Sweet Like Me
Sevika x Reader
Request by @prettyinpink69: Dumb reader x sevika. Reader has NO CLUE what she's doing and sevika is surprisingly really good at baking 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼
Summary: When a craving for your favorite childhood donut arrives, you ask Sevika to go grab some. Sevika says "We have donuts at home." Problem is, you don't know the first thing about baking.
Content: Domestic fluff, mild cursing, baking, and mild suggestiveness
Cross-posted to Ao3
Playlist used to write
It seems simple in theory. You’re just craving something a little sweet. Or maybe you just miss all the bakeries of Piltover. Either way, you’re flouncing into Sevika’s office, where she’s bent over and tinkering with her mechanical arm.
“Vika…” You hum, planting your chin on her shoulder.
She acknowledges you with an affectionate grunt, tilting her head to nudge yours while still primarily focused on her screwdriver.
You smile at her. “How do you feel about a trip into Pilt-”
“Not a chance,” She interrupts.
“...over,” you finish, and she doesn’t need to look up to know you’re already pouting at her.
She sighs and sets down the screwdriver, spinning her chair so she’s facing you.
“My next council meeting’s not until next week. What do you want from Piltover?”
You smile sheepishly at her, clasping your hands behind your back.
“Well…” You start hesitantly before the thoughts in your head spill out of your mouth, “There was this bakery on the corner near my house that had these incredible creme donuts, and- I just got this craving-...”
She huffs a small laugh, shaking her head, her dark lips quirking up into a small smile.
“You want to make a whole ass trip into Piltover… for some donuts?” She repeats, raising an eyebrow at you.
Your face scrunches briefly in thought before nodding resolutely.
“Well, my decision still stands. We’re not going into the city.” She stands, scooping her metal arm off the work desk and easily attaching it to her shoulder.
Before you have a chance to protest, she gently grasps your chin and continues. “But we don’t have to.”
Your brows furrow.
“Zaun isn’t exactly known for its baked goods,” you point out.
Sevika plants a chaste kiss on your forehead. “Doesn’t have to. We can make ‘em.”
She lets go and strides out of the room with the confidence only the head of Zaun could possess, leaving you scrambling after, suddenly rather nervous.
“We don’t- I mean- A trip to Piltover’s probably easier-” You splutter, ignoring the heat creeping up into your neck.
She ignores you tossing open cabinets, placing bowls, flour, sugar, and more supplies you can’t even name. Her mechanical arm makes a series of clanking noises and suddenly the hand is swapped out with a pair of whisks, spinning and whirring.
Well. Who’d’a thunk it. Big, strong, scary Councilor Sevika has portable baking attachments.
“Bullshit, donuts aren’t that hard,” She dismisses, finally turning and catching sight of your sheepish demeanor.
“You… do know how to bake… don’t you?”
You just smile apologetically and shrug.
“Growing up, we just… bought them…” you explain, cringing internally at the way it sounds. Like you’re just another spoiled Piltie who didn’t have to do anything for herself.
Sevika lets out a long-suffering sigh before waving you off. “Doesn’t matter. Like I said, it's not that hard. Grab the measuring cups from that drawer over there?”
You nod and diligently retrieve the tools, placing them on the counter. Sevika very carefully takes you through the process, step by step, saying things like Preheat the oven for just a few minutes to raise the dough and Don’t overmix, otherwise the texture will be completely off. You’d never say it to her face, but you know she’s treating you rather gently. It’s something you greatly appreciate.
After throwing a kitchen towel over the bowl of donut dough and placing it into the warm oven, you turn to Sevika, grinning. It’s soft, but she’s smiling at you, too. There’s a quiet pride in her dark eyes as she watches you, and the look makes your chest swell with warmth.
You dust flour off your hands. The kitchen’s a mess; you’re a mess. There's flour all over the counters, the floor, the bowls, Sevika's arm, your hands, arms and face. There's a new pile of dirty dishes in the sink. But neither of you really mind.
“Where’d you learn to bake so well?” You ask, moving over and leaning against her, resting your head against her chest.
Her chin presses against the top of your head and she slings her arm around your shoulders.
“My old man,” she explains. “Said we didn’t get the privilege of getting things handed to us, so we had to learn how to make things ourselves.”
Your face clouds with a little guilt, the doubt from earlier festering in your mind once again.
Sevika sighs, “I didn’t mean-”
“No, no, it’s alright,” You say, shaking your head, feeling your hair brushing against her chin, “I get it. I’m learning.”
She pulls her face back, tips your head up, and gives you a kiss. Her hand lowers to your hip and she smoothly flips you both, so your lower back presses against the edge of the counter.
You have an hour and a half of rise time to kill, after all.
~*~*~
It took a long time, and lots of lessons, but you did eventually get the hang of it, shadowing Sevika in the kitchen whenever you got the chance. And, when her birthday rolled around, you woke her up with possibly the messiest cake she’d ever seen.
She ate the entire thing in bed with you.
