Claggor and you had been tight as kids, like peanut butter and jelly, always getting into trouble together. But then there was that one stupid fight—big enough to split you up for years. Now, you’re both in college, doing your own thing, but still living in the same city. Neither of you wanted to be the first to text or call, so things just stayed awkward. It was giving major "mutual ghosting" vibes.
Then Ekko came up with this sleepover idea. It was supposed to be just him and Powder vibing, maybe some late-night gaming. But nah, Powder was like, "Let’s make it a whole thing." So she dragged Vi, Caitlyn, Mylo, Gert (aka Mylo’s crush), and, plot twist, you and Claggor. Powder had that sneaky look in her eye—she knew you still had a thing for Claggor. And Ekko? He totally knew Claggor was crushing on you too. They were scheming, but the rest of the group had no clue.
Fast forward to Ekko’s apartment: blankets everywhere, snacks on snacks, and chaos brewing. Vi and Caitlyn were in their own little flirty bubble. Mylo was trying (and failing) to be smooth with Gert. And Ekko was hyped, running the show like it was a whole party.
"Yo, let’s play Truth or Dare!" Ekko announced, spinning a water bottle like it was the wheel of fortune. Everyone was in, except Claggor and you, who exchanged that “ugh, really?” look. But no one was backing out now.
Powder went first and got dared to wear socks on her hands. Mylo spilled his most embarrassing moment (which involved tripping over nothing in front of his crush). Vi had to reenact a dramatic movie scene with Caitlyn, which turned into a total rom-com moment.
Then the bottle landed on Claggor. It was like the room hit the pause button. Powder, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, leaned in. "Truth or dare?"
Claggor’s voice cracked a little. "Truth."
"What’s one thing you regret?" Powder’s tone was casual, but her eyes screamed, "Spill the tea."
Claggor’s gaze flicked to you for half a second—just long enough for everyone to notice. "I regret losing someone who mattered," he mumbled.
Your stomach did that rollercoaster drop thing. Powder was over there, looking smug, like, "Yeah, I’m a genius."
Next round, it was your turn. Powder pounced. "Truth or dare?"
"Dare," you said, bracing for whatever Powder had planned.
"Sit next to Claggor for the next three rounds," she said, all innocent-like. The group snickered, while you and Claggor shuffled awkwardly closer, avoiding eye contact.
Ekko wasn’t about to let it end there. When Claggor’s turn rolled around again, he picked dare. Ekko smirked. "Compliment her. Something real."
Claggor looked like he wanted to disappear. "Uh, you’re… brave. Like, you’ve always been brave. Even when stuff was scary. That’s cool."
Your face was on fire. "Th-thanks," you mumbled, staring at the floor.
Powder and Ekko exchanged high-fives behind the scenes. Their meddling was totally paying off.
The bottle landed on you again. Powder leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "Truth or dare?"
"Truth," you said cautiously.
"If you could kiss anyone in this room, who would it be?" Powder asked, a devilish grin on her face.
The room erupted in oohs and laughter. Your face went red, and you stammered, "I-I’m not answering that!"
"Nope, you gotta!" Powder pressed, the group egging you on. Finally, you mumbled, "Claggor," so quietly it was almost inaudible. But the gasp from the group confirmed everyone had heard it.
Claggor’s turn again. "Truth or dare?" Ekko asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Dare," Claggor said, though his voice wavered.
"Kiss her," Ekko said, his grin widening.
Claggor froze, and so did you. The room fell silent, everyone watching with bated breath. Slowly, Claggor leaned toward you, and you felt your heart pounding in your chest. His lips brushed yours, soft and hesitant, and the group burst into cheers and whistles.
The game kept going, with random dares and truths flying around, but Powder and Ekko made sure you and Claggor stayed in the spotlight. By the end of the night, everyone else was passed out in a pile of blankets. You and Claggor were still awake, sitting at opposite ends of the couch, too wired to sleep.
Claggor finally broke the silence. "Hey. I’m sorry… for, y’know, back then."
You glanced over, your face softening. "Yeah, me too."
Claggor hesitated, then blurted, "I never stopped caring about you."
Your heart was doing flips. You took a deep breath. "Same."
It wasn’t a full-blown happy ending, but it was something—like the first crack of sunlight after a stormy night. As the sky started turning pink, you were still talking, rediscovering the vibe you thought you’d lost and maybe, just maybe, finding something new.
(straight pairings/time before felicia and connol married)
{reader x vander}
{reader sis x silco}
It was past midnight when Vander finally locked the front door of The Last Drop. The crowd had thinned out, the bar was cleared, and the only people left were the closest ones—those who didn’t need an invite, those who belonged here even after the lights dimmed and the ashtrays filled. You leaned against the bar, warm from the drink in your hand, legs stretched out as you listened to the hum of casual chatter. The wooden floors creaked under familiar boots—Benzo leaning on the counter, Connol dragging two chairs over, Felicia lounging with her legs kicked up. Silco sat off to the side in his usual brooding pose, swirling something dark in his glass.
You’d been sneaking glances at Vander all night, trying not to be obvious. He was all casual strength and quiet charm, leaning on the bar like it loved him more than gravity did. His laugh rumbled low whenever Felicia cracked a joke. And every time you looked at him too long, your heart thudded against your ribs like it was trying to escape.
Felicia caught you staring. Of course she did.
“You know what we haven’t done in a long time?” she said, suddenly sitting up. “Truth or Dare.”
Benzo perked up instantly. “I’m in.”
Connol raised a brow. “We’re adults.”
“That’s what makes it worse,” Felicia grinned, already reaching for an empty glass to spin. “Come on. One round.”
And so it began.
It started with a glint in Felicia’s eye—the kind that promised nothing good but everything fun.
She plucked an empty glass bottle from the bar shelf and dropped it onto the scratched wooden floor with a thud. “Truth or Dare,” she declared, as if that alone could summon the ghost of mischief past. “We’re doing this. Just one round. Come on, we’re all half-drunk, the bar’s closed, and none of us are getting any younger.”
You gave her a skeptical look. “Really?”
“Especially you,” she added with a smirk, ignoring you entirely as she knelt down in the center of your haphazard circle—Benzo on a barstool, Connol on the floor with a cushion, Silco in his shadowy corner sipping something neat, and Vander behind you, nursing a beer and looking too relaxed for your liking.
The room, warmed by alcohol and friendship, buzzed with amusement. You slowly slid off your barstool and sat down, legs crossed, watching as Felicia leaned forward and gave the bottle a practiced flick.
It spun fast, glass catching the glow of the hanging lanterns above. The flicker of flame shimmered in its curves as it whirled, clicking softly against the wood like it had secrets to tell. Everyone’s eyes followed its spinning dance, a lazy anticipation in the air. You caught yourself holding your breath, even though you weren’t the one spinning it.
It slowed.
Tilted.
Clicked.
And pointed—dead at Benzo.
He groaned theatrically, already laughing. “Of course.”
“Truth or dare?” Connal grinned.
Benzo sighed like a man walking to his doom. “Truth.”
“Ever been in love?” Connol asked, clearly expecting a joke.
But Benzo surprised everyone. His grin faded a little, eyes distant. “Once. Years ago. She left for Piltover. Said I didn’t have enough ambition.” He shrugged, trying to laugh it off. “Guess she was right.”
A beat of silence passed—real ones, the kind that cut through alcohol buzz and land quietly. Then Felicia clapped. “Well damn, that got deep fast. Spin again.”
Benzo gave the bottle a wobbling spin this time. It jerked, circled, slowed—and landed on Felicia herself.
Connol raised his eyebrows. “Truth or dare?”
“Dare,” she said without hesitation, already sipping her drink.
He smirked. “Kiss the person in this room you’d most want to take to dinner.”
She didn’t even flinch. Just leaned over and kissed Connol on the cheek
His eyes widened, and for once.
Everyone whooped.
“You’ve got game,” Benzo muttered, impressed.
Felicia winked and tossed the bottle with flair.
It spun faster this time, a lazy cyclone of mischief. You watched it move, your heart thudding a little harder than it should’ve. When it finally clattered to a stop, the mouth of the bottle pointed straight at you.
Felicia leaned back on her palms, eyes practically glowing. “Well, well. Truth or dare, sweetheart?”
You tried to look casual, but your nerves were already betraying you. “Truth,” you said carefully.
“Who in this room do you have a crush on?”
Your blood ran cold. You glanced at Felicia like she’d shot you. She only smiled wider, devilish.
You didn’t dare look at Vander. Not even a side-glance.
“…Pass,” you muttered, and grabbed your drink instead.
Everyone cheered as you downed it in one go, cheeks burning.
“Coward,” Felicia teased, then spun the bottle again.
The next stop? Vander.
The group collectively held its breath. The bottle hadn’t even stopped spinning before someone asked, “Truth or dare?”
“Dare,” he answered, voice low and smooth like poured molasses.
Felicia grinned. “I dare you to kiss the person you’re most likely to fall for.”
A hush swept the room.
You didn’t even dare blink.
Vander took one slow swig of his drink, stood up, and casually walked over. He dropped down right next to you without a word, his lips brushing yours, his warmth instantly sinking into your skin. “Guess that answers that,” he said.
Benzo let out a long, exaggerated whistle. Connal muttered, “Didn’t see that coming.” Felicia gave you a look, all raised eyebrows and smug delight.
You wanted to disappear and melt into the floor—but also… maybe stay exactly where you were forever...
----
Felicia leaned back on her hands, smug as ever, eyes flicking between you and Vander like she was the puppeteer of your slow-burning tension. Connol was still trying to pretend that kiss hadn’t fried every wire in his brain, while Benzo refilled his drink like nothing could surprise him anymore. Silco… well, he was quiet, swirling whatever was left in his glass, unreadable as always.
“Alright,” Felicia said, cracking her knuckles. “One last spin. Winner takes… the satisfaction of making someone squirm.”
She reached for the bottle again, fingers tapping it twice like she was casting a spell. Then—flick.
The bottle twirled across the wood, faster than before. The glass gleamed as it spun, catching the light from the lantern overhead. It looped like it had a mind of its own, whirring and clicking in its little spiral of chaos. Your eyes tracked it, dizzy with the movement—and with everything that had just happened. Vander was still sitting next to you, warm and close, his presence as steady as ever. You could barely think over the pounding in your chest.
The bottle slowed.
Slower.
Slower still.
Then, it stopped.
Pointing at Silco.
Everyone froze.
Even Felicia’s eyebrows raised a fraction. “Well damn.”
Silco arched a brow. “I wasn’t aware I signed up for this.”
“You sat in the circle,” Benzo said, smirking. “That makes you fair game, brother.”
Felicia leaned in, almost predatory. “Truth or dare, Silco?”
There was a long pause.
Then, flatly: “Truth.”
Felicia’s grin stretched wider. “What kind of person makes you nervous?”
The table went quiet. All eyes turned to him. It was a strange question. Silco was the type of man who made others nervous. Calculated. Sharp. Always ten steps ahead. The idea of anyone—anything—making him nervous seemed absurd.
He didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he tapped his fingers against the rim of his glass, once. Twice. Then:
“People who don’t flinch,” he said slowly, gaze distant. “People who can look me in the eye and not blink. People who say what they mean. Women who don’t try to impress me—and still do.”
That silence? Heavy.
Connol let out a low whistle. “Well… alright.”
Felicia blinked. “Didn’t expect philosophy hour, but sure.”
You caught the way Vander side-eyed Silco with mild amusement. You, meanwhile, were still processing your first kiss.
Felicia stretched, sighing dramatically. “Well, that’s the final round. Game over.”
Then the door creaked open.
You turned your head...expecting maybe another straggler from the Lanes — and there she was. Your older sister.
She stepped into the bar like she didn’t belong in the grime of the Undercity, yet somehow fit into it better than anyone. In her work blouse, sleeves rolled up, a faint sheen of oil on her hands from fixing the rickety bike she used to get around. Hair tied up haphazardly, but still managing to look like she could boss around a room with a glance. She didn’t speak right away — just looked around, eyes scanning the room until they found you.
“Time to go, trouble,” she said, and you groaned.
“I was just— We’re winding down.”
“Doesn’t matter. You promised to be back before midnight.” She glanced at the clock. “It’s one.”
Silco hadn’t spoken the entire time, but the moment she stepped in, something in his expression changed — like a man slapped out of his own thoughts. The tired slouch in his frame vanished. His eye, that strange glint, tracked her movements as she walked in further.
She wasn’t even trying.
“Who’s that?” he muttered to no one in particular.
“That’s her sister,” Felicia said, watching him with interest. “The scary one.”
“She’s not scary—” you started, but your sister shot you a warning look, and you shut your mouth.
Silco stood slowly, absently dusting off his coat. He looked… curious. That was rare. Silco was a man who kept most of his thoughts behind his back — but now, as your sister walked past him to grab your coat off the seat, he turned fully to face her.
“You’re late,” he said — and it wasn’t sarcastic. It was something else. Teasing, maybe.
Your sister blinked. “Didn’t know I was on your schedule.”
You watched, half in horror and half in awe, as your sister turned toward Silco, crossing her arms. “You always this nosy with strangers?”
“Only when they look like they could break my nose with a wrench,” Silco replied, something like a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
She smirked. “Only if you deserve it.”
He chuckled — a soft, low sound, almost too quiet for him. You stared. Silco? Laughing? Voluntarily?
Your sister stepped past him, but not before giving him a once-over, eyebrow slightly raised like she was deciding if he was worth the time. She let it pass without a word, but her silence said enough.
Silco watched her go.
The moment she turned her back, he was still staring — like he hadn’t blinked since she walked in.
Vander leaned toward him. “You’re drooling.”
Silco scoffed. “Shut up.”
But it was too late. Everyone saw it now.
..........
You tugged on your sister’s sleeve. “Can we go?”
She arched a brow. “Someone’s grumpy.”
You glared, ignoring the smug faces around you.
Silco was still watching her as you left the bar. He didn’t say anything, but his silence was too loud The way his eyes lingered on her back — it was the look of a man used to control, suddenly faced with something he couldn’t figure out, couldn’t pin down, couldn’t ignore.
Outside, as your sister unlocked her bike, she muttered, “That guy weird.”
You glanced back at the window. He was still there, barely visible through the glass, eyes locked on her.
You grinned.
“Oh, sis,” you whispered under your breath, “you’re in so much trouble.”
"This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong // To love that well which thou must leave ere long." -William Shakespeare (Sonnet 73)
PART V: ‘CAUSE I CAN’T TAKE THIS PAIN FOREVER
zombie apocalypse sevika x reader au!: sevika was the super soldier; a killing machine driven solely by survival. you were nomadic, constantly searching for something in whatever was left of the world—till you met her.
series masterpost: part I // part II // part III // part IV
wc: 8.3k
cw: smut (MINORS DNI!!!)
author's note: thank you to everyone who read/comments + i see your tags on the reposts you guys make me gay and sappy with all your support tysm 💗 (also im so sorry if the smut is so mid I’m not a smut writer and it’s my second time writing smut ever smhhh)
Fifteen died. Including Grayson.
Daylight is spent in a daze of cleaning up, tending to the wounded, and trying to process the magnitude of what's happened. People are trying to piece together what little they can salvage, but the damage is more than just physical.
As night falls, the community gathers for a final farewell. The loss is too great, too much to be exposed under the harsh light of day. The night offers a semblance of protection, a cloak under which everyone can mourn and where grief can be private.
Candles flicker in the hands of those gathered and the atmosphere is thick with sorrow. Families huddle together, some on their knees beside makeshift crosses, others standing in silent clusters. The candles illuminate their tears, turning them into tiny rivers of gold that glisten in the darkness.
You stand by Grayson’s cross, surrounded by those who knew and loved her. Vander, his broad shoulders tense and Ekko clutches his candle so tightly that the wax has begun to drip onto his fingers. Powder leans into Vi, who wraps a protective arm around her sister. Caitlyn stands close, her face a mask of composed grief, but her eyes are red-rimmed and distant. Ren holds onto your hand tightly, her small fingers interlaced with yours.
Your gaze keeps drifting to the shadows, searching for one face in particular.
Then, as if conjured by your thoughts, you spot her. She’s standing under a tree, half-hidden in the shadows. The candlelight doesn’t reach her, leaving her face partially obscured, but you can tell it’s her. She's motionless, almost statuesque, her expression unreadable.
There’s something in the way she’s watching the scene before her that sends a shiver down your spine. It’s almost as if she’s already a ghost herself, a spirit haunting the edge of the gathering. There’s an emptiness to her, as if the life has been drained out of her and what remains is only a shell, a figure standing over a world she no longer belongs to.
A heaviness resides in your chest, a deep, aching sadness that mirrors the grief of those around you. Grayson’s loss is a wound that cuts deep. She was the heart of this community, the one who held everyone together. And now she’s gone, leaving behind a legacy that feels too big, too important to carry on without her.
The vigil continues, but you feel a shift in the air, a quiet, unspoken understanding that it’s time to go, that there’s nothing more to be done here tonight. Slowly, people begin to leave, one by one, their footsteps soft on the grass. You hesitate, your gaze lingering on Sevika one last time. She hasn’t moved, hasn’t acknowledged your presence or anyone else’s.
As your family and Ren head to a neighbor’s house, seeking comfort in numbers, you seek solace in solitude instead.
The silence is almost deafening in your room. You close the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment as you let out a shaky breath.
There’s a soft knock at the door, and for a moment, you think you might be imagining it. But then it comes again, and you push yourself away from the door, your heart pounding in your chest as you reach for the handle.
When you open the door, Sevika is standing there, but she’s not the woman you remember. There’s a hollow look in her eyes, a deep exhaustion etched into every line of her face. She’s hunched over slightly as if the weight of everything has finally broken through her defenses.
For a moment, you just stare at each other, neither of you knowing what to say.
"What's going on?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
Without a word, she steps into the room, her movements slow and almost hesitant.
"Sevika..." you start, but the words die in your throat as she looks at you. Her eyes, usually so guarded, are now pools of raw emotion.
"I could have lost you yesterday," she says, her voice cracking. "I almost did."
You step back and fall onto the edge of your bed, overwhelmed by the intensity of her gaze, the weight of her words.
Sevika falls to her knees before you, burying her face in your lap. Her body shakes, hands clutching desperately at your clothes. The sight of her kneeling before you sends a shockwave through your system. This is Sevika, the woman who’s always stood tall, who’s never shown weakness.
“Please…” The word escapes her lips in a raw, broken whisper, her voice laced with a desperation you’ve never heard from her before. “Please… I can’t take this pain forever.”
Your hands hover uncertainly over her. She’s seeking you, but you find yourself instinctively pushing back, your fingers gripping her shoulders to keep some distance between you. The urge to comfort her wars with the part of you that’s terrified—terrified that if you let her in again, she’ll leave, and you’ll be left with nothing but this overwhelming pain.
Why now? your eyes ask, the ache in your chest tightening. Why now, when I don’t even know if I can trust you not to leave again?
Sevika looks up, her eyes red-rimmed and filled with vulnerability. She reaches for you, but you flinch away, your body betraying your inner turmoil. I won’t, her eyes seem to respond. her hands clinging to you as if you’re the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely.
The push and pull become physical - Sevika's hands grasping at your clothes, trying to draw you in, while you resist, your grip on her arms keeping her at bay. You see the realization dawn in Sevika's eyes as she understands your hesitation. She doesn't speak, doesn't try to persuade you with words. Instead, she simply holds your gaze, her hands loosening their grip but not letting go entirely.
The tension between you is palpable, a living thing that fills the space between your bodies. You can feel it gnawing at you - the fear that she’ll pull away, that this moment will shatter like glass.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Sevika's resistance fades. She doesn't try to pull you closer anymore, but she doesn't move away either. She simply kneels there, her head bowed, waiting.
It's this surrender that finally breaks through your defenses. Your hands, which were pushing her away, now tremble as they cup her face. You tilt her chin up, meeting her gaze fully for the first time.
What you see there takes your breath away - it’s a steadfast devotion that silences your doubts. At that moment, you understand that she's not going anywhere.
Your hands finally move, your fingers threading through her hair and letting it fall from its ponytail. The moment you touch her, she lets out a shuddering breath, her body sagging against you as if the weight she’s been carrying has finally become too much.
Sevika sees the hesitation in your gaze, the lingering fear, and something shifts inside her. She surges up, pulling you into a desperate kiss—a plea for you to trust her. The kiss is messy, frantic, filled with the need to feel, to connect, to hold onto something real amidst all this.
You respond immediately, your hands drawing her near—even though parts of you want to stop and shield yourself from the possibility of losing her again, you can’t bring yourself to let go.
Her lips are pressing against yours with a need that makes your heart ache, and you both finally give in to the emotions you’ve been holding back for so long. It’s not like the kiss you’ve shared before—this is different. It’s a commitment to each other that you’ve both been too scared to acknowledge until now.
You both fall back onto the bed, your bodies tangling together as you lose yourselves in each other.
Your hands are never leaving her, your lips never straying too far from hers. Her bionic hand presses into your back gently, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you and you can feel the steady beat of her heart against your chest.
She suddenly pulls you onto her lap. One hand slides under your shirt, causing a shiver to run down your spine, while the other lingers on the small of your back. With a swift movement, she removes your shirt, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable under the moonlight cascading through the window.
A blush creeps up your cheeks at the sudden exposure.
"You're beautiful." The moonlight dances in her eyes and her voice is filled with sincerity and adoration.
Your breath hitches as she leans in and presses a kiss onto your chest, her lips travel lower and lower until she forces a nipple out of your bra. Your gasp quickly turns into a moan as her lips wrap around it and her tongue is swirling, her teeth teasing and biting at the sensitive bud.
Your hands find their way into her hair and shoulders, grasping at something to stabilize a desire that feels like it could push you over the edge. As her lips dance across your neck, her tongue tracing the curve of your jaw, you feel your hips surge forward, seeking the friction that will bring you relief. Your hands, still fisted in her clothes, tug her closer, the fabric straining against the pressure. Sevika's fingers, still tangled in your hair, pull your head back further, exposing your throat to her hungry mouth. Her breath is hot against your skin, sending shivers coursing through your veins. You grind into her fingers, a low, desperate moan builds in your throat, and you hear yourself repeating her name like a mantra.
"Sevika, Sevika, Sevika please."
Your legs tremble as you press into her, the thin fabric of your panties rubbing against her fingers, which are still wrapped around you. The pressure builds, a crescendo of need threatening to consume you whole.
She teases you, her fingers occasionally dipping inside you before pulling back out to rub against your sensitive nub. Each time you’re on the brink of release, she stops and kisses you deeply, driving you crazy with need.
But finally, when you can’t take it any longer, she plunges two fingers inside you. Your fingers dig deep into her shoulder as she sets a steady pace with her fingers, hitting just the right spot inside you that has you writhing in ecstasy.
You’re panting at her touch, your hips bucking into her hand as she moves her fingers in and out of you, her thumb rubbing circles over your clit. Each touch sends jolts of pleasure through your body, making you crave more and more. She whispers sweet words in your ear along with wicked promises that make you wetter than you could imagine.
You grasp the edge of Sevika's shawl, the delicate fabric slipping through your fingers as you slowly pull it away, exposing her bionic arm to you. The shimmering metal catches the dim light of the room, contrasting beautifully with your warm hands. You can’t help but admire the way it seems to glow, each curve and joint blending seamlessly into her skin.
Sevika’s breath hitches at the sight of her exposed arm, and a flicker of vulnerability passes over her face. The vulnerability in her eyes makes you want to show her how incredible she is, and how every part of her makes you feel alive.
You lean closer, your lips brushing softly against her bionic arm, feeling the coolness against your mouth as you press gentle kisses along the sleek surface. It’s smooth, almost soothing, and you feel her relax into your touch. Your breath quickens, merging anticipation and a hunger to worship every part of her.
She changes your positions, laying you down gently on your bed till your head sinks into a plush pillow. You can feel the heat radiating off of her body as she begins to kiss down your body. Her lips leave a trail of fire as they make their way down your stomach until they reach the waistband of your panties. She easily removes them and throws them aside. She starts by lightly kissing and licking your inner thighs, slowly making her way towards your center. You can already feel the heat pooling between your legs as she gets closer and closer to where you want her most. Her gaze locks onto yours as her head hovers over your soaked folds.
“Just focus on me,” her voice comes out hoarse and commanding.
Sevika buries her face between your legs and you gasp at the sudden sensation, gripping the sheets tightly. She flicks and sucks on your clit while slipping a finger inside of you, matching the rhythm of her tongue. There’s a sense of urgency in the way she looks at you – a primal need that mirrors yours perfectly.
Her fingers dig into your thighs, holding you down firmly. You feel yourself getting close, but before you can reach your peak, she stops abruptly.
You whimper in frustration, but it’s quickly replaced with adoration as she climbs up to kiss you, tasting yourself on her lips.
“You got such a pretty body,” She bites teasingly at your ear. “Prettier when it’s a mess for me.”
A course of desire jolts through you at hearing her low and raspy voice whisper those words. Your fingers trace the curve of her shoulder, moving down her arm until you reach her hand. You intertwine your fingers with hers, feeling the coolness of her bionic hand. Sevika blows a hot breath over your glistening mound and you instinctively close your legs around her head.
The room immediately fills with the sound of heavy breathing and the soft, wet noises of skin against skin. Her finger curls inside you, causing your back to arch off the bed in pleasure.
With each thrust and lap of her tongue, she pushes you closer to the edge. You can feel the tension coiling within you—she intensifies her rhythm, sucking and teasing in perfect harmony with your body's responses. The sensations build higher and higher until they finally explode within you.
You release with a loud cry, shuddering in ecstasy as the waves of pleasure wash over you, leaving you breathless and utterly consumed in bliss.
When you finally break apart, it’s only to catch your breath. Your bodies are still tangled together, a sticky, wet mess, but neither of you cares. Sevika holds you tightly, her face buried in the crook of your neck.
The room is bathed in soft, silvery moonlight filtering in through the window. The sounds of your soft breathing fill the space, mingling with the faint rustle of the sheets. Everything feels tender, and fragile, like you’re both holding on to something delicate and precious, something that could shatter with the slightest misstep.
Your fingers trace the scar on Sevika’s cheek, the roughened skin contrasting the softness of her lips. She looks at you, her eyes searching yours as if she’s trying to read the thoughts that you’re too scared to say aloud.
“I don’t want to lose you,” you murmur, your voice trembling with emotion.
“You won’t,” she whispers back, her lips brushing against yours in the softest of kisses.
“Promise me..” Your voice falters, struggling to grasp the idea of not being able to feel her, see her, or touch her like this again. “I don’t know how to exist without you.”
“I’d spend the rest of my days searching,” Sevika replies quietly, her gaze unwavering. “Even just for the chance of seeing you again.”
She cups your face with one hand, her thumb brushing gently over your cheek. “I’ll always find my way back to you.”
You rest your head on her chest, listening to the steady rhythm of her heart, the sound soothing in a way you hadn’t realized you needed. Your fingers trace gentle patterns on her skin and a quiet peace settles over you, a sense of calm that you haven’t felt in what seems like forever.
As you lie there, holding each other in the darkness, the world outside seems to fade into insignificance. You close your eyes, letting yourself finally rest, knowing that she’s here with you, that you’re both in this together. It’s a fragile peace, but it’s yours, and in this moment, it’s more than enough.
⁺˚⋆｡°✩
One Year Later…
The kitchen glows in the warm light, sunlight streaming through the window and illuminating the marble countertops. The sweet aroma of cinnamon and vanilla fills the air as you stir a pot of rice pudding on the stove.
Ren bursts into the kitchen, twirling in her new outfit - a pretty blue dress with matching ribbons in her hair. "Look!" she exclaims, eyes shining with excitement.
You smile warmly. "You look beautiful, honey. Are you ready for dinner at Vander's?"
Ren nods enthusiastically. "Can I go over early? Please?"
"Of course," you reply, giving her a quick hug. "I'll see you there in a bit."
You watch her go, a fond smile lingering on your lips. Ren has become such a central part of your life, switching between living with you and Sevika, and some nights, staying over at Vander’s with the rest of your family. Dinners at Vander’s have also become a tradition, starting as a semblance of normality for the kids until you realize that sometimes everyone just needed a family meal too.
You turn back to your work, carefully measuring out the sugar to add to the pudding. You’re so focused on getting everything just right that you don’t notice when Sevika slips into the kitchen. She moves quietly, her steps almost soundless as she approaches the stove. It’s only when you glance up and see her broad back that you realize she’s there, her figure blocking the light from the window.
"Hey, you're home," you start to say, but then you spot the spoon in her mouth. "Sev!" you exclaim. "I'm not done with that!"
Sevika turns, the spoon still between her lips. "Tastes good," she mumbles around it, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“It’s supposed to taste good when it’s finished,” you retort, gently pushing her away from the stove.
Suddenly, you feel Sevika's arms encircle your waist, her body warm against your back. She nuzzles into your neck, placing a soft kiss just below your ear. "Mmm," she hums, "doesn’t taste as good as you, though."
“Don’t think you can sweet-talk me into letting you try more,” you say, trying to stay focused despite the distraction she’s providing.
She chuckles again, her deep voice rumbling against your back. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”
You smile, the familiar banter easing you into a comfortable lull. The gentle pressure of her arms around you, the way she’s so casually affectionate now, fills you with warmth.
"Hey, did you bring home any fruit for the pudding?" you ask, turning in Sevika's arms.
You feel her tense slightly, her smile faltering. "We’re having a bit of a dry season," she says, her tone careful.
The words hang heavy in the air. You know the reality - supplies have been tight lately, with produce struggling to grow and the scavenging teams venturing further each time.
Before you can dwell on it further, Sevika leans in to kiss you, clearly trying to change the subject. But as she does, you catch a whiff of something less than pleasant, and you instinctively pull back, wrinkling your nose.
"Babe, you fucking stink," you blurt out.
Sevika's eyes goes wide in shock, then narrows playfully. "Oh, really?" she growls, trying to pull you closer.
You dance out of her grasp.“Go start a bath,” you say between giggles. “I’ll join you in a bit, okay?”
She lets out a noise of disapproval but obeys regardless. “I wasn’t that bad,” she mutters as she turns toward the bathroom.
“Yes, you were,” you call after her, still grinning as you watch her go. “Go on, I’ll be there soon.”
With Sevika finally convinced, you head to your bedroom to grab some towels.
The bedroom has changed over the past year, becoming more of a shared space than it ever was before. Sevika's red shawl drapes over the back of a chair, while your jewelry glitters on the dresser. The wall above the bed is adorned with colorful drawings - Ren's artwork, depicting your entire makeshift family, the sight of it never failing to warm your heart.
It had started casually enough - a few items of clothing left behind after hurried encounters, a toothbrush appearing in the bathroom. You and Sevika were sneaking around, stealing moments together whenever you could.
When you finally told your family about your relationship, they celebrated, of course. It wasn’t a surprise to them—they had seen the way you and Sevika gravitated toward each other, the looks you reserved solely for one another. You found yourself practically living at Sevika's, though neither of you had officially acknowledged the change.
Then came the day you noticed the difference in her dresser. The already sparse drawers had been reorganized, creating a dedicated space just for you. Your scattered belongings were neatly arranged, claiming their place in Sevika's life.
You remember standing there, staring at that drawer, your heart swelling with emotion. It was such a small gesture, but it spoke volumes. Sevika, always more comfortable with actions than words, had found her way of saying "stay".
A small smile forms on your lips at the memory as you close the closet. Gathering the towels, you head towards the sound of running water.
You settle onto the stool beside the bathtub, watching Sevika relax in the warm, soapy water. Her broad shoulders peek out from the bubbles, her head tilted back slightly as she rests, eyes half-closed in contentment. The sight of her—this tough, unbreakable woman— soaking in the bath like she has nowhere else to be, makes you giggle.
"You look adorable."
Sevika cracks one eye open, giving you a playful glare that’s nowhere near as intimidating as she probably hopes it’ll be. "I’m not adorable," she grumbles.
You reach for a washcloth, gently running it over her back. Your fingers work out the knots in her muscles, and you feel her relax under your touch. The bathroom is quiet except for the soft lapping of water and Sevika's contented sighs.
"Don't get me wet, Sev," you warn as she shifts in the tub.
“I thought I always did,” she shoots back with a sly grin, and before you can react, she splashes a handful of water at you.
The warm water hits you square in the chest, soaking your shirt. You let out a small gasp, and Sevika just laughs, clearly pleased with herself.
“Now I’ve got no choice but to join you, huh?” you say, feigning annoyance as you peel off your damp clothes.
Sevika's arms wrap around you as you settle between her legs, your back pressed against her chest. "No funny business," you remind her. "We've got dinner later."
She groans, burying her face in your neck. "Do we have to do that?"
You intertwine your fingers with hers, squeezing gently. "Yes, we all need it. Even you, Miss Grumpy."
Sevika huffs, but doesn't argue further. It's rare to see her act so petulant, and you can't help but find it endearing. You lean back further into her embrace, savoring the warmth of her skin against yours.
A chuckle escapes you as a memory surfaces.
"What's so funny?" Sevika murmurs against your ear.
"I'm thinking about us," you reply, still grinning. "Remember the first time you came to family dinner?"
Sevika groans again, this time in embarrassment. That first dinner had been spectacularly awkward. Sevika, sitting at Vander’s table, towering over everyone, her presence so imposing that no one knew how to break the ice. You could feel the discomfort radiating from the others as they tried and failed to strike up conversation. Sevika, never much of a talker herself, hadn’t made it any easier.
"I thought Caitlyn was going to have an aneurysm trying to make conversation," you laugh.
"She kept asking about the weather," Sevika recalls. "As if we don't all live in the same damn place."
“But my family loves you now.”
Sevika raises an eyebrow. “They’re still nervous around me though.”
“True,” you admit, chuckling. “But now they know you’re not going to kill them if they say the wrong thing. Well, most of them know that, anyway.”
”I like to keep them on their toes.” Sevika smirks, her lips brushing against your neck. “Can’t let them forget who I am.”
You turn in her arms, facing her now. "I don’t think they would be as afraid if they saw you in a bubble bath right now."
She narrows her eyes at you. "I’m still scary."
"Is that so?" you challenge, your faces inches apart.
Instead of answering, Sevika closes the distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss. You sigh into it, brushing a damp strand of hair behind her ear.
You're nestled against Sevika, the warm water lulling you into a peaceful state when a sharp knock shatters the moment.
"Who the hell..." She's about to call out, likely with some choice words, when a familiar voice filters through the door.
She gives you an apologetic look as she carefully extracts herself from the tub, wrapping a towel around her body. You remain in the bath, straining to hear the muffled conversation. Snippets reach your ears—"Silco... needs to see you... scouts..."
By the time you've dried off and dressed, Sevika is already changed, her face grim. She's heading for the door, and you follow.
Out on the streets, the usual bustle of Zaun seems subdued. Sevika turns to you, her eyes softening slightly.
"It's just a quick meeting," she assures you, though her tone lacks conviction. "I'll be back, okay?"
You look at her, worry evident in your gaze. She must see it because she adds, "Family dinner is still on. I promise."
You watch Sevika disappear down the street, her words echoing in your mind. Despite her assurances, you can't shake the feeling of unease that settles in your chest. Instead of heading home, your feet carry you to a familiar path.
The old target practice area comes into view, untouched since Grayson's passing. The targets are weathered now, the paint faded and peeling. You moved the practice area after... after everything, but this place still holds a piece of history you can’t forget.
You settle onto the worn bench, you could almost hear Grayson's patient voice, the sound of gunfire. Now it's quiet, a ghost of what it used to be.
Lost in thought, you barely notice the approaching footsteps until a shadow falls across you.
"Quite the view from up here, isn't it?"
A man’s voice cuts through your reverie. You look up to see him, his usual sly smile in place.
"Mind if I join you?" He doesn't wait for an answer before settling onto the bench beside you.
“What do you want, Finn?” you ask, your guard instantly up.
“Just wanted a place to admire Zaun,” he replies. "It’s getting a bit crowded down there.”
You remain silent, wary of engaging. Instead, you’re both gazing out over Zaun—The community sprawls below, a patchwork of light and shadow.
"You know," Finn begins, his voice casual, "I used to come up here sometimes, watch Grayson train the new recruits. She had a way about her, didn't she? A real vision for what Zaun could be."
You nod, unsure where he's going with this.
Finn continues, his tone thoughtful. "Things have changed a lot since then. More people, less space. Resources getting tighter." He glances at you sideways. "Makes you wonder what Grayson would think of it all."
There's something in his voice that puts you on edge, a subtle challenge. You choose your words carefully. "Grayson always believed in Zaun's potential."
"Ah, but potential for what?" Finn leans in conspiratorially. "It looks like things are starting to fray at the edges. People are getting restless, hungry. And when that happens… well, who knows what might come next?"
You feel a surge of anger, but you keep it in check, refusing to let him get under your skin. “Zaun’s strong,” you say firmly. “So if you’re trying to stir up trouble, you can take it somewhere else.”
Finn holds up his hands in a placating gesture. "Of course, of course. I'm just thinking about the future, you know? But hey, I'm sure Silco's got it all figured out."
Finn stands, brushing off his pants. "Give my regards to Sevika," he says lightly.
"Tell her... we're all counting on her to keep us safe."
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You and Sevika walk side by side through the bustling streets of Zaun, the rice pudding cradled carefully in Sevika’s arms. As you approach the door, you can already hear the sounds of laughter and chatter from inside. Before you can even step over the threshold, a blur of blue barrels into view.
Just as Powder rounds the corner, she nearly collides with you, her eyes wide as she skids to a halt. “Oops, sorry!” she exclaims, a sheepish grin spreading across her face as she steadies herself. “Sorry, double for last time,” she adds with a knowing look.
It had been a few weeks ago, when Sevika was trying to grow out her hair, a fact she was oddly self-conscious about. You guys were standing in the courtyard, watching as Powder excitedly showed off her new contraption, a slime trap shooter she cobbled together from spare parts.
The demonstration started off well enough, but suddenly a glob of viscous slime shot out wildly, landing with a wet splat right in Sevika's hair.
Powder's enthusiasm instantly turned into fear as she realized what she's done.The look on Sevika’s face had been priceless—a mix of surprise and horror as she reached up to touch the mess clinging to her hair.
“I’m gonna kill that kid,” Sevika grumbled, her voice low and menacing. “My hair looks like shit.”
You’d barely managed to suppress your laughter when it first happened, but now in Vander’s bathroom you couldn’t hide your amusement.
“So, that’s a no on having kids, then?” you joked as you reached for a pair of scissors to help trim the slime-covered strands.
Sevika had turned to look at you, her expression one of shock and something else—something deeper that neither of you had wanted to confront. It was just a small joke, but it carried the weight of a conversation you hadn’t yet had, and might never have. Sometimes, you couldn’t avoid the fact that this was it for you two.
But you quickly brushed it aside, focusing on the task at hand. As you carefully trimmed the damaged hair, you leaned in close, whispering in Sevika’s ear, “You’re sexy already. No amount of slime will change that.”
That had earned you a reluctant smile from her in that moment.
"No harm done.” You tell Powder, inconspicuously kicking Sevika’s feet to agree.
“Yeah.” She grunts, and you hold in a snicker at the obvious grudge she held.
As you enter the kitchen, you're greeted by the sight of Vander attempting to wrangle a massive pot of stew.
“There you two are,” Vander says, looking up from his cooking. “Thought you might’ve gotten lost on the way here.”
“Not a chance,” Sevika replies, setting the rice pudding down on the counter with a grin. “This one would never forgive me if I missed dinner.”
“Damn right,” you reply. “You need any help, Vander?”
“Nah, we’re about done here,” Vander says, wiping his hands on a towel. “Just need to get everything into the living room. You know how these animals are when they’re hungry.”
You laugh, grabbing a tray of bread rolls while Sevika grabs a platter of roasted vegetables. She follows you out into the living room, where the rest of the group is already making themselves comfortable. Ekko is lounging on the floor, watching Powder and Ren as they buzz around him. Caitlyn and Vi are chatting quietly in one corner, Vi’s arm casually draped over the back of Caitlyn’s chair.
“Hey you two,” you greet, setting the tray down on a table near the center of the room. “Food’s here.”
Vi reaches for a roll, and Caitlyn swats her hand. "Wait for everyone, you brute," she says affectionately.
"Come on, cupcake, I'm starving!" Vi whines dramatically.
Soon, everyone settles in various spots around the room, grabbing plates and piling on food. Vander passes around mugs of ale, the rich, amber liquid sloshing slightly as he hands it to the adults.
Sevika sits down beside you on the floor, her back against the couch, and you hand her a plate, watching as she loads it up with a bit of everything. Powder's regaling everyone with a tale of her latest explosive experiment, complete with dramatic reenactments.
"You guys won't believe what I made today!" She exclaims, barely touching her food as she launches into her story. "So I took some wires from that old TV we found, and I connected them to a car battery. Then I rigged up this pressure plate..."
"And then - BOOM!" she exclaims, throwing her arms wide and nearly knocking over Ekko's plate.
"Watch it, Pow," Ekko grumbles, but there's no real annoyance in his voice.
The two of you eat in comfortable silence for a while, the sounds of laughter and conversation filling the room around you. As the meal winds down, Powder's eyes light up with a new idea. She bounds over to you and Sevika.
"Hey, hey! You guys wanna play Nerf guns with us?" she asks, her eyes wide and pleading.
Sevika raises an eyebrow.
"I modified them. They shoot further now, and I added a cool light-up feature, and-"
"Modified?" Sevika interrupts, looking slightly alarmed, she was already thinking about the last mishap with Powder’s “modifications”.
You laugh at the expression on Sevika's face, she couldn’t hide the suspicion and concern written all over it. "Come on, Sev," you nudge. "Could be fun."
Powder's practically bouncing now. "Please? Pretty please? I promise there’s no slime this time!"
Sevika sighs. "Fine." she concedes.
"Yes!" Powder cheers. "You won't regret it!"
Powder herds you, Sevika, Ekko, and Ren onto the couch, squishing you all together as she stands before you, eyes gleaming with excitement.
“Alright, listen up!” Powder announces, pulling out a set of nerf guns. The colorful plastic weapons are covered in stickers and doodles, clearly customized to her liking. She hands one to each of you.
Sevika takes hers with a skeptical look, turning it over in her hands. “You can’t shoot shit with this,” she mutters, the derision clear in her voice.
“Oh, yeah?” Powder smirks, clearly prepared for this. She whirls around, aims at a water bottle perched on the windowsill, and fires. The nerf dart flies across the room and smacks the bottle dead center, sending it tumbling to the floor with a satisfying thud.
Sevika raises an eyebrow, impressed despite herself.
“Now that we’ve established these aren’t toys for babies,” Powder continues, pacing in front of the couch. “here’s the game: upstairs, there’s a crown stashed somewhere by Vi. The goal is to retrieve the crown and bring it to Vander downstairs. Upstairs is a no-shoot zone, but downstairs, if you’re hit with a dart, you’re out.”
She claps her hands together, clearly relishing her role as the game master. "Now, we need to split into teams," Powder continues. "Sevika and Ekko, you're one team. And-"
You all glance at Ren, the youngest of the group at just eight years old. There's a moment of awkward silence as everyone tries to figure out how to handle this diplomatically.
"You should take her," you say sweetly.
Sevika’s eyes narrow playfully, already sensing where this is going. “The kid likes you more." Despite being dubious of the game at first, you could tell Sevika’s competitiveness was taking over.
“I thought this was just a kids’ game?” you tease, leaning in slightly with a raised eyebrow.
Sevika gives you a sheepish look, clearly caught between her competitive streak and her soft spot for Ren.
Feeling a bit guilty, you suggest, "Why don't we let Ren pick?"
Ren beams up at both of you, clearly delighted to have the choice. "I wanna be on your team!" she exclaims, pointing at you and Powder.
“You’re gonna be our secret weapon,” you whisper, wrapping an arm around Ren’s shoulders.
“Alright then,” Ekko chimes in, finally managing to free himself from the couch. “Let’s do this.”
Everyone grabs their nerf guns and heads outside. You can't help but chuckle at the sight of Sevika, usually so intimidating, clutching a bright orange plastic gun with a determined look on her face.
"Alright, teams start at opposite ends of the house," Powder instructs. "When I give the signal, the hunt begins!"
You crouch behind a bush with Powder and Ren, all of you trying (and failing) to look serious with your toy weapons.
"Ready?" Powder calls out. "Set... GO!"
And with that, you all come barreling into the house. Powder darts ahead, her movements quick and erratic. You follow, trying to keep an eye on Ren while scanning for potential ambush spots.
As you round a corner, you come face to face with Sevika. For a moment, you both freeze, nerf guns pointed at each other.
"Sorry, babe," you say, not sorry at all as you pull the trigger.
But Sevika's reflexes are faster. She ducks, the foam dart whizzing over her head, and returns fire. You barely dodge, and you take the moment to sneak onto the stairs.
Upstairs, you quickly begin your search, darting in and out of rooms, peeking under beds and behind curtains for any sign of the hidden crown. Ren’s small size gives her an advantage as she slips into tight spots that you and Powder can’t quite reach.
But despite your efforts, it was nowhere to be found. "How?" you mutter, bewildered.
Powder's eyes narrow, scanning the area. "Ekko," she hisses, pointing to an open window. "He must've climbed up from outside!"
Quickly, you formulate a plan. Ren is dispatched to keep watch with Vander, ensuring Ekko can't make a sneaky victory while you and Powder hunt down Sevika and Ekko.
With that, you guys head back downstairs, moving quietly as you scan the house for any signs of the other team. As you move through the house, you and Powder eventually decide to split up, hoping to cover more ground.
It doesn’t take long before you spot Sevika, her broad frame moving stealthily through the hallway. She hasn’t seen you yet, and you quickly close the distance, pressing yourself against the wall to remain hidden. When she finally turns the corner, you’re right there, catching her off guard.
“Drop the gun,” you command, your voice low and teasing as you pin her against the wall, your body pressing into hers. Sevika’s eyes widen in surprise, her hands instinctively going up in mock surrender, though there’s a glint of amusement in her gaze.
“And what if I don’t?” she murmurs, her lips quirking into a playful smile.
“Then I’ll have to make you,” you reply, your tone equally flirtatious as you lean in closer, the game momentarily forgotten.
"Ewww, get a room!" Ekko's voice breaks the spell. You spin around to find Ekko aiming at you, the crown tucked under his arm.
But before you can react, Powder emerges from a doorway behind Ekko, her nerf gun raised and ready. Without missing a beat, she fires a dart that hits Ekko square in the back. “Gotcha!” she shouts triumphantly.
Ekko’s eyes widen in shock as he instinctively drops the crown, clutching his back where the dart hit. “Hey, what the fuck, Powder?!” he exclaims, his tone incredulous.
“Language, Ekko!” Vander’s voice booms from the kitchen, echoing through the house.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Sevika quickly knocks the nerf gun out of your hand. But before she can fully capitalize on her victory, you kick the crown down the hallway, sending it skittering toward the kitchen.
“Move kid!” Sevika barks as she grabs Ekko by the arm, dragging him behind a couch. Ekko, still nursing his mock wound, yells out dramatically, “Man down! Man down!”
There's a moment of tense silence, then Ekko's voice pipes up again. "I'm getting healed by a health kit!"
“What the hell?” Powder says with a look of utter disbelief. “There’s no health kit in this game!”
"Yeah, 'cause I took it!" Ekko retorts, popping up from behind the couch and unleashing a barrage of foam darts.
The living room erupts into chaos. You dive behind an armchair, Powder taking cover behind another couch. Foam darts fly in every direction, peppering the air with colorful streaks.
You peek out, catching Sevika's eye across the room. She winks at you before ducking to avoid a well-aimed shot from Powder.
"Cover me!" you shout to Powder, making a dash for the hallway where the crown disappeared.
Ekko leaps over the couch, trying to intercept you. "Oh no, you don't!" he yells, unleashing a volley of darts in your direction.
You slide across the hardwood floor, narrowly avoiding his attack. Sevika provides covering fire for Ekko, keeping Powder pinned down.
As you scramble to your feet at the kitchen entrance, ready to grab the crown and make a triumphant dash to Vander, you freeze. The crown is gone.
A throat clears behind you. You turn to see Vander, sitting calmly at the kitchen table. Beside him stands Ren, a victorious grin on her face and the crown placed neatly on Vander's head.
The chaos in the living room dies down as everyone realizes what's happened. Ren's giggles fill the sudden silence.
"I believe," Vander says, his eyes twinkling with amusement, "that we have a winner."
For a moment, you're all too stunned to speak. Then Powder bursts out laughing, followed quickly by Ekko. Soon, you're all in stitches, the absurdity of the situation hitting you all at once.
As you catch your breath, you feel Sevika's arm wrap around your waist. "Can’t believe we were outsmarted by an eight-year-old," she murmurs in your ear.
You lean into her, watching as Vander lifts Ren onto his shoulders, parading her around the kitchen as the victor. Ekko and Powder are already arguing about a rematch and new teammates for next time.
As the excitement of the game winds down, Vander glances at the clock. "It's getting late."
You nod in agreement, glancing over at Ren. “Do you want to stay at Powder’s or with us tonight?”
Ren's eyes light up. "Stay with Powder!" she exclaims without hesitation.
Before you can even respond, Powder and Ekko are already shepherding Ren up the stairs, their voices a jumble of excited plans for a sleepover.
Caitlyn and Vi exchange a knowing look. "Ooh, you two are finally getting some alone time," Vi teases with a wink.
You feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment, but Sevika seems unfazed.
"So, how are those new recruits doing on the walls? Getting the hang of things?" You ask, trying to get the attention off you.
Caitlyn's face does a complicated dance between diplomacy and honesty. "Well, they're... enthusiastic."
Vi snorts, unable to contain herself. "Come on, cupcake. Tell 'em the truth."
Caitlyn's facade cracks. "Alright, fine. Their aim is absolutely atrocious. I've never seen so many missed targets in my life. We had one recruit who managed to shoot his own hat off."
You all burst out laughing, the mental image too ridiculous to resist.
Vander shakes his head. "Everyday I’m thankful that’s not me, I'm getting too old for that kind of headache."
Sevika raises an eyebrow at him. "Not too old to keep experimenting with your homebrews though, are you?"
You all laugh at that. It's true - besides overseeing the community's agriculture, Vander's taken to crafting various meads and ales in his spare time.
"I'll have you know that my brewing skills only improve with age, unlike my patience," Vander puffs up his chest in mock indignation. “And I'm taking back the ale from tonight, can't have you lot disparaging my other talents.”
Vi grins. "C'mon, Vander. You know the community needs that alcohol. How else are we supposed to cope with Powder's 'experiments'?"
This sets off another round of laughter, but your conversation is suddenly interrupted when Ren comes downstairs, looking shy and hesitant.
"What's wrong, sweetie?"
Sevika seems to understand before you do, her voice softening as she reaches out to Ren. “Come on, kid. Let’s get you tucked in.”
The three of you make your way upstairs, the house now quiet as the night settles in. Ren leads you to the bedroom she’s sharing with Powder and Ekko.
Sevika moves to the bed, pulling back the covers and helping Ren climb in. Ren looks up at you both, her eyes wide and a little sad, as Sevika tucks the blankets around her snugly. “Can you get it?” Ren asks quietly.
You follow her gaze to the small play tent in the corner of the room, where she likes to spend her time during the day. You walk over, crouching down to peer inside, and that’s when you see it—peeking out from under a pile of toys. Your breath hitches as you recognize it instantly: Grayson’s yellow armband.
You carefully pull it out, the fabric worn but still vibrant, and bring it over to Ren. She takes it from you, her small hands wrapping around the band as if it’s the most precious thing in the world. “I miss her,” she whispers.
Your heart breaks at the sight of her holding onto that small piece of Grayson. You kneel beside the bed, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “I know, honey,” you say softly. “We all miss her. But she’s always with us, in here.” You gently place a hand over Ren’s heart, offering her a comforting smile.
Ren nods and she clutches the armband tightly, her grip strong for someone so small. Sevika’s expression is unreadable, a mix of emotions flashing across her face as she watches the scene unfold.
After a few moments, Ren’s eyelids start to droop, exhaustion finally taking over. You lean down, pressing a gentle kiss to Ren’s forehead. “Goodnight sweetie,” you whisper.
You and Sevika quietly bid Ekko and Powder goodnight as well, sharing a few last words before heading back downstairs. The house is much quieter now, the energy from earlier having dissipated into a peaceful calm. You say your goodbyes to Vander, Caitlyn, and Vi, thanking them for the evening.
As you step out into the cool night air, the streets of Zaun are mostly quiet. Sevika’s hand finds yours, her grip warm and comforting. “You okay?” she asks.
You nod, though your mind is still on Ren and the armband. “Yeah,” you say softly, squeezing her hand. “It’s just… it’s hard sometimes, you know? Seeing how much she misses Grayson.”
Sevika doesn’t respond right away, but you feel her thumb brushing gently over your knuckles, a silent gesture of understanding. “She’s a tough kid,” she finally says. “She’s more resilient than we think.”
You wordlessly agree, falling into a comfortable silence as you guys listen to the hum of the surrounding houses and your footsteps on the pavement. For a while, neither of you speak, simply enjoying the quiet together.
You find yourself stealing glances at Sevika, admiring her profile in the dim light. She catches you looking and raises an eyebrow, a small smirk playing at the corner of her lips. You playfully bump your shoulder against hers, and she returns the gesture, a bit harder.
You smile, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as you bump her again, just to see what she’ll do.
Sevika doesn’t say anything, but you can see the corner of her mouth twitching upward, that almost-smile that she gets when she’s trying to keep her cool but failing just a bit. She bumps you back, a little more firmly this time, and you laugh, the sound light and carefree in the stillness of the night.
You nudge her again, and this time, she stops walking altogether. Before you can react, she grabs your hand, pulling you toward her with a gentle but firm tug. The sudden movement catches you off guard, and you stumble slightly, your hands instinctively reaching out to steady yourself.
But Sevika’s already there, her strong arms wrapping around you, holding you close. There’s a brief moment where you just look at each other, the playful teasing of earlier fading into something softer, more intimate. The distance between you disappears, and you feel the warmth of her body against yours, the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathes.
She doesn’t say anything—doesn’t need to. The look in her eyes, the way she’s holding you, it says it all.
Without a word, she leans down, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss. It’s sweet and gentle, and it fills you with a warmth that spreads through your chest, making you feel like you could stay here forever, wrapped up in this simple, perfect moment.
You melt into the kiss, your hand sliding from her shoulder to the nape of her neck.
When she finally pulls back, it’s only by a fraction, her forehead resting against yours as she breathes out a soft sigh. You can't resist leaning in to place another quick kiss on her lips, delighting in the way it makes her smile.
"What was that for?" you ask softly, not that you're complaining.
"Do I need a reason?" she asks, her voice husky but tender.
You shake your head, smiling. "Definitely not. Feel free to do that anytime."
She chuckles softly, pulling you close as you resume your walk home. Her arm wraps securely around your waist, and you lean into her, feeling safe and cherished.
"This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong // To love that well which thou must leave ere long." -William Shakespeare (Sonnet 73)
PART IV: TONIGHT, I WALK AWAY
zombie apocalypse sevika x reader au!: sevika was the super soldier; a killing machine driven solely by survival. you were nomadic, constantly searching for something in whatever was left of the world—till you met her.
series masterpost: part I // part II // part III // part V
wc: 7.8k
cw: violence, angst, major character death
author's note: Honestly I'm starting to get why TWD writers do what they do after writing this chapter... I also apologize for taking so long for this chapter, my classes are starting now so updates will be a bit a slower </3
**also some eastereggs but the sonnet 73 quote I have is mentioned in the scene where Grayson talks about love. It's pretty much the translated modern English definition of the quote! The make a wish dialogue is also from the movie Dangerously Yours (1937), that scene always gets me so I had to include it haha
You drift in and out of consciousness, the world around you a hazy blur of pain and disjointed voices. Through the fog, you catch glimpses of three figures engaged in intense discussion.
Sevika's there, her face etched with worry. Beside her stands a tall, bald gaunt man and a mask covering the lower half of his face. His eyes are sunken, giving him an almost skeletal appearance. The third figure is shorter, with slicked-back dark hair and a prominent scar running down one side of his face, his right eye a striking shade of green.
Their voices filter through your muddled thoughts:
"...low on medical supplies for a procedure like this," the masked man says, his voice muffled and clinical. "There's no sure chance she can make it."
"I'll go to the hospital."
"It’s too dangerous." The scarred man's voice is sharp and skeptical.
"We've been low on supplies for too long," Sevika argues. "It's time we do it now. We cannot lose any more people."
Their words fade as you slip back into darkness, only to resurface again as you're being moved. You have no idea how much time has passed, but you're on some kind of gurney, the ceiling passing by overhead. You try to move, but your limbs feel heavy and unresponsive. Glancing down, you see your wrists are handcuffed to the sides of the bed.
Panic surges through you as you realize you're being rolled into what looks like a makeshift operating room. The masked man and the scarred one are there, now wearing blood-stained surgical gowns. You try to fight, to call out, but your body won't cooperate.
The scarred man leans over you, his mismatched eyes boring into yours. "It will be over soon," he says, his voice oddly soothing despite the circumstances. Then he's lowering a gas mask over your face, and the world fades to black.
When you wake again, your mind is clearer, though your body feels like it's been run over by a truck. The scarred man is sitting in a chair beside your bed, watching you with an unreadable expression.
"Ah, you're awake," he says, leaning forward. "Good. I was beginning to wonder if we'd miscalculated."
You try to speak, but your throat is dry, raw. He holds up a hand, silencing you.
"No need to strain yourself. I just wanted to... observe you.” He pauses. "It's been a long time since I've had to perform a procedure like that. It’s quite a reminder of what still lurks beyond these walls. How we’ve grown complacent."
Your eyes drift to his face, lingering on the scar that runs down the right side, bisecting his eye. The eye itself is a startling shade of green, almost luminescent against his pale skin. You must have been staring, because the man chuckles, a dry, humorless sound.
"Curious, aren’t you?" A sardonic smile twists his features. "It’s only natural - people always wonder. But few ever ask. It’s a souvenir from when Zaun was still crawling out of the muck. When men I called brothers tried to drag me back down for a piece of land."
His finger traces the scar slowly, almost lovingly. "This... this was their parting gift." He trails off, then continues in a near-whisper. "Have you ever felt pain so exquisite it becomes transcendent? For days, I danced on the knife's edge between genius and madness."
His gaze refocuses on you, sharp and penetrating. "But pain, you see, can be transformative. It stripped away my naivety, my weakness. It forged me into something stronger, something capable of truly leading Zaun."
“I think I understand why Sevika is so fond of you." His lips curl into something that might be a smile but doesn't reach his eyes. "There's something in you, just like her. That part that's willing to sacrifice."
You furrow your brow, confusion, and wariness warring inside you.
"Some sacrifices are necessary to be made. But they're also weaknesses," He stands, smoothing down his shirt. "Something to consider."
With those cryptic words, he turns and leaves, the door clicking shut behind him. You're left alone, your mind racing with questions. Who were those men? What exactly happened to you? And how much time had gone by?
The weight of uncertainty presses down on you, and exhaustion soon follows. Despite your churning thoughts, your eyelids grow heavy, and you drift into an uneasy sleep.
When you wake again, its by the sound of shuffling feet and the creak of a door opening. The haze of sleep still clings to your mind as you slowly become aware of your surroundings.
Sevika enters, holding a plate of food. Her eyes meet yours, and for a moment, neither of you speaks.
"Hey," she says finally, her voice softer than you've ever heard it.
"Hey yourself," you reply, unable to keep a slight tremor from your voice.
Sevika sets the plate on your bedside table, then stands awkwardly, as if unsure what to do with her hands. "Thought you might be hungry," she mumbles.
You nod, a thousand questions bubbling up inside you. Where has she been? Why didn't she visit sooner? What happened after the surgery? But looking at her now, seeing the dark circles under her eyes and the way she holds herself - tense, guarded - you decide those questions can wait.
Instead, you pat the bed beside you. "Sit with me?"
Sevika hesitates for a moment, then complies. As she settles beside you, you feel the warmth of her presence, so familiar yet somehow changed.
"I missed you," you say simply.
Sevika's eyes widen slightly, a flicker of emotion crossing her face before she schools it back to neutrality. "I... I'm glad you're okay," she replies, her voice gruff but sincere.
As you and Sevika sit together, you try to maintain a casual conversation, but there's an undercurrent of tension you can't ignore. Sevika's responses are clipped, her gaze never quite meeting yours. It's like she's looking through you, not at you.
"Hey," you say softly, reaching out to touch her arm. "What's going on?"
She turns slowly, her eyes finally meeting yours. But there’s something different in them, something that makes your heart clench. It’s infuriating, this distance she’s putting between you, this wall she’s building brick by brick.
“Sevika,” you say, trying to break through that wall. “Talk to me.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Nothing can happen between us again,” she says, the words falling heavy between you like a death sentence.
You stare at her, disbelief mingling with hurt. “What?”
Her gaze flickers, something like pain flashing in her eyes before she steels herself again. “We can’t do this,” she says, her voice low and strained. “We can’t keep pretending this… whatever this is… can last.”
You feel the ground shift beneath you like the world is falling away, leaving you teetering on the edge of a precipice. “You’re really going to say that after everything?” Your voice cracks, the hurt seeping through despite your best efforts to keep it at bay. “How do you kiss someone, make them believe there’s something real, and then just—throw it away?”
Sevika’s jaw clenches, and she looks away, as if unable to bear the sight of your pain. “You can be mad at me, hate me if you want,” she says. “But it has to be this way.”
“I’m not mad,” you reply, your heart breaking with every word. “I’m hurt, Sevika. I’m hurt because I care about you, and you’re pushing me away like none of it matters.”
“I know,” she whispers, her voice so soft it’s almost lost in the hum of the machines.
“Then why?” you demand, your voice wavering as you struggle to understand. “Why are you doing this?”
She finally looks at you, really looks at you, and the anguish in her eyes is like a punch to the gut. “Because if I let myself love you,” she says, her voice breaking on the word, “I know we’d never have enough time. ”
Her words hit you like a tidal wave, drowning you in the despair that’s been brewing in your chest. “But isn't some time better than none at all? I'd rather have a handful of precious moments with you than spend the rest of my life wondering 'what if.'” The tears you’ve been holding back now streaming down your face.
“Even if it hurts, even if it's brief – at least it would be real.”
Sevika shakes her head, her expression a storm of anger and fear. Her words come out in a rush, like she can't hold them back any longer.
"You don't understand. I was okay before you. I was okay with the idea of dying, of existing day after day without purpose until my time ran out. But now?" Her voice hardens. "Now I'm terrified. I'm not okay with losing you. I'm not okay with the thought that you could walk out that door and never come back."
“I didn't need this. I didn't need you to come along and give me a reason to call this godforsaken place home. I didn't need you to make me want to survive instead of just exist.” She’s practically pleading now. “Don't you see what you've done to me? Needing you means I have something to lose."
The weight of her confession crushes you, the finality of it sinking in. She’s not just pushing you away—she’s tearing herself apart to do it, ripping out the very thing that might make her feel alive, all because she’s so afraid of the pain it could bring.
“I’d shatter every bone in my body again if it meant keeping you safe,” you say, your voice trembling. “I’d do anything for you, Sevika, and it hurts so bad that you won’t let me.”
She turns her head away. “You’re too stubborn,” she whispers, her voice resigned. “You won’t stop, and neither will I, and it’ll kill us both in the end.”
“You look at me like I’m already dead,” you say, your voice cracking with the weight of your grief. “Like I’m a ghost you’ve been carrying around, waiting for the right moment to bury me.”
She flinches, the words cutting deep. “Because that’s what it feels like,” she confesses. “I feel like I’ve already lost you, and it’s killing me. I’d rather lose you now when we still have a chance to walk away than lose you out there, where I can’t protect you.”
The following silence is deafening, the air thick with everything neither of you can bring yourselves to say. You reach out, your hand trembling as you gently caress her cheek, trying to offer comfort in the only way you know how. She leans into your touch for a moment, her eyes closing as if she’s trying to savor it, to hold onto it before it’s gone.
“Are you doing this to protect me, or are you protecting yourself?” you ask softly, the question hanging in the air like a lifeline, offering her one last chance to admit the truth.
She opens her eyes, and the pain you see there nearly undoes you. “Both,” she admits. “I’m protecting both of us. I’ll never survive the day I lose you. And I can’t—” Her voice breaks, and she swallows hard, her eyes pleading with you to understand. “I can’t live.”
Your heart shatters as the reality of her words sinks in. She’s already decided, already convinced herself that this is the only way to keep you both safe, even if it means tearing herself apart in the process.
“Can I be alone?” you ask, your voice small and broken, the words barely escaping your lips.
Sevika nods, her expression tightening as she takes a step back. “Yeah,” she says. “I’ll go.”
She turns to leave, but before she can take another step, you reach out. “Sevika, wait,” you say, your voice filled with desperation. “Can you hand me my bag?”
She hesitates, her gaze flickering to the bag and then back to you. After a moment, she nods and hands it to you, her fingers brushing yours for the briefest of moments, sending a jolt of longing through you. You rummage through the bag, your heart pounding as you pull out the familiar fabric of her shawl.
You hold it out to her. “This belongs to you.”
Sevika stares at the shawl, her eyes widening as she realizes what it means. For a moment, she just stands there, looking at it like it’s a lifeline she’s too afraid to grasp. Then, she takes it from you.
She looks at you, and in her eyes, you see all the things she wants to say, all the things she’s too scared to admit. And then, without another word, she turns and walks out of the room, the door closing quietly behind her, leaving you alone with nothing but the ghost of her touch and the scent of her shawl lingering in the air.
⁺˚⋆｡°✩
You didn’t accept any visitors for days, under the guise that you were too tired and needed the rest to recover. But as tempting as curling in bed and crying over a woman that you never even had a proper relationship with was, you knew you couldn’t hide away forever.
Blinking, you see a group of people piling into your room.
Vander's deep voice rumbles, "Easy now, let's not overwhelm her."
Caitlyn is standing over you. "How are you feeling? Any pain?"
Before you can answer, Powder chimes in, "Bet you feel like you've been hit by a truck. Am I right?"
"Something like that," you croak.
Your attention is drawn to the doorway where Grayson stands, little Ren in her arms. The child is clutching Grayson's yellow armband tightly.
Grayson sets Ren down gently. "Go on, little one," she says softly.
Ren doesn't need to be told twice. She rushes to your bedside, her small hands gripping the edge of the mattress. "Miss, are you okay?" she asks, her voice shakes slightly. "Will you be like Sevika?"
The innocence in her question tugs at your heart. You reach out, ignoring the twinge of pain from the movement and the mention of Sevika, to pat her hand. "No, darling," you reply softly. "Sevika is unique. I'll be just fine."
Grayson moves closer, her stern expression softening slightly. "That was brave," she says. "But also very idiotic of you."
You frown at the comment, the words too similar to Sevika’s at the prison.
Vander's voice pulls you from your thoughts. "You gave us quite a scare," he says. "But you're tough. You'll pull through."
Caitlyn nods in agreement. "We've managed to replenish some of our medical supplies thanks to the hospital mission." she informs you.
Vi adds with a smirk, "And don't even think about trying to get up and be a hero again anytime soon."
“Yeah… I wouldn’t dream of it,” you respond hoarsely.
Over the next week, your family comes and goes, their visits being the highlight of your monotonous days. Grayson usually stopped by with Ren, the two were closer than you expected but Marcus had flitted in and out of Ren’s life so often that Grayson stepped up as a parental figure. You offered to take care of the kid while you were still bed-bound, and Grayson only reluctantly agreed when you assured her it wouldn’t obstruct your healing process.
You find yourself sitting up in bed, Ren cross-legged beside you. Math worksheets are spread out between you.
"If an apple cost three dollars and you needed to buy five apples, how much would that cost?"
Ren's brow furrows in concentration. "Um... fifteen dollars?"
You beam at her. "That's right! You're getting good at this."
A knock at the door interrupts your math lesson and Vi pokes her head in, her red hair slightly disheveled.
"Hey, time to get moving," she says with a grin.
You turn to Ren, giving her a warm smile. "Let's do this again tomorrow, sweetie?"
Ren nods enthusiastically, gathering her papers. "Alright! Bye-bye, miss! I hope you feel better!"
As Ren scampers out, Vi approaches, offering her arm for support. You wince as you stand, your body still protesting the movement.
“Easy,” she murmurs, her tone softening as she watches your struggle. “Take it slow.”
You grit your teeth, focusing on her voice, on the feel of her arm supporting you. Slowly, you manage a few steps, each one a little less painful than the last.
“How’s it feel?” Vi asks, keeping pace with you, her gaze never leaving your face.
“Like hell,” you admit with a shaky laugh, though there’s a small sense of victory in the simple act of standing on your own two feet again. “But better than yesterday.”
Vi nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Progress,” she says. “You’re getting stronger.”
As you slowly make your way down the hallway, Vi starts chatting about her day. "You wouldn't believe the shit from yesterday. We were chasing some survivors that tried to steal our shit through an alley, and then Sevika shows up out of nowhere and--"
The moment the words are out, Vi winces, realizing her mistake too late. You feel a sharp pang in your chest at the mention of Sevika's name.
"Uh, anyway, we got the guy in the end.” she says.
“She… was?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.
Vi looks away, guilt flashing in her eyes. “Yeah,” she says softly. “Didn’t mean to bring it up.”
“It’s good,” you say, though the words feel like a lie even as they leave your lips. “It’s good that she caught them.”
Vi nods. “I’m sorry.”
You shake your head, forcing a small smile. “It’s okay. It’s just… I miss her. It’s stupid, we weren’t anything.”
“I know,” she says. “But it’s not stupid.”
There’s a long silence, the kind that’s filled with all the words neither of you know how to say. “If you didn’t have Caitlyn, would you be okay with all of this? Would you be able to live with everything we do?”
She’s quiet for a moment as she considers your words. “Do I have a choice?” she finally says, her voice tinged with a sadness you’ve rarely heard from her. “I have Powder. I have you, Vander… my family. I’d feel incomplete, sure, but I don’t have a choice. I have to keep going.”
“We’ll keep going, together.” She adds.
“Thanks, Vi.” Despite your gratefulness, her words feel like they’re coming from a distance, muffled by the grief you’re still trying to process.
Your family helps you through it all, they talk to you about everything and nothing, filling the silence with stories. The days pass, and slowly, you begin to reclaim small pieces of yourself. You walk more, the physical therapy sessions become less of a struggle and more of a routine.
And each night, when the room is quiet and you’re alone with your thoughts, you think of Sevika. It’s not easy. Some days, the weight of it all feels unbearable, like you’re drowning in a sea of what-ifs and lost chances. But you keep going, step by step, knowing that it’s all you can do.
One evening, after a particularly exhausting session, you lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling as your thoughts drift. You think about Sevika, about the last time you saw her, the pain in her eyes as she walked away. And you wonder if she feels the same weight, if she’s struggling just as much to move on.
You close your eyes, and for a moment, you imagine her here, standing by your side. And as you drift off to sleep, you could swear you hear her voice, soft and broken, whispering in the dark.
“I failed you.”
⁺˚⋆｡°✩
The pantry is filled with the scent of canned goods and the faint rustle of paper bags. You’re focused on stacking cans of beans when your grip falters, and one slips from your fingers.
Before it can hit the ground, a hand darts out and catches it. You look up to see a man with a cocky grin. He’s tall and lean, with slicked-back hair and piercing teal eyes. You don’t know why, but he looked oddly familiar.
“Well, well,” he drawls. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing down here? Are we that understaffed that we’re making the injured work now?”
You snatch the can back from him. “Not that it’s any of your business,” you reply curtly, setting the can back on the shelf, “but I wanted to do this.”
He chuckles, leaning against the shelf with a casual arrogance. “Looks like supplies are running a bit thin,” he comments slyly, his eyes flicking to the half-empty shelves. “Maybe you should take it easy before you use up what little energy we have left.”
You narrow your eyes at him, your patience wearing thin. “I’m not interested in your opinion.”
Before he can retort, the door to the pantry swings open with a loud creak, and Sevika steps inside. The air changes instantly when her gaze zeroes in on the man.
“Finn,” she growls. “What are you doing here?”
Finn straightens up and raises his hands in mock surrender. “Just making sure our friend here isn’t overworking herself,” he says innocently.
“Get lost,” Sevika snaps. “Now.”
With a lazy shrug, Finn backs off, giving you a final, lingering look before sauntering out of the pantry. The door closes behind him, leaving you alone with Sevika.
Sevika turns to you. “I was told you’re working here again,” she says, her voice sharp with disapproval. “Are you stupid? You’re barely healed.”
You bristle at her tone. "I needed to do something."
"Yeah, like babysitting Ren," she snaps. “Not this.”
"Why does it matter what I do?" you challenge, your voice rising.
For a moment, Sevika doesn’t answer, but then her eyes widen.
“You’re bleeding.”
You blink, confused. “What?”
You look down and see a trickle of blood seeping through the bandages on your side. The pain hits you a second later, sharp and burning, but you grit your teeth, refusing to show weakness in front of her.
“It’s nothing,” you say quickly, trying to downplay it. “I can bandage it myself.”
But Sevika is already moving toward you, her expression darkening with worry. “You’re not going back to your place like this,” she mutters. “Come on. My place is closer.”
Before you can protest, she’s already scooping you up into her arms. The world blurs around you as she carries you through the streets and you’re too shocked to resist.
When you reach her place, she sets you down on the edge of her bed, her touch lingering for just a moment longer than necessary before she pulls away.
“Just sit,” she instructs as she moves to grab a first aid kit from a nearby drawer.
“I can do it.”
Sevika shakes her head, her expression set in a way that leaves no room for argument. “I have experience with this,” she says quietly. “Let me.”
You watch in silence as she works. Her hands, usually so strong and rough, are gentle as they press a fresh bandage against your skin. There’s a tenderness in the way she handles you, in the way she refuses to meet your gaze as she focuses on the wound, that makes your chest ache.
Finally, Sevika finishes. She stands, the distance between you growing once more as she busies herself with putting away the first aid kit, her movements stiff and mechanical.
“Thanks.” You want to leave, not to be any more inconvenient than you already were but Sevika replies before you can say anything.
“You should rest,” she says, her voice flat, devoid of the warmth that was there just moments ago. “Don’t push yourself like that again.”
You reluctantly agree to stay and the tension in Sevika's shoulders eases slightly. She mumbles something about bringing dinner later and leaves you to rest.
Left alone, you take in your surroundings. The room is sparse, almost impersonal. Unlike the chaos in the other rooms, this space feels hollow. There are no personal belongings, no knick-knacks, nothing to suggest that she even uses this bed. It's as if the room itself is holding its breath, existing in a state of perpetual temporariness.
Exhaustion soon overtakes you, and you drift off to sleep. But you soon wake again at the sound of muffled voices. Through the haze of half-consciousness, you hear one of Sevika's people inviting her to a party, but she declines.
"Nah, I'm staying in today," you hear her say.
The voices fade, and you slowly wake up, disoriented. You stumble to the doorway of the living room, blinking sleep from your eyes. Sevika is there, dressed in casual clothes – a grey tank top and worn jeans with her hair down, falling in messy waves around her face. She's cleaning up, a pile of bottles in her arms when she notices you.
"You're awake," she says, startled. "Shit, did I wake you up?"
You shake your head, your voice still rough with sleep. "No, you're good... Do you need help with that?"
"No. Fuck, sit down. What are you doing walking around?"
Still groggy, you comply without argument, sinking into the couch. Sevika dumps the bottles in a bag and turns back to you.
"I'm making dinner," she says, washing her hands at the sink. "You're okay with instant noodles and spam?"
The domesticity of the moment catches you off guard. "Sounds delicious," you manage to say.
Sevika nods and turns to the small kitchenette. You watch her move around the space. It's surreal, seeing her like this – relaxed, casual, making dinner for you both. For a moment, you can almost pretend things are different between you.
Sevika settles on the far arm of the couch next to you, the small distance between you both feeling more like a chasm.
"Chopsticks or fork?" she asks, holding out both options.
"Chopsticks," you reply, and a ghost of a smile flickers across her face.
"Good choice," she murmurs, handing them to you.
You eat in comfortable silence, stealing glances at her when you think she's not looking. When you finish, Sevika collects the empty bowls.
"Want dessert?"
"Sure," you nod, watching as she retrieves an apple from the kitchen.
She settles back on the arm of the couch, peeling the apple with a small knife. "How's the physical therapy going?" Sevika asks, breaking the silence.
You shrug. "It's... going. Slow progress, but progress nonetheless."
She nods, placing slices onto a plate. "That's good. Don't push yourself too hard."
"Says the woman who never knows when to quit," you tease gently.
A wry smile tugs at her lips. "Do as I say, not as I do."
As you reach for the last slice, Sevika’s hand brushes your cheek. You freeze, the touch unexpected, and you look up at her, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest.
“There’s an eyelash,” she says softly, her voice gentle as she carefully removes it from your face. She holds it up for you to see, the tiny, delicate lash resting on her fingertip. “Make a wish.”
You stare at the eyelash, your mind racing with all the things you could wish for, should wish for. But the words stick in your throat, and you find yourself frozen, unable to think of anything that could possibly fix what’s been broken.
“Did you wish?”
You shake your head slightly, the corners of your mouth turning up in a sad smile. “I... I didn't get the chance.”
She raises an eyebrow, her gaze piercing as she studies you. “And there’s something you wish for?”
“Yes,” You hesitate, the words coming slowly, painfully, like pulling them from some deep, hidden place inside you. “I was wishing… that we were two other people. Two people who didn’t have to say goodbye.”
The silence that follows is thick, charged with the tension of emotions neither of you can afford to express. Sevika’s expression tightens, her jaw clenching as she absorbs your words.
“You know, if you say it out loud, it doesn’t come true,” she says, her voice rough, like she’s fighting against the vulnerability of the moment.
“Do you believe that?”
She looks down at the eyelash, still resting on her finger, before blowing it away into the air. Her gaze follows it for a moment before she looks back at you. “I don’t know what I believe anymore.”
The words hang in the air, heavy and unmovable, like a finality neither of you can escape.
“We should sleep,” Sevika says finally. “It’s late.”
You nod, knowing she’s right. There’s nothing more to be said, nothing that can change the way things are.
“Thank you,” you say softly.
Sevika looks at you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she nods, just once, and steps back, letting you go. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” you echo, your heart heavy as you turn and walk away.
As you reach the end of the hallway, you glance back, just once. Sevika is still standing in the doorway, watching you, her figure framed by the dim light. There’s something in her posture, something in the way she’s holding herself that makes you think she might be wishing too—wishing for something that neither of you can have.
But then she steps back, closing the door behind her, and you’re left standing in the cold, empty hallway, the echoes of what could have been ringing in your ears.
⁺˚⋆｡°✩
The sun hangs low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the makeshift shooting range. You and Grayson stand side by side, both of you facing a row of targets at the far end of the field. You’ve been practicing your aim for a while now, but your focus has been off, your shots missing the mark more often than not.
“You haven’t said anything about my shit shot,” you mutter, glancing sideways at Grayson, expecting some form of criticism.
She shrugs, her eyes on the distant targets. "You're injured. Why would I?"
You snort. "Liar. Weeks ago, you'd have torn me apart. What's different now?"
Grayson doesn't answer, instead gesturing to a nearby bench overlooking the community below. You follow her, settling onto the worn wood with a sigh.The elevated view makes the world seem vast and small all at once.
Grayson passes you a canteen, and you take a long drink before speaking again. "You snitched to Sevika about me working."
Grayson raises an eyebrow. "Snitching? Are we ten?"
"She didn't need to know," you mutter, avoiding her gaze.
"You were going hurt yourself," Grayson says softly. "And you needed to see her. For closure, at least."
You fall silent, not wanting to delve into the complicated mess of emotions surrounding Sevika. Instead, you change the subject. "How's Ren?"
“Ren’s sleeping in today. She’s been up late these past few nights, working on that puzzle I gave her.” Grayson’s face immediately brightens at the mention of Ren.
“She’s got that stubborn streak. Wonder where she gets it.”
“Must be the company she keeps,” Grayson replies, her voice laced with affection. “Marcus is at the walls today, keeping an eye on things. It’s been quiet, for the most part.”
You nod, your gaze drifting back to the field. “It’s strange, isn’t it?” you muse. “Every day is the same. We do the same things, see the same faces… What makes it worth living?”
Grayson leans back on the bench, her eyes scanning the horizon as she considers her answer. “You make your own reasons,” she says finally, her tone thoughtful. “For me, it’s taking care of Ren. Making sure she has something to hold onto, something good in this world.”
There’s a pause, and you can tell Grayson is choosing her words carefully. “I never thought of myself as the maternal type,” she continues, sounding almost wistful. “But with Ren… It’s different. She’s taught me more about love than I ever knew. In whatever time I got left here, I want to continue it with her, to see her grow up and prove there’s still something more for us here.”
You feel a pang in your chest, suddenly remembering Sevika and her belief that there would never be enough time for the two of you. But where Grayson found strength in loving deeply despite that, Sevika chose to close herself off, to protect herself from the inevitable pain.
Grayson looks at you, her eyes filled with a quiet understanding. “Sometimes, the hardest thing is to keep loving, even when you know it won’t last. But that’s what makes it worth it. Knowing that you made the most of the time you had, that you loved fully, even if it hurts in the end.”
Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, the truth of them resonating with a painful clarity.
“It’s hard,” you admit, your voice barely audible. “When you know it’s not going to last.”
Grayson nods, her expression gentle. “It is. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth it. You have to find your own reason to keep going, to keep loving, even when it seems like everything is falling apart.”
The conversation settles into a quiet lull, the words lingering between you as the sun dips lower in the sky. You take another sip from the flask, the burn of the alcohol doing little to numb the ache in your chest.
“You’re always looking out for us, making sure we’re okay.” you say after a moment, your voice tinged with admiration.
“I’m satisfied – knowing that I’ve done what I can to make this place a little better, to take care of the people who matter.”
“Thank you,” you say softly, the words carrying more weight than you intended. “For everything.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” she replies gently. “We’re all in this together. And besides,” she adds with a small, teasing smile, “someone has to keep you in line.”
You chuckle, the sound lightening the heavy atmosphere just a bit.
But the peaceful moment on the hill was brief, the tranquility shattered by the sound of rapid footsteps and panicked crying. You and Grayson turn to see Ren running towards you, her face streaked with tears and her small body shaking with sobs.
Grayson immediately drops to her knees, catching Ren in her arms. "What happened, sweetheart?" she asks, her voice calm but laced with urgency.
Ren tries to speak through her tears, her words coming out in broken gasps. "Daddy said... we were going on a trip... but the monsters... they blocked us and he couldn’t close the gate... now they're coming to get us!"
As if on cue, screams erupt from the direction of the community. You and Grayson exchange a quick glance, both reaching for your weapons without hesitation.
Ren clings to Grayson's yellow armband, her eyes wide with terror. "I want to go with you!" she cries.
Grayson cups Ren's face gently, her voice soft but firm. "Darling, listen to me. I will come back, I promise. But right now, you need to get to safety. Can you be brave for me?"
Ren nods, her lower lip trembling. You know without words what needs to be done - get everyone to safety.
You both sprint down the hill, Grayson carrying Ren. As you near the community, the chaos becomes more apparent. Gunshots ring out, mixing with screams of panic and pain. People are running in all directions, fear etched on their faces.
Vi appears beside you, her red hair wild and her eyes blazing. "We're seriously underarmed right now!" she shouts over the noise. "Sevika's crew is out!"
"We have to make do," you yell back, scanning the area. You spot Caitlyn and a few others on the walls, their snipers picking off threats in the distance.
You, Vi, and the handful of armed residents form a protective line, herding panicked civilians towards their homes. "Get inside! Lock your doors!" you shout, your voice hoarse from the effort.
Children cry for their parents, the elderly struggle to move quickly enough. You see a young mother stumble, her baby wailing in her arms. You rush to her side, helping her to her feet and guiding her to safety.
Everywhere you look, there's movement – people running, fighting, falling.
The air is thick with the stench of death and the deafening cacophony of gunfire. You're shoulder to shoulder with VI, both of you firing relentlessly at the endless wave of walkers. Sweat stings your eyes as you shout, "Vi! On your left!"
She pivots, taking down three walkers in quick succession. But for every one you drop, two more seem to take its place. The situation is rapidly spiraling out of control, and a sinking feeling in your gut tells you you're fighting a losing battle.
But suddenly, powerful headlights cut through the darkness as a convoy of trucks roars onto the scene. Your heart leaps – you'd recognize that cavalry anywhere.
As if materializing from thin air, more trucks appear, effortlessly mowing down walkers and clearing streets. One screeches to a halt in front of you, and then there she is.
A familiar figure vaults from the truck bed – Sevika, her red shawl billowing behind her. She swiftly unslings a shotgun from her back and starts blasting walkers left and right. Her face is composed, every feature carefully controlled, but when her eyes find yours, a fleeting shadow passes over them—a trace of fear and concern.
"You okay?" she shouts over the din, closing the distance between you.
You nod, breathless. "A lot are injured. I don't know, there's too many – I think they're coming from the west gate. Ren said something about Marcus not being able to close it."
Sevika's jaw tightens. She yanks out a radio, barking orders to dispatch teams to the west gate. In seconds, she's handing out weapons, her voice ringing with authority. "Split up! I want a team grabbing as many injured as possible. Anyone bitten, take them out."
As you move to join the fray, Sevika's hand clamps on your arm. "No," she growls. "What the hell are you doing? Get to safety with the others. You're still injured."
"Fine," you concede. "But I'm finding Grayson first."
Sevika gives a curt nod before sprinting back into action. You catch a glimpse of Vi, her red hair unmistakable as she leaps into a truck bed.
You weave through the chaos, dodging walkers and searching for Grayson. Gunfire echoes off buildings, punctuated by the revving of engines and the sounds of walkers being dispatched.
A scream to your left – you spin, firing instinctively. A walker drops, inches from a couple. You quickly wave to them to follow and you sprint to the safe house together. Your leg protests, but adrenaline keeps you moving.
Your heart pounds as you finally spot Grayson, but she's going the opposite direction.
"Grayson!" you shout. "Sevika and her team are here. We need to get everyone to safety!"
She doesn't slow down. "There's someone stuck in a car!"
That's when you see it - a vehicle surrounded by a writhing mass of walkers, their decaying hands clawing at the windows. Inside, you catch a glimpse of a terrified face.
Without hesitation, you sprint after Grayson. The two of you work in tandem, picking off walkers. When you reach the car, Grayson covers you as you wrench the door open. A young boy, no older than seven, practically leaps into her arms.
"We've got to move!" Grayson shouts.
You guys run, the child clinging to her as you lead the way. You’re clearing the path, and you’re halfway to the safehouse when you hear the dreaded click of an empty chamber.
"I'm out!" you yell.
Grayson turns, her eyes flashing with a decision you can see forming before she even speaks. "Take the kid. Go!"
"Wait, we can make it together!"
She shakes her head, placing the boy into your arms. "Sevika's crew is here, remember? I'll be okay. Get everyone to safety!"
Before you can protest, she's shoving you toward safety, using her body as a shield for the child. You run, every step feeling like a betrayal, but knowing you have to trust her.
You make it to a house, handing off the child to waiting arms. Your lungs burn as you gasp for air, eyes scanning the chaos for any sign of Grayson.
Suddenly, Sevika's there, her face smeared with grime and blood but her eyes alight with fierce triumph. "We closed the gate. Got them all."
Relief floods you for a moment, but then reality crashes back. "Wait, where's Grayson?"
Confusion flickers across Sevika's face, but before she can respond, a heart-wrenching wail cuts through the air. You both rush outside, joining a growing crowd.
The scene that greets you turns your blood to ice. Caitlyn is on the ground, her body wracked with sobs. Vi kneels beside her, arms wrapped around her shaking form. "I couldn't save her," Caitlyn chokes out between gasps. "I couldn't shoot them fast enough."
Her sniper lies discarded in the dirt, and that's when you see her. Grayson.
The world seems to tilt on its axis. You stumble forward, unable to process what you're seeing. Grayson, who was just beside you moments ago. Grayson, who sacrificed herself to save a child. Grayson, whose quiet strength held your community together.
She now lies on the ground, her body wracked with violent coughs, blood staining her lips. Her breaths had grown shallow, each one more of a struggle than the last, and when she reached for Sevika’s hand, you knew what she was asking for. Sevika’s fingers trembled as she grasped Grayson’s hand, and when Grayson whispered, “Do it,” you saw a flash of something break inside Sevika.
She obeyed.
The gunshot echoed in your ears, louder than the chaos around you, but it was the sight of Sevika gently closing Grayson’s eyes that broke you. Sevika had always been unbreakable, she seemed immune to the horrors of this world. But as she knelt beside Grayson, you saw the cracks forming. She closed Grayson’s eyes, her hand trembling just for a second before she stood up, towering over the body like a stone sentinel.
You could barely breathe, the grief suffocating you, making it impossible to think about anything other than how many bodies that needs burying tomorrow. How many families would be broken by the news? How many children would cry for family and friends who would never come home?
“Grayson?” Ren’s voice was barely a whisper, filled with innocence and confusion. The kid was supposed to be inside the safe house but instead, she stood there, eyes wide and uncomprehending, staring at the lifeless form on the ground. “Why is Grayson sleeping? Tell her to wake up… We won, didn’t we?”
You wanted to tell her something—anything—but the words choked in your throat. Ren dropped to her knees beside Grayson, her tiny hands shaking as they touched the cold, lifeless body.
Sevika finally moved, her expression unreadable, her walls up higher than ever. Without a word, she reached into her pocket and pulled out Grayson’s yellow band. She knelt down, her massive frame suddenly so small beside Ren, and gently placed the band in the child’s trembling hands.
Ren looked up at Sevika, eyes full of questions. But before anything could be said, Silco emerged from the shadows, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous intensity. He was flanked by his men, their faces grim and cold, and at the center of it all was Marcus.
He was barely recognizable—his face a mangled mess of bruises and blood. He was dragged forward, forced to his knees in the dirt where Grayson had fallen. The sight of him brought Sevika to her feet, her fists clenched tight. You could see the battle raging inside her, the desire to end him right then and there, but she held back.
"Look at him," he began, his tone soft, almost conversational, as if he were discussing something trivial. "A man who betrayed the very community that kept him protected him fed and protected. Who left nothing but the ashes of his own cowardice."
He walked slowly around Marcus, like a predator circling its prey. "This is the price of betrayal, the cost of thinking you can stand in the way of what must be done. You all know him," Silco continued, addressing the crowd that had gathered, their eyes fixed on the broken man at his feet. "You know his face, his uniform, his lies. But you must also know this: in a world where there are no second chances, there are no second thoughts."
Silco’s voice grew harder, colder, as he leaned down close to Marcus’s ear. "Your cowardice, your betrayal, a mistake that cost how many lives today? And now, you will pay the price for that."
The words hung in the air, heavy and final, and Marcus’s body shuddered, knowing what was coming. Silco straightened, his eyes scanning the crowd. "Let this be a lesson to all who would think to cross us, to cross me. There is no forgiveness in this world, only retribution."
You don’t know what happened next, because you’re taking Ren into your arms and you’re moving – away from the crowd, away from the punishment that you know her father will face.
Ren clings to you, burying her face in your chest, and you hold her close, wishing you could shield her from all of this. "What’s happening to Daddy?" she asks, her voice muffled by your shirt. "And Grayson?"
You didn’t have an answer. The only thing you could do was hold her tighter, trying to block out the screams, the fire, the blood.
Time passes, the night dragging on in a blur of grief. Inside the house, the silence was deafening. You had scrubbed the blood from Ren’s skin, but it still lingered in the air, the scent of death refusing to leave. Grayson’s face kept flashing before your eyes, her last breath, her last words, the way her body crumpled in Sevika’s arms.
And now, as you stared out the window, you saw them—Silco’s men, forming a straight, omnious line as they marched out into the night. At the center of it all was a giant wooden cross, and tied to it was Marcus. His head hung low, his body limp, but he was still alive.
Your breath caught in your throat when Sevika looked up at the window. For a moment, your eyes locked, and you saw nothing in her gaze but a cold, empty challenge. The Sevika you knew wasn’t there, but replaced by someone who had buried whatever was left of her soul beneath layers of survival and duty. She turns away, breaking the gaze as she climbed into the backseat of a vehicle. You watch as the trucks disappeared into the night until the only thing you could see was the small form of the cross.
The night presses in around you, heavy with loss, and you wonder if anything would ever feel whole again.
"This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong // To love that well which thou must leave ere long." -William Shakespeare (Sonnet 73)
PART III: WE THOUGHT LOVE WAS SOMETHING
zombie apocalypse sevika x reader au!: sevika was the super soldier; a killing machine driven solely by survival. you were nomadic, constantly searching for something in whatever was left of the world—till you met her.
series masterpost: part I // part II // part IV // part V
wc: 6.1k
cw: brief mentions of alcoholism, violence
author's note: ngl this just might be my favorite chapter so far, holy shit! thank you to all the lovely comments last chapter, you guys are srsly so sweet <3
Strings of twinkling lights crisscross overhead, swaying gently in the evening breeze. The air is filled with the mingling scents of grilled food and the earthy aroma of a crackling campfire.
It's a birthday party for Marcus's daughter, Ren, and the yard is alive with celebration. Sitting on mismatched chairs, adults chat animatedly with drinks in hand. Children dart between the adults' legs, their excited shrieks filling the air as they run around.
You can't help but notice Marcus's absence, and you wonder if he's working late or planning to surprise his daughter by showing up later. It's odd for him to miss such an important event, but you push the thought aside, focusing on the joyful atmosphere around you.
A group of kids approaches you, pulling you out of your reverie.
"Hey, lady! Wanna play Marco Polo with us?" one of them asks.
"Sure," You turn to Powder and Ekko, who are lounging nearby. "You two want to join?"
Powder rolls her eyes dramatically. "I'm too old for that," she declares, trying to sound mature.
You shrug and follow the kids to an open area of the yard. "Marco!" you call out, closing your eyes.
"Polo!" comes the chorus of giggly responses.
As you start to move, arms outstretched, you hear Powder’s voice again. "Wait, no! We want to join now!"
You chuckle to yourself as you hear Powder and Ekko scrambling to join the game. The yard fills with shouts of "Marco!" and "Polo!" as you navigate blindly through the space, guided only by sound and the occasional brush of a fleeing child against your fingertips.
Suddenly, your hands make contact with fabric. You grin triumphantly, sure you've caught one of the kids. But as laughter erupts around you, you open your eyes to find yourself face-to-face with Sevika. Ren, peeks out from behind her, giggling uncontrollably.
Sevika raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. "Ready to join the adults yet?"
You feel a blush creeping up your neck. “I was in the middle of winning a game.”
Sevika shakes her head in amusement and hands you a plate of food. "You know, you're not a babysitter. Let the kids have fun by themselves."
You take the plate, shrugging. "I know, but I don't mind."
"Ah, right. You like to hang out with people of the same maturity level as you." Sevika teases.
Before you can reply, a commotion erupts near the gate and both of you turn sharply to the source.
Grayson and Marcus have appeared, clearly amid a heated argument. Marcus's face is flushed, his movements erratic – clear signs of intoxication. Grayson stands firm, her posture rigid, and seems to be seething with barely contained anger.
A small voice pipes up beside you. "What's happening?" Ren peeks out, her eyes wide with confusion.
Instinctively, you move to shield her, gently guiding her behind you. "It's nothing, sweetie," you say, trying to keep your voice calm and reassuring.
But it's too late. Marcus catches sight of Ren, and his demeanor changes instantly. He shoves past Grayson, nearly knocking her over in his haste to reach his daughter. "Daddy's here!" he calls out, his voice too loud, too desperate. "Daddy didn't forget!"
Sevika moves swiftly, positioning herself protectively in front of you and Ren. Marcus stumbles to a stop before Sevika, his bloodshot eyes darting between her and his daughter. "How dare you," he slurs, turning back to Grayson. "You've gone too far now. This is my family!"
Grayson's voice is steel as she responds, "You lost the privilege of being a father when you became too drunk to do anything. The only reason why I'm still employing you is for the sake of your own daughter.”
His face immediately contorts with rage. "How fucking dare you," he roars. "You think you know everything? You can't even hold this place together!”
“You people think you are safe? Cause what, we have showers? Look at your pathetic captains, my wife has one fucking mission with you,” Marcus stabs a finger into Sevika’s chest and you expect her to retaliate but she stands still as a statue, “Because of you... she’s gone.”
The accusation hangs in the air and Sevika goes very still beside you, her expression unreadable but her fists are clenched so tight you’re worried she’ll bleed.
But Marcus isn't finished. His voice drops to a venomous hiss. "Fuck you. Fuck this place." He pushes past Sevika, reaching for Ren. "Come on, sweetie. We're leaving."
You instinctively tighten your hold on Ren as she looks up at you, her face questioning and so innocent about the situation. You want to protect her, to keep her from this mess, but you can’t and he scoops her up from your grasp.
As Marcus stomps off and the backyard falls into an uncomfortable silence, the cheerful lights now seem garish. You look at Sevika, there’s a tightness around her eyes and her jaw is clenched hard enough for a vein to be visible. Grayson approaches, her face a mask of controlled anger and regret, and she puts a reassuring hand on Sevika. The two share a silent look that is full of meaning.
"I'm sorry you all had to see that," Grayson says, addressing the stunned partygoers. "Please, try to enjoy the rest of the evening."
But the damage is done. The carefree atmosphere of earlier has evaporated, replaced by a heavy, oppressive tension. That night you couldn’t sleep, your mind kept wondering about the true cost of keeping Zaun safe and the toll it takes on those sworn to protect it.
Months ago if you told pre-Zaun you that you would care this much for the woman who was practically going to leave you as walker bait in the drug store, you would’ve thought you had gone insane. But somehow, Sevika had snuck into your thoughts and made residence there.
The garage door creaks as you push it open, letting in a sliver of sunlight. The air inside is thick with the scent of motor oil and metal. Sevika’s hunched over her workbench, her back to you, the whir of her bionic arm the only sound breaking the heavy silence.
You hesitate in the doorway, remembering Marcus's cruel words from yesterday. The pain in Sevika's eyes, quickly masked, had been unmistakable.
"Hey," you say softly. "Everything okay?"
Sevika doesn't turn around, her shoulders tensing slightly at your voice. It's clear she's not in a talking mood, but you can't bring yourself to leave her alone like this.
"Fine," she grunts, reaching for a wrench.
You lean against the wall, watching her work. The silence stretches between you. After a few minutes, you decide to try a different approach.
"So," you begin, injecting a note of cheerfulness into your voice, "got anything to do?"
Sevika pauses, then turns to look at you, an eyebrow raised. "You're that excited already, rookie? Haven't you been on five or six missions now?"
You grin, relieved to see a hint of her usual self. "Six, actually," you reply, then quickly add, "But who's counting?"
A ghost of a smile flickers across Sevika's face. She gestures to the motorcycle beside her. "Well, if you're so eager, you can help me with this. Make yourself useful."
You push off the wall, moving to her side. "What do you need me to do?"
You might not be able to relieve the damage from yesterday, but maybe you can help her focus on something else, even if just for a little while.
"Why are you so excited to get out there anyway?" Sevika asks as you work together. "There's nothing to see but walkers."
You shrug, searching for the right words. "I don't know... there isn't much left out there, but it makes me feel like I'm not in a snow globe, you know?"
Sevika pauses, looking at you with confusion.
"I feel safe but it’s just… not real? I want to be on the other side sometimes too. It's selfish 'cause we've got things so good here, but that was our world too, even if we lost it."
Sevika stares at you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, unexpectedly, her face softens. "I'm having a scout sent out today. Perhaps we can do our own scouting too."
Your eyes widen. "Really?"
"Yes," she nods, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "We need to expand our territory anyway. But first, help me with this. We won't be going anywhere if I can't finish this within the next hour."
"Got it, boss!" you say eagerly, reaching for a nearby tool.
Sevika rolls her eyes.
"How about 'captain' instead?"
She tries to look unamused, but you can see she's fighting a smile. "Suck up."
You saluted. "Yes, ma’am!"
"Smartass," Sevika replies flatly, but there’s a playfulness in her tone. "Now, less talking, more wrenching."
⁺˚⋆｡°✩
"Hell no."
Sevika, straddling her newly repaired motorcycle, looks at you like you've sprouted a second head.
"What?" she asks, confusion evident in her voice.
You stand outside your house, arms crossed, eyeing the bike with undisguised suspicion. "Are you crazy? I'm not getting on that death trap – when you said you'd pick me up after you changed, I thought you meant with a car!”
Sevika rolls her eyes. "Why do you think we spent so long fixing this bike?"
"Nope. Nuh-uh. Not happening," you insist, shaking your head vigorously.
"What? You can go out there and face walkers, but not ride this thing?"
"Walkers don't get you into crashes!" you retort, your voice rising an octave.
Sevika sighs dramatically, holding out a helmet. "Just get on. I promise you won't fall off."
Grumbling, you take the helmet and reluctantly swing your leg over the bike. "What makes you so sure?" you mutter.
"Because of this," she says, grabbing your arms and wrapping them tightly around her abdomen. You can feel her muscles flexing beneath your fingers, and suddenly your mouth goes dry.
Before you can process what's happening, Sevika kicks the bike to life. The engine roars, and you let out a shriek as she peels out of the driveway.
"What the fu–" Your expletive is cut short as you zoom down the street, the wind whipping past you.
You spot Grayson on the wall, grinning widely as she signals for the gate to be opened. "Have fun, ladies!" she shouts as you approach.
"Grayson!" you yell, but your voice is lost in the wind.
Sevika glances back, noticing your tightly shut eyes. "Open them!" she shouts over the engine's roar.
Reluctantly, you peek one eye open, then the other. The world rushes by in a blur of color and motion.
"I hate you!" you yell at Sevika, but you can't keep the laughter out of your voice.
She responds by revving the engine, speeding up as you clear the gate. "No, you don't!" she calls back, the wind carrying her words to you.
As much as you want to deny it, the scenery rushing past you is stunning. Lush greenery blurs into a vibrant tapestry, the sun's warm rays dancing across the landscape. The wind whips through your hair, carrying the scent of pine and wildflowers.
You catch Sevika's reflection in the side mirror. Her expression is one of pure contentment, as if riding this bike along the winding country road is where she truly belongs.
"You like it?" Sevika calls over her shoulder, a knowing tone in her voice.
"Maybe," you admit reluctantly. "Not too bad."
You can hear the smirk in her voice as she replies, "Well, I've got something to show you that might change your mind."
Your curiosity piques. "We're doing something else besides scouting?"
Instead of answering, Sevika begins to ascend a steep hill. The bike's engine roars with effort, and you instinctively tighten your grip around her waist, afraid you might slip off. The muscles in her abdomen tense under your hands, steady and reassuring.
"Look over," Sevika instructs as you climb higher.
"What?! Are you crazy?" you yelp, clinging tighter.
"Come on, rookie. Trust me," she insists.
For reasons you can't quite explain, you do trust her. Swallowing your fear, you turn your head to look over the edge of the road.
The view takes your breath away. A vast expanse of forest stretches out below you, a sea of green dotted with splashes of colorful wildflowers. In the distance, you can make out a winding river, its waters glittering in the sunlight like a ribbon of diamonds.
"Whoa..." you breathe, unable to form a more coherent response.
As you reach the top of the hill, Sevika brings the bike to a stop in a clear area that juts out like a natural balcony. From here, you can see for miles in every direction. Rolling hills give way to distant mountains, their peaks shrouded in a light mist. Birds soar on updrafts, their calls carried to you on the breeze.
You dismount the bike on shaky legs, your eyes never leaving the breathtaking panorama before you. The world feels impossibly vast and achingly beautiful from up here, a reminder of what still exists beyond the walls of Zaun.
"Worth the ride?" she asks.
You nod, unable to find words that could do justice to the moment.
The silence between you is comfortable as you both lean against the motorcycle, its metal still warm from the ride. The vast expanse of the world stretches out before you, a breathtaking canvas of oranges, pinks, and purples as the sun dips below the horizon. Sevika's gaze is distant, lost in memories you can only imagine.
"This spot... it's special to me. I came here when Zaun was first established."
You turn to look at her, surprised by the admission. She continues, "I understand what you meant earlier. About feeling safe in Zaun, about missing this." She gestures to the expansive view. "The freedom to just... exist out here."
You nod, encouraging her to go on.
"I also came here after..." she pauses, swallowing hard. "After Marcus's wife died. I was so close to saving her. I promised I'd bring her home." Her voice cracks slightly. "But I couldn't. Not alive."
The pain in her voice makes your heart ache. "It wasn't your fault," you say gently.
She turns to you, her eyes fierce. "I'm the captain. Every death is my responsibility. They trust me, they're my people."
You feel a surge of protectiveness. "But who takes responsibility for you? For your sacrifices?"
Sevika falls silent, considering your words. When she speaks again, her tone is delicate. "Every time you go out there, don't you think it could be your last?"
The question catches you off guard. "I do," you admit. "Every single time."
She moves then, positioning herself in front of you. Her hands rest on the bike beside you, her body close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from her. Her eyes search yours, intense and questioning.
"Then why?" she asks. "Why keep risking everything?"
You swallow hard, acutely aware of her proximity. "Because it's worth it," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Because out there, I feel alive. Because someone has to, and if not me, then who?"
For a moment, the world seems to shrink down to just the two of you, the dying light of the sun shining a golden haze on her face.
This close, you can see every detail – the faint lines around her eyes, the determined set of her jaw. Your gaze lingers on the scar that runs across her cheek. You resist the urge to reach out and trace it, to ask about its story.
Sevika’s gaze locks with yours, her voice dropping to a whisper, rough around the edges but laced with something achingly tender. "You make me want things I’m not sure I deserve."
Sevika’s hands hover near your body, fingers trembling slightly as if they’re unsure whether to close the distance or retreat. You see the conflict in her eyes—Every inch she moves closer feels like a dance of tentative steps.
You swallow, the intensity of her words wrapping around your heart. The raw honesty in her voice leaves you breathless, but you manage to find your own, soft and steady.
“Then let me show you.”
Without thinking, you take the first step for both of you. You gently cup her face in your hands, your thumbs brushing over her cheekbones. Your touch is tender, and your fingertips graze the rough texture of her scar. You can feel her breath hitch, a mix of surprise and anticipation.
For a split second, you feel her resist, a remnant of her walls trying to hold firm. But then she melts into you, her body softening as if surrendering to a battle she’s tired of fighting.
Her right hand comes up to cradle the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair, while her bionic hand settles on your waist, pulling you closer. The kiss is soft, almost hesitant at first, an uncertain exploration of new territory. But as the seconds stretch, it deepens, a slow dance of lips and breath.
When you finally part, both slightly breathless, you rest your forehead against hers. Sevika's eyes remain closed while her thumb strokes softly along your jawline as if she's trying to memorize the feel of you.
"I didn't think..." she starts, unsure of what she can, or even what to say.
You brush your lips against her cheek, feeling the raised line of her scar. "You deserve this, Sevika," you murmur against her skin. "You deserve everything."
⁺˚⋆｡°✩
The sun was blazing hot, its heat beating down on the training area Grayson set up in one of Zaun's less crowded areas.
"Remember," you say, adjusting Ren's grip gently, "It's not about strength. It's about precision and control."
Ren nods, and the other kids follow her steps with some additional adjustments from Grayson and Caitlyn.
You're about to move on to the next lesson when you notice one of Sevika's men approaching. Your heart does a little flip in your chest, but it comes to a stutter when you realize it's not Sevika herself.
"Got a mission for you tomorrow," he says gruffly. "Captain says to be ready at first light."
"Thanks," you reply, trying to keep your voice neutral. As he walks away, you can't help the twinge of hurt that settles in your chest. Sevika didn't come to tell you herself.
You shake your head, chiding yourself internally. She's busy. She's the captain. Why would you expect her to personally deliver every mission briefing?
Yet your mind still wandered to the kiss from a few days ago. The ride back to Zaun had been quiet, but not uncomfortably so. You had attributed it to both of you processing what had happened.
But then... nothing.
Since that evening, you haven't exchanged a single word with Sevika. A day turned into days and the silence began to feel deliberate.
You've caught glimpses of her – a flash of that distinctive silhouette disappearing around a corner, the echo of her voice giving orders from a distance. But every time you've tried to approach, she's been gone before you could reach her.
"Are you okay? You look sad." You're pulled from your thoughts by Ren's voice.
Forcing a smile, you turn your attention back to the lesson. "I’m all good! Just thinking, how about we work on our stances?"
Both Grayson and Caitlyn share a knowing look at your response.
“How about we take over? You have to be up early tomorrow.” Caitlyn offers.
You were reluctant, but you agreed, mostly because you knew you needed it and because you couldn’t handle the questioning looks the two women kept sending you.
You're grateful for Caitlyn's insistence that you rest early the night before – the extra sleep has left you feeling sharper, and more alert. As you approach the gathered group, your breath catches in your throat. There's Sevika, leaning against one of the vehicles. She's dressed in military-style cargo, paired with a black tank top that exposes her toned arms, something she wears normally but you find that your body reacts even more so to her now.
Your heart races as you draw nearer, but before you can even think about approaching her, Sevika climbs into the front seat of the lead vehicle. You swallow your disappointment and resign yourself to riding in the back of the truck with the rest of the team.
The journey is tense and quiet, everyone is lost in their own thoughts about the mission ahead. As the prison comes into view, you're struck by how eerily calm it appears. The high concrete walls are still intact, crowned with coils of razor wire that glint in the morning light.
The decision to split into smaller groups is made quickly, you were paired with Sevika but your excitement was short-lived when you saw the tense look on her face.
The massive iron gates groan as you push them open, the sound echoing ominously through the empty prison yard. The concrete beneath your feet is cracked with tufts of weeds pushing through.
Inside, the prison is a maze of long corridors and shadowy corners. The air is stale and heavy with the musty scent of abandonment. As you move deeper into the facility, the lack of walkers becomes increasingly unsettling. You exchange a worried glance with Sevika, both of you on high alert.
Suddenly, a shuffling sound echoes from an adjoining hallway. Without a word, you and Sevika fall into formation.
The first walker stumbles into view, followed closely by two more. Sevika moves with lightning speed, pinning one against the wall with her bionic arm. In a fluid motion, she drives her knife into its skull, the blade sinking in with a sickening crunch.
You dispatch the second walker with a swift kick to the knee, bringing it down before finishing it off with your own blade. The third lunges at you, but Sevika is there in an instant, her strong arms wrapping around its torso and slamming it against the wall. Your knife finds its mark, and the walker slumps to the ground.
You turn to Sevika, hoping to catch her eye, to maybe finally break the silence between you. But she's already moving forward, her eyes scanning the shadows for more threats.
With a silent sigh, you fall in step behind her. The tension between you becomes almost unbearable.
And finally, you can't take it anymore.
"Sevika," you start. "We need to talk about what happened. About the kiss."
You see her shoulders stiffen, but she doesn't stop moving. "This isn't the time," she says, her voice clipped.
"Then when is?" you press, frustration seeping into your tone. "You've been avoiding me for days."
Sevika sighs, turning to face you. "Look, it was... it was a moment. We were caught up in–"
Her words are cut off as you both enter a large, open area – the prison's leisure room. Rows of cells line the upper levels, and old, battered furniture is scattered across the floor. Before you can respond to Sevika, there's a loud bang behind you.
You both whirl around to see the heavy metal door swing shut. Sevika rushes to it, pulling at the handle. "What the fuck? Who the fuck did that?!"
You join her, both of you straining against the door, but it won't budge.
Then you hear it – a low, guttural groan that sends chills down your spine. You turn slowly, your blood running cold at the sight before you.
Descending the stairs is a massive figure, easily seven feet tall and built like a tank. He's decked out in makeshift armor cobbled together from prison riot gear. In his hands, he wields an enormous sledgehammer that looks like it could crush a skull with one swing.
"Shit," Sevika hisses, drawing her knife. You do the same, but your weapons suddenly feel woefully inadequate.
The behemoth charges with surprising speed. You and Sevika dive in opposite directions, barely avoiding the hammer as it crashes into the ground where you are standing. You roll to your feet, darting in to slash at the giant's legs, but your blade skitters off his armored shins. Sevika tries for a higher target, leaping onto a nearby table to gain height, but the monster swings his hammer in a wide arc, forcing her to jump back.
"We need to get that hammer away from him," you shout, ducking under another wild swing.
Sevika nods, her eyes scanning the room for anything you can use. "On three, throw your knife at his face. Aim for the eyes."
You count down together, then launch your knives simultaneously. The blades whistle through the air, but at the last second, the giant raises his arm, and your knives embed themselves harmlessly in his padded forearm.
"Fuck!" you curse, now completely unarmed. "What the hell is this guy? Is he a walker?"
Sevika shakes her head, narrowly avoiding another hammer swing. "I don't think so. I've heard about survivors getting all drugged up, ending up just like them. Mindless, but stronger."
As the behemoth charges again, you and Sevika split up, desperately searching for anything you can use as a weapon. Your eyes dart around the room, scanning the debris-strewn floor for something, anything that could give you an edge.
"There!" Sevika shouts, lunging for a mop propped against the wall. But before her fingers can close around it, the giant's massive form slams into her. The impact sends her flying, her back crashing hard against the concrete wall. You hear the air rush out of her lungs as she crumples to the floor.
"Sevika!" you cry out, your heart in your throat. She's trying to roll away, but her movements are sluggish, stunned by the brutal hit.
The monster looms over her, raising his sledgehammer for a killing blow. Time seems to slow down. You don't think, you just move.
With every ounce of strength you have, you launch yourself forward, shoving Sevika out of the way. For a split second, you lock eyes with her, seeing shock and something else – hurt, maybe? – in her gaze.
Then the world explodes in pain.
The sledgehammer connects with your leg, and you hear the sickening crunch of bone before you feel it. A scream tears from your throat, raw and agonizing. The pain is all-consuming, white-hot, and blinding. Your vision swims, dark spots dancing at the edges as your body tries to process the trauma.
You force your eyes open, fighting against the waves of pain. Sevika is on her feet, and the transformation is terrifying. Gone is any trace of the woman you kissed on that clifftop. In her place is a cold, merciless killing machine.
Her eyes, usually so expressive, are now flat and dead. Her face is a mask of fury, lips pulled back in a snarl. In one smooth motion, Sevika snatches up the broken mop. She doesn't hesitate, doesn't strategize. She attacks.
The two halves of the mop become dual weapons in her hands. She drives one splintered end deep into the giant's thigh, using her bionic arm to force it through the armor padding. Before he can react, she's already spinning, jamming the other half into the gap between his helmet and chest plate.
The behemoth staggers, caught off guard by the ferocity of her assault. But Sevika doesn't let up. She's a whirlwind of violence, striking again and again.
You try to move, to help somehow, but even the slightest shift sends fresh waves of agony through your broken leg. You can feel the bone grinding, sickeningly out of place.
The giant finally falters under her onslaught, his steps are laggard and his grip on the weapon wavering. With a snarl, she wrenches the hammer from his grasp.
The man’s eyes widened in realization, but it was too late. Sevika shoved him back, the force of the blow sending him crashing to the ground. He tried to rise, but Sevika was relentless. She raised the sledgehammer high above her head, her muscles straining as she brought it down with all her might. The sickening crunch that followed was final, the man’s head caving in under the weight of the blow.
For a moment, the world went silent, the only sound was the ragged breaths escaping Sevika’s lips. The hammer is still clenched in her fists and blood splattered across her face – his or hers, you can't tell.
Sevika stands over him, chest heaving. For a heartbeat, she's still that cold-eyed killer. Then she turns to you, and you watch the ice in her gaze melt into concern.
"Can you move?" she asks, her voice hoarse as she rushes to your side.
You grit your teeth, trying to shift, but the pain nearly blinds you. "No," you manage to gasp out. "I think... I think it's broken pretty badly."
Sevika's eyes scan your broken leg. "We need to stabilize it," you say through gritted teeth, reaching for a nearby stick. "I just tie this to keep it straight and–"
"No," Sevika cuts you off, her voice firm but gentle. "I've got you." She immediately tears off a piece of her shirt like it was paper and ties the stick to your leg to keep it straight. You hiss in pain as she tightens it, and her eyes flit to you with worry.
“Thank you,” You try to stand, stubbornness overriding your pain. "I think I got it now, you can't carry our stuff and me-"
"Yes, I can," she interrupts, her tone brooking no argument. Before you can protest further, she's scooped you up in her arms, cradling you against her chest with surprising tenderness.
"This is embarrassing," you mutter, your cheeks flushing despite the pain.
"Yeah, that's what you get for being an idiot."
"Wow, way to cheer a girl up,” you reply sarcastically.
As Sevika carries you through the prison corridors, you can't help but study her face. Her guarded expression softens as she looks down. There's something else in there too, a whirl of emotions you can't quite place.
You tighten your hold on her, tucking your head against her chest. You can hear her heartbeat, strong and steady. The smell of grimy blood and her shampoo somehow distracts you from the pulsing pain in your leg.
The sound of gunshots echoes through the building and you feel Sevika tense. "Fuck," you mutter, "what is happening out there?"
Sevika shifts you slightly, freeing one hand to grab her radio.
"We've got two severely injured," crackles a voice through the static.
As you emerge into the harsh sunlight, you see members of your group carrying people out. Two of them have nasty stab wounds, blood seeping through hastily applied bandages.
Sevika gently sets you down next to the injured in the back of the truck. You watch as the rest of the group gathers around the other vehicle, their voices low and urgent as they discuss the situation. There are still people left inside.
Despite the throbbing pain in your leg, your instincts kick in. You reach for your bag, trying to pull out the first aid kit. Sevika notices and immediately moves to stop you.
"Stop, stop," she says, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. "You're injured. Let us help, tell us what to do."
You look up at her, seeing the worry etched on her face.
"Okay," you nod, wincing as you shift to get a better view of the injured. "We need to apply pressure to those wounds. Get the gauze from the kit and press it firmly against the bleeding areas."
As Sevika relayed your instructions to the others, you had forgotten to close your bag properly. In your bag was the red shawl you kept from the night of the campfire, and unbeknownst to you Sevika had seen it in there, her jaw visibly clenching at the sight.
More of her crew comes out the building, hauling out the fallen attackers, their faces set in a hard scowl.
“Are the rest dead?” she demands.
A gruff voice answers, “Yeah, we got those fucking bastards. We wanted you to deal with these.” The crew shoves three people onto their knees, their faces unremorseful and stoic.
One man in the center is screaming at the top of his lungs, his voice raw with fanaticism. “YOU WILL REPENT! THIS IS A RECKONING! THE WORLD WILL BE CLEANSED OF FILTH LIKE YOU!” His words are overlapped with another man reciting a desperate prayer, his hands trembling as he clutches at invisible salvation.
Sevika’s face remains a mask of cold detachment, her eyes flickering with something darker as she assesses the situation.
“They’re not worth our bullets,” she says, her tone flat and unfeeling. The others understand immediately, pulling out their knives.
You see Sevika stride toward the vehicle's trunk, and she retrieves a machete, its blade gleaming dangerously.
Sevika’s expression remains inscrutable as she approaches the only woman in the group, the machete held steady and unwavering. The final girl locks eyes with Sevika, but there’s an almost reverent look to them.
Her voice is trembling, but defiant. “No one is safe—you cannot escape His wrath.”
Without hesitation, Sevika swings the machete. In a brutal, swift move, her crew slits the throats of the remaining captives. The girl’s final scream is a gurgle of blood as Sevika’s blade comes down with a clean, merciless swipe, severing her head in a single, precise cut.
Blood splatters across the scene, painting their clothes and the ground. The force of the blow sends a spray of it onto Sevika and her crew, but she doesn’t flinch.
You’re left watching in shock, the brutal display leaving you breathless and shaken.
Sevika’s gaze shifts back to you as the last of the blood settles. The fierceness in her eyes softens just slightly, the ruthlessness giving way to concern. She takes in your injured state and the rest of the crew.
“Head back,” she commands, her voice almost robotic. “We need to get them to the infirmary immediately.”
The truck lurches and bumps along the road, each jolt sending a fresh wave of pain through your broken leg. You shut your eyes, focusing on the thought of arriving at Zaun.
When you arrive at the infirmary, Sevika is out of the vehicle before it even comes to a full stop. She scoops you up, carrying you inside with a determination that’s almost palpable. As she crosses the threshold, you catch sight of the crew still being helped out of the vehicle, their injuries more immediate and visible than yours.
"No," you mumble, your voice weak but insistent. "No doctors... attend to them first."
Sevika's eyes widen in disbelief. "What? Are you crazy?"
You shake your head, the pain and fatigue making it hard to focus. “It’s a broken leg. From what I can tell, no internal bleeding. They’re bleeding, Sevika. They need help now.”
She hesitates, clearly torn between her instinct to protect you and your insistence. After a moment, she lets out a heavy sigh, clearly exasperated by your stubbornness. The adrenaline from the fight is wearing off, and exhaustion settles over you like a heavy blanket. Sevika administers a painkiller, and soon the sharp pain dulls to a throbbing ache.
Silence falls between you, broken only by the sound of your labored breathing. Sevika sits beside your bed, her posture rigid, eyes fixed on the floor.
"What's wrong?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. The fatigue is dragging you down, making it hard to keep your eyes open.
Sevika’s gaze remains locked on the ground, her face an unreadable mask. She doesn’t respond right away, but you can see the tremor in her hands and the tightness in her shoulders. With what little strength you have left, you reach out, your hand finding hers. The contact seems to jolt her out of her thoughts, and she finally meets your gaze.
What you see in her eyes is fear. Raw, unguarded terror. It's an expression you never thought you'd see on someone so strong like her, and it sends a chill through you.
Your hand moves to her face, fingers tracing the scar that runs along her cheek. Instead of pulling away as you half-expected, she leans into your touch, her eyes closing for a brief moment.
"It’s okay," you reassure, fighting to keep your eyes open. "I'm okay... just... don't leave me."
As you drift into unconsciousness, the last thing you hear is Sevika’s voice, a hushed murmur barely audible.
"This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong // To love that well which thou must leave ere long." -William Shakespeare (Sonnet 73)
PART II: MY HEART DREAMS
zombie apocalypse sevika x reader au!: sevika was the super soldier; a killing machine driven solely by survival. you were nomadic, constantly searching for something in whatever was left of the world—till you met her.
series masterpost: part I // part III // part IV // part V // part V
wc: 7.1k
author's note: ahhh tysm to everyone reading!!! your comments literally make my day and the taglist DAMN!! seriously I'm so grateful <3 also i apologize for this chapter being so long, i tried to stfu but it still ended up being 7k
One thing you should've realized sooner was that nothing escapes Sevika's notice in Zaun.
You were barely a week into your new routine, legs burning as you struggled through your morning run. The only sound you could hear was of blood pounding in your ear—and the addition of a rumbling engine approaching from behind.
You whip your head back, unsure if your ears were deceiving you but there it was, a truck filled with Sevika's scavenging team catching up, with Sevika herself leaning out the passenger window.
"Pick up the pace, pantry girl!" she shouted, her voice laden with amusement. "At this rate, you'll be old and gray before you join my team!"
Her crew howled with laughter as they sped by, leaving you red-faced and fuming in a cloud of dust.
Now, weeks later, you collapse onto the grass beside Caitlyn, both of you panting heavily after finishing your lap around the neighborhood. The memory of Sevika's taunts still burns, spurring you to push yourself harder during training.
Just as you're about to ask if you should do another lap, something ice-cold presses against your neck. You yelp, jerking upright in surprise.
A dark-haired woman hovers over you, a familiar smirk playing on her lips and a frosty water bottle in her hand. "Still jumping at shadows, I see," she teases. "I'm not sure I can use someone so easily startled on my team."
You glare up at her. "That's rich, coming from you," you retort. "Your late-night victory parties make it impossible to get a good night's sleep around here."
"Feeling left out? The invitations open, you know. Just bring your own drink."
"How about an invitation to join your team instead?" You counter.
Sevika laughs, the sound was simultaneously frustrating and oddly captivating. "Maybe focus on not tripping over your own feet first, pantry girl."
After you finish your training for the day, you take a quick shower and make your way to the pantry for your shift. But as you approach, you notice something odd - your name isn't on the schedule. Again.
"That's the third time this week," you mutter.
Caitlyn notices your confusion. "Maybe they're cutting back on hours?" she suggests, but her tone is uncertain.
With your unexpected free time, you find yourself spending more time with your makeshift family. Family dinners were something you always had, but for the first time you didn’t have to worry about where or what your next meal would be.
Powder chatters animatedly about her latest inventions, while Caitlyn asks questions that make the kid’s eyes go wild with excitement. Vi listens with a mix of amusement and pride, occasionally ruffling her sister's hair.
Vander sits at the head of the table and he interjects with the occasional piece of wisdom that makes Vi interrupt to remind him that they were too old for lectures or dad jokes, drawing laughter from the group.
As plates are cleared and the conversation winds down, Powder asks to star gaze again, which Vander wants to say no to when everyone has work tomorrow. But then he looks outside and he’s reminded that things weren’t the same, you could afford the leisure to enjoy the skies now.
So you all move to the roof, continuing your evening under the stars. Powder points out constellations, making up stories for each one. Vi playfully argues with her interpretations, while Caitlyn offers more scientific explanations. You lean back, taking in the moment, feeling truly at peace for the first time in a long while.
As the night deepens, drowsiness sets in. One by one, you bid each other goodnight and retreat to your beds.
Morning arrives sooner than you'd like and you meet Caitlyn early, both of you squinting against the bright sunlight as you make your way to the training grounds. The morning sun warms your face as you and Caitlyn wait on the grass for Grayson to arrive with your sparring partner. You're chatting idly, speculating about who it might be when you hear approaching footsteps.
Your eyes widen as you see Grayson walking towards you, but it's the figure beside her that makes your breath catch. Sevika strides across the field, her presence somehow always able to steal your attention. She's wearing dark wash jeans that hug her legs and a sleeveless, tight black tee that shows off her toned arms with her usual red shawl draping over her left side.
Grayson offers an apologetic smile as they reach you. "Sorry we're late. There was a situation to handle."
Sevika merely grunts, barely acknowledging you and Caitlyn. Your heart races—if she was here to watch you were so screwed, there was no way Sevika would let you have a match without her snarky comments.
"Marcus was supposed to be here today," Grayson explains, "but it seems he's... incapacitated."
You and Caitlyn exchange knowing looks. It's not the first time Marcus has been too drunk to show up, and frankly, you're relieved. Even when sober, he's a total ass.
"So... who are we sparring with?" you ask, though you have a sinking feeling you already know the answer.
Grayson gestures to Sevika. "Someone owes me a favor."
Sevika rubs her head, clearly annoyed. "Can we get this over with?" she grumbles.
Grayson chuckles. "She's just grumpy because she's hungover," she explains to you, then turns to Sevika with a raised eyebrow. "Which you wouldn't be if you didn't drink like it's water."
Sevika scowls, softly as she crosses her arms. "It's my day off," she retorts. "You never come to my parties."
"I drink on my own time," Grayson replies primly, adjusting her stance.
"You're too much of a goody two shoes," Sevika snorts, rolling her eyes.
You and Caitlyn look at each other in shock, from the fact that the two captains are bickering like siblings and they’re going to be sparring with Sevika.
"Sevika?" Caitlyn sputters. "You want us to spar Sevika?"
"It's better practice for you two - Sevika has years of fighting experience. You can learn some new techniques today," She reassures. "So, who's first?"
"I'll get it over with," Caitlyn acquiesced, her voice steady despite the nerves you can see in her eyes.
As Caitlyn approaches the sparring area, Sevika reaches for her shawl. In one swift motion, she removes it, and your eyes widen in shock. Where you expected to see flesh and bone, there's instead a gleaming bionic arm.
Intricate gears and pistons are visible beneath panels of transparent material, offering glimpses of the arm's inner workings. As Sevika flexes her fingers, you can see these components whirring and sliding with precision, each movement accompanied by a soft, almost musical hum.
Sevika doesn't react to the stares, her face stony as if this reveal is inconsequential. You feel a pang of guilt for gawking, but you can't help wondering - was this a war injury, or a result of the walkers?
Caitlyn recovers from her shock like you do, now both of you feeling more intimidated by the strength and skills of the woman before you. You watch as Sevika easily deflects Caitlyn's first attack, countering with a move so fast you barely see it. Caitlyn hits the ground hard, she barely has any time to react when Sevika strikes again.
"Come on, cupcake," Sevika taunts, using Vi's nickname for Caitlyn.
The use of the nickname catches both you and Caitlyn off guard and she narrowly dodges a punch. You had no idea how much Sevika had been paying attention to your group.
"Is that all you've got?" The captain says smugly.
As the sparring continues, you find yourself studying Sevika's every move. The way she anticipates Caitlyn's attacks, the efficiency of her counterstrikes, the subtle shifts in her stance.
But it's more than just her fighting skills that captivate you. It's the fierce concentration in her eyes, the slight smirk that plays on her lips when she lands a particularly good hit. It's the way her muscles flex as she moves, the sheen of sweat that forms on her skin under the hot sun.
You're so lost in your observations that you almost miss when Grayson calls an end to the match. Caitlyn is panting, bruised but not beaten, while Sevika looks barely winded.
"Your turn, rookie," Sevika calls out, her eyes locking with yours.
Sevika takes a menacing stance, her bionic arm whirring softly as she flexes her fingers. You try to quell your nerves, reminding yourself of all your training.
The match begins, and Sevika doesn't hold back. She lunges forward with a quick jab that you barely dodge. Her follow-up kick catches you in the side, and you stumble back.
"With those sparring skills, you'll be dead by now," Sevika taunts, circling you like a predator.
You regain your footing, countering with a series of quick strikes that force Sevika to step back. "As far as I'm concerned, I don't think any walkers would be punching me back anytime soon," you retort.
Sevika smirks, effortlessly blocking your attacks. "There are still survivors out there, some who might not be as merciful as me." she says, suddenly dropping low and sweeping your legs out from under you.
You hit the ground hard but roll quickly, narrowly avoiding Sevika's follow-up strike. "I’m only alive because you needed the meds.”
“But you’re alive regardless?” She counters.
“Urgh, you're the worst, you know that? You just like watching me suffer-"
Your words are cut off as Sevika charges forward. You manage to sidestep, grabbing her arm and using her momentum to throw her off balance. For a moment, you have the upper hand, landing a solid hit to her midsection.
Sevika grunts, a flash of surprise in her eyes. "Well, it's not a bad view," she quips, her voice slightly breathless.
You're holding your own better than you expected, your training with Grayson evident in your improved technique. You even manage to land a few solid hits, each one making you more hopeful that you could finally prove yourself to the captain.
But Sevika is still Sevika. Just when you think you might have a chance, she changes tactics. As she unleashes a flurry of lightning-fast strikes, you are able to block the first few, but the last one catches you off guard, sending you stumbling back.
Before you can recover, Sevika is on you. With a move so smooth it seems almost effortless, she sweeps your legs again and follows you down. You’re on the ground immediately, the air knocked from your lungs, and suddenly Sevika is on top of you, pinning you down.
Her face is inches from yours, her breath hot on your cheek. "There's always next time, pantry girl," she says, her voice laced with arrogance.
Fury and frustration surge through you—at the nickname, at losing, but most of all at yourself for the way your heart races at her proximity. You struggle against her hold, but it's futile—you lost and couldn’t prove you were ready.
The days blur into a haze of relentless training after the match, your body pushed to its limits. Yet despite your efforts, something feels off. Each time you miss a target or fumble a move, Sevika's face flashes in your mind. Your focus wavers, distracted by unnameable thoughts that surface whenever you recall her challenging gaze or the smugness in her voice.
The sharp crack of gunfire echoes across the makeshift shooting range. You squeeze the trigger, watching as your shot goes wide, missing the target by a good margin. Expaseration bubbles up inside you for missing yet again.
Next to you, Caitlyn's sniper barks and the center of her target explodes. Again. You can't help but feel a twinge of envy at her precision.
"Excellent shot, Caitlyn," Grayson praises, her eyes gleaming with approval. "I think I’m looking at my newest sniper."
Caitlyn beams at the compliment.
Grayson turns to you, her expression apprehensive. "Something on your mind? You seem distracted today."
"No, I'm fine," you mutter, trying to focus on the target in front of you.
Grayson raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Well, if you keep shooting like you did today, you can expect another month before Sevika would even consider accepting you on her team."
At the mention of Sevika's name, you can't help but frown. Grayson catches it immediately.
"What's wrong?" she probes, her voice a mix of curiosity and concern.
You hesitate, then the words tumble out. "I just... I don't get her. I don't know how to convince her I deserve that spot on the team when she's so infuriating and stubborn."
To your surprise, Grayson laughs, a warm, rich sound. "She hasn't changed since we were deployed together, then."
Your ears perk up at this. "You were deployed with Sevika? Can you tell me about it?"
Grayson shrugs. "What is there to tell? We were in the military together for 10 years and she's a brilliant soldier."
"That's all to her?" you press, not satisfied with such a simple answer.
Grayson gives you a long, appraising look. "What is it that you really want to know about her?"
The question catches you off guard. You open your mouth to respond, then close it again. What do you want to know? But more importantly, why do you want to know? You realize you don't have an answer, and the realization unsettles you.
Seeing your confusion, Grayson's expression softens. "Sevika is not the best fighter," she says quietly.
"What?"
Grayson chuckles at your expression. "Don't get me wrong, she's an advanced and skilled fighter. But she's not unbeatable." She pauses, her eyes distant as if recalling memories from long ago. "What makes her different... She is loyal and fierce. That woman fights till her very last breath. If she's going to hell, she'll drag you down with her."
Your mind whirs at this information. Who is Sevika beyond the soldier everyone knows her as? You find yourself hungry for more details, more glimpses into the woman behind the tough exterior.
Then you catch yourself, anger flaring up. Why do you care? Why does it matter who Sevika really is? She's just the leader of the scavenging team, nothing more.
You shake your head, trying to clear these thoughts. "Thanks, Grayson," you mutter, turning back to the target.
As you raise your gun again, you can feel Grayson's knowing gaze on you. You take a deep breath, trying to focus on the target. But in your mind's eye, all you can see is Sevika—her cocky grin, her ruthless determination, the mystery that surrounds her.
You squeeze the trigger, and this time, your shot flies true, hitting just off-center. Progress, but not perfection. Much like your understanding of Sevika, you realize. You're getting closer, but there's still so much more to uncover.
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A slight breeze rustles the leaves as you wait by the usual tree, checking your watch. Caitlyn's late, which isn't like her. You’ve been waiting for 20 minutes already and this was the Caitlyn, the one who’s never even been late to a shift at the pantry.
You’re about to turn back to the house when suddenly you hear shouting from the road a few blocks away. Without thinking, you immediately sprint towards the commotion.
When you arrived, the scene before you was the last thing you would expect—Caitlyn and Vi were in each other's faces, their voices rising with each exchange. A burly guy from Sevika's crew is half-heartedly trying to separate them.
"You fucking liar!" Caitlyn screams, her face flushed with anger. "Why would you join without telling me?"
You momentarily pause from trying to pull the fighting couple apart, in all the years you knew Caitlyn she had hardly cursed; Vi must’ve fucked up, bad.
Vi's stance is defensive, her hands raised. "It's safer for you this way!"
"Safer?" Caitlyn's laugh is bitter. "I didn't ask for a white knight, I asked for a partner that's honest!"
The guy from Sevika's crew steps between them. "Come on, ladies, this ain't the place-"
Caitlyn whirls on him. "How could you let her in Sevika’s group like this?"
He backs up, hands raised. “Listen, I had no part in this. Vi was the one who asked, and Sevika accepted her."
Caitlyn's face contorts with anger, and she lunges forward. You jump in, grabbing her arms. "Cait, stop!"
But as you hold her back, his words sink in. "Wait, WHAT?" You turn to Vi, shock evident on your face. "She accepted you to join her scavenging and not me?"
Vi looks away, guilt written across her features. Your blood boils. You release Caitlyn and round on the guy. "Where the HELL is she?"
He crosses his arms, defiant. "I don't have to answer to you."
You step closer, your voice low and dangerous. "Oh, trust me. You want to tell me."
He hesitates, then sighs. "Fine, but it's your funeral. She's in her garage."
Without another word, you turn on your heel and march away, leaving Caitlyn and Vi to their argument. You had your own annoying, lying woman to deal with.
The garage comes into view, its large door open. As you approach, you catch sight of Sevika bent over a motorcycle. Her back muscles flex as she works, visible beneath a black sports bra. Her jeans hang low on her hips, revealing the band of her boxers. For a moment, you were unable to comprehend the sight of Sevika in clothes that weren't military green.
You take a deep breath, steadying yourself before addressing her. "Vi and Caitlyn are out there fighting. I thought you should know."
She turns, surprise briefly flickering across her features before her trademark nonchalance slides back into place. "And that concerns me... how exactly?" she questions, wiping her hand with a rag. "Last I checked, I wasn't running a relationship counseling service."
"Because of all the bullshit you gave about me not being ready? Why won't you let me on the team?" you demand, your voice cracking with desperation. "You let Vi join. What makes her so special?"
"You don't know what you're asking for."
"Then tell me!" you shout, stepping closer. "I'm sick of your cryptic bullshit, Sevika. I deserve to know!"
Something in Sevika snaps—Her composure shatters, replaced by a raw, barely contained fury. "Fine? You want to know why?" She grabs your arm, her grip tight enough to bruise. "Let's go."
She drags you out of the garage, marching through the community with large strides. You struggle to keep up, confused and a little scared by this sudden change in her demeanor.
As you reach the outskirts of the settlement, Sevika slows down. You follow her gaze and feel your blood run cold. Wooden crosses stretch out before you, maybe 20 to 25 of them, each marking a grave.
"This is why," Sevika grits.
You stand there, frozen, as Sevika turns to face you. Her eyes are blazing, but there's something else there too - something melancholic you've never seen before.
"Do you know how many empty graves we have?" she asks, gesturing to the crosses. "It's a fortune if you're able to bring a body home, or if you can spend someone's last moments together."
She walks among the graves, her fingers trailing over the rough wood of a cross. "This is the type of thing we have to deal with. Every time we go out there, we risk not coming back. And if we don't come back, this is what's left of us. A wooden cross and a memory."
"I've had to bury too many people. I've had to tell too many families that their loved ones aren't coming home. And sometimes, I couldn't even give them that closure."
She turns back to you, her eyes now hard, and gone was the brief moment of vulnerability you saw before. "This is why I won't let you on the team. Because I can't... I won't add another cross to this field."
The weight of her words hits you like a physical blow. But instead of understanding, you feel a surge of anger.
"So what?" you snap, surprising both yourself and Sevika. "You keep me locked away like I'm Rapunzel in a tower? Look around, Sevika!" You gesture wildly at the desolate landscape beyond the settlement. "There is nothing left to lose. The world is gone!"
For a moment, she's silent, and you think you might have finally gotten through to her. But then her expression hardens, a bitter smile twisting her lips.
"You can say that," she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper, "until you have the world in your hand and it's ripped away from you."
The words hang in the air between you, heavy with meaning. You see a flash of something in Sevika's eyes - a deep, soul-crushing resignation that makes your anger falter.
"There is always something to lose," she continues. "And every time you think you have nothing left to lose, life finds a way to prove you wrong."
She steps closer to you. "You think you're ready to face what's out there? You think you have nothing to lose? Trust me, pantry girl, you have no idea what loss really is."
"What are you living for if you're constantly scared of losing?" you challenge, your voice rising. "This isn't living, Sevika. It's just... existing."
"No, you don't understand!" you interrupted, shoving her back. "We're all going to die—But I'd rather die out there, trying to do something I wanted, rather than rot away in here!"
You’re angry and you know you just provoked her but you can’t help but shove her back again, frustrated at her but, even more so at yourself. You were terrified, of fucking course you were—but who wasn’t in the world you were living in?
With a growl, she lunges forward, shoving you hard. You stumble back, shock and anger coursing through you. Without thinking, you retaliate, pushing Sevika with all your might.
The two of you grapple, a tangle of limbs and fury. Grass and dirt kick up around you as you roll on the ground, each trying to gain the upper hand. Sevika's bionic arm hisses as she tries to pin you down, but you're quicker, fueled by frustration and pent-up emotion.
With a burst of strength, you manage to flip Sevika onto her back. You straddle her waist, pinning her arms to her sides, which fall limp immediately. Both of you are panting heavily, faces flushed and hair disheveled.
"I won," you gasp out, your chest heaving. "You promised. If I could beat you, you'd let me join."
Sevika looks up at you, her expression unreadable. "When will you learn patience?"
The proximity is intoxicating, and for a moment, you're distracted by the feeling of Sevika beneath you, the rise and fall of her chest, the intensity in her eyes.
"You can't expect me to live like this," you insist, your voice softer now but no less passionate. "What are you living for if you're constantly scared of losing?"
Something flickers in Sevika's eyes—pain, fear, or something else entirely. Without warning, she bucks her hips, throwing you off balance. In one smooth motion, she shoves you away and stands up.
You scramble to your feet, ready to continue the fight, but Sevika's next move stops you cold.
"Sevika!" you call out, your voice cracking. "Don't you walk away from me!"
But she doesn't stop, doesn't even look back.
You're left standing there, alone among silent tombstones and empty graves, watching her retreating figure disappear into the gathering dusk.
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The weight of defeat settles heavily on your shoulders as you stumble into your room. You collapse onto your bed, fully clothed, as the scene replays in your mind. Sevika's face haunts you - not her usual cocky smirk or searching gaze, but that fleeting expression of raw pain you glimpsed just before she walked away.
There's something deeper, a hollowness in your chest you can't quite name. It's more than just the sting of losing an argument or watching her retreat.
There was something else in her eyes that truly unsettled you—that flash of fear when she looked at you, as if dreading you might become another one of those wooden crosses she would have to mark.
Just as you're about to drift off, a sudden burst of loud music jolts you awake. Shouts and laughter follow, unmistakably coming from a few blocks down—right where Sevika's house is located.
You groan, pressing your pillow over your head. Of course, another one of her infamous parties. But as you lie there, listening to the distant sounds of celebration, a part of you can't help but wonder what Sevika looks like when she's relaxed, surrounded by her team.
After an hour of futile attempts to sleep, frustration wins out. You sit up, running a hand through your hair in annoyance. You throw on a hoodie and stomp towards the door, grabbing the nearest pair of slippers without looking.
The cool night air does little to calm your irritation as you march down the street. You pound on the door, ready to give her a piece of your mind.
To your surprise, it's Sevika herself who answers. Her usual scowl morphs into a grimace as she recognizes you, a lit cigarette dangling from her lips. The sight of her throws you off balance—her gray wife beater clings to her frame, and her cargo pants are smeared with what you hope is just mud. Despite the mess, she looks... good. Annoyingly so.
"Do you know what time it is?" you demand, trying to focus on your anger.
Sevika takes a long drag of her cigarette and then blows the smoke out slowly. Her eyes drift downward. "I like your slippers," she remarks.
You glance down, mortification washing over you as you realize you're wearing Powder's pink bunny slippers. "Shit," you mutter, but quickly shake it off. "Why do you have to be so loud? This might come as a surprise but some people are trying to sleep!"
"Worried you won't get enough sleep to organize properly tomorrow?" Sevika taunts, leaning against the doorframe. "Make sure you don't mix up the soup and fruit cocktail cans."
Her dismissive attitude ignites your temper. "Fine, whatever. You're acting like a complete ass," you spit out.
Sevika's eyebrow raises slightly. "Is that all? Because if so, I've got a party to get back to."
You're about to retort when you catch a glimpse of the interior of her house. It's a mess—empty bottles strewn about, gear haphazardly tossed in corners.
"What?" Sevika's voice snaps you back to reality.
"I... nothing," you stammer, taking a step back. "Just turn the music down, okay?"
Sevika studies you for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, without a word, she turns and disappears into the house. A few seconds later, the volume of the music noticeably decreases. Sevika.. Was being obedient?
She reappears at the door, taking another drag of her cigarette. "Anything else?"
You open your mouth, then close it again. What else is there to say? That her apparent disregard for what you want infuriates you? That her words about from earlier today won’t leave your mind? That despite everything, you find yourself drawn to her in a way you can't explain?
Instead, you just shake your head. "No. That's... that's all. Thanks."
As you turn to leave, Sevika's voice stops you. "Wait."
You pause, looking back at her expectantly. You notice that there is a hesitancy to her this time, like you were fragile and if she got too close you might shatter.
"Wear proper attire tomorrow, okay?" she says, her tone businesslike. "And check in at the armory with Vi."
You blink, confused. "Vi? What does she-"
Sevika cuts you off with an exasperated sigh. "Do I really have to explain it to you, rookie?"
"Yeah, cause I don't get it," you retort.
"You're on the team."
For a moment, you just stare at her, unable to process what you've heard. Sevika refuses to meet your gaze, suddenly finding the wall very interesting.
As realization dawns, a wide grin breaks out across your face. Sevika immediately cuts in, "Don't think I'm going soft on you and giving you anything you want. This is an easy spot, but-"
You can't help the shit-eating grin that spreads even wider. "Thank you," you say, your voice sincere despite your obvious excitement.
Sevika just nods, her expression carefully neutral. "Yeah, okay. Now get out of here before I change my mind."
You nod enthusiastically. "Right. Yes. Thank you again. Good night!"
You turn and walk away, trying desperately to keep your cool. But as soon as you think Sevika has fully closed her door, you can't contain yourself anymore. You do a little excited jump right there in the street, pumping your fist in the air. Then, grinning like a fool, you take off running towards home.
What you don't see is Sevika, still standing in her doorway. She watches your celebratory dance with a mixture of disbelief and something akin to fondness. Shaking her head, she finally closes the door, a small, bemused smile playing at the corners of her lips.
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The early morning sun casts a golden glow over the farm as your team arrives. The dilapidated barn looms ahead, its red paint peeling and faded. Overgrown fields stretch out to your right, while a rickety fence encloses what must have once been a thriving chicken coop.
Sevika's voice rings out across the coop. "Alright, gather the chickens."
You blink, certain you've misheard. "Wait, what?"
You weren’t expecting your first mission to be on a farm, much less to gather the animals. But your confusion is quickly overwhelmed by the sight of your teammates scattering, chasing after a flock of very startled, very loud chickens.
"How do you expect us to get food?" Sevika asks, her tone matter-of-fact.
You turn to her, eyebrow raised. "Why aren't you helping?"
The air seems to still as everyone freezes, shocked by your boldness. Sevika's eyes narrow dangerously.
"I'm your captain," she states, as if that explains everything.
A reckless grin spreads across your face. "What? Afraid you can't catch a single chicken in front of your people?"
Sevika's jaw clenches, and for a moment, you wonder if you've pushed too far. Then, to everyone's surprise, she vaults over the fence and into the coop.
"You have a mouth on you," she growls, eyeing a particularly plump hen. "That's going to get you in trouble one day."
You hop in after her, heart racing at how she easily accepted your challenge. "Only if I'm caught," you quip back.
The two of you circle the hen, which clucks nervously. You lunge forward, but the bird darts away.
"You're scaring it!" Sevika snaps.
"Me?!" you retort. "You're practically harassing the thing!"
As you both scan the coop for a chicken that wasn’t running like it had its head chopped off, a voice pipes up from outside the fence. "They’re bickering like an old couple!"
In perfect unison, you and Sevika whip around, shouting, "Don't you dare say that!"
The moment the words leave your mouth, you freeze, looking at each other in shock, and then it’s replaced quickly with a scowl as the determination to capture the chicken sets back in.
Okay, so barreling at full force towards the animal was not the way to go considering everyone was already filling their cages. You mentally devise a plan to corner the chicken, gesturing for Sevika to move to the right while you go left. But as you both rush forward, the hen squawks indignantly and darts between you in a perfect straight line.
Unable to stop your momentum, you and Sevika collide, tumbling to the ground in a tangle of limbs. You find yourself pinned beneath her, acutely aware of her weight, her warmth, the scent of her body wash and gunpowder that clings to her skin.
Sevika pushes herself up slightly, her face inches from yours. "This is dumb," she mutters. "I don't need to prove anything."
"Mhmm," you manage, your brain short-circuiting from the proximity.
She grunts, rolling off you and standing up. "There's one last chicken," she says, brushing dirt from her clothes. "We better get it."
You turn your attention back to the task at hand, scanning the coop for that last elusive hen. The last hen clucks nervously, darting between the wooden beams of the coop. You and Sevika exchange a quick nod, wordlessly agreeing on a strategy.
Sevika crouches low, her movements slow and deliberate as she inches towards the left side of the coop. You mirror her actions on the right, creating a human barrier. The hen's beady eyes dart between you, sensing the trap.
"Easy now," Sevika murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.
The hen makes a break for it, but you're ready. You lunge forward, herding it back towards Sevika. She reaches out, her fingers just brushing the chicken's feathers—
A deep rumble suddenly echoes across the farm, stopping you both in your tracks. You both freeze, exchanging a brief, confused glance. In that instant, the barn door explodes outward with a deafening crash. Splinters of wood fly through the air, unleashing a horde of walkers that stumble and lurch towards you.
"Fuck! Run!" someone screams, and chaos erupts.
Your teammates scramble to grab their chicken cages, but you're transfixed by the sight of Sevika, who's inexplicably clutching the chicken she just caught to her chest with her left arm. Without thinking, you grab her right hand and bolt, pulling her along.
As you run, weaving between broken fences and overgrown crops, the absurdity of the situation hits you. Here you are, fleeing from a walkers horde, hand-in-hand with your usually stoic captain who was so dead set on capturing a single chicken she risked a few minutes just to get it. Suddenly, Sevika bursts out laughing, a rich, genuine sound you've never heard before.
"This is so fucking stupid," she gasps between chuckles.
Her laughter is infectious, and soon you're both giggling like maniacs as you sprint towards the getaway car. The wind whips through your hair, you look over at her and see her tiny ponytail bouncing, her eyes sparkling with unadulterated joy.
As you approach the car, you see one of your teammates dancing in the driver's seat, bobbing their head to music that was loud enough you could hear it from a distance.
Sevika's eyes widened in disbelief. "What is that moron doing?"
"Start the car!" you yell in unison with Sevika.
"Start the fucking car!" echoes from all directions as your team converges on the vehicle.
In a mad scramble, you and Sevika end up diving into the trunk together, barely missing from crashing into each other. The car peels out, tires kicking up dust as you make your escape. You twist around to look back, seeing the walkers crest the hill behind you, their grotesque forms looking like ants as you get further away from the farm.
As the adrenaline starts to fade, you become acutely aware that you're still clutching Sevika's hand. You both look down at your intertwined fingers and quickly release a faint blush coloring your cheeks.
You glance at Sevika and are struck by the sight of her wide grin, revealing the charming tooth gap from the first time you met her. She looks lighter somehow, the usual weight of responsibility temporarily lifted from her shoulders.
"Maybe you should put the chicken in the cage," you suggest, nodding towards the bird still tucked under her arm.
"Right," Sevika says, quickly stuffing the bewildered chicken into a nearby cage.
Free of your feathered companion, you lean out of the trunk slightly, letting the wind rush through your hair. The music from the car's speakers drifts back to you, and you close your eyes for a moment, savoring the smell of the woods and the high from the adrenaline rush.
When you open your eyes and turn back, you catch Sevika staring at you. She's not looking at the receding farmland or checking for pursuing walkers. Her eyes are fixed solely on you, an unreadable expression on her face. In this moment, bathed in sunlight and the afterglow of survival, she looks different. Softer. There was no reminiscent of the super soldier you knew her as.
As your eyes meet, Sevika doesn't look away. Instead, her grin softens into something more intimate, more real. You feel a warmth bloom in your chest, a feeling you can't quite name but don't want to let go of.
The car hits a bump, jolting you both and breaking the moment. Sevika clears her throat and turns to secure the chicken cage, you weren’t sure if had imagined the smile or not.
As you return to Zaun, the adrenaline from your narrow escape fades into a collective sense of relief and camaraderie. The team works together to unload the chickens, and despite the close call, everyone seems to be in high spirits.
"Hey, how about another bonfire party?" someone suggests, and a chorus of agreement follows.
To your surprise, Sevika turns to you. "You should come," she says gruffly. "You’re part of the team now."
"Yeah, sure," you reply, fighting to keep the eagerness out of your voice.
As the team disperses to prepare, you notice Vi sprinting towards a certain someone waiting for her at the entrance. "Caitlyn!" Vi shouts, throwing herself into Caitlyn's arms and kissing her passionately.
You raise an eyebrow. "Well, those two made up fast," you mutter to yourself.
Later that evening, you find yourself seated on the cool ground in front of a roaring bonfire. The flames dance hypnotically, casting flickering shadows across the faces of your teammates. The air is filled with laughter, the clink of bottles, and the rich aroma of smoke and grilled food.
You're nursing a beer, listening intently as the others regale you with stories from previous hunts. Sevika sits not far from you, perched regally on a lawn chair. She's quieter than the others, but you notice her lips quirk up occasionally at particularly funny or outrageous parts of the stories.
As the night wears on, a cool breeze picks up. You shiver involuntarily, the chill seeping through your thin shirt. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Sevika glance your way. Without a word, she shrugs off her shawl and leans forward, draping it over your shoulders.
The gesture catches you off guard. You want to thank her, but something in her posture tells you she'd rather not draw attention to the act of kindness. No one else seems to have noticed, and you wonder if this is just how Sevika takes care of her team—quietly, without fuss or expectation of gratitude.
You pull the shawl tighter around you, inhaling the faint scent of cigarettes and gunpowder that clings to it.
The conversation lulls for a moment, and then someone pipes up, "Hey, remember that time at the hospital in Piltover when we-"
"Uh," another teammate interrupts, glancing nervously at Sevika. "Sevika’s here."
All eyes turn to your captain. Sevika just grunts, taking a long swig from her bottle. You can't tell if it's approval or indifference, but the storyteller takes it as permission to continue.
The crackling fire seems to dim as the storyteller begins, his voice low and reverent. "It was before Zaun was established. Sevika, Silco, Grayson, and some of us old veterans had been cooped up in the hospital for weeks. But it was time we got out, find new people and a place to stay."
You lean in, curious, sneaking glances at Sevika, whose face remains impassive.
"The hospital was completely surrounded," the storyteller continues. "But we had weapons and vehicles. Silco had this completely badass idea to add extra defenses to the ambulance in the garage."
A chorus of whoops erupts from the group, and you see a flicker of pride in Sevika's eyes.
"The plan was to pile as many people as possible into the ambulance. But in the garage," The storyteller's voice drops. "There must've been an opening or something. Somehow, those bastards found their way in."
You find yourself holding your breath while Sevika's face is impassive, but you notice her grip tightening on her bottle.
"It happened so fast. One second Silco was up, the next he was down, a walker lunging for his throat. And Sevika," He shakes his head in awe. "She didn't hesitate. She threw herself between them."
All eyes turn to Sevika. You glance at Sevika, trying to imagine her and the emotions in that moment.
"Go on," she says. "Finish it."
The storyteller hesitates, unsure. "We had to go back in. We cleared the area, but the walker's teeth sank into her arm instead of Silco's neck." the storyteller says softly. "Even then, she didn't stop fighting. She bashed its skull in with her free hand, then turned and took out two more, saving a few more of us. But the bite meant she was infected…"
There's a collective intake of breath around the fire. You feel a chill that has nothing to do with the night air.
His voice trails off, and Sevika finishes for him. "So Silco ended up amputating my arm," she states.
"When I die, I'll die on my own accord. Not because some mindless corpse decided it was my time."
The silence that follows is profound. You see a mix of awe, respect, and a hint of fear on the faces around you as Sevika's words hang in the air.
Then, as if a spell is broken, cheers erupt. "Fuck yeah, boss!" someone shouts, and others join in.
Sevika just grins as she stubs out her cigarette and stands. “I’m calling it a night, try not to have too much fun."
You remain rooted to the spot even though you know you should go give the shawl that's still draped around your shoulders back.
As you’re watching Sevika’s retreating form, you're struck once again by how little you truly understand her. Just when you think you've got her figured out, she does something that shatters your assumptions. Her rare, genuine smile from moments ago was like a crack in her armor, offering a glimpse of something you're not sure you were meant to see.
You recall Grayson's comment; If she's going to hell, she'll drag you down with her. But Sevika isn’t just dragging anyone down—she's fighting, clawing her way up. She’ll endure whatever comes, as long as she’s the one who gets to forge her own path.
Sevika faced death itself, and she emerged victorious.
"This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong // To love that well which thou must leave ere long." -William Shakespeare (Sonnet 73)
PART I: HEAVEN KNOWS
zombie apocalypse sevika x reader au!: sevika was the super soldier; a killing machine driven solely by survival. you were nomadic, constantly searching for something in whatever was left of the world—till you met her.
series masterpost: part II // part III // part IV // part V
wc: 4.7k
cw: guns, brief descriptions of violence
author's note: ty @mirconreadzztuff22 for being my arcane encyclopedia!! This is gonna be a seven part series so buckle up!!!
You blink awake, the world slowly coming into focus as a cacophony of muffled sounds pierces your slumber. Squinting one eye open, you’re able to see shadowy figures dragging your companions away, their struggles futile against the intruders' iron grips. Your heart races, but instinct kicks in. You remain still, feigning sleep, as footsteps approach.
Someone looms over you - in the dim light filtering through the drugstore's grimy windows, you catch a glimpse of her scarred face and steely gaze. As she reaches for you, adrenaline surges through your veins. In a flash, you slam into her, catching her off guard.
For a split second, you had the upper hand - but it's short-lived. The woman recovers with lightning speed, her combat skills levels way above yours. She easily corners you against the cold, dusty shelves, her knife finding its way to your throat. The blade's edge kisses your skin, a thin line of warmth trickling down your neck.
"Move any further, and I can end this now." she growls, her breath hot against your ear.
You raise your hands in surrender, and she roughly drags you to join the others. You're thrust into the main area, forced to your knees alongside Vander, Vi, Caitlyn, and Powder. The scene before you is horrifying - Through the front window, you see a horde of walkers slamming against the glass. Their decaying faces press against the surface, leaving smears of rot and congealed blood.
At the fore stood the woman who captured you, her gang forming a menacing circle around your group. You noted how tall and muscular she was, her dark skin gleaming with a thin sheen of sweat in the dim light. A red shawl draped over her left side, obscuring her arm and shoulder. Her short, styled hair framed a face set in stern lines, but her eyes, they sparkled with something dangerous, almost predatory.
The woman’s gaze swept over your group, lingering on each face before settling on yours. "Looks like we've got ourselves some lost lambs," she drawled, her voice a low, smoky rasp.
You felt Vi tense beside you, her fists clenching. On your other side, Caitlyn's fingers twitched near her now empty holster. Powder, uncharacteristically quiet, had her gaze fixed on the panels with the undead clawing their bloody fingers at.
The air crackled with tension as Vander spoke. "We're just passing through, we don’t mean to cause any trouble."
"Do you know whose territory you're in?" she demands, her voice cutting through the moans of the undead outside.
"No… but we weren’t going to settle here, let us go and we’ll get out of your hair."
The woman's laugh is harsh and devoid of humor. "I don't care," she sneers. Her eyes scan the ransacked shelves of the drugstore. "What I care about is where the remaining medications are. Hand them over."
Your throat tightens. You know exactly where they are – hidden in your pack. "I have them."
Her gaze locks on you. "Hand them over."
"Why should I?"
In an instant, she's in your face, so close you can see the flecks of amber in her dark eyes. Her scarred lip curls into a snarl. "Because you don't want to know what happens if you don't."
Your mind races, torn between protecting your group's precious resources and avoiding the wrath of this formidable woman and her gang. Would she really let you go if you acquiesced?
The tense standoff is suddenly interrupted by a burst of static. One of the woman's group members fumbles with a radio clipped to their belt. A male voice crackles through, urgent and clear.
"Sevika, the store's surrounded now. Get out before dark hits. Over."
The tall woman - Sevika, you now know - snatches the radio. "Copy that," she replies tersely, her eyes never leaving your group.
With a sharp whistle, her group springs into action. They wordlessly pack supplies, secure weapons, and prepare for evacuation. The efficiency is impressive, and you can't help but admire their coordination even when you had two of them keep their guns trained on your group.
“What about us?"
Sevika's lip curls in amusement. "What about you?"
"Are you going to let us go?" Vander presses, his voice steady despite the circumstances.
"Sure," Sevika drawls, then points directly at you. "After she gives me the meds."
"What? How the hell are we going to get out of here ourselves?" Vi protested.
Sevika's response is cold and indifferent. "If you want to get out that bad, do it yourself."
You watch Vander's mind work, always strategizing. "You have a base, it’s obviously well-supplied based on the amount of weapons and people you have. Take us with you, we can fight and help."
Sevika scoffs. "Now, why would I do that? You're lucky enough I'm letting you go alive."
Someone in her group chimes in with a smirk, "If they can get out alive." Snickers ripple through the gang, and your stomach turns at their callousness.
As Sevika's group continues packing, she allows your group to stand. You seize the moment, stepping forward. "I've got EMT training. I know how to use the medications I took."
Sevika dismisses you with a wave. "No thanks. We've already got a doctor."
"More help wouldn't hurt."
Her patience wearing thin, Sevika snaps, "I'm not picking up strays, especially ones so easy to put down."
You step closer, your face inches from hers despite the notable height difference between you two. "We were easy to capture because we were sleeping. That's a coward's move."
One of Sevika's people moves to intervene, but she halts them with a raised hand. Her eyes lock with yours, and to your surprise, her scowl turns into a smirk.
"Okay," she says, her voice low and challenging. "Prove to me right now that you can survive. However many survive, we'll take them in. But anyone left behind, I'm not coming back for. You're responsible for this."
Vander nods grimly. "Fine with us."
The moans of the undead grow louder outside. While Sevika's group finishes their preparations, your group hurries to gather what few possessions you have.
Vi angrily stuffs clothes into her backpack. "This is bullshit," she hisses. "We can take 'em. I say we fight our way out."
Caitlyn shakes her head. "That's suicide, Vi. They outnumber and outgun us."
You kneel beside Powder, helping her gather her collection of odds and ends - Her hands shake slightly as she works.
"It'll be okay, Powder," you whisper, giving her a reassuring smile. "We'll stick together, just like always."
Powder's eyes dart nervously between you and the others. "But what if they separate us? What if-"
"Shh," you soothe, squeezing her shoulder gently. "We won't let that happen."
Vander's deep voice cuts through the murmurs. "Enough," he says firmly but quietly. "I know none of us like this, but we're out of options. We can't keep running forever."
Vi whirls on him, eyes flashing. "So we're just gonna roll over and let them take us? After everything we've been through?"
Caitlyn places a calming hand on Vi's arm. "Vander's right, Vi. We're exhausted, low on supplies. This might be our only chance at something better."
You stand up, looking around at your makeshift family. "Maybe this is an opportunity. We don't know what their community is like but it could be a chance for a real home."
Vi scoffs, but there's a flicker of hope in her eyes that she quickly tries to hide. "Yeah, right. And I'm sure they invited us out of the kindness of their hearts."
Vander steps into the middle of the group, his duffle bag slung over his shoulder. "Listen to me," he says. "I don't trust them any more than you do. But right now, we need to play along. Stay alert, watch each other's backs, and be ready for anything. We're stronger together, remember that."
There's a moment of silence as his words sink in. Then, one by one, you all nod in agreement.
As you finish packing, you catch Sevika watching you, that same unreadable expression on her face.
The moans of the undead grew louder outside, time was running out. With one last look at each other, your group falls in line behind Sevika's squad.
Sevika's group snap into formation, they move with a fluid precision that speaks of countless drills and shared experiences. Sevika stands at the center, her scarred face set in grim determination as she outlines the plan to her team. You edge closer, straining to hear every word.
"Listen up," Sevika's voice cuts through the air. "Dustin, you're the distraction. When I give the signal, toss the radio into the parking lot. That should draw most of the horde away."
"Margot, Ran, Renni take position at the rear, pick off any stragglers that get too close. Conserve ammo, make every shot count. Finn, you’ll lead - make sure everyone is accounted for, then go, don’t wait for us."
"The rest of you, we're on supply duty. Grab everything you can carry, and prioritize non-perishables." Sevika's eyes sweep over her team, then land on your group. "I'll be keeping an eye on our new 'friends'."
As the plan springs into action, adrenaline courses through your veins. You dash to your pickup truck, sliding into the driver's seat. Powder hops in beside you, her eyes wild with excitement. In the rearview mirror, you see Caitlyn and Vi taking up defensive positions in the truck bed, their guns at the ready. Vander moves with surprising agility for his size, efficiently loading supplies.
You hear hard rock playing from the blaring radio that Dustin hurls into the parking lot. The walkers' heads swivel towards the noise, their groans intensifying as they shamble after it.
Gunshots crack the air as Sevika's shooters pick off the walkers that didn't fall for the distraction. You grip the steering wheel tighter, ready to peel out at a moment's notice.
Sevika appears at your window. "Ready to prove your worth?" she challenges, eyebrow raised.
You’re about to respond when a voice from above steals your attention.
"Sevika!"
All heads turn to the roof. A kid stands there, panic evident on his face. Sevika's eyes widened in disbelief.
"What the fuck? They forgot Ekko?" she snarls, livid at the oversight.
The momentary distraction costs you. Walkers, drawn by the commotion, shamble towards your truck. Only one corner of the store remains clear, but it's too far for Ekko to reach safely.
Your mind races, and adrenaline sharpens your focus. "I know how to drift," you blurt out. "If you guys can clear as many walkers as possible near that open corner, I can whip the car close enough for him to jump down."
Sevika eyes you skeptically. "You have an interesting set of skills… you’re confident you can get us close enough?"
"I can do it in my sleep. So, are we doing this?" you ask.
She nods curtly. "Fine. But don't get tempted to fling me out of the car."
"I wouldn't dream of it."
Sevika barks orders into her radio, relaying the plan to Ekko. The air fills with gunfire as both groups focus on clearing a path. You rev the engine, calculating angles and timing in your head.
"Hold on!" you shout, then slam the accelerator.
The truck lurches forward, tires screeching. You weave through the thinning walkers horde, your heart pounding in your ears. As you approach the corner, you crank the wheel hard, initiating a perfect drift. The world blurs around you as the truck slides sideways, stopping just beneath Ekko's position.
"Now!" Sevika roars.
Ekko leaps, landing with a thud in the truck bed. You don't wait for confirmation, immediately spinning the wheel to face the exit. In the passenger seat, Powder whoops with glee, while gunfire erupts from behind as Caitlyn and Vi pick off any pursuing undead.
A sharp tap on your window startles you from your laser focus on the road. You roll it down, coming face to face with Sevika's intense gaze.
"Need some directions?" she asks, a hint of amusement in her voice.
Heat rushes to your cheeks as you realize you've been blindly following the road away from the store. "Uh, yeah. That'd be great," you manage, trying to mask your embarrassment.
As you follow Sevika's directions, a sight on the horizon makes your jaw drop. A gated community looms in the distance, its high walls painted with the word “Zaun” on it represent safety you haven't seen in years. Suddenly, the organized efficiency of Sevika's group makes perfect sense. This is nothing like the ramshackle shelters you've cobbled together over the years.
The convoy of trucks comes to a halt in front of the gates. You expect them to open, but Sevika raises her fist. Your brow furrows in confusion, but before you can ask, she's out of the truck, moving with predatory grace toward the other vehicles.
She stops at one truck, yanking the door open with such force you're surprised it doesn't come off its hinges. In one fluid motion, she drags out the man who was supposed to be in charge in her absence earlier, Finn, and slams him against the side of the vehicle.
"You coward," Sevika snarls, her voice dripping with contempt. "You're a disgrace to this group."
You're transfixed by the sheer intensity of her anger, the way she towers over Finn despite not being much taller. Then you see it - movement in your peripheral vision. A walker, stumbling closer to Sevika's unprotected back. Your heart leaps into your throat, panic flooding your system.
"Sevika!" you try to shout, but it comes out as a strangled whisper. Ekko's grip on your arm tightens, holding you back.
"Don't." he warns, but you barely hear him roaring in your ears.
Your mind races, unable to comprehend why no one is reacting. The walkers are mere feet away now. You struggle against Ekko's grasp, every fiber of your being screaming to do something, anything.
The walkers' rotting hands reach out, inches from Sevika's shoulder. Time seems to slow down. You're about to break free, to hell with the consequences, when-
CRACK!
The walkers crumples, a clean hole through its skull. The bullet whistled so close to Sevika you swear it must have grazed her.
But Sevika doesn't even flinch.
"You're pathetic," she spits, her eyes boring into the man.
And suddenly, it clicks. The walker was never going to be a threat, but Finn was going to let the walker get her. That decision was a huge fucking mistake.
Before she let go, he leaned in to whisper something imperceptible but it had enough effect that she practically threw him onto the ground in response.
The gates begin to open, and as Sevika strides back to your truck, you can't help but feel a mix of admiration and fear. The woman before you was no ordinary one, she was willing to put her life on the line to protect her people and weed out the weak links.
Sevika slid back into the seat next to you, her eyes meeting yours. You feel exposed, like she can see right through you. There's a challenge there, a silent question: Do you know what you’re getting into?
You swallow hard, gripping the steering wheel tighter.
As you drive through the gate, you couldn’t conceal your awe. The scene before you is like stepping into a different world - one untouched by the horrors of the apocalypse you've grown accustomed to.
Neat rows of houses line well-maintained streets. Lush gardens and small farms dot the landscape, bursting with life and color. People - actual living, breathing people - stroll along sidewalks, chatting and going about their day as if the world outside these walls hasn't ended.
You count maybe 15-20 houses in total, but the sheer number of people you see is staggering. There are more living souls in this one community than you've encountered in years of scavenging and surviving.
Sevika directs you to a parking spot, and as you're climbing out of the truck, a woman approaches. She's tall and dressed in a neat uniform, with short-cropped gray hair and a face etched with the kind of hardness that comes from years of survival. Her sharp eyes remind you of a hawk's.
"How much longer were you gonna keep talking before you let me shoot?" she asks Sevika, a hint of amusement in her gruff voice.
"As long as it takes to make my point, Grayson." Then, gesturing to your group, she adds, "I picked up some strays today. Oh, and a spot just opened on my team, by the way. If anyone in your group wants to switch sides..."
"Enough of stealing my patrol, Vika." For the first time, you see Sevika truly laugh. You notice her tooth gap, she looks almost carefree.
“Well, looks like you survived,” Sevika says, turning to your group.
“You could say that with a bit more enthusiasm next time.”
There’s a ghost of a smile on her lips at your quip. “It’s your turn to uphold your end of the bargain now.” She puts out her hand.
You retrieve the bag you stuffed under the seat, it rattles with the pills as you hand it over. Without even a goodbye or thank you, she turns to leave, and you watch as her group immediately follows suit.
Grayson gives you a once-over, then nods. "Alright, let's give you the grand tour."
The houses were luxurious and belonged to a class you never knew. Some have solar panels on the roofs, explaining the electricity you can see being used. There's a central square with what looks like a communal dining area. The smell of cooking food makes your mouth water - real, fresh food, not the canned goods and stale rations you're used to.
You pass by a building that Grayson identifies as the infirmary. Through the window, you can see shelves stocked with medical supplies. It's more medicine in one place than you've seen since the world fell apart. You notice guard towers strategically placed along the walls - despite the idyllic appearance, it's clear this place is well-defended.
"I've got a meeting to attend but Ekko here will take care of you, though I do hope that we will meet again - my patrol squad is always looking for new members." With that, Grayson strides away, leaving you all trying to take in the scenery.
"Come on, let's get you settled in! Sky will get you guys all sorted out." Ekko waved at your group to follow.
He leads you through the streets, and you can't help but marvel at the sense of normalcy. People are going about their daily lives, talking, and laughing. It's like stepping into a memory of the world before.
"Welcome!" Sky says, her voice gentle with a hint of anxiety at the sight of your group - soot ridden and blood stained clothes weren’t the most friendly image. "We got a spare house. It’s not huge, but it should accommodate all of you comfortably."
She hands Vander a set of keys and a small map. Then, with a delicate clearing of her throat, she adds, "If I may suggest... There are showers in your new home. I think you'll find them... refreshing after your journey."
Vi snorts at the polite understatement, while Caitlyn looks slightly embarrassed.
Sky continues, "Once you've had a chance to clean up, Ekko can show you to the pantry. We'll make sure you have enough food to get started."
You can hardly believe what you're hearing. Showers? Fresh food? It seems too good to be true.
As if reading your thoughts, Sky's expression softens. "I know this must be overwhelming. Take your time to settle in. It must be hard adjusting to how it is here, but this place didn’t happen overnight. Everyone here has a part in maintaining things the way it is. "
Ekko nods, gesturing towards the door. "Ready to see your new digs?"
As you follow him out, you exchange glances with your companions. There's hope in their eyes, but also caution. This place seems like a dream come true, but you all knew that nothing was ever permanent.
The moment you step into your new house, chaos erupts. Bags fly everywhere as you all rush to claim spaces. Vi tosses her pack onto a bed, while Caitlyn more carefully sets hers down. You and Powder are a whirlwind of motion, exploring every nook and cranny.
Tears prick your eyes as the reality sinks in. A real home, after so long.
"I call the couch!" Powder shouts, leaping onto it.
Vi raises an eyebrow. "You can have the bed, you know."
"Nope! This is perfect," Powder grins, bouncing slightly.
You all burst into laughter, the sound foreign but welcome after so much hardship. As the laughter dies down, you realize just how hungry you are. Powder’s stomach growls loudly, causing another round of giggles.
"I think that's our cue to hit the pantry," Vi says, standing up and stretching. "Come on, let's see what they've got around here."
At the pantry, you're shoveling food into your mouth, barely pausing to breathe. "I know this is canned, but why is it so good?" you mumble around a mouthful.
Ekko chuckles. "We have fresh fish, vegetables, and fruit too."
Your eyes widen in disbelief just as Sky walks in, Sevika close behind.
"Oh perfect, we were looking for you guys!" Sky says warmly.
Sevika's eyes scan your group. "I see you're settling in already. We’ve got jobs for you."
She starts assigning roles, Vander and Vi in food gathering. Then she turns to you, Caitlyn, and Powder. "You three will be working here in the pantry."
"What? Even after all those 'interesting skills' you said I had?" The words are out before you can stop them, tinged with disbelief and a hint of anger.
"This is a serious job. Making sure everyone gets the right rations is important. Preventing theft, too." Her tone is cocky, almost challenging.
Fury bubbles in your chest. After everything you've been through, all the skills you've developed to survive, you're being relegated to... food inventory? You want to argue, to prove your worth, but the words stick in your throat. You're acutely aware of how precarious your position is here.
Beside you, Caitlyn looks equally stunned. She's an incredible shot, her skills were wasted on this task. But like you, she remains silent.
"Understood," you manage to say, the word tasting bitter. You exchange a glance with Caitlyn, seeing the same resolve in her eyes.
The days blend into one another as you settle into a routine at Zaun. It's surreal, to be able to think beyond mere survival. Conversations here with others touch on memories, hopes, dreams - luxuries you'd almost forgotten existed.
You're lost in thought, mentally cataloging the supplies, when a familiar voice cuts through your concentration.
"Looks like our newest recruits are really getting into the swing of things."
You turn to see Sevika leaning against the doorframe. Her presence fills the small space, making the pantry feel even more cramped than usual.
"Don't you have something more important to do?" you mutter, trying to hide your annoyance. "Like, I don't know, running this whole place?"
Sevika chuckles, pushing off the doorframe and sauntering into the pantry. "Multitasking, sweetheart. I can keep an eye on you and run this place at the same time."
You roll your eyes, returning to your task. But Sevika doesn't leave. Instead, she picks up a can, tossing it from hand to hand.
"You know," she drawls, "when I brought you in, I thought you might be more... useful. Didn't peg you for the grocery store clerk type."
Her words sting more than you'd like to admit, and it was also enraging - how dare she act like it wasn’t her fault you were assigned here in the first place?
"We can't all be badass scavengers," you retort, reaching for a high shelf. Before you can grab it, Sevika's arm extends past yours, easily plucking the item you were struggling to reach.
"Here," she says, handing it to you. Your fingers brush as you take it, and you're struck by the calloused warmth of her hand. You mutter a reluctant thanks, hyper-aware of her proximity.
From the corner of your eye, you notice Caitlyn watching your interaction intently from across the room. Her gaze flicks between you and Sevika, a mix of curiosity and concern in her eyes.
Sevika notices too. She turns to Caitlyn with a raised eyebrow, the casualness in her voice from earlier gone. "Something on your mind?"
Caitlyn quickly averts her gaze, busying herself with her task.
As you reach for another box, Sevika beats you to it, effortlessly lifting the heavy container.
"How do you even have time for this?" you blurt out, frustration and confusion coloring your voice.
Sevika sets the box down, her eyes meeting yours. "I don’t."
The moment stretches between you, fraught with tension. Sevika's typical scowl returns, and she turns to leave. "Try not to burn the place down with your expert can-stacking skills," she throws over her shoulder as she exits.
These encounters with Sevika were becoming more frequent, each one leaving you more uncertain than the last. But the random checkups made sense - you don't trust her, and neither does she.
The pantry job was a way to keep your group in check but it coincidentally became a test of patience as well. Powder flits in and out, her time increasingly spent with Ekko. While part of you was frustrated by her lack of help, a larger part was glad she actually got to enjoy her childhood.
The breaking point comes during an argument with a burly man demanding extra rations.
"Sorry, but rules are rules," you say, trying to keep your voice level. "Take it up with Sevika if you have an issue."
His face reddens. "Screw that, I'll go straight to Silco!"
The name hangs in the air, the mysterious leader of Zaun you've yet to meet. You knew Sevika's role as his right hand, but Silco himself remains an enigma, spoken of in hushed tones.
As the man storms off, you lock eyes with Caitlyn. Without a word, you both know - it's time for a change.
You find Grayson at the tennis courts, an incongruous sight that still makes you do a double-take. She's lounging in a weathered lawn chair, a beer in hand, watching a lackluster game between two residents.
The sun beats down on the cracked concrete court, weeds pushing through the fading lines.
Grayson spots you approaching, her eyes narrowing slightly as she takes a long swig of her beer. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
You can smell the alcohol on her breath as you draw closer, noting the slight flush on her cheeks. Despite her relaxed posture, there's a sharpness to her gaze that tells you she's far from incapacitated.
"We need to talk," you say. "About our roles here."
"What about them?"
Caitlyn steps forward, her posture straight and confident. "I want to join your patrol team."
You nod, adding, "And I want to join Sevika's scavenging group."
Grayson snorts. "If you want to join Sevika's group, why come to me? Why not ask her yourself?"
You feel your cheeks heat up as the memory resurfaces. "I did..."
Sevika stands before you, arms crossed, that infuriating smirk on her face. You've just finished explaining your request to join her team.
She laughs, the sound both mocking and somehow enticing. "If you can beat me in sparring once, sure." Her eyes rake over you. "But we both know that's not happening anytime soon, pantry girl."
"I need you to train me," you tell Grayson, determination in your voice. "Make me a better fighter. All I did was drive and fix wounds, but I know I can do more."
Grayson's eyes narrow. "How do I know I won't be wasting my time helping you two?"
Before you can respond, Caitlyn moves. In a blink, she's drawn Grayson's pistol from its holster and fired at a beer bottle perched on a table at the end of the court, shattering the bottle.
"Because we have the skills to prove it," Caitlyn says coolly, handing the gun back.
For a moment, there's silence. Then Grayson's face splits into a grin. "Alright, I'm convinced." She stands, stretching. "But today's my day off. I'll see you two at the west watchtower tomorrow morning."
Her expression turns serious. "If you're late, don't bother asking again. Do we have a deal?"
mentions : royalty au, medieval au, romance, strong reader (as in combat and intelligence), silco is king, reader is a heavy daddy’s girl, silco being soft around her daughter, sevika is only 5 years older than you, major character deaths, very long first chapter !
notes : let me know if you guys like the small text or should I go back to bigger words. another chapter will be released tomorrow!
↳ next chapter
The night of the queen’s death remained seared into your memory like a jagged scar, a moment that altered the course of your life—and the kingdom—forever.
Your mother had always been the kingdom’s heart, her kindness radiating like the sun, touching the lives of every villager, knight, and noble. She possessed an innate gift for seeing the good in people, even when they couldn't see it in themselves. When she had married your father, her warmth had melted away the rougher edges of Silco, a man who was once feared for his ruthlessness.
Before her, Silco’s reign had been efficient but cold, his focus solely on maintaining power and expanding the kingdom's borders. But with the queen by his side, something shifted. She softened him, guiding him to rule with compassion as well as strength. Under her influence, roads were built, trade flourished, and the kingdom prospered. When you were born, the union of their love, Silco seemed to find an even deeper purpose. He adored you from the moment he held you in his arms, his mismatched eyes filled with awe.
“She’s perfect,” he’d whispered to the queen, who smiled through her exhaustion. “Just like her mother.”
Your early years were filled with laughter and warmth. Your mother would sing to you in the mornings while brushing your hair, and Silco, despite his busy schedule, would often sneak away from his duties to spend time with you. He read you bedtime stories, his deep voice weaving tales of adventure and bravery. You were his reason to rule with integrity, his reminder that the kingdom’s future depended on more than power—it depended on love.
But everything changed the day your mother decided to visit the village alone.
You were six years old, clinging to her skirts as she prepared to leave.
“Must you go?” you asked, your voice small and pleading.
She knelt before you, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I must,” she said gently. “The children in the village are sick, and they need help. But I won’t be long, my love. I’ll be back before the sun sets.”
She kissed your forehead, her smile warm and reassuring, and then she was gone. You spent the rest of the day waiting by the window, watching as the sun dipped lower and lower in the sky.
When the sun finally set and she had not returned, unease settled over the castle like a heavy fog. It was Sevika—then a young squire barely in her teens—who came running into the throne room with the news. Her face was pale, her breath coming in short gasps as she fell to one knee before Silco.
“Your Majesty,” she said, her voice trembling. “There’s been… an attack. The queen—she—”
Silco rose from his throne, his voice cutting through her stammering like a blade. “What happened?”
“She was ambushed,” Sevika managed, her hands clenched into fists. “A group of thieves—they didn’t know who she was. She fought back, but…” Her voice broke, and she couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.
Silco didn’t need her to. The look in his eyes was enough to send a shiver through the room, a mix of fury and anguish so profound it was almost unbearable to witness. He left the throne room without another word, his footsteps echoing through the silent hall.
The days that followed were marked by grief and silence. Silco locked himself away, emerging only for the queen’s funeral. You remembered the way he stood by her casket, his shoulders rigid, his mismatched eyes devoid of the warmth they once held. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse but steady.
“She was too good for this world,” he said, his gaze fixed on her peaceful face. “But I will ensure her legacy lives on.”
He turned his focus to you, doubling down on his efforts to keep you safe. Guards followed you everywhere, even within the castle walls. He forbade you from going into the village, insisting it was too dangerous. His love became suffocating, a cage built from his fear of losing you as he had lost her.
You grew up under the shadow of that fear, but you refused to let it define you. Determined to honor your mother’s memory, you threw yourself into your studies, mastering everything from diplomacy to combat. Your father disapproved of your training, insisting that the daughter of a king had no need for swords or bows. But you persisted, finding solace in the discipline and focus it required.
It wasn’t until you were sixteen that you truly began to make a name for yourself among the knights. One of the senior knights, impressed by your determination, arranged for you to train with Sevika, who had recently returned to the castle after years spent serving on the borders.
Sevika was in her early twenties then, already gaining a reputation as a skilled and fearless warrior. She had a scar running down the side of her face, a mark of the battle that had earned her the rank of head knight. She rarely spoke, her focus entirely on her duties, but when she did, her words carried weight.
Your first session with her was a turning point. She showed you how to hold a bow, correcting your posture and guiding your hands with a gruff patience you hadn’t expected. “Don’t overthink it,” she said, her voice low and steady. “Just breathe and let the arrow fly.”
For a brief moment, you saw a softer side of her, a flicker of something almost kind beneath her stoic exterior. It was enough to make your heart flutter, a feeling you didn’t entirely understand at the time.
From then on, your crush on Sevika only grew, fueled by fleeting moments of warmth amidst her cold professionalism. She was everything you admired: strong, capable, and unyielding. But she was also distant, her loyalty to your father a wall you doubted you’d ever be able to breach.
You were every bit the spoiled princess, and you made no apologies for it. Your wardrobe was filled with the finest gowns in silks, satins, and velvets, each more extravagant than the last. Shoes adorned with delicate embroidery and shimmering jewels lined your chambers, matched meticulously to every ensemble. The maids who styled your hair each morning knew your tastes well—tight curls for formal occasions, elegant braids when you ventured to court, and soft waves for quiet evenings spent reading in your chambers. It was a life of luxury and ease, one that you embraced wholeheartedly.
Your favorite moments, however, were the hours spent with your ladies-in-waiting. Gathered in the sunlit parlor, the scent of freshly brewed tea mingling with the fragrance of blooming flowers, you would sit for hours, gossiping and laughing with your closest confidantes. Together, you exchanged stories, whispered secrets, and speculated about the various knights, courtiers, and even the visiting nobility. You didn’t shy away from discussing the beauty of the women who graced the castle halls, often causing a ripple of giggles among your companions when your admiration turned bold.
Through it all, there was one secret you kept entirely to yourself: your growing infatuation with Sevika. It wasn’t the kind of crush you could casually admit during tea or in the middle of idle chatter. Sevika’s cold professionalism and the unyielding strength she displayed as the head knight made her a figure of both admiration and intimidation. Her rare moments of warmth toward you—brief, fleeting instances where she adjusted your grip on a bow or gave a quiet word of approval—were treasures you tucked away in your heart, replaying them long after they passed.
But secrets have a way of surfacing, and yours was no exception. One lazy afternoon, as Mel helped you reorganize your chambers, she discovered a bundle of papers hidden beneath your bed. They were scraps of poetry and unsent letters, scrawled confessions of your feelings for Sevika. Mel’s gasp of surprise as she read them turned your blood cold. You tried to snatch them away, but it was too late—she knew. Her teasing smirk was almost unbearable as she leaned against your bedpost, waving the papers at you.
“Sevika?” she drawled, one perfectly arched brow lifting in amusement. “You’re in love with her?” Mel, ever the quick-witted daughter of a noblewoman, didn’t let you live it down easily. Though she was sworn to secrecy, she took great delight in teasing you about your unspoken feelings, often poking fun at how flustered you became whenever Sevika was nearby. Despite your embarrassment, there was a part of you that found comfort in sharing your secret with someone, even if Mel’s constant smirking made you regret it at times.
The dining hall was bathed in warm candlelight, the long table laden with golden platters of roasted meats, fruits, and delicacies from across the kingdom. Laughter and chatter filled the room, and for a brief moment, everything felt peaceful. You sat at your father’s right hand, the place of honor, dressed in a gown of soft lavender silk. The fabric shimmered with each movement, the embroidery catching the flickering light. Around you, nobles toasted to victories, knights traded boasts, and your ladies-in-waiting whispered behind their hands, no doubt commenting on which of the lords appeared most eligible.
You entertained their murmurs with a polite smile, but your focus drifted to the heavy doors of the hall. You noticed them before they opened, as if instinctively sensing Sevika’s arrival. She stepped inside, her boots echoing against the stone floor. She wasn’t in her usual armor but a simpler, dark tunic and breeches, though her presence alone was as commanding as any battle regalia. She moved with purpose, her scarred face set in a grim line.
“Sevika,” Silco called, his voice cutting through the noise. The room fell silent as she approached the king, bowing her head slightly.
“Apologies for the interruption, Your Majesty,” she said, her voice low but carrying easily through the hall. “There’s news from the gates.”
The room seemed to hold its breath. Silco’s eyes narrowed, his wineglass forgotten in his hand. “Speak.”
“The monsters at the borders are escalating their attacks,” Sevika began. “They’re not just striking in waves anymore. It’s constant now. The knights are struggling to keep them contained, and we’re losing ground. Reports suggest their numbers are too great for our current defenses.”
A murmur rippled through the assembled nobles. Silco’s grip on his goblet tightened before he set it down with a sharp clink. “And the commanders? Have they devised a solution?”
Sevika hesitated, her silence answering for her. Finally, she said, “No. They’re holding the line, but we’re losing too many. We need to regroup and rethink our approach.”
Silco’s jaw tightened, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames of the chandelier above. Then, decisively, he pushed back his chair and stood. “I’ll go to the gates myself. I need to see this for myself and consult with the commanders directly.”
You didn’t think—you simply acted. Rising from your seat as Silco and Sevika left the dining hall, you followed them into the dimly lit corridor. Your silk skirts swished as you hurried after them, your jeweled slippers clicking softly against the stone floor. You reached the shadows just in time to overhear Silco’s voice.
“I’ll leave at dawn with the first battalion,” he said. “The reports alone aren’t enough. If this is as dire as it seems, I need to see it myself. There’s no room for error.”
“Understood,” Sevika replied. “But it’s a risk. The journey to the walls is dangerous, especially with the creatures lurking along the roads.”
“I’ll take that risk,” Silco said firmly. “The kingdom’s stability depends on it. If we don’t act now, there won’t be a kingdom left to protect.”
“Father!” Your voice rang out before you could stop yourself. They turned, surprise flashing across Silco’s face before his expression hardened.
“This doesn’t concern you,” he said, his tone sharp but not unkind.
“It concerns me when you’re talking about putting yourself in danger,” you countered, stepping closer. “You can’t just leave. What if something happens to you?”
Silco sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t up for debate, child. I need to go. I won’t make the same mistakes as before by sitting idle.”
Your chest tightened, and the memory of your mother’s final words hit you like a blade. “The last time someone told me they’d come back, they didn’t,” you said, your voice breaking. “She promised me, and she never came home. How can you ask me to watch you walk out that same door and pretend it’s fine?”
Silco’s expression softened, though the steel in his resolve remained. He placed a hand on your shoulder, his mismatched eyes meeting yours. “I understand your fear,” he said quietly. “But I have a duty to this kingdom—and to you. If I don’t go, the threat will only grow worse. You’re stronger than you think, and I’ll return. I promise.”
Before you could respond, Sevika stepped forward, her presence grounding the moment. “He’s right,” she said, her tone firm but not unkind. “Your father’s not reckless. He’ll have me and the best knights in the kingdom with him. You don’t need to worry.”
Her words, though meant to reassure, did little to ease the ache in your chest. You looked between them, fighting the tears welling in your eyes. Finally, you nodded, though the knot of unease remained.
As they turned to leave, you stood alone in the corridor, your hands clenched at your sides. The weight of their footsteps faded, leaving only the faint flicker of torchlight and the hollow echo of your thoughts.
The next morning, you woke to the sound of hurried footsteps and quiet murmurs just beyond your door. The servants were already at work, preparing for your father’s departure. Their shuffling echoed in the hallway as they polished the portraits, hung banners in the kingdom’s colors, and arranged the grand send-off for the king. A knot formed in your chest as the realization settled—he was really leaving.
When your maids entered, they didn’t need to speak to know you were already awake. They moved with gentle precision, draping you in a gown of deep crimson, black, and silver. The silk hugged your frame, the silver embroidery catching the faint morning light. Your hair was styled intricately, each strand woven into a braid that they adorned with silver pins shaped like roses. They murmured compliments, but you barely heard them, your thoughts elsewhere.
As soon as they were done, you hurried to the throne room, your stomach twisting with each step. When you entered, the sight of your father nearly stole your breath.
Silco stood at the base of his throne, dressed in armor that seemed more fitting for a king from a storybook than the man you’d grown up with. The polished silver breastplate bore the royal crest, its sharp lines gleaming under the golden light of the chandeliers. A long crimson cape hung from his shoulders, draping elegantly to the floor. At his side rested a sword with a gilded hilt, its weight a reminder of the battle he was about to face.
You didn’t speak at first, your throat tight with the effort to hold yourself together. But when he saw you, his expression softened. For just a moment, the weight of his responsibility lifted, and he looked at you not as a king but as a father.
You crossed the room quickly, wrapping your arms around him in a fierce embrace. He stiffened, surprised, before his arms came around you, holding you as tightly as you held him. His armor was cold against your cheek, but you didn’t care.
“Please,” you whispered, your voice trembling, “be safe. I love you, Father.”
His grip tightened, his hand brushing the back of your head. “I love you too,” he said, his voice low and filled with something you rarely heard—uncertainty. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his mismatched eyes searching your face. “You’ve grown so much,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Every time I look at you, I see your mother. Her strength, her heart… I hope you know how proud I am of you.”
Your throat burned as tears welled in your eyes. “Then don’t go,” you pleaded softly, your voice breaking. “Please, Father. I can’t lose you, too. I can’t…”
He cupped your face with one hand, his calloused thumb brushing away a tear that slipped down your cheek. “I have to, my love,” he said, his voice steady despite the sorrow in his eyes. “This kingdom needs me. And more than that, it needs you. You’re stronger than you think—you always have been.”
His words were meant to reassure you, but they only made the ache in your chest worse. “Promise me,” you whispered. “Promise me you’ll come back.”
“I promise,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. The gesture was lingering, full of the unspoken things he couldn’t bring himself to say. “You’ll see me again before you know it.”
You nodded, though the doubt remained, and reluctantly let him go. As he stepped back, you noticed Sevika standing near the doorway, watching the exchange silently.
You crossed the room to her, your steps hesitant but determined. She straightened when you approached, her expression unreadable.
“I need you to promise me,” you said, your voice firmer now, though your heart still raced. “Promise me you’ll bring him back safe.”
Sevika’s brow furrowed slightly, her usual coldness faltering for a moment. “I promise,” she said simply, her tone calm and even.
You narrowed your eyes, stepping closer until you could see the faint scar on her cheek. “No, Sevika. I’m being serious. I know you just see me as some spoiled princess, but I’m not. He’s all I have. Promise me for real.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she glanced briefly at your hand as it reached for hers. The warmth of your touch seemed to catch her off guard. For a moment, something flickered in her expression—something unspoken.
“I’ll protect him with my life, your highness,” Sevika said, her voice quieter this time. “He’ll come back. You have my word.”
You held her gaze for a long moment, searching for any sign of insincerity. But there was none. Finally, you let her hand go, your heart still heavy but steadied by her promise. As she turned to join your father, you watched them walk away, the ache in your chest growing with each step they took.
For now, all you could do was trust—and wait.
Days turned into weeks, each one heavier than the last as you anxiously awaited your father’s return. The castle felt hollow in his absence, the echo of his authoritative voice replaced by an unnerving silence that no amount of bustling servants or lively courtiers could fill. You tried to busy yourself with your routine, but nothing seemed to dull the ache in your chest.
Mel did her best to distract you, her endless ideas for entertainment failing to ease your worry. She often led you to the gardens, coaxing you to admire the blooming roses or walk among the neat hedgerows. She’d chatter about trivial things—her mother’s letters, the latest gossip among the ladies-in-waiting, or the prospect of an upcoming festival—but her words felt distant, like a hum in the background.
On some days, she’d take you to the nearby lake, where you’d lounge by a small boat anchored at the shore. The gentle lapping of the water against the wood, the songs of birds in the trees, and even Mel’s attempts to make you laugh with exaggerated tales of court drama couldn’t pull you from your thoughts. You were miserable.
The anxiety seeped into your nights, turning them restless. You woke more often than not in cold sweats, the remnants of nightmares clinging to you like a suffocating shroud. Dreams of your father not returning—or worse—haunted your sleep, leaving you too afraid to close your eyes again. You’d toss and turn, clutching the heavy blankets as though they could shield you from your fears.
It wasn’t long before you could no longer bear being alone at night. Mel, ever loyal, started sharing your bed, her presence offering a sliver of comfort. She’d hold your hand or hum softly, her voice lulling you into uneasy sleep. But even with her there, the nights felt unbearably long, and the ache in your chest only grew.
You missed your father. His commanding presence, his sharp words that were always tinged with an undercurrent of affection. No matter how stern he could be, he was your anchor, and his absence left you adrift.
And, though you hated to admit it, you missed Sevika too. Her presence lingered in your mind like a ghost. Even though her words were often clipped and dismissive, there had been something in the way she spoke to you that lit a fire within you. A rare spark of interest, a momentary pause that felt like a flicker of attention just for you.
Her aloofness only made her more enigmatic, her sharp gaze and blunt demeanor stirring feelings that you didn’t quite understand. You replayed your interactions with her over and over in your mind, from the sarcastic comments to the way she’d adjust your posture during archery. It wasn’t much, but to you, it was enough.
It was foolish to feel this way, you told yourself. She was the head knight, loyal to your father and bound by duty. She likely thought of you as nothing more than the king’s spoiled daughter, another responsibility on her long list of obligations.
And yet, you couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Each day that passed felt heavier than the last, the weight of your longing for both your father and Sevika pressing down on you. You clung to the hope that their return would bring relief, but until then, you were left to endure the suffocating stillness of the castle and the ache that refused to fade.
Mel, ever persistent in her attempts to lift your spirits, decided that simply resting by the lake was no longer enough. She wanted to give you a moment of true peace, something that might soothe the restlessness in your soul. With a few words to the castle staff, she arranged for a servant to row one of the small boats onto the still waters of the lake.
When the boat was ready, she guided you down to the shore. The late afternoon sun bathed the lake in a soft, golden glow, and the air was filled with the gentle hum of dragonflies and the occasional splash of fish breaking the surface. The sight was tranquil, almost idyllic, but your heart was still heavy.
Mel helped you onto the boat, her steady hand ensuring you didn’t slip on the polished wooden planks. You settled onto the cushioned seat, and as the boat pushed off from the shore, the rhythmic sound of the oars dipping into the water began to lull you into a state of calm.
You leaned against the edge of the boat, resting your head on your folded arm. The water was cool beneath your fingertips as you let your hand trail lazily through it, brushing against the occasional lily pad that floated by. The gentle sway of the boat and the soft rippling of the water were almost hypnotic. For the first time in weeks, you felt a fleeting sense of tranquility.
“If my father and Sevika come back…” you began softly, your voice barely above a whisper. The words felt heavy on your tongue, like a confession you hadn’t intended to make. You glanced at your reflection in the water, your face distorted by the ripples. “I’ll actually obey him... and I’ll confess to Sevika about my feelings for her.”
The admission hung in the air, a vulnerable truth you hadn’t even fully admitted to yourself before.
Mel, sitting beside you, turned to look at you. Her usual sharp wit and playful banter were absent as she took in the sincerity of your words. After a moment, she smiled softly, a flicker of warmth and understanding in her expression.
“We’ll see about that, Your Majesty,” she said, her tone light but with a hint of skepticism.
You turned your head slightly to glance at her, catching the faint curve of her lips and the knowing glint in her eye. She didn’t press you further, didn’t tease or pry as she usually might. Instead, she simply leaned back in her seat, allowing you the space to lose yourself in your thoughts.
As the boat glided across the lake, the silence between you was comfortable. Mel’s presence was steady, a quiet reassurance that you weren’t entirely alone in your longing or your fears.
For now, you could allow yourself to hope.
The following week arrived quietly, marked by the same monotony that had filled the days since your father left. You were seated by your vanity, your servant brushing your hair in slow, careful strokes. The rhythmic tug of the bristles on your scalp was almost lulling, but your mind was elsewhere.
Then, a sound shattered the quiet—faint but unmistakable. The trumpets of the king’s arrival.
Your heart leaped in your chest as you sat up straight, the brush slipping from your servant’s hand. “Your Highness?” they asked, startled.
But you didn’t answer. Without hesitation, you jumped to your feet and ran to your balcony, the cool morning air rushing to greet you as you flung open the doors. The grand stone entrance of the castle stretched below you, and there he was—your father, dismounting his horse in a flurry of movement.
As though sensing your presence, his gaze lifted to meet yours. His face softened instantly, a warm smile spreading across his features. He lifted a hand and waved to you, and you couldn’t stop the answering grin that broke across your face.
“Father!” you called out, your voice carrying down to him.
Without a second thought, you spun around and hurried back into your chambers, your bare feet sliding slightly on the polished floors as you moved. You quickly grabbed your slippers, slipping them on clumsily.
“Your Highness, you’re still in your sleepwear—” your servant began, her voice tinged with concern as she reached for you.
“I don’t care!” you called over your shoulder, already halfway out the door.
Your heart raced as you darted through the halls, the familiar corridors blurring past you in your excitement. The heavy stone walls seemed brighter, the tapestries more colorful, as if the castle itself had come alive with his return. The sound of your footsteps echoed off the marble staircase as you descended, nearly stumbling in your haste.
When you finally reached the entrance, your father was just stepping down from his horse, his gloved hands steady as he handed the reins to a nearby stable hand. His cloak billowed slightly in the breeze, his regal presence commanding the attention of everyone around him.
“Father!” you called again, your voice breaking slightly from your breathless sprint.
He turned toward you, his expression shifting from one of composure to pure, unrestrained joy. The moment his eyes met yours, his arms opened wide, and you didn’t hesitate for a second. You closed the distance between you, throwing yourself into his embrace.
His arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you as if he never wanted to let go. His grip was firm, steady, and warm, grounding you in a way nothing else could.
“It feels like I’m seeing an angel,” he murmured, his voice low and full of emotion.
You buried your face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of leather and faint traces of ink from his correspondence. “I know... me too,” you replied, your voice muffled but no less sincere.
Silco finally pulled back from the embrace, his hands resting on your shoulders as he looked you over, his sharp eyes softening with affection. “Have you been well, my daughter?” he asked, his voice steady yet tinged with concern.
You nodded, though you hesitated before answering. “Yes, Father. I’ve kept up with my studies and my training... though I missed you terribly,” you admitted, your voice faltering slightly at the end.
His expression softened further, and he cupped your cheek with a gloved hand, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “I missed you as well. It was far too long to be away from my only child.”
As he spoke, you noticed the weight of exhaustion in his features—the faint lines of weariness etched into his face and the slight droop of his shoulders. Yet even so, there was a glimmer of pride in his eyes as he looked at you.
He stepped back, his posture straightening as he addressed not just you but the attendants and soldiers gathering around. His voice carried, commanding attention with its authority.
“My soldiers and I have returned victorious,” he announced, his tone filled with the subtle pride of a ruler who demanded respect but did not flaunt his power unnecessarily. “And such a triumph deserves celebration.”
Your heart skipped slightly at his words, and you couldn’t help the small smile that formed on your lips.
Silco continued, his gaze sweeping over the gathered servants and knights. “A feast will be held tonight in the Great Hall. Let it be a night of joy and gratitude for our success and the safety of our kingdom.”
The attendants and soldiers murmured their approval, the quiet hum of excitement rippling through the crowd.
He turned back to you, his expression softer once again. “And you, my child, will be at my side as the kingdom celebrates.”
“I wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else,” you replied, your voice steady despite the excitement bubbling within you.
“Good,” he said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “But first, you’ll need to prepare. I expect you to look every bit the queen you are destined to be. I trust Mel will see to it?”
You nodded quickly. “She will, Father. I’ll make sure everything is perfect.”
“Good,” Silco repeated, placing a hand on your shoulder briefly before turning to his steward to give further instructions about the preparations.
As the crowd began to disperse, Sevika stepped forward, her ever-stoic presence now standing close behind your father. Her sharp eyes glanced over you briefly before she addressed Silco. “I’ll ensure the knights are ready for the evening, Your Majesty,” she said, her tone curt and professional.
Silco nodded in approval, but before Sevika could leave, his gaze shifted back to you. “Sevika, see that my daughter gets back to her chambers safely. She shouldn’t be running through the halls like that again.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Sevika replied without hesitation.
Your father gave you one last affectionate glance before turning back to his advisors, leaving you standing there with Sevika.
“You heard him,” Sevika said gruffly, her tone laced with the usual edge of authority. “Let’s get you back to your chambers. Can’t have you causing another scene.”
You rolled your eyes slightly but complied, following her as she led the way back into the castle. Despite her sharp words, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of comfort knowing she was there, her towering presence a reminder of both your safety and... something else you weren’t quite ready to admit.
As you and Sevika made your way back through the dimly lit halls of the castle, the cool stone beneath your feet and the drafty corridors sent a shiver down your spine. Without a word, Sevika unclasped her cloak and draped it around your shoulders, the heavy fabric engulfing you in warmth. Her movements were brisk and efficient, as if she had done this a hundred times before, yet the gesture left your cheeks warm in a way that had nothing to do with the cloak itself.
“Thank you,” you murmured, clutching the edges of the cloak tightly around yourself. The faint scent of leather and smoke lingered on the fabric, unmistakably hers.
Sevika gave a short nod, her gaze fixed ahead as the two of you continued walking. The rhythmic clink of her armor filled the silence, but your mind was elsewhere. You kept stealing glances at her, your heart thudding harder with each one. You wanted to speak, to finally confess the feelings you had held onto for so long. The words were right there, resting on the tip of your tongue.
But before you could summon the courage to open your mouth, Sevika’s voice cut through the silence, low and steady.
“Don’t run out in your nightgown again,” she said gruffly, not bothering to glance your way. “It’s quite transparent in the right lighting.”
You froze mid-step, your eyes widening as her words sank in. The warmth in your cheeks flared into a full blush, spreading down your neck as you quickly looked away, your hands instinctively tugging the cloak tighter around your body.
“I-I wasn’t thinking,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just wanted to see my father.”
Sevika finally glanced at you, her sharp eyes briefly scanning your flustered expression before she huffed a soft, almost amused sigh. “That much was obvious.”
You felt your stomach twist with embarrassment, but there was something in her tone—a faint trace of humor, perhaps—that eased the sting of her bluntness.
“I’ll keep that in mind next time,” you muttered, your gaze fixed firmly on the stone floor as you walked.
“See that you do,” Sevika replied, her voice returning to its usual sternness. “You may be the king’s daughter, but you’re not above common sense.”
Her words stung, but there was no malice in them, only the no-nonsense practicality that defined her. Still, your heart ached as you realized how far away your confession still felt. How could you possibly tell someone like her—so composed, so seemingly unimpressed by you—what you truly felt?
As you neared your chambers, the weight of the unspoken words pressed heavily on your chest. For now, you would settle for the warmth of her cloak and the fleeting moments of attention she gave you, even if they were laced with sternness.
The feast was a spectacle of grandeur. With Mel and a team of diligent servants, you were adorned in your finest jewels, your hair styled to perfection, and the shimmering gown hugging your frame like it was made of starlight itself. The dress—delicate and intricate, like spun silver—glittered under the candlelight, catching every flicker and transforming it into magic. The translucent layers of the fabric hugged your silhouette, leaving just enough to the imagination while maintaining an air of regality.
Mel circled you with a satisfied smile, tucking one final lock of hair into place. “If Sevika doesn’t fall for you tonight,” she teased, “she must be made of stone.”
You swatted her arm lightly but couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your lips. With a deep breath, you stepped out into the party, your heels clicking softly against the polished marble floor as you entered the grand ballroom.
The hall was alive with music, laughter, and clinking glasses. The party was far too large for the dining hall, so the grand ballroom served as the perfect venue. Guests danced beneath glittering chandeliers, their movements synchronized to the lively tunes of the string quartet. You and your ladies joined in, swirling through the dance floor in familiar patterns, your laughter mixing with the music.
You’d had two glasses of wine by then—an indulgence you rarely allowed yourself—and it left you feeling warm and light. Your inhibitions melted away, and you let yourself be swept up in the joy of the moment.
That was when you saw her.
Sevika stood near the edge of the ballroom, her tall frame unmistakable even among the most decorated soldiers. Her usual rugged attire was transformed, enhanced with gold detailing that caught the light in flashes of brilliance. Her armor had been polished to a mirror finish, and though her expression remained stoic, she looked breathtakingly regal.
Your gaze lingered, and Mel—ever observant—caught on immediately. She grabbed your wrist, pulling you from the dancing circle with a knowing grin. “Now’s your chance,” she whispered.
You hesitated, your heart racing. “I don’t know, Mel.”
“What if you don’t see her again? What if she leaves for a mission and never comes back?”
The weight of her words struck you, and you turned to look at Sevika again. She was speaking with someone, her stern profile illuminated by the golden light of the chandeliers. Mel was right—you couldn’t waste this moment.
With a deep breath, you smoothed your gown and made your way toward her, weaving through the crowd. When you reached her, you placed a tentative hand on her arm, causing her to turn and look at you with a raised eyebrow.
“Can I speak to you somewhere privately?” you asked softly.
Sevika’s brow furrowed slightly, but she nodded, following you out of the ballroom and into one of the quieter hallways.
The hallway felt like it was closing in around you, the flickering sconces casting fleeting light on Sevika’s armor. Her stern expression was unreadable, and her imposing frame seemed even more unyielding in the dim corridor. Still, you gathered every ounce of courage you could muster. This was your moment, and you couldn’t let it slip away, no matter how heavy the weight of her cold demeanor felt.
You hesitated, the stem of the wine glass trembling in your grip as you tried to muster the courage to speak. She didn’t move, her arms crossed over her chest, waiting. Always waiting, as if the weight of your words was little more than an inconvenience.
"Well?" she said flatly, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. "If you dragged me away from the ball for this, I suggest you make it quick."
“I’ve held this in for too long,” you started, your voice trembling slightly. “I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t matter, that you don’t matter.”
Sevika’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she said nothing, her silence more oppressive than any words could be. You stepped closer, your heart pounding in your chest.
“I love you, Sevika,” you said, your voice cracking under the weight of your confession. “I’ve loved you for years.”
For a moment, her mask slipped. There was a flicker of something in her eyes—surprise, uncertainty, maybe even longing. It was so fleeting you almost doubted you’d seen it at all. But it gave you the courage to close the distance between you, to take her face in your hands.
She didn’t pull away. Her body tensed under your touch, but she remained rooted in place, her breathing shallow and uneven. It was enough. You leaned in, your lips brushing against hers in a kiss that was as much a plea as it was a confession.
For a fleeting moment, she kissed you back. Her lips were hesitant, but warm, and you felt a spark—something you’d only ever dreamed of. It was like the world had stopped, and in that heartbeat, everything else ceased to matter.
But just as quickly, it was over. Sevika’s hands came up, gripping your wrists firmly as she pulled away. The space between you felt like a chasm, and the cold air rushed in where her warmth had been.
“No.” Her voice was sharp, almost a growl. She let go of your wrists, and you staggered back, staring at her in disbelief.
“Sevika—” you started, your voice cracking with desperation.
“Don’t,” she snapped, cutting you off. Her expression was hard, her eyes blazing with something you couldn’t place—anger, regret, pain. “This… whatever this is, it can’t happen. It shouldn’t have happened.”
“Why?” you demanded, tears welling in your eyes. “Why are you doing this? I know you feel something for me. I know you do!”
“Because you’re nothing but a spoiled little girl who doesn’t understand the world she lives in,” Sevika snapped, her tone cold and biting. Her eyes bored into yours, unyielding and merciless. “You think this is some fairy tale where you confess your feelings, and everything falls into place. But that’s not how life works. I serve your father. I protect this kingdom. That is my duty. Not indulging the childish fantasies of a princess who doesn’t know the meaning of sacrifice.”
Her words were a dagger, each one sinking deeper into your chest. You opened your mouth to respond, but no sound came out. The tears you’d been fighting spilled over, streaking your cheeks as you stared at her, your heart breaking with every second that passed.
Sevika’s gaze softened for the briefest moment, but it was gone just as quickly, replaced by the cold mask she always wore. She took a step back, putting more distance between you. “Forget this ever happened,” she said, her voice flat. “And stop chasing after things that aren’t meant for you.”
Without another word, she turned and walked away, her heavy boots echoing down the corridor. You stood there, frozen, as the weight of her rejection pressed down on you. The air felt colder now, the once-grand gown that adorned you suddenly feeling suffocating, like a cage meant to keep you trapped in a world where you could never truly be free.
You slid down the wall, your knees giving out beneath you as you buried your face in your hands. The sound of the ballroom felt even further away now, and for the first time in your life, you wished you could disappear completely.
Mel stepped into the hall, her steps echoing through the quiet corridors of the castle. She froze when she saw you, sitting on the cold stone floor, your body trembling with sobs. The sight of you, usually so composed, crumbled in such a vulnerable state, sent a pang of concern through her chest. “(Y/N)?” she called out softly, her voice filled with both worry and warmth.
Between the heavy breaths, you managed to choke out the words, “She said she didn’t love me back… she called me childish,” your voice breaking as the weight of the rejection hung in the air like a thick, suffocating fog.
Mel's heart ached at the sound of your pain. Without a second thought, she hurried to your side, kneeling down beside you. Her hands gently touched your arms, offering a quiet comfort as she whispered, “Come on, let’s get you back to your room.”
With surprising strength, Mel helped you to your feet, supporting your wobbly legs as you struggled to calm the tears that refused to stop. Her presence was grounding, a steady reassurance in the storm of your emotions. As the two of you walked slowly back toward your chambers, Mel kept a steady hand on your back, guiding you through the castle’s labyrinth of halls.
The comforting silence between you both was interrupted only by the occasional sniffle from you, as you struggled to regain some composure. Mel didn’t say anything more. She knew there was nothing to say—at least not yet. She just wanted to get you somewhere safe, where you could break down if you needed to, without the prying eyes of the castle around you.
As time went by, you kept your distance from Vander. The feelings you’d carried for so long weighed heavily on your chest, growing stronger with each passing day. You didn’t know how to face him anymore, not after everything that had happened. Instead, you found solace in spending time with Silco. He became your confidant, someone who seemed to understand the chaos in your heart without needing much explanation. His advice was sharp and often brutally honest, but it grounded you. Silco’s cynical outlook on life somehow made your struggles feel less isolating, like he could vocalize the things you couldn’t bring yourself to say. Despite his sarcastic and cutting demeanor, his friendship felt like the tough love of an older sibling who always had a witty remark to pull you back to reality.
One evening, Vander attended a party at Benzo’s place. Originally meant as a birthday celebration, it had turned into an event where singles mingled, looking for connection. Vander’s presence surprised you. Maybe he was trying to move on, especially now that Felicia was in a committed relationship and expecting a child. She was no longer the unattainable person he had once been infatuated with. Still, the idea of him finding someone else left an ache in your chest. You tried to push it aside, focusing instead on cleaning the bar.
You stayed behind, scrubbing tables and wiping glasses, relishing the quiet. The thought of attending the party filled you with dread. You didn’t feel like you belonged there, not with your worn rag for a dress and the years of unspoken heartbreak weighing you down. The bar was your safe space, a place where you could lose yourself in the rhythm of work and momentarily escape your thoughts. Each swipe of the rag felt like an attempt to erase the painful memories and constant ache that refused to leave you.
The sound of the door opening startled you. When you turned, you saw Felicia standing there, radiant despite her growing belly. She exuded warmth, her presence both comforting and bittersweet.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, resting her hands on her hips. “Shouldn’t you be at the party?”
You shook your head. “Not my taste.”
Felicia raised an eyebrow and stepped closer. “Not your taste? Come on, everyone deserves a little fun now and then.”
Before you could protest, she grabbed your wrist. “No excuses,” she said with a playful grin. “You’re not getting out of this that easily.”
Felicia brought you to her house, her determination unshakable. Inside, she pulled out a stunning dress. A line white dress with black leather jacket over it.
“This was my favorite dress,” Felicia said, holding it up against you. “Back when I could fit into it. But now?” She patted her belly with a laugh. “It’s your turn to shine.”
“Felicia, I don’t think—”
“Nope, no arguing,” she interrupted firmly. “You’re going to that party, and you’re going to remind everyone just how amazing you are.”
She helped you into the dress, zipping it up carefully. Her movements were gentle, almost reverent, as if this moment meant as much to her as it did to you. “You’re going to look stunning,” she said softly. “You deserve this.”
You stayed quiet, letting her work. As much as you envied her for how effortlessly she had once captured Vander’s attention you couldn’t bring yourself to hate her. She was your friend, and despite everything, you trusted her. Her presence reminded you that life moved forward, even when you felt stuck.
“There,” Felicia said, stepping back to admire you. “Perfect.”
“I don’t know about perfect,” you mumbled, staring at yourself in the mirror. The jacket and the gown clung to you in all the right places.
Felicia clicked her tongue. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re going to turn heads.” She rummaged through a box and pulled out gold hoop earrings. “Wear these,” she said, fastening them onto your ears.
“You’re really going all out,” you said, trying to hide your nerves.
“Of course! If I can’t party, I’ll live vicariously through you.” She fussed with your hair, twisting it into a messy bun that framed your face elegantly. “Now, walk for me,” she instructed.
“Walk?” you repeated, eyeing the block heels she had set out.
“Yes, walk. You’re not wobbling into that party like a newborn deer,” Felicia teased, laughing.
You sighed but complied, taking cautious steps until you grew more confident.
Felicia clapped. “Perfect! You’re ready.”
At the party, all eyes turned to you as you entered. Silco was the first to react, a sly smile tugging at his lips as he approached and extended a hand. “Care for a dance?” he asked. The teasing encouragement in his eyes nudged you forward, and you placed your hand in his. As you danced, you felt Vander’s gaze on you, his expression a mix of surprise and something deeper.
“He’s watching,” Silco murmured. His words sent a jolt through you, but you tried to remain composed.
“Is that so?” you replied, though your heart raced.
“Oh, don’t play coy. Let him wonder.”
Meanwhile, Vander stood at the edge of the room, his jaw tight as he watched you. Benzo nudged him. “You’ve been staring all night. Something on your mind?”
“She’s... beautiful tonight,” Vander admitted. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her like this.”
Benzo smirked. “Maybe you’re finally seeing what’s been in front of you all along.”
Vander stayed silent, but his jaw clenched as he watched you laugh with Silco.
Later, Vander approached you. You tried to avoid him, but he took your hand, guiding you to the center of the dance floor. His hand slipped to your waist as he twirled you smoothly, his gaze locking onto yours.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said softly.
Your heart raced, but you tried to remain distant. “I didn’t think there was much to say.”
“There’s plenty to say,” Vander replied. “I just didn’t know how to start.”
As you danced, the tension melted away, replaced by an unspoken connection. Finally, you let go of his hand as the song in the background come to an end. As you stepped back to leave, you felt his hand still resting on the small of your back gentle yet firmly.
He hesitated, his grip tightening slightly. Your eyes met his as you raised your chin, a silent reminder of your departure. “Vander... I—” Vander’s gaze softened, but the tension in his voice was unmistakable. “You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured.
“I understand now. All of it. The way I hurt you, the things I missed while I was lost in my own world.” He inhales, steadying himself before continuing. “I never should’ve waited to see you like this like the woman you’ve become. But now that I do, I promise, I can be better. I’ll always notice you. Always.”
His voice shakes just a little, the rawness in it almost as if he’s trying to convince himself, but there’s a quiet determination there now. Vander knows he can’t undo the past, but in this moment, he wants to be the man you deserve.
Benzo and Silco exchange a knowing glance, both understanding what’s happening without needing words. For Silco, there's a small, almost imperceptible shift in his expression, as if this realization stirs something deep inside him. He’s always admired Vander’s strength, but today, he sees something else vulnerability.
You stand there, stunned, heart racing. You’ve never seen Vander like this before not even when you were kids. He’s always been so brave, so strong. He used to be the one who protected everyone, the one who never let anyone see him falter. Even when he liked Felicia...hell, even when he couldn’t have her......he never let his soft side show, not like this. And now, standing here in front of you, it’s like all the walls he’s built up have come crumbling down, leaving only raw honesty.
His words hit you like a soft punch to the gut. It’s too much, and yet it’s exactly what you needed to hear. You feel your chest tighten, a strange warmth washing over you. Maybe it’s the vulnerability in his eyes, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s finally seeing you the way you’ve always wanted him to. Either way, your heart melts, and in that moment, you believe him truly, deeply believe him.
“I…” Your voice cracks a little as you respond, trying to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to spill out. “I’ve always wanted to hear you say that, Vander. You don’t know how much it means… to me.”
A faint smile plays on his lips, a mixture of relief and something deeper. His hand lingers near your shoulder for a moment, as if he’s still not sure how to bridge the gap between the past and now.
From across the room, Silco watches you both, a rare, soft smile tugging at his lips. It’s not the typical smirk he wears, but something closer to pride or maybe understanding. He glances at Benzo, who raises an eyebrow, clearly curious but content to let the scene unfold. Silco doesn’t say anything, just watches as Vander and you share this quiet, private moment.
The night wears on, and as the party winds down, you and Vander leave the party behind. The streets of Zaun are quiet, the air thick with the promise of rain. As the first few drops begin to fall, the drizzle turns into a downpour, soaking you both to the bone. You can feel the chill of the wet clothes clinging to your skin as you walk alongside Vander, the sounds of the city muffled under the sound of the rain.
When you finally reach Vander’s bar, the warmth inside is a welcome relief. But it doesn’t take long before Vander takes your hand, leading you up the stairs. His eyes are intent, guiding you to his room in a way that’s not rushed, just steady.
He gently helps you sit down on the edge of the bed, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he takes in your drenched form. There’s a moment where he just looks at you, as if making sure you’re really there. Then, without a word, he moves toward the closet and pulls out a towel. The warmth from the bar, combined with the dampness on your skin, creates a strange, soothing sensation as he carefully approaches you.
With practiced movements, Vander dries your hair, his hands careful and tender, the towel soft against your wet strands. He doesn’t say anything, letting the silence speak for itself, but you can feel the care in every movement, every stroke. The vulnerability he showed earlier is still there, quiet in the way he focuses on you now, a gentle and unspoken promise that he intends to keep.
As Vander dries your hair, the world outside the room fades away, leaving just the two of you in this room.You feel his breath hitch, and when you look up to meet his gaze, there’s no turning back. His eyes lock with yours, light and full of emotion.
Slowly, as if testing the waters, Vander leans in, the soft brush of his breath against your cheek sending a shiver down your spine. You can feel his heart pounding, and it matches yours, quick and wild. His hand gently cups your jaw, tilting your head ever so slightly, and you don’t pull away. Instead, you close your eyes, letting the moment take over.
And then, finally, he presses his lips to yours. It’s soft and gentle like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he moves too quickly. But then the kiss deepens, and with it, the weight of everything he’s been holding back. He pours all his emotions into that single kiss the regret, the longing, the promises he’s finally ready to make.
He gently takes your hand, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your body. "Allow me," he says, his voice a low purr, as he reaches for the ties at the back of your neck. With a deft movement, your dress falls away, exposing the delicate lace of your undergarments. The room seems to spin as he kisses you, his hands caressing your bare skin. Before you can fully grasp what's happening, he's lays you on his bed pinning you down.
Your heart races as he slides your bra and panties down your legs, revealing your innocence. You feel vulnerable yet incredibly aroused as his mouth finds your most sensitive spot.he slowly nips your neck and shoulder leaving small marks. You gasped slightly "Vander-" as he caresses your breasts and pepper kisses all the way down to your stomach. You gasp as his tongue delves into your wetness as he part your legs into two, exploring you with an expertise that surprises and overwhelms you. His fingers dance around your clit, and you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge of an pleasure you've never experienced before. You're lost in a whirlwind of sensation, unable to think of anything but the pleasure he's giving you. The room seems to melt away as you arch your back, crying out his name. His eyes burn into yours as you reach the peak of ecstasy, his expression a mix of hunger and triumph.
He pulls back, and you can see the desire etched on his face. He stands before you, his erection straining against his trousers. With a low growl, he unbuckles his belt and lets them fall to the floor. He's beautiful and terrifying in his nakedness, his muscles rippling in the candlelight. He crawls back onto the bed, his cock standing proud and thick. He spreads your legs wider, and you can feel his hot breath on your skin as he positions himself between them. You felt startled seeing the size of his girth, vander understood your tensed expression...he reached and caresses your cheeks. He looks up at you, and you nod, giving him the permission he craves. He pushes inside you, and you feel the sharp sting of pain as your virginity is claimed. You bite your lip to stifle a scream, and he pauses, giving you a moment to adjust to his size.
"Breathe," he whispers, his voice tender despite his urgent need. He starts to move, his strokes slow and deliberate. The pain slowly fades into something else, something that feels unbelievably good. You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, and he complies with a groan. His hips rock against yours, setting a rhythm that echoes through your body. You feel a warmth building inside you, a pressure that demands release. You clutch at his shoulders, your nails digging in as you find yourself leading towards another climax.
"Look at me," he commands, and your eyes flutter open to meet his. His gaze is intense, his pupils dilated with lust. You watch as he loses himself in the act, his movements becoming more erratic. You feel him swell inside you, and you know he's close. He reaches between your legs again, and with a few well-placed strokes, sends you hurtling over the edge once more. Your muscles clench around him, and he lets out a roar as he follows you into oblivion, filling you with his hot seed.
The morning light filters through the window, but a small knot of doubt settles in your chest, uninvited. You try to shake it off, but the lingering uncertainty gnaws at the edges of your thoughts. Vander’s words from last night echo in your mind, but now, in the quiet morning, you find yourself questioning whether he truly meant them or if it was just a fleeting moment of vulnerability. Had he truly meant to promise that he’d treasure you, or was it just the heat of the moment, something he’d forget when the sun rose?
You can’t ignore the nagging feeling that maybe you were just a part of the night, not the beginning of something real. The fear that Vander might pull away once the morning after fades. It’s a tough pill to swallow, especially after everything that’s happened. Your mind races, and you can’t help but feel the need for clarity, for someone who might understand.
The next day, you find yourself standing in front of Silco. There’s something comforting about his directness, his ability to cut through the uncertainty and get straight to the heart of things. You’d never confide in him about everything, but today, you feel like you need someone’s perspective outside of Vander’s world.
“I need to talk to you,” you begin, your voice low but steady. "About last night. About Vander."
Silco raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Go on.”
You take a deep breath, trying to steady your thoughts as you explain what happened at the party how Vander had seemed so different when you danced together, how he had finally opened up, expressing regret for his past actions and promising to be better. The kiss, the vulnerability, it all feels so real, but now that you're awake, the doubts creep in.
"And then," you continue, your voice almost faltering, "he said he’d treasure me. But I can’t shake the feeling that maybe it was just… the moment. You know? What if he doesn’t really mean it?”
Silco listens carefully, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processes your words. After a long pause, he leans back, crossing his arms, his lips curling into a half-smirk, though there’s something more serious in his gaze now.
“Vander is a complicated man,” Silco begins, his voice calm and measured. “He doesn’t show vulnerability easily. If he said something like that, especially in the heat of the moment, it’s probably because he means it. But... don’t expect him to wear it on his sleeve every day. He won’t suddenly become some sentimental fool just because he’s spoken his truth once.”
You nod, taking in his words. “But what if it’s just… temporary? What if this is just him wanting to fix things, and then once he’s settled, it’s like it never happened?”
Silco smirks, leaning forward slightly. “Then you’ll know for sure if it was just the moment. If he truly cares, he’ll show it in more than just words, more than just one night. You know that about him.” His gaze sharpens as he meets your eyes. “Don’t let your doubts cloud your judgment, but don’t let yourself be blind to his actions either.”
You think about his words carefully, the weight of them sinking in. Silco’s not one to sugarcoat things, but his blunt honesty has always given you clarity in moments like this. “So, you think he means it?”
Silco shrugs, a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I think Vander’s finally learning how to say what he feels. He’s not perfect, and neither are you. But if you want to know if he truly meant it, you’ll have to watch what he does next. Words can only take him so far.”
The conversation leaves you with more clarity, but also a renewed sense of anticipation. You know that what Vander said wasn’t just empty promises, but what matters now is whether he’ll show you his commitment. The doubt still lingers, but Silco’s advice gives you a little more faith in what Vander might truly be capable of.
You leave Silco’s place with a decision to make whether to wait and see how Vander acts or confront him about your fears head-on. Either way, the journey ahead feels uncertain, but you’re no longer as scared of the unknown.
Months rolled by, and let’s just say, life was straight-up turning into a fairytale, except with more grungy taverns and suspicious streets of zaun. Vander wasn’t just talk, dude was putting in the work. He treated you like you were the queen of Zaun itself, pulling out all the stops. Breakfast in bed? Yep. Random “you’re amazing” hugs? All day, every day. He even started noticing when your mood changes?, which,come on, that’s some next-level stuff right there.
And then came the baby. And oh, the baby. Vander was on cloud nine. The tough-as-nails guy who once ran Zaun’s underworld was now all about baby bottles and lullabies. Watching him hold your kid for the first time? Yeah, that was the moment you knew he was the real deal. Like, he really meant it. He would’ve fought a hundred guys just to see that little one smile. It was like his heart melted. You couldn’t help but laugh, but also melt at the sight of this big guy just wrapped around that tiny little finger.
Meanwhile, Silco was out here being... well, Silco. Big boss vibes, the man in control, and always the mastermind. But then he hired her—your sister as an assistant who somehow knew exactly how to handle him. She was too good at her job, and even better at making him realize he didn’t always have all the answers. At first, Silco probably thought it was just business, you know? She was efficient, smart, and she didn't take his crap. But then... something shifted. The more she made him think, the more he found himself looking at her in a way that was definitely not just professional.
You didn’t notice it at first. It started small little gestures, like how he would always make sure she had a cup of tea when they worked late or how his usual smug grin turned into a rare, soft smile when she gave him a smart retort. They’d bicker, but it was more like a game now. Silco would get this glint in his eye, and she’d fire back with something snarky. But in between all that, there was an unspoken connection. And then came the moment when Silco didn’t even realize he was totally whipped. He was actually listening to her suggestions, nodding along like he agreed for once and not just because she was right.
No one knew, but Silco was secretly dating your sister. You had no clue at first well, you had suspicions, but you thought it was just you being paranoid. But the way Silco acted around her? He wasn’t fooling anyone. It was obvious to you, even if you didn't want to admit it. He’d call her late at night just to “check in” on her, and she’d casually toss her hair over her shoulder before answering with that sly grin. You saw the way they interacted, the soft touches, the shared looks. But Silco? The guy who ruled the streets? Yeah, he was a whole different person around her.
You couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself. Vander was out here being a literal teddy bear with you and the kid, and Silco? Well, he was out here getting caught up in something way softer than anything he’d ever signed up for. You never expected this side of him the guy who’d once been all about power, ambition, and control—finding solace in someone else’s arms.
Zaun was full of chaos, but here you were, caught in the middle of all these unexpected love stories. It was messy, it was complicated, but in the end? It was yours. And that was enough.
{fem reader: sad,hopless,just wants to cry,pookie pie}
The soft glow of the Last Drop’s lanterns cast long shadows across the bar, the low hum of chatter filling the room as workers trickled in after another tough day in the mines. You wiped a glass without thinking, your gaze drifting toward the big, broad-shouldered man at the center of it all. Vander. He stood out without even trying—his laugh carried over the noise, his presence pulling everyone’s attention like a magnet. Especially hers.
Felicia leaned against the counter like she owned the place, her hair pulled back and streaks of coal smudging her face from the mines. Even covered in soot, she looked amazing, her smile practically lighting up the space between her and Vander. He leaned closer when she spoke, completely focused on her. Your chest tightened, a familiar ache rising up.
“Careful, you’re gonna crack that glass in half,” a dry voice teased from your right. Silco slipped onto a stool, his sharp mismatched eyes flicking from the glass in your hands to your face. “You’ve been scrubbing that thing like it owes you money.”
You shot him a glare and loosened your grip. “Mind your business, Silco.”
“Oh, but your business is way more interesting than mine,” he said with a smirk. He nodded toward Vander and Felicia, his expression almost amused. “I’ve been watching this little drama for years. Honestly, I’m impressed at how stubborn you are.”
Heat rose to your face, and you turned away, setting the glass down harder than you meant to. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Silco let out a quiet laugh. “Sure you don’t. Just like you haven’t been staring at Vander like he’s the sun and you’re a moth.”
You bristled, but his words cut too close to ignore. Vander had been everything to you for as long as you could remember. As kids, he’d been the one to pick you up when you fell, his steady hands and warm smile keeping you grounded. Back then, you’d dreamed that one day, he’d see you as more than a friend. But now, with Felicia…
“He’s not blind, you know,” Silco said, his voice softer than before. “He sees her. And he sees you.”
You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, he sees me as the maid who cleans up his bar. Meanwhile, Felicia walks in covered in coal dust, and he looks at her like she’s the most beautiful thing in the world.”
“You think she’s the reason this place is still standing?” Silco’s tone grew sharper, irritation creeping in. “You think Vander could’ve made it this far without you holding things together behind the scenes?”
You blinked at him, caught off guard by the sudden intensity in his voice. Silco wasn’t exactly known for heartfelt moments. He usually stuck to sarcasm and cold observations, but now, his mismatched eyes had a flicker of something real in them.
“Vander cares about you,” he said firmly. “He’s just too thick-headed to realize how much. And Felicia?” He glanced at the pair, his lip curling slightly. “She’s a storm. Bright, loud, and gone before you know it.”
You followed his gaze, watching Felicia laugh at something Vander said, her hand brushing his arm. The ache in your chest grew sharper, but Silco’s words planted a small seed of hope. Could he be right? Could you mean more to Vander than you thought?
Before you could think too much about it, Vander’s voice cut through the noise. “Hey, you alright over there?”
Your head snapped up, and you realized he was looking at you, his brow creased in concern. Felicia glanced over too, her expression hard to read.
“Fine,” you called back, forcing a smile. “Just busy.”
“Take a break,” Vander said, his tone firm but kind. “You’ve been working hard enough.”
Your heart fluttered, despite everything. You nodded, setting your rag aside and slipping into the back room to catch your breath. As the door swung shut, Silco’s voice echoed in your mind.
“He sees you.”
That night, you found out Felicia had been keeping a secret. Over a round of drinks, she revealed she was in a relationship with one of her coworkers and that she was expecting a baby. The news hit like a bolt of lightning, but you couldn’t deny the wave of relief that followed. Vander had been infatuated with her, but this revelation might change things. Still, you couldn’t shake the heaviness in your chest.
Later, as the bar emptied out and quiet settled over the Last Drop, you caught sight of Vander slipping upstairs with a woman you didn’t recognize. She was beautiful, confident, and the way he leaned into her made your stomach twist. Your heart shattered as you watched them disappear into the shadows.
The ache was unbearable. You retreated to the storage room, your shaking hands finding one of Vander’s hidden bottles of liquor. Unscrewing the cap, you didn’t bother with a glass, taking long, burning gulps straight from the bottle. The alcohol hit fast, and soon you were slumped against the wall, tears streaming down your face as you sobbed quietly in the empty bar.
“Drinking yourself into oblivion, are we?” Silco’s voice cut through the silence. You looked up to find him leaning against the doorframe, his sharp eyes fixed on you with a mixture of amusement and something softer. Concern, maybe.
“Go away,” you muttered, your voice hoarse.
He didn’t move. Instead, he walked over, crouching down in front of you. “You’re a mess,” he said bluntly, but there was no malice in his tone. “And yet, you’re still here. That says something, doesn’t it?”
You wiped at your face, glaring at him. “What the hell do you want, Silco?”
“To remind you that wallowing won’t fix anything,” he replied. “You’re stronger than this. And if Vander can’t see that, then he’s more of an idiot than I thought.”
His words stung, but they also lit a small fire inside you. You looked away, clutching the bottle tightly. “What do you care?”
Silco stood, brushing off his coat. “I don’t, really. But someone needs to pull you out of this pit you’ve dug yourself into.” He paused, glancing back as he headed for the door. “You’re worth more than being someone’s shadow. Remember that.”
As the door swung shut behind him, you sat in silence, his words echoing in your mind. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was time to stop hoping for something that would never be and start seeing yourself the way Silco did: as someone who mattered.
The next morning, the Last Drop was eerily quiet, save for the rhythmic swish of your rag against the bar’s stained wood. The lanterns were dim, the smell of stale beer and smoke lingering in the air. You worked methodically, scrubbing away remnants of the night before, though your hands trembled slightly from a hangover and too many tears shed. Your maid dress was worse for wear, the hem torn and the fabric stained from years of hard work—a far cry from anything Felicia would wear.
The sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs made your stomach twist. Vander was coming down, his presence as commanding as ever even in the early light. You didn’t look up, focusing intently on a particularly stubborn stain on the counter. Maybe if you ignored him, he’d just…leave.
“Mornin’,” his deep voice rumbled, thick with sleep. He paused at the bottom of the stairs, glancing around before his eyes landed on you. “Didn’t think anyone would be up this early.”
You muttered something noncommittal, refusing to meet his gaze. Your hands worked faster, scrubbing the same spot over and over as if your life depended on it. The weight of his stare was unbearable, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. Not after last night.
Vander hesitated, as if he wanted to say something, but the moment stretched too long. Finally, he moved past you, heading for the back room. As the door swung shut behind him, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Your heart ached, but at least you’d avoided him. For now.
Time passed, and you found yourself slipping further into solitude. You avoided Vander whenever possible, tired of the constant ache in your chest. The effort of pretending everything was fine became too much, and instead, you leaned on Silco. What started as casual chats evolved into late-night talks about life, frustrations, and shared interests. He had a sharp mind and a dark sense of humor that matched your own, and for once, you felt like someone truly understood you.
One afternoon, armed with your usual cleaning supplies, you ventured into Vander’s room. The smell of leather and whiskey greeted you, the space feeling too personal and too painful all at once. You set to work, wiping down surfaces and straightening the disheveled bed. That’s when you saw it—a faint trace of perfume on the sheets, an unfamiliar bracelet left on the nightstand. Your heart sank as the pieces fell into place.
The evidence was undeniable. Vander had been bringing women here, sharing with them what you had only dared to dream of. Your hands trembled as you clutched the cleaning rag, your mind a whirlwind of anger, heartbreak, and resignation. The room blurred around you as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, forcing yourself to keep working. After all, what else could you do?
When you finally finished, the room looked pristine, but your heart felt more battered than ever. You closed the door softly behind you, retreating to the quiet sanctuary of the bar below, where Silco was waiting with his usual knowing gaze.
Vander had started to notice. Your avoidance wasn’t subtle, and the distance you kept from him gnawed at his thoughts. He tried to brush it off at first, chalking it up to long workdays or bad moods, but the silence lingered. Finally, one evening as Silco leaned casually at the bar, Vander cornered him.
"What’s going on with her?" Vander’s tone was gruff, but there was a flicker of worry in his eyes. "She’s been…different lately. Avoiding me. Did I do something?"
Silco smirked, swirling the drink in his hand. "You mean, did you finally push her too far?" He tilted his head, watching Vander closely. "She’s tired, old friend. And maybe she’s realizing some things aren’t worth chasing."
Vander frowned, leaning heavily on the counter. "I don’t understand."
"You wouldn’t," Silco said dryly, his voice laced with sarcasm. "But maybe you should pay attention for once. She’s been carrying more than just the weight of this bar. And it’s not something I can explain for her."
[will do part 2 with{N$FW},when likes reaches over 100]
Growing up on the grimiest street this side of nowhere, you and Claggor had beef so thick, it could’ve been grilled and served at a BBQ. Claggor, the chubby loudmouth with more attitude than sense, had a knack for pushing all your buttons. You weren’t a pushover, but you weren’t exactly Hulk material either. Every fight between you two ended in mutual destruction—scraped knees, bloody noses, and a guarantee that someone’s mom was gonna yell about laundry later.
Claggor would say something stupid like, “Move it, twig legs,” and next thing you knew, you’d be throwing hands. Or at least trying to. He was strong enough to crush a can with one hand (which he did to flex), but his coordination? Zero stars. Your wild swings weren’t much better, though, so it was less of a fight and more of a sloppy slap-fest. By the end, both of you looked like you’d survived a minor tornado.
Things changed when Claggor’s dad hit the money jackpot. His family packed up their busted little house and traded it for a McMansion across town. Meanwhile, you stayed behind, dealing with the same old neighborhood drama. No more Claggor. No more insults. No more wrestling matches that left you limping for days.
Fast forward a decade, and life had been... well, life. You weren’t doing terrible, but the grind was real. You’d grown into your looks—rugged but pretty, with curves that turned heads. Sure, you were a little rough around the edges, but it suited you. People knew better than to mess with you, even if you weren’t the scrappiest fighter on the block anymore.
Then came the bombshell: your parents sat you down and hit you with the most absurd news of your life.
“You’re getting married.”
You laughed. Like, full-on cackled. Until you realized they weren’t joking.
“To who?” you asked, already regretting the answer.
“Claggor.”
Cue record scratch.
Apparently, Claggor’s dad’s business had hit a snag, and he needed your family’s connections to smooth things over. Your family wasn’t exactly swimming in cash, so the arrangement made sense... for them. For you? It was like the universe had decided to dunk on you for laughs.
When you saw Claggor again, it was like staring at a glitch in the Matrix. The chubby kid you used to scrap with? Gone. In his place was a gym rat with biceps bigger than your head and a jawline that could cut glass. His smug grin was still intact, though, so at least some things hadn’t changed.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite punching bag,” he said, leaning against the doorframe like he was posing for a cologne ad.
You rolled your eyes so hard, you practically saw your brain. “Still can’t believe they’re making me marry you. What’d you do, bribe my parents?”
“Please,” he said, smirking. “You think I’m thrilled about this? I remember those punches. You hit like a toddler.”
“At least I landed some,” you shot back.
Despite the mutual roasting, the Claggor standing in front of you wasn’t the same kid who used to piss you off for fun. He’d grown up—sort of. He still had that cocky attitude, but now there was something... different. He wasn’t just annoying anymore. He was annoying and ridiculously attractive, which was honestly offensive.
The first few days of this forced engagement were a nightmare. Every conversation turned into a verbal sparring match. He’d poke fun at you, you’d throw it right back, and somehow, it always ended with both of you glaring at each other while trying not to laugh.
But then, something weird started happening. Somewhere between the snarky comments and awkward moments, you caught glimpses of the Claggor he’d become. He wasn’t just the arrogant kid you remembered. He was thoughtful in ways that threw you off like making sure you ate when you were too busy to cook or helping your little brother with his homework.
One night, after another round of bickering, he looked at you and said, “You know, you’re not as terrible as I remember.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Wow, a compliment? Should I frame that?”
He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m just saying... you’ve got guts. Always have. I kinda respect that.”
For a second, you didn’t know what to say. So, naturally, you deflected. “Don’t get soft on me, Claggor. I might start thinking you actually like me.”
He smirked. “And what if I do?”
That shut you up real quick.
You weren’t sure what the future held for you and Claggor, but one thing was certain: this was going to be anything but boring. For now, though, you were focused on surviving the insanity of being engaged to your childhood rival.
And if he thought he was gonna get the last word in this relationship? He had another thing coming.
"Til Death Do Us Part - 2
The day of the marriage ceremony was... something. The tension in the air was so thick, you could slice it with a butter knife. You and Claggor were standing at the altar, and let’s just say, none of this felt romantic. It felt more like a hostage situation—but with fancier clothes and a suspiciously nice buffet.
Claggor, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit that showed off his ridiculous muscles (seriously, what kind of sick joke was this?), stood beside you, looking like a walking “before” and “after” transformation ad. The audacity of it all.
He flashed a smirk in your direction, the same one he’d been giving you since childhood. The one that made your blood boil, but also... damn—he was hot. You couldn’t even be mad about it. You just rolled your eyes and crossed your arms like you weren’t one bad comment away from smacking him upside the head.
“You look nice,” he said, his voice a little too smooth for your liking.
“Wow, thanks,” you shot back sarcastically. “I did try to look like I wasn’t being forced into this.”
"Well, you’re pulling it off." His eyes lingered just a little too long on you, and you had to fight the urge to flick him in the ear.
The officiant went on about love, commitment, and all that bullshit, and you and Claggor exchanged the most awkward vows ever.
“I vow to not punch you in the face every time you annoy me,” you said, deadpan.
“I vow to make your life interesting whether you like it or not,” Claggor replied with that same devil-may-care grin.
Somewhere in between your chaotic vows, the crowd seemed a little too eager for you two to seal the deal. Like they were betting on how long this would last. But when the officiant finally announced, “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” you both exchanged a look that said everything: This is a joke, and we’re both trapped in it.
The Honeymoon
You weren’t even sure how the honeymoon became a thing, but here you were, stuck in a fancy resort in some tropical place. You had zero intention of acting like a newlywed. You barely wanted to look at Claggor in his ridiculous sunglasses, sipping his cocktail like he was an Instagram influencer.
“So,” Claggor said, lounging on a beach chair like he owned the place, “you planning on actually talking to me, or are we just doing this whole ‘strangers’ thing for the week?”
You side-eyed him. “I think the ‘stranger’ thing works. Less chance of me kicking you into the pool.”
“Try it,” he teased, his smirk still perfectly in place. “I think I could take you now.”
“Please. You’re lucky I don’t just push you in and let the ocean deal with you.”
He chuckled, but you both knew deep down: this was probably going to end in some kind of ridiculous competition where you’d both end up drenched, covered in sand, and arguing over whose fault it was.
The New House
The house you’d inherited as part of this absurd marriage arrangement was fancy. Too fancy for your liking. The marble floors practically shined with privilege, and the walls looked like they belonged in a museum, not someone’s home. You had a whole wing to yourself (because who doesn’t get a wing in these things, right?) and it was like living in a Pinterest board gone wrong.
Claggor, meanwhile, was already unpacking his gym gear, turning the master bedroom into a personal fitness center. Of course he was. Because there was no way he’d let the mansion feel like a home; it was all about the aesthetic.
“So, what, this is your side of the house now?” you called out from the other room, rolling your eyes as you unpacked your much smaller suitcase.
“Pretty much,” he said, flexing as he put a set of weights on the floor. “What, you didn’t think I’d be using the gym for its intended purpose?”
You peeked in, leaning against the doorframe. “Did I get married to a bodybuilder or a walking testosterone ad?”
He shot you a grin, picking up a dumbbell. “Well, you did sign up for this.”
You smirked. “You’ve got the body of a Greek god and the personality of a soggy towel. What a combo.”
“Careful, love,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “You keep throwing shade like that, and I might just have to show you how I handle ‘soggy towels.’”
You froze. He couldn’t be serious. “If you so much as touch me ”
“Relax,” he cut in, his grin widening. “I know how to be gentle. I’ve been trained.”
“You think you’re so funny, huh?”
“Absolutely,” he said with a wink. “But don’t worry, I’m taking it slow. I’m just letting you adjust to being married to the hottest guy on the block.”
You couldn’t even argue with that logic. Damn it.
Family Drama
Just when you thought things couldn’t get more ridiculous, Claggor’s parents decided to show up unannounced at your new mansion. They barged in with that condescending “we’re rich, so deal with it” attitude, making themselves at home faster than you could say “awkward.”
“So, how’s the happy couple?” Claggor’s dad asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Living the dream,” you said, sipping your drink. “We’ve already started the bickering, so, progress, right?”
Claggor’s mom gave you a tight smile. “I’m sure you’ll both settle in. You have to, after all.” She looked at you like she was trying to figure out if you were an upgrade or downgrade from Claggor’s usual type. Spoiler: you were neither.
Claggor, who’d been uncharacteristically quiet during the whole interaction, shot you a look. “I’ll make sure to call you both when we get bored.”
His parents didn’t like that very much. But you didn’t care. You’d be damned if you let them walk all over you, especially now that you were married to their son.
The rest of the visit was a mix of awkward silences, passive-aggressive comments, and Claggor being shockingly sweet to you in front of his parents. You had to admit, there was something about his “I’ll protect you from the real-world, babe” vibe that was oddly charming.
But mostly, you just sat there, thinking, If this is what married life is like, we’re definitely going to need therapy or at least more drinks.
And They Lived (And Fought) Happily Ever After... Maybe?
The honeymoon was over, the house was still a weird mix of posh and terrible, and your in-laws were already scheming something behind your back. But through it all, one thing remained crystal clear: your relationship with Claggor was a battle, but it was yours. Whether it was arguing over who gets control of the TV remote or throwing snarky comments at each other, you were in it together... for better or for worse.
And you had no idea where this rollercoaster of a marriage would take you, but at least you knew one thing: It was going to be a hell of a ride.
The rain was relentless, soaking you to the bone as you trudged toward the nearest bus stop. Of course, it had to start pouring the second you stepped out of the office, and naturally, you’d forgotten your umbrella. The universe really had a knack for kicking you when you were down.
As you stood shivering, clutching your bag close to keep what little was dry from getting ruined, a sleek black car pulled up beside you. The tinted window rolled down, revealing Claggor, looking annoyingly unbothered by the weather.
“Need a ride?” he asked, his smirk visible even in the dim streetlight.
You hesitated for a second. Accepting help from Claggor felt like losing some kind of imaginary battle, but the rain was freezing, and your pride wasn’t worth hypothermia.
“Fine,” you muttered, climbing into the warm, leather-clad interior of his car.
He glanced at you as you buckled in, water dripping from your hair onto the seat. “You’re absolutely soaked,” he said, amused. “What were you doing, trying to audition for a tragic indie film?”
You shot him a glare. “Some of us don’t have chauffeurs on speed dial, Claggor. We peasants walk.”
“Touché,” he said with a laugh, pulling away from the curb.
The ride was quiet, save for the soft hum of the car engine and the occasional splash of water as he drove through puddles. Instead of dropping you at your apartment like you expected, he pulled into the parking garage of a high-rise building.
“Uh, what’s this?” you asked, eyeing him suspiciously.
“You’re soaked and freezing,” he said simply. “You’ll catch a cold before you even make it to your door. Come on...I’ve got dry clothes and decent tea.”
You wanted to argue, but the warmth of the car was already making you realize just how miserable you were. Grudgingly, you followed him up to his apartment, which was, predictably, both luxurious and spotless.
“Here,” he said, handing you a hoodie and a pair of joggers that looked comically oversized. “These should do.”
You disappeared into his bathroom to change, emerging a few minutes later feeling a little less like a drowned rat. Claggor was waiting in the living room, holding out a steaming mug.
“Chamomile,” he said. “Figured you could use something calming after tonight.”
You took the mug and sank onto the couch, the soft fabric practically swallowing you whole. “You’re surprisingly domestic for someone who acts like they were born in a boardroom.”
He smirked, sitting down beside you. “I contain multitudes.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Thanks, I guess. For the ride, the clothes… all of it.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said, his tone softer than usual. “I’m not completely heartless, you know.”
The two of you sat in silence for a moment, the sound of rain pattering against the windows filling the space. Then he spoke again, his voice lower this time.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this before—vulnerable, I mean. You’re always so sharp, so guarded.”
You stiffened slightly, not sure how to respond. “It’s called survival,” you said finally, your voice quieter than you intended.
Claggor turned to face you, his expression unreadable. “I get that. But you don’t always have to be so hard on yourself. You’re allowed to let people in, you know.”
You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. “And what, let them see the mess? No thanks.”
“I don’t mind the mess,” he said, and the sincerity in his voice made your heart stutter.
You looked at him, really looked at him for the first time that night, and saw something in his eyes that wasn’t just teasing or smugness. It was warmth, maybe even something deeper.
Before you could overthink it, he leaned in, closing the small distance between you. His lips were warm and soft against yours, the kiss gentle but full of unspoken emotion.
When he pulled back, he gave you that signature smirk, but there was a softness to it now. “I knew I could get you to stop arguing with me eventually.”
You rolled your eyes, but your lips curved into a smile. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late,” he said, leaning back against the couch, his arm casually draped across the backrest dangerously close to your shoulders.
The office was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that makes you hyperaware of every little sound the hum of the air conditioning, the faint click of your keyboard, even the soft scratch of Claggor’s pen as he sat at his desk, pretending to work. You didn’t know why he was still here. Probably because the universe had decided your suffering wasn’t complete without him lingering like a bad punchline.
Finally, he spoke, breaking the silence with his signature mix of confidence and audacity. “You know, if this was a rom-com, this would be the part where we realize we’re secretly in love and kiss under the fluorescent lights.”
You didn’t even look up from your screen. “Good thing it’s not, because I’d rather kiss a stapler.”
Claggor laughed, that low, annoying chuckle that somehow always got under your skin. “Come on, you don’t mean that. Admit it you’d miss me if I wasn’t around to spice up your life.”
You snorted, still typing. “Spice up? You’re about as spicy as unseasoned chicken, Claggor. I’d survive.”
“Ouch.” He clutched his chest like you’d physically wounded him. “And here I thought I was your favorite office distraction.”
You finally turned your chair to face him, raising an eyebrow. “Favorite? You overestimate yourself. You’re more like background noise mildly annoying but easy to ignore.”
Claggor grinned, leaning back in his chair like he had all the time in the world. “Admit it, though without me, you’d be bored out of your mind.”
“Without you,” you countered, “I’d be done with this project and halfway home by now. So, no, I wouldn’t be bored I’d be productive.”
He spun his pen between his fingers, that irritating smirk never leaving his face. “Maybe I just wanted to check on you. Make sure you’re not working too hard.”
You folded your arms, narrowing your eyes. “Oh, so now you’re my guardian angel? What’s next, you gonna offer me life advice?”
“Only if you ask nicely,” he shot back, leaning forward with a wink. “But seriously, you’ve been here late every night this week. You ever take a break, or is hustling your whole personality?”
“Some of us don’t have the luxury of coasting through life,” you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended.
Claggor’s smirk faltered for a second, but he recovered quickly. “I’m not coasting. Believe it or not, I work hard too.”
You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, sure. Must be exhausting being you, with your perfect life and your fancy suits.”
He nodded, his voice softer than usual. “It’s not as perfect as you think.”
The sincerity caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. But before the silence could stretch too long, he grinned again, the teasing tone back in full force.
“Anyway,” he said, standing up and grabbing his jacket. “If you ever want to swap sob stories over drinks, let me know. I’m a great listener—and I promise to let you roast me for at least half the night.”
You shook your head, turning back to your screen. “I’ll think about it… when pigs fly.”
He chuckled, heading toward the door. “I’ll pencil it in.”
And just like that, he was gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the annoying realization that the night had felt a little less lonely with him there.
So, it all started back in the day, elementary school where the rivalry between you and Claggor kicked off. Dude was like a walking calculator with a charm setting permanently stuck on "golden boy." Meanwhile, you were out here grinding, juggling homework and life, trying not to drown in the chaos. Honestly, you were killing it, but it still felt like Claggor’s life was one big cheat code.
Fast forward a bit, and Claggor’s life stayed blessed. Stable family, decent house, and a fridge always stocked with snacks (jealous much?). You, though? You had to hustle working part-time gigs, cramming for exams at midnight, and dreaming of the day you’d finally level up. Every time he nailed something effortlessly, it felt like the universe was trolling you.
Then came high school, and the scholarship showdown. This was the scholarship, the kind that could teleport you out of Small Town, USA, and into the big leagues. You busted your butt—late nights, essays polished to perfection only for Claggor to waltz in and snag it. The audacity. He celebrated while you stewed, convinced life had dealt you the "hard mode" card.
Years passed, and you went full grind mode. College was a slog, with you piecing together scholarships, part-time jobs, and sheer willpower. Meanwhile, Claggor was out here living his LinkedIn dream graduating on top and landing a corporate gig like it was nothing. The bitterness? Yeah, it lingered.
Cut to the present: you’re hyped about your new job. Big office vibes, real career moves. Then, BAM—you walk in and see him. Claggor. Your boss. Life really said, “Plot twist!”
You lock eyes, and it’s like a high school flashback, complete with all the unresolved drama.
“Welcome to the team,” he says, all polished and professional. But there’s a glint in his eyes, like even he’s thinking, “Well, this is awkward.”
“Thanks,” you manage, keeping it cool even though your brain’s screaming, what is my life right now?!
Working under Claggor is...a ride. He’s as extra as you remember demanding, sharp, and annoyingly good at his job. But then he starts backing you up, hyping your ideas, and being, like, low-key supportive? It’s weird, and it’s messing with your whole “I can’t stand him” vibe.
Meanwhile, he’s noticing you too. The hustle, the ideas, the way you’ve got solutions for days. Turns out, he’s not just some golden boy coasting through life he actually respects your grind. Wild, right?
One late night at the office, it’s just you two. Silence hangs until Claggor finally speaks up.
