Not So Big & Bad After All

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

money talks.

ghost. part i ┃ sevika x reader WC: 4.7K

ⓘ: i don't know jack about the 80s, the stock market, new york...just read some articles and surfed google maps. f it we ball ⚠︎: alcohol consumption, mild homophobia if you squint, mild misogyny, blood, psychological horror/thriller elements

A shaky exhale escapes your parted lips as you enter the office, the tense atmosphere of the bustling trading floor hitting you like a gust of wind. You remind yourself that you’re fine—you can do this. Sevika didn’t help you land this job just so that you could stand about and be a nervous wreck.

Tentatively, you navigate through the maze of desks, heels clicking against the scuffed vinyl flooring. Cackling laughter and a potent scent of tobacco infiltrates your senses, causing your nose to scrunch in disgust. The air is thick with bravado and smoke, punctuated by the piercing ring of phones and the rapid click of typewriter keys.

In the cramped lunchroom, clusters of coworkers lounge around battered tables, cigars drooping from their lips. You set your briefcase down and pour yourself a cup of coffee, grateful for the sharp aroma that cuts through the haze.

You can feel their eyes on you and hear the undercurrent of the shift in conversation. What had seemed to be a friendly chat regarding the current market faded as their voices dropped low and conspiratorial. Your lips press into a frown, unease growing once more at the initial hostility.

Suddenly, the chatter dims. You turn, mug in hand, and spot Sevika in the doorway.

You brighten, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Sev, hey.” the nickname slips out, almost naturally. 

Her lips upturn as she saunters over. “Hey, doll. You gettin’ settled in?” She leans against the counter, arms crossed.

You shrug, gesturing to your coffee. “Well, I just got here.”

She hums, studying your expression, attempting to gauge your emotions. “You nervous?” 

You nod, a little sheepish. “A bit… I’m still new to all this finance stuff.”

Sevika waves off your concern. “Nah, don’t worry. You’ll do great.” Her eyes flick to the men in the corner; they shrink under her gaze. She huffs, amused, then turns back to you.

“C’mon, I’ll show you where your desk is.”

You follow her past rows of nearly identical desks—laminated wood, each with a Quotron terminal and a heavy black phone. At the end of the row, she stops.

“This one’s yours,” she says, gesturing.

You set your briefcase on the desk, nerves prickling under your skin.

She lingers, sensing your unease. “Hey, look at me.”

You meet her eyes.

“You’re gonna do just fine, yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“Good.” She sighs as the energy in the room ramps up—shouts from the trading floor, the clatter of keys, the low thrum of ambition. “Listen, I’m pretty swamped today, but if you need anything, just ask. My desk is up front.” She points across the room.

“Thanks, Sevika.” Her hand is reassuring on your arm for a moment, the softness in her gaze reserved just for you. Then she straightens, her expression hardening as she strides away, leaving you to settle in.

You lower yourself into the chair, the worn leather creaking softly beneath your weight. The faint scent of polished wood and stale cigarette smoke lingers in the air around you. With a small, tentative smile, you unzip your briefcase and pull out a stack of files, a thick phone book dog-eared from use, and a few personal trinkets.

Carefully, you arrange the little objects—a faded photograph, a small figurine, a lucky charm—on the bland laminate surface of your desk. They stand out against the sea of beige and gray, providing you with a sense of individuality.

The soft hum of the Quotron terminal buzzes nearby, and somewhere in the distance, the acute ring of a phone cuts through the murmur of voices. You glance around the room, feeling the weight of the day settle in your chest, but for a moment, your little corner feels like your own.

You jump straight into work, taking calls from clients and offering trading advice with as much confidence as you could muster. You scribble notes on a legal pad, flipping through your phone book for client numbers, the plastic receiver pressed tight to your ear.

As the afternoon sun slants through the grimy windows, casting golden rectangles across the scuffed floor, the office door bangs open. A man in a striped suit strides in, cell phone pressed to his ear—one of those chunky Motorola flip phones, the kind only the higher-ups can afford.

He dumps his briefcase on the floor, shrugs off his jacket, and slings it over the back of the chair beside yours.

“Honey, listen, we just can’t afford any more of these shopping sprees,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, yeah, I know it’s from the catalogues, but those prices add up.” He glances at you, rolls his eyes theatrically. “Listen, hun, once I get my check on Friday, we can go out and shop, how’s that sound? Yeah, okay. Love you too, sweetheart.” He snaps the phone shut, finally giving you his full attention.

His gaze lands on your desk, lingering on the faded photo of you and Sevika. There’s a flicker of something—judgment, maybe amusement—in his eyes.

“Ah, you’re the new girl,” he says, voice flat as a subway announcement.

You offer a polite smile, extending your hand. “Yes, my name is—”

He cuts you off, waving a dismissive hand. “Yeah, yeah, no need for that. Just try not to screw up, alright? Boss’ll have our heads if we lose another client.” He pushes up his rectangular glasses, already dialing the phone on his desk. The rotary clicks echo in the small space.

Your smile falters, but you nod and turn back to your work, jotting down a note about a client’s position in AT&T. The hours blur together—you grow accustomed to calls, quotes, and the constant drone of voices that filtered through the space.

Eventually, your neighbour swivels in his chair, eyeing you over the rim of his glasses.

“So, you from Manhattan?” he asks, one eyebrow arched.

You shake your head. “Oh, no, I’m from Brooklyn.”

He lets out a low whistle, spinning a pen between his fingers. “Brooklyn, huh? Don’t sound like it. You lose the accent or somethin’?”

You start to explain, but he barrels on. “So, how the hell do you know Sevika?” He leans in, curiosity piqued.

“Oh, uh, we met a few years back and—”

He waves you off. “Yeah, yeah, good for you. So, you two, what, friends?”

You frown, but he keeps going. “I mean, Christ, she’s pretty intense, eh? Knows a whole lotta shit.”

You nod. “Yeah, she’s sharp. Real sharp.”

He cackles, slapping his knee. “Sharp? That woman could run this place if she wanted. Knows more than the damn manager, I swear.”

You laugh, a little awkward. “Sounds like Sevika.”

He leans back, propping his feet on the edge of his desk. “You drink, little missy?”

You hesitate. “Sometimes…?”

He grins, wide and wolfish. “You should come out with us tonight. Bunch of us are hittin’ up somewhere in Tribeca, a real swanky joint. First round’s on me.”

You hesitate, but he waves a hand. “Eh, don’t gimme that look. Think of it as celebrating your first day. Besides, you gotta learn how to unwind in this business, or you’ll burn out before your first bonus.”

You manage a small, grateful smile. Though it carries a hint of disquiet. “Yeah, okay. Sounds fun.”

The day rolls on. Your phone rings again, and you pick up, pressing the receiver to your ear.

“Williams & Co., this is—” you begin, but the voice on the other end is clipped, commanding.

“This is Jerry Williams. I wanted to go over my holdings in Johnson & Johnson and see what you think about the market this week. I heard there’s talk of a rate hike—should I be worried?”

You flip through your notes, recalling Sevika’s advice: always keep your cool, never let them hear you sweat. “Mr. Williams, there’s been hints at a rate increase, but the Street’s already priced most of that in. J&J’s fundamentals are still strong—steady dividend, solid earnings. If you’re looking for growth, we could discuss reallocating a portion, but I’d recommend holding for now.”

There’s a pause. You hear a woman’s voice in the background—biting, impatient.

“Give it here, Jerry, let me speak to the girl.”

The phone’s coiled cord digs into your palm as you grip the receiver, and Mrs. Williams’ voice shrills in your ear. The Quotron terminal on your desk flickers with green numbers, but you can barely focus on the shifting prices. Sweat beads at your temple, and you fumble for a pen, nearly knocking over a stack of trade tickets.

“I—I understand, Mrs. Williams, but—”

Her tirade cuts you off. Around you, the office hums with the clatter of keys and the low drone of a dozen other calls. You catch a few sidelong glances from your coworkers—some amused, some pitying.

Just as you open your mouth to respond, a gentle tap on your shoulder pulls you back. Sevika stands over you, her gaze steady, her presence a sudden anchor in the chaos.

“What’s goin’ on, doll?” she asks, her voice low enough that only you can hear.

You cover the mouthpiece, voice trembling. “It’s the Williamses. I think I messed up, and they’re… not happy.”

She squeezes your shoulder—her hand cool, the pressure oddly reassuring. “Easy, doll. Let me talk to them.”

You hand her the phone, your fingers shaking. Sevika leans in, her eyes flicking to the Quotron screen, then back to the call. She speaks with practiced ease, referencing last week’s market dip and the Williamses’ recent portfolio gains, weaving in a mention of Jerry’s fishing trip. The tension in Mrs. Williams’ voice softens, and after a few minutes, Sevika ends the call with a warm, “You take care now—tell Jerry I want to see those photos.”

She hangs up, sighs, and turns to you. You start to stammer an apology, but she cuts you off with a gentle touch, her thumb brushing your cheek. “It’s all good now, dolly. They won’t speak to you like that again.”

For a moment, you lean into her touch, the noise of the office fading. Then she pulls away, her expression hardening as she glares at your onlookers, sending them back to their work.

A shaky exhale escapes your lips—It’s as if she knew exactly what Mrs. Williams needed to hear before the words were even spoken—you think to yourself, your hand gingerly coming up to touch the spot she had caressed. Her hand was cool, almost unnaturally so, but a piercing ring shatters the silence and derails your train of thought.

Reluctantly, you answer the phone, effectively silencing any rattled sentiments that lingered. And most importantly, the butterflies that flew around in your stomach.

The day wears on without any more confrontations. When the clock finally hits five, the office erupts into motion—phones slammed down, jackets shrugged on, and the stale scent of tobacco growing sharper as people pack up. Matt, the man at the next desk, glances over at you with a crooked grin.

“Ready to head out, missy?” he asks, already gathering his things. A few other guys from the bullpen wander over, slapping each other on the back, the energy shifting from cutthroat to casual.

“Yep, just gotta—” you start, but Matt’s already calling across the room.

“Hey, Sevika, you joinin’ us tonight?”

Your gaze flicks to Sevika. She looks tired, her eyes shadowed from a long day, but she scoffs as she slips on her suit jacket, rolling her shoulders.

“Hell no, I’m not goin’ to no damn bar with you fools,” she shoots back, her tone dry but not unkind.

Your expression falters, and she catches it, one brow arching in your direction.

“You goin’ out, doll?” she asks, her voice softer for you.

You nod, trying to sound casual. “Yeah… I mean, might as well.”

Sevika sighs, running a hand through her hair. She glances at Matt, then back at you, then back at Matt. “Fine. But I’m not babysitting when you idiots start doing shots and tryin’ to outdrink each other.”

The guys just cackle, clearly pleased Sevika’s coming along. Her presence shifts the dynamic—You can tell she’s respected, maybe even a little feared, and the men tone down their jokes just a notch.

As you all head for the elevators, the chatter turns to which bar to hit—somewhere downtown, maybe. The city outside is just waking up for the night, neon flickering in the dusk.

The guys and Sevika pile into the elevator, still bickering over which bar to hit first. The cramped space fills quickly, and you hesitate at the threshold, eyes flicking to the crowded interior.

“Oh, uh… I’ll just wait for the next one,” you murmur, stepping back.

Before you can move, Matt’s hand shoots out, gripping your arm firmly. You stumble forward with a soft “oof” as you bump into Sevika. Her prosthetic arm snakes around your back, steadying you.

“Easy,” she gruffs, shooting Matt a sharp glare—one that lingers a beat longer than necessary.

Matt just shrugs, unfazed, as the elevator doors slide shut. The air inside is heavy with the scent of cheap cologne and aftershave, mixed with the faint trace of tobacco smoke. The elevator hums softly, the mechanical whirring punctuated by the occasional muttered argument over which floor to select first.

You shift slightly, trying to make yourself as small as possible, standing close to Sevika, whose presence feels like a shield in the crowded space. Her eyes remain fixed straight ahead, expression unreadable but tense.

Matt leans against the wall near the buttons, grinning. “C’mon, doll, don’t be shy. You’re one of us now.”

Sevika’s jaw ticks, her voice low and flat. “Watch it, Matt,” she says, not taking her eyes off the elevator doors. “That’s not your word.”

Matt simply cackles in response, leaning against the wall with crossed arms. “You call everyone ‘doll’, or just the ones out of your league.”

Sevikas' eyes narrow, and she scoffs. “Don’t,” she warns. The simple one-word response still isn’t enough to shut him up as he presses on.

“C’mon, don’t be a bitch, I'm just—”

“Keep it up and you’ll find out real quick why I'm the only one who gets to say it.”

Matt’s laughter falters as Sevika fixes him with a look that brooks no argument. The space seems to shrink around them, the rest of the group falling silent as her words hang in the air. The elevator lurches downward, and you swallow hard, caught between the buzz of the group and the quiet weight of Sevika’s steadying touch.

You step out onto the street, the clean scent of rain washing away the office’s stale air. The elevator chatter has faded, but Sevika’s earlier sharpness still lingers, hanging awkwardly between the group. You clear your throat, trying to break the tension. “Uhm… have we decided where we’re going?” you ask, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Matt shrugs, glancing at the others, then at Sevika, then back to you. “Dunno yet. Was thinkin’ Tribeca, but the boys had another idea.” He flicks open a pack of cigarettes, lighting one with practiced ease.

Chris takes a long drag from his own cigarette, exhaling a thin plume of smoke. “Well, I was thinkin’ we hit up King Cole.”

Your eyes widen just a bit. “Isn’t that place super expensive?” you ask, reluctance clear in your tone.

Chris grins, nudging you. “Yeah, but c’mon, it’s the King Cole. Place is a classic—old-school New York, you know? You ever seen that mural behind the bar? Things’ worth more than my apartment. Besides, first round’s on Matt.”

Matt snorts. “Not if we’re going there. But hey, I don't see why Sevika couldn’t help cover a round. For her dolly, of course"

Sevika’s eyes narrow, her tone sharp but cool. “Don’t worry about my ‘dolly,’ Matt. I’m not letting you stick her with a thirty-dollar martini just so you can play big shot.” She flicks her gaze to you, voice softening. “You want to see the mural, we’ll see the mural. I’ll pay for you.”

You hesitate, starting to protest, “Oh, well, we don’t have to—”

Chris cuts you off with a grin, “Then it’s settled, let’s go.” He strides toward his car, the others following.

You huff softly and glance at Sevika, who just rolls her eyes. “C’mon, doll, ride with me,” she says, her voice low but firm.

You nod, falling in step beside her as you both head to her vehicle. The sun sets behind the city skyline, casting a warm glow over the flashy lights that begin to flicker on around you.

The silence between you is thick until Sevika’s voice cuts through like a knife. “How was your first day?”

You rub the back of your neck, laughing awkwardly. “Uhm, it was alright... besides getting cussed out by Mrs. Williams.” Your eyes meet hers, her appearance illuminated by the sundown. “Don’t beat yourself up, doll.”

You start to protest, “Yeah, but—”

“Doll,” Sevika interrupts gently, her eyes locking with yours for a moment before returning to the road. “Mr. and Mrs. Williams own the company. They’re very picky about who helps manage their money, among other things.”

Your eyes widen at the blatant realization, a flush of embarrassment creeping in. “I—she was really mad, Sev... I must’ve messed up.”

Sevika shakes her head, hand moving to brush lightly against your knee, steadying the wheel with her prosthetic. Her cool fingers trace a fleeting path across your upper thigh, sending a shiver through you.

“You didn’t. You did just fine. Besides, you heard me—I handled it.”

You bite your lip. “Yeah, but I should’ve handled it myself.”

She sighs softly. “It was your first day, doll. Just… forget about it for now, yeah? We’re almost at the bar.” Her hand squeezes the plush of your thigh gently—a quiet reassurance, though you’re not sure if you feel comforted or rattled by such contact.

Upon arriving at the Bar, Sevika keeps her hand firmly on your lower back, guiding you through the plethora of well-dressed patrons spilling onto the sidewalk. The polished wood-paneled room hums with conversation, jazz floating beneath the clink of glassware. The famous mural presides over the bar, its vibrant colors and enigmatic smiles catching the light as you pass beneath the king’s gaze

Your coworkers have already claimed a table tucked into a corner, half-hidden from the main crowd. Matt waves you over, a smirk plastered on his face. You and Sevika make your way through the maze of cocktail tables, her touch a quiet anchor until you both sit. She keeps her arm around you for a moment longer, her thumb tracing slow circles on your back before she pulls away to flag down a server.

Matt and Chris immediately start in on you, tossing out drink suggestions—Chris pushes for the bar’s signature cocktail, while Matt insists you try something “with a kick.” You glance at Sevika, trusting her judgment. “I’ll have what she’s having,” you say, and she gives you a small, approving nod before ordering for you both.

As the evening wears on, the table grows louder, laughter and stories tumbling out with each round. Matt and Chris become increasingly animated, their cheeks flushed, voices rising above the commotion. Even you feel the alcohol begin to warm your body, eyes glossing over ever so slightly. Sevika, in contrast, remains composed, her glass barely touched. She watches the group with a steady, discerning gaze, always keeping you within arm’s reach.

At one point, Chris leans in a little too close, his tone dripping with sleaze. “You know,” he says lowly, “I bet you’d look a lot better if you smiled more. Don’t be so serious all the time, doll.”

You stiffen, the words hanging in the air like a weight. The laughter from the table falters for a moment, the easy camaraderie suddenly strained.

Sevika’s hand tightens around her glass, her gaze snapping to Chris with a cold intensity. Without breaking eye contact, she leans forward slightly and says, “That’s enough, Chris. Show some respect.”

Chris chuckles nervously, leaning back a little, but the unease lingers. The bar’s hum resumes, but the moment leaves a quiet tension beneath the surface.

You peer over at Sevika, her agitation written in every tense line of her body—jaw clenched, shoulders rigid, fingers tapping a restless rhythm on the table. You frown, concern flickering across your face, but mask it with a feigned yawn. Gently, you tug on her jacket, letting your fingers linger just a moment longer than necessary. “Sev, I’m tired…” you murmur, your voice softer than usual.

She looks down at you, her eyes scanning your flushed cheeks and the way you blink a little too slowly. For a beat, her gaze remains on your expression—longer than it should, maybe, if anyone else were paying attention. You catch the way her lips part, as if she wants to say something else, but she just clears her throat, her voice rough around the edges. “…Okay, doll, let’s get goin’.”

Sevika stands, her hand finding the small of your back with practiced ease, fingers splaying out in a gesture that feels both protective and possessive. She leans in close enough that you catch the faint scent of her cologne, her breath warm against your ear as she addresses the table, “We’re heading out—she’s wiped.”

Matt raises an eyebrow, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips, but Sevika’s gaze flicks to him, daring him to comment. You feel a flutter in your chest at her silent defense, and as you both turn to leave, your hand brushes hers—neither of you pulling away immediately.

Outside, the city air feels electric, charged with something unspoken. You glance up at Sevika, catching the rare, fleeting softness in her eyes, and realize you’re not the only one reluctant to let the moment end.

She clears her throat, looking down at you. “We’ll call it a night at mine. You’ll feel better in a quieter space.” She insists casually, thumb rubbing soothing circles on your lower back.

You can’t help but nod mindlessly, your eyes glued to her sharp features. The night sky compliments her appearance, grey eyes twinkling under the stars. 

She helps you into the passenger seat, leaning over to buckle your seatbelt. Your cheeks flush at the close proximity, breath-hitching as the scent of her cologne penetrates your senses.

“I could’ve done it myself,” you mumble, craning your head up to meet her gaze. 

A small, almost negligible smirk ghosts her lips. “I know.”

The ride to Sevika’s place is quiet, the silence interrupted solely by the soft sounds of your breathing and low purr of the engine. 

After she pulls into the parkade of her apartment complex, she helps you into the building and up the stairs. Though she notices you aren’t as exhausted as you had claimed to be, causing her grip to loosen. “Thought you were tired?”

A giggle escapes your lips as you brace yourself against the doorframe, slightly lethargic from the drinks. “Jus’ wanted to get out of there…” You shrug, kicking off your shoes upon entering her apartment.

“Yeah…don't blame ya, the guys can be a lot.” She hums in agreement, shrugging off her blazer in one fluid motion. You enable your eyes to linger, tracing the curve of her shoulders and the subtle play of muscles beneath her shirt. Yet you make sure to look away right when she turns to face you.

“You hungry?” She asks.

You shrug, glancing up at her. “A little, you?”

She nods. “Yeah, I could eat. Didnt get a chance to take lunch today–too busy.”

You laugh softly, falling into step beside her as she heads to the kitchen.

“Same here.”

Sevika heads to the fridge and pulls out a few vegetables, setting them on the counter. “How about a quick stir-fry? I’ve got some rice left over from last night.”

You nod, rolling up your sleeves. “Sounds good. Want me to chop?”

She hands you a knife, then grabs a pot for herself. “Yeah, if you don’t mind. I’ll start on the sauce.”

You start slicing a bell pepper, the steady rhythm of your knife filling the kitchen. “You always this busy, or was today just extra rough?”

She snorts, measuring out soy sauce. “It’s Wall Street. There’s no such thing as a slow day.”

You grin, sliding the chopped peppers into a bowl. “Fair point. I’m still getting used to it.”

She glances over, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “You’re doing fine. Better than most, actually.”

You shrug, reaching for another vegetable. “Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You cut into an onion, the knife feeling heavier than it should in your hand. The alcohol still buzzes in your veins, making your movements a fraction too slow, a touch too loose. You blink, trying to focus, but the kitchen lights seem too bright, casting long, warped shadows across the counter.

Then, the blade slips.

A sharp, hot sting blooms across your finger. You gasp, dropping the knife. It clatters against the tile—a jarring, metallic sound that seems to echo far too loudly in the suddenly silent kitchen. Blood wells up, thick and vivid, trailing down your skin in a line that feels both illusory and painfully present.

“Shit,” you mumble, more out of shock than pain, stumbling toward the sink.

Behind you, Sevika gasps. The sound is harsh, grating, almost inhuman. You glance over your shoulder, expecting a look of concern, maybe annoyance. Instead, you see her standing absolutely still, every muscle in her body tensed and coiled, her hands gripping the edge of the counter so tightly you hear the wood creak.

Her eyes are fixed on you—or rather, on your bleeding hand. They’re wide, pupils blown, the usual warmth gone, replaced by a cold, predatory hunger. For a moment, she looks like a stranger in her own kitchen.

You try to laugh, the sound brittle. “Guess I’m more drunk than I thought—”

“Don’t,” Sevika says, her voice low and raw, barely recognizable. She doesn’t blink. She doesn’t move. The shadows seem to grow longer around her, swallowing the edges of her figure. The air thickens, heavy and oppressive, as if the room itself is holding its breath.

You turn back to the sink, running your finger under cold water, but the blood keeps coming, swirling in the basin. The metallic scent fills your nose, sharp and nauseating. Behind you, Sevika’s breathing changes—shallow, ragged, almost animalistic. 

You glance back again. Her lips are parted, jaw clenched so hard you can see the muscle twitch in her cheek. Her eyes are locked on the blood, and for a split second, you catch a glimpse of something—something impossibly sharp and white—behind her lips.

A chill races down your spine, prickling your skin. Your heart thuds, slow and heavy, as if your body’s trying to warn you of something ancient and terrible.

“Get out,” she growls, her voice guttural, vibrating with a note you’ve never heard before. It’s not a suggestion. It’s a command—urgent, desperate, dangerous.

You freeze, hand still under the water, blood still dripping. Sevika brings her hand up to her mouth, pressing it hard against her lips, as if she’s holding something back. Her eyes flick up to meet yours, and for the first time since you’ve known her, you see fear—real, bone-deep fear—fighting with something darker. Something…horrifying.

“Go,” she chokes out, louder, barely holding herself together.

The room feels wrong, warped, as if you’ve stepped into a living nightmare. The familiar kitchen is gone, replaced by something cold and ravenous. You stumble backward, nearly slipping on the tile, your gaze never leaving Sevika’s face—her wild, desperate eyes, her trembling hands, the shadow of fangs behind her lips.

You don’t ask questions. You don’t look back. You run, the sound of your own heartbeat drowning out everything else, the image of Sevika’s monstrous hunger permanently burned into your mind.

taglist: @half-of-a-gay @sapphiccup @iamaboringrattat @spinback-kiva @theoreticalfreak @moodient @diouna @helaenabugmom @womenlover360 @sumisamente @thatsmadiculous @madzorwhatever @vkumi @boom58 @h2pinky @glittzygorilla @koralinebox @kay-khronicals @belldonic

note: so sorry if this was shit fr, i just wanted to explore writing horror elements heheheheeh

Being Ambessa’s 𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓲𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰 girlfriend (headcannons)

•|||——————————————————————|||•

• Ambessa doesn’t care about the gossip or whispers about your age gap; she’s fiercely unapologetic about your relationship.

• “Let them talk,” she says dismissively, her tone laced with confidence. “They’re just jealous they’ll never have what we do.”

• She adores your youthful energy and often teases you about how “adorably naive” you can be in certain situations.

• Ambessa is incredibly protective, especially when people make snide remarks. She’ll shut them down with a single glare—or a sharp retort if needed.

• She takes pride in teaching you things, whether it’s her favorite chess strategies, combat skills, or life lessons from her years of experience.

• Ambessa spoils you relentlessly to make up for any negativity you might face. Gifts, lavish trips, and surprises become the norm in your relationship.

• She adores showing you off at high-profile events, draping you in luxurious attire and keeping you close to her side as if to say, “Yes, she’s mine.”

• The way you admire her wisdom and strength secretly softens her, though she’d never admit it outright.

• Ambessa’s favorite moments are when you challenge her or bring a fresh perspective to her life. It reminds her why she fell for you in the first place.

• She enjoys teasing you about your inexperience in certain areas but always in a way that’s playful and affectionate.

• Ambessa’s leadership instincts kick in when she sees anyone try to take advantage of your youth. “You’ll regret underestimating her—or me.”

• Despite the age gap, she never treats you as anything less than an equal. Your voice and opinions hold just as much weight as hers.

• Ambessa is amused by your ability to bring out her softer, more playful side—something very few people ever get to see.

• She loves hearing your dreams and aspirations, always encouraging you to chase them. “The world is yours, darling. Take it.”

• When people question your relationship, Ambessa doesn’t bother justifying it. “Our love is none of their business.”

• You bring a sense of lightness and joy to her otherwise intense and calculated life, something she deeply values.

• Ambessa can’t help but be captivated by your youthful curiosity. She enjoys answering your questions about her life, career, and the world she’s built.

• She has no patience for anyone trying to undermine your intelligence or capabilities because of your age. “She’s smarter than you’ll ever be.”

• Ambessa takes her role as your partner seriously, ensuring you feel safe, loved, and supported in all aspects of your life.

• She often jokes about how much you keep her young at heart, though you know she secretly means it.

• Ambessa’s love for you is obvious in the way she looks at you—as if you’re the only thing that matters in the room.

• In private, she’ll sometimes confess her worries about the age gap, but your reassurances are all she needs to push those doubts aside.

• She makes an effort to learn about your interests, even if they’re completely foreign to her. It’s her way of showing how much she values you.

• Ambessa loves hearing your laughter, especially when she’s the one to cause it. She sees it as a sound worth protecting.

• When the two of you are alone, Ambessa drops her tough exterior entirely, letting her love for you shine through in soft touches and tender words.

• She sees your youth as a blessing, not a disadvantage. To her, it’s a chance to nurture something pure and beautiful in her otherwise hardened life.

• Ambessa has a habit of calling you pet names like “little one” or “darling,” often in a tone that’s both teasing and affectionate.

• She loves taking you on spontaneous adventures, just to see your face light up with excitement.

• If anyone dares to call your relationship “inappropriate,” Ambessa will coldly remind them who they’re dealing with: a woman who’s conquered armies and built empires.

• You’ve learned to keep up with her sharp wit and tongue, and she secretly delights in your quick comebacks.

• Ambessa enjoys spoiling you with decadent meals, often inviting you to dine with her in private, candlelit settings where she can lavish you with attention.

• She’s a natural at slipping into a protective role, always scanning the room to ensure you’re comfortable and safe.

• Ambessa has a soft spot for seeing you in oversized sweaters or robes when you’re lounging—it’s a reminder of how much younger and carefree you are compared to her.

• She frequently surprises you with handwritten letters, filled with poetic musings about her love for you, which you treasure deeply.

• When you get flustered or shy, Ambessa finds it utterly endearing and can’t help but smirk at your innocence.

• She secretly adores how you bring color and warmth into her often stoic and structured life, even if she pretends to be unaffected.

• Ambessa always notices when you’re uncomfortable in a situation, quickly diffusing any tension and whisking you away to somewhere more private.

• Despite her strong exterior, Ambessa allows herself to be vulnerable with you, sharing stories from her past that she’s never told anyone else.

• You’re the only one who can convince her to take breaks from her work or relax for a while. “Only because you asked so sweetly,” she says with a smirk.

• Ambessa can’t resist buying you jewelry, particularly pieces that remind her of you—delicate yet bold, just like her beloved.

• She loves running her fingers through your hair, especially when you’re lying together in the quiet moments of the night.

• You bring out Ambessa’s playful side; she’ll jokingly challenge you to games or competitions, knowing she’ll let you win just to see you gloat.

• Ambessa often comments on how lucky she is to have you, even if she doesn’t say it in front of others. “You’re the one thing in my life I’ll never take for granted.”

• When you’re upset, she doesn’t always know how to comfort you with words, but her actions speak volumes. Whether it’s holding you close or solving the problem for you, she ensures you feel loved.

• Ambessa can’t resist showing off her strength, often lifting you effortlessly just to see your surprised (and slightly flustered) reaction.

• She enjoys sharing quiet evenings with you, sipping wine by the fireplace as you discuss everything from history to your latest passions.

• Ambessa loves when you lean on her—both physically and emotionally—knowing that she’s your safe haven in a world that can be harsh.

• Whenever you’re apart, she sends you small tokens of her love, like pressed flowers or notes that remind you she’s always thinking of you.

• Ambessa is fiercely loyal, and she expects the same in return. The bond you share feels unshakable, despite the outside world’s judgment.

• You’ve managed to make her smile and laugh in ways she never thought possible, and she cherishes those moments more than she’ll ever admit.

• Despite her composed demeanor, Ambessa secretly enjoys when you surprise her with kisses or small gestures of affection.

• She always keeps her promises to you, whether it’s something as small as a date or as grand as a life-changing commitment.

• Ambessa doesn’t just love you for your youth—she loves you for the unique light and life you bring into her world, making it brighter and more beautiful every day.

•|||——————————————————————|||•

Sevika getting cuteness aggression with reader? Like reader is just sitting there eating and Sevika gets a huge urge to just pinch their cheek out of nowhere? Also I absolutely LOVE YOU SO MUCHHHH YOURE SUCH A GOOD WRITER YOURE MY FAVOURITE I LOVE YOU🙏🏼🙏🏼🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

HOW DID I MISS THIS ASK AWWWWEE ANON YOU'RE SO SWEET

i remember responding to another hc about Sevika getting cuteness aggression and thinking "where did i see this before" 😭💙

imma write a silly lil sevika and cuteness aggression thing right here right now bc i feel bad--

~ ~ ` 💞

imagine. just sitting nearby, minding your own business, reading or cleaning or watching tv or whatever, and sevika's sitting across the room watching you from the couch with this fierce scowl. you finally notice her staring and go "what?" "come here," she says, impatiently patting her knee. you walk over to her obediently and as soon as you sit down in her lap she pulls you into an aggressive hug, squeezing you just tight enough so the wind gets knocked out of you. nuzzles her face into your shoulder, you feel the soft bite of her teeth. "why are you like this," she mutters into your skin. "you're driving me insane."

she would also just pinch your cheek habitually. you're disappointed in her for getting home too late, working too much, whatever, and she just gives you a low chuckle and pinches the apple of your cheek, saying "you're cute when you're pissed."

wishing irrationally she could put you in her pocket and carry you around with her at work. would make her feel worlds better when life gives her shit.

Zaundads Timeline (by me)

Featuring

A divorced girl dad

A stressed single mother

Their children

Timeline

Married high school sweethearts (dead wife montage below)

Bitter divorce after domestic abuse allegations

Parental alienation

Custody hearing

Custody hearing Winner 🥇

Parental alienation (again)

CPS was called (they wanted custody of his child)

Family therapy after parental alienation

And finally...AU divorced-remarried parents

I could do more but the gifs are killing my phone 😂

₊˚⊹♡ Valentines Day Headcannons ♡⊹˚₊

જ⁀➴ ♡ Starring: Vi.ᐟ Caitlyn.ᐟ Sevika.ᐟ જ⁀➴ ♡ !!-18//MDNI-!!

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡ ♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

•Sevikaજ⁀➴ ♡

❤︎ Oh she’s a sweetheart, really, but the poor woman is overworked and the day slipped her mind until Shoola makes some off-handed comment at work— then she’s absolutely cursing herself.

❤︎ She gets home late afternoon, flowers bundled up in her hands and an apology sitting on her tongue— her shoulders dropping at the sight of you bundled up on the sofa.

“Angel, I’m so fucking sorry.” Her voice is all soft and dejected as she sits down right beside you, a big hand resting over your knee. “You know work just keeps on pilling up, I didn’t even notice the—”

You immediately dismantle her, fingers curling around hers with a gentle smile and tender eyes, gleaming up at her with a sickly sweet love. “S’alright Sev, you’ll make it up to me.” And god she swears she will.

❤︎ And she really does! Cooking you up that one homemade meal you’re always bugging her to make since the first time she made it for you. A nice candle-lit dinner, popping open a bottle of your fave, showering you with sweet compliments and tender touches— her hand rubbing your thigh from beneath the table.

❤︎ In fact her hands don’t leave the soft curvature of your perfect body for a single moment, guiding you into your shared bedroom— kissing along your jaw and down your neck, a sincere apology hidden in the way she sheds your clothes from your body.

❤︎ She had you spread open for her on the bed, mechanical hand squeezing the inside of your thigh— the cold metal against your flushed skin shoots a shiver through your body, one that was only doubled as she pushes the vibrator a little harder to your clit.

“That’s it, baby, keeping making those pretty noises f’me yeah?” Her voice was all gruff and ragged, watching in almost awe as rubs the toy over your sensitive bud so painstakingly slow, you can’t help but buck your hips up in desperation, needing more.

“Mmfm, p-please Vika! please.” You whine, hands fisting at the bedsheets when she turns it up to a setting that makes your thighs shake as the vibrations intensify, your cunt soaking the toy as she rubs it through your slick folds.

“Please?— please what baby? I ain’t a mind reader.” She absolutely lives for the way you arch up from the bed, looking up at her with glossy eyes.

❤︎ Sevika likes to take her time, pushing you right to the edge before bringing the vibrator away with a small smirk, scoffing a chuckle as your whines get louder and somehow, even more, needier from the way she rubs the slick toy over your pert nipples. Immediately leaning into your tits to lick and kiss at your glistening peaks murmuring about how “fucking good” you taste, her hand caressing over your waist and ribcage.

“Soaked for me huh?” She notes, smirking against your nipple as you blabber on about how much you need her until she dips her hand between your thighs to push her ring and middle fingers inside of your cunt, slick walls clamping around her thick digits— then you’re all broken moans and breathless gasps. “There you go, fucking swallowing my fingers up, huh? Greedy girl.”

Her eyes drink in every inch of your body as she sits back, her mechanical hand bringing the vibrator back to your clit as she curls her fingers deep inside you, fucking you until you’re seeing stars and some more.

❤︎ Sevika does good in making it up to you— spoiling you with a bubble bath, making sure to fold your favourite pyjama set over the radiator so they’re nice and warm for when you get out— fresh bedsheets and your favourite candle. She’d dote on you all weekend too because, at the end of the day, she really thinks you deserve the best.

•Caitlynજ⁀➴ ♡

❤︎ Nothing can ever be just ‘casual’ with Caitlyn, it’s a whole day thing for her. From the moment you open those pretty eyes, she’s completely at your beck and call.

❤︎ She would wake you up with sweet whispered nothings murmured against your jaw, kissing along your bare shoulders and over the nape of your neck— fingers slowly grazing down your spine in a gentle attempt to coax you out of dreamland.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my dearest.” her smooth velvety accent sends a slight shiver down your spine, humming in contentment.

You find her tender gaze as you turn to look up at her, all sleepy smiles and bleary eyes— her hand coming to rest against your warm cheek, tracing over the pillow lines that were printed into the soft skin. “Mm, happy Valentine’s Day love.” You respond, letting your eyes flutter close once more as she presses a kiss to your temple.

❤︎ She would have breakfast all ready, a platter of sweet fresh fruit and other various toppings for the heart-shaped waffles— she really does go all out and it was so worth it to see how your eyes twinkle in awe, the way your smile widens and the giggles that escape your lips.

❤︎ Caitlyn might have also splurged a little on you, okay maybe more than a little. A pretty dress that fitted your gorgeous frame oh so beautifully, adorning jewellery that made your complexion shine even more so than usual and a rather raunchy lingerie set that she couldn’t wait to take off, all folded in a gift bag just for you to wear tonight at dinner.

❤︎ A private booth in a fancy restaurant, gave her the perfect opportunity to tease you and she did— all night long, whispering filthy things into your ear. By the time the pair of you had climbed into the limousine, your panties were soaked and well Caitlyn really couldn’t help but slip her hand between your thighs, underneath your dress to rub her fingertips over the little damp spot.

“Mm, Cait—” you gasp, trying to keep as quiet as possible, not wanting the driver behind the partition to hear but it was so difficult when she hooks her middle finger over your lacy panties, the same pretty pair she gifted you with this morning, pushing them to the side slowly.

You hide your face against her shoulder, whimpering as she slides her fingertip along your slick folds, circling your clit with a feather-light touch— not giving you want you so desperately need which only makes you whine some more, hips bucking. “Sshh, you’re such a needy little thing, already so wet just from some words?” Her tone was almost condescending.

❤︎ A mess of shoes and clothes trail behind the pair of you, leading to your shared bedroom. Caitlyn didn’t have much patience, not when she was this turned on— needing to get her hands on you.

❤︎ Once she had you right where she wanted she couldn't stop. With you spread open for her in front of the mirror, her fingers teasing over your clit— wanting to make you cum again because gosh she couldn’t get enough.

“Look, baby, look how well your pretty pussy takes my fingers.” She coos, pressing a kiss to your jaw as you sit in between her legs— thighs draped over hers in front of the mirror as she slowly thrusts her two fingers into your fluttering hole. “Will you give me another, hmm?”

You let out a small whine, tipping your head backwards against her shoulder— her free hand instantly cupping your jaw, squeezing your cheeks together slightly, to make you face the mirror, admiring the way the pair of you fit together so perfectly. “Ah, Cait— Yeah, yeah, I can.” You whimper, watching how her fingers disappear inside you.

“Oh, such a good girl for me.” She hums in agreement, chuckling lowly as she curls her slender fingers perfectly— hitting that spongy spot deep inside you that makes your hips buck up against her hand, grinding your clit against the heel of her palm and whimpering for more. “That’s it’s, make a mess all over my hand— fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

Caitlyn watches the reflection in awe, how your hips rock against her hand in tandem with her fingers in reckless abandon, chasing after that relief until you're gushing all over her digits, soaking the silk bedsheets whilst she coos praises into the bare skin of your shoulder.

❤︎ She didn’t stop there, spending the rest of the evening drawing orgasm after orgasm out of you until you were boneless against the pillows, hair all tussled and completely flushed and panting. A beautiful sight.

❤︎ Caitlyn would shower you with praise, whispering sweet nothings into your sticky skin— nosing at your jaw and kissing all over your pretty face, keeping you grounded whilst she cleaned you up with such gentle hands before getting you a nice, cold glass of water and whatever else you needed. The rest of the night she spent cuddling you, with your head tucked beneath her chin, playing with your hair.

•Violetજ⁀➴ ♡

❤︎ Violet tries so hard to be all nonchalant about it, trying to act like she didn't know what was coming up but can’t— she fails horribly. Waking up at the crack of dawn to decorate the living room with heart-shaped bunting and balloons, giggling to herself whilst you slept peacefully upstairs in your shared bed.

❤︎ It was the waiting that she couldn’t deal with, pacing around the living room completely restless— every tiny noise that came from upstairs had her gasping softly in anticipation.

Violet's eyes lighten up as you walk into the living room, one of her shirts hanging around your shoulders, hair all tussled and eyes oh so sleepy— you giggle softly in surprise, looking around the decorated living room, ‘awwing’ softly as you spot a beautiful bouquet of flowers sitting in a vase and a small box of your favourite chocolates. “There’s my girl, c’mere.” She chuckles, holding her arms out for you.

“When did you do this?” You ask all giddily, walking over to your equally excited girlfriend who all but tugs you closer to her— toned arms wrapped around your waist tightly.

“This morning, whilst you were snoozing.” She replies, words muffled against your hairline as she peppers your face with loving kisses, hands moving to cup your face, thumbs caressing your warm cheeks as you nuzzle into her palms with a content hum.

Your arms circle around her shoulders, holding her close as she watches your gaze flicker around the room once more— she lives for the way your eyes go all starry, the smile that was plastered across your pretty face. “Aw, you did really good.” You really just melt her heart completely, she hugs you tightly against her once more, showering you with affection as you both share murmured— “Happy Valentine’s Day.” and other sweet nothings.

❤︎ Vi would spend the morning doting on you, the full princess treatment because her girl really deserves only the best!— she’d treat you to whatever you wanted from the bakery just down the road for breakfast, showering together and doing your skincare routine for you.

❤︎ The pair of you would take the dog out for a nice walk around the local park before stopping at the shop, grabbing a few things for dinner and a couple of snacks along with pre-made brownie mix to bake later— which the pair of you somehow make a complete mess of but it was all apart of the fun!

❤︎ The whole day would be so relaxing— full of nothing but absolute love, your heart feeling so full as the evening rolls around. The pair of you snuggled up in bed as she kisses you ever so sweetly. The movie you had put on now long forgotten, the remote kicked off of the bed and somewhere on the floor as those kisses turned a lot more heated and greedy.

“Mm, need something baby?” Vi asks in between kisses, smirking against your lips as you grind your hips down against her— desperate for more of her, fingers grasping at her broad shoulders.

Oh, she’s so cocky. Chuckling against the soft curve of your jaw as she dips her hand into your pyjama bottoms, cupping your cunt through your underwear— the apparent wet spot giving you all away. “I want your— your strap, please.” You whisper shyly, pressing your face into her shoulder with a weak moan.

Your reply only inflates her ego, rubbing her fingers over your underwear— her other hand caressing over the curve of your waist and up to your hip. “Yeah? Don’t be shy baby, s’just me.” She coos, turning her head to press a kiss to your cheek, whispering a gentle, “Come on, tell me what you really want, hmm?” Lips grazing against the shell of your ear.

You whine, trying to grind down against her palm as you press your face further into the crook of her neck— groaning in both frustration and desire. “Want to ride your strap so badly, Vi— need you to fill me up, please.” You practically plead, and that was all Vi needed to hear.

❤︎ She never really had much patience, it was practically nonexistent when it came to you— especially when she craved you as bad as she does right now because god your body was a piece of damn art.

“You’re so beautiful, baby— keep moving, just like that.” Vi was practically drooling, her half-lidded eyes zeroing in on the way her strap disappears into your cunt with ease, the silicone toy glistening with your slick— hips grinding against her so clumsily, so desperately.

Her fingers dig into the fat on your hips for leverage, almost manhandling you into a slower pace so you could feel each mind-numbing drag of her cock along your gummy walls, drawing out those sweet broken cries from your parted lips— jaw all slack and eyes hooded. “F-Fuck Vi— feels so good!” You whimper, nails biting into her shoulder which all but shoots a shiver down her spine, making her arch her strap deeper up into you.

She swears to god she could feel you squeeze around her, physically impossible but right now, god, she’s certain— “Yeah? Taking it so deep angel, feel me right here, huh?” She coos, pressing her hand over your lower abdomen— her other sliding from your waist up to your tits as you continue to bounce her strap— thighs beginning to burn in such a good way.

You nod, blabbering on and on in agreement— a bunch of nonsensical moans that sound far too good slipping past your lips— so needy for her as your movements become all sloppy, your hand desperately pushing on hers until her fingers find your clit. “There you go baby, fuuuck look at you— cumming around my cock.” She watches in complete awe as you lose yourself in the feeling, bouncing on her strap until you’re gushing around the thickness— soaking her thighs.

❤︎ Vi would prepare a bath that would end in round two because she really couldn’t keep her greedy hands to herself— not that you had a single complaint when her fingers were stuffed inside you, thumb slowly rubbing against your clit, the warmth of the bubble bath enveloping you. It was all too good.

❤︎ You end the day all cuddled up in bed, matching pjs and clean bedding— her big, warm hands massaging your achy thighs as she lavishes your pretty face with tender kisses, telling you how much she loved you until the pair of you end up falling asleep halfway through a movie, limbs all tangled beneath the blankets.

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡ ♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

After hours

NOTE: i don't think this was my greatest work, but it is something. please go easy on me, it's been a while since i wrote 😩🙏. also, it got angsty, i kept listening to "Let down" by Radiohead, so ummm... yeah... also happy 200!! i <3 you all so much!! xoxo 🥰💕

this is the inspo for this (i changed some bits so it fits better)

synopsis: oldergf!Sevika doesn't believe she's good enough for you, but does her insecurity run so deep that she's not willing to be with you anymore?

CW: feminine reader, angsty, modern setting, no usage of y/n, not edited, age gap (reader is twenty-five and sevika is forty-one), mentions of alcohol and smoking (not detailed), power dynamic (sevika is technically reader's boss but not directly), office romance, sevika is whipped for you (like really bad)

word count: 4 000+

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Sevika was the best gift that life could give you. Whenever you were with her, it felt too good to be true. Being with her made you realize that nothing could ever compare to her or any experience you've had in the past. She was older than you, but that didn't stop love from blooming.

She didn't mean to fall for you. She did everything in her power not to, but as soon as you smiled at her and thanked her for helping you with directions, she felt she had no choice. After that, she kept seeing you around. She hadn't realized that you would be the new hire at work. If she had known that, maybe she would have done more to prevent her heart from beating for you. Thankfully, you worked in a different department, which helped Sevika focus on her work. But it was as if you were following her, as though you knew she was falling for you and that she was resisting you. Every time you walked past her office to go to your cubicle, she savoured the view, memorizing the outfit you wore and how you styled your hair. She liked every hairstyle on you, but her favourite was when it was down. Sevika was often spellbound by the way it bounced when you walked away. She learned your schedule, and when she discovered that you liked to arrive at the office earlier than everyone else, just so you could settle in, she began to come in earlier than necessary; she didn't need to be there in the mornings, but she did so just to catch a glimpse of you. Sevika knew she couldn't have you, but that's what she liked about you.

You have kind eyes. Full of curiosity about the world, about her. The first time she had gotten to you was at an after-work event. It was a successful quarter, and to celebrate, everyone had made plans to go to a bar, the Last Drop. Sevika wasn't planning on going but was convinced after hearing that you would be present as well. Silco, her business partner, didn't question her about her sudden change of mind. He was simply entertained.

You were making your rounds, talking to everyone and catching up. Everyone seems to love you, and honestly, who wouldn't? You were so kind and sweet. You baked for the office, even providing a gluten-free option for those who wanted it. If someone confided in you about late work, you would offer to help them, and you simply wanted nothing in return. You were an angel, and Sevika had never wanted anyone more.

Sevika stayed put by the bar, talking to Vander and Silco, catching a glimpse of you here and there. By the second hour, the two men had grown sick of her longing, lovestruck stares.

"Why don't you just go up to her? Talk to her instead of staring at her." Vander suggested, giving her a knowing look. The trio has known each other for a while, going to college together. 

"I can't," Sevika groaned into her hands.

"And why not?" Now it was Silco's turn to tease the scary lady of the office.

"Because… that's just inappropriate," Sevika stated the obvious, but she knew deep down she was just using that as an excuse. She technically wasn't your boss, but the boss's boss. Still, Sevika wasn't one to mix business and pleasure. For the past two decades, Sevika has put her life and soul into this company she's built with Silco. She knows nothing but work. As she grew older, she realized she needed to set boundaries with herself. No one was there to take care of her, so she needed to. Work ended as soon as she left the building. No matter how important it was, she's made it clear not to call or email her after hours.

"Besides, I don't think she would be very interested in an old lady." Even with the sheepish smile on her face, Sevika's tone of voice was serious, meaning she didn't want to be pressed on. Vander stirs the conversation elsewhere, now asking about how it was nearing 20 years since the establishment of the company. 

The bar has gotten louder than what Sevika would have liked. Vander occupied the bar, fixing drinks while Silco was now entertaining a group of employees. Her leather jacket was now slung over the back of her chair, the white tee clinging to her body, and her muscles were on full display. Despite her age, Sevika was still a very fit woman. A couple of silver rings splayed on her thick fingers, she nurses a drink that’s gone warm while the ice melts in defiance of the glass. She’s halfway through weighing if it’s time for her to take her leave. There wasn’t much of a point in staying; she had already played a couple of rounds of cards with the others that she had promised. As she plans her exit, you decide to sit beside her. 

Not near her. Not across the bar where she can pretend she doesn’t see you.

Beside her.

Sevika’s fingers tighten around her glass. 

You glance over, bright-eyed and a little flushed from whatever conversation you peeled away from. “I didn’t expect you to stay this long in the night.” You say, voice light, like you had already talked before. Like, Sevika wasn’t your boss’s boss, who people usually avoided unless something was going wrong, so she could be the one to break the news to Silco. 

She doesn’t smile, not because she doesn’t want to, but because she doesn’t trust herself. 

“Didn’t expect to stay this late,” she mutters, eyes fixated on her drink, like it was the most interesting sight she had ever seen. “Thought I could finally make my quick escape.” 

You giggle - and fuck, it’s angelic. “Guess I ruined that plan.”

“You have a habit of doin’ that?” The words come out before she can stop them. Too casual. Too easy. 

You arch a brow, “ruining plans?”

“Making it hard to leave.”

She sees how your expression falters, just a flicker, before you giggle again - a curiosity blooming within. This was the first time you were talking to one of the big bosses, and you didn’t expect it to be like this. You weren’t going to complain, though. She swears under her breath and quickly finishes her drink. 

This was a bad idea. You shouldn’t be encouraging this. She shouldn’t be looking at you like this. There are unspoken lines, and she’s made a career out of respecting them - keeping her hands clean even when her knuckles are split open. And yet here you were, with a soft curiosity in your voice, like she’s a puzzle you want to figure out. Like she’s not someone who’s already lived too many lives to count.

“You’ve been with the company for a while, right?” You ask, not realizing your proximity is a problem. Sevika noticed but decides against doing anything about it. This was probably the only time she could be this close to you; she will savour it. 

She’ll relish your lavender perfume, the way your dress was snug, accentuating your waist. Your hair had loose curls just the way she liked. Sevika sees the curve of your smile and the sight of your dimples, making her stomach twist in a way it hasn’t in years.

“Longer than you’ve been drinking,” she says dryly.

You make a face, “Ouch. Was that a dig at me?”

“A warning,” she mutters. “You need to be careful talking to me like this.”

You blink. The teasing fades, confusion creeping in its place. “Like what?”

Sevika exhales slowly, jaw tightening. You’re not doing anything wrong. She knows that, and it’s not like she’s acted on anything. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re looking at her like she’s just some stranger at a bar, and not someone who knows exactly where you sit in the company hierarchy. She knows how good you are with people. How you brought tea to the receptionist when she was sick and found a sincere compliment for everyone you walked passed. You have no idea what you’re doing to her. 

“I’m your boss’s boss,” she plainly states, each word like it’s being dragged from her throat. “It’s… inappropriate.”

You tilt your head, lips pressed together like you’re trying to decipher the true meaning behind her words. Questioning if this was her sense of humour. 

Except, she wasn’t joking. 

She’s trying not to fall.

“Oh.” You responded after a moment. Then, gentler, “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

She knows. Of course you didn’t. You’re just the young, sweet and friendly new hire at work.

“I know,” Sevika acknowledges, looking back down at her glass. “Doesn’t mean I don’t.”

Your brows furrow. She can see the puzzle pieces trying to fit together behind your eyes, but she won’t give you enough to complete the picture. She can’t. It’s not right. 

She’s not right.

Still, you don’t leave. That’s the part that gets her. 

You were supposed to leave. Yet, you stayed and ordered another drink. Sipping it slowly, feet swinging just barely above the ground from your seat. Instead, you talk about a project you were assigned to, about how cold the office gets, so you have to bring an extra cardigan, and about a stupid joke someone made in the elevator today. Sevika simply listens, occasionally grunting in acknowledgement, but not letting herself relax. Not until the end, when your glass is empty and your eyes linger on her a little longer than they should. You slide off the stool and turn to her. “You know,” thinking of your words carefully, “I was going to ask if you wanted to get coffee sometime.”

Sevika looks at you, sharp and still. Her heart clenches. She shouldn’t. 

You smile - not flirty, not even expectant. Just… warmth.

“But maybe I’ll let you ask,” you add. “When it’s appropriate.”

And with that, you walk off and find your colleagues that you were meant to drive home for the night. Only to leave Sevika alone at the bar, heart pounding against ribs that suddenly feel too small. 

Sevika doesn’t sleep that night. She tells herself it’s the whiskey. Maybe she left the bar too late, or something she ate didn’t sit right. But deep down, she knows it’s you. It could only be you. The memory of you - your smile, the way your voice dipped low when you said you’d let her ask, like it was some kind of permission. 

And maybe it was.

She tosses and turns, constantly catching a glimpse of her phone, debating whether or not she should go for it. In the end, she decides against it.

Three days pass. She sees you once, she was stuck in a morning meeting while you were on the other side of the glass, sitting at your desk with headphones in, eyes narrowing at the screen in front of you like the rest of the world didn’t exist. You don’t notice her looking at you. Maybe it was for the best. She’s done many things in life that toe the line, but this? This was where she drew the line. 

Friday hits, and Sevika’s in her office after hours, finalizing details of a new deal. The building was quiet, there was a stillness as the cleaning staff hadn’t even made it to this floor yet. Her phone buzzes. A calendar reminder she never turned off. 

Coffee with HR, 4 pm - cancelled.

And for some reason, that’s what does it.

She picks up her phone, thumb hesitating over your name. You’re saved in her contacts as just your first name - no emoji, no last initial, no indication of what you mean to her beyond professionalism. 

It takes three drafts. Finally, she sends a simple message.

You still up for that coffee?

Not bothering to wait for a reply. She locks her screen and throws her phone down, heart hammering like she just pulled the trigger on something she can’t take back.

The coffee shop is quiet. It was one of those corner places where no one wears a uniform, and all the pastries are homemade and slightly burnt. A place she wouldn’t be caught dead in. You were already there, tucked in a booth near the back, hands wrapped around a mug like you’re holding onto something precious. You spot her before she spots you - but not by much. She sees the smile playing on your lips, soft and surprised, and her chest goes tight. She slowly walks over, not wanting to ruin the moment by rushing. 

“Didn’t think you’d come,” you commented, voice low enough to carry.

“Neither did I,” Sevika admits, sliding into the seat across from you. There was a coffee already there, waiting just for her. You offer her half of your muffin without asking. She declines. You expected that.

There’s silence, but it’s not an awkward one. Just… suspended. Like both of you are waiting for the first move that’ll tip the scales.

“Still inappropriate?” You ask, sipping your coffee. 

“Janna, yes,” Sevika mumbled, rubbing a hand down her face. “You have no idea.”

You raise an eyebrow. “So, what changed?”

She looks at you for a long time. Long enough that it starts to weigh on you. Then, she says, “I got tired of pretending it didn’t matter.” 

You blink, the answer catching you off guard. Not because of what she said, but how it was so Sevika. Blunt. Honest. Gruff and vulnerable in the same breath.

“Does it matter?” You questioned.

She doesn’t answer right away. She leans back in the booth, arms crossed, her jaw tight, not with anger, but restraint.

“It shouldn’t,” she finally says. “But it does.”

You nod, eyes on her like you’re searching for something. “I’m not trying to cause trouble.”

“I know.”

“And I’m not a kid.”

“I know that as well.”

Your voice dips quieter, softer. “So maybe we just… have coffee. No expectations. No titles. Just two people who might like each other.”

Sevika huffs a breath, something between a laugh and surrender.

“Dangerous words, kid.”

“I’m not scared of you, Sev.”

That gets her.

She looks at you. Really looks at you - and it hits her all over again how goddamn doomed she is. Because you’re right here, giving her a chance she knows she doesn’t deserve. 

But she wants it anyway, and she’ll do anything to be worthy of you. 

She lifts her coffee and clinks her mug gently against yours. “One coffee.”

You grin. “One for now.”

And she’s fucked. 

She’s smiling now, too. 

It had now become a routine. Not the kind that dulls over time, but the kind that settles into the bones like warmth after a long winter. It started with a shared elevator ride after work. You would wait by Sevika’s office, leaning against the wall with a knowing smile, and Sevika would pretend she hadn’t been watching the clock all day, would grab her coat with forced indifference. 

Then came the walk through the lobby, shoulders brushing, conversations stitched with quiet laughs. The world outside the office felt muted when you two were together. 

Now it was you in her apartment. Sevika would cook most nights. You always insisted on helping, but she would only let you cut the vegetables and keep her company. You two would eat by the window, legs tangled under the table, with the city lights flickering like background music. Later that night, on the couch, Sevika would read while you’d lie across her lap, playing with the hem of her sleeve. There was always a moment, just one, where Sevika would look down at you, and everything in her chest would clench so tightly it almost hurt. A mix of awe and fear. A feeling she hadn’t let herself want in years.

Half asleep and curled against her, you mumbled, “You look at me like I’m going to disappear.” To you, it was simple teasing, but that summed up what Sevika has always thought. 

Sevika didn’t respond. Just stroked your hair and kissed the top of your head like she was trying to promise something, knowing she wouldn’t be able to keep it. 

It all began to unravel slowly.

Sevika found herself staring a little too long when you would laugh with a co-worker. She started pulling away after kisses. She lingered in the kitchen too long and tried to avoid dinner overall. She had snapped, once, over something small, you were late to dinner. Sevika apologized immediately, but it clung to her like guilt.

She was too old for this. Too jaded. Too experienced in the art of being left. You were still young and bright. Sevika loved that about you, but part of her felt like she smudged all that warmth. 

So, one quiet night in her apartment. The kind of quiet that settled deep, only the soft clinking of ice in your glass and the low hum of a jazz record spinning lazily in the background. You were on her couch, legs tucked under you, reading through one of Sevika’s books. You wore an oversized shirt, which hangs off your shoulder, paired with flared leggings. The sight of you wasn’t anything new, but it was still hard for Sevika to believe that this was her reality now. 

Sevika stood by the kitchen counter, leaning her weight on one arm, a half-finished drink in the other hand. Her hair was down tonight, and the sight of it sent something warm and stupid fluttering in your chest. Neither of you had talked much since dinner. Not out of discomfort, just that easy silence you’d started to fall into more and more. She didn’t fill space unless it needed filling, and you… You were getting good at listening to what she didn’t say.

Then, out of nowhere.

“I think you should stop coming here.” 

You flinched from your spot, not sure if you had heard her right. You looked at her from your seat, and she looked just as startled as you were. That quickly went away and was now replaced with a stoic expression. 

“What are you talking about?” You questioned. 

“This,” Sevika forces a steadiness into her voice. “Whatever this is, it’s not going to last. You should be with someone your age. One day, you’re going to wake up and wonder what the hell you were thinking being with me. I’m not going to wait for that.” That last part came out quieter, almost like she regretted saying it the second it left her mouth. 

“Are we really doing this now?” You raised a brow. 

She turns her gaze to where you were sitting. Tired eyes, scarred skin, that permanent weight she carried even when she wasn’t talking about it.

“You’re twenty-five,” she explained, like that was enough to understand. Like that should be the end of it. You stood, putting your book down on the coffee table, walking toward her slowly. “And you’re what? Walking away from this before I even get the chance to prove you wrong? So, I can end up with some clean-shaven corporate guy who has a dog and doesn’t smoke?”

She flinched. Just slightly. 

Sevika didn’t expect you to fight her on this matter. She underestimated how much you want this. She fights the little voice in her head telling her that she shouldn’t continue.

“I’ve seen how people look at us,” she mutters, turning away from you. “Like I’m dragging you down. Like you’re just… playing house until something better comes along.” 

You step back, “Is that what you think of me? That I would use you?” You tilt your head, trying to catch a glimpse of her. Was this really the same person who held you at night? The woman who made sure you got home safe? The one who would look at you like you were the only thing that mattered because you were.

“Do you think of me so lowly?” 

“I’m protecting both of us.” Sevika bit her lip. She knew she was taking the coward’s way out, but if that’s what it took for you to realize that she’s not the woman you want, then so be it.

“You’re not,” you utter. “You don’t even want to try.” The frustration starts to build up, you run a hand through your hair, not believing what you’re hearing. There was a long pause, raw and aching.

“I’m not worth the fight for you… Am I?”

Sevika wanted to say yes. She wanted nothing more than to declare you’re everything to her. That this could work out between you two. But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

After a moment of processing, a realization that this is the path she wants for you. You gathered your things and left. You didn’t slam the door. There were no tears in your eyes, not yet at least. You simply walked out quietly, you knew that trying to stay would only make it worse. 

Weeks have gone by.

Sevika went home alone. No one sang in the car or made fun of her ‘old people’ music. She cooked for one. Nobody was there to help her with the dishes. She read books that didn’t hold her attention. Not a single soul was there to play with her hair and ask a million questions about her day. The apartment had grown too cold. 

You two would still see each other in the office. You would pass by her, being the cordial and polite person you were, you would smile, but it didn’t meet your eyes. Sevika started avoiding you, purposely leaving early or staying as late as possible because anything was better than seeing you in pain. 

She’d lie awake at night, gripping what was once your side of the bed. She swears it still smells like you. Sometimes she’d reach over, pathetically, like muscle memory hadn’t caught up to heartbreak. 

The worst part was the silence. She missed your laugh because she completely missed the joke you made. The way you tried to speak Hindi, even though your pronunciation wasn’t the greatest, it was the fact that you tried. The way you looked at her like she was something good. 

It was late one night when Sevika broke. 

She stood outside your door, her heart thudding out of her chest like it had something to say before she did. She hesitated; it wasn’t fair that she was crawling back to you for something she broke off. She was a coward. About to turn back, the door swings open, and Sevika looks up to see you. 

You didn’t look surprised to see her. Just tired. 

Tired and lovely, and still hers, in some unspoken way.

Sevika cleared her throat, trying to gain some control of herself. “I was wrong. I got scared and in the end I’m the one that hurt you.”

You said nothing, but instead observed her. You watched the way her breath catches up to her. Her fingers fidgeted on her sides, trying to grab something but falling short. 

“I still think you deserve better than me,” Sevika went on. “But I also know that I’ve never wanted someone this much in my life.”

A pause.

“I miss you,” she whispered.

You studied her for a long moment. Then, with a soft sigh, you step aside and open the door wider. And there it was. The same doe eyes looking at her, the day she gave you directions. The soft smile playing on your lips. 

And this time, Sevika walks in. No fear and not one doubt in her mind.

Just hope.

☆ gf!sevika ‹ who snores loudly. at first, it was hard for you to adjust to this habit of hers but now, you can't go without it! it's like a white noise that allows you to sleep like a baby ›

☆ gf!sevika ‹ who fell deeply in love when she first saw you, back when you were working at the brothel ›

☆ gf!sevika ‹ who, despite her confidence and somewhat snarky attitude, became extremely flustered when you finally admitted you loved her. i swear, the whole world did stop at that moment for her! ›

☆ gf!sevika ‹ who wakes you up with her thigh between your legs, teasing you so seductively that you can't contain your sweet little moans! "c'mon darling, it's time to wake up! I want your moans to be the first thing i hear from you!" ›

☆ gf!sevika ‹ who became the talk of the town after everyone knew how much younger than sevika you were. not that she minds tho, she loves being the expert when it comes to showing you the most pleasurable things in life. ›

☆ gf!sevika ‹ that always expects you to have a lighter in hand, just in case she wants to smoke. she just needs to squeeze your upper thigh and you know it's time to take the lighter out! ›

☆ gf!sevika ‹ who has a biting kink! oh believe me, this woman loves to look at herself in the mirror and see your teeth marks on her skin. it turns her on so fucking much! ›

☆ gf!sevika ‹ who always uses her cape to make an entrance, in the bedroom is no different! this woman will showcase her new strap-ons using her cape for theatrical effects! ›

☆ gf!sevika ‹ who goes feral when you call her "handsome" or "good boy". the last time you did, she made sure your voice was gone from how much she made you scream and moan. "you look so handsome on top of me, baby.", that was all it took! ›

hey, sorry if you're tired of seeing me, but what do you think about reader rejecting Vi multiple times cause Vi is like a fuckgirl and reader doesn't know if Vi is only playing or mocking her, and don't wanna get hurt, but Vi it's totally serious and wants to get reader so bad?

btw, hope you're okay, have a great day, love ya! 🫶🏼

all of the girls you loved before

♡ vi x f!reader

wc: 4k

notes: i love seeing your asks 😭😭 don’t worry !! (sorry for taking so long to make this lol i haven’t been writing this much lately) i love this idea and i LOVED how this turned out, i want a girlfriend so bad now 😔

If you asked any gay girl (or bi, or questioning—basically anyone even remotely attracted to women) about Vi Vanderson, you’d get one of three very specific responses:

1. “She’s the love of my life, but I can’t get her to look my way.”

2. “I hate her and I hope she dies a slow, dramatic, painful death.”

3. “She said she’d call me back and I’ve been waiting for a week. Can you tell her to text me?”

Which, honestly, tells you everything you need to know about her.

Violet Vanderson had that reputation—the kind where she’d either broken your heart, your roommate’s heart, or was currently in the process of doing both. She had an effortless charm, a smirk that could melt steel, and a walk that made heads turn in slow motion. Basically, she was a walking red flag... and yet, somehow, irresistible.

So when she’d throw a wink my way, flash that annoyingly perfect grin, and drop the cheesiest pick-up lines known to mankind—“Your eyes are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, princess”—I didn’t exactly swoon. I simply rolled my eyes.

Because we were friends. And if Vi flirted with strangers for fun, she flirted with me for sport.

“You know, princess,” she said on a typical morning, stealing one of my fries with no shame, “you’re the most gorgeous girl in here. When are you finally going to let me take you on a date?”

I didn’t even look up. “Piss off, Violet. Go flirt with Sarah or something—she’s been staring since you walked in.”

Vi glanced over her shoulder, spotted Sarah practically drooling, then turned back to me with a smug little smirk. “She doesn’t have your charm.”

I snorted. “I’m not on the menu.”

“Maybe,” she said, plucking another fry. “But I’m patient.”

And that was the problem with Vi—she knew exactly how to walk the razor-thin line between teasing and tempting, and she was dangerously good at pretending it didn’t mean anything.

The real question was: when did I start wishing she meant it?

I mean, I wasn’t that stupid... right?

No. There was absolutely no way I was falling for my walking-red-flag-of-a-friend. The same friend who flirted with any girl who so much as breathed in her direction. The one who collected hearts like seashells on a beach and didn’t even pretend to keep track of whose they were.

Of course I wouldn’t be that girl.

I wouldn’t be stupid enough to feel a little flutter in my chest every time she called me princess. Or get all flustered when she teased me just to see me blush. Or mad—irrationally mad—when she smirked like she knew exactly what she was doing.

And she did know.

“You’re gonna wait forever, then,” I said flatly, standing up and grabbing my tray, done with being caught in Sarah’s piercing glare. “I’m not interested. At all.”

I didn’t wait for her response, didn’t risk looking back at her face, because if I did, I knew I’d see that stupid half-smile of hers—the one that said, I know you’re lying.

But as I walked away, I heard her voice ring out across the cafeteria, louder than necessary and way too dramatic.

“Don’t do this to my heart! You know you love me!”──────────────────────

The next time Vi tried to convince me we should go out, I was sitting under my favorite tree on campus during lunch, headphones in, enjoying the rare peace, when her shadow suddenly blocked out the sun like a bad omen.

I didn’t even have to look up. “If you’re here to confess your undying love again, I’m gonna need it in writing. Preferably notarized.”

Vi laughed and dropped down beside me like she belonged there. “Can I at least offer a bribe before the proposal?”

I sighed and took one earbud out. “Depends. Is it food?”

She grinned like she’d just scored a goal. “Better. It’s me. I come with jokes, tattoos and limited emotional availability. Total package.”

I blinked at her. “Wow. I can’t imagine why you’re still single.”

“Me neither,” she said, leaning back on her hands, stretching like she was trying to give the sun a show. “Maybe it’s because the girl I actually like keeps rejecting me in increasingly creative ways.”

I scoffed at that, like she actually liked me. I ignored the way my heart did an actual somersault in my chest.

“Maybe,” I muttered, biting into my sandwich like it could distract me from her eyes on me.

She leaned in just a bit, lowering her voice like we were sharing secrets. “Come on. Just one date. If you don’t have the best time of your life, I swear I’ll never flirt with you again.”

I turned to her slowly, looking her dead in the eyes. “You say that like it’s supposed to scare me.”

Her smirk only deepened. “Because you’d miss me.”

“Oh, yes, I’d really miss being aggressively hit on while I try to eat a sandwich with too much mustard. Huge loss.”

“You pretend to hate it,” she said, nudging her knee against mine. “But you haven’t told me to stop.”

I narrowed my eyes, cheeks warming despite my best efforts. “Maybe I like watching you embarrass yourself.”

Vi raised a brow, eyes glinting with something that made my stomach twist. “Then you must love me by now.”

I scoffed. “Love you? Please. I tolerate you the same way I tolerate cramps and coffee withdrawals.”

She clutched her chest like I’d stabbed her. “Brutal.”

“Good,” I said, wrapping my sandwich back up. “Maybe then you’ll finally take the hint and let me rot in peace.”

“Not a chance, princess,” she said, all confidence and charm, her infuriatingly pretty eyes locked on mine. “I’m in this for the long game.”

And to be honest? I was almost—almost—ready to give in. To say yes, just to see what she thought she’d get out of this.

Maybe she liked the challenge. Maybe it thrilled her to know I was the only girl who hadn’t fallen headfirst into her lap. Maybe the chase was more exciting than the prize.

And that’s what scared me the most.

Because if I said yes—if I let her take me out, let her treat me like I was the only girl in the world for a night—what then?

What if she kissed me, touched me like I was something soft and fragile instead of her sarcastic best friend, and took me back to her room? The same room where she’s taken all the others before me. The same room I’ve heard stories about, or walked past, knowing some random girl was probably still tangled in her sheets.

Would I just be another name on that list?

Would she lose interest the second I stopped being a challenge?

Because once I crossed that line, there was no going back. Our friendship wouldn’t survive it—not intact. And neither would I.

Somewhere along the line, Vi stopped being just my flirty, reckless friend with too many one-night stands and a wink that could burn straight through steel. She became someone I couldn’t afford to lose.

And that made everything so much more complicated.

──────────────────────

After that day by the tree, it felt like something shifted. Like Vi sensed that I was slipping. That maybe—just maybe—I was close to giving in. And if she did notice? Oh, she absolutely took it as a challenge.

Maybe she was doing the same thing she always had, or maybe this time it was different. Maybe I was just different—too tired to keep pretending her attention didn’t affect me.

“Good morning, princess. Looking beautiful as always,” she said with that casual confidence, her grin tugging slightly at the little scar on her upper lip.

And of course, my traitor eyes immediately darted to her mouth. Like clockwork.

It was too early for this. Too early to fight the urge to smile back or roll my eyes or reach out and touch her—God, why did she always look so good first thing in the morning?

I tried to muster a response, something snarky, something that would remind her (and myself) that I wasn’t buying it.

“Do you ever wake up and decide not to flirt with someone?” I muttered, brushing past her with my coffee in hand. “Or is this just a full-time job for you?”

“Only when you’re around,” she shot back, grinning like she’d already won something.

I didn’t respond. Couldn’t, really. Because if I did, my voice might crack under the weight of how badly I wanted to believe she meant it this time.

And she didn’t stop. Not that day, not the next, and definitely not the one after that. If anything, she doubled down.

Every morning came with a new compliment, a pet name, a reason for her to stand too close or brush her hand against mine like it was an accident.

“Nice shirt,” she said one afternoon, leaning over the back of the couch where I was writing one of my essays. “Brings out your eyes. Not that I need a shirt to notice those.”

I didn’t even look up. “You say that like you haven’t recycled that line a hundred times.”

“Maybe I have,” she murmured, her breath warm against the shell of my ear. “But it still makes you blush.”

Damn her.

I slammed my laptop shut and stood, brushing past her. “You are unbelievable, you know that?”

She followed, undeterred. “What can I say? I have a soft spot for beautiful girls who act like they hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” I snapped, stopping short. “I just don’t believe you.”

That made her pause. For the first time in a while, Vi didn’t have a quip ready. She just stood there, lips slightly parted, like she hadn’t expected honesty to sting so much.

“I’m not trying to mess with you, Y/N,” she said after a beat, softer this time. “I know I’ve been… stupid with other people. But you’re not them.”

And that was the most dangerous thing she could’ve said.

Because some part of me wanted to believe her. So badly. But that little voice in the back of my head—the one that remembered every time I saw her kiss someone else at a party, every wink she threw at another girl—it wouldn’t let me forget.

So I laughed. Cold. Dismissive. Defensive.

“Try that line on someone who hasn’t heard your greatest hits, Violet.”

──────────────────────

I tried avoiding Vi for a while. Maybe if I didn’t see her, I’d build up some kind of immunity to her constant flirting. Maybe the distance would help me put my walls back up, stronger than before. Maybe I’d stop slipping.

Desperate times, right? I even went to a party. But of course, the moment I stepped into the frat house, there she was, like fate had planned it just to mess with me.

Drink in hand, hair styled exactly the way I liked it—messy but deliberate—and that stupid black jacket hanging off her shoulders like she owned the night. She was leaning in close to some girl I didn’t recognize, and it took everything in me not to turn around and leave.

She had that look again. The “I’m going to ruin your life, and you’re going to thank me for it” look. Eyes half-lidded, head tilted just enough to seem effortless. I watched as she tucked a strand of hair behind that girl’s ear, smiled like she meant it, and brushed her fingers along her shoulder. Textbook Violet.

And it made my blood boil.

I tried to play it cool. Pretend it didn’t bother me. Pretend I wasn’t two seconds away from marching over there and dragging her out by her smug smirk.

But then she looked at me.

Just one glance—one second—and suddenly it was like her flirty dial cranked up to a thousand. She leaned in even closer to the girl, whispered something, and then—of course—she made her way over to me.

Drink still in hand. Grin still plastered across her face.

I didn’t even wait for her to speak.

“Oh, don’t stop now,” I snapped, arms crossed tight. “She looked like she was really enjoying herself.”

Vi blinked, taken aback. “What?”

I laughed, bitter and sharp. “Don’t play dumb, Vi. She was practically on top of you.”

The smirk twitched back onto her lips, but this time it looked more like a shield than confidence. “Is someone jealous?”

And that did it.

“See?” I snapped, louder than I meant to. “That’s exactly what I mean. You say you want me, that I’m the only girl you’re actually serious about—but the second I’m not around, you’re back to being the stupid version of you. Flirting with anything that breathes. How am I supposed to take you seriously when you act like that?”

Her smile dropped. Just like that. Her jaw clenched, and she stepped closer, something softer flickering behind those impossible blue eyes. “You really think I don’t mean it?”

“I think you don’t know what you mean,” I said, my voice trembling now, though I tried to hold it steady. “And I’m not going to be just another girl you use to pass the time.”

Silence settled between us. The music around us kept playing, but it sounded so far away. For the first time, she didn’t throw back a comeback. She just stood there, those goddamn puppy-dog eyes searching mine, her throat working like she was trying to find the right words.

“I’m not trying to pass the time,” she said quietly, voice low and rough. “I’m trying to get you to believe that I’m in this for you. And yeah, I flirt. That’s how I cope. That’s how I hide. But nothing I’ve ever said to them meant even half as much as what I say to you.”

I wanted to believe her. I really wanted to.

“I want to believe you,” I whispered, looking away. “But your words don’t match your actions, Vi. And I… I don’t want to be just another girl on your bed.”

She took a breath, and for a second, I thought she might say something reckless and heartbreaking. But instead, she just said, “Then tell me what to do to prove it.”

──────────────────────

Then tell me what to do to prove it.

Her voice echoed in my head long after the conversation ended.

And true to her word, Vi didn’t just let it go.

The next day, there was coffee waiting for me at my desk. We had the same 8 a.m. lecture, and as I stepped into the room and made my way to my usual table, I saw it—my exact order, the one I never told anyone because it was way too specific, was waiting for me, my name written in her messy scrawl on the side.

“I’m not flirting,” she said as I eyed the cup suspiciously. “I’m just… paying attention.”

Day two: A sticky note on my computer that said “You looked beautiful yesterday. Just thought someone should tell you”

Day three: the Jane Austen book I’d been dying to read—the one I kept complaining was always checked out from the library—sitting on my living room table. Another sticky note on the cover: “Someone finally returned it! :)”

Every day after that, there was something new. Something soft. Something small. A gesture that felt intentional. Deliberate. Real.

And she wasn’t flirting the way she used to. No more over-the-top pickup lines. No more exaggerated winks. No more “princess” with a grin that dared me to fight her off. Now, when she looked at me, it felt… different. Like she wasn’t trying to seduce me—just see me.

And it was terrifying.

Because on one hand she was being true to her word, she was showing me that she actually—actually!!—wanted me, not just because I was a challenge, but because it was me.

But on the other hand, I couldn’t shake the fear. What if she slipped? What if the next party rolled around and I turned to see her back to whispering in someone else’s ear, smirk in full force, drink in hand?

What if this version of her—soft, steady, real—was only temporary?

Still, with every action, every quiet gesture, it was like she was telling me, “Yes, I’m serious about you.” And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t ignore the growing feeling that giving her a chance was the right thing to do.

Maybe I was going to be the stupid girl who fell for her walking-red-flag-of-a-friend.

──────────────────────

I don’t know what finally broke through my defenses.

Maybe it was the book.

Maybe it was the way she stopped trying to win me over with smirks and pickup lines and started showing up with nothing but sincerity.

Or maybe it was how quiet she’d gone about it all—how she never pointed out the things she did, never asked for credit, never even looked to see if I noticed.

But I did.

God, I noticed.

Every sticky note. Every small gesture. Every look that lingered longer than it should have.

So the next time she handed me a coffee, I didn’t roll my eyes. I didn’t raise a brow or accuse her of flirting.

I just took it.

“Thanks,” I said, soft and a little unsure, brushing my fingers against hers for maybe a second too long. “You remembered the oat milk this time.”

“You’re welcome,” she said slowly, carefully, like she didn’t want to scare me off by saying too much.

I held her gaze a moment longer than I usually would. Then I glanced down at the cup, smiling faintly when I saw our names written side by side in her handwriting, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I swallowed, heart in my throat. “I was thinking…” I said, trying to keep my tone light even though my palms were sweating, “if you’re not busy Friday night, maybe we could… grab dinner or something?”

Vi blinked. Once. Twice.

Then her whole face lit up like I’d just handed her the moon.

“You’re asking me out?” she said, grinning so wide it was nearly blinding. “Is this a trap? Are cameras gonna pop out?”

I laughed, embarrassed, but I didn’t take it back. I couldn’t. “Don’t push it, Violet.”

She leaned in, her voice softer than I’d ever heard it. “I won’t. I swear. Just tell me where to be… and I’ll be there.”

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Friday night came faster than I expected, and the moment I saw her standing outside the restaurant, every ounce of my carefully built composure cracked.

She wasn’t in her usual leather jacket and cocky smile. Instead, she wore a crisp white shirt, tucked into her loose black jeans. Her hair was still slightly messy, and she kept spinning the rings on her fingers like she was nervous. Vi. Nervous. That alone nearly made me trip over my own feet.

“You showed,” she said, looking me up and down slowly.

I walked up to her, trying not to look like I’d been holding my breath the entire ride there.

A soft smile tugged at her lips. “You look… incredible.”

“And you’re still a flirt,” I replied, brushing past her with a smirk, my cheeks flushing. “But thanks.”

She chuckled and held the door open for me, just a little shy this time—like she was still half-expecting me to change my mind.

Dinner started awkwardly. We both fumbled over the menu, over small talk, over who was going to order the wine. It felt like trying on new clothes—familiar pieces in an unfamiliar context.

But somewhere between the second glass of wine and a story she told about her and Jinx sneaking onto a rooftop to watch fireworks, things started to ease. I was laughing—really laughing. And Vi… she just looked at me like I’d hung the stars.

“You know,” I said, taking another sip of wine, “I thought I had you all figured out.”

“Yeah?” She raised an eyebrow. “What did you think?”

“That you were just in it for the challenge. Trying to get into my pants because I didn’t immediately fall at your feet. And that once you got what you wanted, you wouldn’t even look my way again.”

She huffed a short laugh. “And now?”

“Now… I feel like you’re being genuine. I don’t know. You keep surprising me.” I paused. “And I like it.”

She reached across the table, slow and careful, her fingers brushing mine.

“And I hope I keep surprising you,” she whispered. “As long as you let me.”

I let my hand turn, let our fingers tangle—just a little.

Maybe I was still scared. Maybe I still didn’t have all the answers.

But in that moment—with her looking at me like I was something rare—I wasn’t turning away.

We ended up walking after dinner, neither of us ready to call it a night. The city buzzed softly around us—the way it always did after 10 p.m.—still alive, but quieter. Calmer. Like it was winding down, holding its breath along with us. We wandered toward the park, the air cool and just a little crisp, carrying that quiet kind of magic only late nights could.

“Okay,” Vi said, nudging me gently with her elbow. “Be honest. Dinner wasn’t a complete disaster, right?”

I smirked. “I mean, you didn’t make me mad, and you didn’t flirt with the waitress—huge progress.”

She laughed, the sound echoing lightly in the open air. “So I get points for not being a menace?”

“You get points for trying,” I replied, casting a glance at her from the corner of my eye. “And maybe for making me laugh.”

Her smile softened at that. We walked in silence for a bit, but it wasn’t awkward—just… easy. Comfortable. Somewhere along the path, we passed a little ice cream stand still open, and Vi tugged me gently to a stop.

“Ice cream?” she asked, her eyes practically sparkling. “My treat.”

I raised an eyebrow. “If this is your secret strategy to win me over, it’s dangerously effective.”

“Not a strategy,” she said with a grin, already pulling out her wallet. “Just craving something sweet.”

The old woman behind the counter gave Vi a knowing smile after handing us our cones. As Vi turned back toward me, I caught the faint pink on her cheeks.

We found a bench near the edge of the lake and sat, ice cream in hand—mine was mint chocolate chip, hers something absurdly fruity. The streetlights cast everything in a soft golden glow, and a breeze rustled the trees overhead. In the distance, someone strummed a guitar lazily. It felt like a scene from a movie I hadn’t realized I was starring in.

“You’ve got a little…” Vi gestured vaguely toward my face.

I blinked. “What?”

“Here,” she said, and before I could react, she leaned in. Her fingers brushed my cheek, her thumb warm as it wiped a smudge of green ice cream from the corner of my mouth.

It was such a small touch. But it stopped everything.

She didn’t pull away right away. Her eyes flicked to my lips—slowly, carefully—and then met mine. The air between us shifted, suddenly charged. My breath caught in my throat. Everything about her—her nearness, the way her hand lingered just a second too long, the way she looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered—made the world go still.

I could’ve pulled back.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I leaned in, just slightly, testing the waters. Vi mirrored the movement instantly—like we’d both been waiting for this and didn’t want to move too fast and break it.

Her lips brushed against mine—soft, unsure, hesitant. When I didn’t move away, she kissed me deeper. Gentler. Like she wanted to memorize it, savor every second.

And I kissed her back.

It wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t rushed. It was slow and careful, like she was trying to say everything she hadn’t been able to in words.

When we finally pulled apart, both of us breathless, her forehead rested lightly against mine. Her hand still hovered near my cheek.

“Still not flirting,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering shut.

I laughed quietly. “Liar.”

But I didn’t let go.

And neither did she.

──────────────────────

masterlist

I keep seeing Sevika with glasses

So here this

• Denial Is a River in Zaun, Sevika is 1000% convinced her eyes are fine. “I don’t need glasses, you’re just blurry,” she says while squinting directly at your forehead instead of your eyes.

• Hot Girl Nearsightedness, She tries to play it off like she’s intimidating when she’s really just trying to figure out if she’s glaring at Silco or a lamp. You once caught her threatening a coat rack.

• You teasingly call her “Granny Vika” every time she squints or holds something at arm’s length. She grumbles and grabs your ass in retaliation. “Still strong enough to put you over my knee, sweetheart.”

• She Hates the Exam, You finally drag her to an eye exam. She tries to flirt her way out of it. until you sit in her lap and whisper, “If you behave, I’ll let you keep them on while you wreck me later.”

• First Time With Glasses, She puts them on and blinks a few times. “Shit… is that what you look like?” now she won’t stop staring at you like you’re the Mona Lisa with thighs.

• She only wears them around the house, mostly shirtless, reading a book while lounging on the couch. “Ma’am… you can’t just look like someone’s sexy literature professor and expect me to focus.” You tell her. She adjusts glasses slowly “Then don’t.”

• You once walked in on her wearing her glasses, hair messy, tank top half-riding up, reading and you just melted.

• Glasses Stay On, First time you kissed her while she was wearing them, you fogged them up so bad she had to take them off. Now she keeps lens wipes by the bed. She calls it “battle prep.”

• Ultimate Weakness, You grab her glasses and wear nothing else. She stops whatever she’s doing—mid-sentence, mid-sip, mid-growl—and just stares. “…Goddamn. Come here. I can’t even be mad.”