✞⛧ Tension And Temptation ✞⛧

i lost the anon ask for this, but here's an angst/fluff fic in which sevika comforts reader with insomnia <3

apocalypse

content warning(s): none, light angst and fluff :)

"kisses on the foreheads of the lovers wrapped in your arms you've been hiding them in hollowed-out pianos left in the dark got the music in you baby, tell me why got the music in you baby, tell me why you've been locked in there forever and you just can't say goodbye."

☆ ☆ ☆

context: reader and sevika are not yet in an established relationship

☆ ☆ ☆

“Commander,” Sevika snaps her fingers. “You in there?”

You give a start and look up. “Yes,” you say. “Sure.” Even you can tell how unconvincing your tone is, but it’s the best you can offer right now. 

Despite her brusque tone, Sevika is worried. She frowns down at you as she loads the Shimmer cartridges into her belt. This is the third time today you’ve spaced out and missed a chunk of briefings for the day’s shipment assignments. There are dark circles under your eyes and you walk as if you might fall over any second. You’re forgetting instructions you usually remember with ease. Just that morning Sevika had to stop you from pouring the scalding hot coffee for Silco directly onto your hand because you were seeing the cup double. 

Today it’s your turn to scout the air ships, not too big of a job. If you were in charge of steering, or even bargaining, Sevika might have been stricter. But today you’re with her, with Ran heading the other air ship entering Piltover. 

She peers down at you. “You look like hell,” she says. 

“Thanks. I just got back.” 

It wasn’t too far from the truth. For the past three days and nights, you had seen the sun set and rise like a relentless bitch on the skyline of a sleepless city without a wink of sleep yourself. 

Do you know what it is to be unable to sleep? No matter how your body demands it, begs for it, screams for it? No matter how your muscles ache and your limbs shake uncontrollably from fatigue? You swear sleep is harder to catch than an orgasm. 

Sevika wouldn’t know. Many a late night you found her snoring on the couch in Silco’s empty office with the documents scattered on the floor around her, her mechanical arm still on. She had trained her body to snatch what hours of sleep she could steal. You would gently detach the prosthetic so her limb wouldn’t stiffen, pull a blanket over her, and envy the blissful unconsciousness smoothing her features. 

Sevika shakes her head. “You’ll sit this one out, commander.” 

“No! I’m fine,” you snap. 

Another pleasant perk of sleep deprivation: the changes in temper, the raging mood swings. You want to crumple into a ball and weep one moment, you’re ready to tear someone apart limb from limb the next. 

Sevika only raises an eyebrow. “Right. You’re the damn poster child of stability.”

“Don’t test me,” you say. “I haven’t slept in three days.” You wave to Locke. “Start the loading in five.” 

But when you start to walk up the plank into the airship, Sevika grabs you by the arm and pulls you aside. To Locke she says, “get Jennes to scout the ship.” 

He nods and walks away. 

“What the fuck?” 

“Now let me get this straight,” she says in a low voice. “You’re telling me you haven’t slept once in three days?”

You struggle to pull away. “I said I’m fine. Why would you do that? Why would you just change the assignment?” 

“Uh-uh. No. You’re going straight home and you’re going to get some sleep.” 

You open your mouth to argue, but something in her tone collides with your precarious mental state, like the strike of flint and stone against a brittle pile of tinder. She isn’t even angry, just concerned. Maybe disappointed. But in this state of mind, you’re convinced you have failed her, you’ve failed everyone, and that she despises you for your incompetence. You feel something break inside you. You violently wrench yourself away from her so she can’t see the tears streaming down your face. 

“Hey,” Sevika says in a gentler voice. Your outbreak evidently alarms her. “Hey. Come here.” 

You try to stifle the tears. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t know why—”

“It’s okay.” She reaches out and takes your chin in her hand, turning your face toward her. With her thumb she wipes away the tears from your cheek. “It’s okay,” she says again. “You’re tired.” 

A shock goes through you when she touches your face and you grow still. Her hand is rough and warm. 

She looks around briefly, as if to see if anyone is around to overhear her. No one else is at the harbor within earshot. She drops her voice to nearly a whisper. 

“I know you’ve been looking after me those nights in the office,” she tells you. “And covering for me just to let me get some more sleep. You think I’d let that slide without doing anything in return?”

“You don’t have to, it’s nothing.”

“Let me handle this,” she says. “Let me cover this one. Please.”

You meet her eyes, startled. The word ‘please’ coming out of Sevika’s mouth was about the second least likely thing you would ever imagine happening. It was like a shift in the laws of nature. 

“I can’t sleep,” you say quietly. “Not even if I tried.”

Her brows crease. “Have you taken anything for it?”

“What, pills?” You laugh wryly. “Can’t afford it.” 

You see her purse her lips, her jaw tighten, as if she’s thinking. Then she says, “just get home and lay down. You can do that, can’t you?”

“If that’s what you really want me to do.” 

“It’s an order, commander.” 

You sigh. But you turn and walk away. 

☆ ☆ ☆

You are working in the storage room of the Last Drop when Sevika walks in and hands you something small. You look down at the palm of your hand. 

“Is this asbestos?”

“You’re not funny,” she retorts. “It’s melatonin.”

“Where the hell did you get it?”

“Don’t ask questions,” she says. “And don’t thank me.”

She storms out of the room as if to avoid even risking hearing you thank her. 

As usual, you work late that night. The pill sits in the breast pocket of your shirt and you imagine it pulsing with your heart. You know it’s stupid to consider it a gift, but you’re reluctant to take it nonetheless. Sevika would never say so, but you’re certain she went out of her way to find an Undercity apothecary that sold it, and it couldn’t have been any small price either. 

But it is the fourth night, and your head feels close to exploding. You down the pill with a drink of stale beer. 

It’s already nearing four in the morning, and you decide it isn’t worth going back to your apartment only to return to the office by nine. You haven’t seen Sevika all day since she met you in the storage room—you wonder if she took off early, though you can’t imagine such a scenario.

Drowsiness fills your head as you lay down on the couch. It smells old, the mildew of ancient leather, but from the number of times you’ve seen Sevika passed out on it you imagine you can almost smell her scent on the cushions, too. 

You’re half asleep when Sevika comes into the office. She sees you and walks over. You keep your eyes closed. You feel her touch your forehead briefly, then she spreads her cloak over you. 

☆ ☆ ☆

note: pls get good sleep, stay hydrated, take care of yourself <3

divider by @enchanthings-a

Big Chested S/O | Arcane Women

request for arcane women with big titty gfs

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genre: smut (minors dni)

characters: ambessa, caitlyn, grayson, mel, sevika, vi

cw: fem!reader, big chested!reader, titty play, titty sucking, marking (vi), titty slapping (grayson), strap on sex (grayson, sevika)

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Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa cannot keep her hands to herself. She had invited you to soak in the bath with her and cleared the attendants and guards from the room when you first entered, leaving the two of you alone. You're sitting between her legs with your head against her chest.

Within minutes, her hands reach around to your chest. She squeezes roughly; she treasures you, but you're a grown woman and can take some rough handling.

“Touch yourself for me”, she all but orders, and you listen, hand slipping beneath the warm water to play with your slit while she gropes your tits and rolls your nipples between her fingers. “Does that feel good?”

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Caitlyn Kiramman

DIABOLICAL ORAL FIXATION.

Cait finally comes to bed and finds you lying awake with a book. “You didn't have to wait for me,” she says, crawling over to your lap instead of her own side of the bed.

“I'll always wait for you, you know that”, you sigh in response. She pulls you into a kiss to show appreciation before trailing her lips down your neck and collarbone. When she gets to your chest, She lifts her head to look you in the eyes before leaning down again to take one of your nipples into her mouth, sucking on it. She presses a finger to your hole as she pulls away from your chest.

“Can I touch you while I suck on these gorgeous tits?” she asks, smile splitting into a grin as she lowers her head back down.

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Grayson

She likes to watch them bounce as you ride her strap.

“Yeah, just like that”, she grunts as you bounce on the toy. She calls it training. She knows it's not right to engage with a subordinate in this way, but when you make such a pretty picture to look at, who is she to deny herself? She's not making eye contact with you though, focused on your chest in her face. When you slow down a little, thighs burning with the ache of riding, she brings a hand up to harshly slap them. “Why are you slowing down? I'm not finished with your training,” she says, hands gripping your hips to assist you in gaining back your pace. “If you keep up just like that, I'll give you a reward.”

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Mel Medarda

Mel asks you to model topless for her so she can paint you. You have to get her back on course multiple times because she keeps getting distracted by your tits.

“I thought you were a woman of composure”, you tease as she gets caught staring again. She rolls her eyes in response.

“I've been finished for five minutes; I just wanted extra time to stare at them,” Mel says matter of factly. You get up from where you've been posing, engulfing her in a back hug as you examine her artwork. It's impressive. She paints you in such a sensual light. Your hands drop from her hips to her thighs. “While I was painting your chest, I was thinking about having them as my next canvas.”

“Yeah? If you show me how much you like them, I'll think about it,” you say as she turns in your arms, ready to walk you over to her bed and worship your chest with her mouth.

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Sevika

Sevika likes to feel them rub against yours as she fucks you nice and deep. She thrusts her hips, grinding her cock inside you. You'd been begging for her to get the strap and fuck you, and now that she's inside, you're a drooling mess. She's completely covering you, pressing her muscular body on top of yours. The way your sensitive nipples rub against her chest as she rocks against you makes her eyes roll to the back of her head. Skin-on-skin contact is Sevika's weakness.

Sevika has a very short list of things that get her going, and your tits are top of that list.

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Vi

After a rough fight, Vi will find an empty room, back you up against the wall and let out all her pent-up energy on your tits. She loves to leave marks, decorating your chest with hickies and bite marks. She's enthusiastic, letting her actions tell you how she feels. She's desperate with how her tongue drags along your skin, and her teeth sink in. Her mouth is too occupied to speak, but you can hear the curses she grits out between biting and sucking on your precious skin. She's also a proud woman, and knowing you have her marks on you fuels her to do more. Your boobs are the perfect destresser for her.

“Fuck, look at you”, she growls, admiring her dirty work. “Always so fucking pretty.”

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Thank you so much for requesting, I'm so abnormal about the arcane ladies, I need to write more for them. I hope you enjoyed!!

she is sooooooo cute (˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥) !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

𝒀𝑶𝑼'𝑹𝑬 𝑵𝑶 𝑮𝑶𝑶𝑫 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝑴𝑬, 𝑩𝑼𝑻 𝑩𝑨𝑩𝒀 𝑰 𝑾𝑨𝑵𝑻 𝒀𝑶𝑼. . . .

𝑽𝑨𝑴𝑷𝑰𝑹𝑬 / 𝑹𝑶𝑪𝑲𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹 𝑺𝑬𝑽𝑰𝑲𝑨

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔/𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒔

cw nsfw blood gore manipulation death/killing headcannon with plot blood sucking/eating vulgar language drunk man bothers reader possessive!sevika hot makeout session finger sucking tension yearning

here....sevika is loosley inspired by 𝑳𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕 𝒅𝒆 𝑳𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒕

vampire/rockstar!sevika ✗ human!femreader

m.list

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who had achieved immortality in the early 1700s, at the age of 34 in france . . . the person who made her happen to have the most ancient blood known to all vampires, that blood now in her making her stronger, faster, more advanced than any other vampire.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who . . even though being alive for 100s of years, moving from city to city, she still has that french accent laced in her voice, making her even more captivating to humans other than her appearance.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who slowly discovers how she is capable of more other than advanced strength and fast speed. . . learning how mortals were below her kind, learning how much power she had over the human mind. . if sevika wanted to, she could compel a whole group of humans and use them as mindless puppets.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who learned how to control her thirst around humans, which is something lots of vampires have a hard time doing, took her years to accomplish this.. but she can't lie. . she'd slip up sometimes .. draining the blood of tons of humans in her pastime.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who went on a killing rampage in the 1700s after she was turned, letting out any anger, disgust,disbelief she held against herself for her new life, draining almost any human in sight mainly targeting ones who evil, who have done evil things.

acting on impulse and personal desire for blood. In her early vampire nature, she saw these acts as a thrill, viewing it as a natural part of her existence of a vampire.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who doesn't have a coven and prefers to wander, moving from place to place, meeting new and different people, learning new languages.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who always had a passion for music, i mean, she watched how music drastically changed over time. . . how it became more improved. it fascinated her how something so beautiful could get even better...sure she loved the jazz era in the later 1900s, but she also loved the new era sounds too.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who learned how to play every instrument in the book during her 100 years of walking on this earth

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who is now living in the 1990s. .a drummer in a popular rock band.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who loves the feeling of being on stage, the feeling of the stage lights beaming on her cold skin, hearing the cheers from the crowds - the women cheering, women who happens to have the hots for the buff, muscular, pretty looking drummer. . .screaming her name 'sevika! sevika!' like a prayer out of a bible. . . she needed this no - .. she yearned for this.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who sometimes invited women backstage to her dressing room - calling them her personal groupies , she'd get the talking, but she never paid attention to their words or how much they loved her when in reality sevika knew they just wanted her to fuck them - not that she minded.

but she'd mainly paid attention to the thumping in their chest, their veins pulsing underneath the soft skin...she used her words...manipulate them...almost like mind control, get them thinking this whole situation wasn't real, was just a figment of their imagination- maybe even a dream before piercing her sharp fangs into the side of their neck, letting the thick blood hit her throat.

she doesn't kill them, just drinks enough to satisfy her thirst, then stopping before their heart stops beating, the women would wake up in the comfort of their own homes the next day, light-headed with no memory of last night in their brain...just the throbbing sting on the side of their neck.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who nearly loses her self-restraint on stage just by smelling your sweet scent of blood in the crowd, her silver sharp eyes immediately finding your beaming doe brown ones in the crowd of people, her eyes almost staring through you, watching your veins pulse under your skin, watching the sweat roll down your neck, hearing your fast heart thumping in your chest as your adrenaline was high by the atmosphere of the concert...

if it weren't for you suddenly going to the bathroom, she would have drained you right there in the crowd in front of all these human eyes.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - accidently slips up and sucks a stage manager dry the same night, just so she can soothe the ache in her throat.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who thinks she doesn't have to see you anymore after the night - smell you anymore. . . . but oh boy, she was wrong.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who is shocked when you end up being the groups new stylist, with hair and clothing.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who won't let you touch or dress her - or even fix her hair and clothes even though you're supposed to, and that's what you were hired to do. .

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who ignores you for the first 4 weeks - staying away from you like you were the plague that could get her sick within seconds.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who finally gets used to your sickly sweet scent enough to actually let you fix her clothes and hair.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who notices how you just couldn't keep your eyes on her glistening chest that was shown due to a few of her buttons being undone on her shirt, you're eyes even widened at the imprint of nipple piercings from under her shirt where her breast were covered - to this sevika can't help but smirk at your wandering eyes.

at this moment, you were currently fixing sevika's belts that had gone loose. . . the belt wasn't meant to hold up her pants but was there for the style instead, silver chains hanging from them so anytime she moved your hear, her dark red button up that was once closed now opened showing the middle of her chest.

even though she was sweating, it didn't look like she was out of breath. . . you noticed this, but just thought she may have good cardio or something.

but. .you couldn't help but stare at her chest, your breath catching in your throat as you saw the imprint of what seemed to be piercings on her nipples, you couldn't help but wonder how they looked without being covered.

"see something you like? mon chèrie.." you felt as if your heart leaped out your chest at her voice, her deep voice - husky tone with a french accent laced in it, that itself had you captivated by her. . you've heard she was from france, yet you've never heard her talk. . . . and my god it was so attractive.

"i - i no. . . I'm fine.." you respond with a flustered look on your face, looking up you could feel your knees buckle seeing as she was staring at you, her sharp gray eyes gazing at you causing an almost chilling ambience that made you shiver.

sevika then looked away, a huge smirk on her face as if she had just heard something that she wasn't exactly supposed to, her teeth showing as she smiled, making you catch her long canine teeth.

"une créature tellement intéressante. . ." the immortal mumbled before walking away, you stood in the same spot, confusion drenched on your face as you didn't understand her sentence - yet it still left a strange warm feeling in your stomach, a feeling that didn't feel quite comfortable, a feeling that felt good but dangerous to have at the same time.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who finds herself indulged in a conversation with you, and during this, you can't help but realize how intriguing this woman is. . .how her sentences seemed so perfect, almost as if they were rehearsed, how she tends to speak as if she is from a different timeline, anytime she'd say something in french it caused a spark in you. . . she was perfect. . .so perfect in your eyes. . so deniably perfect.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - sevika, who slowly grows more comfortable around you, yet still has to ignore the urge to sank her fangs down in your neck.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who starts to feel emotions in her vampire form that hasn't been felt since she was human, it makes her grimace in distaste at the thought, the thought of being with you. . . ruining you. . . people would call her the walking devil on earth, using human blood to quench her thirst, not being able to go outside due to sunlight. .

the night holding all her secrets , shame, and guilt . . . and loneliness and the certain bloodlust urges that couldn't been seen when the night grew into a bright daylight. she was a monster. she did monstrous things. . .she couldn't be with you, someone who was way too good for this planet, to kind for their own good. she couldn't ruin that....couldn't ruin you.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who just can not keep her feelings in check, so she starts ignoring you once more like she did when you first started working, like you were the plague of the next century.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who is walking home from a pub one night, darkness surrounding the night sky, only thing heard was the steps of her shoes hitting the pavement , when suddenly her ears caught the sound of yelling nearby. . . coming from an alleyway, she slowly walks to the ally, her silver eyes looking at the scene displayed in front of her , not supirsed when she finds a drunken man bothering a women she couldn't see the face of , a sight she has seen countless of times throughout her years, she could smell the bourbon seeping through the man's skin causing her to cringe, it was truly disgusting.

she rolled up her sleeves of her white button up and walked closer, the man not yet noticing her presence...before sevika could act, she caught a whiff of a very familiar scent. . a sweet so fucking alluring scent.

once sevika realized that the woman infront for her, is, in fact, you, for some unknown reason, this sends her into a frenzy - something about seeing you useless against your will by a drunken - disgusting pig of a man made her so damn furious.

it was like she suddenly snapped . . edged with anger, those human feelings that she had buried weeks ago creeping back into her head.

within seconds, she was like the wind behind the man roughly grabbing the back of his suit and pulling him away from you and in a flash the man's body was hitting the other side of the ally wall, bricks even breaking from the building at sevika's supernatural strength.

next thing she knows, her fangs are piercing the man's throat, the feeling of an intoxicated blood entering her system. She was repulsed by his taste, yet still so sickened by his actions.

she could hear your whimpering escaping your lips, staggered breathing as you tried to regain control over it, your heart pounding rapidly in your chest, eyes widened in terror at the sight of sevika's - the woman you once viewed as flawless and the epitome of perfect was now infront of you sucking the life out of the man who followed you from a bar nearby against your will.

you didn't know whether if you were paralyzed with fear. . .or shock. . .

driven by sheer terror , not knowing what might happen next - acting out on pure fear you found yourself running down the ally way, the muscles in your calves already tired from your paralyzed stance from before, you ran and didn't look back.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who expected to see you on the news the next day explaining how you saw "the devil itself drinking the blood and eating the flesh of a human" last night. . . but surprisingly, there was nothing of that sort. Instead, the man sevika drained dry and bought to the woods was found and told to die in a freak accident with some sort of wild animal. .

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who realizes you don't show up to work for 3 days straight , her silver eyes attempted to find yours like before in the crowd of mortals each time she performed those nights. . failing each time.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who wouldn't be surprised if you fled town to escape her unnatural acts. . but boy, was she surprised to see you standing in her dressing room after a show, sevika acting adrenaline and impulse she immediately told the woman she had brought with her to go away .

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who acts surprised when you confront her about what happened in that ally , you're absolutely baffled by her words. . . her pure lies of her twisting the narrative of the truth to fit her lie. . . she was lying through her teeth to you.

"please - i feel like my mind is spinning out of control i- i don't . . . know what i saw i-"

"you're right, you don't know what you saw. . . you're confused ma mie. ." sevika's voice spoke out lowly, a smooth whisper with something lingering behind it.

"b-but. . . you. .i saw you. ." you stumbled over your words, bottom lip shaking as you thought about the terrifying acts you saw that night, you weren't crazy. . . you know what you saw.

"shh shh shh. . ." sevika put a hand to her lips, mimicking a quiet action with her pointer finger that was covered in two chunky silver rings. . "mon amour please. . . you had drank alot among that night, my eyes caught you in an ally way grappling with a drunkard . . . i got him off you - saving you, that is all you need to remember." her deceptive demeanor hid her true intentions, the constant contradiction she put on you was overwhelming.

"no. . .the blood dripping down your chin, the - the look in your eyes. . the sounds" your sentence coming out in a broken whisper "you killed that man by - sucking his blood. . .I'm not crazy ... i was doubting everything - my own memories, but i know what i saw."

you were looking down, meaning you missed sevika's gaze darken at your words. . her eyes fiercely staring at you, burning through you like lava, piercing through your soul.

she had an alluring and almost hypnotic gaze.

"are you afraid." Were the only words spoken out by sevika, her sentence coming out like a demand for you to answer other than an actual question.

but. . .

were you?

as crazy it sounds, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders at her words. . . these three days you spent in your home, petrified, thinking what you saw was a figment of your own imagination, thinking you were going mad, thoughts racing so fast against eachother you couldn't even keep up.

the dressing room was filled with a heavy suffocating silence, almost eerie.

but also the tension between you and the immortal was growing thick, probably more thick than the silence around you. . .sevika leaned closer to you, her broad and buff figure towering over your shorter figure, you still hadn't looked up at her . . your height making your eyes only reach her chest, this only made sevika lean lower , her body moving forward causing you to slowly step back. . . . this process stopped when your back hit the wall of her dressing room.

she could hear your lips shakily pressing into a line, roughly gulping . . and she could practically feel the nervousness seeping out of your pours , almost as if your emotions were intact with one another, she could feel everything you were feeling in this moment.

this was new for her...

having someone else's emotions connect within her own. . .

you were unable to form a single sentence, the tension felt so thick it suffocated you like blanket, leaving you hot and sweaty.

if sevika had the pleasure of breathing again, her breath would definitely be caught in her throat when she finally saw you look up at her, she's seen many eyes before, many expressive ones filled with different colors. . but your beautiful big brown eyes catch her off guard, again something that does not happen to her often. . . she was almost bewildered at this feeling.

sevika head slowly leaned closer to you, gently resting her forehead on yours as he clenched her eyes tightly - she had never been this close to you before so the the sweet scent of your blood flowed in her nose more easily. . . the smell nearly making her go feral. .

you slightly gasped when you felt her drag her head in the crook of your neck, for second you think you hear a low animalistic guttural growl escape her throat, her nose sniffing you as if you were some sort of food for her dinner. . .

her hands reaching beside you on the wall, she was almost shaking. . . you were in such a vulnerable position, she could sink her teeth into your skin if she desired to. . . just thinking about that made her hands clench, which they did, into the hard - blue painted wall causing a loud crushing noise to enter your ears.

"i can still smell him on you. . .his vulgar stench" sevika growled , her voice was deeper, smooth, and almost seductive, making you close your eyes, parting your mouth, letting out a shaky breath you didn't know you were holding in..

"do you know what i am. . ."

all of the nervousness , fear that was once in your body, was now replaced with the sudden urge of desire for this women infront of you - this immortal, you knew what she was you've heard of the myths, legends of blood drinking demons that preyed among humans. . .

yet you weren't scared of her, if she wanted to hurt you - even kill you . . she would have by now.

"Do i not scare you, mon chèrie. . ."

"no. ." your words came out with no hesitation, you didn't even think before you replied.."you saved me. .that night. . ."

sevika grunted at your words, her eyes still clenched closed, she could feel the heat radiating off your body coming onto her's, she pulled her head from your neck, looking into you eyes once more.

sevika looked as though she was drunk off your scent, her lidded gray eyes staring at you as her lips pursed together, staring at you like she was trying to read through you. .

you two stayed like this for what it seemed like minutes, hours even? maybe. . . the hot tension piercing the air between you two waiting to be broken, waiting to be sliced.

and it soon was, before you knew it, the immortals lips smashed roughly into your soft ones. . .

the kiss was hot and rough, but you took it , accepted it - you've been wanting this. . . needing this ever since the day both your eyes connected when she was on stage. . .both your mouths moving with urgency against eachother, as if you both would disappear in any moment.

your hands growing confident as they now moved around sevika's muscular back. . .

the kiss became messier and slippery more uncoordinated, sevika grunted like an angry animal against your mouth, the crunching of the wall could be heard once more, taking her frustrations out on it - knowing that if she were to place her hands on her body she could possibly hurt you with her unnatural strength.

"move to the dresser. ." sevika's husky tone was undeniably alluring, almost like a captivating melody for your ears, she removes her hands from the wall, watching as you slowly walked to the dresser nearby, legs visibly shaking with each step, sevika smirked at the sight of this slowly following behind you. . her tounge swiping up against her pointy fang as her silver eyes watched your movement.

once you reached the dresser, you turned around, leaning your lower back on it slightly flinching when sevika was already in front of you, with a cocky smirk on her lips.

"tu es l'un des humains les plus intéressants que j'aie jamais vu pendant mes cent ans. ."

you frown once more as sevika's cold hand raises up to your jaw, softly caressing you. . your'e warm heat from your skin collaborating with her icy cold ones. . such an unfamiliar feeling to you..

"sevika. . i don't understand your words. ." you respond to her..softly.

"You don't need to understand, mon cœur. ." she replies, her voice was like velvet, smooth, husky and rich with a lingering whisper that sent chills through your body.

her finger once on your jaw, moving higher. .to your cheek. . her thumb than meeting your moist, swollen lips. . . sevika gaze eyed your mouth as she pushed in her thumb, seeing you accept it with no hesitation, her thumb in your warm , wet mouth pressing down gently as possible on your tongue.

you lean into her touch, letting her do whatever she pleases with you.

whatever she desired. .

her thumb swirling around your tongue, she almost looked entranced by this, captivated by you - even more when she could hear the small sounds that escaped your throat when you yourself weren't even aware of them. .

she slipped her thumb out your warm mouth, smiling slightly at the string of saliva that came with it, she than stuck the thumb inside her mouth, sucking it off before releasing it with a loud pop.

you flustered by the sudden action, looking down avoiding the eye contact she always gave you.

sevika leaning in to you, her hands resting on the sides of the dresser. .she moved her head on yours, trying to catch your flustered gaze, when she did your lips slowly connecting again. . instead of thie kiss starting off rough and sloppy like the first one, this one started sensual, slow as if sevika was now taking her time.

her tongue brushing against your bottom lips before she entered it inside your mouth, both your tongues entangling - fighting for dominance that sevika clearly won within seconds. . even though the kiss was softer it was still messy, you could feel you saliva running down you chin as you leaned into her more, nor knowing this movement caused your tongue to brush up against her sharp fangs, causing a small cut on your pink muscle. . . you didn't notice, but when that taste entered sevika's mouth her eyes went wide.

immediately breaking the heated kiss, she stood for a moment - finally tasting your blood. . . sweet. . it was so fucking sweet.

she swallowed roughly with scowl on her face, closing her eyes in an attempt to get rid of the thoughts of draining your pulsing body right here on her dresser.

"sevika. . did - did i do something wrong?" You ask embarrassed, fumbling over your words unsure what to do next as the women suddenly just pulled away from you, you're body flinched at the crushing of wood beside you - sevika and squeezed the dresser so hard the places where she rested her hands now crushed into pieces.

whe you go to look back uo at her - she's already out the door. . . in a swish moment, like the wind she slammed the door open and she was gone.

leaving you in her dressing room, on her dresser, with swollen lips she caused and with confusion engulfing your body as you also felt a tingling between your legs. .

I keep seeing Sevika with glasses

So here this

• Denial Is a River in Zaun, Sevika is 1000% convinced her eyes are fine. “I don’t need glasses, you’re just blurry,” she says while squinting directly at your forehead instead of your eyes.

• Hot Girl Nearsightedness, She tries to play it off like she’s intimidating when she’s really just trying to figure out if she’s glaring at Silco or a lamp. You once caught her threatening a coat rack.

• You teasingly call her “Granny Vika” every time she squints or holds something at arm’s length. She grumbles and grabs your ass in retaliation. “Still strong enough to put you over my knee, sweetheart.”

• She Hates the Exam, You finally drag her to an eye exam. She tries to flirt her way out of it. until you sit in her lap and whisper, “If you behave, I’ll let you keep them on while you wreck me later.”

• First Time With Glasses, She puts them on and blinks a few times. “Shit… is that what you look like?” now she won’t stop staring at you like you’re the Mona Lisa with thighs.

• She only wears them around the house, mostly shirtless, reading a book while lounging on the couch. “Ma’am… you can’t just look like someone’s sexy literature professor and expect me to focus.” You tell her. She adjusts glasses slowly “Then don’t.”

• You once walked in on her wearing her glasses, hair messy, tank top half-riding up, reading and you just melted.

• Glasses Stay On, First time you kissed her while she was wearing them, you fogged them up so bad she had to take them off. Now she keeps lens wipes by the bed. She calls it “battle prep.”

• Ultimate Weakness, You grab her glasses and wear nothing else. She stops whatever she’s doing—mid-sentence, mid-sip, mid-growl—and just stares. “…Goddamn. Come here. I can’t even be mad.”

i just loathe you lately — .✦

ᯓ VI ARCANE X READER

SUMMARY : 5k+ word count one-shot! (sorry if you dislike longer fan-fiction) ; the secrets of highland parks are kept under lock and key, never to be whispered beyond its borders.

“whatever happens in highland parks, stays in highland parks.” — you’re a registered, licensed FBI agent who's made a name for herself in the world of crime-solving. working alongside a team of sharp-minded professionals, apart of what's become New Jersey's go-to crew for getting things done. their reputation? polished, and trusted.

then, there’s vi west: your work partner, equally sharp but just a step ahead in some ways. almost too close for comfort. who would've thought work partners could be this competitive? the irony? they’re unstoppable together, but neither is quite the same without the other.

WARNINGS : fbi agent! vi ; fbi agent! reader. eventual smut. tons of self doubt. modern fbi! au. inaccurate descriptions of the profession! i’m not a professional. this is for fun. work rivals (one sided beef) to lovers. LONG AS FUCKKK SORRY I YAP. female reader with female anatomy. y/n is used. “thorne” is your last name. vi’s last name is “west”. you refer to her by her last name mostly. reader is high-key a crash out and mean. reader is an overachiever and insecure. vi and powder aren’t related. tons of banter. bottom! reader & top! vi. spitting. praise. fngering r! rec. pussy eating r! rec. detailed descriptions. crime scenes mentioned.

A/N : also i’m not that great at writing and my english isn’t spectacular, so i apologize for any confusion!

this was previously written in THIRD person with OCS previously, and is edited to be in second — so I apologize if things seem odd! I didn’t wanna overuse y/n. it switches from vi to violet when perspectives shift, and and the end, it’s because they get intimate. this also sucks I genuinely do not like how it turned out, but I wanna post this sooo badly.

MINORS + MEN DO NOT INTERACT! GO AWAY!

"Great," you muttered, rolling your eyes at the red light like it had personally offended you. One hand gripped the leather steering wheel, while the other balanced a bagel slathered in thick cream cheese and peppered with everything seasoning. You took a bite, savoring the soft, fresh bread—a far cry from the jaw-breaking bagels they served at the headquarters.

No need to spend the rest of her shift nursing a sore jaw, right?

South Jersey always gave you this weird ghost-town vibe. It was like all the real Jersey energy got stuck up North, and down here? It was all tumbleweeds and out-of-towners. And the drivers? Somehow even worse.

"Dude, go!" you groaned, smacking the horn with your free hand.

The truck in front jolted to life at the sound of your obnoxious horn, hesitating like it couldn't decide if it actually wanted to move. But you were late for work, and patience wasn't exactly on the menu today. The light had barely turned green when the Ford finally screeched forward, turning right without so much as a flick of its blinker.

Not even surprised.

Okay, maybe calling this place a 'ghost town' was a bit dramatic, but it wasn't exactly buzzing with life either. A population of five thousand? It wasn't tiny, but small enough that you pretty much knew everyone, or at least recognized their faces.

You rip off another chunk of your breakfast, chewing thoughtfully as you kept her eyes on the road ahead.

The headquarters sat smack in the middle of town, like the town's claim to fame. Not that it had much else going for it, anyway. The place was known for one thing and one thing only: a team of agents who dealt with crime and shady stuff, navigating the waters of illegal activities with professional ease.

And you were one of them. FBI agent—living the dream. Except for mornings like this, you weren’t so sure. Some days you questioned all of it. Why didn't you go for Wall Street like every other uptight, middle-aged guy who loves his over priced suits and has a receding hairline? But, of course, you were not a man. And would never be a man. So, that was that, unfortunately.

Other days though? Absolutely loved it. The thrill, the purpose. It kept you going.

You slammed your car door shut, the headlights flickering as if saying goodbye. Your boots clicked on the pavement as you tossed her brown paper bag with trash into a nearby bin, finishing off the last bite of the bagel while juggling your bag and keys in one hand.

(Y/N) Thorne. Not exactly the name that struck fear into anyone's heart. You were, after all, everything someone would want in a woman: totally normal. And boring as hell.

"G'morning," you called out, voice rippling through the main office full of her co-workers as you scanned your ID and pressed the door open with your forearm. Inside, it was warmer — nothing fancy, just your typical government building. Functional, plain, and definitely not the kind of place that got decorated for Thanksgiving.

November in Jersey wasn't exactly charming. Sure, it had its cozy moments but it was mostly cold, wet, and kinda depressing. You shrugged off her trench coat, and tossed your bag onto the desk, just as Jayce swiveled around in his stool, that annoying smirk plastered across his face.

"Wow. You're late," he teased, his eyes darting to the clock behind her.

"Like, late-late. Late as hell."

You then shot him a look, knowing full well that you was over half an hour late. Unlike everyone else who was seated and working as usual.

"You think I don't know that? I got caught up in traffic," you say, the lie slipping out as easily as it always did on mornings like these. The truth? There was almost never traffic in Highland Parks. Maybe during the holidays or when something big was going on, but never on a random weekday morning.

You started unloading your personal bag, pulling out the essentials: a still-steaming insulated cup of coffee, pens, some files you’d taken come to look over, and your planner. Everything else was digital of course, but you liked having these things on hand. It just made you feel more grounded.

Jayce raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying her excuse. "Traffic? Don't tell me you're coming down with schizophrenia, (Y/N)."

You then rolled your eyes, brows pinching together. "You don't 'come down' with schizophrenia, Jayce. It's not a cold that comes and goes." You didn't bother looking up at him, already used to the back-and-forth banter. They both were close enough for this to be just another day in the office.

"That still doesn't explain whatever you've got smeared around your mouth," Jayce quipped, pointing at you like he'd just caught you in some criminal act.

You halted, then swiped at your lips, just now realizing the cream cheese from the bagel you were eating earlier had betrayed you. "Shut up."

Jayce spun back around to his dual monitors, both lit up with the usual chaos. One screen was a mess of opened unnamed files, highlighted sections jumping out at him like some kind of fucking neon nightmare. The other? A classified CIA document he probably shouldn't have access to but, hey, Jayce was Jayce. A pain in the ass sure, but damn good at what he did, and you could respect that at least.

You plopped into your chair and rolled it forward, the familiar hum of the workspace coming to life. Resting your head in your hand, and letting out a sigh that felt as if it had been building up for days on end. Sleeping through your alarm again. It was becoming a pattern, and you was starting to seriously think about just camping out here at headquarters.

At least then you wouldn't have to rush to work every other week because of your growing bad habits.

You glanced around the room. Everyone else was locked in, focused on their screens, their tasks. A hushed few conversations floated in the background —just the usual work chatter between people you’d known for years now. They were solid. Resilient. You felt lucky to be surrounded by a team you could count on, even on days like this where your brain felt like it was running dry.

You wiped away the last remnants of cream cheese from her lips, still mildly annoyed that Jayce had been the only one to point it out. Not that you wanted everyone in the office to make a big deal out of it, but seriously, not one person gave her a heads-up?

Jesus Christ. It was way too early to care about that kind of still, especially right now.

Outside, the sky hung heavy with thick clouds, the kind that obviously promised rainfall later—great just what you needed. You moved your hand over the cursor, pulling up the files for the marriage fraud case you’d been slogging through. It was equally as exciting as watching paint dry on a fence. But a job's a job, and no one ever said working for the government was supposed to be fun.

Your eyes scanned the screen, index finger clicking away as you moved through the organized files. Your routine, monotonous. It was keeping your hands busy, at least. If nothing else, the day had nowhere to go but up from here.

"The money transferred to the spouse was unlabeled, and we're talking a decent amount. Anywhere from a grand up to five grand. Normally, separate bank accounts wouldn't draw too much attention, but in this case it's a red flag." You say, half to yourself as you rummaged through the stuffed file drawer. One folder was delicately tucked under your chin, held in place as you flipped through files with your manicured fingers. Brows furrowed in concentration as you searched for a similar case.

Tax fraud cases were like the PP&J to your workload, with a few shady marriage fraud scenarios thrown in to mix things up. Sometimes the scandalous ones were entertaining enough to break the pattern, but this one? Torture.

Jayce stood nearby, leaning back against the marble counter, which was digging into his lower back. He took a slow sip of his iced oat-milk latte, listening to you work and ramble through your day's work. It had been a quiet morning, with nothing dramatic or exciting happening, which should've been a good thing.

Still, it left you with that uneasy feeling—like the calm before a storm.

You were never relaxed for this long. Clocked in for almost three hours and had surprisingly plowed through a solid amount of work, even with a fried brain that was practically begging for a nap. That was another thing you found weird—you were usually a mess by now, half-distracted or complaining about some new crisis.

The files slapped onto the counter with a loud thud as you set them aside, hands brushing together like you was dusting off the whole ordeal. Jayce’s eyes flicked to her bare hands—no ring, no sign of marriage or any serious relationship. You were always all work, never any talk about a significant other or anything personal.

You slowly sighed pushed your hair back from your face, shutting the file cabinet with a firm click and locking it for good measure. Sliding your personal key into your pocket, ready to move on from whatever boring task awaited her next.

"This Wren Staples woman is kind of smart. I mean," Jayce held up a hand before you could even start to question his logic, giving you that familiar look. "I'm not saying it's right, but if someone offered me five grand a month to stay silent and just show up to some fancy business dinners? You wouldn't have to ask me twice."

He paused, waiting for a reaction, but you just stared at him, face scrunched up like you couldn't decide if you was more irritated or confused. Clearly not amused. Jayce let out a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes like this conversation was nothing but a lost cause. Adjusting his belt, he gave it one last go, this time sounding more defeated than the first time.

"Forget it." He waved it off dismissively, taking a long sip of his drink while you mentally rubbed a hand down your face in pure frustration.

"Yeah, I will forget it," you say dryly. "Because if anyone heard you say that, you'd be stuck at the front desk while a janitor took your place. Or," you added, picking up your files, "you'd just be fired."

Jayce smirked, a dimple creasing his cheek. "You're obsessed with the idea of me getting fired, but who else would have your back when West over here starts breathing down your neck?"

At the mention of West, your mood took a nose-dive. Violet West—the co-worker from the literal pits of hell. If you had to sum her up in three words it, was be easy: haughty, a know-it-all, and self-indulgent.

You’d like to say you didn't hate West, but that would be a lie. And sure, lying wasn't illegal, but pretending to tolerate Violet felt criminal. The woman was all sharp words, choppy hair, and superiority complex wrapped in a suit.

"Yeah, you mean 'she-who-must-not-be-named'?" you mutter as you both walked down the dim hallways, the usual morning light blocked out by the overcast skies. Jayce snorted.

"What? Is she a forbidden topic now, Ms. Thorne?" Jayce raised an eyebrow, teasing as they headed back to the main room. You shot him a long side-glance, silently telling him to knock it off as they neared West's usual... territory.

You scanned your ID at the door, unlocking it with a beep and pushing it open for the both of them. Your expression blank, and voice deadpan.

“Just very, very taboo.”

You rip a piece of tape off the roll with your teeth, holding it between yours lips for a moment before carefully sticking it onto the document you were patching up. The team had already gone through a ridiculous amount of ink today, and printing another copy of this page would be a waste. A little tape, and it was good as new. Well, good enough. No one would notice unless they were trying to be a detective about it.

Smoothing the tape down with the pad of your thumb, stood up, and pushed your chair back with a small scrape. So far, this week wasn't too bad. It was only Tuesday, but still better than the disaster that was yesterday. Not that it mattered much — work was work, and that was that.

"Lunch started ten minutes ago, (Y/N)."

You turned to see Mel, stirring honey into her tea, the spoon gently clinking against the glass. The smell hit you, and seconds in you were already fighting the urge to grimace. Tea wasn't your thing. It always left this weird aftertaste, like lukewarm juice that had been forgotten in a car on a hot day. Gross, but you get it.

Mel wasn't bad, though. Laid-back, easy to deal with, which was more than you could say about most people at the HQ. In your mind, everyone had something annoying about them, and you weren’t shy about digging for it. Nobody's perfect, why pretend?

You laid your stack of papers down, giving Mel a tight, thin-lined smile with a small shrug. "Who else is gonna organize our cases by date, importance, and agent?"

"You do know there are six other people working in this office, right?" Mel raised an eyebrow, amused but not surprised by your martyr complex.

You knew you were not technically responsible for everything. You weren’t dense. But every time someone else tried to handle the file-work, things ended up in a chaotic mess, and that drove you crazy. You’d rather just do it on your own, your way, even if it meant taking on more. Loosening your tie, slipping a finger into the knot and giving it a tug as you got back to sorting through the paperwork.

Policy guides? Tossed onto the pile on her left. Investigation files? Those got dropped into a drawer with a firm hip-check to shut it. Personnel records? Neatly tucked into a black folder. You had a system, and it worked.

"Exactly," the words came out as a drawl, not really in the mood for chit-chat as you worked through the stack. You still needed to collect some files, but that could wait until later, maybe even tomorrow. The week had been more relaxed since most of the tasks were in-office, which was honestly a relief. The days when public affairs or training sessions were on the agenda? Those were the ones that pushed you to the edge of madness.

As you started to walk away, Mel called after you, "Tell Jayce his phone's rung fifteen times in the past twenty minutes!"

Of course it had. Jayce avoided work calls like the plague.

You shut the door behind you and slipped a hand into your right pocket, pulling out your cellphone. It was mostly your work phone—you kept your personal life strictly separate. The idea of mixing the two was a disaster waiting to happen. Scrolling through your contacts, you found the number you were searching for, and tapped it. You needed to update the attorney general. Your boots clicked softly against the floor while stroding down the hallway, phone pressed to your ear.

It rang a couple of times before a voice answered. "FBI Legal Division."

You inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly to gather your thoughts before responding. Tone direct, professional. "Thorne, (Y/N), speaking. Just calling to update you—we've covered all files and documents this past week. Fingerprinting is being handled by Shimes, and the lab services are currently in progress. Everything else looks good for now. If anything changes, I'll let you know as soon as possible."

You kept it short and to the point, just the way it needed to be.

A satisfied hum came through the line. "Great work, I'll review the details and let you know if I need anything else."

You thanked your attorney, lowering the phone as you pushed open the doors to the lounge. You had about twenty minutes to eat which was more than enough, though the thought of food didn't exactly thrill you. When your mind was full of work, your stomach didn't have room to complain. Sliding your cellular device into her pocket, you noticed a few co-workers giving her a glance.

"Where've you been?" Powder asked, nosy as ever. Powder Shimes was hunched over, chewing on what looked like the remains of a sad, microwaved breakfast burrito—probably from hours ago—and washing it down with a can of Dr. Pepper that looked far too room temperature. Was that ketchup on her burrito?

Ekko tilted his head, giving her a once-over. "Probably the HQ. She looks pretty pissed."

You rolled your eyes and yanked open the lounge fridge. Taking her time to riffle through the bagged lunches, each marked with large initials to avoid any office food theft drama. You grabbed your pre-prepped Caesar salad—the one you didn't have time for the day before—and a small bottle of water.

"Where's Jayce?" you asked, settling into a chair a seat away from the two of them. You ignored their commentary about your supposed "pissed-off" look. It wasn't like you were mad, but your resting face had always given off those vibes. "Matter of fact, where's everyone at?"

Powder and Ekko were always together, so their presence wasn't exactly surprising. Mel was eating at her desk while taking phone calls. Jayce was MIA for reasons unknown, even though he was usually first to hog the entire couch in the break lounge. Caitlyn popped in sometimes after training, but she hadn't expecting to see her today.

You popped the lid off the salad and grabbed a plastic fork from the tin holder nearby. As for West? Well, she wasn't here either, which was a relief. Lunch without Violet West around was a small victory in itself. It wasn't like seeing her would brighten your day. If anything, the distance was a blessing.

You stabbed at the Caesar salad, spearing a few leaves and bringing them to your mouth. A quiet lunch was all you really needed right now.

"Caitlyn went to grab some stuff from Home Depot. Something about the sink breaking—something with the piping. I don't know," Ekko shrugged, digging into his half-full peanut butter cup ice cream with a plastic spoon. Meanwhile, Powder took another horrific bite of her ketchup-slathered burrito, opening yet another packet of ketchup like it was a delicacy.

You uncomfortably clenched your jaw, doing your absolute best to ignore Powder’s obnoxious eating habits. She gulped down her food with an unnecessary loud sigh and crushed her soda can with a loud crack. "Like Ekko said, Cait’s at the store. Jayce? Off doing whatever, said he'd be back after lunch. Vi?" Powder raised her hands once mentioning the girl in mock surrender, a crumpled napkin in her palm. "No idea where she is, and honestly? Don't care."

You picked at the chicken in the Caesar salad, chewing slowly. You really needed to up your protein intake, especially with how grueling training days had been. But Caesar salads? The only kind you could enjoy without wanting to throw the bowl out the window. "So it's just you two?"

"Yup," Ekko confirmed, licking his spoon clean.

Spectacular. Stuck with these two for the next fifteen minutes. Not that long, but in moments like this, you found herself wondering how they were the same people she did real-world investigations with. Ekko, a grown man, devouring ice cream like a five-year-old, and Powder, well.

"That's disgusting, Shimes," you deadpanned, eyeing the ungodly amount of ketchup Powder was consuming. Ekko barely stifled a laugh, grinning against his spoon. You rubbed your temples, trying to ease the headache that had started creeping in. Who knew the break room could actually make things worse?

Powder scoffed, leaning back in her chair, her work jacket tossed aside. Now just in a wrinkled button-down, she looked far too comfortable for someone whose eating habits were under fire.

"Like I care. That was delicious. I'd give it like an eight out of ten—only because it was kinda cold in the center."

That earned a grimace from you. You did not need to know how cold her burrito was or how much she enjoyed it in great detail. As much as Jayce could be a pain, you’d trade this scenery for his company any day. At least Jayce wasn't… this.

Just as you were starting to imagine a more peaceful lunch break, a gruff female voice broke through your thoughts. "Thanks for saving me a seat."

The sound of the chair scraping against the floor made you freeze. Ekko shot you a knowing look, and Powder’s grin only widened.

"Surprise guest!" Powder announced with a clap, running a hand through her hair like she was prepping a show.

Surprise guest? More like surprise loss of appetite. Because who else would be sitting next to you, shoulder to shoulder, than Violet West herself. No invitation, no polite "is this seat taken?" just West, plopping down like she owned the place.

Your fork hovered above your salad, chewing coming to an abrupt stop. You stared down at the greens, the moment of peace you had been savoring now utterly ruined.

You've got to be kidding me.

Three shots rang out. You adjusted your earplugs with one hand and tightened your grip on the Glock 19M with the other. The gloves were pulled snug over your hands, and you squeezed the gun a little harder than usual. You didn't bother with safety glasses during training. What was the point? You didn't wear them on the job.

Agents like you practicing shooting all kinds of targets — stationary, moving, from cover to cover, on the move. The whole deal. Training days like these were crucial for staying sharp, and even though they ran these drills once a week, you always tried to push yourself, especially with your Glock. The gun had a way of making your skin crawl every time she fired, but you had to be good with it. You hadn't had to use it much in the field, thankfully, but when you did, it never felt great. Obviously.

"Not bad, Thorne," Caitlyn muttered as she patted your wrist, adjusting it slightly and motioning for you to fix your posture. You hadn't even realized you were holding the gun so close to your body until she gave that look. A lump of saliva slid down your throat and you nodded. Caitlyn was a solid instructor. She didn't sugarcoat anything—if you were doing something wrong, she told you straight up, step by step, how to fix it.

You appreciated that.

The days rotated every week. Monday meant outdoor training, Tuesday indoor, then back outdoors on Wednesday, and so on from there. Weeks of drills. Not your personal favorite, but it was part of the job, and you had to be ready to reach for your waist when things went sideways. And in a town like Highland Parks, things often did.

You bit your cheek, thinking about how unpredictable this place was. The citizens too. Not that you were any better — you wasn't exactly a poster child for predictability yourself. You let out a breath, firmly holding the handle of the Glock as if it could settle your nerves.

Caitlyn handed you a pair of safety glasses, breaking your focus. "You need to wear these. None of that 'I'm too good for this' nonsense. If you lose an eye because you're being stubborn, you're not touching a firearm again. Take them."

Irritable but not wrong. You weren’t offended. Rumor had it someone lost an eye once because they ignored safety, though that was before her time.

"Thanks," you say, slowly taking the glasses from her hand. She stomped off, her heavy boots thudding against the ground as her vest shifted with each step. You put on the glasses and popped your knuckles, already feeling that strain in your hands that would stick until the end of the month.

Nearby, Powder was lounging with his legs spread, while Jayce gnawed on a marshmallow-studded protein bar. Powder’s face was slick with sweat as he gulped water, some strands of her azure hair sticking to her forehead. Ekko was swapping out his gun, peeling off his thick vector gloves.

You placed your weapon down and rolled your tense shoulders, feeling a knot in your neck release. The relief was short-lived, though, she glanced over at Caitlyn, who was now standing in front of West. Another knot formed in your gut, this one a mix of annoyance and envy. You clenched her jaw unconsciously.

Of course, Caitlyn was probably praising the hell out of West. She was the best with the weapons out of everyone, aside from Caitlyn herself. Powder was more into forensic work, Ekko handled lab services, and Jayce was a crime-solving machine, and (Y/N)?

Just... good. At a little bit of everything. You were organized, which was great, but that was also Mel’s job. A deep inhale filled your lungs, and you sighed heavily. You was useful — a great help, a mix of skills, but nothing extraordinary.

Ekko’s voice snapped you back to reality. "Dude, instead of choking back a hundred protein bars, try starting with eggs in the morning. Those are food, but God damn."

He was talking to Jayce, who was hunched over elbows on his knees. You resisted the urge to critique his posture. You didn't, but that was primarily because it would make you a hypocrite. Caitlyn had just corrected hers. You slipped off your own gloves, then decided to stand and stretch your legs, feeling more awake on your feet.

"Eggs are nasty as hell," Jayce waved Ekko off, and Ekko shrugged, half agreeing as he lazily sipped his water.

"Cottage cheese? Tofu? Greek yogurt?" Ekko continued, trying to offer solid protein options, but Jayce’s chewing slowed at his suggestions. Even though Ekko’s advice came from someone who clearly knew what he was talking about, Jayce’s eyes narrowed, his olive-tanned skin glistening under the fluorescent lights.

A firm smack on your back snapped you upright before you could even think about it, body reacting on instinct. Caitlyn’s voice echoed in her mind, reminding her about her posture, and for a split second, you wondered if she'd hunched over under the weight of your responsibilities again. But when you turned to see who had hit her, it wasn't Caitlyn and her sharp, fine eyebrows. Instead, you were met by a different pair—thick and scarred along the edges.

West.

Your stomach dropped. Caitlyn, she respected. Caitlyn had the right to correct your posture, whether in training or in office. Violet, on the other hand, had not. Jayce could get away with being a little touchy sometimes, and Caitlyn, if it was educational, but Violet? No. Never.

"You aren't a Pilates teacher," you say in a calm, yet perfectly passive-aggressive tone. Your brows furrowed as you tried to smooth out the back of the suit jacket you had on, trying to ease any trace of Violet’s unwanted touch. In another timeframe, you might've smacked her hand away, but today you settled for being politely firm.

Violet, of course, gave you another pat, this one being more condescending than the first. "Another profession? I'd be making bank. Every housewife would be in my classes," she replied, her voice smug and dripping with fake charm.

Your skin prickled with irritation, patience running thin by the second. You would've given everything for earplugs at the moment. The sound of Violet’s voice was enough to make your head throb. Meanwhile, Jayce, ever the opportunist, chose this exact moment to stay silent, focusing more on his marshmallow protein bar than on you, clearly about to bite down hard enough to crack a molar.

"You'd be making below minimum wage. No one would willingly attend those classes," you dragged out, voice flat and uninterested, though the tension in your jaw spoke volumes. Violet didn't have to do much to get under your skin, and honestly, she didn't even have to try. She was the walking embodiment of something that made your veins itch.

"Realistically, that is."

Violet studied your face, noticing the way your expression had tightened, a visible vein of pure irritation. It wasn't like you hated Violet once again—if you did, you would've moved locations a long time ago. But there was a thin line between tolerance and whatever the hell this was. Tolerable, in your world, meant zero contact. Silence. Absolute distance. And right now, West was far too close for comfort.

"Realistically, a business run by someone confident in their growth is more likely to succeed than someone who's just a follower."

Violet’s smug response hit you like a match to gasoline. You could feel the heat of your frustration under your skin, a familiar sensation that always seemed to bubble up during their rare, but tense interactions. Most days, they kept their distance, sticking to cold, judgmental glances. But on days like this, when they were forced into the same space, it was inevitable-snarky exchanges, backhanded compliments, and that thick, suffocating air of competition.

You bit back the flood of insults threatening to slip out. Pressing your chapped lips together, irritated by the dry, rough feeling but too focused on the current situation to care. "You can't speak from experience," you finally muttered, knowing full well that it was a weak retort. You weren’t in the mood to come up with anything clever. Keeping it safe was the safest bet for your sanity right now.

Violet, naturally, didn't miss a beat. "I'll have that privilege one day." she flicked her ID badge with a cocky flourish, the engraved letters of her last name catching in the light. Her face was twisted into a self-satisfied smirk, the kind that made you want to roll her eyes so hard they'd get stuck.

There was nothing motivating about Violet’s arrogance. Only aggravating.

You cleared your throat, forcing a thin smile.

"Fun talking to you, as always," you said, determined to get the last word in, as usual. Their exchanges were like a never-ending thumb war, both women pushing for dominance without truly getting anywhere. Two years of this, and nothing had changed.

Violet smirked, clearly enjoying herself. "I'm flattered, but I can't help wondering if you're considering stand-up comedy for those with lobotomies, of course." She punctuated the remark with a firm hand on your shoulder.

Your stomach churned at the touch, and you shrugged off Violet’s hand like it was a spider crawling on you. Resisting the urge to vomit right then and there, you reached down for your Glock, thumb brushing over the magazine release as it could somehow end this insufferable conversation.

You needed to reload, which at least gave you a reason to focus on someone else.

"Be my guest," you said flatly, eyes fixated on the gun, not on the smug woman hovering over you.

West’s lips quirked again in amusement, but she stayed quiet, watching as you methodically reloaded the 19M, clicking the slide back in place with more force than necessary. You were hyper-focused now, anything to block out Violet’s presence.

You slipped the gloves back on, fastening the Velcro tightly, mentally preparing yourself to get back to training.

"Trainings over for the day, you know," West said, casually reminding you. She was annoyingly familiar with your habits on the range, probably because she always kept an eye on you, just waiting to see if you messed up.

You didn't bother looking up. "I'm aware everyone else is gone. I prefer extra training."

"You hate training," Violet replied, her tone laced with smug knowingness. She clearly enjoyed pushing your buttons, and right now, you kinda wound tighter than the Velcro on your gloves.

"No." you simply state, cocking your head to crack your neck.

I just fucking hate you.

Your raised the Glock and fired at the nearest dummy, ending the conversation with a bang.

The sweet relief of coffee never failed to satisfy Vi, even on days when everything else seemed to fall apart. She let her calloused fingers linger on the coffee maker as it hummed, her other hand twiddling a packet of sweetener absentmindedly. With nothing pressing on her mind or plate today, she pulled the pitcher from the machine and dragged her New York embroidered mug forward. The coffee poured steadily, just below the rim, and she tore the sweetener packet, dumping it in with practiced precision.

But before she could savor a sip, her forearm nudged open the lounge door, and—splash. Hot coffee cascaded over her freshly pressed suit, drenching her pants and top in a scalding, sticky mess.

What—the fuck?

Audrey's eyes slowly drifted down to the damage, the burning liquid stinging her skin beneath the fabric.

Her grip tightened on the mug as she looked up, fury already simmering behind her eyes.

And there, frozen in shock with wide eyes, was none other than you. Of course. Vi could see the words forming in her head before they even left your mouth; you never missing an opportunity to make things worse.

"Watch where you're going next time," you grumbled, tone dismissive, like the whole thing was somehow Vi’s fault. You had also whispered something under your breath, and it couldn't have been good. The coffee dripped silently between them, pooling on the floor and marking its territory on Vi’s ruined clothes. She had managed to get through the rain this morning without so much as a spot, but your clumsiness had managed to wreck her in mere seconds.

Vi’s upper lip twitched in irritation. Was she being blamed? Really? "What are you in hurry for, the last few munchkins in the fridge? You don't exactly look busy, (Y/N).”

Your eyebrows drew down slowly, eyes narrowing in offended disbelief. Vi might've found it amusing to mess with her in any other circumstance, but right now? Right now, it really irked her. She was being blamed for this, and she wasn't going to let it slide.

"If you've got time to throw insults, why don't you go and do Mel’s job again? After all, you went to school for years to play assistant at headquarters, right?" Vi’s words were sharp, deliberately cutting. It was a bitchy move, but she'd had enough.

You’d had been riding her nerves all week.

Monday, you’d shredded Vi’s files by "mistake," chalking it up to be tired. Tuesday, you’d nearly wrecked her Glock 17M and tried to convince Caitlyn it was just a mix-up. Wednesday, there were dirty looks and backhanded compliments in the middle of a meeting. And yesterday? You’d almost derailed an entire investigation with your impatience.

Two years of this, and it was finally pushing Vi to her limit. It wasn't just competitive banter anymore—it was real animosity. Vi had always tried to keep things light, a little teasing here and there, but (Y/N?). (Y/N) downright hated her, and it was getting mutual.

You, ever so unfazed, didn't even glance at the mess you’d made. "Who pissed in your coffee this morning?" you shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm. "And don't worry about how I handle my tasks around here. Why don't you go cozy up to Caitlyn while I keep things easy and simple for you? Sound good?"

Audrey clenched her jaw, her fingers tight around the now empty mug. This woman...

"You've got a lot of nerve," Vi snapped, her voice low but sharp, each word deliberate. "I don't have an issue with you, but for some reason, you're always trying to get on my bad side. I try to be halfway decent with you, but you always find a way to ruin that too." Audrey stepped closer, exaggerating her words, hoping it would hit you harder. For someone who walks in heeled boots everyday, the shorter woman still hadn't quite figured out how to own them.

Before you could fire back, Audrey cut you off.

"And if you want to accuse me of cozying up to Caitlyn, then take a good look at yourself, Thorne. Your last name fits you precisely. You're like a thorn to someone's side."

You let out a sharp huff, clearly caught off guard by Audrey's sudden willingness to stand her ground. You weren’t used to being confronted, especially by someone you considered to be an annoyance. Vi could see the gears turning, the effort you put into keeping your voice steady as she shot back.

"At least I have a good relationship with everyone. You pick and choose who you talk to. You're not down to earth, (Y/N). You're just a shitty person."

You felt your blood simmering, but you kept your expression neutral, even as the insult landed. By habit loosening your tie, fingers trembling just slightly with adrenaline, and tossed your now-empty mug into the trash bin by the door without a second thought.

The satisfying crack of glass echoed through the room, but she didn't care.

Not about the mug, not about your words. Not now.

She brushed past you, not sparing a second glance as she headed toward the restroom. The coffee was already soaking into her clothes, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to her skin. She peeled off her ruined pullover as she walked, letting it fall down her arms before she entered the bathroom, where she was greeted by her reflection.

Vi stared at herself for a moment, hair falling messily over her eyes. It had grown longer than she liked, brushing just past her nose slightly. She pushed it away impatiently and leaned over the counter, scrubbing at her button-down with frustration.

"Come on," she muttered through gritted teeth, working at the larger stains with more force than necessary. The top had cost her over fifty bucks, and the thought of it being ruined because of your clumsiness made her blood boil. If it had been some cheap shirt, she wouldn't have lost her cool like that, but it wasn't.

"Fucking come out, Jesus." Vi’s voice cracked slightly as she scrubbed harder, knowing full well she was only making it worse. But she couldn't walk back into HQ with this mess on her. Not after what had just happened. She wasn't about to give you the satisfaction of seeing her like this.

As the stains slowly faded, her mind raced. Were you insecure? Vi didn't know, and frankly, she didn't care. The woman was a confusing mess of contradictions, and Vi had no desire to decipher her. All she knew was that you got under her skin, and made her head throb with frustration. An impatient groan escaped her lips as she managed to get some of the deeper stains out, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

Vi stared at the shirt, feeling like the whole situation was ridiculous. And yet, here she was, scrubbing out coffee stains and stewing over someone who should've been nothing more than an office inconvenience.

The urge to tell you off bubbled up again, but Vi bit it back. Sure, she was pissed, but wasn't trying to escalate this any further. She had done the right thing by standing up for herself, like anyone else would. There was no point in pushing things to the point of no return, where they might both end up fired and jobless.

She slung her ruined pullover over her arm and walked out of the women's restroom, her steps heavier with the weight of her lingering frustration.

She wasn't about to let it go, not completely, but she wasn't going to make it worse either.

If nothing else, she thought, I'm not worse than (Y/N). That was for sure. Vi had rattled her pride a little with the teasing, but it wasn't like she'd gone overboard. In fact, if you had any sense of humor, they could've had some fun with the back-and-forth. But no, the hostility from you felt different, like it was more personal. You ribbed Ekko and Powder too at times, but with Vi, it felt deeper, like there was something else fueling it.

As she exhaled slowly, her shoulders dropping, she made her way down the hallways of the HQ, her mind still buzzing with the aftershocks of their argument.

"That was my favorite shirt," she muttered under her breath, glancing down at the faint coffee stains that still clung to the fabric.

You grimace, hesitating before fully letting your eyes take in the crime scene photos clipped to the case folder in front of you. One side is filled with notes detailing the body discovered, the evidence collected by officers and K-9 units, while the other holds the photographs. It’s never easy looking at the dead, but this case in particular—one involving children and animals—settles like a weight in your stomach.

Just suck it up and focus.

Jayce is out today, which means his ridiculous pile of files is now your responsibility. For someone who jokes around constantly and eats while reviewing these kind of things, he’s got a stomach of fucking steel. You, on the other hand, find yourself letting out a quiet, uneasy strings of grunts as you shuffle a set of dated photos into an envelope hastily. You barely register your own signature as you scrawl it across the front before tossing it into the small brown box beside you leveled on Jayce’s chair.

The barely touched coffee on your desk doesn’t help your mood. Mel had been nice enough to bring drinks from the local coffee shop for everyone, but yours? It tasted watered down, and the undissolved brown sugar left a grainy texture that made it hard to enjoy. You had set it aside, already planning to let it get cold so you could toss it out without feeling guilty.

Bad coffee is worse than no coffee. You’d rather suffer through exhaustion than force yourself to drink something made by a barista who clearly didn’t know a basic coffee rule: to stir the damn sugar while it’s hot.

You bite the inside of your cheek, inhaling deeply, forcing yourself back into work mode.

Outside, thunder grumbles in the distance, and the printers rattle beside you, filling the silence of an otherwise empty space. The office is quieter than usual, the seat next to you noticeably unoccupied. Rainy Novembers are typical in Highland Parks, but in all honesty you don’t have much of an opinion on the weather. You spend most of your time indoors anyway.

Working.

Your stomach interrupts your train of thought, rumbling loudly in protest. You unconsciously glance at the digital clock near Jayce’s empty desk, its red numbers flickering back at you. Lunch passed a while ago. Not that it mattered. After spending hours handling Jayce’s case files, your appetite had disappeared. Your meal, along with your Diet Coke, was probably still sitting untouched in the lounge fridge.

Powder and Ekko are out training one-on-one with Caitlyn. Not your business, but you’re curious anyway. You always are. Why didn’t you ever get one-on-one training? Everyone else did.

Are you lacking something?

You chew on your thumbnail, the thought making an unwelcome home in your head. This always happened.

A sudden tap on the top of your head yanks you from your inner turmoil. You glance over your shoulder, expecting Viktor, the guy who fixes the printers and every other broken thing in HQ. Jayce is good friends with him, so, you are as well in that case. But instead, it’s Mel. Your shoulders loosen slightly. You’ve been tense all week.

“Not exactly the best way to get my attention, Mel,” you say, stacking some of the finished files on your desk, head still heavy with lingering doubt.

“Lighten up a bit. You’re such a pessimist,” Mel hums, dropping the stack of documents onto your desk. “You should go eat. I saw you skipped lunch. Plus, Jayce can finish the rest tomorrow. You’ve done more than enough.”

You exhale, considering her words. Why didn’t you just work a role like Mel? She had a clear job, an essential purpose. Meanwhile, you felt like you spent most of your time quietly filling in the gaps—like a seat filler, temporary, replaceable. All that school for what?

A stubborn voice in your head protests the comment about your pessimism, but your hunger wins out. You push back your chair and stand, rolling your shoulders to shake off the stiffness.

“You can take the file box then. I’ll be back.” Grabbing your ID lanyard, you stride out of the office, making your way through the mostly empty space.

The walk down the same hallway you’d been pacing for two years somehow felt longer every day. Realistically, nothing had changed—it was the same damn stretch of floor, the same fluorescent lights buzzing above. But lately, the need to move your feet, to just get to where you were going, had started to feel like a chore.

You had three keys to this building: one for the main office where the bulk of the work happened, another for the lounge, and the third just to get into the damn building in the first place. Underwhelming. Your pay was the same as Jayce’s, even Ekko’s. You were making more than both Powder and Mel combined.

So why did it still feel like you were scraping for something?

You pushed open the lounge door with your elbow, only to immediately regret it.

Violet.

A grumble of annoyance rumbled in the back of your throat as she turned her head to glance over her shoulder at you. Her cool, ashy-blue eyes flicked to you for only a moment, but it was enough to make your skin prickle uncomfortably.

It felt like every time a coworker looked at you, it was out of pity, not respect. As if all the work you put in was just something to be tolerated, not acknowledged. The thought made your heeled boots feel loose, like you were one wrong step away from rolling your ankle under the weight of Violet’s occasional, unimpressed glances.

Why was she even here?

Yes, this was the employee lounge, but she never lingered here long. And yet, here she was. You weren’t even sure if she had food, and she definitely wasn’t making coffee.

You ignored her gaze, forcing yourself toward the fridge. Your hands were already clammy before you saw her, but now they were straight up sweaty. The cool air from the fridge was a small relief as you reached for your neatly labeled chicken and lettuce wrap, along with your untouched sealed Diet Coke.

It had been this way ever since the coffee incident. Ever since you’d—“accidentally”—ruined an entire month’s worth of her research.

West had stopped making jokes around you.

At first, that satisfied you. But now? Now, it made your gut feel like a crumpled-up sticky note.

Had you actually liked the attention? No. Absolutely not. Jayce spoke to you every day, cracked his ridiculous jokes around you, so it wasn’t that. And it wasn’t about communication. You and Violet didn’t even work in the same department. You weren’t exactly friends, either. Strictly coworkers. Two people who knew just enough about each other’s flaws to be annoying and pick at them.

So why was she bothering you so much?

Your flimsy fingers tightened around your wrap as Violet finally looked away. But she didn’t move. Didn’t eat. Didn’t make coffee. Just existed. Silently.

Judgment was awful, but silent judgment? That was even worse.

“Can you quit watching me like that?” you snapped before you could stop yourself, your voice sharp with the bitterness that always seemed to linger between you two. “It’s weird. And aren’t you supposed to be working?”

Violet barely reacted, just blinked at you, unimpressed.

“Lunch ended three hours ago,” you added, “unless you’re digging for Caitlyn’s crumbs.”

Your jaw clenched as you unwrapped your lunch, your teeth sinking slightly into your torn up bottom lip. Uncalled for. You knew that. And Violet knew exactly how to weaponize the moment.

“Thanks for the reminder, Thorne,” she said, her voice steady but laced with something biting. “But I actually don’t have to make that effort. Cait pays attention to me without me having to act like some crazy addict who thrives off her validation on every thought.”

Your fingers stilled.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t said worse to her before. The difference? Violet never hid behind her words. She always said them looking you dead in the eye, unwavering, direct.

The comment shouldn’t have hit a soft spot, but it did.

You exhaled sharply through your nose, forcing yourself to play it off, pretending it didn’t get under your skin.

“You know me so well,” you muttered with a strained chuckle, though your jaw ached with the effort of keeping it together.

Because deep down, you knew exactly where your problem with Violet had started.

It wasn’t out of nowhere.

You’d been intimidated by her from the moment she got the job—without even needing an interview. She made more than you right off the bat. Caitlyn warmed up to her almost immediately. It wasn’t like Violet had ever rubbed it in your face, but envy was something you never handled well.

Do this better. Do that better. Finish this. Try harder. Ask to do more.

Violet ran a hand down the front of her work suit to smooth out the cotton. Ever since the coffee incident, she’d switched to wearing black button-downs under her blazers, likely to avoid another purposeful coffee disaster.

“You don’t exactly make it hard to read you,” she mused, her voice irritatingly casual. “Especially when you have a vein bulging from your forehead every time you see me.”

Your first instinct was to snap back—who wouldn’t be irritated when you think everyone is your buddy? But you knew better. And honestly? You didn’t have the energy for another round of verbal sparring this week.

Jayce was out. Your workload was heavier than usual. You hadn’t had coffee, and you hadn’t eaten all day.

So, instead of feeding into it, you focused on your food. You took a bite from the edge of your wrap, careful not to let the contents spill from the sides. It hurt to open your mouth too wide. Your lips had been painfully chapped for a month now. February was creeping closer, and with it came dry skin, exhaustion, and the growing desire to sleep at your desk instead of work.

Your bottom lip had split more times than you could count in the past week, but you hadn’t done much to fix it either. No time for chapstick when you could barely keep up with everything else.

Violet had noticed.

You always got like this in the winter; pushier, more irritable. You weren’t as unbearable when the weather warmed up, but your attitude toward her never thawed. You were always on edge around her, always competing, always watching.

She had caught you staring the day Caitlyn pulled her aside to discuss a raise, the same day you had taken on extra side gigs and hadn’t gotten so much as a mention. She had seen you fist your hair at your desk after downing your fifth cup of coffee. She had been on the receiving end of your little retaliations, the way you’d ruin her things in ways so small they could almost be called accidents.

Violet had always noticed.

“A chicken wrap with a side of blood,” she mused lightly, resting her hip against the counter.

Your chewing slowed for a beat before resuming, your brows furrowing just slightly. You still curled and coated your lashes every morning for work with an older tube of mascara you couldn’t seem to let go, still maintained some things about yourself, but you weren’t oblivious. You knew you looked rough lately.

“You seriously need chapstick,” Violet continued, eyeing your lips with something between amusement and concern. “That’s gotta hurt.”

It was the first semi-joke she’d made around you since November. It wasn’t even really a joke, but it was… easier to hear than the usual biting remarks.

You swallowed your food and huffed. “My lips are none of your business, nor your concern. I’m applying chapstick just fine. It’s allergies.”

Wrong.

Allergies were the least of your problems. You had been biting your lips raw and were probably vitamin deficient in more ways than one. Even Jayce had commented on it the other day, asking if you were cosplaying as a grumpy vampire or some other nonsense.

Violet scoffed. “Are you looking to eat your lunch or your lips?” She rubbed her own lips absently, likely remembering the thin scar that stretched across her upper lip from training. “You’re running on nothing but caffeine. Have you forgotten what real food tastes like?”

You scowled, cutting her off before she could continue. “Why are you in here?”

Audrey blinked, seemingly caught off guard by the abrupt subject change.

“I mean, I could be just as annoying, but I’m not in the mood, West.”

She raised an eyebrow, then shook her head with a small smirk, arms crossing over her chest. Your eyes hesitated for just a second, catching the way the layers of her uniform—button-down and blazer—did nothing to hide the muscle beneath them.

What kind of moron actually wore both layers inside HQ?

“Why?” she taunted. “Because you’re finally getting a taste of your own medicine? Or because Jayce isn’t here to defend you?”

Your jaw clenched.

“Are you fucking serious?” you huffed, your voice laced with disbelief. “You think Jayce not being here affects how I feel?”

The defensiveness in your tone was embarrassingly obvious, and Violet knew it. Her lips quirked upward, her smirk deepening.

“Well,” she dragged the word out in fake thought, pursing her lips in a way that made your eye twitch. “Can you blame me? Your only real friend isn’t here, and now you’re just moping around HQ. Moping around with your head down, and your ass up.”

“Do not say that,” you snapped, your irritation spiking.

Audrey grinned like she had just won a prize. “Really? You draw the line at a simile?”

Your brows furrowed. “A what? That’s a metaphor, you slow beet.”

Audrey should have been offended—I mean, you had just called her slow—but instead, she froze for half a second, her expression shifting to something almost amused.

“…Did you just call me a beet?”

“Yes,” you deadpanned. “A beet-root. For a choppy haircut, you’d think you’d at least change the color to redeem yourself. You look like a damn beet.”

Audrey’s lips twisted into a half-smirk, half-grin.

“Wow, (Y/N),” she murmured. “Did you just make a joke?”

Your stomach dropped.

Your pride plummeted.

She thought you were joking. Audrey—Audrey fucking West—thought you had joked with her?

The realization made your grip tighten around your soda can, your lips pressing inward as if disgusted by yourself. You wanted to grab the words back, throw them out, insist that you meant that as an insult, not a joke.

But you couldn’t.

And that grin on her face? That damn grin?

It made you want to rip your hair out.

“Never-fucking-mind.”

Vi undid the cuffs of her button-down, rolling up the sleeves until the fabric no longer restricted her movements. Tattoo work peeking out. The uniform was fine—professional, sleek, practical—but nobody actually liked wearing it. Not in the HQ.

Across the office, Jayce’s voice rang out, louder than necessary, pulling her attention. She glanced up briefly, watching as he bantered with one of the techs. Jayce was easy to get along with. Smart, good with computers, and a complete slacker when given the chance. She had no issue with him personally. When the two of them worked together, they wasted time more often than not, but when Jayce worked with you? Somehow, he managed to joke around and get things done. Maybe that’s why Caitlyn didn’t mind having his desk right next to yours.

Vi exhaled in amusement but didn’t say anything. She wasn’t in the office much, her job kept her busy elsewhere. Restocking gear, replenishing ammunition, training the interns who wanted to join the department someday. It was a privilege, but it was also pretty exhausting. Still, she knew she was the favorite around here, and that privilege came with its own set of complications.

Caitlyn had once commented on it—on you and her—during a routine weapons inventory.

“Everything good between you and Thorne? You don’t seem close, but your work styles mesh well. You’re both dedicated.”

The statement had been so off-base she almost laughed. Close? Not even remotely. But that wasn’t on Vi.

You had been different lately. More distant.

No spilled coffee on her desk, no mysteriously shredded files, no petty, one-sided beef getting in the way of the workday. Odd.

Then again, you had been odd lately in general.

The banter had lessened. Sure, a few snide remarks here and there, but the tantrums, as Vi fondly called them, had also significantly decreased. She wasn’t sure if she found that concerning or relieving.

Casually, her gaze drifted across the office until it landed on you.

You sat with your legs crossed, the tip of your heeled boot absently twisting under your desk. Your trench coat hung over the back of your chair as it normally did. You only wore it when the building’s heater was busted or if you had gotten caught in the rain.

Pencil skirt. Off-white ironed button-down. Navy tie. Black pantyhose.

Mel didn’t bother with the extra layers or formalities, but you did.

Vi exhaled at the realization. You had fashion preferences, apparently.

Funny. And a little uncanny, imagining you caring about anything other than being annoyed, irritated, or outright pissed. That’s all you were to her: a tightly wound ball of something pent up and ready to just snap.

Though… she did sort of pity you at times. Again, at times.

You turned in your chair, handing Jayce a stack of printed files, speaking lowly to him before refocusing on your own work.

Vi continued watching, still as an observer. Bored. You, Jayce, Mel, and Viktor held the office together while she spent most of her time outside of it. She only came in once a week, just enough to notice that, despite all your efforts, you were stretching yourself too thin.

You made things harder for yourself. She knew that.

Her gaze dropped, almost unconsciously, to your legs.

She blinked.

Weird.

She had never really looked at you before, not past all the other stuff; the petty rivalry, the constant need to one-up her, the way you made every little thing a competition.

It wasn’t exactly easy to look beyond that.

And yet, she hesitated before glancing back, this time without moving her head, just her eyes.

You weren’t… unattractive.

Her fingers tensed slightly against the armrest of her chair before she shifted, leaning into her palm instead.

You had good facial symmetry. Nice skin—tired, sure, but even Jayce had made jokes about you cosplaying a grumpy vampire lately. It was funny, but to you? You were furious, but hey, you started to apply chapstick more often throughout shifts. Your makeup was always neatly applied, and your uniform fit well—not too tight, not too loose.

You also cared about appearances. Not just your own, but others’.

Vi silently grinned at the memory of your voice echoing through the office just a few weeks ago:

“So unprofessional. It’s embarrassing. Don’t wear a badge and walk around in saggy pants. You went to university for what? To not know how to measure your own waist? Gosh.”

You’d aimed it at Jayce after he had opted for a more relaxed fit, but your commentary extended to everyone who slacked off in dress code.

Audrey exhaled slowly.

Then, unfortunately, you caught her staring.

Her body tensed as your gaze flickered to hers, and she immediately cleared her throat, shifting to cover her mouth like she had just zoned out. Definitely not like she had just been looking at you for longer than necessary. Longer than she had ever looked at you, really.

You furrowed your brows, shook your head slightly, then returned to work.

Vi sighed, pressing further into her palm.

Her eyes shifted to Mel as she strode across the office, posture perfect, heels clicking at a steady pace, files balanced in one arm. A sweetheart. Objectively, Mel was a beautiful woman, but Vi didn’t know her well. Certainly not as well as she knew you.

When Mel passed, she caught sight of you again, now looking down at paperwork with those stupid reading glasses perched on your nose. Looking like you were gonna pop a blood vessel.

They looked ridiculous on you, far too big for your face, because Jayce had so helpfully gotten you the wrong size.

“Didn’t know they’d be big on you, (Y/N). Relax, relax.”

Indeed, you did not relax. You had thrown a fit.

It was… kinda cute.

Audrey blinked, her lips parting slightly.

Wait.

What? No.

She must be losing her mind. She straightened in her chair, biting the inside of her cheek. She wasn’t blind, she could admit when someone looked good—but this was you.

You, of all people. The epitome of stress and irritation in her damned life. So what if you were pretty? Every woman was pretty in their own way. It didn’t mean anything.

Audrey forced her gaze away, focusing on the stack of paperwork she had been handed—a rare task for her, but one she had to do nonetheless. Maybe she was just stressed. Maybe her cycle was about to start. Definitely not you.

Another week passed. Your workload was heavier than usual, keeping you out of Jayce’s business, out of Mel’s, even out of Viktor’s. Caitlyn had given you a detailed to-do list. You. Not Beckett, not Zade, not West. Agent Thorne.

You had come into work on Thursday morning already exhausted, having snoozed through all three of your alarms. You almost knew this week was going to end badly—your track record with jinxing yourself was near flawless. But for once, it didn’t.

Your hands hovered over the case file on your desk. A fresh case. Not one of Jayce’s hand-me-downs, not something already combed through a dozen times. The seal along the side was still intact, a loud, physical reminder that no one had read this yet. Your heartbeat thrummed against your ribs.

Your fingers tensed as you looked up, scanning the office. Everyone was busy.

Was this actually meant for you?

The doubt crept in before you could stop it. Was it bad that you questioned this? That you questioned being given your own case? Jayce’s voice echoed in the back of your mind—“You’re too hard on yourself. Just take the damn opportunity.” You wanted this. You had been waiting for this. Caitlyn was trusting you with the first glance, the first look, the first opinions, the first impression.

You exhaled, shaking off the nerves as you sat down. The file was thin, because you were the one who would be passing it around, not the one receiving it after five other agents had already picked it apart.

“Soft tacos,” Jayce whistled in pure delight, stretching his legs out under his desk.

You didn’t even have to look up to know he was grinning like a damn idiot. No one but Jayce would be eating soft tacos at eight in the morning. And not even the good kind, these weren’t the ones he brought back after holidays at his mom’s house. These were microwaved, doused in sour cream, and inhaled like he was running late to something.

Jayce plopped into his chair beside you, lifting the taco to his mouth, but he barely got a bite in before his body jerked forward, his eyes going wide.

You turned, brows pulling together. “Jayce, it’s a Dollar General taco. You—”

“No way! You got a case?”

Jayce cut you off, speaking through the mouthful of scalding-hot taco, eyes glued to the file in your hands. You grimaced at the sight. He hadn’t even swallowed before rushing the words out. But then, you realized that’s why he had burned himself. He had been so excited to say something that he hadn’t waited for his food to cool.

Pride? Your heart picked up slightly at the thought. Jayce, your desk partner, your closest ally in this damn office, looked genuinely excited.

“Oh, yeah. I— I think I did?” you said, unsure. “I mean, Caitlyn could’ve meant to leave this on your desk for all I know.”

Jayce raised his brows, leaning back in his chair. His taco hovered in his left hand, airing out now that he’d learned his lesson. “Mel was right. You’re a pessimist.”

“What?” You put the file down carefully. “It’s not pessimism. It’s called being realistic.”

“That sounds boring as hell,” Jayce mused, clearly amused. He was a realist too, but unlike you, he had an open mind when it came to cases. You treated every file like it was life or death, like one wrong note would collapse the entire operation.

“Whoever highlighted the third section word for word is an absolute idiot. No one is reading that. It doesn’t support the evidence or the tax fraud either.” You had once scoffed, tearing open a fresh pack of sticky notes.

Or: “Let me guess. Whoever started this case let an intern do the honors. Jesus. What is happening.”

“I’d rather be boring than wrong,” you countered, turning back toward your desk, firing up your computer. You draped your coat over your lap for warmth. Your office chair was always too cold in the mornings.

“You’re often both of those things.”

“Sorry—? Oh. It’s just you.”

Your voice flatlined the second you spotted Violet standing behind Jayce. Your face dropped, irritation slipping in as she leaned against the back of your chair, one hand perched on her hip.

Jayce twisted around, his face lighting up at the sight of her. “West! Good to see you, as always. Even if Cait put us on opposite ends of the office.”

You blinked in confusion as the two of them exchanged a ridiculously complicated handshake, your stomach twisting slightly.

Of course Violet was buttering up Jayce. He was your closest friend in HQ, and yet here they were, shaking hands like they had some kind of inside joke you weren’t a part of. Not even you had a handshake with Jayce.

“Yeah, yeah,” Violet brushed it off. “I’ll talk her into putting me right between you and grumpy over here.” She nodded toward you.

“You wish,” you scoffed, clicking through your unread emails. The blue light from your screen reflected on your face, making your eyes narrow slightly as you read. Your legs pressed together under your coat, absorbing what little warmth you could get.

Violet teasing you in front of Jayce wasn’t new. Not even close. But something else was.

This wasn’t the first time you had caught her looking at you differently.

It wasn’t just the usual watching to make fun of you anymore.

It had happened in the lounge, on the training field, even when she thought you hadn’t noticed. She was good at eye contact—everyone knew this—but lately? Lately, she had been slipping.

Apparently, you had grown an extra pair of eyes on your uniform, because Violet had been staring at you more than usual.

You didn’t know what to do with that.

Unfortunately, Jayce kept talking.

“Thorne got her first case,” he grinned, pointing at you with his pinky. You felt your fingers tighten around the mouse. Jayce. Seriously? Why was he telling people?

Audrey tilted her head, attention shifting fully to you. “Cool. I can give her a few tips and tricks, as someone who’s gone through a dozen or so.”

The last thing you needed was Violet West handing you advice. If she did, she’d rub it in your face for weeks. She’d take credit for half the investigation. She’d never shut up about it.

You snapped your gaze up, meeting hers.

“I’m good,” you said, your voice flat. “I don’t need your help.”

You barely moved, but there was a twitch, something small, something almost unnoticeable. Violet’s eyes flickered from yours, down to your tie. Your fingers moved automatically, adjusting it. A habit, one she had clearly picked up on, because she reached for her own and tugged it into place like she was mirroring you.

Was she taunting you?

“My desk has enough room for two,” Violet said, pivoting on her heel. As she turned, you caught a glimpse of that Roman numeral tattoo under her left eye, barely concealed beneath a thin layer of lazy concealer. It didn’t concern you. Why would it? Who the hell got a tattoo on their face?

So unprofessional.

“Yeah, I bet it does. Call a therapist.” You muttered the words just loud enough to be caught in the silence of HQ. Violet didn’t miss a beat, letting out a laugh that shook her shoulders slightly. Your eyes flickered to the way her body moved with it, a ripple of motion.

“Not what I meant, but alright, Thorne.”

Jayce, still chewing, raised a brow and looked between you and the door as Violet exited, then turned back to you.

“Is there something going on, or…?”

“Always,” you said, voice rough but not nearly as irritated as it should have been. That realization bothered you. Normally, you’d be clenching your fists, itching with irritation, but the usual sneer wasn’t there. Jayce definitely noticed, blinking at your quick response.

“…Ooookay then.” He dragged the word out but shrugged, returning to his disgusting breakfast taco.

Still nasty.

Never in your life had you thought you’d enjoy working on a murder case. It sounded strange from an outside perspective, but getting your first solo case had been something you had wanted—had waited for—for three years. And it was worth it. You had spent overtime in the office, completely immersed.

Highlighting sections, sticking tabs on documents, writing down key notes. By the time you finished, two markers had dried out, and a busted pen had leaked ink all over your palm from how hard you had pressed it against the paper. But it was done. You finally dropped the completed file on Caitlyn’s desk before clocking out.

Walking outside alone, the night air was cold, biting at the skin of your legs despite the sheer pantyhose you had layered under your knee-high boots. Practical, comfortable. You weren’t a fan of showing too much calf, it just felt better this way.

By the time Monday rolled around, you were dead on your feet. No one enjoyed a Monday morning, especially not in early March when climate change was kicking everyone’s ass. Walking into HQ, the air inside was warmer than the entrance, and shrugging off your trench coat felt like a small relief.

“Finishing an entire case file in a day. That’s impressive.”

You almost jumped out of your boots.

Some asshole had breathed down your neck, not literally, but close enough. You whipped around, half-asleep daze completely shattered.

West.

Again.

You exhaled sharply, so close to snapping. “Can you not go around scaring people half to death for once?”

Violet didn’t even look sorry. She stood there, perfectly smug, like she had just told the funniest joke of the century. You wet your lips, easing the sting from the cold. Your jaw tensed before you finally said what had been lingering in your mind for the past two weeks.

“Are you okay?”

Violet tilted her head slightly, her sharp eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Yeah, I’m all good. Perfect, actually. Woke up today, had breakfast for once—it was delicious. Had a cup of coffee, and—”

“I don’t care about your damn coffee,” you cut in, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Or how perfect and sparkly with unicorns your morning has been, West. You know what I’m asking. Don’t act dense.”

You weren’t the only one who had noticed.

The way you two spoke had changed. The fights were less. The banter was different. You had stopped arguing over stupid things; eye contact, for example. It had stopped feeling taunting and started feeling like…

Like something else.

Something you hated.

You scolded yourself for it, constantly. In meetings, when Caitlyn said something that involved Violet, your eyes automatically found her. You expected her to look back.

It made you uncomfortable.

And now, here she was, grinning like this wasn’t a big deal at all. “I think unicorns are pretty cool, though. Can’t lie.”

You inhaled sharply.

“This isn’t about unicorns—! You’re actually going to give me a headache.”

You dragged a hand down your face, exasperated. Violet laughed, the sound light and unbothered, as she toyed with her lanyard. Her ID badge swayed slightly, catching the overhead lighting.

You hated that grin.

Mostly because you had no idea what it meant anymore.

The air felt different. It wasn’t just the stares that carried a new weight—it was the shift in body language, the subtle shifts that were hard to ignore. Your temper had settled, your instinctive irritation toward Violet dulled. Her jokes still grated on your nerves, but the feeling in your chest wasn’t heavy anymore.

Humiliating. That’s what it was.

Not liking Violet was what kept you going. As terrible as it was to admit, hating her pushed you— forced you to be better, to work harder, to be faster than her. But now? Now, that loathing had soured into something sickly, something different. Interest. God, even thinking that word made you feel ridiculous.

You shouldn’t be this hung up on whatever unspoken thing was happening. It was probably a joke. Another way for her to get under your skin. Or maybe she was just bored, looking for entertainment at your expense. You needed to cut this off, now, before it spiraled into something even worse.

You turned, walked back to your desk, and dropped your bag beside your chair with a sigh that rattled through your chest. You weren’t stupid. You were looking for something, some kind of reassurance, confirmation that Violet wasn’t thinking the same things you were. But it wasn’t there. She was still watching. And when she got up, taking something of Caitlyn’s to the lounge, your body moved before your brain caught up.

Jayce didn’t even bother questioning it. You’d been making excuses to leave all week. Tugging down the hem of your skirt, you inhaled deeply and stepped out, boots clicking steadily against the floor. You swiped your ID at the lounge door, pushing it open, already knowing exactly who you’d find.

Violet did a double take.

She hadn’t expected you to follow. A conversation in the office? That was normal. You coming to her without Jayce nowhere nearby? Not so much.

“Had a feeling you’d follow me here,” she lied.

“Sure you did,” you deadpanned, dropping your ID onto the counter and leaning against it. Violet eyes flickered, hesitated. She was staring again, and you noticed. You both noticed.

This wasn’t the usual hostile tension between you two. It wasn’t irritation or resentment. It was something else, something you didn’t want to name. Something that made your skin burn.

“This needs to stop,” you cut in before she could say anything.

Audrey’s brows knit together, feigning confusion. But you knew she understood.

“Never thought I’d hear those words come out of your mouth, Thorne.” Her voice was slow, calculated. “You started this. All of it, I mean—picking fights, sabotaging me, making this job feel like a competition.”

You didn’t have an ego. That’s what you told yourself. But your pride? It had always been fed by approval. A nod from Caitlyn, praise from the department, respect from your coworkers.

But none of that ever filled the hole, did it?

You exhaled sharply, shifting your weight, irritation slipping into your tone. A familiar reaction. One Violet was used to by now.

It shouldn’t be her attention that made your chest tighten. It shouldn’t be her opinions that made your skin tickle. And yet, here you were. A few days ago, you had actually questioned whether thinner tights would make your legs stand out more. Whether a thicker lash would make your eyes more striking during those lingering glances. Whether she had noticed the slightly darker tie you had worn that day.

She had noticed all of it.

Violet’s gruff voice cut through your thoughts. “Do you hate me?”

Your breath caught. You stiffened. Yes. Yes.

But your lips pressed together.

“No,” you managed.

“No?” Violet repeated.

“Yes, I do,” you corrected, but your voice wobbled. It sounded weak, like even you didn’t believe it. Violet head tilted slightly, her maroon hair slipping over her face the way it always did.

How was she not dying in a suit like that every day?

“Yes, no, yes, no,” she mused, her tone deliberately teasing. “You’re stuttering.”

Your legs pressed together instinctively, your pencil skirt suddenly feeling too much, too tight, too revealing.

You were a pain in the ass. That was the best way to describe you. Someone who knew exactly what to say, what to do, to get a reaction out of you.

Violet was someone who never needed approval, who carried herself like she owned the room. And now, that smugness was focused entirely on you.

The room felt hot. You reached for your collar, but before your fingers could slip beneath the fabric, Violet voice stopped you.

“You don’t have to wear that tie if you have to keep loosening it.” Her voice was softer now, but still edged with something knowing. “You have tons of bad habits. Can’t expect you to just stop.”

Your fingers froze around the fabric.

Then, she stepped forward.

Her presence was impossible to ignore. Broader frame, heavier stance, rougher edges. Her hands slid into her pockets, the motion easy, casual, like she wasn’t closing the space between you two on purpose.

She was.

You were still against the counter, meaning she had the height advantage now. Even though the difference wasn’t that much, standing above you like this, she felt taller.

Her fingers hesitated before brushing against the smooth white collar of your shirt. Your breath hitched. Your skin burned.

Your eyes flickered, searching for an escape—except you didn’t want to escape. Her thumb traced up and down along your pulse, slow and deliberate. Your stomach curled.

Then, she nudged your chin up. The silence was unbearable.

“Violet,” you breathed.

Her hand faltered.

Three years of strict last-name basis, and now you had just said it.

No one called her Violet. No one. It was always something shorter, sharper, less personal.

You sounded good saying it.

“Violet? So professional,” she taunted, her fingers tapping against your cheek. It wasn’t meant to piss you off. But you wanted to piss her off.

Your fingers shot out, grabbing the tie between them, yanking her closer. Embarrassingly, your noses bumped. But that didn’t stop you. One hand fisted around the tie, the other gripping her bicep, steady, grounding. You felt the way her muscles tensed beneath your palm, felt the pause as her breath hitched.

You didn’t hesitate.

Your lips caught hers, firm, certain, and when she didn’t pull away—when she didn’t resist—you took.

You felt the scar along her upper lip, traced the curve of it with your own mouth, tasted the hesitation that melted into something hotter, something heavier. Mapping her out like you were willing to change professions.

Violet didn’t know what to do with her hands at first. They hovered at your back, hesitant, but her eyes were barely cracked open, watching, waiting.

Either you could stop here, or you could throw everything out the window.

Then you bit her fuller bottom lip, tugging and letting it ripple into place.

Violet groaned.

And suddenly, the second option sounded so much more appealing.

Vi hadn’t expected this—ever.

You had always been untouchable. Not in the literal sense, but in every way that mattered. Unreachable, impenetrable, untamed in your own rigid way. You did what you needed to do: woke up, worked, excelled, then left the HQ like none of it ever touched you.

But this?

Vi barely had time to register it before her hands moved, gripping your hips, pulling at your pencil skirt with little care, silently begging, urging for things to move further.

Your knees buckled as Vi backed you against the table, the cool marble pressing into the backs of your thighs as she settled between them, crowding you, consuming every ounce of space.

Her fingers looped through the knot of your tie—that stupid, fidgeted-with-like-a-necklace tie—and with a single, sharp tug, it came loose. Slipping down, forgotten.

Then, her hand cupped the back of your neck, pressing her lips against yours with something so deep, so thick with years of this, years of tension, of misplaced resentment, of fuck, how did we get here—

And yet, neither of you wanted to stop.

Vi’s fingers traced from the back of your neck to the front of your throat, just barely gripping, teasing, testing. It was already hard to breathe, but the idea of that, of her taking it just a little further, had your stomach twisting.

Kissing the woman you had despised for years was going to be hilarious to explain.

But later.

Not now.

“Is the door—locked?” you barley managed out, your glossed lips brushing against hers, voice raw, uneven. Vi shook her head, hummed, lips curling against yours.

“Doesn’t matter,” she muttered, hands moving—one sliding down to your thigh, gripping, pulling, propping it around her waist.

Then her mouth descended.

Hot, wet kisses trailed down the slope of your throat, her tongue flicking out just slightly, tasting, savoring the mix of sweat and whatever faint perfume lingered on your skin.

Your pulse pounded beneath her lips, and Vi felt something deep in her tighten at the sound of your breath hitching, the way your body gave just slightly, as if caught between pure instinct and resistance.

Then, smack.

Her palm landed against the underside of your thigh, firm, not particularly harsh, but deliberate.

A sharp, raspy gasp broke from your lips, your body twitching against hers, your bottom lip swollen from the way you had abused it between sloppy, desperate kisses.

Vi’s eyes flickered, catching the way you tensed, how your cheeks were burning, how your hands trembled against her chest.

Everything needed to come off.

Her fingers dragged up your thigh. Rubbing in slow, lazy circles before moving up, slipping beneath the first few buttons of your work blouse.

One by one.

Single-handedly.

Meticulously.

You slowly sucked in a breath, your own hands fisting the fabric of her blazer.

This was—just kissing. Yeah.

Vi let go of you entirely, her fingers deftly working the rest of your buttons open, sliding the blouse off your shoulders before tossing it onto the chair beside the table. Her gaze swept over you, dark and unreadable, before she bit her bottom lip, teeth raking over it as she exhaled through her nose.

She didn't know what was better; finally having you, the woman who had spent years making her job hell, unraveling beneath her touch, or the sheer fact that you looked this damn good doing it.

Her hand moved instinctively, fingers splaying across the lace covering your chest, feeling the warmth of your skin through the fabric. She pressed a kiss between the valley of your breasts, slow, before trailing up, tongue flicking over your collarbone, tasting the faint traces of perfume and heat.

The sounds leaving your lips sent something sharp through her, something she had never allowed herself to acknowledge before now. Your legs tensed around her hips, a slow, burning heat building between them. Your pussy was drenched.

Then, she moved. Rolling her hips forward, pressing herself against you, the friction earning a shaky grunt from your throat.

You felt good.

Her hand traced down your spine, unhooking your bra with ease. The straps loosened, fabric slipping from your body, and Vi took a step back to let her eyes drag over you.

She dampened her lips. "I'm so lucky to see you like this. So gorgeous.”

Her voice was lower now, rougher, hands returning to you. Thumbs circling your nipples, teasing, before sliding down to your waist.

She sat you up, lips grazing your jaw, before murmuring, "What happened to that mouth of yours?"

Her fingers flicked over your erect breasts, and your breath hitched, body arching slightly before you could stop yourself. The sound you made earned a knowing chuckle from her, and before you could snap at her for it, she was moving again, pressing you back against the table.

Then, her hands slid down your thighs, rolling your skirt up at an agonizing pace.

Vi huffed, giving your knee a light tap.

"Is the pantyhose really necessary?"

You exhaled sharply. "Yes. It is."

She rolled her eyes, but there was something amused behind it, something fond—before her fingers traced slow circles over the thin, black fabric covering you.

And then, without hesitation, she hooked her fingers through the material and tore it.

A sharp gasp left your lips. "Vi! Those were expen—"

She silenced you with another sharp tug, the ruined fabric giving way enough to give her the space she wanted. She could have pulled them down, but this was much better.

The sight of you like this, obedient beneath her, legs trembling slightly, breath uneven

She wanted to ruin you further. Needed you.

Jesus.

Her hands slid beneath your thighs, lifting and adjusting them until they rested over her shoulders.

Your breathing hitched, erratic. You knew what was coming, felt it before it even happened, but when her lips finally met your pussy; wet and painfully slow. You gasped, your spine curving inward, nails curling into the marble beneath you.

A broken sound left you, high and breathless. "That’s so good."

Vi huffed a quiet laugh against you. "I haven't even started yet."

She hooked your panties aside, her mouth pressing against you fully, tongue dragging slow, then flicking, savoring, sucking on your swelled clit. She worked like she had time, like this was something to be unraveled piece by piece, something she could take apart and put back together again.

Your clammy hands flew to grip the edge of the table, your body shifting under her touch, her mouth sending sharp waves of pleasure coursing through you.

"Fuhh—ck, Vi." Your voice cracked.

That only spurred her on, hands gripping your thighs tighter, nails pressing into your skin as she curved her tongue, shifting her movements, searching, memorizing what made you fall apart.

She had spent years watching you, knowing exactly how to get under your skin. It was fun to put it to use.

Vi’s mouth worked you over with hungry desperation, her tongue sucking every inch of skin she could reach. Your folds, pulsing clit, labia—every so often, she flicked her gaze upward, watching you writhe against the table, back arching, lips parting in helpless, breathless sounds.

If she had known this was the key to shutting you up, to making you melt, to finally silencing that sharp mouth of yours—she would have done this sooner.

Her lips curled against you, satisfaction lacing her voice as she murmured, “Good girl. How’s this, hm? Yeah? So good?”

Her breath was hot, damp against your skin, sending a shudder through your sopping core.

Your only response was a whimper, your hand sliding up to your chest; grasping at yourself, desperate for anything to ground you. But the moment you tried to regain control, Vi sucked on your clit once more with enough force to break it.

Your spine arched off the table. Another sharp, wrecked gasp slipped past your lips. Vi’s grip tightened on your thighs, dragging you closer, forcing your legs to stay apart as she devoured you like you were her last damn meal.

The pleasure was too much—too sharp, too overwhelming—but stopping now wasn’t an option.

“So—” your voice trembled, barely coherent, “so, so good, Violet.”

Your hips rocked against her mouth, helpless against the way she was working you over, the way she was holding you down, keeping you open, keeping you hers.

This was insane.

Doing this in the employee lounge? Absolutely wrong.

“Keep your legs around my shoulders,” Vi ordered, voice rough, edged with something close to command. “If you move, I’m stopping.”

Your breath hitched.

Before you could protest, she lifted her hand to her lips, sucking two fingers between them, coating them with her own spit. Saliva moved down the digits in thick beads.

Then, she thrusted them inside of you.

Your body jolted, your nails scraping against the table as the pressure spread you open, slick and hot and perfect. You were definitely cracking a nail today.

Audrey whistled lowly, amused, before curling them just right—

“My—God!”

The sound ripped out of you raw and shameless.

Vi hummed, the vibration shattering against you, her fingers sinking deeper, curling again, chasing that sound like it was her new favorite thing in the world.

The sound of your squelching pussy that sucked her in and tightened when she moved even just a second too quickly.

Here’s the refined version with a smoother flow, keeping the intensity and raw emotion intact while making it even more immersive:

“You’re a mess, baby.”

Vi’s voice was thick with amusement, her palm coming down to deliver a second sharp smack against your reddened thigh. Before you could react, she spit. A slow gesture. Watching as it mixed with the release already dripping down your swollen, aching core.

Her right hand never stopped, fingers still working in and out of you, dragging along every sensitive spot. Rough, but slow. Just enough to make sure you felt everything—every curl, every drag, every time she pulled out just to push deeper. Your insides protested, torn between needing a break and wanting more.

She smirked, tilting her head. “Look at you.”

Then, she blew a soft stream of air over your glistening cunt, watching the way your body twitched in response.

Your head was somewhere else. Your hips moved on their own, helpless to the sensation coursing through you. Strings of moans and profanity fell from your lips, your body tightening around her fingers, pulsing—begging without words.

“Vi,” you whimpered. Your lashes damp with unshed tears.

She hummed in response, but didn’t let up, her fingers keeping that same relentless, torturous pace. A shaky moan ripped from your throat, your thighs trembling over her shoulders.

“I think—I think I’m going to come.”

Vi’s ashy eyes flicked up to you at your words, dark and heated, before her lips curled.

“Yeah?”

She then went faster.

Your gasp turned into a cry, body jolting at the sharp, intense pleasure flooding your sensitive nerves. There was no way no one had heard you two—not when you were here, back arched, lips parted, begging for her, falling apart because of her.

“No—! I—Vi! I can’t—!”

Your legs snapped shut around her head as your body tensed, spine bowing as the orgasm hit you. Ripping through your system, spilling over Vi’s fingers and dripping onto the marble beneath you. Down your used pussy.

Your breathing came in heavy. Overstimulation setting in as your body shuddered through the aftershocks.

Vi finally pulled her fingers from you, gaze flickering between your spent, trembling form and the slick coating her hand. Then, without hesitation, she brought her fingers to her lips and gave them a slow and greedy suck.

Your back falls flat on the cool marble.

Vi had won, again.

Being Ambessa’s 𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓲𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰 girlfriend (headcannons)

•|||——————————————————————|||•

• Ambessa doesn’t care about the gossip or whispers about your age gap; she’s fiercely unapologetic about your relationship.

• “Let them talk,” she says dismissively, her tone laced with confidence. “They’re just jealous they’ll never have what we do.”

• She adores your youthful energy and often teases you about how “adorably naive” you can be in certain situations.

• Ambessa is incredibly protective, especially when people make snide remarks. She’ll shut them down with a single glare—or a sharp retort if needed.

• She takes pride in teaching you things, whether it’s her favorite chess strategies, combat skills, or life lessons from her years of experience.

• Ambessa spoils you relentlessly to make up for any negativity you might face. Gifts, lavish trips, and surprises become the norm in your relationship.

• She adores showing you off at high-profile events, draping you in luxurious attire and keeping you close to her side as if to say, “Yes, she’s mine.”

• The way you admire her wisdom and strength secretly softens her, though she’d never admit it outright.

• Ambessa’s favorite moments are when you challenge her or bring a fresh perspective to her life. It reminds her why she fell for you in the first place.

• She enjoys teasing you about your inexperience in certain areas but always in a way that’s playful and affectionate.

• Ambessa’s leadership instincts kick in when she sees anyone try to take advantage of your youth. “You’ll regret underestimating her—or me.”

• Despite the age gap, she never treats you as anything less than an equal. Your voice and opinions hold just as much weight as hers.

• Ambessa is amused by your ability to bring out her softer, more playful side—something very few people ever get to see.

• She loves hearing your dreams and aspirations, always encouraging you to chase them. “The world is yours, darling. Take it.”

• When people question your relationship, Ambessa doesn’t bother justifying it. “Our love is none of their business.”

• You bring a sense of lightness and joy to her otherwise intense and calculated life, something she deeply values.

• Ambessa can’t help but be captivated by your youthful curiosity. She enjoys answering your questions about her life, career, and the world she’s built.

• She has no patience for anyone trying to undermine your intelligence or capabilities because of your age. “She’s smarter than you’ll ever be.”

• Ambessa takes her role as your partner seriously, ensuring you feel safe, loved, and supported in all aspects of your life.

• She often jokes about how much you keep her young at heart, though you know she secretly means it.

• Ambessa’s love for you is obvious in the way she looks at you—as if you’re the only thing that matters in the room.

• In private, she’ll sometimes confess her worries about the age gap, but your reassurances are all she needs to push those doubts aside.

• She makes an effort to learn about your interests, even if they’re completely foreign to her. It’s her way of showing how much she values you.

• Ambessa loves hearing your laughter, especially when she’s the one to cause it. She sees it as a sound worth protecting.

• When the two of you are alone, Ambessa drops her tough exterior entirely, letting her love for you shine through in soft touches and tender words.

• She sees your youth as a blessing, not a disadvantage. To her, it’s a chance to nurture something pure and beautiful in her otherwise hardened life.

• Ambessa has a habit of calling you pet names like “little one” or “darling,” often in a tone that’s both teasing and affectionate.

• She loves taking you on spontaneous adventures, just to see your face light up with excitement.

• If anyone dares to call your relationship “inappropriate,” Ambessa will coldly remind them who they’re dealing with: a woman who’s conquered armies and built empires.

• You’ve learned to keep up with her sharp wit and tongue, and she secretly delights in your quick comebacks.

• Ambessa enjoys spoiling you with decadent meals, often inviting you to dine with her in private, candlelit settings where she can lavish you with attention.

• She’s a natural at slipping into a protective role, always scanning the room to ensure you’re comfortable and safe.

• Ambessa has a soft spot for seeing you in oversized sweaters or robes when you’re lounging—it’s a reminder of how much younger and carefree you are compared to her.

• She frequently surprises you with handwritten letters, filled with poetic musings about her love for you, which you treasure deeply.

• When you get flustered or shy, Ambessa finds it utterly endearing and can’t help but smirk at your innocence.

• She secretly adores how you bring color and warmth into her often stoic and structured life, even if she pretends to be unaffected.

• Ambessa always notices when you’re uncomfortable in a situation, quickly diffusing any tension and whisking you away to somewhere more private.

• Despite her strong exterior, Ambessa allows herself to be vulnerable with you, sharing stories from her past that she’s never told anyone else.

• You’re the only one who can convince her to take breaks from her work or relax for a while. “Only because you asked so sweetly,” she says with a smirk.

• Ambessa can’t resist buying you jewelry, particularly pieces that remind her of you—delicate yet bold, just like her beloved.

• She loves running her fingers through your hair, especially when you’re lying together in the quiet moments of the night.

• You bring out Ambessa’s playful side; she’ll jokingly challenge you to games or competitions, knowing she’ll let you win just to see you gloat.

• Ambessa often comments on how lucky she is to have you, even if she doesn’t say it in front of others. “You’re the one thing in my life I’ll never take for granted.”

• When you’re upset, she doesn’t always know how to comfort you with words, but her actions speak volumes. Whether it’s holding you close or solving the problem for you, she ensures you feel loved.

• Ambessa can’t resist showing off her strength, often lifting you effortlessly just to see your surprised (and slightly flustered) reaction.

• She enjoys sharing quiet evenings with you, sipping wine by the fireplace as you discuss everything from history to your latest passions.

• Ambessa loves when you lean on her—both physically and emotionally—knowing that she’s your safe haven in a world that can be harsh.

• Whenever you’re apart, she sends you small tokens of her love, like pressed flowers or notes that remind you she’s always thinking of you.

• Ambessa is fiercely loyal, and she expects the same in return. The bond you share feels unshakable, despite the outside world’s judgment.

• You’ve managed to make her smile and laugh in ways she never thought possible, and she cherishes those moments more than she’ll ever admit.

• Despite her composed demeanor, Ambessa secretly enjoys when you surprise her with kisses or small gestures of affection.

• She always keeps her promises to you, whether it’s something as small as a date or as grand as a life-changing commitment.

• Ambessa doesn’t just love you for your youth—she loves you for the unique light and life you bring into her world, making it brighter and more beautiful every day.

•|||——————————————————————|||•

★ — Between the lines

CW : meanie sevika, artist reader, hockey player vi and sevika, modern au, highschool shenanigans, fluff?

A/N : no smut first chaptor :(

Summary : star hocky player sevika has to take an art glass in order to graduate from highschool, fate assigns her to the same class as you and her rival

Sevika hated this. She was on the brink of graduating, being the final semester of her senior year of highschool. She had gotten a hockey scholarship to college, she was supposed to meet with the counselor on the first day after Christmas break to talk about further plans. She was on her high horse, until—- “Sevika you haven’t taken any art classes at all.” Her eyes widened at the counselor's words “what? Of course I have I mean my freshman year I probably have?” She tried to reason, sitting up from her relaxed posture. “It’s okay. We can fix this. You can take an art class for this semester and if you pass you can graduate” Sevika smiled, it’s art. Easy peasy. She can do that, it's just a bunch of wusses coloring? 

You were a junior in highschool. You’ve known what you wanted to do since 6th grade. You wanted to be an artist, and you were good at it too, passing all of your art classes with ease. Anytime you had any open periods you would take an art class, it doesn’t matter if you’ve already taken it. You rub your face while sitting in your car taking a deep breath in before stepping out . It was January so it was still cold out, you cross your arms shielding your hands from the cold. as you walk to the building. The chatter of the hallways filled your ears. You groan, moving your hands to your ears. You’d rather freeze to death then spend another minute with these assholes

You walk to your locker noticing two people making out, blocking you from the locker. “Um excuse me?” You say softly “sorry babe I’m busy” the taller one says, you recognize her immediately, sevika. You narrow your eyes. Everyone else would move on, not wanting to risk a broken nose, but you were different to say the least. “Dude! Move.” The 3 of you look over at the voice. Violet, also a hockey player, and sevikas arch nemesis. Sevika narrowed her eyes wrapping her arm around the woman's shoulder “don’t make me ask again.” Vi crossed her arms as Sevika rolled her eyes and walked away with the girl. 

You breathe a sigh of relief, looking back at vi. “Thanks, vi” you say, opening your locker. “Guess what?” Vi leaned against the locker next to yours “hm?” You rummaged through your locker “I talked to my counselor and…” she handed you a piece of paper. You turn to her as you look down “what’s this?” You say reading it, it was…her class schedule? Your eyes landed on the text that said she had 5th period art. Your eyes widened “we have the same class together?” You smile looking up at her “it’s art. It makes your favorite class even better..you know, cause I’m there” vi said as you raised your eyebrow “ehhh actually puts a dull on it.” You tease, trying to hide your smirk “you can deny all you want, sweetheart.” You roll your eyes at the nickname 

“Bye, violet” you close your locker and start walking to your first class.

Vi smirked as you walked away. She couldn’t help the bubbling feeling in her chest when she talked to you, you were Gorgeous and so smart. So talented. She thought to herself. She turned around stopping herself taking a step when she saw, pow– jinx standing there “oh-” she said looking her sister up and down “your so mindlessly in love with her, its sad” jinx smirked “ha ha” vi said sarcastically as she started walking with jinx to there class “im serious” jinx said bluntly. They fall into conversation

Sevika tried to finish her…session with the girl. But she couldn't help but feel a bit bored.  “sevika?” the girl looked up at her “what's wrong” she tilted her head. “Sorry, I uh need to go. My hockey scholarship stops me from being late, "Sevika looked down at the girl. She stepped away without another word even when the girl tried to convince her to stay. Your face kept flashing in her mind, you were so annoying. And so easy to tease, such a waste of a pretty face. Yeah she thought you were pretty, she would never say it to your face however. And it was worse. She and Sevika almost got into a few fights and risked being kicked off the hockey team, and she followed you around like a lost puppy.

You sigh, doodling on your paper with your head resting in your hand. The bell brings you out of your thoughts. You blink starting to pack up “remember your welcome back essay is do on friday!” the teacher yelled. Everyone groans, including you. You hate writing, as soon as you sit down to write your mind goes to shit. You sigh, putting your bag on, walking to your last class of the day, art. Your face flushed at the fact I went out of her way to spend time with you, of course you liked her, she was so funny and strong.

You walk into art, being one of the first people there. You sit down and pull out your pocket sketchbook. Thinking of what to draw, you sigh staring off into space. You look up at your name being called, your favorite teacher, mr wilson he was a good teacher and runs most of the art department “glad your taking this class again” he said as you smile “good too see you too” you say softly looking up at him “i need to talk to you after class.” he said “don't worry. You're not in trouble.” he said before you could ask. He goes on a rant about his break about some nightmare ski trip with his husband. You zone him out when vi walks in. She looks over at you and smiles big, walking over and sitting next to you. as the room filled in and the final bell rang

Mr Wilson goes on about the syllabus for the new students, nothing you haven't heard before so you look around at everyone, a few new students, students that she already knew and— your eyes dart over the figure in the corner, sevika. You narrow your eyes as you look towards the front of the room. Trying not to stare too long, you take a deep breath. Mr wilson handed out the syllabus to everyone but you. “There's a student you all should know,” Mr Wilson said as he wandered around the room, your heart drops as he says your name “she has taken this class at least 3 times and has passed it every time, she is who you should look up to.” you sigh looking down, avoiding everyone's gaze. Vi smirked, clearly enjoying the social embarrassment you were getting.

Sevika looked at you. Why is she here? She thought to herself. Whatever, maybe if she kept her distance it'll all be— “sevika!” Mr Wilson looked over at Sevika, she looked up. “Uh- yes?” she asked “i feel like you would do better sitting next to one of my more- experienced students” he said nervously “come sit here.” he points to the seat next to you “god damnit” you mutter looking down. Vi looked over, narrowing her eyes as her hand clenched into a fist “great.” she said way so loud “excuse me?” sevika said as she sat next to you. You were sandwiched between both of them, they were giving each other the death stare as you hold your head in your hands

The whole room was quiet, including the teacher, waiting for some kind of action between vi and sevika. “Anyway-” he said walking to the front of the room “for the first project of the semester we are doing a watercolor landscape” sevika chuckled to herself, "too easy “is this hard?” vi leaned over to you. You hesitate “i mean when i did it for the first time, it wast but it's different for everyone” you whisper back. “Its water color, we did this in grade school” you both look over at sevika “nobody asked you for your opinion” vis tone was like poison “don't.” you whisper, putting the fight down before it even started “yeah listen to your bitch” sevika muttered looking down at her note book

Before you could even process what was going on. Vi had already punched sevika, pinning her to the ground as she got a good few hits in before sevika rolled over and started hitting back. The whole class was yelling as you tried to pull sevika off of her “okay! Okay!” Mr Wilson quickly stopped the fight. Eventually sevika got off vi, vi had a black eye and sevika had a bloody nose and a few bruises on her face. “The 3 of you go to the office!” you stand up straighter, looking around almost second guessing if the teacher was talking about you “wh-what?” your voice broke “i said go.” mr wilson said 

“This is unacceptable!” the principal yelled. You three were sitting in the office. Fate decided for you to be sandwiched between them again. Vi was holding an ice pack to her eye and sevika was holding a tissue to her nose. You are trying to stop your breath from accelerating “i don't know what to do for you 2. I- i mean i give you detention! Put you in the same class” the principle stuttered, pinching his nose “see that was your first issue. Putting this orge in the same class as me!” vi said leaning forward “orge?! I'll show you orge” sevika looked over at vi “enough!” he yelled.

Your eyes were still locked on him. Vi and sevika look back at him and take a deep breath “transfer her out!” vi yelled “why don't you transfer?!” Vi opened her mouth to reply but didnt know how. Your face flushes. “Okay! Okay!” he yelled sitting down. “Sevika, vi you both get one week of after school detention, this includes any hockey practices!” sevika and vi were quick to protest. He says your name and you look up “one day of after school detention” you start hyperventilating “oh my god-” you stumble over your words “oh my god i've never been in trouble before!” you look down “calm down, prissy” sevika said “out of my office and go straight to detention. No goofing off” 

“I can't believe I'm in detention because of you!” you yell at sevika as the 3 of you walk down the hall “because of me?! Why don't you blame your girlfriend! She's the one who attacked me!” she looked down at you “she's not my girlfriend!” you yell and vi looks at you, a pang of pain punches her in the chest. She looks away. You look around for a moment before going a different way then them “where are you going detention is this way?” vi said as sevika did care she just kept walking “i'm gonna see if i can work on my art project in detention. Ill meet you there”

You tuck a peice of hair behind your ear. Pushing the door open to the art room. You couldn't hide the anger on your face if you tried “mr wilson.” you say as he looks over. You wanted to yell at him in front of everyone but you were too late. He said your name, smiling “how'd it go?” you raise your eyebrow at his words “i have detention.” you hiss “for how long? A week?” he asks not even looking up from his paper “a day.” he looks up at you “just a day? That's not so bad!” “Do you understand this can go on my permanent record? Fuck up any chance at college?” you walk forward “a day of detention? It'll be okay.” he said looking down at his paper “whatever” you rub your forehead “can i do whatever i missed in detention please?” you ask crossing your arms 

“An artistic delinquent?” he smirked “how poetic” he grabbed a large thick piece of paper and handed it to you “dont start.” you say walking out of the art class “don't get into trouble!” he yells as you walk away. “Ha ha” you mutter walking back to detention quickly. You sigh “you're late.” the monitor said “i know- i'm sorry-” “i don't care. Sit down.” you look at the classroom, sevika was sitting in the corner and vi was sitting as far as she could. You walk over to vi and sit next to her “you are here for the next hour and i hope you reflect on your actions” he sits at his desk and rests his head on it “is he sleeping?” you whisper “shh-” vi said looking back at you “give it a minute” she whispered 

After a few minutes his snores filled the room. You raise an eyebrow as you look at vi a weirded out expression on your face “I know.” vi said. You pull out your pencil bag and start sketching your landscape “i'm mad at you.” you say “why?” her voice switched to concern. You shoot a look at her. she shuts up quickly “im sorry, no one should talk about you like that.” vi argued looking you up and down “I can fight my own battles.” you say leaning forward “it seemed like you were going to just let her say that about you” vi said glancing at sevika for a moment

Sevika was trying to nap, leaning in her chair with a book covering her face. She couldn't help but listen to your conversation. The goal of the insult was to rile vi up not insult you. She felt bad but she would never actually apologize. She falls asleep thinking about you and before she knew it, it was time to go home. She blinks rubbing her eyes as she grabs her bag and hauls it over her shoulder. Catching sight of your sketch…it was beautiful. You slide it into your bag “you need a ride?” you ask looking at vi “i need to run some errands, i'll take the bus” vi smiled and cupped your cheek “you're a sweetheart.” vi said as she walked out of the class, trying to hurry in order to catch the city bus leaving you and sevika alone

“She likes you.” Sevika walked over, standing behind you. You didn't say anything as you finished packing up and threw your bag on. She walks over and grabs the strap of your bag. You look over at her with an angry face “listen. That comment…” she hesitates “i didn't mean to bring you into me and vis fight” she sighed as your gaze softens “if anyone gives you trouble, come to me not your pipsqueak of a girlfriend.” sevika didn't let you protest “she not-” sevika walked out of the room and your left standing there

Did she just– apologize?

Ambessa: Chosen of the Wolf Review!

Like many others who held their breaths anticipating the second season of Arcane back in November 2024, I too was drawn to the hype (Cait and Vi, ladies!). I love how the main characters are beautifully written–none are perfect; they have flaws, strengths, and weaknesses. The nuance of the interactions between these characters is full of emotional complexity that makes you, as an audience, relate to their feelings.

In other words, I’m an avid fan of the show!

So when I saw Riot was announcing a novel featuring one of the badass villains that I LOVE to hate, I immediately pre-ordered the audiobook!

Brief Summary of the Story:

Ambessa: Chosen of the Wolf written by C.L. Clark (same author who wrote the sapphic novel The Unbroken and The Faithless!) follows Ambessa Medarda, who we all know from Arcane series, is one hell of a badass warmonger Noxian general. Set a couple of years before the events of Arcane, the book dives into her backstory, showing her ambitions, relationships, and especially her complex bond with her daughter Mel. The story kicks off with Ambessa having a power struggle with her cousin Ta’Fik over the future of the Medarda clan. A full-on story about power moves, family drama (Medarda over all!), and her emotional battles in her personal and political life, which ultimately lead to her arrival in Piltover in the Arcane series.

Narration and the Audio Production: 

I love the fact that the audiobook is narrated by Ellen Thomas herself, the VA of Ambessa from the show!  Her voice is just perfect to capture the whole essence of the book! While I was hoping for some dramatization with sound effects or music, but it's a straightforward reading like a traditional audio book. Still, I enjoyed it nonetheless.

Personal Impressions:

The book nails Ambessa’s character just like in the show. It’s not one of those stories where they try to make the villain seem all soft and misunderstood. Nope, Ambessa is just as fierce and unapologetic as you remember. The author didn’t water her down or change her motives to make her seem more sympathetic. What you see in Arcane is exactly what you get here–no out-of-character moments. Ambessa care about her family and even protects them, but ambition has always been her main driving force. She’s willing to sacrifice her family members if they stand in the way of her goals. This theme is emphasized throughout the story and became a source of internal conflict within Ambessa herself as she has a hard time admitting it and often tries to deny it, but her actions speak louder than words.

About the Lore:

If you’re a fan of Arcane’s lore, this book is a must-read. It feels like a setup for the next Arcane show, which is heavily hinted to be set in Noxus. Even if you have zero knowledge of League of Legends lore, it’s a great introduction to the Empire, their cities, their war culture, and how the Noxian view magic in general. There is also a moment in the book where they talk about Demacia, a rival empire of the Noxian. It also serves as a setup for Mel’s backstory. Just after the end of Arcane season 2, Riot released a video called “Welcome to Noxus,” featuring Mel returning to Noxus to uncover the truth about her roots. This book delves deeply into that backstory, providing valuable context and enriching the narrative.

Overall Ratings

3.5 Stars - Good, with some minor issues

How Sapphic is this book?

There is a side character (one of the heroes in LoL that has a potential to appear in the next Arcane show) that has a sapphic relationship in the book, but it’s not the main focus of the story.

-----SPOILER ALERT------

The book sets the stage for another League of Legends champion: Rell! It turns out that Rell is Ambessa Medarda's protégé, which adds a fascinating layer to the character. Plus, she's sapphic, and her brief but adorable teenage romance with a young stable-hand named Tora unfolds during the conflict between Ambessa and Ta'fik. I'm super excited to see if Rell makes an appearance in the next Arcane show. The groundwork laid in this book hints at some thrilling possibilities for her character and storyline in the series.

best friend's older sister!sevika headcanons pt. 2

contains: modern!au, nsfw content (so minors/ageless blogs dni!!), cursing, reader is mentioned to have family issues, hcs + blurbs set pre-confession and post-confession, mention of spanking, strap-on sex (reader receiving), breeding kink, dirty talk, degrading (the word "slut" is used), humiliation kink, sevika physically teasing reader at family dinner, mention of smoking, reader's body is referred to w the terms "pussy" and "clit"

pt. 1

best friend's older sister!sevika who pauses outside her door when she hears the muffled noises of your crying, followed by her sister's voice. her eyebrows immediately draw in concern, stomach turning as possibilities run through her mind. you mentioned having an exam earlier this week -- did you fail it? was someone bothering you? did you need her to do anything?

when her sister's in the shower, she knocks quietly on the door, your call of, "yeah?" pushing her to enter.

once she does, her eyes immediately scan your face, looking for signs of distress. when she finds your eyes pink and glossy, a bolt of nervousness shoots through her, taking her off guard for a second.

once she swallows down the feeling, she tilts her head at you, leaning on the frame. "all okay?" she asks, trying to keep her voice levelled, not wanting to reveal just how much worry is stirring within.

"yeah." your mouth is twisted in something resembling pain, and she eyes you carefully as you sit up in the bed. "it's just, you know, family stuff."

she nods. she understands that, alright. most people would think that being the older of the two, she'd fight with her father less than her little sister, but the truth is that out of everyone in her house, they butt heads more than anyone else. she usually shrugs it off when anyone asks, with her most popular coping mechanism being fuming in her bedroom with a cigar while heavy music blankets over all her thoughts. probably not the healthiest way to react, but it's worked for this long. besides, she doesn't have the patience to sit at a desk and do that journalling bullshit her sister always prattles on about.

"sorry." she contemplates for a few moments on what else she could say to help, rocking on the balls of her sock-clad feet. all she comes up with is, "families suck," silently berating herself for being so incompetent.

but, at least you laugh, the noise a bit breathless, so sevika takes pride in that. "yeah, that's the understatement of the century."

"do you wanna, I don't know, talk about it?" just to ease the weight of the question, she mutters, "you know, I'm pretty good at belting insults at anyone who deserves it."

"oh, yes, I'm sure of it." you nod at the wall where the shower can be heard from. "she's told me how vicious you were in middle school."

she bristles, feeling her stomach tighten in embarrassment. she was a little asshole, alright, and she can't lie, her younger sister bore the brunt of it. something she secretly regrets now -- not that she'd ever admit to it. she probably never would've revealed it you in the first place if not for her sister ratting her out.

"well, I-- that was middle school. I'm not like that now."

your eyebrow raises, lips tilting up. "you know, some people would argue that who you are as a kid shows what kind of person you are at the core of it."

she scoffs. "who, freud? considering the other stuff I've heard about that guy, I think I'll pass on believing that bullshit."

"oh, c'mon, I can tell you all the merits about his theories."

"and while that sounds riveting, I guess, I'd prefer knowing if you... you know, need anything?" she shrugs, her eyes trained on you.

you smile softly, the corners of your lips crinkling. "thank you. I don't feel like talking about it much now, but I appreciate it a lot."

she nods, rasping on the doorframe, unsure as to how to proceed now.

"huh, someone's not really used to this."

she rolls her eyes, sending you a half-hearted glare. "oh, shut up."

best friend's older sister!sevika whose attention towards you is beginning to become obvious, even for you. she's started seeking you out instead of any of your other friends when she's looking for her sister, and when she enters the room, her eyes always flicker to you immediately. it makes you feel like a spotlight is casted upon you, your entire body, your entire being, reserved for sevika.

one day, one of the girls in your group leans over to you, her tone lowered with conspiracy. "you know, I think sevika has a thing for you."

your best friend groans, smacking her arm. "god, please! that's my sister, for god's sake."

"and? she's hot?"

her face morphs into complete disgust, eyes squeezing shut. "please, that's so fucking gross."

while you laugh along with the conversation, you can't help but warily glance to your best friend, mind whirring with thoughts of whether or not she's being earnest. you and sevika aren't, well, anything really -- at least not anything officially declared or acted upon. for months, it's just been tosses and back-and-forths of teasing and flirting. but, there has been no step over the threshold that divides you two between nameless, vague chemistry and the agreement to work towards a real relationship.

but, still, there is something there, and you cradle a hope in your chest that it'll turn into more one day, an actual thing that can be named. but, it's hard to feel positive about that outcome when you're not even certain if your best friend would approve or feel comfortable.

she meets your pondering stare, and you immediately backtrack, turning away so she can't read what's on your face.

a moment later, her palm rests on your knee and she laughs, tone as casual as ever when she says, "honestly, if anyone could tame her, it's you."

your lips part in shock, but she simply squeezes down gently before carrying on with the conversation.

best friend's older sister!sevika who pretty much wants to wring her cousin's neck out when she spots her conversing with you. well, it's not the conversing that's the problem -- she's not that crazy. or at least, she pretends not to be.

it's the fact that she knows her cousin hits on every one of her and her sister's friends, and she's clearly doing that with you right now, eyes half-lidded and voice lowered to what sevika hopes sounds more like darth vader than sexy to you. god, she nearly wants to kill her sister for being stupid enough to leave you alone with her. but, judging from her sister's shit-eating grin from where she stands at the food table, sevika suspects that it was intentional.

she tries not to crush her plastic red cup in her hand and send her vodka-spiked punch spilling everywhere. when her sister had casually mentioned last night that you'd be showing up to this family barbecue, sevika, much to her own embarrassment, had felt an immediate buzz of anticipation at knowing you'd be there. it's stupid, she knows. she's a grown ass woman, not some teenager -- yet, there she was, biting back a smile as she walked up the flight of stairs back to her bedroom. and when she reached her destination, she could barely focus, her thoughts straying to how she'll get a rise out of you rather than remaining on the toy she was meant to be building for the kid she babysits, isha.

she couldn't lie to herself about it. she was goddamn excited.

if only she had known how the day would wind up. it's nearing to late afternoon, and still, she hasn't spoken to you once. as soon as you and her sister had reached, the two of you had met with your usual gaggle of girls. and sevika hadn't been in the mood to entertain their giggles and leering stares upon coming to get you from them. and so, she waited. and then, you were dragged off to talk to her sister's favourite cousins, and then, to the idiot you're currently speaking to. a few minutes into what sevika hopes is a cringe-inducing conversation, her sister had left you to go to the food table.

she knows she has no reason to be jealous of her cousin. after all, look at the dimwit, she barely has game. she's so flashy with it, no subtlety. if you weren't the object of her cousin's attention, she might've actually taken some amusement in watching from afar.

but, no, it just had to be you. she can't even blame her cousin -- after all, you do look damn good, that's for certain. if this wasn't a family event, she'd be dragging you to the nearest corner, pushing you against the wall, and teasing you until you're a squirming little mess. god, she's just throbbing at the idea of it.

but, the feeling gets washed over with ice when her dumb cousin starts stroking her knuckles against your arm. stupid kid. and why are you smiling at her? do you not realize she's flirting? do you like that she's flirting? oh, now that thought leaves a sour taste in her mouth.

her composure snaps when she sees you laugh, and with a firm toss of her cup in the nearest garbage bag, she calmly makes her way to you. she knows she ought to be better than this. she should be the one with sense, with rationality -- the one who keeps her shit together while you become a fumbling mess whose feelings might as well be written on your forehead. that should be you. not her.

but, it's like her mind is working on overdrive, all her instincts honed in on making sure she takes you away and has you all to herself.

when she slides next to you two, your jump in surprise, looking up at her. her eyes rove over your features, drinking you in, wondering momentarily if you even realize how crazy you drive her.

"hey, sev, are you looking for your sister? because she's--"

"no," she cuts in, her palm bracing against the small of your back. "give us a sec."

"wha-- but, I--"

sevika doesn't give her cousin a moment to protest, firmly guiding you away to the front of her house, which has been left secluded now that people are eating in the backyard.

when you stumble into her back from her sudden halt, you blow out a frustrated puff of air. "what the hell was that?"

she feels her thick, dark eyebrows furrow, her gaze casted down on you, unwavering and focused. "I should be asking you that. why were you talking to her?"

"your sister left me with her!" you protest, your voice raising a pitch she'd find cuter if it weren't for the sour taste in her mouth.

"and? that makes you incapable of leaving a conversation afterwards?"

your eye twitches. "and why should I have left the conversation?"

sevika swallows, feeling her throat bob with the movement. if she acts like some jealous girlfriend, it'll be all too clear what it is she feels. and that's a bit too exposing for her. sure, you two flirt and push-and-pull, but it's something she could easily pass as a game if ever needed be. but, jealousy, disliking you talking to someone other than her? that's way too obvious, and there's no way of covering that up.

so, she takes a different route. "you know, if you're gonna be hitting on someone at this thing, it should be--"

"you?"

she nearly splutters, blinking hard at your growing smirk before continuing. "no. it should be someone other than the fuckboy-wanna-be relative who hits on anything with a pair of nice legs and pretty eyes."

your smile only widens and sevika has the sudden urge to bend you over her lap until you're a sobbing mess.

"so, you think I have nice legs and pretty eyes?"

"are you dense? how is that what you focus on?" despite the harsh undertone of her words, she can feel her body stiffening up under your watchful gaze, desperately hoping you don't realize just how badly she wants your attention. it feels pathetic, really, to be putting up a fit like this because just you spoke to someone flirtatious other than her. shit, she needs to save some face.

"yeah, because I think it's weird how you're dictating who I can speak to as though you're my girlfriend or something!"

"that's not how I'm acting--"

"yes, it is!" you scoff, stalking up to her and pointing a finger against her chest, the contact making her jerk back from the spark it leaves. "you wouldn't be this pissed if it was just about concern."

she's silent for a few seconds, her mind running through possible comebacks. the only one she can think of is a hard, "you don't know that."

you tilt your head at her, as though she's some kid in need of a scolding. it only exacerbates her frustration, causing it to flare up low in her gut. "well, if it's just about you being concerned, then let me continue talking to her. you warned me, I took it in stride, and if things go wrong, you can always rub it in my face late, okay?"

she sighs, beginning to regret having ever acted out now that this is the turn the situation is taking. you were supposed to take her words in, and do as she says. instead, you're arguing back, just like you always do. but, she knows that at this point, she'd be a hypocrite to complain about it. she knows it's why she likes you.

"you really want that?"

you cross your arms over your chest, and sevika tries not to let her eyes stray downwards. "is there a reason why I shouldn't?"

stupid mind games. sometimes, she hated being gay because of this.

she likes you, sure, but she doesn't have the patience to beat around the bush. which she's aware is hypocritical and stupid, considering that's what she's been doing this entire conversation. but, still.

so, she shrugs. "beats me."

your eyes flash with something, jaw clenching. sevika can't tell if it's a look of determination or anger.

but, what does it matter if you're spinning around to stomp back into the backyard?

she releases an exasperated breath, fishing for her cigarettes.

best friend's older sister!sevika whose voice makes you jump when you're stirring instant noodles in a frothy pot of water later that night.

"jesus, sevika!" you gasp, your other hand flying to clutch your chest. "what the fuck are you doing here?"

"it's my house, remember?" she dryly remarks, padding over to the fridge and grabbing a carton of milk. pinching the flap open, she drinks straight from it. you'd find it gross if it weren't for the way her lips wrap around the soggy cardboard material, the muscles of her neck protruding as she gulps it down.

when she bends down to put it back, you turn away, your stomach churning from how any bit of laughter is totally drained from her voice, leaving it flat and achingly unfamiliar.

you've felt guilty since the barbecue. sure, it's annoying that she makes demands of you without actually admitting her feelings. but, it's clear that she was upset in that moment. so, maybe you should've been a tad nicer.

"uh, sevika?" you meekly call out right as she's about to exit the kitchen.

she freezes in the entryway, casting you a sidelong glance over her shoulder, which is pinched from the strap of her tight tank top. god, you wanna kiss the indent it leaves.

"I..." you trail off, shifting side to side on your feet, the low bubbling of the water the only noise filling the room. you don't know what's too much or too little, so you mull over your words before tentatively saying, "you know, I'm not interested in your cousin. like, at all. I had no intention of flirting back with her, or, like, pursuing something with her."

she's silent for a few seconds, her eyes flicking away as her jaw tenses, which sends her cheeks hollowing out. you stare at her for a few seconds before focusing your attention back to stirring the noodles, needing something to occupy your thoughts other than the thick, stifling tension seizing the air.

finally, she speaks, her voice low but firm with surety. "well, I didn't want you to flirt with her... for reasons other than what I said."

your stomach tightens up in anxious, gut-wrenching excitement, forcing your mouth to remain in a clenched line. you know this isn't exactly a confession, but it's unspoken between you two -- what she means, that is. there could only be one reason other than concern that would explain how protective she was earlier. a reason that, sure, you're not certain about regarding the details or her intentions, but that nonetheless has you feeling like you could jump with the amount of energy surging through you at the mention of it. no matter how vague.

you can sense she won't say anymore, though, her body rigid with tension. so, to try to lighten the mood, your own body sagging in relief now that you two have somewhat made amends, you drawl out, "yeah, that much was clear."

she snickers, turning fully to you and propping her arm on the door frame. you expect her to give her own retort, but instead, she just... watches you. smirk slowly curling on her face, eyes crinkling in amusement, she simply stares at you.

after a few moments of feeling like the side of your head is burning from her razor-sharp gaze, you say, "what?"

the corner of her mouth quirks up further. "for someone who says it was obvious, that was a pretty big grin you had on your face just now."

you huff indignantly, ducking you head down to the noodles in order to avoid getting caught in your flustered state. "well, I'm just grinning because my noodles are almost done."

she peers at the time flashing over the stove before shaking her head and grimacing at the pot. "why are you even eating this crap at 2:00AM? we have actual food in the fridge."

"I was craving this," you defend with a squeak, shooting her what you pray is a convincing glare despite your heart racing from her earlier words. "besides, I didn't know if your family would be having the leftovers."

"don't be stupid," she chides gruffly. after a pause, she adds, "you know you're family."

this time, you can't resist the beam that overtakes your face, eyes squeezing in delight as your cheeks throb pleasantly from the joy embracing you. you've, of course, heard this sentiment from your best friend plenty of times before, but never from sevika.

"thanks," you murmur feebly, sending her a small, bash smile.

she simply nods in return, her lips pressing together as she continues observing you.

part of you basks under it. the attention of her focused grey eyes, the heavy weight of her gaze -- it all sends a thrill to you that's hot and burning, making you feel you're being revived from a lifelong slumber. how did you ever manage without the life-altering feeling which is sevika's gaze directed to you?

"so, I guess I should head up," she says, sticking a thumb behind her.

your body immediately tenses in protest. she can't leave -- not like this, not after this tender moment you two just shared. not when her presence here holds the contrast of warm assurance and ice-cold surprise that you're always craving.

a loud "no!" bursts from your lip as she's just about to turn.

when she sends you an inquisitive stare, forehead wrinkled in confusion, you feel your face heat up in embarrassment over your over-eagerness. but, it's too late to scale back, so you force yourself to proceed with, "I just-- why don't we hang out a bit? maybe watch gilmore girls. and, I don't know, share the noodles and, well, left overs."

her eyes widen, lips parting in surprise, and it almost makes you want to cackle. how could she even be surprised you want to spend time with her? are you just that good at hiding your want for her, or is she that romantically dense?

"um, yeah, okay," she says, a hand curving up along the back of her neck. "but, don't think I'll eat that crap you're making."

your shoulders ease at the joke, laughing as you wag your wooden spoon at her. "it's good, okay? I don't know why you'd deprive yourself of it."

"if I didn't deprive myself, I wouldn't have these." she flexes her bicep, and you try not to let your gaze roam over the toned muscle bulging out. no need to satisfy her that much. "and wouldn't that be a pity for you?"

you bristle, but still find yourself unable to quell the laughter that bubbles up your throat. "fuck off. my life isn't so sad that your muscles are my sanctuary."

"fair point -- maybe 'religion' is a better term."

ugh, her grin is infuriatingly coy as she heads back to the fridge, pulling out a tupperware, her veins bulging out as she grips it.

you want to fuck her so bad. and then, yell at her. and then, fuck her again.

"just, shut up and heat up the leftovers," you grumble, turning your back to her as her laugh, hearty and scratchy in all the right ways, flows from her lips.

honestly, the lack of eye contact is for both of your guys' benefit. god knows how you'll react if you see that cute gap again.

best friend's older sister!sevika who, after you two start dating, places her long fingers on your thigh when you join her family for dinner. she knows it's a bit evil of her, but she can't help it. your body is just so reactive -- a fact that she was delighted to learn upon your first time sleeping together. it just makes it so much fun to toy with you like this.

your leg immediately flinches when her fingernails skim along your skin, and she'd probably smile if she wasn't so well-trained in public play to know exactly how to keep a straight face.

but, you? she knows you're struggling. she can feel it in the way you shift in your seat, shoulders rolling as her warm palm flattens against your skin, her fingers sinking into the plush of your thigh. or how your body suddenly lurches forward when she suddenly pinches her nails into the skin, causing everyone at the table to dart concerned glances your way.

you sheepishly laugh it off, shaking your head and saying, "sorry, I, um-- I just got a weird shiver."

sevika honestly feels impressed that you're able to keep your cool this well, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow. she knows it probably goes against the whole supportive girlfriend thing, but seeing you manage to remain calm only makes her want to test you even more.

and so, she inches her fingers up so that they smooth along the tender skin of your inner thigh. you immediately stiffen up, your back straightening to an almost comedic right angle. sevika's mouth twists, trying to hold in a chuckle at how you writhe when her blunt nails begin to trace shapes into the hot patch of skin. god, she wants to dip her fingers in further, feel the tight heat of your pussy wrap around her digit as she pumps it in and out of you.

she clears her own throat to cut off her breaths from getting too shallow. god, she needs a cold shower or some shit. plus, the entire point was to get you hot and bothered, not her.

trying to gather her bearings, she presses her fingers into the sensitive area, slightly digging in the curves of her nails, trying to replicate she sharp sting you feel when she sinks her teeth into that spot before eating you out.

it seems se's successful, based on the way your legs shift again, pressing together and trapping her hand there. and your cute face is noticeably distracted, expression glazed over, lips hanging open.

when your fingers curl around her wrist, keeping her hand there, she smirks behind the rim of her glass, taking a careful sip before wrenching her hand free from your grip, continuing with her meal.

through the animated conversation her sister and old man are having, she can hear you grunt in frustration.

but, she doesn't even turn to you. after all, what would be the fun if she just gave you what you wanted?

best friend's older sister!sevika who shakes you from your deep sleep when you're curled up on the mattress in her living room, your best friend fast asleep on the couch. before you can mumble incoherently, your eyes barely making out her broad frame through the sleep-tinged blur, she presses a finger to your mouth, quietly shushing you.

you nod, your heavy eyes blinking rapidly to register what's going on. but, you can barely get a whisper in before sevika scoops you up, her strong arms easily carrying you up the stairs to her bedroom. you have to bite back a gasp at the sudden manhandling, though a spike of arousal zips through you from how easily she takes you to her bedroom, dropping you unceremoniously onto her navy blankets.

you frown at her, eyes sharpened into a glare. "sevika, wha--"

she plants her lips on you, crawling on top of you and pinning your body to the bed with hers. she's sloppy and ungraceful with it, shoving her tongue into your mouth and swirling it around yours as a hand slides up to loosely grip your throat.

"you didn't think I'd leave you hanging, did you?" she mumbles against your lips, her hand drifting down your body to start fiddling with the waistband of your pajama shorts.

"well, you already did once, so I wouldn't be surprised if it happened again," you murmur against her prodding mouth, trying to keep your voice dignified in light of all the pants and whines beginning to crawl up your throat.

"awe, c'mon, baby," she snickers, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your cheek while the rest of you practically combusts from the low, scolding tone she takes when calling you that. "even I have my limits."

and, oh, how fucking good it feels for sevika's limits to be broken, you think as she pounds into you with her dark purple strap-on, her hand over your mouth as she pumps her hips steadily, hissing whenever her bed frame bumps too loudly against the wall.

you wrap your legs around her, nails raking up her back as the toy plunges into you over and over again, stretching your walls taut. it feels good, so good, the dull ache of her nearly-too-big dildo making your entire pussy throb in a way that makes you feel impossibly full.

"listen to that," she whispers against your ear, the hot moist of her breath making you break out into shivers. "your pussy is soaking my new sheets. such a mess you're making."

god, you just leak even more from those words, the mix of your juices and the lube creating deliciously loud squelching noises in her room, only growing more pointed and firm when she begins to drill particularly hard, intentional thrusts into you. the movements have the bulb her of dick pushing against your g-spot with every rock of her body, and it sends a warm tingle through you, wrapping your nerves in pleasure and sparking them to life.

you whine against her hand, eyes rolling back when her cold, mechanical finger begins to flick along your clit. the cool, steel-hard texture of it against your swollen little nub has your body arching up, each brush and flick feeling so heightened through all the other sensations running through you.

"yeah," she chuckles darkly, grazing her teeth along your earlobe. "you like that, don't you? getting this pussy slutted out, having me fucking up your guts and making room for my babies?"

your hips jolt up at those words, a loud whine erupting from your mouth before you can stop it. sevika hisses at it, pressing her mouth to yours, her thighs smacking against yours as she continues drilling you into her mattress.

"be quiet," she rasps, her breaths shattering into uneven little pants. "you want everyone in this house to know what a slut you are? you want everyone to know you couldn't last a night in here without getting dicked down by your best friend's sister?"

you can barely respond, your entire body set aflame with the pleasure of her on top of you, surrounding you with nothing but warm skin, hard muscle and filthy, nasty little noises.

"ah," you moan quietly against her mouth, fingers tracing the indents your nails have left in her back. "feels s'good, I just-- I can't--"

"I know, baby, I know," she grunts, fingers wrapping around your jaw and shaking your face like you're her personal doll. "no need to worry your pretty head with talking, yeah? just be good and let me cream this pussy."

and so, you do. over and over and over again.

best friend's older sister!sevika who tries not to smirk too hard when her sister asks over breakfast why you're wearing a turtleneck in the middle of july.