that violence was necessary, she chose Silco because she understood that liberation would come through struggle not by manking deals with your oppressors like Vander did... And then just like Vander she ends up doing exactly the same thing, rendering all those years of struggle, all those actions, violence and atrocities meaningless.

And so for me most of what we knew of her character and what was established about her ideology becomes nonsensical when we see how she ended, either you take it as she completely betrayed herself and what she fought for her whole life or she was never the person the writing showed us her to be and just acted without thinking all those years (?). Furthermore we are shown just few episodes before the end how the people of the undercity don't even listen to her, so again it is just confusing how she ends up as a council woman for a city that doesn't even want her.

Ultimately if this was some sort of commentary about how revolutionaries can become sucked into politics and be de-fanged in favor of becoming part of the system rather than fighting it I could accept it even if I didnt like it but with how reactionary and anti-revolutionary s2 is, it just feels more like a "see? violence is never the answer! if you want change just become a diversity hire and change the institutions that oppress you from within!" /sarcasm

Title: The Wolf and The Ghost

Pairing: Ambessa Medarda x Reader

Summary: After the war ends, Ambessa is left haunted by the loss of the one person she truly loved, Reader, who vanished after she chose ambition over their relationship.

Warnings: None

MEN & MINORS DNI: 18+ ONLY!!!

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The war ended, and the world kept turning. Cities rebuilt. Alliances were redrawn in blood and ink. Monuments went up to honor the dead. And Ambessa Medarda stood in the center of it all, a general, a strategist, a war hero.

And utterly alone.

She had the world’s respect, yes. Power in abundance. But no one to share it with.

Because you were gone.

You left her before the final siege. You’d watched too long from the sidelines as she let ambition carve the warmth out of her. You gave her warnings, soft at first, words by candlelight, hands on her cheek, begging her to choose you. But war always came first.

You left without ceremony. No goodbye, no note. Just vanished. She came home from council chambers to an empty apartment and a silence so complete it roared.

She told herself you’d come back. Of course you would. You loved her.

Didn’t you?

⸻

Weeks turned into months. The war ended, but she didn’t go home, what was left of home, anyway, with your scent long gone from her sheets?

Instead, she went looking.

First, she sent letters to your family. No answer. Then she sent soldiers. No sign.

After that, she went herself.

She walked through mud-soaked markets and highborn halls. She questioned people who hadn’t seen you in years. She hunted you like an enemy, her desperation barely hidden beneath sharp words and colder threats.

“Tell me where she is,” she hissed to a man in Piltover who claimed he once sold you paints. “I’ll burn this district down if you lie to me.”

He hadn’t lied. He just hadn’t known.

She searched for you in cities scarred by war, in the ruins of Zaun, in the red-lit brothels of Navori, even in the temples of Ionia, hoping maybe you’d gone there seeking peace, something she’d never been able to give you.

But every time she thought she was close, the trail went cold. You were always one step ahead, like you knew she was coming.

Sometimes, she thought you were punishing her. And maybe she deserved it.

⸻

She began to see you in dreams. Not the gentle ones no, Ambessa didn’t get those. Hers were jagged. You stood at the edge of her battlefield, drenched in blood and rain, whispering, “You never chose me.” She always woke with your name on her lips and her hands clenched in her sheets, furious with herself for dreaming at all.

She kept your locket in her coat pocket. The one you gave her the night before you left. She never opened it, she couldn’t. It felt like a grave.

⸻

Then came Zaun.

A diplomatic mission, they said. Negotiations, they said. But Ambessa didn’t give a damn about the papers. Something told her, intuition, maybe that you were here.

It was raining, because of course it was. The city always seemed to weep.

She wandered for hours, cloak soaked through, eyes burning from smoke and memories. And then, down a crooked alley with flickering lights and the smell of tea and burnt bread, she saw a shadow behind a rain-streaked window.

And her heart stopped.

You were sitting at a low table, face half-lit by a lamp. You looked… different. Softer, quieter. You had lines around your eyes that hadn’t been there before. But you were still you. Still her.

Ambessa didn’t enter like a general. She entered like a ghost.

The bell above the door didn’t ring. Or maybe she didn’t hear it over the roar in her ears.

You looked up.

She watched you freeze.

No tears. No smile. No embrace. Just silence.

“I heard you were alive,” you said.

“I was,” she rasped, voice wrecked. “But not without you.”

You blinked. Looked down at your tea.

“That’s dramatic. Even for you.”

She didn’t laugh. She couldn’t.

“I looked for you,” she said.

“I didn’t want to be found.”

“I know.”

You looked up at her then, eyes tired. “So why are you here?”

“Because I don’t want to win if I have to do it without you.”

You exhaled, slowly. “That’s not how it works, Ambessa. You made your choices.”

“I made the wrong ones.”

You nodded. Said nothing.

She sat, uninvited, desperate now. “Tell me what to do. I’ll do it. You want me to leave the empire? I will. You want me to beg? I—” her voice caught, “—I’ll kneel. I’ve done worse for far less.”

You stared at her. Something in your expression cracked, and your voice came quieter than before.

“You think I wanted you to suffer? That I left to punish you?”

Ambessa said nothing.

“I left because staying was killing me. Because I loved you, and you loved war.”

She bowed her head. The rain outside seemed to hush, waiting.

“I don’t know how to be what you deserve,” she whispered. “But I want to try. If you’ll let me.”

You were quiet for a long, long time.

Then, slowly, you reached across the table. Your hand touched hers.

Her breath caught like a sob in her throat.

“I’m not who I was, Ambessa.”

“Neither am I.”

A beat.

“…Then maybe we can meet again. As who we are now.”

Your fingers tightened around hers. And for the first time in a year, the storm in her chest began to calm.

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she is sooooooo cute (˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥) !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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!

need this so bad actually