lansseaux

[lansseaux]

caleb needs to be edited to exile by taylor swift and the thrill of the double life by pharell williams rn

[lansseaux]

concept : that artist vs the oc trend where they���re on a teacup ride but it’s s1 vi and jinx // young vi and jinx // s2 or enforcer vi and powder // young vi and enforcer vi /// young cait and dictator cait /// dictator cait and cassandra

(i just saw one with jinx and powder, linked below)

[lansseaux]

Moments are best lived involved

Pairing: Mom! caitvi x daughter! reader

Synopsis: Vi changes the bandage over Cait’s eye whilst you try to get their attention

Warnings: S2 Act 3 spoilers

Author’s note: Going to do a couple different versions of this because I have soooo many ideas about Caitvi moms! trying to deal with their injuries and being moms — I’ll probably focus on Cait’s eye after the war just because Cait’s my favourite. The versions will include: the reader trying to mimic caretaking behaviour, the reader wanting an innocent sort of revenge (innocent since they wouldn’t have a proper concept of revenge) on the person who hurt their mother, the reader getting accustomed to bandages being changed roughly every x hours or medicine being taken every x hours (for example) and worrying that caitvi will forget when they go to sleep (thinking reader wakes them up in the middle of the night, but it’s a case of the increment being able to be skipped overnight), and either cait/vi struggling to do something with reader they did before they got injured. There might be more — those are just the versions off the top of my head.

Caitlyn and Vi were in their room, you were just about old enough to be left to your own devices and neither of them knew quite how you’d react to Cait’s wound. It was still fairly fresh, gnarly, and exposure was inevitable since Cait’s bandage needed to be changed frequently so they did their best to retreat into privacy. There was never any telling how long it’d take for you to grow bored of independent play however and it seemed today, time would not be on their side. “Mama?” You called, the sound of your footsteps dashing down the hall coming just as soon as Vi had unwrapped the old bandage. “Mama’s gonna get you!” Vi called over her shoulder, waiting a moment to listen out for the sound of your footsteps retreating again before she refocused. The response was almost immediate, the sound of you running in the other direction accompanied by squealing and laughter — it was the beginning to a simple but common little game where Vi would chase you around, tickling you upon catching up. A small smile had formed on Caitlyn’s face at the brief interaction and sound, faltering slightly as Vi made sure her wound was clean - despite the best attempt to be gentle. Soon, at the end of the hallway, you realised there were no footsteps. Your Mama wasn’t chasing you after all and so you began to run back towards their room, retreating when the claim came again, “Mama’s coming!” You didn’t pick up on her distracted tone.

“Sorry.” Vi murmured softly once Caitlyn failed to mask a sharp inhale, one hand on Cait’s cheek to keep her head steady as she disinfected her eye. “It’s healing well so far,” she reassured, setting a second only slightly bloody cotton ball onto a small plate with the Kiramman insignia. “Thank you.” Vi’s gaze returned immediately to Cait’s, “You don’t need to thank me every time, you know?” A half-tease backed by somewhat concerned intent, followed by a soft but amused sigh at the sound of your approaching feet. Cait chuckled softly, your footsteps were slightly apart - you were evidently trying to tiptoe and thought you were being much quieter than you truly were. “Excuse me?” Vi exaggerated as she unraveled a fresh bandage, a small giggle followed before you quieted yourself - quite obviously hoping they hadn’t heard. “Does mommy have to come tickle you too?” Vi had barely even managed to stand when your quick refusal came — being tickled by just Mama was barely tolerable for long — and your mother go to great efforts to suppress their laughter; Caitlyn, unsurprisingly, being more successful than Vi who has to pause before beginning to wrap the bandage over Cait’s eye. Confused by their laughter, you also pause — not wanting to be tickled but also now seeking reassurance. Once a couple layers have been wrapped, there’s no need to keep you at bay any longer and so neither discourage you when they hear you coming closer again. “Don’t tickle me!” You demand, slightly upset as the need for reassurance outweighs the fun of the game. “It’s alright.” Cait affirms whilst Vi remains focused on wrapping. You quickly sped closer at the affirmation, clambering onto a corner of their bed before settling beside Caitlyn, who had already opened an arm for you. Curious as ever, you watched at Vi as she secured the bandage in place; her concentration broke momentarily to blow a raspberry at you, earning herself an accusatory finger. “Mama, that’s naughty!”

“Naughty? That’s not naughty—” Vi tried to explain but you cut her off, “Mommy said it’s naughty!” Her eyes flickered to Caitlyn’s, at which Cait corrects, “I said, it’s impolite.” Vi scoffed playfully, “What’s impolite is not paying off your debts and *you*,” her gaze fell from Cait to you,* “have a debt to pay with the tickle monster!” Your squeal of protest was cut quickly cut short, giggles taking over as Vi tickled you. “Mama!” You just about managed every few seconds between giggles, the half-hug from Cait makes it even more difficult to escape though she soon withdraws her arm, a gentle smile on her face as he watched the interaction. A moment of reprieve is gifted before the tickling continues again, your breath barely caught and after a few more seconds, a small cough escapes between the sounds of laughter and Vi stops - the signal typically had Cait fussing but this time, Vi was a step ahead. She lifted you, a surrender cuddle ready but it seemed your cough did not mean your energy was spent just yet as you resisted in favour of trying to tickle her beneath her chin, giggling, only… it didn’t seem to work. “Are you challenging me?” Vi teased, ticking you gently for a moment as you squealed a protest, before returning you to Cait’s side — who quickly became your next victim. Her smile remained, amused by your antics, “Mommy’s not ticklish either.” The claim became void a second later when her armpit was caught in the crossfire. And as the air filled with shared laughter once more, Vi watched with a bittersweet smile — there had always been so many things she’d wished she could have changed, people she wished she could have saved, and yet… if she could, if she did, the possibility that you would never have come into her and Caitlyn’s lives, that she’d never have met Cait, was entirely plausible. She didn’t allow herself to dwell long enough to cry, playfully questioning who she should help, for moments were best lived involved.

[lansseaux]

‘Vi was a bad sister’ - Vi would be APPALLED by the way some of you treat your siblings.

[lansseaux]

Help finding a Violyn /CaitVi reel

Someone drew vampire! Cait asking Vi if she could come in and Vi was like ‘Idk, can you?’ and Cait was annoyed because she needed permission as a vamp and Vi just closed the door 😭 I think it was a reel but if anyone has a link to just the pics, that’s fine too!

[lansseaux]

It’s probably a stretch but, y’know how Jinx’s smeared makeup spells Vi backwards? What about the blood from Cait’s eye??

The ‘i’ isn’t as pronounced as it is on Jinx and the ‘V’ is kinda hidden on Cait but the argument could be made and thus has been.

[lansseaux]

I’ve had enough of all the rough! Vi propaganda. She’d be one of the most gentle people, in bed, ever.

Like would she be assertive? Sure, but she wouldn’t hurt you - even in a way to bring pleasure. She’d take lovemaking to heart.

[lansseaux]

Hellfire

Warnings: S2 spoilers, angst, grief, references to death, reference to the Grey, implied cheating (cait cheating on reader with vi), references to Cait being controversial and reader being compliant

Pairing: Caitlyn Kiramman x fem! reader

Synopsis: Caitlyn returns after failing to kill Jinx.

Author’s note: Two alternative versions of this are in the works because I started rewatching and realised the martial law is instated basically right after Cait comes back 😭 and it’s also during the day - so one version will focus on the instating of the martial law and the other will focus more on the Grey and will see reader getting sick despite Cait’s best efforts.

It had been weeks since Caitlyn had slept in her own bed, weeks since she’d lain beside her girlfriend, weeks which should have born more fruit.

Two of three objectives had been met - Shimmer had been dismantled, and those still loyal to Silco had been neutralised, but it was not enough. Jinx was still out there, her laugh still hammering at Caitlyn’s mind - still waiting, daring, for it to be torn from her throat. That had been the Commander’s priority. She was returning a failure, in the opinions of none other than her own and Salo’s, and it was all Vi’s fault. All of it. How ironic it was this world in which Caitlyn had decided to trust someone like her, the world in which she’d recognised the danger of such and continued anyway. How unfair was it, that despite it being Vi’s fault, she desperately wanted to turn the clocks back, to return to tunnels and take back the words, the hit, she’d dealt Vi.

When she reached her front door, the sky was dark, the stars without their sparkle, but she did her best to swallow the thick lump in her throat, to ignore how lifeless and colourless her world felt, how Zaunite Piltover felt. She had to. For your sake. The last thing she wanted was to take it out on you like she’d taken it out on Vi. Sanitise. Sanitise herself, her uniform, anything she touched before showering, just like she’d sanitised the undercity of Shimmer - that was what needed priority for now. The weeks of exposure meant her uniform was stale with smog, and she didn’t want to take a single chance with either her own or her girlfriend’s health.

Cait was quiet as she pushed the door open, elegant even in exhaustion, gently shutting it behind her. She’d begun removing her gloves when she noticed you in the dim light. Fast asleep on a sofa, a thin blanket over you. Surely you hadn’t been sleeping in here ever since Cait had left. Her departure had been fairly quick, the strategising and execution of this mission beginning on the same day - the day of the attack on the memorial. Perhaps she hadn’t been able to quell your worries as much as she’d thought, as much as she’d hoped. You knew she planned to manipulate the flow of the Grey, she’d told you such, and whilst she had spared your imagination from the plethora of possible side effects stemming from exposure, it had not soothed your soul or heart. There was no need for details, everyone knew the Grey was dangerous - a taboo that topsiders had the luxury of ignoring while Zaunites choked - or so you’d thought, the revelation of the Kiramman ventilation system having been new information Caitlyn had had little time to dwell on when preparing. And so, you’d decided to sleep as comfortably close to the door as possible. Did that bring her home quicker? No. Did it bring her home safe? No. But it soothed you the slightest bit, knowing you would know the second she returned.

Caitlyn sighed softly as she approached, all she could manage to croak out was a weary, “Hey…” You stirred, murmuring softly, your eyes slowly opening a moment later. It took a couple additional seconds for your bleary eyes to focus on her, “Cait?… Cait!” You sat up, feet swinging down to the floor to stand, embrace her and welcome her home but, she held a hand up; she’d already maintained a distance of several paces. “Don’t come any closer. Please,” she said softly; her eyes, obviously tired even in the faint light, caught your confused gaze. “You can’t touch me yet. Not until I’ve showered and changed.” Your mouth had barely opened enough to attempt speech when she added, “It’s okay,” slipping her other glove off, “it’s just a just a precaution, don’t worry.” Her gaze dropped to the gloves in her hands, the fog of exhaustion stumping her a second. Straight to wash, not on the coffee table. Another soft sigh escaped her as she returned her gaze to you, the thoughts she’d been searching for having caught up. “You should go lay down, I won’t be long I promise.” “Cait-” you began. “Please.” Her voice teetered close to a plead. The last thing she wanted was for you to get sick and, in all honesty, she was not as certain as she’d have liked to be that she’d left her anger on the doorstep. Some time to decompress alone would only help. You considered debating, even just slightly, but you stopped yourself. You were tired and the most strenuous thing you had done that day, for the past weeks actually, was attempt to stay up as late as possible in hopes of not missing Caitlyn arriving - of not simply waking up in bed the next morning besides her, having been carried there by her. You wanted to help her, pamper her as she deserved. If you had felt so worn out by that, Caitlyn must have felt shattered. She didn’t deserve any irritant, no matter how innocent the intent behind it might be, so you simply nodded and offered a small smile, “… Okay.” Cait returned the smile, appreciative of your understanding. “I’ll be as quick as I can.” She reiterated softly, watching you begin to head up the stairs, before she took off her shoes.

It took a while for Caitlyn to enter her bedroom, there could be not doubt she’d been thorough. Upon her entrance however, it took little time for her to change and slide beneath the covers you held back for her - the desperation for rest being the predominant driving force. She pulled you close, the tops of your foreheads meeting delicately as a deep, shaky sigh fell from her lips. You hesitated, unsure if now was the best time to ask - on one hand, Cait was exhausted and the subject was touchy, but on the other, perhaps talking would help her have a more restful sleep. “… How’d it go?” The beautiful blue your eyes had only just grown accustomed to in the dark disappeared as her lids fell, a deep inhale had accompanied. One beat of silence followed another, you didn’t think she would respond and you had already decided not to push her. “We accomplished most of our objectives.” She began, “I… I found Jinx.” You tucked some of her hair behind her ear, noting the slight crease forming between her brows, it was still slightly damp. “… Yeah?” “I had her right there.” She continued quietly, “I could’ve… I had the shot… but…” Cait’s breath became marginally agitated, the lingering pads of your fingers on the tucked hair soothing her somewhat, in tandem with your presence, your forehead against hers. She inhaled once more, focusing on those connection points, on your scent, hoping to be grounded, to work through the anger, frustration, disappointment, bitterness and hurt enough that she wouldn’t lash out, that she wouldn’t poison you too. After a minute or two, she had. “Vi stopped me.” As you’d waited for her to find her words, your fingers had mindlessly begun a rhythmic brushing back of the hair you’d pushed behind her ear; the hair wasn’t loose but it felt right, soothing. That revelation, however, had prompted a pause in those ministrations. “… Stopped you?” “… There was… someone else… she didn’t think it was worth the risk… but I had the shot, I wouldn’t have missed. I know it.” A silence settled, the memory - the emotion of that moment, the anger, the betrayal on both sides, the hint of regret - still potent in Caitlyn’s mind as you had found yourself at a loss for words. It wouldn’t make sense for this other person to be anything other than… “A civilian?” Cait withdrew her forehead, a soft rustling accompanying her shift against the silk pillowcases, “… Yes.” You didn’t need to know the entire truth. She couldn’t bear another tone or look of distaste, she wouldn’t accept it. She was an excellent shot, there was no risk of collateral and so the nature of that ‘potential’ collateral was irrelevant. It was simple. “… It’s alright, Cait.” You tried to soothe, partially bringing her from a spiral. Her nostrils flared, unnoticed in the dark, as her arms tensed around you. The slight dampness of her hair cooled your neck, her face having come to nestle in the crook of your neck. She’d been so close and it was clearly tormenting her. “Hey, hey…” you whispered, trying to coax her out. After an initial resistance, she complied albeit reluctantly, the anguish in her eyes clear the second they were visible again. The pads of your thumbs brushed against her cheekbones, drawing your attention to the beginnings of a couple bruises. It was to be expected considering Caitlyn’s line of work and you’d learnt to be somewhat grateful for them - grateful that she’d suffered no worse, at least physically. “You’ll have another chance.” You reminded her as she closed her eyes again, even the touch of the woman she loved most doing little to soothe the fire swirling within. “But it was the perfect chance.” Cait insisted quietly, her voice somewhat hoarse from exhaustion and the effort of staving off a lashing out.

There was no lighting the mood when Cait was in this state, you knew that normally. It was foolish to try but you were tired, the typical tiers of consideration hazy and the attempt migrated from the mist in your mind like miasma, “… If at first you don’t succeed, hm?” Her exhale was heavy and long, caught in her throat - a restrained expression of the anger you had piqued. You didn’t understand what she’d been through, what she was feeling, what she wanted. You couldn’t. Regardless of how many ways she phrased it, how many times she repeated it, the understanding she seeked could only exist in an alumni of similar grief. “Sorry.” Still, she did not respond - inhaling deeply only when the exhale caught in her throat pleaded with a soft rasp and rattle. Her brows knitted together, she knew your intentions were good but it wasn’t enough to usurp the additional anger your words had lain over her soul. At her continued silence, her battle of restraint, you withdrew your hands - only for Cait’s eyes to snap open, a hand shooting out to grab a wrist. The grip was tight, desperate, as she guided your hand to return. “… don’t go.” Something she hoped was anything other than pity flashed across your gaze, “Cait…” you began, your other hand returning to her other cheekbone as the ministrations restarted. “I said, don’t go”, her tone firmer, slightly more certain of her deserving this time, so you shuffled closer. Your forehead against hers again, “I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.” “I’m sorry.” “You have nothing to be sorry for, you’re… there’s a lot on your plate right now.” Cait knew what word you’d intended to say. Mourning. It was true, it was evidently very real, and very raw but to hear it… to label it, to recognise it… she wasn’t sure if she was ready to face it yet - each time you had said it before causing her to deflate slightly - and yet it was an inescapable plague. She was mourning her mother, mourning the fact the chance she’d been hunting, waiting, praying for had been stolen… mourning herself, mourning Vi. It felt as if all she did was mourn. She hated it. “… I left Vi… to find her own way.” “… She can look after herself-” “I… I hurt her.” Your thumbs paused once more, your mind suddenly remembering her lingering hold on your wrist. That hardly sounded like Cait at all. “… Not seriously but…” her voice retreated to a whisper tinged with regret, “I wish I hadn’t.” “… She’ll understand.” Her face pushed deeper into your hand, her gaze falling from your eyes to your temple in a subtle aversion of eye contact. “You should have seen how she looked at me…” She almost sounded close to tears, “I…” It felt strange to open up about Vi with you. She did well in hiding it from you but Caitlyn’s feelings were…more confusing than she would admit. It was a matter of twisted luck in actual fact - the faint and rare gestures of affection you had seen were easily attributed to the fact that the pair were almost trauma bonded. “I just… how could she?” Her brows twitched, gaze stealing a quick glance into your own. How could she, how dare she, feel so important that Caitlyn’s anger splintered into herself? As she would come to learn, a blade cuts both ways. Her grip on your wrist had loosened by now, the inevitability of her exhaustion catching up. Even without the knowledge of the double-edged nature of her question, you did not know how to reply and a calm quiet blanketed the room. A chance for Cait to defocus, or at least try to.

The rest of the world at a standstill with you together, time blurred - protected by the curtains. At some point, maybe minutes, maybe hours later, Caitlyn relaxed properly into your embrace.