#zaun gray

[sulfurrrr]

tbh I find Caitlyn's use of the Gray really interesting not only as a form of chemical warfare, but of psychological warfare too. The way she deliberately designed the strike force uniforms to work in tandem with the Gray in order to mimic the appearance of a monster from Zaunite stories with very recent presence in Zaun's recent memory (it was only during Cassandra's lifetime that the Gray was "locked away") to evoke fear in ordinary Zaunites is so so crazy to me.

And Jinx REALIZED that!! that's (maybe.) WHY that showdown took place in front of a carving of Janna– she's using those stories (which likely evolved alongside one another) to frame her reaction to Caitlyn's crimes as a sort of divine retribution!

Caitlyn thinks Jinx is this terrifying monster of a girl, and while it's true Jinx has done some awful things, ever since the beginning of this season (arguably since after the timeskip, even) Jinx has been working in direct response to Caitlyn and Caitlyn's actions, whether or not either of them are truly aware of it.

[murdermeadow]

I wonder if Grayson and Cassandra Kiramman had always been working together to give the people of the undercity some sort of good graces

[mollysunder]

I wish we got to see Vi's reaction to Isha's imprisonment. Isha was clearly younger, weaker, and less able to protect herself than Vi was when she thrown into Stillwater (which still wasn't a lot). Where's Vi's horror to be on the outside looking in at another child thrown into an adult sized prison cell? How does it feel to know someone you grew close to (Caitlyn) signed off on the same abuse you were personally subject to during your formative years? Does it feed into Vi's self-loathing to know she was apart of this? Would Isha recognize this is the same girl who protected Jinx and would have been shot by Caitlyn? There's so much to explore for Vi in that one plot point alone.

[mariandjarin]

The Lady and the Hound of the Underground

A short story written by Bing AI

During one of the visits to the Last Drop, while Lucy was talking with Vander, she heard the melody of the song Mirrorball by Taylor Swift, and she couldn´t stop her desire to sing to Vander, so she started to sing: I want you to know

I'm a mirrorball.

I'll show you every version of yourself tonight.

I'll get you out on the floor.

Shimmering beautiful

And when I break it, it's in a million pieces.

Vander listened to her with admiration and love. Then he leaned close to her and asked her to dance with him.

She accepted

Vander and Lucy Gray danced to the melody of the song. She was singing the lyrics, and Vander looked at her with love and tenderness.

Everyone was surprised at the capture of the heart of the hound of the underground, but he looked very comfortable with his choice, so they didn't do anything to stop him.

Almost at the end of the song, they kissed each other. That was their first kiss.

After that dance, they discovered how much they loved each other and how their love was like a mirrorball that reflected all their versions. That night, they slept together, cuddled, and in peace.

[misswynters]

short drabble

Ekko and heimerdinger are being nerdy while you sleep

requested. by anon

There was always a soft hum of machinery that filled the air in Heimerdinger’s workshop. And with that accompanied by the occasional clink of tools and the professor’s enthusiastic ramblings. The workshop had an oddly calming atmosphere, a mix of glowing gadgets, bubbling contraptions, and the gentle warmth of lamp-lit light. It was perfect for dozing off, especially after a long day of following Ekko around Zaun.

You were sprawled out on the old, lumpy couch tucked in a corner of the workshop, your head cushioned by one of Ekko’s jackets that you’d claimed for yourself. Curled up against your side was your pet, a small, scrappy Zaunite fox. Its fur was a mix of gray and russet, with glowing green streaks running along its ears and tail. Ekko had found it injured near one of the Sump scrapers, and after some patching up, it had attached itself to you like glue.

Ekko called it “Scraps” (because of course he would), and Scraps was now peacefully snoozing, just like you.

Across the room, Ekko and Heimerdinger were huddled around one of the professor’s latest inventions, discussing something that involved words you didn’t fully understand.

“…but if you accelerate the core’s energy output without stabilizing the oscillation, it’ll implode,” Ekko said, gesturing animatedly at the device.

Heimerdinger adjusted his tiny glasses, nodding. “Precisely! Which is why you must ensure the harmonic calibrations are synced—ah, but don’t forget to account for temporal distortions.”

As the professor continued explaining, Ekko’s focus wavered. His gaze drifted toward the couch where you were sleeping, your form softly rising and falling with each breath. Scraps twitched its glowing tail but stayed nestled close to you.

A small smile crept onto Ekko’s face. You looked so peaceful, completely at odds with the chaos that usually surrounded you both in Zaun. Your hand was loosely tangled in Scraps’ fur, your other arm tucked under your cheek.

He didn’t notice the professor had stopped talking until Heimerdinger’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Ah, young love,” Heimerdinger said, his tone tinged with teasing amusement.

Ekko snapped his head back toward him, blinking. “Huh? What’re you talking about?”

Heimerdinger chuckled, folding his hands behind his back. “There’s no use denying it, dear boy. The way you’re looking at them, it’s rather endearing, really.”

Ekko’s ears burned. “I wasn’t—I mean, I was just—” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “They’re asleep, alright? That’s all.”

Heimerdinger hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Still, allow me to impart some wisdom, as one who has witnessed countless romances blossom and wither over the centuries.”

“Oh no,” Ekko muttered, groaning.

Ignoring him, Heimerdinger continued, his voice taking on the tone of a well-meaning but meddling elder. “When courting a significant other, one must always show respect, patience, and attentiveness. Flowers are an excellent gesture, but so is active listening. Communication, you see, is the foundation of—”

“Professor,” Ekko interrupted, exasperated. “I don’t think you understand. We’re not—”

“Young people these days,” Heimerdinger said with a dramatic shake of his head, cutting him off. “Always so quick to dismiss advice. But mark my words: treat them well, or you’ll regret it!”

Before Ekko could retort, Scraps stirred, lifting its head with a sleepy yawn. The movement must’ve disturbed you because you shifted slightly, blinking groggily as the sound of their voices filtered through your half asleep haze.

“Mm… what’s going on?” you mumbled, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. Scraps hopped off the couch and stretched before circling back to your lap.

Ekko winced, shooting you an apologetic look. “Sorry, Firefly,” he said softly, using the nickname he’d given you. “Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Firefly—because you were always a little light in Zaun’s darkness, buzzing around him with endless energy.

You shook your head, a sleepy smile tugging at your lips. “It’s fine,” you murmured, scratching Scraps behind the ears. “What were you guys talking about?”

Heimerdinger perked up. “Oh, nothing of consequence!” he said cheerfully, though his smirk told a different story. “Merely enlightening young Ekko on the art of courtship.”

You blinked, then glanced at Ekko, who looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. “Courtship?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t start,” Ekko muttered, shooting Heimerdinger a look.

The professor chuckled, his ears twitching. “Ah, youth. So easily embarrassed.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Ekko’s expression, your earlier grogginess fading. “Well, did you learn anything useful?” you teased.

Ekko rolled his eyes but smiled despite himself. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.”

He reached out, ruffling your hair gently before pulling his hand back. “For real, though. Sorry we woke you up. Want me to walk you home?”

You shook your head, leaning back against the couch. “Nah, I’m good here. I like listening to you two talk.”

Heimerdinger beamed. “A kindred spirit indeed! Intellectual discourse is a joy to behold, is it not?”

Ekko groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “And now you’ve encouraged him. Great.”

You just laughed again, feeling the warmth of the moment settle around you. Scraps let out a contented sigh, curling up in your lap, and Ekko plopped down on the couch beside you. His hand found yours, giving it a quick squeeze before letting go, his usual ease returning.

The three of you stayed in the workshop, for endless hours as the two nerds worked on their projects. Whereas you cheered them on at the sidelines with cute ol’ Scraps to keep you company. Especially when they would talk about all the science lingo that you did not understand. Even though ekko would sometimes explain it in more simpler terms. It didn’t quite go through your head. Needlessly to say you enjoyed the days you would spend at the workshop.

taglist. @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @thesevi0lentdelights

banner. @anitalenia

[julietwiskey1]

The birds make sense now. Wish they were blue birds though for Janna.

Fuck it, push the poisin right up to piltover? DESERVED IT, WE FUCKING STAN JINX IN THIS HOUSE

She deserves that mural

[hexxedcore]

What would Yandere Viktor be like in this 2nd season? Of course if you want, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable making this yandere topic

not an uncomfortable question at all, anon! in fact i love viktor and i love yandere tropes even more ❤️

WARNINGS: YANDERE, unhealthy / toxic relationship, manipulative behaviour, delusion (mostly religiously fuelled if i’m being honest), codependency

I’m a firm believer that Viktor wouldn’t be a yandere who imposes him physically. This is a man who is speculative and used to hiding away in the shadows — he demonstrates everything with well planted seeds of deceit and doubt.

Now, Season Two Viktor? With what we know, it’s up to so much speculation regarding what his motives are and what’s going to happen next — but this specific trope is so rich in the potential it has depending on who you present yourself as to him. A devoted follower? An estranged lover who sought him out after he abruptly left? A Zaunite attempting to stop the hold he has on his vulnerable disciples?

I’ll be covering the disciple trope below but will gladly create more posts for the others.

DISCIPLE READER:

You come to him in a moment of desperation, having heard of the whispers scattered through dark alleyways of Zaun that there was a mage who possessed the capability to heal any wound he was presented with. A miracle worker in the flesh.

It was a opportunity impossible to pass up. Everyone had been scrambling for an opportunity to meet him, have him cure their lung ailments or their Shimmer addictions.

Despite being tentative going into the belly of Zaun, you were admittedly shocked by the abundance of life in what had once been deemed the slums. People who were rumoured to be disfigured and marred purple were walking around, regarding you with inviting smiles, soft skin, full eyes.

When Viktor first spotted you wandering his growing compound, lost, he was absolutely entranced. For a moment he was left wondering why everyone was so adamant on worshipping him, when the obvious miracle here was you. You’re just so pure, so perfect, that even the Hexcore is adamant in prolonging your visit.

You approached him with hopes of a cure to the infection that had been riddling your lungs due to the Gray being released to the Undercity. Viktor wasn't in a state to do anything but oblige.

For as much as you heard of his cures being instantaneous and life-changing, yours had been painfully slow. Viktor reassured that due to the unique nature of the Gray, the Arcane was reacting in unpredictable ways. Therefore; you should make yourself at home. Stay, for the time being.

It wasn't difficult to settle in with how amiable the other 'followers' were, as they enjoyed calling themselves. It also wasn't surprising, considering how reverently respectful Viktor had been treating you. As though you were a deity of his own, despite your lack of impressive actions.

It almost made you forget about the swelling cough that persisted in your chest, or the fact you’ve forgotten how long it’s been since you’ve even begun your stay.

Needless to say, you don’t plan to leave this routine anytime soon. He doesn’t plan on allowing you, either.

[dnvrsmedia]

Worth the Fight

Sevika x reader

a/n: no descriptive terms used for reader!

warnings: slight arcane act 2 spoilers READ AT YOUR OWN DIGRESSION, hurt/comfort, domestic!sev, isha & jinx mention!

word count: 2581

Adrenaline thumps with a high pressure through Sevika’s veins. She can feel her heart pumping so hard she wonders how it doesn’t burst through her chest. This is not what she expected when Jinx agreed to breaking into Stillwater. The place isn’t necessarily the most welcoming (even though she is very familiar with the prison) yet, a ten-foot-something killing beast was not on her bingo card. At this point she wonders why she has any expectations when Jinx is involved.

These past few weeks, Sevika has wondered if this is what will finally kill her. If all she ever has been good for has been a soldier. First under Vander, then under Silco, and now? She tries to keep hope, but all she can feel is despair. The dark and looming feeling felt thick in her throat like the gray. Decaying her insides until she asphyxiates on its rot. That is until she comes home to you. All of her doubt leaves her body once she steps foot into your shared space. The smell of your body wash mixed with the candles you always have lit immediately relaxes her. Her shoulders no longer feel like it's holding the weight of Zaun once she’s home. Meeting you has single handedly given her a new wind beneath her wings.

Throughout her time fighting for independence, she quickly realized just how insignificant her life is, or at least that’s what she’s been told. She is always putting her life on the line for the greater good. She stopped fighting so that she could live the life she thinks everyone else deserves. Hell, she doesn’t believe she deserves half of what she is fighting for. Sevika knows she has done some unsavory things in her past. Things she won’t ever forgive herself for doing. Gods, Janna knows she’s been nothing close to a saint. There are things she’s done that haunt her in her dreams, and she thought she has come to terms with this fact. The fact that not all is good in love and war. Not all of the horrors she's experienced and been on the other side of producing were necessary.

She never saw a life for herself post Zaun independence. Ever since she joined the fight, she's only seen herself dying alone in one of three places: in a fight, in the brothel, and at the end of a bottle. So she drank and smoked and gambled and fought her life away, because it's the least she could do. She fights so that the next generation doesn't need to skirmish with each other in the lanes. She fights so that not another kid gets orphaned by the mines or the chembarrons, or shit, even shimmer, but fighting for her own life never even crossed her mind. Who could blame her if that is all she’s known? Her deadbeat father didn’t teach her the value of her worth, that's for sure. So, why would she bat an eye at her reckless lifestyle? Unexpectedly, that all changed. She didn’t see herself as valuable until you came into her life. You and your unabashed love for her. You and the light you bring to every room you step in. You and your confidence in Sevika to come back home to you. If Sevika is one thing she is loyal, and fiercely loyal she is to you. So when her priorities lied loyal to you, she was forced to come to terms she never even dreamed of having. The sole idea of growing old and having a love like in the fairytales made her feel like a young girl again. Yet, this led to turmoil within her head. She now has to break down all of the things she’s barred herself from receiving, all of the chances at a semi-normal life. She now has to realize just how much she does want to live, and that is where her true fears lie.

Sevika didn’t start consciously fighting until you opened her eyes to what love is. She couldn;t deal with the heartbreak she brought you when she came home two weeks late after the blast. She will never forget the sobs of relief you made when she hobbled into your shared space, the horror in your eyes when you noticed her arm missing. No matter how frustrated and full of emotions you were, you never yelled. This is when Sevika knew you were it for her. Many times in her younger years did she disregard the advancements of genuine connections from others. She would meet someone, enjoy their company for a few weeks and then essentially ghost them. Only to return weeks if not months later looking for some fun. This never bode well with her flings; leaving constant screaming matches in her wake left her ears ringing with a headache. So when she essentially did the same to you (under different circumstances) Seviks assumed the same would be with you. Yet, to her surprise you stayed. She never understood how a gentle love found her. She spends her restless nights looking at the silhouette of your face, wondering how and why you chose her. Her whole life has been filled with loss and pain, gentleness is not something she has ever experienced.

“Sevika, take her and go!” Jinx cries as she tosses Isha’s small and frail body into Sevika’s muscular one.

Her eyebrows knit together as her body moves before her brain thinks. She must’ve frozen at the sight of the large beast slaughtering several Enforcers. With no second thought, her body is sprinting as fast as she can. The young girl in her arm (that she has started to grow fond of) lets out a series of cries as she tries to wiggle out of her protective grasp. Her cries drive Sevika to find a way out of the prison. The whimpers of the mute girl bore into her brain as memories of her as a young child resurface. The tears dripping onto her bicep keep her moving.

Sevika is unable to produce words to the young girl. She curses as she knows that the words and emotions were more of your thing. Sevika wants to comfort her and tell her that Jinx will be okay, but even she doesn’t know that for sure.

So, she tries to think of things you would do to keep Isha happy. How your gentle presence allowed for the orphan girl to have a liking to you. She tries to caress her head the way you’ve done when putting her to sleep, but the lack of another arm leaves it more difficult. The best thing she can do is ensure the girl's safety. Sevika shakes her head and digs deep in her bones for extra fuel. Her body aches and has been aching extra hard these past days, but giving up is not an option. So, she thinks of anything but the carnage she just bore witness to and the heaviness of her legs slapping against the harsh concrete. Images of rare late mornings with you start playing in her mind. The sleepy cuddles with you raking your fingers through her hair and caressing her cheek play like a bitter sweet movie. The face you made when she came home with Jinx and Isha follows next. The softness that overcame your features when Isha peaked from behind Jinx’s leg left a feeling in Sevika’s chest that she never felt before. Warmth radiated through her heart like turning on a heater on the first day of winter.These thoughts carried her from topside to your shared home in Zaun.

The heavy footfalls outside of your humble apartment left your blood fall chill. Flashbacks to when Sevika came back from nearly dying left your heart beat pumping triple time. The door flings open to see a disheveled Sevika carrying an almost identical disheveled Isha. Your heart sinks as you piece what most likely had happened.

“Baby?” Your voice cracks as you walk closer to assess damages.

Sevika tries to hold on for you and for Isha, but knows if she speaks, tears will come. So she resorts to grunting. She hands Isha over to you and walks to the bathroom. You gape at her for a moment before springing to action. It isn’t until you feed, bathe, and clothe the young girl until you see Sevika step out of the room. You take that as a sign that she is ready to speak and you carry the young girl to the couch. Isha is knocked out at this point, you assume the combination of her crying and all that just went on really worn her out. You give the girl one last rub on the back and leave her with a kiss to the forehead.

You pass the kitchen to see the plate that you had left for Sevika to have been gone and in the sink ready to be cleaned. A small smile adorns your face as you are grateful for the fact that she was able to eat. You grab two glasses and fill them with water for you to bring to your shared bedroom.

You gently knock on the door before opening to see Sevika staring out the window. You make your way over to her side of the bed and rest the glasses of water on the nightstand. She doesn't even notice your presence until a small ‘clink’ of the glasses takes her out of her trance.

“Baby, what happened?” You take a seat right next to your lover, raking your fingertips up and down her spine. You can feel just how tense her whole body is as she sits rigid like a statue.

A shaky sigh is let out from Sevika as her eye contact remains looking at the darkness outside. The two of you just sit in silence for a bit until Sevika is able to start from the beginning. She lets you know just how terrified she actually felt at that time, she lets you know just how weak she felt without her arm, and she lets you know how you and Isha were the only things keeping her going. She lets you know how you were her north star and how without you, she would have just given up.

“I don’t even know what I am doing anymore, babe.” A stray tear finds its way down her cheek.

“All I ever do is fight and I just don’t know how much more I have in me. I'm tired…I am so tired.” More tears silently flow against your lover's cheek, breaking your heart at the sight. You caress her cheek, wiping away the tears she was too lazy to do herself.

Tiny cracks in your heart open like bullet wounds at her admission of her thoughts. You’ve known this to be true for a long time, yet being the protector that she is, Sevika never opened up to you about it. It is now time for you to put your strong face on and pick her up when she’s low, just like how she’s done for everyone else her entire life. You turn her face to look at yours, your tender hand contrasting her firm jaw. Sevika is reluctant to show you her brokenness, but she is just too tired to care at this point. Her eyes look past yours, darting around the room to find anywhere but your eyes.

“Look at me, honey.” You caress her cheek in hopes to coax her out of her mental prison. Your patience knows no bounds and that makes Sevika feel things she can’t even start to comprehend alone.

Her eyes trail to your own, swimming with emotion. She sees her future in your eyes and it scares her. You give her an encouraging smile and she feels her walls cracking.

“I- You’ve made me realize the things that I wish I could have and it scares me. I had nothing to lose for so long, and now I have so much on the line.” Her eyebrows furrow.

“Seeing the way you’ve completely changed my life confuses me. I know I don’t deserve a life that you are making me dream of.” Your eyes go wide at her confession to you.

“I never gave myself the opportunity to even imagine a world where I’m not alone, you know? But that day I came home to you after the explosion…It confused me. You have been the only constant in my life and I guess it just really hit today.” She nuzzles her face into your palm as you kiss the top of her head.

“Baby, you it hurts me to know that you can’t see just how much you deserve.” You lean in so that both of your foreheads are touching. Your eyes never leave her puppy dog grays.

“Because you know I am with you until the end. You are it for me Sev, you hear me? Whatever it takes.” You can barely get out the last of your words before Sevika is kissing you with all of the energy she has left. She may not be the best with her words, but she needs you to understand just exactly how you make her feel.

The kiss deepens as tears shed freely between the pair of you. Your bodies pressing close to one another, trying to engulf each other to become one. It gets to a point where Sevika has to pull away to catch her breath, but she doesn’t let you go too far. She stares at you in silence, taking in every aspect of your being.

“I’m terrified because you make me want those things. Having Isha here and seeing how you take care of her…” Sevika turns her head in slight embarrassment.

A huge smile adorns your face as you try and not scare her from opening up.

“Do you mean?” You whisper, afraid that if you spoke any louder you’d jinx (no pun intended) yourself.

Sevika’s face is hot with awkwardness at her vulnerability. She hasn’t spoken these words aloud to anyone, especially yourself.

“I want to keep waking up to you and Isha making breakfast. I want to keep teaching her how to tinker and fix things. I want to come home from work to see you both dancing in the living room. I want to grow old with you, baby. Seeing just how quick all of that could have went away, Gods that fucked me up.” She uses her hand to tug her hair away from her eyes.

“You were the only thing on my mind. I had to keep going for you and Isha.”

And now it is your turn to start crying. Your tears freely fall for the love of your life. The privilege you have had to see Sevika grow into the woman who is sitting in front of you.

“I want all of that with you, are you kidding me? You’re the woman of my dreams babe. Whether you like it or not you’re stuck with me.” You laugh teary eyed and smile at the smirk your lover returns.

The two of you share quite giggles as you both crawl into bed. The day is finally settling and Sevika is definitely feeling its effects. You hold her in your arms and try to burn this into your memory forever.

“So…you wanna be Mama Sev, huh?” You tease and laugh at her body going rigid.

Taglist:

@ab2ysw1fe

@queenabrahel

@queenabrahel 

@caicreations

@caicreations

@arevik2345

@munsonsfairy

@moonlightnumbsthepainifeel

@sevikellsss

@whoreshores

@archangeldyke-all

[thesecondhandwoman]

SNOW DAY IN ZAUN

Sevika x f!reader

Summary: You and Sevika were just waking up for the morning, expecting it to be a calm and slow one, when you suddenly saw snow falling from outside your window. At such a rare occasion in Zaun, Sevika struggled to get you bundled up before you bolted out the door to enjoy the snowy day.

Request: @lilyyx0

It was the kind of morning that begged to be slow, the sort where the world outside was eerily quiet, as if wrapped in a soft blanket of stillness. Sevika stirred in bed, her muscular arm lazily thrown over her lover’s waist, her breathing slow and steady. The warmth of your body nestled against hers was something she never took for granted.

You were awake before her, not unusual given Sevika’s penchant for late nights working or dealing with the chaos of Zaun. You hadn’t stirred much, content to bask in the weight of her arm, the smell of her, the low hum of the city beyond your window.

But something caught your eye.

A flicker of white.

You blinked, sitting up slightly to peer out of the window. Your breath hitched.

Snow.

You hadn’t seen snow in Zaun in years. Its arrival was rare, a fleeting gift that vanished as quickly as it came, leaving behind only slush and muck. But this? This was the kind of snow that stuck. Big, fat flakes swirled outside, blanketing the drab metal and grime of Zaun with a pristine softness.

“Sevika!” you gasped, shaking her shoulder with barely contained excitement.

The mercenary groaned, cracking one eye open to look at you. “What is it?” Her voice was rough with sleep, but her tone softened when she saw your face. You looked so bright-eyed, your excitement infectious despite her drowsiness.

“It’s snowing!” you exclaimed, scrambling out of the warm cocoon of blankets to press your face against the glass. “Look! Sevika, it’s snowing!”

Sevika rubbed at her face, sitting up slowly. Her hair was a mess, her tank top rumpled, but she couldn’t help but smile as she watched you practically bouncing on your toes like a kid.

You turned to her, eyes sparkling. “We have to go outside! Come on, Sev!” You grabbed her hand, trying to pull her out of bed, but she was an immovable force, her lips twitching with amusement.

“Whoa, slow down, sweetheart,” Sevika chuckled, tightening her grip on your hand so you couldn’t drag her anywhere just yet. “You can’t go out there in your pajamas. You’ll freeze your ass off.”

You pouted, glancing longingly at the door, but Sevika tugged you gently back towards her. “Let’s get dressed first. I’m not having you catch a cold because you couldn’t wait two minutes.”

“Fine,” you huffed, but your smile betrayed your excitement as you darted towards the closet. Sevika shook her head, stretching before standing up to get ready. She was slower than you, of course, but she couldn’t resist sneaking glances at your adorable, impatient pacing.

Finally, bundled in layers, you practically bounced by the door as Sevika adjusted her gloves. “Alright, alright,” she said, pulling on her heavy coat. “Let’s go, you damn snow bunny.”

The moment you stepped outside, the cold bit at your nose and cheeks, but the sight of snowflakes falling all around made you forget everything else. The streets of Zaun, usually dull and oppressive, were transformed by the thick layer of white. The sky was still a muted gray, but the snow made everything feel lighter, cleaner.

And you weren’t the only one out enjoying it. Dozens of Zaunites had braved the cold to revel in the rare sight. Children ran around laughing, tossing snowballs at one another, while others carefully constructed lopsided snowmen. For a moment, Zaun didn’t feel so grim.

You immediately dove into the snow, scooping it up with bare hands despite Sevika’s muttered protests about gloves. She stood back, arms crossed, watching you with a fond smile as you started rolling snow into a ball. It wasn’t long before a group of children caught sight of you, and they hesitantly approached.

“Wanna help me make a snowman?” you asked, your voice soft and inviting.

The kids’ faces lit up, and they eagerly joined in, chatting and laughing as you directed them. Sevika leaned against a nearby lamppost, watching the scene unfold. You looked so happy, your cheeks pink from the cold, your eyes shining as you helped a little girl add a crooked carrot nose to the snowman’s face.

Sevika couldn’t help but smile, her usually stoic expression melting into something tender. She stayed back, giving you space to play, but her eyes never left you.

One of the braver kids ran over to her, holding a snowball. “Are you gonna help us, lady?”

Sevika raised an eyebrow. “I’m better at knocking things down than building them.”

The kid giggled and ran back to you, but not before Sevika saw you glance at her over your shoulder, your face alight with a grin that made her heart clench.

Eventually, you broke away from the group to join Sevika, brushing snow off your gloves. “You’re not gonna stand there all day, are you?” you teased, looping your arm through hers. “Come build something with me.”

Sevika rolled her eyes but let you drag her to an untouched patch of snow. Together, you started building what could generously be called a snow fort. She wasn’t particularly skilled at it, but her strength made the work faster, and you couldn’t stop giggling every time one of her blocks came out lopsided.

As the day wore on and the snow continued to fall, you found yourself collapsing into Sevika’s arms, both of you sitting in the snow. The world around you was a blur of laughter and joy, but all you could focus on was her.

“Thanks for coming out with me,” you murmured, pressing a cold-nosed kiss to her cheek.

Sevika smirked, wrapping her arms around you to keep you warm. “Anything for you, doll.”

You smiled up at her, giving her one last kiss before you enjoyed a snow day in Zaun.

[ripcupid]

i love love love the thought of sub sevika 🙂‍↕️her being all whiny and needy

favorite girl

୨୧ sub! sevika x prostitute! reader

୨୧ word count - 1.7k

୨୧ your favorite regular, sevika, wanted to relieve some stress at her favorite place with her favorite girl. (No one gets oiled up 😔)

“What are you gonna do to me?” The woman asks, her gray eyes burning a hole in your back as she watches you count over the money she owns you.

“You paid for this, remember?” you smirk, looking over your shoulder at her “you said you wanted to relieve some stress,” you continue before turning back to the money.

“This is not what I meant, I don't like surprises.”

“Give it a chance, Sev,” you tease, standing and walking over to her. You sit down on the bed beside her, trailing a finger down her chest, slowly lifting her shirt to reveal more of her abs, “Just let me take care of you, okay?” Sevika looks at you with her usual attitude but begrudgingly says fine.

"I promise you'll like it," you whisper against her lips, pecking her softly between your words. You slip your hand under her shirt, holding her waist as you kiss her slowly, savoring the taste of the whisky and cigar smoke on her lips. As your hand moves higher up her body, Sevika leans into your touch, sighing softly into the kiss as you cup her tits.

With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you pull back and lift her shirt over her head, revealing her bare skin to the dimly lit room. You bite back your grin and rest your head on Sevika’s shoulder, looking over her exposed body. “So pretty,” you mumble, licking your fingertips before bringing them to Sevika’s now hardened nipples.

Sevika shivers under your touch, biting her lips and gasping softly as you slowly circle around the sensitive buds. “That feels good?” You ask, looking up to watch her reactions carefully as you experimentally pinch her nipple between your fingers.

Sevika's teeth sink deeper into her scarred lip, her hand gripping the sheets tightly to anchor herself. “Yeah just- mhm don't stop,” the older woman breathes, cursing under her breath as she pants. You move to her other nipple, giving the bud the same attention as you bring your head down to kiss around her chest, feeling her body arching towards you in response.

Sevika's hand comes up to your head, the cold metal resting against your scalp as she tries to move you where she wants you. You get the hint and trace your tongue around her nipple, feeling her shudder beneath you before taking the bud in your mouth.

As you suck and tease her nipples, Sevika's breathing becomes more erratic, her human hand grabbing anything within reach. Sevika curses under her breath as she brushes your hair back to get a good look at you.

You pull back with an obscene pop, a mischievous smirk appearing on your face as you lean in, teasingly brushing your lips against hers, giggling softly as she tries to capture your lips with her own.

"You want more, Sevika?" you ask, pulling away and sitting between her legs. You slide a hand down her abs down to her v-line, feeling her heated skin under your fingertips. Sevika nods, unable to look at you as you trace just above the waistband of her pants.

You pepper kisses on her face, purposely avoiding her lips as you whisper, "You gotta use your words, Sevy, you know this." Sevika lets out a frustrated groan, rolling her eyes at the silly nickname. "C'mon, let me hear you say it," you tease, just barely slipping your hand in her pants, the way her hips buck towards you not going unnoticed.

Sevika's breath hitches as she feels your fingers getting closer to her already aching clit before they land on the aching bud. She grabs your wrist, finally giving in with her voice barely audible as she mutters, "Please just stay right there." You smirk in satisfaction, hearing the "scary lady of Zaun" begging for your touch making your core ache.

"I got you, honey," you whisper, slowly rubbing her clothed clit, keeping eye contact as she lets out a soft moan, her head dropping back in pleasure. You push yourself closer to her, kissing and nipping at her neck and just to hear the small gasps and whimpers that escape her lips. Sevika relaxes into your touch, soft moan flowing freely from her lips.

"Take your pants off, Sevika," you command, unable to deal with the fabric between you any longer. You watch with hunger in your eyes as Sevika eagerly complies, making quick work of removing her pants. She lays back on the bed, looking over at you as she awaits your next move.

"Fuck, Sevika, you're so wet," you chuckle as you pull apart her legs, rubbing the sensitive skin of her inner thigh before teasingly brushing your fingers against her slick folds. You slide your fingers through her slick folds, spreading her wetness over her swollen clit, reveling in the way she twitches and moans softly at the slightest touch.

"Please," she begs, pushing her hips towards you.

"What is it, baby? What do you need?" you taunt, brushing her hair away from her face as you continue to rub her clit in slow circles.

Sevika's eyes flutter closed, too embarrassed to look at you as she whispers,"I need more, I need you…please." You smile at her request, feeling your panties dampen as you lean down between her legs.

As you press kisses to her muscular thighs, you look up at Sevika with a mischievous glint in your eye, subtly biting down on her inner thigh, making her gasp in surprise and pleasure. "You like this, don't you?" you murmur, "not being in control for once?" Sevika nods slightly, still unable to look down at you.

"Look at me," you command softly, your kisses inching closer to her awaiting cunt. She locks eyes with you, her breathing shaking as she watches you stick out your tongue and slowly make contact with her throbbing clit, strings of her wetness connecting your tongue to her.

"Ya taste so good," you moan, flicking your tongue against her sensitive bud, causing her thighs to twitch around your head. Sevika lets out a low, guttural moan at the vulgar sight, now unable to tear her eyes away from you as you lick a line from her entrance to her clit before sucking it into your mouth. Sevika gasps, her jaw dropping in pleasure as a hand flys to your head, fingers tangling in your hair to keep you there.

"Oh fuck, you feel so fucking good," she gasps, her hand pushing you closer, urging you to continue. You close your eyes, savoring the taste of her coating your tongue as you hold her hips to guide her movements, feeling her body tremble beneath you. You pull back for air, keeping your thumb on her pulsing clit, looking up at Sevika. Sevika sits up on her elbows, her chest heaving as she looks down at you with a hungry gaze. "Baby, don't stop, please," she whispers, her voice not sounding like her usual confident (and ngl scary) self.

"I won't," You smirk, kissing her inner thigh and bringing your fingers down to her entrance, sliding them in and making her gasp. You can feel her walls clenching around your fingers as you slowly push them in and out with ease.

"Oh fuck, yea," Sevika moans, gripping the sheets and falling back onto the bed, her eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. You watch her closely, admiring the way her body responds to your touch, reveling in the sounds leaving her scarred lips.

It's a side of her you rarely get to see, silco's number 2, the one who incites fear into people just from a look, now vulnerable and exposed just for you. You lay your head on her thigh, still slowly fucking your fingers into her. "Ya like that, Sev?" you whisper, smiling as she mindlessly nods. "Yeah? You gonna cum for me?" you tease, watching her nod eagerly in response.

"I'm so close, baby ," she moans, her voice barely above a whisper. "Don't stop, please don't stop," she begs. With a mischievous grin, you lean in, flicking your tongue against her aching puffy clit before whispering, "It’s okay, I got you, baby." You suck gently on her clit, moaning into her cunt when she tugs on your hair, using your face to bring herself closer to the edge.

Sevika's breath quickens, her moans growing louder as she nears the edge. "Oh god, right there," she gasps, pulling you closer to her, her hips bucking against your mouth in desperation. "I'm coming," she cries out, her thighs trembling and closing around your head as she reaches her peak.

You continue to lap at her wetness as she rides out her orgasm with shuddering breaths and soft whimpers. As she finally relaxes, you look up at her with a satisfied smile, chuckling as she pants and wipes the sweat from her forehead.

"Gimme a kiss, baby," Sevika huffs, pulling herself to sit against the headboard of the bed, still catching her breath. You sit up to capture her lips in a passionate kiss, letting her taste herself on your tongue.

As your lips move together, Sevika's hands roam over your hips, pulling you closer until snug against her chest. You pull away and rest your head on her shoulder, you tug her mechanical arm into your lap, tracing over the intricate designs etched into the metal. "You got any drinks in here?" Sevika asks.

"Just got your favorite a few days ago," you giggle, hurrying and grabbing the bottle of whiskey from across the room. You also grab her cigars sitting on your table before coming back to the bed. Sevika pops a cigar between her lips, waiting for you to light it for her as you usually do.

As you light the cigar, she takes a long drag and blows out a cloud of smoke, a content smile on her face. You pour the two of you a glass of whiskey each, handing one to Sevika before sitting down next to her. The two of you sit in comfortable silence, sharing the cigar and sipping on your drinks, enjoying each other's company.

"Your hour’s almost up," you break the silence, making Sevika chuckle lightly. She takes one last puff of the cigar before handing it to you and downs the rest of her drink. She gathers and fixes her clothes before standing up and giving you a quick kiss. "See you soon?" you ask.

"Of course," she smiles as she heads to the door, "Can't stay away from my favorite girl for too long." And with a wink, she exits the room, leaving you with a smile on your face.

Y’all I’ve been gone for so long cuz fucking school is killing me and I got a job now but I’m locking in since season 2 is here. Do y’all like the nickname sevy or not?

Totally send request if you have any 🤍

[eightstarr]

pacify — sevika.

summary: is it possible to miss a stranger, or does one thing negate the other? maybe you miss sevika because she isn't a stranger, because she stuck her claws far too deep in you and never let go— or just because she looks really fucking good sitting there, looking at you like she's waiting for you to say "hello again".

warnings: mild descriptions of violence, smut (mdni!), pre time jump sevika!

notes: my thesis with this one is that eating out a woman you love will revolutionize you in a way nothing else can and i'm joking but also dead serious. also dear god please me and who… okay bye i love you

・。.・゜✧・. ────

“You know, I’ve always liked this place the best.”

It’s the first thing you remember him saying, blue uniform to match his now slightly reddened eyes, vile alcohol in his breath. You’re at a different bar, not Vander's, the first actual job you ever had if you don't count what came before— the shiny rock of a stranger’s ring in your pocket, another’s gold coins in your bag, all from the quick trips to the city above with your father. “It’s not difficult to steal from a Piltovan,” he’d say, squinting at the engraving on the inside of a sparkly bracelet, a small bounty spread over the kitchen table, “they’re all show, all ego.”

Now watching the smirk on the Enforcer’s face after he downs his fourth glass without taking a breath, a laughable skill for an audience of no one, you find it hard to disagree with your father’s assessment. The well nurtured instinct to wonder what you’d get if you slipped your fingers inside the pockets of his tailored jacket grows loud and tempting in your head, but you shove it away and keep your eyes on the dusty floor you’re meant to sweep, determined to keep this job.

“The drinks are better than up there, I’ll give you that,” the drunk man continued, half empty fifth glass tipped dangerously towards the brooding barman, your only coworker tonight. There’s barely anyone left in the bar at all except a couple regulars. Tension has been brewing through the entirety of your shift, an argument in one of the booths during your first hour, a drink on someone’s face by the third, a wave of tired scoffs when the man in uniform walked in near the end of the night; the last nail on the coffin. In your head, you’ve listed all the possible exits you could use to escape enough times to memorize them.

The man takes a surprisingly controlled sip, thin lips furrowed in a grimace. “Wish it was enough to make up for that fucking stench.”

The air in Zaun is different to foreigners. You’ve never minded it the way they do. It's your air, the first to ever fill your lungs, the one you’re so used to that you can feel the way it shifts— the way it becomes a stench, as he called it, when blood is about to be spilt.

The barman does, to his credit, offer you the chance to leave. Or orders it, morelike, his sharp eyes meeting yours and then a tilt of his head towards the door. Maybe he pities you for the nerves splashed all over your face, or maybe he’d just find it a shame to lose an employee he hired barely a month ago. “You. Out.”

“Out?” the Piltovan repeats, turning his head, his voice grossly high pitched. “Why? What's gonna happen now?” he’s drunk enough that you notice the seconds that pass before his eyes properly focus. You remember the exact way his smirk faded, the deep-set wrinkles between his eyebrows when he recognized your face, a nauseating anger. “No. No, you don't move.”

Enforcers never go anywhere alone. Maybe the man had just remembered this, just now realized the true risk of his cockiness when it's not backed up by two or three of his colleagues. Maybe that's why he finds it easy to target you rather than the angry figures lurking in the tables behind him. Maybe that's why he draws his gun so fast.

“I know you, little thief—”

A woman approaches at the same time he does, and you don't know why exactly you decide to focus on her instead. A plea, maybe. You remember the dull gray of the brass knuckles on her fingers, the thick leather belt hung around her lower waist, the thump of her boots against the old floorboards. You've never noticed her before. How ridiculous it feels to think that she was there all night. How lovely that she could be the last thing you see. There's comfort in her being there, a morbid, sad thing that feels almost like company. At least you’re not alone in the room with the monster, at least there's someone to watch you die. 

Her hand falls on the Enforcer’s shoulder and she pushes him back with little effort, the quickest movement, almost without thought. The man stumbles (blame the well praised alcohol or Sevika’s strength), and the glass that had stayed in his hand shatters against the edge of the bar at the same time his gun fires a loose shot to the wall behind you.

Next comes a blur, a vague memory of hearing the Enforcer hiss in pain, a thread of red spilling down the open palm of his hand.

“You got somewhere to go?”

Her voice is the first and only thing that brings you back, the only sound louder than the heartbeat pounding in your ears. She sounds smooth, clear-headed, not like a woman who just stepped in the middle of the fastest paced violence you’ve ever encountered. Gray eyes move across your face, then the rest of you, and you quickly look down at yourself as if to check along with her that you’re actually unharmed.

Your lips feel awfully dry when your tongue brushes against them, enough air passing through to let you breathe, but not quite talk. You nod your head and remember in a rushed, distorted thought— somewhere to go, yes, home, now.

Sevika returns your nod, small praise, an odd way of saying something like good job. Less odd than the quiet satisfaction you feel for having earned it. She tilts her head towards the door, short black hair brushing her shoulder, her voice the kindest you’ve ever heard to this very day. Perhaps the thing you remember most. “Go on, love.”

─────✧･ﾟ: *✧･

Years pass, deaths and joys and new odd jobs, and you still think about it. She sits at the back of your head like a softly worded reminder. And then one day, as things go, you find her again. Her making a deal at the back of The Last Drop, you behind the bar serving drinks.

There's a chance she doesn't remember it. What are the odds that she thought about you at all after the incident? You were just a stranger on a random night. It's not often that people fully understand the weight of what they did for someone, the trickle down of an action, of a kindness. There's a chance for you to go home, alone and unchanged. Instead (and not for the first time) you work for an hour longer, unpaid labor for a chance to serve her a drink.

Sevika doesn't come every night. You see her maybe once a week, talk to her maybe once a month. You don't expect tonight to be any different, but—

“You gonna watch me all night?” she mutters it into her glass, swallows the last sip before she looks at you. The are tiny wrinkles beginning to form on the corners of her eyes now, along each side of her lips from her smiles. Watching her is entrancing, the easiest thing you do, as natural as drawing a breath. “What are you still doing here?”

You blink downwards at the washed glass in your hand, continue to dry it like it could ever be half as interesting as being under her spell. “Working overtime.”

“Vander can't afford to pay you overtime,” Sevika scoffs, the corner of her mouth lifting in a smirk. 

You frown, maybe a little flustered. “He—”

“She's right. Why are you still here?”

The man himself stands tall to your left, glaring at this one permanently stained spot on the bar, working at it with a rag like he hasn't tried the same thing a hundred times before. There are dark shadows under his eyes, a purple hair tie on his wrist— Powder’s, if you were to guess. You’ve grown close to Vander since you met him, even closer when he hired you to work here. “‘S not a favor,” he’d said, quickly catching the suspicion on your face. “Just a gesture to him.” Turns out a lot more people knew your father than you thought; Vander isn’t old enough to have grown up with him, but they still found ways to end up at the same places. If he hadn’t been so secretive about who he was beyond the man who raised you, maybe you would’ve met Vander years ago, became friends at some bar in your teen years instead of at a diner a few days after your father’s funeral. But gaining a friend is a timeless thing, it obeys luck, not sensitivities. One day he wasn’t there, and then the next he was.

You spray some cleaning liquid over the spot on the table, roll your eyes as he leans closer to wonder at how the stain begins to slowly fade. “I’m working,” you repeat.

He looks at you from the corner of his eyes, one eyebrow raised. “I ain’t paying you.”

“I know, okay? It's fine,” you cross your arms over your chest, embarrassed to have been caught even though neither Vander nor Sevika seem to know what the real reason behind you staying late is. “It's a busy night, take it as a favor.”

“I can't afford favors.”

“Good thing they’re free, then,” you deadpan.

Sevika chuckles at the banter, forever amused at your unreserve, how simple you make things. It makes no sense to her to be that generous, that open, but it makes even less sense to think that you’d be any other way. Sevika isn’t particularly trusting, but she is loyal— the more you talk, the more watching you becomes addicting, her thing. She fixates on learning new things about you, clings to your words like a cat to its owner’s scent and wonders, over and over and over, if you remember her. From all those years ago. From last week. With you, she’d take anything.

And when she does finally see you up close, finds a good enough excuse in asking you for fire or a refill, there's little you could ask that she would say no to. It's senseless and thrilling and above all, it's true. She feels it down to her bones, painfully clear, like it's written all over her face.

“What do you do, Sevika?”

Sit and wait for you, she thinks, and instead replies, “What?”

“For work,” you clarify, your hand against the bar, leaning slightly forward. “I see you every week and I still don't know.”

You do know what she does, at least as much as anyone else does— too little to run your mouth, enough to stay away. And if you didn't know, you know her enough to be certain that she wouldn't tell you. It's a pointless question. Unless, of course, you’re as infatuated as you are.

Sevika takes another gulp of her drink, her eyes tracing over the line on your waist where the apron ties behind your back, the soft curve that the pull of it forms. She needs a smoke. “Same shit as everyone else,” she answers, and palms her pockets for a cigarette case. “What do you do? Other than this.”

“This is it,” you watch her flick open the case and shrug. You don’t sound particularly sad or frustrated, just plainly aware. “I pour drinks for people who all seem to do the same shit.”

Sevika hums, sets the case down, a click of metal against well worn wood. An unlit cigarette sits between her index and middle finger. “Be honest,” she starts, and it's the same voice that's been talking to you this whole time, but the gruffness still manages to catch you off guard. “Am I just as bad?”

You chuckle, the same addicting shimmer of genuineness in your eyes that she chases everytime you speak. “Just as bad as what?”

Her eyes follow your hands where they go to pull a lighter from the chest pocket of your apron. “The drunks that flirt with you while you do your job,” she lets the cigarette hang from her lips and leans forward.

“Hm,” you hum. The reflection of the flame sparkles in her eyes before you pull it away, orange against gray, odd and pretty. “I don't know.”

You’re not sure if she looks amused or slightly offended. It's a nice view regardless, the way her eyebrows lift and her lips curve downwards for a second before she breathes out, spilling smoke from her mouth as she talks, “You don't know.”

“I guess I didn't realize you were flirting with me.”

Sevika chuckles, a tiny half moon of a smile line on her cheek when she smirks, smugly aware of the way your eyes are looking at her. “You’re funny.”

Sevika is loyal. It would be easy to say that she doesn’t get what this feeling is, that it’s meaningless, that she doesn’t understand it— but she knows. She knows what it is even if it goes unnamed, because she’s the one deciding to keep it, stubborn and tight gripped, close to her heart. It’s in her dreams, in her first thought of the morning, in the disappointment that sours her mouth when she doesn’t find you at the bar. It’s in her stomach, tugging with need, when she looks at your face and realizes that if she asks if you wanna go home with her tonight, you will say yes.

She takes the leap. Parts her lips, names herself yours. “You wanna get out of here?”

─────✧･ﾟ: *✧･

You rarely pour your own drinks anymore. It’s a funny thing— Sevika doesn’t ask about your preference, which liquor is your favorite, if you’d like for her to do it for you. She figures it out like she does most things, making a study out of it, watching you enough. Maybe a little extra, too. The cork slides up with a pop!, her fingers around the neck of the bottle. The warmth of her still lingers on your thighs, your own fingers sitting restless over your lap now that her hair is not close enough to play with.

It’s been months since the first night she came home with you. You wouldn’t yet say that the newness is gone, or that you’re as quick of a student as she is, but there are things you know about Sevika already. Vivid truths, bright like the visions of her in the sunlight that you dream about sometimes. Reassurance is one of the first languages you learn from each other.

For Sevika, it's almost always about touch— you notice it immediately at the core of most of her silences, the way closeness makes her demeanor shift to something calmer, more true to herself. Slide closer to her on the couch and her arm will find itself around your shoulders immediately. Pat the empty spot next to you on the bed and she’ll let out a heavy sigh of relief, join you in sleep instead of torturing herself about tomorrow’s line of business. Part your lips when she's kissing you late at night with no goal other than to kiss you and she’ll let out a sound that vibrates through you and changes her mind on what was once an innocent gesture; she’ll tug your shirt off instead. Brush your hand over her shoulder when she's resting her head on your lap and she’ll guide it to her face instead, a lazy hold on your wrist while your thumb brushes her cheek. Coming to love her is the warmest science. But it’s not always exact.

You watch her pour you a drink at the bar table that sits in front of your bed— watch the dark hair that sits against the nape of her neck, messy and loose, watch the waistline of her pants sitting low on her waist, watch the bareness of her back. If there’s a reason why you decide to say it now, you don’t yet realize it. The words just spill out of you before you have a chance to stop them. “I remember you, you know."

Sevika’s hand hovers over the whiskey glass before she hums, resuming the movement and bringing it to her lips. "You didn't say."

“You didn’t ask,” you rest your back against the bed frame, watch her carefully.

The air sits still and you see her shoulders lift, muscles shifting as she shrugs, a big gulp of golden liquor sliding down her throat. Her voice comes in a mutter, low and almost shy, "Thought I might scare you off.”

The idea is so ridiculous that it's almost laughable. A startled chuckle dies in your chest and leaves room for aching sadness, your back leaving the frame as you lean forward and pray for her to turn around. "He was going to shoot me. Nobody moved a finger but you, Sev," you shake your head, try to manage your expression from saying too much, from confessing to something that’s been inside of you for years. At the tip of your tongue sits a raw desperation for this exact unraveling, for her. "How could you scare me?"

Another moment passes before Sevika turns to face you, lower back against the edge of the table, holding her drink down by her side. She won't look at your eyes— can't, maybe. You wonder if she's considering leaving, if she's already decided that she will, as soon as this is over. A part of you, small but dramatic and loudly pessimistic, is surprised that she’s entertained you this long. Even more surprised when she asks, "Is that what this is?" a turn of her head and the gray in her eyes finds you in a second, mechanical and unforgiving, the snap of a bear trap. You don't think you could look away if you tried. "Are you here because you think you owe me something?"

Your reaction is something close to a flinch, your frown deepening, feet firm on the floor instantly. "You can't seriously think that."

Sevika feels the regret come instantly. It splatters on her face, the pads of her fingers rough when they're brushed over her cheek to wipe herself clean of it like she does blood, gunpowder, fear. She watches out of the corner of her eye the way you part your pretty lips and can hear it in her head, imagine it so clearly, you asking her to leave. 

She's already reaching for her coat to make quick work of obeying your wishes when, instead of that, you ask, "You wanna know why I’m here?"

Sevika lowers her hand and the glass hits the table with a thud. Her head tilts to make the slightest nod— and that's as much of an answer as you'll get, you think.

“Look at me,” your finger sits under her chin, a touch barely there, the rise of her head more her choice than your doing. “You’re good, Sevika,” she grimaces, feels like she's swimming in gross viscous shame older than herself and barely surviving it. You press your thumb into her cheek, firm but kind, and keep her from being swept away by it. If she used to find your openness sweet, right now she finds it fucking miraculous. How can you call her good and mean it, how can someone else know so deeply that she could be, that she will be, when most days she doesn’t even know it herself? How can she look you in the eyes and deny you that truth? Her face relaxes, grimace replaced by an aching need as she listens to you. “I see it better than most, but they all catch up eventually. Whatever you put your mind to, you’re fucking good at it,” you pause, try to read her expression and find yourself unsure, but calm. How lovely to think that there's still so much to learn. “You don't owe me and I’m not trying to change you… you don't need—”

Sevika rests her hand over your cheek, a warm hum from her throat to acknowledge what you're saying, a desperate shake of her head to say but I do. “I need you,” her forehead falls against your own, in her brain a chant of please.

You look at her through your lashes, nod your head and feel warm, warm, warm. Her hand guides your face closer, a needy pull of her fingers where they press against the back of your neck, your whisper of “me too” spilled into her mouth. Sevika kisses like there's nothing in the whole fucking world she’d rather be doing, nothing that could possibly distract her. She has kissed you in nightclub bathrooms even with someone's knocks shaking the flimsy door, in alleys with her knuckles still bloody from a fight, dangerously close to opening hours with your back against the very bar where she rests her drinks every night. She's hungry, insatiable, and every time you can't wait to part your lips and let her in.

It takes godlike strength to hold on for as long as you do, but there's power in making her wait too, a satisfaction that feels drunk and just as divine as it makes its way down your spine. A few more chaste kisses take seconds or a century, and Sevika indulges them for as long as she can before she breaks, falls to her knees at your altar and breathes, “Please.”

There's nothing you like more than hearing her beg, except maybe what happens after you give in— the relief, the sigh against your mouth, the wet warmth of her tongue and the desperation in the way she pushes her body against you like she hadn't til then realized just how famished she’d been. Her hands wrap around your waist meanly, pressing indents, and you're too busy soothing your own hunger on her lips to realize that she's switched your positions.

You feel the harshness of the table against your back and pull away to look down, catch up, your daze maybe a little too obvious judging by the curl of her mouth. She's panting as much as you are, though, tongue peeking out barely to brush over her lips, tingly and wet from your kisses. “Up,” she says with a tilt of her head, more a warning than a command, her hands already down on your hips to get you sitting over the wood.

Sevika is a sight, pretty and inviting and overwhelming— you reach for her waist and pull, entranced by the way she follows, the way your legs interlock. A thin layer of sweat glimmers over her chest and you've never found so much beauty in the undercity’s humidity, never felt yourself get wet as easily as she makes it, never been so desperate to find some relief from the aching between your legs. Your thighs squeeze into Sevika’s and looking up to meet her eyes feels like a punch, like the sweetest blood, a sea of glazed-over gray barely visible against the black of her pupils. A mirror of your wanting; how the hunger grows when it meets reciprocation this delicious. You lean forward to taste it from her lips and she meets you halfway, a hand traveling up your spine and ending at your neck.

You don't know when you started grinding against her, but you know you want more. And you know Sevika’s holding back, savoring the same power you’d tried before, a smirk against your lips when she feels you speed up, hears you moan from somewhere deep in your throat. It suits her, the way she holds control. Sevika likes to wonder if she’d ever hold on longer, make you really wait. Sometimes she thinks she might, and then (like now) your voice fills her ears and clouds every thought that says anything other than please, god, fuck, let me make you feel good. “Don’t be mean,” you say this time, breathy and achingly sweet. “Please, Sevika.”

The first grind of her thigh against your pussy makes you end a kiss with your teeth biting into the meat of her lower lip, rougher than you intended. “Fuck, Sev—” you say, cut yourself off with a gasp when she does it again. Sevika figures out the angle unsurprisingly quickly, a hand on your hip and another on your ass to guide you back and forth at a rhythm that matches the movement of her own hips, enough fervency behind it that you know she needed this as much as you did. Maybe more, judging by the groans she spills on your neck every time you press up into her.

Full lips kiss at your pulse, open mouthed, her breath cool against your skin when it meets the wetness she left there. Your nails rake over her shoulder, over her scalp where your fingers are buried in between strands of dark hair— and when Sevika groans it sounds raw, a broken noise, her hips moving desperately faster. You can feel her warmth on your thigh and you've never wanted so badly to have her undressed, laid out, rubbing her pussy against you, leaving a mess on skin rather than the fabric of your pants. She's getting carried away, you know it, chasing her high and barely giving you a chance to catch up. You've never wanted anything more than to let her use you.

“You feel so fucking good,” she grunts, wrecked with need for you to pacify when she lifts her head from your neck, her eyebrows furrowed. You watch her get lost on your lips and you can imagine what they look like, how plump she left them, how the pride of that must simmer in her lower abdomen. Her thumb brushes over them once, then again, and you barely register that she's asking for permission before your mouth moves on its own accord to let her index and middle finger inside. It's filling, just what you needed; how beautifully unsurprising that she knew it more than you did, or that she needed it just the same.

You're fully caged in now, your back pressed against the wall, Sevika’s free hand on your waist still steering you back and forth on her thigh. “Too— hm, fuck,” her fingers slide out of your mouth and press wet indents into your cheek as she holds your jaw, traps you in her eyes. She’s far too gone to warn you but she doesn't have to, it's so painfully clear. Her eyes two dark pits to swallow you whole, lips parted, the grinding brutal and so fucking good— she says it until she can't form the words anymore, her head tilted back, thighs stuttering and tightening around your leg as she comes.

Your tongue tastes the skin of her bared neck and you feel yourself get closer and closer, fed by the feeling of her nipple under the pad of your thumb, by the shaking moans she spills into your ears as you keep grinding against her. Sevika must feel it too, in the same way you did, notice the change in your breath or the speed of your hips— because she pulls away and knows to soothe the needy desperation on your face with a messy kiss before she gets down on her knees.

“Shh,” her shushing comes soft and agonizingly kind, your whines barely contained as she presses kisses to the inside of your thighs. “What happened to my patient girl?” she asks, a tilt of her head and a smirk, the meanest angel.

Your palms press onto the table to lift yourself up enough to let her slide your pants and underwear off in one motion. “Spoiled me too much,” you answer, your mind foggy, drunk on the sight of her kneeling in front of you.

It takes Sevika a moment to reply, the pads of her finger pressing into your thighs. Her eyes meet yours and she wants to tell you, how could I not? You’re not trying to change her, you’d said, but you do. These days, she doesn't think about anything else like she used to— I love you prefaces everything. I love you, so I’m winning this stupid fight and making some money. I love you, so I gotta get home alive. I love you, so I think we could change this city. I love you, you should have every-fucking-thing. But Sevika's not really a woman of many words, especially not when you're looking at her like this, especially not when she's this hungry, so she shrugs her shoulders and says (like it explains everything, and maybe it does), "Look at you.”

The intensity of her makes your legs squeeze together, but you barely make it an inch before she’s pulling them apart and hooking them over her shoulders exactly how she likes.

Your face feels like it's burning, heat crawling up your neck, your grip on the table tight. “Please.”

Sevika barely manages to pry her eyes away from where you're open and glimmering, soaking her fingers after just one brush of them against your lips. Her voice comes out strained, drowned in hunger. “Please what?” 

You must sound worse, but the thought barely registers, hardly matters. “Please, Sevika, make me come.”

And she does— pretty nose bumping perfectly against your clit whenever her tongue is too busy inside you, her lips shiny and wet and relentless. Like everything else, she's fucking good at it.

[mollysunder]

The Inx: Jinx's Great and Terrible Devotees in Spite of Conv/rgence

The most annoying thing about Conv/rgence as a game is that it introduces great concepts, like the Inx, but just fumbles the execution of them and the overall story.

In Conv/rgence the Inx are a new chempunk gang of Zaunite teens and young adults that idolize and borderline worship Jinx to the point where they're said to spread chaos in her name. But the Zaun that Conv/rgence establishes tells a different story about the Inx from the intended description.

The first time the Inx appear is in the Conv/rgence comic, where the lead members like Chadd play at the Triumph Festival. It's supposed to be a Zaunite festival to celebrate Jayce's defeating Viktor, the Machine Herald. If the Inx follow Jinx's lifestyle why would they even play at such an event to celebrate a Piltovan, and why would Zaunites think the Inx wouldn't make trouble over it? I could go on about how weird it is for Zaun to host a festival to celebrate Jayce, a Piltovan champion for a fight unrelated to them and their wellbeing, but that would take too long.

For people who admire Jinx's boldness, the best they can do in the comics is pretty harmless vandalism where they just graffiti Jinx's monkey tag over some walls. The Inx are also nowhere to be seen in major events like the Scraptown Run, which apparently all Zaun gangs participate in.

Then there's members like Moshpit Meg. Meg's a diehard Jinx fan that loves Jinx's attitude and dedication to explosions. Before that Meg was admired Vi, the enforcer, because Vi's gauntlets reminded Meg of her own naturally big fists and it made her feel less self conscious about her own hands. That second half begs too many questions I don't have time for.

Outside of aesthetic choices there isn't really anything about the Inx that says they're people who stake their identity around Jinx. This is largely because Conv/rgence's universe works hard to sanitize Zaunite grievances against Piltover which directly undermines the central class conflict between Zaun and Piltover. It also largely impacts the motivations and general existence of characters like Jinx and the people who follow her, like the Inx, because they wouldn't exist in the absence of Piltover's oppression.

To avoid addressing any real conflict between the two cities the Inx are only vaguely make sense in the story, especially the game. All except for one element, Chadd. I need to say this...

Chadd is Accidentally (on Purpose?) Great

The brief moments the audience gets to know Chadd's character gives us an interesting glimpse at the people Jinx inspires.

The first thing we know about Chadd is that he's a musician, and it's neat trait that connects him to the musical roots of Jinx's character. In League, Jinx was the first champion in League to debut with a music video. It was through Jinx's character that Riot and Fortiche begun experimenting League with music. So it's very fitting that Convergence creates a chorus of sorts for Jinx to continue that musical tradition. To add to that, the game's promo posters decided to reestablish Jinx's connections by making her a talented karaoke singer.

The next thing to know about Chadd is that he was the one who planne and organized the Inx to transform a rundown theatre into an airborne concert arena. Red, Ekko's close friend and romantic interest in the game, confirmed that it was Chadd who was the one to make it happen, within a week too. It's an impressive creative feat that's clearly in homage to "Get Jinxed's" aerial imagery. Despite how cool a stunt that was I couldn't see how it was meant to impress Jinx, she was the most destructive thing in the theater... until I read the transcript "Hold me like a Fermata".

A shotgun, a flame thrower... who's funeral were you planning Chadd!??!? Just for context this was a transcript Ekko found of Chadd and the Inx talking about a new weapon (and sound system?) Chadd seemed to have made. I'm sure Chadd was the one who made it because the Fermata is also the name of a musical note that represents a pause (sometimes dramatic) in a score.

If you're familiar with music you might also know that the Fermata has more than one name, it's also referred to as "the Cyclops Eye". That kind of reference to Silco used on a weapon for a later act to honor Jinx couldn't have been lost on the writers because the Eye of Zaun was already found on an Inx hangout.

When I finally noticed all these details I finally got that Chadd is dangerously devoted to Jinx. All the points in his character can only lead us to conclude the real plan wasn't to just play obnoxiously loud music when the theater reached Piltover's heights, it was to destroy Piltover with all the weapons they equipped on it. That's the best idea I can come up with because Jinx immediately throws bombs at their plan to cause havoc in Piltover... for reasons. It does match Jinx's track record at least, usually other dangerous or apathetic champions tend to appreciate her, like Urgot, Renata Glasc, and Khada Jhin.

Even Chadd's concept art communicates that he's probably more devoted to Jinx than rest of the Inx. The way his early design evolves to reflect Jinx's influence could even tell a story. The more this douchey glam rocker finds inspiration in Jinx the more he changes himself and his art to reflect Jinx's impact. Chadd grows his hair out, wears his tattoo of Jinx in the same place she wears hers, and even dresses more like her, but he still retains his own diva personality.

One last thing, the funniest thing about Chadd is the fact that both Ekko and Red seperately ask him to explain himself and what "statement" he's trying to make with the Inx. Chadd just flat out refuses to answer, and even breaks up with Red over that. I thought he was being douche (he was), but then I remembered Jinx doesn't explain herself in game either about the mayhem she causes, she just taunts anyone who asks. The student learns from the master I guess.

Tldr: In the Converegence game and comics the Inx are characterized by mild vandalism and pretentious artists. And I could almost get behind that idea if only Convergence wasn't so heavily biased towards Piltover the dynamics of a group like the Inx could have had a more interesting exploration in their motivations and goals. Also, Chadd is a dipshit and he makes a great follower of Jinx!

[mariandjarin]

The spy and the Hound of the Underground

A short story written by Bing AI

Lucy was a spy who worked for the Piltover Council. She was sent to infiltrate Silco's organization.

She knew Vander at the Last Drop. Even when they had differences, they felt something for each other, and they started to trust each other.

Lucy explained to Vander her mission and Silco's plans about using Shimer to create a monster army and attack Piltover.

Vander told her he wanted to avoid a war and that he would help her stop Silco.

They created a plan to infiltrate Silco´s organization.

Lucy stole a sample of Shimmer, and Vander helped her do that, but there was an attack, and both of them were hurt.

Lucy and Vander escaped. They came to the Last Drop, where Vi and the kids brought help to heal them. During that time, Benzo talked with Vander's people to prepare them for the coming war.

With Benzo's help, they prepared for the war against Silco.

Lucy and Vander fought side by side

Vander fought with Silco in a fierce fight. Vander killed Silco by stabbing him in the heart, but Silco stabbed Vander's stomach.

Both of them fell to the ground.

Silco told Vander that he would have liked them to start from the beginning again, and then he died.

Vander started looking for Lucy.

She found him, came running close to him, and took him in her arms.

Vander told her to take care of the kids and Zaun for him.

-I won't be able to do that without you by my side, Van.- Lucy said between tears falling down her cheeks.

Vander put a hand on her right cheek, cleaning the tears that were falling.

-I know you will, my princess.

After that, both of them kissed each other, and then Vander died.

Leaving Lucy with a broken heart and crying a lot.

Lucy brought the drug sample to Piltover's Council, where they analyzed it and discovered a way to stop the effect it had.

The war came to an end.

A statue was created to honor Vander.

Lucy stayed on Zaun, working in the Last Drop and taking care of the kids and the little girl that came just after the war.

The last thing Vander gave her She decided to name her Zara.

Vander used to call Lucy princess, and she wanted that Zara could remember that is how Vander would have called her too and how much he cared about each one of them.

[empyrealarthropod]

there’s a limit to how long you can let a phase go on before it’s just stagnation. jinx’s apathy and lack of motivation is a little out of character considering her decision at the end of season one, but i can see it as a temporary phase she would struggle with.

however, the show’s almost over and they’re not letting her do anything outside of it. it’s been 2/3 of the very limited runtime and she’s still not herself. she’s not scheming or planning, her homicidal tendencies, anger, insecurity, hallucinations, desperate need for connection, codependency, impulsivity, and willingness to be extreme are suddenly gone with no explanation, her usual strange anachronistic and unusual way of speaking and mannerisms are gone and have been replaced with mild sarcasm, and on the rare occasions they let her build something, it has no lasting effects and is immediately undone.

jinx’s creation of fishbones and the attack on the council was the culmination of her season one arc and one of the most dramatic moments in the entire season. but the effects of the rocket are toned down and brushed off. fishbones barely gets fired once before being torn apart by the hextech glitching, which doesn’t make any sense considering the gauntlets and rifle and sevika’s scar were all fine after the glitching stopped. her other guns are quickly disposed of as well, being torn apart by vi and overloaded by isha, and jinx only fires them a couple ineffective times before they’re scrapped. her bombs don’t do anything either, with a few harmless firework/smoke bombs being used as distractions and one that could actually do some damage showing up to magically un-lobotomize vander. she stops fighting back against piltover apart from one scene where she redirects the gray away from zaun and splatters a few buildings with paint. that can barely even be considered an attack. the arm that she builds sevika gets an interesting scene but it’s quickly reworked and destroyed as well. her inventions and creations are a huge part of her character and they’re stripped of effectiveness and meaning.

with better writing, maybe a slightly longer runtime, and shortening down some less necessary plotlines or cutting them out entirely to save them for one of the other shows they’ve said they want to make, it would be easily possible to show both jinx’s emotional vulnerability, grief about the loss of silco and disconnect with vi, connection with isha/sevika/zaun, and her usual weirdness and creativity and volatility. several of those things could be blended together and showed in the same scene. but they’re not.

they’re also just not letting her have any substantial effect on the plot or make decisions of her own. she doesn’t choose anything, she gets pushed along by the whims of others and what the people around her want. she’s not acting, she’s just reacting. and somehow her first thought upon seeing warwick is to go clean up and recruit vi? and then she doesn’t have any anger or complex feelings about the whole situation with vander returning but not silco? as soon as vander’s back she stops missing silco apart from when she finds his coat? she just cooperates with vi’s plan to get warwick healed and wanders around viktor’s cult aimlessly without a care in the world, letting everyone else do whatever while she sits around with isha? she doesn’t have anything she wants, she doesn’t have any goals, she doesn’t care about the piltover vs zaun conflict anymore, her anger about the entire political situation is inexplicably gone just like caitlyn’s.

i’m hoping that we get a few good moments in act 3, but considering that they just killed off isha right before the last act and now she’s going to be straight back to grieving, it’s difficult to keep my hopes up. also please no spoilers i haven’t seen the leaks and i don’t want to

[thenationofzaun]

It really is crazy how much they defanged Jinx this season. Season 1 Jinx went out of her way to murder enforcers. The kills were methodical, brutal, bloody, and Jinx showed no remorse for the violence she committed against Piltover's goons. Because why should she? Meanwhile, Season 2 Jinx only knocks them out and splatters their home with paint. Yes, I'm aware the paint was mixed with the Gray and she essentially blew their attack right back at them which is cool and definitely something Season 1 Jinx would do. But then that turns out not to be a big deal - one kid is shown with a mask and red eyes, no one else is shown with injuries, there are no casualties, and then the story moves on to other things and the Piltover vs Zaun war is forgotten. Fishbones is a much smaller deal than it should be too - only 3 minor characters get taken out and then Fishbones is destroyed before Jinx can do anything else with it. It's also likely the next Act will have her helping Piltover fight Noxus. All her hatred and brutality against Piltover has been toned down. They've made her completely toothless this season.

[ashbub]

believe ✦છ

arcane: sevika x gn!reader

contents: cursing [2.5k unedited] @parkersgarage this is heavily inspired by the oneshot they wrote! check out their works <3

IN WHICH: sevika makes you believe

❝ im living on overdrive, all the time ❞

Sevika just had a way of pissing you off. 

Perhaps it was her bluntness, her casually dry sarcasm seeping onto the ends of her coiled lips every time she spoke. The way her soft gray eyes would flicker when she managed to briefly get your attention away from your hunched-up tinkering over your cluttered desk.

 Maybe it was the way her choppy dark locks softly tickled the ends of her bronzed skin that you were ever so tempted to run across with the back of your thumb during the long nights she was away, lingering with the comforting yet faint scent of cheap booze and swirls of cigar smoke.

 Or, more recently, it was the way she was bleeding all over your damn carpet.

"Sevika, what the actual fuck?-" 

You seethed out with a hiss, your bottom lip slightly curled as she roughly dropped the prosthetic metal arm on the edge of your busted-up desk with a faint clatter. Your crinkled-up eyes gingerly running over the messy collection of tangled-up wires and bent-up bolts that scattered across the wooden surface. 

You lightly pushed up the end of your thinly wired glasses up the bridge of your furrowed nose, dryly inspecting the damage with a soft click of your tongue before turning towards her harrowing presence. Her scarred bottom lip trickled with faint remnants of smeared dried blood, scattered bruises trickling across the edge of her face- her Roman nose looked slightly crooked, most likely getting it bashed in, fresh cuts adorning her rough skin as she smoothly leaned into your work desk with a jagged sigh coating her words. 

It was a bit different from her usual bar brawl look though- not the same slightly caught up with light night gambling and the sweet taste of a new win lingering on the edge of her mouth. 

She looked tired. 

"Just needs a quick fix, dollface." Sevika’s voice was rough, the smooth words sliding off her tongue like a gravelly whisper, the edge of her usual self-assurance still present despite the blood splattered on her calloused skin and the damage to her arm that was dragged on the surface of your desk. "Figured you could patch this up."

You glanced at the mess of wires and metal plating surface- The arm looked like it had been through hell and tossed over the Piltover bridge for shits & giggles—scratches and dents marred it's sleek finish, and a few of the smaller components dangled precariously from frayed connections. 

"A quick fix?" you repeated with a soft laugh lingering on your curled lips. You softly adjusted your thinly coiled glasses with a quick shove up the bridge of your nose, your eyes slightly crinkled up. "If that's all you needed, you could have done that your damn self-" 

Your dingy apartment barely had enough space to fit the mess you called a workspace. The flickering fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, casting an erratic, sickly yellow glow across the room. Blueprints sprawled chaotically across the floor, pinned haphazardly to the walls, or forgotten in piles atop the desk. Tools, screws, and scraps of metal littered every surface, and the acrid tang of solder and oil clung to the stale air. The window was perpetually cracked open, letting in the faint hum of Zaun’s underbelly.

You turned over to look at her from your desk, a slight tug at your bottom lip.

Instead, you lightly snatched up the battered prosthetic arm, its weight heavier than it looked. Holding it up under the soft hue of the light above you, you gingerly turned it over in your hands, inspecting the sheer extent of the damage. 

Her chapped lips pulled into something just shy of a smile, though it wasn’t quite smug— "Didn’t think my favorite little mechanic would mind getting their hands dirty," she murmured out, her voice low, with a subtle warmth that danced on the edge of teasing. It wasn’t the words, though, that got under your skin. It was the way her storm-gray eyes seemed to latch onto you as her fingertips carefully tapped the surface of your wooden desk with a slight hum.

It was the kind of teasing you heard faint whispers between the streets of The Undercity- murmurs calling you Sevika's “Pretty Little Tinkerer”

"Sevika," you bit out finally, your voice tight as your smooth fingertips ran across the surface of the arm with a soft sigh, "this isn’t a ‘quick fix.’ Half the circuits are fried, the frame is bent beyond repair, and these joints? They’re done for." You half haphazardly tossed the arm back onto the desk with a resounding thud, its impact shaking a glass jar of screws precariously close to the edge. 

Her expression didn’t waver. The faint bruises on her jaw caught the flickering light, but her eyes stayed locked on yours, calm and unhurried as though she were absorbing every inch of your irritation. There was no cockiness, just a quiet watchfulness that made your pulse flicker unevenly. 

"Relax," she said finally, her voice steady but soft in a way that only stoked the fire under your skin. "I know you’ll fix it. You always do."

You clenched your jaw with a slight click of your tongue, forcing your focus back on the scattered mess of your desk, your oiled-up fingers gingerly flexing in frustration before reaching for the tools scattered across the surface. 

"You’re impossible," you muttered with a light hiss, letting the tension in your voice bleed into the room as you sorted through the mess. The soldering iron hissed faintly as it heated up, mirroring the simmering heat in your chest.

Behind you, Sevika stayed silent, her gaze still heavy on your back. It wasn’t overwhelming, but it was there—a quiet weight you couldn’t ignore, no matter how much you tried to channel your irritation into fucking untangling the mess she’d handed you.

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening as you tore your gaze from her, turning sharply toward the battered prosthetic arm on your desk. The clatter of tools filled the space as you hastily grabbed what you needed. Your voice was lower now, rough while smoothly turning one of the busted-up bolts quietly.

 "What kind of trouble are you getting yourself into, Sevika? Every time you come back home to me, you come back, you come back hurt." 

You adjusted your leather pants as you crouched to retrieve a roll of bandages from the corner. The thick material creaked softly with the movement, the belt cinched snugly at your waist holding an assortment of small tools and stray bolts you had yet to organize. 

“It's nothing.”

“Nothing isn't gonna scrub out the blood dripping on my carpet.”

Sevika had a way of filling the cramped space with her presence, and not just because of her size. Her towering figure seemed to soak up the weak light, making her seem even more imposing against the backdrop of your cluttered home. She leaned heavily against the edge of your desk, her metal arm a battered mess, the prosthetic sparking faintly as it collided with a pile of wrenches. Her usual attitude seemed dimmed, but her faint small smile was still there that she reserved for you was still there, tugging at her curled lips even as fresh bruises marred her skin.

"I have been dealt worse." Sevika’s gaze shifted away, the tension in her jaw easing as she turned toward your cluttered desk. Her gray eyes moved over the chaotic sprawl of blueprints pinned haphazardly to the wall, their edges curling from neglect. Some were smeared with faint fingerprints of grease, the lines of your meticulous designs almost hidden beneath layers of ink corrections and frustrated scribbles.

Her attention dropped lower, taking in the rows of jars crammed along the edge of the desk—each filled with bolts, screws, and mismatched metal scraps. The faint clinking of loose pieces echoed as her metal arm brushed against one, sending a lid rolling off onto the floor. She didn’t flinch, her focus already wandering to the tools scattered across the workbench: screwdrivers, wrenches, and soldering irons, all marked with the stains of your labor.

 "The whole situation has been growing dire, our attempts to control everything that has been brewing have been leading to chaos." 

Your wired glasses slipped down your nose as you stood, and you shoved them back into place with a grease-stained hand, leaving a faint smudge. 

"It doesn't have to be." You finally spoke.

 "What?" 

“I could be up there, with you, Sevika—helping you.” You set your wrench down with a decisive clink, the sound sharp against the quiet hum of the room. Rising slightly from your chair, you pressed your palms flat against the surface of your desk, leaning forward as your tools and bolts rattled from the sudden motion. Your gaze softened, warm but resolute, as it locked onto hers.

“I know I’m not much of a fighter like you,” you continued with a slight rustle into your locks of hair for a moment, your voice steady despite the faint quaver of emotion before looking back at her with a soft laugh, “But if I could put together a few bolts—really show those topsiders—”

The words hung in the air as you held her gaze. The faint glow of the desk light highlighted the sheen of oil on the palm of your smooth hands and the subtle tension in your posture. 

Sevika’s eyes flicked down briefly to your hands, pressed firmly against the scarred wood of the desk, then back up to your face. Her expression shifted, just slightly—the smallest crease at her dark brow, a flicker of something unspoken behind her stormy gray eyes. She took a breath, her broad shoulders rising and falling, but she said nothing yet, her silence heavy in the space between you.

"And what? So you could get hurt? Get involved in the crossfire of all this shit?" Sevika’s voice cut through with a sharp laugh, though the subtle tremor in her tone betrayed something deeper. Her hand shifted to rest on the desk beside yours, her thick fingers brushing past scattered bolts and oil-stained papers as if grounding herself against the weight of her words. Her gaze bore into you, stormy gray with a soft flicker.

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound raw and uneven as it slipped past your lips. "And what do you want then?" You pushed back from the desk, standing now, your movements sharp while waving your curled-up fingers through the air with a slight sigh. "For me to sit pretty down here and tinker away while others die? While there’s a big fat fucking chance you could die-?"

Your voice cracked on the last word, and you turned away sharply to look at her, your soft hands gripping the edge of the desk until your knuckles stiffened. Tools roughly clattered from the sudden movement, and a lone wrench tumbled to the floor with a dull thud, but you didn’t flinch

She could die.

 Before you could stop yourself, your hand rose, trembling slightly.

Your fingertips brushed the edge of a fresh bruise on her cheek, her soothing skin warm beneath your lingering touch. The rough scrape felt raw underneath your soft graze, gingerly tracing the faded scars that still trickled across her face. Slowly, the back of your thumb quietly traced over the darkened patch of skin with a soft breath. Her face, always so sharp and proud, softened under your hand for a moment. The scar running down her cheek caught the faint yellow glow of the overhead light, stark against her bronzed complexion.

Her breath hitched, the tiniest intake of air, as her chin tilted slightly toward the warmth of your palm. For a fleeting second, her usual stoic mask faltered, replaced by a slight softness. Her long lashes, thick and dark, fluttered as she hesitated, her gray eyes flickering towards yours.

"I couldn't-" You whispered quietly, "I-I don’t know what I would do without you."

Sevika's jaw tightened, her plump lips parting as if to respond, but no words came. Instead, she smoothly leaned into your quiet hand, the weight of her head pressing gently against your palm. Her fresh scars and cuts faintly press into the soothing touch of your warm fingertips.

Then, without a word, she turned her face slightly, and her pursed lips brushed softly against your palm for a brief moment. The kiss was warm and deliberate. Her chapped lips smoothly grazed your touch. Her crinkled-up eyes fluttering shut as her lips lingered across your soft skin, and you could feel her light breath ghosting over your fingertips, steady and grounding into your warmth.

 "I won't, [y/n]. Y'know that." 

"Do I?" you softly asked, your strained voice barely above a whisper, "What if you never come back to me one day, Sevy?"

Your darkened eyes traced her face quietly, lingering on every bruise and faded scar that was carved into her bronze skin. The fresh purpling on her cheekbone, the faded remnants of old battles across her jaw— The space between you warmly lingered with a faint breath.

Sevika’s dark brows furrowed, her expression hardening- Slowly, she reached out, her large, calloused hand enveloping yours. Her grip was firm, almost desperate, as her thick fingers curled tightly around yours, holding on as if you might slip away.

"Hell could try to drag me down into its fucking depths," she whispered into your fingertips as the warmth kissed your flushed skin, her soothing voice low but steady, "but nothing in Zaun—nothing—would keep me from coming back to you."

Her smooth thumb brushed against the back of your quivering hand, the roughness of her touch grounding you even as her words made your chest tighten. She quietly leaned closer to the edge of your fingers, her head dipping slightly, enough to have her choppy locks tickle your face. You could feel the heat of her skin, the tension in her clenched jaw, her gray eyes slightly flickering. 

"You have to believe that," she finally murmured, her grip on your hand firm.

"I—" The word faltered on your lips, and you looked down at your joined hands, her grip warm, grounding you in a way that both comforted and overwhelmed.

“Sevika-”

"Do you believe that [y/n]?" Sevika’s voice softened just enough to make the question linger in the space between you.

You took a shaky breath, forcing a small smile to your lips before pressing the edge of your mouth to the edge of her fingertips quietly.

 "I’ll try," you murmured quietly, your voice steadier this time.

Sevika let out a low chuckle at the remark, her warm thumb brushing over the back of your hand one last time in a smooth circle before releasing you. "Now, let’s get me cleaned up, huh? I’m pretty sure I look like shit."

"You definitely do," you quipped with a warm hum, already reaching for a clean rag that was tucked away in the wooden drawers of your desk. She raised an eyebrow at your quick response, but the ghost of a smile tugged at her chapped lips.

a/n: i just needed to write a bit for arcane holy moly- let me know if you guys wanna see more arcane stuff? i was thinking of writing for more characters so let me know in my inbox if you have a suggestion, im on a kick right now lol :')