Latest Posts by blasphemous-riot - Page 5

Vi x Reader knew each other when they were younger before everything went downhill with the incident with the explosion, and later they meet again as pit fighters in the arena. After the match, as they tend to the other's wounds, they catch up and over the time they spend together in and out of the arena, they eventually become a couple and move in together.

Fight Me

masterlist!

synopsis: my take on the above request, where instead of becoming a couple and moving in, they get heated (18+ but I’m a coward and can’t write smut)

pairings: vi x reader

The whispers in the underground fight scene were quiet, but the whispers were all saying the same thing: there’s two people to beat, and they’re fighting tonight. 

The Hound versus The Bandit. 

The air in the pit was thick with sweat, blood, and the anticipation of the fight to come. Bodies pressed against the rusted railings, eager to witness another brutal clash between two of the underground’s deadliest brawlers. The energy was electric, charged with the weight of bets, debts, and grudges waiting to be settled. 

You stood in your corner, rolling out the tension in your shoulders, feeling the familiar heat of the arena lights overhead. The rough wrappings around your knuckles were tight, already stained from past battles. You had fought in this pit before—won in it before, you could do it again. 

The Hound stood across the pit, flexing her fingers, rolling her neck. Even from this distance, you could see the glint of something dangerous in her eyes. 

She was watching you, sizing you up—not just as an opponent, but as something more. Something familiar. 

Your stomach twisted, but you shook it off. You had fought countless people in this pit. This was no different. 

The announcer’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, you know the names! You’ve heard the stories! But tonight, only one walks out victorious! Will it be the relentless force of nature—The Hound—or the cunning, untouchable legend—The Bandit?”

A roar of cheers and jeers rose from the crowd, coins clinking, fists pounding against the rusted railings. 

The Hound smirked, and she cracked her knuckles. “Didn’t think I’d see you here,” she called over the noise. 

Your chest tightened. Her voice—it had been years, but you could still hear the echoes of it from a life before this one. Before the explosion. Before everything fell apart. 

You steadied your breathing, meeting her gaze. “Didn’t think you’d recognize me, I’ve made myself pretty faceless down here.” 

She tilted her head, her slightly tipsy, cocky smirk never wavering. “Please. I’d recognize that stance anywhere.” 

The referee raised his hand. “Fighters ready?” 

You shifted your weight, planting your feet. 

Vi rolled her shoulders, dropping into a stance you remembered all too well. The referee’s hand dropped, the bell rang, and the fight began.

Vi came at you fast—faster than you remembered, faster than anyone else in these pits. You barely dodged the first blow, feeling the air shift as her fist grazed past your jaw. She was strong. Stronger than before. 

You countered with a quick jab, catching her just below the ribs, but she barely reacted. She just grinned. 

“Oh yeah,” she muttered, eyes flashing with something exciting, something exhilarating. “I missed this.” 

You missed this too—the fight was a blur of fists and instinct, muscle memory taking over where words had failed. Every blow exchanged was a conversation of its own—questions asked in the form of jabs, answers given in the crack of fists meeting flesh. 

Vi fought like she had something to prove. You fought like you had nothing left to lose. 

The crowd around you roared, but their voices faded into the background, drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears and the weight of Vi’s gaze locking onto yours with every strike. 

She was testing you. And fuck if it didn’t wet your entire body on fire. 

Your fist connected with her jaw, snapping her head to the side. She staggered but barely hesitated before retaliating, her knuckles slamming into your ribs, knocking the wind out of you. You gritted your teeth, biting back a groan as you stumbled. 

Vi, grinned through the sweat and the blood smeared at the corner of her lip, didn’t let up. “You’ve gotten better,” she said, breathless. 

You wiped a trickle of blood from your chin with the back of your hand. “So have you.” 

The fight didn’t last much longer after that. 

It wasn’t that one of you was leagues above the other—no, this was a match of equals. A battle between two people who knew each other’s tells, who had grown up mirroring each other’s movements before life had thrown them into opposite corners of the ring. 

But in the end, Vi took the win. 

She had you pinned, her weight pressing you into the cold ground, your wrists trapped in her grip. Your chest heaved beneath her hips, every breath labored, every inch of you aching. 

For a moment, neither of you moved. 

The crowd’s cheers rang hollow in your ears. 

Vi’s smirk softened just slightly as she hovered above you, her breathing ragged. “Still think you’re faceless?” she asked, voice low, teasing. 

You swallowed hard, feeling the warmth of her breath against your flushed skin. “Guess not.” 

The referee declared her victory, but Vi didn’t move—not right away. Not until her fingers briefly, almost hesitantly, squeezed yours before letting go. 

And just like that, the fight was over. 

————————————

You found her later in the back room, unwrapping the bloodied bandages from her hands. 

Vi barely glanced up as you entered, but the smirk was already on her lips. “Came to gloat?” 

You scoffed, stepping closer, the adrenaline from the fight still buzzing in your veins. “You won. Why would I gloat?” 

She hummed, flexing her fingers before wincing slightly. Without thinking, you grabbed the roll of fresh bandages from the table, stepping into her space. 

Vi raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest as you took her hand, carefully wrapping her knuckles. “Still good at this,” she murmured, watching you. 

You didn’t look up. “Did a lot of patching up over the years.”

Silence settled between you, thick with unspoken words. With memories of a time when fights weren’t for survival, when your fists weren’t used to hurt but to train, to prepare for a future that should have never come. 

Her fingers twitched under yours. “I looked for you,” she admitted suddenly. “After… everything.” 

Your hands stilled. 

You exhaled slowly. “I know.” 

Vi tilted her head, her eyes searching yours. “Then why didn’t you—?”

You cut her off before she could finish the thought. “I didn’t want to be found. I wasn’t the same.” 

Her jaw clenched, and for a moment, you thought she might argue. But then, something shifted in her gaze—understanding, maybe. Or acceptance. 

You finished wrapping her hands, but before you could pull away, Vi caught your wrist. 

“Neither was I,” she murmured. 

The weight of her words settled deep in your chest, and then, before you could second-guess it, before the past could creep in and drag you both back down, you leaned in. 

Vi met you halfway. 

The moment her lips crashed into yours, it felt less like a reunion and more like a collision—messy, desperate, something inevitable finally set into motion. 

She pushed you back against the table, hands gripping at your waist, your fingers tangled in her damp hair. The tension from the fight, from the years lost between you, snapped like a frayed wire. 

Vi’s hands were rough, calloused from years of fighting, but they moved against your skin like she’d never forgotten the contours of your body. Her body was pressed tight against yours, heat rolling off her in waves, her breath mixing with yours in the small space between hurried, hungry kisses. 

You barely had time to breathe before she lifted you onto the table with ease, standing between your legs, her finger digging into your hips just enough to send a shiver through you. She kissed you like you were still fighting—teeth nipping at your lower lip, tongue tracing against yours in a way that made your head spin. 

Your hands explored familiar territory, fingers pressing into her back, tracing the muscle that had only grown stronger since you last knew her this way. your nails raked against her skin, and she groaned against your mouth, the sound sending heat pooling low in your stomach. 

Her lips trailed long your jaw, then lower, her teeth scraping the sensitive skin of your neck. You let your head fall back, a breathless laugh slipping out between gasps. “Still cocky,” you murmured. 

Vi laughed against your skin, her hands slipping beneath your shirt, fingertips brushing against your ribs, then your chest. “You like it,” she muttered, her voice rough, her lips pressing against your collarbone before he bit down, just hard enough to make your breath hitch. 

You did. You really, really did. 

Your fingers tangled in her hair, tugging her back up to meet your lips again, swallowing the growl she let out in response. The years apart, the pain, the battles fought with fists instead of words—it all burned away in the fire lit between your bodies. 

She pressed you further onto the table, the cool surface grounding you against the sheer blaze of her body. her hips rolled against yours, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips, The friction, the desperation, the way her body fit against yours like she was still made for you—it was too much, and not enough all at once.

“Vi—” her name left your lips in a breathless plea, “come on, fight me.” 

She grinned against your skin, her voice husky. “Yeah, I got you.” 

If you enjoyed this one shot, please check out my other series!

I was wondering if you could do Sevika and Ambessa x reader who still has the biggest crush on them even tho they’re dating? They get all nervous and giddy around them 🤭 just looking at them causes them to smile

♡♥︎Dating, but still Crushing ♥︎♡

♥︎♡ Sevika ♡♥︎

♥︎ Sevika notices your nervousness right away. She’s been around long enough to recognize when someone’s acting out of character, and the way you get all fidgety and blush whenever she’s around doesn’t escape her.

♥︎ She gets a little smug about it. Her lips curl into a small, knowing smirk when she catches you glancing at her, eyes wide, a little smile tugging at your lips. She might even raise an eyebrow, like she’s amused by how cute you’re being.

♥︎ When you blush and look away, she’ll deliberately move closer, just enough to make you squirm. Her deep voice is low and teasing when she says, “You’ve been staring again, huh?” as if she’s almost daring you to admit it.

♥︎ Sometimes, she’ll catch your eye and hold it longer than usual, enjoying how flustered you get. She’ll flash a sly grin and lean in just slightly, murmuring, “You know, you’re way too obvious about it.”

♥︎ The way you can’t seem to hide your feelings around her amuses Sevika more than it should. She’s not the type to get flustered or nervous, so seeing you so openly enamored with her is both endearing and a bit of an ego boost.

♥︎ When you do something small like bite your lip or stammer over your words, Sevika won’t let it slide without a comment. She might lean in with a teasing smirk, “Getting shy on me now? Thought you were better than this,” just to watch you squirm even more.

♥︎ She’ll purposefully break the silence with her deep voice, saying something like, “What is it with you, huh? You look at me like I’m the only thing you’ve ever wanted.” She watches for the way you react, savoring the nervous little laugh or shy glance you give her in response.

♥︎ Sevika may occasionally drop a small compliment just to watch your face light up, “Did you know you look really cute when you get all nervous like that?” She’ll say it casually, acting like it’s no big deal, even though she can’t help but feel a little satisfied at the way you glow under her attention.

♥︎ There are moments when Sevika leans against something—casually, like she’s not trying to impress you at all—but she knows it gets under your skin. She watches your eyes track her every movement, and a sly grin tugs at her lips when you can’t hide it.

♥︎ She can tell when you’re thinking about her, even if you’re trying to hide it. There’s a slight twinkle in your eyes, and she’s seen that look before. It’s the kind of look that tells her you’re still in awe of her, like she’s the only one who matters. And it makes her feel… something she doesn’t always know how to deal with.

♥︎ When you don’t know how to control your feelings and start giggling nervously in her presence, Sevika might grab your wrist, pulling you close to her. She’ll look down at you with a half-amused, half-patient expression, “You’re gonna embarrass us both if you keep doing that, you know.”

♥︎ Sevika’s confidence shines through whenever she notices your crush on her, but she can’t deny the pull you have on her. You make her feel like she’s desirable in a way that even she can’t resist. She’ll catch herself staring back at you, sometimes even smirking like she’s trying to figure out just how much you’re really into her.

♥︎ She might occasionally challenge you in a playful way to see how far your nerves will go. “Come on, don’t act like you’re not thinking about me. I can see it in your eyes.” Her voice is teasing, and she enjoys watching you blush all over again.

♥︎ Sevika finds your awe of her oddly charming. When you look at her like you’re starstruck, she gets this quiet satisfaction from knowing that she’s the one causing it. It might not show on her face, but she secretly enjoys it more than she lets on.

♥︎ If you start fidgeting with your hands or avoiding eye contact, Sevika will place a hand on your arm, stilling you with a firm grip, looking down at you with a raised eyebrow. “You get nervous over every little thing, don’t you?” she’ll ask with a dry chuckle.

♥︎ Deep down, Sevika’s not immune to your crush. She finds herself drawn to how you can’t stop smiling at her like she’s your whole world. It makes her feel more powerful than she’d like to admit, but it also makes her heart beat a little faster when she realizes how much she actually cares.

♥︎ She’ll sometimes use her presence to keep you on edge—standing just a little too close or leaning over you when she speaks. It’s her way of testing just how much she can make you blush without saying anything overt.

♥︎ When you get caught in a trance staring at her, Sevika will lock eyes with you and hold your gaze for longer than necessary, her voice dropping to something almost intimate as she says, “What’s going on in that head of yours? You want to say something?”

♥︎ Her teasing comes with a sense of ownership. She knows she’s got you wrapped around her finger, and she uses that to her advantage. But beneath the teasing, there’s a subtle softness to the way she’ll touch you, like she can’t resist the connection you share.

♥︎ Sevika is oddly protective of you, too. If anyone notices how much you crush on her and comments on it, she’ll step in immediately, giving them a sharp look or cold retort, making it clear that you’re off-limits.

♥︎ On rare occasions, Sevika might let her guard down just a little. If you’re particularly nervous around her, she’ll pull you into a hug, holding you close for a brief moment before pulling away with a smirk. “You’re all over the place. Relax,” she’ll say, though she’s just as affected by the moment as you are.

♥︎ Sometimes, when she feels particularly soft and unguarded, Sevika might do something small to show she’s not immune to your affection. A soft brush of her fingers against yours or a quick peck on the cheek—nothing overt, but just enough to let you know she feels the same way.

♥︎ When you blush and try to hide it, Sevika will always call you out on it. “You think I can’t see you turning red? Cute.” And her voice will be low, almost like she’s savoring how flustered she’s made you, her smirk a little more playful than usual.

♥︎ There are times when Sevika just sits back and watches you with a hint of admiration in her eyes. She’s well aware of the effect she has on you, and, despite herself, she enjoys it. Your crush makes her feel like she’s the most important person in your world, and that, in turn, makes her fall a little harder for you.

♥︎ When she’s feeling particularly bold, Sevika will tease you with, “You know, you’re cute when you’re trying to act all nonchalant about me. But I can tell you’re just waiting for me to make the first move, huh?”

♥︎ As much as Sevika acts like she’s unaffected by your adoration, the truth is, she’s just as into you as you are into her. You’re her weakness, and she knows it. Every glance, every smile, it only makes her want you more. And even though she tries to act like she’s got everything under control, you still have the power to make her heart race.

♥︎ Sevika might not always show it, but she’s still crushing on you in her own way. The way you look at her, like she’s the only one who matters, makes her feel something she can’t quite put into words—something she’s not used to feeling. And she’s not sure what to do with it, but she definitely isn’t ready to let go.

♥︎♡ Ambessa ♡♥︎

♥︎ Ambessa notices how you’re still nervous around her, and while she enjoys it, she doesn’t let it show too much. She’s used to being admired, but the way you act around her is different, and it’s something that amuses her in a quiet, private way.

♥︎ When she catches you staring, Ambessa smirks to herself before deliberately leaning into your line of sight, as if daring you to keep looking. She knows how you feel about her, and she likes it—likes the way you get lost in her gaze. She’ll look at you, her eyes dark and calculating, as if she knows exactly what you’re thinking.

♥︎ When she teases you about your nervousness, she does it in a soft, but commanding tone: “Careful, darling. If you keep looking at me like that, I might think you’ve fallen for me all over again.” She enjoys the slight power she holds over you and the way you blush at her words.

♥︎ Sometimes, Ambessa will purposely make you nervous just to see the way you react. She’ll brush her hand against yours casually, watching your breath hitch as she does, then she’ll let it linger just long enough to make you even more flustered.

♥︎ When you try to flirt with her and completely miss the mark, Ambessa won’t make you feel stupid about it, but she can’t resist a sly, teasing comment. “Is that supposed to be a compliment, darling? I’m sure you’ll get it right next time.” She’ll wink or smirk, not out of malice, but because she enjoys watching you try so hard.

♥︎ If you stammer over a simple “hello,” Ambessa will raise an eyebrow and look at you with that trademark, unbothered air of hers. “Careful now, darling. Don’t choke on your words,” she’ll tease, a sly smile curling at the corners of her lips.

♥︎ Despite her teasing, Ambessa secretly finds your nervousness endearing. It’s like she’s the only one who gets to see this side of you—the side that’s still so captivated by her, and that makes her feel oddly special, even if she doesn’t admit it aloud.

♥︎ Sometimes, when she’s in a particularly playful mood, Ambessa will deliberately drop a compliment that’s so smooth it’s almost unfair, just to watch your face light up and your nerves get the best of you. “You should smile more, darling. It suits you.”

♥︎ She doesn’t want to overwhelm you, but Ambessa enjoys the power she has over you. Every time you blush or get flustered, it feels like a small victory to her. But she’s not cruel about it—she’s just… amused.

♥︎ If you try to flirt with her directly, saying something even mildly suggestive, Ambessa will respond with calm confidence, “Is that your way of telling me you’re still interested? Because I’m already aware, darling.”

♥︎ When you’re around her and you get a little too shy, Ambessa will call you out with a laugh, “What’s wrong? Have I got you speechless now?” Her teasing tone is playful, but there’s a warmth there, almost like she’s enjoying the attention.

♥︎ When you attempt to play it cool and fail, she’ll keep her distance, letting you stew in your nervous energy before saying something cutting yet teasing: “You really don’t know how to handle yourself around me, do you?” But there’s always a glimmer of affection in her eyes.

♥︎ Ambessa has a knack for turning the tables, and she’ll use your nervousness to her advantage. If you get all flustered when she gets close, she’ll make it a point to stand or sit even closer to you, enjoying how you become even more tongue-tied and restless.

♥︎ If you get overly nervous and accidentally trip over your words, Ambessa will just chuckle softly, a sound so confident and knowing that it makes your heart race. “You’re adorable when you’re trying so hard,” she’ll say, and you’ll feel like a fool—but in the best possible way.

♥︎ When you nervously ask her a question, Ambessa will give you a patient, almost indulgent smile, her eyes locking onto yours as she waits for you to finish. When you get to the end, she’ll respond with a dry “Was that so hard?” to playfully remind you of how easily she can fluster you.

♥︎ If you smile at her without saying anything, Ambessa will step closer, lowering her voice so it’s just between the two of you. “You look at me like you want something, darling. Should I ask what that is?” Her voice is smooth, her presence commanding, and you can’t help but feel all the more enamored.

♥︎ When you try to act casual and fail, Ambessa will reach out with that cool, steady hand of hers to lightly graze your arm or shoulder. “Relax, darling. You don’t need to try so hard with me,” she’ll say, her tone both teasing and comforting.

♥︎ Ambessa has a tendency to playfully make you aware of how obvious you are. “You’ve been staring at me for minutes now, darling. Is there something you’d like to say?” She’ll keep her voice low and seductive, enjoying the way your face turns crimson under her gaze.

♥︎ If you get nervous in public, Ambessa will guide you through it, her hand on your back in a way that’s almost possessive. “Stop worrying, darling. You’re mine, and I’m not letting you embarrass yourself.” She’ll say it with quiet confidence, and that confidence rubs off on you.

♥︎ Ambessa doesn’t mind when you get nervous around her. In fact, she loves the attention. She enjoys watching you try to hide it and can’t help but be a little smug when you fail. It feeds her ego, but in a way that’s soft and almost… affectionate.

♥︎ When you shy away after a compliment, Ambessa will chuckle softly and take your chin in her hand, tilting your head back to look at her. “You should learn to accept compliments from me, darling. You’re going to hear a lot more of them.”

♥︎ If you smile too much when she’s around, Ambessa will pull you in close by the waist, just enough to make you feel her warmth against you. “You like looking at me, don’t you?” she’ll say with a sly smile. It’s her way of acknowledging how utterly captivating she finds your admiration.

♥︎ Ambessa loves that she’s the one who makes you smile uncontrollably. She’ll sometimes pause, watching you try to hide your giddiness, and then say in a low voice, “You’re adorable when you try to act serious around me.” It’s her way of letting you know how much she enjoys your affection.

♥︎ She’ll often pull you close for a brief, soft kiss when you’re least expecting it, just to remind you that she knows how you feel and that you don’t have to be so nervous around her. “Relax, darling. You’ve got me,” she’ll whisper in your ear afterward, her hands resting possessively on your hips.

Just thought of this cute little scenario!! Ambessa walking in on the reader literally blasting music and dancing around. I was listening to disturbia and strutting all around my room lmao and thought of that.

Idk I just thought it was cute, if you can do that i highly appreciate it!! 🖤🖤🖤

♡♥︎Unexpected Entertainment♥︎♡

Warnings: None just fluff

The music is loud—too loud, if you were being honest, but that’s exactly how you like it when you’re alone. The deep bass thrums through the kitchen, vibrating against the marble counters, the beat infectious as you sway your hips, lost in the rhythm.

It had started out as an innocent attempt to make a snack, but somewhere between slicing fruit and reaching for a glass, the music had taken over. Now, you’re dancing—spinning, swaying, arms raised as you mouth the lyrics into a wooden spoon like it’s a microphone.

You don’t hear the door open.

You don’t hear the steady, powerful footsteps entering the kitchen.

You do hear the sudden silence when the music cuts off.

You freeze mid-twirl, eyes wide, heart hammering as you turn to see her.

Ambessa Medarda stands by the entrance of the kitchen, one brow arched, lips twitching ever so slightly. She’s still dressed in her military-style uniform, all tailored perfection and authority, but her expression? Amusement, pure and simple.

“…Having fun?” Her voice is smooth, measured, but you can hear the teasing lilt beneath it.

Your face heats up instantly, embarrassment rushing in like a tidal wave. “I— I thought you had a meeting.”

“It ended early,” she says, stepping closer, eyes gleaming with mirth. “I see you’ve been… productive in my absence.”

You clutch the wooden spoon to your chest like a lifeline, glancing toward the speaker she so effortlessly turned off. “I was just— I mean, I was cooking,” you attempt to defend yourself, but your breathless state and the clear evidence of your impromptu concert betray you.

Ambessa hums, unimpressed. “Is that what you call this?”

A beat of silence. Then, before you can think better of it, you grin, mischief flickering in your eyes.

“Yes,” you say, dramatically tossing the spoon onto the counter and lifting your chin. “It’s a very advanced technique—battle dancing. Improves reflexes.”

Ambessa lets out a rare, genuine chuckle, shaking her head as she watches you with that familiar, fond exasperation. “Battle dancing,” she repeats, stepping even closer. “A bold strategy. Show me.”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

Ambessa crosses her arms, smirking. “Go on. If this is a proper technique, I expect a demonstration.”

Your face burns under her gaze, but there’s a challenge there—one you refuse to back down from. So, with renewed determination (and mild humiliation), you exhale, stride over to the speaker, and press play.

The music blasts back to life.

And with a defiant smirk, you start dancing again.

Ambessa watches, arms still crossed, that unreadable, almost-smiling expression on her face. Then, much to your shock, she shakes her head and mutters, “Ridiculous,” before—to your utter disbelief—grabbing your wrist and pulling you forward.

She doesn’t dance—not properly, anyway. But she moves, steady and strong, hands finding your waist as she effortlessly leads you into something that’s more of a slow, controlled sway rather than your earlier chaotic movements.

Your breath catches.

“You’re enjoying this,” you accuse, grinning up at her.

Ambessa leans in slightly, voice low and teasing. “Maybe.”

And just like that, you forget all about your earlier embarrassment.

Oil & Water, cupcake

I was rewatching the "Vi in front of the council" scene from season 1 of Arcane. And it's just super funny to me. So the setup is:

Caitlyn: Silco is the big baddie of the undercity. The only reason why you didn't know was because Marcus was lying to you. Jayce: is upset about the bridge attack. He wants to go after Jinx with violent force. Mel: That could trigger war, war is bad. Caitlyn: is worried about the casualties. Mel: wants to negotiate with Silco now that they know what he wants.

Vi is outraged that they want to negotiate with Silco and storms off.

She then has her big oil and water conversation with Caitlyn about how Piltover and Zaun are like Oil and Water and they can never work together just like Caitlyn and Vi can never work out, making Caitlyn cry.

... and then the first thing Vi does is NOT to go back to the undercity. Nope. After just rejecting Caitlyn's offer to come up with a new plan together, Vi goes to Jayce, a different Piltie.

1.) It just intensely amuses me that after like 3 sentences of Jayce Vi immediately recognized him a kindred spirit who she could easily rope into a violent revenge plan. Against the stated wishes of both their girlfriends.

2.) I wasn't really deep into CaitVi discourse in season 1, so I wonder, did we talk about how Vi's speech about oil and water is complete bullshit? And I don't mean that in a meta way, I mean this as: Vi is bullshitting Caitlyn? Yes, I get blabla, Vi is feeling down, she's pushing Cait away. But actually from what is going on on a pure action point of view, Vi is telling Cait Pilties and Zaunites can't work out and then immediately turns around and teams up with a different Piltie to fight fellow Zaunite Silco together?

Like the problem was never that Vi is disappointed that the council didn't help her or that she doesn't think the relationship with Cait can work out. The real "problem" is here that Vi thinks Cait is too kind hearted and cares too much about collateral damage. (which, you know, is deeply ironic considering season 2...)

In that sense, the Oil and Water convo has shades of Vi ditching Caitlyn at the brothel. Deciving and distracting Caitlyn so she can do her own thing.

Vi wants to go after Silco at all costs. Mel is worried that going down after him will trigger all out war. Cait is worried that innocents will get hurt. Vi cares about neither of those things. She is deeply upset at the thought that the council might try to negotiate with Silco.

So she goes after Jayce because Jayce wanted to do the same things as her "We've been talking about talking for weeks now. They're still cleaning the blood off the bridge. When do we say enough is enough?"

I think it's worth noting how masterfully Vi manipulates the shit out of Jayce here. Praising him for being smart, telling him he is a victim (aka insiutating that he's allowed to strike back), suggesting that Cait would want him to strike when we know that is a total lie. [note that I don't think that is a bad thing, like I love Vander and think he likely has his own way of using charisma and I love Silco of course]

Another interesting thing of the council scene of course is that it already shows shades of "Vi thinks Poweder and Jinx are two different people and she's okay with selling out Jinx". That's why she gives Jinx's name to the council. That's why she tells Cait in season 2 that it's okay to take the shot on Jinx.

I think it's also worth noting just how many Zaunites Vi murderizes/helps murderize with the help of enforcers in the factory raid. Beyond just the kid.

And how many more people including children she likely helps send to Stilwater

after just complaining to Jayce how bad Stilwater is.

And after getting tons of Zaunites killed and arrested in her quest for revenge because she is mad that Silco "ruined" Powder, the first thing Vi wants to do is do more raid, kill and arrest even more people.

I want to shout this from the roottops: VI DOES NOT HAVE A SYSTEMIC VIEW ON OPPRESSION. Vi does not give a shit about the undercity people when it comes to pursing her own family goals.

I think it's interesting in the context of season 2, how these threads continue for Vi. Again similarity with Vi giving Jinx's name to the council in 1x08 versus saying she's in favor of killing Jinx at the beginning of season 2.

And how she's willing to carve a bloody path through the undercity with the help of enforcers just to hurt Silco and dismantle his shimmer production. (again at this point it was explicitly stated in the council scene that Silco's core goal is the Nation of Zaun, so Vi knows this and is apparently not impressed) So is her willing to take out the rest of the Chem Barons using the Grey really that different? The only difference is that Caitlyn makes her formally wear the uniform.

It's also interesting to read this in the context of the progression of Caitlyn and Vi's relationship. Like if you read Oil and Water not as a tragic breakup but as Vi lying to Caitlyn because she sees Caitlyn as being in the way of Vi's quest for revenge. Vi ditching Cait and feeling bad or not bad about it is a theme in season 1. It leads to Cait being kidnapped and Cait's mom being killed.

I can see how this leads to Vi's guilt. I don't really see the "family dinner scene" as necessarily "Vi is already deeply in love with Cait and so can't bear to see Jinx hurt her". But more as "Vi sees Cait as a relatively well meaning innocent who doesn't deserve this treatment and also Jinx is acting kind of unhinged".

Cait got Vi out of Stillwater, tagged along, Vi tried to ditch her, Cait saved her from being killed, Cait healed her, Cait got kidnapped by the Firelights, Cait tried to make things right via the council, Vi again tried to ditch Cait and started an ill fated revenge. And then Vi gets a front row seat for Cait's grief over her mom.

This is of course where in season 2 Cait starts showing obsessive and vengeful tendencies and a more prejudiced attitude towards Zaunites.

It's also interesting in how far the season 2 raids continue the threads of 1x08, on one hand Caitlyn still talking about avoiding additional bloodshed, but also it being a continuation of Vi's bloody "dismantle Shimmer" operation (that maybe ends up going too far/veering into the wrong direction).

So the question is when and Vi actually falls for Caitlyn. My personal take as a more casual/occasional CaitVi enjoying person who was never deep in the fandom.

I think Vi saw Caitlyn was hot but basically thought from the start that anything there was a bad idea. Plus she was distracted by her family goals.

I think Caitlyn had feelings very quickly, probably starting to blossom around the "I can tell you have a good heart".

I do think there's an element there of Vi seeing Caitlyn as this well meaning sheltered good thing, the one bright spot. Again especially since imo she's respulsed by Zaun and how much it has changed on her. And yes it's super frustrating that her not feeling attached to Zaun, not seeing the beauty in Zaun seems to include Ekko. Like she is clearly admiring the tree and everything, but her thirst for revenge against Silco is stronger. It seems to me like she still lumps Ekko in with the people who have changed on her and who she doesn't fully recognize and feel at home with.

I think there's some guilt there for having "dirtied up" Cait's life. (again once more: Vi doesn't have a systemic view enough to see Cait as inherently dirtly for being an oppressor of fully grasping that maybe Cait finds it easier to be optimistic and sweet and kind because she grew up cozily, imo she just sees a kindness that she's drawn to and maybe doesn't fully understand)

I'm curious if there was ever any thinking on Amanda's side that turning Cait dark would be an interesting challenge to Vi falling for Cait for her kindness but also Vi discounting/wanting to exclude Caitlyn from certain things maybe with the idea of "Cait is too kind for that, I should go behind her back".

For the record, I don't think that Vi's motivation is just "being pissy that Silco stole Powder or that Silco killed Vander and now rules in his stead". I do think she does on some level see the plight of the undercity, and her analysis/conclusion that Shimmer is at fault for everything just happens to be very shallow. (again repeat after me: VI DOES NOT HAVE A SYSTEMIC VIEW ON THE WORLD

Stop pretending she was an enlightened Marxist/leftist in season 1 when she spent a good chunk of season 1 being very much the opposite of that and blaming Silco while comparatively making excuses for Piltover)

i lost the anon ask for this, but here's an angst/fluff fic in which sevika comforts reader with insomnia <3

apocalypse

content warning(s): none, light angst and fluff :)

"kisses on the foreheads of the lovers wrapped in your arms you've been hiding them in hollowed-out pianos left in the dark got the music in you baby, tell me why got the music in you baby, tell me why you've been locked in there forever and you just can't say goodbye."

☆ ☆ ☆

context: reader and sevika are not yet in an established relationship

☆ ☆ ☆

“Commander,” Sevika snaps her fingers. “You in there?”

You give a start and look up. “Yes,” you say. “Sure.” Even you can tell how unconvincing your tone is, but it’s the best you can offer right now. 

Despite her brusque tone, Sevika is worried. She frowns down at you as she loads the Shimmer cartridges into her belt. This is the third time today you’ve spaced out and missed a chunk of briefings for the day’s shipment assignments. There are dark circles under your eyes and you walk as if you might fall over any second. You’re forgetting instructions you usually remember with ease. Just that morning Sevika had to stop you from pouring the scalding hot coffee for Silco directly onto your hand because you were seeing the cup double. 

Today it’s your turn to scout the air ships, not too big of a job. If you were in charge of steering, or even bargaining, Sevika might have been stricter. But today you’re with her, with Ran heading the other air ship entering Piltover. 

She peers down at you. “You look like hell,” she says. 

“Thanks. I just got back.” 

It wasn’t too far from the truth. For the past three days and nights, you had seen the sun set and rise like a relentless bitch on the skyline of a sleepless city without a wink of sleep yourself. 

Do you know what it is to be unable to sleep? No matter how your body demands it, begs for it, screams for it? No matter how your muscles ache and your limbs shake uncontrollably from fatigue? You swear sleep is harder to catch than an orgasm. 

Sevika wouldn’t know. Many a late night you found her snoring on the couch in Silco’s empty office with the documents scattered on the floor around her, her mechanical arm still on. She had trained her body to snatch what hours of sleep she could steal. You would gently detach the prosthetic so her limb wouldn’t stiffen, pull a blanket over her, and envy the blissful unconsciousness smoothing her features. 

Sevika shakes her head. “You’ll sit this one out, commander.” 

“No! I’m fine,” you snap. 

Another pleasant perk of sleep deprivation: the changes in temper, the raging mood swings. You want to crumple into a ball and weep one moment, you’re ready to tear someone apart limb from limb the next. 

Sevika only raises an eyebrow. “Right. You’re the damn poster child of stability.”

“Don’t test me,” you say. “I haven’t slept in three days.” You wave to Locke. “Start the loading in five.” 

But when you start to walk up the plank into the airship, Sevika grabs you by the arm and pulls you aside. To Locke she says, “get Jennes to scout the ship.” 

He nods and walks away. 

“What the fuck?” 

“Now let me get this straight,” she says in a low voice. “You’re telling me you haven’t slept once in three days?”

You struggle to pull away. “I said I’m fine. Why would you do that? Why would you just change the assignment?” 

“Uh-uh. No. You’re going straight home and you’re going to get some sleep.” 

You open your mouth to argue, but something in her tone collides with your precarious mental state, like the strike of flint and stone against a brittle pile of tinder. She isn’t even angry, just concerned. Maybe disappointed. But in this state of mind, you’re convinced you have failed her, you’ve failed everyone, and that she despises you for your incompetence. You feel something break inside you. You violently wrench yourself away from her so she can’t see the tears streaming down your face. 

“Hey,” Sevika says in a gentler voice. Your outbreak evidently alarms her. “Hey. Come here.” 

You try to stifle the tears. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t know why—”

“It’s okay.” She reaches out and takes your chin in her hand, turning your face toward her. With her thumb she wipes away the tears from your cheek. “It’s okay,” she says again. “You’re tired.” 

A shock goes through you when she touches your face and you grow still. Her hand is rough and warm. 

She looks around briefly, as if to see if anyone is around to overhear her. No one else is at the harbor within earshot. She drops her voice to nearly a whisper. 

“I know you’ve been looking after me those nights in the office,” she tells you. “And covering for me just to let me get some more sleep. You think I’d let that slide without doing anything in return?”

“You don’t have to, it’s nothing.”

“Let me handle this,” she says. “Let me cover this one. Please.”

You meet her eyes, startled. The word ‘please’ coming out of Sevika’s mouth was about the second least likely thing you would ever imagine happening. It was like a shift in the laws of nature. 

“I can’t sleep,” you say quietly. “Not even if I tried.”

Her brows crease. “Have you taken anything for it?”

“What, pills?” You laugh wryly. “Can’t afford it.” 

You see her purse her lips, her jaw tighten, as if she’s thinking. Then she says, “just get home and lay down. You can do that, can’t you?”

“If that’s what you really want me to do.” 

“It’s an order, commander.” 

You sigh. But you turn and walk away. 

☆ ☆ ☆

You are working in the storage room of the Last Drop when Sevika walks in and hands you something small. You look down at the palm of your hand. 

“Is this asbestos?”

“You’re not funny,” she retorts. “It’s melatonin.”

“Where the hell did you get it?”

“Don’t ask questions,” she says. “And don’t thank me.”

She storms out of the room as if to avoid even risking hearing you thank her. 

As usual, you work late that night. The pill sits in the breast pocket of your shirt and you imagine it pulsing with your heart. You know it’s stupid to consider it a gift, but you’re reluctant to take it nonetheless. Sevika would never say so, but you’re certain she went out of her way to find an Undercity apothecary that sold it, and it couldn’t have been any small price either. 

But it is the fourth night, and your head feels close to exploding. You down the pill with a drink of stale beer. 

It’s already nearing four in the morning, and you decide it isn’t worth going back to your apartment only to return to the office by nine. You haven’t seen Sevika all day since she met you in the storage room—you wonder if she took off early, though you can’t imagine such a scenario.

Drowsiness fills your head as you lay down on the couch. It smells old, the mildew of ancient leather, but from the number of times you’ve seen Sevika passed out on it you imagine you can almost smell her scent on the cushions, too. 

You’re half asleep when Sevika comes into the office. She sees you and walks over. You keep your eyes closed. You feel her touch your forehead briefly, then she spreads her cloak over you. 

☆ ☆ ☆

note: pls get good sleep, stay hydrated, take care of yourself <3

divider by @enchanthings-a

Arcane characters finding you asleep at their workplace

The devil works hard, but I work a little harder, so I’m back to writing Arcane headcanons a month before season two comes out.

Jayce:  

- Strong sense of guilt,  

- The first thing that comes to his mind is that you must have waited for him for a long time to fall asleep 

- He will make it up to you by trying to cook something for you, stopping to buy your favorite sweets before heading home, and giving you a shoulder massage the moment you sit down somewhere after you wake up.  

- The man of the Hamlet-like dilemma: he doesn’t want to wake you, but he also doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable.  

- If he has something urgent to do, he’ll try to cover your shoulders with something, even just his jacket, to keep you warm while he finishes only the essentials.  

- Once he’s free, he will very gently try to lift you from the chair, apologizing when you wake up and mumble something incoherent.  

Viktor:  

- In the early years of university, it sometimes happened that he found you in his room asleep, slumped over on a chair or bed with your shoes still on.  

- But as the years went by and the lab became his main space, that sight became a constant, repeating at least twice a week.  

- He tries to make as little noise as possible, whether with his aides, the door, or the stack of books and notebooks he needs to organize.  

- Before getting to work, he leaves the room again to bring you your favorite hot drink with a plastic lid pressed on top, so it doesn’t cool down.  

- Then, in complete silence, he works, deciding what to leave for tomorrow and what to do now, so he can finish as soon as possible without delaying too much.  

Ekko:  

- It’s hard to define what exactly a workplace is for Ekko,  

- But he often finds you at the Firelights' tree, in that room that’s supposed to be his, having likely sneaked in through the window to surprise him.  

- There are days when he comes back fairly early but stays to tell stories to the kids, and others when things go wrong, and he returns when it’s already dark, and almost everyone is asleep

- Finding you like this always makes him feel the absence of something more stable

- But he shakes his head and quickly pushes aside doubts about his ideals, stepping out of the room again and making more noise as he enters again, so you wake up, and he can pretend to be surprised in front of your open eyes.  

- By now, you know he steps out and comes back in, but it makes you smile every single time.

Vander:  

- You always sit at a table in the back of the Last Drop to wait for him, trying not to bother him, doodling, doing calculations, or planning something for the next day just to keep yourself entertained.  

- But by now, the sound of drunkards and the clinking of coins and glasses have become background noise that helps lull you into a catatonic state.  

- Vander usually notices after about an hour that you've fallen asleep; he always keeps an eye on you, but sometimes the customers cause problems.  

- He doesn’t like leaving you there, so far away, so he usually waits for a quieter moment to come over, pick you up, and bring you behind the counter, laying you down with your arms and head resting on the wooden bar.  

- He knows it’s not a big improvement, but his priority is to keep you safe.  

- When he finishes working, he closes the bar without doing the closing duties, sets his alarm for earlier than usual, and carries you to your room in his arms, covering your forehead with kisses.  

Silco:  

- The problem with Silco finding you asleep in his office is that he rarely arrives alone.  

- There’s always either Sevika or at least two other henchmen following him.  

- He sighs and sends them away, not without Sevika giving him a provocative look that means everything and nothing.  

- He hates those situations because part of him feels a strange warmth at the thought of you sneaking into his office for whatever reason, but on the other hand, he knows it negatively affects his image to be seen as a leader who tolerates certain insubordinations.  

- Because sneaking into the kingpin’s office is something that would get almost anyone else outside decapitated. But not you.  

- He huffs, pacing the room to deal with both emotions, and when he finally calms down, he approaches you, shaking you slightly to wake you up.  

- It’s certainly not the gentlest gesture on his part, but most of the time, it ends with you either going back to sleep in his bed while he works, or sitting on his lap while he flips through papers without paying them much attention.  

Jinx:  

- She can’t contain her excitement at all. When she notices your figure in her workshop, she always lets out a little happy sound that wakes you up.  

- From there, she immediately starts apologizing at least a thousand times, feeling guilty for waking you up but still too happy that you came to visit her.  

- She helps you up, talking nonstop about her day and anything that comes to mind as she leads you outside.  

- It’s not because she doesn’t want you around, but because she assumes you must be hungry as soon as you wake up, so before you're fully awake, you’ll find yourself at the Last Drop with enough food in front of you to feed her father’s entire gang of henchmen.  

- And she will absolutely feed you herself when she sees you haven’t taken a bite in too long, while stealing food here and there and continuing to talk.  

Vi:  

- For her, too, a "workplace" is a somewhat vague concept,  

- But in return, she has her secret spot, where she hides at night and tries to survive when she’s not out on the streets looking for trouble.  

- Every time she finds you there, she feels an indescribable pang in her heart.  

- She always feels like she’s neglecting the person she loves and failing to make you understand how much she cares about you.  

- She always hesitates before waking you up; sometimes she’ll even go change into clean clothes and wash the grime off her hands and face first.  

- Then she’ll wake you by sitting next to you, giving you a kiss, calling you by a silly nickname only the two of you know, and rubbing her forehead against yours before asking, with a rhetorical smile,  

- "Did you miss me?"

Caitlyn:  

- Sometimes you find yourself in the inner waiting room of the precinct, with her colleagues pointing out your body slumped in the chair and raising their eyebrows, teasing her. Other times, you simply sneak into her room, which isn’t much different from the police station anyway.  

- Every time, she sighs and gently wakes you, her pale eyes a little sad.  

- “Why didn’t you call me?” It doesn’t matter to her that you didn’t want to disturb her, because to her, you’re never a disturbance. It’s not a problem to have you around, even in public. She just feels bad that you waited instead of telling her, so she could have come much sooner.  

- She takes you away from the station without any issues, letting you continue resting against her shoulder as a Kiramman private vehicle takes you both to her home.  

- If you’re already in her room, she usually changes and lies down next to you, taking the chance to nap together, wrapped in each other's arms.  

Mel:  

- Falling asleep inside the Senate? Impossible.  

- But the keys to her office and her room are always in your pocket, and you usually bring her something to eat when you visit, though by the time you fall asleep, both the coffee and the treats are cold.  

- She’s not used to displays of affection, so she stays still for a few seconds before smiling and shaking her head.  

- She doesn’t wake you immediately, not because she doesn’t want to, but because if the sound of the door didn’t wake you, you probably need the rest. So she lets you sleep for at least 30 minutes before coming over, brushing your hair behind your ears to wake you, laughing when you lift your head with your eyes still closed.  

Sevika:  

- The first thing anyone would think is that falling asleep at the Last Drop is extremely dangerous. However, Silco’s henchmen aren’t too different from bipedal dogs by now; they know who you are, recognize your face and scent, and if they notice you’ve fallen asleep somewhere, at least three of them sit at your table to ensure your safety.  

- Sevika is always tasked with the worst imaginable jobs—tedious, long, and often dangerous—so when she finally returns, it’s usually either time to open the bar to the public or time to close it.  

- Even when she sees you, she can’t come to you right away, so she makes a face at whoever is watching over you, as if urging them to protect you better while she heads into the office.  

- Like Silco, part of her feels subconsciously softened by the idea that someone would feel the physical need to be with her so much that they’d wait, sitting until they fell asleep.  

- But on the other hand, she’s terrified that someone might see you and come after you to settle personal scores in a cowardly way.  

- When she finally comes down, she pulls you into her arms without saying a word, holding you under her large cape as she carries you away.  

YAY, YOU'RE BACK TO WRITING FOR ARCANE. How would the arcane characters react (mainly vi, ekko, and jinx because i would marry, marry, and marry them all!!) to a reader who is sooo affectionate and finds every last thing they do so cute they get cuteness aggression and just jump at them like a cuddle bug often? thank you so much!!

Coming right up!

Arcane x Cuddle Bug! Reader

Characters: Powder/Jinx, Violet "Vi", Ekko, Caitlyn Kiramman, Viktor, Jayce Talis, Mel Medarda, Sevika and Ran.

Warning: None really. SFW.

A/N: Am I the only one who wants to snuggle into Caitlyn? Ugh, I love her so much.

Powder/Jinx

“Oh! Hey there, sugar! You want to cuddle? Don’t have to ask me twice! I’ll cuddle you so much that you get tired of me! But you’d never get tired of me, right?”

Jinx is a super clingy person, so for you to be as clingy as her it’s like you two are a match made in heaven. There’s barely any time that passes when you two are not touching each other and she lives for your cuddles. It doesn’t matter if you hug her out of nowhere or she sees you about to embrace her, she is stopping everything she is doing and pulling you into the tightest of hugs.

Most of the time if she isn’t causing mayhem in the streets of Zaun or busy with her inventions, she will spend her time just holding you so close and showering your face with the cutest but most childish of kisses. She doesn’t care if it’s in private or public, she will make it known that you two can’t keep your hands off each other. You are her cuddlebug and she is yours and that won’t ever change.

Violet “Vi”

“Woah there, cuddle bug! You’re gonna make me screw up my workout… Oh forget it. How can I say no to you?”

Because Violet is absolutely touch starved, she will never decline your cuddles, even if you take her by surprise a few times with how you hug her so suddenly. She finds it adorable how you fangirl around her and find everything she does to be awesome or cute. Granted she does wish you’d call her hot or sexy, but knows that isn’t really in tune with your personality.

Regardless, she tries to make sure you know how adorable you are, always telling you while you two are cuddled up together how lucky she is to have you and how you are so adorable. Even when you visit her at work, she’ll try to drop everything and have you run into her arms to pick you up. And every time she’s got time off work or is coming back from a job, she’s automatically looking for you so she could hook you in her arms and never let go.

Ekko

“Y/N, haha! You know we gotta keep this private, babe- The kids are gonna pounce on us any second now!”

Does Ekko love hugging you? Absolutely. The warmth of your arms around his body makes him stop everything he’s doing and just hug you while calling you his firelight or firefly. Unless he’s calling you an angel or lovebug, which never fails to make Scar either look at you two in awe or roll their eyes in mock annoyance. Unfortunately, Ekko does try his best to make sure you two don’t get super affectionate around the children, especially when it comes to hugs.

Why? Because as soon as you hug him, the children find this as an invitation to gather around him and have him nearly die under a cuteness overload of a group hug. It’s nice as a once in a while occurrence, but all the time? Maybe not. Outside of the reactions you two garnish and even the teasing of you being the firelight king/queen, Ekko lives for your cuddlebug energy, wanting to be in your arms after a long day’s work. It’s always the best way to end the night… 

Caitlyn Kiramman

“And that’s why if I am able to block this end of the road, I’ll- Oh!... Oh come here, sweetheart. If you wanted to cuddle so badly, you could’ve asked.”

Caitlyn has always been someone who was more subtle with her love, pulling you into brief kisses, cupping your cheek and holding you by your waist. She usually leaves the more out there gestures like hugging and cuddling for you to initiate. But when you do? It might be harder for you to get her off of you instead of the other way around. It can be at work, in her home, outside of work or at an event. As soon as she feels your arms wrap around her slender body, she’s stopping for a second to hold you back and kiss your forehead.

She will continue working if you interrupt her during a briefing or in the middle of cracking a case, but the entire time, she will have at least one arm around your body and make sure you are comfortable. Her comrades tease her about it and she’ll scowl a bit, but she doesn’t care. As far as she can tell, she’s extremely lucky to have you as a lover.

Viktor

“Ah! Oh, it is just you, zolotse. Remember, you have to warn me of these cute little hugs of yours.”

At first, Viktor wasn’t used to your physical affection and how you were in awe of everything he did. He actually thought you were mocking him at first or being silly. But after a while, especially when the two of you became a couple, he grew accustomed to your affections. He does get a bit startled when you hug him out of nowhere and he does have moments where you cheering him on does make him a bit bashful, but he enjoys your sweet gestures regardless.

He does find it difficult to be as outgoing with his love for you as you are with him, but he does try his best to make you realize he loves you, especially in the form of quality time and calling you by sweet pet names bound to make you blush. Viktor has a tendency to pass out from working too hard and waking up in your arms. And though he’d never say it out loud, you know based on the way he snuggles into you, he adores it and adores you.

Jayce Talis

“I know what you want and I want it too- So bring it in! I’ve waited all day to be in your arms!”

Because Jayce is always out at work, it’s kind of hard for you two to be around one another all the time. That’s why when he does reunite with you after hours or you two can be together on days off, he’s spending the majority of his free time with you or wrapped around you. He sort of craves for your praise and compliments as much as he craves your cuddles.

Many would compare the councilman to a needy dog wanting his owner’s undivided attention and he definitely gets that through you. Though he may try to act all cool or play coy, everyone knows that you mean so much to him and that he becomes putty around you. Even if they don’t, you’re not afraid to say it aloud. Just make sure Jayce isn’t around or that man will become redder than a beet.

Mel Medarda

“What’s wrong?... I know that look. You want to- Ah! Well looks like you beat me to the punch, darling. How about we take this to the bed, hmm?”

Mel wasn’t really given physical affection when she was younger. She was more someone who preferred verbal affection with words of affirmation. So when it came to you and how affectionate you are, she found herself adapting and loving physical affection as much as telling you how much she loved you.

Your cuddles and sweet gestures are her personal heaven she loves returning to after a long day’s work, especially if she can spend an evening with you platonically in your shared bed. In your arms, she feels she can air out anything that’s bothering her or interests her, especially when you admit how cute it is when she does. Though this kind of intimate affection is delegated to private quarters, anyone can know from the way Mel speaks of you outside of home and at events that you mean so much to her.

Sevika

“Yeah! So then I was like screw you, I can do whatever- Hold on. Uh, Y/N. I thought we agreed to not do this at work?”

Sevika is considered the Right Hand of Zaun, a woman who is feared if not respected by her peers. And she’d like to keep it that way. Which means that while you two are at work, she prefers it if you don’t cuddle her around co-workers and give them something to tease her about. You two can only flirt and kiss and even then, it has to be sexy…

But alone, when both of you are away from the public eye, Sevika is at your beck and call wishing for nothing else but to hear your sweet praises and melt into your arms and touch. Expect her to call you the cutest thing ever and tease you on occasion, but afterwards she’s basically a big needy cat, or as she prefers to be called, a panther. It’s moments like these where you can really consider yourself lucky to see a raw side of Sevika. And it was only preserved for you.

If you got any requests for Arcane or X-Men '97, send them my way!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day! <3

— come a little closer

hockey jock!vi x tutor!reader, fluff / humor / angst / kinda slowburn / smut (18+ mdni!), wc: 16k+ [buckle your seatbelts bc i could not shut the fuck up about vi if i wanted to !]

synopsis: you’re many things; an exemplary student, quiet and well-mannered, loved immensely by those who bother to get to know you, but most importantly, the newfound object of superstar athlete vi’s every affection. or, in other words, hockey jock!vi is lowkey a loser, atrociously down bad, and will stop at nothing to make you hers.

content warnings: language (duh), brief mentions of familial issues, latent insecurity, miscommunication & lack of communication, kissing, groping, SEX! mdni, seriously, i’ll THROW UP!, more specifically fingering (r!receiving), oral (r!receiving), spitting, makeup sex idk, just good old fashioned lesbian BANGING! also! jazz cabbage, lets pretend for the sake of this au that student athlete’s don’t get tested bc i NEED hockey jock!vi to hotbox reader PLS.

fic soundtrack: i could imagine —alina baraz /snooze — sza /tonight — summer walker / pressure — james vickery + sg lewis / wish that i could — umi

author’s note: of course it’d be arcane s2 that resurrects me from my almost yearlong hiatus...pls enjoy this fic even though i’m pretty rusty; she’s been cooking in the drafts for weeks T-T i’ll be answering some (very long overdue) asks and chatting with you guys <3 and finally, this shit is barely proofread bc my brain is fried lol

main masterlist | arcane masterlist

VI HAS A HUGE PROBLEM.

One that supersedes every issue she’d ever given weight to in all of her four (and a half) years of university. Is way larger than twice-a-day practices on and off the ice that go hand-in-hand with studying so hard to make sure that her grades don’t slip a fraction. Probably way bigger than the fact that her little sister’s graduating high school soon and she’s trying her absolute best to be as great a role model as she can despite wanting to crack under the pressure. And most definitely bigger than her favorite on-again-off-again fling, Cait Kiramann, who’s rare to come by these days.

Vi has a huge problem, and quite frankly, it’s you.

In hindsight, she’s been relatively good at overlooking you, not that it’d been intentional to begin with, but Vi knows a lot of people. Too many, she feels sometimes. So it's easy for you to slip through the cracks when everyone’s vying for even a shred of her attention.

Perhaps it’s what piques her interest when your orbits finally do collide. Because, admittedly, you know all about Vi. Know that she’s probably one of the most valuable players on the uni’s hockey team (she’s an absolute beast on the ice). Also know that she’s a biomedical physics major and actually incredibly smart. But most of all, you know that not only is Violet a flirt, she’s a player.

Not necessarily that you’ve ever really been on the receiving end, but mostly because her reputation precedes her and you’ve seen it all from a distance. Can't not when the decorated hockey star is such a charmer whether she intends to be or not. Vi has girls both certain and questioning stumbling for a single glance.

You often think it’s pitiful, but it’s not like it’s really your problem.

Until it is.

It all starts at The Afterparty.

Hours after a big victory in the first game of three that solidifies whether the university hockey team participates in the championships, Violet is the star of tonight’s celebration.

She’d sunk the winning shot, and for that she’s being poured shot after celebratory shot. By eleven she’s practically hammered and it’s when her teammate, Ellie, and the captain, Abby, finally show up.

The three of them together, drunk, is like a minefield of obnoxious laughter, dirty innuendos, and rowdy behavior.

And for a while it’s funny, has Vi feeling like she’s on cloud nine, but eventually, the drunken high begins to evaporate and she starts to feel a little overwhelmed.

The spotlight shifts and even though Vi typically preens under the attention, she’s grateful to finally breathe.

With a plastic cup full of water, she’s sliding the back door open and stepping out onto the back patio to take in the cool air for a breather.

She makes a move towards the stairs, but nearly jumps out of her skin when she registers the silhouette at the base of the steps.

“Jesus, fuck,” Vi hisses to herself. “You scared the shit outta me.”

You don’t even spare her a glance over your shoulder, just take a sip from your drink.

“Sorry,” you hum passively.

She catches her breath, doesn’t even bother to ask permission as she drops all of her weight next to you.

The step creaks under pure muscle.

Her strong legs stretch out, elbows settling back against the step up as she waits. And waits. And waits.

The amount of silence that lapses is unusual, uncharacteristic for Vi, especially so because people are typically babbling enough to fill the void when it comes to her.

But you just sit there, nursing your beer and staring up at the stars. The moon hangs half in the sky, softly illuminating the planes of your features.

It’s her first good look at your face and Vi’s definitely drunk, but the immediate thought that comes to her mind is pretty, pretty, pretty. Undeniably and painfully pretty. And not Caitlyn pretty, the only girl she’s ever really used as a benchmark, but intimidatingly so in your own right. Makes her swallow hard, throat bobbing as she watches you unapologetically.

“It’s rude to stare, Violet,” you say simply, eyes finally flitting to meet hers.

Her breath catches in her throat, earthy flecks dancing in your moonlit irises. God, your eyes. Framed by thick lashes and round as you look up at her.

“You know who I am?” she asks stupidly as if point fives of her face aren’t blown up into memes and plastered all over the house.

“Who doesn’t?” you ask, breathing a puff of humorless laughter as you crush the can in your ringed fingers.

And perhaps you got her there, but Vi’s feeling exceptionally small under your gaze despite usually filling out a room. Something about you makes her shrink.

“I— fuck,” Vi stumbles, cheeks red because you’re looking at her with an indecipherable gleam in your gaze that has her squirming. “What’s your name?”

She cringes at herself, rolls the piercing in her nose once, twice, for comfort.

You laugh again, a little more genuine this time because, from a distance, the athlete’s usually so suave, undeniably gorgeous and composed. Right now, the girl in front of you only ticks one of those boxes.

“________,” you offer.

She weighs the name on her tongue, decides she likes it a lot, and tries to shake off whatever this feeling you’re giving her is.

“And you go to school here?” she asks.

You nod once.

“Neuroscience, fourth year.”

“Huh, we’re in similar fields, but I’ve never seen you around,” Vi observes. Because she’s certain she’d bookmark a face like yours, absolutely no doubt about it.

“We had organic chemistry together sophomore year with Dr. Talis,” you say matter-of-factly, like you’re not blowing her mind right now. “And I’m auditing Medarda’s biometry class this semester.”

Vi’s floored.

“Wait, wait, but...” She’s trying to piece the puzzle together, but her brain’s still a little fuzzy, equal parts from the alcohol, but also because she’s caught a whiff of your perfume and you smell so sweet.

“I pop in every once in a while,” you tell her. “But I tutor in that time slot every Tuesday and Thursday, only really go when I don’t have any appointments.”

“Hold on, this is nuts,” Violet says, body easing to face you. You flinch because she doesn’t realize she’s practically yelling. “There’s no way, I definitely would’ve remembered you if that was the case.”

You hum, corners of your lips quirking as you shrug your shoulders.

“Doubt it,” you counter. “I’m nothing particularly spectacular.”

“Nothing particularly spectacular,” Vi repeats under her breath.

And under normal circumstances, she’d be flirting up a storm right now, trying to charm her way into getting you to bite, but this is one of the first semblances of normalcy she’s experienced in a while. No ulterior motives, no exaggerated kindness, no outright asking her to fuck.

Suddenly your phone lights up in your lap and you’re turning your attention to the device.

“DD duties call,” is all you say as you make a move to stand up.

No, this can’t be all she gets from you tonight. Not when she’s been narrowly missing someone like you for the past four years and you’re just now coming to light.

The dormant liquid courage bubbles and Vi’s gently grabbing your wrist to pull you to a stop.

“Maybe I’ll see you around?” she asks, steely eyes liquid as she stares up at you.

You eye the scar on her lip, gaze lingering there before flitting to meet hers.

“Maybe.”

Vi decides that she needs to see you again.

You’d left her with crumbs this past Friday night and she’d spent the better part of the weekend trying (and failing) to cross paths with you again.

“Jesus, you’re down bad,” Ellie chuffs Monday morning on their walk to the campus coffee shop.

“You don’t understand,” Vi defends. “She’s so...so...”

“So?”

“Different, I dunno,” Vi sighs, fiddling with the strap of her backpack as they walk. “We didn’t even talk about much, but that was the most normal I’ve felt around someone in a while.”

Her teammate snorts.

“Probably the gayest thing I’ve heard you say,” Ellie deadpans. “She isn’t immediately trying to munch and you’re already in love. Pathetic.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Vi scoffs as they approach the coffee shop, inside packed full with half-functioning college students so early in the morning. “Trust me, if you met her, you’d—”

The words die in her throat because halle-fucking-lujah, the universe or god, or whatever has answered her every prayer this past weekend as she clocks you a few paces ahead in line.

Ellie follows her friend’s line of vision to find exactly what she’s staring at and she lets out a low whistle when her gaze finds your frame.

From a completely aesthetic standpoint, she can see why Vi’s immediately hooked.

“Hah,” she makes a noise in her throat. “Okay, so maybe it makes sense.”

Vi can’t help but stare because, if it were possible, you were far prettier under the warm lighting of the cafe’s ambiance. The curls of your hair frame your face beautifully and it’s so fucking cute how focused you are on your phone.

“Hate to break it to you, though. That girl’s way out of your league,” Ellie says like it’s common knowledge.

“Wow, way to boost my ego,” Vi mutters drily.

“Just being realistic,” Ellie argues. “If you bag her, she’s easily the hottest girl you’ve been with.”

And Vi can’t really contest that, not when the proof’s in the fucking pudding.

Her body’s moving of its own accord and before she can register her own actions, she’s mumbling quiet s’cuse me’s under her breath as she squeezes between patrons to close a bruised hand over your shoulder.

You nearly jump out of your skin, fumbling with your phone as an earbud falls out.

“Shit, sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Vi says quickly.

Your gaze snaps to her, brows furrowing almost imperceptibly before your expression settles.

“Violet,” you acknowledge.

And she realizes that she didn’t really have a game plan coming up to you so abruptly. Had been so focused on actually just seeing you again, that she hadn’t thought through the rest of it.

The way you stare up at her is thoroughly disarming because she doesn’t have the shield of night or alcoholic courage to carry her through it.

“Can I help you?” you ask, but not unkindly.

“Oh, uh, I...” She chances a glance over her shoulder to find that Ellie is watching her from a few customers away, eyebrow cocked and smirk testing. She word vomits before she can think of a coherent thought. “You mentioned tutoring...the last time we talked.”

You don’t even bat an eye.

“I did.”

“You’re also auditing Medarda’s biometry class.”

“I am.”

“I’m...I’m not really doing too hot in Medarda’s right now,” Vi says, brain nearly short-circuiting and freezing up because, lie! She’s doing phenomenally in Medarda’s session and, truthfully, she’s just downright scared to ask you to hang out.

Especially when you look up at her like that.

You shift and she’s swallowing down around nothing.

“Hmm, can’t have that, can we?” you hum.

Vi could melt.

“No,” she breathes out a laugh. “Can’t.”

“You can sign up for a slot through the library’s website,” you say after you weigh the thought.

Vi’s pausing, staring at you like a deer caught in the headlights.

“So I can get paid?” you fill in.

“Oh, right,” Vi chokes. “Right.”

You give her a soft smile before plugging your earbud back in, leaving Vi to rejoin her obviously amused friend.

“You’re fucking joking!”

The librarian gives you and your incredulous roommate a look from the circulation desk and you return it with a sheepish smile from where you’re tucked by a wall of looming floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Maddie,” you whisper.

“You’re telling me that The Violet asked you personally to tutor her?” Maddie asks you, leaned over the tabletop with wide eyes.

“Yeah, cornered me at Brew House this morning and asked me to tutor her in Medarda’s class.”

“Just that?” she asks. “Nothing else?”

You look around in disbelief.

“Uh, yeah?” you scoff. “What else would she want?”

“What else would she— are you serious?” Maddie leans back in her seat, arms crossing over her chest as she gives you a plain look. “You know all about Vi, you’re actually gonna play stupid?”

“Oh, come on.” You roll your eyes. “You’ve seen the girls Violet’s fucked, right? Kiramann? The blonde from the tennis team? She’s got a type and you know it.”

It’s Maddie’s turn to roll her eyes and you see the exasperated groan she’s staving off.

“None of that self-deprecating bullshit—”

“It’s not self-deprecating!” you argue. “Not everyone wants to fuck Violet, Maddie. Put me in the number one spot.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Don’t start.”

“All I’m saying is that anyone with eyes can see that Vi’s hot as fuck. That being said, you’re also hot as fuck. Not only that, but rumor has it, she gives the most toe-curling—”

You’re rolling your eyes again, gaze fluttering out the window momentarily only to find that, speak of the devil, Violet’s approaching the library with a skip in her step.

Maddie stops her spiel to trace your gaze and nearly falls out of her seat when she finds the object of your conversation is advancing, fast.

“No fucking way,” you whisper to yourself, pulling up your tutoring log on your tablet to find that, yup, Violet has most-definitely taken your advice and signed up for a tutoring slot.

If the time reads correctly, you’ve got three minutes before she’s due to be taking Maddie’s seat.

Your friend is grinning at you mischievously, stuffing her backpack quickly to vacate the space across from you.

“Un-fucking-believable,” you scoff, slumping back in your seat.

“Tell me how it goes,” she giggles, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she stands.

“Maddie,” you warn.

“Love you, see you at home!”

Violet’s strolling into the library just as Maddie leaves through the other doors and try as you might make yourself small in the open air near the research center, her gaze falls on you as soon as she enters.

“Hey,” she breathes once breaches your vicinity.

“Hi.”

A moment lapses before you’re nodding towards the seat before you.

“We can get started whenever you’re ready.”

Right. Right! Vi’s mentally cringing, pulling the chair out with a squeak and dropping onto the worn cushion.

Her eyes are locked, watching as you pull the biometry textbook from your little messenger bag.

“Any particular areas you’re struggling in?” you ask, flipping to a clean sheet of paper in your notepad and clicking open your pen.

Vi combs her brain, tries to think of anything she’s not really grasping in Medarda’s class, but she’s been acing all the exams with flying colors, so she spits out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Logistic regression, probably,” she answers.

“In relation to...?” You tilt your head and Vi’s breath is hitching.

“The Confusion Matrix,” she answers, even though she knows all about it.

It’s only when you start breaking it down from the bare bones that she realizes that she could listen to you talk for-probably-ever.

You obviously have a great understanding of the subject if the way you deconstruct the relationship between sensitivity and specificity (or whatever the fuck) is anything to go by, and she doesn’t realize that she hasn’t even blinked until you’re glancing up at her.

“Am I making any sense?” you ask softly, taking in the almost confused look on Violet’s face.

“Huh?”

Vi snaps out of it, cheeks coloring pink when she notes the way you straighten in your seat.

“Am I going too fast?”

“No, no!’ Vi practically shouts before chancing an embarrassed gaze around the library to find a few wandering eyes. She clears her throat and tries to relax. “No, you’re doing great. I get it.”

You don’t seem convinced, but the faster you get through the material, the faster Violet can leave and you can finally catch your breath.

Because maybe Maddie’s a little right. That while you know, one hundred percent, without-a-doubt, that you and Violet are cut from two different cloths and that you ultimately won’t mesh, there’s still a sliver of want that settles somewhere confined in the pit of your gut.

You don’t know how long you continue before you notice that sun has begun to set in the horizon, but Vi’s effort is unwavering. She’s probably on her tenth practice problem by now and so far, she’s only flubbed once.

You decide to fold your cards first.

“O-kay,” you say, sucking in a sharp breath as you roll your shoulders and squeeze your hands shut so tight your knuckles crack. “This is a good stopping point, don’t you think?”

No, Vi could keep going forever if it meant hearing you talk all night, but the little G-shock wristwatch winks the time and she realizes that the two of you have been going at it for going on two hours and you’re probably exhausted.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you so long,” Vi says sheepishly. “Thanks a lot for your help, I...”

You look up from where you’re shuffling your papers together, pausing when she hesitates.

“I really appreciate you. I know you probably help dozens of people every week and—”

She stops talking when she sees you crack what seems to be the first genuine smile she could get out of you since Friday.

“It’s my job, Violet,” you tell her. “I’m happy to help.”

And she’d done well enough during the tutoring session, had a successful run with the practice problems. You were confident it was just a one and done. Perhaps served as a review for the upcoming exam Medarda had posted on the class page.

But then you see her name in the final time slot on Thursday, don’t really think much of it until you’re tabbing to next week’s schedule for shits and giggles. Tuesday and Thursday are booked through again, her name highlighted in yellow.

You minimize the calendar and pull up the aggregate schedule only to find that every 4 o’clock slot every Tuesday and Thursday’s been booked until the end of the semester.

You refresh for good measure.

“Oh, you’re so shitting me.”

You don’t know what kind of joke this is, if Violet thinks that this is funny, but you’re not amused.

Especially when you’re stalking all the way to the athletic hall, ignoring the wolfish stares from shameless student athletes to whip into the women’s hockey team’s reserved conditioning space.

You find her benching near the center of the room, Abigail Anderson spotting her while the rest of the team engages in various workouts and exercises.

A hush ripples over the weight room as you approach the hockey star, standing at the end of the bench where her knees are bent. One of Abigail Anderson’s eyebrows quirk up as you stand there with your hands on your hips and you hope the chill that runs down your spine as she checks you out doesn’t visibly vibrate your body.

When the barbell nearly crushes Vi’s chest on her last rep, Abby’s quick to help her re-rack and takes the biggest step back as Vi sits up.

Her expression falls and her face pales when she locks eyes with you, your features severe and gaze stony.

“Oh, hey,” she squeaks.

Truthfully, she hadn’t really pinned you as the type to be confrontational. Thought she’d have enough time to build a strong enough story as to why she booked out all of your tutoring sessions when in actuality she panicked when Ellie started grilling the fuck out of her about being a fucking pussy and begging her to just ask you out.

“You have some explaining to do, Violet.”

And she should definitely be embarrassed, not at all turned on, but she can’t help it as she gulps. Because when you stand before her like this, she can easily admit that she’d die for a private version of the view.

The silence in the weight room is palpable and you want to back down, but if this is some running joke and Vi’s going to make a show of humiliating you in front of her teammates, then you’d give her a show.

“Violet.”

Someone in the back snickers, another whistles, and Vi’s cheeks go red.

She’s standing, sweaty hands closing around your biceps as she spins you around and quickly guides you out of the conditioning room and out of her teammates’ line of ogling sight.

“V—”

“I’m sorry,” Violet splutters. “I’m just not really confident in Medarda’s class right now and I don’t trust myself to study alone, plus you’re a really good tutor and—”

“You do realize that those tutoring sessions are added to your tuition, right?” you ask incredulously. “It’s fifteen dollars an hour.”

Vi’s smile is crooked.

“That’s what my scholarship’s for,” she grins.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit excessive?” you try again. “I feel that before an exam for a little refresh is fair, but this would be like relearning the material after every class, all over again.”

“If it’s taught by you, I’ll take it,” Vi says quickly, and you pause because what does she mean by that?

You don’t really have much rebuttal left even though you’d marched up here with a fire under your ass. Vi’s looking down at you with a softened edge in her gaze and she’s wearing nothing but a pair of black sweatpants and sweat-soaked grey tank that reveals swathes of ink that curls up her arms and disappears under the fabric of her shirt.

She breathes out a small laugh when she notices the way your eyes dance.

“Anymore concerns, cupcake?”

Your gaze snaps to hers and her grin widens when she sees you fidget, little pet name obviously eliciting a semblance of a reaction from you.

“N-No,” you stammer.

“Great, see you tomorrow?“

You swallow.

“Okay,” you agree. “See you tomorrow.”

Violet pops into the library at four on the dot.

Her hair’s wet from an obvious shower and you smell her, warm like honey and cedar as she takes the seat across from you.

“Afternoon, cupcake,” she greets, slinging her backpack into the seat next to her.

You give her a warning look, but she just flashes you a toothy smile and nods towards the opened biometry textbook before you.

“What’s the lesson today, Teach?”

And this feels an awful lot like mocking, but you can’t be sure, not when Vi’s been somewhat respectful, sweet even.

“What do you know about the the sigmoid function?” you probe.

“Jack shit,” she laughs.

And maybe you’d find it endearing if the entirety of the situation wasn’t still absolutely mindfucking you at moment.

“Can I ask you something, Violet?” you ask, leaning back in your seat as you cross your arms to level her with as an intimidating look as you can.

“Sure, anything.”

“Are you messing with me?” you ask. “Is this some joke you and your friends are playing? Because I can’t really think of an outcome that would be funny.”

And you’d like to say that the look of horror on Violet’s face is consolation enough, but you know how being loved and being popular can make people act sometimes.

Vi contemplates telling you the truth, that she’s too chickenshit to ask you out, that getting close to you in any other way scares the fuck out of her. That maybe getting you to tutor her will segue into some form of friendship that’ll allow her to ease her way in. And maybe she’s going about it the hard way, but maybe Vi also likes a challenge.

“No jokes, just bad at statistics,” she says weakly.

You’re silent for way longer than comfort allows before you turn your attention to the textbook and Vi’s letting out a breath she doesn’t realize she’s holding.

“Fine,” you give in. “Let’s talk about sigmoid function and practice some applications...”

Vi’s happy to listen, goes through your preselected practice problems with ease (and maybe fucks up a value or two here and there to really sell her need for you). But the sun’s going down again, and it’s nearing six when Vi folds her hand this time around.

It comes in the form of her stomach grumbling in the emptying library and she looks up at you in embarrassment as you crack the first smile of the evening.

“Hungry?” you ask.

“Starving,” she replies dramatically, leaning so far back in her seat, her knees bump yours under the table.

Your toes curl at the contact, heart skipping when she doesn’t make a move to reposition herself.

“Have you eaten yet?” she asks, eyes looking everywhere but yours.

“Not since breakfast,” you admit.

“You like pizza?”

“Only the good kind,” you challenge.

“Beautiful,” Vi hums, shuffling her papers into her textbook and chucking it back into her bookbag. “I know the best place.”

Valentino’s is a hole-in-the-wall right outside of campus, a short walk from the library that Violet leverages as a way to get to know you outside of being lectured about statistical curves and correlation.

“Did you grow up around here?” Vi asks once the waiter sets two glasses of water down between the two of you.

You shake your head.

“No, grew up on the east coast and decided I needed a break from my life there,” you admit easily.

It’s almost as if the facade of professionalism fades away, melting to reveal you.

Vi’s desperate for more.

“As in?”

You look at her for a moment, wonder if you should divulge because you’re not really sure if Vi would get it, but she watches you like she’s hanging onto every single word you say, so you’re spilling.

“My dad died when I was little, left me and three other siblings with my Mom,” you offer. “And I love my siblings. Love my mom. She’s been a great parent, better than great actually, but most of our family disowned me when I came out and it was easier to run away than to deal with it.”

Violet’s expression falls, a furrow settling deep between her brows.

“Wow, I’m, uh, I’m really sorry to hear that,” she says, and she sounds sincere. A long moment lapses before she’s adding, “for what it’s worth, I think that’s very brave of you.”

And you seem a little surprised at the sentiment.

“Thanks.” You smile. “That’s sweet of you to say.”

Vi could turn to goo in this dimly lit booth, stained-glass wall sconce casting a warm glow over your pretty face.

“You—” She sniffs, changes the subject because she doesn’t know if she can do this on an empty stomach. “You like pineapple on your pizza?”

“Oh yeah,” you confirm proudly. “It’s a hill I’ll die on, I’m not sorry.”

“God, marry me now.”

She doesn’t realize she says it out loud until you’re bursting into a fit of laughter on your side of the booth.

“So this is something we can agree on?” you ask, head tilting in the way that makes Vi want to grab your face and taste you.

“Oh yeah,” she parrots instead. “One hundred percent.”

Valentino’s becomes routine just as much as Vi seeing you at four every Tuesday and Thursday becomes routine. It’s always after the Thursday session (because they have a three dollar slice from 6 to close) that you and Vi cram yourselves in the same booth near the kitchen and giggle over half a Hawaiian pizza.

“...And my little sister blew up her science project in the fourth grade—”

You choke on your bite, eyes wide as Violet recalls Powder’s little mishap that sent the entire gymnasium evacuating despite the tiniest fire.

“Now she’s about graduate and start school for chemical engineering,” she says, obviously proud.

“She seems like a smart girl,” you observe, if the countless stories Violet shares with you is anything to go by.

You figure being related to someone as great as the new friend you’ve made also speaks for itself.

“The smartest,” she agrees. “I’m proud of her.”

“I’m sure she’s proud of you too,” you assure her. “You’re a good big sister.”

And it’s in these moments that Vi realizes that she’s in far, far deeper than she initially gave stock. Because these past few weeks, she realizes that there’s a lot more to your big brain and your pretty face. You’re an attentive listener, way funnier than she could have anticipated, and just a lot more laid back than you let on.

That much she finds out after the two of you graduate from emailing with silly sign-offs to exchanging phone numbers and texting. It starts off rather irregular, a coffee order here and there, maybe a TikTok that Vi swears is funny, you just have to watch it all the way through! But then she starts texting you when she’s bored, when she’s in class, before practice, after. Even pops the question that’s been niggling at her since she met you: on a scale from 1 - 10 how down are you to smoke?

Like cigarettes?

no, weed, dummy.

Oh. Hmm. 7. 10 if I’m drunk.

She could not wipe the smile from her face even if she tried.

And then she gets the invite.

Ellie swears it’s her in.

“Jesus Christ if you even consider me a friend, you’ll bang,” Ellie calls from the couch.

“It’s just tutoring,“ Vi argues.

“Yeah, at her place,” she scoffs. “At least test the waters, maybe cop a feel.”

“You’re a pig,” Vi snorts, making sure her laptop and all of the worksheets Medarda’s assigned over the course of the week is in her backpack.

“You’ve been wet dreaming over this girl for months.”

“Fuck all the way off.” Vi’s face warms because her best friend isn’t necessarily wrong.

You’re too hot for your own good, but you don’t even know it and Vi thinks she could die sometimes. Especially when you wear your favorite pair of jeans, the ones that hug the swell of your ass just right. Or swipe on that shimmery lipgloss she swears makes your mouth look edible.

If you were willing, Vi would be all over you, but thinking about taking advantage of the fact that you trust her enough to invite her into your space feels a little grimy.

“Whatever, bang, don’t bang,” Ellie says nonchalantly. “Blueball yourself for all I care.”

Vi rolls her eyes, slings her bag over her shoulder before sliding on her shoes and leaving her friend on the couch with a resounding click.

You live off-campus, maybe a ten minute drive, in a cozy little complex near the suburbs. Your roommate, Maddie, a chipper blonde with a bob, is all too eager to leave when Vi arrives.

“Hi, sorry we couldn’t meet anywhere else,” you apologize as you let her into your space. “Even if the library wasn’t closed, the vet said I have to monitor Pip for the next 48 hours.”

Vi raises a brow.

“My cat,” you clarify.

“Oh.” Vi doesn’t know why she suddenly feels like she’s intruding as she hesitantly toes off her shoes and follows you down the hall.

But she does take the opportunity to take you in in all your glory; all cozy and cuddly in an oversized sweatshirt, plaid pajama shorts and mismatched egg socks.

Cute. So fucking cute.

You spare her a glance over your shoulder and she’s clearing her throat.

“We don’t have to have a session tonight," she says, stopping at the threshold of the living room. “I would’ve understood if you had to cancel.”

You shake your head, give her a soft smile that has her knees feel like jelly.

“S’okay,” you assure her. “A promise is a promise.”

And you do start off studying, shoulder to shoulder in front of your coffee table, but then Pip crawls from his little hiding spot under the TV console to curiously nose along Vi’s feet and she’s a goner.

“He’s so sweet,” she practically wails as he paws at her thigh and nudges against her arm so that he can climb into her lap.

You warm at the sight, can’t help but snap a picture, much to Violet’s dismay.

“Stop,” she laughs. “That picture can’t see the light of day.”

“Why?” you whine, making a show of climbing onto your wooden coffee table to get a funny top down photo of the hockey star with your cat. “You and Pip look so cute together.”

She feigns a scowl even though her shoulders shake with laughter.

“I have a bad boy image to uphold, sweetheart.”

You snort, reach into her lap to scratch behind Pip’s ear, and her heart melts, body warm from her ears to her toes.

“Is he sick?” she asks cautiously, petting him softly.

“Just a little,” you say. “Something some rest and medicine won’t fix.”

It’s how the two of you end up on the couch, study materials long forgotten as Animal Planet plays in the background. Pip’s moved to lounge atop the covers draped over your lap and you’re blowing your nose into a tissue as an especially sad segment about baby animals being rejected by their mothers finishes.

Vi knows she shouldn’t laugh, but you’re too fucking cute and she can’t help but coo at you.

“You can’t tell anyone about this,” you hiccup.

“What, that you’re a big soft baby?” she teases.

“Vi,” you whimper.

And something in her brain tickles because she can’t recall a time you’d ever called her by her nickname, only ever referred to her as Violet and nothing else.

She resists a smile.

“Okay, okay,” she gives in. “Lets change the subject.”

You make a noise of agreement as you cuddle your sleepy Pip.

“I actually wanted to ask you something,” she says, arm slung over the back of the couch, fingers a hairsbreadth from your figure.

Test the waters, cop a feel.

Vi’s not particularly into the idea, but the opportunity’s right there in the way wisps of your hair falls from its hold. Her fingers move of their own device, tucking the strands behind your ear.

She feels you still for the slightest, most imperceptible of moments, but then you’re relaxing, letting her fingers brush from your ear down to your shoulder, then back to where it rests on the back of the couch.

“You doing anything on Saturday?” she asks, really hopes you’ll say no.

“Not that I know of,” you say without second thought.

Not that you really need to. Your tight circle of friends are all alike, tethered to their hobbies and their homes.

“I have a game on Saturday,” Vi starts, fiddling with a little hole in the cushion. “If you wanted to come.”

You don’t agree or disagree immediately, and Vi’s scrambling to soothe over any potential discomfort.

“You don’t have to if you don’t wanna, of course,” she says quickly. “I just— I thought you might be interested in going and I’d really like to see you there and—”

A small little laugh puffs from your lips.

“Of course I’ll go,” you agree easily.

Vi deflates in relief.

“Great,” she sighs. “Awesome.”

Vi doesn’t know why she invites you. More so, she doesn’t know why she tells her teammates that she’s invited you because now they’re whooping and hollering in the locker room, towel-whipping her and sing-songing that their star player’s gonna get laid.

Doesn’t know why she invites you because as soon as she glides on the ice, she’s searching the stands high and low for your familiar figure. When she clocks you nestled in the middle with your roommate and another friend she vaguely recognizes, her heart’s soaring and her stomach’s twisting in knots.

Vi’s never nervous, but somehow you bring out the worst of it.

It only takes a few moments, though. The blare of the horn snaps her back into her zone and she leaves all the noise off-rink. In this moment, all she knows is cutting ice, dodging the other team’s most aggressive players and sinking shot after shot.

It’s nearing the end of the second period when she finally glances at the score.

5—4.

The opposing team’s giving them a run for their money and this is probably one of the tightest matches they’ve played all season. She takes a moment to find you in the stands again, and you’re right where she left you, eyes already glued to her as you hover over the edge of your seat.

She hadn’t realized it before, but you’ve got her number painted on her face and another surge of warmth layers over the exertion.

You give her a thumbs up and she feels like lightning.

They reset and she’s off, like a streak of light in the night sky, she’s shuffling the puck towards the goal.

Then you see the navy uniform barreling towards her, voice caught in your throat as Vi gives the puck one last shot before that damned Jersey Number Six shoves her so hard, she’s flinging into the rink’s wall.

The horn chugs, signaling the end of the second period and the stands erupt in a ceremonious cheer as the playback reveals that Vi had sunk the puck before time.

“Fuck yeah!” you cry out, shooting to your feet to clap your hands.

Vi ignores the instigating chants to fight, only really pays attention to your little dance of excitement as she shakes off the other player and rejoins her team for intermission.

“Fuck, Vi, you got it bad, huh?” Abigail Anderson’s spearheading the teasing once they all return to the locker room at the end of the game.

Vi’s body heats at the thought, isn’t really in the business of denying it anymore, because, you know what? Yeah. Vi’s got it so fucking bad for you, she doesn’t even know what to do with herself. You’re her first thought, her final prayer, and everything in between.

So all she does he shrug, can’t help the grin that splits her lips as she rubs her towel through her sweat-damp hair.

She’s the first one out of the locker room, dressed in some sweats and a pullover, towel slung around her neck as she steps into the tunnel. Your contact’s pulled up, and she’s ready to fire off a text asking where you want her to meet you, but she stops short to see you already leaned outside of the change room’s doors.

“Hey, cupcake,” she murmurs, smiling hard when she finds the smudged number 5 still chalked on your face.

“Hi, Violet,” you return shyly, hands clasped behind your back.

She hears the telltale whoosh of the locker room doors, the chattering of her teammates as they poke their heads out into the hall to be nosy, but she’s guiding you along, throwing a wink over her shoulder as the two of you fall into step.

“Thank you for coming,” Vi says after a moment. “You being here really meant a lot to me.”

You don’t know if Vi’s always been this sentimental, but just never given the opportunity to showcase it, or if she’s just buttering you up, but you can’t help but beam at her with pearly teeth and dimpled cheeks.

“God, Violet, you were so good!” you say excitedly, a little skip in your step. “You were in the rink, skating circles around them, like this, and like this.”

She bursts into laughter as you start speeding down the tunnel, dodging garbage bins and jumping up into the air to click your heels.

Something falls out of your little fannypack when you land, and Vi’s crouching down to pick up the tulle baggie to find a little beaded bracelet with a gold clasp that reads puck off.

“What’s this?” Vi asks, and you stop your shenanigans to turn your attention to her.

When your expression falters and you’re running back to her at full speed, she’s holding the baggie up just a little too out of reach for you, grin smug.

“Is this for me, sweetheart?” she asks presumptuously, even though her heart’s thrumming hard in her ribcage.

You’re on your tiptoes, chest pressed against hers, and god, please! is all Vi can think when your head tilts up, a little defeated knit between your eyebrows.

She milks the fuck out of whatever this is, arm banding around your waist as she returns the baggie to you.

“Maybe,” you whisper finally.

“Maybe what?” Vi teases.

“Maybe it’s for you,” you respond, free hand coming to rest on her chest.

“And what do I have to do to get it?” she asks, voice low.

It makes your body jolt hard as a shiver slinks down your spine because there she is, the insufferable flirt who knows exactly what to say to have your brain turn to mush.

You seem like you’re contemplating for a moment and Vi’s breath is hitching in her throat, wondering if you’re willing to play this cat and mouse game with her.

You smile, something glinting in your warm eyes.

“Puck off.”

Your giggle is maniacal as you slip away, leaving her temporarily stunned before she chases you down the tunnel. And she should expect your speed, especially because you’ve got legs, but it takes her a moment to catch up with you when her practice bag’s thumping on her back like that. Her calloused fingers are closing around the flesh of your hips in no time and she’s pulling you back into her arms.

“Cough it up, sweetheart,” she huffs.

You whine.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” you counter.

“Gimme, gimme, gimme.”

And you give in because Violet’s made you weak. She’s holding out her wrist as you free the multi-colored bracelet.

You barely clasp the closure in the ring before Violet’s stumbling into you, a big burly girl from the other team shoulder checking the fuck out of her.

“Nice job standing in the middle of the walk way,” she bites.

Violet only snorts a laugh.

“Whatever, good game,” she calls.

Whoever she is, stops, levels Vi with a deadly look before her gaze flits to the bracelet you’ve just fixed around her wrist to you who stands frozen into place as the tension crackles between them.

“Cute,” she observes and your skin prickles. “Let me take her for a spin?”

“Violet,” you warn when her shoulders square and she takes a step forward.

She looks torn between walking away and beating the shit out of whoever this instigator is, but one of her teammates is shoving her along.

“Leave it.”

Whatever that was shatters the moment between the two of you and Vi’s taking in a deep breath as Abby trails behind the two of you.

The girl whistles for good measure and you throw a dirty look over your shoulder.

She winks.

You’ve still yet to find out who hosts these parties, but this time around gives you a weird sense of deja vu as you climb the steps with Maddie in tow.

You and Vi had parted ways at the rink, not before extending you an invite to the celebration later in the evening.

You should come, I can pick you up.

But per usual, DD duties call, and you’d smiled up at her despite the lingering pressure from the prior confrontation and promised her that yes, you’d absolutely be there.

Maddie squeals from the step below as you climb the front porch, breaths coming out in puffs of steam.

“You look so hot,” she says excitedly.

You giggle nervously, sure hope you do because you’re freezing your ass off!

“Yeah?”

Maddie gives you an incredulous look, eyelids powdered with glitter and gaze lined charcoal. She’s looking extra cute tonight too and you know that the two of you could fall into an endless cycle of teasing because a certain someone’s probably inside tonight.

“If she doesn’t fuck you before the night ends, I will,” Maddie teases, and you’re warming unceremoniously at the thought.

Because maybe you’ve been thinking about it a lot more recently despite only going into this trying to get through these tutoring sessions and dipping. Especially as of late now that Vi’s made it a habit to FaceTime you after practice, on your walk to the library, dripping sweat and chest heaving.

You’d always seen the appeal, but now you feel it.

You smooth down your asymmetrical skirt and Maddie steps up to adjust your tits in your lowcut lace blouse just as the door swings open to reveal none other than Violet.

“Oh—” Her voice catches as she takes you in.

Maddie gives your ass a little swat and Vi’s gaze is following the movement as your roommate pushes past her to slip inside.

“I was— I was just about to step out. To, uh, to call you,” she stammers.

You breath out a little laugh.

“Here I am.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Here you are.”

Jesus, fuck Vi could burst into flames right now. Your boots hug your thighs and Violet’s not gonna lie, she really wishes it were her head squeezed between—

“You look...” Hot, so fucking edible, downright fuck— “...really nice.”

You smile, but you can’t help the way your teeth chatters.

“Fuck, shit, you’re probably cold,” she curses, warm hands closing around your shoulders to pull you inside. “Why didn’t you wear a jacket? You’re gonna get sick.”

I wanted you to want me.

“Guess I just forgot,” you say quietly.

She looks like she wants to scold you, but instead, she’s pulling down her coat, a big black work jacket, hanging from the banister of the stairs around your shoulders and you’re relishing the residual warmth that lingers there and her familiar scent.

“Can I get you a cider?” she asks. “It’s still warm.”

It hits you as her fingers curl through yours, that Vi’s truly nothing like what you initially thought. She’s sweet, and she’s respectful, and she’s everything you could ever hope for.

You freeze at the thought, and Vi’s glancing at you when she’s tugged to a stop.

“You okay?” she hums.

Your eyes search her face, gliding over the scar on her lip and the one slit through her eyebrow. The gold hoop pierced through her nose glints under the lowlight and her thick lashes flutter as she looks down at you.

You give her a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes because wow, you’re in deep.

“I’m okay,” you assure her, give her fingers a squeeze for good measure.

When she finally secures you a mug of steaming cider, she’s guiding you to her group of friends that occupy the living room.

You only recognize Ellie, her best friend and her roommate, and Abby, the captain. Everyone else is a jumbled mix of names and faces and you stick close to Vi as she settles into the left corner of the couch.

You make a move to sit on the armrest, legs crossed and hands folded around your mug, but Vi’s spreading her legs and pulling you into her lap before you can effectively protest.

Her warmth immediately engulfs you and it takes every ounce of self control not to curl up into a ball in front of all her friends and classmates.

As they recap the game and catch up with each other, you remain hushed, eyes flitting from person to person as they speak. Toes curling whenever Violet’s voice vibrates in her chest as she talks big about sports and the hot teams this season.

You’re caught off caught when Ellie’s directing a question towards you and you barely register.

“What do you like to do?” she asks you.

All eyes audibly shift to where you’re cozied up in Vi’s lap, cider empty and abandoned on the side table.

“Uh.”

Your words are lodged in your throat because you’re so used to talking Vi’s ear off about your interests (namely, Animal Planet and your son Pip), showing her your little craft projects you like to do in front of the television on a weekend evening (you’d taken a break from the scarf / hat combo you were knitting to finish the bracelet you designed for Vi), and yapping about some obscure film you’d watched while finishing said projects.

But here, now, you don’t know what to say. Not when this isn’t your typical crowd and you don’t know what to expect from her friends.

Vi must feel your hesitation because her digits are slipping into her jacket, fingertips ghosting the small of your back as she presses a palm against your spine to smooth the tension there.

It’s okay, is a silent insinuation.

You give her a look from the corner of your eye before you turn your attention back to Ellie.

“I don’t do much,” you offer honestly. “Just starting my old cat lady duties early, I suppose.”

Ellie laughs benevolently.

“You have a cat?”

“Yes, his name’s Pip, and he’s basically my kid.”

“Cute,” Ellie coos. “You got any pictures?”

And you seem to light up, spare Vi one more glance as you dig in her coat pocket to produce your cellphone, charms jangling as you power it back on to show Ellie the lockscreen.

“I contemplated naming him Toothless from—”

“—How To Train Your Dragon!” Abby fills in from across the couch. “That’s such a good ass movie.”

It warms Vi to the bone, seeing you and her friends nerd out. Seeing them put in the effort because they know she likes you and seeing you reciprocate because, well, you’re you, and you just need a little warming up.

She doesn’t know how long you and her friends chat for until you’re shifting a little and turning your attention back to her.

“Can you show me the bathroom, please?”

Her gaze flits to her circle, and they’re smirking, obviously under the impression that this must be some sort of code the two of you concocted.

She ignores them, and most importantly she ignores the way her pulse jumps when you stand from your seat and perch between her legs, offering both of your neatly manicured hands to her.

This is getting fucking ridiculous.

The bathroom is tucked under the stairs near the front of the house and she stands post outside the door as you finish up.

It’s only when you’re poking your head outside the door sheepishly that she stands up straight.

“Can you help me with my zipper?” you ask timidly.

She puffs a laugh, slips in through the space you crack for her to find you holding the two sides of your skirt together.

And she knows she shouldn’t look, but the space allows her to see the pink lace of your panties. She’s shoving her tongue in her cheek, focusing on lining up the seams and pulling up your zipper as you hold the fabric taut.

“Thanks,” you whisper, looking up to see that Vi’s impossibly close to you in this cramped little powder room.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” she croaks, leaning against the counter as you wash your hands.

She thumbs the hem of your skirt absently.

“I like this,” she admits, gaze trailing up to meet yours. “You look pretty.”

Your ears burn, unable to meet the smolder of her steely eyes. You’d probably find that her pupils are blown wide if you did. Instead, you’re watching her mouth, lips stained cherry and tongue coming out to wet the dry patch.

You hold your breath as you reach across her for the hand towel, but her hands find your hips, teetering into dangerous territory as she moves almost close enough to slip her hands under your skirt.

“You’re not gonna say thank you?” she asks, watching you through hooded eyes.

A nervous giggle bubbles.

“Thanks, Violet,” you murmur.

“‘Course,” she agrees easily. “You gonna wear it again?”

You bite.

“If you ask nicely.”

She licks her lips again, body flexed as you allow her to press you closer. One of your hands splays on the counter behind her, the other brushing over the blooming bruise on her jaw.

“Can I?” she husks.

You don’t need to ask for clarification, not when her nose is nudging yours and your breaths are mingling.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Pl—”

The door rattles with the ferocity of whoever’s knocking on the other side.

“Hurry up in there, I gotta piss!”

To your dismay, the two of you don’t talk about Saturday night. And things’s aren’t particularly bad, but something’s definitely shifted and it’s driving you nuts.

Vi’s on the ice practicing the following morning and after classes on Monday, so you wait for your session with bated breath on Tuesday. You try extra hard despite every voice of reason telling you that you’re reading into it too much.

Vi smiles at you easily as she drops into the seat across from you, pulling out her biometry textbook without so much as a peep about the fact that the two of you almost kissed in whoever the fuck’s bathroom that was over the weekend.

You’re staring, hard.

Because that familiar feeling’s coming back. The seedling of doubt that had rooted in the beginning about Vi’s intentions with you. She’d done a good job of weeding it out over the weeks, of dismantling whatever image you’d built of her in your head, but it plants itself again.

She’s squeezing your hand across the table and your gaze flits down to her rough fingers. That’s when you notice it, the bracelet, still fastened where you clasped it on game night.

You relax a fraction.

“Everything okay?”

You smile, something small.

“Yeah, good,” you assure her.

The rest of your tutoring session is uneventful, goes off without a hitch. And you’re shameless in admitting that you hate to see her go as she walks you to your car in the student lot near the library.

You’re grasping at straws, clearing your throat before she closes your door for you.

“Uh,” you squeak. “Do you want to come over?”

Vi’s pausing, hand still on the edge of your door as her lips twitch.

“Like right now?”

You nod because you’ve already pulled the trigger.

“Like right now,” you confirm.

She checks her wristwatch, sighs heavily because fuck yes, she’d love to come over right now, but Anderson and Williams are expecting her for a strategy meeting with the coach and—

“Sorry,” you say quickly. “You don’t have to, I know we only really—”

She pinches your cheek before tucking some of your hair behind your ear.

“I can’t tonight, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” she says. “But tell you what, if you’re willing to free up your Friday night, I’d really like to plan something.”

Your heartbeat skips.

“All yours,” you say without missing a beat.

Vi’s grinning wide.

“Perfect, drive safe,” she bids. “See you tomorrow.”

And you don’t know why you’re so fucking high strung, not when Vi hasn’t done anything to make you doubt that this isn’t all in your head, but it only gets worse as the days go by.

It doesn’t come to a head until Thursday, when your tutoring slots are miraculously empty until Vi’s and you receive an email from Medarda to meet in her office after her string of lectures.

“Afternoon,” the older woman greets, smiling warmly at you as she lets you into her office. “Just wanted to check in with your audit and request any feedback you have.”

You think for a moment before shaking your head.

“Nothing in particular that I can think of,” you say easily, then add with a laugh, “feel like I’ll be a professional by the end of the semester.”

“Why do you say that?” Medarda chuckles as she logs into her computer.

“I have a student sitting every Tuesday and Thursday for tutoring in your class,” you reveal.

She gives you look crossed between surprise and amusement.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You giggle at the distant memory of Vi’s expression in the weight room. “She seems to be picking it up well enough, though.”

“Huh, every Tuesday and Thursday?” she asks, fingers flying over her keyboard. “I must be doing something wrong.”

“I’d hardly say that,” you say. “When Violet booked all my sessions, I thought it was a joke, but I think she’s just really dedicated to doing well.”

“Violet?” Medarda repeats, hands stilling over her mouse.

“Yeah, Violet, on the women’s hockey team?”

Your professor’s eyebrows twitch.

“Why would you— huh. Weird,” she comments.

“I admit it was a little strange, but—”

“Violet’s a consistent top scorer on the exams,” Medarda shares. “She’s been top of the class since the beginning of the semester.”

And it’s like the world stills as she reveals that information, fragile pieces shattering as the gears start turning in your brain and you try to put the puzzle together.

You glance at the clock, find that you’re due to meet Violet in half an hour.

“Uh, if you’ll excuse me,” you say politely, try to ignore the concerned expression etched on your professor’s face at your sudden departure. “It was nice chatting with you. If I think of anything feedback-wise, I’ll be sure to email you.”

And you’re running.

Vi’s in the locker room after practice, toweling off after an extra long shower because she’s been looking a little extra forward to seeing you today, but perhaps that’s everyday as of late.

She’s hooking the bracelet you gave her back on when her phone vibrates and she’s practically diving into her locker when your text tone bleats.

sweetheart: I have to cancel your session this afternoon. I’m sorry.

Her expression screws up.

everything ok? can i do anything for you?

sweetheart: Personal things to take care of. I’ll see you next week.

I’ll see you next week.

But what about tomorrow? She’d been working so fucking hard on tomorrow, on finally pulling her head far enough out of her ass to ask you to give the two of you a shot.

She sets her phone down, slumps down on the bench as she turns her wrist and takes in the smooth glass beads of the bracelet.

She sighs. Hard.

You hole up all weekend long, put your phone on do not disturb, and try your best to get whatever this is out of your system. But you’re a slave to your emotions and you can’t help but check your messages every time you know Vi’s free.

It’s a single text on a Saturday night, one that surprises you because you know she has practice now that the big game’s fast approaching.

violet <3: hey sweetheart, just checking in. i know you said you had a few personal things going on, but i’m here if you feel like you need someone <3

You’re texting back before your better judgement can stop you.

Just been a little stressed. You wanna come over?

.

.

.

Then you add, We can smoke.

Vi’s sending you three running emojis and you crack a smile at your screen before realizing that you need to shower.

You lay out some clothes beforehand, ultimately settling on last Saturday’s skirt.

Vi’s giggling as you fumble with the wrapper, rolling it with clumsy fingers because, truthfully, you don’t do this often, but she shuts right up when you don’t break eye contact as the tip of your tongue slides across the seam to seal the joint.

She’d picked you up with a Sprite and a slice to split from Valentino’s, throat drying as you bounded down the stairs in the same fucking skirt that had her touching herself after she’d gotten home from the party, guilty and wound tight. Now the two of you are tucked away behind some abandoned strip.

“Ready?” Her voice rasps as you pop the end between your lips and she brings the lighter to ignite the end for you.

It burns as you inhale and Vi’s thighs squeeze together involuntarily. She’d smoked with you twice before, both times on the roof of your apartment building and at a reasonable distance. But now, she knows what your body feels like, almost knows what your lips taste like.

You take a few more puffs before offering it to her and the smoke begins to plume to fill the space of her little coupe. It’s moments like these, tucked away from prying eyes, that it’s just you and Vi.

Not Vi, the supposed womanizing hockey star, or you, the nerdy homebody tutor. Just the two of you, two souls trying to get through university and carve your paths.

“I aced Medarda’s exam this week,” Vi says softly, jay pinched between her fingers as she watches you with lowering eyes.

“Oh, yeah? I wonder why,” you quip in return, face impossibly close to hers despite the console between you.

“I have a smartypants tutor that does an especially good job when she’s motivated,” she answers.

Your cheeks flame, but you don’t back down. Vi’s been extra good at pushing your buttons and flirting hard as of late, and maybe you’re a little more than willing to receive and reciprocate, but the two of you have been toeing the line, yet neither of you have taken the leap.

This moment, however, feels like it could be it. Like you’re going to find out what the fuck all of this even is.

“I have to meet this tutor of yours,” you play along. “She sounds like a miracle worker.”

“Among other things,” Vi teases, sucking in the smoke and blowing it through her nostrils.

“Like?”

“She’s also funny as fuck,” she hums. “A big baby when we watch Animal Planet.”

You narrow your eyes at her and Vi lets out a little laugh that makes your toes curl.

“Uh-huh?”

“She’s really fucking pretty too,” she says quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she affirms. “Kind of pretty that makes you wanna do bad, bad things.”

You smile falters as a shiver rips down your spine and before you know it, Vi’s putting out the joint before climbing in the cramped backseat of her car to spread her legs.

Doesn’t even give you a moment to process before she’s pulling you on top of her and allowing you to settle comfortably in her lap. Her hands run up your thighs and disappear under your skirt to grab the fat of your ass.

You breathe out a little giggle as your slender fingers come up to cup her jaw.

“Think my tutor’ll be mad at me?” Vi murmurs, nose brushing yours. “‘Cuz I really, really wanna kiss this pretty girl in my lap right now.”

You let out a broken little sigh when her hips buck.

“Maybe she’ll forgive you,” you whisper. “I know I would.”

And that’s all the affirmation Vi needs from you before she’s taking the plunge and slotting her lips with yours; kissing you with so much fervor, you’d think she needs you to breathe. She tastes like mint and weed and you can’t get enough.

Vi’s all-consuming, her kiss a delicious mix of teeth and tongue. And, god, her hands. Rough and calloused, but gentle in the way she explores your body. It isn’t until she’s snapping the band of your thong and her fingertips ghost the seam of your sticky heat that you’re hyper-focusing.

“Mmmph, Violet, Vi—” Your voice cracks as she breaks from your lips to map a series of kisses from your jaw, to the juncture behind your ear, down the column of your neck. “Wait.”

She stops, hands pulling from under your skirt like you’ve burned her. And perhaps you have, branded nearly every part of her because she can’t really think of a sound moment if you’re not there.

“Sorry, sorry,” she shudders as the arousal ebbs through her tightened body. “I—”

I’m caught up. I’m losing it, and it’s all your fault, and—

“Violet,” you swallow, fingers toying with the collar of her varsity sweatshirt. “I have something to say.”

Her throat bobs and her grey eyes gleam like ash in the lowlight of the backseat of her car. The windows are smoked out and it’s exceptionally warm, equal parts sexual tension and another thing Vi can’t quite pinpoint.

“Yeah, anything,” she assures you, hands resting on your waist instead. “You can tell me anything.”

One of your palms settles over her chest, right where her heart is and you suck in a sharp breath.

“I— uh, I really like you, Violet,” you admit quietly. “A lot more than I think I’ve ever liked someone in a long, long time.”

Oh.

Oh. Here it comes, the big fat rejection. The coming to your senses.

“But?”

The look on your face is devastating and Vi’s scared.

“I have to know that if I give you a chance, you won’t abuse it,” you hiccup, and wow, that’s definitely not what she expects you to say, but fuck does it leave a sour taste in her mouth.

“Abuse it?” she repeats, face crumpling.

“Violet,” you sigh.

“Abuse what?” she husks.

“I know you—”

“Do you?” she scoffs, a wave of irritation washing over her as she looks you with disappointment. “What gave you the idea that I would ever even dream of taking advantage of you giving me a chance?”

“You don’t necessarily have a spotless record, Violet,” you say, voice edged. “And I know that I’m not your usual—”

“Not my usual what?” The venom in Vi’s tone is uncharacteristic, but this is not at all how she expected tonight to go and she’s frustrated. “Not my usual type? You internalized all this shit that people say about me even though I’ve been trying to get you to see me for months.”

Emotion clogs your throat because a small part of you knows that Vi’s right. She’s never given you an outright reason to doubt her interest in you, but it all just seems too good to be true.

“Sue me for wanting to protect myself,” you choke, climbing out of her lap and back into the front seat. “Especially because I know that you don’t actually need help in Medarda’s class.”

And that catches Vi off guard. You see as much in the rearview mirror when she pales.

She clambers back into the driver’s seat.

“Who told you that?” she asks, not even bothering to deny the fact.

“I mentioned that I was tutoring you in passing when Medarda asked for feedback on her class,” you respond, crossing your arms over your chest. “She asked why I’d be doing that when you’re top of all her sections.”

Violet’s voice is stuck in her chest.

“And then your past hook ups parade around campus like a reminder that—,” you cut yourself off, obviously hurt after bottling this all up. “And it isn’t any of my business, nor are we anything enough for me to plausibly upset—”

“Yes, I lied,” Vi admits quietly. “But only about one thing.”

Your breath catches.

“You’re right, I don’t need help in Medarda’s class. I lied about being clueless and I signed up for tutoring even though I didn’t need it,” she says.

“Why?”

“You know why,” Vi huffs. “From the moment I met you, I knew.”

It’s a glaring insinuation that makes you crack.

“No one ever says it out loud, but I know what everyone thinks,” you choke. “Violet’s fucking that loser?”

“You really believe that?”

“God, Violet, I don’t know what to fucking believe,” you cry out. “My life’s fucking fine and dandy and then you show up and make me fucking question everything I—”

Vi lets out a humorless laugh, can’t even look at you and it could make you sick.

“You’re so fucking loved by everyone, even those who won’t admit it,” you croak. “And you’re incredible at everything you do, turn everything you touch to gold, and I’m just...”

Vi’s brows furrow.

“You’re what?”

“I’m me,” you whisper meekly. “I’m just me and you’re you, and I just don’t see what makes me so different.”

And Vi realizes that she’d read it all wrong.

“Look at me,” she says softly, fingers tracing your jaw.

You knuckle your tears away, make a petulant noise in your throat.

“You wanna know why I booked all your stupid tutoring sessions?” she huffs. “Because I really fucking like you, ________. And it’s beyond wanting to fuck you even though god knows I’d fucking die if you let me. It’s so much more than having you physically. Because I’ll take being just friends with you if it means having you around. I don’t give a shit about anything else but you.”

It’s the most sound declaration you hear from the girl in the semester you’ve known her and it makes you cry.

“You make me feel so fucking normal and you remind me that I don’t need to be anything else but me,” she breathes. “And I get where you’re coming from, I hear you. I just really hope you hear me too.”

“I do,” you whisper. “I’m just—”

Vi squeezes your thigh, takes your hand in hers and brings your knuckles to her lips.

“Let’s get you home, okay?” she offers gently.

Vi only has one more game before the championships and she won’t lie and say that this limbo with you has her feeling like she’s going to be ill.

You’d cancelled her tutoring sessions this week, told her that maybe the two of you needed to spend some time apart and that she was clearly doing a number on you. So she agrees, tries to give you space to work through what’s weighing on you.

sweetheart: Good luck at your game tonight, Violet. I’m rooting for you.

She really wishes you’d be there, but she knows you need the time alone.

thanks, sweetheart. i appreciate you.

“Alright Vi, we have fifteen til puck drop,” Ellie says carefully, has been front row to everything transpiring between you and her best friend.

Vi tucks her phone away in her backpack, unhooks your bracelet from around her wrist and fastens it to the handle of her bag, and grabs her stick from the rack before she lets her teammates jostle her into the tunnel.

And she wishes she could lock in, clear her head and get into the game, but all she can think about is you.

It’s a narrow victory once the game ends, but she can’t find it in herself to celebrate, especially not at the kickback afterwards because fucking Sev and her assholes are there.

“Where’s your little dime piece?” she taunts.

“Fuck off,” Vi warns, obviously not in the mood.

“Shame,” she whistles. “She looks like a fucking weirdo, but she sure does have a fat ass—”

Ellie’s fist cracks so hard across her jaw.

“She told you to fuck off,” she hisses.

Sev spits the blood in her mouth on the toe of Ellie’s shoe, fists bunching the collar of her sweater.

“Keep that fucking energy on the ice because I’m gonna wipe the floor with your fucking pissbaby team.”

You wake up on Monday morning to a text from Vi and a handful of notifications from Instagram.

violet <3: can i see you this week?

You open Instagram.

sev.94 has requested to follow you! sev.94 has sent you a message request!

Your brows furrow, opening the message request hesitantly. There’s a few DMs and a video from this Sev person.

sev.94 hey pretty, sorry to text you like this. sev.94 just thought you should know the kind of person your little girlfriend is sev.94 sent a video. sev.94 i don’t really do relationships, but i’d take your mind off of it if you let me.

You’re playing the video, quality grainy and audio blasted. You don’t know what you’re looking at at first, it’s dark, and there’s so many voices. But you see skin, see the outline of a girl’s naked back, delicate and arched in pleasure.

You think this Sev person’s just fucking with you, playing some stupid joke with a shitty punchline as someone’s hands snake around to palm the flesh of the unnamed girl’s ass, but then you see it.

The bracelet.

Vi going to lose her shit for two reasons.

(1) Because you haven’t responded to her message despite your read receipts being on, and (2) she can’t fucking find the bracelet you’d gifted to her.

She’s barging into Ellie’s room, shirtless and hair dripping.

“Jesus, fuck, do you knock?” Ellie hisses, buds she was in the midst of grinding scattering across the floor.

“I can’t find the bracelet she gave me,” Vi says quickly.

Ellie’s face scrunches.

“Huh?”

“The bracelet ________ gave to me,” Vi says. “I hooked it on my backpack before practice on Saturday but it’s not there anymore.”

Ellie’s expression morphs, eyes narrowing in thought.

“Maybe you misplaced it,” Ellie offers. “Regardless, we practice tonight, I’ll help you look for it.”

Vi’s chest is tight, doesn’t want to admit that the stupid little bracelet means way more to her than she lets on. She only ever takes it off when she’s on the ice, won’t risk losing it when she’s got a target on her back and everyone plays rough.

It turns out to be futile when they enter the rink and she retraces her steps only to come up empty-handed.

This, she realizes, is the start of a very long week.

You should’ve seen it coming, really. Don’t know why you tried to psyche yourself into thinking that Vi could ever really want something with you when the world’s her fucking oyster and she can have anything she wants.

And you want to feel bad when she texts you intermittently through the days, checking in, offering to meet you, anything. But part of you is angry, unforgiving, tired.

You could’ve gone the rest of the school year unscathed if she’d just left you the fuck alone, but she pried and she tugged and she settled, and she made a home inside of you and you hate that you let her.

xxxx: i really miss you.

You block her number, block her social media, and even though finals are imminent, you now know that Vi’s been playing you for a fool this whole time and you cancel every last one of the sessions she’s booked.

You hope she’d get the message, figure that you’d caught onto her little game and aren’t willing to play anymore, but she doesn’t, that much is clear when you’re finishing up your two thirty session and find her stalking into the library just as the student leaves your table.

“Are we going to talk like adults or are you going to keep acting like—”

You don’t entertain a response, just pack your bag and sling the strap over your shoulder because the tears are bubbling and you don’t trust yourself not to break.

“Seriously?” Vi bites, hot on your heels as you throw all of your weight against the library doors and suck in the icy air.

“Leave me alone, Violet,” you warn.

“No, fuck that,” Vi spits, hand closing around your bicep. “You don’t— You don’t get to make me fall for you and then try to leave with no explanation.”

“Fuck you,” you whisper.

“What?”

“Fuck you, Violet,” you hiccup, yanking your arm from her grasp and putting as much distance as you can between the two of you. “I hope you and your friends got a good laugh out of it.”

Her face is screwing up and if she wasn’t confused before, she’s definitely confused now.

“Listen, I can’t fix something if I don’t know what’s wrong,” Vi argues. “I’m so fucking lost right now.”

You hate how believable she is. How the thought of hurting you seems so inconceivable to her. But that grainy video was clear enough.

“I hate you,” you murmur. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.”

Your name comes out broken, like you’ve wounded her. But you’ve officially folded your hand, won’t dare look her in her eyes because the both of you know it’s not true.

The championships roll in fast like a tide and neither your or Violet are ready for it.

You hear they’re live streaming the game, it’s the most anticipated one in the season. Piltover Stallions against the Zaun City Tigers. A part of you wishes you could support them, but then you’re starkly reminded that you’re a laughingstock amongst them.

The library on a Friday night is as quiet as can be, the hum of the fluorescents background to the voices in your head that are loud. You’re so engrossed in the study material that you don’t realize someone’s making a beeline for you until they’re knocking on the tabletop.

Ellie Williams stands before you in all her lean glory, hands sunk in her pockets as she stares down at you.

“Aren’t you supposed to be playing?” Your tone is clipped, disinterested because you believed that you and Ellie could be friends once upon a time.

“Coach sat me out because I socked one of those dickhead Zaun City Tigers in the mouth last weekend.”

You humph.

“Listen, we don’t have much time left, so I’m going to make this short and sweet,” she says. “Whatever happened between you and Vi is obviously personal and that typically would have nothing to do with me, but she can’t get her shit together because all she can think of is you.”

“And that’s my problem because...?”

“I know that Vi comes off a certain way, but she’s my best friend, like my best friend in this entire shithole of a world, and she’s—”

“No offense, Ellie,” you cut her off. “But if Vi sent you here to plead her case, I think that’s pathetic and—”

“Okay, well maybe if you shut up for three seconds and let me get to my point—”

You close your textbook and shove it in your backpack before standing to signal the end of the conversation.

“Whatever, I don’t have time for this.”

Ellie watches you walk away, takes in a deep breath because wow, you’re a bitch when you’re mad, but she absolutely gets why Vi is whipped.

“Violet’s in love with you.”

And that statement makes you freeze. Tears cloud your vision as your fists tighten around the strap of your bag.

“If you fuck someone else while you’re in love, I want nothing to do with it,” you bite.

Ellie’s brows shoot up.

“Whoa, what?”

“Violet fucked someone else as soon as things got tough, and if that’s the kind of person she is in love, I’d rather be alone,” you say stiffly.

“Respectfully, there’s no way Vi’s interested in getting pussy from anywhere else with how down bad that bitch is for you, but even if she was, I spend over seventy percent of my day with her and know that all she’s been doing the past two weeks is moping over the fact that you handed her ass to her on a silver platter.”

“There’s a video.”

Ellie’s brows must be mingling with her hairline right about now.

She reaches a palm out.

Show me.

You open the DM from sev.94, watching as Ellie’s expression morphs from morbid curiosity to disbelief, to a quiet rage.

She’s handing your phone back to you and grabbing you by your forearm.

“She’s fucking dead.”

When you enter the rink, the ice is tense.

It’s the middle of the second period and the game is tied 3—3.

Your eyes comb the playing area, can’t find Vi’s jersey number in the mix, but finally settle on her on the bench, shoulders terse and obviously on edge.

She doesn’t clock you yet, had given up on the idea of patching things up with you after your last conversation.

“Vi’s been missing her bracelet since practice on Saturday,” Ellie’d told you on the way there, then pulled out her phone to show you the photo she’d taken of Vi passed out in nothing but her boxers on the couch the night of the last game, fucked up and sad. “We went out for like an hour after the game, but that was it. Vi was too fucking in her head.”

The girl from the tunnel, the one who’d been taunting the two of you, you piece together, has been the one behind it all, stirring the pot.

Throughout the end of the second period and all through intermission, Vi doesn’t notice you, too busy trying to get off the fucking bench to survey the crowd.

It’s only during final puck drop in the third period that their coach finally gives in, smacks the back of her helmet and tells her to make him proud that she lifts her head up.

And there, front and center of the student section is you.

Her eyes are wide, body frozen in place as she tries to figure if you’re just a figment of her imagination, but then the horn’s blaring and she’s having to zone back in.

At this point in time, she doesn’t give a fuck if they win or lose, she just needs to get to you.

“Your little bitch looks cute tonight,” Sevika comments wolfishly. “Bet she tastes as good as she looks.”

Vi easily intercepts her pass, cuts between two players as she shuffles it along with practiced precision. She sends the rubber flying and the goalie narrowly misses block.

“Maybe if you played as good as you ran your mouth, you’d wipe the floor with my pissbaby team you big bitch,” Vi calls, resetting in their corner.

And perhaps you’re her good luck charm, the only thing she needed to see to get back into it, because Vi reignites. The adrenaline pumping through her veins fuels every shot, and soon the timer’s buzzing.

7—5.

The roar is deafening, but you’re all she sees in the ocean of cowbells and pompoms.

She barely inches forward before something arcs through the sky and lands before her feet.

Her bracelet.

You watch from the sidelines, the final confirmation as Vi picks up the loop and launches herself at Sevika.

The crowd cheers.

Fight, fight fight!

You don’t know how many swings Vi gets in, just know that she’s flashing you a bloody smile before she skates off the ice.

Ellie emerges from the locker room and you’re perking up.

Most, if not all, of Vi’s teammates had come and gone and you’d been waiting patiently, anxiously, for her to emerge since the end of the game nearly an hour ago.

“She’s the last one in there,” is all Ellie says before strolling off.

“What if...what if she doesn’t want to see me?” you ask hesitantly.

Ellie chuffs a little laugh, doesn’t bother turning as she calls from halfway down the hall, “Find out for yourself, sweetheart.”

Vi’s pulling a tank top over her head as soon as you enter and your cheeks bloom when you catch a split-second of her tits.

She glances up at you, nose bruising and lip busted.

“Hey,” she spares you, stuffing her uniform and skates into her gym bag.

“Hi,” you squeak.

A pregnant pause as you take her in, hesitant to close the distance between the two of you.

“Didn’t think you’d make it,” she observes.

And you don’t really have a bullshit response, know that you had every intention of staying as far away as humanly possible, so you settle on humming your agreement.

“Ellie told me,” she starts. “Why you lashed out on me.”

You swallow.

“And part of me gets it, I really do,” she continues, “but I also thought you had more faith in me than that.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “Fuck, Violet, I’m so sorry.”

“I told you to free up Friday night a few weeks ago,” she says, shuts her locker door and slumps down on the bench behind her. “I was going to tell you everything, officially ask you out, but then all that shit happened and it caught up to me.”

You take a step forward, and then another, and another until you’re standing in front of her.

“You have to know that I would never do something like to anyone, but especially not to you,” she says softly, taking your hands in hers.

“I know.”

She brushes her lips against your knuckles, pulls you in closer so that you’re standing between her legs.

“You’re right,” she continues, voice hoarse. “I don’t have a spotless track record, but I meant it when I said that I don’t give a shit about anyone else but you. I would give you anything I can if you let me.”

Your hands rest on her shoulders, her chin resting against the plush of your belly as you look down at her, speechless.

“That night, in the car, you said that you didn’t see what made you so different.”

“I don’t,” you admit.

Vi stands, caging you between strong arms as she drops her face into the hollow of your neck. You shiver when you feel her lips press to the skin there.

“We could start off with the obvious.”

One of her hands rests on the small of your back, pulls you flush so that the only things that separate you are the flimsy fabrics of your clothes. The other grabs a handful of your ass.

“I meant it when I said that you’re the kind of pretty that makes me wanna do bad things.”

You gulp, thighs squeezing as her lips part and she bites.

“Vi.”

“You got a giant brain,” she laughs breathily, fingers coming around the fiddle with your belt.

She kisses you, mouth hot and breath warm. It’s better the second time around, no doubt obscuring you from truly indulging.

“Pl—ease.”

“You’re kind and you’re selfless, and you’re my sweet, sweet little crybaby.”

“Violet,” you sigh breathlessly. “Listen to me.”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Fuck me,” you pant. “Please.”

Violet nearly runs two red lights and whips into your neighborhood on two wheels.

The two of you are stumbling up the stairs and she’s spanking your ass on the last step as you fiddle with your keys and try to find the right one under the dim light of the complex hall.

Violet’s already unbuckling her belt as you turn the key, nearly taking you down as she shoves you inside and up against the front door.

“Maddie home?” she breathes.

“Out of town,” you answer quickly, kicking off your sneakers and pulling your sweater over your head. “Visiting her family upstate.”

“Perfect,” Vi hums. “I’ve been fantasizing about fucking you on your couch.”

“Oh–”

One of her rough hands comes to cup your tit over your bra, her tongue laving over the other while her free hand makes work of the clasp.

You walk her back to the couch, stand between her knees as she flops back into the seat. Her arms spread over the back as she settles in, legs widening to give you ample room to strip.

Her eyes never leave yours as you easily unclasp your bra and shimmy out of your jeans, leaving you in nothing but a tight pair of little lace panties and pink socks that has Vi wet.

“C’mere,” she rasps, pulling you to straddle her lap.

Her lips immediately latch onto one of your pebbled nipples, tongue hot as her hands wander.

“Fuck.”

“Tell me what you want,” she husks, biting down on the swell of your breast.

And having Violet this close, her touch excruciatingly featherlight and tempting, you wind tight.

“Want you inside of me,” you whimper, fingers fixing around her throat. “Please.”

“Yeah?” she eggs you on, lips brushing yours as her palms settle on your ass. “You want me to fuck you?”

You nod eagerly, hips rolling in her lap as her breath pitches.

“Vi.”

Her nickname puffing from your lips makes her crack. You’re wound in her arms, face in her neck as she peels your thong taut, away from your waiting cunt, and runs her fingertips from your slit down to your clit.

“F...F—uck,” you sigh.

“Holy shit,” she marvels, licking her lips when she easily glides through your folds. “You’re really fucking wet.”

You grind down against her, clothed clit catching against her belt buckle. The cool metal sends a jolt through your pussy and you’re moaning loud in her ear.

And Violet really wants to take her time with you, wants to milk the first time she ever gets to fuck you for as long as she humanly can, but she’s still fully dressed and you’re practically naked, perfect tits pressed to her chest and fat ass in the palm of her hand.

She shifts you further into her, so that she can peek over the arch of your back as she sinks her middle and ring finger three knuckles deep into your needy heat.

“Ah, fuck, Violet.” Your voice breaks as she starts pumping into you, your arousal coating her fingers and the sound of her easily slipping through your pussy reverberating through the living room. “Fuckfuckfuck.”

She kisses your jaw, litters them until she’s catching your lips and licking crudely into your mouth.

You cry out when her fingers slip out.

She’s leaning the both of you forward, easing you from her lap and onto the couch as she takes a moment to shuck her shirt off and pull her belt through the loops in one tug.

You watch her through it all, the way the trim muscles of her biceps and shoulders flex as she leans over you, takes you by the ankles and yanks you until your ass is half-hanging from the edge of the couch.

She kneels before you, strips you out of your thong.

You don’t miss the way she shoves the soiled fabric in her jeans pocket.

“Jesus,” she breathes, gaze fluttering between your eyes and your pussy. “You’re so fucking pretty, sweetheart.”

Your toes curl at the praise, fingers closing around where Vi’s holding your legs apart.

“You know how bad I’ve been wanting to taste your pussy?” she rasps, gathering the lewdest amount of spit to dribble onto your clit. When you don’t answer, she’s freeing a hand to slap your slit.

“Nnngh, fuck!”

“Think I’ve always wanted to have you,” she admits. “But it was that stupid party fucking party and that stupid fucking skirt. God, I would’ve fucked you in that skirt if you let me.”

“Yeah?” you whine breathlessly. “Tell me.”

She’s stuffing you again without warning, curling her fingers in a way that has your back arching off the couch.

“Would’ve bent you over that sink and made you watch yourself while I ate you out,” she says easily.

And it’s so fucking delicious, the nasty shit Vi’s saying to you while she pounds your aching heat; the way she finally gives in and tastes you, sucking on your clit like she’s starved and you’re the only thing that can sate her hunger.

Your fingers curl through her hair as you teeter dangerously over the edge, nails grazing her scalp and tugging when she hits the spot deep inside of you that has you keening for more.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ cum,” you choke. “Holy fuck.”

You feel Vi grin against your pussy, watch her with a slack jaw and half-lidded eyes because the sight of her between your legs in your moonlit living room has your insides twisting hard.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” she encourages you. “Cum all over my fingers. Wanna see you gush.”

“Hah, h—” Your thighs tighten around her head, fingers curled so hard in her hair, she moans in a mix of pleasure and pain. “Don’t stop, Vi, please.”

She moans into your cunt, savoring the heady taste of you as you practically ride her face.

The sound that fills the room is downright filthy, the sight that Vi beholds when she peeks from where she’s devouring you equally so. It’s picturesque, the way she has you writhing. A sheen of perspiration glistens over your flesh as she eats you out and it’s a perfect mix of her tongue and her fingers that send you soaring over the edge.

It’s a pitched whine that echos, the staccato of your shaky breathing that sings like music in her ears as you cum. And hard.

Her lashes flutter against the skin of your inner thighs as she peppers kisses there, her lips slick with spit and arousal.

“Fuck, babe,” she whispers. “That was...”

She can’t really choose a specific word, is just mind blown at the fact that she’d just made you cum so hard and so fast. It makes her tense and tingle, a smug wave of pride washing over her as she starts mouthing a trail from your belly, between the valley of your tits, up your throat, to finally press a chaste one on your lips.

You taste yourself first and foremost, but then you taste everything she’s ever wanted to say to you, all the unspoken words and the things she’d been too scared to share. Feel it in the way her hands are roaming, squeezing, caressing.

You breathe a disbelieving laugh, peck her lips again when she pulls away to brush your hair from your face.

“Vi—” Your breath hitches and your eyes glaze.

“I know, I know.”

You wrap your arms around her shoulders, legs hooking around the narrow of her waist as she bears your weight and picks up your boneless figure.

“I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart.”

The sun is warm against your skin when you wake up the following morning, your bedroom bathed in an orange glow.

You feel bone tired, body sore and muscles tight as your arm sweeps the other side of the bed in search of balmy skin, but instead you’re met with cool sheets and swelling dread.

You sit up quickly, find that you’re still naked, and take a moment to asses your bedroom. The bathroom door’s cracked, light off, and everything else is exactly where you left it.

Everything except Vi.

Oh, you think to yourself.

Almost don’t want to leave your room because your empty apartment will be confirmation enough that Vi really did get the last laugh in the end.

But you force yourself out of bed, shrug on an oversized t-shirt before finding the living room just as still as it had been before the two of you had barreled in the night before and she’d left her mark on you.

The only sign that the entire thing wasn’t just a figment of your imagination was Vi’s belt strewn haphazardly on the coffee table.

You feel hollow, almost numb, and even if a persistent part of your brain was consistently telling you that you should’ve known better, the tears well in your eyes because you’d really hoped Violet was different.

You knuckle the tears away angrily, mind racing far too fast to register the door quietly unlocking and the soft footfalls coming down the hall.

“Babe?”

Your gaze snaps up.

Like a vision, Vi’s standing in the doorway, a handful of plastic bags in tow. She’s wearing her clothes from last night and the puffs under her eyes make her a little worse for wear.

She sets the bags down on the eat-in, rounds the couch to take you by the shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” she worries. “What’s going on?”

You hiccup, crumpling in her arms because you were so fucking scared.

“Thought you left,” you croak.

Vi breathes a sigh of relief, blowing out a hollow laugh because her girl’s such a baby.

“You have jack shit in your fridge,” she teases lightly. “How am I supposed to make you a five star breakfast with greek yogurt and carrot sticks?”

You whine.

“Don’t care about breakfast,” your muffled voice sounds from where your face is pressed in her chest. “Just wanted to wake up to you.”

Violet groans.

“You’re so cute,” she laughs, kissing the top of your head.

“I wanna go back to bed,” you mutter petulantly, emotional whiplash making your eyes droop.

“You’re not gonna let me make you breakfast?” Vi picks, smoothing the hair from your face.

Your eyes catch the bracelet refastened around her wrist and you grin softly, taking her fingers to press a kiss to her palm.

She could combust, gaze gooey as she watches you watch her.

Yeah, Vi has a huge problem.

One that’s particular, and overarching; one she doesn’t think she can go without.

And frankly, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

neng © 2024

Big Chested S/O | Arcane Women

request for arcane women with big titty gfs

•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•

genre: smut (minors dni)

characters: ambessa, caitlyn, grayson, mel, sevika, vi

cw: fem!reader, big chested!reader, titty play, titty sucking, marking (vi), titty slapping (grayson), strap on sex (grayson, sevika)

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Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa cannot keep her hands to herself. She had invited you to soak in the bath with her and cleared the attendants and guards from the room when you first entered, leaving the two of you alone. You're sitting between her legs with your head against her chest.

Within minutes, her hands reach around to your chest. She squeezes roughly; she treasures you, but you're a grown woman and can take some rough handling.

“Touch yourself for me”, she all but orders, and you listen, hand slipping beneath the warm water to play with your slit while she gropes your tits and rolls your nipples between her fingers. “Does that feel good?”

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Caitlyn Kiramman

DIABOLICAL ORAL FIXATION.

Cait finally comes to bed and finds you lying awake with a book. “You didn't have to wait for me,” she says, crawling over to your lap instead of her own side of the bed.

“I'll always wait for you, you know that”, you sigh in response. She pulls you into a kiss to show appreciation before trailing her lips down your neck and collarbone. When she gets to your chest, She lifts her head to look you in the eyes before leaning down again to take one of your nipples into her mouth, sucking on it. She presses a finger to your hole as she pulls away from your chest.

“Can I touch you while I suck on these gorgeous tits?” she asks, smile splitting into a grin as she lowers her head back down.

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Grayson

She likes to watch them bounce as you ride her strap.

“Yeah, just like that”, she grunts as you bounce on the toy. She calls it training. She knows it's not right to engage with a subordinate in this way, but when you make such a pretty picture to look at, who is she to deny herself? She's not making eye contact with you though, focused on your chest in her face. When you slow down a little, thighs burning with the ache of riding, she brings a hand up to harshly slap them. “Why are you slowing down? I'm not finished with your training,” she says, hands gripping your hips to assist you in gaining back your pace. “If you keep up just like that, I'll give you a reward.”

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Mel Medarda

Mel asks you to model topless for her so she can paint you. You have to get her back on course multiple times because she keeps getting distracted by your tits.

“I thought you were a woman of composure”, you tease as she gets caught staring again. She rolls her eyes in response.

“I've been finished for five minutes; I just wanted extra time to stare at them,” Mel says matter of factly. You get up from where you've been posing, engulfing her in a back hug as you examine her artwork. It's impressive. She paints you in such a sensual light. Your hands drop from her hips to her thighs. “While I was painting your chest, I was thinking about having them as my next canvas.”

“Yeah? If you show me how much you like them, I'll think about it,” you say as she turns in your arms, ready to walk you over to her bed and worship your chest with her mouth.

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Sevika

Sevika likes to feel them rub against yours as she fucks you nice and deep. She thrusts her hips, grinding her cock inside you. You'd been begging for her to get the strap and fuck you, and now that she's inside, you're a drooling mess. She's completely covering you, pressing her muscular body on top of yours. The way your sensitive nipples rub against her chest as she rocks against you makes her eyes roll to the back of her head. Skin-on-skin contact is Sevika's weakness.

Sevika has a very short list of things that get her going, and your tits are top of that list.

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Vi

After a rough fight, Vi will find an empty room, back you up against the wall and let out all her pent-up energy on your tits. She loves to leave marks, decorating your chest with hickies and bite marks. She's enthusiastic, letting her actions tell you how she feels. She's desperate with how her tongue drags along your skin, and her teeth sink in. Her mouth is too occupied to speak, but you can hear the curses she grits out between biting and sucking on your precious skin. She's also a proud woman, and knowing you have her marks on you fuels her to do more. Your boobs are the perfect destresser for her.

“Fuck, look at you”, she growls, admiring her dirty work. “Always so fucking pretty.”

•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•○•

Thank you so much for requesting, I'm so abnormal about the arcane ladies, I need to write more for them. I hope you enjoyed!!

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

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

Jayce:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Viktor:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  - For the nights when he feels lonelier  

Ekko: 

  - Communism  

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vander:

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

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

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

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

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

Silco:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jinx:

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

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

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

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

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

Vi:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Caitlyn:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mel:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sevika:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you don’t know how long you’ve been lying here; sweaty, panting, sinking your nails into vi’s shoulder, but all you know is that she’s been having way too much fun. too much fun seeing how many times she could make you cum; it was a joke at first, mindlessly mumbling that she could make you cum more than 3 times, more than any ex has in a night. for a second you knew she was joking but when you saw the mischievous glint in her eyes and that infuriating yet adorable grin, you knew you were fucked. vi wasn’t joking anymore.

she was adamant about making you cum more times for her than anyone else. “vi,” you murmured, fingers threading through her hair with a soft whine. her hum vibrates through your body and curls her fingers slowly, brushing against your walls perfectly. “fuck!” you gasped, squeezing your legs around her head and grinding up against her touch. vi’s quick to remove her hand from your hip, to grip your leg, pinning it down as she fucks her fingers in and out faster, grinning around your clit with each sound you let out.

“baby, s’too much,” you moaned and gripped the back of her head. were you trying to use her away or pull her closer? you weren’t sure anymore. the grip she has on your legs gets tighter each time your legs start to tremble, to thrash around and try to move, and by the way her eyebrows pinch forward into a tight frown, and her eyes flicker up to your face, it’s a silent you’re not going anywhere. the tears well up in the corners of your eyes before you can stop them, your walls clenching tightly around her fingers with each thrust and your toes curling.

vi grins once more, her fingertips brushing your velvet walls more vigorously and she swears that seeing you lying here, panting heavily and sweating profusely, is the second hottest thing she’s ever seen. watching you cum is always first. you assumed she would be done after the third time making you cum, but as you hold her tighter you realise she’s not.

it’s at a certain thrust of her fingers that your hand grabs a fistful of hair and grinds against her tongue and fingers sloppily. “gonna cum,” you choked out, tightening around her fingers. i know, she thinks and hums around your clit. “vi, stop, i can't,” but she doesn’t, she never falters and keeps fucking you.

your eyes flutter closed, the tears slip down your face and you tremble beneath her as your fingers tugged and pulled her hair; dragging her where you needed as you fucked yourself against her mouth. vi reluctantly removes her hand from your leg, and presses it down on your stomach instead, enjoying the way your back arched into her and your mouth opened with a loud shaky moan. “vi!” you cried out, your cunt squeezing around her fingers more. “please, m’gonna cum, please,” you sobbed pathetically.

she simply hums again, somewhat nods and curls her fingers, reaching that spongy spot deep inside that you barely get time to register what’s happening; your body tenses, hands holding her head still against you as you gush over her tongue with a broken string of whimpers.

vi fucks you through your orgasm, riding you through your high before she’s withdrawing her fingers, leaving you whiny and empty, and presses a kiss to your inner thigh with a subtle grin. “so, when you’ve had water, wanna see if we can make you cum a few more times?”

Arcane women with a flirty and seductive reader?

Hey doll <3

As soon as I read this I knew I had to write about it!

Content: head cannons with a small amount of nsfw - lingerie description, flirting, slight power play if you squint

I feel like considering Caitlyn’s busy job, on a constant trial and error to find Jinx; she wouldn’t have a whole lot of time to spend with you.

She’s the kind of person to be walking through the streets of Piltover on a patrol, and see a lingerie set through one of the shop’s windows; and buy it instantly for you, as an apology.

By now you’d probably have a whole wardrobe of laced underwear and ruffled bras, the materials would always be comfortable and top quality, and sometimes, if she felt really bad; it’d even be custom made to fit your body perfectly.

However, the times she did have off to relax, you’d make sure to use it to your advantage.

Though Caitlyn wasn’t entirely the type to indulge in your seductive antics and teasing hip sways, some nights she’d give in and let her eyes wander.

She was definitely a more observant person, usually not putting her hands on you unless you verbally asked for it, most of the time she’d just let her gaze rack shamelessly over you.

She adored your body, and that was not an understatement, it didn’t matter what you did, if you used the products she’d spoilt you with or even didn’t do anything to pamper your appearance at all, she still sat in awe every time, in her eyes, you were perfect.

And luckily for you, she wasn’t the type to deny you for long. It only took a few tempting looks and discreet leg spreading for her to give in, soon having you splayed on the large king queen sized bed.

Now she could really look at you.

Sevika would definitely be possessive over you.

Which for you, meant there were a lot of rules. Revealing clothes? Only for her eyes, but there were occasions she’d purposely send you out with certain attire, she liked showing you off.

If there was an occasion you’d try seduce her, she’d most likely tease you with dump play, and brush the attempts off for a good while before even considering actually touching you.

The only downside was if you even tried to force it on her, like you’d done once or twice; straddle her lap, twirl her hair, or put your hands on her? you’re not getting anything.

She’d make it clear who was in control; sit you beside her, on the floor.

Talk down to you and even extinguishing the end of her cigar onto the skin of your shoulders. Before kissing the little blisters better, of course.

I feel like Jinx would be good at clothing design, you see a lot of fabrics reused in her wardrobe. So who’s to say she wouldn’t make you things time to time?

Vibrant multi patterned lingerie, patches sewed into and over the mesh in places that needed to be bigger, or she’d staple edges together to make it a bit smaller.

And if you wore it?

Her hands would be all over you, she didn’t need to be seduced to already have you pulled up against her, feeling over your hips, your back, your chest; especially your chest.

She had zero self control when it came to you, she was infatuated.

You never realised how easily Vi could give into your antics, you’d always expected her to be the one bossing you around, that she would be the one with the self control.

You were quickly proven wrong, if you even had an inch of skin lower than your cleavage visible, or the beginning of your upper thighs peeking out… she was a mess.

It was almost pitiful how easily she’d fall for advances.

You sit yourself in her lap? Her hands would tremble on your sides, stuffing her face into your shoulder.

And if you teased her? Rolling your hips, and yet not allowing her to touch anymore skin then what was exposed?

She would whine, calloused fingertips dragging across your shoulders.

But luckily for her you didn’t have the heart to prologue it, and within a few minutes deep purple hickeys scattered every inch of skin she could reach.

- Owl 🌹

Fucking Vi with a strap? I need it please

♡♥︎ Countertop Carnage ♥︎♡

Warnings: Vi getting absolutely ruined, pink strap (comedic but effective), counter abuse (RIP), standing ovation (Vi’s legs said no), overstimulation (oops), sweaty muscle flexing (mandatory), boot-soaking levels of mess

Vi is bent over the counter, hands gripping the edges so tight her knuckles turn white. She’s already breathless, already wrecked, chest rising and falling in uneven pants as she stares down at the countertop like it’s the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely. Her arms flex with every twitch of her body, muscles shifting beneath sweat-slicked skin, her back arching as she braces for more.

And fuck, do you give her more.

Your strap is thick, big enough to make her whimper when you first pushed it inside, stretching her open inch by inch. Now it glides in and out of her, slick with her arousal, the obscene squelch of her cunt swallowing every inch echoing in the air between you. It’s bright pink—unmistakable, almost ridiculous against the raw, desperate way she takes it—but it stands out beautifully against her flushed, freckled skin. Every thrust shoves her up against the counter, her stomach pressed against the cool surface, her thighs trembling as she fights to keep herself upright.

“Fuck, fuck—” Vi groans, dropping her head forward, her pink hair falling in wild strands around her face. Her voice is hoarse, wrecked, like she’s been screaming your name for hours. Maybe she has.

You tighten your grip on her hips, fingers digging into the plush curve of her ass as you drive into her harder. “What happened, Vi?” you taunt, voice thick with amusement and lust. “All that attitude earlier, and now look at you. Can’t even hold yourself up.”

She growls, trying to throw you a glare over her shoulder, but it dissolves into a choked moan as you slam into her, the tip of your strap hitting that perfect spot inside her. Her whole body jerks, her legs threatening to give out, her nails scraping against the countertop.

“Oh, you like that?” You do it again, sharper this time, watching as she shudders beneath you. Her thighs are drenched, her slick dripping down, making a mess of the counter’s edge and the tops of her boots. “Such a fucking mess, Vi.”

“Shut—fuck, shut up,” she hisses, but there’s no real bite to it. She’s falling apart too fast, coming undone with every brutal snap of your hips.

You lean over her, pressing your chest to her sweaty back, and drag your teeth along the shell of her ear. “Make me.”

Vi tries—oh, she tries—but the only sound that escapes her is a ragged moan when you pull almost all the way out before slamming back inside. She jolts forward, her breath hitching, and you catch the way her fingers tremble against the counter, barely holding on.

“God—shit, I can’t—” Her voice cracks, her legs starting to shake as your pace grows ruthless.

You smirk, lips brushing against her ear as you whisper, “Then don’t.”

And that’s all it takes.

Vi unravels with a strangled cry, her body seizing beneath you, her thighs clenching, her back arching so beautifully it nearly makes you dizzy. Her walls clamp down around the strap, pulsing as her orgasm crashes over her, soaking you, soaking everything. She trembles violently, gasping for air, her fingers clawing at the countertop as wave after wave of pleasure drags her under.

You don’t stop.

Not when she whimpers. Not when her legs give out and she starts sinking against the counter. Not when she pleads, voice cracking, overstimulated and wrecked beyond belief. You keep going, keep fucking her through it, your pace unrelenting, your grip unforgiving.

“You wanted this, didn’t you?” Your voice is rough, almost as wrecked as hers. “Wanted to be fucked until you couldn’t think? Until you couldn’t stand?”

Vi nods weakly, unable to speak, her body limp against the counter.

You pull out slowly, watching as her hole clenches around nothing, twitching, desperate. Then you run your fingers along her swollen, dripping folds, teasing her, pressing against her entrance but not pushing in.

Vi twitches, whining, her hips shifting back in search of more.

“You’re not done yet,” you murmur, voice dark with promise.

And then you grab her waist, drag her back onto your strap, and fuck her all over again.

vague continuation of this; sfw; angsty; apt neighbor!vi au

apartment neighbor!vi who comes home with bloody knuckles and a split lip, bruises the color of overripe plums blossoming along her cheek. you catch her in the elevator, once, running downstairs to grab a taco bell delivery at 2am, and she's just coming home. at first, you almost don't recognize her, with her hood pulled up, her shoulders scrunched up towards her ears, her body a live-wire tangle of tensed muscles and clenching fists.

apartment neighbor!vi who, when you ask her what's wrong, does everything she can to avoid the question, dodging and making up excuses, looking anywhere but at your eyes --

"just got into it with some dude at the bar -- you know how it gets rowdy sometimes."

you stare at her, a frown digging into the space between your brows.

"violet, you can look at me?"

it takes her a beat too long to comply, her fingers stretching open before curling back into her palms as she forces her face towards you, her expression stony as a tomb.

"i'm looking."

you let your eyes flicker between both of hers, and a few seconds later, you throw your hands up in a classic sign of surrender, shaking your head.

"alright, alright -- i won't ask --"

you hear her let out an audible exhale; you glance up to catch her mourning dove eyes watching you from beneath her thick, night-lanced lashes.

"i was thinking of trying to make hainanese chicken and rice this weekend."

vi grins, her shoulders relaxing, her posture loosening like a picked-out knot, "sure -- i'm free on saturday. what do you need?"

apartment neighbor!vi who is not slick, no matter how hard she tries to pretend. and the first time you come knocking at their door on a sunday afternoon, powder answers with a power drill in one hand, a capri-sun in the other.

"oh. its you," she falls a few steps back, waving her power drill haphazardly through the air, "c'mon in! make yourself at home! vi's not here -- if you're wondering. she's..." powder scoffs, an utterly disbelieving, derisive sound, "out."

you pause by the kitchen counter, staring at the pile of dishes in the sink for a second before your gaze swings back to powder, now bending over a strange contraption laid out in a million pieces on the living room floor.

"what do you mean, she's out?"

powder makes a noncommittal sort of grunting noise as she leans in to fit a screw to the tip of the drill, squinting as she presses it to what looks like a slab of broken-off drywall --

"i mean she's out -- doing whatever the hell she's doing... thinkin' she can just lie to us -- ugh, as if --" her voice trails off into a mutter, as if she's talking to herself, and a second later, all sound is drowned out by the drone of the power drill screeching as powder sets to work again.

you stare for a solid three seconds before sighing and turning back to the dishes in the sink. it takes about fifteen minutes before powder turns back around to realize that you're still here --

"what... are you doing?" she asks. you jump, jerking forward at the sound of her voice right next to your ear.

"oh shit! sorry -- uh -- i, i thought i'd help do these while vi's out -- it looks like they've been stacking up for a while," you offer, somewhat weakly as powder squints at you, leaning forward with apparently zero compunction for invading your personal space.

"huh. you're... a weird one -- has anyone ever told you that?" powder asks, falling back onto her heels, giving you a hard once-over. you lick your lips, feeling an unfamiliar heat creeping up the length of your spine.

"i -- i mean, vi helped me a lot when i was moving in so..." you lean a hip against the kitchen counter, a half-washed mug still held aloft in your right hand.

"right... and that's why you're..." powder's smile hooks, her eyes flashing bright as beatle-wings , "helping us with our dishes?" she jerks her chin towards the soapy mug.

you flush, turning back to rinse off the mug and set it on the rack to dry.

"it'll be one less thing for you guys to worry about."

apartment neighbor!vi who refuses to see you for days at a time, even though you text to ask her if she's alright (she leaves you on read). then, miraculously, she'll show up at your door on a tuesday night with an apologetic grin dominos (and all your favorite toppings), asking if you had any plans (she knows full well you don't -- you two have a standing movie-date on tuesday nights, though neither of you have had the balls to call it a date).

apartment neighbor!vi who makes up the dumbest excuses -- i was outta town, i got the flu, i was visiting my long lost... uh... cousin in... nebraska.

"nebraska?" you pause over a bite of pizza, eyes flicking up to catch vi watching you. the moment your gazes meet, she looks away, clearing her throat and reaching out for another slice, folding in half before shoving nearly the whole thing in her mouth.

"yeah -- my uh -- my dad's brother's... kid..."

"uh huh," you say, nodding around another skeptical bite, picking off a piece of pineapple to pop into your mouth.

vi sighs, "just... it's complicated, okay?"

you purse your lips, licking at the pizza grease, "you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, vi -- i just wanna know that you're... safe."

she chuckles, a ragged, mirthless sound, "thanks for worrying about me, sugar -- but i'll be okay."

you swallow passed your last mouthful of pizza, reaching for a napkin. you do not try to point out that okay and safe are two completely different things.

apartment neighbor!vi who goes to the gym an inordinate amount -- whenever you text her, it seems like she's at the gym. and whenever you pass by the large glass doors on the 5th floor, she's almost always there, going at one of the punching bags or doing some insane lift or other.

"are you a fitness influencer or something?" you ask one day as vi lounges on your couch (you know, the one she helped you build), watching as you pipe icing onto the tops of a dozen cupcakes (it's become something of a thing for her to come over on the weekends -- at least the one's she doesn't disappear -- and watch you "stress-bake"; and if the things you're stress-baking just so happen to be all of vi's favorites... well, that's neither here nor there).

"huh?"

you glance over your shoulder, your hands paused over the large plastic bag of cream-colored icing.

"you're always at the gym, so i thought you might be --" you shrug, "i dunno -- training for something or like a fitness influencer or something." you go back to your piping.

"oh!" vi's voice pitches unnaturally high before she clears her throat and settles back on to the couch, a scowl slotted between her brows, her eyes fixed on her phone screen even though her finger hasn't moved in a solid half minute, "nah -- i just -- it just helps me clear my head, y'know. gotta... train the body before you train the mind."

you nod, keeping your eyes fixed on the cupcakes as you flourish through the final bit of icing, reaching out with a finger to snag an extra bit from the tip, turning only to find vi hovering behind you, a strange, halfway-light caught behind her eyes.

wordlessly, you offer her your finger. and without ever breaking eye-contact, she leans down to lick the frosting from you. her tongue swirls around the pad of your finger and you feel a gasp stitch up the front of your chest.

"g-good?" you ask, cursing silently at your inability to keep the stutter from your voice.

vi licks her lips, the flash of her tongue across her lips shouldn't look so stomach-churningly delicious. and yet --

she gives her head a single, abortive nod.

"yeah... really good..." her voice comes out a whisper, barely more than a caught breath in the air between you. it hangs, pendulous as a pearl on a gossamer gold string, until --

"y-you should take some back for powder -- i know she likes sweets almost as much as you do, and some for --" you swallow, falling back half a step, your hip bumping into the kitchen counter; you wince, and vi's arm shoots forward, but she pauses just short of touching you, her palms hovering over your arm for a brief second before she tucks it into her hoodie pocket and forces a grin.

"yeah! for sure -- she'll -- she'll appreciate it, and -- i'll grab some for uh -- vander and --" she waves a hand; you nod, gulping down air as you turn and scramble to grab a box for her, busying your hands so you don't give into the inexplicable urge to reach out and touch her, to feel her skin beneath your fingertips.

"yeah, great!" you chirrup, your voice saturated with false cheeriness.

the moment unfurls in slow motion, her reaching out to try and help you grab the tupperware box on the highest shelf, you dropping back down and turning around to tell her it's alright --

your chests press, your noses are so close they might as well be touching. you can taste the sweet of her breath against your tongue -- frosted vanilla sugar.

apartment neighbor!vi who kisses like she's trying to swallow you whole, who presses you back into the hard marble of your kitchen counter with a hand on your hip, the other skating up the length of your spine to cup at the back of your head, cradling you closer. who moans low and long and desperate when you finally gasp open for her and she gets that first, mind-rending taste of your mouth against hers.

she kisses you like she want's to break you. she kisses you like she wishes you'd break her too.

her lips are trembling when you pull back for a heady breath, a soft laugh puffing out of you at the sheer incredulousness of the entire situation -- weeks of held-breaths and averted eyes, jumping pulses and late-night movie dates, of knees pressing, the back of your hand skimming along the back of hers.

of uncertainty. of this celestial dance, you and her, like twin stars in orbit, to a song old as the universe itself.

but there's a hardness crystalizing at the edge of her voice as she swallows, her throat bobbing around a hissed our breath --

"shit --" she pulls back, and you have half a mind to chase her. she tastes like cupcake frosting and a life's worth of words unsaid.

she runs a hand through her hair, her eyes fractured in the mid-afternoon light.

"vi?" you ask, and your voice seems to jolt her out of her strange reverie. but as her gaze focuses back on you, an crumpled expression flashes across her face as her hand flies up to rub over her mouth, as if she can still feel the phantom heat of your lips on hers.

she shakes her head, taking another step back. you feel something inside you shatter as she turns and heads for the door, her shoulders hunched, her fists clenched at her sides.

"vi -- wait --!" you call after her, stumbling after her, but she turns to slate you a glance that rhymes so much with heartbreak it stops you in your tracks and roots you to the ground.

she lets out a shuddering breath, her voice unsteady as she says --

"i'm -- i'm sorry but -- i -- i can't do this --"

and then she's gone, the door clicking shut behind her, the batch of freshly frosted cupcakes sitting on the kitchen counter, the cupboard with one door open, as if waiting for something other to happen but this.

you blink, stunned at the sudden silence that permeates the air of your living room. you stare at the place where vi had been just a few ago before slumping back against the counter with a dull thunk and pressing a hand to your own mouth.

you can still taste the remnants of sugar on her tongue as she'd licked into your mouth. and for long moment, all you can muster into the accusatory quiet is --

"what the fuck was that?"

best friend's older sister!sevika headcanons pt. 2

contains: modern!au, nsfw content (so minors/ageless blogs dni!!), cursing, reader is mentioned to have family issues, hcs + blurbs set pre-confession and post-confession, mention of spanking, strap-on sex (reader receiving), breeding kink, dirty talk, degrading (the word "slut" is used), humiliation kink, sevika physically teasing reader at family dinner, mention of smoking, reader's body is referred to w the terms "pussy" and "clit"

pt. 1

best friend's older sister!sevika who pauses outside her door when she hears the muffled noises of your crying, followed by her sister's voice. her eyebrows immediately draw in concern, stomach turning as possibilities run through her mind. you mentioned having an exam earlier this week -- did you fail it? was someone bothering you? did you need her to do anything?

when her sister's in the shower, she knocks quietly on the door, your call of, "yeah?" pushing her to enter.

once she does, her eyes immediately scan your face, looking for signs of distress. when she finds your eyes pink and glossy, a bolt of nervousness shoots through her, taking her off guard for a second.

once she swallows down the feeling, she tilts her head at you, leaning on the frame. "all okay?" she asks, trying to keep her voice levelled, not wanting to reveal just how much worry is stirring within.

"yeah." your mouth is twisted in something resembling pain, and she eyes you carefully as you sit up in the bed. "it's just, you know, family stuff."

she nods. she understands that, alright. most people would think that being the older of the two, she'd fight with her father less than her little sister, but the truth is that out of everyone in her house, they butt heads more than anyone else. she usually shrugs it off when anyone asks, with her most popular coping mechanism being fuming in her bedroom with a cigar while heavy music blankets over all her thoughts. probably not the healthiest way to react, but it's worked for this long. besides, she doesn't have the patience to sit at a desk and do that journalling bullshit her sister always prattles on about.

"sorry." she contemplates for a few moments on what else she could say to help, rocking on the balls of her sock-clad feet. all she comes up with is, "families suck," silently berating herself for being so incompetent.

but, at least you laugh, the noise a bit breathless, so sevika takes pride in that. "yeah, that's the understatement of the century."

"do you wanna, I don't know, talk about it?" just to ease the weight of the question, she mutters, "you know, I'm pretty good at belting insults at anyone who deserves it."

"oh, yes, I'm sure of it." you nod at the wall where the shower can be heard from. "she's told me how vicious you were in middle school."

she bristles, feeling her stomach tighten in embarrassment. she was a little asshole, alright, and she can't lie, her younger sister bore the brunt of it. something she secretly regrets now -- not that she'd ever admit to it. she probably never would've revealed it you in the first place if not for her sister ratting her out.

"well, I-- that was middle school. I'm not like that now."

your eyebrow raises, lips tilting up. "you know, some people would argue that who you are as a kid shows what kind of person you are at the core of it."

she scoffs. "who, freud? considering the other stuff I've heard about that guy, I think I'll pass on believing that bullshit."

"oh, c'mon, I can tell you all the merits about his theories."

"and while that sounds riveting, I guess, I'd prefer knowing if you... you know, need anything?" she shrugs, her eyes trained on you.

you smile softly, the corners of your lips crinkling. "thank you. I don't feel like talking about it much now, but I appreciate it a lot."

she nods, rasping on the doorframe, unsure as to how to proceed now.

"huh, someone's not really used to this."

she rolls her eyes, sending you a half-hearted glare. "oh, shut up."

best friend's older sister!sevika whose attention towards you is beginning to become obvious, even for you. she's started seeking you out instead of any of your other friends when she's looking for her sister, and when she enters the room, her eyes always flicker to you immediately. it makes you feel like a spotlight is casted upon you, your entire body, your entire being, reserved for sevika.

one day, one of the girls in your group leans over to you, her tone lowered with conspiracy. "you know, I think sevika has a thing for you."

your best friend groans, smacking her arm. "god, please! that's my sister, for god's sake."

"and? she's hot?"

her face morphs into complete disgust, eyes squeezing shut. "please, that's so fucking gross."

while you laugh along with the conversation, you can't help but warily glance to your best friend, mind whirring with thoughts of whether or not she's being earnest. you and sevika aren't, well, anything really -- at least not anything officially declared or acted upon. for months, it's just been tosses and back-and-forths of teasing and flirting. but, there has been no step over the threshold that divides you two between nameless, vague chemistry and the agreement to work towards a real relationship.

but, still, there is something there, and you cradle a hope in your chest that it'll turn into more one day, an actual thing that can be named. but, it's hard to feel positive about that outcome when you're not even certain if your best friend would approve or feel comfortable.

she meets your pondering stare, and you immediately backtrack, turning away so she can't read what's on your face.

a moment later, her palm rests on your knee and she laughs, tone as casual as ever when she says, "honestly, if anyone could tame her, it's you."

your lips part in shock, but she simply squeezes down gently before carrying on with the conversation.

best friend's older sister!sevika who pretty much wants to wring her cousin's neck out when she spots her conversing with you. well, it's not the conversing that's the problem -- she's not that crazy. or at least, she pretends not to be.

it's the fact that she knows her cousin hits on every one of her and her sister's friends, and she's clearly doing that with you right now, eyes half-lidded and voice lowered to what sevika hopes sounds more like darth vader than sexy to you. god, she nearly wants to kill her sister for being stupid enough to leave you alone with her. but, judging from her sister's shit-eating grin from where she stands at the food table, sevika suspects that it was intentional.

she tries not to crush her plastic red cup in her hand and send her vodka-spiked punch spilling everywhere. when her sister had casually mentioned last night that you'd be showing up to this family barbecue, sevika, much to her own embarrassment, had felt an immediate buzz of anticipation at knowing you'd be there. it's stupid, she knows. she's a grown ass woman, not some teenager -- yet, there she was, biting back a smile as she walked up the flight of stairs back to her bedroom. and when she reached her destination, she could barely focus, her thoughts straying to how she'll get a rise out of you rather than remaining on the toy she was meant to be building for the kid she babysits, isha.

she couldn't lie to herself about it. she was goddamn excited.

if only she had known how the day would wind up. it's nearing to late afternoon, and still, she hasn't spoken to you once. as soon as you and her sister had reached, the two of you had met with your usual gaggle of girls. and sevika hadn't been in the mood to entertain their giggles and leering stares upon coming to get you from them. and so, she waited. and then, you were dragged off to talk to her sister's favourite cousins, and then, to the idiot you're currently speaking to. a few minutes into what sevika hopes is a cringe-inducing conversation, her sister had left you to go to the food table.

she knows she has no reason to be jealous of her cousin. after all, look at the dimwit, she barely has game. she's so flashy with it, no subtlety. if you weren't the object of her cousin's attention, she might've actually taken some amusement in watching from afar.

but, no, it just had to be you. she can't even blame her cousin -- after all, you do look damn good, that's for certain. if this wasn't a family event, she'd be dragging you to the nearest corner, pushing you against the wall, and teasing you until you're a squirming little mess. god, she's just throbbing at the idea of it.

but, the feeling gets washed over with ice when her dumb cousin starts stroking her knuckles against your arm. stupid kid. and why are you smiling at her? do you not realize she's flirting? do you like that she's flirting? oh, now that thought leaves a sour taste in her mouth.

her composure snaps when she sees you laugh, and with a firm toss of her cup in the nearest garbage bag, she calmly makes her way to you. she knows she ought to be better than this. she should be the one with sense, with rationality -- the one who keeps her shit together while you become a fumbling mess whose feelings might as well be written on your forehead. that should be you. not her.

but, it's like her mind is working on overdrive, all her instincts honed in on making sure she takes you away and has you all to herself.

when she slides next to you two, your jump in surprise, looking up at her. her eyes rove over your features, drinking you in, wondering momentarily if you even realize how crazy you drive her.

"hey, sev, are you looking for your sister? because she's--"

"no," she cuts in, her palm bracing against the small of your back. "give us a sec."

"wha-- but, I--"

sevika doesn't give her cousin a moment to protest, firmly guiding you away to the front of her house, which has been left secluded now that people are eating in the backyard.

when you stumble into her back from her sudden halt, you blow out a frustrated puff of air. "what the hell was that?"

she feels her thick, dark eyebrows furrow, her gaze casted down on you, unwavering and focused. "I should be asking you that. why were you talking to her?"

"your sister left me with her!" you protest, your voice raising a pitch she'd find cuter if it weren't for the sour taste in her mouth.

"and? that makes you incapable of leaving a conversation afterwards?"

your eye twitches. "and why should I have left the conversation?"

sevika swallows, feeling her throat bob with the movement. if she acts like some jealous girlfriend, it'll be all too clear what it is she feels. and that's a bit too exposing for her. sure, you two flirt and push-and-pull, but it's something she could easily pass as a game if ever needed be. but, jealousy, disliking you talking to someone other than her? that's way too obvious, and there's no way of covering that up.

so, she takes a different route. "you know, if you're gonna be hitting on someone at this thing, it should be--"

"you?"

she nearly splutters, blinking hard at your growing smirk before continuing. "no. it should be someone other than the fuckboy-wanna-be relative who hits on anything with a pair of nice legs and pretty eyes."

your smile only widens and sevika has the sudden urge to bend you over her lap until you're a sobbing mess.

"so, you think I have nice legs and pretty eyes?"

"are you dense? how is that what you focus on?" despite the harsh undertone of her words, she can feel her body stiffening up under your watchful gaze, desperately hoping you don't realize just how badly she wants your attention. it feels pathetic, really, to be putting up a fit like this because just you spoke to someone flirtatious other than her. shit, she needs to save some face.

"yeah, because I think it's weird how you're dictating who I can speak to as though you're my girlfriend or something!"

"that's not how I'm acting--"

"yes, it is!" you scoff, stalking up to her and pointing a finger against her chest, the contact making her jerk back from the spark it leaves. "you wouldn't be this pissed if it was just about concern."

she's silent for a few seconds, her mind running through possible comebacks. the only one she can think of is a hard, "you don't know that."

you tilt your head at her, as though she's some kid in need of a scolding. it only exacerbates her frustration, causing it to flare up low in her gut. "well, if it's just about you being concerned, then let me continue talking to her. you warned me, I took it in stride, and if things go wrong, you can always rub it in my face late, okay?"

she sighs, beginning to regret having ever acted out now that this is the turn the situation is taking. you were supposed to take her words in, and do as she says. instead, you're arguing back, just like you always do. but, she knows that at this point, she'd be a hypocrite to complain about it. she knows it's why she likes you.

"you really want that?"

you cross your arms over your chest, and sevika tries not to let her eyes stray downwards. "is there a reason why I shouldn't?"

stupid mind games. sometimes, she hated being gay because of this.

she likes you, sure, but she doesn't have the patience to beat around the bush. which she's aware is hypocritical and stupid, considering that's what she's been doing this entire conversation. but, still.

so, she shrugs. "beats me."

your eyes flash with something, jaw clenching. sevika can't tell if it's a look of determination or anger.

but, what does it matter if you're spinning around to stomp back into the backyard?

she releases an exasperated breath, fishing for her cigarettes.

best friend's older sister!sevika whose voice makes you jump when you're stirring instant noodles in a frothy pot of water later that night.

"jesus, sevika!" you gasp, your other hand flying to clutch your chest. "what the fuck are you doing here?"

"it's my house, remember?" she dryly remarks, padding over to the fridge and grabbing a carton of milk. pinching the flap open, she drinks straight from it. you'd find it gross if it weren't for the way her lips wrap around the soggy cardboard material, the muscles of her neck protruding as she gulps it down.

when she bends down to put it back, you turn away, your stomach churning from how any bit of laughter is totally drained from her voice, leaving it flat and achingly unfamiliar.

you've felt guilty since the barbecue. sure, it's annoying that she makes demands of you without actually admitting her feelings. but, it's clear that she was upset in that moment. so, maybe you should've been a tad nicer.

"uh, sevika?" you meekly call out right as she's about to exit the kitchen.

she freezes in the entryway, casting you a sidelong glance over her shoulder, which is pinched from the strap of her tight tank top. god, you wanna kiss the indent it leaves.

"I..." you trail off, shifting side to side on your feet, the low bubbling of the water the only noise filling the room. you don't know what's too much or too little, so you mull over your words before tentatively saying, "you know, I'm not interested in your cousin. like, at all. I had no intention of flirting back with her, or, like, pursuing something with her."

she's silent for a few seconds, her eyes flicking away as her jaw tenses, which sends her cheeks hollowing out. you stare at her for a few seconds before focusing your attention back to stirring the noodles, needing something to occupy your thoughts other than the thick, stifling tension seizing the air.

finally, she speaks, her voice low but firm with surety. "well, I didn't want you to flirt with her... for reasons other than what I said."

your stomach tightens up in anxious, gut-wrenching excitement, forcing your mouth to remain in a clenched line. you know this isn't exactly a confession, but it's unspoken between you two -- what she means, that is. there could only be one reason other than concern that would explain how protective she was earlier. a reason that, sure, you're not certain about regarding the details or her intentions, but that nonetheless has you feeling like you could jump with the amount of energy surging through you at the mention of it. no matter how vague.

you can sense she won't say anymore, though, her body rigid with tension. so, to try to lighten the mood, your own body sagging in relief now that you two have somewhat made amends, you drawl out, "yeah, that much was clear."

she snickers, turning fully to you and propping her arm on the door frame. you expect her to give her own retort, but instead, she just... watches you. smirk slowly curling on her face, eyes crinkling in amusement, she simply stares at you.

after a few moments of feeling like the side of your head is burning from her razor-sharp gaze, you say, "what?"

the corner of her mouth quirks up further. "for someone who says it was obvious, that was a pretty big grin you had on your face just now."

you huff indignantly, ducking you head down to the noodles in order to avoid getting caught in your flustered state. "well, I'm just grinning because my noodles are almost done."

she peers at the time flashing over the stove before shaking her head and grimacing at the pot. "why are you even eating this crap at 2:00AM? we have actual food in the fridge."

"I was craving this," you defend with a squeak, shooting her what you pray is a convincing glare despite your heart racing from her earlier words. "besides, I didn't know if your family would be having the leftovers."

"don't be stupid," she chides gruffly. after a pause, she adds, "you know you're family."

this time, you can't resist the beam that overtakes your face, eyes squeezing in delight as your cheeks throb pleasantly from the joy embracing you. you've, of course, heard this sentiment from your best friend plenty of times before, but never from sevika.

"thanks," you murmur feebly, sending her a small, bash smile.

she simply nods in return, her lips pressing together as she continues observing you.

part of you basks under it. the attention of her focused grey eyes, the heavy weight of her gaze -- it all sends a thrill to you that's hot and burning, making you feel you're being revived from a lifelong slumber. how did you ever manage without the life-altering feeling which is sevika's gaze directed to you?

"so, I guess I should head up," she says, sticking a thumb behind her.

your body immediately tenses in protest. she can't leave -- not like this, not after this tender moment you two just shared. not when her presence here holds the contrast of warm assurance and ice-cold surprise that you're always craving.

a loud "no!" bursts from your lip as she's just about to turn.

when she sends you an inquisitive stare, forehead wrinkled in confusion, you feel your face heat up in embarrassment over your over-eagerness. but, it's too late to scale back, so you force yourself to proceed with, "I just-- why don't we hang out a bit? maybe watch gilmore girls. and, I don't know, share the noodles and, well, left overs."

her eyes widen, lips parting in surprise, and it almost makes you want to cackle. how could she even be surprised you want to spend time with her? are you just that good at hiding your want for her, or is she that romantically dense?

"um, yeah, okay," she says, a hand curving up along the back of her neck. "but, don't think I'll eat that crap you're making."

your shoulders ease at the joke, laughing as you wag your wooden spoon at her. "it's good, okay? I don't know why you'd deprive yourself of it."

"if I didn't deprive myself, I wouldn't have these." she flexes her bicep, and you try not to let your gaze roam over the toned muscle bulging out. no need to satisfy her that much. "and wouldn't that be a pity for you?"

you bristle, but still find yourself unable to quell the laughter that bubbles up your throat. "fuck off. my life isn't so sad that your muscles are my sanctuary."

"fair point -- maybe 'religion' is a better term."

ugh, her grin is infuriatingly coy as she heads back to the fridge, pulling out a tupperware, her veins bulging out as she grips it.

you want to fuck her so bad. and then, yell at her. and then, fuck her again.

"just, shut up and heat up the leftovers," you grumble, turning your back to her as her laugh, hearty and scratchy in all the right ways, flows from her lips.

honestly, the lack of eye contact is for both of your guys' benefit. god knows how you'll react if you see that cute gap again.

best friend's older sister!sevika who, after you two start dating, places her long fingers on your thigh when you join her family for dinner. she knows it's a bit evil of her, but she can't help it. your body is just so reactive -- a fact that she was delighted to learn upon your first time sleeping together. it just makes it so much fun to toy with you like this.

your leg immediately flinches when her fingernails skim along your skin, and she'd probably smile if she wasn't so well-trained in public play to know exactly how to keep a straight face.

but, you? she knows you're struggling. she can feel it in the way you shift in your seat, shoulders rolling as her warm palm flattens against your skin, her fingers sinking into the plush of your thigh. or how your body suddenly lurches forward when she suddenly pinches her nails into the skin, causing everyone at the table to dart concerned glances your way.

you sheepishly laugh it off, shaking your head and saying, "sorry, I, um-- I just got a weird shiver."

sevika honestly feels impressed that you're able to keep your cool this well, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow. she knows it probably goes against the whole supportive girlfriend thing, but seeing you manage to remain calm only makes her want to test you even more.

and so, she inches her fingers up so that they smooth along the tender skin of your inner thigh. you immediately stiffen up, your back straightening to an almost comedic right angle. sevika's mouth twists, trying to hold in a chuckle at how you writhe when her blunt nails begin to trace shapes into the hot patch of skin. god, she wants to dip her fingers in further, feel the tight heat of your pussy wrap around her digit as she pumps it in and out of you.

she clears her own throat to cut off her breaths from getting too shallow. god, she needs a cold shower or some shit. plus, the entire point was to get you hot and bothered, not her.

trying to gather her bearings, she presses her fingers into the sensitive area, slightly digging in the curves of her nails, trying to replicate she sharp sting you feel when she sinks her teeth into that spot before eating you out.

it seems se's successful, based on the way your legs shift again, pressing together and trapping her hand there. and your cute face is noticeably distracted, expression glazed over, lips hanging open.

when your fingers curl around her wrist, keeping her hand there, she smirks behind the rim of her glass, taking a careful sip before wrenching her hand free from your grip, continuing with her meal.

through the animated conversation her sister and old man are having, she can hear you grunt in frustration.

but, she doesn't even turn to you. after all, what would be the fun if she just gave you what you wanted?

best friend's older sister!sevika who shakes you from your deep sleep when you're curled up on the mattress in her living room, your best friend fast asleep on the couch. before you can mumble incoherently, your eyes barely making out her broad frame through the sleep-tinged blur, she presses a finger to your mouth, quietly shushing you.

you nod, your heavy eyes blinking rapidly to register what's going on. but, you can barely get a whisper in before sevika scoops you up, her strong arms easily carrying you up the stairs to her bedroom. you have to bite back a gasp at the sudden manhandling, though a spike of arousal zips through you from how easily she takes you to her bedroom, dropping you unceremoniously onto her navy blankets.

you frown at her, eyes sharpened into a glare. "sevika, wha--"

she plants her lips on you, crawling on top of you and pinning your body to the bed with hers. she's sloppy and ungraceful with it, shoving her tongue into your mouth and swirling it around yours as a hand slides up to loosely grip your throat.

"you didn't think I'd leave you hanging, did you?" she mumbles against your lips, her hand drifting down your body to start fiddling with the waistband of your pajama shorts.

"well, you already did once, so I wouldn't be surprised if it happened again," you murmur against her prodding mouth, trying to keep your voice dignified in light of all the pants and whines beginning to crawl up your throat.

"awe, c'mon, baby," she snickers, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your cheek while the rest of you practically combusts from the low, scolding tone she takes when calling you that. "even I have my limits."

and, oh, how fucking good it feels for sevika's limits to be broken, you think as she pounds into you with her dark purple strap-on, her hand over your mouth as she pumps her hips steadily, hissing whenever her bed frame bumps too loudly against the wall.

you wrap your legs around her, nails raking up her back as the toy plunges into you over and over again, stretching your walls taut. it feels good, so good, the dull ache of her nearly-too-big dildo making your entire pussy throb in a way that makes you feel impossibly full.

"listen to that," she whispers against your ear, the hot moist of her breath making you break out into shivers. "your pussy is soaking my new sheets. such a mess you're making."

god, you just leak even more from those words, the mix of your juices and the lube creating deliciously loud squelching noises in her room, only growing more pointed and firm when she begins to drill particularly hard, intentional thrusts into you. the movements have the bulb her of dick pushing against your g-spot with every rock of her body, and it sends a warm tingle through you, wrapping your nerves in pleasure and sparking them to life.

you whine against her hand, eyes rolling back when her cold, mechanical finger begins to flick along your clit. the cool, steel-hard texture of it against your swollen little nub has your body arching up, each brush and flick feeling so heightened through all the other sensations running through you.

"yeah," she chuckles darkly, grazing her teeth along your earlobe. "you like that, don't you? getting this pussy slutted out, having me fucking up your guts and making room for my babies?"

your hips jolt up at those words, a loud whine erupting from your mouth before you can stop it. sevika hisses at it, pressing her mouth to yours, her thighs smacking against yours as she continues drilling you into her mattress.

"be quiet," she rasps, her breaths shattering into uneven little pants. "you want everyone in this house to know what a slut you are? you want everyone to know you couldn't last a night in here without getting dicked down by your best friend's sister?"

you can barely respond, your entire body set aflame with the pleasure of her on top of you, surrounding you with nothing but warm skin, hard muscle and filthy, nasty little noises.

"ah," you moan quietly against her mouth, fingers tracing the indents your nails have left in her back. "feels s'good, I just-- I can't--"

"I know, baby, I know," she grunts, fingers wrapping around your jaw and shaking your face like you're her personal doll. "no need to worry your pretty head with talking, yeah? just be good and let me cream this pussy."

and so, you do. over and over and over again.

best friend's older sister!sevika who tries not to smirk too hard when her sister asks over breakfast why you're wearing a turtleneck in the middle of july.

→ 50 sevika headcanons (sfw) no nsfw

>> during intense cold weather / snow days sevika notices you’re cold and grabs your hand and slips it into her coat pocket for warmth

>> sev holds you by your waist to reach high above the shelves (even if you aren’t short, she just finds excuses to hold your waist)

>> takes lazy sundays serious & sleeps in till late

>> sevika ties your shoes for you in public, she’ll even let you place your shoe on her thighs / pants no matter how dirty the bottom of your shoe is

>> sevika sleeps with white noise, ac, and the tv on. she sleeps like a bear in hibernating

>> sevika snores in her sleep especially on nights she’s worked long hours or when she’s extremely tired

>> sevika loves to be the little spoon

>> sevika loves to be the big spoon as well!

>> sevika makes sure you have most of the blanket on your end. she will freeze to death to make sure you’re covered & warm

>> sevika hates to admit she loves watching cheesy romamce movies

>> after long day’s at work sevika loves to embrace you and burry her head into the nape of your neck and smell you

>> sevika is a waist grabber (ALWAYS!) in public and behind closed doors

>> jealous!sevika loves to grip / hold your thigh in public spaces

>> jealous!sevika prefers you light her cigarettes and sit on her lap when she plays poker

>> jealous!sevika hates seeing men try to flirt with you in front of her and decides to hold your waist / push you closer towards her cups your face and leans for a deep passionate kiss without room for you to catch your breath

>> sev is the type to suck her teeth very loud, yawn, and grunts to display boredom in the failed attempt at men flirting with you

>> sev hates ending the conversation with you abruptly. no matter how bad the argument she still kisses your forhead and says she “loves you” before she walks out.

>> sevika hates when you drive yourself anywhere, she prefers escorting you places instead

>> sevika hates when you worry financial issues. she loves spending money on you and showering you with gifts

>> sevika buys you flowers every few weeks and admires how you take the time to trim them + display them in a vase for the apartment

>> sevika is a cat person. she can’t help herself from running by the nearest convenience store and buying food for a stray cat

>> sevika enjoys a shopping haul. mainly because she likes seeing you change in front of her so many time. soaking in your body and gorgeous curves.

>> sevika hates the summer. however, she enjoys colder climate, foggy weather, and rainy nights.

>> sev lets you do her skin care for her. she had no idea why it’s important, but loves to feel your soft hands on her face

>> when sev is away on long business trips she likes to write hand written letters to you, because it’s more sentimental

>> sevika’s loyalty goes beyond the relationship, she treats your friends and family with respect and kindness as well

>> she hates sweet coffee. black coffee 100%

>> sev likes to buy your lingerie & dresses. she picks the colors that flatter your skin tone the most.

>> she never makes you lift a finger. she opens doors for you, holds your hand walking down the steps, carry’s you on her back if your feet begin to hurt.

>> sev is an animal lover! she feeds all stray animals and considers to take up fostering as a side hobby but gets attached to the animals fast.

>> sevikacan’t find her glasses for 5hrs and calls you to ask if you’ve seen them. you ask her if she’s checked the top of her head and she hangs up from embarrassment

>> sev hates the doctor. she rather you give her first aid and touch her wounds instead of a stranger

>> she loves thrifting, record stores and antique shops that hold a lot of history

>> sevika loves helping at the foster care facility on weekends

>> she’s an awesome baby sitter and children are easily attached to her. they liked to climb her like a tree and she gives free piggyback rides

>> sev admires your smile. she hates seeing you upset, she’ll do anything to end the day with a smile on your face

>> sevika gets flustered when you call her boyfriend or husband!

>> she hates when people get your order wrong / forgot something. she’ll go back to make sure they get it correct the second time

>> sevika hates social media! she prefers talking face to face instead of texting. deep conversations is more genuine

>> sev doesn’t understand how texting works, but she enjoys sending a good mirror selfie of her biceps and abs at the most random times throughout the day (you get shy opening them in public)

>> for some reason sevika is instagram famous. she has 7k followers, but she only follows you and likes / comments your post ONLY

>> sevika hates when people flirt with her in front of you. she holds your hand and squeezes it tightly to remind everyone she’s taken by you. she hates when people make you feel invisible

>> although you and sevika aren’t married she treats you like her wife & calls you her wife 24/7. she doesn’t care if it’s not official yet!

>> she doesn’t understand the hype behind TikTok couple dances. she’s stiff as hell. she’ll make attempts only because it makes you happy

>> sevika take’s selfies like an old boomer. still throws up the peace sign and does the millennial pause before taking a video

>> sevika enjoys taking you baths. she’ll run to get a hot bath ready for when you come home to work. she loves making things easier for you and more romantic

>> sevika is the type to win you very BIG prizes and stuff animals at the carnival and make all the men their look 10x weaker

>> sevika loves to lay her head on your lap and give you puppy eyes. she loves when you give her kisses on the nape of her neck and run your hands through her hair till she gets all sleepy

>> sevika admires your cooking! licking the plate and all… probably inhaled dinner without room to breathe

>> sevika is a crash out when it comes to gaming. this is the 4th pc set up she purchased in one year because she keeps punching the screen

{ The End }

if you’re coming here from twitter, thank you so much for the love and support. if you’re new then I hope you enjoyed! plenty of post in the works.

Enemies to lovers sevika.

Sevika absolutely despises reader, and yet reader is still so nice to sevika always smiling at her and offering her nothing but kindness…sevika hates it.(no she doesn’t)

Could be either fluff or smutty just an idea

✞⛧ Tension and Temptation ✞⛧

Warnings: emotional vulnerability, slow burn, developing relationship, implied tension, brief violence, slight injury, angst, reluctant affection (no smut..sorry gang-)

Word count: 5.3K

The air in Zaun always feels heavier, weighed down by the grinding industrial machines and the lingering scent of decay. The narrow streets are filled with the constant hum of activity, the hustle and bustle of a city where survival is a day-to-day struggle. You've barely stepped foot into Silco's territory, but the tension that thickens the air makes you feel as though you've already failed the moment you arrived.

And standing before you, arms crossed, is Sevika.

She's a force of nature, towering and imposing, with the kind of presence that could crush a man just by staring at him. Her broad shoulders and muscular frame practically hum with power, her every movement radiating command. A scar runs down her face, another testament to her brutal world, and her grey eyes, cold as steel, meet yours with a flicker of disdain. Her hair falls in dark waves over her sharp features, partially obscuring the fierce, calculating look she's giving you. The metallic sheen of her copper-colored prosthetic arm glints in the low light, its shimmer-enhanced strength evident even in the way she holds herself.

The first thing you notice is how she's completely unapproachable, the natural aura of violence that wraps around her as tightly as the red poncho draped over her shoulders. You almost feel sorry for the fact that she's been stuck with someone like you. You're just a recruit, fresh off the streets, trying to earn your place. You can already tell she doesn't want you here.

"I don't need a damn assistant," Sevika spits, her voice like gravel scraping against metal. Her tone cuts through the heavy air, sharp and immediate. "So don't get any ideas. Just stay out of my way."

You can't help but smile—soft, almost out of place. It's your natural instinct to meet coldness with kindness, even if it seems pointless. You've always believed that if you show warmth to the right people, maybe you'll get something back in return. But Sevika? She's a brick wall. Her sharp eyes narrow, assessing you as if you were a problem she needed to solve.

"Yeah, whatever," she mutters, dismissing you with a wave of her hand. "Don't make me regret this."

You follow her closely as she turns, stepping with heavy purpose down the grimy streets of Zaun, her boots clicking against the ground in rhythm with the pounding of your heart. Despite the tension crackling between you, you do your best to keep your tone light. "I just want to help. I can handle whatever you need."

Sevika doesn't respond. Instead, her eyes stay fixed ahead, ignoring you completely. The silence between you feels suffocating, but you persist. "I know it might not seem like it, but I'm here to learn. I'm not looking to get in your way, I promise."

Her scowl deepens. "Then keep your mouth shut, and maybe I'll consider it," she growls. Her voice is low, a constant hum of irritation. But it's not just her words that make you pause. It's the way her eyes flash briefly toward you before her gaze returns to the horizon. There's something about the sharpness in those eyes, something that makes the air around you feel charged.

It's like trying to strike a spark in a cold, barren landscape. The more you try to offer, the more Sevika pushes back, her harsh words biting through your calm demeanor.

Still, you can't help but offer a small smile as you keep up with her. You've always believed in the power of kindness. Maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to crack through her tough exterior.

By the time you've reached your destination—a crumbling building where Silco's orders are handed down—you've managed to learn that Sevika has little patience for anything, let alone for someone who dares to try and offer kindness. You find yourself standing in the shadows as she barks out orders to a group of men, her posture demanding respect. There's an undeniable force behind her words, a presence that commands the room as much as her stature does. Her copper arm gleams under the dull lighting, the intricate mechanics of the prosthetic arm seeming almost alien in the harsh, industrial environment.

You're not sure why you still persist. Maybe it's because something about Sevika's rugged exterior, her unrelenting loyalty, and the way she carries herself pulls at you. Or maybe it's the fact that you can see through her cold exterior—there's more beneath the surface, and you're determined to figure it out.

As the hours drag on, the work piles up. It's hard, grueling, and entirely mundane, but you keep at it, offering help when needed, sticking close to her side. There's something about Sevika's quiet, controlled rage that fascinates you. The way she moves, the way she handles everything—each gesture calculated and efficient—reminds you of a well-oiled machine. But machines don't need kindness. People do.

Sevika finally throws you a glance as you hand her a cup of tea, carefully prepared just the way you think she might like it. She takes it from your hand with a grumble, muttering something under her breath about unnecessary gestures, but you know you've won a small victory.

She doesn't throw the cup at you. She drinks it instead, in silence.

The longer you stand beside her, the more her icy exterior seems to thaw—if only just slightly. You notice the subtle shifts in her posture when you speak, the way her lips curve in the briefest of smiles, though she quickly hides it behind her usual scowl.

"Stop smiling at me like that," she growls, her voice softer than before, yet still biting. "It's fucking irritating."

But you don't stop. In fact, you make it your mission to be even kinder, to offer more help, to make her realize that you're not a threat, that you're not here to steal her spotlight, but to be part of the team.

Later, when the day's work is done, Sevika's frustration with you seems to grow. She's angry, but it's not the same anger she directs at the people she dislikes. This one is different. It's more internal, a tension she can't shake, like you're pushing a button deep inside her. She doesn't understand it, and it only makes her hate you more.

"Why the hell do you keep doing this?" she asks, her voice rough with something unreadable. "You think your smile will make this any easier? You think I care about your little act of kindness?"

You stand your ground, though your heart beats faster. "Maybe I'm just trying to help."

Sevika scoffs, but it's not as cutting as before. She glances at you once more, her gaze unreadable, and for a second, it's almost like she's looking at you, really looking at you, for the first time.

"You're wasting your time," she mutters, her tone almost tired.

But when she turns away, there's a slight shift in her movements, an imperceptible change in the way she carries herself. You're not sure if she's getting used to you, or if she's just too exhausted to push you away anymore. But the more she resists, the more determined you become.

In the quiet aftermath of a long day, Sevika lingers at the edge of your vision. She's still rough around the edges, her anger still a flame that burns bright, but there's a small part of her that's starting to crack.

You can see it. She can't hide it from you forever.

And that's when it hits you—despite her constant grumbling, despite her sharp words and cold silences, you're not just an annoyance to her. You're a challenge. One she can't seem to escape.

As Sevika walks away, her prosthetic arm catching the light in a way that makes her seem even more formidable, you smile softly to yourself.

You won't give up on her.

The weight of Zaun hangs heavy in the air, thick with the scent of oil, decay, and danger. The city is a constant, humming machine of chaos and violence, a place where only the strongest survive. And you? You're still trying to prove yourself, trying to make your place known in Silco's ranks. But standing next to Sevika, as always, feels like a constant struggle.

Her presence is like an impenetrable wall of steel—intimidating, unyielding, and cold. Every time you speak to her, it's like your words just bounce off her, sliding into the abyss where they're quickly forgotten. But you're not deterred. You can't be. Her icy demeanor is nothing new. What is new, however, is the way you can't seem to stop smiling at her. Even when she glares at you like she's about to snap your neck, there's something in you that refuses to back down, refuses to let her coldness defeat you.

And it's that same smile you offer her now as the two of you walk through the dark, abandoned streets, on a mission to secure a deal with another faction. You've learned by now that Sevika doesn't deal well with pleasantries, doesn't like the niceties most people in Silco's empire try to pretend at. She's raw, blunt, a woman who cuts to the heart of the matter without hesitation. But despite her sharp words and colder gaze, you remain the same—cheerful, optimistic, and unnervingly kind.

"Quit looking at me like that," Sevika growls, her voice low and gravelly as her grey eyes flick to you. Her gaze pierces through you, as if she's trying to burn holes into your skin. The low hum of her prosthetic arm moving against the fabric of her sleeve is a constant reminder of her strength, her sharpness, and the danger she can unleash with a single movement.

"Like what?" you ask, genuinely curious, despite knowing the answer. You can feel her irritation like a thick cloud around her, but it doesn't deter you. Not today.

"Like you think I'm some sort of charity case," she snaps, the muscles in her neck tensing as her jaw clenches. "If you think you can win me over with your fake little smiles, you're sorely mistaken."

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can say anything, the sudden sound of footsteps echoes in the alleyway ahead. A low hiss of tension fills the air, and instinctively, you tense up, your eyes scanning the shadows.

Sevika's hand immediately goes to the grip of her weapon, her fingers flexing in anticipation. You've seen her in action before—the way she moves, the way her presence fills a room with both fear and respect. But this? This is different. She's on edge, and that makes you on edge too.

"Stay behind me," Sevika orders, her voice a low command as she steps forward, her posture suddenly coiled with dangerous intent. Her left prosthetic arm gleams under the dim light, the cracked blue and purple veins in her skin pulsing faintly beneath the surface. She looks like a force of nature, ready to strike at any moment.

You don't argue. You've learned by now that arguing with Sevika is a pointless endeavor. Instead, you keep your head down, staying close to her as the two of you advance. But as you round the corner, you don't expect what happens next.

Gunshots echo through the alley, and in an instant, you're caught off guard. A burst of shrapnel flies toward you, the sound of the blast ringing in your ears, and before you even have time to react, a sharp pain explodes in your side. The world tilts on its axis as you stumble, your knees buckling under you as you fall hard against the cold, unforgiving ground.

Your breath hitches, the shock of the attack leaving your limbs weak. Blood starts to pool beneath you, and panic surges in your chest. You're not sure how bad it is, but you know you're hurt. You're not sure if you can stand again.

Sevika doesn't hesitate. She spins around with the speed of a predator, her metallic prosthetic arm coming down with the force of a battering ram. The gunmen are taken down quickly, their bodies slumping lifelessly to the ground, but you're not focused on them. You're focused on the sharp, burning pain in your side, the fear creeping in that you might not be able to move.

She doesn't see it at first. She's too caught up in the immediate danger of taking out the rival faction. But when she turns back to look for you, that's when she sees it.

Your hand is pressed tightly against your side, blood seeping between your fingers as you struggle to stay conscious. The shock is setting in, your head spinning, your vision blurring around the edges.

For a moment, Sevika's eyes narrow, her face unreadable as she assesses the situation. The emotions in her eyes flash too quickly to read—fury, disbelief, and something else you can't place. Her lip curls, the usual scowl deepening, but she doesn't turn away.

You try to force yourself up, to stand, but your body refuses to cooperate. Your legs shake, and you collapse back onto the cold concrete, gasping for breath.

Sevika swears under her breath, her brow furrowing in a rare display of concern. Her prosthetic arm shifts, clicking with the precision of machinery as she strides toward you, her pace quickening, her boots slamming against the ground.

"You're fucking useless," she mutters under her breath, the words as harsh as ever. But when she kneels beside you, there's a hint of something else in her voice—a softness that's quickly masked by her usual cold exterior. "Stay down."

Before you can say anything, she's already tearing off a piece of her red poncho, using it to staunch the bleeding. Her hands are surprisingly gentle as she presses the cloth against your wound, her fingers rough from years of fighting but oddly careful in their touch.

"You better not fucking die on me," she grumbles, though her voice lacks its usual bite. "I don't need another person I have to drag around."

You can feel her frustration radiating off of her, but there's something else beneath it, something that tugs at the very core of you. She's trying to save you. Despite the way she treats you, despite how cold and distant she's always been, there's a flicker of something deeper in her actions—a recognition, maybe, of your sacrifice for her.

You offer her a weak smile, the corners of your lips pulling up despite the pain. "I'm not going anywhere, Sevika," you say, your voice hoarse but steady.

She freezes, her hand pressing down harder on the wound. The faint glow of purple lights up her eyes for a split second as she injects shimmer into her bloodstream. It makes her scarred veins pulsate, the colors glowing brighter, but it's the softening of her gaze that you notice first.

"Don't make me regret this," she mutters, but it doesn't feel like an insult. It feels more like an acknowledgment of something she doesn't want to face. It's a rare moment of vulnerability, one that she quickly hides behind her usual hard shell. She doesn't want to care. She can't afford to.

But she's already made the choice.

When she pulls you into her arms, lifting you effortlessly as if you're nothing more than a weightless bundle, you feel the odd warmth of her body against yours. The clash of her cold demeanor and this rare moment of tenderness sends a shock through you, a realization that perhaps she's not as immune to kindness as she makes herself out to be.

As the two of you make your way back to safety, Sevika's hand never leaves the cloth pressed against your side. She's steady, unyielding, and yet... there's something in the way she holds you now, something that wasn't there before.

You know she won't admit it. She can't. But for the first time, you see a crack in her armor.

And you can't help but smile, despite everything.

She's still the same Sevika, tough as nails, unrelenting, but underneath it all? You're starting to see that she's capable of something more.

You won't stop smiling—not even for her.

It's the middle of the night, and you're wide awake, groaning softly as you try to adjust your position on the bed. The wound on your side, though healing, hasn't quite been fully stitched up yet, and tonight, it seems, it's decided to protest. The dull ache from earlier has turned into something sharper, something more insistent, as you shift again and feel the sting of stitches pulling loose.

You sit up, pressing a hand to the wound, biting your lip as the pain spreads. Damn it, you can't let this go unchecked. The medic has already gone home for the night, and the last thing you want to do is try to deal with it on your own. You've only been out of the infirmary for a few days, but you know that if you don't do something about it, you could risk making things worse.

So, you do the only thing that comes to mind: you go find Sevika.

She's always there when things get rough, even when she doesn't want to be. Whether she likes it or not, you're stuck with her. So, you pull on a loose shirt, the fabric brushing against your skin, and you make your way toward her quarters in the heart of Zaun's underground complex.

The hallways are quiet, and the dim light overhead casts long shadows across the stone walls. You hesitate for a moment, the familiar nervousness creeping up your spine. What if she's not in the mood for this? What if she snaps at you, tells you to figure it out yourself? But you push the thought aside, biting your lip and walking with more determination toward her door.

You knock twice, a hesitant but firm tap. The response comes quickly—a grunt followed by the sound of heavy footsteps on the other side. The door creaks open, revealing Sevika in nothing but her sleeveless top, her metallic prosthetic arm gleaming faintly in the dim light. She's standing there, as imposing as ever, eyes narrowing when she sees you.

"What the hell do you want?" Her voice is rough, like gravel grinding underfoot, but there's an edge of concern in her gaze that she doesn't bother to hide.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, the wound on your side still aching painfully. "I—uh, I think my stitches came undone." You gesture weakly to your side, a little embarrassed that you've come to her for something like this. "I need help."

Sevika's brow furrows, and before you can say anything else, she steps aside, ushering you in with a sharp, "Get in here."

You hesitate, but the pain is still there, gnawing at you. You wince as you step inside her quarters, and the familiar scent of leather, metal, and the faint, earthy smell of Zaunite air fills your senses. Sevika's space is sparse, functional—a bed, a few chairs, some scattered tools, and a small table with a few half-drunk bottles of something strong.

She gestures for you to sit on the edge of her bed, the sheets slightly askew, but she doesn't seem to care about the mess. You sit carefully, lifting your shirt to reveal the bandages around your side, only to wince again when the motion tugs on the wound.

Sevika doesn't say anything, just walks to the small table and grabs some fresh gauze, a roll of medical tape, and a few tools. You notice the way her gaze flicks to your side, her lips pressing into a thin line.

"Don't just sit there like a damn idiot," she mutters, her voice unusually soft as she crosses the room, "Take that shirt off. You're making it harder for me."

Your heart skips a beat, and your cheeks flush with warmth, even though you try to hide it. You've never been this close to Sevika before, especially not in this context. Her usual scowl is softened, but there's an undeniable hardness to her presence, making your pulse quicken.

You take a deep breath and pull the shirt off, revealing your bandaged side and the remnants of your wound. You're left in just your bra, feeling a little exposed, but you try to push the nervousness down. Sevika doesn't seem to care at all about your state of undress. Her attention is entirely on you, her sharp eyes scanning the injury as she leans over.

The air feels suddenly thick with an intensity you haven't noticed before. Her movements are methodical, but there's an odd tenderness in the way she handles the gauze and the bandages, even though her touch remains firm and practical. When she leans in closer, you can feel the heat of her body as she works on your side, her breath brushing against your skin.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. The room is filled only with the sounds of Sevika's breath and the faint click of her prosthetic arm as she moves. You focus on trying to steady yourself, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Hold still," she orders in a low voice, and you comply, not trusting your words to come out steady.

She works in silence, her focus entirely on the task at hand. Her fingers are gentle as she adjusts the bandages, her calloused hands brushing against your skin every so often. You can feel her eyes on you, though she doesn't look up. The soft touch of her hands against your skin is a stark contrast to her usual coldness, and you can't help the way your stomach flips at the intimacy of it all.

When she finishes, she steps back slightly, her gaze lingering on you for a moment before she clears her throat. "There. That should hold for now. Don't make me do this again."

You glance up at her, catching the faintest hint of something soft in her grey eyes, but it's gone as quickly as it appears. She's back to her usual self—stoic, guarded, but there's still that unspoken understanding between the two of you.

"Thanks," you say quietly, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the vulnerability of the moment. "I really appreciate it."

Sevika rolls her eyes but doesn't say anything else. Instead, she tosses the supplies onto the table and walks back to the chair in the corner, leaning back with her arms crossed. "You're welcome," she mutters, sounding almost gruff, but there's a softness in her tone that wasn't there before.

You glance at her, a small, teasing smile creeping across your face. "You sure you're not going to throw me out now that you've seen me in my bra?"

Her eyes flick to you, the faintest spark of irritation flickering before she grunts. "Don't get any funny ideas, alright? This doesn't change anything."

You smile at her, watching her try to keep up her tough exterior. It's the first time you've ever been this close to her in this way, and you can't help but feel a sense of warmth that spreads through your chest.

"Sure, Sevika," you say softly, "whatever you say."

Sevika doesn't answer, but as she watches you, her lips twitch into the smallest of smiles, just for a fraction of a second.

You never quite get used to the sight of Sevika after a mission gone wrong. It doesn't matter how many times you've seen her come back battered and bruised, bloodied and bruised, a quiet part of you always hopes the next time won't be as bad. But it's always worse. Each time she walks in with a limp, a scowl, and that dark gleam in her eyes, you know it's only a matter of time before it breaks you.

And tonight, it's the worst it's been in months. Her left arm, her prosthetic, is badly damaged, sparks still crackling from the shattered circuitry as she stumbles through the door. Her breathing is shallow, uneven. The shimmer-enhanced blue and purple veins pulse under her skin, glowing faintly in the dim light of the warehouse. The glint of her copper prosthetic, normally a symbol of her unyielding strength, now looks like a taunting reminder of the fragility that even she can't escape.

You feel your chest tighten as you rush to her side, hands instinctively reaching out to steady her.

"Shit," Sevika mutters, her voice rough from the effort it takes to stand. "I'm fine. I don't need your help." But her words lack the usual bite. They're hollow, like she's trying to convince herself more than anyone else.

You ignore her, not caring about the gruff tone or the coldness that oozes from every word. You've seen it before—the way she hides behind that wall of indifference, masking the cracks with bravado. But tonight, there's something different. Her guard is slipping. Maybe it's the injury, maybe it's something else, but for once, she's not pushing you away.

Her heavy, labored steps are slow as you help her to the nearest chair, your hands steady as you guide her down. She winces as her weight shifts onto the seat, the strain evident in the furrow of her brow and the clenched jaw.

You sit beside her, your eyes tracing the damage to her arm, the shimmer scars that mar her skin. Your stomach knots. She's always been tough, but this time, there's a vulnerability to her that you've never seen before.

"You need to rest," you say gently, your voice softer than you intended. "You've been pushing yourself too hard. It's okay to take a break, Sevika."

She snorts, her usual sharpness returning, but it's forced. "I don't need your pity."

"It's not pity," you insist, your gaze meeting hers. "It's care. You're not invincible, Sevika. You're allowed to feel things. You don't always have to be the tough one."

Sevika's eyes narrow, and for a moment, you think she's going to snap at you, throw out another biting retort, but she doesn't. Her lips curl downward, and she looks away, focusing on the floor as if the weight of your words is suddenly too heavy for her.

For a long beat, there's silence between you two. The sound of Sevika's ragged breathing fills the space, and you can hear the faint crackling of her prosthetic arm, still sparking erratically.

"Why do you always act like this?" you ask, your voice quiet but steady. "Like you're untouchable. Like you don't need anyone."

Sevika's shoulders stiffen, her jaw tightening, but you don't let her retreat into herself this time. You place a hand gently on her arm, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath the cool metal of her prosthetic. Her gaze flicks to your hand, and for a moment, you think she'll pull away, but she doesn't. Instead, her breath hitches, and she stares at you as if seeing you for the first time.

"What do you want from me?" Her voice cracks, a sharp edge to it. "I'm not some fucking damsel in distress. I can handle myself."

You lean closer, your eyes softening as you study her face. The harshness of her features, the furrow in her brow, the tightness around her eyes—all of it is a mask. A mask she's been wearing for years, hiding the truth underneath.

"I don't want anything from you, Sevika," you say, your voice soft but firm. "I just want you to stop pretending you don't need help. Stop pretending you don't need someone who cares about you. You're not weak because you need someone. You're human."

Sevika's eyes flash with something—anger, fear, uncertainty—before she looks away, her fingers tightening around the edge of her prosthetic. "I don't need anyone," she mutters, though it sounds more like a plea than a statement.

You shake your head. "You do. And I'm here. You're not in this alone."

Her gaze flickers back to you, her expression conflicted. You see the war in her eyes—the part of her that wants to let go, to accept your care, and the part of her that's terrified of doing so. You know she's been through hell, fought battles that no one should have to face, and survived in a world that doesn't give a damn about her. But you also know there's more to her than the walls she's built.

The silence between you both grows heavier, but instead of pulling away, you stay. You let the quiet linger, giving her space to process the unspoken things hanging in the air.

Sevika exhales sharply, and for the first time tonight, she doesn't try to hide the exhaustion in her voice. "You think I'm just some cold-hearted bitch who doesn't care about anything. But you don't know...you don't know what it's like. To care. To have someone depend on you and then—" She cuts herself off, her eyes flicking to the floor. "It hurts, alright?"

You don't say anything right away. You just listen. Because it's the first time she's admitted that. The first time she's let someone see the cracks in her armor.

"You don't have to carry everything on your own," you say, your voice soft but insistent. "You don't have to be perfect. Not for me. Not for anyone. I'm here. Let me help."

There's a long pause, but eventually, Sevika lifts her gaze to meet yours. Her eyes are dark, but there's something different there now. Something softer, less guarded. She blinks, the tension in her shoulders slowly dissipating.

"You really are ridiculous, you know that?" she says with a faint smile, but it's not mocking. There's something genuine about it. "You don't know when to quit."

"No," you reply with a small grin, "I don't."

She sighs, the weight of the moment finally sinking in. "You're right," she mutters, almost to herself. "I'm not good at this. At...letting people in."

"I know," you say, reaching out and placing your hand over hers. "But you don't have to do it all at once. We can take it slow. Just...let me be here for you. When you need it."

Sevika's eyes flicker down to your hand, her thumb brushing over your skin, and for the briefest moment, it feels like the world pauses. The connection between you two is palpable now, not just a shared silence, but something deeper. Something that neither of you can ignore.

Her lips twitch into the barest hint of a smile before she leans forward, her face inches from yours. "You're not like anyone I've met before," she murmurs, her voice low and rough. "And that's...frustrating."

"Why?" you whisper, barely able to keep the distance between you two.

"Because you make it hard to be a cold-hearted bitch," Sevika says, her voice laced with a mixture of frustration and something else you can't quite place.

Without another word, you close the distance. Your lips meet hers in a kiss that's soft, tentative at first, but soon deepens as the tension between you two finally gives way. The kiss is slow, exploring, each touch of your lips against hers a silent promise, a moment of vulnerability shared between two people who have spent so long hiding from each other.

When you finally pull away, Sevika rests her forehead against yours, breathing heavily. There's no more need for words between you two. The connection is enough.

For the first time in a long time, Sevika lets herself feel what she's been hiding, and you, quietly, let her.

Enemies to lovers sevika.

Sevika absolutely despises reader, and yet reader is still so nice to sevika always smiling at her and offering her nothing but kindness…sevika hates it.(no she doesn’t)

Could be either fluff or smutty just an idea

✞⛧ Tension and Temptation ✞⛧

Warnings: emotional vulnerability, slow burn, developing relationship, implied tension, brief violence, slight injury, angst, reluctant affection (no smut..sorry gang-)

Word count: 5.3K

The air in Zaun always feels heavier, weighed down by the grinding industrial machines and the lingering scent of decay. The narrow streets are filled with the constant hum of activity, the hustle and bustle of a city where survival is a day-to-day struggle. You've barely stepped foot into Silco's territory, but the tension that thickens the air makes you feel as though you've already failed the moment you arrived.

And standing before you, arms crossed, is Sevika.

She's a force of nature, towering and imposing, with the kind of presence that could crush a man just by staring at him. Her broad shoulders and muscular frame practically hum with power, her every movement radiating command. A scar runs down her face, another testament to her brutal world, and her grey eyes, cold as steel, meet yours with a flicker of disdain. Her hair falls in dark waves over her sharp features, partially obscuring the fierce, calculating look she's giving you. The metallic sheen of her copper-colored prosthetic arm glints in the low light, its shimmer-enhanced strength evident even in the way she holds herself.

The first thing you notice is how she's completely unapproachable, the natural aura of violence that wraps around her as tightly as the red poncho draped over her shoulders. You almost feel sorry for the fact that she's been stuck with someone like you. You're just a recruit, fresh off the streets, trying to earn your place. You can already tell she doesn't want you here.

"I don't need a damn assistant," Sevika spits, her voice like gravel scraping against metal. Her tone cuts through the heavy air, sharp and immediate. "So don't get any ideas. Just stay out of my way."

You can't help but smile—soft, almost out of place. It's your natural instinct to meet coldness with kindness, even if it seems pointless. You've always believed that if you show warmth to the right people, maybe you'll get something back in return. But Sevika? She's a brick wall. Her sharp eyes narrow, assessing you as if you were a problem she needed to solve.

"Yeah, whatever," she mutters, dismissing you with a wave of her hand. "Don't make me regret this."

You follow her closely as she turns, stepping with heavy purpose down the grimy streets of Zaun, her boots clicking against the ground in rhythm with the pounding of your heart. Despite the tension crackling between you, you do your best to keep your tone light. "I just want to help. I can handle whatever you need."

Sevika doesn't respond. Instead, her eyes stay fixed ahead, ignoring you completely. The silence between you feels suffocating, but you persist. "I know it might not seem like it, but I'm here to learn. I'm not looking to get in your way, I promise."

Her scowl deepens. "Then keep your mouth shut, and maybe I'll consider it," she growls. Her voice is low, a constant hum of irritation. But it's not just her words that make you pause. It's the way her eyes flash briefly toward you before her gaze returns to the horizon. There's something about the sharpness in those eyes, something that makes the air around you feel charged.

It's like trying to strike a spark in a cold, barren landscape. The more you try to offer, the more Sevika pushes back, her harsh words biting through your calm demeanor.

Still, you can't help but offer a small smile as you keep up with her. You've always believed in the power of kindness. Maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to crack through her tough exterior.

By the time you've reached your destination—a crumbling building where Silco's orders are handed down—you've managed to learn that Sevika has little patience for anything, let alone for someone who dares to try and offer kindness. You find yourself standing in the shadows as she barks out orders to a group of men, her posture demanding respect. There's an undeniable force behind her words, a presence that commands the room as much as her stature does. Her copper arm gleams under the dull lighting, the intricate mechanics of the prosthetic arm seeming almost alien in the harsh, industrial environment.

You're not sure why you still persist. Maybe it's because something about Sevika's rugged exterior, her unrelenting loyalty, and the way she carries herself pulls at you. Or maybe it's the fact that you can see through her cold exterior—there's more beneath the surface, and you're determined to figure it out.

As the hours drag on, the work piles up. It's hard, grueling, and entirely mundane, but you keep at it, offering help when needed, sticking close to her side. There's something about Sevika's quiet, controlled rage that fascinates you. The way she moves, the way she handles everything—each gesture calculated and efficient—reminds you of a well-oiled machine. But machines don't need kindness. People do.

Sevika finally throws you a glance as you hand her a cup of tea, carefully prepared just the way you think she might like it. She takes it from your hand with a grumble, muttering something under her breath about unnecessary gestures, but you know you've won a small victory.

She doesn't throw the cup at you. She drinks it instead, in silence.

The longer you stand beside her, the more her icy exterior seems to thaw—if only just slightly. You notice the subtle shifts in her posture when you speak, the way her lips curve in the briefest of smiles, though she quickly hides it behind her usual scowl.

"Stop smiling at me like that," she growls, her voice softer than before, yet still biting. "It's fucking irritating."

But you don't stop. In fact, you make it your mission to be even kinder, to offer more help, to make her realize that you're not a threat, that you're not here to steal her spotlight, but to be part of the team.

Later, when the day's work is done, Sevika's frustration with you seems to grow. She's angry, but it's not the same anger she directs at the people she dislikes. This one is different. It's more internal, a tension she can't shake, like you're pushing a button deep inside her. She doesn't understand it, and it only makes her hate you more.

"Why the hell do you keep doing this?" she asks, her voice rough with something unreadable. "You think your smile will make this any easier? You think I care about your little act of kindness?"

You stand your ground, though your heart beats faster. "Maybe I'm just trying to help."

Sevika scoffs, but it's not as cutting as before. She glances at you once more, her gaze unreadable, and for a second, it's almost like she's looking at you, really looking at you, for the first time.

"You're wasting your time," she mutters, her tone almost tired.

But when she turns away, there's a slight shift in her movements, an imperceptible change in the way she carries herself. You're not sure if she's getting used to you, or if she's just too exhausted to push you away anymore. But the more she resists, the more determined you become.

In the quiet aftermath of a long day, Sevika lingers at the edge of your vision. She's still rough around the edges, her anger still a flame that burns bright, but there's a small part of her that's starting to crack.

You can see it. She can't hide it from you forever.

And that's when it hits you—despite her constant grumbling, despite her sharp words and cold silences, you're not just an annoyance to her. You're a challenge. One she can't seem to escape.

As Sevika walks away, her prosthetic arm catching the light in a way that makes her seem even more formidable, you smile softly to yourself.

You won't give up on her.

The weight of Zaun hangs heavy in the air, thick with the scent of oil, decay, and danger. The city is a constant, humming machine of chaos and violence, a place where only the strongest survive. And you? You're still trying to prove yourself, trying to make your place known in Silco's ranks. But standing next to Sevika, as always, feels like a constant struggle.

Her presence is like an impenetrable wall of steel—intimidating, unyielding, and cold. Every time you speak to her, it's like your words just bounce off her, sliding into the abyss where they're quickly forgotten. But you're not deterred. You can't be. Her icy demeanor is nothing new. What is new, however, is the way you can't seem to stop smiling at her. Even when she glares at you like she's about to snap your neck, there's something in you that refuses to back down, refuses to let her coldness defeat you.

And it's that same smile you offer her now as the two of you walk through the dark, abandoned streets, on a mission to secure a deal with another faction. You've learned by now that Sevika doesn't deal well with pleasantries, doesn't like the niceties most people in Silco's empire try to pretend at. She's raw, blunt, a woman who cuts to the heart of the matter without hesitation. But despite her sharp words and colder gaze, you remain the same—cheerful, optimistic, and unnervingly kind.

"Quit looking at me like that," Sevika growls, her voice low and gravelly as her grey eyes flick to you. Her gaze pierces through you, as if she's trying to burn holes into your skin. The low hum of her prosthetic arm moving against the fabric of her sleeve is a constant reminder of her strength, her sharpness, and the danger she can unleash with a single movement.

"Like what?" you ask, genuinely curious, despite knowing the answer. You can feel her irritation like a thick cloud around her, but it doesn't deter you. Not today.

"Like you think I'm some sort of charity case," she snaps, the muscles in her neck tensing as her jaw clenches. "If you think you can win me over with your fake little smiles, you're sorely mistaken."

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can say anything, the sudden sound of footsteps echoes in the alleyway ahead. A low hiss of tension fills the air, and instinctively, you tense up, your eyes scanning the shadows.

Sevika's hand immediately goes to the grip of her weapon, her fingers flexing in anticipation. You've seen her in action before—the way she moves, the way her presence fills a room with both fear and respect. But this? This is different. She's on edge, and that makes you on edge too.

"Stay behind me," Sevika orders, her voice a low command as she steps forward, her posture suddenly coiled with dangerous intent. Her left prosthetic arm gleams under the dim light, the cracked blue and purple veins in her skin pulsing faintly beneath the surface. She looks like a force of nature, ready to strike at any moment.

You don't argue. You've learned by now that arguing with Sevika is a pointless endeavor. Instead, you keep your head down, staying close to her as the two of you advance. But as you round the corner, you don't expect what happens next.

Gunshots echo through the alley, and in an instant, you're caught off guard. A burst of shrapnel flies toward you, the sound of the blast ringing in your ears, and before you even have time to react, a sharp pain explodes in your side. The world tilts on its axis as you stumble, your knees buckling under you as you fall hard against the cold, unforgiving ground.

Your breath hitches, the shock of the attack leaving your limbs weak. Blood starts to pool beneath you, and panic surges in your chest. You're not sure how bad it is, but you know you're hurt. You're not sure if you can stand again.

Sevika doesn't hesitate. She spins around with the speed of a predator, her metallic prosthetic arm coming down with the force of a battering ram. The gunmen are taken down quickly, their bodies slumping lifelessly to the ground, but you're not focused on them. You're focused on the sharp, burning pain in your side, the fear creeping in that you might not be able to move.

She doesn't see it at first. She's too caught up in the immediate danger of taking out the rival faction. But when she turns back to look for you, that's when she sees it.

Your hand is pressed tightly against your side, blood seeping between your fingers as you struggle to stay conscious. The shock is setting in, your head spinning, your vision blurring around the edges.

For a moment, Sevika's eyes narrow, her face unreadable as she assesses the situation. The emotions in her eyes flash too quickly to read—fury, disbelief, and something else you can't place. Her lip curls, the usual scowl deepening, but she doesn't turn away.

You try to force yourself up, to stand, but your body refuses to cooperate. Your legs shake, and you collapse back onto the cold concrete, gasping for breath.

Sevika swears under her breath, her brow furrowing in a rare display of concern. Her prosthetic arm shifts, clicking with the precision of machinery as she strides toward you, her pace quickening, her boots slamming against the ground.

"You're fucking useless," she mutters under her breath, the words as harsh as ever. But when she kneels beside you, there's a hint of something else in her voice—a softness that's quickly masked by her usual cold exterior. "Stay down."

Before you can say anything, she's already tearing off a piece of her red poncho, using it to staunch the bleeding. Her hands are surprisingly gentle as she presses the cloth against your wound, her fingers rough from years of fighting but oddly careful in their touch.

"You better not fucking die on me," she grumbles, though her voice lacks its usual bite. "I don't need another person I have to drag around."

You can feel her frustration radiating off of her, but there's something else beneath it, something that tugs at the very core of you. She's trying to save you. Despite the way she treats you, despite how cold and distant she's always been, there's a flicker of something deeper in her actions—a recognition, maybe, of your sacrifice for her.

You offer her a weak smile, the corners of your lips pulling up despite the pain. "I'm not going anywhere, Sevika," you say, your voice hoarse but steady.

She freezes, her hand pressing down harder on the wound. The faint glow of purple lights up her eyes for a split second as she injects shimmer into her bloodstream. It makes her scarred veins pulsate, the colors glowing brighter, but it's the softening of her gaze that you notice first.

"Don't make me regret this," she mutters, but it doesn't feel like an insult. It feels more like an acknowledgment of something she doesn't want to face. It's a rare moment of vulnerability, one that she quickly hides behind her usual hard shell. She doesn't want to care. She can't afford to.

But she's already made the choice.

When she pulls you into her arms, lifting you effortlessly as if you're nothing more than a weightless bundle, you feel the odd warmth of her body against yours. The clash of her cold demeanor and this rare moment of tenderness sends a shock through you, a realization that perhaps she's not as immune to kindness as she makes herself out to be.

As the two of you make your way back to safety, Sevika's hand never leaves the cloth pressed against your side. She's steady, unyielding, and yet... there's something in the way she holds you now, something that wasn't there before.

You know she won't admit it. She can't. But for the first time, you see a crack in her armor.

And you can't help but smile, despite everything.

She's still the same Sevika, tough as nails, unrelenting, but underneath it all? You're starting to see that she's capable of something more.

You won't stop smiling—not even for her.

It's the middle of the night, and you're wide awake, groaning softly as you try to adjust your position on the bed. The wound on your side, though healing, hasn't quite been fully stitched up yet, and tonight, it seems, it's decided to protest. The dull ache from earlier has turned into something sharper, something more insistent, as you shift again and feel the sting of stitches pulling loose.

You sit up, pressing a hand to the wound, biting your lip as the pain spreads. Damn it, you can't let this go unchecked. The medic has already gone home for the night, and the last thing you want to do is try to deal with it on your own. You've only been out of the infirmary for a few days, but you know that if you don't do something about it, you could risk making things worse.

So, you do the only thing that comes to mind: you go find Sevika.

She's always there when things get rough, even when she doesn't want to be. Whether she likes it or not, you're stuck with her. So, you pull on a loose shirt, the fabric brushing against your skin, and you make your way toward her quarters in the heart of Zaun's underground complex.

The hallways are quiet, and the dim light overhead casts long shadows across the stone walls. You hesitate for a moment, the familiar nervousness creeping up your spine. What if she's not in the mood for this? What if she snaps at you, tells you to figure it out yourself? But you push the thought aside, biting your lip and walking with more determination toward her door.

You knock twice, a hesitant but firm tap. The response comes quickly—a grunt followed by the sound of heavy footsteps on the other side. The door creaks open, revealing Sevika in nothing but her sleeveless top, her metallic prosthetic arm gleaming faintly in the dim light. She's standing there, as imposing as ever, eyes narrowing when she sees you.

"What the hell do you want?" Her voice is rough, like gravel grinding underfoot, but there's an edge of concern in her gaze that she doesn't bother to hide.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, the wound on your side still aching painfully. "I—uh, I think my stitches came undone." You gesture weakly to your side, a little embarrassed that you've come to her for something like this. "I need help."

Sevika's brow furrows, and before you can say anything else, she steps aside, ushering you in with a sharp, "Get in here."

You hesitate, but the pain is still there, gnawing at you. You wince as you step inside her quarters, and the familiar scent of leather, metal, and the faint, earthy smell of Zaunite air fills your senses. Sevika's space is sparse, functional—a bed, a few chairs, some scattered tools, and a small table with a few half-drunk bottles of something strong.

She gestures for you to sit on the edge of her bed, the sheets slightly askew, but she doesn't seem to care about the mess. You sit carefully, lifting your shirt to reveal the bandages around your side, only to wince again when the motion tugs on the wound.

Sevika doesn't say anything, just walks to the small table and grabs some fresh gauze, a roll of medical tape, and a few tools. You notice the way her gaze flicks to your side, her lips pressing into a thin line.

"Don't just sit there like a damn idiot," she mutters, her voice unusually soft as she crosses the room, "Take that shirt off. You're making it harder for me."

Your heart skips a beat, and your cheeks flush with warmth, even though you try to hide it. You've never been this close to Sevika before, especially not in this context. Her usual scowl is softened, but there's an undeniable hardness to her presence, making your pulse quicken.

You take a deep breath and pull the shirt off, revealing your bandaged side and the remnants of your wound. You're left in just your bra, feeling a little exposed, but you try to push the nervousness down. Sevika doesn't seem to care at all about your state of undress. Her attention is entirely on you, her sharp eyes scanning the injury as she leans over.

The air feels suddenly thick with an intensity you haven't noticed before. Her movements are methodical, but there's an odd tenderness in the way she handles the gauze and the bandages, even though her touch remains firm and practical. When she leans in closer, you can feel the heat of her body as she works on your side, her breath brushing against your skin.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. The room is filled only with the sounds of Sevika's breath and the faint click of her prosthetic arm as she moves. You focus on trying to steady yourself, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Hold still," she orders in a low voice, and you comply, not trusting your words to come out steady.

She works in silence, her focus entirely on the task at hand. Her fingers are gentle as she adjusts the bandages, her calloused hands brushing against your skin every so often. You can feel her eyes on you, though she doesn't look up. The soft touch of her hands against your skin is a stark contrast to her usual coldness, and you can't help the way your stomach flips at the intimacy of it all.

When she finishes, she steps back slightly, her gaze lingering on you for a moment before she clears her throat. "There. That should hold for now. Don't make me do this again."

You glance up at her, catching the faintest hint of something soft in her grey eyes, but it's gone as quickly as it appears. She's back to her usual self—stoic, guarded, but there's still that unspoken understanding between the two of you.

"Thanks," you say quietly, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the vulnerability of the moment. "I really appreciate it."

Sevika rolls her eyes but doesn't say anything else. Instead, she tosses the supplies onto the table and walks back to the chair in the corner, leaning back with her arms crossed. "You're welcome," she mutters, sounding almost gruff, but there's a softness in her tone that wasn't there before.

You glance at her, a small, teasing smile creeping across your face. "You sure you're not going to throw me out now that you've seen me in my bra?"

Her eyes flick to you, the faintest spark of irritation flickering before she grunts. "Don't get any funny ideas, alright? This doesn't change anything."

You smile at her, watching her try to keep up her tough exterior. It's the first time you've ever been this close to her in this way, and you can't help but feel a sense of warmth that spreads through your chest.

"Sure, Sevika," you say softly, "whatever you say."

Sevika doesn't answer, but as she watches you, her lips twitch into the smallest of smiles, just for a fraction of a second.

You never quite get used to the sight of Sevika after a mission gone wrong. It doesn't matter how many times you've seen her come back battered and bruised, bloodied and bruised, a quiet part of you always hopes the next time won't be as bad. But it's always worse. Each time she walks in with a limp, a scowl, and that dark gleam in her eyes, you know it's only a matter of time before it breaks you.

And tonight, it's the worst it's been in months. Her left arm, her prosthetic, is badly damaged, sparks still crackling from the shattered circuitry as she stumbles through the door. Her breathing is shallow, uneven. The shimmer-enhanced blue and purple veins pulse under her skin, glowing faintly in the dim light of the warehouse. The glint of her copper prosthetic, normally a symbol of her unyielding strength, now looks like a taunting reminder of the fragility that even she can't escape.

You feel your chest tighten as you rush to her side, hands instinctively reaching out to steady her.

"Shit," Sevika mutters, her voice rough from the effort it takes to stand. "I'm fine. I don't need your help." But her words lack the usual bite. They're hollow, like she's trying to convince herself more than anyone else.

You ignore her, not caring about the gruff tone or the coldness that oozes from every word. You've seen it before—the way she hides behind that wall of indifference, masking the cracks with bravado. But tonight, there's something different. Her guard is slipping. Maybe it's the injury, maybe it's something else, but for once, she's not pushing you away.

Her heavy, labored steps are slow as you help her to the nearest chair, your hands steady as you guide her down. She winces as her weight shifts onto the seat, the strain evident in the furrow of her brow and the clenched jaw.

You sit beside her, your eyes tracing the damage to her arm, the shimmer scars that mar her skin. Your stomach knots. She's always been tough, but this time, there's a vulnerability to her that you've never seen before.

"You need to rest," you say gently, your voice softer than you intended. "You've been pushing yourself too hard. It's okay to take a break, Sevika."

She snorts, her usual sharpness returning, but it's forced. "I don't need your pity."

"It's not pity," you insist, your gaze meeting hers. "It's care. You're not invincible, Sevika. You're allowed to feel things. You don't always have to be the tough one."

Sevika's eyes narrow, and for a moment, you think she's going to snap at you, throw out another biting retort, but she doesn't. Her lips curl downward, and she looks away, focusing on the floor as if the weight of your words is suddenly too heavy for her.

For a long beat, there's silence between you two. The sound of Sevika's ragged breathing fills the space, and you can hear the faint crackling of her prosthetic arm, still sparking erratically.

"Why do you always act like this?" you ask, your voice quiet but steady. "Like you're untouchable. Like you don't need anyone."

Sevika's shoulders stiffen, her jaw tightening, but you don't let her retreat into herself this time. You place a hand gently on her arm, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath the cool metal of her prosthetic. Her gaze flicks to your hand, and for a moment, you think she'll pull away, but she doesn't. Instead, her breath hitches, and she stares at you as if seeing you for the first time.

"What do you want from me?" Her voice cracks, a sharp edge to it. "I'm not some fucking damsel in distress. I can handle myself."

You lean closer, your eyes softening as you study her face. The harshness of her features, the furrow in her brow, the tightness around her eyes—all of it is a mask. A mask she's been wearing for years, hiding the truth underneath.

"I don't want anything from you, Sevika," you say, your voice soft but firm. "I just want you to stop pretending you don't need help. Stop pretending you don't need someone who cares about you. You're not weak because you need someone. You're human."

Sevika's eyes flash with something—anger, fear, uncertainty—before she looks away, her fingers tightening around the edge of her prosthetic. "I don't need anyone," she mutters, though it sounds more like a plea than a statement.

You shake your head. "You do. And I'm here. You're not in this alone."

Her gaze flickers back to you, her expression conflicted. You see the war in her eyes—the part of her that wants to let go, to accept your care, and the part of her that's terrified of doing so. You know she's been through hell, fought battles that no one should have to face, and survived in a world that doesn't give a damn about her. But you also know there's more to her than the walls she's built.

The silence between you both grows heavier, but instead of pulling away, you stay. You let the quiet linger, giving her space to process the unspoken things hanging in the air.

Sevika exhales sharply, and for the first time tonight, she doesn't try to hide the exhaustion in her voice. "You think I'm just some cold-hearted bitch who doesn't care about anything. But you don't know...you don't know what it's like. To care. To have someone depend on you and then—" She cuts herself off, her eyes flicking to the floor. "It hurts, alright?"

You don't say anything right away. You just listen. Because it's the first time she's admitted that. The first time she's let someone see the cracks in her armor.

"You don't have to carry everything on your own," you say, your voice soft but insistent. "You don't have to be perfect. Not for me. Not for anyone. I'm here. Let me help."

There's a long pause, but eventually, Sevika lifts her gaze to meet yours. Her eyes are dark, but there's something different there now. Something softer, less guarded. She blinks, the tension in her shoulders slowly dissipating.

"You really are ridiculous, you know that?" she says with a faint smile, but it's not mocking. There's something genuine about it. "You don't know when to quit."

"No," you reply with a small grin, "I don't."

She sighs, the weight of the moment finally sinking in. "You're right," she mutters, almost to herself. "I'm not good at this. At...letting people in."

"I know," you say, reaching out and placing your hand over hers. "But you don't have to do it all at once. We can take it slow. Just...let me be here for you. When you need it."

Sevika's eyes flicker down to your hand, her thumb brushing over your skin, and for the briefest moment, it feels like the world pauses. The connection between you two is palpable now, not just a shared silence, but something deeper. Something that neither of you can ignore.

Her lips twitch into the barest hint of a smile before she leans forward, her face inches from yours. "You're not like anyone I've met before," she murmurs, her voice low and rough. "And that's...frustrating."

"Why?" you whisper, barely able to keep the distance between you two.

"Because you make it hard to be a cold-hearted bitch," Sevika says, her voice laced with a mixture of frustration and something else you can't quite place.

Without another word, you close the distance. Your lips meet hers in a kiss that's soft, tentative at first, but soon deepens as the tension between you two finally gives way. The kiss is slow, exploring, each touch of your lips against hers a silent promise, a moment of vulnerability shared between two people who have spent so long hiding from each other.

When you finally pull away, Sevika rests her forehead against yours, breathing heavily. There's no more need for words between you two. The connection is enough.

For the first time in a long time, Sevika lets herself feel what she's been hiding, and you, quietly, let her.

make you mine

dbf!cowboy!sevika x fem!reader

- summary: you've always had a longing for your dad's best friend ever since she moved into the ranch next door. however, you've had to keep your feelings to yourself out of fear of rejection and for the sake of their friendship. that is...until one night changes everything.

- content: smut MDNI, porn with plot, wild west au, forbidden love trope, age gap (reader is 21, sevika is 40), old town/ranch setting, sevika has her prosthetic arm, sevika only has a soft spot for reader, drinking & gambling, some harassment & violence (bar fight), gentledom!sev, lots of eye contact, sevika becomes very possessive, reader is shy at first but gets bold later on, use of pet names (sweetheart, darlin' etc), fingering & oral (both giving/receiving bc reader and sevika are a pair of munches), heavy scissoring, a little bit of sub!sev if you squint, and a little bit of aftercare in the end if you squint too

so i wrote this fic to try to cure the massive sevika brainrot that i’ve been having lately but it didn’t work…i still need her

You didn’t mean that much to her…or at least that’s what you had thought.

The feelings were innocent at first. It would begin through a small bit of contact, whether she’d accidentally brush her hand over yours or place her hand on the small of your back when mounting you on one of her horses, you’d end up getting chills down your spine and a small spark would start igniting in your chest. As time passed, it became more prominent. Every time she was near you, that same spark only grew more and more, followed by a tension that lingered between the two of you. You weren’t sure if it was just in your head, and you couldn’t tell if she felt the same way…until now.

It was the night before, and the three of you sat at the dining table having a steak dinner that you cooked up. Earlier that day, Sevika had accompanied you to the meat market to get those steaks. She insisted on paying for them and had already handed the cash to the butcher before you could even pull out your wallet. So to return the favor, you decided to invite her over for dinner.

You’re seated at the table, and before you start eating, you first watch as Sevika and your father take the first bites of their plate, hoping that the steaks turned out okay. “How is it?” you ask them. “I tried out a new seasoning this time.”

“It’s delicious, kiddo,” your dad had said, digging into his plate for another bite. “You always know how to make a mean ribeye.”

Sevika sat across from you, reaching out for her utensils. When she had finally taken a bite, a soft groan came from her as she savored the flavor of it. “Damn, this is good,” she added to your dad’s comment. “I might have to start coming over for dinner more often if you’re gonna be cookin’.”

You giggle at Sevika’s comment and look up at her, watching her go in for the next bite. “M’glad you like it, Sev.” Once you’re satisfied knowing that the food turned out well, you adjust yourself in your chair to start eating. As you do so, your boot ends up lightly brushing over Sevika’s leg, and, in an instant, you bring your feet back to yourself. You hope she didn’t notice your accidental contact, but it was clear that she did.

Sevika froze for a moment when she felt your boot brush up against her leg, and she couldn’t help but blush when you had done so. You hadn’t known just yet, but Sevika would also get that same spark inside her every time you were in her presence. She had never felt this way with anyone to begin with, especially with his best friend’s daughter out of all people. On the contrary, she’s mostly seen you like any other girl in her 20s, too young and naive to take seriously. Sure, you were headstrong, but in her eyes, it only added to your recklessness. That was until one particular night last year, when her feelings took a turn she never expected.

It was the night of your 21st birthday, and for a milestone birthday like that, there was no better way to celebrate than a night of drinks and dancing at the dance hall with your friends. You were too drunk to remember most of the events that night, but Sevika sure didn’t forget.

The night had blurred into a dizzying mess of laughter and alcohol, and by the time you found yourself outside the dance hall, your head was spinning. You fumbled for your phone, dialing Sevika’s number with shaky hands. 

Sevika was fast asleep when her phone rang, cutting through the peacefulness the night was bringing her. She let out a groan when she recognized your number. Groggily, she answered, her voice thick with sleep. “What now?”

“Sevika,” you slurred into the phone. ”I need you to come get me…I’m too drunk…please.”

With a sigh, Sevika got off of her bed and threw on her boots. “Fine, just…hang in there, I’ll be right out.” She wasn’t pleased to be pulled out of bed this late, but she couldn’t be one to leave you stranded out on the streets either.

When she arrived, she didn’t waste any time. With a swift motion, Sevika helped you onto the back of her horse, her grip firm as you clung to her. “Jesus, kid, you’re a mess,” she muttered, her tone laced with impatience.

You leaned against her, your head spinning. “You’re so pretty, Sev,” you mumbled, barely able to keep your eyes open. “Like my knight in shining armor.”

“Yeah, sure,” she replied dryly, but there was a faint tug at the corner of her lips as she kept you steady on her horse.

By the time she got you home, you stumbled to the ground upon entrance. Your giggles were uncontrollable, and you were barely able to get back on your feet. Sevika helped you get back up, but her patience was quickly wearing thin. “Keep it down,” she warned, her voice low. “Or else your dad’s gonna wake up.”

You continued to giggle, still not fully aware of what was going on, and she picked you up and guided you to your bedroom. With a sigh, Sevika helped you sit on the edge of the bed, but before she could leave, you suddenly grabbed her by the collar of her shirt and kissed her.

The kiss caught Sevika by surprise. She froze for a moment, then pulled back, her expression unreadable. She stared at you for a moment before gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Go to sleep,” she said, her voice quieter than usual.

You lazily kick your boots off and lie down in your bed. You snuggle into your blankets, and your eyelids start to grow heavy. “Sevika…stay with me...” you murmured, the tipsiness sinking in as you instantly drifted off to sleep right after.

Sevika hesitated for a moment, her eyes fixed on your sleeping state before she sighed, her usual coldness returning. “Just sleep it off, kid.” she mutters, her voice soft but firm. She left your room, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving you to fall into a peaceful slumber.

As Sevika arrived back home, she couldn’t help but feel an unfamiliar ache in her chest. The events of the night replayed in her mind—your drunken giggles, the kiss, the way you looked in her eyes with trust and affection. She set her stetson hat down on the table and let out a long sigh, realizing that no matter how hard she tried to keep her emotions together, something had shifted. Something she wasn’t sure she was ready to face.

She was starting to catch feelings for you.

Ever since that night, that spark continued to linger inside Sevika when you were around. However, for the sake of your dad, she had to keep herself together and brush it off.

You continue to eat your meal as normal, but you could still feel Sevika’s gaze when you weren’t looking. But every time you look up to see her, she is just concentrated on her plate. But Sevika couldn’t handle keeping her eyes on her plate any longer. 

Sevika called out your name, and you looked up at her, fork still in your mouth. She had her elbow propped up on the table, her human hand holding her fork, which was pointing down at her plate as she spoke. “You doin’ anything tomorrow, by any chance?”

You slowly take your fork out of her mouth and set it down on your plate as you finish chewing. “M’not doing much tomorrow, just my usual chores in the morning, why do you ask?” you reply.

“Well…” Sevika began, trailing off for a bit before continuing. “Was wonderin’ by any chance if you’d like to get drinks tomorrow night? You and me?”

You hesitate for a moment, completely caught off guard by the unexpected invitation. Knowing Sevika, she wasn’t usually the type to hang out with you, especially for something as casual as getting drinks together. Your gaze shifts to your dad, who sits on your right. “As long as it’s okay with my dad, I could go,” you reply.

Sevika turned to look at your dad who was on her left, patiently waiting for his reply. You couldn’t tell, but deep down, Sevika was extremely nervous, not sure of how your father would react to the idea of her asking you out like this. He didn’t think anything of it though, and let it slide. Your dad turned to the two of you. “Well, I guess it won’t be much harm in you two goin’ out for a drink…” He replies.

You smile at your dad’s approval to let you go, leaning in to hug him. “Thanks, Dad,” you tell him, sitting yourself back down. Your dad nods and looks over at Sevika. “I’ll be workin’ late tomorrow though, won’t be back home til’ the early morning. Just make sure to bring her back home safe, all right?” Sevika nods in acknowledgment. “Of course, I’ll make sure she’s back home safe.” She says, giving your dad a reassuring pat on his shoulder.

Once the three of you finished dinner, you gathered up the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen, with a bit of Sevika’s help since she offered. Eventually, Sevika had to head back to her place. Even though she lived close by, it still felt like she was miles away from you.

When Sevika got home, she quickly changed and slipped herself into bed. She tried her best to conceal things, but deep down, she couldn’t get the thought of you off her mind. It frightened her just as much to know that you could end up with someone else who wouldn’t treat you and care for you the same way she did. She wanted you all to herself. She wanted to claim you.

She wanted to make you hers.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──.°˖⋆ ℧ 𓃗 .°˖⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The next day passed like an eternity, but before you knew it, the late afternoon had arrived, and your evening was just about to begin.

You sat in your room by your dresser, finishing the touches on your makeup. You decided to dress in light colors for the night, wearing a lavender halter paired with a white skirt and boots, topped off with a white stetson on your head.

You hear a familiar knock at the door, instantly knowing that it was Sevika. It didn’t take her long to wait, within the first minute you were already downstairs and answering the door. You greet her with a smile, admiring the outfit she had picked out for the night. She was beautifully in contrast with you, wearing a deep purple button-up that complimented her olive skin and gray eyes, accompanied by black jeans and boots and a black stetson framing her short hair.

Sevika couldn’t help but take in how beautiful you looked in your outfit, her eyes scanning you from head to toe as she drank your figure in. “You look stunning,” she said, a small smirk growing on her face. 

You blush at Sevika’s comment, shyly looking down at your boots before looking back up at her. “Thanks, Sev, you don’t look so bad yourself.” You tell her with a giggle as you exit your house and close the door shut, and Sevika can’t help but smile back at you once you tell her how good she looks. She holds out her prosthetic arm and places it on the small of your back, guiding behind you as you two walk out of the porch together. You look up ahead in your tracks to see her horse awaiting your arrival, and Sevika whistles behind you to get his attention. Her black stallion trots over to the two of you, and Sevika first assists with mounting you onto him before mounting herself. You scooch closer to her and wrap your arms around her to secure yourself. Your hands clutch her abdomen tightly, and you could’ve sworn you felt her stomach flip when you did so. Once Sevika made sure you were secured onto her, she lightly tapped her heel on the horse’s side, signaling it to move forward.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to get to the bar, about fifteen minutes or so. Once you arrived, you let go of Sevika so she could dismount from her horse and tie him to the nearest post, securing her spot before coming over and helping you get off of him, her hands never leaving your waist until you safely stepped onto the ground. Sevika felt her heart beat faster when she did so. Just the feeling of your waist under her hands was enough to drive her crazy. As for you, you couldn’t help but get a fuzzy feeling in your body when she grabbed your waist, leading you to gently rub your thighs under your skirt to diminish that feeling somehow.

Sevika walked through the batwing doors of the bar with you following behind her, the heavy scent of whiskey and tobacco hanging in the air once you stepped foot. The low murmurs of conversing patrons mix with the clink of glasses and the shuffling of boots on the wooden floor. The piano plays a slow and steady tune, making the atmosphere of the bar feel timeless.

Sevika skims around the bar when suddenly a voice calls her over. “Hey Sev! Care for a round?” the man says with a challenging smirk, holding a deck of cards in his hand. Sevika smirks back at him, taking up the offer. “Oh, you’re on,” she tells him. She was about to head to her poker group but stopped for a moment and turned to you. “Mind grabbing us drinks? You can put it on my tab, my treat.” She tells you with a wink.

You nod with a smile as you signal Sevika off to go to the poker table. The table of men cheered for her when she arrived, patting her heavily on her shoulders before they started the game. Once she’s sat, you head to the bar to order the drinks. The bartender hands you the beers within a few minutes, and you go to the poker table to sit down next to Sevika. She keeps you close by your side as she plays the game with her group.

The both of you go through the first round of drinks pretty fast. Once both of your glasses are empty, you tap Sevika’s shoulder to get her attention. “I’m gonna get another drink, do you want one?” I ask her, pointing at her empty glass. Sevika looks over at you and nods. “Yes, please,” she says, handing you her empty glass. Her eyes move over to her deck of cards and back up to her group. “In fact…” she trails off, sliding her winning cards to the middle of the table. “Get us all another round, on me!” she says as she brings her chips over to her side of the table. The men cheer for her, and a few of them groan as they have lost the game. You smile at her excitement over her win. “All right then, I’ll be back,” you say, getting up from the table and making your way back over to the bar to order the next round. Sevika’s gaze didn’t leave you once you did, and she kept herself close enough to where you were in a line of her sight the whole time.

You look over at Sevika and flash her a smile before turning back, awaiting the next round of drinks. The peace didn’t last long, though, when suddenly a man enters the bar and makes the decision to sit uncomfortably close to you. “Hey there, little lady,” he calls out to you. “You here by yourself?” An uneasy feeling washes over Sevika when she saw the man approach you, not liking the fact that he was invading your space like that. She makes sure to keep an eye on him from the table, her eyes focused on you as she continues playing her game.

You scoot away from him, signaling that you’re not interested in him. “No, I’m with someone.” You tell him, cocking your head to the side and pointing over at Sevika. The man barely glances back at her and rolls his eyes, not even seeing her as a possible threat. “Well, you’re by yourself over here, aren’t ya? Think you could use some company…” The man then places a hand on your bare knee, and it leads you to pull your knee away from him. “No, thank you, m’not interested.” you reply.

Sevika’s eyes stay glued to the man and his movements. She knew you could take care of yourself, but the thought of you being close to such a sleazy guy like him made her blood boil. It took everything within her to compose herself, keeping her cool as she remained seated at the poker table.

Things begin to heat up a bit, and your voice starts to rise. “I already told you, sir, m’not interested.” You get off the bar stool, and he does the same. He corners you against the wall, and a sick feeling starts to grow in your stomach. “C’mon, little lady, I can show you a real good time.” He continues to push through you, and before you can say no, his hand trails up your skirt and squeezes your ass, which causes you to raise your hand and slap him across the face in an instant motion. “I fucking said no, asshole!” you shout back at him.

That was the last straw for Sevika. She couldn’t take it anymore. Her entire body shook from rage and anger from what she had just seen. Instantly, she rises from her seat and slams her fist down onto the table, causing the chips and cards to shake from the force. She makes her way over to the both of you, shoving the guy onto the ground and standing right in front of him, the scene causing the bar to go silent. “Didn’t your dad ever teach you how to respect a lady, boy?” she said sternly, narrowing her eyes down at him. “She already told you, she’s not interested.”

The man glares menacingly up at Sevika as he spat on the ground. “You want something, old hag?” He said back, his tone laced with venom as he looked her up and down. Sevika huffs out of her nose and clenches her metal fist in anger, feeling her rage boil even more at his comment. She takes another step forward at him. “Leave, or I will make you.” She growled out, her stance growing into a fighting position. You stay silent as you keep yourself behind Sevika. The guy gets up from the ground and faces her. “Y’know what?” he says. “It’s fine…didn’t even care about bringing that little bitch home with me anyways.” he spits back referring to you.

Sevika couldn’t stand hearing him insulting you like this, but she needed a good enough excuse to deck him in the face, and she wasn’t gonna take up any more of the disrespect that man was giving you. Without a second thought, her fist flies into his face, knocking some of his teeth clean out as he stumbled back onto the ground. She grabs the man by the collar of his shirt and brings him up to her level. “Fucking mess with my girl again, and you might not make the next hit I give you.” she growls at him before letting him go and shoving him back to the ground.

You look at Sevika in pure shock at what she has done. Now, you weren’t in shock about what she had done to the man; he deserved it. You were more in shock about what she had called you.

“My girl.”

“My girl, my girl, my girl…” Her words repeat in your head like a broken record player. Never in your life, never in the years that you had developed these growing feelings for Sevika, had you expected those words to come out of her mouth.

You snap out of your thoughts as you see the man getting up off the ground and admitting defeat. He scurries out of the bar without a second thought, leaving Sevika standing there as she huffed and caught her breath. She kept her eyes on the doors for a moment in case he tried to come back before finally calming down. She let out a deep breath and turned back to look at you. She had this somewhat fearful look in her eyes, and you knew what it was. She feared that you might have heard the words that slipped from her mouth at that moment. You needed to tell her about it, the curiosity was starting to consume you, but now was not the time or place to talk about that.

You quickly shook your head, pretending to be unaware of it for now. You look around the bar to see that everyone is still silent, still staring at the two of you. “Show’s over!” you exclaim, and everyone goes back to their usual business. “Sevika…are you okay?” you say, approaching closer to her as you check both her human and metal fists for any bruises or dents. 

Sevika could feel her heart flutter when you took her hands into yours, goosebumps erupting on her arm when your soft palms touched her calloused human hand. “Yeah, I’m okay,” she replied, her voice going soft as she looked down at your hands inspecting her own. “I’m more worried about you, though. You ain’t hurt or nothin’?” She asked, looking down at you with concern. You shake your head in response, setting her hands back down at her sides. “No, he just grabbed me, that’s all,” you tell her. She lets out a breath of relief at your response, knowing that you weren’t hurt. After making sure the guy wasn’t around anymore, the two of you decided that it was time to call it a night and head back home instead. “C’mon, let’s start heading out.” She said, putting a hand on your waist as you both exited the bar. 

The ride back was oddly peaceful, to say the least. There wasn’t much to be said at the moment since Sevika had saved you, and you both enjoyed the quiet more than usual as you both took the scenery of the sun setting around you, too. Your hands stayed secure on Sevika’s waist as she rode her horse, and your head rested on her back. You felt so safe around her that your body felt the need to briefly go to rest at that moment. 

The horse came to a stop once you both got back to your father’s ranch, and Sevika noticed that your arms weren’t moving and the grip you had on her waist was more relaxed. She slowly twists herself around to see that you had dozed off behind her during the ride back home. She gently shakes your shoulder to wake you back up, and her insides melt as you slowly regain consciousness. “Hey there, we’re back at your place now,” she says to you softly. “Let me help you get down, darlin’.” 

Sevika moves her hands down from her horse’s reins to your waist, gently lifting you off of the horse before letting you back down onto the ground. She dismounts herself right after, and you gently rub your eyes to fully wake yourself up before looking back up at her. “Thank you again for doing that at the bar, Sev…I really appreciate it.” It made her happy to know that you appreciated her help, but in her mind, it felt like the natural thing to do. “Of course, sweetheart. I couldn’t stand seein’ you be bothered by some creep like him.” She said with a soft grin, looking down at you. “Lemme walk you inside, yeah? S’getting pretty late now.”

You follow by her side as the two of you approach the front door and unlock it, letting yourself inside before Sevika lets herself in behind you and closes the door shut. The house was the same as you had left it, meaning that your dad still wasn’t home yet. This gave you the perfect time to ask Sevika about what she said at the bar. Part of you didn’t want to bring it up, but you couldn’t help it. You needed to know what she meant. “Hey Sev,” you turn around to face her. “Can I ask you something?”

Sevika stood at the doorway for a moment before turning around to face you. “Of course, what is it?” she asked.

You shyly look down at the ground, fumbling with your hands as you try to muster up the courage to ask her this. “At the bar…after you beat up that guy, you…you said something, or, well, called me something to be exact.” You paused for a moment before continuing. “You…you called me your girl…What did you mean by that?”

As soon as you had brought up what she said at the bar, Sevika could start to feel her heart beat out of her chest. She hadn’t intended to say it in the first place; it just slipped in the moment. However, she got caught by you, and she knew she had to explain herself before any misunderstanding occurred. “I…” She started, not knowing what to say. Sevika gulped and brought her gaze to the ground, trying to compose some sort of reply.

It was clear that you had caught her in a vulnerable position by asking her this. You’ve never seen her get like this at all before, but you didn’t want to make her more uncomfortable, so you try to shake off the situation. “It’s okay, Sevika, you don’t have to talk ‘bout it if you don’t want to.” You tell her calmly. “‘Was just curious, that’s all.”

Sevika felt her heart drop for a moment when you told her this. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to say it, she just didn’t know how to tell you. She feared that this could go downhill. But she had to do it. This was her chance; this was the opportunity for her to be honest with you, and she couldn’t keep holding it off anymore. “No, no, I-I can explain,” She insists, reaching her human hand out to take one of yours. You gently grab her hand and bring her over to the couch so she can feel comfortable talking to you. “S’okay Sev, what is it?” you ask her as you sit down right next to her. She didn’t know it, but your heart was beating just as fast as hers was. You were praying to yourself that she’d feel the same way that you did.

Sevika took a deep breath as she prepared herself to share what was going through her mind. She mentally prepared herself for any reaction you had given her, whether it could be anger, disgust, or just any sign of rejection. But she was also hoping that maybe, just maybe, you’d feel the same way that she did. 

“I’ve had my eye on you for a while now, sweetheart, I can’t deny it anymore…” She pauses for a moment before continuing. “Somewhere along the way, I started growin’ some feelings for you in a way I didn’t expect…I…I started falling in love with you.”

Your eyes widened at Sevika’s confession, and you could hear your heart beating faster once she let those words out. However, you give her a look of uncertainty; part of you is still finding it hard to fully believe it. “Sevika…do you really mean that?” you ask her, to which Sevika slowly nods in confirmation and gently squeezes your hand in reassurance. “I mean it, sweetheart, every single damn word.” She said, locking her eyes with yours.

There’s another pause before you gather the courage to ask. “When did you realize it?”

Sevika’s gaze softened, her thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. “That night…your birthday,” she admitted quietly. “When I brought you home, and you kissed me, it was like somethin’ clicked. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you after that.” She paused, her voice growing a bit more vulnerable. “But I think, deep down, I’ve been feelin’ it for a long time before then—I just didn’t have the strength to admit it.”

Sevika’s words made your heart skip a beat, but another detail had left you flustered. “Wait…” you stammered, heat rushing to your cheeks. “I kissed you?” You stared at her, trying to recollect your memory from that night.

Sevika chuckled softly, her lips curving into a small smile. “You don’t remember?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “Guess you were really wasted that night. But yeah, you kissed me—caught me off guard, too.”

Your hands trembled inside hers, the weight of her confession and your embarrassment pushing down on you. You shyly lowered your gaze to the ground. “Sevika, I…I didn’t think you felt the same way,” you admitted quietly. “I’ve caught feelings for so long, but I was afraid to say anything, ‘cause I thought you’d push me away—“

Sevika didn’t want to hear the rest of it. Instead, she places her human hand behind your neck and pulls you in for a tender kiss, cutting you off mid-sentence. You let out a gasp as Sevika locks your lips with hers, and you melt into it instantly. Sevika pulls away for a moment, still keeping her lips near yours. “I could never push away a girl like you, sweetheart,” she whispers and brings you back in for another kiss, your heart fluttering with pure joy at her words. The two of you stay like this for a moment, relishing the feeling of Sevika’s soft lips against yours. However, the mere thought of your father finding out about you and Sevika—his lifelong best friend—starts to hit you like a rock, and you slowly pull away from her. “But Sev, what ‘bout my dad?” You ask her. “You know how protective he is of me…he’ll kill you if he finds out…”

It was hard for Sevika not to feel her heart sink as you brought up the topic of your father finding out. The two of you know that it’ll happen at some point, no matter how hard you both try to be discreet about it. It gave her an uneasy feeling, but it wasn’t something that she wanted to be thinking about right now, and frankly, neither did you.

“I know, sweetheart, but don’t worry about that now,” she said softly. “We’ll figure it out when the time comes. M’not going anywhere, okay? I’m willing to take that risk for whatever happens, as long as I get to make you mine.”

Her words eased the knot that formed in your chest, even if it was just for a little. For now, that reassurance was enough for you. You lean into her and give her another kiss. “Least for now,’ you mutter out to her. “I don’t want him knowin’ yet.” Despite that you had to get serious about keeping your dad from finding out, there was just something about keeping Sevika a secret that you found so…thrilling.

Sevika slowly deepened the kiss, her hands finding themselves on your waist as she shifted you over and straddled you onto her lap, pressing herself closer to you as she took in as much of your scent as she could. She slowly ran her tongue across your lower lip, asking for permission. Your lips part open, and her tongue enters your mouth. Her hands begin to roam up and down your body, and they make a brief stop at your hips. She gently squeezes them to bring you closer to her, causing you to gasp into her mouth. The two of you could feel each other growing needy with each passing second, and you were about to be the one who was bound to submit first.

You pull your mouth away from Sevika for a moment, just to catch a breath and look into her eyes. You brace yourself for what you’re about to ask her next. “My…my dad’s still not home yet...we can take things upstairs if you’d like…” You tell her, playing with the collar of her shirt.

There was no further explanation needed after that. Sevika wanted you, and you wanted her— there was no need to deny it or hide from it anymore. Sevika stands up from the couch, and you wrap your legs around her waist, not wanting to get yourself off of her as the both of you head upstairs to your bedroom.

Sevika enters your bedroom and slowly sets you down on your bed, looking down at you with a look of desire in her eyes as you sink into the bedsheets. Your stetson falls off your head once it hits the bed, so you toss it out of the way as Sevika gets your boots off before doing the same with hers. She’s quick to get on top of you, her broad figure towering over your frame, and the brim of her stetson brushes over your forehead. As you did with yours, you take it off of her head and toss it aside, giving you the space you need to lean into her for another kiss. Once her lips reunited with yours, Sevika gently slipped her thigh between yours while also taking your left leg into her human hand and pulling it up on her hip as she deepened the kiss. Her knee begins to push up against your clothed cunt, and you let out a soft moan, causing you to part your mouth away from hers and tilt your head back against the pillow. This gave Sevika the chance to lean in and let her lips fall onto your neck, savoring every sound that elicited from your mouth as she left a trail of wet marks on your skin. 

The feeling of Sevika’s soft, warm lips pressing against your neck was a feeling that your body couldn’t resist. You begin to squirm under her, and you try to rub your thighs against each other for some relief. This didn’t go unnoticed by Sevika. She quickly realized what you were trying to do. She let her body lean against yours and brought her mouth up to your ear. “Do you need somethin’, sweetheart?” She purrs,  to which you nod quickly in response.

“Words, baby.” she says sternly.

You take a deep breath as you try to get the words out of your mouth. “Yes, Sev…I need you…” You whisper back to her.

Sevika let out a soft hum of approval when you said what she needed to hear, and at that point, she wasn’t going to hold herself back anymore. “Good girl,” she mutters, pushing her thigh harder against you once more. You let out another gasp, praying that Sevika didn’t feel the wetness pooling in your underwear. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, okay?” You start to feel drunk from her touch, trying to muster up another response. “I-I need you to make me feel good, Sev…need you to make me yours…”

With that, Sevika brings her human hand down and her fingers gently trace along the outer edge of your underwear before letting them go south, smirking as she feels the thin fabric start to get wet. Her fingers gently push your panties to the side and begin to give your pussy the attention it’s been needing. “Goodness, you’re so wet, darlin’…is this all for me?” she asks, looking up at you. You nod quickly in response. “Yes, Sev…s’all for you…”  You get desperate for more contact, so as Sevika’s fingertips continue to run through your folds, you reach your hand under your shirt and trail it up to your breast, gently squeezing it.

Sevika’s eyes darkened at the sight of you. It was taking everything in her to not just take you already. The soft gasps, the pretty noises, the sight of your body, the wet sensation of your needy pussy…it was all so perfect. Sevika began to slowly slide one of her thick fingers into your pussy, and you let out a groan as you grind yourself against her, feeling so content with having a part of her inside of you. However, it didn’t feel like enough just yet. You craved more of her, so you decided to pull an unthinkable move. 

Instead of letting Sevika continue, you bring your other hand down to hers and pull her finger out of you. You then bring it up to her lips so she can get a taste of your arousal. You watch as her lips slowly part themselves open, and she sucks on her finger, the taste of you sending a shiver down her spine. Sevika let out a groan of satisfaction before pulling her finger out of her mouth. “Goodness, darlin’…you even taste perfect.” She whispered out to you, leaning down to kiss you deeply. You moan into Sevika’s mouth as a result, tasting your own arousal in the process. You then pull yourself away from her to look into her eyes. “It’s all for you, Sevika…only you.”

A smirk begins to grow on Sevika’s face. She liked what she was hearing. “Hm, all mine, you say? I sure like the sound of that…” she says, her tone almost teasing. Her lips make their way back to your neck, kissing it once more.

“Do you like it when you’re mine, sweetheart?” she mutters as her lips continue to leave new marks against your skin. “Do you like it when I take you apart like this and claim you as my own?”

You nod quickly in response, only to be startled by a sudden harsh squeeze of her prosthetic hand on your hip. “Words, baby. Need to hear you say it.”

“Mmm—yes, Sevika…” you gasp out. “Wanna be yours, only yours.”

“Now that’s more like it.” 

As Sevika continued to kiss down your chest, you allowed yourself to untie the neck of your top and slide it off of yourself, fully exposing your breasts to her. Sevika pulls away and lets her hungry eyes linger over your chest and torso, viewing the areas of your skin as a blank canvas for her to mark her territory with her lips. She brings her mouth down to your breast and begins to gently suck on the soft flesh, causing a moan to escape from your mouth as a result. She smirks against your skin, then brings her lips to your nipple and takes it into her mouth, humming as she feels it quickly harden under her lips. She continues to take her time with you like this, going down your torso mark by mark until she briefly stops at the hem of your skirt. “Lift your hips for me, sweetheart,” she instructs you.

You oblige to her and lift your hips, opening space for her to slide her hands under you and pull your skirt and underwear down in one fluid motion. You’re now completely exposed under her, like a deer in the headlights, and you can’t help but impulsively close your thighs shut in embarrassment once you notice how wet you were for her. Sevika chuckled over how shy you got for her, and she planted a soft kiss above your knee as she looked up at you. “C’mon, sweetheart…don’t get all shy with me now…” she mutters out quietly, gently rubbing your knees in encouragement.

Sevika gently shifts herself down on the bed and lies down on her stomach, settling herself between your closed legs. She moves closer to you, and her hands go down from your knees to your shins. “Open up for me, baby…” she pleads to you. “I promise I’ll take real good care of you, darlin’… but you have to let me in.”

You can’t help but give in to her words, and you slowly spread your legs out, exposing your soaking cunt to the older woman. Sevika could feel her mouth water at the sight, and she was desperate to get a taste of it. “Such a pretty pussy, baby…” she mutters out. “So nice ’n wet for me…gonna fuck you so so good.” She leans into you and begins to gently lap her tongue through your folds, collecting your arousal on her tastebuds. Sevika let a soft growl escape her mouth as she tasted you, her grip on your thighs tightening as she felt her own body react to the sounds you were making. 

“Oh, God…” you gasp out at the sensation, your gaze peering down at Sevika, and she can’t help but chuckle again at your initial reaction as she spreads your thighs out further to get more space. “God ain’t here to help you now, baby, just me.” she says, licking another stripe up your folds. “It’s ironic, though, seein’ as how your wet little pussy is the closest thing to heaven that I could ever get a taste of.” She dives her head back into your pussy for more, but her eyes remain fixed on you as she wants to catch every one of your reactions to her memory. She didn’t want to miss a single thing.

Sevika runs her hands down the back of your thighs and fully lifts your legs up, folding your knees up to your chest so she can get a better view of your pussy. You whimper at the vulnerable position that she puts you in, and you can’t help but tilt your head to the side and cover your face with the back of your hand in an effort to shield yourself. Sevika notices this and instantly takes her mouth off. “Uh-uh, no hiding,” She muttered in between her movements. She brings her metal hand up to yours and moves it away from your face.

“No hiding that pretty face of yours. If you want me to take apart this needy little pussy, you’re gonna let me hear every sound you make, got it? I want to see and hear all of you.” 

You whimper at her words, nodding quickly as you oblige to look at her. “That’s better…” she mutters, bringing her head back down to continue lapping at your cunt. More moans and whimpers continue to leave your mouth as Sevika keeps licking and sucking all of the wet and sensitive areas of your pussy. Without warning, as a sign of eagerness, she slides two of her fingers inside, and you let out a loud groan of satisfaction as she fills you. “Mm, you like that, needy girl? You like it when I fill you up like this?”  she growls lowly at you, keeping her gaze focused on you. She couldn’t take her eyes off of you—not even for a second. Sevika had to watch every single expression that you would make to know that you felt satisfied with the way she was touching you.

Without a second thought, Sevika gently slides a third finger into your pussy, and the reaction she gets out of you is priceless. Your jaw drops down, and your eyes roll back in pleasure when she begins to curl her fingers inside of you at a painfully slow pace. She leans into you and wraps her lips onto your throbbing clit, giving it the attention it needs. It didn’t take long for her to increase the speed of her fingers, instantly hitting all of the right spots for you to get close. “Oh fuck, Sev! Right there!” You call out to her, your hands gripping the sheets to keep yourself steady as she continues to ram her fingers inside your tight walls.

“You’re such a good girl f’me, lettin’ me hear all of you like that.” Sevika mutters from between your thighs. Her pace goes even faster this time, her hand being so strong that you could feel your whole torso shift back and forth on the bed. Your pussy begins to clench around her fingers, practically sucking them in you and taking them in all to yourself as you start to get close. “S-Sevika, please don’t stop…m’so close.”

“C’mon, sweetheart, cum for me…” Sevika’s fingers never stop moving, and she doesn’t take her eyes off of you as she is desperate to see the look on your face for when you cum undone onto her fingers. Your pussy starts to spasm around her, and the coil in your stomach begins to get tighter and tighter as you reach your peak. However, that building sensation felt a little different than usual. “S-Sevika, baby, wait,” You try to warn her. “I-I think I’m gonna—“

But it was too late. You couldn’t even finish your sentence as a loud moan of her name replaced it instead. Your jaw drops again, and your vision goes white as an obscene amount of your release squirts out of your pussy without warning, completely soaking Sevika’s face, fingers, and your bedsheets.

Sevika watched in awe as the beautiful sight of your orgasm unfolded right in front of her, never once letting her fingers slow down until you were thoroughly done with your release. Then, slowly, she eased her fingers out of you before lifting her head and licking them clean. Her eyes close for a moment as she savors the sweet and salty taste of your cum on her fingers. “My god, darlin’, you taste so damn good.” she mutters under her breath.

Her eyes blink back open and fix back on you as you recover from your high. Your eyes were fluttered shut, your head was tilted back against the pillow, and your breathing was evening itself out. After a few moments, you blink your eyes back open and bring yourself down to see Sevika still lying in between her legs. Her face and the collar of her shirt were soaked in your release, and you looked down to see the mess you created on your bedsheets. “Oh my god…” you gasp out. Your cheeks start to flush in embarrassment, and your trembling thighs close shut once again. A smirk spread across Sevika’s lips over how flustered you were getting. “Never done that before now, have you?” she asked. Your gaze shifts to the side, and you shake your head. Sevika brings her human hand up to your cheek, tilting your head back to her. “That…” she pauses, leaning in to kiss you. “Was the hottest damn thing I’ve ever seen.” She kisses you again and leans into your ear. “No one else gets to make you feel like this. No one else gets to fuck this pussy like I do. You’re all mine now, sweetheart. Mine and only mine.” 

“M’all yours, Sev…” you assure her. You’d hate to admit it, but the way that Sevika got possessive towards you turned you on in a way that you couldn’t explain. However, you couldn’t help but test out if she’d really feel the same way with you. You tilt your head and lean into her. “In that case…does that mean you’re mine too?”

Oh, now Sevika was intrigued. She gently pulled her head back, looking back at you directly. “That a challenge now? You gonna be possessive over me?” she purrs at you, her eyes still locked onto yours. “You’re playing a dangerous game there, sweetheart,” she warns. “And you might get yourself in trouble.”

“Trouble?” you say in mock innocence, clutching your hand over your chest as if you had been threatened by her. “No no no, m’not looking for that. I was simply just wonderin’ if now…” You pause for a moment, moving your head from Sevika’s ear to her neck to gently plant kisses of your own onto her skin. “…if now, I could return the favor.”

Sevika lets a low chuckle escape her, and her eyes flutter shut for a moment just to feel the sensation of your lips against her skin. Her smirk remains on her face, though, still keeping her tough persona on you as she refuses to submit. “Hmm”, she muttered, the tone in her voice laced with amusement. “You think just ‘cause you want it you can get it that easy? You seem to be getting ahead of yourself, sweetheart.”

Your uncertain look shifts into a pout, and Sevika can’t help but chuckle at you. “Ahead of myself? You think just ‘cause you can claim me, I can’t do the same?”

Without thinking twice, you shift away from Sevika and sit up on the bed. You hook your fingers onto the belt loops of her jeans and switch places so she’s now lying down. You go around her and wrap your legs around her torso, keeping you under her grip. You then grab her by the collar of her shirt and pull her towards you, locking your lips with hers in a deep kiss. She lets out a low moan against your lips and wraps an arm around you, her human hand reaching down to grab your ass tightly and keeping you pressed against her. You pull away from her after a moment, and your mouth starts to travel from her lips to her jaw, beginning to mark your territory on Sevika’s tanned skin by planting wet marks of your own.

Sevika let out a low whine as she felt every mark that your lips left behind, and her hand on your ass tightened as you kept going, squeezing your soft flesh between her fingers. “I thought you were gonna be treating me right, huh?” She teases with a smirk, feeling her body start to warm up as her hand moves up to your waist. You simply smirk against her skin, not stopping your movements. “M’just getting started, Sev…” Your hands trail up to the collar of her shirt, fingers meeting together at the first button. The first button pops open under your touch, and you make your way down to the hem until Sevika briefly lifts herself up to fully slide it off her shoulders and toss it to the ground. 

With your legs still wrapped around her, you sit yourself up to admire the sight of her exposed self beneath you. Your eyes trail down from her neck to her breasts, watching in awe over how large and beautiful they were. You trail your hands up and give them a gentle squeeze, watching how her soft flesh seeps through your fingers and feeling her nipples instantly harden under your palms.

A satisfied groan elicits from Sevika’s mouth as she begins melting into your touch. It was almost as if her own body was betraying her and submitting to you. But she couldn’t allow herself to give in like this so easily. “You’re mine,” she reminds you, lifting her hand and lightly running it over your thigh. “You keep touching me like this, and m’not gonna be able to hold back anymore. You sure you’re ready for that, sweetheart?”

A smirk grows on your face, and you lean back down to her level and bring her in for a kiss. “Then don’t hold back, Sevika,” you whisper to her. “You’re mine too, you know… and I’m ready for whatever comes next.”

With that, you continue to mark up the rest of Sevika’s body, your lips making the route south past her breasts and her abdomen, until they make a stop at the waistband of her jeans. Your lips part from her skin, and you begin to undo the belt buckle of her jeans, desperate to get them off of her. Sevika watched with growing desperation as you did so, and as soon as she heard the buckle come undone, she lifted up her hips and slid her jeans and boxers off of her thighs, letting you get rid of them completely.

You kneel back on the heels of your feet as Sevika opens up for you, and the sight of her was fucking glorious. Her brown, puffy folds perfectly framed her cunt which was completely shining with her arousal, and you could just visibly see the movements of her clit throbbing with desperation. Her pussy exhibited a kind of desire that only you could fix.

And so you immediately put yourself to work. You shift down on the bed and lie down on your stomach, your face now being settled in between Sevika’s thighs. With no hesitation, you dive right into her and lick a stripe up her pussy, your eyes closing in pure bliss at the addicting taste of her. 

Sevika lowly moaned your name once your tongue came into contact with her pussy, already so immersed in the pleasure that she didn’t even notice that her hand had tangled its fingers into your hair, holding you tightly against her. “Oh fuck, darlin’…you’re so good at this…” she praises.

Your eyes blink themselves open, briefly falling out of your trance as you look up at Sevika with the purest and most innocent look in your eyes as you meet her heavy ones. Sevika can’t help but slightly lift your face off of her pussy for a moment just to see the full look of you with her arousal now dripping from your lips, smirking as she does so. “Don’t give me that look now, sweetheart. You know exactly what you’re doing.”

Her teasing spurs you on, and you lean back into her pussy and continue to lap your tongue up her folds as she continues talking. “Wonder what your dad might think…his sweet girl submitting down to me like this…I bet he’d lose his damn mind if—oh fuck—“ She cuts herself off with a low groan as you insert a finger into her pussy, her nails digging into her scalp as she jerks her hips into your face.

“A-ah—“ you let out a groan against her pussy, and your eyes close shut again, fully immersed in the feeling of having Sevika’s hands in your hair while devouring her pussy. You quickly add in a second finger, and your lips travel up to suck her throbbing clit, causing Sevika to shut her eyes and arch herself further into your face, moaning and pleading you to keep going. “Fuck, oh god, sweetheart…k-keep going…”

Your tongue lays flat on her clit as it shifts up and down, and your fingers start to curl back and forth inside of her, instantly hitting all the right spots as you give her pussy all the attention it needs. Your movements catch Sevika completely off guard, her eyes flying open as she watches you devour her. “Oh fuck, right there! Right fuckin’ there…” she groans out, the wave of pleasure starting to rise in her as you begin to go faster.

It didn’t take long for Sevika to get close, and you could tell she was by the way her pussy began to clench and contract around your fingers. “God damn, darlin’, don’t fuckin’ stop…m’so close…” she pleads out to you. It was almost as if Sevika had no control over her pleasure anymore and became reliant on you to make her finish, and that’s exactly what you were going to do.

Sevika’s body begins to convulse, and you quickly lift your mouth off of her clit and replace it with your thumb, quickly rubbing it in circular motions as your eyes stay fixed on her, impatiently waiting to see the look on her face for when she comes undone. Sevika’s moans grow louder, quickly turning into cries of pleasure until she reaches her peak and cums with a final cry of your name as her eyes roll to the back of her head. Her pussy squeezes a few more times until your fingers are met with the warmth of her release, creaming them from your fingertips down to your knuckles. It was truly the most beautiful sight you have seen and felt.

As Sevika comes down from her high, she finds herself unable to say anything or even get a full breath until your fingers slow down and withdraw from her completely. Her eyes then flutter back open to see you sucking your fingers clean and savoring the salty taste of her release on your tastebuds. “My god, sweetheart…you can’t even imagine what you just did to me…” Sevika managed to say, lifting her metal hand to hold the side of your face. You lean into the palm of her prosthetic as it cups your cheek, and you pull your fingers out of your mouth once they were clean so you could speak. “I told you I can claim you just as good.” you say with a giggle.

Sevika let out a sharp exhale as she took in the sight of you. “I sure see that now…” she then slowly sits herself up, a smirk beginning to rise on her face as she leans in to kiss you, briefly tasting her release on your lips before pulling away. “Think you got another one in you, darlin’?”

Your eyes remain on hers when she asks you that, an eyebrow raising up as curiosity begins to pique your interest. “Depends if I can handle it, baby… What do you have in mind?”

Sevika lets out a chuckle as her metal hand moves to your chin and pulls you in for a deeper kiss. “For starters, how about we trade places, yeah?” she coos out, her hand sliding down from your chin to your waist, slowly rolling you over so you’re back to lying down on your bed with her hovering over you. She then leans back on the heels of her feet to grab onto each of your legs and she spreads them as far open as possible. To no surprise, you were completely wet for her again, as if she hadn’t even touched you at all. 

Sevika lets out a low groan at the sight of you, completely helpless and vulnerable under her grasp. “Mmm, you look so pretty like this, sweetheart…” she purrs out, her eyes never leaving your lower half. As she takes in the sight, Sevika lets a small smirk rise to her face as she leans down closer to your pussy, her grip remaining firm on your legs. “Such a pretty little thing…and so wet for me again already…it’s like she’s crying for more of me.” She continues, shifting her face closer.

“Mmm, Sev…again…” you whine out to her, then let out a soft moan as you feel that familiar tongue of hers lick a new stripe through your folds, followed by a hum of satisfaction coming from her. You had fully given yourself the expectation that Sevika would use her mouth and fingers on you again, but that wouldn’t be the case this time.

Sevika lifts her head back up and takes a second to admire how you looked under her; with your legs spread out under her tight grip and your soaked pussy clenching around nothing as a desperate sign to be filled up. She silently cursed herself for not wearing her strap tonight. She would’ve loved to see the beautiful sight of you being split open by her cock, thrusting into your pussy relentlessly until you’re shaking and coating her length with your release. However, she also wasn’t going to end the night abruptly and miss out on the opportunity to fuck you again, so she had to improvise.

With that, Sevika opens her own legs while keeping her grip on yours. She then hovers over you and presses her pussy right on top of yours, causing you to let out a gasp at the newfound feeling. The way that Sevika’s pussy fit perfectly against yours like that—the way her folds meshed on top of yours as if it were the missing piece of a puzzle—felt so satisfying to you.

Sevika lets out a moan once her cunt came into contact with yours, eyes fixed on the sight of it before she looks back up at you. “You feel that, sweetheart? Feel how good we fit together?” she muses out before pressing down even more and grinding up against you. “It’s like you were made for me, darlin’…Every part of you fits me right where it belongs.” As she felt how addicting it was to rub up against you, Sevika found herself closing her eyes and letting out more soft sounds of pleasure as she continued to slowly grind her pussy over yours. Your body gives the same reaction, your eyes fluttering themselves shut and your head slowly tilting back against the pillow, moaning at the sensation. “S-Sev, my God—you feel amazing…”

Without stopping her slow movements, Sevika slides her prosthetic hand under your head and gently tilts it up, leading you to open your eyes and look at her. You were so in awe of how she looked, how she sounded, and most of all, how she felt against you. It felt like you were in a fever dream. You were completely drunk on her, and she knew it. She loved it.

“S-Sev…” you gasp out, taking a second to catch your breath. “D-Don’t stop—ah!” 

Sevika brushes her clit over yours, causing you to cut off your sentence with a cry of pleasure. Your head throws back against her hand, and your body arches itself further into her pussy. Sevika lets out another low groan on her end, and her hand sets your head back onto the pillow and trails downwards to press down on your lower stomach. “You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart,” she murmurs, increasing the pace of her grinding. “You just keep making those sounds for me—ah—you sound so pretty baby…”

You start to whine under her as your gaze drops down to where you and Sevika were connected, and you can’t help but weakly grind against her, desperate to chase that stimulation again. Sevika looks down on you and smirks. She could tell you were trying to ask her something. “What is it, darlin’? You wanna feel that again?” 

Sevika felt no reason to ask again or to hear an answer from you. She fulfills your need as she brings her hand down to your pussy and lifts the hood with her thumb to expose your clit to her. She then adjusts herself upwards so her clit can stay directly pressed onto yours. “There you go, sweetheart…” she purrs out, moaning as your clit begins to throb against hers. “You just take that, baby…take my pussy for me like a good girl.” She begins to grind faster after that, making sure her clit rubs against yours with every move of her hips. But it still wasn’t enough.

“F-Faster, Sev, please…need to get there…” you plead out to her once more, and without a second thought—with no warning whatsoever—Sevika gives it her all and her movements start to go at a fast and relentless pace, completely catching you off guard. “Oh fuck, Sev! Right t-there, o-oh God…” Your words trail out at the end and your jaw goes slack at the intense pleasure she was hitting you with. Sevika couldn’t help but admire the sinful sight of you under her—so vulnerable and drunk in pleasure, with your mouth agape and your eyes all hooded, your hands still gripping tightly onto the sheets and your breasts bouncing uncontrollably as Sevika continued to ram her pussy against yours. It was a sight that she never wanted to stop seeing.

“Mmm…y-you look so…fuckin’ pretty like…this…” Sevika moans out to you, her words coming out in a heated tone as she watches your blissed-out expression. “Look how good you’re taking my pussy for me, my sweet girl…” Sevika presses herself harder against you, and you don’t even realize it, but she ends up taking your leg that was on top of hers and folds it to your chest to get a better angle, making sure she continues to hit the right spots for the two of you to finish. You start to cry in pleasure over the new position, and your legs start to shake under her grasp. “Sevika! O-Oh God, Sev—Right there! Right there, please!” you exclaim, practically begging her to keep her position there. The two of you were at your loudest right now. Between your cries and begs of pleasure, Sevika’s groaning, and the pornographic sound of your pussies squelching as they rub against each other, you’re honestly surprised that the two of you haven’t woken up the entire town at this point.

Sevika lets out a low, heated groan in response to your words, her movements not stopping one bit “Mmm, fuck…my God you feel so good…” she says, her breathing now coming out in heavy, uneven pants. As Sevika keeps her human hand on your thigh, her metal hand swings above your head and grabs onto the headboard to keep herself steady. The familiar coil in your stomach begins to form, and you start to get close again. “S-Sev…I…I’m so…” you pant out to her, trying your best to get the words out of your mouth. Sevika simply shushes you, trying to have you save whatever energy you had left in you for your release. “Shhh, baby, I know, I know…” she coos back, opening her eyes to look down at you. “Just let it go for me, sweetheart…let it all out.”

Sevika continues to talk you through it as you reach your peak, and with that, her clit brushes up against yours a few more times which finally pushes you both over the edge. Your cries of pleasure start to go in sync with her groaning, and both pussies begin to spasm around each other before you cum all over Sevika’s folds with a loud moan of her name. Sevika catches her release shortly after you, her hips stuttering out before finishing with a loud groan as her fluids spill out of her pussy and land onto yours. The two of you take a moment to catch each other’s breath, and Sevika slowly loosens her grip on your thigh while she lets go of the headboard. The two of you look down to where you were both connected, and Sevika pulls her cunt away from yours, causing you to whine at the loss. The strings of slick connecting the two of you breaks and Sevika slowly closes your legs before settling down next to you. “Mmm…sweetheart...You did so well for me…” she murmurs to you as she gently kisses your shoulder, her voice still filled in a deep and husky tone. Even after having sex with her, you still couldn’t help but find her voice to be intoxicating.

You simply hum at her in response and try to muster up some energy to tilt your head over and plant a quick kiss on her lips, leading the older woman to wrap her human arm around you and pull you closer to her. The warmth of Sevika’s embrace fades into the stillness of your bedroom, and the exhaustion catches up to you quickly, causing your eyes to flutter shut as slumber starts to consume you. It feels like only a moment has passed when your eyes open again, and you find yourself tucked beneath a clean set of sheets and a barrier of soft cotton hugging your figure. Your eyes slowly dart around your bedroom, and your heart sinks when you see Sevika with her boxers back on and searching for the rest of her clothes. A lump forms in your throat as you realize she’s getting ready to leave. You want to ask her to stay, just a little longer, even though you both know she has to go before your dad comes back. Before you can stop yourself, the words are quick to slip out of your mouth.

“Sevika?” you call out softly, your voice still laced with sleep. Sevika is quick to stop what she was doing to tend to you. “Hey there,” she says, giving you a soft smile once she sees that you had woken up. “You alright?”

You hesitate for a moment before continuing. The words feel heavy on your tongue, but the ache that was growing in your chest outdoes it. “Could you…could you stay…just a little longer? Please?” you finally ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sevika pauses, and her eyes flicker to the window where the faint glow of the moonlight is still filtering through it. For a moment, you thought she’d say no—but this time, she gives in—and whatever worries about your dad's arrival in the morning seemed to fade as she turned back to you with ease. “Of course, sweetheart…I’ll stay with you.” she murmurs, her voice tender as she removes her prosthetic arm and sets it down on the ground next to the bed. The weight of the bed shifts as Sevika climbs back into bed and lies down right behind you. Her human hand wraps around your waist and pulls you close to her. You instantly melt into her strong, warm embrace, but you can’t shake the possibility of your father walking in on the two of you, making you feel uneasy. Sevika is quick to take note of this and leans in to plant a couple of soft kisses on your shoulder blade, her lips brushing your ear as she leans into you. “Hey. Don’t worry about that right now, okay?” she murmurs. “Everything will be fine, I promise…I’ve got you.”

You nod, the weight of her words sinking in as her embrace wraps you in comfort and warmth. Slowly, the uneasiness disappears, soon replaced by a sense of peace only Sevika could give you. With her presence beside you, you let go of all your worries, and the gentle rhythm of her breathing brings you into a deep, restful sleep. As you drift off, a soft, reassuring thought crosses your mind—this night with Sevika felt like the start of something real, something that won’t fade.

For now, you’re unsure of what the future might hold, but with Sevika by your side, you feel ready for whatever could happen next.

god i wish she was real

2025 © atomicami | all rights reserved. do not copy, modify, or translate any of my works.

A BIRD WITHOUT A WING IS JUST A FUNNY LOOKING RAT, MH?

ig: d.ill.usion

𝒀𝑶𝑼'𝑹𝑬 𝑵𝑶 𝑮𝑶𝑶𝑫 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝑴𝑬, 𝑩𝑼𝑻 𝑩𝑨𝑩𝒀 𝑰 𝑾𝑨𝑵𝑻 𝒀𝑶𝑼. . . .

𝑽𝑨𝑴𝑷𝑰𝑹𝑬 / 𝑹𝑶𝑪𝑲𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹 𝑺𝑬𝑽𝑰𝑲𝑨

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔/𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒔

cw nsfw blood gore manipulation death/killing headcannon with plot blood sucking/eating vulgar language drunk man bothers reader possessive!sevika hot makeout session finger sucking tension yearning

here....sevika is loosley inspired by 𝑳𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕 𝒅𝒆 𝑳𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒕

vampire/rockstar!sevika ✗ human!femreader

m.list

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who had achieved immortality in the early 1700s, at the age of 34 in france . . . the person who made her happen to have the most ancient blood known to all vampires, that blood now in her making her stronger, faster, more advanced than any other vampire.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who . . even though being alive for 100s of years, moving from city to city, she still has that french accent laced in her voice, making her even more captivating to humans other than her appearance.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who slowly discovers how she is capable of more other than advanced strength and fast speed. . . learning how mortals were below her kind, learning how much power she had over the human mind. . if sevika wanted to, she could compel a whole group of humans and use them as mindless puppets.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who learned how to control her thirst around humans, which is something lots of vampires have a hard time doing, took her years to accomplish this.. but she can't lie. . she'd slip up sometimes .. draining the blood of tons of humans in her pastime.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who went on a killing rampage in the 1700s after she was turned, letting out any anger, disgust,disbelief she held against herself for her new life, draining almost any human in sight mainly targeting ones who evil, who have done evil things.

acting on impulse and personal desire for blood. In her early vampire nature, she saw these acts as a thrill, viewing it as a natural part of her existence of a vampire.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who doesn't have a coven and prefers to wander, moving from place to place, meeting new and different people, learning new languages.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who always had a passion for music, i mean, she watched how music drastically changed over time. . . how it became more improved. it fascinated her how something so beautiful could get even better...sure she loved the jazz era in the later 1900s, but she also loved the new era sounds too.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who learned how to play every instrument in the book during her 100 years of walking on this earth

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who is now living in the 1990s. .a drummer in a popular rock band.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who loves the feeling of being on stage, the feeling of the stage lights beaming on her cold skin, hearing the cheers from the crowds - the women cheering, women who happens to have the hots for the buff, muscular, pretty looking drummer. . .screaming her name 'sevika! sevika!' like a prayer out of a bible. . . she needed this no - .. she yearned for this.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who sometimes invited women backstage to her dressing room - calling them her personal groupies , she'd get the talking, but she never paid attention to their words or how much they loved her when in reality sevika knew they just wanted her to fuck them - not that she minded.

but she'd mainly paid attention to the thumping in their chest, their veins pulsing underneath the soft skin...she used her words...manipulate them...almost like mind control, get them thinking this whole situation wasn't real, was just a figment of their imagination- maybe even a dream before piercing her sharp fangs into the side of their neck, letting the thick blood hit her throat.

she doesn't kill them, just drinks enough to satisfy her thirst, then stopping before their heart stops beating, the women would wake up in the comfort of their own homes the next day, light-headed with no memory of last night in their brain...just the throbbing sting on the side of their neck.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who nearly loses her self-restraint on stage just by smelling your sweet scent of blood in the crowd, her silver sharp eyes immediately finding your beaming doe brown ones in the crowd of people, her eyes almost staring through you, watching your veins pulse under your skin, watching the sweat roll down your neck, hearing your fast heart thumping in your chest as your adrenaline was high by the atmosphere of the concert...

if it weren't for you suddenly going to the bathroom, she would have drained you right there in the crowd in front of all these human eyes.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - accidently slips up and sucks a stage manager dry the same night, just so she can soothe the ache in her throat.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who thinks she doesn't have to see you anymore after the night - smell you anymore. . . . but oh boy, she was wrong.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who is shocked when you end up being the groups new stylist, with hair and clothing.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who won't let you touch or dress her - or even fix her hair and clothes even though you're supposed to, and that's what you were hired to do. .

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who ignores you for the first 4 weeks - staying away from you like you were the plague that could get her sick within seconds.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who finally gets used to your sickly sweet scent enough to actually let you fix her clothes and hair.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who notices how you just couldn't keep your eyes on her glistening chest that was shown due to a few of her buttons being undone on her shirt, you're eyes even widened at the imprint of nipple piercings from under her shirt where her breast were covered - to this sevika can't help but smirk at your wandering eyes.

at this moment, you were currently fixing sevika's belts that had gone loose. . . the belt wasn't meant to hold up her pants but was there for the style instead, silver chains hanging from them so anytime she moved your hear, her dark red button up that was once closed now opened showing the middle of her chest.

even though she was sweating, it didn't look like she was out of breath. . . you noticed this, but just thought she may have good cardio or something.

but. .you couldn't help but stare at her chest, your breath catching in your throat as you saw the imprint of what seemed to be piercings on her nipples, you couldn't help but wonder how they looked without being covered.

"see something you like? mon chèrie.." you felt as if your heart leaped out your chest at her voice, her deep voice - husky tone with a french accent laced in it, that itself had you captivated by her. . you've heard she was from france, yet you've never heard her talk. . . . and my god it was so attractive.

"i - i no. . . I'm fine.." you respond with a flustered look on your face, looking up you could feel your knees buckle seeing as she was staring at you, her sharp gray eyes gazing at you causing an almost chilling ambience that made you shiver.

sevika then looked away, a huge smirk on her face as if she had just heard something that she wasn't exactly supposed to, her teeth showing as she smiled, making you catch her long canine teeth.

"une créature tellement intéressante. . ." the immortal mumbled before walking away, you stood in the same spot, confusion drenched on your face as you didn't understand her sentence - yet it still left a strange warm feeling in your stomach, a feeling that didn't feel quite comfortable, a feeling that felt good but dangerous to have at the same time.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who finds herself indulged in a conversation with you, and during this, you can't help but realize how intriguing this woman is. . .how her sentences seemed so perfect, almost as if they were rehearsed, how she tends to speak as if she is from a different timeline, anytime she'd say something in french it caused a spark in you. . . she was perfect. . .so perfect in your eyes. . so deniably perfect.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - sevika, who slowly grows more comfortable around you, yet still has to ignore the urge to sank her fangs down in your neck.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who starts to feel emotions in her vampire form that hasn't been felt since she was human, it makes her grimace in distaste at the thought, the thought of being with you. . . ruining you. . . people would call her the walking devil on earth, using human blood to quench her thirst, not being able to go outside due to sunlight. .

the night holding all her secrets , shame, and guilt . . . and loneliness and the certain bloodlust urges that couldn't been seen when the night grew into a bright daylight. she was a monster. she did monstrous things. . .she couldn't be with you, someone who was way too good for this planet, to kind for their own good. she couldn't ruin that....couldn't ruin you.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who just can not keep her feelings in check, so she starts ignoring you once more like she did when you first started working, like you were the plague of the next century.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who is walking home from a pub one night, darkness surrounding the night sky, only thing heard was the steps of her shoes hitting the pavement , when suddenly her ears caught the sound of yelling nearby. . . coming from an alleyway, she slowly walks to the ally, her silver eyes looking at the scene displayed in front of her , not supirsed when she finds a drunken man bothering a women she couldn't see the face of , a sight she has seen countless of times throughout her years, she could smell the bourbon seeping through the man's skin causing her to cringe, it was truly disgusting.

she rolled up her sleeves of her white button up and walked closer, the man not yet noticing her presence...before sevika could act, she caught a whiff of a very familiar scent. . a sweet so fucking alluring scent.

once sevika realized that the woman infront for her, is, in fact, you, for some unknown reason, this sends her into a frenzy - something about seeing you useless against your will by a drunken - disgusting pig of a man made her so damn furious.

it was like she suddenly snapped . . edged with anger, those human feelings that she had buried weeks ago creeping back into her head.

within seconds, she was like the wind behind the man roughly grabbing the back of his suit and pulling him away from you and in a flash the man's body was hitting the other side of the ally wall, bricks even breaking from the building at sevika's supernatural strength.

next thing she knows, her fangs are piercing the man's throat, the feeling of an intoxicated blood entering her system. She was repulsed by his taste, yet still so sickened by his actions.

she could hear your whimpering escaping your lips, staggered breathing as you tried to regain control over it, your heart pounding rapidly in your chest, eyes widened in terror at the sight of sevika's - the woman you once viewed as flawless and the epitome of perfect was now infront of you sucking the life out of the man who followed you from a bar nearby against your will.

you didn't know whether if you were paralyzed with fear. . .or shock. . .

driven by sheer terror , not knowing what might happen next - acting out on pure fear you found yourself running down the ally way, the muscles in your calves already tired from your paralyzed stance from before, you ran and didn't look back.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who expected to see you on the news the next day explaining how you saw "the devil itself drinking the blood and eating the flesh of a human" last night. . . but surprisingly, there was nothing of that sort. Instead, the man sevika drained dry and bought to the woods was found and told to die in a freak accident with some sort of wild animal. .

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who realizes you don't show up to work for 3 days straight , her silver eyes attempted to find yours like before in the crowd of mortals each time she performed those nights. . failing each time.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who wouldn't be surprised if you fled town to escape her unnatural acts. . but boy, was she surprised to see you standing in her dressing room after a show, sevika acting adrenaline and impulse she immediately told the woman she had brought with her to go away .

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who acts surprised when you confront her about what happened in that ally , you're absolutely baffled by her words. . . her pure lies of her twisting the narrative of the truth to fit her lie. . . she was lying through her teeth to you.

"please - i feel like my mind is spinning out of control i- i don't . . . know what i saw i-"

"you're right, you don't know what you saw. . . you're confused ma mie. ." sevika's voice spoke out lowly, a smooth whisper with something lingering behind it.

"b-but. . . you. .i saw you. ." you stumbled over your words, bottom lip shaking as you thought about the terrifying acts you saw that night, you weren't crazy. . . you know what you saw.

"shh shh shh. . ." sevika put a hand to her lips, mimicking a quiet action with her pointer finger that was covered in two chunky silver rings. . "mon amour please. . . you had drank alot among that night, my eyes caught you in an ally way grappling with a drunkard . . . i got him off you - saving you, that is all you need to remember." her deceptive demeanor hid her true intentions, the constant contradiction she put on you was overwhelming.

"no. . .the blood dripping down your chin, the - the look in your eyes. . the sounds" your sentence coming out in a broken whisper "you killed that man by - sucking his blood. . .I'm not crazy ... i was doubting everything - my own memories, but i know what i saw."

you were looking down, meaning you missed sevika's gaze darken at your words. . her eyes fiercely staring at you, burning through you like lava, piercing through your soul.

she had an alluring and almost hypnotic gaze.

"are you afraid." Were the only words spoken out by sevika, her sentence coming out like a demand for you to answer other than an actual question.

but. . .

were you?

as crazy it sounds, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders at her words. . . these three days you spent in your home, petrified, thinking what you saw was a figment of your own imagination, thinking you were going mad, thoughts racing so fast against eachother you couldn't even keep up.

the dressing room was filled with a heavy suffocating silence, almost eerie.

but also the tension between you and the immortal was growing thick, probably more thick than the silence around you. . .sevika leaned closer to you, her broad and buff figure towering over your shorter figure, you still hadn't looked up at her . . your height making your eyes only reach her chest, this only made sevika lean lower , her body moving forward causing you to slowly step back. . . . this process stopped when your back hit the wall of her dressing room.

she could hear your lips shakily pressing into a line, roughly gulping . . and she could practically feel the nervousness seeping out of your pours , almost as if your emotions were intact with one another, she could feel everything you were feeling in this moment.

this was new for her...

having someone else's emotions connect within her own. . .

you were unable to form a single sentence, the tension felt so thick it suffocated you like blanket, leaving you hot and sweaty.

if sevika had the pleasure of breathing again, her breath would definitely be caught in her throat when she finally saw you look up at her, she's seen many eyes before, many expressive ones filled with different colors. . but your beautiful big brown eyes catch her off guard, again something that does not happen to her often. . . she was almost bewildered at this feeling.

sevika head slowly leaned closer to you, gently resting her forehead on yours as he clenched her eyes tightly - she had never been this close to you before so the the sweet scent of your blood flowed in her nose more easily. . . the smell nearly making her go feral. .

you slightly gasped when you felt her drag her head in the crook of your neck, for second you think you hear a low animalistic guttural growl escape her throat, her nose sniffing you as if you were some sort of food for her dinner. . .

her hands reaching beside you on the wall, she was almost shaking. . . you were in such a vulnerable position, she could sink her teeth into your skin if she desired to. . . just thinking about that made her hands clench, which they did, into the hard - blue painted wall causing a loud crushing noise to enter your ears.

"i can still smell him on you. . .his vulgar stench" sevika growled , her voice was deeper, smooth, and almost seductive, making you close your eyes, parting your mouth, letting out a shaky breath you didn't know you were holding in..

"do you know what i am. . ."

all of the nervousness , fear that was once in your body, was now replaced with the sudden urge of desire for this women infront of you - this immortal, you knew what she was you've heard of the myths, legends of blood drinking demons that preyed among humans. . .

yet you weren't scared of her, if she wanted to hurt you - even kill you . . she would have by now.

"Do i not scare you, mon chèrie. . ."

"no. ." your words came out with no hesitation, you didn't even think before you replied.."you saved me. .that night. . ."

sevika grunted at your words, her eyes still clenched closed, she could feel the heat radiating off your body coming onto her's, she pulled her head from your neck, looking into you eyes once more.

sevika looked as though she was drunk off your scent, her lidded gray eyes staring at you as her lips pursed together, staring at you like she was trying to read through you. .

you two stayed like this for what it seemed like minutes, hours even? maybe. . . the hot tension piercing the air between you two waiting to be broken, waiting to be sliced.

and it soon was, before you knew it, the immortals lips smashed roughly into your soft ones. . .

the kiss was hot and rough, but you took it , accepted it - you've been wanting this. . . needing this ever since the day both your eyes connected when she was on stage. . .both your mouths moving with urgency against eachother, as if you both would disappear in any moment.

your hands growing confident as they now moved around sevika's muscular back. . .

the kiss became messier and slippery more uncoordinated, sevika grunted like an angry animal against your mouth, the crunching of the wall could be heard once more, taking her frustrations out on it - knowing that if she were to place her hands on her body she could possibly hurt you with her unnatural strength.

"move to the dresser. ." sevika's husky tone was undeniably alluring, almost like a captivating melody for your ears, she removes her hands from the wall, watching as you slowly walked to the dresser nearby, legs visibly shaking with each step, sevika smirked at the sight of this slowly following behind you. . her tounge swiping up against her pointy fang as her silver eyes watched your movement.

once you reached the dresser, you turned around, leaning your lower back on it slightly flinching when sevika was already in front of you, with a cocky smirk on her lips.

"tu es l'un des humains les plus intéressants que j'aie jamais vu pendant mes cent ans. ."

you frown once more as sevika's cold hand raises up to your jaw, softly caressing you. . your'e warm heat from your skin collaborating with her icy cold ones. . such an unfamiliar feeling to you..

"sevika. . i don't understand your words. ." you respond to her..softly.

"You don't need to understand, mon cœur. ." she replies, her voice was like velvet, smooth, husky and rich with a lingering whisper that sent chills through your body.

her finger once on your jaw, moving higher. .to your cheek. . her thumb than meeting your moist, swollen lips. . . sevika gaze eyed your mouth as she pushed in her thumb, seeing you accept it with no hesitation, her thumb in your warm , wet mouth pressing down gently as possible on your tongue.

you lean into her touch, letting her do whatever she pleases with you.

whatever she desired. .

her thumb swirling around your tongue, she almost looked entranced by this, captivated by you - even more when she could hear the small sounds that escaped your throat when you yourself weren't even aware of them. .

she slipped her thumb out your warm mouth, smiling slightly at the string of saliva that came with it, she than stuck the thumb inside her mouth, sucking it off before releasing it with a loud pop.

you flustered by the sudden action, looking down avoiding the eye contact she always gave you.

sevika leaning in to you, her hands resting on the sides of the dresser. .she moved her head on yours, trying to catch your flustered gaze, when she did your lips slowly connecting again. . instead of thie kiss starting off rough and sloppy like the first one, this one started sensual, slow as if sevika was now taking her time.

her tongue brushing against your bottom lips before she entered it inside your mouth, both your tongues entangling - fighting for dominance that sevika clearly won within seconds. . even though the kiss was softer it was still messy, you could feel you saliva running down you chin as you leaned into her more, nor knowing this movement caused your tongue to brush up against her sharp fangs, causing a small cut on your pink muscle. . . you didn't notice, but when that taste entered sevika's mouth her eyes went wide.

immediately breaking the heated kiss, she stood for a moment - finally tasting your blood. . . sweet. . it was so fucking sweet.

she swallowed roughly with scowl on her face, closing her eyes in an attempt to get rid of the thoughts of draining your pulsing body right here on her dresser.

"sevika. . did - did i do something wrong?" You ask embarrassed, fumbling over your words unsure what to do next as the women suddenly just pulled away from you, you're body flinched at the crushing of wood beside you - sevika and squeezed the dresser so hard the places where she rested her hands now crushed into pieces.

whe you go to look back uo at her - she's already out the door. . . in a swish moment, like the wind she slammed the door open and she was gone.

leaving you in her dressing room, on her dresser, with swollen lips she caused and with confusion engulfing your body as you also felt a tingling between your legs. .

okay this is my first edit ever so be nice

we need recs fics of sevika x reader pleaseee

disclaimer: may contain sexual content. check the tags on the posts for warnings.

˚୭ ॱ˖ Sevika / pregnant reader(5k+ words)

˚୭ ॱ˖ Rugby player Sevika / Vi / reader(9.5k words) and part two(6.5k words)

˚୭ ॱ˖ Huge collection of sevika stuff

˚୭ ॱ˖ Sevika / Ambessa / reader and part two

˚୭ ॱ˖ Reader with a mommy kink blurb

˚୭ ॱ˖ "Midnight Cowboy" Sevika / reader

˚୭ ॱ˖ Sevika is your Christmas present

˚୭ ॱ˖ Professor Sevika

˚୭ ॱ˖ Sugar mommy Sevika / Ambessa / reader(10k+ words)

˚୭ ॱ˖ Sevika teaches you how to suck strap

And some longer fics on ao3…

˚୭ ॱ˖ Favorite Fantasy(70k words)

˚୭ ॱ˖ Get To Your Point(43k+ words)

˚୭ ॱ˖ A Wager(15k words)

˚୭ ॱ˖ This Wild, Fragile Thing(70k+ words)

sorry this list is so short:( i recently cleaned out my likes(which is usually how i “save” posts on here) and i couldn’t find a lot of my favs. if i do i’ll add onto this in the future.

i just loathe you lately — .✦

ᯓ VI ARCANE X READER

SUMMARY : 5k+ word count one-shot! (sorry if you dislike longer fan-fiction) ; the secrets of highland parks are kept under lock and key, never to be whispered beyond its borders.

“whatever happens in highland parks, stays in highland parks.” — you’re a registered, licensed FBI agent who's made a name for herself in the world of crime-solving. working alongside a team of sharp-minded professionals, apart of what's become New Jersey's go-to crew for getting things done. their reputation? polished, and trusted.

then, there’s vi west: your work partner, equally sharp but just a step ahead in some ways. almost too close for comfort. who would've thought work partners could be this competitive? the irony? they’re unstoppable together, but neither is quite the same without the other.

WARNINGS : fbi agent! vi ; fbi agent! reader. eventual smut. tons of self doubt. modern fbi! au. inaccurate descriptions of the profession! i’m not a professional. this is for fun. work rivals (one sided beef) to lovers. LONG AS FUCKKK SORRY I YAP. female reader with female anatomy. y/n is used. “thorne” is your last name. vi’s last name is “west”. you refer to her by her last name mostly. reader is high-key a crash out and mean. reader is an overachiever and insecure. vi and powder aren’t related. tons of banter. bottom! reader & top! vi. spitting. praise. fngering r! rec. pussy eating r! rec. detailed descriptions. crime scenes mentioned.

A/N : also i’m not that great at writing and my english isn’t spectacular, so i apologize for any confusion!

this was previously written in THIRD person with OCS previously, and is edited to be in second — so I apologize if things seem odd! I didn’t wanna overuse y/n. it switches from vi to violet when perspectives shift, and and the end, it’s because they get intimate. this also sucks I genuinely do not like how it turned out, but I wanna post this sooo badly.

MINORS + MEN DO NOT INTERACT! GO AWAY!

"Great," you muttered, rolling your eyes at the red light like it had personally offended you. One hand gripped the leather steering wheel, while the other balanced a bagel slathered in thick cream cheese and peppered with everything seasoning. You took a bite, savoring the soft, fresh bread—a far cry from the jaw-breaking bagels they served at the headquarters.

No need to spend the rest of her shift nursing a sore jaw, right?

South Jersey always gave you this weird ghost-town vibe. It was like all the real Jersey energy got stuck up North, and down here? It was all tumbleweeds and out-of-towners. And the drivers? Somehow even worse.

"Dude, go!" you groaned, smacking the horn with your free hand.

The truck in front jolted to life at the sound of your obnoxious horn, hesitating like it couldn't decide if it actually wanted to move. But you were late for work, and patience wasn't exactly on the menu today. The light had barely turned green when the Ford finally screeched forward, turning right without so much as a flick of its blinker.

Not even surprised.

Okay, maybe calling this place a 'ghost town' was a bit dramatic, but it wasn't exactly buzzing with life either. A population of five thousand? It wasn't tiny, but small enough that you pretty much knew everyone, or at least recognized their faces.

You rip off another chunk of your breakfast, chewing thoughtfully as you kept her eyes on the road ahead.

The headquarters sat smack in the middle of town, like the town's claim to fame. Not that it had much else going for it, anyway. The place was known for one thing and one thing only: a team of agents who dealt with crime and shady stuff, navigating the waters of illegal activities with professional ease.

And you were one of them. FBI agent—living the dream. Except for mornings like this, you weren’t so sure. Some days you questioned all of it. Why didn't you go for Wall Street like every other uptight, middle-aged guy who loves his over priced suits and has a receding hairline? But, of course, you were not a man. And would never be a man. So, that was that, unfortunately.

Other days though? Absolutely loved it. The thrill, the purpose. It kept you going.

You slammed your car door shut, the headlights flickering as if saying goodbye. Your boots clicked on the pavement as you tossed her brown paper bag with trash into a nearby bin, finishing off the last bite of the bagel while juggling your bag and keys in one hand.

(Y/N) Thorne. Not exactly the name that struck fear into anyone's heart. You were, after all, everything someone would want in a woman: totally normal. And boring as hell.

"G'morning," you called out, voice rippling through the main office full of her co-workers as you scanned your ID and pressed the door open with your forearm. Inside, it was warmer — nothing fancy, just your typical government building. Functional, plain, and definitely not the kind of place that got decorated for Thanksgiving.

November in Jersey wasn't exactly charming. Sure, it had its cozy moments but it was mostly cold, wet, and kinda depressing. You shrugged off her trench coat, and tossed your bag onto the desk, just as Jayce swiveled around in his stool, that annoying smirk plastered across his face.

"Wow. You're late," he teased, his eyes darting to the clock behind her.

"Like, late-late. Late as hell."

You then shot him a look, knowing full well that you was over half an hour late. Unlike everyone else who was seated and working as usual.

"You think I don't know that? I got caught up in traffic," you say, the lie slipping out as easily as it always did on mornings like these. The truth? There was almost never traffic in Highland Parks. Maybe during the holidays or when something big was going on, but never on a random weekday morning.

You started unloading your personal bag, pulling out the essentials: a still-steaming insulated cup of coffee, pens, some files you’d taken come to look over, and your planner. Everything else was digital of course, but you liked having these things on hand. It just made you feel more grounded.

Jayce raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying her excuse. "Traffic? Don't tell me you're coming down with schizophrenia, (Y/N)."

You then rolled your eyes, brows pinching together. "You don't 'come down' with schizophrenia, Jayce. It's not a cold that comes and goes." You didn't bother looking up at him, already used to the back-and-forth banter. They both were close enough for this to be just another day in the office.

"That still doesn't explain whatever you've got smeared around your mouth," Jayce quipped, pointing at you like he'd just caught you in some criminal act.

You halted, then swiped at your lips, just now realizing the cream cheese from the bagel you were eating earlier had betrayed you. "Shut up."

Jayce spun back around to his dual monitors, both lit up with the usual chaos. One screen was a mess of opened unnamed files, highlighted sections jumping out at him like some kind of fucking neon nightmare. The other? A classified CIA document he probably shouldn't have access to but, hey, Jayce was Jayce. A pain in the ass sure, but damn good at what he did, and you could respect that at least.

You plopped into your chair and rolled it forward, the familiar hum of the workspace coming to life. Resting your head in your hand, and letting out a sigh that felt as if it had been building up for days on end. Sleeping through your alarm again. It was becoming a pattern, and you was starting to seriously think about just camping out here at headquarters.

At least then you wouldn't have to rush to work every other week because of your growing bad habits.

You glanced around the room. Everyone else was locked in, focused on their screens, their tasks. A hushed few conversations floated in the background —just the usual work chatter between people you’d known for years now. They were solid. Resilient. You felt lucky to be surrounded by a team you could count on, even on days like this where your brain felt like it was running dry.

You wiped away the last remnants of cream cheese from her lips, still mildly annoyed that Jayce had been the only one to point it out. Not that you wanted everyone in the office to make a big deal out of it, but seriously, not one person gave her a heads-up?

Jesus Christ. It was way too early to care about that kind of still, especially right now.

Outside, the sky hung heavy with thick clouds, the kind that obviously promised rainfall later—great just what you needed. You moved your hand over the cursor, pulling up the files for the marriage fraud case you’d been slogging through. It was equally as exciting as watching paint dry on a fence. But a job's a job, and no one ever said working for the government was supposed to be fun.

Your eyes scanned the screen, index finger clicking away as you moved through the organized files. Your routine, monotonous. It was keeping your hands busy, at least. If nothing else, the day had nowhere to go but up from here.

"The money transferred to the spouse was unlabeled, and we're talking a decent amount. Anywhere from a grand up to five grand. Normally, separate bank accounts wouldn't draw too much attention, but in this case it's a red flag." You say, half to yourself as you rummaged through the stuffed file drawer. One folder was delicately tucked under your chin, held in place as you flipped through files with your manicured fingers. Brows furrowed in concentration as you searched for a similar case.

Tax fraud cases were like the PP&J to your workload, with a few shady marriage fraud scenarios thrown in to mix things up. Sometimes the scandalous ones were entertaining enough to break the pattern, but this one? Torture.

Jayce stood nearby, leaning back against the marble counter, which was digging into his lower back. He took a slow sip of his iced oat-milk latte, listening to you work and ramble through your day's work. It had been a quiet morning, with nothing dramatic or exciting happening, which should've been a good thing.

Still, it left you with that uneasy feeling—like the calm before a storm.

You were never relaxed for this long. Clocked in for almost three hours and had surprisingly plowed through a solid amount of work, even with a fried brain that was practically begging for a nap. That was another thing you found weird—you were usually a mess by now, half-distracted or complaining about some new crisis.

The files slapped onto the counter with a loud thud as you set them aside, hands brushing together like you was dusting off the whole ordeal. Jayce’s eyes flicked to her bare hands—no ring, no sign of marriage or any serious relationship. You were always all work, never any talk about a significant other or anything personal.

You slowly sighed pushed your hair back from your face, shutting the file cabinet with a firm click and locking it for good measure. Sliding your personal key into your pocket, ready to move on from whatever boring task awaited her next.

"This Wren Staples woman is kind of smart. I mean," Jayce held up a hand before you could even start to question his logic, giving you that familiar look. "I'm not saying it's right, but if someone offered me five grand a month to stay silent and just show up to some fancy business dinners? You wouldn't have to ask me twice."

He paused, waiting for a reaction, but you just stared at him, face scrunched up like you couldn't decide if you was more irritated or confused. Clearly not amused. Jayce let out a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes like this conversation was nothing but a lost cause. Adjusting his belt, he gave it one last go, this time sounding more defeated than the first time.

"Forget it." He waved it off dismissively, taking a long sip of his drink while you mentally rubbed a hand down your face in pure frustration.

"Yeah, I will forget it," you say dryly. "Because if anyone heard you say that, you'd be stuck at the front desk while a janitor took your place. Or," you added, picking up your files, "you'd just be fired."

Jayce smirked, a dimple creasing his cheek. "You're obsessed with the idea of me getting fired, but who else would have your back when West over here starts breathing down your neck?"

At the mention of West, your mood took a nose-dive. Violet West—the co-worker from the literal pits of hell. If you had to sum her up in three words it, was be easy: haughty, a know-it-all, and self-indulgent.

You’d like to say you didn't hate West, but that would be a lie. And sure, lying wasn't illegal, but pretending to tolerate Violet felt criminal. The woman was all sharp words, choppy hair, and superiority complex wrapped in a suit.

"Yeah, you mean 'she-who-must-not-be-named'?" you mutter as you both walked down the dim hallways, the usual morning light blocked out by the overcast skies. Jayce snorted.

"What? Is she a forbidden topic now, Ms. Thorne?" Jayce raised an eyebrow, teasing as they headed back to the main room. You shot him a long side-glance, silently telling him to knock it off as they neared West's usual... territory.

You scanned your ID at the door, unlocking it with a beep and pushing it open for the both of them. Your expression blank, and voice deadpan.

“Just very, very taboo.”

You rip a piece of tape off the roll with your teeth, holding it between yours lips for a moment before carefully sticking it onto the document you were patching up. The team had already gone through a ridiculous amount of ink today, and printing another copy of this page would be a waste. A little tape, and it was good as new. Well, good enough. No one would notice unless they were trying to be a detective about it.

Smoothing the tape down with the pad of your thumb, stood up, and pushed your chair back with a small scrape. So far, this week wasn't too bad. It was only Tuesday, but still better than the disaster that was yesterday. Not that it mattered much — work was work, and that was that.

"Lunch started ten minutes ago, (Y/N)."

You turned to see Mel, stirring honey into her tea, the spoon gently clinking against the glass. The smell hit you, and seconds in you were already fighting the urge to grimace. Tea wasn't your thing. It always left this weird aftertaste, like lukewarm juice that had been forgotten in a car on a hot day. Gross, but you get it.

Mel wasn't bad, though. Laid-back, easy to deal with, which was more than you could say about most people at the HQ. In your mind, everyone had something annoying about them, and you weren’t shy about digging for it. Nobody's perfect, why pretend?

You laid your stack of papers down, giving Mel a tight, thin-lined smile with a small shrug. "Who else is gonna organize our cases by date, importance, and agent?"

"You do know there are six other people working in this office, right?" Mel raised an eyebrow, amused but not surprised by your martyr complex.

You knew you were not technically responsible for everything. You weren’t dense. But every time someone else tried to handle the file-work, things ended up in a chaotic mess, and that drove you crazy. You’d rather just do it on your own, your way, even if it meant taking on more. Loosening your tie, slipping a finger into the knot and giving it a tug as you got back to sorting through the paperwork.

Policy guides? Tossed onto the pile on her left. Investigation files? Those got dropped into a drawer with a firm hip-check to shut it. Personnel records? Neatly tucked into a black folder. You had a system, and it worked.

"Exactly," the words came out as a drawl, not really in the mood for chit-chat as you worked through the stack. You still needed to collect some files, but that could wait until later, maybe even tomorrow. The week had been more relaxed since most of the tasks were in-office, which was honestly a relief. The days when public affairs or training sessions were on the agenda? Those were the ones that pushed you to the edge of madness.

As you started to walk away, Mel called after you, "Tell Jayce his phone's rung fifteen times in the past twenty minutes!"

Of course it had. Jayce avoided work calls like the plague.

You shut the door behind you and slipped a hand into your right pocket, pulling out your cellphone. It was mostly your work phone—you kept your personal life strictly separate. The idea of mixing the two was a disaster waiting to happen. Scrolling through your contacts, you found the number you were searching for, and tapped it. You needed to update the attorney general. Your boots clicked softly against the floor while stroding down the hallway, phone pressed to your ear.

It rang a couple of times before a voice answered. "FBI Legal Division."

You inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly to gather your thoughts before responding. Tone direct, professional. "Thorne, (Y/N), speaking. Just calling to update you—we've covered all files and documents this past week. Fingerprinting is being handled by Shimes, and the lab services are currently in progress. Everything else looks good for now. If anything changes, I'll let you know as soon as possible."

You kept it short and to the point, just the way it needed to be.

A satisfied hum came through the line. "Great work, I'll review the details and let you know if I need anything else."

You thanked your attorney, lowering the phone as you pushed open the doors to the lounge. You had about twenty minutes to eat which was more than enough, though the thought of food didn't exactly thrill you. When your mind was full of work, your stomach didn't have room to complain. Sliding your cellular device into her pocket, you noticed a few co-workers giving her a glance.

"Where've you been?" Powder asked, nosy as ever. Powder Shimes was hunched over, chewing on what looked like the remains of a sad, microwaved breakfast burrito—probably from hours ago—and washing it down with a can of Dr. Pepper that looked far too room temperature. Was that ketchup on her burrito?

Ekko tilted his head, giving her a once-over. "Probably the HQ. She looks pretty pissed."

You rolled your eyes and yanked open the lounge fridge. Taking her time to riffle through the bagged lunches, each marked with large initials to avoid any office food theft drama. You grabbed your pre-prepped Caesar salad—the one you didn't have time for the day before—and a small bottle of water.

"Where's Jayce?" you asked, settling into a chair a seat away from the two of them. You ignored their commentary about your supposed "pissed-off" look. It wasn't like you were mad, but your resting face had always given off those vibes. "Matter of fact, where's everyone at?"

Powder and Ekko were always together, so their presence wasn't exactly surprising. Mel was eating at her desk while taking phone calls. Jayce was MIA for reasons unknown, even though he was usually first to hog the entire couch in the break lounge. Caitlyn popped in sometimes after training, but she hadn't expecting to see her today.

You popped the lid off the salad and grabbed a plastic fork from the tin holder nearby. As for West? Well, she wasn't here either, which was a relief. Lunch without Violet West around was a small victory in itself. It wasn't like seeing her would brighten your day. If anything, the distance was a blessing.

You stabbed at the Caesar salad, spearing a few leaves and bringing them to your mouth. A quiet lunch was all you really needed right now.

"Caitlyn went to grab some stuff from Home Depot. Something about the sink breaking—something with the piping. I don't know," Ekko shrugged, digging into his half-full peanut butter cup ice cream with a plastic spoon. Meanwhile, Powder took another horrific bite of her ketchup-slathered burrito, opening yet another packet of ketchup like it was a delicacy.

You uncomfortably clenched your jaw, doing your absolute best to ignore Powder’s obnoxious eating habits. She gulped down her food with an unnecessary loud sigh and crushed her soda can with a loud crack. "Like Ekko said, Cait’s at the store. Jayce? Off doing whatever, said he'd be back after lunch. Vi?" Powder raised her hands once mentioning the girl in mock surrender, a crumpled napkin in her palm. "No idea where she is, and honestly? Don't care."

You picked at the chicken in the Caesar salad, chewing slowly. You really needed to up your protein intake, especially with how grueling training days had been. But Caesar salads? The only kind you could enjoy without wanting to throw the bowl out the window. "So it's just you two?"

"Yup," Ekko confirmed, licking his spoon clean.

Spectacular. Stuck with these two for the next fifteen minutes. Not that long, but in moments like this, you found herself wondering how they were the same people she did real-world investigations with. Ekko, a grown man, devouring ice cream like a five-year-old, and Powder, well.

"That's disgusting, Shimes," you deadpanned, eyeing the ungodly amount of ketchup Powder was consuming. Ekko barely stifled a laugh, grinning against his spoon. You rubbed your temples, trying to ease the headache that had started creeping in. Who knew the break room could actually make things worse?

Powder scoffed, leaning back in her chair, her work jacket tossed aside. Now just in a wrinkled button-down, she looked far too comfortable for someone whose eating habits were under fire.

"Like I care. That was delicious. I'd give it like an eight out of ten—only because it was kinda cold in the center."

That earned a grimace from you. You did not need to know how cold her burrito was or how much she enjoyed it in great detail. As much as Jayce could be a pain, you’d trade this scenery for his company any day. At least Jayce wasn't… this.

Just as you were starting to imagine a more peaceful lunch break, a gruff female voice broke through your thoughts. "Thanks for saving me a seat."

The sound of the chair scraping against the floor made you freeze. Ekko shot you a knowing look, and Powder’s grin only widened.

"Surprise guest!" Powder announced with a clap, running a hand through her hair like she was prepping a show.

Surprise guest? More like surprise loss of appetite. Because who else would be sitting next to you, shoulder to shoulder, than Violet West herself. No invitation, no polite "is this seat taken?" just West, plopping down like she owned the place.

Your fork hovered above your salad, chewing coming to an abrupt stop. You stared down at the greens, the moment of peace you had been savoring now utterly ruined.

You've got to be kidding me.

Three shots rang out. You adjusted your earplugs with one hand and tightened your grip on the Glock 19M with the other. The gloves were pulled snug over your hands, and you squeezed the gun a little harder than usual. You didn't bother with safety glasses during training. What was the point? You didn't wear them on the job.

Agents like you practicing shooting all kinds of targets — stationary, moving, from cover to cover, on the move. The whole deal. Training days like these were crucial for staying sharp, and even though they ran these drills once a week, you always tried to push yourself, especially with your Glock. The gun had a way of making your skin crawl every time she fired, but you had to be good with it. You hadn't had to use it much in the field, thankfully, but when you did, it never felt great. Obviously.

"Not bad, Thorne," Caitlyn muttered as she patted your wrist, adjusting it slightly and motioning for you to fix your posture. You hadn't even realized you were holding the gun so close to your body until she gave that look. A lump of saliva slid down your throat and you nodded. Caitlyn was a solid instructor. She didn't sugarcoat anything—if you were doing something wrong, she told you straight up, step by step, how to fix it.

You appreciated that.

The days rotated every week. Monday meant outdoor training, Tuesday indoor, then back outdoors on Wednesday, and so on from there. Weeks of drills. Not your personal favorite, but it was part of the job, and you had to be ready to reach for your waist when things went sideways. And in a town like Highland Parks, things often did.

You bit your cheek, thinking about how unpredictable this place was. The citizens too. Not that you were any better — you wasn't exactly a poster child for predictability yourself. You let out a breath, firmly holding the handle of the Glock as if it could settle your nerves.

Caitlyn handed you a pair of safety glasses, breaking your focus. "You need to wear these. None of that 'I'm too good for this' nonsense. If you lose an eye because you're being stubborn, you're not touching a firearm again. Take them."

Irritable but not wrong. You weren’t offended. Rumor had it someone lost an eye once because they ignored safety, though that was before her time.

"Thanks," you say, slowly taking the glasses from her hand. She stomped off, her heavy boots thudding against the ground as her vest shifted with each step. You put on the glasses and popped your knuckles, already feeling that strain in your hands that would stick until the end of the month.

Nearby, Powder was lounging with his legs spread, while Jayce gnawed on a marshmallow-studded protein bar. Powder’s face was slick with sweat as he gulped water, some strands of her azure hair sticking to her forehead. Ekko was swapping out his gun, peeling off his thick vector gloves.

You placed your weapon down and rolled your tense shoulders, feeling a knot in your neck release. The relief was short-lived, though, she glanced over at Caitlyn, who was now standing in front of West. Another knot formed in your gut, this one a mix of annoyance and envy. You clenched her jaw unconsciously.

Of course, Caitlyn was probably praising the hell out of West. She was the best with the weapons out of everyone, aside from Caitlyn herself. Powder was more into forensic work, Ekko handled lab services, and Jayce was a crime-solving machine, and (Y/N)?

Just... good. At a little bit of everything. You were organized, which was great, but that was also Mel’s job. A deep inhale filled your lungs, and you sighed heavily. You was useful — a great help, a mix of skills, but nothing extraordinary.

Ekko’s voice snapped you back to reality. "Dude, instead of choking back a hundred protein bars, try starting with eggs in the morning. Those are food, but God damn."

He was talking to Jayce, who was hunched over elbows on his knees. You resisted the urge to critique his posture. You didn't, but that was primarily because it would make you a hypocrite. Caitlyn had just corrected hers. You slipped off your own gloves, then decided to stand and stretch your legs, feeling more awake on your feet.

"Eggs are nasty as hell," Jayce waved Ekko off, and Ekko shrugged, half agreeing as he lazily sipped his water.

"Cottage cheese? Tofu? Greek yogurt?" Ekko continued, trying to offer solid protein options, but Jayce’s chewing slowed at his suggestions. Even though Ekko’s advice came from someone who clearly knew what he was talking about, Jayce’s eyes narrowed, his olive-tanned skin glistening under the fluorescent lights.

A firm smack on your back snapped you upright before you could even think about it, body reacting on instinct. Caitlyn’s voice echoed in her mind, reminding her about her posture, and for a split second, you wondered if she'd hunched over under the weight of your responsibilities again. But when you turned to see who had hit her, it wasn't Caitlyn and her sharp, fine eyebrows. Instead, you were met by a different pair—thick and scarred along the edges.

West.

Your stomach dropped. Caitlyn, she respected. Caitlyn had the right to correct your posture, whether in training or in office. Violet, on the other hand, had not. Jayce could get away with being a little touchy sometimes, and Caitlyn, if it was educational, but Violet? No. Never.

"You aren't a Pilates teacher," you say in a calm, yet perfectly passive-aggressive tone. Your brows furrowed as you tried to smooth out the back of the suit jacket you had on, trying to ease any trace of Violet’s unwanted touch. In another timeframe, you might've smacked her hand away, but today you settled for being politely firm.

Violet, of course, gave you another pat, this one being more condescending than the first. "Another profession? I'd be making bank. Every housewife would be in my classes," she replied, her voice smug and dripping with fake charm.

Your skin prickled with irritation, patience running thin by the second. You would've given everything for earplugs at the moment. The sound of Violet’s voice was enough to make your head throb. Meanwhile, Jayce, ever the opportunist, chose this exact moment to stay silent, focusing more on his marshmallow protein bar than on you, clearly about to bite down hard enough to crack a molar.

"You'd be making below minimum wage. No one would willingly attend those classes," you dragged out, voice flat and uninterested, though the tension in your jaw spoke volumes. Violet didn't have to do much to get under your skin, and honestly, she didn't even have to try. She was the walking embodiment of something that made your veins itch.

"Realistically, that is."

Violet studied your face, noticing the way your expression had tightened, a visible vein of pure irritation. It wasn't like you hated Violet once again—if you did, you would've moved locations a long time ago. But there was a thin line between tolerance and whatever the hell this was. Tolerable, in your world, meant zero contact. Silence. Absolute distance. And right now, West was far too close for comfort.

"Realistically, a business run by someone confident in their growth is more likely to succeed than someone who's just a follower."

Violet’s smug response hit you like a match to gasoline. You could feel the heat of your frustration under your skin, a familiar sensation that always seemed to bubble up during their rare, but tense interactions. Most days, they kept their distance, sticking to cold, judgmental glances. But on days like this, when they were forced into the same space, it was inevitable-snarky exchanges, backhanded compliments, and that thick, suffocating air of competition.

You bit back the flood of insults threatening to slip out. Pressing your chapped lips together, irritated by the dry, rough feeling but too focused on the current situation to care. "You can't speak from experience," you finally muttered, knowing full well that it was a weak retort. You weren’t in the mood to come up with anything clever. Keeping it safe was the safest bet for your sanity right now.

Violet, naturally, didn't miss a beat. "I'll have that privilege one day." she flicked her ID badge with a cocky flourish, the engraved letters of her last name catching in the light. Her face was twisted into a self-satisfied smirk, the kind that made you want to roll her eyes so hard they'd get stuck.

There was nothing motivating about Violet’s arrogance. Only aggravating.

You cleared your throat, forcing a thin smile.

"Fun talking to you, as always," you said, determined to get the last word in, as usual. Their exchanges were like a never-ending thumb war, both women pushing for dominance without truly getting anywhere. Two years of this, and nothing had changed.

Violet smirked, clearly enjoying herself. "I'm flattered, but I can't help wondering if you're considering stand-up comedy for those with lobotomies, of course." She punctuated the remark with a firm hand on your shoulder.

Your stomach churned at the touch, and you shrugged off Violet’s hand like it was a spider crawling on you. Resisting the urge to vomit right then and there, you reached down for your Glock, thumb brushing over the magazine release as it could somehow end this insufferable conversation.

You needed to reload, which at least gave you a reason to focus on someone else.

"Be my guest," you said flatly, eyes fixated on the gun, not on the smug woman hovering over you.

West’s lips quirked again in amusement, but she stayed quiet, watching as you methodically reloaded the 19M, clicking the slide back in place with more force than necessary. You were hyper-focused now, anything to block out Violet’s presence.

You slipped the gloves back on, fastening the Velcro tightly, mentally preparing yourself to get back to training.

"Trainings over for the day, you know," West said, casually reminding you. She was annoyingly familiar with your habits on the range, probably because she always kept an eye on you, just waiting to see if you messed up.

You didn't bother looking up. "I'm aware everyone else is gone. I prefer extra training."

"You hate training," Violet replied, her tone laced with smug knowingness. She clearly enjoyed pushing your buttons, and right now, you kinda wound tighter than the Velcro on your gloves.

"No." you simply state, cocking your head to crack your neck.

I just fucking hate you.

Your raised the Glock and fired at the nearest dummy, ending the conversation with a bang.

The sweet relief of coffee never failed to satisfy Vi, even on days when everything else seemed to fall apart. She let her calloused fingers linger on the coffee maker as it hummed, her other hand twiddling a packet of sweetener absentmindedly. With nothing pressing on her mind or plate today, she pulled the pitcher from the machine and dragged her New York embroidered mug forward. The coffee poured steadily, just below the rim, and she tore the sweetener packet, dumping it in with practiced precision.

But before she could savor a sip, her forearm nudged open the lounge door, and—splash. Hot coffee cascaded over her freshly pressed suit, drenching her pants and top in a scalding, sticky mess.

What—the fuck?

Audrey's eyes slowly drifted down to the damage, the burning liquid stinging her skin beneath the fabric.

Her grip tightened on the mug as she looked up, fury already simmering behind her eyes.

And there, frozen in shock with wide eyes, was none other than you. Of course. Vi could see the words forming in her head before they even left your mouth; you never missing an opportunity to make things worse.

"Watch where you're going next time," you grumbled, tone dismissive, like the whole thing was somehow Vi’s fault. You had also whispered something under your breath, and it couldn't have been good. The coffee dripped silently between them, pooling on the floor and marking its territory on Vi’s ruined clothes. She had managed to get through the rain this morning without so much as a spot, but your clumsiness had managed to wreck her in mere seconds.

Vi’s upper lip twitched in irritation. Was she being blamed? Really? "What are you in hurry for, the last few munchkins in the fridge? You don't exactly look busy, (Y/N).”

Your eyebrows drew down slowly, eyes narrowing in offended disbelief. Vi might've found it amusing to mess with her in any other circumstance, but right now? Right now, it really irked her. She was being blamed for this, and she wasn't going to let it slide.

"If you've got time to throw insults, why don't you go and do Mel’s job again? After all, you went to school for years to play assistant at headquarters, right?" Vi’s words were sharp, deliberately cutting. It was a bitchy move, but she'd had enough.

You’d had been riding her nerves all week.

Monday, you’d shredded Vi’s files by "mistake," chalking it up to be tired. Tuesday, you’d nearly wrecked her Glock 17M and tried to convince Caitlyn it was just a mix-up. Wednesday, there were dirty looks and backhanded compliments in the middle of a meeting. And yesterday? You’d almost derailed an entire investigation with your impatience.

Two years of this, and it was finally pushing Vi to her limit. It wasn't just competitive banter anymore—it was real animosity. Vi had always tried to keep things light, a little teasing here and there, but (Y/N?). (Y/N) downright hated her, and it was getting mutual.

You, ever so unfazed, didn't even glance at the mess you’d made. "Who pissed in your coffee this morning?" you shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm. "And don't worry about how I handle my tasks around here. Why don't you go cozy up to Caitlyn while I keep things easy and simple for you? Sound good?"

Audrey clenched her jaw, her fingers tight around the now empty mug. This woman...

"You've got a lot of nerve," Vi snapped, her voice low but sharp, each word deliberate. "I don't have an issue with you, but for some reason, you're always trying to get on my bad side. I try to be halfway decent with you, but you always find a way to ruin that too." Audrey stepped closer, exaggerating her words, hoping it would hit you harder. For someone who walks in heeled boots everyday, the shorter woman still hadn't quite figured out how to own them.

Before you could fire back, Audrey cut you off.

"And if you want to accuse me of cozying up to Caitlyn, then take a good look at yourself, Thorne. Your last name fits you precisely. You're like a thorn to someone's side."

You let out a sharp huff, clearly caught off guard by Audrey's sudden willingness to stand her ground. You weren’t used to being confronted, especially by someone you considered to be an annoyance. Vi could see the gears turning, the effort you put into keeping your voice steady as she shot back.

"At least I have a good relationship with everyone. You pick and choose who you talk to. You're not down to earth, (Y/N). You're just a shitty person."

You felt your blood simmering, but you kept your expression neutral, even as the insult landed. By habit loosening your tie, fingers trembling just slightly with adrenaline, and tossed your now-empty mug into the trash bin by the door without a second thought.

The satisfying crack of glass echoed through the room, but she didn't care.

Not about the mug, not about your words. Not now.

She brushed past you, not sparing a second glance as she headed toward the restroom. The coffee was already soaking into her clothes, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to her skin. She peeled off her ruined pullover as she walked, letting it fall down her arms before she entered the bathroom, where she was greeted by her reflection.

Vi stared at herself for a moment, hair falling messily over her eyes. It had grown longer than she liked, brushing just past her nose slightly. She pushed it away impatiently and leaned over the counter, scrubbing at her button-down with frustration.

"Come on," she muttered through gritted teeth, working at the larger stains with more force than necessary. The top had cost her over fifty bucks, and the thought of it being ruined because of your clumsiness made her blood boil. If it had been some cheap shirt, she wouldn't have lost her cool like that, but it wasn't.

"Fucking come out, Jesus." Vi’s voice cracked slightly as she scrubbed harder, knowing full well she was only making it worse. But she couldn't walk back into HQ with this mess on her. Not after what had just happened. She wasn't about to give you the satisfaction of seeing her like this.

As the stains slowly faded, her mind raced. Were you insecure? Vi didn't know, and frankly, she didn't care. The woman was a confusing mess of contradictions, and Vi had no desire to decipher her. All she knew was that you got under her skin, and made her head throb with frustration. An impatient groan escaped her lips as she managed to get some of the deeper stains out, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

Vi stared at the shirt, feeling like the whole situation was ridiculous. And yet, here she was, scrubbing out coffee stains and stewing over someone who should've been nothing more than an office inconvenience.

The urge to tell you off bubbled up again, but Vi bit it back. Sure, she was pissed, but wasn't trying to escalate this any further. She had done the right thing by standing up for herself, like anyone else would. There was no point in pushing things to the point of no return, where they might both end up fired and jobless.

She slung her ruined pullover over her arm and walked out of the women's restroom, her steps heavier with the weight of her lingering frustration.

She wasn't about to let it go, not completely, but she wasn't going to make it worse either.

If nothing else, she thought, I'm not worse than (Y/N). That was for sure. Vi had rattled her pride a little with the teasing, but it wasn't like she'd gone overboard. In fact, if you had any sense of humor, they could've had some fun with the back-and-forth. But no, the hostility from you felt different, like it was more personal. You ribbed Ekko and Powder too at times, but with Vi, it felt deeper, like there was something else fueling it.

As she exhaled slowly, her shoulders dropping, she made her way down the hallways of the HQ, her mind still buzzing with the aftershocks of their argument.

"That was my favorite shirt," she muttered under her breath, glancing down at the faint coffee stains that still clung to the fabric.

You grimace, hesitating before fully letting your eyes take in the crime scene photos clipped to the case folder in front of you. One side is filled with notes detailing the body discovered, the evidence collected by officers and K-9 units, while the other holds the photographs. It’s never easy looking at the dead, but this case in particular—one involving children and animals—settles like a weight in your stomach.

Just suck it up and focus.

Jayce is out today, which means his ridiculous pile of files is now your responsibility. For someone who jokes around constantly and eats while reviewing these kind of things, he’s got a stomach of fucking steel. You, on the other hand, find yourself letting out a quiet, uneasy strings of grunts as you shuffle a set of dated photos into an envelope hastily. You barely register your own signature as you scrawl it across the front before tossing it into the small brown box beside you leveled on Jayce’s chair.

The barely touched coffee on your desk doesn’t help your mood. Mel had been nice enough to bring drinks from the local coffee shop for everyone, but yours? It tasted watered down, and the undissolved brown sugar left a grainy texture that made it hard to enjoy. You had set it aside, already planning to let it get cold so you could toss it out without feeling guilty.

Bad coffee is worse than no coffee. You’d rather suffer through exhaustion than force yourself to drink something made by a barista who clearly didn’t know a basic coffee rule: to stir the damn sugar while it’s hot.

You bite the inside of your cheek, inhaling deeply, forcing yourself back into work mode.

Outside, thunder grumbles in the distance, and the printers rattle beside you, filling the silence of an otherwise empty space. The office is quieter than usual, the seat next to you noticeably unoccupied. Rainy Novembers are typical in Highland Parks, but in all honesty you don’t have much of an opinion on the weather. You spend most of your time indoors anyway.

Working.

Your stomach interrupts your train of thought, rumbling loudly in protest. You unconsciously glance at the digital clock near Jayce’s empty desk, its red numbers flickering back at you. Lunch passed a while ago. Not that it mattered. After spending hours handling Jayce’s case files, your appetite had disappeared. Your meal, along with your Diet Coke, was probably still sitting untouched in the lounge fridge.

Powder and Ekko are out training one-on-one with Caitlyn. Not your business, but you’re curious anyway. You always are. Why didn’t you ever get one-on-one training? Everyone else did.

Are you lacking something?

You chew on your thumbnail, the thought making an unwelcome home in your head. This always happened.

A sudden tap on the top of your head yanks you from your inner turmoil. You glance over your shoulder, expecting Viktor, the guy who fixes the printers and every other broken thing in HQ. Jayce is good friends with him, so, you are as well in that case. But instead, it’s Mel. Your shoulders loosen slightly. You’ve been tense all week.

“Not exactly the best way to get my attention, Mel,” you say, stacking some of the finished files on your desk, head still heavy with lingering doubt.

“Lighten up a bit. You’re such a pessimist,” Mel hums, dropping the stack of documents onto your desk. “You should go eat. I saw you skipped lunch. Plus, Jayce can finish the rest tomorrow. You’ve done more than enough.”

You exhale, considering her words. Why didn’t you just work a role like Mel? She had a clear job, an essential purpose. Meanwhile, you felt like you spent most of your time quietly filling in the gaps—like a seat filler, temporary, replaceable. All that school for what?

A stubborn voice in your head protests the comment about your pessimism, but your hunger wins out. You push back your chair and stand, rolling your shoulders to shake off the stiffness.

“You can take the file box then. I’ll be back.” Grabbing your ID lanyard, you stride out of the office, making your way through the mostly empty space.

The walk down the same hallway you’d been pacing for two years somehow felt longer every day. Realistically, nothing had changed—it was the same damn stretch of floor, the same fluorescent lights buzzing above. But lately, the need to move your feet, to just get to where you were going, had started to feel like a chore.

You had three keys to this building: one for the main office where the bulk of the work happened, another for the lounge, and the third just to get into the damn building in the first place. Underwhelming. Your pay was the same as Jayce’s, even Ekko’s. You were making more than both Powder and Mel combined.

So why did it still feel like you were scraping for something?

You pushed open the lounge door with your elbow, only to immediately regret it.

Violet.

A grumble of annoyance rumbled in the back of your throat as she turned her head to glance over her shoulder at you. Her cool, ashy-blue eyes flicked to you for only a moment, but it was enough to make your skin prickle uncomfortably.

It felt like every time a coworker looked at you, it was out of pity, not respect. As if all the work you put in was just something to be tolerated, not acknowledged. The thought made your heeled boots feel loose, like you were one wrong step away from rolling your ankle under the weight of Violet’s occasional, unimpressed glances.

Why was she even here?

Yes, this was the employee lounge, but she never lingered here long. And yet, here she was. You weren’t even sure if she had food, and she definitely wasn’t making coffee.

You ignored her gaze, forcing yourself toward the fridge. Your hands were already clammy before you saw her, but now they were straight up sweaty. The cool air from the fridge was a small relief as you reached for your neatly labeled chicken and lettuce wrap, along with your untouched sealed Diet Coke.

It had been this way ever since the coffee incident. Ever since you’d—“accidentally”—ruined an entire month’s worth of her research.

West had stopped making jokes around you.

At first, that satisfied you. But now? Now, it made your gut feel like a crumpled-up sticky note.

Had you actually liked the attention? No. Absolutely not. Jayce spoke to you every day, cracked his ridiculous jokes around you, so it wasn’t that. And it wasn’t about communication. You and Violet didn’t even work in the same department. You weren’t exactly friends, either. Strictly coworkers. Two people who knew just enough about each other’s flaws to be annoying and pick at them.

So why was she bothering you so much?

Your flimsy fingers tightened around your wrap as Violet finally looked away. But she didn’t move. Didn’t eat. Didn’t make coffee. Just existed. Silently.

Judgment was awful, but silent judgment? That was even worse.

“Can you quit watching me like that?” you snapped before you could stop yourself, your voice sharp with the bitterness that always seemed to linger between you two. “It’s weird. And aren’t you supposed to be working?”

Violet barely reacted, just blinked at you, unimpressed.

“Lunch ended three hours ago,” you added, “unless you’re digging for Caitlyn’s crumbs.”

Your jaw clenched as you unwrapped your lunch, your teeth sinking slightly into your torn up bottom lip. Uncalled for. You knew that. And Violet knew exactly how to weaponize the moment.

“Thanks for the reminder, Thorne,” she said, her voice steady but laced with something biting. “But I actually don’t have to make that effort. Cait pays attention to me without me having to act like some crazy addict who thrives off her validation on every thought.”

Your fingers stilled.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t said worse to her before. The difference? Violet never hid behind her words. She always said them looking you dead in the eye, unwavering, direct.

The comment shouldn’t have hit a soft spot, but it did.

You exhaled sharply through your nose, forcing yourself to play it off, pretending it didn’t get under your skin.

“You know me so well,” you muttered with a strained chuckle, though your jaw ached with the effort of keeping it together.

Because deep down, you knew exactly where your problem with Violet had started.

It wasn’t out of nowhere.

You’d been intimidated by her from the moment she got the job—without even needing an interview. She made more than you right off the bat. Caitlyn warmed up to her almost immediately. It wasn’t like Violet had ever rubbed it in your face, but envy was something you never handled well.

Do this better. Do that better. Finish this. Try harder. Ask to do more.

Violet ran a hand down the front of her work suit to smooth out the cotton. Ever since the coffee incident, she’d switched to wearing black button-downs under her blazers, likely to avoid another purposeful coffee disaster.

“You don’t exactly make it hard to read you,” she mused, her voice irritatingly casual. “Especially when you have a vein bulging from your forehead every time you see me.”

Your first instinct was to snap back—who wouldn’t be irritated when you think everyone is your buddy? But you knew better. And honestly? You didn’t have the energy for another round of verbal sparring this week.

Jayce was out. Your workload was heavier than usual. You hadn’t had coffee, and you hadn’t eaten all day.

So, instead of feeding into it, you focused on your food. You took a bite from the edge of your wrap, careful not to let the contents spill from the sides. It hurt to open your mouth too wide. Your lips had been painfully chapped for a month now. February was creeping closer, and with it came dry skin, exhaustion, and the growing desire to sleep at your desk instead of work.

Your bottom lip had split more times than you could count in the past week, but you hadn’t done much to fix it either. No time for chapstick when you could barely keep up with everything else.

Violet had noticed.

You always got like this in the winter; pushier, more irritable. You weren’t as unbearable when the weather warmed up, but your attitude toward her never thawed. You were always on edge around her, always competing, always watching.

She had caught you staring the day Caitlyn pulled her aside to discuss a raise, the same day you had taken on extra side gigs and hadn’t gotten so much as a mention. She had seen you fist your hair at your desk after downing your fifth cup of coffee. She had been on the receiving end of your little retaliations, the way you’d ruin her things in ways so small they could almost be called accidents.

Violet had always noticed.

“A chicken wrap with a side of blood,” she mused lightly, resting her hip against the counter.

Your chewing slowed for a beat before resuming, your brows furrowing just slightly. You still curled and coated your lashes every morning for work with an older tube of mascara you couldn’t seem to let go, still maintained some things about yourself, but you weren’t oblivious. You knew you looked rough lately.

“You seriously need chapstick,” Violet continued, eyeing your lips with something between amusement and concern. “That’s gotta hurt.”

It was the first semi-joke she’d made around you since November. It wasn’t even really a joke, but it was… easier to hear than the usual biting remarks.

You swallowed your food and huffed. “My lips are none of your business, nor your concern. I’m applying chapstick just fine. It’s allergies.”

Wrong.

Allergies were the least of your problems. You had been biting your lips raw and were probably vitamin deficient in more ways than one. Even Jayce had commented on it the other day, asking if you were cosplaying as a grumpy vampire or some other nonsense.

Violet scoffed. “Are you looking to eat your lunch or your lips?” She rubbed her own lips absently, likely remembering the thin scar that stretched across her upper lip from training. “You’re running on nothing but caffeine. Have you forgotten what real food tastes like?”

You scowled, cutting her off before she could continue. “Why are you in here?”

Audrey blinked, seemingly caught off guard by the abrupt subject change.

“I mean, I could be just as annoying, but I’m not in the mood, West.”

She raised an eyebrow, then shook her head with a small smirk, arms crossing over her chest. Your eyes hesitated for just a second, catching the way the layers of her uniform—button-down and blazer—did nothing to hide the muscle beneath them.

What kind of moron actually wore both layers inside HQ?

“Why?” she taunted. “Because you’re finally getting a taste of your own medicine? Or because Jayce isn’t here to defend you?”

Your jaw clenched.

“Are you fucking serious?” you huffed, your voice laced with disbelief. “You think Jayce not being here affects how I feel?”

The defensiveness in your tone was embarrassingly obvious, and Violet knew it. Her lips quirked upward, her smirk deepening.

“Well,” she dragged the word out in fake thought, pursing her lips in a way that made your eye twitch. “Can you blame me? Your only real friend isn’t here, and now you’re just moping around HQ. Moping around with your head down, and your ass up.”

“Do not say that,” you snapped, your irritation spiking.

Audrey grinned like she had just won a prize. “Really? You draw the line at a simile?”

Your brows furrowed. “A what? That’s a metaphor, you slow beet.”

Audrey should have been offended—I mean, you had just called her slow—but instead, she froze for half a second, her expression shifting to something almost amused.

“…Did you just call me a beet?”

“Yes,” you deadpanned. “A beet-root. For a choppy haircut, you’d think you’d at least change the color to redeem yourself. You look like a damn beet.”

Audrey’s lips twisted into a half-smirk, half-grin.

“Wow, (Y/N),” she murmured. “Did you just make a joke?”

Your stomach dropped.

Your pride plummeted.

She thought you were joking. Audrey—Audrey fucking West—thought you had joked with her?

The realization made your grip tighten around your soda can, your lips pressing inward as if disgusted by yourself. You wanted to grab the words back, throw them out, insist that you meant that as an insult, not a joke.

But you couldn’t.

And that grin on her face? That damn grin?

It made you want to rip your hair out.

“Never-fucking-mind.”

Vi undid the cuffs of her button-down, rolling up the sleeves until the fabric no longer restricted her movements. Tattoo work peeking out. The uniform was fine—professional, sleek, practical—but nobody actually liked wearing it. Not in the HQ.

Across the office, Jayce’s voice rang out, louder than necessary, pulling her attention. She glanced up briefly, watching as he bantered with one of the techs. Jayce was easy to get along with. Smart, good with computers, and a complete slacker when given the chance. She had no issue with him personally. When the two of them worked together, they wasted time more often than not, but when Jayce worked with you? Somehow, he managed to joke around and get things done. Maybe that’s why Caitlyn didn’t mind having his desk right next to yours.

Vi exhaled in amusement but didn’t say anything. She wasn’t in the office much, her job kept her busy elsewhere. Restocking gear, replenishing ammunition, training the interns who wanted to join the department someday. It was a privilege, but it was also pretty exhausting. Still, she knew she was the favorite around here, and that privilege came with its own set of complications.

Caitlyn had once commented on it—on you and her—during a routine weapons inventory.

“Everything good between you and Thorne? You don’t seem close, but your work styles mesh well. You’re both dedicated.”

The statement had been so off-base she almost laughed. Close? Not even remotely. But that wasn’t on Vi.

You had been different lately. More distant.

No spilled coffee on her desk, no mysteriously shredded files, no petty, one-sided beef getting in the way of the workday. Odd.

Then again, you had been odd lately in general.

The banter had lessened. Sure, a few snide remarks here and there, but the tantrums, as Vi fondly called them, had also significantly decreased. She wasn’t sure if she found that concerning or relieving.

Casually, her gaze drifted across the office until it landed on you.

You sat with your legs crossed, the tip of your heeled boot absently twisting under your desk. Your trench coat hung over the back of your chair as it normally did. You only wore it when the building’s heater was busted or if you had gotten caught in the rain.

Pencil skirt. Off-white ironed button-down. Navy tie. Black pantyhose.

Mel didn’t bother with the extra layers or formalities, but you did.

Vi exhaled at the realization. You had fashion preferences, apparently.

Funny. And a little uncanny, imagining you caring about anything other than being annoyed, irritated, or outright pissed. That’s all you were to her: a tightly wound ball of something pent up and ready to just snap.

Though… she did sort of pity you at times. Again, at times.

You turned in your chair, handing Jayce a stack of printed files, speaking lowly to him before refocusing on your own work.

Vi continued watching, still as an observer. Bored. You, Jayce, Mel, and Viktor held the office together while she spent most of her time outside of it. She only came in once a week, just enough to notice that, despite all your efforts, you were stretching yourself too thin.

You made things harder for yourself. She knew that.

Her gaze dropped, almost unconsciously, to your legs.

She blinked.

Weird.

She had never really looked at you before, not past all the other stuff; the petty rivalry, the constant need to one-up her, the way you made every little thing a competition.

It wasn’t exactly easy to look beyond that.

And yet, she hesitated before glancing back, this time without moving her head, just her eyes.

You weren’t… unattractive.

Her fingers tensed slightly against the armrest of her chair before she shifted, leaning into her palm instead.

You had good facial symmetry. Nice skin—tired, sure, but even Jayce had made jokes about you cosplaying a grumpy vampire lately. It was funny, but to you? You were furious, but hey, you started to apply chapstick more often throughout shifts. Your makeup was always neatly applied, and your uniform fit well—not too tight, not too loose.

You also cared about appearances. Not just your own, but others’.

Vi silently grinned at the memory of your voice echoing through the office just a few weeks ago:

“So unprofessional. It’s embarrassing. Don’t wear a badge and walk around in saggy pants. You went to university for what? To not know how to measure your own waist? Gosh.”

You’d aimed it at Jayce after he had opted for a more relaxed fit, but your commentary extended to everyone who slacked off in dress code.

Audrey exhaled slowly.

Then, unfortunately, you caught her staring.

Her body tensed as your gaze flickered to hers, and she immediately cleared her throat, shifting to cover her mouth like she had just zoned out. Definitely not like she had just been looking at you for longer than necessary. Longer than she had ever looked at you, really.

You furrowed your brows, shook your head slightly, then returned to work.

Vi sighed, pressing further into her palm.

Her eyes shifted to Mel as she strode across the office, posture perfect, heels clicking at a steady pace, files balanced in one arm. A sweetheart. Objectively, Mel was a beautiful woman, but Vi didn’t know her well. Certainly not as well as she knew you.

When Mel passed, she caught sight of you again, now looking down at paperwork with those stupid reading glasses perched on your nose. Looking like you were gonna pop a blood vessel.

They looked ridiculous on you, far too big for your face, because Jayce had so helpfully gotten you the wrong size.

“Didn’t know they’d be big on you, (Y/N). Relax, relax.”

Indeed, you did not relax. You had thrown a fit.

It was… kinda cute.

Audrey blinked, her lips parting slightly.

Wait.

What? No.

She must be losing her mind. She straightened in her chair, biting the inside of her cheek. She wasn’t blind, she could admit when someone looked good—but this was you.

You, of all people. The epitome of stress and irritation in her damned life. So what if you were pretty? Every woman was pretty in their own way. It didn’t mean anything.

Audrey forced her gaze away, focusing on the stack of paperwork she had been handed—a rare task for her, but one she had to do nonetheless. Maybe she was just stressed. Maybe her cycle was about to start. Definitely not you.

Another week passed. Your workload was heavier than usual, keeping you out of Jayce’s business, out of Mel’s, even out of Viktor’s. Caitlyn had given you a detailed to-do list. You. Not Beckett, not Zade, not West. Agent Thorne.

You had come into work on Thursday morning already exhausted, having snoozed through all three of your alarms. You almost knew this week was going to end badly—your track record with jinxing yourself was near flawless. But for once, it didn’t.

Your hands hovered over the case file on your desk. A fresh case. Not one of Jayce’s hand-me-downs, not something already combed through a dozen times. The seal along the side was still intact, a loud, physical reminder that no one had read this yet. Your heartbeat thrummed against your ribs.

Your fingers tensed as you looked up, scanning the office. Everyone was busy.

Was this actually meant for you?

The doubt crept in before you could stop it. Was it bad that you questioned this? That you questioned being given your own case? Jayce’s voice echoed in the back of your mind—“You’re too hard on yourself. Just take the damn opportunity.” You wanted this. You had been waiting for this. Caitlyn was trusting you with the first glance, the first look, the first opinions, the first impression.

You exhaled, shaking off the nerves as you sat down. The file was thin, because you were the one who would be passing it around, not the one receiving it after five other agents had already picked it apart.

“Soft tacos,” Jayce whistled in pure delight, stretching his legs out under his desk.

You didn’t even have to look up to know he was grinning like a damn idiot. No one but Jayce would be eating soft tacos at eight in the morning. And not even the good kind, these weren’t the ones he brought back after holidays at his mom’s house. These were microwaved, doused in sour cream, and inhaled like he was running late to something.

Jayce plopped into his chair beside you, lifting the taco to his mouth, but he barely got a bite in before his body jerked forward, his eyes going wide.

You turned, brows pulling together. “Jayce, it’s a Dollar General taco. You—”

“No way! You got a case?”

Jayce cut you off, speaking through the mouthful of scalding-hot taco, eyes glued to the file in your hands. You grimaced at the sight. He hadn’t even swallowed before rushing the words out. But then, you realized that’s why he had burned himself. He had been so excited to say something that he hadn’t waited for his food to cool.

Pride? Your heart picked up slightly at the thought. Jayce, your desk partner, your closest ally in this damn office, looked genuinely excited.

“Oh, yeah. I— I think I did?” you said, unsure. “I mean, Caitlyn could’ve meant to leave this on your desk for all I know.”

Jayce raised his brows, leaning back in his chair. His taco hovered in his left hand, airing out now that he’d learned his lesson. “Mel was right. You’re a pessimist.”

“What?” You put the file down carefully. “It’s not pessimism. It’s called being realistic.”

“That sounds boring as hell,” Jayce mused, clearly amused. He was a realist too, but unlike you, he had an open mind when it came to cases. You treated every file like it was life or death, like one wrong note would collapse the entire operation.

“Whoever highlighted the third section word for word is an absolute idiot. No one is reading that. It doesn’t support the evidence or the tax fraud either.” You had once scoffed, tearing open a fresh pack of sticky notes.

Or: “Let me guess. Whoever started this case let an intern do the honors. Jesus. What is happening.”

“I’d rather be boring than wrong,” you countered, turning back toward your desk, firing up your computer. You draped your coat over your lap for warmth. Your office chair was always too cold in the mornings.

“You’re often both of those things.”

“Sorry—? Oh. It’s just you.”

Your voice flatlined the second you spotted Violet standing behind Jayce. Your face dropped, irritation slipping in as she leaned against the back of your chair, one hand perched on her hip.

Jayce twisted around, his face lighting up at the sight of her. “West! Good to see you, as always. Even if Cait put us on opposite ends of the office.”

You blinked in confusion as the two of them exchanged a ridiculously complicated handshake, your stomach twisting slightly.

Of course Violet was buttering up Jayce. He was your closest friend in HQ, and yet here they were, shaking hands like they had some kind of inside joke you weren’t a part of. Not even you had a handshake with Jayce.

“Yeah, yeah,” Violet brushed it off. “I’ll talk her into putting me right between you and grumpy over here.” She nodded toward you.

“You wish,” you scoffed, clicking through your unread emails. The blue light from your screen reflected on your face, making your eyes narrow slightly as you read. Your legs pressed together under your coat, absorbing what little warmth you could get.

Violet teasing you in front of Jayce wasn’t new. Not even close. But something else was.

This wasn’t the first time you had caught her looking at you differently.

It wasn’t just the usual watching to make fun of you anymore.

It had happened in the lounge, on the training field, even when she thought you hadn’t noticed. She was good at eye contact—everyone knew this—but lately? Lately, she had been slipping.

Apparently, you had grown an extra pair of eyes on your uniform, because Violet had been staring at you more than usual.

You didn’t know what to do with that.

Unfortunately, Jayce kept talking.

“Thorne got her first case,” he grinned, pointing at you with his pinky. You felt your fingers tighten around the mouse. Jayce. Seriously? Why was he telling people?

Audrey tilted her head, attention shifting fully to you. “Cool. I can give her a few tips and tricks, as someone who’s gone through a dozen or so.”

The last thing you needed was Violet West handing you advice. If she did, she’d rub it in your face for weeks. She’d take credit for half the investigation. She’d never shut up about it.

You snapped your gaze up, meeting hers.

“I’m good,” you said, your voice flat. “I don’t need your help.”

You barely moved, but there was a twitch, something small, something almost unnoticeable. Violet’s eyes flickered from yours, down to your tie. Your fingers moved automatically, adjusting it. A habit, one she had clearly picked up on, because she reached for her own and tugged it into place like she was mirroring you.

Was she taunting you?

“My desk has enough room for two,” Violet said, pivoting on her heel. As she turned, you caught a glimpse of that Roman numeral tattoo under her left eye, barely concealed beneath a thin layer of lazy concealer. It didn’t concern you. Why would it? Who the hell got a tattoo on their face?

So unprofessional.

“Yeah, I bet it does. Call a therapist.” You muttered the words just loud enough to be caught in the silence of HQ. Violet didn’t miss a beat, letting out a laugh that shook her shoulders slightly. Your eyes flickered to the way her body moved with it, a ripple of motion.

“Not what I meant, but alright, Thorne.”

Jayce, still chewing, raised a brow and looked between you and the door as Violet exited, then turned back to you.

“Is there something going on, or…?”

“Always,” you said, voice rough but not nearly as irritated as it should have been. That realization bothered you. Normally, you’d be clenching your fists, itching with irritation, but the usual sneer wasn’t there. Jayce definitely noticed, blinking at your quick response.

“…Ooookay then.” He dragged the word out but shrugged, returning to his disgusting breakfast taco.

Still nasty.

Never in your life had you thought you’d enjoy working on a murder case. It sounded strange from an outside perspective, but getting your first solo case had been something you had wanted—had waited for—for three years. And it was worth it. You had spent overtime in the office, completely immersed.

Highlighting sections, sticking tabs on documents, writing down key notes. By the time you finished, two markers had dried out, and a busted pen had leaked ink all over your palm from how hard you had pressed it against the paper. But it was done. You finally dropped the completed file on Caitlyn’s desk before clocking out.

Walking outside alone, the night air was cold, biting at the skin of your legs despite the sheer pantyhose you had layered under your knee-high boots. Practical, comfortable. You weren’t a fan of showing too much calf, it just felt better this way.

By the time Monday rolled around, you were dead on your feet. No one enjoyed a Monday morning, especially not in early March when climate change was kicking everyone’s ass. Walking into HQ, the air inside was warmer than the entrance, and shrugging off your trench coat felt like a small relief.

“Finishing an entire case file in a day. That’s impressive.”

You almost jumped out of your boots.

Some asshole had breathed down your neck, not literally, but close enough. You whipped around, half-asleep daze completely shattered.

West.

Again.

You exhaled sharply, so close to snapping. “Can you not go around scaring people half to death for once?”

Violet didn’t even look sorry. She stood there, perfectly smug, like she had just told the funniest joke of the century. You wet your lips, easing the sting from the cold. Your jaw tensed before you finally said what had been lingering in your mind for the past two weeks.

“Are you okay?”

Violet tilted her head slightly, her sharp eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Yeah, I’m all good. Perfect, actually. Woke up today, had breakfast for once—it was delicious. Had a cup of coffee, and—”

“I don’t care about your damn coffee,” you cut in, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Or how perfect and sparkly with unicorns your morning has been, West. You know what I’m asking. Don’t act dense.”

You weren’t the only one who had noticed.

The way you two spoke had changed. The fights were less. The banter was different. You had stopped arguing over stupid things; eye contact, for example. It had stopped feeling taunting and started feeling like…

Like something else.

Something you hated.

You scolded yourself for it, constantly. In meetings, when Caitlyn said something that involved Violet, your eyes automatically found her. You expected her to look back.

It made you uncomfortable.

And now, here she was, grinning like this wasn’t a big deal at all. “I think unicorns are pretty cool, though. Can’t lie.”

You inhaled sharply.

“This isn’t about unicorns—! You’re actually going to give me a headache.”

You dragged a hand down your face, exasperated. Violet laughed, the sound light and unbothered, as she toyed with her lanyard. Her ID badge swayed slightly, catching the overhead lighting.

You hated that grin.

Mostly because you had no idea what it meant anymore.

The air felt different. It wasn’t just the stares that carried a new weight—it was the shift in body language, the subtle shifts that were hard to ignore. Your temper had settled, your instinctive irritation toward Violet dulled. Her jokes still grated on your nerves, but the feeling in your chest wasn’t heavy anymore.

Humiliating. That’s what it was.

Not liking Violet was what kept you going. As terrible as it was to admit, hating her pushed you— forced you to be better, to work harder, to be faster than her. But now? Now, that loathing had soured into something sickly, something different. Interest. God, even thinking that word made you feel ridiculous.

You shouldn’t be this hung up on whatever unspoken thing was happening. It was probably a joke. Another way for her to get under your skin. Or maybe she was just bored, looking for entertainment at your expense. You needed to cut this off, now, before it spiraled into something even worse.

You turned, walked back to your desk, and dropped your bag beside your chair with a sigh that rattled through your chest. You weren’t stupid. You were looking for something, some kind of reassurance, confirmation that Violet wasn’t thinking the same things you were. But it wasn’t there. She was still watching. And when she got up, taking something of Caitlyn’s to the lounge, your body moved before your brain caught up.

Jayce didn’t even bother questioning it. You’d been making excuses to leave all week. Tugging down the hem of your skirt, you inhaled deeply and stepped out, boots clicking steadily against the floor. You swiped your ID at the lounge door, pushing it open, already knowing exactly who you’d find.

Violet did a double take.

She hadn’t expected you to follow. A conversation in the office? That was normal. You coming to her without Jayce nowhere nearby? Not so much.

“Had a feeling you’d follow me here,” she lied.

“Sure you did,” you deadpanned, dropping your ID onto the counter and leaning against it. Violet eyes flickered, hesitated. She was staring again, and you noticed. You both noticed.

This wasn’t the usual hostile tension between you two. It wasn’t irritation or resentment. It was something else, something you didn’t want to name. Something that made your skin burn.

“This needs to stop,” you cut in before she could say anything.

Audrey’s brows knit together, feigning confusion. But you knew she understood.

“Never thought I’d hear those words come out of your mouth, Thorne.” Her voice was slow, calculated. “You started this. All of it, I mean—picking fights, sabotaging me, making this job feel like a competition.”

You didn’t have an ego. That’s what you told yourself. But your pride? It had always been fed by approval. A nod from Caitlyn, praise from the department, respect from your coworkers.

But none of that ever filled the hole, did it?

You exhaled sharply, shifting your weight, irritation slipping into your tone. A familiar reaction. One Violet was used to by now.

It shouldn’t be her attention that made your chest tighten. It shouldn’t be her opinions that made your skin tickle. And yet, here you were. A few days ago, you had actually questioned whether thinner tights would make your legs stand out more. Whether a thicker lash would make your eyes more striking during those lingering glances. Whether she had noticed the slightly darker tie you had worn that day.

She had noticed all of it.

Violet’s gruff voice cut through your thoughts. “Do you hate me?”

Your breath caught. You stiffened. Yes. Yes.

But your lips pressed together.

“No,” you managed.

“No?” Violet repeated.

“Yes, I do,” you corrected, but your voice wobbled. It sounded weak, like even you didn’t believe it. Violet head tilted slightly, her maroon hair slipping over her face the way it always did.

How was she not dying in a suit like that every day?

“Yes, no, yes, no,” she mused, her tone deliberately teasing. “You’re stuttering.”

Your legs pressed together instinctively, your pencil skirt suddenly feeling too much, too tight, too revealing.

You were a pain in the ass. That was the best way to describe you. Someone who knew exactly what to say, what to do, to get a reaction out of you.

Violet was someone who never needed approval, who carried herself like she owned the room. And now, that smugness was focused entirely on you.

The room felt hot. You reached for your collar, but before your fingers could slip beneath the fabric, Violet voice stopped you.

“You don’t have to wear that tie if you have to keep loosening it.” Her voice was softer now, but still edged with something knowing. “You have tons of bad habits. Can’t expect you to just stop.”

Your fingers froze around the fabric.

Then, she stepped forward.

Her presence was impossible to ignore. Broader frame, heavier stance, rougher edges. Her hands slid into her pockets, the motion easy, casual, like she wasn’t closing the space between you two on purpose.

She was.

You were still against the counter, meaning she had the height advantage now. Even though the difference wasn’t that much, standing above you like this, she felt taller.

Her fingers hesitated before brushing against the smooth white collar of your shirt. Your breath hitched. Your skin burned.

Your eyes flickered, searching for an escape—except you didn’t want to escape. Her thumb traced up and down along your pulse, slow and deliberate. Your stomach curled.

Then, she nudged your chin up. The silence was unbearable.

“Violet,” you breathed.

Her hand faltered.

Three years of strict last-name basis, and now you had just said it.

No one called her Violet. No one. It was always something shorter, sharper, less personal.

You sounded good saying it.

“Violet? So professional,” she taunted, her fingers tapping against your cheek. It wasn’t meant to piss you off. But you wanted to piss her off.

Your fingers shot out, grabbing the tie between them, yanking her closer. Embarrassingly, your noses bumped. But that didn’t stop you. One hand fisted around the tie, the other gripping her bicep, steady, grounding. You felt the way her muscles tensed beneath your palm, felt the pause as her breath hitched.

You didn’t hesitate.

Your lips caught hers, firm, certain, and when she didn’t pull away—when she didn’t resist—you took.

You felt the scar along her upper lip, traced the curve of it with your own mouth, tasted the hesitation that melted into something hotter, something heavier. Mapping her out like you were willing to change professions.

Violet didn’t know what to do with her hands at first. They hovered at your back, hesitant, but her eyes were barely cracked open, watching, waiting.

Either you could stop here, or you could throw everything out the window.

Then you bit her fuller bottom lip, tugging and letting it ripple into place.

Violet groaned.

And suddenly, the second option sounded so much more appealing.

Vi hadn’t expected this—ever.

You had always been untouchable. Not in the literal sense, but in every way that mattered. Unreachable, impenetrable, untamed in your own rigid way. You did what you needed to do: woke up, worked, excelled, then left the HQ like none of it ever touched you.

But this?

Vi barely had time to register it before her hands moved, gripping your hips, pulling at your pencil skirt with little care, silently begging, urging for things to move further.

Your knees buckled as Vi backed you against the table, the cool marble pressing into the backs of your thighs as she settled between them, crowding you, consuming every ounce of space.

Her fingers looped through the knot of your tie—that stupid, fidgeted-with-like-a-necklace tie—and with a single, sharp tug, it came loose. Slipping down, forgotten.

Then, her hand cupped the back of your neck, pressing her lips against yours with something so deep, so thick with years of this, years of tension, of misplaced resentment, of fuck, how did we get here—

And yet, neither of you wanted to stop.

Vi’s fingers traced from the back of your neck to the front of your throat, just barely gripping, teasing, testing. It was already hard to breathe, but the idea of that, of her taking it just a little further, had your stomach twisting.

Kissing the woman you had despised for years was going to be hilarious to explain.

But later.

Not now.

“Is the door—locked?” you barley managed out, your glossed lips brushing against hers, voice raw, uneven. Vi shook her head, hummed, lips curling against yours.

“Doesn’t matter,” she muttered, hands moving—one sliding down to your thigh, gripping, pulling, propping it around her waist.

Then her mouth descended.

Hot, wet kisses trailed down the slope of your throat, her tongue flicking out just slightly, tasting, savoring the mix of sweat and whatever faint perfume lingered on your skin.

Your pulse pounded beneath her lips, and Vi felt something deep in her tighten at the sound of your breath hitching, the way your body gave just slightly, as if caught between pure instinct and resistance.

Then, smack.

Her palm landed against the underside of your thigh, firm, not particularly harsh, but deliberate.

A sharp, raspy gasp broke from your lips, your body twitching against hers, your bottom lip swollen from the way you had abused it between sloppy, desperate kisses.

Vi’s eyes flickered, catching the way you tensed, how your cheeks were burning, how your hands trembled against her chest.

Everything needed to come off.

Her fingers dragged up your thigh. Rubbing in slow, lazy circles before moving up, slipping beneath the first few buttons of your work blouse.

One by one.

Single-handedly.

Meticulously.

You slowly sucked in a breath, your own hands fisting the fabric of her blazer.

This was—just kissing. Yeah.

Vi let go of you entirely, her fingers deftly working the rest of your buttons open, sliding the blouse off your shoulders before tossing it onto the chair beside the table. Her gaze swept over you, dark and unreadable, before she bit her bottom lip, teeth raking over it as she exhaled through her nose.

She didn't know what was better; finally having you, the woman who had spent years making her job hell, unraveling beneath her touch, or the sheer fact that you looked this damn good doing it.

Her hand moved instinctively, fingers splaying across the lace covering your chest, feeling the warmth of your skin through the fabric. She pressed a kiss between the valley of your breasts, slow, before trailing up, tongue flicking over your collarbone, tasting the faint traces of perfume and heat.

The sounds leaving your lips sent something sharp through her, something she had never allowed herself to acknowledge before now. Your legs tensed around her hips, a slow, burning heat building between them. Your pussy was drenched.

Then, she moved. Rolling her hips forward, pressing herself against you, the friction earning a shaky grunt from your throat.

You felt good.

Her hand traced down your spine, unhooking your bra with ease. The straps loosened, fabric slipping from your body, and Vi took a step back to let her eyes drag over you.

She dampened her lips. "I'm so lucky to see you like this. So gorgeous.”

Her voice was lower now, rougher, hands returning to you. Thumbs circling your nipples, teasing, before sliding down to your waist.

She sat you up, lips grazing your jaw, before murmuring, "What happened to that mouth of yours?"

Her fingers flicked over your erect breasts, and your breath hitched, body arching slightly before you could stop yourself. The sound you made earned a knowing chuckle from her, and before you could snap at her for it, she was moving again, pressing you back against the table.

Then, her hands slid down your thighs, rolling your skirt up at an agonizing pace.

Vi huffed, giving your knee a light tap.

"Is the pantyhose really necessary?"

You exhaled sharply. "Yes. It is."

She rolled her eyes, but there was something amused behind it, something fond—before her fingers traced slow circles over the thin, black fabric covering you.

And then, without hesitation, she hooked her fingers through the material and tore it.

A sharp gasp left your lips. "Vi! Those were expen—"

She silenced you with another sharp tug, the ruined fabric giving way enough to give her the space she wanted. She could have pulled them down, but this was much better.

The sight of you like this, obedient beneath her, legs trembling slightly, breath uneven

She wanted to ruin you further. Needed you.

Jesus.

Her hands slid beneath your thighs, lifting and adjusting them until they rested over her shoulders.

Your breathing hitched, erratic. You knew what was coming, felt it before it even happened, but when her lips finally met your pussy; wet and painfully slow. You gasped, your spine curving inward, nails curling into the marble beneath you.

A broken sound left you, high and breathless. "That’s so good."

Vi huffed a quiet laugh against you. "I haven't even started yet."

She hooked your panties aside, her mouth pressing against you fully, tongue dragging slow, then flicking, savoring, sucking on your swelled clit. She worked like she had time, like this was something to be unraveled piece by piece, something she could take apart and put back together again.

Your clammy hands flew to grip the edge of the table, your body shifting under her touch, her mouth sending sharp waves of pleasure coursing through you.

"Fuhh—ck, Vi." Your voice cracked.

That only spurred her on, hands gripping your thighs tighter, nails pressing into your skin as she curved her tongue, shifting her movements, searching, memorizing what made you fall apart.

She had spent years watching you, knowing exactly how to get under your skin. It was fun to put it to use.

Vi’s mouth worked you over with hungry desperation, her tongue sucking every inch of skin she could reach. Your folds, pulsing clit, labia—every so often, she flicked her gaze upward, watching you writhe against the table, back arching, lips parting in helpless, breathless sounds.

If she had known this was the key to shutting you up, to making you melt, to finally silencing that sharp mouth of yours—she would have done this sooner.

Her lips curled against you, satisfaction lacing her voice as she murmured, “Good girl. How’s this, hm? Yeah? So good?”

Her breath was hot, damp against your skin, sending a shudder through your sopping core.

Your only response was a whimper, your hand sliding up to your chest; grasping at yourself, desperate for anything to ground you. But the moment you tried to regain control, Vi sucked on your clit once more with enough force to break it.

Your spine arched off the table. Another sharp, wrecked gasp slipped past your lips. Vi’s grip tightened on your thighs, dragging you closer, forcing your legs to stay apart as she devoured you like you were her last damn meal.

The pleasure was too much—too sharp, too overwhelming—but stopping now wasn’t an option.

“So—” your voice trembled, barely coherent, “so, so good, Violet.”

Your hips rocked against her mouth, helpless against the way she was working you over, the way she was holding you down, keeping you open, keeping you hers.

This was insane.

Doing this in the employee lounge? Absolutely wrong.

“Keep your legs around my shoulders,” Vi ordered, voice rough, edged with something close to command. “If you move, I’m stopping.”

Your breath hitched.

Before you could protest, she lifted her hand to her lips, sucking two fingers between them, coating them with her own spit. Saliva moved down the digits in thick beads.

Then, she thrusted them inside of you.

Your body jolted, your nails scraping against the table as the pressure spread you open, slick and hot and perfect. You were definitely cracking a nail today.

Audrey whistled lowly, amused, before curling them just right—

“My—God!”

The sound ripped out of you raw and shameless.

Vi hummed, the vibration shattering against you, her fingers sinking deeper, curling again, chasing that sound like it was her new favorite thing in the world.

The sound of your squelching pussy that sucked her in and tightened when she moved even just a second too quickly.

Here’s the refined version with a smoother flow, keeping the intensity and raw emotion intact while making it even more immersive:

“You’re a mess, baby.”

Vi’s voice was thick with amusement, her palm coming down to deliver a second sharp smack against your reddened thigh. Before you could react, she spit. A slow gesture. Watching as it mixed with the release already dripping down your swollen, aching core.

Her right hand never stopped, fingers still working in and out of you, dragging along every sensitive spot. Rough, but slow. Just enough to make sure you felt everything—every curl, every drag, every time she pulled out just to push deeper. Your insides protested, torn between needing a break and wanting more.

She smirked, tilting her head. “Look at you.”

Then, she blew a soft stream of air over your glistening cunt, watching the way your body twitched in response.

Your head was somewhere else. Your hips moved on their own, helpless to the sensation coursing through you. Strings of moans and profanity fell from your lips, your body tightening around her fingers, pulsing—begging without words.

“Vi,” you whimpered. Your lashes damp with unshed tears.

She hummed in response, but didn’t let up, her fingers keeping that same relentless, torturous pace. A shaky moan ripped from your throat, your thighs trembling over her shoulders.

“I think—I think I’m going to come.”

Vi’s ashy eyes flicked up to you at your words, dark and heated, before her lips curled.

“Yeah?”

She then went faster.

Your gasp turned into a cry, body jolting at the sharp, intense pleasure flooding your sensitive nerves. There was no way no one had heard you two—not when you were here, back arched, lips parted, begging for her, falling apart because of her.

“No—! I—Vi! I can’t—!”

Your legs snapped shut around her head as your body tensed, spine bowing as the orgasm hit you. Ripping through your system, spilling over Vi’s fingers and dripping onto the marble beneath you. Down your used pussy.

Your breathing came in heavy. Overstimulation setting in as your body shuddered through the aftershocks.

Vi finally pulled her fingers from you, gaze flickering between your spent, trembling form and the slick coating her hand. Then, without hesitation, she brought her fingers to her lips and gave them a slow and greedy suck.

Your back falls flat on the cool marble.

Vi had won, again.

ꜱʜɪᴍᴍᴇʀ ᴋɪʟʟꜱ ᴘᴛ 2

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

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴄᴀɪᴛʟʏɴ | ᴠɪ | ᴍᴇʟ ᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴏɴ

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊɪɴx | ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ | ᴇᴋᴋᴏ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ

JINX

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

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

But tonight was different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

It was Y/N.

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

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

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

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

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

"Jinx…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SEVIKA

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

EKKO

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

SILCO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

But it was too late. She was gone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BONUS: VANDER

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

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

=

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And for them, he would keep fighting.

✞⛧ (More) Sevika dating headcanons! ✞⛧

✞⛧ How Sevika Asked You Out: Sevika didn’t so much ask as she told. After weeks of lingering stares, possessive behavior, and light teasing, she finally said, “You’re with me now. Got it?” It wasn’t romantic, but her intense, unwavering gaze left no room for argument.

✞⛧ She’s not big on grand gestures, but the way she stood protectively by your side and made sure no one got too close already told you everything you needed to know about how much she cared.

✞⛧ Dating Sevika is like having a walking fortress at your side. She’s incredibly protective, always scanning the room for potential threats, even in casual settings. Her presence alone is often enough to make others back off.

✞⛧ Daily life with her involves late nights and slow mornings. She’s usually out gambling, working, or drinking until the early hours, but she always comes home to you. She’s grumpy in the mornings but softens when she sees you still curled up in bed.

✞⛧ Despite her rough demeanor, Sevika makes an effort to keep you out of her dangerous lifestyle. She refuses to let you get involved with the darker side of Zaun, no matter how much you argue about wanting to support her.

✞⛧ If you’re ever in danger, though, Sevika becomes a one-woman wrecking crew. Anyone who so much as thinks about hurting you gets a first-hand demonstration of what her shimmer-enhanced arm can do.

✞⛧ She’s incredibly blunt, sometimes to the point of being rude. If you’re wearing something she doesn’t like, she’ll say, “You’re really wearing that?” But her tone softens when she sees the hurt in your eyes, and she’ll mutter something about it “not being that bad” while avoiding your gaze.

✞⛧ Sevika has no patience for dramatic displays of affection in public, but she does enjoy having you on her lap while she’s gambling. She loves the way it makes others jealous and isn’t shy about showing off her claim on you with a possessive arm around your waist.

✞⛧ She’s not great at verbalizing her feelings, but her actions speak louder than words. She’ll fix things around the house, bring you small gifts (even if they’re practical like a new knife), and always make sure you’re taken care of.

✞⛧ Intimacy with Sevika is intense, raw, and passionate. She’s rough and demanding, always in control, and loves seeing you fall apart under her touch. She knows her strength and isn’t afraid to use it to pin you down or pull you closer.

✞⛧ However, there are rare moments of surprising tenderness. When she notices you’re nervous or vulnerable, she’ll slow down, her touch becoming softer as she whispers in your ear, “I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.”

✞⛧ Sevika loves teasing you, especially when you’re needy. She’ll smirk and say things like, “What’s the matter, princess? Can’t handle waiting?” even though she fully intends to give you exactly what you want.

✞⛧ She absolutely hates being vulnerable, so don’t expect her to apologize outright during arguments. Instead, she’ll silently sulk for hours before eventually throwing you over her shoulder and carrying you to bed to “make it up to you” in her own way.

✞⛧ Sevika is fiercely loyal, but she doesn’t trust easily. If you ever lie to her or betray her trust, it’ll take a long time to earn it back—if ever.

✞⛧ Despite her hardened exterior, Sevika has a soft spot for you that she tries to hide. She’ll grumble when you insist on patching her up after a fight but secretly loves the attention and care.

✞⛧ She refuses to let you anywhere near Shimmer. “That shit ruins lives,” she growls. “You’re not touching it, not while I’m around.”

✞⛧ Sevika is terrible at expressing her love in words, but in the quiet hours of the night, when she thinks you’re asleep, she’ll hold you close and murmur her feelings against your skin.

✞⛧ She’s surprisingly domestic in small, subtle ways. She’ll fix things around the house, make sure you’re eating enough, and even cook for you occasionally—though her meals are usually simple and practical.

✞⛧ Sevika secretly loves when you take care of her, whether it’s cleaning her wounds, making her coffee in the morning, or just curling up next to her after a long day.

✞⛧ She’s a heavy smoker and drinker, and while she won’t quit for anyone, she does make an effort to tone it down around you.

✞⛧ Despite her gruff demeanor, Sevika is incredibly romantic in her own way. She’ll pull you into her lap during a slow song at the bar, her prosthetic arm resting protectively around your waist as she murmurs, “Dance with me.”

✞⛧ She has a sarcastic sense of humor and loves teasing you, but if anyone else tries to do the same, she’ll shut them down immediately. “You don’t talk to her like that,” she growls, her tone leaving no room for argument.

✞⛧ Sevika is highly protective of you, but she’s also fiercely proud. She loves showing you off, whether it’s at the bar or during a big event in Zaun.

✞⛧ She’s not one for cuddling, but on rare occasions when she’s particularly tired or vulnerable, she’ll pull you into her arms and refuse to let go. Her warm hand will trace lazy patterns on your back as she mumbles, “Don’t get used to this.”

✞⛧ Sevika loves seeing you wear her clothes, especially her poncho. She won’t say anything, but the way her eyes linger on you speaks volumes.

✞⛧ If you ever get hurt, Sevika is absolutely ruthless in tracking down whoever’s responsible. She doesn’t stop until she’s made sure they’ll never hurt you—or anyone else—again.

✞⛧ She’s incredibly tactile, always finding small ways to touch you—whether it’s a hand on your back, an arm around your shoulders, or pulling you into her lap.

✞⛧ Despite her tough exterior, Sevika is secretly terrified of losing you. She’ll never admit it, but the thought of you getting caught up in her dangerous world keeps her up at night.

✞⛧ Sevika’s love is fierce, protective, and all-encompassing. She’ll fight for you, protect you, and hold you close in the quiet moments—but don’t expect her to say those three little words. She’d rather let her actions do the talking.

Nsfw:

✞⛧ Sevika’s drawer is stocked with an intimidating array of gear, including a selection of strap-ons in various sizes and textures. She prefers larger, more challenging toys because she loves the visual of you trying to adjust to her.

✞⛧ Her favorite toy is a heavy strap with ridges and a powerful vibrating attachment. She loves pinning you down, watching your reaction as she slowly drags it along your body before pressing it into you.

✞⛧ Her metal arm adds a unique dynamic to your intimate life. She knows exactly how to use it—trailing the cool metal along your skin to tease you or using it to hold you down effortlessly.

✞⛧ Sevika loves pushing boundaries but is always careful not to cross them. If there’s something you’re hesitant to try, she’ll push you just enough to test your limits, all while keeping a close eye on your reactions.

✞⛧ She’s not above using her strength to remind you who’s in charge. Pinning you against a wall, throwing you over her shoulder, or holding your wrists above your head are just a few ways she asserts her dominance.

✞⛧Her kinks include: Power play. She thrives on control and loves seeing you submit to her fully. Orgasm denial. There’s nothing Sevika enjoys more than keeping you on edge, whispering in your ear, “Not yet, baby. Be a good girl for me.” Impact play. She loves the sound of her hand meeting your skin, especially if it leaves a mark. Praise kink (on her terms). Though rare, she’ll occasionally reward you with phrases like, “That’s my good girl,” if you’ve been especially obedient. Possessiveness. Sevika gets off on reminding you that you’re hers and hers alone.

✞⛧ She’s mean but in a way that makes you crave her attention. Her teasing is relentless, and she loves making you beg for her touch. “Is this what you wanted? Then maybe you should’ve asked nicely instead of acting like a brat.”

✞⛧ However, she never demeans you in a way that feels personal or cruel. Her meanness is purely for the sake of the dynamic, and she’s quick to drop it if you show any sign of discomfort.

✞⛧ Oral is one of her favorite ways to please you. Sevika takes her time, drawing things out with deliberate, slow movements. She revels in the power she holds when she’s between your legs, watching you lose control.

✞⛧ She’s skilled with her tongue, knowing exactly how to bring you to the edge again and again. Sevika takes pride in leaving you breathless, smugly wiping her mouth on the back of her hand when she’s done.

✞⛧ Aftercare is subtle but present. Sevika isn’t the type to cuddle and coo over you, but she’ll clean you up, get you water, and ensure you’re comfortable. If you ask her to stay close, she’ll grumble but won’t hesitate to pull you into her arms.

✞⛧ Sevika loves marking you—whether it’s with hickeys, bite marks, or the faint imprint of her hand on your skin. She wants everyone to know you’re hers.

✞⛧ She’s rough, unapologetically so. Her touch is firm and demanding, leaving you breathless and overwhelmed. “You wanted this, didn’t you? Don’t act so surprised now.”

✞⛧ Control is everything to her. She decides when, where, and how things happen, and you can’t help but love the way she takes charge.

✞⛧ Eye contact is a big deal for her. She loves locking eyes with you while she’s on top, her smirk widening as she sees you losing control.

✞⛧ Sevika’s stamina is unmatched. She’ll keep going long after you’re spent, teasing you for how easily you give up while pushing you to your limits.

✞⛧ She enjoys introducing new things into the bedroom but is always respectful of your boundaries. If you’re hesitant, she’ll say, “Trust me,” in that low, husky voice that always makes you melt.

✞⛧ Public teasing is her favorite game. Sevika loves whispering filthy things in your ear when you’re out together, watching you squirm while she keeps a perfectly composed expression.

✞⛧ She’s a firm believer in rewarding good behavior. If you’ve been especially obedient, she’ll take her time, lavishing you with attention and making sure you’re completely satisfied.

✞⛧ On the flip side, disobedience is met with strict discipline. “You think you can get away with that? Guess I’ll have to remind you who’s in charge.”

✞⛧ Her hands are a weapon. Sevika knows exactly how to use them, whether it’s wrapping them around your throat, gripping your hips, or pinning you down with just one hand.

✞⛧ While she’s not particularly vocal during intimacy, her low, husky grunts and growls are enough to drive you wild.

✞⛧ Despite her tough exterior, Sevika has a soft side that occasionally comes through during intimacy. She’ll kiss you deeply, her hands roaming your body with a surprising tenderness.

✞⛧ Sevika thrives on your reactions. Whether it’s the way you gasp, moan, or arch into her touch, she feeds off your responses and adjusts her actions accordingly.

✞⛧ She’s not overly romantic, but her love shows in the little things. The way she looks at you, the way she holds you afterward, and the way she ensures you’re always satisfied are proof of how much she cares.

✞⛧ Sevika doesn’t believe in half-measures. When she’s with you, she’s all in—dominant, commanding, and utterly devoted to making sure you never forget who you belong to.

Silk Ribbons and Captured Hearts

Caitlyn x girly girl!reader

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

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

Caitlyn is infatuated with you.

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

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

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

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

She leaves with three of them.

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

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

I thought this would look lovely on you. 

Yours,

Anonymous 

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

______

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pull yourself together.

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

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

______

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

Wait.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile. "Yeah, oh."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THIS MOMENT

synopsis: what’ll happen when Yamaguchi Tadashi realizes he likes boys— his best friend, Tsukishima Kei, to be exact?

a/n: did i make myself cry while writing this? yes, yes i did. but this is for all you TsukkiYama shippers ;)

cw: *let me know if i missed something* angst, bullying, violence, blood (kinda), use of sexual slur, fluffy ending

i wanna give a huge thanks/shoutout to @usami-ichigo for helping w the title and beta-reading 🥺

word count: 1,593

Yamaguchi Tadashi and Tsukishima Kei have been friends since primary school; Tsukishima having helped the latter from some bullies. They have been by each other’s side since then- it’s rare to see one without the other.

For some odd reason, Yamaguchi had begun to- at times- get shy around Tsukishima in their last year of middle school- his stomach feeling weird and tingly. He would also find himself daydreaming about the latter. Wait, he’s my best friend, so why is this happening. I can’t like him; it’s impossible because I’m supposed to like girls- not boys.

Yamaguchi was very open with his mother and explained his feelings to her. “Tadashi, baby, I believe you may have a crush on Kei.”

Tearing up, he said, “b-but I’m supposed to like girls- not boys.”

“Tadashi, look at me,” there she goes with her soft voice and equally soft hands grabbing his face, turning it towards her. She wiped the tears off his cheeks with her thumbs while sending him a warm, comforting smile with a soft look in her eyes. “It’s okay if you like boys. You’re allowed to like whoever you want.”

“But won’t kids make fun of me? Won’t Tsukki be disgusted by me?” Just the thought alone is enough to send him into a panic. His mother hugged him, cooing words of consolation.

That night was when Yamaguchi Tadashi realized he had feelings for his best friend, Tsukishima Kei.

Fast forward a few months from his middle school promotion to his first year in high school: his feelings only grew as time passed. Thankfully, he was able to hide them from Tsukishima. But not from his classmates.

One day before volleyball practice, Yamaguchi was turning a corner when he bumped into someone. The person pushed Yamaguchi to the ground, looking at him with a look of disgust. “Watch where you’re going fag,” he spat out, emphasizing the last word. Yamaguchi looked down at his pants, his face flushing out of embarrassment.

“Hey, he’s blushing. I think he liked it,” the guy’s friend said, causing him to cackle.

“Oh, so you like that degrading shit? You kinky ass fag.”

“Repulsive.” The two looked at each other for a brief moment before nodding and kicking Yamaguchi. All the poor boy could do was curl into a ball and protect his head with his hands. The first boy grabbed him by the collar, yanking him up and off the ground, and gave him a harsh blow to the face; he’s going to have a black eye and busted lip after this. He threw Yamaguchi back on the ground and spit on him before walking away, laughing, with his friend.

None of the bystanders that watched the whole thing did anything to help him; they all just stood there, watching everything unfold as if it were some MMA match on TV. Yamaguchi heard some of the whispers from those that were around:

“I heard that he’s sucked off some of the teachers for a better grade.”

“I heard he gives himself up for money.”

“Guys like him disgust me.”

“He should go to hell for being gay.”

Yamaguchi tried to fight back the tears threatening to spill out from his eyes. He stood up from his place on the ground and continued on his way to the boys’ locker rooms.

He was relieved to see that it was empty. He wasn’t ready to be interrogated by his teammates. He stripped himself of the white uniform shirt- which had some faint tints of red. Yamaguchi drew his eyebrows together in confusion and looked down to examine the wounds; they were already forming dark purple bruises and had some small cuts. He opened his locker door and spared a glance towards the small mirror attached to the inside of it.

He was right; he did have a busted lip, and a bruise was also forming around his right eye with a small cut on his brow bone. Lightly bringing his fingers into contact with his swelling eye, he winced in pain. Tears started to form in his eyes again, no, not now. Just wait until later. I can’t cry right now. So he finished changing into his clothes for practice, slamming the locker door shut, and walking to the gym.

Stepping into the gym, Sugawara greeted him. “Hey, Yamaguchi!” and the latter mumbled a small hey in response. Sugawara’s eyes grew wide once he saw Yamaguchi’s state: busted lip, bruised eye, and slightly limping.

“Yamaguchi, are you okay?! What happened?” His senpai questioned, rushing over to him; this gained the other members’ attention, their eyes also blowing wide.

Yamaguchi ignored his question, only causing Sugawara to grow more worried. “Hey, what happened?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled in response. Once he got to his usual spot in the gym, he saw Tsukishima looking at him, concern and anger laced into his usually stoic expression. Yamaguchi tried to avoid his best friend’s gaze but couldn’t. Just one look into Tsukishima’s eyes was enough to have tears stream down Yamaguchi’s face.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Tsuksihima asked in a hushed voice. Yamaguchi gave a small nod in response and told his best friend what had happened- only loud enough for the latter to hear.

“So what if you are [gay]? Why the fuck do they care?” There was pure anger in Tsukishima’s voice, face gaining a tint of red from it. “Who was it? You know what,” he walked away from his spot and sped walked out of the gym.

“Tsukki? Where are you going?” the latter asked, rushing after him.

“I’ll just find them myself.”

“Stop.” Tsukishima kept walking, ignoring Yamaguchi’s attempts to stop him.

“Please, just leave it be.” Still, Yamaguchi was being ignored, which only made him grow frustrated. “Tsukishima Kei!” the other came to a sudden halt hearing Yamaguchi call him by his full name. “I said,” Yamaguchi’s voice was shaky, “stop. Leave it alone.”

“I can’t!” the other shouted, throwing his arms in the air out of frustration.

“Tsukki, stop.”

“I can’t!” Yamaguchi flinched at his shout.

“Please, Tsukki.”

“I can’t just let this go; why don’t you understand that, Yamaguchi?”

“Because it’s nothing! You’re just going to make things worse. It doesn’t matter anymore. It already happened; it’s in the past. Just let it go.”

Yamaguchi started walking away when Tsukishima grabbed his arm and pulled him into a hug. “Ts- Tsukki?” He just stood there, in the other’s arms, confused.

“I can’t let this go,” Tsukishima’s voice was softening, “because it pains me to see you like this.”

“Why do you care?” Yamaguchi tried to say sharply, but instead, it came out shaky.

“I’ve always cared, and I’m sorry for not showing it.”

He pushed the other away, “just stop. You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”

“Yamaguchi,” he lowered his voice. He closed his eyes and started leaning in when the latter, once again, pushed him away, getting out of his hold.

“Tsukki, stop. You’re just going to lead me on.” Shit, he realized he had indirectly confessed. Fuck, why’d I had to say it aloud? Tears started to stream down his face because he could no longer hold them in.

It pained the tall blonde to see Yamaguchi crying and so vulnerable. He had to do something, but he didn’t want to do the wrong thing. He opted for pulling Yamaguchi in for a hug: one hand holding his head and the other rubbing small circles on his back.

“Tsu-”

“Please, just let me hold you.” Yamaguchi gave in to his words and hesitantly wrapped his arms around the latter. Tsukishima held him a little tighter with the fear of the other running away if he were to loosen his hold; he was already prepared for the other to run away. But to his surprise, Yamaguchi snuggled his face into the crook of his neck, causing Tsukishuma to stiffen a bit.

“Please,” Yamaguchi croaked out, “please don’t leave me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because I’m… because I’m gay, and,” he paused, tears once again spilling from his eyes.

Tsukishima felt the warmth of his tears on his neck, then reassured him by softly saying, “I’ll stay no matter what you say.”

“And because,” he took a deep breath. “I like you,” he mumbled into his shoulder.

Tsukishima pulled away just enough to see Yamaguchi’s face, holding it with his hands and wiping the few tears on his cheeks. Yamaguchi leaned into his touch, closing his eyes. Was he always this pretty? Gosh, I’m definitely in love with him. Tsukishima took a deep breath, preparing himself for what he was about to say. “Yamaguchi,” the boy looked into his eyes, “I’ve always had this weird feeling when I’m around you.” Yamaguchi tried to turn his face away. He’s just trying to make me feel better. He doesn’t mean it.

Tsukishima held his face in place, “and now I think I understand the feeling. I love you, Tadashi.” And that was it, he said them. But did he mean it? He must have meant it if he used Yamaguchi’s given name, right? He just has to say back, even if Tsukki is lying.

“I love you too, Kei.”

“I promise I won’t leave you.” He planted a kiss on Yamaguchi’s forehead. The two boys stood there- foreheads now pressed together.

What does this mean? What will happen to their friendship? Those are questions to be answered another time. Right now, all they’re thinking about is savoring this moment.

© putmeinyourdeathnote

pls pls pls i need long fanfictions (preferrably at least 30k words or more) centered on silco and vander im okay with all warnings as long as there's no noncon or minor