SYNOPSIS: You and Abby are failing miserably at picking women up at the bar tonight for a reason both of you are completely oblivious to.
WC: 2.3k | CW: abby x fem!reader. established fwb relationship, non-exclusive. public sex (bar's bathroom), oral (r!receiving), abby's a teaser and edger if you squint lightly.
a/n: finished writing this at 2am and i'm tired as hell but it was absolutely worth it cause i loved the dynamics!! fwb with abby? where do i sign up???
“So like, I’ve been coming to this bar for like two years and I’ve never actually talked to anyone here,” the girl says, and Abby leans closer with practiced ease.
The thing is, it’s been fifteen minutes and she can’t remember the girl’s name. It’s too late to ask for it now, though. It’s clear she’s interested, she’s been laughing at Abby’s jokes, leaning in and making eye contact that lingers just a second too long.
She’s pretty, too. Redhead, bright green eyes, an easy smile and very straightforward attitude. Exactly what Abby needs tonight.
“Well,” Abby grins. “You’re talking to me now. That’s gotta be something, right?”
The girl laughs, and Abby feels that small spark of triumph. The night’s finally turning around. She’s been striking out all evening, every single person she’s approached seemed to lose interest within the first couple of minutes. But finally, something’s working, and she’s definitely taking this girl home tonight to—
“Triple whiskey, neat. Please,” Abby’s entire body goes still as she recognizes that voice.
She turns around almost immediately, and there you are. If they light rasp in your voice didn’t give away how frustrated you are, the way you’re tensing your jaw and holding your head in your hands surely does. Your shoulders are taut, carrying the weight of whatever awful night you must be having in them.
“Hey, babe,” Abby calls, and it comes out easier than it should. You lift your head at the sound of her voice, and relief flashes across your face. It makes Abby’s chest tight in a way that has nothing to do with the girl she was just flirting with. “Whatchu getting?”
The redhead —come on, Abby, seriously, what’s her name?— shifts beside Abby, and Abby feels it more than she sees it. It’s subtle, a micro adjustment, so she doesn’t mind it.
“The strongest thing they have,” you say, and you mean it. The exhaustion is clear in your voice, and it’s all Abby needed to confirm you are having a rough night.
Without thinking, she waves the bartender over. “Whatever she drinks all night long, put it on my tab, alright?”
“Got it,” he nods as he slides your drink over.
“Thanks,” you reach for it, downing it down in a moment before setting the glass with a low thump on the counter. “Another.”
Abby chuckles, letting her free hand come up and squeeze yours as a quick reassurance.
“Thanks, hun,” you say, squeezing back before letting go. “Don’t worry. Night’s still young.”
But Abby’s already turning back to the redhead, reality crashing back in. Right, she was in the middle of a potential hookup.
“So hey,” she puts the smile back on, her voice taking on that practiced lightness once more. “Would you maybe wanna come back to my place? I’ve got a really good—”
“Um, sorry,” the girl’s smile has shifted. It’s more polite and distant now. Her eyes flicker between the two of you for a moment before she grabs her purse, already standing up. “Maybe another time, yeah?”
She’s gone before Abby can even respond, melting back into the crowd as if she was never there at all.
Abby stands frozen, staring at the space where the redhead was. The bass thuds around her, indifferent at what seems to be her third loss of the night. Across the bar, you’re nursing your second drink, staring at the back of her head with knitted brows.
“What the fuck,” Abby mutters, turning back towards the bar just as the bartender comes over, and she points at your now empty glass. “Gimme two of those.”
The bartender nods and gets to work. Abby slumps on the stool right next to you, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes. She can feel you staring at her now, the weight of your attention too familiar to go unnoticed.
“Okay, what the hell is happening to us tonight?” you ask, a mix of frustration and amusement on your voice. “I’ve had two girls nope out on me already.”
Abby laughs despite herself, a sharp and bitter sound. “Two? I’ve got three. The last one—” she gestures vaguely at the space where the redhead disappeared, “—literally seemed into it until you showed up.”
“I showed up?” you turn to face her fully now, eyebrows raised. “Don’t start blaming me, I’m not trying to steal your girls. I wasn’t even looking at her.”
“What is it then?” she takes a long sip of her drink as soon as the bartender slides it over, nose scrunching at the bitterness. “Do I have a sign on my back or something? Tonight fucking sucks.”
You glance at her, and despite everything, you feel that familiar pull of attraction. Frustration makes her jaw tight, her neck flexing as she takes another sip, and your eyes trail down the curve of it almost against your will. Her arms are tense too, muscles flexed slightly, and there’s something about angry Abby that’s always gotten under your skin in every way possible.
“Okay, so like,” you force yourself to look away, trying to redirect your train of thought. “Earlier I was talking to this girl at the dance floor, right? Remember, pretty blonde girl with black tips?”
“Yeah, yeah, I was with that cute brunette over there, too.”
“Right, and we all started, y’know, dancing together,” you nod, frowning as you remember. “We were vibing, really vibing, and then— I dunno, she just said something about going to the bathroom and never came back.”
“Yeah, I know, I was right next to you,” Abby sighs, grabbing the second glass of whiskey and downing it before continuing. “The brunette and I ended up at the pool table and she seemed so interested— she even tried teaching me how to play. I remember telling her how good at it you were, and then she’s all like ‘ohh, I have to look for my friends’ and just left!”
“What’s going on? It’s fucking Pride and we can’t get ourselves a good fuck,” you groan, throwing your head backwards in irritation.
Abby gets a full view of your throat, the curve of your neck exposed, and her eyes set on a light bruise that’s finally fading now— a hickey she had left there a week ago. The memory makes heat crawl up her own chest, and she can’t help but smirk at it.
“I don’t know,” Abby says, her voice coming out a bit rougher than intended. “Am I losing my touch?”
“Believe me,” you say, turning to face her again. “If they knew your touch, they wouldn’t be leaving the club without it.”
Abby’s smirk deepens. “You think so?”
“I know so.”
There’s a beat of charged silence between you for a moment, before you speak again.
“Do I not look tonight or what?” you ask, and there’s real vulnerability underneath the joke. “Like, is there something wrong with how I look?”
Abby lets her eyes drag slowly down your frame. Your top clings to your chest and curves just perfectly. She takes in the way you’re sitting, the slight curve of your back, the curve of your thighs against the bar stool, and suddenly her mouth is dry.
When her eyes meet yours again, there’s a heat in them that has nothing to do with the whiskey she’s been drinking. She leans in closer, lips brushing your ear and sending a jolt of electricity through your entire body.
“You look absolutely delicious,” her voice is low now, and your breath catches instantly. “Could eat you up right now.”
Five minutes later, you’re in the bar’s bathroom, Abby dropped to her knees, head buried between your thighs. Her tongue traces patterns that make your thighs shake, and you have to grip the edge of the sink to keep yourself upright.
“Fuck, Abby,” you gasp, your free hand finding her hear and threading through it as she works you over. She moans against you, and the vibration sends a jolt of pleasure through your entire body.
Your hips are moving against her face on their own, chasing the pleasure she’s giving you, and the coil in your stomach is tightening already—
She pulls back so suddenly, you whine at the loss of her touch. She’s smirking, and you would absolutely smack her if it wasn’t for the fact that your legs feel like jelly and you’re pretty sure you’d topple over if you tried.
“You’re so fucking desperate,” she murmurs, an annoying grin on her face. “Wanna come all over my face, don’t you?”
“What the fuck,” your fingers tighten in her hair, tugging her closer but she pulls away again. “Abs, stop teasing!”
“I’m having my time with you,” her lips trail across your thighs lightly, teeth grazing softly at your skin.
“Either you finish what you started or I’ll find someone else who will.”
Abby stills completely. You feel her tense against you, and when she pulls back enough to look up at you, her eyes are dark— not with amusement anymore, but a fiercer feeling. Possessiveness.
“No one,” she starts, voice low and unwavering, “can make you cum like I do. You know that.”
It’s cocky, it’s conceited, and it’s absolutely true. No one knows your body like she does, and it’s so infuriating. No one else can read the way you move, anticipate what you want, and give you exactly what you need before you knew you needed it in the first place.
“Prove it,” you challenge, tugging her hair again.
She dives back in without hesitation, and this time there’s no teasing, no pulling back. Abby’s all intensity now, her mouth and tongue working you like it’s her only goal in life. She flattens her tongue against your clit and drags it in slow, heavy strokes that make your vision blur at the edges.
“Right there,” you pant, your hips bucking against her face. “Fuck, yes, yes, yes—”
Your voice cracks as she doubles down, circling your clit with the tip of her tongue in tight, maddening spirals. Her hands slide up your thighs, thumbs pressing into the soft of your skin just below where her mouth works you, holding you open for her.
You can hear how wet you are. Obscene, slick sounds echo off the tile walls mixed with Abby’s greedy noises. She’s messy and unapologetic about it, her chin and lips shining with your arousal as she pulls back just enough to suck your clit between her lips, flicking it rapidly with her tongue. She releases it a moment later with a wet pop and looks up at you, her lips swollen and glistening.
“You taste so fucking good,” she growls, and then she’s back, burying her face in you. Your hand in her hair is gripping tight enough to hurt, but she doesn’t flinch. If anything, she moans louder, and the vibration pushes you closer to the edge.
“Please,” you’re whimpering now, grinding against her face shamelessly. “Please, Abby, I’m so close.”
She shifts her grip, one hand sliding off your thigh. Two fingers push inside you without warning, curling immediately to find that spot that makes your back arch. Her mouth stays on your clit, sucking and flicking, while her fingers work you from withing, pressing and stroking in a rhythm so delicious the coil in your stomach tightens to a breaking point.
Your thighs are trembling violently now, your breath coming in short gasps that sound more like sobs.
“Come on, baby,” she mumbles against you, the words muffled slightly but still clear. “Come for me, please, please, baby.”
Your orgasm crashes through you like a wave, and you cry out, not giving a fuck if anyone hears outside. Abby rides it out with you, her fingers slowing and her tongue gentling, but not entirely stopping. Your hips jerk involuntarily, oversensitive now, but she holds you through it, milking your pleasure until you’re gasping, utterly wrecked.
When she finally pulls back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, there’s a triumphant expression on her face. You slide down the sink, legs useless, and she catches you, her arms wrapping around your waist as she stands.
“Told you.” She’s so smug about it, clearly satisfied with herself. “No one but me.”
“Asshole,” you mutter, but you’re smirking too, fingers tracing the curve of her jaw where your arousal still glistens.
“Ready to go back out there?” Abby asks, her eyes roaming over your face with a mischievous look. “You’re practically glowing now. Bet you’ll have better luck picking up women now.”
“What about you?” You gesture vaguely at the way she’s avoiding pressing her thighs together. “Are you walking away just like that?”
Abby’s smile turns slow and secretive. She glances down at the floor, spotting the black lace she’d rip off your body earlier. She bends to retrieve it, the fabric catching the harsh bathroom light as she straightens.
“Well,” she meets your eyes as she folds the lace, deliberately tucking it into her back jeans pocket. “I’ve got my lucky charm right here now.”
Your mouth goes dry. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m dead serious.”
You step back into the bar a couple of minutes later, after fixing each other up as best as you could. The crowd has thickened, bodies pressed together, and Abby’s hands finds the small of your back, guiding you through the people toward the counter.
Both of you end up parting ways and attempting conversation with a couple of women. You keep having to be careful, adjusting your skirt constantly, acutely aware that you’re not wearing anything underneath it now. The fabric keeps riding up, and you have to keep tugging it down every time you move.
At one point, you scan the crowd and spot Abby at the far end near the dance floor, talking to a pretty girl with dark hair. You can’t help but chuckle as you catch a glimpse of your black lace panties peeking out of her back pocket.
The girl she’s talking to leans in closer, but Abby glances back over her own shoulder and her eyes meet you for a moment. A low, satisfied smirk spreads across her face.
tags: soft sevika, protective sevika, drunk reader, sevika washes you, sevika is a service butch basically, butchfemme, femme reader
summary: sevika takes care of you when you're drunk
w/c: 1.2k
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“What do you mean I’m cut off? Come on, I’m only tipsy,” you groan, propping your body against the bar and fixing your posture in an attempt to convince the man.
The bartender stares back at you and shakes his head. “You’ve had three shots in the last thirty minutes. I’m not serving you anymore.”
“Please,” you beg, holding out the word for a few beats. A stupid smile splits open your face, and you push your last shot glass towards the man. “Just one more, then I swear I won’t ask again.”
“I said no,” the man replies, turning away from you and speaking to another customer.
You persist, following the man down the bar. Finally, he gets tired of your begging and turns to face you.
“Sevika, come get your girl,” he calls into the crowd.
Frowning, you stand up a bit straighter.
“Whatever, you’re no fun” you mumble, slurring your words as you stumble away.
You’ve almost made it across the bar when you feel a heavy, calloused hand land on your shoulder.
“Going somewhere, dollface?”
“Just waiting for you,” you reply, turning around to find Sevika standing behind you.
“Oh yeah? And why’s that?”
“Are you done with your cards?”
“Yeah, I’m done,” Sevika responds, pulling you closer to her. “Didn’t answer my question, though.”
“Let’s just go home, they won’t give me anything else,” you say after a moment, letting Sevika support your body.
Sevika chuckles in response, her flesh hand falling around your waist. “Alright,” she replies, her voice a bit mocking. “Let’s get you home.”
You roll your eyes, but you let Sevika pull you towards the exit. “Don’t say it like that,” you mumble, meaning to sound as sober as possible.
It doesn’t work, obviously.
“Yes ma’am,” Sevika says, still making fun of you slightly. Nevertheless, she guides you out of the crowded bar, gently pushing you out into the cool night air.
The walk home is quick, and before you know it, you’re watching Sevika unlock the door to your shared apartment. You follow her inside, dropping your purse on the couch.
Your body follows, curling up in the pile of pillows and blankets from last night’s movie. Sevika laughs again, sitting down by your legs.
“Sleepy?”
“No,” you groan, pushing up into a half-sitting position. “I’m so awake.”
“Sure, you are,” she replies, her voice barely above a whisper. You watch her flesh hand move closer to your face, and she softly tucks a stray hair behind your ear. “Let’s go take a shower, baby.”
You think of refusing for a moment, but you don’t. A nice, warm shower sounds pretty appealing.
Nodding, you stand up. Before you can move, though, you stumble slightly, grabbing onto Sevika for support.
She watches as you drunkenly giggle, and you can almost see the thoughts forming in her brain. Just as you realize what she’s going to do, Sevika scoops you up into her arms with ease.
You giggle at the sudden weightlessness, placing your arms around Sevika’s neck. She carries you to the bathroom and gently places you down on the edge of the tub, turning on the water.
“I can take a shower, Vika,” you mumble.
“You couldn’t even walk to the bathroom, doll” Sevika says, her voice soft. “I don’t mind doing this.”
Going quiet, you listen to the water fill the tub. Sevika helps you stand up, being overly cautious.
“Vika, I can undress myself,” you say, but your words are in vain. Sevika expertly turns you around, unzipping your dress and letting it fall to the ground.
You step out of the dress, watching as Sevika picks it up and folds it. She sets it on the bathroom counter before kneeling down on the ground in front of you.
“Sit down,” she says quietly. You obey, taking a seat on the edge of the tub again.
In front of you, Sevika takes your shoes off of your feet, setting them down to the side. “I don’t know how you walk in these every night,” she chuckles, poking at the heel.
“Practice,” you smile, staring down at her. “You look cute down there,” you add quietly, smirking slightly as you run your fingers through Sevika’s hair.
Sevika catches the shift in your tone, and she raises her eyebrow slightly. “No, you’re drunk.”
You sigh, pulling your hand back. “Whatever.”
She doesn’t respond, instead picking you up and setting you down into the warm water. Then, Sevika grabs the soap and starts lathering it over your body.
“I can wash myself,” you say, but again, Sevika doesn’t pay your words any mind.
You finally just lean back, letting the other woman wash you.
She does this every time you’re drunk or injured in some way. The truth was, Sevika just really enjoys taking care of you, even when you could technically do it yourself.
“Makes me feel stronger,” she’d told you when you’d asked her why a couple of years ago. “Like I can protect you.”
So, you let her do it.
You let her carry you around, wash your body, then tuck you into bed next to her. It was the least you could do for her, anyways.
Tonight, she finishes washing you and pulls you out of the tub. She dries your body with a soft towel, paying soft attention to the most delicate parts of you.
Then, she takes you to bed, setting you down on the edge while she pulls back the covers for you.
You’re quickly tucked in, and Sevika steps back, admiring her work.
“Can I get you anything before I shower? I’ll make it quick, of course.”
You shake your head, waving her off. “You’ve already done plenty, Vika,” you reply.
Nodding, Sevika turns and pads down the hallway back into the bathroom. You hear the water turn on, then the sound of Sevika quietly singing to herself.
It makes you smile, hearing her, but you never tell her. She’d stop doing it out of embarrassment if she thought you could hear her.
True to her promise, Sevika is in and out of the shower in a record three minutes. She returns to the bedroom wrapped in a towel as she rifles through her drawers.
Once she picks something to wear, she changes, letting the towel fall to the ground.
Sevika walks over to the bed, sitting down.
You roll towards her as she pulls the covers over her body, waiting for her to get comfortable. Once she does, she wraps her flesh arm around your shoulders, pulling you flush against her body.
Sighing, you relax into her, closing your eyes.
“You’re going to be so hungover tomorrow,” Sevika whispers into your ear.
“No, I’m not,” you shoot back, but your words don’t have any bite to them.
“Oh yeah? And you aren’t even tired, are you?”
Before you can even muster a response, your eyes start to droop. You settle for a quiet groan, and it gets your message across all the same.
Sevika chuckles, and you can feel the vibrations under your head.
ugh just imagine outlaw!abby sitting in the back corner of a dark, crowded saloon.
her cowboy hat is tipped low to shield her eyes and a cigarette hangs between her full lips as she slowly nurses a glass of whiskey. her hair is down, flowing wildly over her shoulders while she scans the room with the practiced precision of a skilled hunter. With one hand resting atop the holster of her pistol, she looks every bit like the brooding, dangerous outlaw who’s image is plastered on all the wanted posters around town.
Paring: assassin!sevika x librarian!r
cw: sfw, modern!au, fluff, brief suggestion, playful banter, r!gender neutral, no use of y/n, r! is shy but not passive (tw), they're both loser lesbians lowkey, Sev is based on that one pic of her with shaved head (i cant find it atm), trying to go for a rom-com vibe very chill low stakes rn, angsty af, sev has a wee identity crisis, will be a series
wc: 2k
Synopsis: Life as an assassin made Sevika accustomed to killing for a price. Clean and swift was her specialty. That was until she'd met you. A gentle librarian residing in a sleepy town, you were everything her life wasn't — soft and intentional. For the first time Sevika was hesitant about her actions and the reason she never dared to question the darker parts of her life.
(1) (3)
The past month had been a blur, between your fathers move and the creepy van following you, this was enough drama for your dull life. The admin work you did kept you busy, but with the latest budget cuts, the library was on a shoe string budget and you barely had enough help to begin with. You’d been forced to let go of your admin assistant and now you were stuck doing the busy work you left for them. Your mind raced as you thought about the returns from last week you had yet to put away. Cheyenne was gone for a wedding this week and any other help you’d normally had was let go. This week it was just you managing everything in the library and the part timer at the front. A message came through on your phone, you groaned seeing a text from your brother.
Ugly Sr.: Dad is out of ensure again.
You wouldn’t be off until 8 and most grocery stores around here close by 6, he knew that.
Me: busy with work. pick some up for him.
Ugly Sr: No money
Me: use his snap card.
Ugly Sr: He doesn’t let me use it anymore.
The amount of time you wasted asking him, you could’ve just gotten it yourself. This back and forth was a waste of your time.
Me: Forget it. I got it
Ugly Sr: K
Fingers itched to throw your phone at the sliding doors but you resisted and turned it over. A young girl came up to the counter with her card and books to check out. She stayed silent as you scanned the card and her books.
“There you go, they’re yours for 2 weeks.” you murmur.
She nods in acknowledgement and goes on her way.
“Do you know if the café is open today?” a voice spoke up from behind you.
“No, they’re closed on Wednesdays.”
“Damn it, I thought today would be the perfect day to apply.”
Turning around you found Sevika in a homemade muscle tee, reminding yourself to meet her gaze and not ogle, you nod.
“Yeah, they’re weird like that. If you’re ever looking for volunteer opportunities, I always have a long list of errands I ignore regularly.”
She chuckles at your remark. “Only if you put a good word in at the café tomorrow,”
You nod and extend your hand.
Sevika shakes your hand, you're caught on how soft and warm her hand is. Without realizing you’ve been shaking her hand for a hot minute.
The embarrassment is written over your face.
“Anything I can get started on, boss?”
You nod. “Lets put those muscles to use. I have a few stands that need to be broken down. Also another one to put up for Halloween,”
She follows you to the kid’s section, and the display in question.
“Come find me when you’re done.”
Sevika nods.
…
An hour later Sevika finds you in a heated discussion.
“Are you serious? I’m literally at work! I don’t have time for this, I’m working all weekend.”
She slowed down and looked around to ensure no one saw her eavesdropping.
“If he’s so great, then you ask him! Oh yeah?” a scoff rose from your lips. “Fuck you too, dad!”
Sevika turned around and made herself scarce. Your relationship with your father was worse than she expected. The dossier didn’t mention much on the type of person you were, with all the shit in your life she assumed you were used to taking everyone’s shit but she was wrong.
Perhaps asking you out wouldn’t be the best way to get involved. Your archetype was guarded, a simple date wouldn’t fly, she needed you to ask her out. She returned to her car and studied the file a little more to see your experience.
You’d left for college after high school, went to a community college nearby and stayed in state for Uni. Relationship wise you were pretty private, without social media she couldn’t tell if you were a virgin or had several previous partners that ended one way or the other. Your high school experience didn’t mention any relationships, you worked part time as a waitress after school at a nearby diner and didn't have any extra circulars. Loner most of your life. She checked her watch and realized she missed lunch, and then she realized so had you. She dropped by her favorite sandwich place and ordered 2 philly’s.
When she returned to the library you were typing something furiously at the computer. Sevika approached hesitantly, “Hey, sorry I missed lunch.” she said softly.
You continued typing, “Its fine, I’m used to people just leaving.” Your eyes bulged at the words you let escape. “Volunteers, I’m used to volunteers just getting up and leaving.”
She smiled and nodded. “Uh- The place gave me an extra inside of the salad I ordered. You like phillys?” She handed it to you.
“Love them.” you smiled at her.
“Wanna eat together? Fair warning, I’m kind of loud around food.”
That got a laugh out of you. “Pretty sure, everyone gets loud around a philly. We have a kitchen in the back,”
Sevika followed you into the back of the library, a small kitchenette area for staff and a few circle tables. She watched you place the sandwich on the table and grab a Clorox wipe and clean the surface. You went to the fridge and got a water bottle.
“Water?”
Sevika shook her head. “Nah, I inhale it before I even get thirsty.”
She watched you grab another bottle anyway. “Yeah, I don’t know the Heimlich, can’t have my only volunteer passing out on me.”
“Thanks,”
The two of you sat down and ate your sandwiches in silence, Sevika forgot about her job for a second and enjoyed a good sandwich with good company. Within 5 minutes you were half way done and she hadn’t gotten anymore info from you.
“So, Sevika, what’s your story? Are you from around here?” you probed.
“Nah. I just got released a month ago, I’m from up North but my mom was from around here.”
“Oh. Are you staying with family?”
“Nah. I’m crashing at a halfway home until my job situation is settled and then I’ll try to find something.”
You were packing up your sandwich even though you weren’t done.
“Let me ask around, everyone knows everyone here. It won’t be hard to find someone who needs help. Let me give you my number and whenever you get a phone just hit me up. I’m pretty sure someone is looking for muscle. The church is always in need of help.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it. You know how people are when they find out you just got out.”
You nod, wiping your mouth with a napkin. “Yeah, don’t believe everything you hear about small towns, they’re nosey but they mean well. I had a friend who was locked up most of high school and she found something right away.”
“Let me finish this up, and I’ll help out some more.”
“You sure? You already did a lot. Thanks again for getting those Halloween stands set up and stuff, that would’ve taken me all day.”
You got up, threw your trash and put the leftover sandwich in the fridge.
“Yeah, sitting around at home makes me feel like shit. I miss doing stuff but this sandwich won’t let me go.” she groaned.
You giggled and nodded. “I get it. Take your time. Try to keep the noise down.” You walked out.
Sevika watched you exit and took a phone out of her pocket, she made a note to herself to research this high school friend of yours. You might not be as big a loner as she expected, the conversation flowed well for someone that was very withdrawn. She made note of this in her mind palace.
When she came back she found you putting books away chatting with yourself in a hushed tone.
“What does he know? All he does is stay home all day like a fucking a bum. I have to be up 6 every day. What does he do? Nothing. But the golden child can do no wrong. According to dad he shits gold. But a job? Nope. Money? Nope. Fucking bum. And not like dad is any fucking help.”
Sevika coughs slightly to get your attention.
“Oh, Sevika, nearly gave me a fright.” you got off your knees.
“Fright? What are you a hundred?” she teased.
You rolled your eyes. “Yes. This job ages me beyond my years. And it gets scary after 5. Just another hour and we can close, and then I have 2 hours of clean up and then I can finally go home.”
“Scared? You? Pretty sure anyone would be terrified of a tiny librarian.”
You cut your eyes at her and walk up slowly. “Tiny?” Your finger pokes her chest. “I’m average height, 5’5. I’m not tiny, like 5 feet. I’m completely average.”
A small smile tilted the side of Sevika’s mouth. She liked this side of you.
“Maybe you’re just too tall and muscular and shit.”
Sevika wore a faux frown. “Muscles?” She flexed her bicep and pointed. “Where? Over there maybe.”
You rolled your eyes. “I bet you were real popular with the ladies in the slammer.”
She relaxed her arms. “Nah. I kept to myself. People see strength and assume you wanna fight everybody. But I understand why you’d say that,”
You tilt your head and furrow your brows in question.
“Pretty sure you blush every time we talk.”
You scoff and lightly shove her. “I do not.” Slowly you back away but the bookshelf only lets you go so far.
“It's cool, I get it. Out of towner, fresh out the slammer, damaged goods. I know how you see me.” She shrugs.
“I-I- I do not see you-” you stutter.
Sevika grins at you.
Quickly realizing you fell for her rage bait, you shut your mouth.
“You’re an ass. And you’re a worse flirt,” you say. “Grab the cart. We got returns to put away, beef cake."
She doesn’t see the smirk she’s left on you. Obediently, Sevika grabs the cart and follows you.
“Alright, boss,”
She peruses the books on the cart trying to find her next conversation with you, and then she finds her answer.
“What the hell is a love language? We making shit up now?”
She hands you the book. “Some new fad by a white guy and everyone just listens to him. Basically it's like zodiac signs but things you should do in a relationship.”
Sevika wears a confused expression when you turn back.
“Like listening to your partner, being affectionate and doing things for them but the love languages tells you that everyone has one. It's mad corny but it took off and here we are.”
“What’s yours?” Sevika asks.
“Quality time and physical touch.”
Sevika listens. “And things you like to do?”
You shrug. “Whichever my partner prefers. But the thing is, to be successful you need to do all of these for your partner, not just one.”
“So you have one for yourself and one for how you do it for your boo? What are all of the languages?”
“Yeah, physical touch, words of affirmation, acts of service, quality time and gift giving,” you open the book and check the inside. “Don’t think too much about it, the fad has faded–”
“I like being around my person, it doesn’t matter what we’re doing just being together.”
You nod still looking inside the book.
Sevika grabs the book out of your hand and closes it. Her body is trapping you against the bookshelf.
“Act of service is the only way I know how to show affection, I’m shit with words.” she muses putting the book back on the shelf behind you.
She feels your body radiating heat, the mango scent blossoming off your skin fusing with your natural scent.
Your big brown eyes looking up at her.
“How do you express your love language,” she glances at your name tag. “[name].”
Sevika watched your chest rise and fall.
“Uh-physical touch and quality time too.” you stutter.
She nods. Stepping away and returning to her place behind the cart. She grabs a kids book.
“Where to next, boss?”
“Let's drop the fiction off before we go for the kids books.” you mumble.
You mutter a silent prayer to yourself for strength to get through the rest of this shift, with Sevika it would be anything but easy.
taglist: @genderqueerafrolatine @riotstemple29 @djena1d @Izzy-sevika @meamouraa @httpscatra @hopelesslysapphicbass @writtenbysolya
a/n: tried to keep it short but the inspiration was flowing. gonna shoot for 3 more parts of this series (lets see if that happens lol) also reader is lowkey going through it, bbg needs a vacay stat!!!
these are all with a x waitress!reader in mind just an fyi! the headcanons are all sfw, but I can always do some nsfw ones later if anyone is interested. enjoy babes xx.
line cook!abby is scary. at least, that’s what you’d heard before you even stepped foot in the kitchen of the point bravo bar & grill. majority of the front of house staff are terrified of her, and honestly? you can absolutely see why. coming in at five foot nine and built like a ox, abby’s sarcastic, brutally honest and intimidating without even trying.
but to make matters worse, she’s ridiculously hot.
which seems incredibly unfair considering she spends most of her shifts sweaty, mildly irritated and covered in grease. her shirt sleeves are always rolled up past her broad shoulders, dark ink and muscles on full display. but it’s not even her physical physique or devastatingly pretty face that rendered you speechless that first day.
no, it was how she looked you in the eye after you royally fucked up an order half-way through the dinner rush. how you were fully expecting the hostility that everyone had warned you about, only to receive a soft, “hey, relax. it’s no big deal.” before she quietly remade the order without giving you any grief for it.
line cook!abby has two different modes during a lunch or dinner rush: weirdly calm and terrifyingly competent or one minor inconvenience away from burning the entire restaurant down.
line cook!abby works the grill and flat-top primarily, usually alongside her roommate (and best friend) manny. the two of them argue like an old married couple most of the time, which you find hilarious.
line cook!abby has a personal beef with ticket machine. she had broken at least 5 in the entire time she’s worked there, and marlene tells her that the next one is coming out of her paycheck. but it never actually does.
line cook!abby who says things like, “behind”, “move”, “corner” like a drill sergeant.
line cook!abby’s work uniform consists of an array of oversized band tees or cut off tees, cargo shorts or sweatpants and a bleach stained apron. she wears her hair in a neat braid down the middle of her back, or in a messy bun. but if her hair is pissing her off that day she’ll throw it into a low ponytail, put on a backwards dad hat and call it good enough.
line cook!abby apparently “has a thing for pretty waitresses” according to manny. but the only waitress she’s ever been soft on is you.
line cook!abby is addicted to caffeine. she cannot go a whole shift without pounding at least two energy drinks or an extra large iced coffee.
line cook!abby constantly checks to make sure you’ve eaten during your shift. and if you try to tell her you’re too busy or you forgot? suddenly a basket of fries or a grilled cheese will appear next to you while you’re ringing in an order at the kiosk. and she’ll mumble a stern, “go eat. now.” before disappearing back behind the line like it’s no big deal.
line cook!abby who runs extremely hot. if she’s not on the line you can usually find her in the walk-in trying to cool herself off and grumbling about how, “marlene needs to fix the damn air conditioner already.”
line cook!abby is always in control of the aux in the kitchen when she’s working and is not afraid to smack anyone who tries to change the music. you and manny can usually tell what kind of mood she’s in by what genre of music she’s playing. so if creed, matchbox twenty or theory of a deadman is blaring when you clock in, you already know she’s been having a rough afternoon.
line cook!abby wears her irritation and annoyance plainly on her face. she’s snarky and short with almost everyone, but the minute you ask for something? she visibly softens, and does whatever you asked for without question.
“abs, can I get another basket of fries, please?” and with a soft flutter of your lashes or a warm smile, she’s folding immediately—dumping a fresh batch of fries into a basket and sliding them into the expo window without uttering a single complaint.
“christ, you are so fucking whipped, cariño.”
line cook!abby keeps a bandana in her back pocket or a clean towel draped over her shoulder to be able to wipe the sweat from her face throughout her shift. the one time she didn’t seem to have one and had to use the hem of her t-shirt, you nearly dropped an entire tray of food.
line cook!abby has the biggest praise kink. you tell her something she made was delicious? instantly bashful, ears turning pink as she ducks her head and tries to pretend you didn’t just turn her insides to mush. and you’re absolutely tucking that information away for later.
line cook!abby gets weirdly possessive over kitchen tools. she once threatened manny that she’d scrub their toilet with his toothbrush if he ever touched her knives again.
line cook!abby absolutely cannot flirt like a normal person. so she shows her affection in subtle ways like: not complaining or giving you shit when you mess up an order, carrying the ice bucket up to the bar for you because it’s “painful to watch you struggle”, staying late to help you roll silverware after she finishes her own closing duties, playing paramore’s entire discography during a shift that you’re both working together just because she heard you tell leah that they’re one of your favorite bands.
line cook!abby always walks you to your car if the two of you are scheduled to close together. even if she finishes her closing duties faster than you.
line cook!abby absolutely despises remakes or substitutions on orders, and she’s not afraid to let someone know just how much it annoys her.
“the menu says no substitutions, can’t people fucking read?”
“abby, they’re literally allergic to onions.”
“sounds like a personal problem.”
line cook!abby always has a toothpick or pen shoved behind her ear, or stuck in between her teeth. she’s also constantly chewing gum—mostly because she knows it annoys the hell out of manny but baby girl has a oral fixation. she just doesn’t want to admit it.
line cook!abby will absolutely complain about having to close, but it’s secretly her favorite shift to work. especially if you’re on the schedule.
line cook!abby takes a lot of pride in her work, even when she’s slammed and is glaring at every new ticket that comes through like they personally insulted her. but even then she never lets a plate go out on the floor looking like a damn mess.
the one exception she ever made was the time your ex came in and made it their personal mission to make your night a living hell. so when she found you crying in the walk-in not long after, she ‘accidentally’ let that burger burn to a crisp before sending it out with a satisfied smirk.
line cook!abby who always seems to smell like a combination of fresh citrus, old spice and smoke from the grill, no matter how often she washes her clothes.
line cook!abby is constantly burning her hands on something. half the time she doesn’t really react anymore besides cursing under her breath or mumbling a barely audible, “yeah that was fucking dumb, abigail.” to herself.
but if you are in the back when it happens? you’ll insist on helping her bandage it until she finally relents with the most adorable scowl.
line cook!abby is terrible at hiding her jealousy. while she doesn’t cause a scene, or become overly possessive—if she sees a customer flirting with you, she absolutely makes it everyone else’s problem.
she’s slamming pans harder than necessary, muttering constant curses under her breath at the grill, shouting for “someone to run this fucking food already!” the second it appears in the expo window. lev finds it a little too hilarious and is always roasting her when he’s bringing clean dishes up from the pit.
line cook!abby is extremely sentimental. you wrote her a little thank you note on the back of a discarded receipt once before you two started dating and she still has it taped to the inside of her locker.
line cook!abby isn’t big on pda, but when she realizes how much her touch seems to affect you, she makes any and every excuse to get her hands on you when you’re working together. whether it’s a hand against the small of your back as she passes behind you in the kitchen, curling a finger into the loop of your jeans to pull you out of the way when another staff member is dashing around the corner, sneaking up behind you to rest her chin on your shoulder when you’re ringing an order in.
she thinks she’s being subtle most of the time, but abby is about as subtle as a bull in a china shop.
Ellabs where Abby has comphet & Ellie clocks her & makes it her mission to make Abby realizes she likes girls (& Abby is extremely attracted to her & struggling to maintain her “heterosexuality” 🙂↕️🙂↕️)
I may have gone a little bit off-track from your original request, anon! This is less “Ellie makes it her mission” and more “Ellie is a dumbass who happens to be in the direct path of Abby’s downward spiral," but hopefully it’s still close to your idea. Thank you so much for the request, I loved writing it!!
Wanna Be Yours
Contents: college au, loser!Ellie, rugby captain!Abby, comphet, slow(ish) burn, platonic dellie, drugs and alcohol, Abby is having a crisis, gay panic, first times, explicit sex (a lot), light choking, dom/sub overtones (d!Ellie, s!Abby), spitting, praise
wc: 5.1k (I got carried away)
It’s the hottest day of the year, and Ellie and Dina are lying out on the quad on a floral bedsheet (Dina’s), sweating, pretending to study. Well, Dina might actually be studying.
Ellie, instead, is watching the rugby captain across the quad under a cherry blossom. She’s lying on her stomach, frowning at the tiny book in her hands. (The book isn’t actually that tiny, just one of those mass market paperbacks, but the size of her hands makes it comically small). It would be sort of a breathtaking view, if not for the boyfriend beside her.
Lounging lazily in a tank top and basketball shorts.
Owen.
He slides up next to her, brushing her long characteristic braid over her shoulder. Abby shrugs him off, eyes never leaving the page.
“Let me guess.” Dina pokes her foot into Ellie’s ribs. “You’re picturing her on the floor of our dorm room in nothing but her jersey.”
“Gross. Shut up.” Ellie rolls onto her side, evading the attack.
“You’re not very good at hiding it, Els.”
Ellie just lets out a low groan, head sliding into the corner of her elbow, unable to think about anything but the heat—in more than one way.
“She has a boyfriend.” A boyfriend she clearly hates, Ellie thinks.
“And that’s such a big issue for you, right? Last semester—”
“Let’s not revisit that, please.”
“I’m just saying,” Dina says, shrugging, “you’ve been a little bit of a nightmare lately. And—” she holds up a hand to stop Ellie’s argument—”I just think you might need to work some of that shit out. And obviously, we both have eyes. She’s hot.” Her eyebrows quirk upwards, and Ellie groans.
Dina’s not wrong. She’s absolutely not wrong. It’s been months since Ellie last brought someone home. She’s been in a drought of massive proportions, bed-rotting and smoking in the dorm instead of going out, and Abby could definitely, definitely fuck her out of it.
If it weren’t for Owen.
Abby’s gaze drifts from her book for just a moment. She glances around the quad, and her eyes dart just briefly toward Ellie and Dina. But definitely toward Ellie. And then she looks decisively away, burying her face in whatever she’s reading. Not exactly the look of someone who doesn’t care if they’re caught looking.
Ellie feels a stupid, hopeful heat race through her stomach.
“There’s one other problem,” Ellie says.
“Mhm?” Dina’s not really listening at this point, highlighting something in her textbook.
“She actually hates my guts.”
“Yeah, well,” she doesn’t look up, “you’re very hateable.”
——
Abby hates Ellie for a good reason. She’ll admit that. Last semester they’d been paired up for a philosophy presentation, which Ellie forgot about pretty much immediately after getting the assignment. It wasn’t her fault; she’d lost her planner down a sewer grate by complete accident.
She kept getting texts from this unknown phone number.
“Where R U???”
“Answer my text.”
“ELLIE WILLIAMS!!!”
Probably spam. Probably nothing important.
Later, she blew smoke out of her dorm room window while swiping through Tinder. Mostly for entertainment, since she rarely actually met up with anyone from there. Mostly just to get a lay of the land.
And there she was. Mirror selfie in a sports bra, braid brushed over one shoulder, definitely flexing. Half-smiling. The second photo featured her with a dog. The third was a group photo. She looked just a little bit awkward in a skin-tight silver gown and heels, a full foot taller than everyone else.
What the hell was Abby Anderson doing on lesbian Tinder?
Why did she look so fucking hot?
Ellie swiped right. They wouldn’t match, obviously.
Before she could drop her phone, the notification pinged. One new match! She stared at it in disbelief, a thick dread coiling in her stomach. That wasn’t supposed to happen. That really wasn’t supposed to happen.
Her fingers moved faster than her brain—a tactic she’d pretty much mastered over the years—typing out a message. Because this was impossible, and a little bit terrifying, and she was not going to miss out on this opportunity.
“Wyd tonight?” Slick, forward, nonchalant.
Abby replied almost immediately.
“Our philosophy assignment.”
Her heart sank. Then the second message came through.
“Come over. Right now.”
She couldn’t exactly ignore it at this point. Still high and half-dazed, Ellie put on a clean pair of jeans and grabbed her backpack, and headed for Abby Anderson’s dorm.
If she’d expected anything besides a near-silent, brutally awkward study session, her hopes were quickly squashed. Abby did not mention the Tinder match. The next day, she was blocked anyway. The next week, Abby was dating Owen. The rest was history.
—-
But Abby had been on lesbian Tinder. She had matched with Ellie. Whether that was a near-sociopathic ploy to get her to follow through on her end of the assignment, or some kind of genuine interest, Ellie isn’t sure. She does have her suspicions.
She’s definitely not stalking Abby, she explains to Dina. She just happens to run into her kind of all over the place. Ellie’s rarely at the gym, but sometimes she’s skating outside while Abby is lifting. She’s sometimes holed up in the library—a place she would usually never find herself—while Abby studies. Sometimes she happens to be smoking at the bus stop when Owen picks Abby up from her dorm.
Owen.
Abby’s not into him. She can tell. Some people aren’t into PDA, but Abby really doesn’t like it when he goes for her hand on the way to class, or kisses her outside of the dorms. Most of the time she seems genuinely annoyed with him. Then again, Abby seems to be annoyed with pretty much everyone.
Except Dina. Because Dina is friendly with everyone, and now that she’s caught on about how Ellie is definitely not stalking her, definitely not pining in an uncharacteristically-Ellie way, she’s determined to grease the wheels. And now she has an invite to an off-campus rugby party that Abby will definitely be at, and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t drag Ellie with her.
“I’m not going,” Ellie complains. “That’s not my crowd.”
“Who exactly is your crowd, then?” Dina asks, applying a tasteful amount of lip gloss. She doesn’t really need it. “The stoners?”
“Well, you, for one,” Ellie says, crossing her arms. She’s wearing a flannel over her tank top, and jeans that Dina says are torn in all the right places. “And the stoners.”
“I’m sure there’ll be plenty of weed there, dumbass,” Dina says. She grabs Ellie’s hand tightly and drags her out the door.
——
The frat house is filled with smoke and sweaty bodies, and Ellie is four shots (and a couple of bong rips) deep. She lost Dina to the dance floor almost immediately. Despite Dina’s best efforts to yank her out of the safe periphery, Ellie hangs back against the precarious china cabinet in the dining room. She hasn’t even seen Abby once, and is pretty certain this whole thing is a bust.
“Ellie, get out here!” She can make Dina out, just barely, poking her head in from the garage at the end of the hall. “Beer pong!”
“I’m good!” Ellie calls back, aware of the kitchen-dwellers turning to look at her. She gives an awkward nod.
“What? I can’t hear you. Just come out here!”
She groans. At least she'll be doing something with her hands. And she is, shockingly, very good at beer pong.
She pushes down the hall—”sorry”—colliding with sweaty jock bodies, feeling more than a little off balance in the dim light. Someone turns around unexpectedly and she wheels, catching herself against a door.
The door opens.
The person on the other side of the door catches her. Throws her backward. Kind of hard. She hits the wall.
She can’t speak, partly because of the air that’s just been punched out of her lungs, and partly because she’s staring at Abby Anderson in a diabolically-tight t-shirt that’s riding up her hips. And her hair is down.
“Jesus,” Abby winces, recoiling.
Her hair is down. Panic button! Ellie has never seen her with her hair down, and she thinks she probably never will again, because she’ll probably die right here on the spot.
“Why are you fucking everywhere?” Abby says through clenched teeth.
Guilt wells up, a rotten feeling in her gut. “Dina invited me,” she says, stupidly.
Abby squeezes her eyes shut, combing a hand through her hair. “Shit. That’s… not what I meant.” Her face is flushed, and she looks incredibly, incredibly hot right now.
Then Owen squeezes through the door. Fucking Owen.
He maneuvers around Abby with a hand at her hip, which she draws away from. He looks between her and Ellie. He shrugs. “Okay, well, I’ll be around.”
Suddenly the disheveled hair and the pushed-up shirt make a lot more sense. They’re also a lot less hot. Ellie feels that sticky, wrenching sensation she felt when her first real crush confessed to her that she’d kissed a boy, expecting Ellie to be happy for her. That delusional belief that she would be chosen, shattered.
She hates the way it clings to her. She has to shrug it off. So when Owen’s gone, she decides to twist the knife—just a little. “Sheesh. Bad time?”
Abby squints at her. She looks like she’s trying to melt Ellie with her mind.
Her silence forces a nervous laugh from Ellie. “I mean, that’s freshly-fucked hair if I’ve ever seen it.”
Abby pinches her temples. “God. I need another drink.”
She pushes past Ellie, and Ellie expects it to end there. But when Abby reaches the end of the hall, she looks back. She jerks her head toward the kitchen, and Ellie can’t really make out the emotion on her face. The meaning, though, is clear. Come on.
So Ellie follows her. Lets Abby fill her red solo cup, and then her own. And then she’s following her outside into the dark backyard.
She sits on damp grass. It’s much quieter, the sounds of the party muffled behind them. Abby drains her cup like she’s afraid it’ll run away from her.
“You good?” Ellie asks. What an awful lead-in. Clearly, she’s not. But Ellie doesn’t know where she stands. Doesn’t know if she’s even supposed to be asking.
Abby just stares ahead, apparently fascinated by the broken trampoline that’s tipped against the garage. “I wasn’t fucking him.”
Ellie chokes on her drink.
Before she can come up with a smooth rebuttal—and really, what can you say to that?—Abby turns to look at her, eyes wild and dark in the moonlight. “Are you aware that you’re ruining my life?”
Ellie just stares, the words not registering. The idea that she is on Abby’s mind in any capacity—aside from the hate your guts variety—slaps her across the face. It tilts her off balance.
“Abby, what?” It’s the first time she’s said Abby’s name to her face. It just slips. And then she’s laughing, laughing way too hard, because Abby’s expression is so genuine and hurt and confused. “What are you talking about? Because of the… philosophy thing?”
“Not because of that. Idiot.” It’s cutting, but there’s a shred of warmth there under the surface. Something else that Ellie can’t quite recognize, but that grabs her in the stomach and starts to twist.
Ellie realizes how close they’re sitting together. She puts a hand out against Abby’s thigh, mostly to steady herself, mostly to get some distance, but it definitely does not have that effect.
Because she feels Abby’s muscles tighten. She looks down at the hand and back up. Ellie’s pretty sure she couldn’t drag herself away if she tried.
“Um—” Ellie’s voice catches in her throat.
Abby kisses her.
Or maybe she kisses Abby. She’s not sure, and it doesn’t matter. It’s soft and awkward and tentative, like neither of them can fully believe that it’s happening.
Fuck it.
Ellie slips a hand around the back of Abby’s neck, fingers rushing through long hair, pulling her closer. Kisses her harder. Kisses her like she wants to keep her there. Abby’s lips part and she lets out a soft sound, somewhere between a gasp and a moan.
They break apart. Magnets facing the wrong way. Ellie waits for her to recoil, waits for all the explaining—she’s heard it all before. I don’t really like girls, actually. I’m sorry, this was a mistake. I don’t know what I was thinking.
Instead, Abby stands up. She’s not looking at Ellie. “I think I need to leave.”
Ellie slowly pries herself off the ground, her skin racing with static. “Yeah, okay.”
“Gonna get an Uber,” Abby mutters, taking out her phone. It’s dead. “Fuck. Give me yours.”
Ellie doesn’t really think about it. She doesn’t try to make sense of it. Because Abby is booking a ride from her phone, and she is apparently coming with her.
They sit on the curb in silence. Ellie tries to think of the least inflammatory thing to say. “So, Owen—”
“Please don’t talk to me about Owen right now.”
“Mm. Got it.” Ellie’s trying really hard not to smile. She shouldn’t feel happy that Abby is having a full on crisis right now. The same Abby that just kissed her and doesn’t want to talk about her boyfriend. The same Abby she’s riding back to campus with. She’s trying and failing. “I just wanna make sure I’m not being, like, a homewrecker or something.”
Abby looks at her hard, almost glaring. “Do you think I’m going to sleep with you?”
“I mean—”
“That’s presumptuous.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You’re thinking it.”
She can’t really deny that.
“I know you’re the… ‘hit it and quit it’ type,” Abby says.
Ellie laughs, a little hurt. “I’m sorry, who told you that?”
Abby shrugs. “It’s known.”
“Fuck you.” Ellie leans into her, just briefly, a playful nudge. She feels Abby shiver against her. “For the record, I wasn’t really expecting anything.” Half lie and half truth. “I am down, though.”
Abby barks a little laugh. “You’re down?”
Ellie rolls her eyes. “Okay, just, check where the Uber is.”
——-
The ride back is just long enough for Ellie to start to panic. Abby is absolutely silent beside her, thigh flush with Ellie’s thigh, until they reach campus and she starts to give the driver directions to her dorm.
Her dorm.
Oh, fuck.
Abby doesn’t want to sleep with her. She’s made that pretty clear.
So why the fuck is she here?
They get out, and Ellie’s feeling way too sober. It’s quiet on campus after 2 a.m. Abby thanks the driver and swings the door shut.
Abby’s dorm looks pretty much the way she expected. Books stacked in organized heaps, a weight set next to her bed, family photos. Clothes strewn around, though nowhere near as bad as Ellie’s side of her room with Dina. A cork board with vacation photos, pictures of friends, surfing, pictures of dogs. Ellie looks for too long.
Abby settles heavily onto her bed, just sits there quietly.
Ellie paces, trying to release some nervous energy. In reality, she’d like to be jogging. She’d like to be full sprint away from this place, and she’d also rather be throwing herself at Abby on the bed, but she does neither. She picks up a rugby trophy that’s sitting on Abby’s desk. It’s heavier than she expects.
“Huh. Cool.”
“Sit down.”
Ellie sits beside her on the bed, legs swinging. She doesn’t dare look at the athlete beside her when she asks: “Abby, why am I here?”
The question hangs between them. Abby sucks in a breath, then resituates herself—legs crossed, facing Ellie on the bed. Ellie, reluctantly, turns to face her.
She’s not sure what she’s afraid of. Abby is the one who kissed her. Who confessed some deeply-repressed interest that Ellie genuinely had no clue about. But now this all feels very real, and the warmth twisting in Ellie’s gut isn’t just arousal. It’s something much more dangerous.
Abby looks at her, eyes are wide and a little bit wet—but clear. “Kiss me again.”
She says it half asking, half demanding. And Ellie doesn’t need to be told twice.
This time there's heat. Urgency. Ellie grabbing at anything she can reach, yanking Abby closer. She’s aware of the desperate sounds that slip out of her, and the more grunting, wounded sounds Abby returns.
Abby isn’t hesitant anymore. This time, she means it.
They both tip backwards, and Abby’s head connects with the headboard with a heavy thunk.
“Shit,” she winces, and Ellie thinks she looks insanely cute with her eyes scrunched up and her lip between her teeth.
They’re both giggling, some of the tension diffused. Both still panting and close, but actually looking at each other now. Actually seeing.
Abby, with her defenses down. That’s the most terrifying thing Ellie has seen tonight.
Abby’s hands slip under the hem of Ellie’s t-shirt, just barely, and rest on her hips. She looks at her searchingly, and Ellie waits, gives her the chance for the thought to work its way to the surface.
“Take this off. Please,” she says, flushing at her own request.
Look at her, asking for what she wants. Ellie can’t help but grin. She also can’t help but notice the hungry way Abby eyes her as she pulls her shirt over her head. She’s wearing a black sports bra underneath—nothing fancy—but Abby looks like she could eat her.
Because she’s feeling a little bit cocky, Ellie scoots back on the bed and slips off her jeans too. Tosses them somewhere on the floor. She sits there, all long legs and taut muscles that can’t compare to Abby’s.
Abby’s eyes make meticulous work of every inch of skin, like she’s afraid it’s the last time she’ll see it. They settle between her thighs, on Ellie’s black panties.
“Those too.”
“Seriously?” Ellie scoffs, but she’s already up off the bed. “Are you asking me to strip for you, Anderson? I think that’s a little bit unfair.”
Abby rolls her eyes. “Fine.” She reaches over her shoulder and yanks at the collar of her t-shirt, peeling it off in one easy movement. All Ellie can do is stare. And salivate. And try not to look like a rabid animal.
She’s wearing a tan bra, a little bit worn and not at all sexy, which wouldn’t work on anyone but Abigail Anderson. It barely registers, because Ellie is too busy taking in the freckled curves of her muscles—the rise and fall of her collarbones with each shallow breath, the cruel definition of her abs, and worst of all—the thin trail of blonde hair that starts at Abby’s belly button and disappears below her waistband.
Now that is truly unfair.
Ellie strips off her bra and panties without much fanfare. She lets Abby look at her, but not long enough that she feels like some kind of specimen. Long enough, though, that as Ellie crawls back onto the bed, she knows Abby makes out the sheen of wetness between her thighs.
Ellie nudges Abby to sit against the headboard—then settles into her lap. Abby makes a low, involuntary sound as Ellie’s wet cunt makes contact with the seam of her pants. She looks startled, wild, all of her taking on a pinkish tone.
“I’ve never done this. I don’t know—”
“M-don’t care.” Ellie pulls her into a deeper kiss. This one is selfish. This time taking from Abby exactly what she needs. More tongue. More need. She pulls a low moan from Abby’s throat.
Abby’s hands find her waist, and her fingers sink in, hard enough to bruise. As she grinds down, Abby pulls her closer. Rocks her hips against Ellie’s.
It makes her lose her breath. Like missing the last step. Like falling headfirst without seeing the bottom.
They move like this, near silent aside from quiet gasps, the warmth of Abby’s tongue on her throat, until Ellie needs more from her. She works one of Abby’s hands free—with some difficulty—and guides it up to her breast.
Abby squeezes, palm wide and hot. Her breath comes quicker against Ellie’s neck. She runs her thumb over Ellie’s nipple, and Ellie jolts with arousal.
“Need you to…” she shifts her hips, offering better access, and guides Abby’s hand downward.
Abby looks at her, almost pleading, and Ellie nods. Yes, there.
Eyes wide and fluttering, her fingers dip with a tentative clumsiness. When they slip through Ellie’s heat, her face hardens with concentration—watching herself like she’s studying some kind of mathematical diagram.
“Abby, look at me.”
“Mhm.”
“Don’t think so hard.” She smiles, and the smile is quickly wiped away when Abby’s fingers find her clit, smoothing it between them.
Ellie collapses, open mouth on Abby’s shoulder. “Fuck. Yeah, like that.”
Slowly, Abby finds her pace—sliding down to her entrance, almost pressing inside, then withdrawing. Two fingers press even circles into her clit. She’s listening for Ellie’s breaths, finding the rhythm that makes her stiffen and whimper.
“That's fucking— that's really good, Abs.”
The praise sends a shudder through her, pressing up against Ellie's body, her fingers slipping carelessly.
Oh.
Ellie rolls her hips into Abby, hard. Her hand finds Abby’s neck, her jaw, pinning her back against the headboard. She can feel the heavy thud of Abby’s pulse against her fingertips, and she squeezes, just there, just enough.
“You’re so fucking good for me, Abby.”
Abby is flushed, sweat-slicked, lips slack. The moan that escapes her brings Ellie right to the edge.
“Gonna make me—” She’s doing the work now, and she doesn’t care, her pace frantic, her wetness slicking Abby’s palm and wrist.
Abby moans like she’s the one getting fucked. She moans just watching Ellie come apart, feeling her twitch and clench, feeling her start to shake and slow.
They breathe into each other, quiet, for several minutes. Ellie’s thighs start to ache from straddling Abby’s wide hips, and she rolls herself off, collapsing to one side. She just looks up at her, head tipped back, lips swollen, fingers stroking her neck where Ellie’s had been.
“Did I hurt you?”
“Hurt—? No.” And then she’s laughing, even though she’s still catching her breath. “Did you think you were hurting me?”
Ellie’s just a little bit offended. “Not, like, very much.”
Abby just shakes her head. “You’ll have to do better than that.”
Maybe she will. She’s tired but not satisfied, because Abby’s still half-dressed, and she would torture herself for all eternity if she wasted this one opportunity to see Abby naked. That, and she guesses that Abby is far less composed than she looks under those tight canvas pants.
Once she works them off of her and settles between Abby’s thighs, Ellie’s breath comes short.
“Holy fuck, Abby. This is what you've been hiding from me?” It's not like she’s never seen a pussy before. Nothing could surprise her anymore. Except, maybe, this. Tight blonde curls that Ellie could bury herself in frame thick lips, already shining and parted. The pink tip of her swollen clit peeking out. It twitches under her breath, and Ellie just about cums on the spot.
She can tell Abby’s nervous being observed like this—watching Ellie carefully, lip pinched between her teeth. Trying hard not to move. “Are you just gonna look, or are you going to do something?”
“Impatient,” Ellie teases. She runs her hands over Abby’s inner thighs, making her flex and sigh. “You need to relax.”
She can’t take her eyes off that pulsing bead. She does something she’s never done before, more out of impulse than any real need, because Abby is soaked already—she lets a carefully-placed droplet of spit fall from her lips onto Abby’s clit.
Abby’s hips lift from the mattress, and she actually growls. “Ellie.”
“I know.” Her voice is thick with awe. Admiration. She could do this for fucking hours. Just look. Just watch her whine and plead.
But instead of extending her torture, Ellie runs her thumb through Abby’s wetness, settling just below her clit. Withholding for a second too long. Abby is already falling apart, and it fills Ellie with a dangerous kind of warmth.
Then, so gently, her thumb circles over Abby’s clit.
Abby’s head shoots up from the bed, eyes wide, fingers taut in the bedsheets. “Fuck, Ellie—!”
“Yeah,” Ellie chuckles lightly, lowering herself until she feels Abby’s warmth against her skin, “I know.”
She loses any commitment she had to teasing the moment her tongue is on Abby’s cunt, because she’s fucking drunk with it. The way she tastes, the way new waves of arousal keep spilling into Ellie’s mouth. The way her clit twitches against Ellie’s nose as she buries herself deeper. The way Abby’s hips fuck into her, spreading slick all over her lips and chin.
Abby’s fingers tangle in her hair, pulling hard. She’s making loud, desperate noises that will absolutely wake up anyone sleeping next door. Ellie consumes her with sloppy, messy need.
The moment Ellie sinks two fingers into her, she feels Abby start to clamp down. Those rhythmic pulses squeezing her fingers can only mean one thing.
Her grip tightens on Ellie’s hair until her scalp aches. Her thighs tense at Ellie’s ears, and for a moment, she’s actually convinced Abby might choke her to death. Not the worst way to go out, all things considered.
“Oh, fuck!” Her head slams back hard against the mattress, muscled torso arching into the air.
Ellie doesn’t want to slow down. She can’t. She fucks her until Abby is trembling and squirming and begging her to stop.
It takes several minutes before Abby can speak. Then, it all seems to hit her at once. She gives Ellie a horrified look and covers her face in her hands. “That’s never happened to me before.”
Ellie wipes her chin along Abby’s hip, then rests there. “You’ve never had an orgasm before?”
Abby peeks between fingers. “That’s not— you know what? Shut the fuck up.”
“Oh, I know what you mean.” Ellie runs a hand up her abdomen—more for her own pleasure than Abby’s—feeling those muscles ripple and twitch at her touch. “You mean nobody’s made you cum in five seconds flat.”
“I hate you.” She says it flatly, without meaning it. There’s not enough fight left in her to mean it.
“It seems like you like me a lot, actually.”
Slowly, with Ellie settling at her side, Abby starts to go slack. Too tired to keep herself taut. Ellie runs gentle fingers over her bicep and down her forearm, meeting Abby’s big hands—exploring their creases, their lines.
Her own voice sounds hoarse when she finds it. “Was that okay?”
Abby turns to look at her. The redness of activity has started to fade, and she still looks fucking beautiful. Ellie resists the urge to kiss her again.
“Ellie, I don’t know what to say.”
She could tease her a little longer. Abby Anderson, finally speechless? Must’ve rocked her world. Must’ve launched her into outer space. Ellie wouldn’t mind a little ego-stroking.
But she doesn’t, and neither of them speaks. They lie there quietly, Abby’s warmth wrapped around her, Ellie always in motion, always touching, until she drifts to sleep.
——
Ellie’s phone is buzzing when she wakes up. She squints and tries to locate it, arm dangling blindly over the edge of the bed.
Abby’s bed.
She’ll unpack that later.
Her phone lights up with seven missed calls and a barrage of texts from Dina.
“ELLIE”
“DID YOU DIE?”
“TEXT ME IF UR ALIVE xo”
“did you fuck abby anderson”
“CALL ME!!!”
She smiles, allows herself one moment of self-satisfaction, and sends a quick reply: “alive. will tell u about it later”
And then Abby is stirring, mumbling as she comes out of sleep, and Ellie feels it all come rushing again. The dizzying, off-balance lurch of everything that happened last night.
She wants to make sure Abby is still alive. Gently, she runs a hand over Abby’s cheek, half expecting her to flinch away. She doesn’t.
“You good?” Again, stupid.
“Yeah,” she says quietly.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Abby contemplates the ceiling, massaging slow circles into her temple. “Well, you're still ruining my life.”
Ellie can’t keep herself still, not when she’s curled up so close to Abby. Not when she can make out every ridge of muscle on her chest, her stomach. Her hand dips lower, meeting soft curls. “Can I keep ruining it?”
Abby answers by parting her legs, lifting her hips a little. Inviting her with a sigh.
Ellie’s content to return to this fucking bliss, when Abby goes completely stiff. She stops.
“What time is it?”
She tries to remember what her phone screen looked like. “Like, after eight.”
“Eight?! Fuck Ellie, I have practice.”
“It's a weekend.”
“Yeah, and I still have practice.” But Abby hasn't made a move to shove her off and get out of bed, which she could definitely do.
“Maybe you should quit.”
Abby’s laugh turns into a whimper as Ellie sucks Abby’s nipple into her mouth, her back arching into the touch. “Jesus Christ.”
“You want me to stop?”
“Just…” She grabs a handful of Ellie’s hair. “Hurry up.”
Abby Anderson has just had lesbian sex for the first time in her life and is already bossing her around. Ellie's sort of proud.
“Yes, Captain.”
——
While Abby gets dressed, she lets Ellie watch her from the bed. Ellie doesn't ever, ever want to get up.
Abby tightens her braid in the mirror. Suddenly she's back to rugby captain Anderson, hard and invulnerable. But then she gives Ellie a softer look. “You're going to have to get out of my room before Nora gets back.”
Right. Abby’s mysteriously absent roommate.
“I like it here.”
The other thing is, once she leaves, this will be over. Whatever this is. And Ellie knows how this story goes. Abby goes back to Owen. Ellie gets stoned and finds some other girl to fuck. Neither of them talk about it.
“I usually grab lunch after practice. You can come, if you don’t have class or something.”
She does have class. She’s already planning to skip.
“Are you asking me on a date?”
Abby inhales sharply. “No.”
“Okay, then. Lunch, but not a date.” She rolls onto her back, soaking up the feeling of Abby’s mattress a little longer—the warm spot she’s left behind. “I can do that.”
“Please don’t be weird about this, okay?”
“I don’t know if you’ve met me, Abby, but I’ve never been weird a day in my life.”
“Okay, idiot.” Abby finishes lacing up her sneakers, then tosses Ellie’s wrinkled clothes onto the bed. “I have to go. Just… don’t touch anything while I’m gone.”
She gives Ellie a final once-over. A final what-the-fuck-have-I-just-done? And Ellie lets her, knowing it won’t be the last time.
-------------
Taglist: @smellslike-updyke @ellies-moth-to-a-flame @cinnamonstrr @elliemulate @gardengnosticator @arabellyn @abbysreal-wife @winestainedwhiskers @thenameissnix @enmauchimaki @rareanduselessbird (reply to be added or removed!)
AAAHHHH this took me forever I hope you guys like it <3
‧₊˚── Request: "innocent reader learning how to kiss (like training for a first date) with best friend sevika."
Word Count: 2.4k
Content/Warnings: sfw, inexperienced reader, no pronouns/gendered terms used for reader, best friend!sev, very fluffy, sevika is an ass but she's your ass, you're a handful but you're her handful, kissing practice, friends to lovers...?
A/N: throwback to when i got this request seven months ago... anyhow, i thought it was adorable then, and i think it's adorable now, and i literally wrote it in one sitting so please excuse typos— sometimes i miss them when i'm deep in flow state LMAO. thank you so much to the anon who requested this! i will say i didn't write the reader as being "innocent" so much as i wrote them as just being inexperienced because i have an aversion to infantilizing the reader, but i had so much fun writing this and i hope you enjoy the product! :)
𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐁𝐞𝐞 ୨ৎ
──˚₊୨ৎ‧₊˚──
The Last Drop is free of patrons this afternoon; quiet, minus the obnoxious pop music playing from the overhead speakers.
It takes about a song and a half of your incessant staring before Sevika's focus on the loose screw in her arm relents in favor of shifting to you.
She looks up at you with tired eyes and a cocked brow— an expression you've grown very used to— awaiting your explanation for said staring.
You say nothing, still gazing, brows furrowed and lips pursed. A very serious face for someone Sevika has learned is incredibly unserious.
"Can I help you?" She finally grunts.
And at that, you sit up straight, eyes bright.
"Oh— why, yes, you can," you beam. "I'm so glad you asked."
Sevika pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs as you scoot closer. She recalls an excerpt from the pretentious parenting book she'd bought topside after taking Isha in; something about "ignoring unacceptable demands for attention so as not to reinforce the behavior."
She's gotten better at doing this with Isha. She has not gotten better at doing this with you.
"I've been thinking about something," you begin, "and I need your help… if it's cool with you."
You take on an uncharacteristically bashful expression, piquing Sevika's interest.
"Okay," she narrows her eyes. "What is it?"
"It's about… I dunno… dating?" you say, twisting one of the several rings on your fingers.
The corner of Sevika's lips quirk up into a near-imperceptible smirk.
"My love life," you continue, "the lack thereof, what I've done, what I haven't—"
"Spit it out, sweetness."
"Right," you exhale. "So… here's the thing:"
You ignore the embarrassment creeping up the back of your neck and prickling at your cheeks. It's Sevika. She knows almost everything about you, and she hasn't judged you yet— well, not including the time you bought a chai tea for, like, ten bucks at a swanky coffee shop before you knew she could make it better herself.
Still, it's Sevika. She's your best friend. And if there's anyone you want assisting you in rectifying the predicament you've found yourself in, it's her.
So, you do as she asked and spit it out.
"I've never kissed anyone."
Her grin stretches across her face in full, now.
"You serious?" She asks, brows lifting.
You roll your eyes, scoffing.
"Yes, Sev. And I'd appreciate you withholding any snarky ass comments. Not everyone has women lined up for a mile waiting to get a piece."
"Uh-oh," she purrs, leaning back against the booth and crossing her arms. "Somebody sounds jealous."
"I'm not jealous," you bite back.
Not of her, at least. Of the women you know she's been with, though..?
"Look," you huff, "I just… I need your help, okay?"
"I gathered. With what?"
Your eyes shoot up from where they were trained on a knot in the wooden table and meet her own, wide and surprised.
As it turns out, you hadn't really thought through the conversation this far. Sevika's good at reading your mind; you figured you'd just ask for "help," she'd know exactly what you meant, and the rest would be history.
The smirk she's wearing suggests she does know exactly what you mean, but that she wants to hear you say it anyway.
And your best friend is a stubborn, stubborn woman.
So you concede.
"With kissing, Sevika."
You squeeze your eyes shut, the embarrassment impossible to ignore, now.
"With kissing?"
Janna, you should have known she was going to make this impossible…
"Yes! With kissing!" You exclaim, eyes wide and hands gesturing wildly.
She stares for a moment, likely deciding whether or not the entertainment of making this more difficult for you would be worth the threat to her physical safety.
Much to your relief, she decides she'd like to stay alive today.
"Alright," she shrugs. "I'll help you."
And, just like that, she goes back to tightening the screw.
You track her movements for a moment, dumbfounded.
"That's it? You'll… you'll teach me? Just like that?"
"Why not?" She replies, not looking up from her arm. "I've spent the last couple of weeks teaching a six-year-old to 'calm her body' and sign 'I can't find my dinosaur' instead of throwing a fit. Might be nice to teach an adult something a bit more… well… adult."
"Yeah?" you ask; hopeful, relieved.
"Yeah," Sevika echoes, looking up at you with a warm smile— an expression that's far more rare than the look of exasperation she wore at the beginning of this chat.
"Okay. Then… yeah," you shyly smile, "you'll, uh… you'll teach me how to kiss, then."
"Mhm," she hums, returning her focus to the screw for good, though the soft smile doesn't leave her face.
"I've got one more request, though."
"Hm?"
"Can you please change the music to like, anything else?"
Sevika snorts. She'd quickly learned over the past few days to tune the music out the best she could.
"No can do," she shakes her head. "I promised Jinx full control over the sound system for a week as long as she'd leave explosives alone in the meantime. She's trying to get me to break and let her go back to throwing glitter-filled Molotov cocktails across the bridge. Can't have that— enforcers are already on her ass about it."
"Damn," you complain. "Sounds like she's got a bright future in psychological warfare ahead of her."
Finally, the screw in her arm is tightened. She leans back with another chuckle, puts the screwdriver down, and reaches into her pocket for a cigarillo instead.
"You're tellin' me."
──˚₊୨ৎ‧₊˚──
A few days later, you're seated on the couch in Sevika's apartment nursing a glass of wine; Sevika, a glass of whiskey.
Scratch nursing— she sits down next to you and promptly throws the whole thing back.
"Janna," you gawk. "Long day?"
"Don't get me started. Council was even bitchier than usual today, and the only peace I got between that and picking up Isha— who refused bedtime last night—"
You wince upon imagining the morning that must have created.
"was the 15-minute car ride from the office to her school."
"Damn," you shake your head, "that's rough. Do you wanna… I don't know… reschedule, or something?"
"No, no, no," Sevika quickly replies. "Not necessary. Besides…"
The shit-eating grin she gives you warns of the nonsense she's about to spout.
"I need to blow off some steam."
"Dude," you cringe, choking back a laugh, "can you please just, like… try not to be weird about this?"
"You're boring," she smirks, leaning forward to place her empty glass onto the coffee table.
"I'm absolutely not."
"You are. And, as it turns out, you've never kissed anyone, but I can only fix one of those things."
You roll your eyes, placing your own glass down and turning toward her fully.
"Alright then, smartass," you grin. "Teach me how to kiss. What do I do?"
"Well," Sevika exhales, "that depends. You ever watch porn?"
"Hello?"
"Or, like… just— anything that includes people kissing. Makin' out. You know."
You chuckle, breathless and appalled.
"Uh… I mean… sometimes?" You shrug, face already heating up.
"Okay," she nods. "Is there anything you've seen that you like? That you don't like? Some people see tongue action and get grossed out. Other people see it and wanna get in on it. So, tell me what interests you, and we'll start there."
It takes everything within you not to yank the blanket off the back of the couch and hide underneath it for the rest of your days.
But, you remind yourself once more: this is Sevika. She's seen it all, she's heard it all, and if she didn't want to hear this, she wouldn't have asked.
"Um… well… I'm not put off by tongue, for starters."
She snorts at that.
"Keep talkin'," she encourages, standing to walk to the kitchen and pour herself another drink.
You furrow your brows, parsing your brain for all of the porn and "anything that includes people kissing" you've seen and considering what you liked.
"I mean, a whole lotta tongue right off the bat is probably a bit much for me, but, like… as long as there's plenty of lead up to it, I think it's hot."
"What does 'lead up' mean to you?" She asks, sitting back down.
"Damn. You a sex therapist now, or something?"
She lifts a shoulder. "I think I could be good at that."
"You know what? True," you nod.
"Answer my question, though."
"Oh, yeah— right. Lead up…"
You consider her question as you chew on the inside of your cheek.
"I guess, like, kissing that's just on the mouth? No tongue yet. Gentle, slow… but then when there is tongue,"
Sevika's brows raise as you sit up straight to deliver your strong opinion.
"you can't just immediately go in full force. You've gotta test the waters first… like, just a little bit of—"
You freeze as the ridiculousness of French-kissing logistics dawns on you, and then, you burst into laughter.
"I'm sorry," you giggle, shaking your head, "This feels so stupid."
"It's not," Sevika asserts, watching fondly as you bury your face in your hands. "I was right there with you."
"Really?" you whine, hands falling to your lap. "'Cause it feels silly."
"It's not silly," she shakes her head, scooting closer. "I agree. Too much tongue right off the bat is a no-go. That's step one down— figuring out what you like. Second step is figuring out what your partner likes, and we seem to be in agreement, so we've got that step down, too."
"Oh, yeah? What's the third step, then?"
You're almost certain you see her eyes flicker down to your lips for just a moment.
Regardless, when her gaze meets your own, there's something in it that you haven't seen before. Something sultry. Something sure.
"You show me what you like."
Your eyes go the slightest bit wider.
"Show you? Like… the porn I watch? Or…"
"Kiss me, Y/n. Only way to learn is to try."
You go still. Your heart starts beating a little faster.
"Oh," you breathe. "Are you… Are you sure?"
"Are you?"
"Yes! Yes— I mean… yeah."
She chuckles as you grimace at your own awkward fumbling.
And then, she reaches forward. Cradles your jaw with a warm hand. Leans in until your lips are a hairsbreadth away from hers.
"Go ahead, then. Show me what you like."
It isn't smooth at first. Neither of you tries to pretend it is.
You lean forward just enough that your mouth brushes hers, pull back because you get too flustered, and then try again, firmly planting your lips to her own as you both chuckle through it all.
"Stop smiling," she mumbles into the kiss.
"You're smiling, too," you mumble back.
"No 'm not."
"I can feel-"
"Okay," she pulls back to scold you, though the smile is still present on her lips, "talk or kiss. You pick. We can't do both."
"Kiss, kiss," you giggle, reaching up to cradle her face, too. "Sorry— definitely kiss."
"Yeah?" She nods, the hand that was against your cheek now gently grasping your wrist. "You sure?"
"I'm sure," you nod back.
"Good. C'mere."
Something crackles in the air this time. You're quicker to find your footing. It's easier to settle into a rhythm.
And before you know it, you're both breathing heavy, refusing to pull away, tongues darting out to trace each other's bottom lip.
When you finally do pull away, it's only to catch your breath.
Your faces stay close. Your breath stays ragged. Your hand stays on her face, and her hand stays on your hip— though you don't even remember it landing there.
"Good?" She murmurs, grey irises glittering and pupils gone wide.
You're still breathless as you reply.
"Yeah… yeah, that was good."
"Not the kiss, doll. You. Are you good?"
"Oh," you pull back in surprise, "y-yeah. I'm… I'm really good, actually."
"Yeah?" A lazy smirk pulls at her swollen lips. "Ready to get out there and kiss some dimes?"
The fact is, she's the only person you've really thought about kissing lately, and after what just happened, you know damn well that's not changing any time soon.
But you don't mention that. You just nod, still breathless and buzzing.
"Yeah. I'm ready."
──˚₊୨ৎ‧₊˚──
When Sevika swings her apartment door open for you, she's met with your defeated smile.
"What's wrong, baby?" She asks, stepping aside to let you in. "Date didn't go well?"
You shrug off your coat with a sigh and hang it on the rack as she closes the door behind you.
"It was fine. Great, actually, which is what sucks."
"Oh, shit… too much tongue too early, huh?"
You bark out a laugh, leaning against the door and letting your head fall back against the wood.
"No, no… nothing like that."
Your eyes narrow as you think.
"Something like that, actually…"
She tilts her head to the side, brows knitting together.
"Do tell."
"I just… I don't know. We kissed. It was… fine. Just fine. Which, I don't really get, because, technically, they did everything right. Didn't come on too strong or too fast. A tasteful amount of tongue."
Sevika can't help but chortle at that.
"Then what was the matter?"
You stare up at her for a moment, eyes darting across her features like you'll find the answer somewhere in them.
And then, your eyes meet hers, and you remember how her irises looked all glassy and her pupils looked all blown-out, and the answer is suddenly right in front of you.
"What are you—"
"Can I kiss you?"
You half expect her to look at you like you're crazy. Or laugh at you, maybe.
What you don't expect is for her to step forward, put her hands on your hips, and lean in.
"Yeah, doll," she whispers. "Course you can."
There's no scrambling for rhythm this time.
Your lips meet, and you melt, your arms coming up to wrap around her shoulders.
It's slow at first, just as you like it. Tender. Gentle.
And then, it's not.
Then, it's hands twisting in the fabric of each other's clothes, breaths mingling with one another's, tongues finally dancing.
"Sorry," you pull away to pant, "haven't really had my tongue in somebody else's mouth before, so it's probably not the most graceful—"
"Talk or kiss, baby," Sevika interrupts. "Talk or kiss."
Summary: Modern Au, Mechanic Sevika finally warms up to the bosses daughter.
Note: I wrote two scenarios for this one,
✦ click this for the other one.
✦ · · · ·────────────────── · · · · ✦
You curse as you step outside of your stalled vehicle and kick the front tire. You pinched the bridge of your nose. Just perfect. Your father tried to tell you to bring it in but you insisted you knew your vehicle better than anyone and that she was fine. Turns out you were wrong and now going to miss your classes for the day.
You sighed out a onset of curses as you pulled out your phone and called your dad's shop. It rang for an annoyingly long time. The person who answered must have felt the same because they just answered with a frustrated "What?"
"Hi Sev, um... Do you think you could give me a tow to the shop?" You asked nervously. What you didn't see was her face instantly softening at the sound of your voice.
"Text me your location." She said without hesitation. She needed a second away from these bozos anyway. The shop full of men perfectly capable of answering the damn phone.
"Thank you Sev, I really appreciate it." You meant it too. Sevika was your favorite staff member. She didn't talk much but she was always so polite.
Not to mention extremely hot. You were pretty sure she was for the girls but she never talked about her personal life. Besides she was quite a bit older than you and would probably never think twice about it. Everytime you saw her you just cursed the universe for not letting you be born sooner.
She showed up a lot faster than you were expecting. "What did you speed the whole way here?" You teased. She cleared her throat in response.
"A lil bit." She admitted. She just hated the idea of you being stranded on the side of the road alone. You laughed a little bit before thanking her again. After hooking up your car she got out the truck to open the passenger door for you.
The gesture made you blush. "Sevika..." your voice was so unsure that you were almost positive she wouldn't hear you, but she did.
"Hm?" She responded still holding the door open.
"It's too high and you don't have any steps attached." You said embarrassed. She turned her head trying to hide the smile threatening her lips. You saw it clear as day. "I'm walking." You said turning around. You got a couple steps in before Sevika's large hands found your waist filling your stomach with a million butterflies.
Within like two seconds flat you were sat and she was closing the truck door behind you. Alternatively to your struggle she got in with ease which only further cemented your embarrassment. You doubled over covering your face with shame. She chuckled in response as she pulled out onto the road.
In juxtaposition to her race to you, she seemed to be taking the scenic route back to the shop. It gave you time to calm down and even though it was quiet it was nice getting to spend time alone with her. You cleared your throat which earned you her attention.
"Hm?" She responded. You weren't trying to earn her attention but now that you had it you kind of wanted to keep it.
"So um... do you have a girlfriend? O-Or boyfriend?" You asked. She grinned softly as she subtly gripped the steering wheel tigher.
"No, I don't have a girlfriend." She responded.
"Oh... Do you want one?" You asked hoping for further clarification. She scoffed in response.
"Are you offering?" She teased.
"N-No I meant- Well not no, I mean I wouldn't be opposed- but I just meant um... you're just going to let me keep floundering here aren't you?" You bit your lip to stop yourself from digging a deeper hole.
"Should we stop somewhere?" She offered.
"Huh?" You replied obliviously. She shook her head looking up for strength.
"Forget it." She said embarrassed. The two of you fell back into silence. "Wait there." She said as she pulled into the shop. She got out and made her way around to your side. This time instead of just handling you, she offered you her hand.
You accepted it and she helped you out of the truck before shutting the door after you. "Thank you again." You said fixing your skirt. She hummed in response with a soft nod of acknowledgement. You pouted slightly. She was back to her quiet self already. You completely dropped the ball.
You cursed as you headed to the back of the counter to work on your school work. Sevika took on your car personally. The longer it took the more stupid you felt for not bringing it in sooner. One by one the rest of the employees clocked out until it was just the two of you. You bit your lip as you watched her work. She was so finely crafted.
Just as you got up to tell her to maybe call it a night, she popped up with "There, good as new." She seemed startled by how close you were. She didn't hear you shuffle over.
"Ugh thank you! I'm so sorry you had to work on it for so long. I'll definitely bring it in more often." You said resting your hand on its hood grateful it lived to see another day. Sevika grinned. In reality it was an easy fix. At one point she was literally just taking a nap under the car. She was able to actually fix the problem in the last 15 minutes.
You looked around at the empty shop and bit your lip as you debated whether or not to say something stupid. "Is there any way I could repay you?" Your dad insisted that you never had to pay. It was rule everyone was well aware of. However Sevika spent such a long time on it...
She shook her head no. You reached out to grab hold of her hand which took her by surprise. "Are you sure, you spent such a long time on it and-" She knew what you were doing. That didn't make it any less shocking. You were bating her.
The way you were moving closer to her, you kept your lips parted and batted your eyelashes. Your eyes kept doing the triangle method. This wasn't what she had planned. She was just hoping for another opportunity to ask you out but you were begging so loudly without words. She leaned down to kiss you.
You kissed her back greedily as your hands found their way into her hair. She held your waist before slightly lifting you off the ground. She gently set you down on the hood of your car whilst maintaining the kiss. She slid her hand up your leg until she made it to your knees. She gently urged you to part them for her. You were hesitant but couldn't refuse her.
You slowly spread your legs for her as she trailed kisses down your body. She pushed up your skirt as she trailed kisses up your inner thighs. You were so dizzy with lust you were sure this was just some kind of wet dream. But it wasn't. Sevika was on damn her knees for you.
She laced her fingers under either side of your underwear before looking up at you for permission. You nodded breathlessly but she just raised a brow in response. "Please" was all she needed to hear before making you completely unravel and realize that despite her quiet nature, her mouth worked perfectly fine...
Content: knight!abby x princess!reader, slow burn, light angst, hurt/comfort, no warnings for this chapter, no time period specified, abby referred to as abigail for a few chapters, fluff, sorry it's taken so long for this part to be released <3.
check out my master list here for more Abby and Sevika fics.
Wc: 1779
Part 3: Cut the wound deeper
⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆
A week had passed since you last visited the field.
More suitors came and left, more lectures from the King and Queen passed and for the first time in your adult life you submitted to the predetermined flow of royal life.
You resorted to reading in your room to avoid actually having to spend time with Abigail alone. You were humiliated, unpleased with yourself and most concerning, you felt hollow; deflated. Your vigour to fight, to rebel -no matter how small the impact may be- had vanished.
Unexpectedly, a knock sounded at your door.
The person on the other side entered without announcing who they were. So, naturally, you assumed it was your mother. You frantically hide the book in your hands under your pillow, replacing it with an embroidery hoop instead- your mother encouraged more lady-like activities and forbade reading as it didnt attract suitors.
“My dear daughter” she started, the words felt insincere from her. “You look rather pallid” her nose scrunched slightly in thinly veiled displeasure “you must take a turn about the garden, put some life back into your skin before the last few suitors arrive tomorrow” she smiled. You suppress a dramatic huff and follow her orders with a smile just as fake as hers.
You don’t bother arguing against her, being able to recognise by now when one of her suggestions is really a command.
-
As you take a stroll around the castle gardens, you try not to still feel as dejected as last week. Abigail’s firm footsteps echo yours but you try not to pay her any attention. Today you don’t talk as much as she prefers. She likes the sound of your voice, specifically your intonation and the way your lips form softer sounding words.
You walk into the conservatory on a whim and feel the humidity of the greenhouse immediately. As you observe the giant plants and vivid colours you feel uncomfortably warm, the sheer scarf that sits over your shoulders and chest adds to the unnecessary heat so you simply remove it.
Abigail chokes on air, trying to rip her eyes from your bare skin.
You don’t notice, too busy enamoured by a flower that matches the lavender of your dress.
Although you’ve made your rounds through the castle grounds you feel unsatisfied. The castle gardeners are superlatively talented in their craft but this organised formulation of nature suffocates you. You yearn for the freedom of the fields.
“Abigail, tell the servants to fetch the horses. I miss the field”.
She obeys and minutes later Arod and Broiefort are brought to you.
You hoist yourself up on Arod and ride to your sacred spot.
—-
Rain must’ve come in the night, the grass is damp and mud collects at your shoes as you walk. Abigail urged you to get back on Arod so your dress could remain clean, but that wasn’t the point of the field.
Abigail felt wrong in her counsel already knowing that you wouldn’t agree with it but she continued on, just wanting to spare you any scoldings from the Queen.
She dismounted Broiefort and walked a short distance behind you. Watching you walk through the tall grass, your fingers brushing along each viridian blade.
You stopped to stroke Arod, his chestnut hair silky under your touch.
“I’m sorry Abigail” you lower your head in shame.
“I shouldn’t have shouted at you like that”.
Abigail stays silent for a moment. Your breathing halts, anxious to her response.
Her pink lips form a tender smile and you finally exhale.
“I’m sorry for shouting at you too, my princess”
Something shifts in the air, a truce forms between you: I’ll forgive you if you forgive me.
You both grin, a silent agreement settled amongst you.
“See why I like this place so much? It’s healing!” you banter, although there was some truth to your words.
Abigail raises a brow and tilts her head “Is that what you call last week? Healing?” she chuckles. The slight rumble in her low tone makes your stomach flip.
You remembered your outburst in the woods one week ago. The mortifying memories inundated your mind, causing a wave of embarrassment to wash over you.
Your eyes turned to the ground for a moment.
“I call that purging. And purging is a part of the healing process, no?” you press Abigail, feeding the playful air between you.
She laughs. A sweet, deep vibration that you haven’t heard from her before. It seems genuine and you want to believe it.
Abigail yields and responds with an amused “Fine”, an almost imperceptible smirk working on her lips.
The sun shines fiercely in the afternoon sky. You walk onwards and find a comfortable spot in the shade, under the protection of a willow tree.
You brought a picnic blanket and a basket along with you, packed with seasonal fruit, bread and cheese brought up by the kitchen staff.
After laying everything out, with the help of Abigail you sit and enjoy the coolness of the shade. She watches you reach for a book that you snuck into the picnic basket at the last second.
Usually, her job would be to stand guard at a short distance and observe your leisure, scanning the area for potential threats, but over the past few months that she’s been entrusted with protecting you, you’ve convinced her to sit or stand next to you instead.
You’ve always found it freakish your primary guards loom. The sound of their breath still audible, their eyes always watching and yet, they do not penetrate your most inner world.
You prefer the way you and Abigail seem to work around things.
A question itches her mind.
If this question were to arise three full moons ago, Abigail wouldn’t dare ask it. However, over time she’s felt herself drift further and further away from the King’s watchful eyes. She’s noticed it and yet she’s chosen to bury it within the depths of her mind, a single primal urge blinding her of her undying allegiance to the crown: her utter need to learn more about you.
The question itself isn’t important, the audacity embedded within it is what jeopardises her very existence.
She holds back for a moment, not wanting to interrupt the chapter you’re currently reading through. Once you set the book back into the basket she asks the seemingly weightless question “Hasn’t the Queen forbade you from reading, my princess?”.
You hesitate your response, unsure if Abigail is capable of bending the rules even by the slightest inch. You try your luck and whisper “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her”.
She huffs incredulously, watching you smile in wicked satisfaction.
Abigail lets out a sigh of relief and tries her luck once more as she tentatively asks “Are you okay? After last week?”. She immediately regrets it, hounding herself in her mind- why would you ask such an imposing question?
You meet her soft round eyes and immediately break, a wobble stirs your bottom lip. You let out a defeated sound “I don’t know who I am”.
Abigail feels strangely familiar, like a long lost friend and the moment you open your mouth you can’t stop. She feels like home, so naturally you begin to confide in her.
“I thought I was strong, different, destined for another life, but I’m not my delusions” you refrain from giving away too much detail, afraid Abigail would rush to the King at the slightest suspicion that you plan to run far away some day…or at least hope to.
You continue “All I have is my understanding of myself and even that seems to be a lie. I’m a stranger to myself”.
Abigail doesn’t respond just yet, she listens. Waits for more. You smile, no one ever waits -outside of obligation- for you, and this conversation was something beyond titles and obligation completely. In fact, this kind of communication between knights and royalty was entirely forbidden.
The mood turns melancholy quick, “this is probably pathetic to you, huh? Spoiled princess cries about problems someone else wishes they had” you laugh, although the sound is bitter and devoid of humour completely.
Abigail turns her head away for a moment, should she cut the wound deeper?
After a short deliberation a deep sigh leaves her lungs. That decision was too easy, she must’ve been thinking about letting the final bolt loose for too long.
“No, no. It’s not pathetic at all” she speaks gently, cobalt eyes anywhere but on yours. “Sometimes…I feel like I don’t know who I am either” she confesses.
Your eyebrows raise.
“But you seem all put together?”
“Years of practice, years of knighthood” she dryly explains, unimpressed with her answer.
A small pause sits comfortably in the air. This whole conversation you’ve noticed she hasn’t used any formalities, which makes you pleased and makes her words seem more sincere. You choose not to comment on it in fear that she’ll suddenly remember and begin using them again.
“Tell me more?” you ask in the softest voice.
Abigail nods and leans back against the trunk of the abundant willow tree. You mirror her actions and let yourself relax at the sound of her soothing smooth voice.
“I don’t know who I am when I’m away from the castle or out of my armour. What am I without my knighthood? Something that can be ripped from me at any second…” her eyes flicker to you for a fleeting moment as she says that last line, so quick you almost miss it. But you did catch it. And for some reason, it stays with you.
“I don’t recognise myself without my armour” she continues, and something in you breaks. You don’t even think when your hands wrap around her large muscled frame.
Your cheek rests on her shoulder as you bring her warmth and comfort. Abigail stills under your sacred touch. She shouldn’t be doing this. She should’ve never opened up to you.
A thousand thoughts flicker through her brain at lightning speed, warning her to back away from you and ,yet, she does the polar opposite.
At first she stiffens under your touch, unsure how to reciprocate the action. Then, slowly, her arms begin to raise. You feel her gloved hands smooth over your sides and back and your heart beats so rapidly you’re afraid she might be able to feel it.
The birds sing, a soft wind causes the willow tree that encircles you to sway with a soft rustle. You’re chest to chest now, so close you can feel her breath leaving her.
You want the moment to last forever. Her touch has a protectiveness…a secure hold, that makes you feel important in a way you’ve never felt before. Not important to the advancement of the Kingdom, important solely to her. As a person , not a princess.
⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆
Hope you enjoyed! Pls repost if you can, as it helps my work reach a wider audience 🤍🗡️⚔️
Also my heart dropped just as I posted this because I accidentally deleted it seconds after 😭 I’m so lucky I reposted it straight after so I could just copy my work instead of losing it forever 🙏
Content: knight!abby x princess!reader, slow burn, light angst, hurt/comfort, no warnings for this chapter, no time period specified, abby referred to as abigail for a few chapters, fluff, sorry it's taken so long for this part to be released <3.
check out my master list here for more Abby and Sevika fics.
Wc: 1779
Part 3: Cut the wound deeper
⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆
A week had passed since you last visited the field.
More suitors came and left, more lectures from the King and Queen passed and for the first time in your adult life you submitted to the predetermined flow of royal life.
You resorted to reading in your room to avoid actually having to spend time with Abigail alone. You were humiliated, unpleased with yourself and most concerning, you felt hollow; deflated. Your vigour to fight, to rebel -no matter how small the impact may be- had vanished.
Unexpectedly, a knock sounded at your door.
The person on the other side entered without announcing who they were. So, naturally, you assumed it was your mother. You frantically hide the book in your hands under your pillow, replacing it with an embroidery hoop instead- your mother encouraged more lady-like activities and forbade reading as it didnt attract suitors.
“My dear daughter” she started, the words felt insincere from her. “You look rather pallid” her nose scrunched slightly in thinly veiled displeasure “you must take a turn about the garden, put some life back into your skin before the last few suitors arrive tomorrow” she smiled. You suppress a dramatic huff and follow her orders with a smile just as fake as hers.
You don’t bother arguing against her, being able to recognise by now when one of her suggestions is really a command.
-
As you take a stroll around the castle gardens, you try not to still feel as dejected as last week. Abigail’s firm footsteps echo yours but you try not to pay her any attention. Today you don’t talk as much as she prefers. She likes the sound of your voice, specifically your intonation and the way your lips form softer sounding words.
You walk into the conservatory on a whim and feel the humidity of the greenhouse immediately. As you observe the giant plants and vivid colours you feel uncomfortably warm, the sheer scarf that sits over your shoulders and chest adds to the unnecessary heat so you simply remove it.
Abigail chokes on air, trying to rip her eyes from your bare skin.
You don’t notice, too busy enamoured by a flower that matches the lavender of your dress.
Although you’ve made your rounds through the castle grounds you feel unsatisfied. The castle gardeners are superlatively talented in their craft but this organised formulation of nature suffocates you. You yearn for the freedom of the fields.
“Abigail, tell the servants to fetch the horses. I miss the field”.
She obeys and minutes later Arod and Broiefort are brought to you.
You hoist yourself up on Arod and ride to your sacred spot.
—-
Rain must’ve come in the night, the grass is damp and mud collects at your shoes as you walk. Abigail urged you to get back on Arod so your dress could remain clean, but that wasn’t the point of the field.
Abigail felt wrong in her counsel already knowing that you wouldn’t agree with it but she continued on, just wanting to spare you any scoldings from the Queen.
She dismounted Broiefort and walked a short distance behind you. Watching you walk through the tall grass, your fingers brushing along each viridian blade.
You stopped to stroke Arod, his chestnut hair silky under your touch.
“I’m sorry Abigail” you lower your head in shame.
“I shouldn’t have shouted at you like that”.
Abigail stays silent for a moment. Your breathing halts, anxious to her response.
Her pink lips form a tender smile and you finally exhale.
“I’m sorry for shouting at you too, my princess”
Something shifts in the air, a truce forms between you: I’ll forgive you if you forgive me.
You both grin, a silent agreement settled amongst you.
“See why I like this place so much? It’s healing!” you banter, although there was some truth to your words.
Abigail raises a brow and tilts her head “Is that what you call last week? Healing?” she chuckles. The slight rumble in her low tone makes your stomach flip.
You remembered your outburst in the woods one week ago. The mortifying memories inundated your mind, causing a wave of embarrassment to wash over you.
Your eyes turned to the ground for a moment.
“I call that purging. And purging is a part of the healing process, no?” you press Abigail, feeding the playful air between you.
She laughs. A sweet, deep vibration that you haven’t heard from her before. It seems genuine and you want to believe it.
Abigail yields and responds with an amused “Fine”, an almost imperceptible smirk working on her lips.
The sun shines fiercely in the afternoon sky. You walk onwards and find a comfortable spot in the shade, under the protection of a willow tree.
You brought a picnic blanket and a basket along with you, packed with seasonal fruit, bread and cheese brought up by the kitchen staff.
After laying everything out, with the help of Abigail you sit and enjoy the coolness of the shade. She watches you reach for a book that you snuck into the picnic basket at the last second.
Usually, her job would be to stand guard at a short distance and observe your leisure, scanning the area for potential threats, but over the past few months that she’s been entrusted with protecting you, you’ve convinced her to sit or stand next to you instead.
You’ve always found it freakish how your primary guards loom. The sound of their breath still audible, their eyes always watching and yet, they do not penetrate your most inner world.
You prefer the way you and Abigail seem to work around things.
A question itches her mind.
If this question were to arise three full moons ago, Abigail wouldn’t dare ask it. However, over time she’s felt herself drift further and further away from the King’s watchful eyes. She’s noticed it and yet she’s chosen to bury it within the depths of her mind, a single primal urge blinding her of her undying allegiance to the crown: her utter need to learn more about you.
The question itself isn’t important, the audacity embedded within it is what jeopardises her very existence.
She holds back for a moment, not wanting to interrupt the chapter you’re currently reading through. Once you set the book back into the basket she asks the seemingly weightless question “Hasn’t the Queen forbade you from reading, my princess?”.
You hesitate your response, unsure if Abigail is capable of bending the rules even by the slightest inch. You try your luck and whisper “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her”.
She lets out an incredulous and amused breath, watching you smile in wicked satisfaction.
Abigail lets out a sigh of relief and tries her luck once more as she tentatively asks “Are you okay? After last week?”. She immediately regrets it, hounding herself in her mind- why would you ask such an imposing question?
You meet her soft round eyes and immediately break, a wobble stirs your bottom lip. You let out a defeated sound “I don’t know who I am”.
Abigail feels strangely familiar, like a long lost friend and the moment you open your mouth you can’t stop. She feels like home, so naturally you begin to confide in her.
“I thought I was strong, different, destined for another life, but I’m not my delusions” you refrain from giving away too much detail, afraid Abigail would rush to the King at the slightest suspicion that you plan to run far away some day…or at least hope to.
You continue “All I have is my understanding of myself and even that seems to be a lie. I’m a stranger to myself”.
Abigail doesn’t respond just yet, she listens. Waits for more. You smile, no one ever waits -outside of obligation- for you, and this conversation was something beyond titles and obligation completely. In fact, this kind of communication between knights and royalty was entirely forbidden.
The mood turns melancholy quick, “this is probably pathetic to you, huh? Spoiled princess cries about problems someone else wishes they had” you laugh, although the sound is bitter and devoid of humour completely.
Abigail turns her head away for a moment, should she cut the wound deeper?
After a short deliberation a deep sigh leaves her lungs. That decision was too easy, she must’ve been thinking about letting the final bolt loose for too long.
“No, no. It’s not pathetic at all” she speaks gently, cobalt eyes anywhere but on yours. “Sometimes…I feel like I don’t know who I am either” she confesses.
Your eyebrows raise.
“But you seem all put together?”
“Years of practice, years of knighthood” she dryly explains, unimpressed with her answer.
A small pause sits comfortably in the air. This whole conversation you’ve noticed she hasn’t used any formalities, which makes you pleased and makes her words seem more sincere. You choose not to comment on it in fear that she’ll suddenly remember and begin using them again.
“Tell me more?” you ask in the softest voice.
Abigail nods and leans back against the trunk of the abundant willow tree. You mirror her actions and let yourself relax at the sound of her soothing smooth voice.
“I don’t know who I am when I’m away from the castle or out of my armour. What am I without my knighthood? Something that can be ripped from me at any second…” her eyes flicker to you for a fleeting moment as she says that last line, so quick you almost miss it. But you did catch it. And for some reason, it stays with you.
“I don’t recognise myself without my armour” she continues, and something in you breaks. You don’t even think when your hands wrap around her large muscled frame.
Your cheek rests on her shoulder as you bring her warmth and comfort. Abigail stills under your sacred touch. She shouldn’t be doing this. She should’ve never opened up to you.
A thousand thoughts flicker through her brain at lightning speed, warning her to back away from you and ,yet, she does the polar opposite.
At first she stiffens under your touch, unsure how to reciprocate the action. Then, slowly, her arms begin to raise. You feel her gloved hands smooth over your sides and back and your heart beats so rapidly you’re afraid she might be able to feel it.
The birds sing, a soft wind causes the willow tree that encircles you to sway with a gentle rustle. You’re chest to chest now, so close you can feel her breath leaving her.
You want the moment to last forever. Her touch has a protectiveness…a secure hold, that makes you feel important in a way you’ve never felt before. Not important to the advancement of the Kingdom, important solely to her. As a person , not a princess.
⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆
Hope you enjoyed! Pls repost if you can, as it helps my work reach a wider audience 🤍🗡️⚔️
Also my heart dropped just as I posted this because I accidentally deleted it seconds after 😭 I’m so lucky I reposted it straight after so I could just copy my work instead of losing it forever 🙏
contains: modern au. established relationship. masc!reader. sevika and reader are referred to with masculine terms. gym date. fluff. pet names. friendly competition. flirting. teasing. food mention. mild language. suggestive themes. MEN & MINORS DNI.
description: you always love gym dates with your wife, and you love them even more when she gives you a reason to show off.
a/n: another 'cherry red kisses' request! original ask can be found here, thank you to that anon 💜 probably a lot of gym misinfo but haven't posted a sevika fic in a while so i hope you guys enjoy this one, let me know what you think, and happy reading 🏋️
☾ ao3 link ╱ playlist ╱ taglist ╱ masterlist 𖤓
Sevika pushes open the double doors to the large, well lit gym, holding one for you as you step inside. Once you're both in, she lets it swing shut behind you and it closes with a loud click.
"Come on, babe," she says, gesturing you to follow her with a jerk of her head. The movement causes the muscles in her neck to protrude and you make no effort to look away when they do. As she turns to you, her face breaks into a cocky grin, her gaze lingering on your form.
"See something you like?"
"Maybe..." you drawl. "But I wouldn't want your head to get any bigger than it already is."
She beams in return, a low chuckle escaping her throat as she shakes her head.
"Smartass," she says, nudging your shoulder with her prosthetic. "Already starting with the jokes, huh?"
Her gray eyes glint as she starts walking backward toward the weight floor, effortlessly owning every inch of the room.
"Come on, then—let’s see if you can talk shit and squat."
You both reach the squat rack and Sevika sets her bag and bottle down before switching into her workout sneakers. After, she begins loading the bar with weights while you get yourself ready by pulling up your gym playlist.
"Can't wait to hear you whining about how sore your legs are tomorrow."
"Oh, I'll be sore," you scoff, rolling your shoulders back. "But from carrying your ass the whole time."
"Keep talking, pretty boy," she smirks and finishes racking the bar with a metallic clank. "You wouldn't be able to do my routine."
"Really? Why don't we see about that?"
Stepping up to the bar and wrapping your hands around the metal, you turn to your wife.
"How many reps?"
"I start off light, so ten, full depth," Sevika says, folding her arms across her chest and leaning against the rack, watching you with an amused smirk. "And no cheating—ass to grass or it doesn't count."
"Alright, then. Consider it done."
You wiggle your fingers around the bar, letting yourself take a deep breath as you prepare for a weight you've never done.
Sevika taps a prosthetic finger against her bicep, waiting.
"You just gonna stand there looking cute or what?"
"Relax," you murmur. "I'm imagining your face after I kill this."
Moving to get under the bar, you settle it on your shoulders and curl your hands around it as your wife moves to stand behind you, her own hands facing upwards as her breath hits your neck.
"It's not too late to back out, y'know."
The purr of her voice distracts you for only a second before you roll your neck and make eye contact through the mirror in front of you.
"Not a chance in hell," you huff.
The muscles of your thighs contract as you lower into a squat—ass to grass, like the other woman says. A low exhale of effort escapes you as you press back up, gritting your teeth. Sevika is watching you closely, both hands hovering as she moves with you in perfect sync.
"Good, slow and controlled," she says, her gray eyes tracking your facial movements. "Just like that."
The burn is beginning to settle in your muscles as you lift for the eighth time but you stay focused, keeping the weight balanced on your shoulders as you slowly drop back down.
Sevika is still standing close behind you, her gaze drifting to your ass for a brief second before returning to your face. Her teeth are sinking into her lower lip, causing her labret piercing to stick out further—she's definitely enjoying this.
As you approach the tenth rep, your legs are shaking just a little under the pressure. You can feel the sweat beading on your brow, your breath coming out in short, shallow grunts.
Sevika steps even closer, her prosthetic moving to brace against the small of your back, holding you in place. The pressure she applies only increases the burn.
"Come on, one more," she whispers in your ear. "You can do it."
The verbal and physical support gives you a small burst of adrenaline which is enough to help you complete the last rep. With the final push, you rise to your full height and re-rack the bar before stepping out from under it, chest heaving as you catch your breath. Sevika steps out from behind you with her hands braced on her hips.
"Not bad," she praises. "You didn't drop the weight or fall on your ass."
You let out a half-smile, catching your breath before you respond.
"I told you I could do it," you say, wiping your brow with the edge of your sleeve.
Sevika is looking you up and down now, her gaze lingering on how your shirt has started to cling to the sweat on your chest.
"Yeah, you're right," she hums. "You did pretty good. How do your legs feel though?"
You shift your weight from side to side, trying to assess the damage.
"Definitely burn a little," you admit. "But it feels good."
Sevika's grin widens.
"Feel like trying the rest of my routine then? Only if you think you can handle it."
Her prosthetic hand rests lightly on your waist as she leans in—close enough that you can smell the faint hint of her sandalwood body wash mixed with her natural scent.
"Bet you can't even finish half of it," she murmurs, narrowed eyes glinting with mischief. "But I would love watching you try."
She taps your chest with two metal fingers.
"You in, or are those shaky legs tapping out already?"
You choke out a noise that resembles a laugh.
"Talking a lot of shit for someone that wouldn't be able to handle mine."
Sevika raises a perfectly arched eyebrow, her gaze dipping. The gesture makes her look like she's sizing you up, a hungry wolf ready to pounce. She steps closer, the toe of her sneaker bumping yours.
"You think you can put me on my ass, babe?"
Her voice dips to a purr, full lips pulling up in a challenging smirk.
"Let's make it a bet, then. We swap leg days and whoever taps out…first buys breakfast."
You cock your head and cross your arms as you consider her proposition.
"Deal. But remember, I'm bulking, so I'm not gonna be a cheap date, Sev."
Sevika throws her head back with a full-bellied laugh that echoes through the gym, several heads turning to look.
"When are you ever?" she chuckles, grabbing her bag and water bottle. "Alright, you're gonna start with Bulgarian split squats, then. Hope you're ready for this."
The two of you move to the area with the floor mats, setting up a bench for you. You watch Sevika as she adjusts the height of it, unable to keep your eyes from drifting to the muscle straining the fabric of her shorts. She takes notice of your wandering gaze before looking away with a half smile.
"You're staring," she teases as she takes a seat on the hip abductor machine next to it.
Now it's your turn to fire back and throw her off her game like she did to you earlier. Leaning in close, you whisper, "'Cause I'm remembering the way you looked when I was putting you through the mattress last night."
Immediately, the woman's smile drops and she looks at you with slightly widened eyes.
Looking forward again, she gulps and mumbles a quiet "Asshole..."
You can't help the cocky grin that spreads across your face as you notice the effect your words have on Sevika. She's trying to keep her composure, but you can tell that she's flustered.
"Having second thoughts there, babe?" you taunt, your voice dropping an octave lower.
She shoots you a glare, though her neck straining gives her away.
"Just shut up and start your damn exercise. 4 sets of 10," she huffs. "Per leg."
Saying nothing else, you move to position yourself on the bench. There's no doubt that you threw her off with your comment, but you still intend to stay focused as you begin.
Balancing your weight, you lift one foot onto the bench, lowering into the stretch in a smooth, controlled motion. Your gaze is fixed forward, even as you're painfully aware of Sevika's eyes on you, taking in every muscle tensing beneath your shirt.
"Good form," she comments, her voice straining as she presses the pads open. The compliment causes a small swell of pride to rise in your chest, pushing you to complete the first set. As you switch legs, you shoot her a quick glance from the corner of your eye.
Sevika is sitting straight up in her seat, her attention still fixed on you. The machine puts the strength of her thighs on full display, making every tendon and muscle even more prominent, and you have to look away in order to refocus.
By the time you finish the second and third set, your breath is coming out in short, sharp bursts, the burn in your hamstrings starting to intensify. You're determined to push through it, however, even with your legs beginning to wobble slightly.
Looking over at Sevika, you feel a wave of smugness when you see that she's struggling as much, if not more than you; her skin is covered in a sheen of sweat, her previously slicked back hair sticking to her forehead in damp strands.
"Don't go easy now, those muscles'll come in handy later," you joke.
She takes a moment to catch her breath before responding, the words coming out gritted and strained.
"Shut. Up."
Despite her best efforts to sound commanding, all you can hear is the way she usually whimpers underneath you and pride swells in your chest.
Sevika glares at you as she forces another rep, her jaw clenched tight. You can practically see the steam coming off her—part exertion, part frustration at your teasing. She exhales sharply when she finishes the set, leaning back against the seat and lifting the bottom of her shirt to wipe her face.
"You're lucky we're in public," she pants, then adds with in a teasing tone, "But just wait 'til we get home."
You barely register what she says. The only thing you're focused on is her rippling abs on full display, glistening and practically begging to be touched.
Her full lips spread into a cocky grin when she catches your gaze lingering, fingers tugging the damp fabric back down just slowly enough to tease.
"Eyes on the prize, baby," she chuckles, jerking her head towards your bench. "You still got one more set—unless you wanna go home early..."
Groaning dramatically, you haul yourself up, shaking out your trembling legs.
"Yeah, I'm sure you'd like that," you mutter, adjusting your stance once again.
Sevika only grins, stretching her arms behind her head to make her muscles flex even more obscenely.
"Damn right I would."
You focus on your form, determined not to let her win. Not here, not when your pride is on the line.
The last set feels like a lifetime as your quads scream in protest with every movement. You grind your teeth and keep your breathing steady, even as your vision starts to swim slightly. The only thing keeping you going is the knowledge that Sevika is watching you, waiting for you to mess up or tap out.
When you complete the last rep, you almost collapse against the bench. Your legs are shaking more now, sweat sliding down your back and soaking the fabric of your shirt, and you're sure your face isn't any better.
Sevika rises from the machine, rolling her shoulders with a satisfied groan as she stretches her arms over her head, the bottom sliver of her torso and happy trail on display as her t-shirt rides up.
"Guess breakfast's on you," she purrs, stepping close enough that you can feel her body heat radiating off her sweat-slicked skin.
Her prosthetic lands on your shoulder with a dull thunk.
"Those shaky legs tell me you're done."
Taking a deep breath, you sit up straight and place a firm hand over your wife's fabric covered torso, feeling the way it tenses under your touch. Looking upwards, you tilt your head and purse your lips slightly.
"I don't remember saying that."
Using your grip on her body to ground you, you stand up and make direct eye contact as you gesture towards the machines across the floor.
"Come on. We're only halfway done."
Sevika's breath catches as you rise to your full height but she quickly regains her composure with a lick of her lips.
"You're crazy if you think you're still going," she counters, one eyebrow arching in challenge.
She doesn't make any effort to remove your hand from her stomach, instead shifting her weight so that it presses it more firmly against her taunt muscles.
"Your legs look ready to give out any second now—"
"Almost doesn't count. Isn't that what you always say?"
Walking away without waiting for a response, you lean down and grab your things before starting to head over to the leg press machine.
Sevika lets out a sharp, bark-like laugh behind you, shaking her head in disbelief.
"Always so damn stubborn," she calls after you, jogging to catch up as you take your place at the leg press.
You end up struggling through that exercise but finish the other woman's usual routine with little complaint, much to her surprise. She watches on from the leg extension, curling her legs with quiet grunts of her own as the two of you are locked in a silent battle.
Once you both finish with those, you gulp down a generous amount of water and look at your wife with a tired smile.
"You done?"
Sevika takes her time catching her breathing before responding. She's definitely more wiped than she'd like to admit, judging by the way her chest rises and falls sharply for several seconds. However, when she looks to you the corner of her lip is curled in a defiant smirk.
"You kiddin' me, pretty boy?" she drawls, leaning against her hand as she sits on the edge of the seat. "Don't even think about quitting on me now. Not when your ass is on the line."
"Remember you said that," you huff.
Getting up to your feet, you clean up your area and wipe down the machine before looking at the other woman.
"Let's settle this with a race then."
"A race?" she laughs. "What are we, five?"
"Then it shouldn't take much to beat me…huh, handsome?"
Going for her looks is a weak move and you both know it, but it always works.
"Oh, you're just trying to soften me up, now," Sevika breathes. "But if you insist on getting your ass handed to you, who am I to say no?"
Hook, line, and sinker.
You bite back a laugh, knowing she's completely fallen for the bait. It's almost too easy; she's always been weak for your cheesy flirting.
Sevika rolls her eyes, trying to regain her composure and play it cool.
"Let's go then."
Moving towards the treadmills, each of you grab a machine next to each other before stretching again. Turning towards the woman, you clear your throat and stick a hand out in her direction.
"We'll build up to ten miles an hour and whoever taps out first, loses. Sound fair?"
Sevika takes your hand, gripping it firmly before giving it a small squeeze and sending you a wink.
"Sounds perfect."
After a quick countdown and some adjustment of the treadmills, you're both set. Sevika's focus is entirely on the screen in front of her but you can still sense the competitive energy radiating off of her in waves.
Once the belt reaches seven miles an hour, she shoots a glance at you.
"You're lookin' a little tired there. Feeling okay?"
You smirk despite your burning lungs, tapping the speed up to 8 mph.
"Oh I'm just getting started, sweetheart. Worried you're the one who can't keep up?"
Your wife's lips part to let out a quick huff before matching your pace effortlessly. She leans slightly forward, gray eyes glinting with challenge.
"Please. I could do this all day."
The treadmills click to 9 mph. Sweat drips down your temples as your calves scream. Sevika's breathing is ragged now too, her white shirt soaked through across her shoulders, but neither of you will tap first.
10 mph hits like a truck. Sevika grits her teeth, her small ponytail bouncing behind her as she digs deep. You watch through your peripheral vision as her fists pump harder than ever.
One last taunt slips past your panting lips.
"Still... think... I'm... cute... when I'm tired?"
She doesn't even respond—all of her strength is going towards trying to keep her legs from collapsing. Sevika didn't admit it, but your routine was more intense than she thought, and she's definitely feeling it now.
After a couple more minutes, Sevika's legs finally give out—she stumbles forward with a gasp before quickly turning down the speed until it hits zero. The treadmill slows to a halt as she doubles over, hands on her knees, gulping in air like she's drowning.
Through wheezing breaths, she lifts her head just enough to glare at you, sweaty hair sticking to her face.
"Damn it," she pants, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
You slow your treadmill to a stop then, grinning as smug as ever.
"Told you," you tease between heavy breaths. "I don't...tap out."
Sevika flips you off with a metal finger, but there's no real heat behind it—just exhaustion and begrudging admiration.
"Breakfast...better be...fucking amazing."
You let out a shaky laugh, your smile wide and satisfied. You're winded, sweat-soaked, and you can already tell you'll be aching tomorrow, but beating your wife in a useless competition has you feeling above all of that.
"Oh, it will be. 'Cause you're paying for it," you manage to respond, reaching over to pat her ass playfully.
Sevika grumbles as she straightens out, her legs quivering slightly.
"Don't remind me."
You shake your head as you step off the treadmill, offering a hand to your wife and helping her step down too. She takes it weakly, holding on a little longer than necessary as she leans on you for a moment. Her pride is wounded, you can tell, but you're not one to miss a chance to tease her.
"Guess I did end up putting you on your ass," you murmur, wrapping an arm around her waist.
Sevika scowls, swatting your chest with her prosthetic.
“Shut up,” she huffs, but she doesn’t pull away from your grip, letting you steady her as her legs tremble.
After a beat, she tilts her head to smirk at you, sweat still glistening on her neck.
“But I bet you can't carry me to the car.”
You groan dramatically but tighten your hold, already calculating the logistics of fireman-carrying your very muscular, very smug wife through the parking lot. After deciding the chances of both of you making it to the car in one piece that way is slim, you shake your head.
"I'm not even gonna try that."
Sevika snorts out a laugh that devolves into a cough as she doubles over again.
"Yeah, that's smart," she manages between shaky breaths.
Grabbing both of your bags, you re-wrap your arm around her waist and give her a gentle squeeze.
"Let's go."
The two of you hobble awkwardly towards the parking lot: you with your arm around Sevika's waist and hers slung over your shoulder for support. The looks you receive are a mix of amusement and incredulity as you both stumble past.
Despite all the sweat and exhaustion, Sevika somehow remains her usual cocky self, flashing a cheeky grin for anyone who dares to stare.
Finally reaching your car, you unlock it with your free hand and open the passenger door as you step aside for your wife to get in, but she leans in close instead.
"Never thought I'd be the one having the trouble walking," Sevika murmurs in your ear, her breath hot on your neck.
"Alright, perv," you smile. "Just get in."
Sevika winks before collapsing into the passenger seat, a soft grunt escaping her when her muscles protest the movement.
You shut the door and toss the bags into the backseat before climbing into the driver's side. The car engine roars to life and cool air floods the vehicle as you turn on the air-conditioning. The two of you sit back in your seats with sighs of exhaustion, sweat cooling on your skin.
"My legs burn like a bitch," Sevika groans, head tilted back against the seat.
Cracking your neck, you place a hand on her thigh and rub the sore muscles there, causing the woman to groan.
"That's what happens when you try to go against me, baby."
"Whatever," she grumbles, though her hand comes to rest on yours, pressing it more firmly against her thigh. Sevika closes her eyes and focuses on the way you move your thumb in circles, the touch a welcome distraction from the ache in her legs.
Seeing a bead of sweat drip down her neck into her shirt, you realize your plans might need to change.
"Babe, we gotta go home and shower first, there's no fucking way we can go out to eat like this."
One gray eye cracks open and looks at you before an exaggerated sigh fills the car.
"Fine," Sevika drags out. "Even though I'm literally starving."
"Always the drama queen," you chuckle.
Sliding a hand around the back of her neck, you look at your wife as she fully turns to face you.
"A shower does sound nice, right..."
She nods in agreement before slowly leaning in and bumping your nose with hers.
"It does..."
Her lips capture yours in a slow kiss, too tired to put in any more effort than that, but you're still satisfied.
The moment lingers, lazy and sweet despite the protesting burn in your muscles and the dried sweat sticking to your skin. When you finally pull back, Sevika hums contentedly, her eyes still closed as she rests her forehead against yours.
"Alright," she murmurs, her voice rough with exhaustion. "Home, then shower."
Her prosthetic moves to rest on your upper thigh, dangerously close to the seam of your pants.
"And maybe a little something else while we're in there..."
Your breath catches at her touch and implication.
"Mm," you hum, flexing your hand against her thigh. "And here I thought you were starving."
Sevika leans in closer, her husky voice dropping to a whisper.
"I have a big appetite."
Rolling your eyes goodnaturedly, Sevika giggles at her own joke and you peck her lips once more before intertwining your hands and bringing it to your mouth for a soft kiss to the back of it.
"Oh, I know you do."
Shifting into drive and pulling out of your parking spot, you head down the familiar road home, sighing quietly as the morning breeze rushes past.
𖤝| she doesn’t like being tickled because she’s insanely ticklish and it humiliates her. you poke her ribs once and she flinches so hard she almost jumps off the couch. you laugh. she grabs your wrists instantly. “don’t ever do that again.” you grin. “or what?” she deadass says, “i’ll cry.”
𖤝| she always steals your drinks. always. you’ll take one sip of your juice, set it down, turn around, and suddenly she’s drinking it like it’s hers. you go “sevika that’s mine.” she goes, “it tastes better when it’s yours.”
𖤝| sevika tries to be romantic in her own way. once she handed you a flower. it was slightly crushed. possibly stolen. she stared at you like it was a weapon. “found it.” you gasped like it was a bouquet. she looked deeply uncomfortable and muttered, “don’t make it weird.”
𖤝| sevika has a strict “no baby talk” policy. until you do it. you’ll go “hi babyyy” and she’ll grimace like she’s disgusted. then ten minutes later you’ll catch her whispering to you in the softest voice ever: “who’s my pretty girl.” and when you gasp she goes, “you didn’t hear shit.”
𖤝| when you’re giggly and clingy, she gets this look like she’s trying not to smile. like she’s holding it back with sheer force.
𖤝| sevika is the worst liar alive. you ask if she ate your snacks and she’s literally chewing. cheeks full. staring at you dead serious. “no.” crumbs on her shirt.
𖤝| she refuses to ask for directions. refuses. you’ll be lost for thirty minutes and she’s just walking like she knows the streets personally. you go, “sevika… are we lost?” she goes, “no.” you end up in an alley. she pauses. “babe we’re probably lost.”
𖤝| she always tries to fix things around the house even when she has no idea how. you’ll hear loud banging from the kitchen and walk in to find her holding a wrench upside down, glaring at the sink like it insulted her mother. “don’t talk to me,” she says, already losing.
𖤝| she calls you clingy but she’s the one who follows you everywhere. you go to get water and she’s behind you. you go to brush your teeth and she’s leaning on the doorframe. you turn around like “why are you here.” she shrugs. “needed air.”
𖤝| you once sneezed and she said “bless you” so fast it sounded like she’d been waiting her whole life for the moment. then she looked embarrassed and cleared her throat like she didn’t just reveal her soft underbelly.
𖤝| she’s terrible at taking pictures. you ask her to take one of you and she holds the phone like it’s radioactive. the photo comes out blurry, tilted, and somehow includes her thumb. you’re like “babe what is this.” she’s like “what? you look gorge.”
𖤝| sevika doesn’t do “cute couple selfies.” she does one picture, looks at it, and goes, “delete that.” you’re like “WHY.” she points at herself. “i look like i’m threatening you.” you go, “you are.” she sighs. “exactly.”
𖤝| she pretends she hates when you cling to her arm in public, but if you stop, she immediately looks down like something’s missing. you’ll be walking normally and she’ll suddenly grab your wrist and tuck you back against her side. “stay here.” like you’re a purse she refuses to lose.
𖤝| she thinks you’re the funniest person alive but she refuses to laugh properly. she’ll just do this tiny exhale through her nose. you’ll be like “YOU’RE LAUGHING.” she goes, “no i’m not.” you repeat the joke. she cracks. and looks personally betrayed by her own happiness.
𖤝| holds your bags like an absolute diva.
𖤝| sevika acts like she’s above gossip but she’s actually nosy as hell. you’ll say “guess what happened today” and she’ll immediately sit down, arms crossed, fully locked in. “talk.” you go “i thought you didn’t care.” she goes, “i don’t. continue.”
𖤝| she doesn’t say “i love you” easily. but she’ll say things like “text me when you get there.” “don’t do that alone.” “wear the jacket.” “eat something.” and you’ve learned those are her love letters.
𖤝| she always pretends she doesn’t want kisses. you’ll lean in and she’ll turn her head away like “ugh.” so you stop. and she immediately looks back at you like you just broke her heart. “what. you’re done?” you’re like “YOU MOVED.” she goes, “so what—you should still kiss me!”
summary: in which sevika becomes your roommate. click here to view all parts.
content: gay pining, angst, thought spirals, fluff
word count: 4k
this is the final part. thank you so much for all your support! very sorry for the delay, I honestly had this sitting in my drafts on here for WEEKS y'all. this was supposed to have already been uploaded and silly me never logged back on to double check.
Chapter Five
When you wake, your muscles feel like jelly. You're hyper aware of the sheets underneath you—how warm they are. And how your duvet swaddles you just the right way…Your pillow smells good. Like coming home after a long day of work. Like Sevika.
Suddenly, there's movement behind you.
And that's when you realize it's her breath. It tickles the back of your neck, stutters momentarily while she shifts, then resumes. A chill runs down the slope of your back as you feel pressure around your waist, which happens to be her arm. She pulls you closer to her as if she's afraid of you getting up right then.
“Sev?”
But there's no answer. The only sound that echoes is a soft snore and grinding teeth.
You bite back a smile while your muscles relax, and you lean into the inviting embrace of the woman behind you.
“You’re staring,” Sevika mutters. Her eyes remain downcast as she dries off a freshly washed knife. You admire how strong she looks in that moment; how she’s handling such a thing with the utmost care.
Sevika standing there with a sparkling knife shouldn’t be an image that you welcome. Yet you do.
“Am I?” You mutter. Your lips barely part as you get lost at the sight of the woman before you.
She peers at you under the lids of her lashes, eyebrows raising with sparkling pools of grey.
“I don’t mind it.” She says quietly, almost sweetly. Her gaze readjusts quickly back to the task at hand–the knife–despite it already being completely dry. “I never do.”
Your eyes follow her slow and careful movements, towel in her right hand and utensil in her left. Your heart flutters.
Softly, you smile and manage only then to look away.
Alicia bends over, hand gripping the porch handrail as a tear trickles down her face. She’s laughing, which you usually don’t mind, but this time it’s at your expense.
“It’s not that funny,” You mumble, which only makes her laugh harder.
“Hun, it’s known to all of mankind,” Mel chimes in. “That you’re quite dramatic.”
“Am not!”
Another round of guffaws.
That’s when you glance towards Sevika, who’s relaxing in a rocking chair across from you. She somehow thought that today was the perfect day to tell Alicia and Mel about your waxing incident a few weeks back. Maybe you should find some sort of humor in it; after all, it turned out fine after an application of aloe vera.
But still.
It was embarrassing.
“What about the night I told you that I’d be moving in with Alicia?” Mel’s eyes shine from the distant memory. “You were hysterical.”
“Okay, now you’re overexaggerating.”
“Remember when you said that me moving out was the beginning of your end? That you were doomed to grow old and die alone in a nursing home–”
“Mel.”
“While Alicia and I had to explain to our kids what happened to their Aunt-”
“It was a rational fear.”
At this point, Alicia is struggling to breathe. She grips the sides of her ribs, eyes squinted shut and jaw slack from silent laughter. She crouches down to the floor, hands stabilizing themselves on the arm of Sevika’s rocking chair. You notice Sevika’s amusement seconds later; how she coughs fakely into her inner elbow while her forehead crinkles. Mel giggles when you playfully shove her.
“I hate you guys.”
For a split second, you peer at Sevika to find that she’s already regarding you. Her pupils are dilated and her full lips have stretched into a lazy grin. Her cupid’s bow looks exceptionally prominent, reminding you of how warm her mouth felt when pressed against you this morning.
She winks and manages to pull you from the memory.
Mel rolls her eyes, sending you a cheesy grin. “You love us.”
You open your mouth to object, but nothing comes out. You can’t fight it. Because Mel is right.
You do.
When you wake up, the first detail that you can pinpoint is the smell of something warm and sophisticated. Your eyes flutter.
“Careful.” The murmur is low. Gentle. Sevika. “You’ll wake her.”
“Sorry,” The distinct lilt of Mel’s voice. “Do you need help getting her into the car?”
Shifting, “No, it’s okay.”
Then there’s movement. Is it you? Is it Sevika? You’re too drowsy to be able to fully tell. You try to open your eyes, but the pull is too enticing.
“Thank you for always looking after her…” Mel’s voice draws closer. There’s the warmth of another body now, and a gust of Mel’s signature fruity perfume. You struggle to register the feeling of being smothered by two people. Is Sevika carrying you? “She may never tell you, but she appreciates you so much.”
Mel pulls away, squeezing your arms briefly. When you try to open your eyes, your vision can only make out the edge of a jawline that curves into a neck. Sevika’s neck.
Arms hold you with a strength you hadn’t thought possible. Fingers press into your skin when you shift your weight–or try to.
“We’ll be home soon,” Sevika says. Her voice has dipped down to an incredibly low volume, much closer to your ear than before. Her skin–at least, that’s what you think it is–brushes against your cheek for a few seconds. Lingering there before disappearing again. “Just rest.”
If you were fully awake, you’d probably be absolutely embarrassed by the thought of Sevika carrying you to the car. You must have fallen asleep after dinner, since your last memory is sitting around the fireplace with Sevika, Alicia and Mel.
But you’re too tired to feel embarrassed.
And you’re too comfortable.
There’s a hand that touches your shoulder, a gentle caress before it pulls away and then, “She looks exhausted,” Mel whispers.
Sevika hums. The voices begin to drift away again. You catch the end of a sentence, very specifically the words, “...Haven’t told her yet,” before you succumb to a restful sleep.
It’s only when your neck is sore from being craned, forehead resting against the cool glass of the passenger window, when your eyes flutter open. You see flashing lights and blurred buildings, and for a second, you're incredibly disoriented as you try to register the passing world. But then there's a hand that rests on your thigh, the slight caress from a thumb, before you're being gently squeezed.
“Almost home,” Sevika mutters.
You blink slowly and gaze at her side profile. There’s certain parts of her that are beautifully accentuated in the dark of the night. Her grey eyes glow as they shift from streetlights to traffic, always alert and ever-watchful. Her full lips move discreetly as she hums along to the car radio. There's something sweet that settles in your mouth then, a new flavor that you're not quite used to. After walking around the world with a bitter-aftertaste for so long, you almost convince yourself that anything else is wrong. But you know, deep down, it’s completely the opposite.
This couldn't be anymore right.
You're at a red light now and Sevika does not hesitate to flick through the radio channels, frowning in distaste at some of the songs. Your heart dances at the sight.
“Thank you,” You find yourself saying.
Her gaze remains on the radio and she allows the silence to be enveloped by a commercial before she replies. “For what?”
“Being you. And lovi–” You swallow thickly. “...caring for me.”
You can tell that melts through to her. Your words have found a way to pierce that shell of nonchalance she always carries. Her lashes flutter and you swear you hear the slightest hitch of her breath.
But then the light turns green, the car jolts forward and she glances back towards the road.
The moment passes and so does the rest of your courage.
You can’t seem to find your courage around Sevika anymore.
The next morning, you wake to the smell of bacon lingering in the air. A cloud of fatigue hangs over you whilst you make yourself presentable. Even after splashing ice cold water on your face–and brushing your teeth twice–you barely manage to keep your eyes open when you approach the kitchen.
Sevika stands at the island, dressed in a black hoodie and grey sweatpants. A few strands of hair sweep the sharp lines of her jaw as her gaze remains on the task in front of her. With deep concentration, she slices through a strawberry. Several pieces of said fruit sit in a bowl to her left.
It’s ridiculous that the mere sight of her is enough to wake up every atom in your body. Within seconds, your drowsiness has dissipated, and you stand before her with your teeth working into your bottom lip.
Her head snaps up upon your arrival, grey eyes alert before softening (a telltale sign that she was deep in thought) when they land on you.
“Strawberries?” Is all that you can say.
Her eyebrows fret together–lips parting, “They’re your favorite right?” She appraises your forehead, then your nose, before returning back to your eyes. “Or do you not like them anymore?”
She remembers.
Your ears ring and for a split second, you’re convinced you’ll become a puddle on the floor.
Behind her, on the opposing countertop, sits a platter of bacon and prepared scrambled eggs.
It’s a simple gesture–but the emotions that said gesture ignites feel dangerous. Scary. All encompassing.
Lines of worry etch themself onto Sevika’s forehead as you struggle to respond.
You want to tell her. You need to tell her.
But how?
Is it not too soon? Will it scare her away?
To jump or not to jump is the true question that you find yourself wanting to answer. How do people take the plunge? Put their hearts on the line with a possibility of it being crushed?
“Is this too much?” She asks, voice much quieter now.
If you look close enough, you’d almost believe that there was a cloud of desperation swirling in Sevika’s grey irises. Your head shakes slightly as you try to recenter yourself.
There it is again–that ear ringing sensation that makes you want to jump into her arms while simultaneously collapsing onto the ground. The pull towards her–the one that’s always there–no matter how many times you try to wish it away.
You shake your head, only managing to croak, “I love strawberries,” with a pounding heart.
Your lips part and she watches you with a patience that’s warm enough to console you even during the coldest winters. She’s waiting for you to say something more.
But you can’t.
You fucking can’t.
“Come here,” Her command is nothing more than a whisper.
Your mouth goes dry when you watch her set the knife back down on the chopping board. She side-steps, strawberries long forgotten, as her hands stretch for you.
It doesn’t take much effort for you to close the distance. Despite your tongue being tied, and despite that god-awful lump in the back of your throat, your body doesn’t hesitate in following her. It never will.
Her hands, as tender as they can be, cup the apple of your cheeks. “Are you sure this is okay?” Her breath fans your skin, nose nearly inches from yours as her head bows to meet your gaze head-on.
You nod, boneless and vulnerable.
“This is okay,” Is pretty much all that you can manage to respond. “More than okay.”
And that seems to be enough for her. Her shoulders relax and she dips down to meet you with a kiss.
You can feel the beads of perspiration dripping down the nape of your neck. Your chest heaves up and down as you step into the lobby, eyes immediately landing on two receptionists sitting at the front desk.
One of them sports auburn ringlets and hazel eyes. Small rectangular frames sit on the edge of her nose, and she’s dressed in all black with a large scale spider tattooed onto the front of her neck.
Two people sit in the lobby chairs positioned against one of the walls. One of them is deeply attuned to their smartphone. The other is asleep.
The receptionist with the spider tattoo follows your movements with acute focus. You shoot her a lazy smile, slightly dazed from rushing two blocks and also stressed about the time.
Your eyes dart to the watch on your left wrist as you reach the receptionist desk.
4:17 PM.
You’re late.
“Hi,” You breathe, before taking a long gulp of water. Your purse is barely hanging off of your shoulder, chest heaving up and down as you struggle to breathe while simultaneously inhaling half of the contents in your hydroflask.
The woman stares at you tepidly, the corner of her mouth twitching as she blinks. That’s when you notice how striking her hazel eyes are, which happen to be coated with a thick layer of black eyeliner and mascara. Her name reads:
Sage
She/her
Sage’s coworker, a muscular brunette with a buzzcut and two industrial piercings, finally glances up from their book. Their name tag, much more shinier than Sage’s, reads:
Mav
He/him
Mav is friendlier, greeting you with a wide grin. Wrinkles appear around his eyes when he does so. “Hey! Are you here for an appointment?”
Your eyes dart to Sage, who is still appraising you with a harsh stare. She plays with the lanyard around her neck as her head slightly tilts.
You shift your weight nervously, “I’m actually visiting Sevika. Um,” You redirect your gaze back to Mav. “She’s my…” A heatwave flashes through you as you try to form a comprehensible sentence. “I’m uh, like, her…” God. This is awkward. “I was originally supposed to be here at 3:45? I don’t know if she told you. Um-”
“Oh!” A hint of recognition flashes across Mav’s face. His smile widens and his gaze travels to every detail of your face. “You're Sev’s girl? It’s nice to finally meet you! I swear to God, it’s been ages of us asking,” Mav pauses, glancing over to Sage for reassurance. “...About when we would finally see you. We were beginning to think that Sev has just been lying all this time. Or that the whole love triangle thing between you, her and Monica was just a big story she made up t-Ow!”
It almost looks as if Sage kicks Mav. Mav winces, reaching underneath the desk to check on–what you assume to be–his leg. His eyes narrow as he sends a side-long glare in Sage’s direction, but the deadpan woman ignores him.
Instead, Sage glances at you, humor dancing in the swirls of her hazel irises as she stands to her feet. “I'll let Sevika know you're here,” She murmurs.
“Thanks. I texted her a few times but she hasn't responded so I figured she’s probably busy with,” You clear your throat. “Tattooing and… stuff.”
One of Sage’s eyebrows quirk up in amusement. She doesn't say anything more, turning on her heels and rounding the corner that leads to another room. When you return your gaze back to Mav, he’s already nose-deep into his novel; your presence long forgotten.
A few minutes later, you hear footfalls echoing from the hallway. It sounds like multiple, which causes your shoulders to tense and back to straighten. Subconsciously, you wipe your palms against the denim of your jeans. A worn pair of black boots rounds the corner, clunking against the marble floors. Your eyes travel up the fitted dark-washed jeans and stop on Sevika’s exposed shoulders—thanks to her sleeves being cut off.
You aren’t able to get much ogling done before she speaks.
“I thought you weren’t gonna make it,” Her voice is low. A bit strained but laced with an undertone of satisfaction. Sage quietly trails behind, eyeing the two of you before sitting back down in her seat.
You aren’t quite sure how to greet Sevika; at least, not in public like this. Especially since you’re at her workplace. Surely, kissing would be inappropriate?
Thankfully, she doesn’t give you a chance to truly decide. Instead, her arm drapes over your shoulders as she pulls you into her side–a half hug, to your surprise–while something warm presses against your temple.
Her lips.
The kiss is too fleeting for you to register it at that moment. It’s only when she pulls away, squeezing your left shoulder and urging you to walk with her when the gesture dawns on you.
“Are you hungry?” Her lips brush against your right ear, voice low. “I ordered food. It got here a while ago though so we’ll most likely have to microwave it.”
Your skin is warm. Every inch of it.
Blinking through a daze, your head tilts in her direction as you nod. “That's fine with me.”
Out of the corner of your eye, you still feel the heavy stare of Sage. You wait until you’re further away and out of sight from the receptionist desk when you add, “The woman…Sage? She’s kind of, uh, intense don't you think?”
Sevika doesn't necessarily laugh at your statement but her lips do stretch into a small grin as she exhales shakily. “Yeah, she is. Mostly nosy, is all. And she’s not really a people person—her apprenticeship starts here soon though. She’s one hell of an artist. So we’re keeping her at the front until then.”
You hum at the thought, Sage quickly fading from your brain as Sevika’s arm drops from your shoulders. Instead, you feel a loose grip around your waist–her fingers rest around the curve of your hip and gently urge you to move closer to her. The pair of you have long passed the piercing and tattoo stations, nearing the tail end of the building where a staircase leads to a second floor. Silently, she gestures for you to begin climbing.
Your eyebrows raise and you glance at her, “Up?” You ask, not bothering to mask your surprise. Your index finger motions towards the second floor.
“Where else?” She gives you a quizzical stare.
You suppose it was a bit silly to think that the pair of you would be anywhere else. It’s not like it’s sanitary or professional to be lounging around the tattoo stations, especially if you’re eating food soon.
It was early this morning when Sevika proposed the idea of having a meal together. She mentioned that it could be at her job, since you haven’t seen the inside of her building (and it’s also geographically convenient since her tattoo shop is closer to home than your office).
The moment you heard the words food and tattoo shop, you immediately said yes. Spending more time together has especially been on your mind lately (and you’ve always had a nagging desire to see this side of her).
However, you hadn’t actually thought through the logistics of the plan. Not until now.
“Will it be too taxing for you? I’m sorry–I didn’t even realize–” She points in the direction you just came from. “...The elevators are in the lobby. We can walk back if you want. Are you hurting badly?”
What?
Oh.
Oh.
The car accident.
You were sore from time to time, but not as bad as before. Quickly, you grab her hand and begin to climb the stairs. “No, actually–” You struggle to hide your smile. “...I’m okay with taking the stairs.”
You lead the way, with the help of a few directions from her.
Sevika’s office is heavily decorated with all things that describe her. Hundreds of sketches are pinned to a wall while three signed basketball jerseys are hung up on another. There's an incense burning, per usual, when the pair of you walk into the room. A window is slightly propped open and gives you a perfect view of the city. Art clippings and photographs are sprawled across the desk, and a tall lamp is positioned in the corner of the room. To your right is a couch, with a folded blanket and what looks like-
Your head whips back at her. “Chinese takeout?”
Sevika still stands by the door threshold, balancing her weight against it as she rests her hands in her pockets. “Your favorite.” A small smile falls upon her lips.
You don’t know what to say. Thankfully, she continues talking. “I don’t have a TV though. So we’ll have to do without one of your romcoms.” She motions her head behind you. “I hope the window is enough entertainment.”
You laugh and make your way towards the couch. “This is perfect.”
Today is perfect.
She is perfect.
But the feelings are too powerful for you to allow yourself to linger on them. Instead, you make a beeline for the couch, opening up the takeout bag and retrieving one of the containers. You’re well aware of Sevika’s presence–the waft of her cologne and muted thuds of her boots. Out of the corner of your eye, you see her grab the takeout bag, sitting down in place of it before placing the bag on a coffee table that's a foot away.
Your heart is hammering in your chest, mouth full of egg fried rice and skin buzzing. If you were to scoot father right, your leg would press against hers.
But you don’t.
A few beats pass before, “Is everything okay?” She mutters. Her voice is low.
That’s when you force your head to lift, meeting her eyes for a fews seconds. She remains calm. Steady. Her expression is clear–gaze never leaving you.
“You’ve been distant for a little while now,” She pauses, lips parting. You can tell she’s thinking deeply about what to say and how to say it. “...For the last week or so. And I just want to make sure it’s not because of anything I’ve done or–”
“No.” Your eyes are widening. “You haven’t done anything at all. You’ve been good to me, Sev.” Blinking rapidly, you refocus back on the food in front of you. “I have no complaints. I’m happy with you.”
Hesitation. Then, “Are you sure?”
And when you catch wind of her face again, you notice that she’s sporting an expression of genuine curiosity. A hint of quiet longing also seems to be staring back at you, and it’s apparent that she's truly–completely–surprised. Have you not been obvious about how much you care for her? Is there really a chance that she thinks differently?
A wave of courage greets you and you decide, right then, that you have to stop denying yourself.
You deserve to take a hold of this–to firmly grasp this time with her–no matter how badly you want to listen to the fear that is nagging in the back of your mind.
You deserve to let yourself fully enjoy this–to fully enjoy her.
And she deserves that too.
“I love you,” You say it as faithfully as you can, because damned if you don’t surely sounds worse than damned if you do. Your hands are shaking, but you don’t allow yourself to think twice because you’ve already said it. You can’t take it back. “God, I love you.” It’s becoming harder to see her. Your line of vision is blurry and your throat hurts. “Sorry I-” You swallow deeply. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you, or even if I should. I don’t want to scare you off. I know it’s soon and we’re still trying to figure this out but…” You’re at a loss for words, shrugging as you try to contemplate what else to say.
She grabs your hands, tugging you towards her.
“I…” The sound of her exhaling softly is all you can hear. She tries to speak again, “You…” But her voice trails off again.
“I know you’ve expressed to me how you feel and I know this is a lot considering your divorce, then Monica and now me. I want to be with you and I want to give you everything I can, even if that includes taking things slow.” You wet your lips and that’s when you taste tears. You’re crying. “Whatever you need...I’ll be that. I don’t mind. I’ve just been trying to process it all. How I feel for you–it only seems to grow stronger each day. My love for you…” You shake your head, trying to recollect yourself. “...Becoming distant…Making you worry–that wasn’t what I intended.”
She lets go of your hands. Air leaves your lungs when you feel her coming closer…closer…closer. Her mouth is hot, pressing against yours without any hesitation. That feeling alone makes your muscles turn to mush. But then she deepens it, leaning further into you as if none of this is enough. The urgency she exudes, combined with the swiftness of her tongue, makes you feel as if you’re running out of time….like kissing you is the most dire thing she could be doing right now.
She wraps her arms around you completely and you allow your body to relax.
All you can think about is her. Her lips and her taste and her smell and her hair.
All you can think about is how much you loved her when you were inside of her last night, and how much you loved her when her arms were wrapped around you this morning. How much you loved her even when the two of you bickered over the broken tea kettle last week, and how much you still love her right now.
And that love, you're completely sure, will just keep growing and growing and growing…
You need her, in every aspect. You believe that you’ll always need her.
The tip of her nose brushes your cheek, then grazes against it when she tilts her head in the opposite direction. You feel yourself arching when her hands slide to the small of your back. Your fingers dig into her hair and tug at her scalp. Her quiet hum of satisfaction falls directly into your mouth, chest pressed against yours, body sliding in between your legs.
The salt of your tears fall onto your tongue, but she doesn't seem to mind. When she pulls away, gasping for air, her arms tighten around you even more. Her lips are swollen, eyes misting over as they stare back at you, and forehead merely inches from yours, “Don't you get it?” She whispers. “I'm yours,” Her voice strains with desperation. “You could never scare me away by telling me this. Ever.”
“And if it isn’t obvious already,” She adds, nose brushing against your cheek. She leaves a trail of her burning touch as she inhales deeply; breathing you in. Your eyes flutter shut and the feeling of her lips pressing against your neck causes your breath to hitch. “I love,” And she pulls away to kiss your other side, “Love,” You shiver when she practically drags her face against yours before halting your anticipation with a tender peck against your lips. “...Love you. More than you’ll ever know.”
And you’re kissing her again, still needing more, but this time allowing yourself to have it. At this point, you’re pretty sure cartoon birds are circling above your head. You’ve never felt so blissed out and completely flustered at the same time. This moment is full of mirth, and promises, and undeniable love.
This is what it means to be alive.
Sevika is smiling now, laughing when you press into her for more, more, more. You’ll always want more of her and more of everything with her.
“Take me home?” You whisper.
She’s laughing again, eyes misting over, but doesn't miss a beat standing up.
She understands. She feels it too.
Grabbing your hand, she manages to collect the food and her keys in one sweep. “Okay,” She answers, seemingly happy to grant you such a wish.
With your chest aching something fierce, you follow her without question.
You love her.
And she loves you back.
Tomorrow, you’ll wake up and spend your morning eating toast and drinking tea, loving each other just the same.
There’ll be days where you two will hang photos that haven’t been taken yet, loving each other just the same.
You’ll spend more dinners together, more holidays, and weekends and years–loving each other just the same.
Your new life, the one you have been so afraid to accept ever since Mel moved out, is waiting for you with the door wide open.
Now is when you decide to take the leap forward, hand in hand with Sevika; promising yourself that you’ll never look back.
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