A Make Out Drink With This Ladies Would Heal Me!!!🙇‍♀️✂️

A make out drink with this ladies would heal me!!!🙇‍♀️✂️

lamb to the slaughter.

ghost. part ii ┃ sevika x reader WC: 4.4K

ⓘ: wrote n proofread while crossed. chop shit fr. will reread when sober n correct errors if needed. ⚠︎: kissing, alcohol consumption, mild misogyny, blood, psychological horror/thriller elements

As you enter the elevator, the world outside seems to blur; your polished fingernail quivers while pressing the button for floor thirteen. The brass numbers shine brightly beneath the harsh fluorescent lights, and in the mirrored doors, you glimpse your reflection—pale, weary, haunted.

Your mind is a mess, running a million miles a minute as it replays the previous night. The pounding in your skull is relentless, a hangover blooming behind your eyes. You rub your temple, trying to will away the ache, the scent of stale perfume and coffee clinging to your skin.

Just as the doors begin to close, an arm darts through the narrowing gap. You flinch, causing one of the coffees in your tray to slosh over, scalding your wrist. You wince, looking up—straight into Sevika’s steely gaze. Your breath catches, the air between you charged.

She doesn’t say a word, just steps in beside you. The elevator hums upward, the tinny jingle and mechanical whirring filling the silence. You risk a glance at her—she’s staring straight ahead, jaw set, eyes shadowed. You look away, heart hammering.

The elevator shudders to a stop. Sevika slips out, brushing past you and Matt. Her stride is purposeful, and her presence leaves a chill in her wake.

A cackle leaves his lips, snapping you back to the present moment. “Damn, Sevika, you ain’t got no sleep last night, eh?” His tone is crude, the words hanging in the air like smoke.

He turns his attention to you, lips curling in a smirk. “Jesus, little miss. You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“W-what…?” you stammer, eyes fixed on the door Sevika just disappeared through.

He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he snatches a cup from your tray.“Damn woman, can’t handle yer liquor.” He steps into the elevator, leaving you in the hallway, the scent of burnt coffee and cologne lingering.

You move on autopilot, feet carrying you to the office. The familiar clatter of typewriters and the low drone of voices fill your ears, the normalcy of it all jarring against the chaos inside your head.

Your gaze finds Sevika instantly. She looks… different. Her hair, usually pulled back with military precision, hangs loose around her face. Dark circles bruise the skin beneath her eyes, her posture tense, almost harrowing. She’s the picture of exhaustion, of something unraveling.

Though your head snaps in the opposite direction, the second her eyes meet yours, your heart rate increases. You can almost feel her gaze piercing through you like a blade.

‘Get Out’

Sevikas previous words linger in the air, sending a biting chill down your spine.

She was usually so meticulously eloquent. Every word uttered seemed to be carefully thought out, practised, and planned. To see that crumbling down within the blink of an eye was beyond disconcerting.

You force your mind to redirect, focusing on the mundane. Allowing the soft hiss from the coffee machine, measured typing of keys, and hum of fluorescent lights to steady your racing heart. Anything to drown out the memory gnawing at the edges of your mind.

Last night had to have been a trick, too much alcohol, not enough sleep. People dont change…not like that. Not Sevika.

You catch yourself glancing at her once again, searching for any sign of the monster you thought you saw last night. But she just looks tired. Human. Vulnerable, even.

Maybe you imagined it, maybe you saw something that wasn't there. It had to be a hallucination, a nightmare. It had to be.

Then you remember the way her voice cut through the air, sharp and cutting. The glint in her eyes-wild, ravenous. No. That’s impossible. There’s no such thing as…

You shake your head, pressing a clammy palm to your forehead, trying to force the memory away.

Get it together. You think as you throw yourself into work, determined to free your brain from the tormenting recollection of the night prior.

The flashing green numbers from the Quotron terminal begin to jumble on the screen, only worsening your headache. You decide to take a break, heading to the break room.

You almost stop in your tracks when you see Sevika’s figure looming over the counter, her head hung low. A soft gulp breaks the silence, her head snapping up to you, eyes softening ever so slightly.

"Sev..." you start, voice hesitant, unsure how to put your thoughts into words.

She sighs, turning to lean against the counter, crossing her arms. "Doll, I-"

Stomping footsteps echo from behind you. Sevika’s gaze diverts to Chris, who looks pale and frantic.

"Sevika—fuck—everyone’s selling..." His tone is panicked, voice cracking.

Sevika curses under her breath. "Fuckin’ market’s crashing," she mutters, her focus darting between you and Chris.

Your eyes widen, apprehension setting in. "..What do we do?" you ask, voice small.

Chris is already wringing his hands, glancing at the clock. "Clients are calling-some are demanding we sell everything; others are freaking out about margin calls-"

Sevika’s response is eerily calm, her tone shifting into something practiced and commanding, like she’s done this a hundred times. "Chris, you know the drill. No panic selling. Remind clients of their long-term plans. If they have cash, look for bargains—selectively. The worst thing we can do is dump everything at the bottom."

He nods, bolting back to his desk. The office buzz has shifted—phones ring off the hook, voices are raised, and the air is thick with anxiety. Coworkers cluster in tense knots, faces drawn, eyes glued to tumbling numbers on their screens.

Sevika’s eyes meet yours again, her composure returning even as exhaustion shadows her face.

"Remember what we discussed about market crashes, doll. Stay calm, don’t let anyone deviate from their financial plan. The market always rebounds—maybe not tomorrow, but it will. Trust me."

You nod, letting her words anchor you as you settle in at your desk. The calls are relentless, clients desperate for reassurance, some on the verge of panic. You repeat Sevika’s advice: stay on course, don’t make decisions out of fear, focus on the long-term. The chaos inside your head mirrors the chaos outside, but you cling to the routine, to Sevika’s steadiness.

Even so, you notice Sevika snapping at a junior analyst, her hands moving so fast they blur, her nerves frayed beneath the surface calm.

The atmosphere grows increasingly distressing as the day wears on. Shouts fill the bustling office, and the clacking of keyboards becomes frenzied. The flashy green numbers change so quickly that you can barely read them.

You struggle to push away your own panic as percentage drops reach double digits, your hand moving on autopilot as it reaches to dial a client.

This call is like the others— the client stammers out various concerns about his portfolio, his voice rising in frustration as you exhaust his options.

The man seethes, hurling insults into the mouthpiece before a rough click echoes through the phone. You wince, the pain behind your eyes seeming to spread through every corner of your body. A deep sigh escapes your lips as you set your phone down and run a hand through your hair.

The chaos in the office is relentless. Phones ringing, numbers tumbling, voices raised in panic. You glance up, eyes searching for Sevika. She’s in the center of the storm, sleeves rolled up, barking orders with a clipped authority.

You approach her, hesitating at the edge of her desk, clutching a stack of client reports. “Sevika—”

She doesn’t spare you a glance. “Not now, doll. Handle your calls. We’ll talk later.” Her tone is brisk, almost cold.

Swallowing your disappointment, you retreat, dialing another anxious client. As usual, the man’s voice blares in your ear, frantic and accusatory., “You see what’s happening out there? I’m losing my shit! Why aren’t you selling?” You do your best to reassure him, parroting Sevika’s advice about riding out the storm, but your words feel thin, artificial. When he hangs up—hard—you realize your hands are shaking.

Sevika’s voice slices through the din, booming across the room. “Keep calm! Don’t let clients dump everything. Remind them of their long-term plans!” Her gaze sweeps the floor, sharp and commanding, but when it lands on you, it softens for a heartbeat, and she gives you a small, almost imperceptible nod of approval before her attention snaps to a junior analyst hovering at her side.

He stammers something about investment calls, clutching a fistful of slips, and Sevika’s patience cracks. “Figure it out and get the hell out of my face,” she snarls, voice like a whip. Almost instantly, she reaches up to brush sweat from her brow, her shoulders slumping, exhaustion plain in the way she leans against her desk. The analyst scurries away, eager to escape the heat of her glare.

Chris paces behind you, letting out a huff at the sight in front of him. “Never seen Sevika this rattled. She’s usually ice.”

You survey her expression, heartstrings clenching at the dreary look on her face. She’s visibly lost in thought, eyes distant as she stares at the wall.

Last night must have affected her, you think, lips down, turning into a small frown.

Her eyes meet yours, expression hardening immediately as she notices the stares from you and Chris. Causing you to avert your eyes down to your trembling hands.

Waiting for your nerves to steady, the next caller lights up your phone. You’re about to answer when you feel a cool hand brush against your blouse.

Sevika’s voice, lower now, cuts through the chaos. “Doll, take a breath. You’re no good to anyone if you crack up.” It’s barely more than a murmur, meant for you alone, and for a moment, the noise fades.

You nod, swallowing hard as you force yourself to focus. Another client, another round of panic. She gives your waist a comforting squeeze before pulling away, her touch lingering longer than necessary.

Hours pass and the final bell rings through the cavernous trading floor, cutting sharply through the lingering noise. Phones went silent and the frantic buzz of voices faded into a low murmur. The glowing green on the Quotron terminals slowed their frantic dance, setting into a steady, muted glow.

You let out a long breath, feeling the tight knot in your shoulders loosen just a bit. Around you, traders rubbed their tired eyes and stretched still limbs, exchanging exhausted glances. The air, heavy with the scent of stale coffee and sweat, felt less oppressive, more resigned.

Sevika stood near the window, her silhouette framed by the fading dusk. Her tie was loosened, sleeves rolled up, but her posture remained rigid, her gaze sharp as she surveyed the city below.

You approached cautiously, unsure if she wanted company. “We made it through,” you said quietly.

She didn’t turn immediately, then finally glanced your way with a brief, almost dismissive nod. “Barely,” she replied, voice clipped. Then, softer, almost reluctant: “Not pretty, but it’s over.”

You swallowed, sensing the wall she’d put up. “It felt endless today.”

She shrugged, eyes flickering away. “Markets don’t care about how we feel. They just keep moving.” Then, catching your gaze, she added, “You held up better than I expected.”

A flicker of warmth, quickly masked by her usual guarded expression.

“I tried…” You reply, trying to gauge her expression.

Sevika exhales, the tension in the air almost palpable.

“You did good today, doll. I’m… sorry I was so short with you,” she says quietly, her gaze dropping to the floor.

You nod, voice hesitant. “It’s alright, Sev… I just…” Your words falter as you glance around at the other traders gathering their things, the day winding down. “…Can we talk about last night?” The question barely escapes your lips, little more than a whisper.

Her jaw tightens, shoulders stiffening. “Doll-” Her tone is sharper than you expect, as if she’s chastising you for even mentioning it.

You cut in, desperate. “Please…”

She sighs again, resignation flickering in her eyes. “Go grab your stuff. I’ll drive you home.”

Relief and apprehension twist together in your chest as you pack up, hands trembling. She’s willing to talk, but the uncertainty gnaws at you.

The walk to her car is thick with silence, awkward and strained-so unlike the easy camaraderie you’re used to. The drive is worse; Sevika keeps her eyes on the road, her posture rigid, tension radiating off her in waves. You stare out the window, heart pounding, wishing you could read her mind.

When she finally parks, you both head upstairs in silence. She trails behind you, hands shoved deep in her pockets, every step heavy with unspoken words.

You unlock your apartment, flicking on the lights. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. She’s just here to talk, you tell yourself, but the attempted mantra does little to slow your racing pulse.

Sevika steps inside, glancing around as if she’s never been here before. Her presence feels strange, unfamiliar. You hate it.

“Want a drink…?” you offer, fidgeting with your hands.

She looks at you, unreadable, eyes searching your face for something you can’t name.

“Sure.”

“Please, sit down.” You gesture stiffly toward the couch, wincing at how formal the words sound as they fall from your lips.

She sits, sinking into the cushions, her posture guarded.

You turn toward the kitchen, but freeze. Down the hall, your reflection stares back at you from the mirror–alone. Sevika should be visible in the glass, shouldn’t she? You glance back at her, still seated, close enough to be seen. Your stomach knots.

No, you’re imagining things. That’s impossible. Sevika isn’t a… No. You won’t let your mind go there.

You move to the kitchen, feeling detached, as if you’re watching yourself from a distance. Your eyes flick to Sevika, half-expecting her to vanish, half-afraid she’ll move.

Your hand shakes as you pour her a glass of scotch–her favorite. Nearly spilling the malt liquid as you cross the room; nerves fraying.

You sit beside her, careful to leave a considerable amount of space. Her gaze lingers, intense, as if she can sense every tremor of your anxiety.

“Relax, doll.” Her voice is gentler now, a command softened by concern. She takes a sip, sets the glass down. You mimic her, letting the whiskey burn some of the fear away.

She leans back, eyelid’s hooded, the air between you thick with anticipation. She’s waiting–for you to bring it up, to ask.

You fold your hands in your lap, voice barely steady. “What happened last night, Sev?”

Sevika’s eyes flicker away, her jaw working as she searches for words. For a moment, you think she might shut down again, but then she sighs, running a hand through her hair.

“It’s… complicated,” she says, voice low, almost gravelly. “What you saw-” She stops, glancing at you, as if gauging how much you already know, or how much you can handle.

You grip your glass tighter, knuckles whitening. “I need to know, Sev. I need to hear it from you. I can’t keep pretending nothing happened.”

She leans forward, elbows on her knees, head bowed. The Sevika you know–the unshakable, commanding presence seems smaller now, weighed down by something you can’t name.

“I never wanted you to get dragged into this,” she murmurs, barely audible. “You weren’t supposed to see. Any of it.”

You swallow, heart thudding in your chest. “But I did. And I can’t unsee it.”

Her gaze snaps to yours, sharp and searching, as if she’s looking for any sign of fear or revulsion. “You’re scared of me.” It’s not a question.

You hesitate, then nod, honesty trembling in your voice. “A little. But I’m more scared of not knowing the truth.”

She lets out a shaky breath, her posture softening. “You always were stubborn,” she says, a ghost of a smile flickering across her lips before fading.

You manage a weak laugh, the tension in the room thick as fog.

Sevika’s eyes darken, her voice dropping to a whisper. “What I am… it’s not something I chose. It’s not something I’m proud of. But I’ve kept it hidden for a reason. For your safety. For mine.”

You lean in, searching her face for any trace of the monster you glimpsed–or thought you glimpsed-the night before. All you see is exhaustion, regret, and something achingly human.

“Are you going to hurt me?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

She shakes her head, fierce and immediate. “Never. I’d sooner hurt myself.”

A heavy silence settles between you, broken only by the distant city sounds filtering through the window.

You look down at your hands, then back at her. “So… what now?”

Sevika leans back, her expression unreadable. “That’s up to you, doll. You want answers, I’ll give them. But once you know, there’s no going back.”

You nod, resolve settling in your chest. “Tell me. I want to understand.”

For the first time all night, Sevika looks almost relieved. She picks up her glass, takes a long sip.

The silence between you stretches, taut and uneasy. Sevika’s gaze drifts to the window, the city lights glinting in her eyes. She doesn’t speak right away; when she does, her voice is barely above a whisper.

“There are things about me I can’t explain–not really,” she begins, words measured, careful. “Things I’ve carried for a long time. It’s not something you’d read about in a paper, or see in a movie. It’s… older than that. Heavier.”

You wait, pulse thrumming in your ears. “Sevika, I saw–” She cuts you off, a flash of something like fear in her eyes. “You saw more than you were meant to. I’m sorry for that.” She rubs her hands together, restless. “I try to keep it contained. Most days, I manage.”

You swallow, the air thick with questions. “Contained? What do you mean?”

She smiles, but it's a brittle mask that doesn’t quite fit. “Let’s just say I have… needs. Hungers. Not the kind you can fix with ordinary food or drink.” Her gaze flicks to you, searching, almost pleading for you to understand without asking more.

Your mind races, piecing together memories—the missing reflection, the way she moved in the dark, the chill in the air. “You’re a-” She shakes her head, almost violently. “Don’t say it. Names have weight. I’m still me, doll. I’m still the person you know. Just… with shadows you haven’t seen before.”

You notice her hands clenching, the tension in her jaw. She’s holding something back, something sharp and dangerous.

“Are you safe?” you ask, voice trembling.

Her answer is slow, deliberate. “I’m careful. I have to be. I don’t want to hurt anyone—not you, especially.” She looks away, voice thinning. “That’s why I keep my distance. Why I don’t let people get close.”

A silence settles, heavy with all the things she isn’t saying. You realize she’s given you just enough to keep you close, but not enough to set you free from wondering.

She finally meets your eyes, haunted and resolute. “I can’t give you more than that. Not tonight.”

You frown, desperate for answers, but before you can form another question, she cuts you off.

“That’s enough, doll.” Her voice is gentle, but there’s a finality to it that makes your chest tighten.

“Sev, please…” You reach for her hand, fingers curling around hers, clinging to the connection. “Don’t shut me out. I know what I saw-”

“I know you know,” she murmurs, her tone softening for a heartbeat. She slips her hand from yours and stands up, the distance between you suddenly vast.

Panic claws at your insides. She’s going to leave. You can feel it–a cold certainty. Something inside you begs you not to let her go.

“How do you feed?” The words tumble out, raw and intrusive, slicing through the heavy air. Sevika freezes, already halfway to the door. She turns, her expression unreadable, eyes shadowed.

She doesn’t speak at first, doesn’t move. The silence throbs.

“…How–?”

“Sheep’s blood,” she says at last, voice strained. “I… I use ferrous sulfate to mimic the taste of…” She trails off, but you know what she means. The truth hangs between you, sharp and metallic.

You nod, heart pounding. “Is it… hard to get?”

A bitter glint flickers across her lips. “Yeah. It is. But I can go months without it if I have to. Last night, I just… I hadn’t fed in a while.” Her words are brittle, shame threaded through every syllable.

You sit with this, the silence prickling your skin. Then, before you can stop yourself, you blurt out the thought that’s been lurking in the back of your mind.

“Why don’t you just… feed on me? If it’s easier.”

The room seems to contract, the air thickening until it’s hard to breathe. Sevika stands utterly still, her eyes darkening, something dangerous flickering in their depths.

“No.” Her voice is low, almost a growl.

“But–”

“No.” She takes a step closer, her presence suddenly overwhelming. “You have no idea what you’re offering. You can’t possibly understand what that would mean.” Her words vibrate with something wild, barely leashed.

You swallow, pulse racing, the reality of what you’ve suggested settling over you like a cloak. Sevika’s gaze is fierce, protective, and for the first time, you glimpse the full weight of what she’s been holding back—not just hunger, but fear. Fear for you.

You barely have time to draw a breath before Sevika is on you, her strength startling, pinning you against the arm of the couch. The world narrows to the press of her body and the wild, ravenous look in her eyes–a hunger that both terrifies and mesmerizes you.

Instinct screams at you to shrink away, but instead, you tilt your head, fingers trembling as you sweep your hair aside, baring your throat. You squeeze your eyes shut, heart pounding so hard you think it might burst.

You feel her breath hitch, a low, guttural sound escaping her. She leans in, her lips ghosting over your skin, and you shudder as her tongue flicks out, tracing a slow, deliberate line from your collarbone up the column of your neck. The contact is electric, sending a jolt through your nerves.

She sighs–a sound that’s almost a growl, inhuman, primal. Her mouth finds your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your pulse, her grip tightening at your waist. Her other hand is gentle, brushing your hair further aside, her touch almost reverent.

“I apologize for any… discomfort,” she murmurs, voice rough, vibrating against your skin. She presses one last kiss to your throat, and then you feel the sharp, decisive puncture as her fangs sink in.

A strangled gasp tears from your lips. Pain–sharp and blinding–blooms through you. But then the sensation shifts, ache melting into something strange and exquisite; a rush of euphoria that leaves you dizzy, weightless. Every nerve alight, every sense sharpened, the world dissolving into the heat of her mouth and the pounding of your heart.

You clutch at her shoulders, breath coming out in short, desperate bursts as she feeds. The room spins, your awareness narrowing to the rhythm of her drinking and the press of her body. The impossible intimacy of the moment terrifying, exhilarating, and utterly consuming.

When Sevika finally pulls away, you’re left gasping, your head spinning with a dizzying cocktail of exhaustion and something dangerously close to bliss. The world feels muffled, as if you’re underwater. Sevika’s face hovers above yours. Her lips stained, eyes wild and haunted.

Her chest rising and falling in ragged waves. For a moment, neither of you moves. Her hand lingers at your waist, steadying you, but her gaze is distant, as if she’s already retreating somewhere unreachable.

You reach up, fingertips brushing her cheek, searching for reassurance, for some sign that you haven’t just crossed an invisible, irreversible line. But Sevika flinches away, guilt and shame flickering across her features. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, eyes squeezed shut.

“I shouldn’t have…” she whispers, voice raw. “I lost control. I’m sorry, doll. I’m so damn sorry.”

You try to speak, but your tongue feels thick, your body heavy and boneless. There’s a strange warmth blooming in your chest, a sense of connection that’s both comforting and terrifying. You can still feel the echo of her hunger inside you, the memory of her mouth at your throat.

“It’s okay,” you manage, though you’re not sure if you believe it. “I offered. I wanted to help.”

She shakes her head, jaw clenched. “You don’t understand. It’s not supposed to be like this. I’m not supposed to want–” She cuts herself off, standing abruptly. The loss of her touch is jarring, cold.

You watch her pace the room, running a trembling hand through her hair. The apartment feels cavernous, the silence between you thick and suffocating.

“Are you… are you alright?” you ask, voice small.

She stops, back to you. “I’ll be fine. You need to rest. Drink some water. If you feel dizzy, lie down.” Her tone is clipped, reverting to the Sevika you know from the office. Distant, controlled, untouchable.

You nod, but a lump forms in your throat. You want to reach for her, to bridge the gulf that’s opened between you, but your limbs are leaden, your mind foggy. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to look at her the same way again–if she’ll let you.

Sevika lingers in the doorway, silhouetted by the hall light. For a moment, you think she might say something more, offer comfort or explanation. But she just stands there, shadowed and uncertain.

“I’ll check on you tomorrow,” she says at last, voice barely audible. Then she slips out, the door clicking shut behind her.

You’re left alone in the quiet, the taste of copper still lingering on your tongue, your pulse fluttering like a trapped bird. The night presses in, thick with questions and fear and something you dare not name.

You close your eyes, replaying every moment, every touch, every word. The world feels irrevocably changed, the boundaries between fear and desire, trust and danger, blurred beyond recognition.

You wonder if you’ve saved Sevika from her hunger, or if you’ve only fed something far more complicated and dangerous.

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 @rosebg @thehoneybeestings @sunflowerwinds @dyketoast @dvrkhcld @blasphemous-riot comment to be added to taglist for the final part :)

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blasphemous-riot

2 months ago

𝑊ℎ𝑖𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐺𝑖𝑙𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝐻𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑠

Ambessa Medarda x Bimbo Reader

Trigger warnings: Sexual Tension, Gossip, Age Gap, Power Imbalance, Parental Conflict.

❀˖° The grand halls of Piltover were alive with the hum of gossip, the clinking of fine crystal, and the soft rustle of silk gowns. The city of progress never slept, and neither did its rumors. Among the elite, whispers spread like wildfire, and tonight, they burned hotter than ever. The subject of their fascination? You.

You, the darling of Piltover’s high society, with your perfectly coiffed hair, your glittering jewels, and your penchant for all things pink and pretty. You were the epitome of a spoiled, girly bimbo—a title you wore with pride. But lately, the whispers had taken a darker turn. They spoke of your late-night escapades, your whispered conversations, and the woman who had captured your attention: Ambessa Medarda.

Ambessa, the fierce and formidable matriarch of the Medarda clan, was a force to be reckoned with. Her presence commanded respect, her voice carried the weight of authority, and her gaze could cut through steel. She was everything you weren’t—strong, stoic, and unyielding. And yet, there was something about her that drew you in like a moth to a flame.

The rumors had started innocently enough. A chance meeting at a gala, a shared dance, a lingering glance. But as the weeks passed, the whispers grew louder. They spoke of stolen moments in shadowed corners, of secret rendezvous in Ambessa’s private chambers, of the way your eyes lit up whenever she entered a room. And then, the most damning rumor of all: the age gap.

Ambessa was older, much older, and the scandalous nature of your relationship had set Piltover’s elite ablaze with gossip. But you didn’t care. You were young, beautiful, and in love—or at least, in lust. And bessa? She was everything you wanted and more.

Your father, a prominent figure in Piltover’s council, had heard the rumors. He had tried to warn you, to pull you away from the dangerous allure of Ambessa Medarda. But you had laughed him off, dismissing his concerns with a wave of your perfectly manicured hand.

“She’s just a friend, Daddy,” you had said, your voice dripping with innocence. “You’re being silly.”

But your father wasn’t silly. He was worried. And when the whispers reached his ears, he knew he had to act. He confronted you one evening, his voice stern and his eyes filled with concern.

“Do you know what they’re saying about you?” he asked, his tone sharp. “About her?”

You rolled your eyes, pouting as you adjusted the strap of your pink silk dress. “People talk, Daddy. It’s what they do.”

“This isn’t just talk,” he insisted. “Ambessa Medarda is dangerous. She’s not someone you should be involved with.”

You sighed, exasperated. “Daddy, you don’t understand. She’s amazing. She’s strong, she’s powerful, she’s—”

“She’s using you,” he interrupted, his voice rising. “Can’t you see that? She’s playing with you, and when she’s done, she’ll toss you aside like yesterday’s news.”

You crossed your arms, your bottom lip trembling. “You don’t know her like I do.”

“I know enough,” he said, his voice softening. “Please, sweetheart. Stay away from her. For your own good.”

❀˖° But you didn’t listen. That night, you slipped out of the house, your heart racing with excitement as you made your way to Ambessa’s estate. The guards let you in without question, and soon you were standing in her private chambers, the air thick with tension.

Bessa was waiting for you, her tall frame silhouetted against the flickering firelight. She turned as you entered, her dark eyes scanning you from head to toe.

“You came,” she said, her voice low and husky.

“Of course I did,” you replied, your voice breathless. “I couldn’t stay away.”

She stepped closer, her presence overwhelming. “Your father tried to warn you, didn’t he?”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “He doesn’t understand.”

“No,” she agreed, her lips curling into a smirk. “He doesn’t.”

And then she kissed you, her lips claiming yours with a hunger that left you weak in the knees. The world melted away, and all that mattered was the feel of her hands on your skin, the taste of her on your tongue, the heat of her body pressed against yours.

The morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. You stirred, your body still humming with the memory of the night before. Ambessa was beside you, her strong arm draped over your waist, her breathing slow and steady.

You smiled, snuggling closer to her. This was where you belonged, in her arms, safe and loved. But as you reached for your favorite pink necklace, the one your father had given you for your last birthday, you felt a pang of sadness. It wasn’t there.

Ambessa noticed your frown, her sharp eyes missing nothing. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice rough with sleep.

“It’s nothing,” you said, forcing a smile. “Just… my necklace. I must have left it at home.”

But Ambessa wasn’t fooled. She sat up, her gaze piercing. “Tell me.”

You hesitated, your fingers playing with the edge of the silk sheet. “It’s just… my father. He’s been saying things. About us.”

Ambessa’s expression darkened. “What things?”

“That you’re using me,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “That you’ll hurt me. And… there are rumors. About our age gap. People are talking.”

❀˖° Ambessa’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she reached out, her calloused fingers brushing against your cheek. “Do you believe them?”

“No,” you said quickly, your eyes filling with tears. “But… it’s hard. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” she said firmly. “I don’t care what anyone says. You’re mine, and I’m not letting you go.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, and you leaned into her touch. “I love you,” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Ambessa’s eyes softened, and for a moment, she looked almost vulnerable. “And I you,” she said, her voice rough with emotion.

❀˖° She kissed you then, her lips gentle but possessive. And as the sun rose over Piltover, you knew that no matter what anyone said, you would always be hers.

Later that day, Ambessa surprised you with a gift. It was a necklace, but not just any necklace. It was a delicate chain of gold, adorned with a single, flawless pink diamond. It was exquisite, and it took your breath away.

“For you,” she said, her voice soft. “To replace the one you lost.”

You blinked back tears, your heart swelling with love. “It’s beautiful,” you whispered. “Thank you.”

Ambessa smiled, a rare and precious thing. “You deserve beautiful things,” she said. “And I’ll make sure you have them.”

As you fastened the necklace around your neck, you felt a sense of peace. The rumors, the whispers, the doubts—they didn’t matter. All that mattered was the woman standing before you, the woman who had claimed your heart.

And as you stepped out into the world, the pink diamond glittering in the sunlight, you knew that nothing could tear you apart. Not your father, not the rumors, not even the weight of the world.

❀˖° Because you were Ambessa Medarda’s, and she was yours. And that was all that mattered.

The whispers didn’t stop. If anything, they grew louder, more insistent. But you didn’t care. You had Ambessa, and she had you. And together, you were unstoppable.

Your father tried to intervene again, but you stood your ground. “I love her,” you said, your voice firm. “And nothing you say will change that.”

He looked at you, his eyes filled with sadness. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I am,” you said, smiling. “Happier than I’ve ever been.”

And as you walked away, the pink diamond sparkling at your throat, you knew it was true. You were happy. And no matter what the future held, you would face it together.

Because love, true love, was worth fighting for. And you would fight for Ambessa Medarda until your last breath.

❀˖° As the evening descended, the air between you and Ambessa grew thick with unspoken desire. The firelight danced across her sharp features, casting shadows that made her seem even more imposing, more alluring. You sat across from her, the new necklace glinting softly against your skin, a symbol of her affection.

But there was more you wanted, more you needed. The tension had been building for weeks, months even, and tonight, you couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Ambessa,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need. “I… I want you.”

Her eyes darkened, and for a moment, she said nothing. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, she reached out and cupped your face in her hand. “Do you know what you’re asking for?” she murmured, her voice low and dangerous.

You nodded, your breath hitching. “Yes.”

She studied you for a moment longer, her gaze searching yours. And then, with a growl of surrender, she pulled you into her arms, her lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was all-consuming.

The world fell away as she laid you down, her hands roaming over your body with a possessiveness that left you breathless. Every touch, every caress, was a claim, a promise that you were hers and hers alone.

And as the night deepened, you gave yourself to her completely, your bodies moving together in a rhythm that was as old as time. The whispers, the rumors, the doubts—they all faded into nothingness, leaving only the two of you, lost in each other.

In the morning, as the first light of dawn filtered through the curtains, you lay in her arms, your heart full and your soul at peace. You were hers, and she was yours. And nothing, not even the weight of the world, could ever change that.

Masterlistttt

Also @sapphicrow just for u bby girl :).

Also I might do a simpler one where it’s just reader and ambessa having a chill night here is a Sneack peak

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blasphemous-riot

3 months ago

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 | 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

18+ minors please dni ✮⋆˙

✮⋆˙content warnings: somno, cnc, scissoring, pervert!sevika

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧

the sheets rustled as sevika groaned herself awake. she awoke in a cold sweat that made every piece of fabric cling on any patch of skin it could find. sevika has never awoken from such a disgustingly, filthy dream. but the longer she’s awake the further the dream slips away from her. the last affects of the sex dream remain though. her clit achingly throbs like a second heart. somehow throughout the night you had rolled into sevika’s chest and tucked your leg between hers.

sevika didn’t necessarily want to wake you for the sole purpose of getting off. but if she rolls her hips right—maybe she can get enough friction to come without rousing you. sevika’s arm secures itself tighter around your back. your breathing remains steady. sevika gradually shifts and rotates her hips until she’s positioned her pussy on the apex of your thigh.

burying her nose in the messiness of your bed hair—sevika takes a deep sniff. you smell like hers. cautiously sevika drags her hips tentatively across your thigh. she holds her breath—not knowing if you’ll wake. but you remain still. such a perfect little doll, sevika thinks. the metallic fingers of sevika’s prosthetic angles your thigh even more against her cunt. the pressure is almost enough. her hips heavily grind down again. no, that’s not it. it felt better dragging herself the length of your thigh. she opts to try that method again.

sevika’s body produces more of a sweat from her attempts to get off. it’s starting to frustrate her. but she needs you. sevika knows she cannot simply roll over and rub one out. her body craves you. sevika feels the beginning of an idea sparking. she carefully rolls you on your back, brushing some hair out of your face. her fingers pause mid stroke when you mumble. but nothing more happens.

humming to herself in contentment, sevika diligently parts your legs wider before kneeling between them. tonight is one of those nights sevika’s fucking grateful you sleep without underwear. she cannot even fathom why she argued over something as banal as this. her mouth waters at the sight of your pussy in the moonlight. blinking away the distraction, sevika wiggled her boxers off her hips. she sits down quickly to tugs them off and toss them somewhere.

sevika returns to her former position kneeled between your spread thighs. her hands soothingly run up the soft skin of your thighs. marveling at how remarkable still you are in your sleep. if sevika’s clit wasn’t so distracting the woman would take the time to get you properly ready. but she’ll have to make do.

shifting on her knees sevika widens them enough where she can easily reach her own cunt. her fingers thickly skim down her folds and she hisses at how sensitive she is. sevika isn’t thrown too off guard with the sheer amount of mess coating her fingers. she felt it when she peeled off her boxers. her fingers shine in the dim light graciously afforded by the moonlight through the sheer curtains. sevika didn’t even really need to prep you. her own wetness would be enough. but she cannot resist. sevika crotches forward. one hand, her metal one, sinks into the mattress while the other slowly drags her soaked fingers up the length of your pussy. she all but trembles with the sinful action. and the only reaction that comes from you is tiny whine. it’s not even enough to convince sevika your sleep conscious mind registered the sensation.

regardless sevika eagerly plunges her own fingers back into her overly sensitive cunt and only pumps them in briefly. she gathers, scoop one might say, a generous amount of her own slick once again. it’s far more than the first time. sevika’s fingers return to your pussy. it takes a few passes through your folds and over your hole for all of sevika’s mess to transfer. your legs only twitched once.

sevika hums her satisfaction. “you’re so perfect, baby.” she utters softly. “and i’m so sorry…but i have to. i need to.”

she positions her body opposite yours. her left leg slotted over your right. sevika’s fingers curl into the sheets as she wills her body to stop fucking trembling. sevika feels desperate. insatiable. her senses have never driven her to such extremes. never once awoken from a dream and sweating out the fever of a lost orgasm. she wishes desperately her fingers would work. but after years owning your heart, body and soul—sevika can never take herself there alone.

and it’s exactly why she’s angled her cunt parallel to yours. sevika knows within minutes of sensually grinding her pussy against yours she’ll be released from this agony. she holds back the groan of approval housed in the depths of her throat. you’re warm and still covered with sevika’s juices. and it seems her few passes made you wet on your own.

“my needy girl…” sevika whispers out as she finally begins moving her hips.

it’s not entirely the easiest orgasm. usually sevika can hold your hand or thigh for leverage. or position your legs wider or higher. but sevika can make do. especially when each brush over her swollen clit against yours sends a heated spark in sevika’s stomach. she can feel herself dripping out and making a mess of you. her hand eventually circles your thigh—bending your leg. and it works. sevika’s strength can easily hold this position. it gives her more breadth and her clit freely glides against yours.

sevika’s body builds up the familiar sensations of her orgasm. her toes curl and uncurl. the muscles in her abdomen almost hurt from coiled tension. then she hears your tiny whimpers. sevika’s ears cannot differentiate if it’s whimpers of pleasure or if you’re slowly waking.

“sev?” sevika for sure knows you’re awake. your voice is faint and whiney and she could almost miss it. sevika cannot fully see your face but she knows you’re sporting that confused pout. the one where your lips are so damn kissable and your eyebrows bunch in light whisper.

her hips don’t come to a full stop. sevika cannot bring herself to. “shh…it’s okay, baby. i’m almost done. i promise. i’m so close.”

your body barely registered sevika’s actions at first. you were waking up from a warm dream. a warm and tingly dream. your body had never felt so relaxed. you called out sevika’s name only because you hadn’t waken in her arms. it is only after sevika coos at you did the realization set in.

“mm..sev…” you whine out again. not in distress but because now you’re inappropriately horny. it is clear your body did not receive any release.

“i know, doll. i know. let me handle it, baby. i’ll make you feel good. i promise.”

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blasphemous-riot

1 month ago

University Vi headcannons - ⭐

a/n: i wrote some for Caitlyn so here are some for Vi

University Choice: Vi would go to University College London (UCL), studying Criminal Justice or Forensic Science—she’s always been passionate about justice and law.

She’s definitely not the study-all-day type—more of a get-in-and-get-out kind of person.

Prefers hands-on learning, especially when it comes to practical labs or field trips, where she can do real-world work.

Hates group work—she’d rather do everything on her own than rely on others.

Barely studies for exams—she trusts her instinct and experiences more than textbooks.

Her idea of revision is reading summaries the night before an exam.

Loves lectures that involve action or conflict, especially when there’s a good debate involved.

She’s notorious for debating with professors, especially when she disagrees with something.

Doesn’t really care about grades—as long as she passes, she’s fine.

Always last-minute cramming, but still somehow pulls through with decent grades.

Reputation as a “badass”—Vi has a tough exterior, and people respect her because she doesn’t take crap from anyone.

Despite her tough-girl persona, she’s surprisingly popular—people love her energy and boldness.

She’s part of the boxing club, where she’s known for her impressive skills.

The go-to person for advice if someone’s being picked on—Vi doesn’t tolerate bullies.

Loves late-night hangs with her friends, where they either talk about the latest crime cases or watch old action films.

Rarely attends parties, but when she does, she’s the one leading everyone to the dance floor or winning drinking games.

People who are close to her know that Vi is a softie at heart—her reputation as a “tough girl” is mostly an act.

Vi tends to hang out in a small but loyal group of friends, mostly people she trusts.

Doesn’t deal well with fakeness—if someone is pretending to be something they’re not, she’ll call them out.

People know not to mess with you because Vi always has your back.

Vi’s university style is a mix of casual but tough—hoodies, leather jackets, denim, and combat boots.

Loves wearing jackets with patches or anything that adds a bit of flair.

She’s more into comfort than style, but she somehow makes it look effortlessly cool.

Always has her signature fingerless gloves on, even in lectures.

Dark denim jeans—either ripped or perfectly fitted, depending on her mood.

Vi’s style can be described as sporty chic—always ready for a workout or a spontaneous adventure.

Wears minimal jewelry, usually a watch and a couple of rings—simple but effective.

Her university bag? A sturdy backpack, perfect for carrying books and personal gear.

Hoodies and T-shirts with band logos are her go-to for casual days.

Loves oversized coats during winter, especially ones that make her look like a bouncer.

Vi is incredibly protective of you, always making sure you're safe and looking out for your wellbeing.

Loves to pick you up after class and sometimes gives you a ride home if you’re not too far.

Always surprising you with little gifts—a new book she thinks you’d like or a sweet treat from the local café.

Vi loves physical affection, so expect a lot of hugs, back rubs, and sneaky kisses between classes.

She’s a big fan of holding hands—especially when she feels the need to keep you close.

When she’s stressed, she’ll come to you for comfort, laying her head on your lap or asking for cuddles.

Shares her snacks with you, even if she pretends not to, claiming, “It’s just because you look hungry.”

Loves cooking for you, and while it’s not always gourmet, her homemade meals feel like a warm hug.

She’d sneak into your room when she’s feeling tired, just to fall asleep next to you.

Vi is overprotective but in a playful way—if anyone dares to flirt with you, expect her to step in, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

Gets jealous when other people get too close to you, but she tries not to show it—she’s just protective.

When you’re feeling down, she’ll make you laugh or tell you how amazing you are.

Surprises you with spontaneous dates—be it a late-night walk around campus or a picnic in the park.

She’s always making you laugh, even on the worst days.

Teases you affectionately, calling you cute nicknames like “sparky” or “wild one.”

Vi adores when you wear her clothes—especially her oversized sweaters.

Crashes your study sessions by sneaking in and distracting you with a kiss.

Never hesitates to stand up for you—even if it means confronting someone who’s been rude.

If you're feeling insecure about something, Vi will remind you of how amazing you are in her own straightforward way.

Always invites you to hang out with her friends, and she makes sure everyone treats you well.

How She Deals With Exam Stress

Vi deals with stress through physical activity—boxing, running, or even punching a bag.

Hates studying for long periods, so she takes frequent breaks to blow off steam.

Gets easily frustrated when things aren’t clicking, but she always pushes through.

When she needs to focus, she locks herself away in her room, no distractions.

Rarely asks for help, even though she definitely could use it sometimes.

She’s the type to procrastinate until the last minute—but somehow still gets decent results.

Listens to loud music when she’s stressed, blasting rock or punk to drown out everything else.

Takes long walks or does a few laps around campus to clear her head.

Gets easily overwhelmed, but she relies on you to keep her grounded.

Treats herself with chocolate or junk food after a tough study session.

Has a favorite diner where she takes you to get burgers and fries after a long week.

Hates taking public transport—she prefers walking or riding her bike everywhere.

Loves movie nights, especially action films or anything with a lot of explosions.

Her idea of a perfect day is hanging out with you, grabbing food, and watching a film at home.

Loves showing off her tattoos to anyone who’ll listen—each one has a story.

Always checks on you if you’re feeling stressed about assignments.

Can’t stand overly competitive people—she’d rather just enjoy life and not turn everything into a contest.

Adores when you play with her hair, especially when she’s tired.

Loves quirky cafes, especially ones with board games—Vi’s competitive streak comes out when she plays.

Always texts you first after her last lecture, even if it’s just to say, “How’s your day going?”

Could eat pizza every day, and she’s probably the one who introduces you to new pizza places.

Plans spontaneous trips just to get away from university stress—weekend getaways are her thing.

Is definitely a morning person, but she still stays up late to keep you company.

Sings along to songs in the car when you’re driving, but only if no one’s around.

Always keeps your favourite snacks stocked at her place, so you’ll feel at home whenever you visit.

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blasphemous-riot

1 month ago

ʚɞ 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 | 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫!𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ʚɞ

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚, 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞.

𝟏𝟖+ 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒔 & 𝒎𝒆𝒏 𝒅𝒏𝒊

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲

༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺

an incessant blaring sound interrupts your nighttime routine. at first, you assume its from the apartment building next to yours. but then the smell of smoke slowly infiltrates any crevice and vent it can seep through. the noises of people frantically exiting the building doesn’t quell the alarm. you feel horrible for thinking what a major inconvenience this is. half of your hair is set with curlers. you grab your purse, keys and phone and follow the crowd down the stairs safely.

once you’re in the night air, you thank whatever gods may exist, it wasn’t your building effected. firefighters flutter in and out of the apartment units sharing an alley with yours. the flames appear somewhat tamed. neighbors mindlessly chatter—speculating what could have caused the fire. EMTs already set up a barricade but it doesn’t stop human curiosity. folks pressing tightly on the wooden barricades and incessantly pestering cops, firefighters or EMTs for any update.

༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺

thirty minutes later, the flames have succumbed to the efforts of the firefighters. a lingering smell of smoke sits in the air. mud and water mix with the black ash on the building. you see familiar faces crying and holding each other. the firefighters did their best but half of the building got hit the hardest. guilt washes over you. here you felt inconvenienced by the alarm but people have lost most of their belongings and most likely have to start from scratch.

unexpectedly the crowd erupts with a thunderous clap and cheering. it takes no time to realize everyone is commending the firefighters for their hard work. you witness the civil servants peeling off their helmets one by one. it’s clear all of them are exhausted. then some women start dog whistling. with an arched eyebrow, you locate the firefighter causing all the chaos.

the woman stands over 6 feet. she already removed the top layer of the suit which dangles off one shoulder. the moonlight and street lights reflect off her brown skin glistening with sweat. you can hear the gulp of women, straight and queer, as the firefighter curls her fingers underneath her fitted and soaked white t-shirt. she brings the hem of her shirt to her face—wiping off sweat and lingering ash. the entirety of her abs are on display. without even straining you see a drop of sweat rolling down her stomach.

a few women start fanning themselves. you even witness one pushing her cleavage up for prominent display. you hear through the chaos someone announcing residents in your building are allowed to enter again. sighing your relief, you start following the crowd. someone grabs your elbow—trying to get your attention.

swiftly turning around, you’re met face to face with the firefighter causing the lustful gazes and audible desires. with the distance closed—you’re able to see the faded scars on her face and the beginning wrinkles on the corners of her eyes. something about her, her face, those intense grey eyes stirs familiarity in your core. she presents you with a crooked smile.

“don’t recognize me, stranger?” her voice emerges as if from the squashed flames themselves.

you narrow your eyes and let them inspect those features. her fluffy and long eyelashes. her silken black hair that frames her face. the richness of her skin tone provoking you to kiss every inch.

you gasp with recognition. “sevika?”

sevika lets out the tiniest chuckle and nods. her hand on your elbow remains. it sends warmth and comfort throughout your arm. now that you’ve placed the face—you cannot believe you did not connect the dots sooner. yes, she’s aged but she’s still sevika. maybe not your sevika but still the sevika you grew up with.

the same sevika who fiercely protected you and let you crawl into her bottom bunk. the same sevika who beat up the boys for touching you the wrong way. then wiping your tears away moments later. especially the same sevika that took you to the overlook and shared your first kiss with. your guardian angel you never stopped thinking about or hoping turned out okay.

“you’re a firefighter now?”

“well i’ve been one for ten years but yeah.” sevika hold on your elbow shifts, you almost cry, but she only moves her hand underneath it.

your eyes continue searching sevika’s. “i thought you might’ve moved away or…”

sevika knowingly crooks a smile. “or jail?” you cringe but sevika laughs. “yeah, well i came too close a few times. but must’ve had my own guardian angel or something because the last time i got arrested—the judge told me enough was enough. she sent me to some reform program. i ended up liking the firefighter gig so…permanently fighting fires.”

“i’m so proud of you, sev. really.”

“thanks, kid.” sevika takes one step back then inconspicuously checks you out. “maybe not a kid anymore. you’ve filled out well.” she reaches out with her free hand and lifts some hair away from your ears. “and you’ve grown into your ears.”

an instantaneous blush spreads on your cheeks and you swat sevika’s hand away. your fingers reach to situate your hair but sevika catches them. you watch as sevika brings your hand to her lips, pressing a tender kiss on your knuckles. the feel of those full lips sends signals all over your skin. it’s almost the same effect she unwillingly provoked on all those women. refraining from retracting your hand, you keep your eyes locked on sevika.

she only smiles. her lips spreading across your knuckles. dammit. sevika fully knows the effect she’s having on you. she drinks it in eagerly despite your limited reactions.

“you hurt or anything? you didn’t live in that building, right?”

you shake your head in response to both questions. sevika smiles again. “oh, good. not a damsel in distress anymore. i get off in an hour. you’ll still be up?”

blinking away your visible confusion, you think over her question. “um, probably, yeah? why?”

a laugh rumbles in sevika’s chest but it never escapes her lips. “because i wanna come over, pretty girl. it’s been so long. can you blame me for wanting to make up for lost time?”

“oh. no, i mean, yes.” you groan—feeling like that helpless teenager that always needed sevika around. “yes, you can come over. i’ll be up. im apartment 8C—ring the buzzer and i’ll come get you.”

sevika hums her acknowledgment then releases her hold from your hand and elbow. yet her touch doesn’t cease and she reaches for a few strands of hair. “it’s kinda unfair, ya know?”

“what’s unfair?”

“you’re outside in a robe and hair half done but still the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen.”

༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺

placing a kettle on the stove, you reach for two mugs and a container of all your special teas. sevika won’t know, but you never offer anyone your good teas. tonight feels special though. you can feel those grey eyes boring into your back. in the hour and a half window sevika allotted you—you showered, finished with the curlers in your hair, and found a pair of your cutest pajamas. the ruffles on the hem of the shorts barely grazed the crease meeting your butt and thighs. maybe overly ambitious?

when you had greeted sevika at the front door—you could tell her eyes didn’t know what to take in first. in sevika’s mind you were the picture of femininity. pink cotton pajamas hugging your curves sinfully. the cute little bow on the camisole teasing her eyes. she hadn’t expected her heart to momentarily stop at witnessing a fray strand you missed in your curler set. and the way you smelled? a mixture of strawberries and coconut with the faintest dash of something earthy.

sevika’s always found hyperfemininity attractive in the women she dated and slept with. but it was something about you…you wore it effortlessly and without second thought. it was apart of you.

she took in your apartment but eventually found herself staring at you as you prepared the tea.

“need any help, pretty girl?”

the words linger in the air before settling into your skin. when did she get so comfortable with petnames? the kettle whistles pulling you away from the lustful thoughts. “i’m good, thanks. do you still take a heap of sugar and milk in your tea?”

sevika barks out a laughter and you cannot help looking over your shoulder to witness the melodic sound. “i guess some things don’t change. yeah, you know what i like.”

squashing your nerves, you carefully pack some tea herbs into a tiny meshed infuser. once they’re packed—you steadily pour water over them in the mugs. normally you’d watch the tea steep, darkening the water, but instead you carry the mugs over to sevika. placing them down carefully on the thrifted mahogany coffee table, you rush back into the kitchen grabbing a pint of milk, brown sugar and some shortbread cookies.

there’s a sudden warmth that appears behind you. before you can properly investigate a calloused yet familiar hand gently rests on your waist.

“you sure you don’t need help with that…sugar?”

you’re hopeless against the drawl of sevika’s words. the end of her sentence hitting with a double entendres. you cannot place a time sevika’s petnamed you, sugar. she awakens another level of curiosity and arousal within you. if only you could see the look on sevika’s face. the knowing smirk of her affect on you. her pupils dilating and darkening in a way you’ve never been privy to.

you cannot help the racing of your heart. or closing your eyes. you don’t even notice you’re leaning back into sevika’s comfortable warmth until her hand shifts towards the front of your hip. as if she’s catching you and relaying the same message: i miss you.

“yes, you can carry the sugar, sev.” the words somehow manage to crawl out after the long pause between question.

sevika barely grunts her response before reaching underneath your arm. she purposely leans forward. her hips now pressed against your butt. you feel the encompassing safety of her broad shoulders brushing on your neck. you find yourself holding your breath until she pulls away. her prosthetic arm, this one different than the one from the fire earlier, smoothly retrieves the sugar jar.

then she steps back, as if, nothing happened and walks nonchalantly back to the couch. she might as well have whistled with the cockiness oozing off of her. you shakily inhale, one, two, three, then exhale, four five six. jitters remain nonetheless.

you find sevika on the love seat and taking up space at that. yes, you technically have room to sit. but you’d be forced to sit directly underneath her. despite the presence of another sofa, you are both aware that is not how this dance flows.

as sevika already suspected, you delicately lower yourself in the couch cushion next to her. your thighs have no space besides pressed tightly against hers. you cannot tell if you’re hallucinating or can actually feel the warmth through her jeans. not wanting to address the obvious silence you begin prepping the teas. a crap ton of sugar and then enough milk the color turns almost a sandy color.

sevika intently watches your actions. your fingers moving with remembered fluidity. she likes the color you polished your nails. finding herself wondering how they’d juxtapose against the pinkness of your spread pussy. sevika cannot deny the intense arousal building within her. it came the second she spotted your face. it dwelled and grew with her longing to hold you and whisper how much she missed you.

every second spent in your presence reminded sevika why she never lasted long in previous relationships. it took her some therapy and time alone to realize she unintentionally looked for you in every kiss, every hug, every fuck. no one ever came close to the calming water you poured on her raging fire. she could not leave the apartment without, at least, holding your face and kissing you tenderly then passionately.

“i learned to make chai. authentic chai.” your carefully plucked words barely relieves the tension.

sevika tips her head a little. “you did? why?”

you blush and hand sevika her tea. the answer feels rather obvious. “you said whenever we got outta there—you’d make me your amma’s chai.” you stop there. you cannot bring yourself to finish. but you know sevika can deduce and fill in the rest.

“did it help?”

“help with what?”

“help you feel closer to me.”

the words linger between the two of you. sevika’s expertly laid her intentions out with a few words. the bait flops in your hands—far too easy to deny or resist.

you turn your head—finally meeting sevika’s gaze for the first time since she entered the apartment. you expected another cocky smirk. instead you’re met with rounded eyes of vulnerability. they almost pool sevika’s desperation. even if you had planned on lying, on denying the obvious, everything vanished. reflected back at you was the same fifteen year old girl you fell in love with.

“no. no, it didn’t. nothing did.” you whisper out the words. almost believing if you speak the truth you’ll awaken from a beautiful dream.

sevika rests her mug on the coffee table. mindful of the coaster present. you focus on the action but within seconds her hand, no longer on the mug, cups your face. it emanates the lingering warmth from her mug. even without thinking, you reach for her prosthetic arm rested on her lap. you settle it on your other cheek. the balance of cold metal and warm flesh somehow feels symbolic. or maybe you’re searching for too much meaning in reuniting with an old friend…lover?

the magnetic pull draws you both closer until your lips are slotted together. moving in synchronization as if 15 years haven’t passed. as if you didn’t only share one kiss. all the longing and aching over pours into the kiss. your heart somehow thumps rapidly yet feels calm and steady within its cavity. when sevika tenderly swipes her tongue against your plump bottom lip—you know in that instance you’d do anything she wanted.

you graciously part your lips with a whimper. you feel sevika hesitate before she parts your lips by an inch.

“you always sound like that, pretty girl?” sevika barely murmurs the question on your lips.

too impatient to answer or decipher what sevika means, you take the inch of space back and unite your lips once again. sevika laughs into the kiss and indulges the neediness. she is just as desperate, maybe even more. her hands ever so slightly tighten their hold on your face. a tiny whimper escapes once again as sevika tangles her tongue with yours. she responds with a eager grumble of her own.

sevika, testing the waters, pretends to pull away. your lips, without hesitation, chase after hers. you both do this dance until sevika manages to guide you into her lap. any hesitancy dissolves. you are reunited with an old flame and you’re desperate to kindle it and let it burn and consume you. straddling sevika’s hips, panting into the kiss, sevika presses one hand on your lower back—keeping you firmly in place.

letting your body make the decisions, not wrapped in the cloud of lingering doubt, you nip on sevika’s lower lip. sucking flesh between your lips as your tongue strokes the inner softness of her lip. you relish the feeing of sevika’s hand gripping your back. the little groan she emits. her shifting underneath—as if you’re already getting her hot and bothered (you are).

her grip still firm on your lower back—sevika tips her head back on the couch. her eyes remain closed as she processes the weight of her actions and of you in her lap. your own lips tingle as you analyze sevika’s face. a smile stretches on yours as you notice her thoroughly kissed and swollen lips. you’re already itching for another kiss. instead, patient as ever, your fingers work to remove the curlers from your hair. it’s no point in pretending you and sevika are not having sex tonight. curlers and sex don’t necessarily pair.

sevika eyes barely manage open as she feels the shift in her lap. she watches in intense fascination as you free your hair. there are varying curl patterns since some curlers where in place longer than others. your fingers delicate despite the slight panting on your chest. your nipples already pert in attention. you do not catch sevika’s gaze until you’re almost done.

she smiles without hesitation the second your eyes meet. her hands begin wandering up your sides. in the wake your camisole rides up with the action. goosebumps populate your skin. your fingers almost tremble pulling the last bobby pin. sevika drags you closer the second the final curl falls. your hair creates a curtain of privacy.

sevika rakes her eyes over the exposed skin and how your camisole rests underneath your breasts. “can i take this off, pretty girl?”

an immediate nod comes from you. “please, yes.”

sevika moans. she moans at your eagerness and how willing you are to trust her. the surprise only lasts momentarily as sevika’s peeling off the tiny fabric. you watch her lips fall apart with a flux of emotions on her face. once the shirt is freed from your hair—sevika opens her mouth to ask for permission.

your hand cradles the back of sevika’s neck and draw her closer to one nipple. “you don’t have to ask permission, sev. i want what you want.”

sevika moans again with the permission. you effortlessly taking control of what you want—turns sevika on more than she’s ready to admit. nonetheless her lips circle around your nipple. her tongue darts around the bud. it earns her the response of you bucking your hips and pushing her closer to your breast. she gladly obliges.

her lips suction your nipple with a little more pressure. a hand comes to cup the neglected breast. palming and kneading with expertise. her large hand encompasses in a way you don’t think any lover has before. her teeth carefully experiment with nibbling on your nipple. you whine in response.

your hips move on their own accord. the combined sensation of teeth, tongue, lips and her hands leaves you desperate and wanting. you relish in the feeling of her jean crotch providing the perfect friction to your needy grinding. sevika groans into your nipple once she connects the dots.

her lips move from your nipple. a string of saliva leaving a connection. she lifts her eyes to yours. a sound traps in your throat seeing the pure need in sevika’s eyes.

hushed and rushed words tumble from sevika’s lips. “i need to make you feel good, baby. please. please can i taste you?”

you are positive sevika’s never had such desperation in her words. because you know no one in their right mind could deny her. but with you…she’s uncertain. the years of yearning bubbling over into this precise moment. you capture her lips in response. trying to say; yes take everything, all you need and want, drink and fill yourself.

with grace of a ballerina—sevika turns the tides and she’s standing with you in her arms, bridal style. you don’t even have the opportunity to be thrown off guard. she moves around your apartment as if she’s walked in this space numerous times. sevika locates your room without instruction.

she lowers you on the bed like a delicate flower. you’re tempted to protest but you give her the grace. you both deserve a tender reunion. sevika hastily steps out of her jeans. she stands before you in her navy boxers and a black shirt. your breathing matches hers with built up tension and anticipation. sevika moves closer to the bed and you begin crawling backwards.

she catches your ankle, shaking her head. “not yet, baby.”

sevika kneels at the edge of the bed on the floor. understanding without her saying much, you position yourself where she placed you before. sevika nuzzles her cheek against the inside of your knee. your fingers find solace in her strands. your nails softly scratching at her scalp. with your soothing yet tingling touch sevika begins her journey of kisses up your thighs. interchangeably switching sides until her lips meet the hem of your shorts.

sevika’s eyes travel the length of your body and her lips spread into a smile as you lift your hips. chuckling lowly, sevika parts with enough space to remove your shorts and underwear in one swift motion. she loses her breathing at the sight of you bare before her. the tussles of hair on your mound travel down to your lips. sevika gently widens your thighs. her action reveals how drenched you are. she can hear the slick separating between your folds. her mouth salivates at the sight and sound.

her hands massage at your thighs eliciting a trembling moan from you. you whimper, looping one leg on sevika’s shoulder. digging the heel of your foot into her shoulder blade to draw her near.

“don’t make me beg, sev. come on…”

sevika groans and circles her arms around your thighs, tugging you closer off the edge of the bed. “i’m sorry, princess. i don’t mean to make you wait. let me fix that.”

she presses a chaste kiss on your clit. you’re about to admonish her for teasing but your words are caught in your throat. sevika roughly drags her tongue up the length of your cunt. she moans deeply as your taste floods her mouth. now paired with your scent, sevika knows she will never get enough. her fingers firmly grip into your thighs and she feasts.

her tongue expertly explores every single inch it can reach. she starts with the languid yet pressured licks. each lick causes you to buck into her mouth. too unaware you could potentially bust her upper lip. not that sevika cares either. she switches her methods and uses the tip of her tongue to tease circles on your clit. she basks in the heavy moan you release as she focuses on your clit. your hips move in faint circles meeting each stroke of her tongue. one hand remains in sevika’s hair—softly caressing her hair or on occasion tugging on the silk-like strands.

sevika whimpers into your cunt as you play with her hair. her whimpers vibrate on your clit in such a sensual way. it produces a high pitched whine that you’ve never heard from yourself. even sevika briefly paused to fully appreciate the noise that graced her ears. nonetheless she returns to worshiping your clit. as she sucks it between her pursed lips, her own hand snakes down into her boxers.

not at all surprised with the pool of her own arousal. her calloused fingers rub an immediate circle around her clit. she’s so wet and sensitive she can barely feel the roughness embedded on her fingertips. but that’s not the stimulation she’s seeking. the second sevika’s tongue dips inside your cunt—her two fingers push past her entrance. you and sevika simultaneously groan. sevika allows you the opportunity to arch off the bed and grind down on her tongue. the warm and wet muscle teasing that special, squishy spot inside of you. her own fingers knuckles deep inside herself.

sevika almost cries into your pussy with the overwhelming sensations. riding her own fingers while you ride her tongue. through the haze in her eyes sevika witnesses the beauty of you chasing your desires. she wants you to topple over on her tongue continuously. if she could, she’d put brush to canvas and honor this moment forever. it only instills in sevika she must never depart from your life again.

your fingers tug sevika’s hair. sevika replies with a whimper and somehow understands the frantic look in your eyes. her lips return to your clit, applying the perfect amount of pressure. she witnesses your eyes rolling towards the back of your head. her own hips speeding up in hopes of climaxing with you. sevika’s tongue dashes across your clit occasionally intent on seeing you lose control with the added stimulation.

“seeeev!” your back arches off the bed and your thighs squeeze her head in place.

those manicured nails sevika adores so much scrape over her scalp. she moans with the stinging sensation. her fingers make squelching noises as she works them rapidly. you’re too lost in the heights of your climax. unable to register sevika is fucking herself as her mouth sends black spots over your vision.

sevika, relentlessly, obliges after hearing a pleading whimper. her lips leave a departing kiss on your clit before pulling away. but sevika continues grinding on her fingers. she bites into your thigh as she chases her own release. it takes everything in you to prop up on your elbows. your eyes watch in widened excitement.

she catches your gaze and you forget how to breathe. the unadulterated need and yearning in those grey eyes set you off for another round. sevika seems to read your thoughts before they even form. she carefully retracts her fingers then climbs on the bed. sevika helps guide you towards the center of the mattress.

“you flexible, pretty girl?” sevika questions. her soaked fingers teasingly run through your folds.

“depends. why?”

sevika smiles too wide for it being such a loaded question. she spreads your legs wider then hovers a little above you. you instinctively press your hand into the shell of her lower back. urging the woman to apply more of her weight. sevika happily follows the non-verbal instruction. she sighs at the feeling of your body.

her intentions soon become clear as sevika presses her swollen and perturbed clit on your mound. you let out a shaky gasp at the sensation. sevika reaches underneath your knee and lifts your leg on her shoulder. a guttural moan escapes you from the unexpected stretch.

“fuck, i’m sorry, baby. too much? i can stop.” sevika is already attempting to lower the leg.

without hesitation you grab sevika’s wrist and shake your head. “no, please. i need to see you come. please…use me.”

sevika bucks her hips with the unexpected words you bestow on her. she leaves the leg on her shoulder. her works to find the perfect rhythm and fluidity to grind her clit down. she eventually settles on moving her hips up and down. it allows both your clits to feel stimulated when she drags down. her prosthetic fingers dig into your thighs as her hips work in momentum. once you’ve grown accustomed to sevika’s pacing—you lift your hips to meet her halfway.

you almost drool at the sight of sevika’s head thrown back in ecstasy. the rhythmic bumping of your clits. the sensitivity it invokes—one you’re bound to chase for the rest of your life. sevika lets out the tiniest mewl. it sounds so unlike her, you almost question, if it came from you. yet her eyes are half hooded and eyebrows scrunched as if in concentration. a thin layer of sweat shines on her face. she’s majestic.

sevika attempts to focus her gaze on you. a pleading tone laced into her words. “baby…baby…gonna…pl-please…”

you refrain from the shit eating grin wanting to overtake your face. “asking me to come, sevi-baby?”

biting her lip, sevika nods shamelessly, needing the permission. craving the permission from her most special girl. “please…”

“you’re perfect, sevika. i’ve missed you. go ahead, beautiful. come for me. let me see you…”

sevika turns her head into the propped leg on her shoulder and messily kisses the tender flesh. you continue meeting her hips despite sevika forgoing any sort of rhythmic pacing. she whispers incoherent love rambles and gratitude. a moan trapped in sevika’s throat gives away her platitude. she slams her hips into you, as if, coming inside of you.

her body tenses above you right before moans bubble from her lips. eventually her tension alleviates to waves of trembling. you remove your leg from her shoulder and instantly sevika collapses atop of you. her legs slotted with yours. you feel just how wet this ordeal made her.

sevika nuzzles her nose into neck. your fingers trace nonsensical shapes over her back. overtime your hearts sync as you listen to each others breathing.

“my pretty girl…it’ll be until death do us part before we are separated again.” sevika whispers the promise into your neck.

an exhausted yet satiated smile tickles your cheeks. “is that a marriage proposal, sevika?”

sevika cheekily nips the sensitive skin of your neck. “and a promise, sugar.”

3K notes View Post

blasphemous-riot

3 months ago

202 notes View Post

blasphemous-riot

3 months ago

Enemies to lovers sevika.

Sevika absolutely despises reader, and yet reader is still so nice to sevika always smiling at her and offering her nothing but kindness…sevika hates it.(no she doesn’t)

Could be either fluff or smutty just an idea

✞⛧ Tension and Temptation ✞⛧

Warnings: emotional vulnerability, slow burn, developing relationship, implied tension, brief violence, slight injury, angst, reluctant affection (no smut..sorry gang-)

Word count: 5.3K

The air in Zaun always feels heavier, weighed down by the grinding industrial machines and the lingering scent of decay. The narrow streets are filled with the constant hum of activity, the hustle and bustle of a city where survival is a day-to-day struggle. You've barely stepped foot into Silco's territory, but the tension that thickens the air makes you feel as though you've already failed the moment you arrived.

And standing before you, arms crossed, is Sevika.

She's a force of nature, towering and imposing, with the kind of presence that could crush a man just by staring at him. Her broad shoulders and muscular frame practically hum with power, her every movement radiating command. A scar runs down her face, another testament to her brutal world, and her grey eyes, cold as steel, meet yours with a flicker of disdain. Her hair falls in dark waves over her sharp features, partially obscuring the fierce, calculating look she's giving you. The metallic sheen of her copper-colored prosthetic arm glints in the low light, its shimmer-enhanced strength evident even in the way she holds herself.

The first thing you notice is how she's completely unapproachable, the natural aura of violence that wraps around her as tightly as the red poncho draped over her shoulders. You almost feel sorry for the fact that she's been stuck with someone like you. You're just a recruit, fresh off the streets, trying to earn your place. You can already tell she doesn't want you here.

"I don't need a damn assistant," Sevika spits, her voice like gravel scraping against metal. Her tone cuts through the heavy air, sharp and immediate. "So don't get any ideas. Just stay out of my way."

You can't help but smile—soft, almost out of place. It's your natural instinct to meet coldness with kindness, even if it seems pointless. You've always believed that if you show warmth to the right people, maybe you'll get something back in return. But Sevika? She's a brick wall. Her sharp eyes narrow, assessing you as if you were a problem she needed to solve.

"Yeah, whatever," she mutters, dismissing you with a wave of her hand. "Don't make me regret this."

You follow her closely as she turns, stepping with heavy purpose down the grimy streets of Zaun, her boots clicking against the ground in rhythm with the pounding of your heart. Despite the tension crackling between you, you do your best to keep your tone light. "I just want to help. I can handle whatever you need."

Sevika doesn't respond. Instead, her eyes stay fixed ahead, ignoring you completely. The silence between you feels suffocating, but you persist. "I know it might not seem like it, but I'm here to learn. I'm not looking to get in your way, I promise."

Her scowl deepens. "Then keep your mouth shut, and maybe I'll consider it," she growls. Her voice is low, a constant hum of irritation. But it's not just her words that make you pause. It's the way her eyes flash briefly toward you before her gaze returns to the horizon. There's something about the sharpness in those eyes, something that makes the air around you feel charged.

It's like trying to strike a spark in a cold, barren landscape. The more you try to offer, the more Sevika pushes back, her harsh words biting through your calm demeanor.

Still, you can't help but offer a small smile as you keep up with her. You've always believed in the power of kindness. Maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to crack through her tough exterior.

By the time you've reached your destination—a crumbling building where Silco's orders are handed down—you've managed to learn that Sevika has little patience for anything, let alone for someone who dares to try and offer kindness. You find yourself standing in the shadows as she barks out orders to a group of men, her posture demanding respect. There's an undeniable force behind her words, a presence that commands the room as much as her stature does. Her copper arm gleams under the dull lighting, the intricate mechanics of the prosthetic arm seeming almost alien in the harsh, industrial environment.

You're not sure why you still persist. Maybe it's because something about Sevika's rugged exterior, her unrelenting loyalty, and the way she carries herself pulls at you. Or maybe it's the fact that you can see through her cold exterior—there's more beneath the surface, and you're determined to figure it out.

As the hours drag on, the work piles up. It's hard, grueling, and entirely mundane, but you keep at it, offering help when needed, sticking close to her side. There's something about Sevika's quiet, controlled rage that fascinates you. The way she moves, the way she handles everything—each gesture calculated and efficient—reminds you of a well-oiled machine. But machines don't need kindness. People do.

Sevika finally throws you a glance as you hand her a cup of tea, carefully prepared just the way you think she might like it. She takes it from your hand with a grumble, muttering something under her breath about unnecessary gestures, but you know you've won a small victory.

She doesn't throw the cup at you. She drinks it instead, in silence.

The longer you stand beside her, the more her icy exterior seems to thaw—if only just slightly. You notice the subtle shifts in her posture when you speak, the way her lips curve in the briefest of smiles, though she quickly hides it behind her usual scowl.

"Stop smiling at me like that," she growls, her voice softer than before, yet still biting. "It's fucking irritating."

But you don't stop. In fact, you make it your mission to be even kinder, to offer more help, to make her realize that you're not a threat, that you're not here to steal her spotlight, but to be part of the team.

Later, when the day's work is done, Sevika's frustration with you seems to grow. She's angry, but it's not the same anger she directs at the people she dislikes. This one is different. It's more internal, a tension she can't shake, like you're pushing a button deep inside her. She doesn't understand it, and it only makes her hate you more.

"Why the hell do you keep doing this?" she asks, her voice rough with something unreadable. "You think your smile will make this any easier? You think I care about your little act of kindness?"

You stand your ground, though your heart beats faster. "Maybe I'm just trying to help."

Sevika scoffs, but it's not as cutting as before. She glances at you once more, her gaze unreadable, and for a second, it's almost like she's looking at you, really looking at you, for the first time.

"You're wasting your time," she mutters, her tone almost tired.

But when she turns away, there's a slight shift in her movements, an imperceptible change in the way she carries herself. You're not sure if she's getting used to you, or if she's just too exhausted to push you away anymore. But the more she resists, the more determined you become.

In the quiet aftermath of a long day, Sevika lingers at the edge of your vision. She's still rough around the edges, her anger still a flame that burns bright, but there's a small part of her that's starting to crack.

You can see it. She can't hide it from you forever.

And that's when it hits you—despite her constant grumbling, despite her sharp words and cold silences, you're not just an annoyance to her. You're a challenge. One she can't seem to escape.

As Sevika walks away, her prosthetic arm catching the light in a way that makes her seem even more formidable, you smile softly to yourself.

You won't give up on her.

The weight of Zaun hangs heavy in the air, thick with the scent of oil, decay, and danger. The city is a constant, humming machine of chaos and violence, a place where only the strongest survive. And you? You're still trying to prove yourself, trying to make your place known in Silco's ranks. But standing next to Sevika, as always, feels like a constant struggle.

Her presence is like an impenetrable wall of steel—intimidating, unyielding, and cold. Every time you speak to her, it's like your words just bounce off her, sliding into the abyss where they're quickly forgotten. But you're not deterred. You can't be. Her icy demeanor is nothing new. What is new, however, is the way you can't seem to stop smiling at her. Even when she glares at you like she's about to snap your neck, there's something in you that refuses to back down, refuses to let her coldness defeat you.

And it's that same smile you offer her now as the two of you walk through the dark, abandoned streets, on a mission to secure a deal with another faction. You've learned by now that Sevika doesn't deal well with pleasantries, doesn't like the niceties most people in Silco's empire try to pretend at. She's raw, blunt, a woman who cuts to the heart of the matter without hesitation. But despite her sharp words and colder gaze, you remain the same—cheerful, optimistic, and unnervingly kind.

"Quit looking at me like that," Sevika growls, her voice low and gravelly as her grey eyes flick to you. Her gaze pierces through you, as if she's trying to burn holes into your skin. The low hum of her prosthetic arm moving against the fabric of her sleeve is a constant reminder of her strength, her sharpness, and the danger she can unleash with a single movement.

"Like what?" you ask, genuinely curious, despite knowing the answer. You can feel her irritation like a thick cloud around her, but it doesn't deter you. Not today.

"Like you think I'm some sort of charity case," she snaps, the muscles in her neck tensing as her jaw clenches. "If you think you can win me over with your fake little smiles, you're sorely mistaken."

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can say anything, the sudden sound of footsteps echoes in the alleyway ahead. A low hiss of tension fills the air, and instinctively, you tense up, your eyes scanning the shadows.

Sevika's hand immediately goes to the grip of her weapon, her fingers flexing in anticipation. You've seen her in action before—the way she moves, the way her presence fills a room with both fear and respect. But this? This is different. She's on edge, and that makes you on edge too.

"Stay behind me," Sevika orders, her voice a low command as she steps forward, her posture suddenly coiled with dangerous intent. Her left prosthetic arm gleams under the dim light, the cracked blue and purple veins in her skin pulsing faintly beneath the surface. She looks like a force of nature, ready to strike at any moment.

You don't argue. You've learned by now that arguing with Sevika is a pointless endeavor. Instead, you keep your head down, staying close to her as the two of you advance. But as you round the corner, you don't expect what happens next.

Gunshots echo through the alley, and in an instant, you're caught off guard. A burst of shrapnel flies toward you, the sound of the blast ringing in your ears, and before you even have time to react, a sharp pain explodes in your side. The world tilts on its axis as you stumble, your knees buckling under you as you fall hard against the cold, unforgiving ground.

Your breath hitches, the shock of the attack leaving your limbs weak. Blood starts to pool beneath you, and panic surges in your chest. You're not sure how bad it is, but you know you're hurt. You're not sure if you can stand again.

Sevika doesn't hesitate. She spins around with the speed of a predator, her metallic prosthetic arm coming down with the force of a battering ram. The gunmen are taken down quickly, their bodies slumping lifelessly to the ground, but you're not focused on them. You're focused on the sharp, burning pain in your side, the fear creeping in that you might not be able to move.

She doesn't see it at first. She's too caught up in the immediate danger of taking out the rival faction. But when she turns back to look for you, that's when she sees it.

Your hand is pressed tightly against your side, blood seeping between your fingers as you struggle to stay conscious. The shock is setting in, your head spinning, your vision blurring around the edges.

For a moment, Sevika's eyes narrow, her face unreadable as she assesses the situation. The emotions in her eyes flash too quickly to read—fury, disbelief, and something else you can't place. Her lip curls, the usual scowl deepening, but she doesn't turn away.

You try to force yourself up, to stand, but your body refuses to cooperate. Your legs shake, and you collapse back onto the cold concrete, gasping for breath.

Sevika swears under her breath, her brow furrowing in a rare display of concern. Her prosthetic arm shifts, clicking with the precision of machinery as she strides toward you, her pace quickening, her boots slamming against the ground.

"You're fucking useless," she mutters under her breath, the words as harsh as ever. But when she kneels beside you, there's a hint of something else in her voice—a softness that's quickly masked by her usual cold exterior. "Stay down."

Before you can say anything, she's already tearing off a piece of her red poncho, using it to staunch the bleeding. Her hands are surprisingly gentle as she presses the cloth against your wound, her fingers rough from years of fighting but oddly careful in their touch.

"You better not fucking die on me," she grumbles, though her voice lacks its usual bite. "I don't need another person I have to drag around."

You can feel her frustration radiating off of her, but there's something else beneath it, something that tugs at the very core of you. She's trying to save you. Despite the way she treats you, despite how cold and distant she's always been, there's a flicker of something deeper in her actions—a recognition, maybe, of your sacrifice for her.

You offer her a weak smile, the corners of your lips pulling up despite the pain. "I'm not going anywhere, Sevika," you say, your voice hoarse but steady.

She freezes, her hand pressing down harder on the wound. The faint glow of purple lights up her eyes for a split second as she injects shimmer into her bloodstream. It makes her scarred veins pulsate, the colors glowing brighter, but it's the softening of her gaze that you notice first.

"Don't make me regret this," she mutters, but it doesn't feel like an insult. It feels more like an acknowledgment of something she doesn't want to face. It's a rare moment of vulnerability, one that she quickly hides behind her usual hard shell. She doesn't want to care. She can't afford to.

But she's already made the choice.

When she pulls you into her arms, lifting you effortlessly as if you're nothing more than a weightless bundle, you feel the odd warmth of her body against yours. The clash of her cold demeanor and this rare moment of tenderness sends a shock through you, a realization that perhaps she's not as immune to kindness as she makes herself out to be.

As the two of you make your way back to safety, Sevika's hand never leaves the cloth pressed against your side. She's steady, unyielding, and yet... there's something in the way she holds you now, something that wasn't there before.

You know she won't admit it. She can't. But for the first time, you see a crack in her armor.

And you can't help but smile, despite everything.

She's still the same Sevika, tough as nails, unrelenting, but underneath it all? You're starting to see that she's capable of something more.

You won't stop smiling—not even for her.

It's the middle of the night, and you're wide awake, groaning softly as you try to adjust your position on the bed. The wound on your side, though healing, hasn't quite been fully stitched up yet, and tonight, it seems, it's decided to protest. The dull ache from earlier has turned into something sharper, something more insistent, as you shift again and feel the sting of stitches pulling loose.

You sit up, pressing a hand to the wound, biting your lip as the pain spreads. Damn it, you can't let this go unchecked. The medic has already gone home for the night, and the last thing you want to do is try to deal with it on your own. You've only been out of the infirmary for a few days, but you know that if you don't do something about it, you could risk making things worse.

So, you do the only thing that comes to mind: you go find Sevika.

She's always there when things get rough, even when she doesn't want to be. Whether she likes it or not, you're stuck with her. So, you pull on a loose shirt, the fabric brushing against your skin, and you make your way toward her quarters in the heart of Zaun's underground complex.

The hallways are quiet, and the dim light overhead casts long shadows across the stone walls. You hesitate for a moment, the familiar nervousness creeping up your spine. What if she's not in the mood for this? What if she snaps at you, tells you to figure it out yourself? But you push the thought aside, biting your lip and walking with more determination toward her door.

You knock twice, a hesitant but firm tap. The response comes quickly—a grunt followed by the sound of heavy footsteps on the other side. The door creaks open, revealing Sevika in nothing but her sleeveless top, her metallic prosthetic arm gleaming faintly in the dim light. She's standing there, as imposing as ever, eyes narrowing when she sees you.

"What the hell do you want?" Her voice is rough, like gravel grinding underfoot, but there's an edge of concern in her gaze that she doesn't bother to hide.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, the wound on your side still aching painfully. "I—uh, I think my stitches came undone." You gesture weakly to your side, a little embarrassed that you've come to her for something like this. "I need help."

Sevika's brow furrows, and before you can say anything else, she steps aside, ushering you in with a sharp, "Get in here."

You hesitate, but the pain is still there, gnawing at you. You wince as you step inside her quarters, and the familiar scent of leather, metal, and the faint, earthy smell of Zaunite air fills your senses. Sevika's space is sparse, functional—a bed, a few chairs, some scattered tools, and a small table with a few half-drunk bottles of something strong.

She gestures for you to sit on the edge of her bed, the sheets slightly askew, but she doesn't seem to care about the mess. You sit carefully, lifting your shirt to reveal the bandages around your side, only to wince again when the motion tugs on the wound.

Sevika doesn't say anything, just walks to the small table and grabs some fresh gauze, a roll of medical tape, and a few tools. You notice the way her gaze flicks to your side, her lips pressing into a thin line.

"Don't just sit there like a damn idiot," she mutters, her voice unusually soft as she crosses the room, "Take that shirt off. You're making it harder for me."

Your heart skips a beat, and your cheeks flush with warmth, even though you try to hide it. You've never been this close to Sevika before, especially not in this context. Her usual scowl is softened, but there's an undeniable hardness to her presence, making your pulse quicken.

You take a deep breath and pull the shirt off, revealing your bandaged side and the remnants of your wound. You're left in just your bra, feeling a little exposed, but you try to push the nervousness down. Sevika doesn't seem to care at all about your state of undress. Her attention is entirely on you, her sharp eyes scanning the injury as she leans over.

The air feels suddenly thick with an intensity you haven't noticed before. Her movements are methodical, but there's an odd tenderness in the way she handles the gauze and the bandages, even though her touch remains firm and practical. When she leans in closer, you can feel the heat of her body as she works on your side, her breath brushing against your skin.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. The room is filled only with the sounds of Sevika's breath and the faint click of her prosthetic arm as she moves. You focus on trying to steady yourself, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Hold still," she orders in a low voice, and you comply, not trusting your words to come out steady.

She works in silence, her focus entirely on the task at hand. Her fingers are gentle as she adjusts the bandages, her calloused hands brushing against your skin every so often. You can feel her eyes on you, though she doesn't look up. The soft touch of her hands against your skin is a stark contrast to her usual coldness, and you can't help the way your stomach flips at the intimacy of it all.

When she finishes, she steps back slightly, her gaze lingering on you for a moment before she clears her throat. "There. That should hold for now. Don't make me do this again."

You glance up at her, catching the faintest hint of something soft in her grey eyes, but it's gone as quickly as it appears. She's back to her usual self—stoic, guarded, but there's still that unspoken understanding between the two of you.

"Thanks," you say quietly, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the vulnerability of the moment. "I really appreciate it."

Sevika rolls her eyes but doesn't say anything else. Instead, she tosses the supplies onto the table and walks back to the chair in the corner, leaning back with her arms crossed. "You're welcome," she mutters, sounding almost gruff, but there's a softness in her tone that wasn't there before.

You glance at her, a small, teasing smile creeping across your face. "You sure you're not going to throw me out now that you've seen me in my bra?"

Her eyes flick to you, the faintest spark of irritation flickering before she grunts. "Don't get any funny ideas, alright? This doesn't change anything."

You smile at her, watching her try to keep up her tough exterior. It's the first time you've ever been this close to her in this way, and you can't help but feel a sense of warmth that spreads through your chest.

"Sure, Sevika," you say softly, "whatever you say."

Sevika doesn't answer, but as she watches you, her lips twitch into the smallest of smiles, just for a fraction of a second.

You never quite get used to the sight of Sevika after a mission gone wrong. It doesn't matter how many times you've seen her come back battered and bruised, bloodied and bruised, a quiet part of you always hopes the next time won't be as bad. But it's always worse. Each time she walks in with a limp, a scowl, and that dark gleam in her eyes, you know it's only a matter of time before it breaks you.

And tonight, it's the worst it's been in months. Her left arm, her prosthetic, is badly damaged, sparks still crackling from the shattered circuitry as she stumbles through the door. Her breathing is shallow, uneven. The shimmer-enhanced blue and purple veins pulse under her skin, glowing faintly in the dim light of the warehouse. The glint of her copper prosthetic, normally a symbol of her unyielding strength, now looks like a taunting reminder of the fragility that even she can't escape.

You feel your chest tighten as you rush to her side, hands instinctively reaching out to steady her.

"Shit," Sevika mutters, her voice rough from the effort it takes to stand. "I'm fine. I don't need your help." But her words lack the usual bite. They're hollow, like she's trying to convince herself more than anyone else.

You ignore her, not caring about the gruff tone or the coldness that oozes from every word. You've seen it before—the way she hides behind that wall of indifference, masking the cracks with bravado. But tonight, there's something different. Her guard is slipping. Maybe it's the injury, maybe it's something else, but for once, she's not pushing you away.

Her heavy, labored steps are slow as you help her to the nearest chair, your hands steady as you guide her down. She winces as her weight shifts onto the seat, the strain evident in the furrow of her brow and the clenched jaw.

You sit beside her, your eyes tracing the damage to her arm, the shimmer scars that mar her skin. Your stomach knots. She's always been tough, but this time, there's a vulnerability to her that you've never seen before.

"You need to rest," you say gently, your voice softer than you intended. "You've been pushing yourself too hard. It's okay to take a break, Sevika."

She snorts, her usual sharpness returning, but it's forced. "I don't need your pity."

"It's not pity," you insist, your gaze meeting hers. "It's care. You're not invincible, Sevika. You're allowed to feel things. You don't always have to be the tough one."

Sevika's eyes narrow, and for a moment, you think she's going to snap at you, throw out another biting retort, but she doesn't. Her lips curl downward, and she looks away, focusing on the floor as if the weight of your words is suddenly too heavy for her.

For a long beat, there's silence between you two. The sound of Sevika's ragged breathing fills the space, and you can hear the faint crackling of her prosthetic arm, still sparking erratically.

"Why do you always act like this?" you ask, your voice quiet but steady. "Like you're untouchable. Like you don't need anyone."

Sevika's shoulders stiffen, her jaw tightening, but you don't let her retreat into herself this time. You place a hand gently on her arm, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath the cool metal of her prosthetic. Her gaze flicks to your hand, and for a moment, you think she'll pull away, but she doesn't. Instead, her breath hitches, and she stares at you as if seeing you for the first time.

"What do you want from me?" Her voice cracks, a sharp edge to it. "I'm not some fucking damsel in distress. I can handle myself."

You lean closer, your eyes softening as you study her face. The harshness of her features, the furrow in her brow, the tightness around her eyes—all of it is a mask. A mask she's been wearing for years, hiding the truth underneath.

"I don't want anything from you, Sevika," you say, your voice soft but firm. "I just want you to stop pretending you don't need help. Stop pretending you don't need someone who cares about you. You're not weak because you need someone. You're human."

Sevika's eyes flash with something—anger, fear, uncertainty—before she looks away, her fingers tightening around the edge of her prosthetic. "I don't need anyone," she mutters, though it sounds more like a plea than a statement.

You shake your head. "You do. And I'm here. You're not in this alone."

Her gaze flickers back to you, her expression conflicted. You see the war in her eyes—the part of her that wants to let go, to accept your care, and the part of her that's terrified of doing so. You know she's been through hell, fought battles that no one should have to face, and survived in a world that doesn't give a damn about her. But you also know there's more to her than the walls she's built.

The silence between you both grows heavier, but instead of pulling away, you stay. You let the quiet linger, giving her space to process the unspoken things hanging in the air.

Sevika exhales sharply, and for the first time tonight, she doesn't try to hide the exhaustion in her voice. "You think I'm just some cold-hearted bitch who doesn't care about anything. But you don't know...you don't know what it's like. To care. To have someone depend on you and then—" She cuts herself off, her eyes flicking to the floor. "It hurts, alright?"

You don't say anything right away. You just listen. Because it's the first time she's admitted that. The first time she's let someone see the cracks in her armor.

"You don't have to carry everything on your own," you say, your voice soft but insistent. "You don't have to be perfect. Not for me. Not for anyone. I'm here. Let me help."

There's a long pause, but eventually, Sevika lifts her gaze to meet yours. Her eyes are dark, but there's something different there now. Something softer, less guarded. She blinks, the tension in her shoulders slowly dissipating.

"You really are ridiculous, you know that?" she says with a faint smile, but it's not mocking. There's something genuine about it. "You don't know when to quit."

"No," you reply with a small grin, "I don't."

She sighs, the weight of the moment finally sinking in. "You're right," she mutters, almost to herself. "I'm not good at this. At...letting people in."

"I know," you say, reaching out and placing your hand over hers. "But you don't have to do it all at once. We can take it slow. Just...let me be here for you. When you need it."

Sevika's eyes flicker down to your hand, her thumb brushing over your skin, and for the briefest moment, it feels like the world pauses. The connection between you two is palpable now, not just a shared silence, but something deeper. Something that neither of you can ignore.

Her lips twitch into the barest hint of a smile before she leans forward, her face inches from yours. "You're not like anyone I've met before," she murmurs, her voice low and rough. "And that's...frustrating."

"Why?" you whisper, barely able to keep the distance between you two.

"Because you make it hard to be a cold-hearted bitch," Sevika says, her voice laced with a mixture of frustration and something else you can't quite place.

Without another word, you close the distance. Your lips meet hers in a kiss that's soft, tentative at first, but soon deepens as the tension between you two finally gives way. The kiss is slow, exploring, each touch of your lips against hers a silent promise, a moment of vulnerability shared between two people who have spent so long hiding from each other.

When you finally pull away, Sevika rests her forehead against yours, breathing heavily. There's no more need for words between you two. The connection is enough.

For the first time in a long time, Sevika lets herself feel what she's been hiding, and you, quietly, let her.

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