I love your work, could you please write a viktor x reader who takes care of him. like makes sure he eats, they make baked goods for him or make him go to bed in time. I think it would be cute
Heyo! Sure I can, even if it’s been a while since I wrote for Viktor (or anything) lmao
Caretaker!Reader
Viktor takes well enough care of himself, to his own standards
So we all know he can use a little more help and a little helping hand
I think Viktor is pretty independent so it takes a lot out of him to even be able to do this kind of intimate thing with you
If he does, it takes a lot of vulnerability as you would see him at his lowest
There have been times where he probably refused and would try and get out of any situation where you found out he needed help and to be taken care of
He doesn’t want to bother you or anything when he deems it able to be done by himself
It takes a while for him to be comfortable enough with you and your relationship to let himself be vulnerable in that way
As he has never done this kind of thing with anyone else before
But once it happens, trust me, you’re golden
I think he does like sweets and baked goods, so to have you bring him any on a whim and not because you have to, but because you care warms his heart absolutely
He often forgets to take care of himself and his basic needs, like eating and stuff like that for his experiments and research
So he relies on you for that a little bit once he knows you will always be there for him
He loves when you cook or bake for him and knowing it’s so he knows he’s taken care of makes each bite better than the last
At first when you attempted to get him on some sort of decent sleep schedule, he resisted
He went to bed whenever, or whenever his research was done or he passed out and often it was in the lab or at his desk or in the middle of his studying at the table
SOO you would often have to bring him to bed yourself
Once you wore him down enough, he acted like you won
You thought you did until you found out he was just waiting till you fell asleep and slipped out off bed, and slipped back in just before you woke up and pretended to wake up beside you
You had to scold him probably, or it was some sort of argument
He realized you just wanted him to be healthy, and for him to be well rested
Reluctantly, he began going to sleep with you and waking up beside you in the mornings
He found he actually did like this habit because sleeping beside you was surprisingly comforting
He loved hearing your breathing pattern as you fell asleep, and it helped him fall asleep to hear and feel your heart beating as you both snuggled to sleep
And he loved watching you wake up slowly in the mornings
It was all worth it
One thing he was very stubborn about you not doing was taking care of his leg I think
Probably because he feels as his sort of disability is a bother enough, he doesn’t want you to be burdened with it
He probably thinks that if you see that part of him, you’ll think he’s not worth it and leave
And that’s not the case
He only finds out on a particularly harsh day when it hurt so bad, and it was so sore all he could do was want to fall asleep and alleviate the pain by any means
You maybe kissed his leg, maybe rubbed out the pain, maybe helped him in any way
But as you did it, he loved the feeling and could only watch you do so and the warm feeling in his chest never left
So, on the hard days, he would drop subtle hints that he wanted to be taken care of
Like subtly saying “oh, it just hurts, I have no clue how to fix it…” and wait for you to offer to rub it
I feel he likes being babied a little bit, but not to much
He doesn’t like being treated as glass or like he is incompetent
But he does love being taken care of by you
Be it food, tending to him or showering or making sure he is fed and clean
He loves showering with you
He loves having you wash his hair and the feelings of your hand in it or feeling you lather the soap on him while he just gets to relax and close his eyes and know your there
Summary: You were never really into drugs. But, fearing Sevika is getting bored with your sex life, you figure she could feed you some shimmer to spice things up. Now, all of a sudden, you can't think for yourself, but don't worry, Sevika will think for you.
Sevika doesn’t let this happen often.
"Don't want your brain to turn to mush," She'd say with a chuckle, but in the same breath, she'd utter the filthiest things, enticing you further.
“Love breaking your brain like this. Your hole is best when I’m using it,” she’d murmur when you beg to hand over the reins. She tends to you in other ways, but this particular game scratches an itch nothing else can touch.
When the time is right, she snags a small single dose of shimmer. Enough to give you the mind-numbing euphoria that leaves you suggestible, but not enough to turn you into a full-blown junkie.
She never tells you when it’s happening. She’ll simply wait until there’s a quiet night in and trace your collarbone with her fingers.
“My pretty girl, nice and quiet in my lap. Here, take this. Daddy wants her toy tonight.” She says, before popping open a vial of specialty shimmer and tipping it down your throat.
Singed owed her a favor and concocted this special strain for special occasions. The synthesized shimmer tastes of battery acid and bubble gum. You have no idea if it really does anything outside of the small high that buzzes behind your eyes, or if the dizzying sensations are just an extended placebo effect.
It doesn’t really matter. What matters most is the way your heart’s beating so much faster, but your limbs feel heavy and uncontrollable. Your mind is quiet. All that seems to exist is the amused look on your lover’s face. Sevika coos and takes your face in her hand—pressing your cheeks together gently to poke your lips out.
“What a sweet, useless slut you are. It doesn’t take much to put you down, huh? One hit and you’re already dumb. Spread for me, baby, I wanna play with it.” She says with a nonchalant expression, and immediately you obey.
You lean back to slip off your sleep shorts and panties, already wet from the aphrodisiac coursing through your veins. As you lean, your balance fails, and for a split second, it looks like you’re gonna hit the floor. But Sevika catches you with a chuckle, her hard demeanor breaking for a second.
“You ok baby?”
You giggle and lean into her warmth before nodding. It’s hard to speak when such pleasure buzzes through you, leaving you warm and fuzzy. “I feel good. I feel really good. Please get back to touching me.” You demand with a chuckle, flinging your panties off and aiming them at your lover.
Sevika chuckles quietly and snatches them up, ogling the wet spot before helping you move faster into position. You spread your pussy lips for her to view, and the hungry groan she lets out lights you up.
“So pretty, tease your clit for me. Two fingers, slow circles.” She murmurs, licking her lips and watching as you eagerly take two fingers and swirl around your hardening nub. You twitch as oversensitivity hits, but she said to tease it.
Your only purpose is to serve her, so you obey without thought. Arousal leaks down your thighs the more you rub. Your other hand reaches down and spreads your lips so she can see the wetness drip.
“Keep that up for me. Love watching you like this. Ya look so sweet, all blissed out, Janna look at your face.” She coos in disbelief, reaching over to caress your cheek and press a kiss to your forehead.
In the back of your mind, you know you already look like a wreck, brow furrowed with pleasure, whimpers falling from your partially open lips. But you’re Sevika's wreck.
“My pretty little fuck toy, gonna fill you up so good today. I got a new toy.” She reveals, reaching to rip her wife-beater off, then unbuttoning her leather pants.
Her tempting happy trail leads to the deep purple harness that makes you gulp.
“Stay right here, and put two fingers in your cunt. Keep pumping for me while I get the new toy and prep it. I know once I get this big dick inside you’ll be drooling like a needy little thing.” She remarks to you with a mocking laugh, though there’s no way in hell you’re responding right now.
You attempt to, but the following jumble of words only embarrasses you. She laughs again and holds your face in her hands.
“Stop talking. Keep pumping.” She states harshly, eyes flickering between your legs as you obey immediately—sliding two fingers deep inside your soaking cunt with a groan. The initial thrusts are deliciously loud, and you let the wet sound keep you company while Sevika disappears.
She isn’t long. Returning with a long and thick new dildo that’s a shade lighter than her own flesh. You gush, she tusks as she gets close enough to witness you.
“Fucking yourself open for me? Three of your tiny little fingers barely do the job, but it’ll be enough.” She says, grabbing your arm and ripping your hand away from your hungry pussy.
She reaches down and sucks the three slick-coated fingers into her mouth, moaning at the rich taste of you. She sits back on the couch and pulls you into her lap. You face her, bleary eyes struggling to focus as you straddle her hips, the toy pressing against you as the perfect tease.
“Bounce on it.” Sevika commands.
It’s a stretch that borders on painful, but it’s against every fiber of your being. You’re built to please her. So you push yourself. At this rate, you’re so wet the toy mostly slides inside without issue, but it’s bigger than you’re used to. The biggest you’ve used with her.
“So full.” You murmur as you steady yourself on whatever you can reach. Enjoying the way your pussy stretches and gives way to the thick toy with every pass.
“So full? Yeah you are. You’re just a hole for me to fill. For me to fuck until I break your brain completely. You look so sweet, bouncing like a mindless little doll. Bounce harder.” She growls.
Your pace increases, you put more effort in taking her as deep as she can get—it’s pressing against spots that make your vision black out briefly. She pushes against the slight bulge of the large toy under your soft skin. Pitiful cries fill the room as the toy splits you open. Tears bud at the corners of your eyes.
“There you go, sweet thing. Keep fucking yourself on my big dick. You’re starting to drool.” Her large hand sweeps away drool trailing down the side of your mouth.
You can only nod, pupils wide, your eyes heavy-lidded but trained on Sevika. You hang on to her every grunt, every micro expression.
She starts to pump her hips to match your rhythm, brutal in a way that borders on overwhelming. It's divine how she pushes you to the edge of your senses. You can see the way she’s falling apart watching you; the toy must be pressing just right on her clit. She looks so pretty when her face scrunches up in pleasure, thick brows furrowed.
She grips your hips and fucks you harder somehow. Her breathing stutters, and she manages to utter, “I’m close, come with me.”
You have no choice, the sweet pressure snaps and you cum so hard you see stars. You’re nothing but a messy hole in Sevika’s arms as she fucks you through it, moaning and whining all the while as her orgasm rolls through her.
a/n: Second entry done, this was a fun one to write. Thank you all for the love on the Masterlist! Go check out @violetskylights0 for tomorrow's Vi praise kink masterpiece ♡
Warning: 18+, gn reader, clothed dry humping, english isn't my first language
A/n: I'm a little late but as an excuse I was at a convention today so I wasn't home to post bur here is day 5 and I hope you guys love Viktor as much as I do
The lab was half-dark, Viktor stood at his desk, sleeves rolled, hands white from chalk, his hair slightly messy from a long night. He hadn’t heard you come in until your reflection appeared in the glass beside him, your quiet footsteps halting just behind him, the faint scent of soap and the outside air the only thing cutting through the metallic warmth of the room.
He looked up, tired and lovely, eyes catching yours. “You should be asleep” he murmured, voice soft but also filled with the exhaustion that always lived there.
You smiled. “So should you.”
A pause. The way his mouth quirked, the shy, almost guilty twitch of a man who both wanted and feared to be wanted. You reached for him, fingers brushing the sleeve of his shirt. That single touch set something loose, he exhaled sharply, hand catching your wrist as though to steady himself.
And then the silence folded around the two of you. His thumb stroked the inside of your wrist once, twice, slow and thoughtful, before his gaze drifted to your mouth.
He leaned in first. The kiss was tentative at the start, uncertain, his lips soft but hesitant. When you responded, pressing back with certainty, his composure cracked. He made a quiet, needy noise “mmh”and pulled you closer by the waist, the movement sudden, instinctual. His hands joining together at the small of your back, holding you cloose to him.
Your bodies fitted together though there were layers of fabric between you, but it didn’t matter. His breath hitched as you tilted your head, deepening the kiss. His mouth moved with a goal, tongue brushing yours in a rhythm that grew hungrier by the second. His cane clattered softly against the worktable as he shifted to brace himself, free hand gripping your hip.
You felt him, hard already, pressed against you through his slacks. He tried to ignore it at first, the way his hips subtly sought contact, but his breath betrayed him. “Ah—p-please…” he whispered against your mouth, a half-plea, his accent thicker now, a r tremor in his voice as he tried to restrain himself.
You didn’t stop. Your hands slid up the back of his neck, tangling in his hair, pulling him close to you again. The kiss turned messy, wet, open-mouthed, all tongue and teeth. He groaned quietly, a trembling “nnnh” and his hips rocked forward, like on instinct, catching against you with friction that made both of you gasp.
It started small, a drag, just once, his hardness nudging against your lower body through the fabric. The heat that spread there was immediate, almost dizzying. You could feel the pulse of him even through the clothes, and Viktor’s control began to slip.
He pressed his forehead to yours, breathing fast. “We—should not…” he managed, but the rest died in a shudder as you rolled your hips back against him. The rough texture of his trousers met the soft give of your clothes, a cruel, perfect friction that made you both gasp again.
His hand shot up to your waist, steadying you. “God…” he hissed, the word like a prayer. His hand tightened just enough to make you whimper.
You kissed him again, silencing whatever apology he’d been about to make. His hips found yours now with purpose, slow at first, cautious, then deeper, pressing, until every motion made the air between you heat up. Each grind could be heard from the layers of fabric rubbing against each other.
“Mmmnh—ah—” your breath hitched as he rocked against you harder, his bulge dragging over the seam of your clothes, doing it in such a way that made your knees weak. He let out a ragged and low “Hhh—yes—” muffled into your neck as his lips found the skin just under your jaw.
The friction grew faster, more desperate. His movements lost their rhythm, his body betraying his restraint. You could feel every twitch, every tremor, his hips stuttering as his breath became uneven. The sound of it filled the room, the rubbing of fabric, your shared gasps, his small, helpless noises “ah…nnnh…takhle, takhle…” words just dissolving into breath.
You tugged at his shirt, wanting more, wanting skin, but he caught your hand, shaking his head faintly, eyes half-lidded but burning. “No, stay—like this,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “We shouldn't do this right now.”
He changed positions making your hips hit the edge of his desk. Papers scattered, a pen rolled away. He braced one hand beside you, the other gripping your thigh through your clothes, guiding you in rhythm with him. The angle let him press fully against your center, and when he rolled his hips again, you both gasped loud enough that it echoed.
“Ah—hahh—Viktor…”
The sound of your voice saying his name broke him. He thrust harder now, ragged, his breath shuddering with each motion. The hand on your thigh clenched, just shy of painful, grounding himself.
Every grind became wetter, soaking through layers, the slick friction making the contact unbearably good. You could feel yourself throbbing, the thin fabric sticking to your skin, his hardness sliding against it in a rough perfect rhythm. His lips found yours again, sloppy, desperate, murmuring against your mouth: “Feels—so good, I can—ahh—”
You swallowed his moan with your kiss, rolling your hips to match him. The desk creaked under your weight. His breath grew harsher, faster, each exhale heat against your cheek. You could hear the faint, rhythmic sound of your bodies moving together, shk—shk—shk, the rustle of clothes wet with sweat and other liquids.
Viktor’s voice came in broken gasps. “You—drive me insane—” His head fell to your shoulder, teeth catching the fabric there as he groaned, deep and trembling. His hips jerked, losing pattern entirely as the pleasure built. You felt the tremor through him, his entire frame shaking with the effort not to let go too soon.
You reached up, fingers cupping his jaw, tilting his face back up. His eyes, half-lidded, glassy with need, met yours. “Let go” you whispered, and that was all it took.
He moaned, a low, guttural sound, nghhh, and ground himself against you hard, once, twice, again. His body went rigid, breath catching as he came, the heat flooding through even the layers between you. You could feel it, the way his body shook, the way his legs shook as he gasped against your neck. His hand stayed at your waist, holding you there through the aftershocks, every breath a soft, trembling exhale.
He stayed pressed to you for a long moment, panting softly, his forehead resting on your shoulder. Mechanical hum was the only thing that filled the silence again.
Finally, he lifted his head, eyes still unfocused but warm. “You are… dangerous” he murmured, and let out a breathy. His lips found your cheek, then your temple, gentle again, reverent. “And I am… utterly powerless to you.”
You smiled, brushing your fingers through his hair, feeling his heartbeat slow under your palm. He leaned into the touch, sighing softly, as if the world itself had finally stilled.
The two of you stood there pressed together, the air still thick with heat, and Viktor simply whispered, “Next time… I want to feel nothing between us.”
you're trying to get through your shift at the bar while battling a cold. vi notices...and decides to help.
prompt: “I don’t think that’s exactly hygienic.”
tags: bartender reader, pitfighter vi, fem reader, sickfic (900 words)
The music in the bar is head-achingly loud, every throb of the bass ricocheting straight through your skull. You wish you’d thought to bring some painkillers with you tonight, but your head had been far too foggy when you woke up to think that far ahead.
All you’d known then was that everything hurt – your throat, your head, every aching joint in your body – and that you wanted nothing more than to curl back up in bed and stay there for the rest of the night.
But you have rent to pay. And you know if you miss a shift, you’ll be out of a job faster than you can blink. Such are the joys of having a boss who doesn’t believe in things like sick days.
So here you are, grinding through an eight-hour shift behind the bar while feeling like you’re halfway to death.
“Hey, princess.”
The low, familiar voice cuts through the noise, and you turn to find Vi leaning against the counter, watching you with that usual crooked smirk.
She looks like she’s just come from one of her nightly fights. There’s a bruise blooming beneath her left eye, her lip split and crusted with dried blood, and black paint still streaked across her face from the pit. Still, she looks solid and unbothered. Very Vi.
“Hey, you,” you say, aiming for flirtatious. It comes out rough and hoarse instead.
Vi’s smile fades almost immediately. Her ice-blue eyes sharpen as she tilts her head, studying you while you pour a couple of vodka shots.
“You feelin’ okay, sweetness?” she asks. “You don’t sound too hot.”
Of course that’s the exact moment you have to duck away, sneezing several times into your elbow, as if to prove her point. You sigh, finish the drinks, and slide them down the bar before turning back to her.
“I’m working,” you say, like that explains everything.
Vi raises an eyebrow. “A bartender with a head cold, huh? Doesn’t sound real hygienic.”
You shoot her an unamused look. “Yeah, well. Some of us have bills to pay and an asshole for a boss.” You shrug. “Is what it is.”
You cough again, then clear your throat. “What can I get you, Vi?”
She doesn’t answer right away. Her gaze lingers on you, heavier than usual. Vi’s normally all teasing and swagger when she drops by after fights, the two of you dancing around something casual and unspoken. But she’s never looked at you like this before.
“How much longer you got on your shift?” she asks instead. “You look beat, sweetheart.”
You sigh again, followed by another cough. “A few more hours.”
Someone farther down the bar slams a hand on the counter. “Barmaid!”
You roll your eyes. “Sorry. Duty calls.”
As you head down the bar to take the man’s order, you can feel Vi’s eyes on you the whole way.
It’s several busy minutes of filling orders before you manage to make it back to Vi’s side of the bar. Without waiting for her to ask, you pour her usual whiskey and slide it across the counter. She nods in thanks, but doesn’t take a sip.
“You need anything?” Vi asks, her voice quieter now. Softer. “Anything I can do to help?”
Your pulse does a strange little jump. This is more concern than you can ever remember Vi showing you.
“I’ll be fine,” you say, even though your feet ache, your head is pounding, and all you really want is to sit down. “Not the first time I’ve worked a shift while sick.”
Vi’s frown deepens. She finally downs the glass of whiskey in one swallow, jaw tightening, but she doesn’t say anything.
You get called away again. When you turn back around a few minutes later, Vi’s seat at the bar is empty. Your heart sinks before you can stop it. You thought she might stick around a little longer, seeing as how she seemed concerned and you aren’t feeling well, but you also know Vi. She's not exactly known for her steadiness. She has her own demons she's fighting, and you don't hold it against her. Everyone in Zaun is just trying to make it through each day, yourself included.
So you throw yourself back into work. You take orders, pour drinks, and wipe down the bar. The routine is automatic, muscle memory carrying you through as your symptoms slowly creep worse.
It takes you a moment to realize Vi’s back. You only notice when you look up and meet that familiar blue gaze watching you from across the counter.
“Brought you a few things, princess,” Vi says, sliding a small paper bag toward you as you approach.
You peer inside. A box of ultra-soft tissues, cough drops, and, blessedly, a bottle of painkillers.
Your stomach does another funny little flip. “Thanks,” you say, a little thrown. “You really didn’t have to do all this.”
Vi shrugs one shoulder, smirking. “I like to play knight in shining armor every once in a while.”
You roll your eyes, chuckling. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head.”
She grins back at you. “Take your meds, princess.” Then she laughs when you suddenly sneeze. “And I think you might wanna use those tissues, too.”
“I owe you one,” you say, already twisting open the bottle and shaking a couple pills into your palm. “Seriously. You’re a lifesaver.”
Vi's cheeks pinken up a little at that, the effect honestly adorable.
“Don’t mention it,” she mutters, eyes still fixed on you. “Just…feel better.”
And as you continue your shift, with painkillers dulling the ache in your head, cough drops soothing your throat, and tissues ready whenever you need them, you realize something.
You do feel better.
And maybe there’s more between you and Vi than you ever let yourself believe.
May I pretty please request some headconons for yandere Caitlyn(Arcane) with a darling who manadged to escape and started a new life far with somebody else?
-ty 4 reading my request
Yandere!Caitlyn with darling who escaped hcs
Caitlyn never believed you left her in her mind, you were taken
Manipulated
Confused
“Saved” by someone who doesn’t understand you the way she does
When you disappeared, she didn’t spiral outward
She went quiet
Focused
In her mind you weren’t gone, you were just missing
She keeps your file separate from everything else
Caitlyn doesn’t rage at the thought of you with someone else - she feels offended
When she finally does, she doesn’t confront you right away
She watches
Learns your routines
She tells herself you’re pretending
That you’re surviving
She never speaks badly about them aloud and instead, she collects evidence of their flaws
Financial instability
Emotional gaps
Anything she can justify
When she finally approaches you, it’s accidental
“Oh. I was hoping it was you.”
She looks relieved more than angry
If you’re afraid, it hurts her deeply
She doesn’t understand why you should be
Caitlyn frames herself as the only constant in your chaos
The one person who never left
If you tell her that you’re happy now she just pauses and studies you before saying:
“You aren’t meant to be.”
She believes happiness with anyone else is a misunderstanding
She will help you if something goes wrong, anonymously at first
Fixing problems before your partner even notices
She wants you dependent on her again before she ever asks you to leave them
When she finally does ask, it’s calm
Soft
“Come home. You’re exhausted.”
If you refuse, she doesn’t snap
She looks disappointed - like you failed a test you didn’t know you were taking
In her mind, this isn’t obsession
It’s duty.
And no matter how far you ran, she always knew one thing:
Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help
Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written and GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know.
··········· • ············ •
There was a second. Less than a second before Ekko's time flowed again. In that, second before Jayce and Viktor vanished into nothingness, before time turned in your favor. In that second you felt your mind separate from your body, your consciousness being bent into a spiraling corridor of Hextech, your soul being erased and repainted with the runes you studied. And then…white…a flash of nothingness and the ticking sound of a clock and in a blink of an eye you jolted awake.
The impact with something cold and hard took the breath out of you, feeling it hit right below the diaphragm. You kept sliding down something until you woke up enough to figure out where you were and how fast gravity was working against you.
You quickly figure out where you were: the Hexgate rooftop. The place you had been standing a second ago, looking at a white construct plucking all your memories away, now a dark slide with a not-so-fun ending. You cured under your breath, your hands finding anything they could grab and stop the swift descent. Finally, your fingers clawed at a sill and you haphazardly stopped your death by floor.
With two big puffs of air, you managed to pull yourself up the ledge and immediately fall on your back, when you figured the ground was straight. You could feel your lungs explode with cold air, the tears you had before drying out in the night air.
You frowned. Night air? Something snapped in your brain and straightened your back, sitting on your small perch. It was broad daylight … The flood of memories and images hit you all at once, and you felt all of them all at once. You felt your brain split open and be sewn back together. Jayce, Viktor, your two friends, broken and made whole again. The hextech, the hex core, and its idea of a hive mind world. Mel, a force of nature finally found what she was truly made of, marble and gold. Caitlyn and Vi, the backbone of the enforcers. You, a high society figure tangled in the science you patronized, turned fighter for Piltover's survival.
You heard the chaos of the last hour in your mind, the screams, the clinking of swords and blasts of guns. The smell of blood, fear, and magic.
You felt it all until…you didn’t. And it all became quiet. The silent whisper of the wind on your face and the normal sound of a city under your feet.
You got up on unsteady feet, realizing you were still wearing your makeshift enforcer armor. You looked around, seeing the skyline of the city, bathed in an orange moonlight, until you reached the Academy’s dome. A silent gasp came out of your mouth.
It was still intact.
The gasp turned to frown and the hope to realization. You took a step back as you watched the red moon reflected on the glass pane.
It was still intact, but not for long.
You remembered Jayce talking about how he got to go to a different time, an alternate universe. A divergence in reality that sent him somewhere. His description was dire, filled with what he called ‘Hex Angels’ coming after him. But this seemed like your world, your time. Before Jinx attacked the council.
Before Jayce placed Viktor in the hextech bath, turning him into the Herald.
You had one chance. One impossible chance.
The urgency of needing to get to council chambers hit you like a brick and you started to try and make your way inside the hexgate. Find an enforcer, tell them to get you into the chamber, and warn the councilors of the attack. If it would be easy, you were a well-known face in Piltover. Your father was a respected figure, an old councilman, only giving up his seat when your mother died 20 years ago. Getting into that chamber would be easier than getting down from this rooftop.
Which you managed with surprising ease, thanking Caitlyn for showing you the many ventilation entryways where the enemies could try and get inside.
And your feet hit the metallic floor of a walkway you ran as fast you could to any place you deemed safe to jump down. It seemed like a never-ending spiral that was clawing into your anxiety. But when you were about to scream you found yourself face to face with a door with a sign “Maintenance. Do not open it if Hexgate is hot.”
You gave it a few tugs. Nothing. You groaned and started pounding on it, until you saw an enforcer come to the door, frowning.
He opened the door, a hand on the handle, another on his electric baton.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?”
You frowned at the first question but answered it. His eyes looked nonplussed and you frowned deeper. You hated to pull this card but you didn’t know how much time you had.
“Do you not know who I am?” Your voice echoes through the tube.
“I don’t care who you are! You are trespassing on government grounds” He grabbed your forearm and roughly pushed you into a small corridor. “How did you even get in there?” He mumbled to himself, losing the door.
“Doesn’t matter. I need to get to the council chamber.” You blurted out, knowing by his demeanor it was futile.
“Pal, you're going straight to HQ to answer how you got into a place with only three guarded doors, and why.”
He once more grabbed your elbow and dragged you away from the metal door towards a minuscule industrial elevator. With his free hand, he grabbed the key ring around his belt and unlocked it. It was beautifully crafted, as was everything in Piltover, but the cramped space and your shoulder pauldron made it difficult for both of you to get inside at the same time.
You looked at the Enforcer, while he was trying to figure out if going down the thousands and thousands of stairs was worth it. The stairs were barely used, placed there by an overzealous engineer and much like the door to the elevator, it was locked.
“I’m sorry…” you whispered to the guy and when he turned you did your best Vi impression and head-butted him, leaving him hurting and confused. You quickly snatched the keys from him and rushed to the stairs.
“Stop!” You heard him mumble, trying to regain his balance.
Yanking the door open you rushed down the stairs, jumping whole sets of stairs at a time, using the walls as a concrete cushion to break your descent. You kept jumping and running and colliding with the walls, begging that the ground floor appeared soon.
The last landing was below you and you saw four enforcers open the door below you and rushed in, looking up and spotting you. You couldn’t take them all.
Before you could do anything you felt something shift. Similar to when someone stretched after a good nap, but it was in the air around you. Not the air you realized, the reality around you awakened. It whispered something unintelligible, but you heard it even above the guards shouting at you. A faint piano note followed and right in front of you a rune appeared. Like a pattern on a broken mirror.
A magical rune, you remembered talking with Jayce and Viktor about it.
The officers were approaching and without thinking you inscribed the rune with your foot on the dusty floor of the stairwell. Once made you waited. The guards stopped for a moment looking confused. Nothing happened.
A conversation between you and your father flashed in your head. You had finished practicing a piece on the piano, your father, ever the willing audience sat with a frown on his face.
“What's wrong?” you asked, turning to him and he shook his head.
“Is it supposed to be a happy song?” He asked and you shook your head.
“No, it’s a requiem, but I didn’t feel like playing a sad song, so I changed the note.”
Your father smiled sadly and got up from his armchair.
“My dear child, if a song is intended to be sad, then it must be played as such. That was its intended purpose.” He placed a hand on your shoulder “You are only a tool to bring that song to life, your aim should be to bring it to life.”
Intention. You’re a tool with a purpose. You nodded and took a deep breath. Looking up at the enforcers you thought about what the objective of your plan was. Leave. Move from here. And then, you stomped your boot to the ground and a wave of air burst from it. Like a gust of powerful wind, knocking the enforcers down.
You looked at the groaning bodies on the floor, your chest heaving in deep breaths. For a second you were frozen to the ground, until the clanking of metal armor and footfalls snapped you out of it.
“I’m so sorry…” You whispered to the guards on the ground and ran outside the hexgate, shoving whoever stepped in your path out of the way.
You relied on your muscle memory of Pilltover to get you to the University where the Council of Clans was to be taking place. You managed to lose most of the enforcers by swerving into the building’s back alleys, stopping only by a garbage chute to dispose of the outer layer of armor you still had on, leaving you with a simple pair of blue pants and a tank top.
Arriving at the University steps you slowed down and walked confidently towards the enforcers at the door, hoping they had not been warned about your encounter at the Hexgated and that they knew about who you were. The last part was quickly dismantled as they stepped towards you with a hand up.
“I am here for the Council meeting.” You announced, your tone showing the confidence you didn’t have, but that years of practice made second nature.
“Good evening. We are not expecting any visitors.” The enforcer replied, politely. “Please turn back and come back tomorrow with an appointment.”
“Councilwoman Mel Medarda is expecting me.” Your tone dripped with the impatience only a Topsider was known to have.
“I am truly sorry, but we are not expecting visitors. If any member of the Council was expecting you we would have been warned.” The other enforcer repeated and started towards you.
“This is astounding. How dare you stop me from an engagement with a Councillor? Preposterous. I will tell your supervisor about this…”
“As is your right. Now please turn around.”
You huffed and puffed, putting on a performance of a lifetime until you finished the rune you had learned minutes ago. Once that was done you turned to the enforcers and once again apologized, watching as they got knocked on their asses when you stomped the rune with your boot. It was enough for you to walk to them and grab another key ring for your collection.
Unlocking the side door of the main entrance you stepped inside while hearing shouting approaching from the outside. Time is running out. You looked at the marble steps and both you and your knees groaned. You took the steps two by two until you reached the second landing and then you found the main elevator. You had no time to wait for the thing to arrive nor to go to the last floor by the stairs.
Reality did the thing again and once more a rune whispered and showed itself as if it was a patch on the elbows of a jacket. There was no dust on the floor or walls, nothing for you to write the rune on.
All of a sudden you felt a burning sensation in your hand and looked at it. In your palm, a bright blue rune appeared, glowing in the darkened university hall. The bright light spread, filling your palm, your knuckles and your fingers. When you moved your hand to turn it and watch the light consume the rest of your extremities, you noticed your fingers were painting light into the air. You moved your fingers in a wave a small path of light painted the air in front of you, like a stroke of a brush on canvas.
Once again, the clanking of armor and shouting kicked you out of your stupor and you used your now weirdly illuminated hand. For a second today, the rune did nothing and once again you thought of the purpose you had. Reach the last floor.
Another voice flashed in your head. Vi’s shouts when you were on the hexgate, back…back there.
“Well…don’t just stand there…push forward…get them out!”
Push forward. Quickly you drew the rune in the air and just as Vi sometimes spoke with her fists, you did the same, punching the rune with enough force to push it towards its destination.
The elevator pinged and opened its double doors and you rushed inside. The elevator took off as fast as it could with its old gears but it was still quicker than the steps and by the quiet you were hearing, the enforcers were still finding a way up.
As soon as the elevator stopped you were darting towards the gigantic doors. Midway, you caught a glimpse of something shining through the sky through a window—the rocket. Jinx was going through the motions of pulling the trigger if she hadn’t pulled it already. If the rocket was already in the air, you had seconds to put a stop to the Herald’s ascension.
You swerved right, knowing the main doors would be guarded, but the side doors were usually…hopefully… left unattended. Never did a sigh of a door make you so happy. You grabbed the door handle. Locked.
Instinctively you made the gust of air rune in the air and punched it, the door rattled. You groaned loudly, your desperation evident. You painted the rune again but made it bigger. The door rattled again. If not size, then quantity. You made four runes on the ground, in a single line and stomped on it.
The door flew open and you ran inside, watching as everyone in the room fell silent. You hadn’t been inside the chamber when the rocket hit, but you knew that Mel’s shield had naturally appeared to protect her. Jayce, being so close to her, had been protected, but Viktor was a breath away from it.
Mel’s eyes snapped to you as you took several gulps of air. Looking at a smaller window in the chamber you saw a light fly towards the dome. You locked eyes with Viktor, sitting on a chair, his expression confused.
As you dashed towards him, Mel and Jayce, you were half tempted to use magic again, but when he reached for his cane you stopped that thought. You weren’t about to throw poor Viktor around, this was gonna hurt as it was.
A councilman got up in an attempt to stop you, but Vi and Caitlyn's training had paid off and you quickly skidded away. You were centimeters from Viktor when a blue glow bathed the chamber. Everyone’s face turned towards the domed ceiling. As everyone’s eyes were transfixed on the sky you grabbed Viktor's hand and pulled him to you as you rushed towards Mel. You heard the glass shattering as the rocket hit the target, the force of the impact enough to send you crashing to the ground, never letting go of the bony hand in yours. And then…blackness…
Due to popular demand, I made a part 2! Find part 1 here!
BFF!Sevika x Reader - Pining - Part 2
Summary: Sevika pushes you away to keep you safe. It only brings you closer.
Sevika has always known that being close to her comes with risk.
She just never thought it would look like this.
It happens fast. Too fast. One moment you are beside her, fingers brushing her wrist as you murmur something teasing under your breath, and the next there is shouting. Movement. A blur of bodies and intent.
Someone aiming for Sevika.
And missing.
You feel it before you understand it. The sharp impact to your side, the force of it knocking the air from your lungs. You stumble, barely catching yourself before you hit the ground.
Sevika’s name leaves your mouth on instinct.
She turns and sees you bent over, one arm wrapped around yourself, face pale in a way that makes something in her chest seize hard.
The world narrows.
Her hands are on you immediately, rough and shaking, scanning you with frantic precision. “Where,” she demands, voice low and dangerous. “Where are you hurt?”
“I’m okay,” you try to say. It comes out weak. “I just-”
She does not listen.
The person responsible is already backing away, suddenly aware they have made a mistake. Sevika barely registers them. Someone else will deal with that. Right now there is only you.
She gets you out of there fast. One arm braced solid around your waist, the other steadying your steps, her body a shield even after the danger has passed. You can feel her heart hammering through her chest where you are pressed against her.
Later, when the adrenaline fades, the bruise blooms dark and ugly along your ribs. A gift meant for her.
She sits beside you while you ice it, jaw tight, eyes fixed somewhere far away.
“This is my fault,” she says finally.
You shake your head. “Vika, no. I wasn’t the target. I just happened to be there. That doesn’t make it your fault.”
“That’s exactly the problem,” she replies, eyes downcast and an unmistakable tremor in her voice.
After that, she changes.
At first it is subtle. She walks a half step ahead of you. Positions herself between you and doorways. Keeps her hand hovering near your back without quite touching.
Then it gets worse.
She stops letting you come with her at all. Makes excuses. Shortens conversations. Keeps herself busy in ways that leave you on the edges of her life instead of at the center where you have quietly lived for months.
When you reach for her hand, she pretends not to notice.
When you lean into her space, she steps away.
It hurts in a way you cannot describe.
One night, you finally corner her in the kitchen. She is washing a glass that is already clean, shoulders rigid, expression closed off.
“Did I do something?” you ask softly.
She flinches like you struck her.
“No,” she says too quickly. Too rough. “Of course not.”
“Then why does it feel like you want nothing to do with me?”
Silence stretches. Heavy. Charged.
She turns away from you, gripping the edge of the counter like it is the only thing holding her upright. “Because when they aimed for me,” she says, voice tight, “you were the one who got hurt.”
You step closer. She does not move.
“I can’t do that to you again,” she continues. “I won’t.”
“So you’re just going to push me away?” you ask, hurt bleeding through despite your best effort. “Decide for me?”
She finally turns, eyes dark and raw. “I’m trying to keep you alive.”
“I’m not fragile,” you say.
Her laugh is hollow. “You shouldn’t have to be strong just to stand next to me.”
The words hit like a confession she never meant to make.
“I love you,” Sevika says suddenly, like the truth has forced its way out past her teeth. “And loving you makes you a target. I can’t live with that.”
Your breath catches.
“You think I don’t already know the risks?” you whisper. “You think I haven’t chosen this… you, anyway?”
She stares at you, stunned.
You step into her space this time, hands firm on her chest, grounding. Certain.
“I love you too, Sevika,” you say. “And I would rather be hurt beside you than safe without you.”
Her composure finally shatters.
She pulls you into her like she is afraid you will vanish if she does not, arms wrapping tight and protective, forehead pressed to yours. Her breath comes uneven, chest rising and falling against you.
“I was so scared,” she admits.
“I know,” you murmur, fingers threading into her hair. “But I’m still here.”
She stills when you say it.
Then her hands come up, slow this time, careful like she is relearning how to touch you. One settles at your waist. The other cups your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek in a way that makes your breath hitch.
“Don’t leave me,” she murmurs. It is not a command. It is a plea.
“I won’t,” you promise. “Not ever.”
She leans in like she is afraid of startling you, forehead resting against yours, breath warm where it mingles with yours. For a moment, she just stays there, eyes closed, steadying herself.
Then she kisses you.
It is tentative at first. Barely there. Like she is asking permission even now. Her lips are warm, soft in a way that surprises her, and when you kiss her back, when you lean into it without hesitation, something in her chest finally gives.
The kiss deepens, lingering, but shy. Warmth and longing blooming where fear used to live. Her hand tightens at your waist, grounding herself in the reality of you. Alive. Here. Choosing her.
She pulls back just enough to bury her face in your neck, breath uneven.
“I love you,” she says, quieter now. Steadier. Like something she means to keep saying.
You smile, thumb brushing the scar at her jaw. “I know.”
And for the first time, loving you does not feel like something she has to survive.
It feels like coming home.
For a moment after, Sevika just stays there, hands still on you like she is afraid to let go and realize this is real.
She exhales a quiet, disbelieving laugh under her breath. Shakes her head once, slow.
“I really did that,” she murmurs, more to herself than to you.
You smile, gentle, and brush your thumb along her cheek. “Yeah. You did.”
Her ears go faintly warm. She clears her throat, tries to look composed, but her grip on you tightens instead, like she has decided that pretending nothing has changed is no longer an option.
Then she leans in again.
This time the kiss is sure.
Still careful, still tender, but no longer hesitant. Her mouth fits against yours like she has finally stopped overthinking it, like she is letting instinct take over instead of fear. One hand slides up your back, firm and anchoring, pulling you closer until there is no space left to doubt.
When she pulls away, she rests her forehead against yours, eyes closed, breathing you in.
“Should’ve done that sooner,” she admits quietly.
You laugh, soft, and she smiles too, small and genuine, like it surprises her every time it happens.
Later, you end up on the couch together. You curl into her side like you always have. Except now she wraps her arm around you fully, no hesitation, palm warm against your shoulder. Cuddling you back.
She shifts once, then stills, clearly aware of every point of contact.
“You comfortable?” she asks.
“Yeah,” you say, already half asleep. “Are you?”
She nods, pressing her cheek to the top of your head. Her thumb traces slow, absent shapes against your arm, a habit she does not bother stopping anymore.
“I am,” she says. And for once, it is that simple.
You fall asleep like that, tangled together in the quiet of the apartment. Sevika stays awake for a while longer, staring at you in adoration and utter disbelief. Holding you like something so precious and delicate. Something she no longer intends to keep at a distance.
For the first time, she lets herself think that maybe love is not just something that hurts.
