#arcane women
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This was so well written and not generic like some fics on this. It was so heartfelt, and really comforting.
Vi, Jinx, Sevika and Caitlyn (separate) with an s/o who self harms? I couldn't find any rules on your pinned page, so sorry if this violates anything!
SELF HARM CONFESSIONS
Arcane woman x f!reader
Synopsis: How arcane woman (Vi, Jinx, Caitlyn, Sevika, Ambessa, Mel, Grayson) would react when they find out that you cope with your mental struggles through self-harm and respond with different types of comfort as a result.
Request: Anon 🤍
VI
Vi had always been observant. Her years in the Lanes taught her to read people, spot dangers, and sense when something wasn’t right. That’s why, as much as you tried to hide it, she noticed.
You were seated at the kitchen table, mindlessly picking at the hem of your sleeve unconsciously while Vi leaned against the counter, arms crossed. Her brows furrowed, her red hair glowing faintly under the warm kitchen light.
“You’ve been quiet lately,” she started, her voice soft yet probing. “And don’t tell me you’re just tired, babe. Something’s up.”
You froze, keeping your eyes downcast. “I’m fine.”
“Don’t give me that,” she pushed, stepping closer. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”
Her use of the pet name chipped away at your resolve, but you stayed silent. Then her hand was on yours, her calloused fingers tugging your sleeve up. You flinched, trying to pull away, but she was faster. Her breath hitched as her eyes landed on the faint scars and fresh marks that littered your arm.
“Sweetheart,” Her voice cracked, breaking through your defenses. Tears welled in your eyes as you pulled your arm away, hiding it in your lap.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, the words tumbling out like a confession. “I didn’t know how else to—”
“Don’t,” she interrupted, her tone firm but not unkind. She crouched in front of you, placing her hands on your knees. “Don’t apologize for this. Just why didn’t you tell me?”
You bit your lip, unable to meet her gaze. “I didn’t want to be a burden.”
Vi let out a shaky laugh, one filled with disbelief and heartbreak. “A burden? Babe, you’re my whole damn world. I’d carry whatever weight you’re holding if it meant you didn’t have to feel like this.”
She wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into her chest. You sobbed against her, and she held you tighter, her fingers running through your hair.
“We’ll figure this out,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You’ve got me, okay? You’re not alone, and I want you to know that.”
JINX
Jinx had been watching you closely for weeks. Her scatterbrained nature didn’t stop her from noticing the way you winced when she grabbed your arm or how you avoided her eyes when she asked if you were okay.
That night, she cornered you in her workshop. The dim lighting cast shadows across her face, her wide blue eyes boring into yours.
“Alright, spill it, toots,” she said, hands on her hips. “What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing,” you mumbled, trying to sidestep her. But Jinx wasn’t having it. She grabbed your wrist, gently but firmly, and tugged you closer.
“Liar,” she teased, though there was no humor in her voice. “You’re hiding something.”
When she rolled up your sleeve and saw the faint scars, her playful demeanor evaporated. “What… what is this?” she whispered, her voice trembling.
Tears filled your eyes as you tried to pull away. “It’s nothing. Just forget it. I told you, it’s nothing.”
“No way,” she said, her voice wavering. “It’s not nothing, sugarplum, and neither are you, because I know that you are probably thinking that right now to do this. You’re my favorite person.”
The sincerity in her voice made your tears spill over. “I’m sorry, Jinx. I didn’t mean—“
“Shh,” she cut you off, pulling you into a tight hug. “Don’t be sorry. Just promise me you’ll tell me when you’re feeling like that, okay? I’ll never judge you for something like this. We’ll figure it out together, step by step, even if they’re small.”
You nodded against her shoulder, her chaotic energy melting into a rare moment of calm as she held you, lightly rubbing your back.
CAITLYN
Caitlyn had always prided herself on her investigative skills. So when she started noticing the long sleeves you wore in the heat of summer and the distant look in your eyes, she knew something was wrong.
She confronted you one evening in the parlor, her hands folded neatly in her lap as she watched you fidget.
“Darling, is there something you’re not telling me?” she asked, her voice gentle but insistent.
You hesitated, but her sharp eyes didn’t miss the way your hands gripped your sleeves. Without a word, she reached out, brushing her fingers over your wrist.
“Please,” she said softly. “Let me in, tell me what is wrong, dear.”
The tears came unbidden as you rolled up your sleeve, revealing the scars. Caitlyn’s eyes widened, her lips parting in shock, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned closer, taking your hands in hers.
“Oh, my love,” she murmured, her voice breaking. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to disappoint you, and I was scared of how you might see me because of this.” you whispered.
Caitlyn shook her head vehemently, her grip tightening. “You could never disappoint me. You’re the most important person in my life. Please, let me help you.”
She pulled you into her arms, holding you like you might break. “We’ll get through this,” she promised, her voice steady. “I’m sorry you’ve felt like this for so long, my love.”
SEVIKA
Sevika wasn’t one to pry, but when she noticed the scars on your arms during a rare moment of intimacy, she couldn’t stay quiet.
“What’s this?” she asked, her voice low and measured as she traced the faint lines with her prosthetic fingers.
You tried to pull away, but her flesh hand caught your wrist. “Don’t,” she said, her tone soft yet firm. “Talk to me.”
Tears welled in your eyes as you couldn’t hold it back anymore, knowing that you were already painted red, so you confessed, your voice shaky. “It’s just… sometimes it’s too much.”
Sevika didn’t speak for a long moment, her eyes locked on yours. Then she pulled you into her lap, wrapping her arms around you protectively.
“Listen to me, doll,” she said, her voice steady. “I don’t care how messy things get—I’m here for you. Always, mk?”
She lifted her hand and lightly cupped your cheek, her expression becoming even more sympathetic as your eyes swelled with unshed tears. “I’ve been through my own rough shit and I get how it is, all tiring, always frustrating, but I promise you aren’t alone.”
You cried into her chest as she stroked your back, murmuring soft reassurances. “You’re my girl,” she said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “And I’m not letting you go through this by yourself, doll. I promise.”
AMBESSA
The sound of the door opening made your heart drop into your stomach. You hadn’t expected Ambessa to return so soon. You froze, the small blade still clutched in your trembling hand, red droplets forming at the edges of the fresh cut on your arm.
“Dove?” Ambessa’s voice echoed through the room, low and firm, tinged with the warmth she reserved only for you. You scrambled to pull your sleeve down, your movements clumsy with panic, but it was too late.
Ambessa stood in the doorway, her sharp eyes narrowing as they landed on you, taking in your pale face and the way you hastily tried to hide your arm. She stepped forward, her heavy boots thudding against the floor, and you instinctively backed up, bumping into the edge of the desk behind you.
When she saw how scared you were, skittish and small, she immediately looked confused and worried. “What were you doing?”
You stayed quiet, clenching the hem of your sleeve as you stared down. “Nothing, love, just waiting for you.”
“Let me see,” she said, her tone calm but commanding.
“No,” you stammered, clutching your arm protectively. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
Ambessa didn’t respond immediately. Instead, her eyes darted down to the faint stain of blood that had soaked through your sleeve. Her jaw tightened, and she exhaled sharply through her nose.
“Dove,” she said again, softer this time, her voice trembling just slightly. “Please, let me see.”
You hesitated, tears welling in your eyes as you slowly loosened your grip and allowed her to gently take your wrist. She pushed the fabric of your sleeve up with careful fingers, revealing the fresh cut alongside the faint scars of others that came before it. Her eyes moved over the marks, her expression unreadable.
For a moment, the room was silent except for your shallow breaths. Then Ambessa knelt before you, taking your hand in hers. Her usual unshakable confidence seemed to waver as she looked up at you, her golden eyes glistening.
“Why, dove?” she asked softly, her voice thick with emotion. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
You shook your head, biting your lip to stop it from trembling. “I didn’t want you to think I was weak,” you whispered, barely able to meet her gaze.
Ambessa let out a low, shaky breath and reached up to cup your cheek with her free hand. Her palm was warm, grounding against your skin. “Weak?” she repeated, almost incredulous. “You’ve survived so much, little dove. There’s nothing weak about you. But this?” She gestured gently to your arm. “This isn’t something you have to face alone, nor do because it seems like the only reliever.”
Tears spilled down your cheeks as you broke down, your shoulders shaking with sobs. Ambessa immediately pulled you into her arms, holding you close to her chest. Her embrace was firm but gentle, her chin resting on the top of your head.
“I’m sorry,” you choked out, clutching at her shirt.
“No, dove,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to your hair. “Don’t apologize. Just let me help you. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
Her words wrapped around you like a safety net, her steady presence making the weight you’d been carrying just a little easier to bear. She rocked you gently, her strong hands rubbing soothing circles on your back.
“We’ll get through this together,” she whispered, her voice as steady as her resolve. “I’ll fight every battle with you, dove. You don’t have to bleed alone.”
You nodded weakly against her chest, your tears soaking into her shirt as she continued to hold you like you were the most precious thing in the world. Because to her, you were.
MEL
Mel had a way of drawing the truth out of people, her natural elegance and empathy making it impossible to lie to her. When she first noticed the scars on your arm, a fleeting glimpse as you adjusted your sleeve, she didn’t say anything. Not right away. Instead, she observed, waiting for the right moment to approach you.
That moment came one quiet evening in her private study. You’d been sitting together in silence, the golden glow of the lamps illuminating her features as she worked on a painting.
“My love,” she began, her tone casual yet deliberate, “I’ve noticed something. Will you talk to me about it?”
You stiffened, your heart pounding. “What do you mean?”
She set her brush down, turning to face you fully. Her gaze was gentle, but it pierced through every wall you’d built. “I saw the scars, darling,” she said softly. “You don’t have to hide them from me.”
Your breath caught, and tears filled your eyes but you held them back as you stammered, “I—I don’t know what you are talking about, love.”
Mel crossed the room and knelt in front of you, taking your hands in hers. “Y/N, my love, you do know that you don’t have to hide this from me, yes? I know it may be a sensitive topic, and I get if you are not ready to fully talk about it, but I hate to see you hurt yourself.”
You stared down at her as the tears stung to far and started trailing down your cheeks, causing you to choke on a sob. “I—I just didn’t want to see how weak I am, especially if it makes me do this.”
Mel paused, looking at you with a look of disbelief and love. “Weak? My love, you are not weak for surviving through the pain in your own way. I just want you to know that you don’t have to do it alone, not anymore atleast.”
She brought your hands to her lips, kissing them tenderly. “I want to help you, however I can. You are everything to me.”
Her words broke through the dam, and you sobbed as she pulled you into her arms. “You’re safe with me,” she whispered, stroking your hair. “Always.”
GRAYSON
Grayson was the epitome of calm and collected, especially due to being an enforcer. Her steady presence made you feel safe, but it also made it hard to open up about the pain you carried. Still, she wasn’t one to ignore when someone she loved was struggling.
She first noticed when she brushed against your arm during a casual hug, her keen eyes catching the slight flinch you tried to hide. Grayson didn’t say anything then, but later that evening, right after shift as you sat together on the couch with a cup of tea, she addressed it.
“Darling,” she began, setting her tea aside. “I’ve noticed something, and I need you to be honest with me.”
You froze, your cup trembling in your hands. “What do you mean?”
Her eyes softened as she reached out, placing a hand over yours. “I saw the marks, love. You don’t have to explain if you’re not ready, but I want you to know that I’m here for you.”
Tears pricked at your eyes, and you glanced at her before looking down at your wrists. You could feel the pain rise just from looking at the area, but the reminder that it helped.
Slowly, you took a breath and whispered, “I didn’t want to worry you. You’re always so strong, and I didn’t want to bother you with this.”
Grayson’s expression shifted, a flicker of heartbreak crossing her face. She set your cup aside and pulled you into her arms, her embrace gentle yet firm.
“Oh, darling,” she murmured, her hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. “You’re never a bother to me. You’re the most important thing in my life.”
Her calm voice washed over you like a balm. “Whatever’s hurting you, I want to be here. Whether it’s listening or talking with you about other options, I couldn’t care less, as long as you know that we are doing it together.”
You sobbed against her, and she held you tighter, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “I love you,” she whispered, her voice steady. “More than anything. And I’ll always be here for you.”
A/N: I honestly got a lot of requests for this, and I know that it might be a very sensitive topic for some people. However, for however it touches on a more personal level, I hope that you guys are okay and know that you are enough (and hoping this was able to comfort you a little).
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Arcane Women Love language
Characters: Mel Medarda, Caitlyn Kirraman, Vi, Jinx.
⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆
Gift giving- Mel Medarda
-Mel most definitely shows her love through giving you gifts to express her feelings and devotion for you. Every gift mel gives is a masterpiece, reflecting her understanding of your preferences. She's not about flashy, meaningless extravagance; instead, she chooses items that hold personal meaning for you, like a rare painting, handcrafted jewelry, or a unique artifact tied to your interests.
-"This reminded me of you." She says as she hands you over a beautifully wrapped gift, the thoughtfulness behind it more meaningful than the item itself.
-Mel makes every occurrence feel monumental. Birthdays, anniversaries, or even a small victories in your life are celebrated with gifts that show she's been paying close attention to what matters to you.
-Her gifts are often handwritten notes, filled with poetic words that express her love and admiration for you.
-Beyond physical gifts, Mel loves organizing surprises experiences: candlelit dinners on balconies, overlooking Piltover, private art galleries, tours, or a weekend getaway.
-These moments aren't just luxurious but deeply intimate, designed to strengthen your connection and make you feel cherished.
-While her gifts may seem grand, they're always deeply personal. She'll incorporate meaningful details, like engraving a bracelet with a private phase only you two understand or designing a piece of art inspired by your shared memories.
Word of Affirmation - Caitlyn Kirraman
-Caitlyn never misses an Opponent to tell you how much she appreciates and love you. Whether it's a quick "You're amazing." Before you head out or a heartfelt "You're my everything" during quiet moments, her words are constant reminders of her affection.
-She's a master of subtle compliments, often praising things you didn't even realize were worth noticing about yourself, like your resilience, intellect, or kindness.
-If Caitlyn is away on duty, she'll write you letters filled with detailed accounts of her day and messages of longing.
-You'll also find little notes tucked into your belongings, ranging from "Good morning, love" to "I'm so proud of you."
-Caitlyn's words become your greater source of comfort during tough times. She knows exactly what to say to remind you of your strengths and capabilities.
-You've overcome so much already." She says, her tone soft yet firm. "There's nothing you can't handle."
-Caitlyn enjoys the intimacy of long conversation, where she can openly express her feelings. Where it's over a quiet dinner or while lying in bed, she'll tell you everything she loves about you in detail, letting no doubts about her devotion.
Physical touch- Vi
-Vi has an instinct to protect, and this shows in her touch. She'll casually place a hand on your back when walking through a crowded area, pull you behind her in dangerous situations, or wrap an arm around your shoulders when she senses you're uneasy, these touches aren't just protective but a way of grounding herself in your presence.
-Vi is incredibly affectionate. She'll hold your hand whenever she can, rest her forehead against yours when you're alone, and brush her fingers through your hair absentmindedly while you sit together.
-she loves surprise hugs, pulling you close with a grin before whispering, "Just needed to do that."
-Physical touch for Vi isn't always serious- it's playful and lighthearted, too. Except surprise piggyback rides, arm wrestling competition, (that she might let you win), and affectionate shoves as a way of teasing.
-She loves messing with you just to make you laugh, her touch always carrying warmth and love.
-After a rough day, Vi is the first to pull you into her lap and wrap her arms around you. She'll hold you tightly murmuring softly, "I've got you, alright?"
-She finds as much comfort in holding you as you do in being held.
Gift Giving - Jinx (Powder)
-Jinx loves creating things for you these gifts can range from intricate (and occasionally dangerous) gadgets to colorful pieces of art inspired by your relationship.
-She spends hours crafting these items, pouring her heart into every detail. "I made this for you!" She says with a proud grin, waiting eagerly for your reaction.
-Jinx keeps you on your toes with her gifts. She loves surprising you with random trinkets or gadgets when you least expect it, leaving them in places where you're bound to find them.
- "Check the table." She'll say mysteriously, and you'll discover a quirky little device that lights up or play a tune.
-Being an artist, Jinx expresses her love through graffiti. She'll create elaborate murals featuring your name, a inside joke you both share always in her vibrant, chaotic style.
-These public displays of affection are her way of saying, "You're always on my mind."
-Her gifts often come with an element of fun. She might create a scavenger hunt for you to find your present, complete with riddles and clues, or prank you with a harmless explosion before revealing the actual gift.
-For jinx, the joy is in making you smile (or laugh hysterically.)
#arcane#arcane women#arcane x black reader#arcane x reader#wlw#wlw x reader#pls dont flop#vi arcane x reader#vi arcane#caitlyn kiramman#caitlyn kirraman x reader#jinx x reader#jinx powder#mel arcane#mel arcane x reader#my gfs
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Collab with https://www.tiktok.com/@kropyva_eli?_t=ZM-8tLEJMs1p7l&_r=1 🔥✨️
Two wolfes
#arcane women#arcane fanart#arcane art#arcane mel#arcane ambessa#arcane noxus#arcane netflix#arcane black rose#arcane league of legends#mel medarda#mel art#mel#mel league of legends#mel lol#ambessa medarda#ambessa league of legends#ambessa lol#digital aritst#artists on tumblr#illustration#fanart#league of legend art#league of legend fanart#arcane#league of legends#arcane lol#lol mel#lol ambessa#ambessa and mel#black rose
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That might just be the fastest I've ever finished a piece
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*Sees Sevika for the first time*
Me: Sit on my face.
Silco: That’s no way to speak to my Second.
Me: Forgive my manners. Please…
sit on my face.
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i saw 3 women so beautiful i started crying
i fell down to my knees
#arcane season 2 spoilers#arcane spoilers#spoilers arcane#arcane season 2 act 3#arcane season two#violet arcane#arcane#arcane netflix#arcane vi#vi arcane#arcane caitlyn#caitlyn arcane#vi x caitlyn#caitlyn kiramman#mel arcane#arcane mel#mel medarda#arcane mel medarda#arcane caitvi#arcane caitlyn kiramman#arcane women#caitvi#caitlyn x vi#caitlyn x violet#violet x caitlyn
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˙ . ꒷ 🫀 . 𖦹˙— HEART 2 HEART
✮ soft cuddles & kisses with sevika while on your period ✮
fem!reader x girlfriend!sevika ❤︎ nothing but pure fluff ❤︎ poorly proofread bcs im lazy (ᵕ—ᴗ—)
“Vika, I’m going to be honest. I think I’m going to die.” You groan and bury yourself deeper into Sevika’s side, one leg over her waist and your face squished against her chest. A sock-full of raw heated rice was held to your stomach as a makeshift heating pad, but it just wasn’t enough.
Periods. Horrible things. As if you needed the monthly reminder that you weren’t pregnant. You were with a woman; periods were just useless and all the more annoying to you. The stupid bullshit heating pad gets pulled out from under your shirt and tossed onto the floor, earning a laugh from Sevika.
“You say this every month, silly girl. You’re fine.”
“Okay, rude. Hold me tighter.”
Despite Sevika’s scoffs and eyerolls, you're happily smothered when she rolls on top of you. You asked to be held tighter, but this was just as nice, if not better.
Feeling her lips brush against your cheek. Tossing your legs around her waist. Yeah, this is real good. You’re wrapping yourself around her frame like a cat as your arms find home at her neck. The scent of tobacco with citrusy shampoo wafting into your nose as you get a face full of her hair. It makes you laugh; anything Sevika does makes you giggle like an idiot, but that’s because she’s Sevika, and she’s perfect to you. “Mhm, this is what I needed,” you purred, returning her affection with a quick kiss to the top of her head.
You swear you can hear the word spoiled leave her lips, but you let it slide, melting under her weight as she starts to smother you with attention. Firm pecks are pressed on every inch of exposed skin, from your forehead to your cheeks to your nose and even your eyelids. It makes you forget the dull ache in your lower abdomen, and okay, maybe your periods weren’t all that bad. At least you got to be smothered like this.
“Oh, Vika…” you breathed, easing up even more into the mattress as her tongue laves at the skin of your neck. Short and quick, as if to tickle you, only for her to nip at where your pulse thrums under your skin. “Hey!” Alright, that didn’t hurt one bit, but it was funny to act dramatic.
And clearly she thought the same as she snickered at your faux complaint, nuzzling her nose against the area where she nipped you. And of course, the tip of her nose is cold because that woman always runs cold.
Which is why she absolutely could NEVER leave you because who would keep her warm? Exactly, she basically needs you. A woman like her needs a girl like yourself to occupy her lap and chatter her ears off and kiss her all over. Just as she does the same for you.
Even now you feel her lips brush against the shell of your ear and squirm from the way her hot breath tickles you. More soft kisses are laid to the side of your head, and more giggles fill the room. “My silly, silly girl,” she muses, nudging her nose against yours. Breaths mingling and hearts beating in tandem; can you love a person any more than this? Those darling puppy eyes of hers and those scarred lips pulled in a little smirk. It’s like she’s trying to give you a heart attack.
“Prettiest princess I’ve ever laid my eyes on. And that’s a fact.”
Oh my god. I’m so in love.
There’s no shame in you when you squeal as Sevika captures your lips in a kiss, fingers digging more into her hair. It’s that type of kiss where you can’t stop smiling and laughing, and it’s more chaste than anything else. But it’s over quick, too quick. You don’t let her pull her away too far before you’re tugging her head down back to your mouth, reveling in the way her breath hitches in surprise.
Now this is a proper kiss: slow and passionate but gentle. There’s desire, but it’s faint and lazy, something that’s for later in the night. And when you pull away for the second time, you’re smiling like a fool in love. Because you are.
“You look like a puppy, girly.”
“Vika, you look like a puppy. A really cute one too.”
“Shush!” You’re promptly shut up when she butts her nose against your cheek, and you let her words slide, taking it as her bizarre sense of humor. Between her dad jokes and this, she would make quite the comedian. “But you forgot all about your period too, huh?”
Damn, she got me. I really did forget.
#arcane sevika#sevika#arcane women#arcane#sevika x reader#sevika x female reader#hello milly nation (my two followers) 😇#the writing is chopped asf ik it’s been a while 😓#but I really like sevika as we can tell :3#and im actually on my period so this was fun#i unironically make heating pads by microwaving uncooked rice in sock btw#it saves money 🤑#ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ drabbles
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we love and support evil women but we don't support being evil to your wife
#like i still enjoy cait as a character cos i love complexity#but just keep her away from vi pls#pixievi chats#vi arcane#arcane women#arcane x reader#lesbian#arcane vi#caitlyn arcane#caitlyn kiramman#arcane#caitvi
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RAHH YOUR BACKKK
perchance, could you do arcane women reacting to reader in the aftermath of a really toxic relationship like how they would comfort them and stuff?
Arcane women comforting you after a toxic relationship. | Sevika, Vi, Jinx x Gn!Reader
You can't just say perchance!/J
But on a serious note, thanks for the interesting request, I had alot of fun writing this!<3
Content: Angst, past toxic relationships, fluff, can be read as either platonic or romantic? Idk, sfw
Reader has no set pronouns.
((Not proofread))
》SEVIKA
She hated your ex and never bothered to hide it either. Her passive-aggressive remarks and cold glares got the point across every time, but she never tried to talk you out of your relationship. It wasn't entirely her business anyway, and you'd learn eventually on your own. Trying to intervene would only make things worse unless they were hurting you, to which she'd bury them alive for it.
Either way, it came to no surprise to her when you appeared at her door late into a random night, crying and sobbing incoherently at what had happened. You finally found the strength to break it off with your ex, but that didn't stop the heartbreak from lingering in your heart so horribly. Yes, they were terrible to you, and it was for the best you left, but the self-doubt and conflicting emotions in you were driving you to the point of insanity.
Thankfully, Sevika was quick to get you into her humble home wordlessly, slightly unsure of how to comfort you. But she didn't play her long awaited "I told you so" card. Instead, she got you some tissues, a nice cold drink of your choice, and your favorite food before simply sitting down next to you in silence. She figured that listening to your rant would be better than to say anything, and so she did just that, for how long you needed it.
Deep down, she was brewing with anger, though, yet kept it calm for you. She wanted you to feel comfortable here and even goes as far as to let you cuddle up to her at the end of your vent session. In her mind, many different ways of dealing with your ex's existence came to mind, yet they stilled at the softest "thank you" given by you.
Her heart skipped an embarrassed beat as she waved your gratefulness off with a stubborn shake of her head, claiming it was nothing to worry about.
Your ex, on the other hand, definitely had something to worry about, though, once she gets her hands on them.
》VI
Vi has been itching to fight your ex from day one, yet refrained at your pleas to not hurt them. She always told you that you deserved better. That you deserved someone who actually loved and cared about you, but you couldn't see her way no matter how many times you two talk about it. It's like you couldn't see past the love you had for your ex until the glasses finally did break.
The pink haired woman intervened during a heavy argument between you and your ex, which eventually led you to finally just break it off with them for good. You were so sick of their fighting and finally understood what Vi was seeing from the start... but that didn't stop the guilt and heartbreak from seeping into your heart by the time you made it back to her place.
You felt ashamed for not seeing it sooner, but Vi was quick to wrap you up in warm blankets and reassure you that there was nothing to be embarrassed about. Things like that can happen to anyone, after all. And you learned something from it, so that's a good thing!
She will try and give you a bit of a peptalk that then veers into her, wondering if she should beat your ex up for good measure. Words won't get through to them, but these fists certainly will! Or so she thinks. Thankfully, you eventually fall asleep in her embrace before you can notice her once again reckless scheming.
Vi may let them get away with it for now, but if she ever sees them around, it will be on sight... well, as long as you're not there too. She wants you to feel safe with her and hope's that you do, as she, too, finally falls asleep.
》JINX
I hope your ex is good at dodging bullets because Jinx will shoot them on sight. She has already contemplated this from the start and never thought anything good of them either in all the time you dated them. She'd prank and annoy the hell out of them in the hope of driving them away, especially after you warned her not to hurt them.
But that didn't mean anything to her anymore, after you two finally broke up. Her efforts weren't for nothing after all, and she would've rejoiced at the news if it weren't for your heartbroken expression that greeted her the moment you stepped into her hideout.
Pushing her chaotic and murderous thoughts aside for the moment, she was quick to cuddle you up in her strong arms and let you rant all about your troubles to her. She'll feed you your favorite food and drink whilst you speak, yet doesn't say much herself. She's a good listener when she wants to be and luckily knows when to be serious. At most, she'll join in at the shit talking phase, glad to finally be free to gossip about them in peace with you at last.
Eventually, she'll try and distract you with some new inventions or stories of hers until you fall asleep, at which she takes that as her green light to go on a little hunt. After covering you in all of the blankets she can find and making sure that your resting place is extra comfortable, she casually loads her gun and exits the hide out with a wide grin.
Finally, some revenge for all the tears you've shed.
#arcane#arcane women#arcane x genderneutral reader#arcane x reader#arcane x y/n#arcane x you#arcane sevika#arcane sevika x reader#sevika#sevika x reader#arcane vi#arcane vi x reader#vi#vi x reader#arcane jinx#arcane jinx x reader#jinx#jinx x reader#arcane headcanon
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Sevika as a biker🤤💕
I love this woman with my WHOLE heart istg.💕💕💕
#art#digital art#fanart#arcane#arcane fanart#arcane fandom#arcane women#arcane wlw#wlw post#artwork#my artwork#sevika#arcane season two#arcane season 2#arcane s2#arcane sevika#arcane series#arcane tag#arcane undercity#arcane posting#arcane art#arcane au#arcane league of legends#arcane league of lesbians#arcane lol#arcane zaun#arcane netflix#biketok#biker girl#women🤤
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theres something about blue eyed waisian girls with a lust for revenge...
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PLEASEEEEE can i get pisces with the arcane women??
abso-fuckin-lutely! thank you so much for asking! 💋
'period sex?'
instead of a yes/no, this is just how'd they go about it/how they like it!
sevika:
100% would fuck you while you were on. metal hand, flesh hand, or strap, she dgaf. all she aims for is your pleasure. and get that, she does. she'd do it with you anyway, no care for a towel or even a room. alleyway? sure. office? absolutely. anything for her princess. (ofc she calls you princess btw)
jinx:
she actually can't wait for you to get your period. she's so into it it's almost a problem. she makes gadgets to use on you all the time, when you're on your period isn't any different. but her favorite is eating you out. she'll go down on you, give you the best head of your life, and come back up for a kiss like it's nothing.
vi:
you'll beg her to use the gauntlets. she'll cave and fuck you with them, leaving you seeing stars. it's the perfect protection to keep a mess from happening. she'd have you against the wall, metal fingers buried deep and covered in so many kinds of you. you'll beg her to slow down and she'll pretend she can't hear you, having you squirt all over her.
caitlyn:
it's a special time for the both of you. incredibly sensual and delicate. a bonding experience. she'll have towels down, candles lit, music playing, and constantly asking if you're okay. You'll tell her something along the lines of you've never been more okay in your life and she'll smile, placing a kiss to your inner thigh before diving in.
mel:
similar to caitlyn but imagine somehow more worship. She'll spend hours pleasing you in anyway you ask for. Your time of the month is a free pass to anything you want to try. Whether it be anal, shower sex, new positions, or more time spent on your favorite activities, she's down for whatever you want.
again, thanks so much! requests from my 600 q&a are open until feb. 1 !
q&a page ✷ m.list ✷ navigation
#𝙖𝙨𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙨 ᯓ★#arcane x reader#arcane women#arcane women x reader#sevika#sevika x reader#sevika x reader smut#jinx#jinx x reader#jinx x reader smut#jinx x you#vi x reader#vi#violet#violet x reader#violet x reader smut#vi x reader smut#caitlyn x reader#caitlyn kiramman#caitlyn kirraman x reader#caitlyn x reader smut#Caitlyn kirraman x reader smut#mel medarda#mel medarda x reader#mel medarda x reader smut#mel x reader#mel x reader smut
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Caitlyn kiramman x female reader
The Shadows We Share
The damp, cold air of Stillwater Prison clung to every stone, the metallic tang of despair thick in the narrow corridors. Caitlyn adjusted her rifle strap as she followed the warden, her sharp eyes scanning for any sudden movement. She wasn’t here to gawk; she was here to get answers.
Vi, walking ahead of her in tense silence, had been more than reluctant to return. Stillwater was a scar, a place where guilt and anger intersected with memories she couldn’t fully ignore. She had grudgingly agreed to let Caitlyn help her—after all, Caitlyn wasn’t one to give up once her mind was set. And Vi? She couldn’t shake the feeling she’d left something behind here. Or someone.
As they reached the farthest block of cells, the warden slowed. “You sure this is the one you’re looking for?” he grunted, gesturing to a cell shrouded in shadows.
“I’ll know it when I see it,” Vi shot back, her voice sharp. Caitlyn glanced at her, sensing the tension beneath her bravado.
The cell in question wasn’t like the others. Its occupant didn’t bother pacing or glaring through the bars. Instead, they sat on a cot at the far end, back straight, head tilted slightly as if aware of their observers before they even approached.
When the figure turned, Caitlyn couldn’t help but notice how striking they were. The sharp planes of their face, the unmistakable strength in their posture, and yet, there was something else—a cold, calculating air that seemed almost suffocating.
Vi’s breath hitched. “Y/N?”
The woman blinked, recognition flickering across her stoic features. “Vi.” Her voice was low, even, as if the years hadn’t passed. “Took you long enough.”
Caitlyn watched the exchange curiously, her rifle steady in her grip. Y/N—Vi had called her that—wasn't just another inmate. There was a history here. She could see it in the subtle shift in Vi’s demeanor, the way her usual cockiness dimmed into something more subdued.
“Who’s this?” Y/N asked, her tone neutral but her gaze landing on Caitlyn with an almost clinical assessment.
“Caitlyn,” Vi muttered, waving a dismissive hand. “She’s with me.”
The corner of Y/N’s mouth quirked into what might’ve been a smirk. “With you? Didn’t think you’d take to making friends with enforcers.”
“I didn’t exactly have a choice,” Vi shot back, her fists clenching. “But you—you’re alive. How the hell are you here?”
Y/N leaned back slightly, the chains on her wrists clinking faintly. “Where else would I be? People like me don’t get to walk free, Vi. You know that.”
Caitlyn stepped forward. “And who are you, exactly?”
Y/N’s gaze snapped to her, sharp and unyielding. “Someone who doesn’t need to answer your questions.” Her eyes flicked back to Vi. “But maybe you should answer mine. What are you doing here?”
Vi exhaled slowly, her shoulders relaxing a fraction. “We’re here for something else. Didn’t expect to see you here, though.”
“You didn’t expect to see me because you forgot me,” Y/N replied flatly, her tone cutting but not bitter. “Not that I blame you. You had other priorities.”
“I didn’t forget,” Vi said, her voice low, almost pleading. “I thought you were—”
“Dead?” Y/N offered, tilting her head slightly. “Close enough.”
Caitlyn, feeling the tension growing, intervened. “You’re from Zaun?”
Y/N raised a brow. “A long time ago.”
“She’s more than that,” Vi interjected, her voice laced with guilt. “She’s—she was like a sister to me. She taught me how to fight, how to survive. Vander trusted her with everything.”
Caitlyn frowned, the pieces starting to fit together. Y/N wasn’t just another criminal. She was someone Vi had cared about deeply, someone who had been part of her past long before Stillwater.
The conversation shifted as Caitlyn pressed further. “If you were that close to Vander and the others, why are you here? What happened?”
Y/N’s eyes darkened, her expression unreadable. “Zaun has no shortage of people who want you dead. I made a living off that fact.” She paused, her lips curling into a faint smile. “Apparently, the Piltover authorities don’t appreciate hitmen in their streets.”
“You were arrested for assassination?” Caitlyn asked, her voice sharp.
“Among other things,” Y/N replied nonchalantly. “Stillwater’s my penance.”
Vi shook her head, a mixture of disbelief and frustration flashing across her face. “You could’ve gotten out. You’re too smart for this.”
“Getting out isn’t the problem,” Y/N said quietly. “Staying out is.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Caitlyn glanced between them, sensing that there was far more to this story than either of them was letting on.
Before the conversation could continue, the warden returned. “If you’re done reminiscing, we’ve got schedules to keep.”
Caitlyn nodded, but Vi hesitated, her gaze lingering on Y/N. “We’re getting out of here,” she said firmly. “All of us.”
Y/N raised a brow, her expression skeptical. “You really think it’s that simple?”
Caitlyn stepped forward. “It’s not simple, but it’s possible. If you’re willing to work with us.”
Y/N studied her for a long moment, her piercing gaze seeming to dissect Caitlyn’s every word. Finally, she nodded. “Fine. But don’t expect me to play nice.”
Vi smirked, the tension easing slightly. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
As they turned to leave, Y/N’s voice stopped them. “Vi.”
She looked back, her expression softening slightly. “Yeah?”
“Don’t make me regret this.”
The Escape Plan
Henlo, I do have a second part of this if you all want it. So if you do comment and like. If anyone of y'all have any requests then you can also leave those in the comments or in the submission box thingy
Okiee byeeee
#lesbian#wlw#wlw post#x fem reader#x reader#x fem!reader#caitlyn x you#arcane caitlyn x reader#caitlyn kiramman x reader#caitlyn x reader#caitlyn kiramman x you#arcane caitlyn#caitlyn kiramman#caitlyn#caitlyn arcane#caitlyn kirraman#violet arcane#vi x reader#arcane women#league of lesbians#league of legends#x female reader#x masc reader#wlw fanfic#lol#reaper2187#arcane
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YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL AND NOTHING HURTS (1)
Pairing: Sevika x Alternate Universe!Reader
Synopsis: After following a Piltover councillor, the leader of the Firelights, and a furry little man to Hextech's failsafe underground, Sevika finds herself suddenly transported into an alternate universe where Hextech… never existed. In this world, she does not have the burdens of Zaun on her shoulders. Instead, she has you.
Contains: Mature language, mentions of death and violence, moments of intense anxiety and panic, kind of ANGST? Kind of? Honestly it gets kind of comedic at one point I swear (This chapter is more of a set-up for part 2)
Word Count: 6173
Note: As much as I love a good smut fic of Sevika, I require angst because her existence is so unfortunate and beautiful and UGH I just want my wife to be HAPPY. I had this in my drafts for like 2 months and I finally finished it. It's kind of all over the place but IDGAF I had a vision and RAN with it. Enjoy my first Sevika fic!
The world cracks, and Sevika cracks with it.
She feels her mind splinter, scattering like shards of glass in every direction. It’s followed by an odd, ineffable sensation that mimics pain, one that exists out of time. It’s as if she’s just been hit, is being hit, and has been enduring the same relentless blow for years, all at the same time.
Sevika stifles a groan and presses a hand to her temple, trying to focus on her vision that is flooded with bright, blinding light. Her attempts to open her eyes only make it worse— shapes and colors in front of her seem to flare and split, as the pain sharpens at the back of her head. And then, the tension snaps. The world slams into focus with a flash. As if nothing ever happened.
Sevika gasps.
Her body weakly rocks back and forth as she struggles to steady her ragged, uneven breaths. Reality slowly returns to her perception. The sounds of glasses clinking and the hum of human conversation rushes back to her ears, and potent, malty smells fill her nose.
She realizes she is sitting down, her legs pressed against the edge of a circular table. She doesn’t remember sitting down. Where the fuck is she?
Sevika’s eyes flicker around her surroundings, taking in the lively atmosphere.
She’s at a bar. No, she is at the bar. She’s at The Last Drop.
Except it’s not The Last Drop, because there’s no way it is. The layout is similar, with the multiple round tables and the stools surrounding it, the familiar red wooden walls, and the underlying scent of alcohol in the air— but that’s where the resemblance ends. The rest is completely different. The bar is alive with warmth and health, filled with people laughing and talking and not shooting shimmer down their veins. Everyone looks… Cheerful. Friendly. Happy.
Sevika’s eyes travel to the ceiling above, made of sleek glass panels, framed by twisting steel designs in ornate patterns. Sunlight pours through the transparent roof, providing a warm, brilliant light for the bar. The sky is bright. The air is crisp. The people are breathing.
This cannot be The Last Drop.
Sevika sweeps the room again, confusion overwhelming her. She can’t seem to get her thoughts straight— she searches the bar, grasping for something familiar. She doesn’t understand who these people are— until she lands on a figure standing behind the bar counter, mixing drinks and chatting with a customer. She freezes.
Vander.
The sight of him is enough to knock the air out of her lungs. It’s him, unmistakably– broad-shouldered and wrinkled, filled with the gentle authority she gave up on years ago. She feels her body pulse as she blinks rapidly, wishing for the vision to disappear. But he’s still there, with his greying hair tied in a man-bun, laughing earnestly as he hands out two fizzing blue drinks to the customer.
The sight of Vander, standing there, alive and whole, sends Sevika into a spiral— she can’t fucking focus. She can’t breathe, can’t think.
Her body sinks, and she slams her hands on the table in front of her to ground her, hard enough to rattle the surface. The impact shakes through her, her palms burning with the force of it.
And she feels it. She feels it. Both sides. Sevika looks down at her body. It’s still her own, she’s certain, and yet—
Her left arm.
Flesh. Veins. Fingers. Bones and all.
For a long moment she just stares at the shape of her limb, her mind coming to a blank. She slowly flexes her fingers experimentally, watching them open and close with shaky precision. She clenches them and feels the crease of her flesh, the pressure on her joints, and her nails digging into the soft curve of her hand. She unfolds it, sunlight reflecting on a gold band circling her ring finger.
Her heart stutters.
She turns her hand over, palm to sky, and with her right hand she traces the unbroken, flawless skin where there should have been cold metal. Something catches in her throat.
“What the fuck,” she chokes.
What kind of sick joke is this?
Panicking, she pushes herself up from her seat, the stool scraping loudly against the floor. The sound starts to repeat in her head, ringing loudly as her head spins. She closes her eyes to stabilize herself.
This is not happening. No, this is not happening. This is—
“Sevika?”
She snaps towards the voice.
And she sees you— you’re the customer from the counter, the one that was talking to the very well and alive Vander.
She looks at you up and down. You’re wearing a fitted, v-necked green vest over a cream blouse. High-waisted trousers tucked into your laced boots, with a belt that has trinkets and whatnots tied to a small metal loop. Brass accents glint at your cuffs, shining along with the two drinks in your hand. Sevika’s eyes linger on the golden band that glints in your ring finger.
You're younger than her— late-twenties at most, with a soft face and lively eyes that glow in the sunlight. You’re shorter, too, almost comically so compared to her towering frame. You don’t have a fighter’s build, nor the hard edge of someone who’s been through hell. Usually, someone like you would carry at least a small shiv for protection in a place like this, but you lack in defence, staring up at Sevika with such a pretty smile.
Who are you?
“Are… you okay?” You ask, stepping closer.
For a long moment, she doesn’t respond. Her jaw tightens as she fights the instinct to start throwing things. She just stares at you—confusion and disbelief battling for a position in her expression. There’s no way she knows you. There’s no way you know her. There’s no way someone who is as pleasing to the eyes as you would beam at her in such a darling way, talking to her as if you’re… concerned.
Who the fuck are you?
“I got us two of Vander’s specials,” You say, as if to remind Sevika of your obvious errand. You shake the glasses, making the ice in the colorful liquid clink with each other. “Honestly, he could charge double for these and I’d still call it a bargain.”
Sevika’s chest beats faster and faster, her breath coming and going in short rapid fires as her gaze flickers from you to Vander, still standing behind the bar. Her head starts to ring again, the pain returning, like aftershocks rattling through her head. She staggers back, holding her head.
“Sevika?” Your voice echoes into her ears. “You’re scaring me.”
Sevika shuts her eyes tightly and lets out a shaky sigh. Confusion and aches etch in her mind as she stumbles through her memories. Why is she here? Shouldn’t she be… what was she doing before this? She was… she was following the Piltie motherfuckers and that Firelight, wasn’t she? She remembers getting to the underground base where she saw the Hexcore, and then, and then—
The last thing Sevika expects is warmth.
She feels your hand against her shoulder. The drinks have been abandoned on the table, your thumb rubbing the fabric of her leather jacket. There’s softness in your eyes, looking at her with an expression she hasn’t seen in a while. She pauses at the unfamiliarity of the light touch. It’s gentle, almost too gentle, as if it is meant for someone fragile.
Sevika is the furthest thing from fragile.
And yet, here you are.
She jerks away from your touch, and you flinch back at her sudden reaction. Your brows furrow as you retract your hand, studying Sevika’s disoriented, almost horrified expression. You haven’t seen her like this— well, ever.
Although she doesn’t miss the way her pain has stopped, she feels uncomfortable at your contact, which seems to be a complete shock to you. She watches hurt ripple across your face, your fingers gripping each other, as if to hold yourself back.
“Sev…” You start, but you keep your hands to yourself.
Sevika steps back, not enjoying the tenderness in your voice. It’s cautious and slow, as if she’s some delicate thing that might rupture at the wrong word. She’s unsure of what to do, what to say— she’s always so sure.
Sevika is not someone to walk away from her problems. She’s never been one to shy away from a fight. So she surprises herself by walking away from you. She practically stumbles as her body moves instinctively, carrying her towards the door. She knows exactly where it is and it only confirms the distorted truth— this really is The Last Drop.
She shoves the door open and steps outside. She hears your voice call out to her, but the heavy panel slams behind her, pushing her onto the street— only to see her world turned upside down.
And the thing is, Sevika has pictured this before. She’s seen this image through her closed eyes, in dreams that replay over and over at night. The scenery of Zaun’s streets bustling with people and kids— kids running and jumping around. The neon-colored chaos and violence she’s grown accustomed to are nowhere to be found— and in its place are plants, lush and spreading, and fountains bubbling with clear, unsoiled water. The once cracked sidewalks, the filth-stained ground, are now scrubbed and tiled— with flowers that bloom in the corners of the buildings.
Sevika has lived her whole life for this world.
She lingers by the door in a haze until a person comes up to ask her, politely, to step aside so others can enter the bar. She barely makes out what he says but moves anyway, slowly stepping forward into the sunlight. It stings against her smooth skin and she goes rigid. The warmth is foreign as she becomes aware of how she is breathing— in, out, in, out— without feeling like her lungs are being stuffed with fumes.
She passes by dialogues of curiosity and affection— people chatting softly, people responding with laughter— followed by excited clicks of heels and footsteps on the pavement. It’s so lively yet so peaceful, that she can actually hear things through the air— birds chirping from the sky, winds rustling through the leaves, and faint, upbeat strumming of strings.
Sevika turns towards the song, finding the jolly voice somewhat familiar. She follows the sounds of the stringed instrument, finding her way to a small crowd. She peeks through the standing audience to see children seated around to listen to the rustic music, all their attention fixed on the performer. Standing in front of them, singing with unrestrained joy, is a furry little creature.
And Sevika remembers.
Without a second thought, she marches right up to him, ignoring the gasps and shouts of the audience.
“You,” She barks, standing right in front of the startled Yordle. “Where am I?”
The yellow creature stops playing with a startled jump and clutches his banjo. He lifts his fluffy head and looks up at the heckler in offended confusion.
“You know what I’m talking about. You were there!” Sevika snatches the banjo from his hand.
“Mercy me!” The furball shrieks, his green eyes darting between her and the instrument. “I haven’t an ounce of what you’re talking about, young lady!”
Sevika’s grip tightens. “With Hextech. The—” She falters. She doesn’t even know exactly what it was. “The underground. I was there.”
The Yordle’s face changes in an instant at the mention of Hextech. His well-groomed mustache twitches as his eyes widen in horror. A curious horror, though horror nonetheless. He shakes his head as if to make sense of her words.
“Oh, dear,” He nervously mutters under his breath. “You mean to tell me that you have also crossed timelines?”
Sevika blinks. “What?”
The Yordle looks past Sevika, and she glances back with him, remembering that they still have an audience. Usually people scram at the smallest sight of violence— but the people and children have remained in their places, confusion etched on their faces.
The furball clears his throat, his posture straightening before snatching the banjo back from Sevika with a swipe. “Well, folks, the show is over for today, but I will be back tomorrow with a better performance. Don’t worry!”
His cheery demeanor seems to ease a couple members of the audience as they shuffle away, their chatter rising with some frowns towards Sevika. Once the last couple children wander off, the furry creature turns to Sevika, lowering his voice.
“You must follow me.”
“I must say, your presence is rather unorthodox.”
Sevika scoffs, her boots echoing against the metal floor as she follows Heimerdinger through Jinx’s hideout. It’s odd to see the place so… clean. No more scattered blueprints or half-built bombs littering the ground. And the last time she saw it, there were glowing doodles everywhere thanks to Jinx’s newest recruit.
Though it’s not completely organized— tools scattered across the table, books open and stacked in dangerous, tipping ways, and multiple candles left unattended, letting the wax drip on loose papers. Some things can’t be changed.
Heimerdinger hops through the workshop towards a familiar figure hunched over a workbench, his concentration on carving something on a small stone-like item. His braided white hair is tied back into a ponytail, which sways as he leans closer to inspect his work. The scratch of the carving tool pauses when he hears Heimerdinger’s presence, turning towards him as he wipes the sweat off of his forehead.
“Professor, I—” The boy pauses, his eyes snapping to Sevika. His initial shock quickly morphs into anger, dropping his work on the table. “What is she doing here?”
“Well, it turns out Miss Sevika here arrived with us at the Hextech’s failsafe underground.”
Heimerdinger hops over to the blackboard, grabbing a piece of chalk and scrawling something on the surface. “The anomaly of Hextech has scattered us from our proverbial reality— and since you were in close proximity, you were caught in the ripple effect.”
Heimerdinger turns to see his pupil and Sevika glaring in silence. “...It seems the two of you are familiar with each other.”
“Oh, we’ve met,” Ekko spits, getting up to stand his ground. “You followed us? Even after Silco’s death, you’re doing his dirty work.”
“I followed you because if the Piltover council and the Firelights are mixed up in something, Zaun needs to know. You’re not the only one fighting for freedom.”
“Freedom?” Ekko walks right up to Sevika, his gaze unwavering right in front of her face. “You think what Silco did was freedom? Peddling shimmer, rotting out the Undercity from the inside? Silco’s leadership was control, not liberation. And now that he’s gone, you’re walking around with your leash in your hand.”
“Watch your mouth, boy saviour.” Sevika’s hands clench by her sides. Ekko does not back down. Neither one of them has forgotten the lives they’ve taken from each other.
Heimerdinger clears his throat. “This tension is… unexpected. But let’s focus on the matter at hand, shall we? I do not condone Miss Sevika’s covert actions, but the fact remains that she is here. She may yet provide insights or skills valuable to understanding the anomaly.”
“I doubt that,” Ekko sneers, heading back to his table.
Sevika scans the workshop. Bits of inventions and gadgets fill up the space, and while she doesn’t completely understand all the scribbles and equations on the chalkboard, she understands their goal is to get back home. As her gaze drifts across the cluttered space, her eyes land on a shiny flat piece of metal left on the counter.
She sees herself reflected on the surface and moves closer. Her face catches her off guard— it is undeniably her— although her hair is cut in a bob, shorter than she’s ever had it before. It frames her face which looks a bit younger than she is. Her body is less muscular than before, but it doesn’t seem like she completely skips working out either. Her clothes fit her in a comfortable way that’s far cleaner and more put together than she’s accustomed to. And her left arm. She can’t get used to that at all.
She stares at the reflective surface, inhaling sharply, before moving on to a notebook spread open on the counter— sketches of the abnormal Hexcore cover the pages. Her mind flashes back to the memory of her mind exploding into bits and pieces. She swallows.
“I’m afraid this is a timeline where Hextech was never invented.” Heimerdinger says, noticing Sevika’s darting eyes. “And without a creation so prodigious as the Hexgates… no anomaly.”
“So you’re recreating it.” Sevika closes the notebook. “How long?”
“A couple weeks, at least.” Ekko begrudgingly answers.
“Weeks,” Sevika mutters under her breath. She does not have weeks to waste. She needs to go back— Zaun needs her. Jinx needs her. Isha needs her. What is happening to her original body if she is here? “What can I do to get this done faster?”
“You?” Ekko scoffs. “Unless you know how to punch your way out of this universe, you can wait until we’re done with the machine.”
There is an edge of sarcasm in his words, almost a playful jab, but Sevika can also sense the venom in his tone. He’s clearly dragged down by the weight of the situation, in contrast to the furball’s worry-free attitude.
But he’s right— Sevika doesn’t know much about magic or technology. Most she can do is minor adjustments on her prosthetic arm. All the creating and inventing the machinery stuff, that’s… Jinx’s field. But there must be something she can do— she’s not the one to wait for problems to be solved.
“You think I’m just going to stand here twiddling my thumbs?” Sevika crosses her arms. “I didn’t survive Zaun’s trenches by waiting for miracles.”
“Well,” Ekko breathes, his expression unreadable. “This isn’t Zaun.”
And fuck. Yeah. This isn’t Zaun.
Sevika’s frustration presses heavy on her chest. The usual pulse of urgency thrumming her veins, one that is always telling her to get up, to fight, to survive— seems to fade for a moment, replaced by an unknown stillness. She can’t do anything here. She doesn’t have to. The mere thought of that drives her insane.
Before she can respond, she hears the sound of the door, followed by hurried footsteps and sounds of metal items rattling. A short figure enters, holding two boxes that obscure their face.
“Ekko, I found— woah.” She wobbles a bit as the boxes sways to the side, before she manages to drop the boxes on the floor with a thump. Her vibrant blue hair gives her away.
Jinx.
Sevika falters at the sight of her— healthier than Sevika remembers— her skin glowing, her cheeks plump, her frame no longer as scraggly as before. The annoyingly long braids are nowhere to be seen, replaced by rather cute space-buns with a streak of pink. There’s an innocence to her expression, the eagerness to prove herself completely gone. Instead she looks untethered—freed— from the usual chaos of her mind.
She looks at Sevika with a tilt of her head. Sevika pictures a doe. Soft and curious.
“Sevika?”
“Jinx.”
The name doesn't even suit her anymore. Jinx looks confused, almost a bit hurt at the name and— oh. She smiles in gentle understanding.
“Powder, actually.” She offers. “I guess you’re… different, too.”
Sevika frowns. She turns to Ekko. “She knows?”
“He wasn’t exactly being secretive about it,” Jinx— No, Powder— chuckles, pushing the boxes filled with metal trinkets and parts to a corner. “And I’m smart enough to figure it out. Plus, I just heard about you terrorizing our professor in front of The Last Drop. I knew something was wrong.”
Sevila can’t even imagine a world where her fight with a Piltie by the bar could be considered ‘something wrong.’ And she is. In that world.
“The news has spread already!” Heimerdinger nervously chortles. “I do hope you haven’t scared away my audience for tomorrow’s performance.”
Sevika ignores him, her attention all on Powder.
“So, you’re just helping him with all this?” She waves towards the machinery.
“Well, he’s not going to figure it out himself.” Powder grins at Ekko. He returns a small smile and a tender gaze— Sevika almost wants to laugh. The leader of the Firelights and the Jinx? Absurd. This whole situation is absurd. She needs to get back home.
Ekko notices Sevika’s judgmental stare and his lips curl back to a frown.
“Just stay out of the way. We’re close to cracking this, and the last thing I need is you throwing off my balance.”
Sevika’s mouth opens for a sharp retort— but Heimderdinger quickly interjects, sensing the imminent fight.
"Perhaps, Miss Sevika, it would be wise to allow Ekko to continue his work without further interference. I know this isn’t ideal for you, but for now, patience may be the best course of action."
Her gut twists in frustration. Easy for the Piltover motherfucker who’s lived for hundreds of years to preach about patience. She isn’t built for waiting— waiting never got her anywhere.
“I’m not going to sit around for a machine that might not work.”
“It’ll work,” Ekko bites. “And I don’t need your help here.”
Sevika’s eyes flick between the three of them— Ekko, defiant, Heimderinger, a bit skittish, and Powder, sympathetic. Sevika has nothing else to say. She exhales, loosening her fists, letting the tension slip away.
“You could go home to your wife,” Powder suggests, nodding towards the ring on Sevika’s left hand.
The tension comes back. The word ‘wife’ should mean nothing to her, and yet, the moment it hits the air she pictures you and your stupid little face, wide eyes and slightly parted lips, staring at Sevika with darling concern. As if the words you’ve wanted to say had been stolen from your throat.
It sickens her.
She runs her thumb over the ring on her finger. Its warmth is indistinguishable from her own skin. She remembers the matching ring on you.
“She is not my wife.”
Powder shrugs. “She was really worried about you. Especially after she heard you attacked the professor.”
“I barely touched him,” Sevika huffs. Heimderinger’s mustache twitches.
“If you don’t act normal, she might figure out what’s going on.” Powder grabs a pen and scribbles something on a piece of paper.
Normal is the last word to describe this situation. Normal is the last word to describe your relationship with her. How would she ever act normal here, with you?
“Here.” Powder tosses the paper to Sevika. “That’s your address.”
Sevika crumples it in her hand.
“I am not going to my house.”
Sevika finds herself in front of her house.
She stares at the crumpled piece of paper with her address on it, hesitating by the door. Because it’s not really her house— she almost feels like she’s intruding. But it’s late, and she’s tired, jaded— but she doesn’t want to be at the workshop anymore. And she can’t stand being in the middle of the sanitary, warm version of Zaun. Faces of people she’s buried, people she’s left behind walk around with a smile on their face. It’s nauseating.
Sevika has nowhere else to go.
And she would be lying if she said she didn’t want to see you again. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t know why. She crushes the piece of paper and jams it into her jacket pocket.
She twists the handle and steps into the house. The sense of wrongness only deepens at the sight of the interior. The floors gleam, the furniture is neatly arranged, and the air smells of— food. Good food. Nothing like the usual scent of dust, blood, and grease of her typical home– she barely calls it a home. More of a hideout. She moves deeper into the living room, trying to place the strange layout.
She would have moved to this proper place if she had never left Vander, never lost her arm, and never worked under Silco. It’s a house she feels misplaced in. The kind of house someone who had their shit together would own— who cleaned, who cooked, who cared. The kind of life Sevika doesn’t know how to live.
And then she sees you. Laying on the couch in the living room, reading a book in your nightgown by the candlelight. Although she was expecting it, she is startled at the sight of you, so comfortable, so safe in the middle of the house. She catches herself staring.
You look up from your book. "...Hi."
Sevika blinks. She doesn't reply.
“I thought maybe you were spending the night somewhere else,” You mumble, setting your book down by the side table. You weren’t expecting her to be home today— you thought she wanted to be left alone after whatever she had gone through at Vander’s bar. You push yourself up from the couch.
“Um,” Sevika tries as you walk closer to her. “You’re… here.”
“I mean, I wasn’t going to wait for you in the bar the whole day.” You retort, your tone sharp at first but it soon morphs into regret. You’re confused about her behaviour, and you’re sort of pissed at her for leaving you like that, sure, but you shouldn’t snap at your wife. “Are you… feeling better?”
“I’m fine.” She says a little too quickly.
You don't look convinced, standing right in front of her with furrowed eyebrows.
“Vika, you don’t look fine.”
Sevika stares back at you at the nickname, her stoic expression faltering. She feels nauseous again. She’s unsure how to exist with you in her space— always filled with so much concern, sympathy. It’s… uncomfortable. She feels like a cornered animal, a pathetic prey when she is with you.
“I said I’m fine.”
Her voice comes out in her usual harsh way. Your face twists. And for the first time in her life, she regrets it.
Back in Zaun— the real Zaun— the line between fear and respect had blurred. Everyone feared her, therefore respected her. It was how everyone treated her, how they always acknowledged her presence yet at the same time tried to stay out of her way. The satisfaction of knowing she could control everything that happened in a room was what she was used to.
Somehow, she doesn’t want that kind of control over you. She doesn’t want to make you cower or fear her. The thought that she might be doing exactly that— making you feel small, making you regret being near her— it’s as if her body rejects it. She doesn’t want you to look at her like that.
But just as soon as your face shows that flicker of distress, it suddenly shifts into a look of disbelief.
“Are you on drugs?”
Sevika stares blankly. You have the utmost sincerity in your eyes.
“What?”
“If you’re on some kind of street drug, you can tell me. I won’t be mad.”
Sevika holds back her amusement. As if anger, from someone as small and harmless as you, could scare her into hiding something as common as drugs. As if you could intimidate someone like her. She almost wants to laugh at the height difference between the two of you right now.
“I mean, I heard about the ruckus with Professor Heimerdinger and—” You ramble, your mind trying to justify your wife’s behaviour. “It’s one thing to pick fights after being drunk, maybe, but without a single drop of alcohol? The professor has done so much for Zaun and you respect him a lot. It’s just so unlike you.”
‘You don’t know me,’ Sevika thinks, but she bites back her tongue.
“You’re so… so rigid, and every time I look at you, you look like you’re worried I might uncover some sort of secret.” Your eyes narrow as you grasp at clues to come up with a theory. “And you flinch every time I touch you!”
“I’m not on drugs.” She wishes she were. “I’m just tired.”
You frown. She’s been tired before, and she’s been stressed before. But she’s never been like this. Avoidant. Blurry.
But it doesn’t seem like she wants to talk about it— or she’s willing to confess anything. Maybe she really is just tired. She certainly looks like a completely different person. She looks… sad.
You just sigh. “Do you want me to be worried?”
That is the last thing I want. “No.”
“Okay…” You cross your arms. “Are you hungry?”
Starving. “No.”
The two of you lock eyes, before you step back with a reluctant nod.
“...Okay. Go wash up.”
Sevika buffers at your command, watching you retreat back to your couch. You pick up your book again, although your focus is elsewhere. She knows you’re holding back your questions— and it almost pisses her off. Why are you so careful, so considerate towards her?
It’s not like she’s ever earned that kind of care. Not from anyone. And definitely not from you.
The silence stretches between you, and all she can hear is you flapping the pages as you pretend to read. Sevika would prefer your anger— she could handle anger. She understands anger.
But this patience makes her skin crawl.
Sevika turns sharply and strides towards the hallway.
Your eyes remain fixated on the words of the book, but your ears listen to your wife’s footsteps, which pauses a couple of times before finding the bedroom. There’s the creak of the closet doors, the rustling of clothes, before she finds her way to the bathroom. The hesitancy in her steps are enough to embolden your suspicions— and while you don’t want to push her, your curiosity and concern remains.
As soon as you hear the water running, you spring up, tossing the book on the couch, before making your way toward the bedroom.
Snooping is wrong, you know that— but your worry overwhelms your morality. You see her jacket, carelessly draped over the edge of the table in the room. Sevika never leaves her jacket lying around— she knows you’ll make her hang it up anyways.
Your fingers twitch at your sides. With a glance toward the hallway, you step closer to the table.
Her jacket is heavy in your hands, the worn leather supple and wrinkled. You unfold and dig into the pockets, finding a few coins, a lighter, and—
A piece of paper.
You frown at its state, crumpled, as if someone had been squeezing on it continuously. You unfold it, smooth it out, until you can make out the writing scribbled across the surface.
It’s your home address. Confused, you turn the paper around, but there’s nothing else— just the address of the house you and Sevika have lived in for three years— why would she need this?
You squint at the uneven handwriting— It’s Powder’s. You’d recognize it anywhere. The hurried strokes, the exaggerated loops— you’ve seen her writing many times during the Innovator’s Competition in an index card set beside her wild invention, describing it in great detail.
Did Sevika meet up with Powder after the meltdown at Vander’s bar? But it must have been after all the fuss with Professor Heimerdinger, and someone told you that the two of them left together. So, Sevika and Professor Heimderdinger went to see Powder, who gave her the address to her own home?
You shove the paper back into her jacket, returning it to its original place on the table. You’re missing a huge part of this weird equation— and your confusion remains. Perhaps you’re even more confused than before. You take a deep breath before heading to bed, crawling on the soft mattress. You’ve had a long, off day.
When the sound of water finally stops and Sevika steps out of the bathroom, you’re still in deep thought on the bed, fingers idly playing with the hem of your pajamas. She walks into the bedroom in a loose tank top and sweatpants, the fabric hanging comfortably from her form.
She glances at you, her damp hair clinging to her face, before sitting down on the edge of the bed. You expect her to join you under the covers, to settle into the space you’ve shared countless nights before. But instead, she just stays there, her back to you, her shoulders taut.
“...You okay?”
She exhales sharply, almost like a scoff. “I just need a minute,” She mumbles.
Sevika has been through girls before, at Babette’s— she’s no stranger to how a girl feels by her sides at night. But she’s never had someone so determined to comfort her like this. And knowing her relationship with you, knowing that she’s somehow married to someone like you— it’s different. It’s horrifying.
Somehow you seem to recognize that— and she feels your presence shift towards her from behind, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight. She breathes as she feels your hand move to her shoulder, letting the warmth brush against her like you’re testing the air between you.
Her body stiffens under your touch. You can feel the tension of her defined muscles beneath her skin, as if she’s bracing for something sharp, something brutal— but you keep your hand steady, fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns on her back.
You worry she might pull away. But then, so quiet you almost miss it, she exhales. It’s small, broken in half, but it’s enough to soothe the suspense. You keep going, outlining the curve of her spine, watching her shiver— and the tightness of her body begins to fade in pieces, bit by bit.
She leans back towards you and you draw closer, hand brushing her nape of her beck. You let the moment of stillness, of uncertainty pass, before she finally turns toward you. Soft. Fractured. Unfamiliar.
She stares at you, searching for something, unsteady, as if she’s not sure what she’ll find. It resembles the look from before, the one from the bar— but you don’t look away. You’re searching too.
When your lips meet, it’s strange— she’s being so gentle. Modest with her ability to love you. Her touch is light, testing— and for a split second, it feels awkward. Almost as if it’s the first time.
But then she moves her hand and brushes against your arm, fingertips barely grazing your skin, and you liquefy— it’s enough to deepen the kiss, slowly, naturally— as she pulls you closer, and the warmth between you grows. Her breaths are uneven, blending with yours as you feel her tongue slip in— and you’re gone. The world narrows until it’s just this moment, just the two of you.
And somehow it’s not urgent nor overwhelming— it’s not the usual excitement she brings in her kisses. Instead, it’s like she’s carefully learning the parts of you, afraid to miss a single detail. Her hands slide up your sides, not rushing, not pushing— just anchoring herself to you, grounding both of you into a comfortable position on the mattress.
When you finally pull back, your foreheads rest together. Her breaths are hot and close against your cheek, and you share the same air, your chest heaving up and down, shallow and quick. The silence lingers, but then you start to laugh and she smiles too.
And everything falls back into place.
She’s yours again.
You’re a fast sleeper, gone just as soon as you hit your head on your pillow. But Sevika lays awake, listening to the unchanging sound of the clock echoing from the living room.
Every time she closes her eyes, she feels it— a certain weight pressing against her chest, filled with thoughts she doesn’t want to entertain. She shifts slightly, careful not to disturb you, her gaze fixated on a certain grainy spot on the ceiling.
There’s an emptiness inside of her. She’s lived her whole life for Zaun. For years, she sacrificed everything for a better life. She always believed that the people deserved a better Zaun. That she deserved a better Zaun. And now that she has it—
She’s not sure she deserves it.
She feels the soft, comfortable blanket around her and grips it tightly.
This could have been her life. This is supposed to be her life.
Sevika feels you shuffle beside her, still asleep, turning to sluggishly hug her large frame. She tenses at first, unable to move, but soon feels your chest against her left arm, pressing in and out on her muscles as she hears the mellow sounds of your breaths. You’re warm. You’re beautiful. She lets your touch engulf her, and closes her eyes.
Sevika does not fall asleep. But as she lies there, with the warmth radiating from your body, she feels herself melting onto the bed, her body relaxing like it has never before. The weight in her chest lightens at the mere presence of you, and the gnawing emptiness inside feels… a little less hollow.
And for once, nothing hurts.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Hey ladies thank you for reading my unedited silly convoluted fic filled with my love towards Sevika. Get ready for part 2 which is angstier. Crying. Also I wrote most of this during final season and almost failed my final. But I will never fail the WLW nation. XOXO BIA <3
Likes, reblogs, and comments would be SO SO appreciated!!!
PART 2: YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL AND EVERYTHING HURTS (COMING SOON)
#arcane fanfic#arcane#arcane s2#arcane x reader#arcane x you#sevika angst#sevika#sevika arcane#sevika x reader#sevika x you#sevika fanfic#arcane spoilers#wlw#arcane women#arcane angst#angst#fanfic
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i’m not saying i wanna see buff women get dominated but…
nvm that’s exactly what i’m saying.
#lesbian#wlw#arcane league of legends#the last of us#abby anderson#arcane season 2#abby tlou#the last of us part 2#tlou abby anderson#abby anderson tlou#tlou abby#the last of us abby#arcane vi#arcane lol#vi arcane#arcane league of legends sevika#arcane sevika#arcane season one#sevika#arcane violet#violet arcane#sevika arcane#arcane series#buff women#arcane women#tlou women#arcane league of lesbians#arcane league of legends vi
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THE KEY TO HER HEART | Cassandra Kiramman
PAIRING: Cassandra Kiramman x Fem!Reader
CW: angst with a hopeful ending?, spoilers for season 2 act I, canon divergence, in Caitlyn’s pov, no dialogues (except one), mentions of death, mentions of reader being married to a man and having children with said man, mentions of pregnancy, mentions and implications of being in the hospital deathbed, tragic-ish love, 1950s Hollywood inspired in terms of homosexuality-ish, mentions of homophobia, back in the old day women are expected to marry a man, they kept their love for each other hidden until the end, reader is also a matriarch of her own family like Cassandra, most likely ooc Cassandra and Caitlyn
SUMMARY: Caitlyn receives the Kiramman Key to unlock knowledge privy to the Kiramman matriarchs. She also unlocks a memoir of her mother’s past, specifically with the person she loved the most through old photographs and unsent letters.
A/N: I realized a lot of my published work is composed of the “letter narrative” as I call it and this one has a bunch. It’s similar to my first Cassandra fanfic, the only difference is there’s death and grief involved. I have yet to finish the season, but her funeral and the memorial were hard to watch. I miss her so much.
A/N (12/11/24): Reading it while listening to “I Can’t Hear It Now” by Freya Ridings/Arcane on loop is a whole other experience...
WORDS: 2,669
(FANFIC IS UNDER THE CUT!)
When her father handed her the Kiramman Key her mother wanted her to have, Caitlyn knew she was truly gone. She was now the leader of House Kiramman too soon, without the guidance of her mother, Cassandra. It was a position she deemed unworthy of, but her mother reassured her of the merit of her birthright. Only when she thought her relationship with her mother would progress, the world decided to strip that opportunity from her.
Filled with grief, loss, and vengeance, especially after the attack at the memorial, Caitlyn decided to view what her mother had in store for her. First, it was the presentation of the ducts, the toxic air in the fissures contained by her mother’s instructions, allowing the people of The Undercity to breathe. She could use the passageways of the ventilation system and the Grey to locate Jinx, dismantle Shimmer, and neutralize any agents still loyal to Silco. Second, was a drawer of letters and photographs in a compartment at the bottom of the desk. It had nothing to do with the Kiramman Clan, but something to do with her mother’s personal life when she was younger.
The drawer seemed to be a memoir, maybe something left to be forgotten as dust covered its contents. Everything was held together with twine, completed with a battered tag, showing how old the letters and photographs were — possibly older than Caitlyn herself. She gently grabbed the bundle of memories in her hands, flipping the tag over to see what was written, the ink smudged by droplets. It wrote: My old love, in Cassandra’s handwriting. Her mother had a lover?
Caitlyn swore her breath hitched when she untangled the twine to reveal the secrets Cassandra carried. She wanted to see who her mother loved so much, that she had a collection of their time together, but she wasn’t expecting several photographs of you to appear. After all, you were her mother’s childhood friend, her closest companion and confidant.
It was clear in Caitlyn’s eyes that you two had a platonic relationship. Did she read it wrong? She saw you as an aunt, a second mother beside Cassandra; she never realized that her mother loved you romantically. This doesn’t make sense. You had a husband and children of your own, just like her mother. You and Cassandra would get together and gossip about your spouses and children. She had proof, she had accompanied you two when she was a little girl on several occasions. What did Caitlyn miss? What was kept hidden?
Did her mother love you more than her own husband? What about you? Did you love Cassandra too? Caitlyn flickered through the photographs, putting the letters aside for later, it was clear her mother was devoted to you. She never imagined her mother would ever use a camera to capture your beauty throughout your shared life. It felt uncharacteristic of her to do so, to have her mother be deeply in love with someone other than her father.
Now that she thought about it. It seemed like Cassandra changed when you passed away. Gone was the warmth she wore on her sleeves as she became distant and even more stubborn, pretentious, and selfish, perfecting her façade as a politician. She now realized how her mother tried to tone down her grief during your burial, to appear as if she only lost a good friend. Caitlyn was too entangled in her own emotions of also losing you to realize how deeply your sudden death affected her mother. She was still too young to comprehend how you died, Cassandra never told her. It was too painful to recount.
Maybe all this time, Cassandra was still grieving your loss till the day she died, having failed to protect you and prevent your death, so much so that her efforts were transferred onto Caitlyn so she could avoid the same fate. She started to understand her mother’s actions a little more, not that she condoned them after the seclusion and restriction she felt all her life. Her mother meant well, even if it hurt. Cassandra didn’t want to lose Caitlyn as she lost you.
After observing each photograph, soon came the letters. Caitlyn skimmed from the oldest letter at the bottom pile to the newer ones at the top. These words were never meant to see the light of day, never meant for someone else to see, especially not you or an outsider like Caitlyn. She can’t believe how raw the emotions she felt from her mother’s words. Caitlyn cannot do justice to her mother’s letters by explaining their contents. You simply had to read them to feel Cassandra’s love for you, but you were gone, unaware that your dearest friend saw you as her whole world even if she could not display her heart at her sleeves due to the societal expectations in the past.
Caitlyn saw smears of ink in many places, making it hard for her to comprehend the smudged words, but she knew her mother cried writing and possibly reading them. These letters were a diary, a collection of paper with words akin to a symphony of her love for you. Caitlyn wondered if you were aware of Cassandra’s feelings and simply did not comment on it, or if you and her mother shared the same situation, loving each other in the shadows as your respective families were in the spotlight of attention.
Was writing letters something Cassandra did in her free time? Because there were so many, it would take Caitlyn some time to skim through all of them. It felt like an invasion of privacy, but maybe her mother wanted someone to know her feelings unless this parcel was supposed to be discarded before Caitlyn took over as the Kiramman Clan Matriarch. Still, Caitlyn couldn’t help but go through it, you meant a lot to her too, and she felt the connection between you two that had faded since your death years ago. The world had taken you and her mother too early, Caitlyn only had her father left, hoping his grief for Cassandra wouldn’t make his life wither and leave her too.
The letters started with Cassandra realizing she loved you; appreciating your beauty from inside and out. She expressed in detail the moment she knew she was in love, from how her heart threatened to beat out of her chest as your hair blew in the wind, the purple petals from the grand ivory-barked tree swayed with you. Caitlyn recognized it was the sacred place she and her mother shared near the fountain on the outskirts of the city, a place where they never argued and remembered your presence together.
“...We went to the place you enjoyed the most, Y/n. I came to share your love for this park because you were always there with me. I never thought you would take my breath away like you had today. You were beautiful, you have always been.
Today felt different, however. The sight before me was something that came out of books. The wind picked up and your hair danced with the purple petals that floated around you. Your smile directed at me made it seem like I was in a fairytale my mother used to tell me as a child. It was a sight to behold, and I knew then and there, that I had fallen in love with you...”
The following letters were short, but filled with admiration and love. Cassandra appreciated you in many ways Caitlyn never knew in each letter, expressing her appreciation for everything you did, your character, appearance, and how you treated her. Her mother was so youthful, so happy whenever she was with you. It broke Caitlyn’s heart when the letters started to take on another tone; one of loss and hopelessness.
“...Why must society be this way, my love? Why am I prohibited from loving you the way you deserve? I am shackled by these expectations placed upon me, and I’m ashamed that I have to hide in the dark to be able to express my love. I’m a coward for not throwing everything away so I could love you publicly. I wish to have you by my side, to call you my lover, my beloved wife, without the consequences of society. I was overjoyed when I realized you loved me too, but it pained me that you were also hiding your love. You were as careful as I was with concealing how we felt for each other. Do you know that I love you too? I wish for you to know, but I’m scared of putting you in danger.
I wouldn’t know of your feelings if not for the day my parents announced my engagement. You had shown a crack of your true self from your poised façade. It pained me to see the sullen expression on your face. You tried to hide your turmoil, but I knew the news broke you as much as it did me. I wanted to cup your face and hold you in my embrace, to feel your warmth against mine as I whispered words of love, saying that we would still have each other as our duties befall us.
I wanted to kiss your troubles away, but I did not let myself get carried away with such intimacy. Any hint of something more as friendship in anyone’s eyes would lead to forced separation… I don’t want to lose you. I’m sorry, Y/n, but I need to build distance between us to avoid suspicion. Please forgive me… I despise myself for being powerless to protect you from the pain I would cause you…”
Caitlyn read the following letters, Cassandra expressed her guilt for keeping you at arm's length when all she wanted was to have all of you, to be with you the way you both wanted, but such a thing never happened when the two of you started your own families. She apologized in many letters as she realized how you started to pull away from her. Caitlyn tried her best to decipher the smudged words that filled the loose paper. Her mother didn’t want this, didn’t want to pretend she felt nothing for you other than a platonic friendship, that she didn’t love you. It was cruel.
There was a large time gap between the letters. Caitlyn decided that her mother tried to focus on her duties as the Kiramman Matriarch and her relationship with Tobias by severing her attachments to the letters. Cassandra must’ve been carrying Caitlyn somewhere during this time, not wanting the memory of your relationship with her to cause stress and emotional turmoil during her months of pregnancy.
The letter that followed was something close to reconciliation even if the distance was still there. You and Cassandra must’ve accepted the fate of your separated lives and decided to continue what was remaining of your friendship. Caitlyn was surprised she was the catalyst of this event.
“...I was nervous about meeting you again after months of no contact, Y/n. I didn’t know what to expect after you distanced yourself from me. I still remember the pained expression on your face when I told you we shouldn’t see each other anymore. I never hated myself so much for being the cause of your pain. I have never done anything but hurt you. So, I was in disbelief when you easily agreed to the invitation I sent out of the blue to meet Caitlyn.
You must’ve laughed at my audacity for wanting you back after pushing you out of my life, that you only agreed to this because your kind husband convinced you so. I hate to say I’m relieved you have wedded a respectful man. I know you are safe in his hands when I can’t be there to do the same.
I was faced with an impassive demeanor when you arrived at the Kiramman residence, and I didn’t know if our friendship could be salvaged, but when you held Caitlyn, I saw a glimmer of love shine in your eyes. The smile that broke from your façade when you cradled my daughter with so much care made my heart swell at the sight. Then you met my gaze, and it felt like that day in the park all over again. I knew I was still in love with you, and you felt the same, even as our love dwelled in pain and loss because of the world we live in…”
The last letter on the pile was tattered compared to the other ones. It was difficult to understand because of the ink smudges, shaky handwriting, and teardrops… Caitlyn knew what this letter was about and could see how her mother struggled to write this one. The unshakeable grief that filled this page hurt Caitlyn. This must’ve been the fork Cassandra faced when she decided that writing more letters would only cause her more pain than solace as she thought about you.
“...I failed you, my love. I failed to protect you from your curiosity and compassion for The Undercity. The world was too cruel to take you from me, our relationship had only begun to blossom its fruits. The time we spent rebuilding what was lost… How could I sleep at night, knowing I could’ve prevented your death? I will never be able to live with the guilt of hurting you even until your last breath.
I should’ve listened to you, I should’ve been more open-minded about creating the ventilation system for people of the fissures. Was this the world’s response to my selfishness, to take you away from me? I feel so empty without you, the grief is tearing away at me. I couldn’t bear hearing Caitlyn’s cries when I told her you would no longer be with us to spoil her, to love her like your own.
Everything that happened to you is all my fault. No amount of apologies would bring you back, but I am so sorry, Y/n. The Grey I could’ve contained with my influence and resources ate at your life, poisoned your lungs, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.
It tore at my heart to see you fighting for your life, hooked to machines, but everything was a lost cause when the grip of your hand on mine loosened and lay limp between my own. Your eyes became distant and empty as the light in them faded, but you still held the smile I fell in love with, muttering the words I longed to hear for decades: ‘I love you, Cassandra.’ I couldn’t respond in time, I failed to say that I love you too… because you were already gone…
I promise I will let the people of The Undercity breathe, just as you had wished, my love…”
Caitlyn now understood why her mother completed the project. She did it for you. It was a grand and equally dangerous project that took many lives and resources to complete, and here Caitlyn was, planning to unleash the gas that killed you to look for a criminal who killed her mother and many others.
After reading the letters, Caitlyn wondered several things. Would her mother be happy again, now that she has reunited with you in the afterlife? Would she be able to express her love after hiding her true feelings for you for so long? Caitlyn hopes she can because she knows how much her mother was alive when you were around, even in moments of joy and sadness. She wanted her mother to be happy again despite the pain in her heart that she was no longer there with her and her father.
.
.
.
Meanwhile…
“I finally got to see you again, my love… Oh, how I missed you so… My life was never the same when you left… I can’t believe you’re back in my life… and in my arms… I love you too, Y/n… I love you so, so much, dearest.”
© shenachigans — do not plagiarise, translate, repost, or copy.
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