Hiiii! Can You Do Arcane Women Having “I’m Not Better Than A Man” Moment?

money talks.

ghost. part i ┃ sevika x reader WC: 4.7K

ⓘ: i don't know jack about the 80s, the stock market, new york...just read some articles and surfed google maps. f it we ball ⚠︎: alcohol consumption, mild homophobia if you squint, mild misogyny, blood, psychological horror/thriller elements

A shaky exhale escapes your parted lips as you enter the office, the tense atmosphere of the bustling trading floor hitting you like a gust of wind. You remind yourself that you’re fine—you can do this. Sevika didn’t help you land this job just so that you could stand about and be a nervous wreck.

Tentatively, you navigate through the maze of desks, heels clicking against the scuffed vinyl flooring. Cackling laughter and a potent scent of tobacco infiltrates your senses, causing your nose to scrunch in disgust. The air is thick with bravado and smoke, punctuated by the piercing ring of phones and the rapid click of typewriter keys.

In the cramped lunchroom, clusters of coworkers lounge around battered tables, cigars drooping from their lips. You set your briefcase down and pour yourself a cup of coffee, grateful for the sharp aroma that cuts through the haze.

You can feel their eyes on you and hear the undercurrent of the shift in conversation. What had seemed to be a friendly chat regarding the current market faded as their voices dropped low and conspiratorial. Your lips press into a frown, unease growing once more at the initial hostility.

Suddenly, the chatter dims. You turn, mug in hand, and spot Sevika in the doorway.

You brighten, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Sev, hey.” the nickname slips out, almost naturally. 

Her lips upturn as she saunters over. “Hey, doll. You gettin’ settled in?” She leans against the counter, arms crossed.

You shrug, gesturing to your coffee. “Well, I just got here.”

She hums, studying your expression, attempting to gauge your emotions. “You nervous?” 

You nod, a little sheepish. “A bit… I’m still new to all this finance stuff.”

Sevika waves off your concern. “Nah, don’t worry. You’ll do great.” Her eyes flick to the men in the corner; they shrink under her gaze. She huffs, amused, then turns back to you.

“C’mon, I’ll show you where your desk is.”

You follow her past rows of nearly identical desks—laminated wood, each with a Quotron terminal and a heavy black phone. At the end of the row, she stops.

“This one’s yours,” she says, gesturing.

You set your briefcase on the desk, nerves prickling under your skin.

She lingers, sensing your unease. “Hey, look at me.”

You meet her eyes.

“You’re gonna do just fine, yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“Good.” She sighs as the energy in the room ramps up—shouts from the trading floor, the clatter of keys, the low thrum of ambition. “Listen, I’m pretty swamped today, but if you need anything, just ask. My desk is up front.” She points across the room.

“Thanks, Sevika.” Her hand is reassuring on your arm for a moment, the softness in her gaze reserved just for you. Then she straightens, her expression hardening as she strides away, leaving you to settle in.

You lower yourself into the chair, the worn leather creaking softly beneath your weight. The faint scent of polished wood and stale cigarette smoke lingers in the air around you. With a small, tentative smile, you unzip your briefcase and pull out a stack of files, a thick phone book dog-eared from use, and a few personal trinkets.

Carefully, you arrange the little objects—a faded photograph, a small figurine, a lucky charm—on the bland laminate surface of your desk. They stand out against the sea of beige and gray, providing you with a sense of individuality.

The soft hum of the Quotron terminal buzzes nearby, and somewhere in the distance, the acute ring of a phone cuts through the murmur of voices. You glance around the room, feeling the weight of the day settle in your chest, but for a moment, your little corner feels like your own.

You jump straight into work, taking calls from clients and offering trading advice with as much confidence as you could muster. You scribble notes on a legal pad, flipping through your phone book for client numbers, the plastic receiver pressed tight to your ear.

As the afternoon sun slants through the grimy windows, casting golden rectangles across the scuffed floor, the office door bangs open. A man in a striped suit strides in, cell phone pressed to his ear—one of those chunky Motorola flip phones, the kind only the higher-ups can afford.

He dumps his briefcase on the floor, shrugs off his jacket, and slings it over the back of the chair beside yours.

“Honey, listen, we just can’t afford any more of these shopping sprees,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, yeah, I know it’s from the catalogues, but those prices add up.” He glances at you, rolls his eyes theatrically. “Listen, hun, once I get my check on Friday, we can go out and shop, how’s that sound? Yeah, okay. Love you too, sweetheart.” He snaps the phone shut, finally giving you his full attention.

His gaze lands on your desk, lingering on the faded photo of you and Sevika. There’s a flicker of something—judgment, maybe amusement—in his eyes.

“Ah, you’re the new girl,” he says, voice flat as a subway announcement.

You offer a polite smile, extending your hand. “Yes, my name is—”

He cuts you off, waving a dismissive hand. “Yeah, yeah, no need for that. Just try not to screw up, alright? Boss’ll have our heads if we lose another client.” He pushes up his rectangular glasses, already dialing the phone on his desk. The rotary clicks echo in the small space.

Your smile falters, but you nod and turn back to your work, jotting down a note about a client’s position in AT&T. The hours blur together—you grow accustomed to calls, quotes, and the constant drone of voices that filtered through the space.

Eventually, your neighbour swivels in his chair, eyeing you over the rim of his glasses.

“So, you from Manhattan?” he asks, one eyebrow arched.

You shake your head. “Oh, no, I’m from Brooklyn.”

He lets out a low whistle, spinning a pen between his fingers. “Brooklyn, huh? Don’t sound like it. You lose the accent or somethin’?”

You start to explain, but he barrels on. “So, how the hell do you know Sevika?” He leans in, curiosity piqued.

“Oh, uh, we met a few years back and—”

He waves you off. “Yeah, yeah, good for you. So, you two, what, friends?”

You frown, but he keeps going. “I mean, Christ, she’s pretty intense, eh? Knows a whole lotta shit.”

You nod. “Yeah, she’s sharp. Real sharp.”

He cackles, slapping his knee. “Sharp? That woman could run this place if she wanted. Knows more than the damn manager, I swear.”

You laugh, a little awkward. “Sounds like Sevika.”

He leans back, propping his feet on the edge of his desk. “You drink, little missy?”

You hesitate. “Sometimes…?”

He grins, wide and wolfish. “You should come out with us tonight. Bunch of us are hittin’ up somewhere in Tribeca, a real swanky joint. First round’s on me.”

You hesitate, but he waves a hand. “Eh, don’t gimme that look. Think of it as celebrating your first day. Besides, you gotta learn how to unwind in this business, or you’ll burn out before your first bonus.”

You manage a small, grateful smile. Though it carries a hint of disquiet. “Yeah, okay. Sounds fun.”

The day rolls on. Your phone rings again, and you pick up, pressing the receiver to your ear.

“Williams & Co., this is—” you begin, but the voice on the other end is clipped, commanding.

“This is Jerry Williams. I wanted to go over my holdings in Johnson & Johnson and see what you think about the market this week. I heard there’s talk of a rate hike—should I be worried?”

You flip through your notes, recalling Sevika’s advice: always keep your cool, never let them hear you sweat. “Mr. Williams, there’s been hints at a rate increase, but the Street’s already priced most of that in. J&J’s fundamentals are still strong—steady dividend, solid earnings. If you’re looking for growth, we could discuss reallocating a portion, but I’d recommend holding for now.”

There’s a pause. You hear a woman’s voice in the background—biting, impatient.

“Give it here, Jerry, let me speak to the girl.”

The phone’s coiled cord digs into your palm as you grip the receiver, and Mrs. Williams’ voice shrills in your ear. The Quotron terminal on your desk flickers with green numbers, but you can barely focus on the shifting prices. Sweat beads at your temple, and you fumble for a pen, nearly knocking over a stack of trade tickets.

“I—I understand, Mrs. Williams, but—”

Her tirade cuts you off. Around you, the office hums with the clatter of keys and the low drone of a dozen other calls. You catch a few sidelong glances from your coworkers—some amused, some pitying.

Just as you open your mouth to respond, a gentle tap on your shoulder pulls you back. Sevika stands over you, her gaze steady, her presence a sudden anchor in the chaos.

“What’s goin’ on, doll?” she asks, her voice low enough that only you can hear.

You cover the mouthpiece, voice trembling. “It’s the Williamses. I think I messed up, and they’re… not happy.”

She squeezes your shoulder—her hand cool, the pressure oddly reassuring. “Easy, doll. Let me talk to them.”

You hand her the phone, your fingers shaking. Sevika leans in, her eyes flicking to the Quotron screen, then back to the call. She speaks with practiced ease, referencing last week’s market dip and the Williamses’ recent portfolio gains, weaving in a mention of Jerry’s fishing trip. The tension in Mrs. Williams’ voice softens, and after a few minutes, Sevika ends the call with a warm, “You take care now—tell Jerry I want to see those photos.”

She hangs up, sighs, and turns to you. You start to stammer an apology, but she cuts you off with a gentle touch, her thumb brushing your cheek. “It’s all good now, dolly. They won’t speak to you like that again.”

For a moment, you lean into her touch, the noise of the office fading. Then she pulls away, her expression hardening as she glares at your onlookers, sending them back to their work.

A shaky exhale escapes your lips—It’s as if she knew exactly what Mrs. Williams needed to hear before the words were even spoken—you think to yourself, your hand gingerly coming up to touch the spot she had caressed. Her hand was cool, almost unnaturally so, but a piercing ring shatters the silence and derails your train of thought.

Reluctantly, you answer the phone, effectively silencing any rattled sentiments that lingered. And most importantly, the butterflies that flew around in your stomach.

The day wears on without any more confrontations. When the clock finally hits five, the office erupts into motion—phones slammed down, jackets shrugged on, and the stale scent of tobacco growing sharper as people pack up. Matt, the man at the next desk, glances over at you with a crooked grin.

“Ready to head out, missy?” he asks, already gathering his things. A few other guys from the bullpen wander over, slapping each other on the back, the energy shifting from cutthroat to casual.

“Yep, just gotta—” you start, but Matt’s already calling across the room.

“Hey, Sevika, you joinin’ us tonight?”

Your gaze flicks to Sevika. She looks tired, her eyes shadowed from a long day, but she scoffs as she slips on her suit jacket, rolling her shoulders.

“Hell no, I’m not goin’ to no damn bar with you fools,” she shoots back, her tone dry but not unkind.

Your expression falters, and she catches it, one brow arching in your direction.

“You goin’ out, doll?” she asks, her voice softer for you.

You nod, trying to sound casual. “Yeah… I mean, might as well.”

Sevika sighs, running a hand through her hair. She glances at Matt, then back at you, then back at Matt. “Fine. But I’m not babysitting when you idiots start doing shots and tryin’ to outdrink each other.”

The guys just cackle, clearly pleased Sevika’s coming along. Her presence shifts the dynamic—You can tell she’s respected, maybe even a little feared, and the men tone down their jokes just a notch.

As you all head for the elevators, the chatter turns to which bar to hit—somewhere downtown, maybe. The city outside is just waking up for the night, neon flickering in the dusk.

The guys and Sevika pile into the elevator, still bickering over which bar to hit first. The cramped space fills quickly, and you hesitate at the threshold, eyes flicking to the crowded interior.

“Oh, uh… I’ll just wait for the next one,” you murmur, stepping back.

Before you can move, Matt’s hand shoots out, gripping your arm firmly. You stumble forward with a soft “oof” as you bump into Sevika. Her prosthetic arm snakes around your back, steadying you.

“Easy,” she gruffs, shooting Matt a sharp glare—one that lingers a beat longer than necessary.

Matt just shrugs, unfazed, as the elevator doors slide shut. The air inside is heavy with the scent of cheap cologne and aftershave, mixed with the faint trace of tobacco smoke. The elevator hums softly, the mechanical whirring punctuated by the occasional muttered argument over which floor to select first.

You shift slightly, trying to make yourself as small as possible, standing close to Sevika, whose presence feels like a shield in the crowded space. Her eyes remain fixed straight ahead, expression unreadable but tense.

Matt leans against the wall near the buttons, grinning. “C’mon, doll, don’t be shy. You’re one of us now.”

Sevika’s jaw ticks, her voice low and flat. “Watch it, Matt,” she says, not taking her eyes off the elevator doors. “That’s not your word.”

Matt simply cackles in response, leaning against the wall with crossed arms. “You call everyone ‘doll’, or just the ones out of your league.”

Sevikas' eyes narrow, and she scoffs. “Don’t,” she warns. The simple one-word response still isn’t enough to shut him up as he presses on.

“C’mon, don’t be a bitch, I'm just—”

“Keep it up and you’ll find out real quick why I'm the only one who gets to say it.”

Matt’s laughter falters as Sevika fixes him with a look that brooks no argument. The space seems to shrink around them, the rest of the group falling silent as her words hang in the air. The elevator lurches downward, and you swallow hard, caught between the buzz of the group and the quiet weight of Sevika’s steadying touch.

You step out onto the street, the clean scent of rain washing away the office’s stale air. The elevator chatter has faded, but Sevika’s earlier sharpness still lingers, hanging awkwardly between the group. You clear your throat, trying to break the tension. “Uhm… have we decided where we’re going?” you ask, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Matt shrugs, glancing at the others, then at Sevika, then back to you. “Dunno yet. Was thinkin’ Tribeca, but the boys had another idea.” He flicks open a pack of cigarettes, lighting one with practiced ease.

Chris takes a long drag from his own cigarette, exhaling a thin plume of smoke. “Well, I was thinkin’ we hit up King Cole.”

Your eyes widen just a bit. “Isn’t that place super expensive?” you ask, reluctance clear in your tone.

Chris grins, nudging you. “Yeah, but c’mon, it’s the King Cole. Place is a classic—old-school New York, you know? You ever seen that mural behind the bar? Things’ worth more than my apartment. Besides, first round’s on Matt.”

Matt snorts. “Not if we’re going there. But hey, I don't see why Sevika couldn’t help cover a round. For her dolly, of course"

Sevika’s eyes narrow, her tone sharp but cool. “Don’t worry about my ‘dolly,’ Matt. I’m not letting you stick her with a thirty-dollar martini just so you can play big shot.” She flicks her gaze to you, voice softening. “You want to see the mural, we’ll see the mural. I’ll pay for you.”

You hesitate, starting to protest, “Oh, well, we don’t have to—”

Chris cuts you off with a grin, “Then it’s settled, let’s go.” He strides toward his car, the others following.

You huff softly and glance at Sevika, who just rolls her eyes. “C’mon, doll, ride with me,” she says, her voice low but firm.

You nod, falling in step beside her as you both head to her vehicle. The sun sets behind the city skyline, casting a warm glow over the flashy lights that begin to flicker on around you.

The silence between you is thick until Sevika’s voice cuts through like a knife. “How was your first day?”

You rub the back of your neck, laughing awkwardly. “Uhm, it was alright... besides getting cussed out by Mrs. Williams.” Your eyes meet hers, her appearance illuminated by the sundown. “Don’t beat yourself up, doll.”

You start to protest, “Yeah, but—”

“Doll,” Sevika interrupts gently, her eyes locking with yours for a moment before returning to the road. “Mr. and Mrs. Williams own the company. They’re very picky about who helps manage their money, among other things.”

Your eyes widen at the blatant realization, a flush of embarrassment creeping in. “I—she was really mad, Sev... I must’ve messed up.”

Sevika shakes her head, hand moving to brush lightly against your knee, steadying the wheel with her prosthetic. Her cool fingers trace a fleeting path across your upper thigh, sending a shiver through you.

“You didn’t. You did just fine. Besides, you heard me—I handled it.”

You bite your lip. “Yeah, but I should’ve handled it myself.”

She sighs softly. “It was your first day, doll. Just… forget about it for now, yeah? We’re almost at the bar.” Her hand squeezes the plush of your thigh gently—a quiet reassurance, though you’re not sure if you feel comforted or rattled by such contact.

Upon arriving at the Bar, Sevika keeps her hand firmly on your lower back, guiding you through the plethora of well-dressed patrons spilling onto the sidewalk. The polished wood-paneled room hums with conversation, jazz floating beneath the clink of glassware. The famous mural presides over the bar, its vibrant colors and enigmatic smiles catching the light as you pass beneath the king’s gaze

Your coworkers have already claimed a table tucked into a corner, half-hidden from the main crowd. Matt waves you over, a smirk plastered on his face. You and Sevika make your way through the maze of cocktail tables, her touch a quiet anchor until you both sit. She keeps her arm around you for a moment longer, her thumb tracing slow circles on your back before she pulls away to flag down a server.

Matt and Chris immediately start in on you, tossing out drink suggestions—Chris pushes for the bar’s signature cocktail, while Matt insists you try something “with a kick.” You glance at Sevika, trusting her judgment. “I’ll have what she’s having,” you say, and she gives you a small, approving nod before ordering for you both.

As the evening wears on, the table grows louder, laughter and stories tumbling out with each round. Matt and Chris become increasingly animated, their cheeks flushed, voices rising above the commotion. Even you feel the alcohol begin to warm your body, eyes glossing over ever so slightly. Sevika, in contrast, remains composed, her glass barely touched. She watches the group with a steady, discerning gaze, always keeping you within arm’s reach.

At one point, Chris leans in a little too close, his tone dripping with sleaze. “You know,” he says lowly, “I bet you’d look a lot better if you smiled more. Don’t be so serious all the time, doll.”

You stiffen, the words hanging in the air like a weight. The laughter from the table falters for a moment, the easy camaraderie suddenly strained.

Sevika’s hand tightens around her glass, her gaze snapping to Chris with a cold intensity. Without breaking eye contact, she leans forward slightly and says, “That’s enough, Chris. Show some respect.”

Chris chuckles nervously, leaning back a little, but the unease lingers. The bar’s hum resumes, but the moment leaves a quiet tension beneath the surface.

You peer over at Sevika, her agitation written in every tense line of her body—jaw clenched, shoulders rigid, fingers tapping a restless rhythm on the table. You frown, concern flickering across your face, but mask it with a feigned yawn. Gently, you tug on her jacket, letting your fingers linger just a moment longer than necessary. “Sev, I’m tired…” you murmur, your voice softer than usual.

She looks down at you, her eyes scanning your flushed cheeks and the way you blink a little too slowly. For a beat, her gaze remains on your expression—longer than it should, maybe, if anyone else were paying attention. You catch the way her lips part, as if she wants to say something else, but she just clears her throat, her voice rough around the edges. “…Okay, doll, let’s get goin’.”

Sevika stands, her hand finding the small of your back with practiced ease, fingers splaying out in a gesture that feels both protective and possessive. She leans in close enough that you catch the faint scent of her cologne, her breath warm against your ear as she addresses the table, “We’re heading out—she’s wiped.”

Matt raises an eyebrow, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips, but Sevika’s gaze flicks to him, daring him to comment. You feel a flutter in your chest at her silent defense, and as you both turn to leave, your hand brushes hers—neither of you pulling away immediately.

Outside, the city air feels electric, charged with something unspoken. You glance up at Sevika, catching the rare, fleeting softness in her eyes, and realize you’re not the only one reluctant to let the moment end.

She clears her throat, looking down at you. “We’ll call it a night at mine. You’ll feel better in a quieter space.” She insists casually, thumb rubbing soothing circles on your lower back.

You can’t help but nod mindlessly, your eyes glued to her sharp features. The night sky compliments her appearance, grey eyes twinkling under the stars. 

She helps you into the passenger seat, leaning over to buckle your seatbelt. Your cheeks flush at the close proximity, breath-hitching as the scent of her cologne penetrates your senses.

“I could’ve done it myself,” you mumble, craning your head up to meet her gaze. 

A small, almost negligible smirk ghosts her lips. “I know.”

The ride to Sevika’s place is quiet, the silence interrupted solely by the soft sounds of your breathing and low purr of the engine. 

After she pulls into the parkade of her apartment complex, she helps you into the building and up the stairs. Though she notices you aren’t as exhausted as you had claimed to be, causing her grip to loosen. “Thought you were tired?”

A giggle escapes your lips as you brace yourself against the doorframe, slightly lethargic from the drinks. “Jus’ wanted to get out of there…” You shrug, kicking off your shoes upon entering her apartment.

“Yeah…don't blame ya, the guys can be a lot.” She hums in agreement, shrugging off her blazer in one fluid motion. You enable your eyes to linger, tracing the curve of her shoulders and the subtle play of muscles beneath her shirt. Yet you make sure to look away right when she turns to face you.

“You hungry?” She asks.

You shrug, glancing up at her. “A little, you?”

She nods. “Yeah, I could eat. Didnt get a chance to take lunch today–too busy.”

You laugh softly, falling into step beside her as she heads to the kitchen.

“Same here.”

Sevika heads to the fridge and pulls out a few vegetables, setting them on the counter. “How about a quick stir-fry? I’ve got some rice left over from last night.”

You nod, rolling up your sleeves. “Sounds good. Want me to chop?”

She hands you a knife, then grabs a pot for herself. “Yeah, if you don’t mind. I’ll start on the sauce.”

You start slicing a bell pepper, the steady rhythm of your knife filling the kitchen. “You always this busy, or was today just extra rough?”

She snorts, measuring out soy sauce. “It’s Wall Street. There’s no such thing as a slow day.”

You grin, sliding the chopped peppers into a bowl. “Fair point. I’m still getting used to it.”

She glances over, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “You’re doing fine. Better than most, actually.”

You shrug, reaching for another vegetable. “Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You cut into an onion, the knife feeling heavier than it should in your hand. The alcohol still buzzes in your veins, making your movements a fraction too slow, a touch too loose. You blink, trying to focus, but the kitchen lights seem too bright, casting long, warped shadows across the counter.

Then, the blade slips.

A sharp, hot sting blooms across your finger. You gasp, dropping the knife. It clatters against the tile—a jarring, metallic sound that seems to echo far too loudly in the suddenly silent kitchen. Blood wells up, thick and vivid, trailing down your skin in a line that feels both illusory and painfully present.

“Shit,” you mumble, more out of shock than pain, stumbling toward the sink.

Behind you, Sevika gasps. The sound is harsh, grating, almost inhuman. You glance over your shoulder, expecting a look of concern, maybe annoyance. Instead, you see her standing absolutely still, every muscle in her body tensed and coiled, her hands gripping the edge of the counter so tightly you hear the wood creak.

Her eyes are fixed on you—or rather, on your bleeding hand. They’re wide, pupils blown, the usual warmth gone, replaced by a cold, predatory hunger. For a moment, she looks like a stranger in her own kitchen.

You try to laugh, the sound brittle. “Guess I’m more drunk than I thought—”

“Don’t,” Sevika says, her voice low and raw, barely recognizable. She doesn’t blink. She doesn’t move. The shadows seem to grow longer around her, swallowing the edges of her figure. The air thickens, heavy and oppressive, as if the room itself is holding its breath.

You turn back to the sink, running your finger under cold water, but the blood keeps coming, swirling in the basin. The metallic scent fills your nose, sharp and nauseating. Behind you, Sevika’s breathing changes—shallow, ragged, almost animalistic. 

You glance back again. Her lips are parted, jaw clenched so hard you can see the muscle twitch in her cheek. Her eyes are locked on the blood, and for a split second, you catch a glimpse of something—something impossibly sharp and white—behind her lips.

A chill races down your spine, prickling your skin. Your heart thuds, slow and heavy, as if your body’s trying to warn you of something ancient and terrible.

“Get out,” she growls, her voice guttural, vibrating with a note you’ve never heard before. It’s not a suggestion. It’s a command—urgent, desperate, dangerous.

You freeze, hand still under the water, blood still dripping. Sevika brings her hand up to her mouth, pressing it hard against her lips, as if she’s holding something back. Her eyes flick up to meet yours, and for the first time since you’ve known her, you see fear—real, bone-deep fear—fighting with something darker. Something…horrifying.

“Go,” she chokes out, louder, barely holding herself together.

The room feels wrong, warped, as if you’ve stepped into a living nightmare. The familiar kitchen is gone, replaced by something cold and ravenous. You stumble backward, nearly slipping on the tile, your gaze never leaving Sevika’s face—her wild, desperate eyes, her trembling hands, the shadow of fangs behind her lips.

You don’t ask questions. You don’t look back. You run, the sound of your own heartbeat drowning out everything else, the image of Sevika’s monstrous hunger permanently burned into your mind.

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note: so sorry if this was shit fr, i just wanted to explore writing horror elements heheheheeh

Silk Ribbons and Captured Hearts

Caitlyn x girly girl!reader

cw: 2K words | no warnings, just Caitlyn and her lovely femme <3

-----------------

Caitlyn is infatuated with you.

Your relationship with Caitlyn is somewhere on the line between acquaintances and friends, running in the same high circles. Your family, much like the Kirammans, is respected and known within Piltover. You've met Caitlyn on many occasions: galas, banquets, other fancy events your parents had dragged you to. 

Most of your time spent together had come from conversing casually at events, or during council meetings whenever you both had been waiting for your parents to finish their work. You’re a few years younger than Caitlyn, so she had offered to help you with any work you had been doing at Piltover Academy. You were a good student as well, matching her intellect. Caitlyn, despite trying to focus on your homework, would find her gaze drawn to you. Watching your eyes light up whenever you talked about something you were interested in, a small, unconscious smile gracing your lips, had easily captivated her.

That was when you were both younger, though. Now, she can't help but take notice of the beautiful woman you had become. All short skirts and fitted tops, sundresses and carefully chosen accessories, you’re like a warm sunbeam that Caitlyn can’t draw her eyes away from. 

It all starts with Caitlyn going shopping in the main streets of Piltover, and she steps into a local boutique filled with cute clothes and handmade jewelry. It's not really her style, but her eyes catch on a stand filled with silk ribbon, and it reminds her of the ribbons you occasionally wear in your hair. And oh, you'd just look so pretty in that shade of purple and-

She leaves with three of them.

A few days later, you’re at a statue unveiling of some old general in Piltover’s army, and Caitlyn sees you again. And fuck you just look so pretty in your white maxi skirt and cropped tank that shows off just a hint of midriff, and Caitlyn can’t stop staring. She finally gets herself together, glancing down at the lavender silk ribbon in her hand. Should she give it to you now? Should she wait? What if you didn’t like it? Worse, what if you don’t like her even after figuring out she’s smitten with you?

Caitlyn immediately clams up, deciding it’s better to give it to you anonymously. She darts off to the area where everyone’s bags and coats are under the guise of finding something she had forgotten in her bag. Once there, she grabs a notepad from her own bag and writes a note:

I thought this would look lovely on you. 

Yours,

Anonymous 

After attaching it to the ribbon and quietly slipping back into the crowd, Caitlyn can’t really focus on the ceremony. She tries, she really does, but the sound of your casual laughter in conversation unwillingly draws her attention. She also tries not to eye you when you politely make conversation with Caitlyn’s own parents, but, well, she’s long since given up on that one. Maybe she’ll have better self-control in the future.

______

Any thoughts of self-control die the moment you step into the coffee shop where Caitlyn is sitting with Jayce. Because you’re just so beautiful, wearing some lavender sundress and sandals and holy shit is that-?

Caitlyn’s mouth goes dry at the sight of the silky lavender ribbon in your hair — the one she had bought for you — tied around two pigtails hold your hair half-up. She can’t tear her eyes away, even as you step up to order and smile brightly at the barista. So much so that Jayce turns around to see what she’s looking at before turning back to her with a puzzled expression. “Uh, Cait? You good?”

She snaps her jaw shut, nodding tightly. “Yeah,” she lets her eyes linger on you for a second longer. “Everything’s perfectly fine.”

Jayce glances in your direction once again before a knowing smile dawns on his face. “Oh,” he turns back to Caitlyn, eyes smug and teasing. “You like-"

“Shut up,” Caitlyn hisses, glaring deeply at him, half because she doesn’t want you to overhear this and half because she doesn’t want Jayce to have another thing to hold over her. 

Jayce just raises his eyebrows, taking a sip of tea as if waiting for her to explain.

Caitlyn just sighs, glancing down at her own pristine teacup. “I- how can I not?” She mumbles, glancing at you. “She’s, well…perfect.”

________

And because you just had to go and look so ridiculously, effortlessly, beyond gorgeous in the lavender ribbon, of course Caitlyn has to go and buy five other colors. Because who is Caitlyn if not willing to spend her seemingly endless amounts of money on the little things her love crush likes. A tiny part of her also preens at seeing you so happy to wear something she gave you, as if she’s subtly showing everyone that you’re hers. But she’d never admit to that, of course.

And every time she manages to slip you a ribbon, she leaves another tiny note.

These suit you so much, I thought it would be a shame not to have more.

I think this color will look so nice with your hair.

Please take these ribbons as my way of telling you how beautiful you are.

Your ribbon collection continues to build: baby pink, forest green, crimson red, the lightest grey that reminds you of clouds on a cozy winter morning. You smile every time you find a new one in your bag, keeping the notes safely tucked away in a small box in your closet. You read them from time to time, gently tracing a finger over the words as if you can feel the affection they convey. 

Experimentally, with all this ribbon, you don’t confine it to just your hair. You tie it around your ankle, thinking it looks cute (Caitlyn agrees, smiles way too long when she sees it on you in passing). Then, around your wrists: a pair of bows. And when you show up at her house to drop off something from your family to the Kirammans, Caitlyn’s eyes go wide when she catches sight of the ribbon carefully tied around your upper thigh — just peeking out from the short skirt you’re wearing. 

Holy fucking shit is all Caitlyn manages to register in her mind. She doesn’t pay attention to whatever you’re talking about with her mother. She just pays attention to the gift she gave you, a symbol of her, tied around your thigh. She’s highly tempted to step forward and grab the end of it, untying it just to replace it with her hand and squeeze-

Pull yourself together.

And she does, barely. Manages to mumble out a few weak words as you depart, missing the smug smile that graces your features as you turn to leave. Misses the way you turn a little faster than necessary so your skirt spins and she gets another view of the ribbon wrapped around your thigh. You leave, Cassandra goes on with her business, and all is normal again.

You’re a strong presence in Caitlyn’s dreams that night.

______

And then one day, there’s a knock on Caitlyn’s office door, and she calls an official-sounding “come in” only for you to enter. Caitlyn stands up a little too quickly, clearing her throat and straightening her uniform. She moves out from behind her desk to face you. “This is- uh- a surprise,” Caitlyn murmurs, eyes flitting to the navy blue ribbon laced through your high ponytail, your hair half up. She’s sure she hasn’t bought you a navy ribbon yet.

“My father sent me to ask if the gala for your mother’s birthday next week will still be in your ballroom?” You ask, shifting nervously. It’s a simple question, one that you don’t really need an answer to.

Luckily, Caitlyn is too distracted to notice. She just blinks, forcing her mouth to move. “Um, right. Yes, it’s going to be held there.”

You nod, your eyes locked with her piercing blue ones. “Okay. Yeah. Sorry for the interruption, I just happened to be nearby and he, uh, wanted to know.”

Even still, Caitlyn only half registers your weak excuse. Her eyes narrow at the ribbon. It’s different than the silky ones she’s bought you: thinner and less shiny. So, instead of formulating one of her usual, sensible responses to you, she can’t help but let her curiosity spill out. “Your ribbon.”

“My-" you touch your hair lightly. “My ribbon?”

“Where is it from?” She asks, flatly. For the past weeks, the only ribbon you've been wearing has been the ones she's been giving you. Was this an old one of yours? Did you buy it recently? Or is it from someone else? Something in her chest tightens at the last idea.

She’s not prepared for the smile you flash her. “Well” you sigh, tilting your head a little as if the answer is obvious. “I thought that since my anonymous gifter keeps buying me ribbon, I should have one in her color.”

…

Wait.

It takes a second of blank staring before Caitlyn’s jaw drops. “You-" she stumbles in her wording — an extremely rare occasion she’s been taught to avoid. But all her composure is lost with you.

“Me,” your smile holds a hint of satisfaction that Caitlyn kind of just wants to scream at. Or kiss off your face. Either one.

“You knew?!” Her tone is incredulous, like she’s been so secretive that she can’t conceive how you found out she was the one gifting you these ribbons. “How?!”

“First of all, I know your handwriting. Remember how you gave me corrections on my schoolwork when we were younger and our parents had council meetings?”

“I-" Caitlyn stutters, a hue of pink dusting her cheeks. 

“And second,” you continue, not quite done. “You haven’t been very subtle about it. You seem to forget something in your bag at every event we’re at together, and then the ribbon happens to appear in mine after you come back.”

Caitlyn’s quiet for a few moments. “Oh.”

You smile. "Yeah, oh."

Caitlyn's blue eyes meet your own, devoid of her usual composure to show her slight nerves. "So...?" her voice is almost anxious.

"So," you repeat, gently reaching up to touch the navy ribbon in your hair again. The one that perfectly matches her navy Enforcer's uniform she's wearing right now. "I wore this...for you."

Caitlyn takes a shaky breath, heart pounding. "Does that mean-?"

She's cut off by your soft lips against her own. Your kiss is gentle and chaste, just a peck, and she barely has enough time to process what's happening before you pull away. "I like you," you say, your smile turning shy.

Caitlyn blinks at you, dazed. She's normally always so in command, so in control of her every action — whether that's in her Enforcer duties or her sharpshooting competitions or just her life in general — but with you, all hope of control always seems to fade. 

She steps even closer to you, gently reaching out a hand to trail along your cheek. "I like you too," she murmurs, and this time, you fear you're the one that's losing your composure because her gaze looks so loving and tender that it makes your cheeks burn. 

And when Caitlyn kisses you again, deeper this time, you allow yourself to sigh against her lips. She kisses you as if you're something fragile, something to be treasured and cared for. And you know, in that moment, that she'll do anything for you.  That, if you asked for the moon, she'd personally find away to fly amongst the stars to take it for you. 

"Are you mine?" Caitlyn asks the second she pulls away with a gentle nip to your bottom lip that makes you shiver. 

"I always have been," you mumble, letting yourself bury your face in her shoulder to hide your flushed cheeks. 

And Caitlyn just smiles, her arms snaking around your waist to pull you against her chest. "That's all I could ever ask for, darling."

ꜱʜɪᴍᴍᴇʀ ᴋɪʟʟꜱ ᴘᴛ 2

ᴊɪɴx | ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ | ᴇᴋᴋᴏ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | || ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ || 5815 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ᴅʀᴜɢꜱ/ꜱʜɪᴍᴍᴇʀ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴄᴀɪᴛʟʏɴ | ᴠɪ | ᴍᴇʟ ᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴏɴ

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊɪɴx | ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ | ᴇᴋᴋᴏ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ

JINX

It was a cold, oppressive night in the heart of Zaun, the air thick with the scent of oil and smog. The world felt too heavy for Jinx, her mind teetering on the edge of something darker, something that always felt just a little too close. But tonight, there was something even worse lurking in the shadows.

Y/N had always been there for her—like a sister, a steady presence in Jinx's chaotic life. The older woman, warm and patient, had been the first person to ever show her kindness, to let her see the world as something other than an endless series of explosions and pain. Y/N understood Jinx in a way that no one else did. And she never judged.

But tonight was different.

Jinx had seen them—shimmer addicts, the same ones who’d been hunting down anyone they could get their hands on. They had appeared out of nowhere, their eyes glowing with the unnatural light of the mutagen, their bodies twitching and full of fury. Jinx hadn’t been fast enough to dodge them, her head swirling with thoughts of her old friends and of the things she had lost. Her hand had reached for a weapon, but before she could strike, the shimmer-addicts lunged at her, their eyes flashing red.

Then, out of nowhere, Y/N had appeared, her expression fierce as she shoved Jinx aside. The shimmer addict, a man whose body contorted unnaturally from the drug, swung his weapon with a brutal force. Y/N caught it in midair, her strength surprising even Jinx.

"Go!" Y/N shouted, her voice strained. "Get out of here, Jinx! Now!"

But Jinx stood frozen, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t want to leave her friend, her protector, to face this alone.

Without warning, Y/N had grabbed the shimmer user by the waist, pulling him close, her arms wrapping around him as tightly as she could. The addict flailed wildly, his arms caught in her grip. Y/N’s strength was incredible, but even she couldn’t hold on much longer.

The ground beneath them began to crack, and Jinx watched, helpless, as they both tumbled back. Y/N’s arms tightened around the man just as the pit below them yawned open, swallowing them both into the abyss.

"No!" Jinx screamed, her heart breaking as she tried to reach for Y/N, but it was too late. The darkness of the pit swallowed her voice, and the world went eerily still.

Jinx couldn't remember how long she had stood there, frozen in place, staring at the black void that had taken Y/N away. But the pain in her chest was so deep, it felt like her heart had shattered into a thousand pieces. She hadn’t even had time to say goodbye.

=

The days that followed were nothing but chaos. Chaos flooded her mind—more than it ever had before. Jinx could feel herself spiralling, but there was something else, too.

It was Y/N.

She had started seeing her—hearing her voice in the back of her mind.

"Jinx," Y/N’s voice echoed, soft and reassuring, "It’s okay, I'm still here."

It wasn’t possible. Y/N had fallen. She had to have fallen. Yet, Jinx couldn't shake the feeling that she was still there—watching over her.

Every time she closed her eyes, she could see her: Y/N’s warm smile, her comforting presence, her laugh that made everything feel like it was going to be okay, even when it wasn’t.

But something was wrong. Y/N’s image was fading—blurred, distant, like a faint memory she was struggling to hold onto. And then, the voice. The voice that had once been a source of safety, of solace—now felt hollow, accusing.

"Jinx…"

It was soft, yes, but there was something sharp in it, something Jinx had never heard before. The warmth was gone, replaced with a cold edge. Y/N’s face, when it appeared, was a twisted mockery of the woman Jinx had known. The smile, once bright and full of warmth, had now become a sad imitation, her eyes hollow, like she had been staring at Jinx from a place far beyond her reach.

"Jinx..." The voice spoke again, low and quiet. "You shouldn’t have let me go..."

Jinx flinched, the words cutting through her chest like a blade. She tried to shake it off, to push the hallucination away, but it lingered, relentless, like a shadow that refused to leave her alone. Was Y/N blaming her? Was it her fault Y/N had fallen?

"No... no..." Jinx whispered, tears threatening to spill as she clutched her head, trying to make the voice stop. "I didn’t want you to go. I tried... I tried so hard, Y/N!"

But Y/N’s image only faded and returned, morphing into something darker. The voice was no longer comforting, no longer a source of strength. It twisted in the air, accusing, and Jinx felt herself suffocating beneath the weight of it.

"You weren’t fast enough, Jinx," the voice came again, colder now. "You didn’t save me. You never save anyone..."

Jinx’s breath hitched. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Her hands trembled as the image of Y/N flickered before her, an ethereal, fading presence, pulling further and further away from her grasp.

"I... I was too slow..." Jinx whispered, her voice breaking. "I didn’t mean to... I tried to protect you, I did, but... but I couldn’t... I wasn’t enough..."

The hallucination shifted, Y/N’s form becoming almost unrecognisable now—her face twisted in silent judgment, her eyes now accusing, like she could see every failure, every mistake Jinx had ever made.

"You never could do enough, could you?" Y/N’s voice whispered, now almost bitter. "You let me fall."

Jinx’s heart twisted with guilt and sorrow. It felt like the weight of the world was crushing her chest. The shimmer had taken over her mind, warping her memories and emotions into something unrecognisable. But the guilt—the crushing guilt—was all too real. The things Y/N was saying, the things she had never even thought about before—was it all her fault?

"No, Y/N," Jinx whispered, her hands gripping her head tighter. "Please, don’t leave me like this… I didn’t mean to... I couldn’t stop it."

But the hallucination didn’t respond. It only stood there, the accusing image of Y/N still lingering in the air, forever out of reach.

Jinx’s mind screamed for it to end, but all she was left with was the sound of Y/N’s voice, forever haunting her, always reminding her of what she could never undo.

She had failed. She had failed Y/N. And she would never forgive herself for it.

SEVIKA

Sevika sat at the bar in The Last Drop, nursing a glass of something strong. Her eyes were tired, haunted. She hadn’t been able to sleep properly since that night. The weight of it clung to her—Y/N's face, the last words they'd shared, the warmth of her hand slipping away in the cold.

The glass in her hand felt heavier than usual, as if the very weight of her grief had sunk into the amber liquid. She had no one to blame but herself. No one could have stopped the shimmer addict, the madman who'd killed Y/N. But Sevika couldn’t shake the feeling that she should have been there, that somehow, she should have seen it coming.

Her thoughts drifted back to that night, the echo of the explosion still ringing in her ears. The sudden chaos, the flash of fire, the sound of glass shattering. The alley had been a war zone—a battlefield in the heart of Zaun, where death was all too common. But this time, it felt different. The second that explosion hit, everything seemed to shift, like the very world had spun off its axis.

Y/N... That voice—the soft whisper of her name—still haunted her. Sevika had been only a few steps behind. She'd seen Y/N's familiar silhouette, heard her gentle voice calling out as the explosion rang in their ears.

“Sevika… stay close, I’ll be alright.”

But Y/N hadn't been alright. The shimmer addict had been too quick, too crazed. Sevika had turned just in time to see the man’s wild eyes, the crazed grin, as he lunged toward Y/N with a blade in his hand. The shimmer in his system made him unpredictable, dangerous. Y/N hadn’t stood a chance. The flash of steel, the sickening sound of a blade cutting through flesh. Sevika’s blood ran cold. She reached for her gun, but it was too late. By the time she pulled Y/N into her arms, the damage was done. The woman who had always carried herself with such grace, the person who had offered comfort and guidance to the kids of Zaun, was now nothing but a crumpled, lifeless weight in her lap. No, no, no... Her breath came in short, frantic gasps as she tried to stop the bleeding, tried to do something—anything. But there was nothing to be done. Y/N’s blood mixed with the dirt of the alley, staining the streets she had once walked with such kindness. Y/N’s eyes fluttered open for a moment, weak and unfocused. She blinked as if seeing the world for the first time. Her lips parted, trying to say something, but no words came. “Y/N… please, don’t…” Sevika whispered, her voice a broken thing, rough with panic. “Please stay with me.” But Y/N’s hand moved—slowly, so slowly—reaching up to touch her cheek. The touch was soft, gentle, like it had always been, but this time, it felt different. There was an emptiness behind it, a finality Sevika couldn’t ignore. “Don’t…” Y/N whispered, barely audible. “Don’t let the darkness consume you… You’re better than that…” The words hit Sevika like a punch to the gut. Y/N had always believed in her. Always believed she could be more than the monster she’d let herself become. Now, Y/N was gone, and all Sevika had was the weight of her dying words.

“Y/N, no... no…” Her voice cracked, and with it, all the years of pain, regret, and fear poured out. Her chest felt like it was being crushed under the weight of the loss. Sevika held onto her, unwilling to let go. I couldn’t save you... I couldn’t... But Y/N’s hand fell limp in hers. Her body grew cold in Sevika’s arms, and the world around her seemed to still. The sound of the distant chaos, the crackle of burning buildings, faded into a hollow silence. Y/N was gone. Sevika couldn’t move, couldn’t think. She just held her, cradling the woman who had meant everything to her. But the minutes, the hours—how long had she been sitting there?—dragged on. The rain began to fall softly, mixing with the blood, washing everything clean, leaving only the memory.

Her thoughts now drifted back to the present. The bar around her felt distant, as if she were no longer a part of this world. The clinking of glasses, the low hum of murmurs from the other patrons—nothing mattered. Nothing could fill the emptiness inside her.

Jinx's voice cut through the fog of her grief. “Sevika…” The younger woman’s voice was soft but insistent. Sevika looked up to see Jinx standing beside her, her wide eyes flicking nervously between Sevika and the empty bottle in her hand. “You’ve been here for days.”

Sevika only gave her a cold stare, but inside, it was like a fist around her heart. Jinx had been there too. She’d lost someone she cared about, and yet, here she was, trying to keep things together. Trying to keep the chaos at bay.

“She’s gone, Jinx,” Sevika muttered, her voice rough with emotion. “Y/N… she’s gone, and I couldn’t save her.”

Jinx didn't say anything at first. She simply reached out, placing a hand on Sevika’s. It was warm against the cold bitterness that had settled inside her. “You didn’t do this, Sevika. You didn’t kill her.”

But Sevika couldn’t hear it. The shimmer addict who’d pulled the trigger was still out there, somewhere. He was the one to blame. He had taken Y/N from her. But the truth didn’t change the fact that Sevika hadn’t been fast enough, hadn’t been there in time. She’d failed.

The last thing Y/N had said to her echoed in her mind: “Don’t let the darkness consume you, Sevika. You’re better than that.”

Sevika closed her eyes, the tears threatening to break free. Y/N had always believed in her, always believed there was a way out of the darkness. But now, there was nothing left but the abyss.

“I’ll make them pay,” Sevika whispered, her voice cold and resolute. “I’ll make them all pay.”

Jinx nodded, the grim look in her eyes matching the one Sevika knew too well. “We will. But you need to pull yourself together first.”

Sevika’s expression hardened as she looked at Jinx. She nodded, her jaw clenched. “I’ll make it happen, Jinx. Just... leave me to it.”

With that, Sevika stood up, leaving her drink untouched. Her heart burned with the need for vengeance, the need to make the world feel her pain. The shimmer addict, the man who had torn everything apart... he would pay. And anyone who thought they could harm those she cared about would learn just how far Sevika was willing to go.

She walked out of The Last Drop, the sounds of the bar fading behind her, as she set her eyes on the streets of Zaun. There was work to be done, and Sevika would see it through, no matter the cost. She would avenge Y/N. The darkness would consume her enemies, not her.

EKKO

The dimly lit streets of Zaun had never felt colder, not even with the biting wind that usually swept through the alleyways. Ekko’s usual sharp, confident steps now faltered, each one dragging him closer to a pain he didn’t know how to deal with. His heart, once filled with hope, now felt heavy—like a weight that threatened to crush him entirely.

The news had hit him like a freight train. Y/N, the one person who had always been there, the one who had made everything feel brighter, was gone. And it wasn’t just any death. She’d been taken from them by someone who had dared to abuse the power of shimmer. A power that was meant to change the world for the better but had corrupted those who wielded it into monsters, willing to take anything, including lives.

Ekko had been there, fighting alongside her, feeling invincible as they always had. But this time, when the battle raged, it was different. He hadn’t been fast enough to save her. His hands trembled as he adjusted the goggles on his face, still not sure if he was seeing things clearly. He had come too late, just in time to see Y/N fall, her eyes filled with an expression he had never wanted to see: pain, fear, and worst of all, the realisation that she wasn’t going to make it.

Her last words were burned into his memory, though he hadn’t wanted to hear them. "Take care of them… Ekko... please..." It was a plea she had made countless times for the people of Zaun, and now it was for him. She had always put others first, always willing to sacrifice for the greater good. And now, she was gone.

But Ekko wasn’t here to make a statement or to seek vengeance. His path was one of healing, of remembering her for what she had been. He could have torn down the shimmer users who had done this, could have thrown his fury into every fight, but that wasn’t what Y/N would have wanted. No, she had always fought for something better, something more than just a cycle of revenge.

=

He stood in front of the mural that now adorned the wall in the heart of Zaun. It wasn’t just a memorial—it was a testament to who she had been, to what she had fought for. The mural depicted her as she had always been: kind, strong, and full of light. Her vibrant energy captured in the strokes of the paint, a smile on her face, her hands reaching out to the children, her heart always giving. And at the centre of the mural was the soft glow of her eyes, filled with the warmth and compassion that had touched every life she had encountered.

The children of Zaun, the ones who had loved her so dearly, were the ones who had painted the mural. It was their way of saying goodbye, their way of giving her something back after all the kindness she had shown them. Their small hands had brushed the vibrant colours onto the wall, their laughter ringing through the streets as they worked—just like she had always encouraged them to do. They had taken something painful and turned it into something beautiful, just like she had.

Ekko’s hand rested gently on the wall, his fingers brushing the image of her smiling face, his breath catching in his throat. She was still with him, in this space, in the memories, in the legacy she had left behind. The city had lost so much, but what Y/N had given would not be forgotten. The wall seemed to echo her spirit, reminding him of all she had fought for—her hopes, her dreams, her belief that they could make this city a better place, even in the face of darkness.

He closed his eyes, letting the memories flood over him. Her laugh, soft and comforting, had always been his safe place. Her endless dedication to the kids of Zaun, always working to mend the torn clothes of the orphaned, always helping without hesitation. The way her eyes would light up when she talked about her work, when she talked about making things better, when she talked about them. She believed in the future, in the people of Zaun, in the children, in hope. And now that hope had been shattered, leaving nothing but the aching void of her absence.

=

Ekko had tried to stop the pain, tried to hide it, but it was impossible. There was no hiding the loss, no denying it. But she wouldn’t want him to give in to the anger, to the darkness that shimmer had brought into their lives. She had always believed in doing better, in lifting each other up.

"I’m sorry," Ekko whispered, his voice breaking for the first time. "I should have been there… I should have—"

His words were interrupted by a soft voice from behind him, breaking the stillness. It was a child, one of the faces that had been painted in the mural.

"You couldn’t have stopped it, Ekko," the small voice said, filled with a wisdom beyond their years. "But we’ll carry on what she started. We won’t let it end."

Ekko turned, surprised to see the group of children standing behind him, their eyes filled with the same mixture of grief and resolve. Among them was a boy who had once been a tearaway, but now stood taller, stronger, his shoulders squared with a new purpose.

"We know," Ekko said softly, offering a sad but grateful smile. "She always taught you well."

The boy nodded, his expression serious. "We’ll change this place, Ekko. You don’t have to do it alone."

Ekko’s chest tightened as he looked at them, at the kids who had given so much of themselves to this city, who had lived through pain and loss, but were now standing tall in defiance. His eyes flickered back to the mural.

"Zaun will change," Ekko murmured to himself, his voice steady now, the storm inside him quieting. "Because she believed in it. And I believe in it too."

The tears that had threatened to fall now felt unnecessary. Instead, he stood tall, resolute. Y/N would never truly be gone, not while there were people here who remembered her, who would carry her legacy into the future. He would continue to fight, not for vengeance, but for the world she had always dreamed of. For the city that she had believed in. He would make sure that her hope wasn’t lost, that her vision for a better Zaun would live on.

"No more shimmer. No more corruption," Ekko said, a fire reigniting in his chest. "Only the work of those like her—who had made the world brighter by simply being in it."

With a final glance at the mural, Ekko turned away, the weight on his heart now transformed into something else. A quiet determination. A promise.

=

He knew that this city, broken as it was, could still heal. He would make sure of it. For Y/N. For all the children whose future she had worked so hard to build. For a world that would always need people like her. And as long as he had breath in his lungs, he would carry her spirit, her strength, her kindness with him.

Zaun would change. And it would change because of her.

Ekko turned to the children once more, his gaze steady.

"We’ll do it together," he said, his voice firm. "One step at a time."

The children nodded in unison, their faces alight with the same determination he now felt burning through his veins. They would rebuild. They would honour her. And Zaun would rise from the ashes, stronger than before.

SILCO

The streets of Zaun were never quiet, but tonight, something felt different. Silco, his face stoic and cold, walked through the alleys with purpose. The clink of his boots echoed in the damp air as he made his way to a familiar, darkened corner of the city. He had been searching for her all night, driven by a gnawing feeling in his chest. Y/N had been gone longer than he cared to admit, but something in his gut told him she was near.

When he reached the spot, the air was thick with the acrid stench of violence and the distinct metallic tang of blood. His eyes flicked to the ground, where he saw her. Y/N’s lifeless body lay in the gutter, blood staining her clothes, the warm glow of her skin already fading. A shimmer user, hunched over her, still thrusting the sharp steel inside her.

Without hesitation, Silco reached for his gun, his anger rising like a tide. His voice was a low growl as he spoke, just loud enough for the attacker to hear, “You. You dare lay your hands on her?”

The shimmer user didn’t even look up. Lost in their frenzy, they didn’t care who was watching. But it was too late for them to make a move. Silco pulled the trigger, the sound of the shot echoing down the street, loud and final. The shimmer user collapsed, their body falling to the cold stone with a sickening thud.

For a moment, Silco stood frozen. His heart raced in his chest, but there was no time for grief. His eyes shifted to Y/N. Her body was still warm, but the life had gone from her, leaving only the shell of the woman who had once been his everything.

He knelt beside her, his fingers gently brushing her hair from her face, wiping away the blood that marred her features. His hand trembled, but he steadied himself, his gaze hardening with a mixture of fury and sorrow.

With a deep, steadying breath, Silco lifted her into his arms. He held her close, the weight of her body in his arms almost unbearable. Her head rested against his shoulder, her once vibrant presence now an absence he couldn’t begin to accept. Every step he took toward The Last Drop felt heavier than the last, each movement pulling him further from the present moment and closer to the aching reality that she was gone.

=

The door to The Last Drop creaked open, the sound almost unnatural in the otherwise hushed atmosphere. Silco’s eyes, cold and calculating, scanned the dimly lit room. The few patrons still inside froze at the sight of him, their eyes darting nervously toward the body he cradled in his arms. Y/N. The weight of her lifeless form was enough to silence the room.

Without a word, Silco moved through the bar, his steps heavy and deliberate. He wasn’t looking at anyone, didn’t acknowledge the whispers that were starting to ripple through the crowd. His gaze was fixed forward, focused on the narrow staircase leading up to their shared room. The only thing that mattered was getting her there.

The creak of the stairs under his boots was the only sound that followed him. The usual warmth of their room now felt distant, foreign. It hadn’t been long since Y/N had filled it with her presence — laughter, light, a sense of comfort that Silco had never truly known until she had entered his life. But that warmth was gone, replaced by the thick, suffocating cold of her absence.

As he gently laid her down on the bed, Silco’s hand trembled ever so slightly. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his fingers lingering on the skin of her cold cheek. His eyes, usually so steady and sharp, faltered for a moment, staring at her as though he could will her to wake up. To return to him.

But it was too late. She was gone.

"Y/N..." His voice cracked, the name falling from his lips in a low, broken whisper. "You can’t be gone. Not like this."

He stood there for a long moment, just staring at her. The silence in the room was deafening, pressing in on him from every angle. His chest ached in a way that no amount of rage could burn away. She was gone, and nothing could bring her back.

A dark chuckle, bitter and hollow, escaped his throat. "You always did think you were invincible, didn’t you? But you’re not. And now… now they’ll pay for this." The words came out in a growl, the promise of violence thick in the air.

He turned his back to her for a brief moment, walking toward the window. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, nails biting into his palms. The city of Zaun was out there, sprawled beneath him — a broken, chaotic mess, just like the world that had stolen Y/N from him.

He turned back to her, his gaze fixed on her now-still form. The overwhelming desire to break something, to make the world feel the same pain he was enduring, pulsed through his veins like wildfire. But in the back of his mind, beneath the fury, there was the raw, jagged ache of loss.

"I should have protected you," Silco muttered, his voice shaking. "But now… now it’s just me. And that’s not enough."

He took a step toward her again, crouching beside the bed. He placed a hand gently on her arm, as though touching her one last time might change something, anything.

"Rest now," he said softly, though the words were harder to say than he had anticipated. "Rest. And when I’m done with them… when I’m done with all of them… I’ll make sure no one forgets who you were. No one will forget us."

With that, he stood again, straightening his back. His posture returned to the cold, unyielding figure he had always been. Silco’s eyes hardened once more, but beneath that, there was a quiet sorrow that would never leave him.

He had one last promise to keep, and this time, it wouldn’t be broken.

BONUS: VANDER

The dim glow of the Undercity was never comforting, yet it had become familiar to Vander. The moans of machinery and distant shouts from the slums had been his life for as long as he could remember. But tonight, something was different. The air felt heavier, the silence thick with an unspoken weight pressing on his chest. The kids—Vi, Powder, Mylo, Claggor—were still in their rooms, but Vander couldn’t rest. His gaze drifted to the door, as though waiting for someone who would never come through it again.

Y/N. She had been everything to him—an anchor, a light amidst the madness that surrounded them. But now, she was gone, torn from him by the cruelty of a shimmer-fuelled rage.

=

It had been a quiet evening, the Last Drop bathed in the soft light of flickering candles, the steady hum of conversation swirling around the bar. Y/N had been there, laughing at something silly one of the kids had said, her bright voice a balm against the chaos of their lives. Vander could still see her, standing near the counter, her dark eyes glinting with the warmth that she always brought into the room.

And then the door had crashed open. A shimmer addict, his eyes wide and unhinged, stumbling into the bar. He was high—frantic. The madness of the drug turning him into something far worse than just a person in pain. The scuffle had been sudden, too fast for anyone to react. Someone had shouted, and then everything descended into chaos.

It had happened so quickly, too quickly. Vander hadn’t even realised that Y/N was caught in the middle of it until it was too late. The shimmer user, desperate and panicked, had lashed out. The air was filled with the sounds of broken glass, muffled shouts, and the sickening thud of fists meeting flesh. When Vander had forced his way through the crowd, he found her crumpled on the floor, blood seeping from a wound too deep. Her breathing had been laboured, slow, her once-bright eyes now dimming. She had reached out to him, a final plea in the grasp of her fingers. "I... I’m sorry, Vander," she whispered, the words barely audible. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble.” “No, no, don’t,” he had begged, his hands shaking as he tried to stop the bleeding, but the life was already slipping from her, the glow in her eyes fading with each passing moment. “Y/N, please, stay with me...” But she didn’t.

The weight of it crushed him, and it was in this darkness that the door creaked open again, pulling him from his reverie. He turned to see the kids—Vi, her face drawn with a mixture of worry and confusion; Powder, her wide eyes too bright, teetering on the edge of something too big for her to fully understand; Mylo and Claggor, standing silent, their usual banter missing, the bravado that always accompanied their steps nowhere to be found.

Vander’s chest tightened at the sight of them. The reality of what had happened settled heavily over him. They needed to know, but the words felt too sharp, too final. He swallowed hard, fighting to push down the bile that threatened to rise.

Powder was the first to break the silence, her voice small, fragile. “She’s not coming back, is she?”

Vander’s heart lurched. The question echoed in his mind, louder than any scream or battle cry. His throat constricted, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. The truth felt too much, too raw. He clenched his jaw, trying to keep the emotions buried beneath the weight of his grief.

“No,” he whispered, the word barely making it past his lips. “She’s not.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. The room seemed to close in on them, the truth hanging heavily in the air. None of the kids were old enough to fully grasp the depth of the loss, but they felt it, just the same.

Vi stepped forward, her usual strength faltering as her hand reached out to Vander. Her face was pale, the mask of composure slipping as the tears threatened to fall. “I’m sorry, Vander,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “We’ll keep fighting. For her. For you.”

Vander didn’t respond immediately. He wanted to say something—something that would make it better, make them believe that everything would be alright. But the words weren’t there. Instead, he just nodded silently, his eyes dark, his gaze fixed somewhere far beyond them.

His throat tightened, the lump growing, but he had to keep it together. He had to focus on them. On the kids. They needed him to be strong, to help them through this. He couldn’t let himself fall apart, not now. Not when they were looking to him.

His voice cracked as he spoke, but he kept it steady. “You’re right, Vi. We’ll fight. For Y/N. For all of us.”

The silence stretched, heavy and uncomfortable, but before anyone could speak again, Powder shuffled forward. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around Vander’s waist, pressing herself into him with all the desperation she didn’t know how to express. Her small form trembled against him, as though the weight of the world had descended on her fragile shoulders.

“We’ll make sure you don’t have to be alone,” she whispered, her voice trembling but firm. The words were simple, but they carried the promise of something more—a quiet declaration that they were still here, still together, despite everything.

Vander closed his eyes, fighting the tears that were now burning behind his eyelids. He had to hold it together. For them. His arms found Powder’s tiny frame, pulling her close, holding her as though he could somehow shield her from the pain. His hand brushed over her hair, his grip tightening as he whispered a broken, “Thank you.”

Then his hand moved to Vi’s, pulling her into the embrace as well. Mylo and Claggor followed suit, their usual swagger replaced by something quieter, more solemn. They all huddled together, a group of broken souls trying to find comfort in each other amidst the wreckage of their world.

Vander didn’t allow himself to break. Not now. His emotions, his grief—it was something he couldn’t afford to share. Not when they needed him. So, he kept it buried, hidden behind the walls he had spent years building. His chest tightened, his breath ragged, but he didn’t let it show. He just held them close, his focus entirely on comforting them.

The tears came, but they stayed inside, hidden beneath the surface as he clung to the kids, the ones who needed him to stay strong. The world could burn for all he cared. In this moment, it was just them. The broken pieces of their family, clinging together in the face of something too big to comprehend.

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, tangled in their grief and shared silence, but eventually the sobs began to quiet. Vander didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. They would fight, they would carry on. For Y/N. For each other. He just held them, his heart breaking in ways he didn’t dare to acknowledge, his sadness locked deep inside, where it wouldn’t burden them.

And for them, he would keep fighting.

▶[Arcane preference] reacting to you wearing their clothes [Jayce, Viktor, Ekko, Vander, Silco, Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Mel, Sevika, ]

If you know me, hello little deers, I'm back! If you don’t know me, welcome! Just a heads-up that I don’t use "Y/N," but rather the impersonal "you," and even though I talk about clothes, no sizes or weight are involved. Enjoy the read!

Jayce:

  - It’s not that rare when you’re together; he’s a real gentleman through and through. If it’s cold, he’ll give you his jacket, his scarf, anything to keep you warm  

  - But when you’re the one taking his clothes, it’s different  

  - When he sees you walking around the room in his shirt, just after waking up, something in his brain malfunctions  

  - It’s how it fits you, no matter how big or long it is, it seems like it was made just for you, to give you that look  

  - And to him, it feels like some kind of subliminal ad, as if the universe is making you so attractive in the simplicity of that gesture just to tell him he needs to hurry up and put a ring on your finger so he can enjoy that sight every day  

  - It’s hard for you to get anything done in the morning when he wakes up with those thoughts  

  - Those are the days when you stay in bed, cuddling under the covers, with him looking at you, hand on his cheek, getting more lost in you by the second  

Viktor:

  - For Viktor, the idea of a “little thief stealing his clothes” is an interesting one  

  - He’s never been a fan of tight-fitting clothes, plus, with his physique, it’s rare for anything to fit snugly anyway  

  - That’s why, except for his Academy uniform, the rest of his clothes are comfortable and at least two sizes too big for him, without mentioning Jayce's oversize ones in his closet  

  - What Viktor didn’t expect was that, once you started liking them, you’d just take them straight out of his drawer  

  - The first time he knocked on your door to ask if you’d seen his shirt —the very one you were wearing— he first stopped, confused, wondering how it had ended up on you  

  - And then, though he didn’t show it, he paused to notice with satisfaction how well it wrapped around your body  

  - Sometimes he pretends to forget his clothes at your place, just to see them on you, and to get them back with your scent on them  

  - For the nights when he feels lonelier  

Ekko: 

  - Communism  

  - There’s not really a strong sense of what belongs to whom at the Tree, although some clothes (jackets in particular) eventually get so personalized that no one dares to take them anymore  

  - The first time you grabbed Ekko’s jacket, it was simply because you were freezing, it was really cold, and he was resting, so he didn’t need it  

  - But when he saw you wearing it, his pupils dilated so much you could notice it despite his very dark eyes  

  - Ever since then, it’s him who gives it to you and insists that you wear it, because he likes it: there’s something extremely intimate and deeply personal about walking around with you in his jacket  

  - It’s like marking you as his, but really, also reminding himself of it  

  - And Ekko may be proud, but one thing you quickly and painfully learn in the alleys is to say ‘I love you’ before it’s too late, and that small possessive gesture makes him feel fulfilled because it’s like he’s telling everyone that he couldn’t live without you 

Vander:

  - Vander’s clothes have this super-secret ability to change depending on who’s wearing them. For example, what are shirts on him turn into dresses on you  

  - When you put them on, even just for the sake of convenience, you find yourself laughing in front of every mirror you pass by  

  - And if he notices, he can’t help but hug you from behind, leaning down to rub his nose against your neck, smiling against your skin  

  - “You know,” he says every single time, “it looks better on you than it does on me,” and no matter how false it might be, in his eyes, it’s truer than almost anything else  

  - After seeing you a few times in his grown-up man's clothes, he decided to dig through an old box to find the clothes from when he was younger and mend them before leaving them folded on your side of the bed, like a little gift  

Silco:

  - Silco’s strangest habit was the connection he had with his clothes: they looked like Piltover garments, except for the boots and the shirt under the velvet vest, yet they were torn, poorly mended, and worn out in several places  

  - Despite being the richest man in the undercity, he never changed them  

  - The only newer piece in his wardrobe that he used to wear was his coat, which was in perfect condition, scented with cologne, and lined with soft velvet that followed the direction of your fingers when you touched it  

  - Sure, there were ceremonial outfits, pajamas, and something comfortable yet always elegant, but he had worn them so little that they almost didn’t seem like his  

  - That’s why one day you simply decided you were bored, and while he was in a meeting, you could take the opportunity to try on the ones that fit you  

  - But that little fashion show from his wardrobe to the mirror probably took longer than expected, and definitely you were too focused, because you didn’t notice the tall figure watching you, leaning against the doorframe  

  - “Don’t take that off, I’ve got an idea or two,” his voice broke the silence, making you jump  

Jinx:

  - Her clothes are more like a flea market than a wardrobe: there are men’s clothes, women’s clothes, from Piltover and Zaun, intact, held together by metal staples, clean, splattered with paint, torn from explosions, some so small you wonder who they could even fit, and some so large that you and at least four of her father’s henchmen could comfortably fit in them with room to spare  

  - She’s the one who tells you to grab something from the pile the first time you ask to help her with her calculations and experiments, and in the end, you choose something comfortable rather than something intact or clean  

  - It took her a good half hour to notice, and then another hour to stop talking about it  

  - It was something she hadn’t done since she had a family, sharing clothes with someone else, and suddenly she realized just how much she missed it  

  - Every now and then, she’d give you oversized shirts on purpose, just to disappear under the fabric and snuggle up to you, where she felt sheltered enough to feel less vulnerable  

Vi:

  - Vi’s mentality was interesting because, by accident, if she noticed you were eyeing someone’s clothes with interest, somehow the next day those clothes would end up on your bed  

  - Vi would do anything for you; if it were up to her, you’d be dressed in pearls and gold, but neither the place nor her situation allowed it  

  - That’s why she never offered you her clothes: the older ones were tattered, barely definable as rags, which she stubbornly patched up every month  

  - The new ones were stolen, spoils from street fights, but they always came in looking battered and worn, or worse, stained with blood or strange substances, so they weren’t good for you  

  - When she saw you wearing a sweater from her wardrobe, stained and burned in spots, the first thing she felt was guilt  

  - She hated not being able to treat you the way she wanted to  

  - But from that day on, she made sure to at least wash her clothes before putting them away, and slowly she learned to love the clothes you stole a little more than the others  

  - That sweater, for example, she would defend it with her life  

Caitlyn:

  - Whenever you stayed over at her place, she always made sure to provide everything for you: slippers, socks, pajamas, anything you might need  

  - And it was always the highest quality you had ever seen  

  - So seeing you in her clothes wasn’t new, although she sometimes liked to have you try on things she didn’t wear anymore, partly because she couldn’t due to her important name, and partly because she spent half her time in uniform  

  - Those little fashion shows almost always ended with her on top of you, while you are very busy figuring out how to stay quiet so none of the servants, or worse, her parents, would catch you  

  - It didn’t matter if the clothes didn’t suit you, being able to see you in so many different lights made her fall even more in love with everything about you  

  - The final blow? One day she decided to look through the enforcers’ uniforms to find one that would fit you, and for the first time, she saw you in clothes that matched hers  

  - There was something about it that made her hope that uniform would change the chemistry of your brain too and make you join the force, just so she could spend more time with you, just so she could see you like that more often  

Mel:

  - For Mel, it wasn’t an event: she was used to everything, mastering her emotions, and seeing you wearing something of hers had only left her confused for a second, from which she quickly recovered, smiling at you  

  - “It looks really good on you, you know?” she had asked  

  - It didn’t bother her. Objectively, you seemed stupid borrowing those elegant clothes tailored exactly to her body  

  - It almost felt like heresy to wear the clothes of a goddess-like figure. But the goddess had sensed something, and she began buying and commissioning outfits for both you and her, matching, so you wouldn’t feel like you were missing something  

  - But there was one moment, a specific one, where seeing you in one of her dresses had left her speechless  

  - When you told her that the sweater was so beautiful it was almost a shame knowing she couldn’t wear it on the day you’d marry her  

  - And Mel Medarda came from a land of war, where it was hard to get attached to people, let alone objects  

  - Yet from that day, that piece of clothing became a constant for her, even if it meant layering or pulling it down to keep her shoulders bare  

  - Because it no longer just warmed her skin; it began to warm something deeper, something she hadn’t even realized she had  

Sevika:

  - Her clothes reflected her line of work: dirty, unpleasant, dangerous  

  - But despite that, she would drape them over you herself, no matter how worn they were: if she thought you might be cold, without a word, you’d find a sweater or hoodie on your shoulders  

  - And even though she’d glance at you from the corner of her eye, she wouldn’t stop watching you for a single moment when you wore something of hers  

  - It was a matter of homeland—there was no ownership in Zaun, not even last names, as even the family you belonged to was irrelevant compared to what you could do  

  - And the gangs, thugs, and troublemakers wouldn’t hesitate to steal what was yours  

  - But you were hers, and you couldn’t be stolen. And that shirt was hers, but she didn’t feel mutilated, like she normally would, when you wore it  

  - In fact, she loved it, opening her arms to invite you to snuggle up, holding you carefully so the prosthetic wouldn’t bother you, adjusting the clothing on you ten, a hundred times, almost unconsciously  

  - And when you wore her clothes, it felt like for a little while, you could wear her skin too, to understand her better, and she suddenly seemed more vulnerable  

Sevika getting cuteness aggression with reader? Like reader is just sitting there eating and Sevika gets a huge urge to just pinch their cheek out of nowhere? Also I absolutely LOVE YOU SO MUCHHHH YOURE SUCH A GOOD WRITER YOURE MY FAVOURITE I LOVE YOU🙏🏼🙏🏼🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

HOW DID I MISS THIS ASK AWWWWEE ANON YOU'RE SO SWEET

i remember responding to another hc about Sevika getting cuteness aggression and thinking "where did i see this before" 😭💙

imma write a silly lil sevika and cuteness aggression thing right here right now bc i feel bad--

~ ~ ` 💞

imagine. just sitting nearby, minding your own business, reading or cleaning or watching tv or whatever, and sevika's sitting across the room watching you from the couch with this fierce scowl. you finally notice her staring and go "what?" "come here," she says, impatiently patting her knee. you walk over to her obediently and as soon as you sit down in her lap she pulls you into an aggressive hug, squeezing you just tight enough so the wind gets knocked out of you. nuzzles her face into your shoulder, you feel the soft bite of her teeth. "why are you like this," she mutters into your skin. "you're driving me insane."

she would also just pinch your cheek habitually. you're disappointed in her for getting home too late, working too much, whatever, and she just gives you a low chuckle and pinches the apple of your cheek, saying "you're cute when you're pissed."

wishing irrationally she could put you in her pocket and carry you around with her at work. would make her feel worlds better when life gives her shit.

ok so i have a request but first i just wanna say ur writing is so cute 😭 like it gets me every time i'm giggling and kicking my feet ily

anyway can u write smth with jinx where her gf is in the hospital cause she got caught up in some kind of riot (kinda like the one isha got swept up in) and she had to get some kind of surgery and she's all loopy on the meds so when jinx is holding her hand she's like ??? I have a gf??? except jinx literally is her gf and she thinks it's funny so she's like 'yeah? what's your gf like?' and r accidentally insults her without meaning to and at the end the anesthesia wears off and she's like 'why're u laughing at me what did i say?'

just smth cute like that

of course!! thank you for the request <3

i appreciate the words a lot you’re so sweet! ilyt, i hope i did your request justice :)

summary; jinx’s girlfriend gets injured during the riot. she wakes up in the hospital, loopy, and forgets she has a girlfriend.

characters included; jinx, sevika (platonic), isha (mentioned, platonic/familial)

tags/warnings; fluff, crack (kinda), very minor hurt/comfort, mentions of war/combat, r gets injured

men dni.

you're not sure exactly what happened, and jinx isn't either.

it started with a rally in the undercity to protest against the brutality of piltover's enforcers. gas, mass arrests, and sheer brutality drove the people of zaun to organize, though what they wanted most was jinx.

jinx, zaun's royalty as they saw her- a young woman who wasn't afraid to stand up against piltover's regime. they saw her as a symbol, but those who knew jinx can attest that she never wanted that status. she's always been a bit selfish, seeking only to protect herself and those she loved. being dubbed a symbol was of no interest to her, and being at a rally was even less interesting.

but it happened, and jinx curses herself for not having been there.

all she's been able to gather is from word of mouth. you got beaten pretty badly apparently, having been slammed up against a metal fence, stabbed in the side, and punched until you damn near lost consciousness. then kicked until you did. it wasn't until around twenty minutes after that a medical team was called, and it took even longer for them to actually get there. distance between cities aside, piltover has never been enthusiastic about providing the undercity their services.

and that's all she's been able to get. nothing about your recovery, your whereabouts, if they were able to get a pulse from you and bring you back to consciousness. nothing.

not only did isha get sent to stillwater, but you were severely injured. even as your girlfriend was ecstatic to retrieve isha from her cell and free other zaunites, it all circled back to you.

she doesn't just want you, and doesn't just want isha. she wants the family that she's built together. she goes through the motions of playing with the little girl, trying to put on a brave face while they set off glitter bombs and isha's infectious laughter rings through the air. but it doesn't compare to you being there, the both of you playing with her and making her laugh.

you should be by jinx's side, holding her from behind and peering over her shoulder at isha's newest adventure. brushing the girl's hair while jinx (tries to) makes food for the three of you, helping paint the toys jinx made, but you're in a hospital bed somewhere in piltover that nobody has been able to crack yet. it drives her near insane.

the door to the hideout opens though, and sevika half peers through. jinx can hear creaking, but only rolls her eyes without turning around.

"not interested," she deadpans.

"i'm sure you're not," sevika huffs, but that doesn't deter her. "she's in a hospital not far from the council building. apparently she's awake. thought you might want to know that, at least."

that catches jinx's attention. her head snaps around, brows furrowing. "you're serious?"

"would i have come here if i wasn't?"

of course she wouldn't have. sevika's a busy woman and time is her currency- so within seconds, jinx is tossing her boots on and bolting toward the exit with a one-track mind.

"stay here with isha, would you?"

with the way the girl is rushing out, it doesn't give sevika much choice. she sighs, looking over to the little girl absorbed in coloring and sits next to her.

"looks like it's you and me for a while, kid."

✧.*

you're lucky jinx loves you, because it took a good twenty minutes just for her to be cleared to visit you.

"no, i don't have any explosives, no, i'm not here to push an agenda, no, i'm not causing any trouble. i just want to visit my girlfriend."

"but-"

"janna above- just let me see her. you'd think this stuff would be easier..."

her heart is beating like a war drum when she approaches the room. there's a clear door and a little curtain obscuring her view of the bed, but she can see an iv bag. numerous tubes connecting to your hidden body, and a heart monitor. she doesn't know much about medicine, but the steady beep, beep, beep of the monitor is a momentary relief to the girl. at least you're stable.

she steps inside, knocking on the inside of the doorframe slowly.

"hey, toots..." she starts, slowly opening the curtain to reveal your form. you're still bruised, but the swelling that must've been there before is mostly gone. your eyes are lost in a far-off stare while she carefully sits down on the edge of the bed. "i'm so glad you're okay. i wanted to visit earlier, i did, just..."

her slender fingers slowly slot between yours, and she finds your gaze meeting hers within seconds. there you are, she thinks. there's those pretty eyes. "hey," you murmur.

just that word is enough to bring tears to jinx's eyes. it takes everything in her power to not just pounce on you, bury her head in your neck while she trembles and cries and clings to you, but that's the last thing you need. especially after just getting out of surgery.

"i should've been there," she breathes out, her voice trembling softly. "i'm your girlfriend, you got hurt and i was just sitting on my ass, and... oh, fuck, i'm so sorry."

a beat of silence, and your brows furrow. then you tilt your head... what is going through your head right now? this isn't the reaction jinx was expecting.

"...i have a girlfriend?"

the words are like a blow to the girl's chest, her eyes widening as her face inches closer to yours. suddenly, the tears are gone.

"uh, yeah? you've had a girlfriend for the past what- eight months?"

you let out a little gasp, your mouth forming an 'o' shape. "really?"

how could you not remember that? you and jinx have been together for close to a year now and near inseparable, and now you just... forgot? but she looks around, she sees the monitors and wires and breathalyzer... right. you just got out of surgery. you're loopy.

"wow..." you murmur, your words slurring together the slightest bit. "i do? what's she like?"

and, well.. jinx would be a damn fool if she didn't have at least some fun with this. she sits back on the edge, flicking one of her braids over her shoulder with a toothy grin.

"well," she starts. "she's amazing. smoking hot, of course, and super smart. like, a genius. she's funny, and talented, she's something of a hero... you know. the whole shebang."

your eyes light up at the description, and it takes everything jinx has to not burst out laughing on the spot.

"she sounds great," you gasp, lips tugging into a little smile. in this barely-there state where you're seeing this beautiful girl you barely recognize in front of you, these words are a shock. you've had a girlfriend this time, and you didn't know? "when can i see her? where is she?"

jinx chuckles softly, letting out an amused sigh and shaking her head.

"you'll see her soon enough. she's closer than ya think, love."

you're about to sit back against the pillows again before a thought occurs to you.

"do you have a girlfriend?"

the girl stares at you incredulously for a minute, blinking. you must be really out of it- but it draws an actual laugh from her.

"i do, yeah," she huffs. "she's great, too. beautiful, talented, funny, sweet... basically perfect."

"aw, damn it..."

✧.*

a few hours, jinx getting food from the hospital's cafeteria, and jinx is back at your door. she would've been there sooner, but those pesky doctors just had to run some tests to make sure you were in stable condition after the operation.

she peers in the slightest bit to see you writing in something, a journal, presumably. she just barely steps in before your gaze lands on her, and you're beaming.

"jinx, you're here!" she hears from inside the room, and there's that smile she loves so much. she's quick to sit back on the edge of the bed, and you're even quicker to wrap your arms around her waist. the best you can while hooked up to tubes, anyways. "i wanted to talk to you, just.. i still haven't gotten my phone back."

and while she's ecstatic that you actually remember her now, she can't help but stifle a laugh. because you don't remember a damn thing about earlier.

"...hey, what's that look for?"

the dam breaks. she's laughing, doubled-over full belly laughing and you're left there, wide-eyed and bewildered.

"babe- hey! what's so funny?"

"i... jeez, i'm sorry, just, earlier you said-"

this only causes further confusion as your brows knit together and you try to turn your girlfriend to face you once again, though to no avail.

"you visited earlier? oh shit- i... what did i say?"

jinx is breathless between laughter and trying oh so hard to keep it together so she can just tell you. you were so damn loopy on those painkillers that you don't remember completely forgetting you have a girlfriend and asking if she was single, and she doesn't know if she has the heart to tell you.

"yeah, uh," she breathes out. "don't worry about it. it was nothing."

maybe she'll tell you after you've been discharged.

vi x gn!reader | jayvik

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

viktor eyes you for a second, a little weary.

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

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

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

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

can u do that same professor sevika but make her 100% fluff with the reader after class and invites her to her home hehehe

Improving Percentages (5)

contains fluffffffffff

"Hey, Professor Sevika is waiting for you, she finished her other batch early, go on!" The woman at the reception table said and you nodded getting up and swinging your bag over one shoulder.

You walked to the end of the hall, turning the door knob and peeking inside, "May I—"

"Yeah, come in," Sevika said not looking up from your case study work, twirling a pen in her hand as she read through the lines of your answer.

"Thanks." You muttered and walked inside, taking a seat next to the HUGE atrium window which was usually curtained but a little gap of the curtains next to the seat gave you a beautiful overview of the city in the dark, the neon lights flashing, honking of busy cars.

There was something about people being so darn busy as fully functioning adults that made you wonder what kept them so busy and if you would be so busy too if you had a job.

Sevika put her pen down, taking a sip of her expresso and looked at you, calling your name.

"Yes?" You looked at her, tearing your gaze away from the city overview.

No one was in the class yet, it was just you and her, and usually she would steal a kiss from you but it was a little risky right now because any moment the other students could come in.

"Come here," Sevika said and you thought she'd kiss you but the moment you stood in front of her chair, feeling small due to her muscular tall frame, Sevika said, "I can see the seams of your bra, put a jacket on."

"But I don't—"

Sevika shoved a jacket towards you from her bag underneath the table, you smiled gratefully at her, "You're a lifesaver." You put the jacket on, making sure it covered where your dignity had been falling off from.

"Now let's talk about your paper," Sevika said, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer to her making your breath hitch.

"I'm serious," she added and you giggled a little before nodding and looking at the paper she was marking. That was a lot of red lines...

"You did well, and the answer was okay but there are a few places you could've done better at," Sevika explained, "Like I specifically mentioned yesterday you were to add advantages right after mentioning disadvantages, yeah? Just do that with autocratic and democratic leadership, sprinkle in some words related to the stem and at the very end, conclude with your recommendation of which one is better suited to respective business." Sevika took her glasses off, placing them next to the pencil case

"Mhm... I understood, do you want me to redo the whole case study at home?" You asked, taking the paper.

"Yes, that would be good but it's not too necessary, whenever you're free," Sevika said gesturing you to go back to your seat.

The other students started coming in gradually and Sevika started her lesson, all the while you were back to thinking why Sevika was risking her career by dating you. It just seemed so... Sweet and dangerous at the same time.

You didn't want her life falling apart because of you and you knew you had to let go to save it but what if she didn't let go? What if she clung on?

You had never experienced someone ever begging you to stay usually it was just you trying to keep a relationship.

Class ended a bit later and as usual you stayed behind as the other students left. "Hey, baby, let's go back to my place today?" Sevika said approaching me and pulling me close to her.

"Mhm..?" You giggled and nodded, wrapping both arms around one of hers, "but what if we run into someone on the road who knows either me or you?"

"you thought I'd make you walk, princess?" sevika chuckled shaking her head, messing up your hair a little before she started putting her things in her bag, "make your way out and start walking okay? stop in front of the four-way main road, ill pick you up from there, it'll be safer." sevika mumbled as she continued tidying up her desk

"okay, see you soon," you said and walked out of the classroom, playing with the sleeves of your sweater as you walked out of the academy and pressed the ground floor button of the lift, waiting for the elevator to arrive. sevika was just so... different from everyone else you've been with, yet you weren't sure what you both were. more than just student-teacher or not.

after the elevator opened with a little ding you got inside, waiting patiently for the elevator to take you to the ground floor while you continued thinking about sevika. you had never really confronted her about what she thought the both of you were and she didn't seem like the person who was into labelling relationships...

but given how no-nonsense her attitude usually was you were almost sure she wouldn't play around with someone's feelings.

with a small sigh, you walked out of the elevator and the cold hair hit your exposed skin making you shudder a little. as you walked out of the building you realised it was already dark outside, you took your phone out and checked the time.

it wasn't too late, but eitherway you texted your mother with a simple "i'll be at professor sevika's house for an extra class planned early today, she won't be available for mondays lessons that's why."

you read the text over and over to make sure there were no loops before starting to slowly start walking towards the four-way road sevika had told you to stop by at. the air was cold, blowing your hair out of your face and making you shiver a little. the roads were busy as usual, speeding cars and people trying to cross the road, but the only sound you could focus on was the sound of your footsteps against the concrete as you walked.

you didn't wait for too long after reaching the four-way road because you saw a car slow down in front of you making you blush slightly. you took a look around to make sure no one was around before you got inside the passenger seat with a little smile.

"nice ride," you complimented

sevika smirked a little hand travelling to rest on your thigh, "uh-huh, you like it huh?" she continued driving through the traffic

"i told my mother that i was gonna be at yours for extra class because you won't be available on Monday." you informed making sevika chuckle a little.

"little liar." sevika said as she gave you a little smile, a rare sight usually.

"i've been meaning to ask you something." you said wringing your hands in mild anxiety, looking over at sevika to see her facial expression every once in a while.

"go ahead, doll." she said blankly her voice betraying close to no emotion

"so i've never really— um— what i meant to ask was what are we?"

a silence enveloped the normal chatter in the car and you could see sevika's eyes trying to fix themselves on the road.

"well, what do you think we are?" sevika retorted.

"i don't know, i just, it's so weird because i take you as a respectable lady who would always put her career up first before anything and everything else so you dating me, your student, is a bit uncharacteristic and... absurd." you paused before adding, "but that doesn't mean i put you past it i think if you do love someone passionately there's no stopping in that and i won't... hold it over you if you say you're not ready for something like a relationship or want to keep it casual. i just— it would be nice if... it was a mutual thing." the ending of your words were beyond dumb and a little awkward

sevika laughed her voice a deep rumble from somewhere within her chest but the tone? you couldn't exactly place it "you take me for a fool, dolly?"

"what? no!—"

"you're mine. there is no other label for it. it's not casual, it's not a fling, it's not absurd. you're mine and that's that," sevika said with a little edge to her voice.

"so are we—?"

"lovers? heck yeah. girlfriends? fuck yes." sevika cut you out as she continued driving, "i can't believe you'd take me for the player type."

"im sorry I just..." you trailed off looking out of the window, "i guess i don't have the cleanest dating history is all."

sevika parked in front of a relatively pretty apartment, the gardens, the plants, flowers decorated the huge terraces of each floor. it was beautiful, the wooden decorations paired with thick, huge glass windows... looked like something straight out a Pinterest board.

"look at me." she said her voice an octave quieter

you looked at sevika, biting your bottom lip nervously for a bit before releasing the now reddened lip

"you matter to me. your feelings matter to me. i don't know what you dated before. but you're single now so i just know it wasn't a commitment at least from their part. but im here to stay. whether we fall off or not im here to stay okay? don't let me catch you ever thinking otherwise." sevika said gently which was absolutely out of character from the usually sharp, stern sevika you knew

"mhm... i love you, sevika." you smiled

"i love you too angel." she returned the smile and sevika got out of the car, walking around and opening the door for you so could step out too as the both of you made your way across the huge expensive garage and to an elevator that was ten times bigger than the one at the academy

"you're damn rich," you muttered and sevika laughed, "i like keep things quality."

as you both got in the elevator and sevika pressed the button for her apartment unit, you stared at the taller woman, studying her facial features. you knew this was probably gonna be the healthiest relationship you've ever had even if... it wasn't the most ethical one so far.

University Vi headcannons - ⭐

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How She Deals With Exam Stress

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

♡︎ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ♡︎

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

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

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

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

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

“I have my ways.”

A beat of silence. Then her phone buzzed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You raised a brow. “Did they lie?”

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

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

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

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

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

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