౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

hannah, she/her 19y & lesbian

[abbyssgf]

welcome on my blog!🤍

my requests are open

i write for:

- Sevika (from arcane)

my masterlist

my taglist

others:

I write only 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 because I’m more comfortable with it

i write 𝐬𝐟𝐰/𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰

I 𝐰𝐨𝐧’𝐭 write fanfics with harassment, homophobia, racism, pedophilia, necrophilia, bullying, stalking I am just 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 with this and please 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 this.

𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐧𝐢

[abbyssgf]

what the fuck happend to fanfic’s with sevika? why almost every time I see a fanfic it’s g!p sevika

[yararts]

A good time in Zaun Love Sevika's outfit from that concept art piece ❤️

[meg-noel-art]

A continuation of my fankid comic ft. Vi's reaction

[sashasinfully]

Session I: The Favor

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

⟡Miniseries: Sin Sessions⟡

⟡ Session II ⟡ Session III (11/18) ⟡ Session IV( WIP)

⟡ Sevika x Fem Reader

⟡ genre: slow burn, office romance, wlw

⟡ summary: Sevika is the CEO, and her newly out, inexperienced assistant is about to learn that some lessons that aren’t in the employee handbook

⟡ warnings: alcohol consumption, intoxication, workplace power dynamics (CEO x assistant), emotional vulnerability, brief mention of past unwanted contact (non-explicit), sexual inexperience/virginity themes, and suggestive ending. ~no smut in this part~

⟡ wc: 9.2k

⟡ a/n: some sections of this story are in italics. these parts are mostly backstory meant to enrich the story, but they aren’t essential to following the plot. feel free to skip them if you prefer. also, small disclaimer: I have zero real corporate experience — all office details are purely for narrative vibes <3

✎ᝰ.

Rain drums against the glass walls of Aurion Tower as you step off the elevator, neon reflections cutting across the polished marble floors. Your heart hammering in your chest. First day. First real day at SevTek International. You’ve worked for this—but standing here, watching the city pulse below, you feel small.

And then you see her.

Sevika. Black tailored blazer, crisp shirt tucked perfectly into fitted trousers. Light catches on the sleek metal of her left arm as she adjusts her cuff, polished steel gleaming briefly. The faintest trace of cologne—warm leather, smoky woods, something sharp and clean—reaches you first, and then her eyes meet yours.

“You must be…” Her voice is low, smooth, controlled, like she’s measuring you with each word. “…my new assistant.”

You blink. “Y-yes. That’s me.”

Her gaze lingers a moment, assessing. “Follow me.”

Aurion Tower is sleek, glass and chrome, humming with quiet purpose. The elevator pings softly as you ascend, and the city stretches below in neon patterns reflected on polished marble floors. Everyone moves like clockwork—phones buzzing, heels clicking, laptops opening with practiced precision. You feel out of place, clumsy in your nerves, like you’ve walked onto a stage without a script.

Sevika leads you down the corridor, her stride confident. Colleagues bow slightly, nod, or lower their voices as she passes. Her presence bends the room around her, and you can’t stop your eyes from following her movements.

She stops beside a glass-walled office near the end of the hall. “This’ll be you,” she says, nodding toward the neatly arranged desk inside—laptop, planner, and a stack of documents waiting for review. 

Then, with a brief tilt of her head, she adds, “My office is just across from yours.” Through the glass, you catch a glimpse of it—sleek and orderly, a sharp reflection of her.

“You’ll get your login credentials from IT by noon,” she continues, tone brisk. “Be set up and ready. We have a conference call in my office at 1pm sharp.”

You blink, startled by the abrupt transition. No hand-holding, no warm welcome—just immediate expectations. It’s clear she doesn’t waste time on pleasantries.

You’ve done this before—assistant work, schedules, damage control—but this feels different. Your last position was with a mid-tier tech startup, and even then, the pace had been brutal. Still, it taught you how to survive chaos with a polite smile.

You graduated a few years ago with a degree in business administration, chasing the vague promise of stability. You never pictured yourself working directly under a CEO—let alone one with Sevika’s reputation.

This is the kind of position people with twice your experience fight for. Honestly, you’re still not sure how you got it. Maybe it was luck, or maybe SevTek’s recruitment team made a mistake. Either way, you’re here now, standing beneath the weight of her expectations.

You square your shoulders, force your posture to match the confidence you don’t feel, and nod once. “Yes, Ms. Sevika,” you manage, hoping your voice doesn’t show your anxiousness. 

You spend the next half hour settling in—arranging pens, adjusting the monitor, lining up your notebooks until everything feels orderly enough to calm your nerves. The view outside your window stretches across the city: streams of traffic, glass buildings catching the morning light, and the faint shimmer of rain on the horizon. It’s beautiful, distant, almost unreal.

You finish earlier than expected. With time to spare, you pull the top folder from the stack of documents on your desk—client proposals, project outlines, notes marked with Sevika’s sharp handwriting. You read through them carefully, tracing her precise edits, the clipped, decisive tone of someone who never second-guesses.

Your gaze drifts upward—through the glass—to her. She’s seated at her desk, sleeves rolled, focus absolute as her fingers move across the keyboard. The faint blue glow of her screen reflects off the curve of her jaw. 

A soft chime pulls you back. Your inbox flashes with a new email from IT: login credentials, subject line crisp and impersonal. You exhale, shake yourself out of the moment, and get to work setting up your account.

By the time everything’s synced, you glance at the clock—12:50. Ten minutes before the conference call.

You grab your laptop and notepad, smooth your blouse, and cross the hall to Sevika’s door. Your pulse quickens as you knock lightly. “Ms. Sevika, may I come in?”

She doesn’t look up right away, just gestures with a flick of her hand for you to enter. “Have a seat.”

The call begins moments later, her voice steady as she leads the conversation. You type notes quickly, trying to keep pace, occasionally catching the subtle edge in her tone when someone on the other end stalls or dodges a question. She doesn’t raise her voice—but she doesn’t need to.

When it ends, she leans back slightly, eyes still on the monitor. “Good work keeping up,” she says. “Now, do me a favor—coffee from the break room. Black. One green pack of sugar.”

First day jitters hit as you realize you don’t actually know where the break room is. Following the signs, you weave through the unfamiliar corridors, eyes flicking from arrow to arrow until you finally reach it. 

The break room hums with low chatter and the hiss of the espresso machine. You scan the counter—brown, blue, pink, yellow packets… no green. Great. You grab one of each instead, balancing the cup carefully on your return.

“Sorry, Ms. Sevika,” you blurt as you set it down on her desk. “They were out of green packs, so I—um—brought options.”

Her mouth curves into the faintest grin, it feels like both approval and amusement. “Resourceful,” she murmurs. “Thanks.”

You smile, and retreat back to your desk, the sound of her low voice on another call following you through the glass. 

✎ᝰ.

The afternoon moves fast. Meetings blur together—names, faces, projects—and you do your best to keep up, jotting shorthand notes while managing the constant ping of messages flooding your inbox. Once or twice, you catch movement through the glass wall—Sevika, focused, absorbed in her work, sleeves rolled to the elbow, the picture of control. She has the kind of presence that draws the eye without meaning to.

By five, your energy’s fading. You stretch your fingers, finishing the last of your scheduling updates, when the door to your office opens. “Wrap it up in ten,” Sevika says standing in the doorway, hands tucked into her pockets. “We’re heading out for drinks with the Innovations team. Company cars’ll be downstairs at five-thirty.”

You blink up at her, surprised. “Oh—should I be tagging along?”

“Yes,” she replies. “Consider it… networking. And a test of endurance.”

Her mouth quirks slightly—barely a smile. Then she’s gone, striding toward the elevators as if the idea of you saying no never even crossed her mind.

You spend the next 20 minutes organizing your desk, rereading the notes from earlier, and refreshing your inbox to make sure you’ve missed nothing urgent. At 5:20, the office starts to empty— laughter echoing down the hallway, perfume mingling with the faint scent of rain from the vents.

You grab your coat and bag, take one last nervous look in the reflection of the glass wall, and head downstairs.

The plaza outside Aurion Tower glows under the city lights. Executives gather in small clusters, laughter spilling into the evening air as sleek black sedans line up at the curb. You spot Sevika near the front, speaking with a driver. 

Her gaze flicks over her shoulder—just long enough to find you. A small nod, then she turns back to the car. Her hand catches the handle of the back door, a brief glint of metal under the lights, before she opens it and slides inside.

A company coordinator stands nearby with a clipboard in his hand, checking names as employees file into the waiting cars. When you approach, he glances up and gives a polite smile. “Ms. Sevika’s already in the first car,” he says. “You’ll be right behind her in the next one.”

“Got it,” you murmur, keeping your tone steady.

Still, confusion tugs at you—you’re her assistant, after all. Shouldn’t you be in the same car? Maybe it’s protocol. Maybe it’s just her way of keeping distance. After all, she does come across as someone who prefers space—who keeps people at arm’s length rather than letting them orbit too close. The thought lingers only a moment before you move to follow the coordinators directions, slipping into the car directly behind Sevika’s. 

The interior smells of leather and perfume—expensive. Next to you sits a woman with glossy hair, bright eyes, and a grin that could melt tension on sight. She’s holding a silver flask, swirling it like a glass of fine wine.

“Hey! You must be the new executive assistant,” she says, all warmth and zero hesitation. “Amanda Holt — PR. Senior, unfortunately.” She gives you a quick once-over, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “Still trying to find your footing?”

You blink, caught between surprise and amusement. “Is it that obvious?”

“Oh, totally.” Amanda bumps her shoulder against yours playfully. “First day under Ms. Sevika, huh? Brave soul. She’s brilliant — just... a little intense sometimes.”

You snort, tension easing. “I’ve noticed.”

Amanda grins, clearly delighted by your honesty. “You’ll be fine. And if you survive your first month without crying in the stairwell, you’re practically a legend.”

You can’t help but laugh at that. 

Amanda’s the kind of person who fills a room — even a moving car — with noise and ease. She launches into stories before you can ask, all fast-paced and dramatic: campaign disasters, near PR nightmares, who once passed out in the copy room during deadline week.

You barely notice the ride passing at all; her commentary fills the space until the car slows, headlights glinting off wet pavement. The convoy of sleek black cars pulls up to the restaurant’s awning, engines idling in the drizzle. The doors open almost in unison—executives stepping out one by one, the shuffle of polished shoes and murmured greetings blending with the distant hiss of rain.

You hesitate for half a second before following suit, clutching your bag a little tighter. Sevika is already out front, her coat collar turned up against the chill, posture sharp. She doesn’t so much as glance your way as she walks toward the entrance, expecting everyone else to simply fall into step behind her.

You do.

Inside, the warmth hits instantly—the low glow of pendant lights reflecting off mahogany and glass. Sevika leads the way without a word, the group instinctively falling into formation behind her. You trail after them through the gleaming lobby and down a quiet corridor until the host opens the door to a private dining room humming with soft jazz. Conversations spark instantly, easy and familiar—everyone seems to know everyone.

Amanda hooks her arm through yours. “Sit with me, newbie. No hiding in a corner tonight.”

She orders shots before the waiter can even hand out menus. She raises her glass, grin mischievous as she leans in and whispers, “For the new blood. First day in the lion’s den—surviving Ms. Sevika deserves a toast.”

You stifle a laugh, glancing down the table where Sevika sits a few seats down, then clink glasses with Amanda. The shot burns on the way down, sharp and fiery.

Amanda doesn’t flinch. She sets the glass down with a thud and leans closer, her voice dropping to a low murmur.. “So, tell me—what’s it like working directly under her?”

You exhale a small laugh, feeling the alcohol warm your face. “Honestly? She’s hard to read. One look and I can’t tell if she’s impressed or already planning my termination.”

A wave of pure, delighted amusement washed over Amanda’s face. “Oh, that is classic Ms. Sevika,” she confirmed, nodding sagely. “She doesn't just manage people; she manages existential terror. The woman could silence a room with a single, unblinking stare—and somehow make every single person in it thank her profusely for the subsequent moment of quiet reflection.”

You giggle, shaking your head. “Yeah… I can see that already.”

You both laugh, taking another shot when the waiter refills your glasses. The air feels easier, looser. She keeps you talking—about your disastrous first impressions, the gnawing pit of nerves that hasn’t let up all morning, your humiliating university stories, and your admittedly questionable obsession with 90s indie music. She’s loud, unfiltered, and just the right kind of inappropriate to be disarming. 

After a while, someone at the other end of the table calls Amanda’s name. 

Amanda exhales dramatically, fingers brushing over the front of her blouse. “Duty calls,” she says with a grin, tossing you a playful wink before rising, and heading down to join them, her voice fading into the hum of conversation. 

You take another sip of your drink—stronger than you remembered—and feel it go straight to your head. Maybe it’s the dim lighting or the steady flow of liquor, but your thoughts start to drift. 

                                                      ⋆˚꩜｡

You think about your old job, the cramped cubicle, the stale coffee breath of your old boss, Mr. Harrison, his constant, oily "friendly" touches— a hand lingering on your lower back, a brush against your arm that lasted just a beat too long, an unwelcome pat on your shoulder — sending shivers of revulsion down your spine. HR had been useless—more about forms and fake smiles than actually fixing anything. They didn’t solve problems; they just buried them under paperwork until you stopped trying, until you became an inconvenience easier to ignore than address.

The very idea of being in a vibrant, slightly chaotic place like this, letting your guard down, getting even slightly tipsy around those former colleagues, made your stomach clench. You wouldn't have felt safe. You wouldn’t have been safe. 

Yet here you are, on your first day, surrounded by people you barely know—and somehow, you feel at ease. The energy’s different. No passive-aggressive comments, no weird tension, no wandering hands or jokes that go too far. Just respect. Simple, steady respect. You’re almost sure Sevika wouldn’t allow anything less, but knowing that and actually feeling it are two different things. It’s… nice. Comforting, in a way you didn’t expect.

                                                      ⋆˚꩜｡

A shadow falling over your shoulder pulls you from your thoughts.

You turn to find Sevika. Jacket off, sleeves rolled, hair slightly mussed from the rain. Her gaze flicks to your empty glass, then back up to your face

“You holding up?” she asks, voice low.

You laugh softly. “Barely. Amanda’s a bad influence.”

“She always is.” 

She moves around the far end of the table, then takes a seat directly across from you. 

Before you can think of what to say next, a voice cuts in.

“Ms.Sevikaaa,” a woman sing-songs, slurring the name slightly. You glance up to see a woman approaching, balancing a half-finished cocktail in her hand. “You didn’t tell me you were coming tonight.”

Sevika’s brow arches, slow and unimpressed. “I didn’t think I needed to, Kira.”

Kira laughs, the kind of laugh that’s a little too loud for the room, the kind that draws glances. She sways a step closer, cocktail glass tilting precariously in her hand.

“You know,” she purrs, eyes flicking up and down Sevika’s frame, “for someone who runs this entire company like a damn empire, you could stand to smile more. You’d be lethal if you did.”

The air shifts. A few people glance up, conversations faltering. You freeze mid-sip, eyes darting between them. Sevika’s expression doesn’t so much as twitch, but the tension snaps tight across the table.

“Kira,” Sevika says — calm, and clipped. “Flirting with your superior in front of the team isn’t a good look. Go home.”

Kira blinks, realizing too late she’s stepped over a line. “I— I was just joking—”

“Sure you were. Just like last time, right?” Sevika’s tone doesn’t rise, but it lands heavy. “You’re drunk. Get some water, and leave.”

Kira stammers a weak apology and disappears toward the door, the silence she leaves behind almost deafening.

You try not to laugh, but the sound slips out anyway — quiet, caught between nerves and amusement.

Sevika’s gaze flicks toward you immediately, smirk tugging at one corner of her mouth. “You think that was funny?”

You lift a hand, still trying to stifle the grin. “A little.”

“Mm.” Sevika leans back, glass in hand, amusement flickering in her eyes. “You did good today,” she adds after a pause, quieter this time. 

“Thank you, Ms. Sevika,” you murmur, trying not to sound too pleased.

✎ᝰ.

The night stretches on in a haze of laughter, clinking glasses, and low jazz humming from the speakers. Plates had come and gone, conversations that had started professional, slipped into gossip and careless jokes, fueled by one too many drinks.The edge of your nerves has long since dulled—replaced by warmth, by the soft blur of alcohol wrapping around your thoughts.

By the time you check your phone, it’s a little past ten-thirty. The crowd has thinned—half the team already gone, the rest leaning against chairs, nursing their last drinks. Rain still patters against the wide front windows, city lights smearing gold and blue across the glass. Amanda’s gone quiet beside you, mid-story, her head resting lazily on her hand, damp strands of hair sticking to her neck.

You felt the sudden urge for cool air and quiet. You stand to leave, but your balance wavers the moment your heels hit the slick tile. The floor tilts, your vision dips, and before you can catch yourself, a firm hand closes around your arm.

“Easy.”

The voice is unmistakable. Sevika. She steadies you, the scent of her cologne grounding you for a moment. You forced your leaden eyelids open, blinking at the sharp, tailored lines of her suit jacket. She looked down at you, her face carefully neutral, a mask of controlled irritation. A soft exhale escaped her—less a sigh than the quiet sound of professional tolerance. 

“Come on,” she mutters, guiding you toward the door. 

Outside, the air is cool and the smell of the wet pavement hangs in the air. A few company cars still wait at the curb, headlights slicing through the mist. Without a word, Sevika opens the rear door of one and nods for you to get in. You tried to pull yourself together, mumbling something about being “perfectly fine,” but it came out as a slurred puff of air. Sevika didn’t acknowledge it; she just held the door open until you slid onto the seat. With a decisive shake of her head—judgment passed without a word—she reached across your lap and took your purse.

“Hey—” you start weakly, hand reaching out, but a violent lurch in your stomach cut you off. Nausea hit like ice, forcing a gasp, your hairline prickling with cold sweat.

Sevika rummages briefly until she finds your wallet, and takes out your ID. She reads the address aloud to the driver.

 “Get her home safely.”

“Of course, Ms. Sevika,” the driver replies.

She tucks your ID and wallet back into your purse and places it beside you before closing the door quietly.

The car hums to life, the city sliding past in blurred streaks of light. You sink against the cool leather, eyelids heavy, panic clawing at your gut. Saliva pooled in your mouth, a sure sign you were about to lose it. You clenched your jaw, forcing slow, shallow breaths.

Damn Amanda and her insistence on that last round, and damn yourself for thinking you could handle it.

The ride felt endless. When the car finally stopped outside your apartment building, the pressure became unbearable. You flung the door open, stumbling onto the slick pavement.

You didn’t make it two steps before doubling over, retching violently into the gutter.

“You okay?” the driver calls, leaning slightly out the window.

“Yeah,” you manage between coughs and heaves, voice hoarse. “Thanks. I’m fine.”

Wobbling, you make your way inside, kicking off your heels as soon as the door closes behind you. The hallway feels impossibly long, the lights too bright, and every step shakes your stomach. You finally collapse onto your bed, face-first, letting yourself sink into the mattress.

The world tilts one last, terrifying time, then mercifully stills.  Sleep takes you before you can even change out of your clothes.

✎ᝰ.

Morning hits like a dull hammer.

Your head throbs—not the full weight of a hangover, but enough to make the sunlight leaking through your blinds feel like an accusation. You blink blearily, realizing you never made it under the covers. Yesterday’s clothes cling to your skin, rumpled and twisted, your blouse half-untucked and your hair a tangled mess against the pillow.

With a groan, you roll over and grab your phone from the nightstand. The screen lights up, and your stomach drops.

Sevika: Meeting at 8:15. Don’t be late. The time reads 7:20 a.m.

“Shit,” you breathe, sitting up too fast. The room tilts for a second, punishment for last night’s drinks. You swing your legs off the bed, stumble toward the bathroom, and crank the shower on full blast. The cold water snaps you awake, though not kindly.

You’re moving on autopilot—rinsing, drying, tugging on a long pencil skirt and a crisp white blouse that refuses to stay tucked. Heels, the same ones from last night, click unevenly across your floor as you grab your bag and smooth your hair back into a sleek bun. The mirror shows someone who looks almost put together if you ignore the faint shadows under her eyes.

By 7:50, you’re locking your door and half-jogging down the street, clutching your purse like a lifeline. The bus comes around the corner just as you reach the stop, brakes hissing. You step on, breathless but relieved, and sink into a seat by the window.

The city blurs past in morning rush-hour haze, lights flickering across glass and steel. Every stop feels like it’s taking too long. By the time the bus pulls up near Aurion Tower, your watch reads 8:11.

You take the elevator, then hurry off heels clicking against the marble, pulse drumming in your ears. When you finally reach the conference room, the door’s already half-shut.

You slip inside just as the clock hits 8:15.

Sevika’s at the head of the table, mid-sentence. Her eyes find you instantly—cool—but she doesn’t pause, doesn’t call attention to your entrance. Just one raised brow as you slide quietly into an empty seat and open your notepad like you’ve been there long enough to know what’s going on. 

✎ᝰ.

The meeting drags on for nearly an hour, filled with numbers, projections, and the occasional sound of fingers tapping against keyboards. You take notes mechanically, your headache thrummed behind your eyes, a dull pulse that matched the steady tick of the wall clock. Each second landed like a tap of pressure against your skull. 

You just wanted quiet—your apartment, the dark, a few hours of stillness.

Every now and then, a faint chill worked down your spine. You didn’t have to look up to know it was Sevika’s eyes on you. You could feel her attention before you saw it—a glance, brief but weighted.

When the meeting finally ends, chairs scraped, papers rustled, conversations reignited as everyone made for the door. You moved slower, gathering your things one piece at a time.

“Feeling okay?”

You freeze, glancing up. Sevika stood a few feet away, arms crossed.

You blinked. “I—uh—”

“I take it you made it home in one piece,” she said before you could find words.

Heat crawls up your neck. “Y-yes, Ms. Sevika. Thanks to you.”

Her mouth curves faintly. “Try not to make that a habit.” She pauses, then nods toward the hallway. “Come with me.”

You hesitate but fall into step behind her. She leads you back to her office, the click of your heels echoing softly against the polished floor. Without a word, she crosses to her desk, slides open a drawer, and retrieves a small bottle of ibuprofen along with an unopened bottle of water. Setting them on the desk in front of you, she looks up.

“Two should do it,” she says, tone flat but not unkind.

You manage a nervous laugh, cheeks warm. “Right. Thank you.” You shake two pills into your palm, swallowing them quickly with a sip of water.

Sevika nods once, satisfied. “Good. Now I need coffee, black, one—”

“One packet of sugar,” you finish for her before you can stop yourself. “The green one.”

That earns you a pause. She tilts her head just a fraction, before she nods once. “Good memory.”

She settled into her chair, shifting her attention to the papers on her desk. You take that as your cue to leave. Drawing a quiet breath, as you head for the break room. 

The smell of espresso hits you instantly, bitter and sharp, making your head throb a little more. Glancing at the counter, you remember yesterday — they’d been out of the green packets Sevika likes — so you’re relieved to see them restocked today. Grabbing a cup, you pour the coffee and tear open a green packet just as a groan echoes behind you.

Amanda stumbles in, sunglasses on, hair a little too wild to be office-appropriate. “I swear,” she mutters, “if anyone breathes too loud near me, I’m quitting.”

You stifle a laugh. “Rough night?”

“Rough everything,” she corrects, grabbing a mug and slumping against the counter. “Didn’t even get laid last night, which feels like a waste of perfectly good eyeliner and bad decisions.” She eyes you up and down, smirking. “You look like you could use some action too.”

You gasp, mock-offended. “Ouch. That’s harsh coming from someone who looks like death in fancy shades.”

Amanda grins, a flash of her usual spark returning. “Fair enough. But seriously — what about you? You seeing anyone?”

You hesitate, fingers tightening slightly around the coffee cup. “No. Uh… not right now.” A beat. “Actually, I’m… newly out. So I have no idea what I’m doing. Kind of just figuring it out as I go, I guess.”

Amanda froze mid-sip, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of her nose until her eyes were visible—sharp, suddenly alert. “Oh, really?” she said, leaning in, voice dropping like she was about to share state secrets. “You should definitely talk to Ms. Sevika.”

You nearly choke on air. “What? Why? No. Absolutely not.”

Amanda bursts out laughing, a rich, uninhibited sound that echoed slightly in the otherwise quiet office kitchen. “Relax, I’m not suggesting you try to date her!” she clarifies, waving a dismissive hand. “I just mean the woman’s got a reputation that precedes her by three hallways. Half her flings show up making a scene at reception, looking for her, sometimes even crying. She must be doing something right, whether it’s the sex or the dates. Maybe she has some tips on navigating… the scene, you know? She clearly knows how to attract people.”

You blink, a little shocked. You didn’t expect Sevika to let her personal life spill into work like that. Then again… maybe she doesn’t. Maybe she doesn’t let it spill. Maybe the problem isn’t her lack of discretion—it’s theirs. Her flings' lack of discretion. The thought caused a reluctant, slightly wicked grin to pull at your lips.

You shake your head quickly, trying to quell the internal amusement before Amanda notices. “Yeah, no thanks,” you manage, your voice firm despite the smile threatening to break through. “I like my job—and my dignity—intact.” The idea of approaching Sevika for dating advice, let alone anything else, was beyond the pale.

“Suit yourself.” Amanda shrugs, pushing off the counter. “But I’m telling you, a little danger never hurt anyone.”

You roll your eyes, grabbing Sevika’s coffee. “Good luck surviving the day.”

“Please,” she groans,“If I make it to lunch, it’ll be a miracle.”

You laugh softly, then head back toward Sevika’s office, coffee in hand. The door’s half-open, her figure outlined against the light, every movement visible through the clear glass — shoulders straight, attention fixed on her screen. 

You knock once before stepping into her office. Sevika looks up briefly from the papers in front of her, her eyes meeting yours for a fraction of a second.

“Thank you,” she says simply.

You nod, setting the coffee on her desk. “Of course.”

Her gaze flicks back to the spreadsheet, frowning slightly as she refocuses on the numbers.  You close the door behind you and retreat to your own office.

✎ᝰ.

The next hour slips into routine. Emails, voicemails, invoices, updates. Your fingers move automatically across the keyboard as you take calls, emails read, sorted, and filed; voicemails turned into tasks; invoices cross-checked; weekly updates finalized. It’s quiet except for the hum of the air conditioning and the occasional click of someone’s shoes passing by in the hall.

Eventually, you lean back in your chair, stretching your arms above your head until your shoulders pop. The movement draws a small sigh of relief from you, and for a brief moment, your gaze drifts toward Sevika’s office.

She’s seated at her desk, one hand braced against her chin, eyes narrowed slightly at her monitor. Her focus is sharp, unbroken. 

Amanda’s words echo uninvited in your mind. You should talk to Ms. Sevika.

You suppress a small smile, shaking your head. She undoubtedly has more experience than you do in… that department. However, the idea of approaching her desk with your clumsy, uncertain issues—things tinged with emotional risk—felt like a professional death sentence. You were too new. Too unsure. Asking Sevika anything that personal felt like crossing a sacred line. And she doesn’t seem like the type to tolerate anyone testing boundaries. 

You glance back toward her office— and freeze.

She’s looking right at you.

Your stomach drops. The moment stretches, just long enough for heat to crawl up the back of your neck, and then you whip your gaze back to your monitor, pretending to type something — anything. 

A quiet ping from your inbox makes you jump. You glance at the screen. From: Sevika Subject: Come to my office. No message. No context. Just that.

You stare at it for a second, the image of her observing gaze still burned behind your eyelids, your stomach flipping a little harder now—a mix of dread and anticipation. You cross the short distance between your offices, smoothing the front of your shirt—a futile gesture intended to somehow convey a composure you absolutely do not feel.

She doesn’t look up right away when you enter. “You have lunch plans?”

“Uh, no. Not today.”

“Good.” She sets her pen down, finally meeting your eyes. “Work in here with me until 1. Then we’ll go downstairs and grab something.”

It takes you a second to process the ‘invitation’. “Oh—okay. Sure.”

“Grab your laptop,” she adds. “We’ll go over the quarterly drafts together.”

You nod, still slightly surprised, and hurry back to your office. When you return, Sevika has shifted a stack of papers to make space for you at the end of her desk.

You set up your laptop beside hers, and soon the low murmur of typing fills the room, the smell of her coffee lingering between you. For a while, it’s quiet — just the steady rhythm of work. 

But no matter how hard you try, your attention keeps drifting. Your eyes find her again absorbed in her work. The way she moves is precise; even typing looked effortless, almost graceful. You catch yourself staring, heat rising to your cheeks before you force your eyes back to your screen. Still, that flicker of curiosity lingered.

✎ᝰ.

Every so often, Sevika leans over to glance at your screen, her voice low and even when she offers feedback.

“Double-check your totals here,” she murmurs once, tapping a cell on your spreadsheet with the blunt end of her pen.

You nod quickly. “Right.”

Other times, she doesn’t speak at all, just gives a small approving sound when you fix something before she can point it out. Despite your initial nerves, the quiet rhythm between you settles into something almost… comfortable.

At one point, she sits back, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. “You’re picking this up fast.” 

The compliment catches you off guard. “Thank you, Ms. Sevika. Guess I had good notes to go off of.” “Mm.” Her mouth tilts faintly.

By the time one o’clock nears, your headache has faded, but your stomach has started to growl in protest. Sevika shuts her laptop and glances your way. “Lunch?”

You nod, packing up quickly, and follow her toward the elevators.

The downstairs café is busy — a long counter, the hum of conversation, and the smell of something sweet cutting through the usual corporate blandness. You step into line beside Sevika, scanning the digital menu.

She gestures toward the screen. “The steak sandwich is good. Or the roast chicken wrap.”

“That sounds…” you start, but your voice trails off as your eyes wander toward the smaller section labeled Vegetarian Options. Meat never sits well with your stomach, and the thought alone makes your appetite disappear.

Sevika’s eyes flick to the menu, then back to you. “You don’t eat meat.” It isn’t quite a question. 

You hesitate, explaining dietary preferences always feels like giving unwelcome homework to your dining companions. 

You shake your head. “No, I—just… prefer not to.”

“Salad, then?” she asks. “The Mediterranean one’s solid.” You smile, relieved she didn’t pry, and just offered a genuine, appealing solution. “Yeah. That sounds perfect.”

She orders for both of you without hesitation, moving with the sort of ease that makes you feel like you’re perpetually half a step behind.

✎ᝰ.

You’ve barely sat down with your trays when a tall man in a pale blue shirt approaches the table, grinning.

“Sevika! You’ve been dodging me all week.” The sheer volume of his greeting makes nearby diners swivel their heads.

You blink, surprise flickering across your face. Sevika? Nobody calls her that — not the interns, not even the most senior department heads. To everyone else, she’s Ms. Sevika, a name spoken with the kind of respect that borders on fear. The easy way he says it sets him apart immediately.

Her jaw tightens slightly, metal hand twitching out of obvious annoyance. “Tom.”

He doesn’t wait for an invitation—just pulls out the empty chair beside you and drops into it. “Mind if I join?” he asks, the question purely rhetorical, already leaning across the table.

You glance at Sevika, but she only exhales quietly through her nose.

Tom leans forward, elbows on the table. “So,” he says, looking at you. “You’re the new assistant everyone’s been talking about.”

You feel a flush creep up your neck, the sudden spotlight unnerving. “Oh, I—uh, maybe? I hope in a good way.”

“Depends who you ask,” he jokes, flashing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.“You must be good if you’re working with Sevika. She doesn’t tolerate amateurs.”

Sevika sighs, unimpressed. “And somehow, you still have a job, Tom.”

He laughs loudly at that, then starts droning on about some project upstairs. You focus on your salad, eating in silence while Sevika answers in clipped, efficient tones that suggest she’s seconds from telling him to leave.

Eventually, your lunch break ends. Tom insists they need to “sync up about some innovation reports,” and Sevika stands groaning.

“Go ahead and head back up,” she tells you. “I’ll be with Tom this afternoon.”

“Got it,” you say, trying to hide your disappointment at how abruptly the calm between you shattered.

✎ᝰ.

Back upstairs, the rest of the day blurs together. Calls come in one after another, voices stacking in your headset—some urgent, some clipped, some just mind-numbingly routine. You toggle between follow-ups, notes, and check-ins, tracking project updates. Your inbox pings again, then again.

You work until the last of the daylight slips off the windows, then finally pack up your things and head out at 6. 

At the bus stop, you’re just about to put in your earbuds when your phone buzzes.

Amanda: Drinks tonight? We both could probably use the relaxation.

You tap out a quick reply. 

You: Weren’t you just horribly hungover this morning?

Another buzz.

Amanda: I’m dragging you out either way, so you might as well say yes.

You can’t help but smile at that, shaking your head as you tuck your phone back into your bag. 

By the time you get home, the skyline glows in the distance, a pulse of gold and glass against the darkening sky. You heat up something simple for dinner, the quiet hum of your apartment a soft contrast to the noise of the day.

Afterward, you pull open your closet, debating for a moment before slipping into a backless black dress — simple but elegant. Gold heels, matching gold earrings. You catch your reflection in the mirror, fluff your hair, and almost don’t recognize the confident woman looking back.

You grab your purse, keys, and phone.

You: Drop the location.

A second later, Amanda replies with an address and a winking emoji.

✎ᝰ.

The bar hums with music and low laughter, lights glinting off bottles behind the counter. Amanda’s already there, perched on a stool with two drinks waiting — one for her, one for you — and that familiar spark in her eyes when she spots you.

“You made it!” she cheers, raising her glass. Her eyes flick you up and down, taking in your outfit, and a slow grin spreads across her face. “Wow… I’m impressed.”

You grin back. “Figured I’d put in some effort.”

Amanda laughs. “Worth it.”

You slide onto the stool beside her, the edge of a smile tugging at your mouth. “I almost didn’t come, you know.”

“Good thing you did,” she says, sliding a fresh drink toward you. “I’d be drinking alone otherwise, and that’s just sad.”

You take the glass, chuckling. “Thanks.”

The two of you talk, drink, and unwind. The buzz loosening your nerves.

Amanda grins over the rim of her glass. “See? Told you I’d get you to relax.”

You roll your eyes, smiling. “Guess I underestimated you.”

She leans closer, mischief in her eyes. “Perfect opportunity, too,” she teases. “A hot stranger at the bar, you relaxed… basically a free pass to get laid.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Wow, Amanda. You really only care about one thing, don’t you?”

“Hey,” she says with a mock glare, “a girl’s gotta prioritize.” She smirks, glancing past your shoulder. “Uh oh. Incoming.”

Before you can ask, a low, sultry voice hums behind you. “Aren’t you just beautiful.”

You turn, pulse quickening. The woman standing there looks like she walked straight out of a fantasy — dark hair cascading over one shoulder, lips painted the color of ripe berries, a satin dress that clings to her curves and dips low enough to show the soft swell of her chest. Every inch of her seems designed to draw the eye, from the way her perfume curls through the air — something rich and warm, like amber and spice — to the lazy confidence in her smile.

Her fingers trail lightly up your spine, and you shiver at the touch. When your eyes meet, hers are heavy-lidded.

Amanda grins, already sliding off her stool. “Well, I’ll leave you to it,” she teases, giving you a wink before disappearing into the crowd.

You open your mouth to say something — anything — but all that comes out is a quiet, “T-thank you.”

Her smile deepens, lips curving like she’s just uncovered a secret. “Oh,” she murmurs, voice low and velvety, “you’re shy. That’s adorable.”

Heat floods your face, spreading fast. 

The woman leans in just enough for her perfume to wrap around you. “Don’t worry,” she says, her tone dipping into something that sounds almost like a promise. “I don’t bite… unless you ask.”

Your brain short-circuits. 

You don’t even have time to gather your thoughts, she takes your hand with a gentle tug. “Come on,” she murmurs, “let’s get somewhere a little quieter.”

She leads you through the crowd toward the bathroom. Your pulse hammers the whole way there, half from the alcohol, half from disbelief that this is actually happening. The door shuts behind you with a dull thud, muting the music to a distant throb.

Before you can think, she presses you back against the cool tile wall. The kiss comes fast—sudden and rough. Her hands are already on your waist, her body pressing close. You try to follow her lead, but you hesitate, movements clumsy and uncertain. 

She pulls back after a moment, and sighs in frustration. “Seriously? What, have you never done this before?”

You freeze. “I—uh—”

She rolls her eyes, stepping away. “You’re fucking kidding. Maybe practice before you waste someone’s time next round. Waste of a pretty face.”

The words sting more than they should. She pushes past you and disappears through the door, leaving you standing alone under the flickering bathroom light.

For a long moment, you just stare at your reflection — flushed cheeks, smudged lipstick, eyes wide. Then you laugh softly, without humor, and whisper to yourself, “Well. That went great.”

You grab a paper towel, blot at the lipstick, and try to smooth your hair back into something resembling control. It doesn’t help much. 

You take a steadying breath, and walk out of the bathroom.

The air outside feels heavier than before — too warm, too loud. You push through the crowd and find a quiet corner near the exit, half-hidden in shadow. The noise of clinking glasses and laughter fades just enough for your thoughts to start creeping back in.

You lean against the wall, exhaling. The sting of that woman’s words lingers — sharp, humiliating. But beneath it, something else simmers: confusion, maybe. Frustration.

You close your eyes, letting your head tip back.

                                                   ⋆˚꩜｡

Before coming out, there had only been one person you got into a relationship with. A guy you dated for 5 months in college, he was polite, dependable, and completely wrong for you. You used to think that maybe the flutter in your stomach would come eventually, that attraction was something you could grow into if you just tried hard enough.

It never did.

You remember his kisses — quick, practiced things that left your mouth crawling with discomfort. The way he’d touch you sometimes, gentle but expectant, as if you were following a script you didn’t remember agreeing to. Most nights you’d pull away, murmuring that you were tired, that you didn’t want to have sex right now. He’d sigh—a sharp, frustrated sound that always knotted guilt in your chest—but he’d never press. And still, every time, the relief that followed felt almost as hollow as the avoidance itself.

Then one day, he stopped calling, stopped coming over. A week later, you found out he’d been sleeping with someone else. He said you’d “made it too hard to feel wanted.”

                                                    ⋆˚꩜｡

You laugh bitterly under your breath. 

The memory leaves a sour taste in your mouth, but it also makes something else click into place — why tonight’s kiss didn’t feel like a complete failure. Messy as it was, it hadn’t felt wrong. When her lips met yours, there was a spark — small, but real. A kind of pull you’d never felt before, even if it ended awkwardly. It wasn’t a failure, just proof that something in you was finally waking up.

Amanda’s words echo in your head again. You should talk to Sevika.

Maybe she could help. 

But the thought of actually asking her, yet again, makes your stomach twist. The last thing you need is to look like some wide-eyed rookie begging her boss for intimate lessons.  To confess such an embarrassing lack of knowledge on a topic like that, especially to her, felt like an unbearable, soul-crushing admission.

You groan softly and scrub a hand over your face. “Nope. Terrible idea.”

Pushing off the wall, you square your shoulders and step back into the crowd, scanning until you spot Amanda at the bar, laughing with some guy. She waves when she sees you, holding up two fresh drinks.

You force a small smile and make your way over, letting the noise and the neon lights swallow the last of your thoughts.

✎ᝰ.

The night winds down slowly. Laughter fades, glasses empty, and the bar grows quieter as people trickle out in twos and threes. You and Amanda linger near the door, finishing what’s left of your drinks before stepping out into the cool night air.

Amanda stretches, a slow, languid arch of her back, arms reaching toward the ceiling. A soft sigh slips out, caught somewhere between contentment and a half-suppressed giggle. “Alright, I’m heading out,” she says, waving for a cab. “Don’t miss your bus babes.”

You laugh weakly, promising you won’t. She gives you a sloppy salute before disappearing into the backseat of a yellow cab.

The bus ride home is a blur of streetlights and half-formed thoughts.By the time you reach your stop, the night air cuts cool against your skin, but it does little to clear the haze in your head. You fumble with your keys, shoes dangling from one hand, and step into the quiet of your apartment.

The lights stay off. You drop your bag and shoes by the door, and collapse onto the couch. The cushions dip under your weight, the room spinning just slightly. You tell yourself you’ll get up in a minute—just a minute—but sleep finds you first.

✎ᝰ.

You half-expect to wake up with your head pounding, but morning comes without the punishment you deserve. A small miracle. 

By the time you reach the office, caffeine and fluorescent light do their job, pulling you the rest of the way into focus.

You settle at your desk, flipping through the latest batch of reports—numbers, invoices, the usual. It’s all routine… until it isn’t. A discrepancy catches your eye. Small. Easy to miss. But once you see it, you can’t unsee it.

An invoice sitting in the shared folder catches your eye. The numbers don’t add up — the total’s higher than it should be, the vendor name isn’t familiar, and the signature field looks… copied. You click through a few older reports. Someone’s been slipping fake payments through the system for months — small enough to pass unnoticed, just below the threshold that would flag a manager’s attention.

Your cursor hovers over the latest entry, heart ticking faster with each scroll. This isn’t a mistake. It can’t be.

You hesitate, glancing toward Sevika’s office. Through the glass wall, she’s in a meeting talking to her webcam. You almost let it go. The thought of knocking, of possibly being mistaken and wasting her time, tightens your throat.

But the unease won’t leave. It coils low in your stomach, steady and insistent. This isn’t just a hunch — it’s wrong.

You take a breath, steady your grip on the cool metal of your laptop, and cross the room toward her door.

You knock lightly. She doesn’t look up. “Busy,” she says flatly. “Ms. Sevika, it’s urgent,” you manage, trying to steady your voice.

That gets her attention. She turns back to the monitor, “Give me a moment,” she says to the people on the other end of the video call, then mutes herself. 

Her attention shifts fully to you. “What is it?”

You cross the room and set your laptop in front of her, pulling up the report. As she scrolls, her brow furrows. “Where did you find this?” “In the shared finance folder,” you reply. “It looked off, so I checked the older invoices.”

A long pause.

“You were right.” Her jaw tightens. “These are fake vendor accounts. Someone’s been funneling company funds through them.”

She exhales slowly, then leans back in her chair. “I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have brushed you off so quickly.”

“It’s fine,” you murmur. “You were busy.”

Sevika’s eyes narrow slightly at the screen. “This needs immediate attention,” she mutters under her breath. “Contact finance compliance and internal audit. They’ll trace the dummy vendors and figure out who it is.”

You nod, already reaching for your laptop. “Right. I’ll get on it.”

Before you can turn, Sevika gestures to the chair across from her. “Sit.”

You hesitate, heart beating a little faster. But you sink into the chair, opening your laptop up again and draft emails, cross-referencing invoices, and pulling up internal reports.

Meanwhile, Sevika, her earlier focus still simmering beneath the surface, leans back into her virtual meeting.

Minutes stretch into an hour, the only steady sound is the rhythmic clatter of your typing and Sevika’s occasional, low-voiced replies to someone on the other end of the call.  

After the meeting ends Sevika finally leans back, letting out a sigh.

You glance up from the screen. “I’ve… sent the messages,” fingers still hovering over the keyboard.

Her eyes find you. There’s a flicker of appraisal there, before the corners of her mouth tilt upward.

“Good,” she says, “You know,” she continues, her tone shifting, laced now with a teasing amusement, “for sharp eyes and quick action, you deserve a reward. I’ll make sure there’s a nice bonus waiting in your next paycheck.”

You smile, polite but faint, the expression barely holding together. A bonus would be nice. A tangible acknowledgment. Still, as the thought forms, something else edges in— Amanda’s suggestion.

You chew your bottom lip, weighing it all carefully. Sevika is confident. She carries herself like someone who has mastered every room she’s ever walked into. Someone who knows how to navigate… everything. She could offer more than just insight; she could provide genuine, invaluable guidance, perhaps even illuminate the pathways through territories you’d barely dared to dip a toe into, areas that felt exhilaratingly new.

But the counterarguments weigh just as heavily, dragging at the edge of possibility like an anchor. You’re still new here, still finding your rhythm, still learning the unspoken rules of the corporate hierarchy. To ask her now—after this moment, such a professional exchange— feels audacious. Reckless. It could easily backfire, creating an awkwardness that might sour your promising start. Worse, it feels like stepping over a line that isn’t written anywhere but still exists, clear and unmistakable.

The thoughts press down on your chest, leaving your breath uneven. But beneath the nerves, beneath the uncertainty, there’s something else — something that pulls instead of warns. The potential reward, for some reason, felt infinitely heavier, more tangible than any bonus line on a paycheck would ever hope to be. 

And somehow, that feels like the most dangerous thought of all.

Fuck it. 

Finally, you exhale, lifting your gaze toward her, though not meeting her eyes. “Actually… instead of the bonus,” you begin, voice tight but steady, “I… I need a favor.”

Sevika stills mid-motion, the faintest crease forming between her brows. “A favor?” she repeats, one eyebrow lifting as her mouth curves in something between amusement and disbelief. “You’ve been my assistant for less than a week, and you’re already asking for favors?”

You wince inwardly. She’s not wrong. It sounds bold, maybe even stupid, especially when she says it like that. But the words are already balancing on the edge of your tongue, and backing down now would feel worse than asking. 

“Please,” you say softly, the word barely holding together.

A quiet beat stretches between you. Sevika leans back slightly, studying your face. Then, finally, she says, low and even, “Go on.”

You take a deep breath, cheeks warming. “I… I need your help. I don’t… I don’t really know how to—” You glance down at your hands, unable to meet her gaze.

Sevika lets out a low, amused sound—a quiet chuckle that carries more curiosity than mockery. “Is this about what Amanda mentioned in the break room the other day?”

You freeze, eyes widening, heat rushing to your cheeks. “W-what?” You stammer, horrified at the idea that your pathetic sex life might be circulating as office gossip. 

She tilts her head, voice calm. “Amanda said she suggested you speak to me… about your… relationship issues.” She used the term 'relationship issues' with a clinical detachment that somehow made the embarrassment worse—as if she were discussing a poorly performing asset.

Your stomach drops, and you groan, burying your face in your hands for a moment. “When did she—why would she—?”

“She messaged me after your little chat yesterday. Although, I didn’t expect you to actually come asking for help.” Sevika says, shrugging as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You peek up, mortified, your lips pressed into a thin line. “I… I can’t believe this.”

Sevika’s expression softens slightly, but there’s still that unmistakable glint of amusement in her eyes. “Me neither but here you are. So… what exactly do you need help with?”

For a brief, desperate second, you consider denying it, pretending this was about something else—anything else. But Sevika’s watching you, patiently, and you realize there’s no point. The damage is already done.

Fuck you, Amanda.

You exhale, resigned. Might as well see it through.

So, you begin to explain. The words tumble out now, desperate to get the confession over with. You tell Sevika about your first and only relationship, you recount, hesitantly, what happened last night at the bar, your complete inexperience with it all. Each word leaves your stomach fluttering, your face hot, but you push through, wanting to be honest. Laying bare your crippling inexperience. 

Sevika listens, expression unreadable at first, then a soft laugh escapes her—low and amused. “Damn,” she mutters under her breath, shaking her head slightly.

Your eyes snap up, narrowing. The humiliation turned instantly into defensive anger. “It’s not funny,” you snap, heat rising in your chest.

Her smirk fades, though that trace of amusement lingers in her eyes. “You’re serious,” she says finally, leaning back in her chair. “You want me to teach you how to kiss—and have successful dates? That’s it?”

You hesitate. That is not it. That was merely the flimsy, socially acceptable facade of the problem. The unspoken words—the actual, heavier truth—lodged in your throat, a dense, suffocating obstruction.

Sevika watches the small, involuntary shifts of your body: the avoidance of eye contact, the nervous clench of your hand.  Something in her expression sharpens. “Oh,” she says slowly, realization settling in. A beat passes. Then, with a faint huff of disbelief, “You need lessons in sex, too?”

You flinched at the brutal bluntness, the word, sex, hanging there like a physical object, heavy and shocking. But trapped in her gaze, already having revealed so much, you could only nod, shame curling hot and tight in your chest, a suffocating knot. 

For a long beat, she just stares, letting the moment stretch. Then she leans back slightly and grins. “Okay… but only if you can look me in the eyes when you ask.” The condition was simple, brutal, and immediately effective. It demanded vulnerability. 

Your breath hitches, your face flushing hotter. Words tangle in your throat, and you stammer, trying to find the right way to phrase it—to articulate the desperate need while maintaining some shred of dignity.

“…Never mind,” you finally blurt, getting up and turning toward the door.

“Where are you going?” her voice stops you mid-step. You catch the soft tap of her loafers on the floor before you feel the heat of her body close behind you.

Her hand moves, reaching over you to the control on the glass partition. With a soft click, the glass shifts—slightly foggy now, obscuring the view. You know what it means: no one can see in. Your heart jumps to your throat.

“First lesson starts now,” she murmurs. 

You turn slowly to face her, heart hammering in your chest. Sevika’s smirk is slow. Her grey eyes boring into yours.

“Still want my help?” she asks, voice low.

Your throat goes dry. You meet her eyes, force yourself to hold the gaze, and croak out the single, necessary answer. “Yes,” you manage, barely above a whisper.

“Good girl,” she murmurs, lips grazing your ear, voice low and smooth.

✎ᝰ.

[cllmwhnyrsbr]

To me every picture of a princess and a knight is butchfemme

[requiemdesreves]

Hi :3 I'd like one about Sevika that has a picture of the reader and Silvie in her wallet, please🥺

Sevika was never the sentimental type.

Well, that’s what she liked to say.

But between the crumpled bills and old cards in her wallet, there’s a photo folded in four, the paper a little worn around the edges from use. In it, you’re smiling with messy hair, and Silvie sits on your lap, proudly holding an ice cream that’s already melting down her hand.

Silvie was the one who gave it to her. Or rather, the one who snuck it in without asking.

“So you don’t forget us when you’re fighting the bad guys,” she’d said, with the seriousness of a child who thinks she’s a hero.

Since then, Sevika takes it everywhere. Not that she’d ever admit it.

One night, while she’s having a drink at her usual bar, one of the regulars leans over the counter and notices the corner of the photo sticking out.

“What’s that you got there, big girl?” he teases with a grin.

“Nothing,” she answers, snapping the wallet shut.

“C’mon, show us. Your girl?”

Sevika raises an eyebrow. “You wanna keep your teeth, or should I count them in my hand?”

The guy laughs nervously and goes back to his drink.

Later that night, when she comes home, she finds you on the couch, half asleep with Silvie curled up against you. Silvie’s wearing Sevika’s huge coat, the sleeves dragging along the floor.

“Mama, look,” she mumbles sleepily. “I’m like you.”

Sevika kneels down, brushes her hair back, and smirks. “Prettier than me, that’s for sure.”

“That’s not hard,” you mutter without opening your eyes.

“Hey.” Sevika chuckles and gives your leg a light tap. “Show some respect in front of my number-one fan.”

Silvie giggles in her sleep, and without thinking, Sevika takes out her wallet. The photo’s still there, a little more bent than before.

“You know,” she says quietly, “this brings me luck.”

“Our photo?” you ask, yawning.

“Yeah. When I look at it, doesn’t matter how shitty the day’s been. It reminds me why it’s worth coming home.”

You laugh softly, half asleep, as she puts the wallet away again.

“You’re such a softie, love”

“Shut up.” She says it in her usual gruff tone, but there’s a glint in her eyes that betrays her.

Right before bed, Silvie mumbles one last thing:

“Do you still have the picture, Mama?”

“Always.” Sevika kisses her forehead. “I’m not going anywhere without you two.”

✦ 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @riotstemple29, @youdoyou-andiwilldome, @georgiahs-stuff, @fruitfulfashion, @poeticrenaissance, @mxchi-mxxn, @mwahbabe, @sksksscarlet, @sevikas-whore, @gh00styyy, @dykeasaurwrites, @cutflwr, @gabrielthethird, @lonerslug, @strawwbby, @willsloveshergf, @orange-honeyjne, @sasseffect, @lunescore, @celinealways, @mairisms, @lilas712, @orchidprincesss, @mseilishmwah, @monroesg1rl, @rawrspacecat

[tulipesfairy]

—She knows where home is. (mama sevika x mama reader)

synopsis: vika comes to get her little girl up from the daycare ♡

cw: slight mention of breastfeeding! you’re ‘mommy’ and sevika is ‘mama’ <333

a/n: i wanted to write one for sevika too 🥹 it’s shorter than the one i wrote for vi, but i hope you like it just as much!! 💐

It shows 4:30pm on the clock when the black SUV pulls into the daycare parking lot.

The teachers used to double check who it was, but now they don’t even have to look anymore, they recognize the hum of the engine and how punctual only Sevika is.

But recognizing her doesn’t mean she can skip the usual ritual! She’s a parent like an other, after all. She wouldn’t want it any other way either.

Sevika walks out of her car, suit still on her shoulders, silver jewelries catching the light of the lamps outside, black polished boots clicking against the pavement.

The intercom buzzes, she doesn’t need to speak, just give a look at the camera watching her like everyone, then the gate unlocks with a cheerful beep.

Inside, the teachers are ready, one’s holding Ruby’s little backpack, another’s saying a little but kind hi while cleaning up crayons that met a very dry and violent end.

“Sevika! Hello! Always so right on time.” one of them says, smiling.

Sevika doesn’t have time to say hi back, Ruby lifts her head and screams at the name of her mommy.

“Mamaaa!”

She starts crawling as fast as she can on her little knees, trampling legos and toy cars with a soldier-like determination.

Sevika is half-laughing half-rushing forward, scooping the little monster up before she can faceplant right into the puzzle mat.

“Hey, baby girl,” Sevika murmurs, kissing her hair. “Did you miss me that much?”

Ruby answers with a squeaky “Mm!” and immediately fists the collar of Sevika’s blouse, not really like she owns her money but more like she tries to fuse with Sevika’s skin, burying her face against her chest.

The teacher chuckles softly. “She had a very good day! She didn’t cry when mommy left, made two naps, both about forty-five minutes. But she didn’t want to go outside this afternoon. Looks like she’s in a book phase because she sat with the picture books and pointed at the animals for almost an hour. She knows how to say panda and tiger now.”

Sevika grins, surprisingly not the same intimating woman she definitely is at work and without her loved ones beside her. One of her arms is keeping Ruby steady, the other metal one carefully taking the folder and the backpack the teacher offers. “That sounds all right. Seems like you had a good day, uh?”

Ruby doesn’t answer, only slightly bump her head in Sevika’s chest in a nod, and the teacher laugh fondly.

“Oh, and she cried a bit before the second nap, in the evening.” the teacher adds. “She asked for milk. We gave her some, but she didn’t drink much. We think she’s having a little trouble adjusting to not breastfeeding during the day?”

Sevika hums as she nods, shifting the little girl a little higher on her hip. Ruby’s hand is sneaking toward the collar of Sevika’s blouse right on time for that topic, small fingers curling in like she’s searching for something Sevika won’t give her right now.

“Yeah,” Sevika says, calm but firm, catching that tiny hand and guiding it back to somewhere else on her chest. “She’s… having a bit of a hard time with that at home.”

Ruby whines softly and Sevika just rocks her gently, not making a scene, but making her understand right now is not the time.

“It’s not as easy as I thought it would be,” she continues, glancing up at the teacher. “We keep trying, but she’s too used to it. Can’t blame her, really.”

The teacher gives that kind smile. She’s just like one of the moms who show up every day with tired eyes but infinite patience. “Of course. It’s totally normal. She’s still so little.. But the good thing is: being here helps a lot. It’s a different space, different rhythm with more kids to play with and less moms to ask for milk and cuddles. She’s slowly getting used to it, you’ll see.”

Sevika nods again, thoughtful, thumb rubbing circles over Ruby’s back. “Yeah, I figured. She doesn’t ask when mommy drops her off, right?”

The teacher shakes her head. “No, not really. She cries a little sometimes because she doesn’t want her mom to leave, but she doesn’t ask for milk. We believe it’s because she knows it’s from you, and not from mommy.”

A faint smile tugs at Sevika’s mouth, barely there but it’s real and genuine. “Smart kid,” she mutters to Ruby, pride hidden behind the deep gravel of her voice.

Ruby yawns, her tiny fist thumping accidentally Sevika’s chest before she relaxes again, sucking on her thumb but still awake. Strong baby girl waiting calmly.

“She’ll get there,” the teacher adds softly. “It’s just a matter of time. You and mommy are doing great.”

Sevika hums, nodding. “Alright, say bye-bye, Rubes,” Sevika murmurs. “Say bye to your teachers.”

Ruby doesn’t look up, she just waves a lazy hand in the general direction of the teachers, still hugging her mom like she’s a part of her.

“That counts,” Sevika says with a small grin she’s shameless to show now. “See you all tomorrow.”

The teacher smiles, her voice softer and aware of Ruby’s tiredness. “See you, Sevika, bye bye Ruby. Have a good evening.”

In the parking lot, Sevika straps Ruby into the car seat like it’s second nature and her baby girl lets her do so. She glances at Ruby through the rearview mirror once shes on her sit at the front, hands on the steering wheel, that little pout still visible even in her daughter’s sleep.

“Yeah, I know, baby,” she mutters, easing the car into reverse. “You’ll get there, I know it’s not easy.”

[miffyscakes]

I will have a butch girlfriend I will have a butch girlfriend I will have a butch girlfriend I will have a butch girlfriend i will have a butch girlfriend i will have a butch girlfriend i will have a butch girlfriend

[jerryandersonsdaughterinlaw]

“i don’t feel bad for abby, she was a killer” so is…. everyone?? in the whole?? fucking game?!?!

[miffyscakes]

“mean!sevika” this, “toxic!sevika” that- people mischaracterise sevika enough😭 stop making her a cunt

NO FR.

like she's just rough bc of her environment and fights bc she has to. but if she found someone who understood her she'd let go of that demeanour so miss me w that bullshit of Sevika being toxic to her gf

[ikarwz]

modern au sevika

[shiimmer]

make it right

sevika x younger!fem!reader

warnings! age gap (reader is 29 and sevika is 41), slight angst to fluff to smut, sevika is horrible with feelings at first (she tries afterwards tho), cheesy romance cuz why the hell not, yearning yearning yearning (a lot of it and then some more), cunnilingus (r!receiving), tribbing, sevika gets emotional during sex

men and minors dni!!

word count: 9,4k words

ᨦ ෆ ᨩ summary: sevika didn’t realize how much she loves you until it was too late. and after two years of living in regret, she’s done listening to her brain when she sees you again, going as far as to make a whole month all about you.

note: this is genuinely the longest one shot i’ve ever written and holy shit… i lowkey love this one, even tho writing it was actually getting on my nerves. i’ve also gotten sick while writing it, so excuse the quality in some parts (i really tried my hardest). not proofread so this might be absolutely shit. enjoy!!

sevika has done a lot of stupid shit in her life. dating that one girl back in college who turned out to be straight and experimenting. hoping that her relationship with her father would get better as she grew older. getting drunk on her friend’s wedding after having a very brief life crisis.

some have become a funny joke with her little group of friends, one that get a chuckle even out of her.

and then there were some that she just wishes she could forget forever. drown them in a bottle of whisky.

all of those memories are stored in her head. a mental list of embarrassing, painful, awkwardly funny parts of her life.

those memories love to terrorize her in the most random moments of her life. she has gotten good at ignoring over the years, but some days were harder, where even a hard alcohol or a good fuck couldn’t fix.

another thing that sevika always knew about herself, is that she has never been the best person on earth. she has her flaws, like everyone does, but she never had the need to lie about how perfect her life is. she knows it is far from it.

and with flaws, regrets walk along hand-in-hand. sevika regrets a lot of things, far too many.

but her biggest regret is ever letting you invade her life.

you, a woman who is just the complete opposite of her. you are sweet, gentle in ways sevika is not. you cared for her when others only pretended. you were, to her, the perfect person. she never understood how good you could be with others. with her. it scared her, really.

she was scared of how well you could read her, made her feel seen in the most vulnerable way. she hated it, but you were the only one who ever had the privilege to know who she truly is.

the only issue about this almost perfect, pulled-straight-out-of-a-novel relationship was?

the pretty big age gap.

you were 27 when sevika met you, and she was 39. you two met at a bar she was a frequent for nearly a decade, with you and your friends celebrating your friends’ engagement. she never asked what reason you had to suddenly approach her that night, but she still remembers what exactly she saw.

you, endearingly tipsy from wine, walking over to her with a pretty smile glimmering on your lips. your makeup was slightly smudged, lipgloss ruined from the wine. she even remembers how you unbuttoned your blazer widely enough to show her the slightest sliver of skin hiding beneath.

you were simply breathtaking, in a way that made sevika crave. and you were just as desperate, clinging to her side looking all coy, touching her bicep and feeding her ego with sweet compliments. she was loving it, deep down. having a pretty girl hung up on her arms made her feel invincible.

you were not shy about your desire for sevika, going as far as to make the first move. it’s what led you into her bed that night, and many more nights after.

she could never forget how desperate you were for her, a strange woman you met at a bar.

you were insatiable.

there were days where she had to cocoon you in her duvet just to keep you away from her. and sevika was never a woman who struggled with not having enough stamina. she had more than enough and then some, enough to go for hours, but it was nothing compared to you.

you were bold. hungry. feral like a rabid dog, sneaky like a predator. you knew how to test her resilience, patience, and restraint.

no warnings sevika gave you ever stopped you either. if anything, they would make you work harder to get her riled up, until you ended up bent over a random piece of furniture that was in sevika’s way.

but she never complained. it was what she loved about you.

and loving you was scary.

when things began to get serious, sevika felt cornered. what was first just a great sex with a younger woman, became more. and you both felt it.

sevika tried, she really did. but the nagging feeling that kept saying to let you go, knowing that unlike her, you had a whole life before you, was far too loud in her head. you were perfect for someone like her, and the way her heart was racing at the mere sight of you made it clear how much she loved you.

she never said it, but she knew. though she wasn’t sure if you knew it, too.

that’s why it had to end. she loved you too much to tie you down to someone like her. an older woman with her life a mess, who is more familiar with a bottom of a bottle than romance. she is only a mechanic with her own business, while you can make it bigger in life with your fancy degree and a way with words.

you needed someone who deserved you. and sevika knew it would never be her.

she couldn’t face you to end it. you were the sunshine in her life she didn’t know she needed until she had it. and sevika was always weak for you. the second your eyes would meet, she would chicken out.

so what did she do instead?

she sent you a text.

sevika felt like a coward, hiding behind her phone screen when she sent the message. yours came flooding her inbox immediately, and by the typos and short messages, she knew you were crying on the other end of the line.

you tried to reach out to her so many times the first week or two, calling and texting to the point where sevika was leaving her phone at home when going to work. not because it was annoying, but each notification that came from your number made her heart ache more and more each time.

she began avoiding spots where she could accidentally meet you. that one restaurant you two once went to? it did not matter that sevika had to go to the gym that way, she would use a different route. the area where you work? she did not dare step foot in there.

she even stopped going to her favorite bar for a while, the one where she met you. the last thing she wanted was to see you there, waiting on her, give her that sweet look that would break her resolve.

and now, it’s been two years, and sevika has not moved on since.

if anything, it got worse.

she thought moving on would be easy. you were just another woman in her life, a younger woman, too. she expected to be back on her feet within three months, jumping into another woman’s bed to forget you.

and she did just that.

except it had no effect.

no matter who she had in her bed, you invaded her mind like a parasite. a parasite she desperately wanted to get rid off, but nothing ever worked.

sevika never felt more pathetic in her entire life more than now.

she has thought many times about contacting you again. thinking about calling you, telling you how sorry she is, even going as far as begging you to listen to her. she even bought you flowers once, on your birthday – even though she pretended to not listen when you still were together – walking to your place with an apology she has practiced for a whole day.

but as she stood before your apartment complex, watching random people in the window of your living room, she chickened out. the bouquet she paid a hefty amount for ended up in the trash, and she drank a whole bottle before midnight to drown her sorrows.

she regrets meeting you, but she regrets ever letting you go.

she spends nights on her phone, gathering the courage to text you. her thumb hovers over the call button each time, but never really clicking it. she doesn’t even know if you have her blocked.

if only sevika knew you weren’t any better.

you like to claim that you have moved on. you laugh and smile with your friends as if your heart has not been heavy with anger, replacing the sadness that first prevailed. even after two years of absolute silence from the older woman, the situation weighs heavily on you.

it’s not the breakup that is the problem – if you can even call it that. if sevika were to tell you face-to-face, you would take it. it would hurt, sure, but you would understand. you would have some kind of closure.

but apparently by sevika’s standards, you aren’t even worthy of a phone call.

worth nothing more than a fucking text message.

you read it so many times it’s engraved in your mind since, haunting you like a nightmare. and no matter how many times you tried to reach out, she ignored it all. all your calls and messages, read but never answered.

that hurt the most.

dating after sevika has been rocky like walking on a rope bridge. always hit or miss, never going past a third date, until you stopped forcing yourself into another relationship that only deepened the wounds left behind.

as much as you try to convince yourself that you hate her, that you have truly forgotten all about her, you can never deny how you always miss her.

the smallest things reminds you of her. the scent of motor oil that always lingered on sevika’s clothes, to the way she loved her whiskey served. even something as insignificant as a smoke of a cigarette. you remember how much you hated kissing her after she had a smoke, which only made her kiss you harder.

you miss that.

you miss when sevika gave you her attention, not just the sex part. all of it.

and perhaps you were silly enough to believe that she loved you back because of it.

today was meant to be another normal day for sevika. after a long shift, all she wanted was to go to a bar, have a few drinks and go back home. her usual – though horribly sad – routine.

but ever since she woke up today, at 6am like always, she had this gut feeling that something is going to happen.

it started small.

first there was a woman walking past sevika with the same hair as you. her heart nearly stopped thinking it was you, but when the woman turned around, she let out a sigh of relief and a quiet curse under her breath.

she was being ridiculous. she last saw you two years ago. you probably changed your hairstyle by now, looking completely different. she probably wouldn’t even recognize you if she saw you on the street. at least she wanted to believe that.

then came the restaurant she once took you to. sevika’s heart nearly leapt out of her chest when she came to her senses, realizing that she went the wrong route.

she has been used to avoid this street, this part of town entirely. why did she accidentally stumbled here today of all days?

it made no sense.

until she saw you.

she was right about one thing, though. you really changed your hair. otherwise you look the same, and it scares sevika how easily she has recognized you in the crowd of people walking by. but it’s hard to not notice when you stand a few feet away, standing before an opened car, wearing black slacks and a black blouse.

you look professional, yet still so unbelievably beautiful. the way you stand there on your heels, a perfect depiction of an office siren. sevika almost forgets what she has done, forgets sending that stupid message. almost going as far as to step forward to walk towards you and wrap her arms around you.

but she can’t. how will she look like, after two years of radio silence, deciding to hold you as if nothing had happened? as if she didn’t ruin the best thing in her fucked up life. she doesn’t deserve you, and you deserve more than an asshole like her.

the moment passes when you finally close the car and turn around, your eyes landing on sevika standing not far away. she sees how your body stiffens, eyes widen in shock, and she is far from doing good herself.

neither of you move for what feels like hours. people pass by you, all in their own worlds, ignoring the two worlds that once parted have collided once again. and neither of you have the courage to approach each other.

at least sevika doesn’t have the courage. what would she even say? no words that come to her mind can ever fix the mess she has made.

but watching you stand there, perfect like the first she met you, her body works on her own. the soles of her boots against the concrete is the only sound that fills her ears, along with her rapidly beating heart – beating hard enough to put her in a cardiac arrest.

but it’s now or never. for the first time in sevika’s damned life, she follows what her heart wants, not her brain.

she stands a few feet away from you now, and seeing you flinch away makes her heart sink. not that she can blame you, but it aches nonetheless. she takes a deep breath to calm her pulse, before her mouth opens.

“hey,” is the only thing that comes out of her, and she groans. why are feelings so complicated?

your eyes lock with hers, and before sevika can continue, you finally speak up. “what do you want?”

“i…” the question renders her speechless. she doesn’t know herself what she wants anymore. a proper closure? an apology? fall down to her knees and beg you to come back to her? it’s all options, and neither at the same time. “i just want to talk.”

“two years too late, don’t you think? but you can send me a text message. that’s your thing, isn’t it?” you snap at her, and sevika winces. touché.

“look, i’m not here to argue. i don’t know why i’m here, anyway. and today of all days. but i know is that i want to fix this,” sevika hates the word that comes out of her next. “please.”

“but you said i’m too young–“

“i know what i said!” her voice comes out harsh and frustrated, but not entirely at you. “but i can’t get you out of my head and it pisses me off.”

you look away from her, and sevika is tempted to grab you by the chin and make you look at her. just like she used to when your eyes closed, or darted away from her when she brought you to cloud nine and back. but she can’t. not after everything.

“i know i don’t deserve a second chance, not after the bullshit i did,” she hesitates for a moment, “give me one night. that’s all i want. you can yell at me, slap me, scalp me for all i care. just… just give me that.”

that’s when your eyes lock with hers, looking bewildered like a deer in the headlights. your face switches between various emotions. angry, shocked, ready to slap the audacity out of sevika for even suggesting ever meeting again.

the silence feels heavy like a storm cloud, and for a second, sevika believes that you will reject her. she wouldn’t hold it against you if you did, but a part of her prays to win you over again, to have you back in her life even after she let you go.

and as she’s opening her mouth to speak, you beat her to it.

“fine. one night. that’s all you’re getting.”

instant relief floods through sevika’s body like a whisky, warming her up. she tries not to let it show, but the way her flesh fingers twitch ever so slightly give away her true feelings. she hates how easily you pull a reaction out of her.

her lips curl up in a ghost of a smile. “i’ll pick you up on friday, 6pm.”

it is finally friday. the clock on the wall of your bedroom ticks away 5.30, only thirty minutes before sevika shows up.

and you’re nowhere near as ready as you have hoped.

you have absolutely no idea why you had agreed in the first place. the closure, perhaps? wanting to hear her out? or maybe… maybe, somewhere deep in your heart, you want to see her one more time before fate does its job.

the scene keeps repeating in your head, playing out possible ‘what if’s in your head, as if that’s going to help. you cannot change the past now. you promised, and saying no to her, even after what she had done, is easier said than done.

you probably should have said no. make things easier for yourself.

but it’s hard to deny the effect she still has on you. how her voice sends shivers down your spine, like it used to before. how her big frame towers over yours, and how it makes you want to be in her mercy – in her arms, where you once felt so safe.

you’re still under her spell, and you can deny it all you want.

not even ten minutes pass when a ringing sound of a doorbell pierces your ears, making you flinch by the mirror. she’s here early, and your stomach is tied in knots.

it’s now or never.

you check yourself in the mirror one last time, fixing up the buttons of your blazer vest, mostly just to make her wait. you had to wait for two whole years, she can handle two minutes.

“you can do it…” you whisper to your reflection as if it can support you back, taking a deep breath before you walk towards the door. you hang the bag over your shoulder, put on your shoes, and with one last sigh, you leave your apartment.

the soles of your platforms thud against the steps as you descend, unsteady like a fading heartbeat. not even halfway down, you consider walking back up and ditch sevika on this date – if you can even call it that.

there is nothing more to it then closure, you convince yourself. or try to, at least.

because the second you open the main entrance and see sevika standing in front of you, every thought in your mind evaporates like a mist over boiling kettle. you are back to the days when you were together, head over heels and heartbeat embarrassingly loud.

her broad frame towers over you, dark maroon shirt perfectly hugging her upper body, and exposing enough of her sternum with three buttons undone. the hem is tucked in her pants, tight slacks that hug her thighs just right, showing off her muscles for the world to admire.

she must be doing this on purpose, you are sure of it.

and as you are admiring her, sevika is busy taking you in. you notice her throat moving as she swallows, her eyes raving over your suit-clad body. her mouth opens, then closes, then opens again like a fish stuck on land.

a small flicker of confidence lights up in you, knowing you still have an effect on her.

a minute passes, the two of you standing there in awkward silence.

until sevika clears her throat. “ready?”

“ready,” you nod, lying through your teeth.

sevika walks you to her car, hand hovering over your back, but never really touching. she opens the door for you, waiting until you sit before walking to the driver’s seat.

the ride is quiet, too quiet. you have nothing to say, and by the way sevika’s jaw is set tight, you can tell she wants to say too much but doesn’t know how to start.

you set your eyes on the view outside, watching as the scenery passes by. anything to keep yourself occupied so you won’t look at sevika.

but she forces you when she speaks up.

“you… you look great,” the words come out strained, like her mouth worked before her brain did.

you stay still, lips pursed together as you watch her. steel grey eyes set on the road, flesh hand on the steering wheel while the prosthetic one digs into her thigh. her nostrils are flared, eyebrows furrowed, and you cannot really read what she’s thinking right now.

your silence makes sevika groan. “you can at least acknowledge that i’m talking.”

“i’m looking at you. isn’t that enough?”

“i know you’re angry–“

“angry doesn’t even fucking cover how i feel, sevika,” you cut her off, sharp and loud.

“you know words aren’t my strong suit,” sevika mutters, her grip on the steering wheel tightening.

“yeah, i know. you prefer texts,” you jab where it hurts the most, not only her but you. “you’re expert at that.”

“for fuck’s sake.”

“what? can’t handle the truth? can’t handle that i’m not jumping into your arms and accepting whatever excuse you have prepared for me?” question after question pours out your mouth in an angry outburst, questions that don’t have an answer.

not one that would make your anger less explosive, anyway.

“i’m trying, okay?”

“you should’ve tried two years ago, sevika! you kick me in the ass through a fucking text, and now you think i’m gonna be all hot and bothered for you?”

“just shut up!”

sevika’s voice is a roar of frustration, helplessness and anger. she makes a sharp turn right, your face nearly kissing the window, parking at a random place where it’s all suspiciously quiet.

she turns to you, and you watch how her expression twitches. tightens and loosens repeatedly, fighting whatever bomb of emotion is ticking within her.

“i know i fucked up, majorly. and i get that you probably hate me ‘cause of it,” she takes a deep breath, “but there hasn’t been a day where i haven’t regretted the bullshit i’ve done. i tried so many times to contact you, visit you… do anything to see you again. but i couldn’t.”

“why? why couldn’t you, huh?” you press on, forcing the answer out of her one way or another.

she glances away when she speaks up again, “because you deserve someone better than me. someone who’ll give you a good life, who’d be on the same wavelength as you. the same age as you. i have… nothing to give you besides a good fuck.”

you think for a second that your ears are deceiving you. hearing doubts from a woman who looked nothing but confidence herself, smirking at you whenever she showed off, always so sure of herself… it feels strange. but it doesn’t do anything to cool you off.

it only makes you angrier.

“so you just… decided to make a decision for me? do you think i’m that incompetent to know what i want?” your heart is beating out of your chest, the onslaught of emotions feeling heavy on your sternum. “i’m almost thirty, sevika. i’m not a little naive girl who doesn’t know what she wants. you can’t make decisions for me!”

“i know that now, and- and i’m sorry,” the apology is barely audible when sevika utters it. “please, give me a chance to fix it.”

“fix how? you think you can’t fix two years of distance in one night?”

“give me a month,” sevika says without hesitation.

your eyes narrow, eyebrow raised. “what?”

“a month. thirty days. i’ll do all i can to fix this. fix us,” it is the most desperate you’ve ever heard her, and you don’t want to admit how it hits you.

thirty days. you can’t even believe you are thinking of agreeing to it. you shouldn’t be, not after what she has done. but with the way she is looking at you, expecting you to give her the benefit of the doubt, it makes you weak. she hits all the weak spots in you, and you wonder if she even realizes this.

“can’t believe i’m considering it,” you scoff, but it’s not bitter anymore. exasperated, perhaps. “alright. we can try, i guess.”

and when sevika takes your hand in hers, muttering a silent ‘thank you’, you want to believe that she is being sincere with you.

“starting tonight, i promise i’ll do anything to make it right,” she whispers to you, her voice soft and comforting.

when her hand leaves yours to focus back on driving, you start missing the warmth of it. it was the warmest she has touched you, filled with promises that fill you with a speckle of happiness. you don’t even catch the smile on your face.

but sevika does, from the corner of her eye. she sees how your lips curl up ever so slightly, how your eyes suddenly seem more lively than a moment ago. your muscles aren’t taut like a string anymore, and she takes it as a good sign that maybe she will win you back.

she must.

the rest of the ride goes silently, until she stops by a familiar place. the pub where you first met. you haven’t been there ever since sevika broke things off, but it hasn’t changed at all.

and when she walks inside with you by her side, a lively hum of people having fun greets you. it’s not overwhelmingly loud or crowded, a typical friday night after a long week.

sevika leads you to an empty booth, far from others so you can have some privacy. her eyes never leave you, and it is a little awkward at first. even as you order, she never seems to look away, as if she’s afraid to do so.

“i won’t disappear, y’know. stop gawking at me like a hawk,” you huff.

“can’t help it,” sevika mumbles, and a small smirk grows on her full lips. typical. “what if i look away for a second and you’ll leave?” her words are meant to be a joke, but you can see a flicker of worry in her eyes.

she’s being serious, even if she tries to hide it behind her typical bravado. she really hasn’t changed at all.

the rest of the night falls into a soothing rhythm. the tension is not as intense, but it’s clear neither of you want to dive into more serious topics. you’re on a pause – a moment that’s just for you to enjoy before the talk will become inevitable.

when sevika’s lazy smile drops and she sets her whisky on the table, you know that the moment comes now.

“i’ve never gotten over you, y’know. what we had,” she sighs, and for the first time she looks away. “i just couldn’t handle the thought that you would one day regret settling for me.”

“that doesn’t excuse the break up through text,” you retort.

“i know,” she pinches the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut.

“i deserved more than a shitty text, sevika.”

“i know that.”

“don’t you have anything better to say than ‘i know’? because to me, it seems like you don’t know shit,” her answers – or rather lack-there-of – makes you bristle, hand clenching around the glass so tight it could break under the pressure.

“will you ever stop throwing it into my face like that?” sevika snaps at you, unable to keep her frustration at bay.

“you have any idea how much it hurts? to receive a fucking text from a woman you love that ‘i’m too young, and i don’t know what i want in life yet?’ so i’m sorry if i’m hurting your feelings now, because you did it it to me first.”

whatever has been bubbling within sevika slowly evaporated, seeing how you slump against the chair as you continue to blame her – and rightfully so. she has no right to be angry at you, when she’s the one who did this.

so she shuts up. takes everything you were definitely bottling up in you for the past two years. you don’t receive words, only hums and nods as she lets herself be berated for her sheer stupidity. and as you ramble on, tears gathering in your eyes, sevika can only think one thing.

you’re beautiful even when you’re angry at her.

sevika only reaches out when the tears start to fall, standing from her seat to nestle against your side, her strong arm wrapping around your trembling body. and you melt into her warmth, just like old times. it feels right, just how it used to.

but this time, sevika will not let it go.

“i’ll make it right, i promise,” she whispers, full of conviction, landing a tender kiss into your hair.

and you might finally let yourself believe her.

you’re surprised by how much sevika still remembers about you.

yesterday, she got you your favorite flowers, something you once briefly mentioned, never expecting her to even catch it. you certainly never would expect a woman like sevika to remember something so small. unimportant by her standards. but as you held the bouquet in your hands, watching as sevika’s eyes flickered from one place to another, you felt that familiar warmth bloom in your chest.

you haven’t felt that in a while.

and today, she took you to the bistro you used to visit back in your college days, still as lively as it was years ago. you don’t even remember ever telling her about it, or what order you always got.

yet before you could open your mouth, sevika ordered for you, everything to a t.

“can’t believe you remember so much about me,” you mumble with your mouth full, to which sevika chuckled.

“what? can’t be sentimental once in my damn life?” she scoffed.

“i’m serious. even my family doesn’t know as much as you do,” you poke the food around as you speak.

“i may not look like it, but i pay attention. especially if it’s you.”

“if it’s me,” you mutter under your breath, a small grin growing on your lips. “never thought the big scary sevika would be so soft.”

“tease me like that and i’ll stop,” she points the fork at you, as if ready to poke you, but the melodic tone of her laugh that follows tells you all you need to know.

she definitely won’t stop now.

“an amusement park? really?”

“what? think i’m too old for that?” sevika’s thick brow quirks up, arm set on her hip.

the way she reacted makes you laugh way too loudly than you intended, making people stare at the two of you. “aren’t we both a little too old for plushies and cotton candy?”

“just you wait,” she tsks before taking you by the wrist and dragging you to the entrance.

sevika pays for the tickets, her warm hand never letting you go. she holds you like a kid holding a balloon, afraid that you’ll float away if she lets you go. and whenever you tug and pull, her grip just tightens, leaving you no other choice but to walk by her side.

besides the families that came to visit because of their children, you and sevika are definitely the oldest here. it’s a little embarrassing, and you would expect sevika to feel the same. but when you look at her, she looks unbothered.

she’s busy taking it all in, eyes going from one colorful attraction to the other. it’s like she’s never seen so many colors at once.

as much as she tries to act, you see a crack in her expression. the small furrow between her dark eyebrows, her lips jutted out in a thoughtful pout. she looks younger, more alive than you’ve ever seen her.

“you look like you’re seeing colors for the first time,” you poke fun at her, but there is nothing but fondness in your tone.

sevika snaps from her daze hearing your voice. “i’ve… never been to an amusement park.”

“really? never?” your eyes widen, your head tilting up to look at her. “not even with your parents, or maybe on a date with someone?”

“funny,” sevika scoffs as if you just said the most ridiculous thing. “my mama died when i was a kid, and my old man… let’s say he was never a father of the year.”

oh.

she’s never opened up to you before. not like this.

you feel as sevika’s grip on you loosens little by little, until it slips. but you don’t let her. your smaller hand grabs her, and you pull her back in. she looks surprised when she glances at you, only to be met with a playful smile that dances on your mouth.

“well, we have a lot to catch up on,” you say, and without giving her a chance to speak, you start pulling her to the first stand – candied apples.

sevika cringes when you hand her the sticky apple, and when you force her to take a bite, you chuckle at the expression she makes. she acts like it’s poisonous when handing it back to you, chewing that small piece in her mouth for what feels like ages to her.

but what sevika didn’t except is how seriously you’re taking this.

ride after ride, stand after stand, there probably isn’t nothing that you did make sevika try. cotton candy, tornado potato and god-knows what else that will leave her with a heartburn and a lot of regret tomorrow. and after nearly throwing up the entire contents of her stomach on the pirate ship ride, she knows one thing for sure…

amusement parks are not for her.

“you cut your hair!”

“yeah, i did. couldn’t be bothered tying it up every day,” sevika shrugs, a smirk curling up on her lips. “don’t look so shocked. i thought you said you’d like me with an undercut.”

“i’m gonna miss that silly little ponytail,” you let out a sigh, your hand reaching out to brush her hair from her eyes.

“you don’t know what you want, woman,” she groans at you, pushing your hand away from her hair.

the last thing sevika wants is to show how flustered your touch leaves her.

you probably don’t even realize what effect you are having on her over the past days, how open you’re making her be. never in her life has she worn her heart on her sleeve for someone, with how many people have treated her like shit.

no one but you. she would let you rip it out her hands and stab it for all she cares, if it proves how hard she loves you. how unbelievably happy you make her feel.

sevika still tries to keep her walls up; old habits die hard. yet every time you smile at her, touch her, even do something as small as looking at her with those sparkly eyes of yours.

how could she ever let you go that day?

“i also noticed something,” you mutter suddenly, catching sevika’s attention.

“what?”

“you don’t smell like cigarettes anymore,” you observe.

“yeah, i stopped. i know how much you hated it when i smoked,” she says with a grin, her hands slowly coming to rest on your waist. “said i smelled like burnt shit and my lungs are probably like charcoal.”

“was i wrong, though?”

“shut up, smart ass.”

“after you, old lady,” you wink at her, earning you an eye roll from sevika.

“always gotta have the final word,” she mutters, her grip on you tightening ever so slightly.

and sevika can’t be any happier that you’re letting her touch you like this again. you’re so close, so warm, so perfect against her. sunshine caresses your features, enhancing her favorite parts of you.

and you?

you’re falling in love all over again, if not even more than before. each day you spend with her is magical. whether it’s a date night by lit candles and fancy dinner, or a simple walk around town after work, you appreciate everything she does.

you cannot deny the gash left on your heart after what sevika has done, perhaps that will never truly heal. it might wake you up randomly one night, seeding doubts deep into your mind. but you can finally believe that sevika will be by your side if that ever happens.

“you look good, though,” you whisper to sevika after a moment of silence, pressing yourself tighter to her side. “it suits you. makes you look… younger, in a way.”

“are you saying i looked old before?” sevika glares down at you, warning you to choose your words wisely.

but you only tease her further, “…maybe.”

“brat.”

“oldie.”

a snort escapes her, smiling so widely you can see that gap between her teeth you can’t help but be so mesmerized by. she clears her throat to pretend she didn’t just laugh at your silly nickname, only if her eyes didn’t have that glimmer in them. it exposes her fully, and she lets it be.

for you, sevika refuses to hide.

“you know, you never told me why you approached me that night,” sevika looks at you as she chews on the piece of steak in her mouth.

her voice is the only thing snapping you from your trance. the meal in front of you – far too fancy for your tastes – has gotten lukewarm as it sits nearly untouched on a plate. you’re not sure if sevika has realized it yet, how intensely you watch her. admiring how she looks in the dim light, the candle on the table enhancing her perfect imperfections.

“oh, that?” you chuckle, taking a bite of a potato wedge. “just my friends being pushy and dramatic.”

“oh? so you’re saying you wouldn’t approach me without your friends’ approval?” she smirks at you.

“the opposite, actually. i didn’t need their approval or permission.”

“so you really don’t listen to anyone but yourself,” sevika sighs, more amused and exasperated then annoyed.

“excuse me? i listen to you,” you retort, jabbing the back of her flesh hand with the handle of the steak knife.

“sure, you do.”

“come on, that was one time. i was stressed out, okay?”

“one time, my ass,” she rolls her eyes when you groan. “it was at least seven times. and by the time you were done, neither of us could move for thirty minutes straight.”

“not my fault you can’t handle it,” you mutter under your breath, loud enough for sevika to catch it, earning you a glare.

“weren’t you the one who passed out in the puddle of your own c–“

“shut up!” your loud panic makes others turn to your table, some shaking their heads before returning to their meals.

you take a sip of wine, hiding just how flustered you are behind the glass. you down it in one go, the alcohol warming up your body and going straight into your head.

now you at least have the wine to blame for the warmth emanating from your cheeks.

“they kept pushing me to find someone,” you finally admit, fingers playing with the stem of the wine glass. “i was the only one single at that time, too focused on work, on my future. so i wanted to shut their mouths.”

sevika stops eating, her eyes focused on you. she looks thoughtful, eyebrows furrowing and lips downturned in a frown. but as quickly as the frown appeared, her usual smirk replaces it. “so you just used me to shut their mouths?” she asks you, leaning against the table, her tone ever-so-slightly icy.

“maybe at first,” the admission weighs on your chest, and you look into her eyes to see her reaction. “but after the night we spent together, it turned into something else. i wanted more of you.”

you barely breathe as you await sevika’s reply. the worst-case scenarios flood through your brain, making you sweat under the satin fabric of your blouse. she’s quiet for far too long, and the way her brows twitch makes the tension even worse.

just as you’re about to try and say something, she lets out a breathy laugh.

“you’re an idiot, sweetheart.”

sweetheart. you haven’t heard that in a while, yet it still makes your heart jump in your chest like the first time.

“says the one who breaks up with someone through text,” you bite the inside of your lip, attempting to hide the growing smile.

and sevika just groans, “touché.”

the month is over with a blink of an eye, and before you know it, today is the last day of sevika’s promise. the last day which will determine the next step in your and sevika’s relationship.

and you’re nervous. it only dawns on you as you stand before her house, looking exactly the same as the last day you’ve been here. the day before she sent you that stupid text message. today will be different, though. you tell yourself it will. you wouldn’t spend a whole month to find out sevika has been leading you on.

…right?

nerves play tricks with you, poke fun at you and push you around. bullying you into overthinking.

you haven’t expected to feel this way on a last day, not after everything sevika has done for you. she’s proved herself more times in a single month that she’s truly serious about this, serious about you – making you feel guilty about doubting her after doing so much.

she’s gone as far as to stop smoking for you. that’s something, right?

yet as you knock on her door, your throat suddenly tightens and you cannot breathe. you’re drowning at the bottom of the ocean, water filling your lungs as you helplessly gasp for air.

the door opens after a minute of your internal struggle, revealing sevika. her presence reels you back to the shore, grounding you, making you feel safe. doubt makes way for relief, leaving you with a deep breath out.

she doesn’t let you stand by the door for long. with her mech hand snaking around your waist, she leads you inside, the door closing behind you with a soft click. immediately, your nose is hit with a delicious scent of homemade food – your favorite. and only then you notice the apron wrapped around sevika’s waist.

“an apron, huh? real homey,” your fingers pulls at the string around her neck, toying with it. “what’s next? gonna start baking cookies?”

“might as well. then stuff them in your mouth so you’ll shut up,” she mutters as her hands work you out of your jacket before leading you into the kitchen.

and the sight makes you gasp.

it’s nothing like you have expected from sevika. sure, she has mentioned that she’s planning something ‘really special’ on the last day, but you thought she was just joking around with you.

clearly she didn’t joke about this.

you never guessed yourself to be the romantic type, mostly because no one has ever tried to go out of their way to treat you like a princess. yet sevika has done all of it and more, and now you’re surrounded by a fantastic smell of her cooking, candles lit up on the table, flower petals scattered on the floor. all that basic cliché stuff.

coming from sevika, though, this is more than just a silly movie cliché. you know what kind of woman she is, and that nothing of this is her thing. but for you, she did it. she did everything.

“hope you like it,” she doesn’t sound so confident anymore, almost as if she’s afraid of rejection.

“as cheesy as this all is, it’s still the best thing someone has done for me,” your voice softens, not at all as teasing like a minute ago.

you lean in closer until your lips lightly touch her cheek, a barely-there kiss, though enough to hear sevika gasp. before you can even react, her warm hand cups the back of your head, pulling you in for a desperate kiss.

her full lips move against yours like she’s starving for you, all tongue and spit and groans. sevika has been far too patient, holding herself back for the right moment. this is the best moment for her to show you just how she’s missed you.

unlike those two years ago, her hands don’t travel under your clothes to strip you as quick as possible. she just kisses you. barely comes up to catch her breath before she’s back on you, whining in your mouth like an overgrown puppy. her usually deep, gruff voice is a little higher pitched, and it makes you weak in the knees.

sevika never whimpered. you only ever got her to curse, grunt and pant. whimpering was off the table, no matter what you did. until now, and you plan to enjoy it.

she pulls away when both of you begin to get carried away, a string of saliva connecting her mouth with hers. it’s a hot sight, seeing sevika so drunk on you, and it’s only the start of the night.

“c’mon… before the food gets cold,” she whispers, a little breathless, guiding you to sit down.

“no,” you stop her, pushing her back against the wall with all your strength – which is a lot. “i want you now. we can eat the food later.”

sevika wants to argue. she’s worked hard on this, made it all perfect just for you. but how can she fight this when you’re peppering her jaw with kisses, mumbling sweet words against her skin? she won’t admit it to a single living soul she knows how you have her melting. you turn her brain into mush, thinking of you and only you.

“okay,” is all sevika whispers before gathering you in her arms, hands on your ass, lips connected with your in a messy dance of tongues as she leads you to her bedroom.

she stumbles a few times, hits the doorframe a little too hard when she kicks open the door, but it’s only a mild inconvenience when it has you giggling against her mouth. it softens any frustration from her expression, curses dying on her tongue as she’s about to utter them. she’s dreamed of hearing you laugh like that again, in a moment like this.

slowly setting you down on the bed, your legs dangling off the edge, she starts working your pants down. they slide off with ease, leaving your underwear on for now. she doesn’t want to rush this, even when you’re bucking your hips in the air, desperate for some action.

“let me take it slow tonight,” sevika whispers, cupping your face to kiss you again. more gentle this time.

“fuck, sev. i’m – mmhm – not playing slow tonight,” you try to get her off, push her under her, but it’s futile the second she lays her weight on top of you, pressing you into the mattress effectively.

“still so fucking needy,” she chuckles into your mouth before moving her kisses to your neck. “didn’t change a bit, huh?”

her mouth finds your weak spots easily, and she takes her sweet time with each hickey she leaves on your skin. she remembers how sensitive your neck is, because of course, she does. she has you writhing under her without trying much, making you moan like a virgin.

your fingers thread through sevika’s hair, tugging and pulling at the strands just so you can hear her hiss. she always enjoyed getting lightly bruised. back scratches, bites and hickeys, even hand prints if the two of you were feeling friskier than usual.

good to know that didn’t change.

moans and gasps fill the bedroom, mostly coming from you. your body tingles under her every touch, every brush of her warm hand, every kiss that marks your skin. you can hardly focus on anything else besides sevika’s body on yours, caressing you like she used to.

when she comes up to kiss you again, tongue probing your mouth, you busy yourself with taking her shirt off. you nearly tear it in half because of the buttons, cursing under your breath before successfully slipping it off her broad shoulders and dropping it on the floor.

it’s when sevika finally pulls away from you, giving you a moment to catch a breath as she works her prosthetic off. she sets it on the nightstand by the bed while her flesh hand slips under your top.

it’s not long before you’re both naked, tangled in the bedsheets as you continue taking this slow. agonizingly slow.

the wetness between your legs is uncomfortable by this point, your clit is throbbing and begging for attention. and sevika is purposely avoiding your glistening cunt, her fingers and mouth kissing and touching every part of you except where you need her the most. it’s killing you.

“sevika, i’m gonna start yelling if you don’t- holy fuck!” your eyes nearly roll back into your skull as sevika’s mouth wraps around your clit, making your heels dig into the mattress.

“still tastes so good,” she mutters into your sopping cunt, letting out noises like a woman starved.

she’s loud and desperate as she eats you out, spit mixing with your arousal until you can’t tell which is dripping down on the sheets. her tongue slides and swirls around your swollen bud, mind set on giving it attention until she feels it twitch against her mouth.

sevika will do anything to keep you like you are now. your shaky legs squeezing her head. hands in her hair to push her further in. eyes locked with sevika’s, all glassy with unshed tears. a sight engraved deep in her mind for so long, yet tonight is the most special one.

“missed this,” she pulls away from your clit, laughing when you whine in protest. she kisses your tummy as an apology. “missed you. never letting you go again.”

a smile breaks out on your lips, head raising from the pillow to look at her. “i’ll have to kill you if you do.”

“i’d like to see you try.”

“you’re pushing your luck, sev.”

“i know,” sevika goes back to your clit, kissing the throbbing bud and sucking it into her mouth.

each brush of her tongue against your pussy has your body trembling, pushing you closer to the edge. your moans get more frantic, voice growing high-pitched. it only makes sevika work harder, diving into your folds until she can barely breathe. she will happily suffocate if it means she gets to see you crumble all thanks to her skillful, greedy mouth.

“come for me, baby. give it to me,” her voice is hoarse and muffled, vibrating against your needy clit.

and you do. you come all over her mouth, grinding your hips into her face until you’re left overstimulated. sevika licks you clean, drinking your juices like a sweet nectar she so desperately needs.

“fuck,” you gasp for air when you feel sevika pull away, a grin setting on your face. “forgot how good you are with your mouth.”

you pull her on top of you again, arms wrapping around her head to keep her close. her body blankets yours now, shielding you from anything that isn’t her, because nothing else matters at this moment for either of you. not now, or ever.

“and i forgot how loud you can be,” she’s lying just to tease you, and you can tell by the smirk on her face.

sevika would never forget that about you.

“we both know i can be even louder than that. i’m just saving it for later,” you press a kiss to her lips, tasting yourself on her.

sevika lets out a tender chuckle against your mouth but leaves her comments to herself. at least for now. she still is far from done with you.

“hold your leg up.”

you listen to her command without a second thought, grabbing the back of your knee to bring it to your chest. your soaked cunt suddenly makes contact with hers, and it makes both of you hiss. sevika wastes no time to roll her hips against yours, clit on clit, moaning deeply against you.

she falls apart immediately, chasing that sweet high she only ever experienced with you. her broad body is trembling above yours, lips quivering, eyebrows knitted. she’s melting like a lit up candle, and before she realizes it, a tear falls down on your cheek.

she is crying. sevika is crying.

no sobs leave her, but her breaths are shaky and her moans come out broken. it takes you so off guard you almost forget about the sensation of her pussy rubbing against yours.

“shit,” sevika gasps, her eyes squeezing shut. “i- i’m sorry, i… i just can’t believe how stupid i was letting you go. i should’ve never…”

she’s rambling now, a mess of a woman that only you get to witness. she’s never opened up to anyone like this, stripping herself bare of all the protective barriers she kept on to protect herself.

“shh…” you shush her, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “just focus on this. on us.”

your words spur sevika on, her hips rutting against you with unabashed hunger. she buries her face into your neck, muffling noises into your skin. she doesn’t bother controlling the volume of her voice. she needs to let you know how good she’s feeling because of you.

her muscles tighten, and her moves get sloppier as the knot begins to form in the pit of her belly. her arm engulfs your right side to pull you as close as she can, whining against your cheek.

then, with a loud groan, sevika comes against you. her body shakes in your arms as she rides out her high before collapsing beside you, her fingers finding your clit to push you over the edge.

“oh, fuck… fuck!” your second orgasm hits you like a punch, wracking through your body until you nearly pass out.

sevika pulls you into her chest, peppering kisses against your temple as you curl into her chest. none of you speak for what feels like hours, comforting silence covering you like a protective blanket.

you could get used to this.

it’s only after you two calm down does sevika break the silence. “think i pulled my hip there.”

“after one round? you’re really getting old, sev,” you snort.

“oh, i forgot you’re getting younger,” you can’t see her, but you can practically hear the eye roll in her voice.

“i’m still younger than you.”

“oh, don’t worry. it’ll all go downhill after thirty,” you smack her on the back after that comment, pulling her head back to frown up at her.

“so funny,” you grumble.

“you love it.”

“unfortunately.”

you two fall quiet once more. sevika’s eyes are locked with yours, her thumb rubbing gentle circles against the plumpness of your cheek. you lean into her touch, pressing a gentle kiss into her palm. a small gesture that makes sevika’s heart jolt in her chest.

you barely catch the words that leave sevika next, but she repeats them. those three words you once only hoped you’d hear from her but it never came.

“i love you,” she can’t take this back now, and she doesn’t want to. she won’t be a coward like last time.

“i love you, too, sevika. i never stopped,” you admit softly, fingers brushing strands of sevika’s short hair away from her eyes.

she smiles, relieved. “i always loved you. i was… so fucking stupid back then. i let you go thinking it was better for you, but i guess i was just terrified of a relationship, knowing you could settle for someone better.”

“i told you, didn’t i? i know what i want in life,” you whisper, giving sevika a chaste kiss on her mouth. “and i want you.”

“good, ‘cause i want you, too.”

she pulls you in, locking her lips with yours. it’s tender and full of love, nothing like the clash of teeth and tongues you were used to with her. it warms you up like a sip of warm tea on a cold morning, soothes your heart like a gentle caress. perfect in every way even after sevika pulls away.

“this is nice,” you whisper.

“yeah,” she whispers back, kissing your forehead. “the dinner is probably cold now, though.”

“i’m not hungry. not for food, anyway,” your lips curl up in a grin, making sevika groan.

“you’re gonna put me into a grave,” she complains, but she doesn’t fight it when you roll over, pinning her under you.

“you can handle it, old lady,” you take her hand in yours, pressing the palm to your cheek.

“don’t know about that.”

but as sevika watches you on top of her, cheek nuzzled into her rough palm, she is as soft as a jelly cake.

and sevika knows she’s right where she wants to be.

[miffyscakes]

I aspire to be a pretty femme wife with her butch wife that carries all her bags inside the house after a long shopping trip🙁

[lethalaves-deactivated20260118]

Sevika’s strap was big, she picked out the color that was a shade darker than her skin just so when you rode it— it looked like you were riding her real dick. She fucked you like it was real though. Her hand remained on your throat as she thrusted in with feral thrusts.

“Look at me. Fuckin’ look at me while I fuck you.” Sevika growled, pressing your throat just enough for your eyes to roll back in pleasure, clenching down on the silicone shaft of the toy while your wife ruined you.

[lasciviousbae]

NSFW ꩜ SEVIKA WITH HYPER FEMME!READER

꩜ Sevika carried your tiny pink purse without you having to ask her. It’s comedic yet so cute too— big buff Sevika holding the tiniest, stupidly adorable baby pink purse.

꩜ Sevika was flabbergasted when she found out the expense of all your skincare and perfume. Nevertheless, she just grunted and took responsibility the moment you moved in with her. You’d never needed to ask her for anything extra.

꩜ You smell faintly of vanilla and maybe something with a floral undertone. Sevika didn’t understand how you maintained your scent, she contrastingly smelled of gunpowder, shimmer and leather. Maybe a faint tinge of blood, too. You always ended up making your scent stick to her. She never complained.

꩜ Sevika was an asshole. She never helped you reach something from the top shelf unless exclusively asked to help in doing so. She leaned back, got all cozy, legs man spread and everything as she watched you struggle with a smug smirk on her face knowing fully well that you knew she was there for the show. “Need help, peach?” You blushed every time.

꩜ Sevika was never a fan of paint on her face (save for her eyeshadow and dark lipstick— she said it’s more a part of her than makeup), let alone manicures. But you managed to convince her to let you paint her nails black, or chrome silver every once a while.

꩜ You melted every time she called you “doll” “sweet stuff” “sweetness” “sugar” “babygirl” “princess”.

꩜ Sevika bought you the most expensive lacy lingerie set ever so she could push you against the wall, and ram her silicone dick in you till you squirted all over her frame.

꩜ She loved tying you up with red ropes, admiring the rope art as your boobs got squished and your thighs got pushed apart to their limit. “Look at my gorgeous doll.” Sevika traced her thick digits down your folds and suddenly slammed them inside making you squeak, “Sevika! Y-your fingers… are big…” Sevika just smirked as she pushed them deeper and curled them in the right spot— enjoying the little sounds you made.

꩜ Sevika made sure to smudge your lipstick every time she kissed you in the bathroom stall of the Last Drop. “Sev! You did it again!” You chided, cheeks redder than the shade you wore on your lips. Sevika rummaged in her bandolier for a moment before she held out your lipstick, “brought it along, just in case…”

꩜ After rougher nights you seated Sevika down and you patched her up with pink glittery bandaids that she refused to take off because even in the grittiness of Zaun, it reminded her of you.

[dykesevika]

merch w Sevika ,,,

saw it on Twitter, posted by kayumah_yu_ !!