littlerebels

[littlerebels]

you died.. ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ sevika x fem!reader

warnings: heavy angst, over drinking, drug use, the reader dies, mentions of self harm, severe illness, implied suicidal ideation.

you weren’t okay.

neither of you were.

you were dying, your body shutting down piece by piece—an irreversible betrayal written into your very cells. and sevika? she was dying too… because of you. just… slower.

she had proposed to you two years ago. ever since then, those years had been the best of her life. her world condensed into the shape of a person, being her home, loving her, existing in a way that made her feel worthy of everything she had never thought she deserved.

the proposal wasn’t how she originally wanted to do it. no, the first idea was… filthy. she had planned to slip the ring into your mouth mid-rimming session, to let you taste commitment on her tongue before you ever saw it. but she knew you. you would’ve killed her for ruining such a ‘cute’ moment with something so obscene. so instead, she did it the way people were supposed to. on one knee. a cliché she had always mocked but swallowed down, not what she wanted,

but it made you say yes.

it should have been your happy ending.

then, six months ago, your body turned against you.

your immune system—your own cells—recognized you as a stranger, an invader. and so, they attacked. your liver was the first casualty, eaten away by the thing meant to protect you. it was cruel. crueler than anything Sevika had ever seen. she spent every last cent she had on you, on your medication, your comfort, your too fucking precious life.

it wasn’t enough.

nothing was.

when science failed, she turned to violence. held knives to throats, held every single person who knew medicine in zaun—and piltover—at gunpoint, demanded something—a cure, an answer, a miracle. but even threats couldn’t undo reality.

and sevika… sevika didn’t know how to live with that.

she drowned herself in anything that could numb the helplessness. shimmer. liquor. drugs. some nights, she took enough to kill a lesser person and still woke up aching the next morning, furious that she had to wake up at all.

but even in the haze, she took care of you. she bathed you. dressed you. cooked for you, even when you were too sick to eat.

and when you slipped into unconsciousness, she let the drugs consume her whole.

January third.

you woke her up that night. whispered to her in a voice so soft, so faint, it made her chest cave in on itself.

“hold me.”

she felt it then. not just in your words, but in the way the air stopped flowing easily into her lungs.

she knew.

without a word, she shot up, pulled you into her lap, her hands cradling your face, her forehead pressed against yours, tears drowning her eyes.

“you can rest.”

the hardest thing she had ever said. a death sentence, signed by her own lips. but you needed to hear it. she wasn’t cruel enough to tell you to stay, not when she knew you couldn’t. you needed to know that it was okay to stop fighting. that she wouldn’t hate you for leaving.

she was poisoning herself with those words, but you were worth it.

you wanted to say thank you.

you wanted to say I love you.

you wanted to tell her you would find her again, in another, less cruel life.

but the words never came.

all you could do was press the weakest, most featherlight kiss to the palm of her hand—then go completely still.

you left.

and sevika wasn’t alive after that.

not really.

she wouldn’t even call it a life. it was something else. a half-existence. people avoided her more than usual, frightened by the way she looked, the way she fought, the way she stopped being human. she was cruel in ways she hadn’t been before. killed instead of capturing. broke bones that didn’t need breaking. anything to exhaust herself enough to get a few hours of dreamless sleep.

and still, every morning, she woke up choking on the same grief she had passed out with.

you made her promise to keep living.

she hated you for that. really fucking hated you for that.

she almost wanted to eat the words right out of your mouth before you finished the sentence.

but here she was.

deep down, she knew—it was only a matter of time before she followed you. fuck them promises.

April third.

she stumbled into the apartment, three-quarters of a liquor bottle already in her system. she barely felt it. alcohol didn’t hit like it used to.

she meant to drink the rest. to go black. but for some reason, she never got up from the kitchen floor. her back hit the cooler—empty now, always empty—and her hands went limp.

her limbs felt too heavy.

the room was spinning.

everything was—

her eyes opened.

she was still in the kitchen.

but something was different.

the air was thick with a scent.

something warm. comforting.

something she hadn’t smelled in so long.

her favorite soup.

sevika’s breath stalled.

she didn’t move. didn’t dare.

not until she saw the figure at the stove, stirring the pot. the most beautiful figure she had ever laid her eyes on.

you.

It was cruel, the way her brain did this to her.

she had almost given up on ever seeing you in her dreams again, but now? now her mind had conjured the most perfect illusion of you. domestic. peaceful. softened by the warmth of the kitchen lights.

sevika didn’t question it.

she got up.

she was going to savor this.

she is going to savor this.

she moved to you. wrapped her arms around your waist and buried her face in your neck.

for the first time in three months, breathing wasn’t a heavy task.

“pretty baby.”

you hummed, voice smooth as a knife through silk.

“don’t you think you drink too much—”

“no.”

“you shut up.”

her grip tightened.

“you shut your little mouth up and you let me have this.”

she squeezed you closer, forearms pressing into the soft curve of your stomach, anchoring herself in something she knew wasn’t real but felt like it.

“i love you.”

she breathed the words into your skin, kissed the edge of your jaw, felt you against her.

“i didn’t say it enough. i love you.”

“i know.”

your voice melted into her chest as you turned off the stove.

“we need rosemary.”

sevika let out a soft chuckle, her lips ghosting over your temple.

“yeah?”

you hummed, leaning deeper into her embrace.

“I wanted to make you rosemary bread.”

you said it so casually. so softly.

“i know you love it. it goes well with peach tea.”

sevika stilled.

the warmth in her chest curdled into something else.

because this… this was too real.

her dreams didn’t remember little things that much. she couldn’t believe how much she remembered every single detail like that.

she opened her eyes.

she was still in the kitchen.

but you were gone.

the pot was still on the stove.

the scent still clung to the air.

the pot was still there.

her feet moved without her consent, her hand also opened the lid without her consent.

the soup was still hot.

her stomach dropped.

her mind screamed at her that it wasn’t possible, that it couldn’t be real—

was she insane for eating the entire pot?

yes.

was she insane for chugging down another bottle of liquor just to see you again?

yes.

and if she had to drink herself half to death just to see you again—

then so be it.

[littlerebels]

One day I'm going to reach the stars 🤩

[littlerebels]

𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽𝚂 ⚝ 𝚆𝙸𝙵𝙴!𝚂𝙴𝚅𝙸𝙺𝙰 𝚇 𝙵𝙴𝙼!𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁

warnings: some of these are a bit unsettling and darker than arcane’s usual tone. if that’s not your thing, scroll. no need to tell me sevika is a pookie wookie she wouldn’t hurt a fly—i promise i do not care.

⚝| sevika has an uncanny patience when dressing you. sliding silk over your shoulders, fastening buttons, smoothing down fabric. but when she undresses you, it’s different. she never rips, never rushes, but the way she peels each layer off feels clinical, like she’s dissecting something precious.

⚝| sevika never corrects you when you’re wrong. but when someone else does, she just looks at them, quiet and unreadable, until they shift uncomfortably and drop the subject. later, in private, she murmurs the right answer against your skin like a prayer.

⚝| she never raises her voice at you, ever. but her silence cuts deeper than any shouted argument. when she’s upset, she just watches you, eyes heavy lidded and still, until your nerves unravel and you start apologizing before you even know what for.

⚝| sevika has a ritualistic way of loving you…every night, she brushes your hair in long, slow strokes, unraveling every tangle with near-reverence. it’s soothing, but you don’t realize it’s a form of control until you miss a night and she grips your wrist, jaw tightening, voice low “sit down. i’m not asking.”

⚝| sevika feeds you with her fingers, not utensils. no matter how messy, no matter how impractical. she never lets you take the food from her hands, only lets you open your mouth and accept. sometimes she waits too long, lets the food linger between her fingers, watching your lips part in hesitation before she finally presses it to your tongue.

⚝| sevika doesn’t like locked doors, not yours, not hers. you don’t even have a lock on your bedroom anymore; she removed it one day while you were out. didn’t say anything about it, didn’t acknowledge it. but when you ask, she just raises a brow. “what do you need a lock for?” and there’s something in her voice that makes you feel ridiculous for asking.

⚝| sevika keeps your old nightgowns, the ones that have worn too thin, the ones that smell too much like you. she never tells you why. you only find them later, folded neatly in the back of a drawer you don’t open often, tucked away like something sacred.

⚝| sevika is obsessed with your warmth.. but only when you’re sleeping. when you’re awake, she touches you gently, reverently. but when you sleep, when you can’t see her, she holds you differently. arms locked, face buried against your skin, inhaling deeply like she’s afraid you’ll disappear if she lets go. some nights, you wake up gasping, feeling like you were being suffocated, but she’s just there, still, unmoving, barely breathing.

⚝| sevika remembers everything you say in passing. weeks later, she hands you something you forgot you even mentioned wanting. she repeats things back to you, word for word, like a recording. sometimes, she tells you things you don’t remember saying at all. and she never lies. you know she never lies. so you believe her.

⚝| sevika has a way of making you feel small without making you feel weak. it’s in the way she stands close, in the way she speaks low, in the way her hands find your waist so easily. she makes you feel delicate, precious, something to be handled carefully. and you like it. you like it so much it scares you.

⚝| sevika hates hearing you apologize. it doesn’t matter what it’s for. every time the word slips past your lips, her jaw tightens, her fingers flex like she’s holding herself back from something. “don’t,” she says, firm, steady. but the next time, you still say it. and the next time, she doesn’t say anything at all, just looks at you for a long, long time before shaking her head.

⚝| sevika kisses you like she’s taking something. it’s never harsh, never forceful. just deep, lingering, like she’s breathing you in, keeping something for herself. and when she pulls away, you always feel a little.. lighter. like something small has been plucked from you, but you can’t tell what.

⚝| sevika doesn’t like when you smell different. if you use a new soap, a new perfume, she notices immediately. her fingers trail over your pulse, slow, deliberate. “this isn’t yours,” she murmurs, barely above a whisper. there’s no accusation in her voice, but something about it makes you feel guilty.

⚝| sevika picks out all your clothes.. not just your nightgowns, but everything. you never really noticed when it started. now, when you try to choose something yourself, you hesitate. your hands hover over the fabric, uncertain, like you’re waiting for her approval even when she isn’t there.

⚝| sevika wears glasses when she reads.. a rare sight, one you can never resist. the moment they rest on the bridge of her nose, you’re on her lap, draping yourself over her like a silken shawl. you press kisses along her cheekbone, her jaw, whispering saccharine nothings against her skin, drunk on the contrast of her sharpness and your softness. she exhales like she’s indulging you, like she’s letting you win.. but she never takes the glasses off. she keeps reading, one hand turning the page, the other resting heavy on your thigh.

[littlerebels]

Guilty as charged

Chat… I think I have a type

[littlerebels]

♥️ Happy Valentine’s Day! ♥️ Sevika’s first day in the council is turning out a lot better than she had anticipated. Mel organizes only the best welcome days! Hope you’re all enjoying today one way or another. Y'all deserve some chocolate and roses! -> Uncensored here

[littlerebels]

I,,,, I uhhh,,,,,,, ummmmm uhhhhhhh

sketch I guess!

[littlerebels]

[littlerebels]

so… yeah. Sevika thirst trap that I forgot to post here.

[littlerebels]

Anyway, if you criticize Arcane in any capacity and you value your time and intelligence, do not interact with this unhinged, rabid animal aka sapphiresapphic:

She has, and I say this with no exaggeration, sent me 100+ anon messages telling me to kill myself because I had the audacity to say bad things about her only personality trait

Anyway, I hope she gets the psychiatric help she needs because her current dose of meds is clearly not enough. I recommend some atorvastain too because this can’t be good for the heart.

[littlerebels]

Caitlyn Kiramman stans act normal challenge IMPOSSIBLE DIFFICULTY

“i literally gave testimony to my city’s council 🥺 so you can’t criticize a fictional character’s actions yall 🥺 ignore the fact that I don’t know any of you and you all very well could have done work in the community just as i have 🥺 im going to assume that you havent! 🥺 im the only one 🥺 im a real activist”

…Is telling black fans to shut up activism? Is that being an ally? I cannot with these people. This just oozes white lib I’m sorry

[littlerebels]

Thank you for all the Sevika x reader fics. In the past week I've been a mechanic, a prostitute, a cowboy's daughter, a princess, a Piltover council assistant, a thief, a doctor, an assassin, a spy, a test subject, a femme, a masc, a butch, a pillow princess, a bottom, a top, a vastaya, a brat, an office worker, a female dad, a gym trainer, a hair stylist, a rock star, Silco's second daughter, a surgeon, an enforcer, and always always a raging dyke.

Keep up the good work :) you are feeding the people

[littlerebels]

Oh my god im gonna

sevika with short hair for your consideration

[littlerebels]

Can r/arcane be fucking normal, already?

[littlerebels]

The only reason they made Maddie a Noxian spy is because otherwise, she would've been a victim in this entire situation, and people would see how shitty Caitlyn's actions actually are.

Cait is still Maddie's superior. The power imbalance is very much there, not to mention the way she treats Maddie outside of their affair. Imagine if instead of being a 'traitor that weasled herself into Caitlyn's bed to gain her trust', Maddie was just an innocent young officer who was manipulated and used by her boss. It just makes Caitlyn look way worse, which she is, because she didn't know Maddie was a spy, so in her eyes, the difference in status didn't matter.

The writers needed somone else to be the scapegoat while Cailtyn did her thing and everyone was already against Maddie because she 'got in the way of Caitvi', which is not true by the way, Caitvi was always going to be cannon. Personally, I think it's ridiculous, but I've seen it happen time and time again in fandoms, so I'm honesty not surprised.

[littlerebels]

Combatting the "illiterate/dumb/insert classist assumption here" headcanons being circulated about Zaunites (particularly Vi) with my own headcanons.

Headcanon that Zaunites are actually super into literature and poetry. Like, culturally. Headcanon that music and poems were there for them when they had nothing else. The bridge song is the only song we hear being canonically sung by a character in the show and it's literally baby Powder (and Vi hums at the end of s2). The only other songs being played in-world are all by Zaunites. Art is a form of expression that they took refuge in as a community.

Headcanon that they generally love storytelling. Regardless of if they do or don't have access to books that are in good and preservable conditions, storytelling (via reading or memorization/orally) is a super important part of their culture. No one population has a 100% literacy rate even IRL, and not being able to read doesn't make anyone stupid anyway. But Zaun has a decently high literacy rate, especially considering their circumstances. They prioritize it because of how fundamentally important art/storytelling is to their culture.

Headcanon that Ekko and his Firelights tell stories to the kids at the base every night before bed. That a lot of these tales are from people he loved, like Benzo or his birth parents, or even Vi, Jinx, Mylo, and Claggor.

Headcanon that Vi in particular loves reading. She's a total bookworm. The few moments where she gets to do things for herself, she chooses to read and collect poetry and literary works. She's only ever kept one classic for herself (sold the others), but the things she keeps, she treasures. Young Vi likes to spin tales for baby Powder. Some are based off of stories she's read/was told by the adults in her life. Others are entirely made up on the spot, for Powder's own enjoyment.

Headcanon that Vi would've maybe wanted to be an author if she wasn't more preoccupied with protecting her family. That she considered pursuing those interests a pipe dream, something for a different version of herself.

Headcanon that Sevika remembers more about her dad's stories than about her dad himself. Headcanon that Renni the chembaron read books with her son whenever they both had a day off from work.

Headcanon that a lot of Zaunites know how to sing. Headcanon that Vi can sing. And that she used to sing lullabies for Powder until Mylo called her a baby for still needing them. And even after Vi punched him for it, Powder insisted she was too big for lullabies- so she and Vi settled on bedtime stories.

Headcanon that Jinx still remembers those stories. That she tells them over and over to herself whenever she can't sleep.

Headcanon that Silco told her stories when she became comfortable enough to tell him about her insomnia as a kid.

Headcanon that he would tell her anything from true stories of his past to things he's read or heard to things improvised on the spot. And they were different from Vi's stories because these usually had some moral/message to them, even the ones that he made up- but she loved them just as much as the aimless, endless tales of wonder and adventure Vi would spin for her.

Headcanon that now, she replays both Vi's and Silco's stories in her head at night. That when Isha came into her care, she shared some of those stories with her, too.

[littlerebels]

I always thought that if Vi and Caitlyn weren't already canonically lesbian, people wouldn't fight the idea of a lesbian!Sevika so much.

And I was proven correct with some fucker on the clock app pulling the "You already got Caitvi so shut up" card.

Why are we putting a quota on representation? So because "we already got Vi" as a butch lesbian, Sevika can't be one too? (This is extra funny when you realize Sevika is a narrative parallel/foil to Vi)

...But if I said, "You already got Ambessa/Jayce/Ekko" in response... I would be in the wrong...

[littlerebels]

Day 5. Legacy