°˖✧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚✧˖°

Floette - she/her 25 ~ wlw I am socially awkward so please bear with me („• ᴗ •„)

[floettesblog]

Masterlist

(Divider by @uzmacchiato)

ARCANE

Series

Sevika

Puppy Eyes in the Mud - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Bonus

Cigarettes & Stardust - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Caitlyn

Tears Upon a Throne - Part 1, Part 2

Vi

Chains of Roses

Imagines/ Oneshots/ Drabbles

Sevika

Comfort

Warmth

Rest

Birthday Chaos

Deserved

Sick

Deck the Halls

Cramps

Grumpy Meets Sunshine

Caitlyn

Sacred Tides - Teaser, Oneshot

Snowday Showdown

[trulysapphic]

❆ so this is christmas

caitlyn's never really been a fan of the holidays. she's more interested in focusing on her work than caroling and tree decorating...that is, until she meets you. you're determined to make caitlyn fall in love with christmas. but as it turns out, she might be falling for you instead...

❆ tags: hyperfemme r, chubby r, sheriff caitlyn, post-canon, insecure r, friends-to-lovers, protective caitlyn, sickfic, fluff and more fluff!

❆ total wc: 15k+

chapter 1 ❆ chapter 2 ❆ chapter 3 ❆ chapter 4 ❆ chapter 5 ❆ chapter 6 ❆ chapter 7 ❆ chapter 8 ❆ chapter 9 ❆ chapter 10

[floettesblog]

BTW GUYS, check out this adorable fic while I desperately try to write something for you lmao

[floettesblog]

Snowday Showdown

Fandom: Arcane: League of Legends

Pairing: Caitlyn x Reader

Synopsis: Longing for your overworked wife Caitlyn during a cozy winter evening, you’re surprised when she returns and dedicates the next day to making up for lost time.

TW: none

Masterlist

With a soft sigh, you sank into the oversized couch, buried under what felt like a small mountain of blankets and pillows, your fingers curled tightly around the warmth of your teacup.

The crackling fireplace filled the room with a gentle, soothing glow, and your gaze kept drifting between the dancing flames and the large window covered in delicate frost patterns.

Outside, snow was falling in slow, heavy flakes, blanketing the entire estate in pure white. The warm Christmas lights reflected softly in the icy glass, pulling a small smile onto your lips.

You loved winter and the holiday season more than anything, but one person had been missing far too often lately. Your wife, Caitlyn.

Once again, work had swallowed her whole, keeping her in the office so long that some nights you didn’t even get the chance to say goodnight. What good were a beautifully decorated home or a perfect winter wonderland if you couldn't share them with the person you loved most?

Pouting ever so slightly, you thought about the little list of winter activities you had wanted to do this year. You knew how much was expected of Caitlyn, her position didn’t give her many breaks. So you decided that tomorrow, you would simply make the best of the day on your own.

With another sigh, you reached for your list on the coffee table and scanned the lines until your eyes caught on one thing: build a snowman. Maybe not as fun alone as with her… but definitely better than having a snowball fight by yourself.

A few hours later, wrapped in warmth and nearly swallowed by your pile of blankets, you were drifting into sleep when a cold hand brushed tenderly across your cheek.

Caitlyn leaned over you with a soft smile, suppressing a quiet laugh as you grumbled, scrunched your brows, and pulled the blanket higher. Something crinkled under your arm, and the blue-haired woman carefully slid out a now slightly wrinkled piece of paper.

The smile fell from her lips the moment she recognized it.

Mid-December… not much time left before the festivities began. And she hadn’t done a single thing on your list with you. She had promised herself she would make more time for you, especially during your favorite season.

Her eyes drifted down the page again, stopping at the small mark you had drawn beside build a snowman. A quiet realization softened her expression, followed by a spark of determination lighting up her gaze. She placed the list gently back on the table, then leaned down to lift you into her arms and carry you to bed.

The next morning, full of excitement, you looped your scarf tightly around your neck, slipped into your gloves, and pushed open the heavy door to the garden.

A rush of cold air hit your face, making you shiver, but the sight before you warmed you from the inside out. Every corner of the garden was dusted in fresh snow, icicles glittered from the gutters, and the surface of the small pond was covered with a thin sheet of ice.

Your boots crunched over the snow as you stepped onto the wide lawn, normally covered in flowers, and began gathering handfuls of snow for your snowman. You could practically feel your nose turning red, grateful at least for your earmuffs that kept your ears from freezing off.

You rubbed your hands together, trying to warm your trembling fingers, so focused that you didn’t hear the approaching footsteps.

You shrieked as a sudden burst of icy cold slid down your neck.

“Cold!” you yelped, twisting frantically as the snow slipped under your scarf.

Behind you, Caitlyn’s melodic laughter rang out.

“Apologies, your neck was not the intended target,” she said with a soft laugh.

At least until a snowball of your own caught her on the shoulder and spilled into her collar.

“I thought you were an excellent shot?” you teased, tossing another snowball lightly in your hand.

Something flickered in her eye and before you even realized it, war erupted.

“I can't remember the last time I laughed this much,” Caitlyn murmured, her smile softening into something warm and a touch weary as your fingers gently combed through her hair.

The two of you had immediately sunk into a hot bath after your snowy adventure outside, steam curling around you as the warmth chased away the cold that had settled deep into your bones. Her knees brushed yours beneath the water. Every so often, you felt her gaze on you- quiet, adoring, almost apologetic for all the days she’d missed.

“I’m really glad you took the day off,” you said quietly, smiling as you switched places so she could run her fingers through your damp hair instead.

Caitlyn’s hands were gentle, almost reverent, as if touching you reminded her of what she’d been missing.

“I really needed this,” she whispered. “I needed you.”

Later, the two of you stood before the large living-room window, the glass faintly fogged from the warmth inside. Outside, the world was still wrapped in a blanket of white, and your two tiny snowman selves stood proudly in the yard.

“Aren’t they adorable?” you grinned.

Caitlyn chuckled under her breath. It hadn’t taken much convincing, she rarely denied you anything, so you had even managed to decorate her snowman with one of her spare eyepatches.

Seeing it out there made you both laugh all over again.

“They really are,” she murmured, her voice dropping into that soft tone she only ever used with you.

Her arms slid around your waist from behind, drawing you closer until your back rested fully against her chest. She tucked her chin atop your head, breathing in the faint scent of your shampoo.

For a moment, the world beyond the window melted away, leaving just the two of you, the quiet glow of the Christmas lights, and the simple joy of being together.

Hey my loves!

I’m finally back with some fluff and this time it’s featuring our lovely Cait, hehe.

I was at a convention the past few days, so my writing energy kinda disappeared for a bit.

BUT I already have something else planned with Cait — our dear Sacred Tides Cait! It’ll take a bit of time, but I promise it’s on the way (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

(Divider by @thecutestgrotto)

Taglist

@sevikas-whore @joyispunk

[tulipesfairy]

—needles and dressings. (nurse vi x nurse reader)

★ synopsis: an other morning shift with your crush at the hospital

★ cw: nurse crush !! no relationship; it’s the flirting stage fairies. chaotic banter, flirt, mutual pinning, they’re really good nurses I swear, just not very professional, sevika cameo, vi jealousy turning ridiculous bc of a very bad timing

The white light of the hospital is way too bright for six in the morning. You’re dressed in your scrubs, tying your hair up in the mirror, already fantasizing about the bed you left… two hours ago.

The locker room smells faintly of coffee, disinfectant, and despair: the holy trinity of the emergency department.

The door slams open with the sound of heavy feet about to wear crocs and a groan that sounds like a bear who just got shot.

“Urgh— Morning,” Vi says, though it comes out more like a death rattle than an actual ‘morning’. She has a cold latte in one hand, her badge hanging pathetically crooked on her chest, pink hair still damp at the edges from a rushed shower.

You meet her eyes in the mirror. “Good morning sunshine.”

She lifts her drink, takes a sip, and the way she immediately grimaces makes you feel pity for her. “This is so bad…”

You snorts, tightening your ponytail. “Yours* is bad, lattes are delicious when it’s the expensive ones at Colombus’s.”

“You’re not dragging me there for a cold cloying coffee.” She flops down on the couch, legs spread, head tilted back. “Think it’s too late for a career change?”

You click your pen and shove it in your pocket. “Every day I think about either taking the bus to work or getting hit by it.”

Vi lets out the ugliest snort, “okay that’s funny.”

“Thank you.”

When you walk out the locker room, the emergency department is eerily calm like a brief impossible peace before the morning chaos. Machines hum, monitors blink, people whisper or scroll on their phone in their room with open doors and somewhere down the hall a phone rings half way before someone picks it up.

You and Vi walk side by side, fresh mugs in hand, the steam curling into the warm hospital air as hers smells like caramel, one she took after she dramatically dumped her earlier coffee into the sink with a loud groan.

You’re halfway down the hall when you feel her foot catch yours with a heavy, deliberate trip that sends your balance wobbling and your drink sloshing dangerously close to your scrub top.

“Vi!” you hiss, spinning around and steadying yourself on your feet before you actually spill anything.

“You were walking too slow,” she says, like that explains anything and grinning like the devil.

You glare at her, then because you have no self-control, you kick her square in the ass.

Not a little nudge either. A solid one. Because that’s what she deserves.

The sound echoes in the hallway.

“Ow!” Vi yelps, clutching the spot with one hand as the other holds her coffee and stumbling forward a step. “Ugh— that one was hard!” Her voice breaks halfway through, caught between suffering and regret.

“Shouldn’t have tried to kill me then,” you say, sipping your coffee you’re innocent but actually deeply satisfied with how painful it was.

She groans, straightening up. “You’re lucky I don’t write you up for assaulting me.”

“Go ahead,” you say. “You deserved it anyway, they won’t believe you.”

Vi is still rubbing her ass like she’s been shot, limping dramatically down the hall. Every step is accompanied by a groan or a sigh that sounds way too theatrical to be real.

“Jeez,” you mutter, rolling your eyes so hard it’s a miracle you don’t sprain something. “You’re unbelievable.”

“She kicked me,” Vi says to absolutely no one, loud enough for her voice to bounce off the sterile walls. “In front of witnesses!”

“There are no witnesses.”

She gasps. “You’re saying I imagined it? I’ve got nerve damage now, babe.”

You swing your free hand threateningly, and her eyes widen immediately. “No—no, wait, I’m good! I’m good!” She raises both arms in surrender as you glare at her. She’s definitely having fun playing the victim.

The moment you push through the double doors, the noise hits you: patients murmuring, kids crying, monitors beeping again, the faint buzz of the lights and reversible air conditioning. The usual chaos of triage you both love and sometimes hate.

And then you see her… again, because she’s always here, more here than in her home.

Sitting in her usual spot near the corner… that’s her. floral cardigan, handbag in her lap, eyes lost in the haze of her old mind.

You stop dead in your tracks. “…Oh no…”

Vi follows your gaze, and the life drains from her face. “…No. No, no, no, not today.”

“She’s back,” you whisper.

“Of course she’s back,” Vi mutters; sighing. “She’s like a seasonal infection.”

“She’s been here three times this week.”

Vi sighs again, already defeated. “What’s it gonna be this time? Mysterious knee pain? Sudden dizziness? The ghost of a headache?”

You grimace. “Last time it was ‘unexplainable and strange tingles in her fingers...’”

Vi groans. “She’s gonna make me crazy.”

You glance at her over your cup, smirking. “You’re already halfway there.”

“Yeah, well,” Vi says, straightening her scrub top and bracing herself. “If I go fully insane, it’ll be with you.”

The last part was unnecessary, but you loved it either way.

As you both over by the counter for a moment, Ms Cols hasn’t noticed you yet, which is a small mercy.

You take a long sip, eyes half-closed. “If she starts talking about her finger tingles again, I’m walking straight out.”

Vi doesn’t even look at you. “Send her to the surgeon.”

You snort into your drink. “Don’t be so mean.”

Her gaze flicks to you, dead serious. “I’m not being mean. I’m protecting our sanity.”

“Come on,” you say, leaning against the counter, hiding a smile. “We’re adults. Make a truce with her.” You say, talking about the surgeon.

Vi turns her head slowly, like you’ve just suggested the unthinkable. “A truce? With Sevika? Yeah must be that. On my dead body.”

You laugh softly. “She’s nice… Just a bit scary.”

“‘A bit scary,’” Vi repeats, mocking your tone before scoffing. “That woman’s been plotting my death since orientation. You weren’t there when she looked at me like she was about to hurt me with a scalpel in her hand.”

You grin into your cup. “To be fair, that sounds exactly like something she’d do.”

“She’s not nice,” Vi insists. “She’s a jerk with a diploma she shouldn’t have gotten in the first place. She’s dangerous.”

“You’re just mad she’s taller than you aren’t you?”

Vi narrows her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitches. “Watch it, nurse. I’ll trip you again.”

You chuckles softly before taking another slow sip of your coffee, eyes wandering down the hall. “Well, okay, she’s taller than anyone here.” You say, looking at Ms Cols who’s, of course, still there, fidgeting with her bag mindlessly, completely oblivious to the mutual dread she inspires to both of you.

You tilt your head up, eyes still toward the hall and not toward Vi, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Sevika’s kind with me.”

Vi freezes mid-sip, then she tosses her empty cup into the trash sharply like she hoped it was you in there instead, and turns to you, one brow arched. “…What’s that supposed to mean?”

You blink slow, all fake innocence. “It means she’s nice to me. That’s it.”

Vi glares, crossing her arms. “Nice. Uh-huh.”

You shrug, smiling into your cup. “What? It’s just a fact.”

Her expression tightens with mock disbelief mixed with something that looks like jealousy but she won’t admit it. “You’re telling me the same woman who told me I shouldn’t be allowed to work here is nice to you?”

“Mm-hm.” You take another sip, tone teasing, voice sweet. “Always says hi… Smiles… Nice.”

Vi blinks once, twice. “Nice,” she repeats, unimpressed. She scoffs, running a hand through her hair. “Right. And I’m the queen of Zaun.”

You laugh softly because the look on her face and the furrowed brow with the little twitch at the corner of her mouth tells you everything you need to know.

“What?” you tease, stepping a little closer, knowing exactly why she shouldn’t be what you’re about to name: “You jealous?”

Vi freezes for half a second, then snorts like you just told the best joke she’s ever heard. “Me? Jealous? No. Please.” She waves a hand dramatically. “I’m not here for that kind of stuff. I’m a nurse. I save lives.”

You stare at her, deadpan. “Wow. That’s so not true.”

She smirks, half-smile lazy and defensive all at once. “What’s not true? The saving lives part?”

“The not jealous part.”

Vi opens her mouth, closes it, looks away like she’s suddenly very interested in the boring and depressing white floor tiles. “You’re outta your mind,” she mutters, but there’s a grin trying to break through and it’s ridiculous, but you love it.

You don’t even get the chance to push her teasing any further before a sharp voice cuts through the low hum of the waiting room.

“Violet!”

The sound makes both of you flinch. Heads turn. The floral cardigan lady, Ms Cols is waving from her seat like she’s greeting an old friend she’s glad to see again.

Vi’s shoulders drop instantly. “Oh, no…” she mutters under her breath.

You bite back a laugh, eyes gleaming. “You save lives, right, so go save hers, hero.”

Vi gives you a look that’s half glare, half plea for mercy, no smirk anymore, just suffering. “I hate you.”

You take a sip of your coffee, grinning. “You love me.”

She lets out the smallest, most pitiful whimper of complaint, something between a wounded animal noise and a puppy cry before dragging her feet toward the waiting room.

Her steps are slow, heavy, the gait of someone marching toward certain doom like she’s done a few times before.

“Morning, Ms Cols,” she says, trying her best to sound cheerful. “What’s uh… what’s going on today?”

The woman smiles like she’s been waiting hours just for her. “Oh, Violet, dear, I woke up and my left ankle just felt strange.”

Vi looks at her, dead inside. “…Strange how?”

“Just… you know. Different.”

And Vi is about to say ‘yeah I feel strange too when I wake up at 4am and decide to drive to the hospital for 6. Oh wait, that’s my life actually. Except I’m paid for it.’ But being the professional nurse she is… she doesn’t say it.

she tosses you a desperate look over her shoulder.

“You,” she mouths. “Come. Help.”

You stroll over until you reach them after throwing your coffee in the bin, absolutely unbothered. “Ma’am,” you say, the exact tone someone uses when scolding a five-year-old, “again? What is it this time, hmm?”

The old woman perks up when you speak, eyes widening like she’s finally being taken seriously. “It’s my ankle,” she says dramatically. “It… it felt warm this morning.”

“Warm,” you repeat, deadpan.

“Yes. Warm. I think it’s… abnormal.”

Vi instantly drops the cheerful act, shoulders slumping like God just took away her last brain cell. “Ma’am,” she sighs, “should we call your son to come pick you up?”

The woman gasps. “No! He’ll think I’m exaggerating!”

“Ms Cols.” Vi says, tone now blunt and honest, her real nurse voice. “Be honest with us. Did you just wake up weird?”

The lady gasps. “No! I am telling you it feels—”

“—strange, yeah, we got that,” you cut in gently, affectionate. Strangely enough, it seems like she doesn’t take it personally, like she’s almost aware of how dramatic she is…. Almost. “But you can walk, right?”

She wiggles her foot. “Well… yes.”

“Any pain?” Vi asks.

“A… mysterious tingling.”

Vi looks at you. You look at her. Neither of you say the obvious sentence: i don’t know what to do. Me neither. Damn.

Vi sighs with her arms crossed on her chest like she’s reconsidering to get a new job, or start a whole new life. “Okay. But we can’t pass an X-ray for… strange feelings.”

You nod solemnly. “Yeah, ma’am, we need actual symptoms. Not… you know.”

Ms Cols scoffs, offended on behalf of her ankle’s emotional journey. “Well! It’s very real to me.”

“We know it is,” Vi says, rubbing her temple. “But your vitals are always perfect. Your last three exams were perfect. You’re literally healthier than us.”

“Way healthier.” You add.

Ms Cols tilts her head, considering that. “So no X-ray?”

Vi sighs. “Not unless your ankle bursts into flames. We’re not irradiating your bones again.”

The woman looks genuinely disappointed. “Oh.”

Ms Cols sighs… dramatically, loud enough that three other patients look over.

“We love you,” Vi says, voice warm but exhausted, “but you gotta stop giving us heart attacks over phantom ankle vibes.”

You watch the old woman hobble away perfectly fine and you and Vi just stand there for a moment.

“I swear she drains five years of my life every time she shows up.” Vi says.

You sighs. “Same. But she likes you more.”

Vi glances at you, horrified. “Don’t curse me like that.”

The two of you dissolve into tired laughter that feels way too soft for two exhausted nurses at 6 a.m.

You and Vi are still watching Ms Cols shuffle away and disappear behind the main door when a voice slides into the space behind you, smooth, low and bone-dry. A voice you know well now.

“Swirly ankle,” Sevika says. “That’s a new one.”

You simply turn around while Vi jolt like a teenager caught gossiping in class by a teacher.

Sevika stands there in her scrubs, arms crossed, towering like she just spawned from the shadows because no one hear her when she comes out her office or the block. Typical Sevika behavior, very unmistakable.

“Next time she comes in with an other strange symptom, I’m transferring her to psych,” she adds.

You snort into your cup.

Vi inhales sharply through her teeth. “You heard all that?”

Sevika tilts her head. “Everyone know her. And everyone heard it.” Then she adds, deadpan, just to piss Vi off, “Your patient voice is terrible, Vi.”

Vi scoffs, indignant. “My patient voice is fine.”

Sevika gives the smallest grunt of disagreement. “Mm.”

Vi looks attacked, or like she might attack her right now, you don’t really know.

You hide your smile behind your cup and turn to Sevika again, tone softening in a way Vi instantly notices.

“How’s your wife doing?” you ask, voice warm and gentle like you actually care, because you really do.

Sevika’s stern face shifts just slightly and you immediately see it. She gives you a small nod rough but warm around the edges. “Better,” she says. “They’re talking about sending her home soon. She loved the flowers, thank you for her.”

Your smile softens. “Good. She’s strong.”

Sevika’s jaw relaxes, and to you and anyone who knows her know that it’s practically a full emotional confession coming from her. “Strongest person I know.”

Her voice betrays something fiercely protective, something quietly devoted that you love to notice when you talk with her. Her kind of love stabilizes heart monitors, her wife’s especially.

Vi stands there watching, suddenly very, very aware of three things:

One: Sevika is genuinely just nice to you.

Two: Sevika is extremely married.

Three: Sevika would literally do anything for her wife. Not surprising, she just didn’t know Sevika was married.

She feels like the world’s biggest clown now. Wow.

Sevika gives you a tiny nod goodbye, then glances at Vi like she’s asking why Vi is alive in her hospital, and walks off without another word.

The moment she’s out of your view, you bump Vi lightly with your elbow, smiling.

“Still jealous?”

Vi groans, dragging a hand down her face. “I feel ridiculous.”

You laugh, a soft, warm sound that somehow melts the whole emergency department around you. “Yeah, you are.”

Vi’s voice is muffled behind her hands currently on her face in huge despair at her own clumsiness. “I thought she was flirting with you!”

You raise an eyebrow. “Sevika?”

“Yes!”

You blink. “…she’s married.”

Vi throws her head back like she’s receiving a divine revelation. “I KNOW THAT NOW.”

You’re giggling at this point. “I’m just playing with you. You know I told you she was taken once, but you don’t listen to me do you ?”

Vi’s ears are pink, absolutely pink. “Can we pretend that never happened?”

“Of course not.”

She groans again, but the smile tugging at her lips betrays her as she looks at you like she’s done with the day that barely just started. “I hate it here.”

You smile fondly. “Liar.”

Her eyes soften despite the chaos and her huge embarrassment.

“Yeah, well” she straightens, trying to soothe her ego as she answers teasingly. “Maybe I do. So what ?”

The morning shift feels a little less brutal after that. Hard to do more brutal than that thought.

[floettesblog]

Cigarettes & Stardust

Part 3

Fandom: Arcane: League of Legends

Pairing: Underboss!Sevika x Singer!Reader

Synopsis: As Silco intensifies his hunt for the mole within his own ranks, you become increasingly aware of the deadly danger surrounding you. What will your next move be?

TW: Violence, death, blood, psychological stress / panic attacks, toxic power dynamics

Masterlist

Your fingers trembled as you placed the final hairpin into your elaborate hairstyle, securing the last loose strand into place. Your nerves were frayed, everyone's were these days, but unlike Silco’s men, you actually had something to lose.

Your thoughts spun endlessly around one question:

What now?

What would happen to you and Sevika?

Sooner or later, someone would talk. There was always someone who would sell their own mother if the price was high enough. How long until one of the enforcers decided that keeping quiet was more trouble than it was worth?

You drew in a slow, shaky breath as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

“Everything will be fine,” you murmured, grabbing your lipstick to touch it up even though your hands were barely steady enough.

You had survived worse. You’d fought for every scrap of comfort in your life. You knew exactly what risk you had taken.

Better a short life wrapped in velvet than a long one lived shaking in an alley, high on shimmer. Right?

With that thought, you smoothed down your dress, lifted your chin, and headed for the stage.

Just like always, you stepped into the spotlight with a dazzling smile, but tonight, the brightness in your chest faltered. A small, cold sting bloomed beneath your ribs.

Sevika wasn’t there.

She was always there. This was the first time she had ever missed one of your performances.

A quiet disappointment followed you off stage as you slipped into the dim backstage hallway, your heels echoing sharply.

Suddenly, the basement door slammed open.

You froze.

Two of Silco’s men emerged, carrying something wrapped tightly in black plastic. You didn’t need to guess what it was. The blood dripping from the tarp onto the polished wooden floor told you everything.

“Shit—boss is gonna kill us if he sees this,” one muttered, uselessly trying to smear the blood away with his boot.

When the second man noticed you, he grimaced.

“Ah, sorry you had to see that, Miss Songbird,” he said, bracing his shoulder against the heavy metal door.

You snapped out of your frozen trance.

“Let me help,” you whispered, holding the door open for them.

Dead bodies weren’t unusual in Zaun. But the icy shiver along your spine came from one truth: this was happening because Silco was hunting you.

“Thanks, Miss. Close the door, yeah? Boss’ll gut us if it stays open.”

“He better not,” the other man snorted. “Who else is gonna drag these sorry bastards outta here?”

They disappeared into the courtyard.

You swallowed hard and stared down the dimly lit stairwell. Your pulse hammered in your ears.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you took off your heels, clutched them like weapons, and crept downward.

The heavy door shut behind you with a dull, echoing thud.

The basement started ordinary enough. Storage, crates, bottles, but the deeper you went, the thicker the air became. The lights dimmed. The smell turned damp, rotten.

A sudden scream cracked through the corridor.

You flinched violently. But you kept moving, one step at a time. A metallic tang lingered in the air, the sharp scent of blood unmistakable.

Your gaze caught on a half-open door. Voices drifted through the gap.

You leaned lightly against the wall, peering through the crack. Your heart pounded so loudly you feared they might hear you.

Your foot stepped into something cold and slick. You glanced down, a thin thread of blood snaked out from under the door, soaking into your stockings. A shudder tightened your stomach, nausea curling up your throat.

Another scream snapped your head up.

“Who were you calling?” Silco’s voice—low, dangerous, unmistakable.

“I-I swear… was a buddy, I didn’t—” the man sobbed, barely holding himself upright.

Sevika let out a tired sigh, turning toward Silco.

“This is pointless. He knows nothing.”

“What was that?” Silco asked quietly, far too quietly, as he stepped closer. “I decide what’s necessary,” he murmured, each word sharp as a blade. “You follow my orders.”

He tilted his head slightly.

“And if you ever forget that, I’ll put you and your precious little girlfriend in that chair myself.”

No raised voice. No theatrics. Just quiet certainty.

Sevika’s jaw tightened. You clamped a hand over your mouth.

She reached for the brass knuckles he handed her. But her gaze flicked sideways and found yours.

Silver eyes widening. Yours widening back.

Shock passed between you like a spark.

Then she turned away, schooling her expression. And you silently backed away, step by trembling step.

The door to your apartment slammed open as you stumbled inside, panting, shoving it shut behind you. You didn’t care about your performance anymore.

Panic devoured everything logical inside you.

Silco was pulling every string he had. You knew what that meant.

You had to go.

If you ran, the truth would be obvious. Everyone would know who the informant was.

But if you stayed… you’d end up in one of those black plastic tarps.

The money? Already lost.

You’re not stupid enough to run to the enforcers, they wouldn’t help you. They’d probably sell you out to Silco before you could even open your mouth.

Would he actually hurt Sevika or even kill her for your betrayal? Would he see her as an accomplice?

You stumbled into the bedroom and began stuffing your belongings wildly into your travel bag.

Your nausea roiled as you put pen to paper. There was so much to say to her. Yet no words were good enough for the betrayal you had committed. Or the one you were about to commit.

While she carried out Silco’s cruelest orders to protect you, you were planning to run.

Your chest tightens so sharply it’s hard to breathe, your fingers tremble over the paper, and every word blurs as your thoughts spiral. Sevika...you can’t let her die for you and yet, even the idea of trusting her with the truth makes your stomach twist.

“Shit,” you whispered, crumpling the paper and throwing it across the room.

It rolled to a stop at two worn boots.

Your breath caught as your gaze shot up.

Sevika stood in the doorway. Hair disheveled, blood spattered across her sleeve, chest heaving. She looked nothing like the calm pillar she always tried to be.

“Sevika…” you began.

She stepped closer, eyes narrowing at the half-packed bag. She picked up one of your sweaters.

“Your favorite,” she murmured. Then she let it drop with a humorless exhale.

“What’s this? Did seeing what I do down there scare you into running?”

“No—!” you stepped toward her, shaking.

She looked strong, even intimidating. But you knew better. Inside, she was softer than she would ever admit.

You remembered when your flirtation had turned into something real. How convinced she was that you should stay far, far away from someone like her.

“People like me aren’t meant for pretty things like you, sugar,” she’d said.

You cupped her cheek gently.

“You know what you do for Silco never scared me.”

She closed her eyes briefly, pressing her hand over yours.

“I was almost hoping that was the reason,” she said with an empty laugh. Then her shoulders sagged.

“I can’t believe you’re the mole. Goddamn it. I knew it.”

She dropped onto the bed, running a hand through her hair.

“Let me guess… your enforcer buddy smoked those gross cigarettes and the smell stuck to you?”

You sniffled and nodded. She let out another frustrated noise.

“I was so scared of what Silco would do to you… but telling you… I—” She gently brushed your tear-streaked cheeks as your breaths started coming in ragged gasps.

“Don’t faint on me now,” she murmured softly.

You cried harder.

“I suspected it, you know,” she whispered. “I kept pushing it down. Every night I came home terrified you’d be gone. When our eyes met down there… I ran as soon as I could. I’ve never been so scared.”

You stared at her, stunned.

“My loyalty isn’t to Silco,” she said, taking your face in her hands. “It’s to you. So… what’s the plan?”

“Sevika… I put you in danger,” you whispered.

“I don’t fucking care,” she replied. Then her lips crashed onto yours.

You kept glancing over your shoulder as you walked. Every shadow looked sharper tonight, every distant shout harsher. Tonight was your last shift at The Last Drop. Your last night in Zaun.

Everything was planned. Routes, hideouts, money, weapons. Sevika’s calm presence tempered your panic, grounding you enough to think clearly again.

While you loaded the gun magazines, Sevika grabbed the last bags and carried them to the car.

With a final sigh, you shut the door of your old home behind you.

The sound echoed through the hall like a goodbye you weren’t ready for.

The air was cold, brimming with that electric stillness that always came before something terrible.

You tossed your final bag into the trunk.

A metallic click sliced through the air.

You froze.

Slowly, so unbearably slowly, you turned.

“Well, well,” Silco drawled. “Where is my little songbird trying to fly off to? Or should I call you a rat instead?”

Your throat locked up. You didn’t breathe.

“Silco—” Sevika stepped forward immediately, muscles tense.

Two of his men snapped their guns toward her in perfect unison.

“How pathetic,” Silco scoffed. “Did you truly believe you could disappear unnoticed? Send my regards to Marcus in the afterlife, maybe next time, don’t trust an enforcer.”

He fired before you even had time to scream.

You dove behind the car, the bullet slicing past your cheek so close you felt the heat of it.

Gunfire exploded across the courtyard.

The world turned into noise, dust and panic. Your hands shook so violently you almost dropped your weapon.

You pressed your back against the wheel, breath ragged, heart thundering.

Shouts. Footsteps. Gunshots like thunder cracks.

Your eyes darted desperately across the chaos. Where was Sevika?

Then you saw them, two men advancing on her, cornering her against a pillar.

“No—”

Your voice broke as you leaned out and fired.

One shot. Another. The third hit, his leg folded beneath him as he collapsed with a scream.

Your victory lasted half a heartbeat.

A deafening BOOM erupted behind you.

The shockwave lifted you off your feet. You slammed into the ground, ears ringing, lungs burning. Dust choked the courtyard, turning everything into a storm of grey.

“Sevika?!” Your voice cracked as you crawled forward, blinking against the stinging debris.

You crawled through the haze, hands scraping against the fractured concrete. Your palm hit something soft—fabric. A fallen henchman.

You didn’t think. You reached for the gun holstered at his belt.

Cold metal pressed against your forehead.

Your breath stopped.

Through the dust, Silco stared down at you with a dead, gleaming void in his eyes.

No anger, no fury. Just cold inevitability.

In the corner of your vision, you saw Sevika pushing herself out of the rubble.

“Don’t worry,” he hissed. “You’ll be together in—”

A heavy thud cut him off.

Silco collapsed at your feet, dropping like a puppet with its strings cut.

You blinked up and saw Jinx standing behind him, expression blank.

“The old man really doesn’t know when to quit,” she sighed, tilting her head. “Told him to leave you alone.”

“Is he…?” you asked.

“Nah,” she grinned, nudging Silco’s unconscious form with her boot. “Just knocked out. He’ll wake up cranky though.” She held out her hand.

You grabbed it instantly, clinging to her like a lifeline.

Sevika stumbled out of the lingering smoke, coughing, ash coating her hair. “Everything okay?” she rasped, scanning you up and down.

“Yeah,” you breathed, voice thin.

“Never better,” Jinx snickered.

Sevika’s gaze flicked to Silco’s limp body, then the rooftops, the alleys, her instincts always working. “We should go before more of his goons show up.”

“You’re right…” You turned to Jinx. “You’re not coming with us?”

She yanked you into a sudden, crushing hug.

“Someone’s gotta babysit the old man,” she laughed. “But maybe I’ll catch up someday. Till then, grumpy bear here can look after you.”

She nudged Sevika, who only rolled her eyes.

You loaded the weapons into the car.

From the corner of your eye, you caught Sevika giving Jinx a brief, almost fond hug. It made your chest warm despite the tremble still clinging to your core.

“Take care of yourself!” you shouted as the engine roared to life.

Jinx waved wildly, her grin bright against the smoke-filled sky.

As the car shot down the road and the ruins of your old life shrank behind you, you finally let yourself exhale.

“Ready for the big wide world?” you whispered into the soft quiet of the car.

Sevika turned her head slightly toward you, her voice low.

“With you beside me? Always.”

Her hand slid onto your thigh— solid, steady, warm.

Guys, I finally did it… I hope you still enjoy the last part, even though it took me ages and I was kinda low on motivation (｡•́︿•̀｡)

I still have to say, I really enjoyed writing this series and I’m actually pretty happy with how the ending turned out :D

(Dividers by @uzmacchiato)

Taglist

@sevikas-whore @sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame @djena1d

[tobesolxvely]

CHAPTER 2: FOR SO LONG

SYNOPSIS: A training program that pushes you too hard, an investigation that leads to an unexpected friendship, and an unwanted revelation.

series masterlist | WC: 12,763 words

CONTENT WARNING: vi x fem!reader. enforcer!vi. vi and reader are mean to each other a LOT. enemies-to-lovers. soulmate!au. jayce is also a bit of a meanie i guess? this is a really long chapter. swearing, a bit of fighting.

note: i originally posted this at 3am but i wasn't fully happy with it. ended up adding over 2k words as i edited it. once again, i sort of deeply love mean!vi. enjoy :)

The council room was quieter than usual. It was late, far later than any of them wanted to be working. But the bridge attack from the day before had every councilor on edge.

Jayce rubbed a hand over his face, sleeves rolled up and hair messy, having spent long hours flicking through incident reports. Mel sat perfectly composed beside him, but sighed tiredly as she kept drafting solutions. Caitlyn was reviewing statements, marking them with short precise notes. Viktor tapped quietly at a portable console, thoughts moving faster than his fingers.

And then there was Vi.

She slumped into her chair like someone who’d been awake three days straight. Dark circles under her eyes, knuckles scraped, hair still damp from rain or sweat, or both. Her jacket had been thrown somewhere around the room, one of the shoulder plates dented from earlier patrol. From the stiff way she moved, she’d definitely taken a hit somewhere she was pretending it didn’t hurt.

“Violence in the Undercity is escalating,” Jayce muttered, hands on his hips as he looked at the other councilors, “After tonight’s patrol report, we need to take matters into our own hands.”

Vi let out a low, humorless sound.

“We’re out there on our own and everyone keeps calling us villains when we’re just trying to keep them alive.”

“People are panicking because they don’t feel safe,” Caitlyn looked up from her papers. “Fear makes civilians unpredictable. Some have never even seen real conflict before yesterday.”

Vi scoffed. “Fear makes your people stupid. I had to drag three Pilties away from the smoke because they ran toward it just to see what was happening.”

Jayce exchanged a slow glance with Viktor. They both knew who one of those three ‘Pilties’ had been.

Vi’s jaw flexed as she remembered the day before. She hadn’t forgotten the flash of terror she’d felt when she grabbed the back of that jacket and realized the girl was one slip away from failing. Even worse when she realized she was holding a little girl in her arms.

She hated civilians in danger. She’d seen too many of them die.

Before anyone else could respond, Viktor spoke quietly.

“Maybe they wouldn’t behave so recklessly if they knew what to do.”

Mel looked up at that, glinting in her gaze. “I was just drafting a similar proposition.”

She carefully picked up her papers.

“We run a free defensive education program. We cover as much as we can —first aid, situational awareness, emergency response, basic fighting and disarming skills,” Mel gives the draft to Caitlyn so she can read the document. “Those who want to be prepared can join.”

Jayce let himself plop onto his chair, leaning back. “Like a public preparedness initiative.”

“Zaun has families training kids to survive by necessity,” Viktor chimed in, setting his console aside. “Piltover hides from danger until it lands in their lap.”

Vi shook her head, “You want civilians in combat drills? We have more important things than having a bunch of amateurs swinging punches at each other.”

“It wouldn’t be combat,” Caitlyn folder her arms against her chest. “It’s giving them clarity. Structure. If people know how to react, panic decreases. Less panic means less casualties.”

Vi rubbed a hand over her face. She could feel a dull throb behind her temples growing stronger with every passing minute.

“These people don’t need drills. They need safety,” her voice slipped, quieter. “A city that isn’t bleeding under its own damn hypocrisy.”

Caitlyn’s tone softened, “Vi, we are trying to give them a chance to survive.”

Vi’s stare turned to her for a moment, frustration still burning inside her from the stressful days behind her. She had to admit Caitlyn was making a good point, but she didn’t like the idea of teaching Topsiders combat skills that they could end up using against each other.

Finally, Jayce stood up. He looked around at his fellow council members —his friends. It was a tough situation they were dealing with, but they had to start acting. They had to protect the citizens of Piltover.

“I propose we approve the program. Those in favor, raise your hand.”

Mel’s hand lifted first, calm and assured. Viktor followed immediately.

Caitlyn glanced at the patrol statistics, at the report of civilian injuries. She understood the truth: doing nothing would be far worse. Slowly, she raised her hand.

Vi hesitated, lips pressed in a thin line. She didn’t fully agree, her head was already calculating how many lives she might lose before the program could make a difference.

She let out a huff, reluctantly raising her hand.  

“The motion passes,” Jayce declared.

Mel nodded, “It’s official, then. Classes start as soon as possible. And considering the nature of the training…”

She turned her head.

“…we’ll need someone experienced leading it.”

Caitlyn followed Mel’s gaze toward Vi. Jayce and Viktor did, too.

Vi blinked once. Her brows furrowed at the intense way they were staring at her, eyes widening as she realized what it meant.

“Oh no. No, no, no. Find someone else,” she lifted her hands as she grimaced, “I’m not babysitting a bunch of Upsiders who think a punch is a tax write-off.”

Mel’s expression didn’t flicker. She only nodded, speaking calmly.

“We need someone our civilians will respect. Someone who understands what danger truly looks like.”

“And someone who won’t tolerate sloppy work,” Caitlyn added, as if her comment could make things better.

“Vi, you’re the only one qualified for this. You have the most training and field-testing,” Jayce sighed. “You’re the one civilians responded to yesterday.”

“Like it or not, you already made an impression,” Viktor chimed in, watching her with curious eyes.

Vi stared at them in disbelief.

She wanted to refuse; to flip them off and tell them she had no interest in training a bunch of privileged jerks. But she also wanted to make the city safer.

She despised the thought of untrained civilians ending up dead because no one taught them better. And she hated how that reminded her of things she never talked about —Shimmer streets, broken bones, her own childhood spent learning to survive because no one would protect her.

Maybe if someone had cared enough, her family would still be alive. If she had had the knowledge and the means to protect them, things would have turned out so different.

Maybe she could even have met her soulmate.

Vi shook her head, wanting to get rid of the train of thought her mind was pursuing. It was a foolish belief and there were more important things to worry about now.

Silence lingered. Heavy and inevitable.

Finally, Vi huffed a breath through her nose.

“Fine. But I’m not sugar-coating anything,” her jaw tightened as she looked up at her friends. “They’re learning the real rules. How to move, how to keep themselves and someone else breathing, and how not to freeze or get in the way when everything goes to shit.”

Jayce gave a small, relieved nod. They had a long way to go, but at least they were taking steps in what they all —well, most of them— thought was the right direction.

“We’ll announce enrollment tomorrow.”

“Great. Mandatory overtime. Can’t wait.”

Caitlyn turned her head toward Vi, voice low but certain. “We’ll make this work.”

Viktor glanced toward the chamber doors, as if he could picture your face when you learned this news. He recognized you’d be somewhat glad that the council took some action, knowing you’d be one of the first people joining the program.

He could also imagine the face you’d make once you learned who one of the instructors would be.

By morning, Piltover citizens would wake to flyers, announcements and registration booths. Mel had moved quickly, not wanting to lose another second without letting the city know what the next steps would be.

You shifted your weight from foot to foot, clutching your bag as you stood in line.

After the bridge’s attack, you couldn’t stop feeling remorse.

Vi was right —you had put yourself and the little girl in danger. You didn’t regret going out to help her. In fact, if you could go back in time, you would do it all over again. But you had to do better. You had to be better.

So, when Councilor Medarda announced the Project Unity —a civic defense initiative where anyone would get basic training, first aid and emergency responses, among other things—, you practically ran to the Academy to register.

If this program worked, Piltover would be more prepared to face threats. Perhaps you would learn enough to help others, maybe even help Zaun.

“Next,” the clerk at the registration table called.

You looked up, noticing the Enforcers behind him standing watch. The sight made your heartbeat climb into your throat —tall, imponent, with polished metal suits glinting under the morning sun.

They are meant to be protectors of both Piltover and Zaun, but you could understand why Zaunites would fear them. You had heard Enforcers had been violent towards the citizens of the Undercity in the past. On the other hand, you had also heard about how Zaunites were hostile and aggressive people, which was the justification Enforcers needed to uphold their need to treat them viciously.

You swallowed down doubt and stepped forward.

The clerk was quick, asking only a few key questions. You gave him your name and noticed he raised a brow as he found your file.

When the final stamp hit your certificate, he gave a small nod and handed it to you.

“Training begins in fifteen minutes,” he motioned to a narrow staircase leading down to the lower courtyard.

You thanked him, turning around, and started walking in that direction. You looked down at the certificate in your hands, annoyance clear in your factions as you read the first line.

Civilian #32. Y/N. Almost fell off a bridge trying to save someone.

You reached the training grounds, looking around at the people surrounding you. Your gaze lingers on a certain dark-blue-haired woman, who was giving directions to the civilians who approached her.

The Sheriff. Caitlyn Kiramman.

The other day, back in the council chambers, you hadn’t taken in her appearance. Maybe it was the adrenaline back then, but now…

She was striking. Dark blue hair pulled back, posture straight, shoulders squared. She spoke to each citizen with respectful firmness, organizing everyone as if they were pieces on a board she already understood better than anyone. Her eyes, sharp and perceptive, flicked over the crowd —counting heads, evaluating faces, tracking anything before it had a chance to spark.

You took a deep breath, arming yourself with courage before making your way to her.

Before you could second-guess yourself, Caitlyn’s attention turned to you. Swift and precise, as if she’d sensed you approaching rather than having seen you.

“Ah, Viktor’s friend.”

Up close, she was even more disarming. Not intimidating in a loud, mean way. It was the kind of intimidating that made you want to stand straighter, speak clearly, and not waste her time.

“Uh… I, uhm…”

So much for not wanting to waste her time.

You cleared your throat, handing her your registration papers, “I’m here for the combat program.”

She nodded, taking it and giving it a quick look. You could almost see the shadow of a smile try and take over her lips as she read, but she managed to remain composed.

Caitlyn looked at you like she was already placing you somewhere on a scale of risk, potential, liability. Your expression must have shown how nervous you were, because her gaze softened just enough for you to notice.

“Don’t worry,” she said almost gently, “We don’t expect soldiers. Think of it as self-defense lessons.”

The comment helped, your shoulders relaxing a bit as you nodded.

“We’re dividing the trainees into groups, yours is over there,” she pointed behind you. “You’re on the Commander’s squad.”

Your relief lasted only three seconds. Of fucking course.

Caitlyn pushed down a chuckle at the way your body tensed up, visibly scowling at the words she had just said out loud. This will be fun, she thought to herself.

“Consider yourself lucky. She always gives good results.”

Lucky was not the word you would have chosen.

You clutched the registration papers in your hand as she gave them back, excusing yourself before you turned around and headed towards your new squad.

For a second, you thought of turning the opposite way and leaving the Academy grounds altogether. Going back home, lying under your covers and forgetting about the issue. A flashback from the attack crossed your mind: the little girl crying, standing on the edge of the bridge, hands gripping your jacket and pulling you to safety.

Training was going to be a living hell, but you couldn’t give up. You didn’t want to.

Vi was already there, leaning against a wall with her eyes closed.

She was exhausted, really. Not only were patrol nights getting harder, but she had to work overtime shaping civilians into something that resembled a defense. Not only that but having the pressure of doing a good job because there were many lives on the line.

Her head tilted slightly as she heard shuffling steps approaching. She didn’t bother opening her eyes first.

“Line up,” she muttered, voice rough from too many late nights and too little sleep.

You stopped a short distance away, hands fidgeting with the straps of your bag, mentally preparing to be judged.

You admired her for a moment, noticing the dark circles underneath her eyes. There was a light bruise on one of her cheeks, and you wondered how’d she got it. Your mind made up many scenarios where she’d get in a fight with criminals, other Enforcers, even at some random bar…

You noticed she took a deep breath, and it made you stop altogether.

Her shoulders were dropped slightly, jaw unclenched, chest rose and fell in one slow inhale. Without her default look —irritated, intimidating, fed up with the world— she looked like someone who needed five minutes to breathe. She looked… peaceful.

For a second, you forgot you were staring at the Commander of Enforcement Division. At the enforcer with a reputation that shook half the Undercity and pretty much all Piltover.

She looked like just a woman who had been fighting too much, too long.

It struck you with a strange pang of tenderness you weren’t prepared for.

Vi finally pushed herself off the wall with a slow, tired exhale. She opened her eyes, and her expression froze for just a millisecond when she saw you standing there among the new arrivals.

Whatever moment had existed in your mind evaporated into nothing as her jaw flexes, exasperation tightening her posture.

Of course it would be you.

She had hoped you wouldn’t join the program. Her first impression of you wasn’t a very good one, Vi thought of you as a wealthy, Piltover young woman who had no survival instincts at all. Still, by the way you had spoken during the Council meeting the other night, she had a hunch you’d join the program.

The thought of you ending up in her squad hadn’t crossed her mind until you were standing in front of her, tapping your fingers at the strap of your bag as you swayed slightly.

Great. It was the cherry on top on her already awful week.

Vi scanned the rest of the group, shoulders stiffening back into authority.

“Welcome to Project Unity. Everything you’ll learn here is for your safety and defense, not to attack or be violent towards others. All that Karate Kid shit.”

A few nervous laughs broke out. Not yours.

Because Vi’s gaze cut back to you like a blade.

“I’m not babysitting anyone. If you want to be here, you must keep up. Otherwise, drop out.”

You straightened under that look, heat crawling to your face. You looked away in embarrassment, biting back a comeback. You didn’t want to get kicked out on your first day for acting rashly against the instructor, so you swallowed down any sarcastic protest you could come up with.

“Let’s warm-up,” Vi announced, voice firmer than before. “Five laps. Leave your stuff at the lockers and start running.”

You left your bag and closed the locker, turning around to join the recruits. You were taken aback as Vi was standing right in front of you, expression flat as she stared at you.

You almost let out a curse as you backed away, her sudden closeness catching you by surprise. Your heart thumped faster against your chest under her glaring eyes, a light sneer on her lips.

“You’re here.”

Her voice was anything but sympathetic. Clearly, seeing you there was not sitting well with her.

You cleared your throat, “Yes, Commander.”

She scoffed, folding her arms against her chest.

“Don’t call me that,” she muttered, visibly disliking the title. “Just Vi. And don’t expect any special treatment. You’re not getting any.”

If anything, you were preparing for the opposite.

Without nothing left to say, you gave her a quick nod and walked away, pushing yourself into a jog along with the others.

The first lap was uncomfortable. The second was humiliating. By the third, legs and lungs were begging for you to stop.

Up front, Vi paced beside the group like she wasn’t even breathing hard. Every now and then, her gaze flicked over the squad —observing, taking mental notes, judging. You tried not to flinch when her eyes landed on you.

Vi wasn’t going to admit it, but she was watching you. Maybe waiting to see if you’d fold, even hoping for it.

Your chest stung, your legs screamed, and still you kept going, breath rough but steady.

November 19th, 2025 my whole body hurts, pinky dinky doo made us run laps and “warm-up” but shit i’ve never worked out this hard. i could feel my soul leaving my body

The next morning, everything hurt. Your calves, your thighs, your arms —even your dignity. But you showed up to the training grounds anyway.

Recruits stumbled in, a few already complaining under their breath. Some didn’t show up at all.

Vi was already there. Arms crossed and hair pulled back messily like she’d tied it on the way over.

God, doesn’t she have anything better to do? Why couldn’t literally anyone else train you? It was clear to you and the other trainees that she wasn’t having the time of her life during the lessons.

You looked over your shoulder, checking out Caitlyn’s squad on the other side of the field. She was too far for you to hear what she said to her trainees, but looking at her bright smile and the way her group laughed whenever she spoke, she was not throwing sharp words and discouraging glances.

“Alright,” Vi called out, authority clear in her voice, so you immediately turned your attention back towards her. “Yesterday was warm-up. Today, we’re doing real work.”

Someone groaned and her eyebrow twitched as she gave them a menacing look. Huh, it was somewhat comforting —at least, she didn’t only have it against you. It seemed like she disliked everyone else, she only found you a bit more irritating.

She walked down the line, boots heavy on the concrete, eyes scanning the trainees as if she was looking for one to exploit.

And she found one.

You.

“(Y/n),” she called out, and you straightened immediately in response, “You’re up front.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but she raised her eyebrows and was quicker to speak.

“Want to be here? Prove it. Lead the pace,” she shrugged, “Start running.”

Your stomach dropped. She wasn’t even pretending she hadn’t singled you out.

You bit your inner cheek, letting your bag drop loudly to the floor. You pressed your lips into a thin line and jogged to the front, the rest of the squad falling into position behind you.

Vi matched your pace effortlessly.

By the third lap, you could feel heat running through your face and muscles.

“Don’t stare at the ground,” Vi said loud enough for you to hear, “You won’t spot threats looking at your feet.”

Some of the trainees were slowing behind you. Vi didn’t look back at them, instead turning her judgment to you only.

“If this is your best, you’re dead in a real fight.”

It stung. Part of you thought she might be right. You wouldn’t survive too long out there in the real world, and you wouldn’t be able to help anyone else.

It only fueled you into not giving up so easily.

“I didn’t say slow down.”

You didn’t notice your pace had faltered, and you sucked in a breath as you side-glanced at her.

“I’m not slowing down,” you managed to blurt out, sweat making its way down your neck already.

Instead of answering, Vi sped up just enough that you had to push harder to keep up. Her lips quirked upwards.

“That’s better,” she muttered.

Was that a praise? It was hard to tell when your lungs felt as if they were on fire.

Your legs were shaking as you finished the last lap, dropping to your feet, next to your bag. You took your water bottle out, giving it a quick sip as you looked around. The rest of the squad had collapsed into stretching and groaning, some even lying on the floor as they took deep breaths.

“That wasn’t half as bad as I thought.”

Vi looked at you with that same unreadable expression, but you didn’t care. Not right now.

“Okay, everyone. Water break’s over in two minutes,” she said loud enough for all the trainees to hear. “We’re starting hand-to-hand drills.”

You almost choked up on your drink, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as some drops of water slid down your chin.

“That… was just the warm-up?”

She shrugged, walking away without giving you a clear answer. You could swear you saw the corners of her mouth tug upward into a smirk.

You would’ve thrown something at her if you weren’t too busy trying not to pass out.

The training had finished for the day, multiple trainees groaning as they moved and walked away. Vi was sitting next to the lockers, sipping from her water bottle as she watched everyone leave.

Everyone but you.

You stood up, hissing as soreness spread through your muscles.

“You’re sloppy,” she said bluntly, voice low since the training grounds were quiet enough for you to hear her.

“You’re an asshole.”

You were so exhausted and frustrated after training that you couldn’t hold back anymore. You had been taking her mocking remarks and scrutinized looks all day, it felt like you would explode if you kept pushing your own clapbacks down.

She scoffed, “I was going to say that I’ve seen worse but never mind. Keep being a jerk.”

“Me? A jerk?” you furrowed your brows, “What the hell is your problem?”

Vi stood up slowly, throwing the empty water bottle straight into the trashcan a couple a feet away from both of you. She didn’t look angry, just fatigued and irritated.

“My problem is that all of you Pilties think this is an easy job, but don’t grasp how serious the situation is.”

“That’s not true,” you crossed your arms in front of you. “You think everyone is inferior to you. That’s your problem.”

Vi stepped closer, not threatening, but close enough to make it impossible to ignore her. Her tired eyes stared directly into yours, head tilted slightly to one side.

“Are you trying to learn how to protect yourself or are you chasing some wild fantasy?”

You clenched your jaw, heat rising behind your eyes. “I want to help.”

She huffed, taking a step back.

“Don’t forget this is self-defense training. You’re not joining the Enforcers, you’re not joining the Council, and most importantly, you’re not becoming a hero.”

The word hit you harder than any throw she’d landed today. Your mouth opened, ready with a retort, but nothing came out.

She could see the disillusionment fill your eyes, something very similar to regret setting in her chest. She wasn’t trying to be mean, but there was something so infuriating about you. Like you expected goodwill alone could bend reality into something fair.

She wasn’t mad at you. Not really. She was mad at the world for being the kind of place that would eat someone like you alive.

Vi exhaled through her nose, steadying herself. “You don’t understand… you don’t know what it means to fight for your life.”

She took a look good at you: determined, hopeful, and foolish to think that wanting to help and being ready to mean the same thing.

You felt a flare of defensiveness, “So what, you’re saying we’re too sheltered to get it?”

“I’m saying you Pilties never had to fight for anything real. And that turns into overconfidence fast.”

“And you Zaunites think suffering automatically makes you smarter,” you shot back before you could stop yourself.

Vi’s jaw flexed. She didn’t snap, just stared at you with a sharp gaze.

“Smart? I’m being realistic,” she clarified in a low voice. “You think the world’s fair because yours has been. Mine wasn’t. And a lot of people didn’t survive long enough to pretend otherwise.”

The sincerity and vulnerability behind her statement took you by surprise. You blinked, clearing your throat as you tried to regain your composure.

“We’re hopeless, then? I’m just a doomed ‘Piltie who doesn’t get it’?”

Vi’s lip twitched. It wasn’t enough to be called a smile, just a tired acknowledgement.

“If you think this is some heroic rise-to-the-challenge moment…” she shook her head, eyes briefly lifting to the sky as if searching for patience, “…you’re gonna get someone hurt. Maybe yourself.”

She didn’t even say it in a menacing or mocking tone, but the words landed harder than she intended. And she could see it hit you, your shoulders tightening and breath catching just a little.

Great. Now she felt like the was the bad guy.

But what else was she supposed to do? Pat you on the head and let you dream your way into an early grave?

You, on the other hand, just stared at her with wounded eyes. The way your expression crumpled… Damn it, she could practically hear Vander’s voice in the back of her head telling her she’d pushed too hard.

“Bet you’re counting on that.”

Vi let out a humorless laugh at your angry remark, her gaze meeting yours again. The silence that followed was heavy, neither of you backing down.

You exhaled, tired down to the bone.

“Don’t worry,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt. “I know exactly what I signed up for.”

Vi’s expression didn’t change at first. She just looked at you like she was trying to decide whether you were stupid, brave, or something in between.

“You don’t,” she said quietly, almost tiredly.

You rolled your eyes, slinging your bag over your shoulder. You walked past her, you had taken a few steps before she spoke again, low and flat.

“If you’re late tomorrow, you run twice the laps.”

“I won’t be late,” you replied, not even pausing or turning back.

You were half asleep on the couch, an ice pack lying across your torso. You set down your journal next to you, humming as you enjoyed the quietness of your apartment.

You’d only mean to close your eyes for a minute. But the exhaustion hit you, and you were fast asleep.

The city broadcast screen on the far wall flickered on automatically. The sudden burst of light dragged you awake.

A sharp headline scrolled across the display:

RIOT NEAR THE CENTRAL PLAZA — PROPERTY DAMAGE, NO CASUALTIES

You sat upright so fast the ice pack slid into your lap.

Your pulse sped up as you watched shaky images of smoke, crowds scattered as Enforcer rushed in to help.

Another attack.

You didn’t think twice. You were grabbing your coat and keys and were out the door before the report finished.

The Council Hall was already surrounded by guards and Enforcers. People gathered outside, all demanding answers.

You sprinted up the stairs. The guards recognized you from training and hesitated just long enough for you to slip through the doors and into the building.

By the time you reached the council chambers, the doors were already sealed shut. Two Enforcers were guarding them, and they gave you an unimpressed look. Huh, it seemed like that was an Enforcer thing,

You sighed, knowing there was no way they’d let you inside. So, you sank onto a bench, forcing yourself to wait. Your muscles still ached from training earlier, but adrenaline kept you wired.

Inside the chambers, there was silent chaos.

Jayce is furious, pacing all around the room and muttering under his breath like someone trying hard not to shout. Mel stood near the central table, hands pressed together as though restraining the urge to slam them down.

Caitlyn had her console out, already pulling data and witness statements, her expression pinched with concern and disappointment —she had really hoped today wouldn’t be what it was. Vi stood near her, non-speaking. She looked like she’d already been awake for too long, but she was ready to drop everything and start another patrol if someone told her to move.

Viktor watched the holographic map flickering in the center of the room. His frown wasn’t angry, it was thoughtful.

“Zaun needs to be held accountable,” Jayce finally snapped.

“That sounds a lot like retaliation,” Viktor looked at him, a hint of concern on his voice.

Mel walked towards Viktor, standing beside him as she looked at the map in front of them. She let out a sigh, knowing exactly where the conversation was heading.

“Piltover is already frightened. If we stand back and wait—”

“People will panic,” Jayce finished the sentence, head shaking.

Across the room, Vi finally spoke.

“Whoever’s doing this is getting bolder. We need to find them,” her voice was low and calculating, “But… if we jump too fast, we’ll hit the wrong target, and Zaun will hit back.”

“Viktor and Vi are right,” Caitlyn agreed. “We need to start looking into Zaun for answers.”

“Or we take a moment to think,” Viktor chimed in again, barely above a murmur.

Jayce’s head snapped around to look at him in disbelief.

“To think? Viktor, only this week we had a protest-turn-explosion on the bridge, streets have been vandalized, and now this riot. How much more thinking do you want before someone ends up dead?”

“Enough to know we’re following the right lead.”

“It’s obvious these attacks are coming from Zaun. They’re dangerous!”

Viktor held Jayce’s glare without flinching, pretending his words didn’t almost break his heart.

“I am from Zaun.”

Silence settled over the room for a moment.

Vi shifted, her eyes trailing over the map, conflicting thoughts flickering across her face.

This was exactly how everything started. Wealthy people in polished rooms making decisions about a world they’d never had to bleed in. Jayce only saw numbers and targets, wanting to punish a whole city for the crime of a few guilty people.

She’d grown up in the space between survival and despair, and she knew how fast things could go south when people acted out of fear instead of sense. And, in Zaun, everyone was afraid and desperate.

Jayce ran a hand through his hair, letting out a shaky breath.

“I didn’t mean—”

“All I say is, we need to look into this before jumping to conclusions,” Viktor interrupted him, looking back at the holographic map. “Remember what they said at the bridge incident?”

“You live above, we die below,” Caitlyn answered, the message having sent shivers down her spine when she first read it on the incident reports.

Viktor nodded. “They need help, not punishment.”

“So, we’re going to help them after they attacked our city?” Jayce shook his head. “It’s not right. We need to find the culprit. Once we do, we can think on ways to help whoever didn’t participate in these attacks.”

You didn’t know how much time you had been waiting, lying down on the bench as your back was already killing you.

You sat up straight as the chamber doors swung open, and you stood up as the council members walked through them.

Jayce didn’t even look at you, already giving out orders as he walked away into the hallway, with Mel walking beside him. Caitlyn walked closely behind them, tablet in hand as she drafted possible strategic responses.

Vi came out, looking worn out —her hair was mussed, arms crossed, frustration radiating off her. Viktor walked next to her, his eyes narrowed as he was thinking too hard.

“So?” you asked, walking closer to them, “What are we dealing with?”

Vi paused, giving you a questioning look. She wouldn’t have expected to see you there, especially not after the tiresome training you had earlier.

“It’s confidential. Go home.”

“But,” your jaw tightened, heat rushing through your cheeks at her dismissal, “I’m in the program.”

She let out a baffled huff, no longer surprised by your obstinance, but not in the mood to tolerate it.

“Told you, no special treatment. You’re just a civilian receiving self-defense lessons.”

Then, she walked off without waiting for a response.

You stood there, burning with frustration. You hadn’t expected any special treatment or VIP access, but the way you had been dismissed… it’s like they always assume you were nothing but a liability.

“You shouldn’t be here, you know?”

You turned around, smiling gently at the sight of Viktor. He was leaning back against the doorframe, smiling back at you.

“Guess I thought I could be of help… and I was wrong once again.”

He let out a sigh, approaching you as he looked around. After a couple of seconds, he turned back to you.

“Walk with me,” he offered you his arm. “I’m heading back to my lab. Maybe we can talk there.”

You nodded, gently grabbing his arm, and the two of you headed down the long, dim corridor.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Viktor seemed to be collecting his thoughts, weighing what he could say against what he shouldn’t. You didn’t want to push him, not after he’d been the only one willing to listen to you or acknowledge your questions.

You reached the elevator platform, and you got inside. He pushed the switch, and the platform began descending.

“So,” you couldn’t bear the silence any longer, “Is it like bad bad?”

“It’s a delicate situation,” he answered shortly.

“It’s Zaun, right? I mean, it’s obvious… but why?”

Even you were stopping to think about what reasons could the Undercity have to do something like this. Viktor’s brow lifted slightly, thinking his words carefully.

“You live above, we die below,” he repeated the words that the first protesters had said at the bridge. “Doesn’t it sound like a cry for help?”

You nodded, the words bringing the memory back. The protesters had blue hair, colorful strikes of color on their clothes… it seemed like a movement.

What were they going after? What was their goal?

The lift stopped, and Viktor motioned you forward towards the corridor, the glow of the laboratory light reflecting in polished metal surfaces.

“When something is inconsistent, scientists tend to make a hypothesis and investigate,” he spoke as he walked besides you into the corridor, “Politicians, on the other hand, tend to jump to conclusions.”

“So they all think it’s just, what? Some act of terrorism?”

“Jayce is upset and needs a quick solution. He is Head of Security for a reason. Mel understands that people are scared… and that only leads to chaos.”

“What about Caitlyn?”

“Caitlyn is smart, it wouldn’t surprise me if she began investigating these attacks by the start of next week.”

“That’s a lot of time missing,” you mutter, and you realize you’re standing right outside Viktor’s lab.

You entered as he motioned you to do so, and you were taken aback. You had never seen the place before.

The lightning was soft and white, but the machines cast shifting glows of blue and green across the walls. Near the back stood a large mechanical assembly arm, one of Viktor’s earliest innovations. You almost jumped as it hummed softly, resetting its joints like a cat stretching in its sleep.

The lab was quiet except for the sound of gears and humming panels. It wasn’t giving mad-scientist’s workshop, but a cathedral of logic, invention and relentless experimentation. A place where Viktor was able to solve problems no one else realized existed yet.

“Wow,” you looked around, hands urging you to touch everything, but you refrain from doing so. “It’s so cool. Why hadn’t you ever invited me over before?”

“I assumed you’d get bored,” he shrugged, but there was a proud smile on his lips as he noticed you liked the place.

You sat down on a lab stool, sighing as you tried to focus your attention back on the topic that brought you there in the first place.

“Okay, so… the council is putting the blame on Zaun. No questions asked.”

“No. At least not completely.”

Your mind wandered off to a certain pink-haired girl, a weird mix of displeasure and curiosity filling your chest.

“And Vi?”

Viktor’s mouth twisted slightly, looking at the roof as he thought of his fellow Zaunite.

“She’s seen the worst of Zaun, but she’s also seen the worst of Piltover. When you straddle two worlds, you become suspicious of both,” he looked back at you, turning his grimace into a soft expression. “She’s a bit… protective.”

You tried not to scoff. Protective? Yeah, right.

“Princess Bubblegum seems to think I’m wasting my time and that I’m not cut-out to help.”

“She thinks you’re in danger,” Viktor corrected gently. “And she’s not entirely wrong.”

Great. Your best friend and the girl who hated your guts both thought you were nothing more than a liability.

You rubbed your forehead, trying to push away the sting that came with hearing it out loud. “I can handle myself.”

Viktor only answered with a small, weary smile. The kind adults give to stubborn children when they don’t want to discourage them.

An idea crossed your mind.

You leaned forward on the stool, hands braced on your knees. “What if I do some investigation on my own?”

Viktor blinked slowly. “Yeah, good one.”

“I’m serious,” you straightened. “Everyone’s busy managing panic and politics. No one is actually following the trail. Someone needs to get some answers—”

“And you believe that someone should be you?” He cut in, arms crossed and head tilted slightly.

“I’m smart and unbiased. I’ve already had some training.”

“Two days is not enough to say you’ve had training. Especially when all you’ve been biting dust.”

“How do you— Oh God, did Vi tell you?”

“That’s beside the point,” he slightly shook his head, “This is the stupidest idea you could have come up with.”

“You trust me, don’t you?”

He froze, staring at you with narrowed eyes. You took that as a sign to argue your case.

“Let me put it this way: if you don’t want me going in blind, at least give me the clearance to go in prepared.”

There was a long pause. You could swear you were able to hear your heart beating against your chest.

Finally, Viktor turned away, walking to a console. He typed a series of commands, and he remained silent for a couple of minutes. You heard him scribble on a sheet of paper, but you remained silent.

When he turned back to you, he held a communicator and an authorization letter in his hands.

Your brows lifted, “Is that—”

“It’s not the same as the Enforcer’s,” he said with a blank expression.

He walked towards you, placing the communicator in your hands.

“Unofficially, it gives you temporary access to restricted districts, bridge-crossing, and basic Enforcer aid requests. Which means, if you’re in trouble, you hit the red button and you’ll get help.”

Your breath caught, gripping the communicator carefully. Then, he handed you the authorization papers.

“Viktor, I—”

He raised a hand to cut you off, again.

“I am not endorsing your investigation,” he said, voice low and worried. “I am simply acknowledging that you are too stubborn to listen to reason and would do something far more reckless without support.”

You gave him a wide, grateful smile.

“You’re the best.”

“I am going to regret this,” he muttered.

As you both walked out of the Council Building, he put a hand on your shoulder. You paused, noticing the distressed look in his eyes.

“Please be careful,” he spoke under his breath, “Piltover doesn’t have many people worth believing in. I do not want to lose one of them.”

You smiled gently at him, patting his hand.

“I’ll be fine.”

The next day, you were barely paying attention during training. The idea of being able to finally help —even if only Viktor knew— gave you a rush of adrenaline and a wave of excitement that no one could mess with.

Not even Vi.

“You were better today,” she mentioned to you at the end of the lesson, “You’d survive a full minute on a fight.”

“Not bad for my third day, right?”

She blinked slowly, brows furrowing in confusion at your lack of pettiness.

“Are you sick or something?”

“Not at all,” you shot her a wide grin, which took her aback. “Well, see you tomorrow!”

Vi watched you walk away, a skip on your step as you slowly disappeared from her sight.

“What the hell is wrong with her?”

The day went by faster than you could realize.

Later in the evening, you adjusted your coat as you stared straight ahead. After the bridge incident, security had doubled to make sure anyone who crossed did so legally.

Only council members, high-ranking enforcers and authorized workers have passes that allow them to go from Piltover to Zaun and back. Well, and you —since Viktor had secretly approved your investigation.

You cleared your throat, joining the line of authorized workers.

As your turn neared, you clutched to the strap of your bag. The Enforcer called for you, and you took some careful steps forward.

Before she could ask for them, you were already holding out your identity papers and the authorization letter that Viktor had signed.

The Enforcer gave them a quick look, “An inspector, huh? Director Hale’s signature… alright. Have a good one.”

You blinked slowly, surprised at how easy it was. You grabbed your papers and thanked her quickly, putting them into your bag before she could second-guess her decision.

As soon as you crossed the bridge, you notice the immediate shift in the air.

Piltover was refreshing, orderly, humming with polished Hextech and warm lamplight. Zaun… wasn’t.

The fog was thick —humid, metallic, tinged with the sharp scent of chem fumes that clung to the back of your throat. Neon signs flickered, some dying mid-pulse, others buzzing angrily as if refusing to go dark. The city was alive in a way that felt less mechanical and more primal. Breathing, restless, watching.

Your boots hit the metal platform on the other side with a dull clang, and instantly the world felt narrower. Worn faces passed by without glancing up —workers with welding goggles hanging around their necks, children darting between pipes, boxes stamped with hazard symbols you didn’t recognize.

And then you realized, people did look at you. Not in a kind way.

You could feel it, how clearly you didn’t belong. Your clothes were cleaner, your posture straighter, your hair not slicked with smoke and grime. You weren’t from here, and everyone could tell with one glance.

You adjusted your coat collar and forced yourself forward.

Zaun wasn’t a place that welcomed outsiders, and you didn’t want to admit that you weren’t ready to be there. Not physically, not mentally, and definitely not the way you had imagined in the comfort of your neat Piltover apartment.

You pushed the thought down and kept moving. You didn’t come all this way just to get scared and turn around.

Steam hissed from a nearby pipe, making you flinch before you forced your shoulders straight and kept walking. The further you got from the bridge, the quieter the streets became. And the more you realized how dark it really was down there.

You barely got five minutes in Zaun before someone yanked you sideways.

A hand over your mouth. A second hand grabbing your bag.

Instinct kicked in and you twisted, elbow catching the attacker in the ribs. Just like Vi had taught you.

It should have worked.

It didn’t.

Panic bubbled up, your heart hammering in your chest. You tried to scream, to reach for your bag, to pull free, but their grip on you was too strong.

Vi was right. You weren’t ready.

The weight of her words slammed back into your chest. You’re gonna get someone hurt. Maybe yourself.

You were about to give up and let the muggers take your stuff when, out of nowhere, a blur of movement slammed into one of your attackers, sending him sprawling across the ground.

“Geez, where are your manners, boys?”

The other man let go off you instantly, as if he had suddenly decided that bolting down the alley was a better option than robbing you.

Your muscles loosened as their grip was no longer on you, and you stumbled back. You blinked, staring at the source of your salvation: a girl with bright blue hair, braided wildly on either side of her body. Gadgets were strapped everywhere in her clothes, goggles pushed up on her head.

Her eyes were glinting with mischief, a sharp and fearless grin on her lips.

“I suggest you follow him,” she said to the man on the floor, jerking her chin after his fleeing partner. “Or things won’t end up too well for you.”

You watched as he awkwardly stood up, running away from the scene.

“Do you want to catch your breath before the next guy notices how robbable you look?” she asked casually.

You stared, still half-shaking. “Uh… thanks. I— I had it handled.”

She snickered. “It sure looked like it.”

You looked at the girl for a moment, heart still thumping against your chest after the scary encounter. Her clothes didn’t match, a combination of straps, belts, and scraps of fabric that she probably stitched herself into something functional.

Her eyes were what really caught you, though. Too bright, too sharp, darting around like she was taking in every threat, every sound, and still having the time of her life.

She carried herself like someone who had never once been afraid of anything, or maybe like someone who’d been afraid once and decided to laugh in fear’s face instead.

The girl pointed two fingers at your jacket, and you cleared your throat as you adjusted it again.

“You’re not from here. And don’t bother lying, you smell of expensive soap. You’re a Topsider.”

“I’m (y/n),” you introduced yourself, offering your hand to the woman, “I’m just looking into something.”

She raised her eyebrows, eyes rolling as her hand shook yours.

“Only Pilties introduce themselves to someone they shouldn’t trust.”

That wasn’t comforting.

“Name’s Jinx.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Jinx looked you over, eyes narrowing as she analyzed you. Her gaze flicked over your shoes, your coat, your watch, even the nervous way you kept rubbing your thumb against your bag strap.

She snorted softly. “You’re even stiff just like a Piltie.”

You furrowed your brows, unsure how to respond. Jinx grinned wider at the sight, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

“You’re either brave or stupid to come here.”

Your throat tightened, arms crossing over your chest as if it helped calm your uneasiness. “Can’t I be both?”

That earned you a laugh —sharp, delighted, a little unhinged, but not unkind.

“Now you sound like one of us.”

Jinx leaned back against the brick wall, one boot kicked up as she scanned the dimly lit street. The steam hissed around her like smoke in a warzone, but she didn’t seem fazed in the slightest.

“You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that,” she said, her tone a bit more serious than before, only enough for you to know she wasn’t mocking you. “Guts don’t mean a thing if you don’t know what the hell you’re doing down here.”

“I was at the bridge… incident,” you cleared your throat, a wave of intimidation hitting you as Jinx looked back at you, “You… well, the protesters said… I wanted to come see for myself, to understand. To help.”

Jinx nodded softly, like she approved.

She blinked slowly, interest growing in her.

“Most topsiders don’t even dare glance this way. You’ve got to be crazy,” she paused before gleaming. “I like it.”

You exhaled slowly, looking around at the shadows and glowing pipes.

Jinx pushed off the wall with her shoulder, hands sliding into her pockets as she followed your gaze around the alley.

“Thing is,” she said, voice dropping to something quieter, “You wanting to help is… cute. Like a kitten trying to save the world.”

You frowned. She didn’t even know you, and she said what everyone else —Vi, Jayce, Mel— had told you over and over again. At least you were consistent.

“That’s condescending.”

“It’s realistic, honey,” she gestured loosely at the alleyway, “We don’t want your goodwill down here. We need food, medicine, a fucking day nobody dies just because some schmuck top floor forgot we exist.”

Jinx leaned closer, just enough for you to see the electricity in her eyes. Eyes full of something that was more hurt than madness.

“If you came here expecting to see a sad, tragic city so you can have a learning moment, go back to your nice clean bed on the other side of the bridge.”

Your cheeks heated, but you stood your ground. You held her gaze, and she was quick to realize you weren’t giving up easily.

Jinx flashed you that foxlike smile again.

“Okay, Piltie,” she said, voice almost like a trap, “Want to really help? You have to see the parts of Zaun no Topsider ever gets to walk into.”

Your heart skipped a beat, ears ringing as she began walking down the alley. She looked at you over her shoulder.

“You coming or what?”

Was it stupid to follow Jinx deep into a place completely unknown to you? For all you knew, she could be leading you into a trap. But there was something in her eyes, a familiar feeling you couldn’t recognize, that made you feel safe.

Jinx led you deeper into the city, and despite the instinctive ‘you should not be doing this’ thought replayed in your head, you kept following.

“The bridge incident…” she said lightly, swinging her leg over a low pipe and hopping down. “What a fun night.”

You almost tripped as you tried to imitate her, clearing your throat to distract yourself from the embarrassing moment.

“Were you there?”

She grinned happily, “Oh, absolutely! Lots of yelling, a little screaming… great fireworks, though.”

“Those weren’t fireworks.”

You side-glanced at her, eyes widened at her comment. People got hurt that day and she was calling it a ‘fun night’?

“Everything’s fireworks if you’re optimistic enough.”

You opened your mouth to argue, then shut it again. She was a bit terrifying.

The further you went, the louder Zaun became. Shouting in the distance, machines hissing, music thudding from somewhere beneath metal floor grates.

Your heart sped up whenever someone looked at you for too long, but Jinx didn’t even twitch. If anything, she seemed energized by the tension in the air.

She suddenly stopped at the edge of a metal walkway, leaning on the railing like she was giving you a sightseeing tour. She motioned for you to get closer.

“Welcome to our reality.”

From here, you could see part of Zaun’s lower districts. Smokestacks blowing toxic green fog, cramped homes stacked like an afterthought, broken signs flickering like dying fireflies. People spilled through narrow streets —Shimmer addicts stumbling for their next fix, kids with oil-stained clothes and faces, families begging for food.

“This is what Piltover never sees,” Jinx says quietly, voice sounding almost tired. “Forget about the reports, speeches and safety protocols. It’s just people trying to survive.”

Your chest tightened at the sight. How could you live so ignorant of Zaun’s necessities? Piltover had it all, it was a city thriving, you had the resources to help.

You needed to find a way to let the Council know and bring help to the Undercity.

“It’s worse than I thought,” you mutter under your breath.

Jinx’s eyes flicked to you, something dark and old in her expression. “We know.”

“This is why you had the protest the other day,” you said gently, eyes still taking in the scene.

Families huddled under leaking pipes, children darting between rusted metal scaffoldings, not playing, just trying not to be in the way.

“Protests,” she repeated, rolling the word in her mouth like it tasted bad. She let out a small huff. “That’s what they’re calling it up there?”

You knit your eyebrows, “What else would it be?”

Jinx stayed silent for a long moment.

She didn’t look at you, didn’t even blink. Her gaze drifted over the narrow street below, following a group of workers trudging home with ash covered faces and hunched shoulders.

She pushed off the railing with a loose shrug. “They don’t listen to us, so we need to scream louder every time.”

You noticed she was saying they. Not you.

Like she was not putting you in the same box with the rest of Piltover.

“It’s easy to judge from the other side when you don’t see the people it affects,” you look back at the railing, heart breaking at the sight. “I’ll do everything I can to help.”

Jinx is taken aback by your willingness to help, your understanding. She started walking again, lost in thought, but she slowed down just enough for you to catch up.

“You came down here alone,” she said, voice softer than before. “That means something.”

You mentally prepared for a mock, “Good or stupid?”

Jinx looked at you over her shoulder, flashing a grin.

“Both. Definitely both.”

And somehow, hearing that from her felt like the first real compliment you’d gotten all day.

You didn’t know how long the two of you walked, only that eventually the noise faded into something else. Not silence, but the quiet hum of the Undercity simply existing.

Jinx led you up a set of metal stairs and onto a rooftop with a surprisingly decent view of the district. She dropped down cross-legged onto the dented plating, pulling something from her pocket.

A small bag of street food that she tore open with her teeth. She threw the other bag in your direction, without looking at you.

You caught it and stared at it in hesitation.

“It’s alright, it’s only been in my pocket for a couple of— Okay, wait.”

She pursed her lips, grabbing something that looked like a mini dumpling from the bag and taking a bite.

“It’s still good!” She managed to say with her mouth full.

You opened your own bag, nose scrunching unconsciously at the faintly engine oil smell. You took the ‘dumpling’ and took a careful bite. It tasted weird, but it wasn’t bad. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until just now.

As you ate, you took in the view.

At first, Zaun could be intimidating, but now… it had its own kind of beauty. Well, in its own way.

Jinx leaned back on her palms, looking out into the green haze.

“You know, most Topsiders come down here with guards, guns, and a five-minute exit strategy.”

You shrugged, crumpling the bag your food came from, “I didn’t really have a plan.”

She didn’t hold back a loud laugh. “Yeah, I can tell.”

But Jinx wasn’t mocking you. If anything, there was a strange fondness in her tone. Her gaze flicked slightly to the side, silently watching the city she grew up in.

“Is there any way I can help?”

She looked back at you and sighed at the honesty behind your eyes. She knew you meant well, it seemed like you really cared —in her experience, people who cared only got hurt.

“Watch out for the monkeys.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion, but she didn’t give you time to think. Jinx stood up, hopping easily to her feet and offering you a hand.

“C’mon. Let’s get you to the lift before it gets darker and someone else decides you look like a walking wallet.”

You let her pull you up, and for the first time that night, the fear that had been clawing at you had been replaced by something else: trust.

Jinx led you back to the bridge, hands tucked in her pockets, stride loose and unbothered. You had to take two steps for every one of hers just to keep up.

When you’d crossed into Zaun alone, every glance felt like a threat. Calculating eyes sizing you up, measuring your value. Now, as you walked beside Jinx, those same eyes slid away.

Nobody tried to bump you, grab for your bag, or even look at you in the wrong way.

All because of her.

The air around you felt safer. You swallowed as the realization hit you uncomfortably, settling in your stomach like cold metal.

You didn’t feel safe because you blended in. You felt safe because you were standing next to someone dangerous enough to make the city think twice.

But how could she be so dangerous?

Jinx was humming, oblivious to your thoughts. Like saving you from getting mugged and showing you around Zaun was just something fun she’d decided to do today.

She glanced at you as you neared the bridge, raising one eyebrow when she found you already staring at her. You looked away, cheeks reddening in awkwardness.

The checkpoint lights cast harsh industrial beams across Jinx’s face —neon purple and swamp green combining into something strangely theatrical. She stopped right outside their range.

“This is as far as I go,” she said, lazy salute with two fingers. “If the bridge guards see me, they’re gonna have a nervous breakdown.”

“Oh, do they know you?”

Her grin sharpened and she shot you a wink, “Let’s just say I’m not their favorite.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle out at the way she seemed unfazed by her own comments.

“Will I see you again?”

The question slipped out before you could filter it, and Jinx’s expression flickered —surprise, curiosity, confusion. She rocked back on her heels, braids swaying at her sides.

“If you come back, which I guess you might.”

You nodded, satisfied with her response. You stepped onto the platform, tapping your clearance pass, and the metal gate rattled shut. Jinx was still standing in the same spot, hands in her pockets, watching as you walked away into the bridge.

“Piltie’s either getting herself killed or into some big trouble,” she shook her head, chuckling as she turned and walked away. “Cute.”

As you reached the edge of the bridge, Piltover clear in sight, the clean air and polished lights felt almost unreal.

Just a few hours ago, Zaun had felt like a dangerous world. Now, Piltover felt like the unfamiliar one.

You got to the checkpoint, showing the Enforcer in charge your identity papers and authorization letter. He gave you a nod, and you finally walked into the city.

The sun had already set down, but you’re determined to meet with the council members and let them know what you discovered. Would it be better if you thought about it first, slept it off, and decide in the morning? Yes.

But you were so overwhelmed. You felt shaken but inspired. You just couldn’t wait.

You use your clearance pass to enter the Council Hall without anyone asking questions. Some assistants and guards looked at you strangely —messy hair, jacket smudged from being grabbed earlier, an odd oily and smokey smell on you.

No one stopped you, but everyone stared.

You walked straight to Jayce’s office, hoping he still hadn’t left for the night. You arrived just as he was locking the door, and he looked surprised to see you there.

“Hey,” he greeted you, “What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you. To all of you.”

He let out a tired groan, “Can’t this wait until tomorrow?”

You shook your head, anxiously pacing next to him.

“No. I have information about the attacks.”

Jayce stopped dead in his tracks, you almost crashed into him. He slowly turned to look at you, annoyance slipping in his expression.

“Why can’t you just leave it alone?”

“I—”

“(Y/n),” a voice called out from behind you.

You looked over your shoulder, and your eyes met Viktor’s gaze. He looked relieved, a gentle smile on his lips as he made his way up to you and engulfed you in a warm embrace.

“You’re alright,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

Caitlyn and Mel were walking behind him, all of them ready to go home and get some sleep before doing it all over again the following day.

It was your chance.

“I am,” you patted Viktor’s back slightly before pulling away, looking at the other people present. “Listen, Zaun isn’t—”

“We’ve told you over and over, you have no authorization to discuss this matter,” Jayce cut in.

“But you don’t know what they—”

Mel shook her head, “I apologize, but this is a confidential issue. If we need your assistance, we’ll come to you.”

You shook your head in disbelief. Jinx was right:  Topsiders don’t want to listen.

Caitlyn sighed, noticing the frustration on your face. “We understand you’re trying to help. But there are protocols—”

“People are dying, they don’t have time for your stupid protocols!” you shot back.

A sharp silence fell upon you.

You immediately felt the heat of your own words, the harshness of them echoing back at you in the empty hallway. Your voice had cracked with emotion, pulse racing and fingers clenching at your sides.

Mel straightened, posture gentle but suddenly very present.

“This discussion is over,” she spoke, and though her tone never sharpened, the words carried weight. “Go home.”

And just like that, they walked off. All of them, except Viktor.

He sighed, opening his mouth so he could give you some sort of comforting phrase, but you weren’t in the mood for a lecture.

More like, you knew you were a ticking bomb waiting to explode, and you didn’t want him to hurt him by saying something you’d regret.

“It’s fine,” you mumbled, cheeks burning with anger and humiliation. “I need to get some rest. Thanks, Viktor.”

You turned around in defeat and walked out of the Council Hall.

You step out into the cool night air, wiping your eyes hard before anyone can see. The city lights feel harsher than usual. Every step echoes with embarrassment, frustration, and the desperate need to do something.

You shoved your hands into your coat pockets, more to hide their trembling than for warmth.

Street lamps cast long, thin shadows across the city, stretching over gold-trimmed buildings and immaculate marble tiles. It was the perfect postcard view: no desperation, no grime, no hunger in sight.

Your throat tightened, eyes burning as tears threatened to fall.

“Uh, you alright?”

You looked up a second too late, colliding against the person who was standing in front of you. She was quick to grab you, preventing you from falling onto the floor.

Vi lets you go as soon as you steady yourself, clearing her throat as she repeats the question.

“Are you alright?”

Of all the people you could have run into tonight, it had to be her.

You should have been able to just nod and keep walking. To brush it off and ignore her as you did most of the time.

Maybe it was the reminder of how bad things were down in Zaun, or the insulting dismissal from the council who didn’t seem to care enough to listen to you.

Maybe it was Vi asking if you were alright when she’d been the one who told you what you were wasting your time in the first place.

Something inside you cracked.

“You don’t even care,” your voice came out sharper than you intended, but you didn’t stop. “You’re just like everyone else in that damn, useless council.”

“Whoa, whoa, what the hell’s your problem?” she furrows her brows in confusion.

The moment she had finally decided to be somewhat nice to you, you’re bitching at her as if she was the origin of all your problems.

Maybe she was.

“I’ll tell you what my problem is: no one fucking cares in this stupid city.”

Vi blinks, taken aback. “We care.”

“No, you don’t!” Words are coming faster not that the dam has cracked. “All of you sit around in that room talking about politics and regulations and public image while people are dying, Vi! Real people, right now as we speak.”

She’d seen you angry before, but this… this was rage. Vi didn’t know exactly where it was coming from, but for some reason she felt the need to calm you down.

“We’re doing what we can.”

You laugh, humorless and bitter. She was from Zaun, she had experienced the situation firsthand during her childhood —how could she no longer care about the people down there?

“You’re doing nothing,” the words come out like venom, and your voice wavers, “Nothing but waiting for the situation to fix itself because you can’t admit you let it get this bad.”

Vi’s expression darkens, posture shifting into that defensive, explosive stance you always see on her. Forget about being nice, she impulsively thought to herself.

“Don’t talk like you know what we’re dealing with.”

“Please,” you roll your eyes, “Zaun is rotting under our feet and we’re doing nothing to help.”

“How the hell would you know that?”

“Because I saw it!”

There’s a bit of dead silence.

You widened your eyes at the unexpected confession, heat spreading through your face. It was too late to take it back now.

Vi stared at you in shock, she could barely even form a sentence. There was a ringing in her ears, heart thumping too fast against her chest.

“You… saw it,” she repeated your words, voice quiet. As if she thinks she misheard.

You swallowed, but you couldn’t back out. You lifted your chin, nodding slowly.

The reaction is immediate.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Her voice echoes against the stone walls, loud enough that a pair of passing guards glance over.

Vi’s fuming. This is nothing like what you had seen during training. If you had thought she hated you before, this was the confirmation you needed.

“Do you have a fucking death wish? Walking into Zaun and alone?”

The anger you’d been carrying earlier flares again.

“Don’t act like you care about me,” you narrowed your eyes, “Someone had to go. Not in a week, but now. They’re suffering!”

“That’s not your job,” she huffs in annoyance.

“I’m making it my job.”

Vi looks at you like she might pull her own hair out. Her voice drops lower the next time she speaks, more controlled but colder than before.

“You should be grateful I’m not putting you in cuffs for doing something that stupid and reckless.”

You raise an eyebrow, nodding as you pursed your lips. You lift your hands and wrists together, as you look her dead in the eye.

“Wanna arrest me? Do it, then,” you challenged.

For a moment, Vi doesn’t say anything at all. She just stands there breathing, chest rising and falling with restrained anger.

Then, she steps forward and pushes your hands down.

“You think this is funny? You could have gotten yourself killed.”

“But I didn’t,” you shot her a fake smile, “Besides, I made a friend and—”

“You made a fucking friend.”

She throws her hands up, pacing in a sharp line in front of you. How could you be so stupid and trusting?

Vi really thinks you’re the luckiest girl in the world, not ending up dead on your first —and, hopefully, last— escapade to Zaun.

“I’m the only trying to—”

“You walked in once and suddenly you’re the savior of the Undercity,” she laughs bitterly, “I can’t fucking believe it.”

“You weren’t doing anything!”

“I have been doing it my whole damn life!” Vi snaps louder than she meant to. “You spent an hour in there and now you think you understand how everything works?”

You inhale sharply. “And you do?”

“I know that Zaun chews up people like you and spits them out. I know that walking in there without backup is how bodies get found three days later. And I know,” her voice drops, anger tightening into something thinner, “that I can’t protect idiots who refuse to protect themselves.”

You bite your inner cheek, brows furrowed tightly.

“I never asked for your protection.”

Vi’s eyes narrowed, her expression clear as water. You just said the exact wrong thing.

“Do you think of anyone else other than yourself?” she sounds frustrated, “Who do you think will find the body? Who will have to report it? God, do you even stop and think how Viktor would feel if something happened to you, you idiot?”

It hits you like a punch. She’s thinking about the aftermath, about a possibility where everything went wrong.

“Someone had to go,” you spoke, voice softer now.

“And it had to be you,” she huffed, shaking her head in disbelief at your stubbornness. “Next time leave a note so I know what bridge to drag the body from.”

You blinked, stunned by how raw the words sound. But you hold her gaze.

“If you think I’m such a liability,” you gesture behind you, toward the Council Hall, “then report me.”

Vi looks at you, and her expression flickers. Anger, frustration, and something unreadable.

You brace yourself for another comeback, another round of back-and-forth that leaves both of you shaking. But it doesn’t come.

Vi’s jaw clenches, shoulders tight. Her voice is rough as she turns away from you.

“Do whatever the hell you want.”

She walks away, heavy steps echoing the alleyway you were standing on.

hey… today was a tough day. i don’t know why I keep trying… no one believes in me. they treat me like a child who keeps interrupting an adult conversation. and i get it, i’m not council or anything but i can help. i hate feeling this useless. and vi… she’s the girl i’ve been telling you about. she keeps treating me like i’m some idiot who needs babysitting i thought going to zaun would make a difference but all it did was prove i’m alone in this well, at least i made a friend there… guess i’m not so alone after all? and i have viktor. they are the ones who matter what if vi is right? maybe i really am stupid it just hurts i don’t know how much longer i can take being powerless while people are suffering would you believe in me? i like to think you would sorry for venting and for the sad entry talk to you tomorrow :) xoxo

Vi slams the front door harder than she means to, the sound rattling the old metal frame. She doesn’t bother taking her uniform off right away. She stands in the middle of her apartment, breathing like she just had three different fights without armor.

She’s still hearing your voice. Wanna arrest me? Do it, then. I didn’t ask for your protection.

The nerve. The audacity.

She runs both hands down her face, finally getting rid of her clothes. She makes her way down to her bedroom, letting herself plop against her bed as she lets out an exhausted groan.

Vi shifts, taking a deep breath as she looks around her room. On her night table, something catches her attention. Her journal sits there, leather worn and edges frayed.

No matter how hard she tried to get rid of it, it always ended back there. Waiting for her after a long day.

After her first night in jail, she had promised not to write ever again. Not even a word. Not even a doodle.

She didn’t even flick through its pages.

But a month ago, as she was deep cleaning the apartment, she had hit the table too hard with the broom. The journal fell with a heavy thud, opening itself right on the first page.

October 7th, 2025 omg hi! i’ve been waiting for this day ever since […]

Her heart had stopped altogether. Her breath caught halfway in her chest.

Her soulmate was finally writing to her.

She had spent years thinking her soulmate would have just given up with her. Maybe to read a goodbye or a demand. Even angry silence, just as she was used to when she first received the journal.

But she was wrong.

Someone was writing at last, happy to meet her. They sounded hopeful and bright, everything she hadn’t been in a long time.

She wasn’t ready.

She had closed the journal then and there, shoved it into the drawer, and walked away as if nothing happened.

Now, staring at the worn cover again, Vi feels the same crawling unease in her chest. Dread mixed with curiosity.

Her hand is already reaching out before she can stop herself, and she opens the journal.

There are… a lot of entries. Most of them excited, a couple of them mixed with disappointment at not having a response.

Vi is astonished at her soulmate’s resilience. It’s been over a month since they started writing and they kept doing so, not caring about not getting answers right away.

She was trapped before she knew it, flipping page after page, unable to stop.

Some entries make her smile without meaning to. Others hit harder.

The latest entries are the ones that hit her the most.

pinky dinky doo made us run laps

It had to be a coincidence, for sure.

Then she flips through the most recent entry. Ink is fresh, as if her soulmate had just finished writing. The handwriting is harder, pressed deep onto the page.

Even the writing is different. While other entries were shorter or fell more in the comic side, this one was emotional.

Vi’s vision blurs for a second as she reads, the realization slowly sinking in. The words on the page don’t feel like ink anymore —they feel like a punch.

She slams the journal shut, breathing hard, because now she knows.

There’s no doubt in her mind anymore.

“There’s no fucking way,” she mutters, hands covering her mouth.

There’s anger, yes. Why would the universe be so cruel to her —to you? This had to be a mean joke, a higher entity playing and laughing at her situation.

Vi hates that it’s you.

Of course, her soulmate had to be the most reckless, combative, stubborn girl she has ever met. The one who never listens and insists on jumping headfirst into danger.

Her soulmate is the girl who gets under her skin in record time, the one who can make her grind her teeth one second and stare a little too long the next. The girl she keeps thinking about even when she absolutely doesn’t want to.

Vi hates that she knows now how you feel about her. How you see her. As some conceited, narcissist bitch who is only mean and hurtful to you.

Vi hates that you don’t see beyond your hatred for her —she’s not just being mean because she wants to, she’s afraid and doesn’t know any other way to cope with it.

It’s not okay and she knows, but she really cares. About Piltover, about Zaun, about its people, about you.

And she hates that she can already feel something shifting inside her.

NEXT PART: coming soon.

if you'd like to be tagged on following chapters, please comment on the series masterpost (tagged above). don't forget to add your age on the comment —future chapters will have nsfw content, so MDNI.

TAGLIST: @mischievous-darling @sevikas-whore @cosmp @sophivstheworld @ch6douin @girlofpink @maezadkiel @whotf-iam @poeticrenaissance @vahnilla @alex-thegiraffeboyy @acatstalkingyou @floettesblog @boopieboop1 @macamilarofe @baylegend6 @angryoilslick516 @vxtanne31 @lowopacityelrond @anabeth2000 @eternalgayscreaming @cupidletterss @emithecharmer @miaereen @l4dyaranea @sawaagyapong

[floettesblog]

Guys, I’m still alive, don’t worry

I just wanted to say that there won’t be any Sevika fluff today 😔

I’m currently trying to finish the last part of Cigarettes & Stardust and it’s taking all my energy 😭

I hope it doesn’t feel too rushed, but I just have so many other projects I’d rather focus on 😩

[thirteenjodies]

"Are you still in this fight, Violet?" "I am the dirt under your nails, Cupcake. Nothing's gonna clean me out."

[floettesblog]

WAHHHHHH

[floettesblog]

THANK YOU (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

OMG guys, first of all, THANK YOU SOOO MUCH for all the love on my newest Grumpy!Sevika x Sunshine!Reader story!! I’m honestly so overwhelmed. We’ve also grown SO MUCH in just two days follower-wise, so a huge welcome to everyone who’s new!! I hope you have tons of fun and joy with all the things my Arcane-infected brain keeps coming up with!! °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

[rammie-rad]

Annabel Lee drawing😝 she's so pretty I couldn't not draw her

Will mostly likely be drawing more of her

[floettesblog]

AHHHH OMG LOOK AT MY GURL!!!!

[floettesblog]

Grumpy Meets Sunshine

Fandom: Arcane: League of Legends

Pairing: Grumpy!Sevika x Sunshine!Reader

Synopsis: At a cozy café, a grumpy barista meets a sunny coworker and small teasing moments turn into something more.

TW: None

Masterlist

Grumpy!Sevika, who still couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that she had actually gotten hired at this tiny, cozy café just around the corner. Every dessert handmade, decorated with care; soft, warm seating areas, shelves full of well-loved books and cute decorations. It was the kind of place she never expected to work in - soft, charming, and completely at odds with her grumpy persona.

Sunshine!Reader, who had to do a double take when her new coworker walked into the break room. Grumpy!Sevika wore simple jeans, a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing off far more muscles than Sunshine!Reader was prepared for and the standard café apron tied neatly in place.

Grumpy!Sevika, who only lifted a single eyebrow when she noticed Sunshine!Reader staring at her with flushed cheeks. The moment she realized she’d been caught, she cleared her throat and immediately began fussing around the kitchen, rearranging things that didn’t really need it.

Sunshine!Reader, who was the one in charge of training her. Grumpy!Sevika listened attentively the entire time, never writing down a single word, earning a confused stare, especially when she showed up the next day and already remembered nearly every recipe perfectly.

Sunshine!Reader, who talked endlessly. Small stories, personal quirks, little bits of life and Grumpy!Sevika, who nodded along, pretending not to be invested while secretly soaking up every word.

Grumpy!Sevika, who somehow became the designated taste-tester for every new dessert Sunshine!Reader experimented with.

Sunshine!Reader, who couldn’t resist teasing her coworker. A casual compliment here, a playful flirt there, all delivered with that warm, dazzling smile.

Grumpy!Sevika, who would never admit it, but always ended up blushing and staring after her with a confused little frown before snapping back into her usual grumpy expression.

Sunshine!Reader, whose smile dimmed just a bit whenever a customer started flirting boldly with Grumpy!Sevika.

Grumpy!Sevika, who felt a small, sharp twist of jealousy every time a customer complimented Sunshine!Reader’s bright smile or warm personality.

Sunshine!Reader, who always set aside a few of Grumpy!Sevika’s favorite cookies, wrapping them up neatly to give her at the end of the day.

Grumpy!Sevika, who always made Sunshine!Reader’s favorite coffee before the shift ended. Grumbling the whole time because Sunshine!Reader kept calling her the “goddess of baristas,” insisting that if she tried to recreate any of her drinks, they’d never taste half as good.

Sunshine!Reader, who finally attached a tiny note with her phone number to the daily cookie bundle, hands shaking just a little. She had to physically stop herself from screaming into a dish towel when Grumpy!Sevika just slipped the bag straight into her backpack without even glancing at it.

Sunshine!Reader, who spent the entire evening sprawled on her couch, checking her phone every few seconds, each time disappointed when the notification wasn’t the one she hoped for.

Grumpy!Sevika, who nearly stopped breathing when she discovered the note. A phone number written in neat, pretty handwriting with a tiny smiley beside it. She was never the nervous type; she was confident, sure of herself. And yet Sunshine!Reader made her heart beat faster than it had since her very first teenage crush.

Sunshine!Reader, who let out a squeal loud enough for the neighbors to hear when Grumpy!Sevika’s first message finally arrived, burying her face in a pillow with the biggest grin. It would be the first of many messages.

Hey my loves, finally some Sevika fluff again hehe (´･ᴗ･ ` )

My brain is so stuck on the office rivals idea, it’s getting out of hand

Get ready for heartache and self-indulgent problems ٩(｡•́‿•̀｡)۶

Dividers by @uzmacchiato

Taglist

@sevikas-whore @meamouraa @joyispunk

[tobesolxvely]

Love You In My Mind: Masterlist

series masterlist | vi x reader | ongoing

You waited years for your soulmate journal to arrive. She got hers too early and stopped believing in destiny. But fate has a way of bringing things together.

WORD COUNT: 4,984 (so far). | CONTENT WARNING: soulmates au. enemies-to-friends-to-enemies-to-lovers (...i know). piltover/zaun setting but taking my own creative liberties. lots of angst. fluff. eventual smut, probably. MDNI. — each chapter will have its own warnings.

— INDEX

prologue i. imaginary stranger more coming soon...

please comment under this post if you'd like to get tagged whenever i post a new chapter! some chapters will either be suggestive or have smut, so please include your age in the comment.

Last updated: November 17th, 2025

[floettesblog]

CAN´T WAIT TO READ MORE!!

[tulipesfairy]

brown sugar and cream. (grayson x reader)

★ synopsis: you’re down bad for your favorite customer at the coffee shop and you fail miserably to hide it.

★ cw: meet-cute, shameless flirting!! age gap? whatever age gap that makes you comfortable, modern au, grayson my love, tooth-rotting fluff

The leaves on the trees outside aren’t orange anymore, but different shades of brown, crisp, dry, ready to crumble under boots that step over them without a thought.

The wind bites in the mornings now, sharp enough to sting your skin when you forget your gloves. Coats have gotten longer, scarves thicker, and every child getting dropped off at school gets a scolding for not wearing their beanie.

Everyone’s nose is red when they step inside somewhere warm, and it might be your favorite time of year, even if it rains more days than not.

There’s something about the change that feels comforting. Another season, another celebration creeping closer with the incoming holidays. The air buzzes with a mix of excitement and fatigue, and people are either glowing with anticipation or so exhausted they’re dragging themselves through the week until they can rest again.

The coffee shop you’ve been working in for months now has changed too. Nothing drastic but enough to make your chest melt a little with fondness sometimes when you pay attention to details.

A girl you work with hung a few strings of tinsel around the chalkboard menu and the front door, and a tiny artificial tree sits near the register, leaning slightly to one side like it might fall at any moment.

The warm light inside glows against the chill outside, and it’s really easy to think this might be your favorite place in the world.

You’ve just opened for the day. The regulars have claimed their usual spots: a pair of old men sharing the newspaper with their usual black coffe, no sugar. a student typing with ease on her laptop in the corne until 10am, the same old lady who always order her tea with just a little honey, not too much.

You hum quietly along to the lo-fi music playing through the small speaker near the counter, half-dreaming as you pour yourself a cup of coffee to survive the day.

Then the bell above the door rings, that familiar chime that makes your head lift automatically.

You turn with a smile already on your lips at the sound of the bell because a foolish, lovesick part of you hopes it’s her every single time.

And like almost everyday, it’s her.

Sheriff Grayson.

And ugh— that woman. You would gladly go to war for her.

Tall, musuclar, broad-shouldered even beneath that dark blue uniforme.

She walks in the coffee shop, a slight breath of cold air following her inside as the door closes slowly behind her.

Her hair’s gone slightly grey at the temples in that devastating beautiful way that makes your knees weak… her beautiful eyes, those beautiful lines and wrinkles, and her nose, sharp and so perfect, is just slightly tinged pink from the wind.

You swear you feel your knees almost give up the second she looks your way. You’re so whipped for her.

“Hi, Sheriff,” you greet, soft and warm, trying to sound casual and normal.

You lean back against the counter, one hand braced behind you, pretending it’s just another customer and not the woman who has single-handedly made you reconsider the concept of professionalism and your entire life.

Grayson’s lips curve into a slow smile. “Morning, darling,” she says, voice low, smooth, fond.

Dear Janna.

Your heart gives one of those dangerous little flutters, if it weren’t for the solid counter behind you, you’d probably be melting into a puddle right now.

You can’t stop the warmth creeping up your cheeks, no matter how hard you try to play it cool. But she doesn’t mention it, just watches you with that knowing expression that makes it worse.

“Your usual?” you ask, your voice coming out steadier than you expect and you’re almost proud of yourself.

Grayson chuckles, a soft sound that rumbles low in her chest. “Yes,” she says, stepping closer to the counter, her gloved hand resting lightly against the cash register.

She leans her weight onto one arm, casual, but there’s something about the way her eyes linger on you that makes it impossible to think straight. “The usual sounds perfect.”

God knows why, you suddenly feel brave enough and you huff a quiet laugh, before asking,

“Talking about the coffee or me?” you ask, your tone steady and casual but your heart is already hammering in your chest.

Grayson’s eyebrows lift, amusement flickering through her eyes. You’re scared you’ve gone too far for a short single second, but then she chuckles, low and warm, and the sound sends goosebumps down your spine.

“Who knows?” she says easily.

You bite your lip to keep from grinning too wide, she catches you doing it, turning toward the machine before your face gives you away.

You press the button, the familiar hum filling the air as the coffee starts to brew in that professional and very expensive coffee machine, the smell rich and comforting.

When you turn back to her, she’s still there, leaning against the counter like she belongs there, hands tucked into the pockets of her coat now, watching you with that calm, kind gaze.

“How’re you doing?” you ask, voice softer now. The teasing fades into something real and warm.

Grayson hums, eyes flicking briefly toward the window where the wind tugs at the decorations outside.

“I’m alright,” she says after a moment. “Just a bit tired, if I’m honest. It’s always a little more complicated around this time of year.” A small shrug. “People get restless, seems like holidays make folks forget how to behave.”

You nod, understanding more than you say. The shop hums quietly around you. The coffee machine, the faint lo-fi music, the murmur of conversation from the regulars.

Then she looks at you again, soft and addicting concern threading through her tone. “You? Doing okay? I passed by here yesterday, it looked packed.”

Her voice is gentle, and it hits you somewhere deep and so warm in the chest.

The coffee machine hisses softly as the last of Grayson’s drink finishes brewing. You reach for the paper cup, careful hands moving on instinct as you pour the coffee.

You always make hers to-go, even when she ends up staying for a few minutes to chat.

“Packed, it was,” you say, glancing up at her as you work. “Loud too. But great, honestly. Mostly families and kids running around.” You smile, the sound of your own laugh mixing with the soft clatter of cups.

You add the whipped cream at the end. Just a small, perfect swirl, pretending it’s part of the order even though it isn’t.

She never pays extra for it. It’s your little secret.

“That play space in the corner was the best idea we’ve had. Now the parents can actually sit down and drink something without troubles on legs tugging on their sleeve every two minutes cause they can’t sit still.”

Grayson’s lips twitch, her eyes glinting with quiet amusement. “I can imagine. Smart move.”

You slide the cup toward her across the counter, fingers brushing hers just barely but you want more already. The warmth lingers, even after she wraps her hands around the drink.

“Hey,” you say, trying to sound casual even as your pulse stumbles a little, “will I see you at the local festival next week?”

Grayson’s eyes lift to yours, and there’s a flicker of something; amusement, fondness, most probably both.

“I’ll try,” she says after a moment, tone gentle. “Even if only for security.”

You grin, playful again. “Good to know the entire city’ll feel safe with you out there keeping an eye on everyone.”

Her laugh is quiet, low, genuine and addicting in the space between you, and it makes your chest tighten in the best way.

“Ah,” you say, “going too far?”

Grayson takes a slow sip of her coffee, her gaze never leaving yours. “Yes,” she says finally, the corner of her mouth curving upward. “I believe you are.”

You can’t help it. You shrug like you still think you’re right, then laugh softly, matching hers.

What makes you crazy is that Grayson doesn’t leave right away, she never does. She always lingers a little, like she’s savoring the quiet, the warmth, or maybe just you.

You hope it’s about you, really— Just you.

She always pulls a few bills from her coat pocket, sets them neatly on the counter, and takes another sip of her coffee.

she hums, low and pleased. “It’s amazing like usual,” she says, voice kind and sure.

You grin, leaning your elbow on the counter. “That’s because I made it myself,” you tease, a sudden little spark of confidence coming out of nowhere slipping through the nerves. “That’s why.”

Grayson’s smile grows, slow and fond. God, that smile. She straightens to her full height, broad shoulders, solid posture, every inch the picture of calm authority, but there’s something tenderly gentle in her gaze as she looks at you.

“Yeah,” she says quietly. “It probably is.”

And then, so smoothly,

“Would you go grab a coffee with me somewhere else one day?”

Your brain short-circuits. Black out. Gone. Nothing.

You blink, then laugh, too loud and too bright, clapping a hand over your mouth for a second. “Damn— wow,” you manage, cheeks already burning. “Uh, yeah. Yes. Absolutely. Coffee. I can—uh, drink coffee with you. Somewhere else, yeah. Of course.”

Grayson chuckles at your reaction, the sound making your knees feel giddy. “Good,” she says simply, taking another slow sip from her cup as if she didn’t just completely upend your morning before moving, turning her back with her cup and your heart in her hand.

“See you soon, darling,” she says on her way out, the little bell above the door chiming again as she steps into the cold.

You just stand there, staring after her, heart pounding, trying to remember how to use your brain—

Wow. What just happened.

[tulipesfairy]

my girl Grayson doesn’t get the attention she deserves !!!

[floettesblog]

SO GOOD OMG

[tulipesfairy]

—you haven’t changed much. (sevika x reader)

synopsis: Sevika swore she’d never come back to that city, but after a boring contract with a really interesting and big pay in the end, she needs a drink and go to a familiar bar, and then runs into you: the anxious quiet girl she only ever talked to on her cigarette breaks.

cw: modern au, ‘friends’ to strangers to friends again, flirting soooo much around a beer and low music, swearing just a few times, teasing reader, flustered sevika!! tw: mention of weight gain ! slight mention of past ed ! chubby reader ! we love dialogues, fluff and so much tease and warmth, this one is so long, love you fairies 💐

The city hasn’t changed, which is exactly what pisses her off. Well, a lot of things piss her off, but being back here is the worst.

Same cracked sidewalks, same endless traffic because there’s always roadworks like the city can’t survive by itself a Monday morning.

In the said endless traffic, Sevika leans against her seat in her car. Her jaw tight, sunglasses sliding down her nose as she bitterly looks at the block where she used to take the bus to school. Her fingers drum against the steering wheel, too slow for impatience but also too fast for calm.

She shouldn’t have taken this contract. She knows that. But the firm needed her, her boss needed her, and the deal is good enough to make anyone accept to take care of this without a second thought.

Her father lives ten minutes away. She knows because nothing changed since she escaped that damn place. Funny, it’s like the city’s mocking her.

She’s here for two days, and there’s no scenario where she goes back to him. Even just to sleep in her teenage bed for a night and disappear once again.

Does he even still have her teenage room or did he get rid of it when she ran away? Anyway, who cares. She doesn’t need an answer.

Instead she booked a simple and tiny Airbnb at the edge of town. One night, just long enough to get the work done and get the hell out of here. It’s one of those renovated lofts with ridiculous fake plants, brick walls, and definitely too much personality for someone like her who’s only there to sleep and nothing else.

But it’s good as it is, and she can drink her deadly-strong coffee black. That’s all she needs.

When she drops her bag by the door, the tension in her shoulders doesn’t ease. It’s dark outside, she’s hit by exhaust and bitter nostalgia, and all she wants to do is to fall asleep and go back to her flat already. So she does, she falls asleep fast enough, being ready to face the next day simply because she has no other choice.

The meeting goes exactly how she expected. It’s boring, way too polite, so long she feels like it’ll never end. She usually likes her job: it’s satisfying, thrilling because she knows the reward in the end, she knows her power and her place. But not today, not here.

Sevika sits through it, nodding at the right times, shaking hands when she has to… not fake laughing at bad jokes like the other, though. And she’s almost mentally writing her resignation letter because damn that’s so boring.

By the time she’s out of there, she’s starving for something… not food, of course. The sunlight is punishing because it’s too harsh, her patience is nonexistent. Four in the afternoon feels like midnight in her head.

She doesn’t want caffeine or sugar or whatever pastel nonsense the new cafés are selling now. She wants a drink.

She drives to the old bar. The sign is still flickering, same dull neon yellow she remembers. The windows are cleaner than in her memory, there’s no loud music so early in the afternoon, it’s calm.

The smell of beer, smoke, and old wood hits her like a punch to the chest, some memories she didn’t ask for crowding in without permission. She used to spend so many nights there, no one asking for her ID, just letting her in to forget the life she shouldn’t have at a young age.

She takes a sit in the back corner, near the window. The beer is cold and sweating, the cigarette burns just right between her fingers, and her laptop is open on the table, just something to keep her hands busy so she doesn’t start brooding too obviously, choosing to type nonsense into a half-finished report because it feels better than staring at the wall and the faces of the people passing by the window.

The bell over the door jingles, faint and completely forgettable. She doesn’t look up, people come and go, the bar has always had that rhythm.

Then she can catch the sound of heels. Light, confident. The bar owner’s voice suddenly sounds warmer than usual as he’s greeting whoever just walked in.

Sevika keeps her eyes on the screen, keeps typing because she doesn’t care who comes in and out. But then the voice answers.

She freezes mid-keystroke.

That voice… she recognizes it from somewhere. She blinks, slow, as her head lifts, almost against her will.

There you are. Different, softer. Your smile is wider than what she remembers, and she thinks your hair falls longer around your face.

There’s a fullness to you that wasn’t there before: curves that weren’t there at all before, a confidence that glows like good sunlight.

You look happy.

And Sevika, despite herself, can’t look away. She accidentally thinks,

Pretty. You’re pretty.

She sweeps the thought away as fast as it came, dragging her gaze back to the laptop screen. Stupid. It’s been years. You’re just someone from her high school. You weren’t even friends. Nothing more.

But funny enough, she’s not even pretending to work anymore as she hears your voice and actually listen.

The screen is a black and white blur of text she stopped reading five minutes ago, Arial font and size 11 letters frozen in neat lines like they’re waiting for her to keep writing. Whatever report she opened… it’s gone, because her brain has been unplugged.

You’re talking to the bar owner, animated. It’s strange, Sevika doesn’t remember your voice being… that bright. Maybe she just forgot how warmth sounds.

She looks, she can’t not look. She tells herself she’s just being observant, but she’s lying, and she knows it.

You have changed, and it’s not subtle, not hidden. You’ve gained weight: soft, beautiful weight that looks so right on you. Thick thighs, a rounder stomach, softer arms, and that—

oh, no. Nope, not going down there. Come on, what did you think ? She’s not a perv.

Her gaze drops anyway.

Shit.

Okay, fine. Maybe she’s a perv... But not that much. She swears.

She taps at her keyboard again with one hand, the other holding her her cig, just for the sound, fingers moving over nonsense letters. Just empty words to make it look like she’s busy and totally not staring at you like she’s a teenager with hormones and bad decisions again.

But then.

You turn casually, mid-laugh, mid-conversation. No reason at all, mindlessly really, until your eyes catch hers.

You both blink.

For a second, neither of you moves. Sevika is half ready to drop her gaze, pretend she didn’t see, play it cool. But then your smile widens, actually widens, like you just found something funny in the middle of the day.

And then you wave. And then you start walking toward her.

Sevika doesn’t know what to do. Her brain’s lagging. By the time she processes the fact that you’re actually walking toward her, your heels already click halfway across the bar floor.

Too fast. Or maybe just normal, but to her, right now, it’s too damn fast.

Her fingers twitch in something that’s supposed to be a wave, but it comes out more like a half-glitch, a sort of a weird little flex of nerves of her hand that she immediately regrets because it’s ridiculous.

You don’t make it weird though, not sure if you even acknowledge it, you just smile, easy and open and stop beside her table. “Hey,” you say, voice light. “How’ve you been?”

She blinks slow as the cigarette still hangs between her fingers, forgotten. “I, uh…” Her voice comes out rougher than she meant. “Yeah, good. You?”

You laugh, low and bright, shaking your head. “Better than ever.”

It hits her like a blurry déjà vu from the last seat of a classroom. The way your smile scrunches your nose a little, the casual way you lean a hip against the table. It’s too easy to remember you like this, even though she shouldn’t. She doesn’t even know why she does.

Because back in high school she barely knew you. A few short talks, five minutes here, ten there… outside the back doors where she would sneak a smoke and you would sneak air in the middle of class, too much anxiety in your body to bear. You weren’t supposed to be out there, and she wasn’t supposed to be either. But somehow, you talked. Small things: weather, teachers, dumb people.

You looked at her like she wasn’t someone to be avoided, and she thought you were cute. That was all. A hello in the hallway, a few curious looks that never went anywhere.

And now… here you are again.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, the corner of her mouth tugging up. “It shows.”

You look older, sure, you both do: but it’s more than that. You feel older, your shoulders set differently, your smile sits easier on your face. There’s peace where there used to be so much tension and anxiety, from what you would tell her at that time. There’s confidence in the way you shift your weight from heel to heel, even as your fingers fidget just slightly.

You blink, then laugh again, small and genuine. “So… what are you doing in town?” you ask after a beat, hesitant. “Haven’t seen you in years— oh but you look busy, sorry, I should—”

“No.” She cuts you off. “I’m not.” She glances at her laptop like it should help her when it doesn’t even try. “Don’t even know what I’m writing anyway.”

You grin, and it’s ridiculous how warm her chest feels at that.

“I work for a comms firm now,” she adds, leaning back, cigarette still burning lazily between her fingers. “Came back for a contract. A good one.”

“Sounds important,” you tease.

Sevika snorts softly. “borin’ as hell.”

You laugh again, and somehow she doesn’t feel like she needs an other drink.

It hits her mid-sentence that she haven’t even asked you what you’ve been up to. You just asked her right away so naturally like you were actually interested and she just gave her stupid corporate answer. The realization makes her frown, more at herself than anything else.

She clears her throat. “So. What about you?”

You blink, surprised by the sudden question. “Me?”

“Yeah,” she says, “What are you doin’ here? In town.”

You light up. “Oh! After we graduated I went to college about an hour away. Hated the city, though. Too big, too loud. Missed this old place.” You shrug, grinning. “So I came back after my degree. I work at Zaun’s hospital now.”

That makes her look up. “Hospital?”

“Mhm.” You nod, proud in a quiet way. “I’m a nurse. Psych department. It’s… intense sometimes, but I love it.”

There’s a pause, not awkward but full. Sevika studies you again, because again, it’s miles from the anxious girl who used to sneak outside for air.

“Sounds like something that fits you,” she says finally. She takes a drag from her cigarette, exhales through her nose.

That earns her another smile for you, warm and genuine.

You shift on your feet again, making her understand that you’re clearly not planning to stay long, but Sevika doesn’t like the way that possibly feels so before she can think better of it, she jerks her chin toward the empty chair across from her.

“Sit.” She says, trying to not make it sound like a command but also hoping you’re going to listen.

You blink. “Are you sure? I can—”

“Yeah,” she says, voice firmer this time. “Sit.”

You do. Carefully at first, like you’re not sure if you’re intruding even if she told you it was fine, but you sit in front of her.

Then, trying to play it off Sevika points her chin toward your empty hands. “Can I get you something?”

You tilt your head. “You’re offering to buy me a drink?”

“Seems fair,” she says, lazy half-smile tugging at her lips. “You did all the talking.”

You look at her for a few seconds, long enough before that soft smile returns. “I did not. But… Okay,” you say finally, light, easy. “Sure.”

The drink comes, a beer that matches hers, just colder and both sweating on the table. You tilt your head, that familiar spark lighting up behind your eyes.

“Can I just say,” you start, “it’s kinda surprising you ended up in communication.”

Sevika hums, side-eyeing you over her bottle. “Why’s that?”

You grin. “Because if I remember correctly… you used to communicate mostly with your fists.”

Sevika snorts, the sound rough and amused all at once. “Didn’t change much,” she admits. “Just have to keep it quiet now or they’ll fire me.”

That makes you laugh again. It’s so unguarded and alive, so peaceful. You were never like that before. She remembers you small, hunched over your anxiety, words hesitant and smiles rare.

“guess some things change right?” she says, quieter this time.

You lean on your elbows, chin propped on your hand. “You haven’t, though.”

Sevika’s brows lift, a dry little smile tugging at her mouth. “Neither have you.”

That earns her a knowing look and a raised brow, the corners of your lips curling with mock disbelief. “Liar.”

“What—” She groans, realizing exactly where that went. “No, I didn’t—shit.” She drags the heel of her hand, the one holding her cigarette, across her forehead. “That’s not what I meant.”

You chuckle, a low and warm sound that makes her shoulders ease despite herself like a warm blanket on her back. “Relax. I’m teasing you.”

She exhales through her nose, muttering, “Yeah, well. You’re cruel.”

“I’m funny,” you correct, smirking.

She looks at you for a beat longer than she should, smoke curling from her cigarette as the seconds stretch between you.

Then, before she can talk herself out of it, she says, “You look good.” It slips out easy, honest.

You blink, lips parting slightly, surprise softening your features. Then you smile again, slower this time. “Thanks, Sev.”

Neither of you is rushing, the rhythm is lazy and strangely familiar considering you barely knew each other in highschool. The reason why she remembers you and is so affected is still a mystery.

Sevika leans back in her chair. “So, why nursing?” she asks after a while through the conversation. “I could’ve sworn you applied for… architecture or something.”

You glance up, a spark of surprise flickering before your mouth curves into a grin. “Oh, yeah,” you say lightly, “because I was a patient.”

Wow.

Sevika freezes, mid-drag. She blinks once, twice, and her entire brain short-circuits. Then her hand comes up, pressing against her face as she exhales, voice low. “Janna—I don’t even know if im supposed to laugh or not.”

Your laugh bursts out instantly, bright and mischievous. “You can laugh! That’s why I said it, Sev.”

She lowers her hand, still watching you cautiously like you’re a monster about to attack her. Seriously, what’s your problem. “You sure?”

“I’m sure,” you say, grinning. “I’m good now.”

You take another sip, set your bottle down carefully and you lean a bit closer across the table, arms crossed in front of you on the table, not guarded but in a more comfortable position.

“After graduation I spent the summer in Zaun’s psych ward,” you say. No drama, no tension. Just facts, softened by time. “I hid an eating disorder for years. Thought I was good at it.” A wry smile flickers on your face. “My parents found out, and, well. Let’s just say it took longer than a summer break.”

You shrug, eyes flicking toward the window, “But I got help. Gained weight I needed, then more than I needed. And… I just never lost it.”

There’s a pause but it’s not heavy with something sad underneath. You smile again, easy and sure. “I’m happier now. Healthier. It’s nice to be able to eat cake without having a meltdown.”

Sevika’s watching you quietly. Not staring, but seeing you in a way she hasn’t before because she never knew. The words hit her like a gentle punch, something… proud and tender all at once. You say it so simply, without shame.

She huffs softly, more like an exhale than a laugh. “You sound at peace.”

You tilt your head, smile stretching your lips faintly. “Yeah. I am.”

You’re twirling what’s left of your drink instead of drinking it, tracing the rim or the bottle with one finger without realizing, when your gaze flicks back to her. There’s a kind mischief there now, something playful.

“Dare I say,” you start, tone light but eyes steady, “you look good too. Jokes aside.”

Sevika raises a brow, mouth twitching. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod, slow, deliberate, your gaze drifting down before you even realize it. “And… Way more muscular, actually.”

Your eyes linger on her shoulders, broad and solid under her suit jacket, polite enough to not linger on the very center of her upper chest. There’s a quiet kind of awe in the way you look at her, like you didn’t mean to notice but did anyway.

Sevika snorts, lifting her beer. “Never stopped fighting,” she says simply. “Didn’t stop the gym either.”

You hum, your eyes flicking down toward the cold cigarette left forgotten in the ashtray now. “Didn’t stop smoking, either,”

“Please,” she says, voice dry but amused. “I smoke like a dragon. Probably breath fire in my sleep.”

You laugh, soft and real, and she finds herself laughing too. It feels good and:.. effortless. Like the two of you have shaken off the ghosts of high school without even trying. She’s not the angry kid hiding from authority because she has too much problems at home and you’re not the anxious girl hiding from yourself. You’re both just two adults sharing a table.

She lifts her bottle again, and as she tips it back, gravity pulls her sleeve up a little, just enough to flash a glimpse of silver on her wrist.

You see it immediately.

“You’re kidding me,” you gasp, eyes wide, pointing without shame.

“What?” Sevika blinks mid-sip, half-frowning.

“The watch,” you say, scandalized. “Can I see it?”

She’s caught off guard for a second, your genuine interest and excitement disarming her. She could say no, she definitely could lean back and keep that little distance, but she doesn’t.

Instead she sets her beer down and extends her arm across the table.

“Go ahead,” she murmurs.

Her skin brushes the wood as her hand reaches toward you, wrist exposed, sleeve pulled back just enough.

You lean in, closer than before, fingers careful as you take her wrist, tilting it toward the light. The metal catches the glow, cool, sleek, expensive.

“Wow,” you murmur. “I don’t even wanna know the price of this thing. These contracts must be good good.”

Sevika huffs out a low chuckle, the sound barely more than a rumble in her chest. “Yeah,” she admits. “They’re good.”

She’s not looking at the watch, she’s looking at you: at your face tilted down toward her wrist, hair around your cheeks, eyes soft with admiration and a focus that makes her feel at peace.

“It’s insane,” you go on, tracing the edge of the watch, your fingertip brushing her skin with every movement. “Looks heavy and so cool. Looks good on you. Would probably look like a cinder block on me, though.”

You laugh under your breath, and she can’t even manage a smirk because she’s too busy trying not to think about how warm your touch feels and how close her wrist is to your body.

Then she sees the ring. Simple, gold with a little stone gleaming under the light. And for a second, something inside her shifts. It’s not jealousy, just a small stupid ache she didn’t see coming, like disappointment. Definitely a little disappointment.

“Nice ring,” she says before she can stop herself. It comes out flater than she meant, clearly closer to annoyed than curious.

You blink, startled, head snapping up. “Oh! No, I’m not—I mean, I don’t—” You hold up your hand quickly, flustered. “That’s just a ring.”

Sevika frowns, smirking a short beat later, lazy and faintly amused. “Why’re you clarifyin’?”

“What?”

“I just said it was a nice ring,” she says, leaning back, voice smooth and teasing now, the tension in her jaw melting into a grin. “That’s all.”

You blink again, then laugh. A quick and surprised sound that slips out of you like a reflex. “Oh. I mean… just didn’t want you to think anything.”

She tilts her head, watching you with a look that’s all quiet mischief and sharp amusement. “Didn’t think you were into girls,” she murmurs.

You stare at her for a second, eyes flicking down, a smile twitching at your lips that you try to hide but fail. Then your eyes flick up again.

“Because you’re into boys, right?” you say, casual as a knife. “Always have been.”

Sevika snorts so hard she almost chokes. “Love boys,” she says, tone flat, eyes deadpan, lips curling in disgust. “They’re my favorite.”

That makes you burst into laughter, the sound spilling out light and bright and echoing just enough in the dim corner of the bar. You rest your chin in your hand, smiling at her.

You lean in slightly, voice lowering. “Since we’re both adults now:.. years later, can I ask you something?”

Sevika groans, already anticipating it. “Go ahead.”

Your grin turns sly. “That Friday night. The rugby match.”

Oh no. “You’re not starting with that.” She immediately says.

“I am.” You’re grinning wider now, delighted by her reaction. “Was it true? The thing with the cheerleader in the changing room?”

Sevika stares at you, then lets out a low disbelieving laugh, rubbing a hand over her face. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not! You shake your head, eyes sparkling with genuine curiosity. “I remember hearing people talk about it for weeks. I mean, come on, years later, I have to know.”

Sevika leans back in her chair, half smirking, half trying to keep a straight face. “Can’t believe that rumor survived.”

“So it was true?” you push, smiling like you already know the answer but want to hear it from her.

Sevika pauses, thinking about it: about that stupid night, the sweat and adrenaline of a win, the crowd yelling outside, the blur of too many teenage mistakes she doesn’t usually revisit. Years later, it’s almost funny.

“Let’s just say,” she says finally, that low gravelly humor you can hear through her voice, “it wasn’t as crazy as people made it sound.”

You gasp dramatically, grinning. “That’s not a no.”

“Yeah, well,” she mutters, picking up her beer again, “I was seventeen, don’t blame me.”

You laugh again, shaking your head. “you sound like an old lady already.”

“Feel like one too,” she says, deadpan.

You catch your bottom lip between your teeth, the faintest ghost of a grin tugging at your mouth as the memory resurfaces. “I remember no one even knew which cheerleader it was, they had theories on each of them.” you say, amusement sparkling at every word. “Everyone had a different theory. I thought it was impossible anyway. All of them looked way too straight.”

Sevika exhales a laugh through her nose, slow and low. “Come on. You look straight.”

You blink. One heartbeat, two. “Okay,” you say, tone flat and mock-offended, “I’m sorry for bringing up high school rumors, but there’s no need to insult me.”

Her smirk shifts into a laugh that reaches her eyes, head dropping a little as she mutters, “My bad. Took it too personally.”

You tilt your head, still smiling, still looking at her like you’re trying to see whether she’ll keep pretending this isn’t what it’s becoming. “We don’t all look like what we like,” you say lightly, voice so teasing and meaning no one can mistake her for a straight woman.

That gets her because she knows what you mean, and Sevika’s mouth twitches, the cigarette still in the ashtray and untouched. “Yeah,” she says, “some people do. Some don’t.”

She leans back, arm slung across the back of her chair. The sleeve of her suit tugs just enough to reveal the line of muscle beneath the cuff. “‘think people knew better than to ask me back then,” she adds after a long beat. “Rumors are fine until someone’s dumb enough to repeat them to your face.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I get why no one bothered you, you were terrifying.”

“Still am,” she says.

You hum, unconvinced. “No. You’re too soft-spoken now.”

“Don’t test it.”

It’s teasing, but the way her eyes drag over your face isn’t. It lingers, and you both start to realize and accept that’s not just a beer around a table and kind conversations. It’s more than that.

You take another sip, finishing it completely, the beer catching the light on your lip. “You never corrected any of the rumors though.”

Sevika’s voice dips, rough and amused. “Why would I ruin everyone’s fun?”

You laugh quietly. “You’re right, that’s funnier that way. I know the truth now though.”

You toy with your sleeve for a second before asking, voice careful, “So… are you staying in town or”

Sevika’s mouth opens before her brain catches up. She hesitates. “No,” she says finally, and she sounds more reluctant than she means to. “Booked an Airbnb for the night. I’m heading back home tonight.”

You nod, looking down, thumb tracing the rim of your bottle. “Right. Of course. Work trip. You told me that already.”

She watches you for a long second, her jaw tight and there it is: disappointment again. Funny enough ,for someone who’s been counting the hours to leave this city, she really doesn’t like the idea of actually leaving now.

“Shit,” she mutters under her breath, checking her phone and grimacing at the time. “I really have to go. Two-hour drive and I’ve got to be up early tomorrow.”

You smile, small but real. “Always responsible, huh?”

“Don’t think I’m professional or anything,” she says dryly, collecting her things.

You laugh quietly, reaching for your bag too. Before she can say something, anything, you’re already saying it for her.

“Hey, so…,” you start, voice lighter now, eyes searching hers, “we should… stay in touch. If you want.”

Sevika stares at you for a second, the faintest smile tugging at her mouth. “Yeah,” she says, feigning being casual. “Yeah, I want.”

You grin as you’re slipping your phone from your pocket, the glow from the screen lighting your face. “Good.” You swap numbers, fingers brushing again as you hand the phone to her.

When she finally stands, she doesn’t want to. You both linger at the door, neither quite ready to end it.

“Drive safe,” you say, you’re voice kind and softer.

“Always do.”

You tilt your head, skeptical. “Liar.”

“You going back home too?”

“Yeah, I live down the street, I’m not driving crazy like you.”

Sevika chuckles, stepping back with a lazy confidence of hers “Guess you’ll have to text me and make sure I made it home then.”

You roll your eyes but you’re smiling wide. “Yeah, I guess I will.”

In her car, ready to go because she has no choice, Sevika realizes something she hasn’t in a long time… she actually wants to come back.

@kittyic3 🧚‍♀️💐

[floettesblog]

Chains of Roses

Chapter 7 - Noxus

Fandom: Arcane: League of Legends

Pairing: Blacksmith!Vi x Runaway!Reader

Synopsis: Burdened with sorrow, you set your departure in motion— will someone stop you after all?

TW: Anxiety, panic, physical injuries, burns, violence, threat, death (mentioned), family betrayal, traumatic memories.

Chains of Roses Masterlist

“Easy now,” you murmured as your trembling fingers brushed over the caramel-colored horse’s forehead.

Apple Jack, as everyone affectionately called her, exhaled deeply, her warm breath blooming into the cold night air. Her ears twitched, attuned to you, as though she sensed that something was different tonight.

The moon hung bright in a sky scattered with stars, and the night lay still — unnervingly still.

Only the faint glow of your lantern held the darkness at bay, its flickering light dancing across aged wood and the soft shimmer of golden straw.

You had packed only what you couldn’t leave behind, cramming the bare essentials into your backpack. A farewell letter for Vi and Powder rested on the table of your small cabin, beside a modest pouch of coins for the farmer whose horse you were about to take.

“Ready for an adventure?” you finally asked the beautiful mare after tightening the saddle strap.

“Without me?”

You froze, startled, and stepped back out of the stall.

Your heart slammed against your ribs when you saw her.

Vi stood by the stable door, half-hidden in shadow.

If you hadn’t known her, you might have mistaken her expression for teasing, but you saw the truth in her eyes: exhaustion, quiet and heavy, carved into every line of her face.

A dull ache twisted in your stomach.

Was that your doing?

“Vi… what are you doing here?”

Your voice was shaky, your thoughts racing, yet none of them would form a clear line.

“Better question. What are you doing here?” she countered softly, stepping further inside. The straw crackled beneath her boots until she stopped in front of the stall, fixing you with that unrelenting gaze.

Her brow furrowed when she noticed your packed bag.

“I…” you began, but the words caught in your throat as you met her pained blue eyes.

“When I saw you sneaking out of your cabin, I had a feeling what was going through your mind. But there’s one thing I can’t understand.” Her voice cracked slightly, barely noticeable. “Why?”

You looked away, biting your lip, hands fumbling with the saddle strap though it was already secure.

Vi stepped closer, and you could feel her warmth. Steady and grounding against the storm inside you.

“I thought you trusted me,” she whispered. “But you were just going to vanish. Without a word.”

Something in her voice splintered.

“Please… don’t shut me out like this.” Her voice shook. “I’d lose my mind if I lost you.”

Silence hung between you — heavy, fragile.

Her eyes searched yours, and when they met, she let her last defenses fall.

“I… I love you.”

A confession that came just in time.

Her last, trembling attempt to keep you from leaving.

“Vi…” you breathed, the word breaking as you turned and fell into her arms.

Your lips found hers. Desperate, searching, filled with all the things you had never dared to say.

She held you tightly, as if her strength alone could keep you from leaving. You felt her tears on your skin.

Warm and real.

“Please… just tell me what’s going on,” she whispered as you both broke apart, foreheads resting together.

Your breath came out unsteady, fingers nervously tangling together.

Together you had unsaddled Apple Jack and settled on an old blanket.

You began to speak:

“I’m so getting in trouble for this,” you muttered, stumbling through what felt like endless tunnels.

Cold clung to the air. Droplets fell from the ceiling, breaking the silence as they splashed into tiny puddles. The faint glow of crystals scattered along the walls was the only thing keeping you from total darkness.

Your cloak was drenched, your fall had left you smeared with mud, and your backside throbbed painfully.

Still, you pressed on.

You were an adventurer, at least at heart.

Your fascination with unknown places, rare plants, and strange creatures had gotten you into trouble more than once.

This time, it had been a single unassuming flower that had lured you to ruin. One careless step and the ground had given way beneath you.

You’d been wandering through this maze of stone and shadow ever since. Every corridor looked the same, every breath echoed too loudly.

Just as despair began to creep in, you caught sight of a flickering light.

Your heart stuttered.

Cautiously, you crept closer, eyes locked on a narrow door where the light pulsed faintly behind the cracks.

Normally, you would’ve turned back immediately but thirst, hunger, and exhaustion had long blurred your sense of reason.

With a racing heart, you pushed the door open.

Light spilled out, flooding your eyes.

At first glance, you’d have called it a laboratory or perhaps a war room?

You stepped inside, gaze darting from one workbench to another, each overflowing with strange tinctures and unfamiliar devices.

The sight was overwhelming and yet one symbol kept drawing your attention: a black rose.

Curiosity prickled down your spine. You reached for a stack of notes, flipping through pages filled with symbols, formulas, and messy handwriting that seemed to hum with energy.

An underground lab. Magic. Experiments.

What was this place?

Time blurred as you studied every scroll, every vial, slowly realizing the kind of power that hid within these concoctions.

Determined, you grabbed a few bottles and stuffed them into your backpack along with the notes.

A small, triumphant smile tugged at your lips as you rattled the handle of a locked drawer. Jackpot.

With practiced fingers, you worked the lock until it clicked open.

Relief washed over you— only for a moment.

Then, agony. A searing pain tore up your arm.

A scream ripped from your throat as fire raced across your skin. Your sleeve burst into flames, the heat biting deeper, climbing higher, while your mind fought not to drown in panic.

Instinctively, you ripped open your backpack, fingers fumbling over glass until they found one of the red elixirs. You pulled the cork out with your teeth and poured the liquid over your arm.

A violent hiss filled the air as the fire died.

The smell of burnt fabric and skin mixed with the sharp scent of the potion.

Gasping, you sank to your knees, pain pulsing through every fiber of your body.

Your skin glowed, tears burned your eyes, streaming hot down your cheeks as you stared at your arm—swollen, red, covered in blisters.

Your whole body trembled. Breathing felt impossible.

For a moment, everything around you blurred.

Then, with shaking hands, you reached for another vial. Your fingers trembled so violently you almost couldn’t get the cork free.

You poured the liquid over your arm again, and slowly, agonizingly slowly, the burning began to fade.

Panting, you leaned back against the cold wall. Your eyelids fluttered as you watched the skin knit itself together bit by bit.

The notes hadn’t lied. The healing power of this potion was beyond anything you’d ever imagined.

But the shock ran deep.

Even as the trembling eased, your eyes couldn’t help but drift back to the open drawer. Part of you wanted to close it, forget this ever happened, and run away.

But you couldn’t.

“If there’s only a damn diary in there, I swear I’m tearing this whole lab apart,” you muttered through gritted teeth as you carefully crawled toward the desk.

In your left hand, a new vial glimmered faintly in the light.

Your right hand shook as you reached into the drawer once more.

A relieved gasp escaped you when you actually pulled out a bundle of letters—intact, tightly bound, the seal only slightly cracked. You loosened the ribbon, and the papers rustled softly as you unfolded them.

Your eyes scanned the lines, though the words slipped past you. Names, phrases, fragments of arguments swirling like smoke through your mind, still clouded by pain and adrenaline.

V writing to LB, about their organization. They were fighting over control. V had grown tired of pulling strings from the shadows.

“The Black Rose is an organization? What strings?” you whispered, running a trembling hand through your hair.

Your head snapped up.

Footsteps. Slow. Measured.

Your heart skipped a beat.

Someone was coming.

Panic surged through you.

You snatched a few vials, stuffed the letters and several books into your backpack, your gaze darting wildly for an exit.

Between two tall bookshelves, you spotted a narrow door.

Your only chance.

But before you could reach it, a deafening crash echoed through the room.

The main door slammed open with a thunderous crack.

The impact sent the glass vials rattling, a gust of freezing air sweeping through the lab.

In the doorway stood a woman. Tall, cloaked in darkness, her mantle seeming to dissolve into the shadows themselves.

Her eyes gleamed with a cold, almost inhuman light, and a faint, sinister smile curved her lips.

Instinctively, you raised your hands, a blue potion already in your grip, but she was faster.

Chains shot out from beneath her cloak.

Steel glinting in the crystal light.

They lunged at you with a hiss.

You screamed, throwing your arm up in reflex.

Glass shattered with a sharp crack, like an invisible shield breaking around you.

The impact slammed through your body, sending you staggering backward.

Your ears rang, your pulse thundered, but there was no time to think. You threw the potion.

The glass burst at her feet, and in an instant, ice spread across the floor. Frost crawled up her boots, climbing her legs, cracking and splintering as it rose.

She barely flinched, but a smirk tugged at her lips. With a simple motion of her hand, the ice began to shatter.

A chill ran down your spine.

Quickly, you pulled another vial—a yellow one—and hurled it at her. A blinding flash filled the room, lightning crackling across her body.

Her scream was hoarse, furious.

She looked up again, rage and lethal intent burned in her eyes, but you were already bolting for the side door.

You slammed it shut behind you, sealing it with a freezing potion.

“I don’t remember the days that followed very clearly,” you murmured, your voice raw and uneven as your trembling hand brushed across your face.

“I wandered through the forest for days… without my knowledge of nature, I probably would’ve died there.”

The memory returned in flashes — the thick canopy that blocked out all light, the sharp scent of sweat and dirt, the constant rustling that kept you awake, and that lingering, suffocating sense of being watched.

“When I finally found my way back,” you continued haltingly, “I heard in the outer district that my brother had our parents executed. They said they’d conspired against the crown. And I… I was wanted too. For treason.”

Your voice broke completely.

Vi stayed silent, letting you speak, though you could feel her gaze — steady, worried, protective.

You lay in her arms, her hold tightening, pulling you close against her chest.

“My brother…” you whispered, almost inaudibly.

The words barely made it past your lips. Your heart clenched as if the pain were fresh, still raw.

Swain had been everything to you.

Your protector. Your teacher. The one person who had made the world feel safe.

He had defended you when others doubted you. He had believed in you when no one else did.

“I just… I just want to know what happened.”

The words slipped from your lips like a prayer — quiet, fragile.

The uncertainty gnawed at you relentlessly.

It was worse than fear, worse than exile.

Because when you had fled through the thickets, trembling and exhausted, it hadn’t been the cold chasing you.

It had been the memories.

Of everything you’d left behind and the question that still tore you apart:

Why?

GUYS, WHAT DO YOU THINK??

Tell me plllllsssss (ಥ﹏ಥ)

Dividers by @uzmacchiato (roses and lines) and @suupersonic (chains)

Taglist

@sevikas-whore @riotstemple29 @redheadedlesbiansstuff @djena1d @joyispunk

[floettesblog]

Cramps

Fandom: Arcane: League of Legends

Pairing: Sevika x Reader

Synopsis: Some battles can’t be fought alone — thankfully, Sevika never lets you face them by yourself.

TW: Menstrual cramps, nausea, physical pain

Masterlist

“I don’t think I can come with you,” you whimpered, your voice breaking as another cramp twisted sharply through your stomach.

Your period had hit again, right on schedule and just as merciless as ever. A dull pounding behind your eyes, nausea curling in your gut, and that familiar stabbing pain that made it feel like your body was punishing you for something.

Sevika was standing by the wardrobe, rummaging through it for something to wear when she froze. The sound of your voice softened her expression in an instant.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, stepping closer. Her rough, calloused hand brushed over your hair before she pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead — a quiet, grounding gesture that made you exhale.

“I’ll make you some tea.”

“Wait—” You tried to sit up, stubborn as ever, but the sudden motion sent a sharp wave of pain through your body. You groaned and let yourself fall back into the pillows, defeated.

Sevika frowned, worry flashing in her usually unreadable face. She hesitated for a second, as if deciding whether to scold you or comfort you.

“You were really looking forward to that fight,” you mumbled, voice weak. “You should still go. Otherwise I’ll just feel guilty for ruining your evening.”

Her lips twitched in that way they always did when you said something she found ridiculous.

“You’re not ruining anything.” She leaned down and brushed your cheek with her thumb, her tone gentle but firm. “I’ll be back soon.”

You watched her go, your chest tightening in a strange mix of relief and guilt. You wanted her to have fun, to do something she enjoyed, but at the same time, a small part of you felt grateful she’d stopped long enough to make you tea.

The warmth of it and her faint scent on the pillow beside you were the last things you noticed before drifting into an uneasy sleep.

You startled when the bedroom door creaked open not even half an hour later.

“Sevika?” you mumbled groggily, blinking at the dim light. “Is the match already over?”

She stood in the doorway, her broad silhouette framed by the hall light, several shopping bags dangling from her hands.

“I didn’t go,” she said simply, stepping inside.

It took your tired brain a second to process that. “You… didn’t?”

“I went shopping instead.” She set the bags down beside the bed and gave you a look. The kind that was stern on the surface but warm underneath.

“Now I’m making you another tea, refilling your hot water bottle, and you stay here looking all pretty for me. You really think I’d go have fun while you’re in pain?”

A weak laugh escaped you. “You’re only saying that because I’m about to die.”

Right on cue, another cramp twisted through you, making you gasp.

Without missing a beat, Sevika grabbed the box of painkillers from one of the bags and handed it to you.

“Then at least you’ll die in my arms,” she replied smoothly.

“Very funny,” you muttered, but the quiet laugh that followed betrayed you and she smiled, just barely, as she turned toward the kitchen.

Later, the room was dim except for the soft blue glow of the TV.

You were curled up against her side, half-draped over her arm while the replay of the boxing match played in the background.

“Damn, that was a good hit,” Sevika muttered, eyes fixed on the screen.

You hummed softly in agreement, though you weren’t really watching. The steady rhythm of her breathing, the warmth radiating from her body, the way her fingers absentmindedly traced circles over your arm — that was what had you completely grounded in that moment.

The painkillers were finally kicking in. Your hands wrapped around the mug of tea she’d made for you, soaking up the heat as if it could chase away everything that still ached.

On the bedside table, a small mountain of snacks, medicine, and heat pads told you exactly how her little shopping trip had gone.

“You bought half the pharmacy,” you murmured, smiling sleepily.

“Nothing’s too expensive when it’s for you,” she said simply, her tone dry, but there was warmth hiding behind it.

She reached for a bag of your favorite snacks, and when you looked up at her, she was already pretending not to watch your reaction.

“Thanks for staying,” you said quietly, almost afraid to break the calm that had settled over the room.

Her gaze flicked to you, then softened. She didn’t say anything for a moment. She just reached over, pulling you a little closer until your head rested against her shoulder.

“Anytime,” she finally murmured, low and steady.

Guuuuuys, I wrote the new chapter for Chains of Roses yesterday and it turned out sooo good, I really love it! ＼(≧▽≦)／

I can’t wait to see what you think!!

As a little spoiler, here are the trigger warnings hehe: Anxiety, panic, physical injuries, burns, violence, threat, death (mentioned), family betrayal, traumatic memories.

Not gonna lie, the next chapter may be a bit heavy, but worth it!

Btw, I’m super happy that you liked the Christmas story so much haha, I really didn’t expect that! (´｡• ᵕ •｡`)

Dividers by @uzmacchiato

Taglist

@sevikas-whore @meamouraa @joyispunk

[floettesblog]

Deck the Halls

Fandom: Arcane: League of Legends

Pairing: Sevika x Reader

Synopsis: Sevika wakes after a long Halloween night, only to find the house already glowing with Christmas lights.

Masterlist

“Please, no,” Sevika groaned as she stepped out of your shared bedroom, only to be greeted by the unmistakable opening notes of “Merry Christmas Everyone.”

Rubbing a tired hand over her face, she decided her first stop of the morning would be the bathroom.

Last night had been long. Very long. It had been Halloween, after all — one of the few holidays Sevika actually enjoyed.

Scaring people to death without getting in trouble? Hell yeah.

Blinking at her reflection, she couldn’t help but raise a brow. She’d been far too exhausted to remove her makeup last night, yet her face was clean. No smeared makeup, no black eyeliner smudged under her eyes.

You must’ve taken care of it while she was already halfway to dreamland.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as your voice echoed down the hall, hitting a gloriously off-key note mid-song.

Gods, that sound was both awful and endearing.

You loved Halloween as much as she did, but nothing compared to the way you adored Christmas. And, as always, you started celebrating the very moment the calendar said November first.

It hadn’t always been like that.

You used to hate winter — the cold, the dull gray skies, and how it dragged your mood down. But over the years, you’d learned to chase away the gloom.

Now, colorful lights, cheesy songs, sweet stories, and the kindness that seemed to bloom in people this time of year filled your heart with warmth.

Even your neighbors came alive once you started handing out your homemade cookies.

That very scent lingered in the air when Sevika finally wandered into the living room.

There you were, standing on your tiptoes, trying to wrap a string of fairy lights around the curtain rod.

“Where did our ladder go?” you pouted.

A grin crept onto Sevika’s lips.

She knew exactly where the ladder was, hidden just so you’d have to call on her and she loved it every time.

You weren’t that short, but you definitely didn’t match the tall frame of your gorgeous girlfriend, who suddenly lifted you off the ground so you could finish hanging the lights.

“Sevika!” you squeaked, bursting into giggles as she set you down again.

“Morning, baby,” she murmured, pressing a lazy kiss to your lips.

“Morning to you too.” You beamed up at her. “So? What do you think?”

Her eyes swept across the room.

Every year, you managed to strike the perfect balance. Festive, but never over the top. The decorations radiated warmth and comfort, creating the kind of cozy atmosphere Sevika secretly adored, even if she’d never admit it out loud.

“You outdo yourself every year,” she said, smirking faintly. “So, what experiment did you start in the kitchen this time?”

For a second, she could see the wheels turning in your head and then your eyes went wide.

“Nooooo my cookies!” you yelped, bolting toward the kitchen, the sound of “Wonderful Dreams” following you down the hallway.

Sevika just shook her head with a soft chuckle, hands slipping into her pockets as she strolled after you, utterly at ease.

Hi everyone (ง ื▿ ื)ว

I swear I promised myself I’d wait until December to post any Christmas stories, but I just couldn’t resist!! (ಡ‸ಡ)

I even thought about doing a little story calendar for December.

I think that would be super cute, but I guess it would be way too much work, and I only have like 2–3 ideas for wintery stories…

Well, now that I’ve at least posted one Christmas story, I’m going to try to focus my brain on the other ongoing series!!!

Taglist

@sevikas-whore @joyispunk @meamouraa