Money Talks.
money talks.
ghost. part i ┃ sevika x reader WC: 4.7K
ⓘ: i don't know jack about the 80s, the stock market, new york...just read some articles and surfed google maps. f it we ball ⚠︎: alcohol consumption, mild homophobia if you squint, mild misogyny, blood, psychological horror/thriller elements
A shaky exhale escapes your parted lips as you enter the office, the tense atmosphere of the bustling trading floor hitting you like a gust of wind. You remind yourself that you’re fine—you can do this. Sevika didn’t help you land this job just so that you could stand about and be a nervous wreck.
Tentatively, you navigate through the maze of desks, heels clicking against the scuffed vinyl flooring. Cackling laughter and a potent scent of tobacco infiltrates your senses, causing your nose to scrunch in disgust. The air is thick with bravado and smoke, punctuated by the piercing ring of phones and the rapid click of typewriter keys.
In the cramped lunchroom, clusters of coworkers lounge around battered tables, cigars drooping from their lips. You set your briefcase down and pour yourself a cup of coffee, grateful for the sharp aroma that cuts through the haze.
You can feel their eyes on you and hear the undercurrent of the shift in conversation. What had seemed to be a friendly chat regarding the current market faded as their voices dropped low and conspiratorial. Your lips press into a frown, unease growing once more at the initial hostility.
Suddenly, the chatter dims. You turn, mug in hand, and spot Sevika in the doorway.
You brighten, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Sev, hey.” the nickname slips out, almost naturally.
Her lips upturn as she saunters over. “Hey, doll. You gettin’ settled in?” She leans against the counter, arms crossed.
You shrug, gesturing to your coffee. “Well, I just got here.”
She hums, studying your expression, attempting to gauge your emotions. “You nervous?”
You nod, a little sheepish. “A bit… I’m still new to all this finance stuff.”
Sevika waves off your concern. “Nah, don’t worry. You’ll do great.” Her eyes flick to the men in the corner; they shrink under her gaze. She huffs, amused, then turns back to you.
“C’mon, I’ll show you where your desk is.”
You follow her past rows of nearly identical desks—laminated wood, each with a Quotron terminal and a heavy black phone. At the end of the row, she stops.
“This one’s yours,” she says, gesturing.
You set your briefcase on the desk, nerves prickling under your skin.
She lingers, sensing your unease. “Hey, look at me.”
You meet her eyes.
“You’re gonna do just fine, yeah?”
You nod. “Yeah.”
“Good.” She sighs as the energy in the room ramps up—shouts from the trading floor, the clatter of keys, the low thrum of ambition. “Listen, I’m pretty swamped today, but if you need anything, just ask. My desk is up front.” She points across the room.
“Thanks, Sevika.” Her hand is reassuring on your arm for a moment, the softness in her gaze reserved just for you. Then she straightens, her expression hardening as she strides away, leaving you to settle in.
You lower yourself into the chair, the worn leather creaking softly beneath your weight. The faint scent of polished wood and stale cigarette smoke lingers in the air around you. With a small, tentative smile, you unzip your briefcase and pull out a stack of files, a thick phone book dog-eared from use, and a few personal trinkets.
Carefully, you arrange the little objects—a faded photograph, a small figurine, a lucky charm—on the bland laminate surface of your desk. They stand out against the sea of beige and gray, providing you with a sense of individuality.
The soft hum of the Quotron terminal buzzes nearby, and somewhere in the distance, the acute ring of a phone cuts through the murmur of voices. You glance around the room, feeling the weight of the day settle in your chest, but for a moment, your little corner feels like your own.
You jump straight into work, taking calls from clients and offering trading advice with as much confidence as you could muster. You scribble notes on a legal pad, flipping through your phone book for client numbers, the plastic receiver pressed tight to your ear.
As the afternoon sun slants through the grimy windows, casting golden rectangles across the scuffed floor, the office door bangs open. A man in a striped suit strides in, cell phone pressed to his ear—one of those chunky Motorola flip phones, the kind only the higher-ups can afford.
He dumps his briefcase on the floor, shrugs off his jacket, and slings it over the back of the chair beside yours.
“Honey, listen, we just can’t afford any more of these shopping sprees,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, yeah, I know it’s from the catalogues, but those prices add up.” He glances at you, rolls his eyes theatrically. “Listen, hun, once I get my check on Friday, we can go out and shop, how’s that sound? Yeah, okay. Love you too, sweetheart.” He snaps the phone shut, finally giving you his full attention.
His gaze lands on your desk, lingering on the faded photo of you and Sevika. There’s a flicker of something—judgment, maybe amusement—in his eyes.
“Ah, you’re the new girl,” he says, voice flat as a subway announcement.
You offer a polite smile, extending your hand. “Yes, my name is—”
He cuts you off, waving a dismissive hand. “Yeah, yeah, no need for that. Just try not to screw up, alright? Boss’ll have our heads if we lose another client.” He pushes up his rectangular glasses, already dialing the phone on his desk. The rotary clicks echo in the small space.
Your smile falters, but you nod and turn back to your work, jotting down a note about a client’s position in AT&T. The hours blur together—you grow accustomed to calls, quotes, and the constant drone of voices that filtered through the space.
Eventually, your neighbour swivels in his chair, eyeing you over the rim of his glasses.
“So, you from Manhattan?” he asks, one eyebrow arched.
You shake your head. “Oh, no, I’m from Brooklyn.”
He lets out a low whistle, spinning a pen between his fingers. “Brooklyn, huh? Don’t sound like it. You lose the accent or somethin’?”
You start to explain, but he barrels on. “So, how the hell do you know Sevika?” He leans in, curiosity piqued.
“Oh, uh, we met a few years back and—”
He waves you off. “Yeah, yeah, good for you. So, you two, what, friends?”
You frown, but he keeps going. “I mean, Christ, she’s pretty intense, eh? Knows a whole lotta shit.”
You nod. “Yeah, she’s sharp. Real sharp.”
He cackles, slapping his knee. “Sharp? That woman could run this place if she wanted. Knows more than the damn manager, I swear.”
You laugh, a little awkward. “Sounds like Sevika.”
He leans back, propping his feet on the edge of his desk. “You drink, little missy?”
You hesitate. “Sometimes…?”
He grins, wide and wolfish. “You should come out with us tonight. Bunch of us are hittin’ up somewhere in Tribeca, a real swanky joint. First round’s on me.”
You hesitate, but he waves a hand. “Eh, don’t gimme that look. Think of it as celebrating your first day. Besides, you gotta learn how to unwind in this business, or you’ll burn out before your first bonus.”
You manage a small, grateful smile. Though it carries a hint of disquiet. “Yeah, okay. Sounds fun.”
The day rolls on. Your phone rings again, and you pick up, pressing the receiver to your ear.
“Williams & Co., this is—” you begin, but the voice on the other end is clipped, commanding.
“This is Jerry Williams. I wanted to go over my holdings in Johnson & Johnson and see what you think about the market this week. I heard there’s talk of a rate hike—should I be worried?”
You flip through your notes, recalling Sevika’s advice: always keep your cool, never let them hear you sweat. “Mr. Williams, there’s been hints at a rate increase, but the Street’s already priced most of that in. J&J’s fundamentals are still strong—steady dividend, solid earnings. If you’re looking for growth, we could discuss reallocating a portion, but I’d recommend holding for now.”
There’s a pause. You hear a woman’s voice in the background—biting, impatient.
“Give it here, Jerry, let me speak to the girl.”
The phone’s coiled cord digs into your palm as you grip the receiver, and Mrs. Williams’ voice shrills in your ear. The Quotron terminal on your desk flickers with green numbers, but you can barely focus on the shifting prices. Sweat beads at your temple, and you fumble for a pen, nearly knocking over a stack of trade tickets.
“I—I understand, Mrs. Williams, but—”
Her tirade cuts you off. Around you, the office hums with the clatter of keys and the low drone of a dozen other calls. You catch a few sidelong glances from your coworkers—some amused, some pitying.
Just as you open your mouth to respond, a gentle tap on your shoulder pulls you back. Sevika stands over you, her gaze steady, her presence a sudden anchor in the chaos.
“What’s goin’ on, doll?” she asks, her voice low enough that only you can hear.
You cover the mouthpiece, voice trembling. “It’s the Williamses. I think I messed up, and they’re… not happy.”
She squeezes your shoulder—her hand cool, the pressure oddly reassuring. “Easy, doll. Let me talk to them.”
You hand her the phone, your fingers shaking. Sevika leans in, her eyes flicking to the Quotron screen, then back to the call. She speaks with practiced ease, referencing last week’s market dip and the Williamses’ recent portfolio gains, weaving in a mention of Jerry’s fishing trip. The tension in Mrs. Williams’ voice softens, and after a few minutes, Sevika ends the call with a warm, “You take care now—tell Jerry I want to see those photos.”
She hangs up, sighs, and turns to you. You start to stammer an apology, but she cuts you off with a gentle touch, her thumb brushing your cheek. “It’s all good now, dolly. They won’t speak to you like that again.”
For a moment, you lean into her touch, the noise of the office fading. Then she pulls away, her expression hardening as she glares at your onlookers, sending them back to their work.
A shaky exhale escapes your lips—It’s as if she knew exactly what Mrs. Williams needed to hear before the words were even spoken—you think to yourself, your hand gingerly coming up to touch the spot she had caressed. Her hand was cool, almost unnaturally so, but a piercing ring shatters the silence and derails your train of thought.
Reluctantly, you answer the phone, effectively silencing any rattled sentiments that lingered. And most importantly, the butterflies that flew around in your stomach.
The day wears on without any more confrontations. When the clock finally hits five, the office erupts into motion—phones slammed down, jackets shrugged on, and the stale scent of tobacco growing sharper as people pack up. Matt, the man at the next desk, glances over at you with a crooked grin.
“Ready to head out, missy?” he asks, already gathering his things. A few other guys from the bullpen wander over, slapping each other on the back, the energy shifting from cutthroat to casual.
“Yep, just gotta—” you start, but Matt’s already calling across the room.
“Hey, Sevika, you joinin’ us tonight?”
Your gaze flicks to Sevika. She looks tired, her eyes shadowed from a long day, but she scoffs as she slips on her suit jacket, rolling her shoulders.
“Hell no, I’m not goin’ to no damn bar with you fools,” she shoots back, her tone dry but not unkind.
Your expression falters, and she catches it, one brow arching in your direction.
“You goin’ out, doll?” she asks, her voice softer for you.
You nod, trying to sound casual. “Yeah… I mean, might as well.”
Sevika sighs, running a hand through her hair. She glances at Matt, then back at you, then back at Matt. “Fine. But I’m not babysitting when you idiots start doing shots and tryin’ to outdrink each other.”
The guys just cackle, clearly pleased Sevika’s coming along. Her presence shifts the dynamic—You can tell she’s respected, maybe even a little feared, and the men tone down their jokes just a notch.
As you all head for the elevators, the chatter turns to which bar to hit—somewhere downtown, maybe. The city outside is just waking up for the night, neon flickering in the dusk.
The guys and Sevika pile into the elevator, still bickering over which bar to hit first. The cramped space fills quickly, and you hesitate at the threshold, eyes flicking to the crowded interior.
“Oh, uh… I’ll just wait for the next one,” you murmur, stepping back.
Before you can move, Matt’s hand shoots out, gripping your arm firmly. You stumble forward with a soft “oof” as you bump into Sevika. Her prosthetic arm snakes around your back, steadying you.
“Easy,” she gruffs, shooting Matt a sharp glare—one that lingers a beat longer than necessary.
Matt just shrugs, unfazed, as the elevator doors slide shut. The air inside is heavy with the scent of cheap cologne and aftershave, mixed with the faint trace of tobacco smoke. The elevator hums softly, the mechanical whirring punctuated by the occasional muttered argument over which floor to select first.
You shift slightly, trying to make yourself as small as possible, standing close to Sevika, whose presence feels like a shield in the crowded space. Her eyes remain fixed straight ahead, expression unreadable but tense.
Matt leans against the wall near the buttons, grinning. “C’mon, doll, don’t be shy. You’re one of us now.”
Sevika’s jaw ticks, her voice low and flat. “Watch it, Matt,” she says, not taking her eyes off the elevator doors. “That’s not your word.”
Matt simply cackles in response, leaning against the wall with crossed arms. “You call everyone ‘doll’, or just the ones out of your league.”
Sevikas' eyes narrow, and she scoffs. “Don’t,” she warns. The simple one-word response still isn’t enough to shut him up as he presses on.
“C’mon, don’t be a bitch, I'm just—”
“Keep it up and you’ll find out real quick why I'm the only one who gets to say it.”
Matt’s laughter falters as Sevika fixes him with a look that brooks no argument. The space seems to shrink around them, the rest of the group falling silent as her words hang in the air. The elevator lurches downward, and you swallow hard, caught between the buzz of the group and the quiet weight of Sevika’s steadying touch.
You step out onto the street, the clean scent of rain washing away the office’s stale air. The elevator chatter has faded, but Sevika’s earlier sharpness still lingers, hanging awkwardly between the group. You clear your throat, trying to break the tension. “Uhm… have we decided where we’re going?” you ask, your voice tinged with uncertainty.
Matt shrugs, glancing at the others, then at Sevika, then back to you. “Dunno yet. Was thinkin’ Tribeca, but the boys had another idea.” He flicks open a pack of cigarettes, lighting one with practiced ease.
Chris takes a long drag from his own cigarette, exhaling a thin plume of smoke. “Well, I was thinkin’ we hit up King Cole.”
Your eyes widen just a bit. “Isn’t that place super expensive?” you ask, reluctance clear in your tone.
Chris grins, nudging you. “Yeah, but c’mon, it’s the King Cole. Place is a classic—old-school New York, you know? You ever seen that mural behind the bar? Things’ worth more than my apartment. Besides, first round’s on Matt.”
Matt snorts. “Not if we’re going there. But hey, I don't see why Sevika couldn’t help cover a round. For her dolly, of course"
Sevika’s eyes narrow, her tone sharp but cool. “Don’t worry about my ‘dolly,’ Matt. I’m not letting you stick her with a thirty-dollar martini just so you can play big shot.” She flicks her gaze to you, voice softening. “You want to see the mural, we’ll see the mural. I’ll pay for you.”
You hesitate, starting to protest, “Oh, well, we don’t have to—”
Chris cuts you off with a grin, “Then it’s settled, let’s go.” He strides toward his car, the others following.
You huff softly and glance at Sevika, who just rolls her eyes. “C’mon, doll, ride with me,” she says, her voice low but firm.
You nod, falling in step beside her as you both head to her vehicle. The sun sets behind the city skyline, casting a warm glow over the flashy lights that begin to flicker on around you.
The silence between you is thick until Sevika’s voice cuts through like a knife. “How was your first day?”
You rub the back of your neck, laughing awkwardly. “Uhm, it was alright... besides getting cussed out by Mrs. Williams.” Your eyes meet hers, her appearance illuminated by the sundown. “Don’t beat yourself up, doll.”
You start to protest, “Yeah, but—”
“Doll,” Sevika interrupts gently, her eyes locking with yours for a moment before returning to the road. “Mr. and Mrs. Williams own the company. They’re very picky about who helps manage their money, among other things.”
Your eyes widen at the blatant realization, a flush of embarrassment creeping in. “I—she was really mad, Sev... I must’ve messed up.”
Sevika shakes her head, hand moving to brush lightly against your knee, steadying the wheel with her prosthetic. Her cool fingers trace a fleeting path across your upper thigh, sending a shiver through you.
“You didn’t. You did just fine. Besides, you heard me—I handled it.”
You bite your lip. “Yeah, but I should’ve handled it myself.”
She sighs softly. “It was your first day, doll. Just… forget about it for now, yeah? We’re almost at the bar.” Her hand squeezes the plush of your thigh gently—a quiet reassurance, though you’re not sure if you feel comforted or rattled by such contact.
Upon arriving at the Bar, Sevika keeps her hand firmly on your lower back, guiding you through the plethora of well-dressed patrons spilling onto the sidewalk. The polished wood-paneled room hums with conversation, jazz floating beneath the clink of glassware. The famous mural presides over the bar, its vibrant colors and enigmatic smiles catching the light as you pass beneath the king’s gaze
Your coworkers have already claimed a table tucked into a corner, half-hidden from the main crowd. Matt waves you over, a smirk plastered on his face. You and Sevika make your way through the maze of cocktail tables, her touch a quiet anchor until you both sit. She keeps her arm around you for a moment longer, her thumb tracing slow circles on your back before she pulls away to flag down a server.
Matt and Chris immediately start in on you, tossing out drink suggestions—Chris pushes for the bar’s signature cocktail, while Matt insists you try something “with a kick.” You glance at Sevika, trusting her judgment. “I’ll have what she’s having,” you say, and she gives you a small, approving nod before ordering for you both.
As the evening wears on, the table grows louder, laughter and stories tumbling out with each round. Matt and Chris become increasingly animated, their cheeks flushed, voices rising above the commotion. Even you feel the alcohol begin to warm your body, eyes glossing over ever so slightly. Sevika, in contrast, remains composed, her glass barely touched. She watches the group with a steady, discerning gaze, always keeping you within arm’s reach.
At one point, Chris leans in a little too close, his tone dripping with sleaze. “You know,” he says lowly, “I bet you’d look a lot better if you smiled more. Don’t be so serious all the time, doll.”
You stiffen, the words hanging in the air like a weight. The laughter from the table falters for a moment, the easy camaraderie suddenly strained.
Sevika’s hand tightens around her glass, her gaze snapping to Chris with a cold intensity. Without breaking eye contact, she leans forward slightly and says, “That’s enough, Chris. Show some respect.”
Chris chuckles nervously, leaning back a little, but the unease lingers. The bar’s hum resumes, but the moment leaves a quiet tension beneath the surface.
You peer over at Sevika, her agitation written in every tense line of her body—jaw clenched, shoulders rigid, fingers tapping a restless rhythm on the table. You frown, concern flickering across your face, but mask it with a feigned yawn. Gently, you tug on her jacket, letting your fingers linger just a moment longer than necessary. “Sev, I’m tired…” you murmur, your voice softer than usual.
She looks down at you, her eyes scanning your flushed cheeks and the way you blink a little too slowly. For a beat, her gaze remains on your expression—longer than it should, maybe, if anyone else were paying attention. You catch the way her lips part, as if she wants to say something else, but she just clears her throat, her voice rough around the edges. “…Okay, doll, let’s get goin’.”
Sevika stands, her hand finding the small of your back with practiced ease, fingers splaying out in a gesture that feels both protective and possessive. She leans in close enough that you catch the faint scent of her cologne, her breath warm against your ear as she addresses the table, “We’re heading out—she’s wiped.”
Matt raises an eyebrow, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips, but Sevika’s gaze flicks to him, daring him to comment. You feel a flutter in your chest at her silent defense, and as you both turn to leave, your hand brushes hers—neither of you pulling away immediately.
Outside, the city air feels electric, charged with something unspoken. You glance up at Sevika, catching the rare, fleeting softness in her eyes, and realize you’re not the only one reluctant to let the moment end.
She clears her throat, looking down at you. “We’ll call it a night at mine. You’ll feel better in a quieter space.” She insists casually, thumb rubbing soothing circles on your lower back.
You can’t help but nod mindlessly, your eyes glued to her sharp features. The night sky compliments her appearance, grey eyes twinkling under the stars.
She helps you into the passenger seat, leaning over to buckle your seatbelt. Your cheeks flush at the close proximity, breath-hitching as the scent of her cologne penetrates your senses.
“I could’ve done it myself,” you mumble, craning your head up to meet her gaze.
A small, almost negligible smirk ghosts her lips. “I know.”
The ride to Sevika’s place is quiet, the silence interrupted solely by the soft sounds of your breathing and low purr of the engine.
After she pulls into the parkade of her apartment complex, she helps you into the building and up the stairs. Though she notices you aren’t as exhausted as you had claimed to be, causing her grip to loosen. “Thought you were tired?”
A giggle escapes your lips as you brace yourself against the doorframe, slightly lethargic from the drinks. “Jus’ wanted to get out of there…” You shrug, kicking off your shoes upon entering her apartment.
“Yeah…don't blame ya, the guys can be a lot.” She hums in agreement, shrugging off her blazer in one fluid motion. You enable your eyes to linger, tracing the curve of her shoulders and the subtle play of muscles beneath her shirt. Yet you make sure to look away right when she turns to face you.
“You hungry?” She asks.
You shrug, glancing up at her. “A little, you?”
She nods. “Yeah, I could eat. Didnt get a chance to take lunch today–too busy.”
You laugh softly, falling into step beside her as she heads to the kitchen.
“Same here.”
Sevika heads to the fridge and pulls out a few vegetables, setting them on the counter. “How about a quick stir-fry? I’ve got some rice left over from last night.”
You nod, rolling up your sleeves. “Sounds good. Want me to chop?”
She hands you a knife, then grabs a pot for herself. “Yeah, if you don’t mind. I’ll start on the sauce.”
You start slicing a bell pepper, the steady rhythm of your knife filling the kitchen. “You always this busy, or was today just extra rough?”
She snorts, measuring out soy sauce. “It’s Wall Street. There’s no such thing as a slow day.”
You grin, sliding the chopped peppers into a bowl. “Fair point. I’m still getting used to it.”
She glances over, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “You’re doing fine. Better than most, actually.”
You shrug, reaching for another vegetable. “Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.”
You cut into an onion, the knife feeling heavier than it should in your hand. The alcohol still buzzes in your veins, making your movements a fraction too slow, a touch too loose. You blink, trying to focus, but the kitchen lights seem too bright, casting long, warped shadows across the counter.
Then, the blade slips.
A sharp, hot sting blooms across your finger. You gasp, dropping the knife. It clatters against the tile—a jarring, metallic sound that seems to echo far too loudly in the suddenly silent kitchen. Blood wells up, thick and vivid, trailing down your skin in a line that feels both illusory and painfully present.
“Shit,” you mumble, more out of shock than pain, stumbling toward the sink.
Behind you, Sevika gasps. The sound is harsh, grating, almost inhuman. You glance over your shoulder, expecting a look of concern, maybe annoyance. Instead, you see her standing absolutely still, every muscle in her body tensed and coiled, her hands gripping the edge of the counter so tightly you hear the wood creak.
Her eyes are fixed on you—or rather, on your bleeding hand. They’re wide, pupils blown, the usual warmth gone, replaced by a cold, predatory hunger. For a moment, she looks like a stranger in her own kitchen.
You try to laugh, the sound brittle. “Guess I’m more drunk than I thought—”
“Don’t,” Sevika says, her voice low and raw, barely recognizable. She doesn’t blink. She doesn’t move. The shadows seem to grow longer around her, swallowing the edges of her figure. The air thickens, heavy and oppressive, as if the room itself is holding its breath.
You turn back to the sink, running your finger under cold water, but the blood keeps coming, swirling in the basin. The metallic scent fills your nose, sharp and nauseating. Behind you, Sevika’s breathing changes—shallow, ragged, almost animalistic.
You glance back again. Her lips are parted, jaw clenched so hard you can see the muscle twitch in her cheek. Her eyes are locked on the blood, and for a split second, you catch a glimpse of something—something impossibly sharp and white—behind her lips.
A chill races down your spine, prickling your skin. Your heart thuds, slow and heavy, as if your body’s trying to warn you of something ancient and terrible.
“Get out,” she growls, her voice guttural, vibrating with a note you’ve never heard before. It’s not a suggestion. It’s a command—urgent, desperate, dangerous.
You freeze, hand still under the water, blood still dripping. Sevika brings her hand up to her mouth, pressing it hard against her lips, as if she’s holding something back. Her eyes flick up to meet yours, and for the first time since you’ve known her, you see fear—real, bone-deep fear—fighting with something darker. Something…horrifying.
“Go,” she chokes out, louder, barely holding herself together.
The room feels wrong, warped, as if you’ve stepped into a living nightmare. The familiar kitchen is gone, replaced by something cold and ravenous. You stumble backward, nearly slipping on the tile, your gaze never leaving Sevika’s face—her wild, desperate eyes, her trembling hands, the shadow of fangs behind her lips.
You don’t ask questions. You don’t look back. You run, the sound of your own heartbeat drowning out everything else, the image of Sevika’s monstrous hunger permanently burned into your mind.
taglist: @half-of-a-gay @sapphiccup @iamaboringrattat @spinback-kiva @theoreticalfreak @moodient @diouna @helaenabugmom @womenlover360 @sumisamente @thatsmadiculous @madzorwhatever @vkumi @boom58 @h2pinky @glittzygorilla @koralinebox @kay-khronicals @belldonic
note: so sorry if this was shit fr, i just wanted to explore writing horror elements heheheheeh
More Posts from Blasphemous-riot and Others
The Jewel of the Sea
Warnings: Sevika kidnaps reader, age gap (reader is 25 and Sevika is around her early 40s), reader is chaotic, enemies to lovers, mean Sev for a while, y’all threaten each other a lot and both have hit each other, Sevika kills someone, reader almost dies, another awkward fight scene, virgin reader, reader cums fast because that’s normal for a first time (so is taking a second), reader has blood on her when they have sex, praise, check-ups, reader gets eaten out, tribbing, I think that’s it LMAOOOO
Genre: fluff, angst, smut
A/N: im so excited for this fic and will be expanding on pirate Sevika!! They are so soft to me like I love them together!! Thank you all for your support I get so happy seeing you all and talking to you guys ʕ̡̢̡⌯͒•ɷ•⌯͒ʔ̢̡̢ this is long asf omg and I wasn’t gonna make it a series cause I can’t have another series rn lol
Translations- priya = darling, jaanu = my life
I researched that her name has Hindi, Sanskrit origins so I thought this would be a cute way to tie her culture in.
───────┈ · ·
Tonight is the night you’ve been raised for, tonight you become queen. The day was going as planned. Flowers here, knights there, it was almost out of a fairytale. You knew this was too good to be true. You’ve been known for your intuition, it’s why your parents put you before your older sister. Whom holds no resentment towards you only a sadness that you couldn’t pursue your own dreams.
Since you were little you’ve adored the ocean, often thinking in another life you were a mermaid. Admiring the idea of protecting the ocean and it’s creatures somewhat like how you saw your mother care for her people. To swim as free as your sister rode. To sing an enchanting song to defeat enemies as your father cut others with his words.
You often reminisce on the idea and in your opinion it helps you be a better princess. Your thoughts were interrupted as your seamstress finish the last lace detail on you coronation dress. You step off the dress to admire yourself stuck in utter awe.
Time passes as you wait behind that humongous door, the door that’ll start the new chapter in your 25 years. The love your family expressed to you unmistakable. As soon as you were alone you felt odd? Almost on edge…
You kept your eyes peeled, and shrugged it off as nerves. The thing about intuition is, it’ll work for you if you work with it.
Ignoring the churn in your stomach you walk as you hear the cue of the violins. As soon as the door opens, chaos is afoot!
Your eyes can’t focus on anything as you look for your family whom are nowhere to be found! Panic is settling into you as you try to create a plan. You see a discarded sword and pick it up awkwardly clutching it, you were always better with archery.
Running through the crowd not sure how to help or what to do your eyes settle on her.
She’s looks like she’d tower over you and hunt you down. You notice her scars and her mechanical arm. Her light smirk and her piercing gaze. It’s like the confusion in the crowd didn’t matter because she was steadily stalking towards you. You’ve heard of her before, she’s known for what she does and how she gets away with it.
Prey in a predators radar is exactly what you were, but you had a choice to fight or flee. You choose to flee as it’ll be you advantage. You know this castle and it doesn’t matter how many times they could’ve mapped it out this is your home.
Clutching the sword you run through the doors and into the hallway. Your main focus is making it to your crawl space which will take you to the gardens. As soon as you got close enough, the knob a fingertip away a sturdy hand grabs your waist and pushes you to the floor. Your sword drops as you try to brace your fall. Not ready to give in despite the pain in your body, you kick at her.
She laughs, how dare she mock you?
To make sure you stay still so her crew could make a swift escape she knocks you out with a cloth.
In almost an instance you went from queen to be, to hostage.
In a haze you wake up in a strange room, it looks to be a office with a makeshift bedroom area? You grip the sheets as you sit up eyes taking in the decor. Treasure here and there, maps neatly tucked away. Slowly you get up feeling that you are without your corset. Heat runs to your face but you push that aside as you look for a weapon.
Gathering courage you go out into the deck looking for her. That brute that took you from your home! The sun was blinding as and the smell of the sea was consuming but you saw her.
You storm up to her despite the laughs from her crew that quite when you dawn the knife you found.
Her express has yet to change from that smug satisfaction.
“Take me home, I demand it!” You yell pointing the knife at her face.
“Careful princess you might hurt yourself.” She laughs, oh what you’d give to rip that laugh out of her throat.
Before you could protest further she grabs then squeezes your wrist disarming you. You squirm as she slings you over her shoulder and makes her way back to her room.
Softly she places you on the bed and closes the door. “You’ll be staying in my quarters.” She states as she gives you space.
“Take me home!”
“I know you aren’t deaf.” She snorts
“You must be dumb because I refuse to stay on this ship!” With that she gets in your face, “you’ll mind how you talk to me.”
Anger rising in you, you spit on her square in her face.
Keeping her composure she steps back and wipes her face.
“I understand this isn’t ideal but you’ll get use to it.”
“Wow an understanding pirate how lucky am I!” You say with an eye roll.
“I took you because of your looks but you’ll stay because of that mouth.”
Being as bull headed as you are, you get off the bed and walk up to her.
“I will be going home with your permission or not!” You keep your voice steady and clear.
Swiftly she pushes you up against the nearest wall. Her breath ghosting your neck. Her thick fingers playing with the lace on the bust of your dress. “Don’t push me princess, you aren’t the first pretty thing I’ve thrown overboard.”
Fear churning in your stomach you whimper softly, pulling a wolf like grin out of her.
“You like that pretty thing? Being threatened is that what gets ya goin’.” Softly she tugs on your dress revealing more of your plush breast.
Your chest heaves as no one has seen you like this. “You are a degenerate.” You state avoiding eye contact. “Sometimes” she states as she moves her flesh hand to pull a stray coil. You swat at her hand and she moves, “get some rest you’ll need it for tomorrow princess.”
Defeated and highly flustered you lay in the bed and give your mind to your dreams.
Your nights use to end with you going to sleep alone and you waking up alone until one night. Sevika was charting at her desk and you were reading on the bed. When she assumed you were getting sleepy she packed up to leave but you broke the silence. “Stay…please.”
She gave you an expression you couldn’t read but she obliged. She puts her things down and lays next to you. “Trouble sleeping?”
“Before this I’ve never slept on a ship before…it’s different.”
“It’s not that bad once you get used to it.” She awkwardly slide her fingers into yours. Obvious she hasn’t done this before. You put your pride to the side and nuzzle into her. “I had a bear…I can’t sleep without her so…” with that she just squeezes you close, embracing you. Being able to relax you inhale until you drift off to sleep.
The next months were a blur as you roam the ship endlessly. You were peering out at sea when you smell her behind you. That strong scent of wood burned into your senses.
“What’s occupying your mind priya?” Her rough hand softly touching your shoulder.
Priya…you still don’t know what it means but it’s nice to hear, better than a condescending princess or pretty thing.
Over these last few months you’ve learn to tolerate her. You two still argue like there’s no tomorrow but you grew to worry when she would stress and you’d help keep order. You saw how she’d grow to worry when you couldn’t sleep or if you’d stare off too long, wanting this to be a home for you how this has been a home to her crew.
“I want to go home.” You sigh leaning forward, gripping the ledge.
“You are home.” Sevika states coldly, “ I don’t understand why this isn’t enough for you?”
“Why being a hostage isn’t enough for me?”
“Hostages don’t get freedom or new clothes you choose to stay on the boat when we dock!”
“I refuse to be seen with you!” You shout turning to face her. The hurt in her eyes are evident but she pushes it down, “this is what I get for protecting a brat!”
“You aren’t protecting me at all! I told you I’m going home with or without you!”
“How would you suppose you’d get home princess?” She cocked her eyebrow and spoke with venom.
Irritated and wanting to prove your point you look around and it dawns on you, you are an amazing swimmer.
Without warning you hoist yourself over the ledge and fall into the ocean. The water was cool but not unbearable.
You sink down trying to gain cover with the bubbles of your submersion but it wouldn’t matter because Sevika jumped in after you.
Concerned more than angry she swims to you and with a rope and the help of the crew the two of you are retrieved!
“Are you out of your fucking mind y/n! Do you not understand how you could’ve hurt yourself pulling a stunt like that?” She shouts not giving you a chance to catch your breath. The crew was quite, it’s a big divide whenever you two argue, Ran typically getting in the middle of it.
“Why can’t you understand you took me from my home and I don’t feel safe with you!”
Angrily she grabs your face squeezing just enough to leave a sting. “So all the nights I hold you and talk to you doesn’t make you feel safe?” You claw at her biceps as you feel tears well in your eyes.
“That’s enough Sevika I think she understands she’s wrong.” Ran states stepping closer.
Sevika can feel her stomach churn because she made you cry. “There’s nothing to see here go back to your stations!” She yells as she pushes you into Ran then left to her quarters.
With that you walk away and go to your spot. You like to sit on the front of the ship with her right hand Ran. They are sweet to you surprisingly and keep you updated on your kingdom. You’ve been presumed dead and your family is devastated but they have to move on.
“I don’t understand why she keeps me here, I refuse to help.” You sniffle and wipe your face.
“You’re entertaining to her I suppose.” Ran says with a shrug, “I don’t question her anymore she wouldn’t give me a straight answer at least when it comes to you.”
“Why’d you guys raid my castle in the first place?” You turn to face them.
Ran’s shoulder tense slightly. “Not sure if I should tell you honestly.”
“You’re the only person I can talk to Ran please!” You grab their hand.
“We were raiding your kingdom because we heard of a King getting ready to kill his heir and we wanted to goods before the drama settled in.” They avoided your eyes feeling a slight shame.
Dread seeps into your heart as their words repeat in your head “ a King getting ready to kill his heir.”
“No I…he wouldn’t!” You stand abruptly, “he loves me!”
“He was raising you for slaughter! Who makes their second in line the monarch? Look I know this is hard but you ever wondered why your family never truly went looking for you? We’re a notorious group and-”
Without another word you were running to Sevika.
When you enter the bedroom you find her frustrated at the desk writing in her journal.
“How may I help you princess?” She mutters without even looking at you, “he was trying to kill me?” You whisper as your voice shakes.
Sevika looks up at you not sure how she wants to respond. She’s never been good with emotions whether it’s hers or someone else’s. Sevika had to grow up in a world where she was the only person who cared about her. That’s why it was so easy to make the seas her home.
Slowly she opened her arms to you and you run over to her lap. In disbelief you sob on her mechanical shoulder. “Why would he do that to me?” You ask in broken breaths.
Sevika could feel her heart in her throat unsure how to respond. When she was younger she imagined having friends and having to comfort them but she never got there with anyone besides Ran and Ran isn’t a crier. So she pulls you closer and lays her head on yours. “If you didnt take me…do you think that would’ve been the day?”
“Priya I don’t know much…but I do know you get headaches after you cry so stop crying please.” She whispers as she wipes your tears. You try to even your breathes but you can’t. So there you sit in your accidental saviors embrace.
Ever since that day you’ve been attached to her hip. This life isn’t what you’d imagined but it’s yours. You often think back and try to see what you missed but it’s no use.
“Sev, whats your favorite thing about being a pirate besides killing people?” You ask as you two walk around a market. You feel like a true swashbuckler with your floppy hat, flowy fabrics and the gun Sevika taught you how to use.
“Watching my crew enjoying themselves.” She bites into an apple then hands it to me, “you all deserve nice things and that’s better than bloodshed…I guess.”
“Big ole’ softy…” you nudge your shoulder into her as you bite the apple.
“Don’t get use to it.” She mutters and you were going to tease back till you saw an amulet.
“Jaanu look!” You point but she stops, “what did you call me?” Her voice unsteady. “Jaanu? Oh I…well you call me priya so I wouldn’t to call you something sweet too…I don’t necessarily know what either means but I read it in one of your romance novels you like to hide.” You state this like it’s no big deal as you buy the golden amulet. Sevika can feel her face burning and her palms sweating. “Priya means darling and jaanu means my life.”
Stopping in the middle of a market is frowned upon as it slows the hustle and bustle of the environment but you could care less as you stare into her grey eyes. “Then here jaanu I want you to have this.”
You lean up on your tippy toes and clasp the amulet around her neck, “now you’ll always carry me with you.” With that you walk away to catch up with Ran but you look over your shoulder to see her lopsided smile.
You were too busy gushing to Ran about what happened that you weren’t watching your surroundings. You’re still getting use to being a pirate let alone an ex-royal. Technically people still want you dead so it was confusing when Ran tackles you!
Word got out about Sevika’s new lover and how she favors the beauty of a princess. There’s been more incidents at the docks lately but nothing this bold! Another crew mate covered you two as Ran and you prepared your guns.
Lost in the frenzy you got separated. You get a sense of deja-vú. A weapon in your hand you haven’t used on anyone before, fear churning in your stomach and your intuition screaming at you.
Sevika isn’t around to immediately safe you so you have to choose; fight or flight. You don’t need a repeat of what happened a year ago so you choose to gain cover and shoot.
Aim is sloppy but you hit enough people more to disarm them, not having the heart to kill anyone.
That’s when you feel a cold gun pressed to the back of your head. Panic is seeping into your body, what do you do in a situation like this? You aren’t savvy enough to fight them off.
You thought back to all the moments you made on the ship, how you just accepted this is your life. Now it’s getting taken away. You close your eyes thinking about how you wish to be in Sevika’s arms one more time, to tell her how you feel.
In an instance you hear a pop and you assume it was you but you feel a thick warm liquid flow down your shoulder. You look back and there she stood. Sevika always protecting you.
Quickly she rounded you and the crew up. “Are you hurt?” Sevika held your face, her grey eyes searching yours. Not wanting to waste another moment you kiss her.
You two fumble to your quarters, breathing heavily. She shakily takes your clothes off as she bites your neck. “Been wanting you for so long priya.”
“Take me then” you moan clawing at her clothes. Sevika pushes you down on the bed and pressed your things to your chest. Her thick tongue slowly licks and teases your cunt. “Jaanu please I want more” you mewl overwhelmed by the sensations.
“I’m going to take my time and you will listen. Now this might hurt for a second so breathe f’me.” She pushes one finger into you slowly and listens to your drawn out moan. “Feels good priya?”
“Fuck yes!” You moan as you bite your lip. Needing to do something with your hands you pull her hair. “Sevika more!”
“Can’t ever stop being a brat huh?” Always striving to make you happy she pushes another finger in. Her tongue wrapping around your clit, sucking harshly.
Broken moans is the only thing able to come from your throat as you cum into her mouth. “Are you okay, does anything hurt?”
“No more please” you whine although this position is hurting your thighs.
Sevika gently placed her bare cunt against yours and rubs. The satisfaction of that small amount of friction got you wet. “Fuck you feel so good” she moans into your ear.
“You make me feel so good” you lick the outer shell of her pierced ear causing a shiver to go down her spine.
Your hips grind up against hers and you feel yourself already on edge so you both slow down. The drawn out strokes had you both twitching and moaning. The mixture of your juices staining the sheets when y’all came.
Sevika leans her forehead against yours and says, “promise to sail the seas with me forever?”
“I do.”
───────┈ · ·
A/n: this is the longest fic I ever wrote and bitch I don’t wanna do this shit again🥹 in all seriousness I wanted to push myself and I can see the moodboard already!! I hope you all enjoyed this and criticisms is welcomed!!
Taglist: @manfuckthisimout @bambishaven @femme-historian
Dividers- @dollywons
Being touch starved and touch repulsed at the same time is such a weird combination, as if two totally different entities reside within me, one part loves hugs, holding hands, etc, another part is scared to even give a simple high-five.....like how do I deal with it I want a partner to hug her, give her hugs and kisses but at the same time i am like ew humans ew :( such a dilemma
‘cause i hate to wait so long
★vi x f!reader
part one
wc: 4.9k
cw: hurt/comfort
notes: tried my best to make the transition to the end smooth, and i liked how it turned out, kinda get vi on an astronomical level on this fic lol 🫢
It had been a great weekend. The two of you traveled to see your parents, and as always, your mom loved Vi. Sometimes, you swore she liked Vi even more than she liked you. Every time you called to say you were visiting, she asked what dessert Vi wanted and happily made it just for her.
Being back in your hometown meant running into old friends—and with old friends came old flings.
But even though you and Vi had to stand through a thirty-minute conversation with your high school ex in the middle of a bakery, you thought everything was fine. Vi hadn’t seemed particularly bothered at the time, so when you got back home and she started acting off, you assumed it was something else. Probably work.
She had been sharing a studio with some new guy who got on her nerves, and you had heard her complain about indecisive clients more times than you could count.
You weren’t worried.
Not at first.
But then, the little things started piling up.
She left your messages on read for days. She made excuses to avoid staying the night. She canceled plans at the last minute.
And now, standing in her studio, watching her avoid your gaze, you knew.
“Vi,” you started carefully, hands shoved into your pockets, “is there something you want to talk about?”
She shrugged, still not looking at you. “I don’t know. You’re the one who came over unannounced.”
Her tone was flat, detached, and it sent an uneasy feeling crawling up your spine.
“I came over because you’ve been acting weird,” you said, voice steady, but your heart was anything but. “You’ve been avoiding me, and I want to know why.”
She sighed, running a hand through her hair, but still wouldn’t meet your eyes. “It’s nothing. Just work stuff.”
But you knew her. And this wasn’t just work stuff.
So you took a step closer, crossing your arms. “Vi.”
Vi finally looked at you then, and something flickered in her expression—something tired, something unsure.
“What?” she asked, her tone sharp, irritated.
You ignored it. You weren’t sure what was happening, and the last thing you wanted was for this to turn into a fight if it didn’t have to.
“Just tell me the truth,” you said, voice careful but firm. “Please.”
She exhaled sharply, her jaw tightening, fingers curling into fists at her sides.
“I…” She looked away, shaking her head. Then, quieter, “Do you miss her?”
You blinked. “What?”
“Your ex,” she said, voice clipped. “You know, the one we ran into last weekend.”
You frowned, utterly confused. “Miss her? Vi, what the hell are you talking about?”
Vi let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through her hair. “She just seemed so... put together,” she muttered. “Talking about her medical degree, how she wanted to travel the world. And I don’t know, I just thought—” She cut herself off, shoulders tensing. “I just thought maybe you should be with someone like her.”
Your head jerked back like she had slapped you.
“Are you serious right now?” You scoffed, a disbelieving laugh escaping before you could stop it. “Vi, you hate when people put words in your mouth, and now you’re doing the same damn thing to me?”
Her eyes flashed. “I’m just saying it makes sense! She has her shit together, she knows exactly what she wants in life, she doesn’t—” She stopped, jaw clenching so tight you could see the muscles twitch.
“She doesn’t what?” you pressed, stepping closer. “Say it.”
Vi hesitated, then finally snapped, “She doesn’t come with all the baggage I do, okay?”
You stared at her, stunned.
“This again?” Your voice was rising now, frustration boiling over. “Vi, do you ever get tired of pushing me away before I can even think about leaving?”
“I’m not pushing you away!”
“The hell you aren’t!” You threw your hands in the air. “Every single time we get close, really close, you find some reason to run. And now? Now you’re making up some bullshit excuse about my ex to convince yourself that I’d be better off without you?”
Vi’s nostrils flared, but she didn’t deny it.
You let out a humorless laugh. “Unbelievable. You know what, fine. If that’s what you really want, if you actually think I’d be happier with someone else, just say it. Say you don’t want me.”
Silence.
You crossed your arms, your jaw tight with frustration. “Go on. Say it, Vi.”
Her eyes burned as she snapped back, her voice rising. “You know you would!” She let out a harsh breath. “It’s not an opinion, it’s a fact! I’m not good for you! You just said it yourself—I keep finding reasons to push you away. Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I don’t hear the shit my own mind tells me every single day?” She let out a bitter laugh. “Maybe we should just end this now. Before either of us gets hurt.”
That did it.
Your anger flared, white-hot, because how dare she?
Like you weren’t already hurting.
Like you weren’t already attached.
Like your mom didn’t greet her with a smile and a homemade chocolate cake every time you visited.
“You always say that,” you spat, voice shaking. “Like it’s some kind of mercy. Like you’re doing me a favor. Before we get hurt? Vi, I’m already hurt!”
She flinched, but you didn’t stop.
“I have never once doubted my feelings for you. Not for a second. But you? You doubt everything. You push me away and then act like it’s inevitable. Like you’re just sparing me from some big, tragic heartbreak when the only person breaking my heart right now is you.”
Her breathing was ragged, hands clenched into fists at her sides, but she didn’t interrupt.
You let out a sharp, humorless laugh, blinking against the sting in your eyes. “You know what? Fine. If you think this is the right thing to do, if you really believe I’d be better off without you, then I won’t fight you on it anymore.”
You turned, yanking open the studio door. But before you stepped out, you hesitated—just long enough to deliver one last blow.
“Hope you’re finally free from me.”
And then you walked out, slamming the door behind you.
There were a lot of things in life you weren’t sure about.
Like whether the degree you earned was what you actually wanted to do for the rest of your life. Or what you were going to have for dinner. Or if you’d ever figure out how to fold a fitted sheet properly.
But you were sure about Violet.
You were sure she was the love of your life.
You were sure that one day, you would marry her. That you’d grow old together. That maybe—maybe—you’d even have kids, even though that was one of the things you weren’t sure about.
Even with everything life threw your way, you were sure about her.
But sometimes, love isn’t enough.
No matter how much you give, no matter how patient you are, no matter how many times you try to show them—I’m here. I’m not leaving. Please, just let me love you!—it doesn’t always work.
Because love is a two-way street, and if one person keeps building walls instead of bridges, eventually, you run out of ways to reach them.
You had tried. God, had you tried.
You stayed through every storm, through every fight, through every moment she tried to push you away. You picked up the pieces when she shattered, even when it meant cutting yourself on the shards.
But there’s only so much a person can take.
There are only so many times you can be pushed away before you finally stay away.
And as much as you hated proving her right, after the hundredth time she told you to leave—you did.
And it was the worst pain of your life. Worse than that time you tried to ride your pink bicycle down a hill and broke both of your arms. Worse than any heartbreak you’d ever imagined.
Because she was supposed to be your forever.
──────────────────────
Vi would be lying if she said that after your awful encounter at the coffee shop, she didn’t wait for you to call her—maybe to yell at her some more, to say all the things she knew she deserved to hear.
Because even if that was the only thing she could get from you, she would take it.
Anything was better than the silence.
But you didn’t call. You didn’t text.
And she understood why. She wasn’t stupid. If she didn’t try, you couldn’t keep trying for her.
She just didn’t know how.
Vi had spent her whole life in survival mode—fighting, running, enduring. She knew how to throw a punch, how to take a hit, how to push people away before they could hurt her first.
But feelings? Talking? Healing?
She didn’t know what any of that looked like.
So she did the only thing she knew how to do.
She screwed things up a little bit more.
Yes, resorting to drinking wasn’t healthy. No, it wouldn’t solve her problems. But it would make them go away for a while, and right now, that was all she needed.
That’s how she found herself in the nearest nightclub she could find, a whiskey glass in her hand, watching as colorful lights flashed around her. The bass pounded through her chest, drowning out the thoughts she didn’t want to deal with.
“Rough night?”
Vi barely turned her head as some random red head slid into the seat next to her at the bar. She was pretty, in that effortless kind of way, with a confident smirk that told Vi exactly what she was after.
“You could say that” Vi muttered before downing the rest of her drink.
The girl leaned in, her fingers ghosting over Vi’s bicep. “Well… maybe I can make it better.”
Once upon a time, Vi might have taken her up on that offer. A distraction, a warm body, something to make her forget for just a little while.
But the only touch she craved—the only lips she wanted—weren’t here.
Vi sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Not tonight.”
The girl pouted, but she didn’t push. “Suit yourself.”
As she walked away, Vi signaled the bartender for another drink. Because if she couldn’t have you, she could at least have the illusion of feeling something.
──────────────────────
You were woken up by the sound of your phone buzzing on your nightstand. Groaning, you reached for it without much thought, still half-asleep.
“Hello?”
At first, all you could hear on the other end was breathing—slow, uneven.
“Hello? Is anyone there?”
A beat of silence. Then, a voice you hadn’t heard in weeks.
“Can you open your door, please?”
Vi.
You sat up instantly, now fully awake. “Vi? What are you talking about? It’s three in the morning.”
“I just—” A loud thud echoed through the phone, followed by a muffled, “Fuck.”
Your brows furrowed. “Vi, what the hell was that? Where are you?”
“I just need to talk to you” she mumbled, her words slightly slurred. “Please. You can yell at me all you want, I just… I just want to hear your voice.”
You ran a hand down your face, exhaling sharply. “Are you drunk right now? Seriously?”
Silence. Then, barely above a whisper—
“Yeah.”
You closed your eyes, gripping the bridge of your nose. The last thing you wanted was to let her back in after everything, after the pushing and pulling, after the damage she’d done. But a bigger part of you—the part that still ached for her, that never stopped worrying—was already swinging its legs out of bed and heading for the door.
You cracked it open, and there she was.
Vi stood in your doorway, hood up, hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket like she was trying to make herself smaller. Even in the dim glow of the hallway light, you could see the exhaustion in her face—red-rimmed eyes, the way her shoulders sagged like she was holding the weight of the world.
“You look like shit” you muttered.
She let out a breathy chuckle. “Yeah. Feels like it too.”
You should’ve slammed the door in her face. You should’ve told her to go home, sleep it off, leave you alone.
Instead, you stepped aside.
“Come in.”
And she did, wobbling slightly as she walked in.
She looked so out of place in your living room. The red jacket she always wore stood out against the neutral tones of your space—like a warning sign, like a memory that never quite faded.
You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to ignore the way your heart clenched at the sight of her. “What do you want, Vi?” You didn’t even try to mask the exhaustion in your voice. “Why are you here?”
She exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over her face before finally meeting your eyes for the first time since she arrived.
“I don’t know” she admitted, voice rough, unsteady. “I was supposed to go home. I was going home, and then I just… got here.”
You let out a sigh. “That’s not an answer.”
Vi winced, shifting on her feet like she was struggling to find the right words. But words were never her strong suit, were they? She had always been better with actions—though most of them were reckless and self-destructive.
She ran a hand through her hair, sighing. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
You clenched your jaw, looking away. That wasn’t fair. That wasn’t fair.
After everything she’d said, after everything she’d done—after making you leave—she still expected you to be here, to pick up the pieces when she was falling apart.
"You don't get to do this, Vi” you whispered, barely trusting your voice. "You don’t get to throw me away and then show up at my door like I’m supposed to fix you."
Her breath hitched. "I know. I know, and I’m—" She hesitated, the words getting stuck in her throat. "I fucked up, okay? I fucked up so bad, and I don’t know how to fix it."
You swallowed the lump in your throat, blinking away the sting behind your eyes.
"But I want to…"
You could count on one hand how many times you'd seen Vi cry. And most of those times had been involuntary—after waking up from a nightmare, lost in the haze of half-conscious panic, when her body betrayed her before her mind could shut it down.
But now, she was standing in your living room, crying. Her shoulders shook, and she wiped furiously at her eyes, like she was trying to erase the evidence of her own weakness.
"I've said it before, but it's true this time. I promise." Her voice cracked—raw, desperate. "And you can yell at me all you want. You can throw every awful thing I said back in my face, because I would rather have you angry at me than this." She sucked in a shaky breath. "Being apart hurts. The silence is killing me.”
You closed your eyes for a brief second, trying to steady yourself. This isn’t fair.
"You think I wanted to leave?" you asked, voice quiet but firm. "You think I wanted to spend nights wondering if you were okay, if you were sleeping, if you were eating? Do you know how many times I almost called you?"
Vi's lips parted slightly, like she wanted to say something, but no words came out.
"I loved you, Vi. And I spent so much time trying to prove to you that I wasn't going anywhere. But no matter how much I tried, you never let me in."
"I was scared" she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I know" you said. "I know. And I still tried. But you made me believe that I was never going to be enough for you."
Vi took a step closer. "That's not true."
"Isn't it?" you asked, shaking your head. "You were scared I would leave, but you were the one who kept pushing me away. Over and over again."
Vi exhaled shakily, her hands clenching into fists at her sides.
"I want to be better," she said, her voice raw with emotion. "I don’t want to keep running. I don’t want to keep ruining things." She looked at you, her expression open—vulnerable in a way you weren’t sure you'd ever seen before. "And I don’t know if I deserve another chance, but if there’s even the smallest part of you that thinks I do…"
She hesitated.
"Then I’ll spend every day proving to you that I can be better."
Your heart felt like it was being crushed. You loved—love—Vi. You always have, and you probably always will. But feeling so insecure, so scared all the time that you would wake up one day and she would just decide this was over, made you think twice.
"I… I love you. I really do." Your voice wavered as you let out a humorless laugh. "You were the only thing I was ever certain about in my life. You were my forever."
Vi took a step closer, her breath hitching. "I still am…"
"How can I be sure?" Your voice cracked, anger and exhaustion mixing into one. "How can I know that you won’t wake up one day and decide that I’m too good for you? That you don’t deserve me? Or some other crazy shit your brain makes you believe—and just leave? Do you have any idea what that would do to me?"
Vi flinched, guilt flashing across her face.
As much as you tried not to be angry—because she was drunk, because she was vulnerable—you were only human.
"I know you're scared" you said, your voice tight. "I know you think you aren’t worthy of my love. But have you ever stopped to think about how I feel?"
She stayed silent.
"When you look me in the eyes and tell me that I’m just like everyone else? That I’ll leave? That I’ll hurt you?" You shook your head, your nails digging into your palms. "Do you think so little of me?"
Vi's lips parted, but no words came out. All she could do was stare at you, her blue eyes filled with regret, sorrow, and something deeper—something she wasn’t sure how to voice.
And for the first time, maybe ever, you saw it hit her. The weight of what she had done. The hurt she had caused. The damage she had left in her wake.
“I’m sorry” she whispered, her voice breaking under the weight of her own emotions. Quiet tears still flowed down her face, unchecked. “I’m sorry I hurt you so bad, but I promise I’ll be better. I promise I’ll do anything and everything in my power to never make you feel like that again.”
You let out a deep breath, the anger you felt still simmering in your gut.
“Can we talk about this tomorrow?” Your voice was tired, drained. “When you’re sober and I’m not angry anymore?”
Vi nodded, quickly, almost desperately. And the look in her eyes made you doubt everything all over again. It was like she had this power over you—one puppy dog-eyed look and you were gone.
But you couldn’t let that sway you. Not again.
“You can sleep on the couch” you said, turning away before she could break you down any further. “I’ll get you some blankets.”
Vi stood there for a moment, watching you disappear down the hall. She wanted to convince you that she meant it this time. That she wasn’t going to run, wasn’t going to push you away again.
But after everything she had done, after all the times she had broken your heart—what right did she have to ask you to believe her?
So she didn’t. She just sat down on the couch, burying her face in her hands, listening to the sound of you rustling through the closet.
Hoping—praying—that when morning came, you’d still listen to her.
──────────────────────
You didn’t sleep. You spent the whole night tossing and turning in your bed, too aware of the woman in your living room, too aware of the decisions you had to make. The weight of it all pressed down on you, the endless cycle of pushing and pulling, of loving and hurting. You lay there, staring at the ceiling, counting the minutes, then the hours, as your mind ran in circles.
You tried to convince yourself that it was simple. That love should be enough. If you loved each other, you should just betogether—happy, whole, like life was a perfectly wrapped gift waiting to be opened.
But life wasn’t a fairytale, and love wasn’t always the answer.
That was never the question in your relationship. You knew Vi loved you. And she knew you loved her. But love alone couldn’t erase the damage, the doubts, the nights spent wondering if she would hurt you again. Love couldn’t fix the way she closed off the moment things got hard, or how you were always left picking up the pieces.
You turned onto your side, pressing your face into the pillow with a frustrated sigh. Sleep wasn’t coming—not when your mind was a storm of thoughts crashing into each other.
Lying there, restless, wasn’t helping. So you got up, dragging your feet to the kitchen. Maybe a cup of coffee would bring you the clarity you needed, even if it meant breaking your self-imposed caffeine ban.
You had just poured yourself a mug when a voice made you jump.
“I thought you were trying to quit coffee.”
Vi stood at the kitchen entrance, her hair a mess, eyes still heavy with sleep. In the dim morning light, she looked softer—almost like the Violet you used to know, before everything fell apart.
“Yeah, well,” you muttered, wrapping your hands around your mug for warmth, “I couldn’t sleep, so I kind of need this right now.”
You took a sip without thinking, the heat grounding you for a moment—until your eyes landed on the words printed on the ceramic.
World’s Best Girlfriend.
Your stomach twisted. She had gotten it for you on your birthday, grinning as she handed it over, laughing about how “cheesy” it was. At the time, it had been a joke. Now, it felt like a cruel reminder of everything you had lost.
Vi’s gaze flickered to the mug in your hands, and for a second, you thought you saw something break behind her eyes.
You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to act normal, pretending it didn’t sting as much as it did. You gestured toward the cabinet. “You know where the mugs are if you want some.”
She hesitated, her fingers twitching at her sides. “Yeah… okay.”
She moved across the kitchen, opening the cabinet with an ease that shouldn’t have felt so natural anymore. As if she had never left. As if she still belonged here.
The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating, but neither of you knew how to break it.
So you just stood there, eyes locked, memories playing like an old film reel in your mind.
You remembered the time Vi tried to bake you a cake for Valentine’s Day, how the middle was still raw, and you both ended up eating the edges with spoons, laughing the whole time. You remembered that one New Year’s Eve when you sat on the kitchen floor, eating instant noodles and drinking cheap champagne because the party you were supposed to go to had been a bust. You remembered the lazy mornings, the soft kisses, the way she used to sneak up behind you and wrap her arms around your waist as you made coffee.
But you also remembered the fights. The slammed doors. The cabinets shut with a little too much force. The nights spent crying, feeling like the love you had wasn’t enough to keep her.
Vi exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of her neck. “Do you remember that time you got a little too invested in sourdough and kept trying to make a starter? And you read somewhere that keeping it in a warm place helped, so you left it in the oven?” She gave you a small, lopsided smile. “But then you forgot about it and preheated the oven for something else, and the house smelled like burned bread for a week?”
A surprised laugh burst out of you, unbidden. “God, yes.” You groaned, shaking your head. “And then you made it worse by trying to air it out with a box fan, but all it did was spread the smell into every room?”
Vi chuckled, her shoulders relaxing just a little. “In my defense, I thought it was a solid plan.”
You snorted, taking another sip of coffee. “It was a terrible plan.”
The moment lingered, stretching between you like a fragile thread. For a second, it almost felt like things were normal, like the past few months hadn’t happened.
But they had.
“I miss you,” you whispered, barely audible, like you were afraid of the words themselves—afraid she would hear them, afraid she wouldn’t. “I missed you every single second.”
Vi sucked in a sharp breath, her fingers twitching at her sides, like she wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if she was allowed to.
You set your mug down with a quiet clink, steadying yourself. You were done crying. You had spent too many nights crying over this already.
“And I spent the whole night weighing the pros and cons of this relationship. I just…” You swallowed, gripping the edge of the counter. “I’m so scared, Violet.”
Your voice cracked on her name, and Vi flinched like you had physically struck her.
“I know,” she murmured, her gaze never leaving yours. “I am too.”
You let out a humorless laugh. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? We’re both too scared. Scared to lose each other, scared to stay, scared that loving each other won’t be enough.”
Vi took a hesitant step forward. “But I don’t want to be scared anymore,” she admitted, her voice unsteady. “I don’t want to keep pushing you away just because I think it’s easier than letting you stay. I just—” she exhaled, shaking her head, “I just need to know if there’s even a chance. Even the smallest chance that you’ll give me one more shot.”
You stared at her, at the woman you had loved for so long, the one who had broken your heart and was now standing before you, asking for another piece of it.
And the worst part?
You wanted to give it to her.
So you nodded, hesitantly, barely daring to breathe. “I don’t want to regret this, Vi. I’m exhausted from this push and pull. But I love you too much to let you go.”
Vi’s lips parted slightly, like she couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. Then, slowly, a smile broke across her face—small, hesitant, but real.
“Maybe it’s a little selfish. Maybe I’m insane” you admitted, exhaling shakily. “But yes, I’ll give you one more chance.”
Vi let out a breath she had been holding, something like relief flashing across her face. “I won’t waste it,” she swore, stepping closer, cautious but hopeful. “I swear on—” she let out a breathless chuckle, shaking her head, “on every bad decision I’ve ever made, I won’t waste it.”
You arched a brow. “That’s a lot of bad decisions, Vi.”
She laughed, and the sound was so familiar, so her, that your chest ached. It was the same laugh that used to fill your apartment, the same one that made you fall in love with her in the first place.
“Yeah, well… I guess I have a lot to make up for.”
You studied her for a long moment, searching her face for any sign of doubt, any crack in the resolve she was promising you. But all you found was sincerity—raw and unfiltered, painted across her expression in a way that made it impossible to doubt her.
So, once more, you let yourself believe her.
And when she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around you, you let yourself melt into her.
Like you always did, like you always would.
Her grip on you was firm but not desperate. Not like she was afraid you would slip away—more like she was certain she wouldn’t let go this time. Her fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt, her face tucked against your shoulder, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she breathed.
You closed your eyes, allowing yourself a single moment of peace.
“But I’m still mad at you,” you muttered, your voice muffled by her body against yours.
Vi let out a breathy chuckle, the sound vibrating against you. “Yeah,” she murmured. “I’d be mad at me too.”
She didn’t try to defend herself, didn’t try to justify the things she had done. She just held you, letting the weight of everything settle between you.
And somehow, despite all the pain, all the uncertainty—she knew, deep in her bones, that everything was going to be okay.
──────────────────────
Vengeance (ft. Ambessa Medarda)
Important note: I don't write for Ambessa Medarda yet, but I WILL open the request slots and start writing fics for her soon.
~ @zthebean27 reblogged my initial post of Vengeance saying they need one like that with Ambessa, and reblogs help writers. Since you helped me, I'll help you <3
The air was thick with the scent of iron.
Your blood soaked into the silk sheets, a deep crimson stain spreading across the once-pristine fabric.
Your breaths were shallow, each one dragging fire through your lungs. You had managed to kill the assassin—his body lay crumpled on the floor, neck twisted at an unnatural angle. But not before his blade had found you.
Pain throbbed in your side, sharp and relentless, the warmth of your own life pooling beneath you.
The world swayed, the edges of your vision blurring, dark spots creeping in like shadows waiting to claim you.
The heavy stomp of boots echoed down the marble hall. Controlled. Powerful. Unhurried.
You knew that sound. "Ambessa..." You whispered the name, but your voice died before it could issue from your lips.
The doors to the private quarters were flung open with a force that made the walls tremble.
Ambessa Medarda stood in the doorway, framed by the flickering torchlight, her golden eyes burning with something dangerous. She took in the scene—the ruined bed, the dead assassin, the blood. Your blood.
Ambessa's blood ran cold.
For the first time, you saw something flicker across her face. It was gone in an instant, buried beneath years of discipline and war-forged control, but you had seen it. A crack in the unshakable foundation.
She crossed the room in three strides. The scent of steel and spice clung to her, familiar and grounding.
A gloved hand seized your chin, tilting your face up. Her thumb brushed over your cheek—soft, just for a second—before she dropped to her knees beside the bed.
"Who?" Her voice was low, dangerous.
You forced a smirk, though it felt weak. "Didn't stop to ask." You managed to gesture at the tangles of what you left of the assassin.
She huffed a breath through her nose, unimpressed. But there was something in the way her fingers flexed against your skin, like she was restraining herself from gripping too hard.
Her gaze dropped to the wound in your side. Without a word, she tore off her gloves, hands moving with practiced efficiency as she pressed down on the injury.
White-hot agony lanced through you, and you gasped, fingers curling into the sheets.
"Stay awake." A command. No room for argument.
Her grip was firm, steady, keeping pressure on the wound as she reached for the dagger at her belt.
With a swift motion, she sliced a strip of cloth from your ruined nightwear, winding it tightly around your waist. It was rough, brutal, but effective.
"Get me more later." You whispered with a small breathy giggle. "It was my favourite set." You pouted a little despite the searing pain.
"You should have been more careful."
A reprimand, but there was an edge to it—one that wasn’t entirely anger.
Your lips curled into a faint, pained smirk. "You almost sound worried."
Her jaw clenched. "You're my wife." The words were clipped, precise. Like stating an undeniable fact. "No one touches what is mine."
Ambessa lifted you effortlessly into her arms, holding you against her broad chest as if you were something fragile—something worth protecting.
Her heart beat steady beneath your ear, strong and unwavering. And for the first time since the attack, you felt safe.
Ambessa carried you like you weighed nothing, her grip unyielding but careful, as if the very idea of dropping you was inconceivable.
Her body radiated warmth, a grounding presence amid the pain and blood loss clouding your mind. You could hear the sharp commands she barked to the guards as she strode through the Medarda estate.
“Lock down the premises. Find any other threats. If they breathe wrong, kill them.”
Her voice was steel, but the way she clutched you was something else entirely.
By the time she reached the estate’s private medical wing, exhaustion threatened to pull you under. The moment she laid you down, her big hands hesitated—just for a fraction of a second—before pulling away. The loss of her warmth sent a shiver through you.
The medics swarmed in, but Ambessa didn’t leave your side.
She hovered, arms crossed, jaw tight, watching every movement with the lethal focus of a warrior on the battlefield.
When the lead doctor hesitated, she snapped, "If you let her die, I will personally ensure you regret it."
The pressure of bandages, the sharp sting of antiseptic—it all blurred together. But through it all, Ambessa was there, her presence an unshakable force.
By the time the medics finished, the pain had dulled into a bearable throb. The room had emptied, leaving only you and her.
You forced your eyes open, searching for her in the dim light. She was sitting at your bedside, elbows resting on her knees, her head bowed slightly.
The usual ironclad mask she wore had cracked, just enough for you to see what lay beneath.
Concern.
Relief.
Love.
When she realized you were watching her, she exhaled slowly and leaned forward, her fingers brushing against your cheek.
It was the softest touch you had ever felt from her—warm, steady, reverent.
"You scared me," she admitted, voice barely above a whisper.
You blinked, caught off guard. Ambessa Medarda didn’t admit weakness.
Your lips twitched into a weak grin. "You? Scared? The great warlord of Noxus?"
Her hand shifted, trailing down to cup the side of your neck, thumb brushing gently over your pulse. "I would burn the world to the ground for you."
The weight of those words settled between you, heavier than any blade, sharper than any wound.
"You’re not losing me that easily," you murmured, tilting your head into her touch.
She huffed, something like amusement flickering in her golden eyes.
"Good. Because if you had died, I would’ve had to drag you back just to scold you for being reckless."
You chuckled, wincing slightly, and she immediately pressed a kiss to your forehead—a rare, intimate gesture that sent warmth spreading through your chest.
"Rest, love" she murmured, fingers threading through your hair.
"I’ll be here when you wake."
Sevika getting cuteness aggression with reader? Like reader is just sitting there eating and Sevika gets a huge urge to just pinch their cheek out of nowhere? Also I absolutely LOVE YOU SO MUCHHHH YOURE SUCH A GOOD WRITER YOURE MY FAVOURITE I LOVE YOU🙏🏼🙏🏼🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷
HOW DID I MISS THIS ASK AWWWWEE ANON YOU'RE SO SWEET
i remember responding to another hc about Sevika getting cuteness aggression and thinking "where did i see this before" 😭💙
imma write a silly lil sevika and cuteness aggression thing right here right now bc i feel bad--
~ ~ ` 💞
imagine. just sitting nearby, minding your own business, reading or cleaning or watching tv or whatever, and sevika's sitting across the room watching you from the couch with this fierce scowl. you finally notice her staring and go "what?" "come here," she says, impatiently patting her knee. you walk over to her obediently and as soon as you sit down in her lap she pulls you into an aggressive hug, squeezing you just tight enough so the wind gets knocked out of you. nuzzles her face into your shoulder, you feel the soft bite of her teeth. "why are you like this," she mutters into your skin. "you're driving me insane."
she would also just pinch your cheek habitually. you're disappointed in her for getting home too late, working too much, whatever, and she just gives you a low chuckle and pinches the apple of your cheek, saying "you're cute when you're pissed."
wishing irrationally she could put you in her pocket and carry you around with her at work. would make her feel worlds better when life gives her shit.
Ambessa and reader who has mommy issues? Mostly in the sense that their mother blamed not being able to live her own life on reader and it shows with a need for validation and praise, extremely touch-starved yet touch-repulsed due to how foreign it feels?
Touch
I have mommy issues. I'm projecting <3
Contains mentions of parental abuse, mommy issues!r
The first time Ambessa Medarda laid a hand on you, you flinched. It was barely a touch—just the back of her fingers ghosting over your jaw as she tilted your face upward—but your whole body locked up, breath halting like an animal caught in a snare.
Ambessa withdrew immediately, her golden eyes sharp and assessing, but she made no comment. Instead, her fingers drifted away as if she hadn’t noticed the way the you had recoiled from something so simple.
She knew better than that.
She noticed everything.
Ambessa was not a woman who pried. She was patient—not in a way that was gentle, but in the way a predator knew when to bide its time. She let the you orbit around her, let you take the space you needed. She did not demand. Did not push.
It was infuriating.
Because that was all you had ever wanted. Space. Permission. Someone who didn’t see you as a burden, a weight shackled to their ankles, keeping them from flight.
Your mother had always made sure she knew.
"You ruined my life."
"I could have been something if it weren’t for you."
"Do you know what I sacrificed?"
It hit hard.
You grew up knowing you were an obligation, not a daughter. That your presence was something to endure, not cherish. And it showed in the way you sought approval like a starving thing, the way you craved warmth and shrank from it in the same breath.
It made no sense.
Or maybe it did.
You had learned that love was something conditional, something that had to be earned with good behavior, with silence, with obedience.
And touch… touch had been nothing but a means to an end. A slap to silence you.
A hand squeezing her wrist too tightly when you stepped out of line. A perfunctory pat on the head when your mother remembered she was supposed to pretend.
Nothing about it had ever meant comfort.
So why was it different with Ambessa?
Why did it burn through you like an ember catching dry wood, leaving you both raw and wanting?
"You hold yourself like you are bracing for war," Ambessa observed one night, her voice low, considering.
You were in the privacy of her chambers, where the rest of the world could not reach. Ambessa sat in her chair, legs spread comfortably, a glass of wine held and tilted between thick fingers.
She was relaxed, but there was something in her gaze—something that pinned you to the spot like a blade to the throat.
You exhaled slowly, a forced breath. "That’s just how I am."
Ambessa hummed, unconvinced. "No. It is how you were made to be."
You stiffened. Looked away. Ambessa did not press.
Instead, she set her glass down, pushed to her feet, and approached slowly, deliberately. She always moved like this around you—never sudden, never careless. It made something inside you clench.
When she stopped in front of you, she didn’t touch. She simply looked down at you, a titan made of flesh and steel, war-hardened and unshakable.
"Tell me," Ambessa said, voice quieter now. "What would happen if I touched you?"
Your throat went dry. Your hands curled into fists.
"I don’t know."
Ambessa’s brow lifted, but she nodded. "Then let’s find out."
She raised a hand, slow and open, giving you every opportunity to step away. When you didn’t, Ambessa’s palm came to rest against her cheek, warm and solid. But it wasn't a slap.
It was soft, caressing.
You sucked in a sharp breath. Your instinct was to pull back, to flee—but you didn’t. You stood frozen beneath the weight of Ambessa’s touch, overwhelmed by how foreign it felt. There was no demand in it. No expectation. No hidden blade beneath the surface.
Just warmth.
Your lips trembled. Ambessa’s thumb brushed over your cheekbone, barely there, and you shuddered.
"You are touch-starved," Ambessa murmured, more statement than question.
You girl bit your bottom lip. Swallowed hard. "It feels—" your voice faded.
Ambessa’s hand did not leave your face. "Unfamiliar things are not always bad."
You squeezed your eyes shut. Every instinct screamed at you to run, to shove the touch away before it dug too deep, before it uncovered the ache you had spent years trying to bury.
But you didn’t.
Not this time.
Hello, I love ALL of your work, so if it's not too much of a hassle, I'd like to make a request. Arcane women x reader who is a very dangerous (and well-known) criminal and murderer in Zaun and Piltover, with a sadistic and manic personality. But when they meet her, they realize that the reader is quite kind and affectionate, maybe even a little shy. That's all, I hope you like my idea. Have a good day!
⋆ ☆Arcane Women x criminal!reader Headcannons
Characters: Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Sevika, Mel, Ambessa.
Genre: fluff
Warnings ⚠️: Arcane Women x reader, Fem!reader, Criminal!Reader, mentions of murder, fluff, violence implied.
-Jinx
●Jinx is OBSESSED with you the moment she meets you. She expected someone as crazy as her, and while you definitely have your moments of sadistic mania, she's delighted to find out you're actually kinda cute.
●"Wait, wait, wait-so you're tellin' me you are the one that gutted those Piltie officers like a fish? You? Awww, cupcake, you look so precious when you blush.
●She teases you constantly about how different you are from your reputation. She finds it hilarious when you get flustered, but she loves seeing that dark, twisted side of you come out when necessary. It makes her giddy.
●Jink probably tries to provoke you just to see that manic glint in your eyes because damn, it's hot when you're in killer mode.
-Vi
●Vi is wary at first. She knows your reputation, and even if she's not exactly law- abiding herself, she has to keep an eye on you. But then... she sees you being soft?
●"You, uh... you sure you're the same person everyone's scared of?" Vi watches as you carefully, wrap a strat cat in a blanket, looking all concerned.
●Once she realized you're not as unhinged as the rumor says, she finds your duality intriguing. The idea that you could be a ruthless killer yet still get nervous when she flirts with you? Oh, she loves it.
●"Damn, sweetheart. You just slit a guy's throat, and now you're all shy 'cause I called you pretty? That's adorable."
-Caitlyn
●Caitlyn has to meet you under a professional circumstances first. As an enforcer, she knows exactly who you are and what you've done. She expects a remorseless, sadistic monster, not... whatever this is.
●She watches in shock as you nervously avoid eye contact, mumbling out something polite. She expects a challenge, but instead, she gets someone who stammers when complimented?
●Caitlyn doesn't trust you at first, but once she sees you softer side, she starts questioning everything.
●"You- you're a murder. A criminal. And yet you just helped that old woman cross the street?"
●The contradictory of your personality fascinates her. She might even hesitated to arrest you.
-Sevika
●Sevika knows what kind of person you are. She heard the rumors, seen the aftermath of your work, and yet... she never expected you to be so polite.
●She initially thinks it's an act, a manipulation tactic, but the more time she spends with you, the more she realizes it's genuine.
●"So let me get this straight... you've got half of Zaun scared shitless of you, and yet you can't even look me in the eye when I call you cute?" She smirks. "That's just pathetic, doll."
●Sevika is the type to test you, pushing your buttons just to see if the rumors hold weight. When you finally snap and go full psycho mode? She grins.
●"There's my girl."
-Mel
●Mel is intrigued by you the moment she hears your name. She’s dealt with powerful people before, but someone with your reputation? That’s a different kind of influence.
●“A killer with a soft heart…" how very unusual.” She studies you like a puzzle, fascinated by the way you switch between cold-blooded and sweet.
●Mel finds your duality entertaining. She’ll say something flirtatious just to watch your confident demeanor crack.
●“For someone so feared, you do crumble quite easily under my gaze. How adorable.”
●But she’s also deeply respectful of your strength. She knows better than to underestimate you, no matter how affectionate you are.
-Ambessa
●Ambessa isn’t easily impressed, but the moment she hears about you, she’s intrigued. A dangerous, high-profile criminal? She likes power, and you have plenty of it.
●When she meets you and sees how shy you are despite your reputation, she can’t help but chuckle.
●"I expected a monster. Instead, I find a kitten.”
●She enjoys the contrast. She also enjoys watching you switch from soft to brutal in an instant. It proves you’re not weak—just selective about who sees your true self.
Sevika is the pe teacher and reader is the English teacher and reader is sweet to all the students and everyone loves her but sevika is more on the strict side, doesn’t actually matter what’s the plot i just need teacher!sevika x teacher!reader😭🙏
HELL YES
men and minors dni
"jinx, the bell rang five minutes ago, kiddo. what class are you supposed to be in?" you ask as you walk into your classroom, blowing on your fresh cup of coffee.
this is your planning period, and you never mind having a student or two visit you, but you know jinx better than to assume she's here on her study-hall and not skipping class.
"please don't make me go, teach."
"dr. singed's chemistry class?" you guess. he's notorious for his harsh grading rubric.
jinx shakes her head. "no, no, i've got an a in chem." she huffs. "it's gym class."
you laugh. "you don't like gym? i've seen you run down the halls, you're quick as hell. figured you'd love that stuff."
"fuck no. sevika's a monster! she's making us climb ropes and do pushups-- i can barely carry my backpack to school, what makes her think i can do a fuckin' pullup!?" jinx laments.
you have to bite your cheek to keep from laughing. you gesture to the little corner of bean bags, blankets, and books in your class, then pull open your desk drawer. "you can stay. but if principal merdarda or sevika comes in here i'm tellin' her you told me it's your study hall."
"you'd rat me out?!" jinx cries. you grab one of the many bags of chips you store in your bottom drawer and toss it to her where she's getting cozy in the beanbag. she grins. "flamers, fuck yeah!"
"in exchange for my hospitality... you need to tell me why i saw your sister fighting with a cop at the gay bar last weekend." you request.
jinx gasps, her eyes lighting up in delight at a chance to gossip about vi-- a girl you taught a few years ago.
"you party at the hound?!" jinx asks with a giggle. you shrug.
"is that so shocking?"
"you're badass underneath that cardigan, huh, teach?" jinx teases. she stands from the corner and drags her beanbag across the classroom, situating herself in front of your desk and digging into her flamers. "okay, so, a year ago vi got arrested at a protest, right?" jinx starts.
you nod along in amusement at jinx's story, dividing your attention between her and the essays you're grading.
zaun high is small enough that you get to really know the kids that roam the halls for four years, and jinx comes from a big family with a gaggle of kids you've only ever adored. it's good to hear that her brothers are doing well, that vi's figuring herself out.
you blink up at jinx when she takes a pause between stories, snacking on her food. "so i hear you've made things official with ekko."
jinx turns bright red and she squeaks as she hides behind her braids. "shut up!"
"had to lock him down before he gets elected class president, huh?" you tease. jinx squawks.
"okay, well, what about a rumor i heard that you're dating another teacher here!" jinx accuses, pointing at you.
you giggle and shrug. "mmm... maybe... but you'll never guess which." you say.
jinx scoffs and rolls her eyes. "oh please, it's so obvious. you and profe ran are always giggling together." she says.
you laugh. ran, the spanish teacher, is a childhood friend of yours, but they're certainly not the person you're dating. "sure, it's ran."
jinx frowns and squints at you. "the new college councilor?" she guesses.
"ms. grayson?" you ask. jinx nods. you laugh again. "that's hilarious. isn't she married?"
jinx huffs. "well, i dunno! are you even dating anyone?"
the door slams open and you both jump, turning to look at sevika.
fuck. she looks good. you're pretty sure she's been wearing her shortest possible shorts just to tease you. she's been using the increasingly warm weather as her excuse.
"jinx! the fuck are you doing?" she glares at the teenager.
jinx jumps out of her beanbag and scrambles to collect her belongings. you giggle.
"put the beanbag back before you go."
"fuck." jinx mumbles, scrambling some more.
sevika turns her glare from her missing student to you, striding up to your desk. you bite your lip as you watch her thighs ripple with each step. "you're harboring fugitive students now?"
"she told me it was her study hall." you lie.
jinx groans. "you rat!"
sevika huffs and glares down at you. you shrug and blink up at her innocently. with a quick glance at jinx where she's stuffing her face with the rest of her chips over the garbage can, you hold up a folder to block your mouth and whisper up at your girlfriend. "my place tonight?"
sevika's glare melts for just a moment, and she gives you a half nod and a wink before tunring on her heel and smacking the chips out of jinx's hand. "c'mon, before i give you detention." she huffs, dragging jinx out of your class by her backpack.
"see you in third period, jinx!" you call. jinx giggles and waves to you. sevika flips you off over her shoulder.
taglist!!
@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys @sevikasllver @runawaybaby3 @lesbones
@chezze-its @lez-zuha @vikashoneybee @shanesevikasfuckdoll @imheadintothemountains
@nanajustnana-a @helaenabugmom
taglist!
@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner
@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther
@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart
@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette
@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp
@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner
@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke
@strawberrykidneystone @vkumi @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25
@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby
@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth
need this so bad actually
She looks so fucking cute having an idea and then doing it AHHH!
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