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season 2 Arcane Hottest Character Poll: Round 1

Sevika vs. Sky

Reblog to make this poll more fun! Propaganda is strongly encouraged! This poll is regarding season 2. Post whatever you like, but I'll only reblog propaganda from season 2.

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—feral, touch-starved, down bad Sevika who cannot physically restrain herself ‘cause you look good.

You’re standing in front of your phone, tripod steady, ring light glowing. The dress is long, tight, stretchy and illegal in seventeen countries. You hit record. Pose. The dress hugs you in all the right places, and you’re mid-spin when suddenly—

Sevika, off camera, muttering like a threat. “You look so good like this I could bite you.”

She creeps into frame like a jungle cat—slow, deliberate. Human arm flexing. You immediately dodge her wandering hands.

You, swatting her off, hissing. “Baby— no! It’s filming!”

Sevika pauses. Eyes flick to the camera, back to you. Squints like she’s deciding whether to behave or get banned from Instagram.

“Then cut it. I’m trying to admire you in peace.”

“This is the OOTD! I’m documenting the look for the girls.”

“I am the girls.”

You keep posing, giving angles, talking about the fabric. Sevika paces behind you like a lion in a cage, hands twitching, jaw clenched. She tries again to sneak in a back hug—

“Get. Off.”

She retreats, dramatically slumping on the couch, mumbling something about “not fair” and “sexual harassment via outfit.” Meanwhile, you keep filming like nothing happened, giving full influencer confidence.

You, to the phone. “Anyway, the dress is from that boutique I showed you guys last week—“

Second attempt. She sneaks up like a ghost, metal hand on your hip, the other cupping your ass, lips grazing your shoulder.

“You look like a sin like this.”

You, sweet but firm. “I love you. Hands off.”

“It jiggles, it’s calling for me—“

“That’s gravity. So now—“ Tap-tap, not hard but firmer, and off she goes. Again.

She starts pacing in the background, shoulders tense, jaw clenched. She walks in circles like she’s trying not to flip the table. Then—

Sevika mutters, “why would you wear that and then tell me not to touch you?”

You don’t answer to her and keep talking to the camera. Sevika walks to the wall, presses her forehead to it like it personally betrayed her. She’s mouthing words—maybe a prayer. Her fingers twitch like she’s deciding whether to grab you or just kill herself.

You glance back, “you good ?”

“No.”

Another attempt. This time, she just goes for your waist mid-spin. You don’t even stop—just gently pat her hand off like she’s a dog at dinner time.

“Off. Down.”

You come closer to the screen to show your jewelries and when you bend over to show the necklaces on your neck to the camera, it’s too much. She lets out a groan and slumps into a squat like her legs gave out. Hands clasped together like she’s begging the universe, head down. You don’t flinch, straightening and still showing the back of the dress.

Camera off. You finally turn around. Sevika stands up like she’s been released from jail. You barely finish saying “Okay I’m done—” before you’re wrapped up and lifted off the ground.

Yes I was bored again so I wrote this real quick and it’s so funny to me. I’m writing firefighter!sev chapter 2 and I’ll publish it tonight 💔

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more sevika with a size kink smut or fluff or both PUHLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEEE it’s so good , your writing is like no other

— sevika with a size kink

warnings: top!sev, bottom!reader, afab!reader, primal kink, CNC mentioned, size kink, cum kink, strap usage, cunnilingus, stomach bloating, degradation, praise, minor edging

wc: 1.8k

a/n: my favorite kink ever 😈😈

Sevika always knew she was larger than you, but she never really thought about it. It was mindless, when she grabbed a glass off of the top shelf because you couldn’t reach it, or effortlessly lifted something heavy because you couldn’t. Really, it was second nature. The two of you had hardly been living together long enough for her to notice anything different.

It wasn’t until the both of you were sitting together, late one night, that it set in just how much bigger than you she was.

You both had finished a movie, one that you begged her to watch with you as it was your favorite. You found yourself positioned in her lap, rambling about the depths of the film while she listened. She was propped up against the headboard, hands heavy on your hips as you went on and on. Naturally, her eyes raked from your face down your body, falling upon your thighs between hers.

It set something off in her brain, truly. You had one thigh in between hers and one on the other side, straddling her left thigh. It clicked to her then that this is how you normally sat in her lap, the stretch of your thighs around her hips being slightly uncomfortable from how much wider her hips were in comparison to yours.

“You always sit like this?” She murmured, eyes still focused on where your bodies met. Her hands smoothed down your thighs, pupils dilating. The feeling was sudden, and not something that ever previously got her going this quickly.

“Yeah, why?” You giggled, running your hands down her stomach. Her flesh hand traveled, running over your stomach. She, once again, admired how much larger it was compared to other times she had seen your own hand there. “Sevi, are you okay?” You were still giggling as if she hadn’t just come to the conclusion of her life.

“Y’re so fucking.. small,” she couldn’t come up with another word. Her mind was running wild with the grand number of things she could do to you if she wanted. They were terrible thoughts, ones that ran along the lines of you taking anything and everything she gave you just because, well, you couldn’t fight back.

“We’ve been together for how long and you’re just now- Sev!” You squealed as she lifted you from her lap and flipped you onto the bed, sitting between your legs. All she did was look at your body before she pressed her hand into your hip, holding you down. “What’s gotten into you?” You were still giggling.

“I need you, right now.” Her voice was lower, and you knew the tone. The one that came with dark eyes, wide pupils. She was fascinated with you, touching you like she never had before in her life, like you were porcelain.

“Take me then.” Your tone switch had her on you in seconds, pulling your body against hers as her mouth found every sensitive spot that you loved. She sucked mark after mark into your soft skin, gawking at her possession on your body after each one.

There was so much happening in her mind and yet nothing at all; it was swarming with all of the various ways she wanted to use you, but equally blinded by lust. Thoughts of forcing you down and taking you were easy to think about when you were like this, so pliant and willing. She knew you wouldn’t say no. And even if you did- her mind stopped her.

She began to wonder if she had an attention problem when it came to sex, as she was noticing things that she hadn’t ever before. Her mouth engulfed your tits, tongue lapping at your nipple, fuller than she had ever been. She adored the way she was bigger than you, the way you fit in her mouth and the way her mechanical hand shrunk your other tit.

Her flesh hand found purchase on your hip, holding it against the mattress easily, while one of her knees came up against your heat. She’d hardly done anything and you were already dripping in anticipation, the difference in this particular round noticeable in her demeanor.

As she sucked, your hips bucked against her thigh, and she moved her hand from your hip to your lower stomach, pressing against it to stop you from moving. “You get what I give you,” she quipped from your chest as she kissed the valley between your boobs and began to kiss down your sternum.

When she finally got to the waistband of your panties, she licked a strip along it just to tease, leaving them on as you squirmed below her. She pressed kiss against your clit, letting you mew and whine while she laughed. “Ain’t even done anything yet and you’re soaking the sheets, what a fucking whore,” your hips lifted off the bed again with a high-pitched moan. “Keep squirming and I’ll leave you here.”

But, she couldn’t ever do that. Not when you were gripping the sheets so hard that your knuckles were white, and the angle between your legs made your waist look so small. Safe to say she had your panties off seconds after that warning, sitting up on her knees to marvel at the scene before her.

Here you were, laid back with your hands above your head as if it was instinct, bare for her, as if to present yourself. She ran her flesh thumb over your clit and through your folds, watching your entrance flutter at the contact, and she could’ve moaned.

Still entranced, she pushed her middle finger into you, your wetness being far more than enough to suck her right in. It was truly striking, the new things she was feeling. Her hand was so much larger than your cunt, her fingers twice the size of your own.

She sunk down onto her stomach, enveloping your clit between her lips as she sucked it. Her mech hand came to your tit, adjusting to what you needed. By the time she was sliding her second finger in, you were already writhing, legs shaking. You were quite literally dripping onto the sheets, arousal covering you and Sevika and the sheets beneath you both.

Your stomach coiled, body tensing as your orgasm approached you harshly - and she pulled away, pulling her fingers from you and removing any contact of her on your body. Your eyes shot open, confusion drawing on your face quickly. She didn’t let the expression sit, tapping your bottom lip and pushing her two used fingers into your mouth with haste.

“You look real pretty with your mouth full, y’know that? Maybe I should keep you this way.” Your eyes lolled back in your head as drool gathered in the corners of your mouth. That only encouraged her to push them farther into your mouth, fascinated by how full you looked with just two fingers in your mouth.

She pulled her fingers from your mouth, wiping them across your cheek before standing up. She made her way to your closet, and for a moment, you thought you knew what was coming, until she pulled out something you hadn’t ever seen before. It was a black strap, far longer and wider than something she’d ever used on you.

“Wanna try something new,” she tugged the harness up her thick hips, adjusting it until it fit and attaching her latest piece. She came back to the bed and without a word grabbed your hips and flipped you onto your stomach, pulling them up so that you rested in an arch.

Though she hardly needed it, she lubed it up and ran the tip through your folds until you whined and pushed yourself back onto it. “Vika, need you,” you moaned impatiently, awarding you a harsh slap across your right ass cheek.

She didn’t make you wait, though. She pressed into your arch to make it deep and pressed the fat tip into you, letting you adjust before continuing. “‘s gonna be a big stretch, my big girl can take it, can’t she?” she didn’t allow you to respond before pushing further in, half of it disappearing into your cunt. 

“Sev, ‘s too big,” you cried out after she pushed further, but she wasn’t listening. She wasn’t even thinking at all, absolutely dazed on the sight of your cunt stretching to take her.

“You’re so good, so fucking good,” she groaned when she bottomed out, lips parted and chest heaving as her need took control of her body. Once you had adjusted to her, she fucked into you without pause, trapped in a headspace that wouldn’t go away until she had you coming for hours.

With her mech hand pressing your arch down still, she leaned over you, balancing most of her weight on her flesh hand beside your head. The position allowed her to hit deeper, and you knew you’d be sore the next day, but it didn’t matter. She was fucking you too good to worry about anything of the sort.

Your orgasm hit you hard and fast, before you could even tell her that you were close. Her strap stained white, and the sight alone had her coming with you. However, she didn’t stop there - she continued her pace, going even harder than before, just to see you come again

“Give me one more, please baby, need to see you come again,” She didn’t consider herself someone that begged, but with the noises you were making and simply the sight of you, she couldn’t help it.

She pounded into you like the world would end if she didn’t, taking anything and everything you would give her. She had her mech hand tangled in your hair, pushing your cheek into the bed below you while her flesh hand held your hip to keep you steady.

You cried out as your second orgasm flowed over you, drenching her skin and the bed. It wasn’t long before a warm, creamy liquid filled you, Sevika waiting until the last second to fill you up. “Such a fucking slut,” she moaned, fucking her cum into you, “filled your tight little cunt right up, huh? It feel good being so full of my cum?”

When she finally pulled out, she was sure that there hadn’t ever been something better than you in history. You were so full that your stomach bloated, cum dripping out of your used hole like a pornstar. She spread your lips just to watch it drip, mentally taking a picture. “You did so good, baby,” she murmured, flipping you onto your back with her strength again. “Wanna keep you full like this all the time.”

You giggled, making her gaze shoot up. “I’m not against that.” She couldn’t help but laugh with you.

taglist: @skullsbown @strawberrylipglossx @sevikaloverrr3000 @ferxanda @illbecanon @ahahhsuaishaiabsuai @mysticalvampir @missinglover @lilithyys @only4theweekend @rkrivees-blog @awful-yuri @moodient @pinkembodiment @glittzygorilla @sumisamente @lovenoteslesbian @anae-naea-zacheria @kittyk-14 @genderfluidlesbian999 @ilikepizzaa @missm4r1e

[anthorius]

Monsterfucking is so normalized on Tumblr I kinda forgot it even counted as a kink. I thought it was like liking boobs on girls. The basic normal stuff most people like.

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Melvika animation in progress ⭐

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… Sevika who ends up falling for a short tempered barely over 5’0 femme who scolds her often, no matter who’s around, and Sevika folds every time because how could she ever disobey her girl has been on my mind (largely because I’m a short femme who’s been called a bossy little princess her entire life because she never grew out of ordering everyone around and being maybe a little mean)

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She hears your heels before she sees you. That familiar click-click-click across the concrete of the Last Drop. Every time, it’s the same.

Sevika tenses instinctively.

Not from fear, no, Sevika doesn’t fear anyone. but from pure, bracing anticipation.

“Vika!”

Just your voice alone, low, sharp, and cutting despite its sweetness, makes her swallow hard and lower her cigar without thinking. You only use her nickname like that when you’re pissed.

And judging by the way your arms are crossed and your bag is slung haphazardly over your shoulder, like you stormed your way here just to fight, Sevika knows she’s in trouble.

Again.

You’re barely up to her shoulder, dressed in a tight little two-piece, lashes curled to the gods, and a glossed lip that only makes your frown more dramatic.

“You said thirty minutes, baby. It’s been an hour and ten.”

You say it like a threat. Sevika flicks her eyes around, half the bar is watching. Two of Silco’s old men go still. Some Zaunite girl whispering in her ear shuts up mid-sentence.

“Shit,” Sevika mutters. “Sorry, babe, I just —”

“Don’t ‘babe’ me. You said we’d go get dinner. You said you’d pick me up. And instead I find you here, again, drinking and smoking and letting people flirt with you.”

Her voice is so crisp, so commanding, Sevika has no choice but to fold. Her massive body shifts in her chair, like she’s trying to make herself smaller. One leg bounces guiltily.

You’re such a brat. Such a gorgeous, tiny, bossy brat, and Sevika is utterly obsessed with you.

You jab a manicured finger into her chest, right where her scar peeks from the neckline of her shirt.

“You’re lucky I love you.”

“I know,” Sevika says quietly. “I know, baby.”

Your tone softens for just a second. “Did you at least save me a seat?”

She immediately kicks the stool next to her out with one boot, like she was waiting for that cue. “It’s yours.”

“And the good fries?”

“Ordered ‘em when I saw you come in.”

“Mmhm.”

You slide into the seat like a queen into her throne, purposefully looking at the girl who was hanging off Sevika’s arm minutes before. Your hand settles on her thigh possessively, and Sevika doesn’t even breathe too hard until you relax.

Eventually you murmur, “You’re such a pain.”

And Sevika leans in, brushing her lips to your temple, her voice low and full of something helpless.

Later, back home…

You’re stomping around the apartment still ranting, voice high and annoyed as you rip off your earrings and kick your heels into a corner.

“You really had me walking through the Undercity in these damn shoes like some dumb bimbo!”

Sevika is standing still in the bedroom doorway, quiet, hands behind her back like she’s being lectured at school. She says nothing, eyes following you like a tether.

You turn, scowl at her. “Why do you always listen to me like that?”

“…Dunno,” she mutters. “Maybe ‘cause I like it.”

That stops you short.

“You like being bossed around?”

She shrugs one shoulder, half-smirk tugging at her lip. “Just when it’s you.”

You scoff and walk over, climbing onto the bed, pointing a finger at her chest again. “You’re a big, scary woman. People tremble when you walk by. And you just take it when I yell at you in public?”

She grabs your hand, pulls it to her mouth, and kisses the tip of your finger.

“I’d let you scream at me in the middle of a council meeting if you wanted.”

Your mouth opens, then shuts. Heat curls low in your belly.

“…Fuck. That’s hot.”

Sevika’s back hits the mattress with a low thump.

She doesn’t fight you. Doesn’t even try to wrestle back control when you climb on top of her, straddling her hips like you own her, like you always do.

Her hands stay behind her head, flexing a little, watching you with that hazy, heated look like she lives to be scolded by her five-foot-nothing girl in a tight little clothes. And even now, as your hands settle over her chest and your hips roll once, just to test her, Sevika groans like you’ve already ruined her.

“Goddamn, baby,” she rasps, “you really mad at me, huh?”

“Of course I’m mad at you,” you say, pushing your hands up her shirt and feeling the taut muscle there. “You flaked on me. Again. I should leave you here with your tongue hanging out.”

Sevika lets out a low breath through her nose, like even that threat turns her on. “You never do.”

“Because I spoil you.”

You lean down, right over her face, lips just barely grazing hers, and Sevika’s throat bobs. Her eyes drop to your mouth like she’s starving.

“But you forget,” you whisper, “you only get this pussy because I let you have it.”

She shivers and her thighs twitch under you.

“Say it.”

“…I only get it ‘cause you let me,” she repeats hoarsely.

“Good girl.”

You tug her shirt up and over her head with a huff. Sevika sits up just enough for you to strip it off, then lets her head fall back against the pillow as your hands wander down the hard lines of her torso. Her arms are still behind her head like she’s letting herself be displayed for you, like she likes being at your mercy.

You’re still pouting as you scoot down and tug her pants low. Sevika lifts her hips obediently. She always does.

“You make me so mad sometimes,” you mumble, dragging the waistband of her briefs down, your mouth hot against her stomach. “And you know I’m not gonna stay mad long, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” she murmurs, voice caught between a laugh and a groan as you start kissing lower. “My bossy little princess never stays m —!”

Your mouth is already between her thighs before she can finish the sentence.

She chokes. Her fingers clench in the sheets, but she doesn’t touch you. She never does unless you let her. You pin her legs open, tongue lapping slow, cruel stripes up her soaked folds, and Sevika’s cursing softly under her breath. She’s loud, always so fucking loud, even when you’re being mean and slow and not giving her what she wants.

But you’re the boss.

Your mouth is everywhere, teasing, taunting, licking her open and keeping her there while she groans for you, whimpers your name, tries so hard to be good.

“F-fuck, baby don’t stop.”

“You don’t get to beg until I say you can,” you snap, glancing up at her.

Sevika moans, head tipping back.

“Yes, ma’am.”

The words go straight to your cunt.

You ride her thigh for a bit, grinding with slow, needy pressure as you fuck her with your tongue, hands on her abs to feel every shiver, every twitch. Her body flexes under your palms, taut and desperate.

Eventually, you pull away, licking your lips, panting.

“You want more?”

Sevika nods, dazed. “Yes.”

“You want me to fuck you like the filthy woman you are?”

“…Yes.”

“Say please, baby.”

“Please,” she rasps, eyes burning. “Please, fuck me. I’ll be so good. I’ll listen, I swear.”

You pull the strap from the drawer.

And Sevika gasps, almost like it’s instinct. She watches as you lube it up, as you climb back between her legs and press in slow. Her whole body arches, the stretch making her eyes roll, mouth falling open as you bottom out.

“Shitshitshit fuuuuck!”

You lean over her, one hand gripping the base of her throat, the other pulling her legs wider as you roll your hips in deep.

“Mine,” you whisper, fucking into her slow and mean. “Say it.”

Sevika’s voice breaks.

“Yours. I’m yours.”

She’s soaked. You can feel it with every thrust, the wet slap of skin-on-skin as your strap drives into her hard enough to make the bed creak. Sevika’s gone, absolutely wrecked, moaning and gripping your hips like she’s holding on for dear life.

You tug her hair. She moans.

You slap her thigh. She whimpers, eyes wet.

And when you start really fucking her ,hips snapping, tits bouncing as you ride her rough, she’s chanting your name like a prayer.

You lean in, lips brushing her ear.

“such a big girl with a tight cunt huh?”

She screams.

You ride it out, body shaking, forehead pressed to hers, until she collapses under you in a panting, sweat-soaked mess.

Later, her voice is hoarse, eyes still dazed.

“You really fuckin’ own me.”

“I know, baby.”

Then you reach for your phone.

“I’m ordering those fries you forgot.”

“…Yes, ma’am.”

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taglist: @sevikaswinkinghole @riotstemple29 @shxdy0ariia @amri0ram @barelykiramman @sevikas-whore @illbecanon @georgiahs-stuff

been posting a lot recently…

[anthorius]

You can't tell me that Sevika's strap game isn't god-tier. LOOK AT HER AND TELL ME TO MY FACE THAT SHE DOESN'T HAVE THE BEST STRAP GAME IN THE WHOLE OF ZAUN. GO ON, I'LL WAIT.

HBFHBHEBIB my second username of choice was sevikasstickystrapon

Warnings: Smut, MDNI, subspace, overstimulation, sevikas sticky strap

Literally any pace would have you falling apart. She's all about the motion of the ocean and she will take all night discovering what gets you to make those pretty sounds for her

You're so responsive for her that she might think she's your first

If she's not, you'd tell her that no one's made you feel like that before/made you come that many times in one night

This would honestly piss her off and she'd want the names and addresses of your previous lovers bc it is SO EASY FOR HER to please you

Which means they weren't trying so they need death :)

"I was wringing you dry last night, the fuck?" You'd be a blushing mess at her words, her protectiveness, and the memories

You'd defensively ask her if she had ever made someone come like that

"Have you never made someone come before?" You stuttered out defensively, cheeks alight with embarrassment. A low chuckle meets your ears, smug at your naivety of her reputation. "Honey, I have. But never that many times in one night. You came every time I stuck my strap in you."

She'll be fucking you so good and you can't help but claw at her back, ignoring her no touching command and leaving red welts in your wake

"Hands." She growls. Your bliss is interrupted by her stern tone, nails retract and arms cautiously wrap around her neck. She stills and barks the command again but you don't want to let go of her. "No, please I just want to hold you." To her dismay, this softens some part of her and she kisses you, irritated. She'll start fucking you harder and you'll be clawing her up again, but she'll put up with it this time

Sevika is an absolute menace when it comes to over stimulation. If you work yourself too hard during the day, she's gonna make you relax. You'll just have to lay there and take what she gives you

She loves the face you make when you're fucked stupid, all of the worry and stress of the day gone

So she'll want to see it again and again and again

I hc that you're her first true relationship. With her job she never really had time for anything serious. The brothel was there for a stress reliever when she needed it (and she needed it a lot)

So you're the first thing that's truly hers. There's no sharing you with anyone, she has someone to call her own and she's gonna show you her appreciation

Also take a little half-assed drabble:

Moans filled the room. You were bent over the table, stuffed absolutely full by Sevika's strap. She didn’t even have to move the large toy in your cunt, wet dripping down your thighs, squeezed together as if that would stop her from breaching your entrance. You tried to move as little as possible, every movement overwhelming as the toy filled and pressed against the entirety of your walls. Whimpers fell endlessly from your lips, thighs slick and slipping together. When your eyes weren’t squeezed shut, they were rolled to the back of your head. Gentle pets against your hair comforted you as you moaned, overstimulated from every sensation. 

“Good, baby?” 

Your nod was sluggish and cut short when she pulled out slightly. The noises that fell out of your mouth were not under your own volition as the strap slid back inside you. Somehow her slow humping was more overwhelming, each drag rubbing against that one spot and bringing you to the edge faster than any harsh thrust would.

When you fall over your scream is guttural, sobs ripping from your throat when she continues those measured thrusts.

“‘Vika‘Vika‘Vika-”

“It’s alright, just lay there and enjoy it. Take what I give you.”

Your head was fuzzy, comprehending nothing but the feelings she drew from you and her gentle commands. Dutifully, you laid there spread for her, letting her use you and unravel every shred of coherence until there was nothing but her. 

“How am I supposed to stop when you keep making those pretty noises for me?”

Lips brushed your ear, breath casting over your cheek and sending shivers down your spine. You were wailing, sobs and moans falling from your mouth, intensifying when a hand lifted your thigh to give her more access.

“That’s right, open up for me.” 

Thrust.

“That’s-”

Thrust.

“-it.”

It felt like you couldn’t stop coming. Her hands massaged your tense muscles until you were boneless, every touch feeling like a kiss. Ink smudged beneath you from your tears, whatever document she was working on before was absolutely ruined. Like you.

You whimpered as she pulled out, shushing you before her warmth left you completely. Metal clanked against porcelain, something falling to the ground followed by a muffled “-shit.” You could only focus on your heartbeat pounding in your chest, the pulsing throb between your thighs.

Time didn’t exist. You had no idea if she’d been gone for five seconds or five minutes. Warm, calloused hands rested on your thighs and you pliantly spread them, slightly pushing your hips up and presenting yourself to her.

“That’s good, baby. But we’re done with that.” Words dripping with amusement weren’t enough to snap you out of your haze. A rag lightly cleaned between your thighs, mesmerizing her with your glistening arousal. Sevika smiled softly when you pushed back as the cloth wiped over your entrance, thighs parting again. 

“Eager to please, huh?” 

The rich oak wood slid against your cheek as your head bobbled in a nod, halted by hands now cradling your cheeks. “We’re through, sweet thing. Come back to me.”  

Sevika watched as your bleary eyes slowly crept into focus, a sleepy smile settling on your face.

“Hi.”

Your quiet voice was met with her chuckles. 

“Hey, babygirl. You good?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

The sight of you utterly spent brought a satisfied smile to Sevika’s face. She loved being able to give you the pleasure you deserved, that it was her that was able to take away all of your worries until you were floating in the clouds. Sevika wasn’t used to having someone to call her own. She had favorites at the brothel, sure, but they were never entirely hers. Now here you are, someone she could never tire of, who she always looked forward coming home to, who she could ply with riches, status, and sex until you were sick of it. 

She never thought it would be possible to feel this way about another person and now she made sure to give her thanks to you in her own way, making sure your needs were met and that any stress of the day was fucked away before you slept. Of course to you, she was just your hyper sexual partner.

After she was able to get some water in you, combating the whines with coaxing pets and encouraging praises, a bowl of fruit found itself in her metal hand. Your grumbling protests were ignored as you were hoisted into her lap.

“I wanna sleep, Sev.”

“A few bites for me, c’mon.” 

By the third bite, you were mostly back to yourself and gave her finger a nip when it pushed a berry to your mouth.

“Brat. For you to behave, I have to fuck you stupid? Is that what it takes?”

Burning cheeks hid in her collar bone, a teasing little “maybe” muttered into her skin.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

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Not Sevika being peak lesbian representation but there’s still mf out there thinking she went to the brothel to fuck men bc it was never officially confirmed that she was a lesbian. yeah that must be that. this woman probably fingered too many girls in her life but yeah whatever makes you happy

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When I say this is how I feel when I see this fic update I mean it so bad

PART SIX

summary: in which you and sevika are divorced. click to read chapters one, two, three, four and five. chapter seven, the last chapter, will be uploaded soon.

word count: 8562

thank you for all the support throughout this fic. we are nearing the end. happy reading!

~~~

The sound of Lianna and Ava’s bickering is what grounds you as you wash your hands.

You’re standing in the kitchen, brain running a mile a minute despite you knowing that everything will be okay. Lianna and Ava are sitting on the kitchen floor a few feet away. They’ve brought down a couple of Barbies from Ava’s room (in which you’ve noticed are all really fucked up) and now they’re deciding over which one is “the best.”

Gert and Sevika are installing the storm panels around the house while Grayson has disappeared to wherever Mel is. So you agreed to finish dinner, fighting off a sense of Deja Vu that keeps hitting you.

This is all too familiar.

Of course the presence of Lianna and Ava are what differs from your reality years ago. But it still feels like yesterday when you would be baking in this very same kitchen, spending endless hours getting lost in the craft. And beyond this being second-nature, it’s also registering that you’re stuck in this house for longer than you’ve anticipated. 

Throughout this past week, there has been a nagging thought in the back of your brain about being here more often. But still. You never would have imagined that this would be happening so soon. 

After searching through all of the cupboards (some things have been rearranged), you finally find the plates. It’s not long before you’re carrying a stack to the island countertop. You also spot a collection of smaller plates, some sparkly and others painted with cartoon characters on them. You smile smally at the sight, knowing that Sevika must have bought them for Ava. 

“What movie should we watch?” You hear Lianna ask Ava.

You grab two of the juvenile plates from the cabinet. 

“Spirit!”

Your heart squeezes at the suggestion.

“Aw, no. It’s too sad!” Lianna complains.

A snort leaves you.

You set all the plates evenly on the counter space. 

You turn off the stove, you grab a cup for everyone. 

It’s a routine song and dance. 

“Alright!” A voice erupts and is followed by the sound of hands clapping. You jump from the startle. It’s Gert. She appears from the hallway, wiping her forehead with the back of her arm. “Storm panels are good to go. Everyone should be joining us shortly. Do you need help?”

***

The only noise that fills the atmosphere is the muted patter of rainfall along with the occasional clash of silverware. You chew each bite of your steak methodically, eyes downcast to the plate before you.

Across from you sits Grayson with Mel to her right. Gert and Lianna are to her left. 

Sevika is to your right and Ava to your left.

You’d say that the only people currently jovial at the dinner table are the kids. They have their headphones on, eyes glued to their tablets while they eat their food. Usually, you don’t like for Ava to be occupied by technology. But you had made an exception for tonight. You didn’t want her to notice the obvious tension that was looming in the air.

You felt naive for thinking that everyone could ignore the elephant in the room and enjoy the evening. That is what you expected when everyone had filed into the kitchen to retrieve their plates.

But instead, you had been met with a looming silence; one that hasn’t left the house during the last 20 minutes. 

Slowly, you shift your gaze to Mel. She’s already looking at you with a strange expression on her face. Before you can say anything, she diverts her attention to her plate, taking another bite of her steak.

You try to decipher what she could possibly be thinking–why she seems to be against something that she used to support so much.

She had been your shoulder to cry on for decades. She had been the first person to know about your growing crush on Sevika, something that felt like it came out of nowhere during your sophomore year of highschool. She had helped you think of a way to ask Sevika to junior-year prom. She had been supportive when you told her that you wanted to forego college; that you thought a different path to life would make you happier. She was the most supportive when Sevika had secretly dropped out of college during her sophomore year and immediately drove 20 hours to your apartment (which quickly became her home too). Mel had been your closest confidant, your best friend. Your sister.

You find yourself wishing that she could shove that stick out of her ass. You want her to be fully transparent. To really tell you what it is that has her acting in such a way, because this isn’t the Mel that you know. 

You peer at her once more and there she is again, shifting her gaze from Sevika to you. Her chewing is slow. Calculating. As if she’s trying to find missing pieces to a puzzle. As if she’s using all of her energy to understand something that she just…can’t.

Sevika looks up from her plate. Her silverware falls to the table with a loud clatter. You flinch from the sound.

That’s when you notice that Sevika’s jaw is flexed. 

Her ises, which are swirling pools of charcoal, flash while she flares her nose. You’ve only been on the receiving end of that glare a handful of times and you almost feel bad that it’s being directed to Mel.

“I’m not dealing with this shit for the rest of the night,” Sevika warns. Her voice is all steel, a clear indication that she’s at her wits end. “Whatever else you have to say, spit it out.”

The air is charged. Immediately, your posture straightens. Alarmed, you glance at Grayson and Gert. Hoping that they step in…hoping that they do something. But instead, they remain silent. Gert keeps her eyes on her plate, finding sudden interest in her food. 

Grayson merely shakes her head before taking a hearty gulp of her beer.

Your throat dries.

Instinctively, your hand reaches out and rests on Sevika’s shoulder. Both her and Mel have yet to break their staring contest. 

“Sev,” You find yourself saying. “It’s okay.”

“Except it's not.” She admonishes, voice growing thin. 

With bated breath, you linger, wishing that she'll change her mind and drop the conversation. 

Another crack of thunder sounds.

Your hand falls from her shoulder, adrenaline skyrocketing. 

“I'm gonna be honest Mel, you're starting to piss me off,” Sev continue. “I know you're protective because of the things I said to you that night. I get it. But I'm a grown fucking woman. Has it not occurred to you that maybe this should have happened much sooner than it did?”

You wince as Sevika’s volume raises. “Sev.”

“No.” She snaps, eyes darting to you with incredible speed. You're surprised that her neck doesn't break with how sharply her head turns in your direction. And you almost fear that she’s grown angry at you too; that this entire ordeal with Mel has caused her to be unnerved by anyone within breathing distance. 

But then you notice the firm assurance in her face. Her regard is unwavering, holding you with fierce eyes that display nothing but pure protectiveness. 

Protectiveness for herself. 

And for you. 

It catches you off guard because it’s unfamiliar. It’s the complete opposite of the vulnerable (and tentative) bubble that has been surrounding her lately. 

She grabs your hand, interlacing her fingers with yours. Tenderly, she presses a kiss against your fingertips which causes your eyes to widen. 

Your jaw falls slack, searching her face for an answer. Because, certainly, this is not something that you two have agreed upon. There's not supposed to be any PDA in front of your friends, not while you're both trying to get adjusted to this—not while Sevika’s brain is still trying to catch up to her heart.

“Just let me speak.” She mutters. 

Her hand squeezes yours.

She turns back to a gobsmacked Mel. “I’m still in love with her.” Sevika adds. “And she knows.” 

You watch Mel process everything that's being thrown at her. She seems a bit stricken, blinking silently while she observes the way that Sevika cradles your hand with both of hers; how Sevika’s thumb rubs soothing circles against your skin.

“We’ve decided to take this second chance.” Sevika continues. “At first we agreed to wait before telling everyone but…”

Your heart races at the way the room stills. Mel’s jaw is slack, seemingly struggling to respond due to her daze. 

You don't bring yourself to face Gert and Grayson. You can only imagine what they're thinking right now…

Sevika squeezes your hand once more, which has the effect that she intends. Despite your quickening pulse, you allow your muscles to unspool with the knowledge that she's by your side. None of tonight's events would have ever been on your bingo card this morning.

But Sevika is sitting beside you, steadfast in her love and respect. She has done the very thing you never thought she would do—not this soon. 

Surely, that’s enough to ground you.

“You’re…” Mel stammers.

You swallow hard, shifting in your seat nervously. “This is still very new to us. It's only been a week.” You explain. “But it’s true. We’re…together.” You pause. “In a sense.”

Realization dawns on Mel’s features. “...A week. That was last…”

And that's when you know that she finally gets it. 

She braces against her chair, cogs in her brain practically turning a mile a minute.

“It was the same day I broke up with Hazel.” Sevika admits.

You do your best to shove that night to the back of your mind. As amazing as it was, the last thing you needed to be thinking about was how easily Sevika had carried you to your bedroom. How she had kissed you with mind-numbing desperation, barely letting you catch your breath before she pressed you into your duvet, towering over you…covering you with her body, licking and biting and pushing into you with—

“And I know what I told you has worried you.” Sevika adds. “I appreciate your concern and I appreciate you being protective. But this divorce is on the both of us. Not just her. We’ve both been rash and naive and stubborn. We’ve hurt each other equally. And it was a mutual decision to give this another shot.”

“I…” Mel shakes her head. “I didn't realize…I had no idea—”

“Because you didn't ask. You assumed and you meddled,” Sevika’s eye twitches. “I need you to know that I’m pissed because she's supposed to be your best friend. And yet you didn't have the decency to give her the benefit of the doubt or even just have a simple fucking conversation with her.”

Your gut stirs as your struggle to filter through a magnitude of emotions. But the one that truly overpowers you is confusion.

A nagging memory from last week, the one when you impulsively called Sevika, filters into your brain. You remember talking about her breakup with Hazel. You remember not being able to stop yourself from confessing your feelings to Sevika. You remember practically putting your heart on the line, begging her not to crush it. And you remember being relieved when she didn't. 

But what you also remember, a passing comment that you hadn't paid attention to before, was when she mentioned having a conversation with Mel about you.

Sevika hadn't specifically discussed what that conversation with Mel entailed.

But it seems that the conversation was monumental enough to have Mel acting the way that she has been.

Mel leans forward, reaching towards you before stopping midair. She allows her arm to fall, palm resting against the dinner table merely inches from your plate. 

“It’s fine,” You finally say, an attempt to ward off what you know is about to come.

“It's not.” She begins, sincerity bleeding through.

“You were looking out for Sev.” Which, to an extent, you can understand. 

“I was being unfair to you.” She shakes her head as her eyes begin to swim. “I wasn’t being considerate. I never even bothered to truly talk to you about this.”

You can't help but stare back at her; at her furrowed brows and deep frown and sorrowful eyes. You know that she’s being genuine. Mel isn't the type to apologize if she doesn't mean it. However, there's still something that remains slightly unsettled within you. There's still unanswered questions. 

But you don't want to ask them here. Not in front of everyone. 

“I’m sorry for hurting you,” Mel adds.

You nod while blinking slowly. “You were being a pain. ” You grumble, struggling to suppress a smile while you roll your eyes. “I don't like it when you meddle.”

“I know.”

“...Like I get it to an extent but Jesus Christ, please learn to have some faith in me.” 

Mel was known for meddling, a trait that your mom found amusing yet endearing all the same. A trait that you’ve always tried to talk to Mel about—to let her know that it isn't her job to always try to fix everything (and everyone). You rarely accepted help from her. You rarely accepted help from anyone besides Sevika. But that didn't stop her and the rest of your friends from insisting.

This time, however, she had gone too far.

Mel mirrors your smile, a watery laugh escaping her. Her shoulders relax while life filters back into her eyes.

“Well,” Gert claps her hands.

When you look at her, you notice that she’s grinning impishly. Her gaze slots between you and Sevika suggestively. 

“I knew I wasn't fucking delusional. Pay up.” Her voice is smug. She holds her hand out towards Grayson, who grumbles in return.

Your jaw falls slack while the scene unfolds in front of you. Grayson almost seems annoyed while she retrieves her wallet, fishing out some cash before handing it to Gert. 

“To be fair, I wasn't disagreeing with you.” Grayson argues.

Gert pockets the money quickly. “You were weeks off.”

“Wait.” You blink rapidly. “What?”

“We bet on you guys.” Grayson admits. She at least has the decency to appear sheepish. 

“From what I was hearing, it seemed like something was going on.” Gert chimes in. “Gray was adamant that if you were to rekindle, it wouldn’t be until after her vow renewal—”

Grayson flexes her jaw. “They said they were just friends!”

“People say that all the time when they're secretly fucking.” Gert is laughing, shoving Grayson amicably.

“Whatever.” Grayson huffs while folding her arms across her chest, clearly disgruntled about the money she lost. “Luck was on your side this time.”

Your arm is tugged gently, pulling your attention back to Sevika. She’s already regarding you, suppressing a snort when she sees your incredulous expression. 

Your mind swarms while you try to register the fact that your best friends have been betting on you. 

“Better?” Sevika murmurs. The question is serious despite her chilled demeanor. You can tell that she truly wants to make sure that your worries have been alleviated.

“Yeah.” You respond, chest becoming warm. “I’m okay.”

She regards you for a few seconds more. 

You want to kiss her. You want to run your fingers through her hair and to feel her body pressed against yours.

But you push the thought aside and smile instead.

Her lips part slightly when you do so, zeroing in on your mouth while her pupils dilate. Unbelievably dazed from her intense inspection, you take a sip from your sparkling water and clear your throat.

“A fucking bet,” You whisper absentmindedly, angling yourself to Sevika so only she can hear. You keep your eyes on your sparkling water.

A dry chuckle erupts from her. Then, “Honestly, I’m impressed that Gray thought I’d be able to hold out until the vow renewal.” She sounds amused. 

Your lashes flutter when she leans into you, her lips pressing against your temple. It's a quick peck. It causes your gut to pull. Seconds later, she whispers, “...But I hope you know that would never happen. I nearly waited three years to get you back and I would have gone fucking insane if I had to wait another day. ”

Your eyes widen at the confession while your breathing stutters. 

The reaction catches the attention of everyone else in the room. 

“Everything okay?” Mel asks.

Somehow, you’ve managed to break out into a full coughing fit due to choking on your spit. Sevika has already retracted back to her seat, and out of the corner of your eye, you notice the slight shake in her shoulders. She coughs into her elbow, an evil disguise, as uneven gusts of breath leave her. She’s laughing.

“I’m—Uh,” You’re interrupted by another fit of coughs. You give Mel a thumbs up, trying to ignore her growing concern. “I’m okay!”

Sevika pats your back lightly. “Easy there.” And when you glance at her, you notice the way her eyes flash…how she rolls her lips into her mouth, suppressing a smirk, while an air of smugness rolls off of her. She’s always enjoyed getting a rise out of you. 

Your eyes squint and you reach out to shove her. “You’re so annoying.”

***

“When did you make the bet?” You ask, drying your hands on a nearby towel.

You’ve just finished cleaning the dishes and Gert is standing beside you. Everyone else is chatting in the sitting room, their voices traveling with the sound of Lianna and Ava’s laughter. 

Gert’s lip twitches. “Is it important?"

“It’s incredibly important.”

Gert regards you for a few breaths with contemplation written all over her features. 

Her mouth twists. She inhales deeply before exhaling. 

“Well,” She begins. “I thought things had been a bit odd with Sev at work, this week more than anything. She’s been more lenient than usual and actually fucking chilled out for majority of the shifts.”

…Which you know is rare. 

Sevika is way too type A when it comes to the shop.

“...I also may have heard her talking to you over the phone a few times. During her lunch break,” Gert rubs the back of her neck. “I didn’t hear much but I knew something must have been brewing for her to be able to communicate with you in good spirits.”

Your jaw falls slack at that.

“And,” Gert continues. “I think you may have forgotten that you both share your location with me.” She snorts. “She’s been over at your place a few times this week, no?”

“Oh god.” You grumble, eyes squinting shut as your hands fall onto your face.

“She declined my call one night. I checked her location and saw that she was over at your place. Again.”

Of course it was the fucking location.

It’s almost comical to think that you and Sevika could keep such a major thing from your group of friends. Although you both had agreed to this, it nearly feels as if you were doomed from the start. 

“Gray didn’t want to believe me of course,” Gert explains. “I texted her a few days ago and she said that it was apparently too soon. That she didn’t think either of you would have the balls to act on your feelings until weeks from now, which obviously isn't until after the vow renewal. And even then, she kept saying that might be too soon.”

Your eyes peel open. 

“How much?” You mumble.

“That we bet?”

You nod.

Gert breaks into a self-satisfied smirk. “60 bucks.”

“...”

“...”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

She erupts into hearty guffaws while your arms fold across your chest. 

“Hun,” She says sweetly, pulling you into her side, “You know it’s all in good fun. At the end of the day, we’re happy for you both.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You grumble. Your heart melts despite your vexation. “Just don’t give Sev too much trouble about it, alright? We were hoping to wait a while before telling anyone.”

She hums. There’s a hesitation before she says, “So, do you give me permission to make another bet then? I have an opinion about how long it’ll take before you two are living together agai–”

“Fuck off,” You snap.

She swears under her breath, snickering while you step out of her embrace. All too quickly, you're wrapping your arm around her neck. It catches her off guard and throws her off balance. You’ve pulled her into a headlock. 

She swears before laughing harder. “All I’m saying is that I have a knack for this sort of thing,” Then she taps your arm. You don’t let up and instead tighten your grip. “I’m like a psychic or something.”

“You won one fucking bet,” You giggle. “And you practically had some of the proof handed to you, dimwit.”

You’re not able to keep her trapped for long. You and Gert used to horse around a lot more when you were younger. But there’s still small moments like tonight, when you find yourself falling back into the habit.

Despite your speed, height and limberness, Gert is stockier and definitely more muscular. She breaks free from your hold within seconds.

“You’ve gotten stronger,” She appraises. “But I hope you know that there’ll definitely be payback for that.”

Your eyes widen and you watch as she begins to crouch down.

You’re able to dodge her at the last second, a curse leaving your mouth. “Sev!” You call, sprinting out of the kitchen. You can tell that Gert is hot on your heels. “I need backup!”

“Hey, that’s not fair.” Gert whines. “She’s, like, twice my muscle mass!”

***

“Do you think these will fit?” You ask, holding up a pair of checkered bottoms. Sevika put a hefty load of laundry in the washer earlier this evening when she realized you all would be stuck with her. You’re holding up one of your older pajama bottoms, which are slightly worn and also larger than the size Mel wears. Thankfully, the waistband has adjustable strings.

“They’re perfect. Thank you.” Mel responds. She’s already holding an old band tee shirt that you’ve tossed to her. Gingerly, she takes the bottoms out of your grasp, sending you a small smile.

She’s been uncharacteristically quiet for the night. A few hours have passed and the storm is finally starting to die down. After playing a round of spades and watching a movie, everyone has decided to retire to bed. It’s nearly pushing midnight, which has your eyelids drooping and your muscles aching with fatigue. Gert is sleeping in a guest bedroom and Grayson is showering. Sevika has carried the girls to Ava’s room, careful not to wake them since they fell asleep in the living room about an hour ago. 

Although the night started off rough, you can’t help but be grateful that it’s ending on a lighter note. This sense of normalcy and tranquility is what you’ve desperately been craving the last three years.

“I’m sorry again,” Mel whispers. Her voice breaks from the admission and when you regard her, you notice that her eyes have begun to glisten. She swallows hard, throat jostling while she clutches the clothes to her chest.

Your chest pinches at the sight.

“Mel,” You sigh, frowning. 

Is that why she’s been silent all night? Because of her lingering guilt?

“I am,” She apologizes. “I should have supported you.”

You don’t say anything. Instead, you step forward to pull her into a hug. She’s not able to reciprocate due to her arms being full, so it’s a bit awkward, but you don’t relent. You rest your head on her shoulder, sniffling along with her.

“I love you.” She says. Her voice is muffled but it still makes you smile.

“I love you too.”

She hiccups. “Like…even when I’m being an ass to you, or the days when you’re being an ass to me,” She warbles. You chuckle. “Just know that I still love you.”

And you know that she knows it’s the same for you.

A sisterhood that your mom surely hadn’t planned for you, but has always been welcomed nonetheless.

You finally pull away from her. “Sevika and I’s love for you isn’t strictly contingent upon how you can fix or help us. We don’t need you to be anything but our friend.”

A sob rips through her as she nods. “I know–”

“Seriously, Mel.” 

Her eyes are puffy as she blinks through them.  Slowly, she peers at you.

“I’ll admit that this whole ordeal has been annoying, and it’ll take me a little while to fully get over this. But I need you to know that it’s okay to let me figure out shit for myself. Actually, it’s better for me in the end.”

She nods once more. “Yeah, I know.” She croaks. “Honestly, I was worried. And also scared. I remember how bad things got after the divorce,” She winces at the memory. “It’s only been within the last year that you two were slightly getting better. And then it felt like everything had kind of spiraled again after Ava’s birthday party.” She let out a shaky breath. “I never got to tell you the specifics but when she broke up with Hazel, I stayed with her for a while longer that day.”

Your muscles tense. “Yeah,” You say slowly. “She vaguely mentioned her talk with you.”

Mel’s forehead crinkles, a far-away glint casting in her eyes. “Hazel had left and I was waiting for Sevika to come back downstairs. Their argument was fairly loud so it was easy to hear the direction the conversation was going in. But I didn’t think that Sev had been as upset as she actually was. Not until I went to go find her. I wasn’t sure if I should at first. Since the divorce, Sev had made it clear that the second floor of the house was off-bounds. None of us has been up there except for her, Ava and Hazel. And even then…I would hear her and Hazel argue about why certain rooms were off limits.”

A sad smile stretches across Mel’s face.

“I’m sure you know why…” She murmurs. 

Your mind spins as you try to connect the dots.

“Well, anyway, Sev never came downstairs after they broke up. Gray and I tried to decide what to do. She agreed that one of us should probably check on Sev. So I did. I found her in your room.” Mel’s eyes close on their own accord. “And she wasn’t…doing well. She was in the closet. And those panic attacks she used to have? It looked like she was going through one again.”

You’re shell-shocked, seemingly stuck in place as her words register in your brain.

“After she calmed down, we talked for hours.” Mel opens her eyes again. Her brown irises are rimmed red and pain-stricken. “I hadn’t seen her like that in a long time. Now that I think back to it, it makes sense and I realize that maybe she was thinking of you. I thought that her breakup with Hazel was what initially caused her to spiral. She said the divorce threw her life off-kilter and that she’d been searching for some semblance of peace ever since then. She never specifically told me why she broke up with Hazel.”

A lump forms in your throat at the thought.

“So,” Mel goes on. “I asked her if it had anything to do with you. I should’ve known then. I mean, the signs were staring right in front of me. But I didn't pick up on it…” Mel wets her lips. “She said no. And that she was genuinely happy to be friends with you again. But she also felt scared for the uncertainty for her future—and for the uncertainty that a possible friendship with you could hold. It reminded me of all the nights that I spent comforting her after the divorce. And I’m not saying this to undermine how much you were also struggling. But you hadn't let me support you the way that Sev did. I saw her pain, first hand, for that first year after the divorce. And it was bad.” 

You grimace at the fact. 

It’s true that Mel helped Sev throughout the divorce more than she has with you. And that’s entirely your fault. You didn't want to emotionally burden her, or anyone for that matter. So you hadn't leaned on her as much. You had your therapist for that.

There were very few nights when you reached out to your mom for comfort. But even those times were sparse. 

“I think,” Mel ponders slowly. “Hearing Sev voice her concerns only made me worry even more. When you initially told me about you two becoming friends, I was already cautious. And after talking to Sev, I feared that this newfound friendship between you two was the start of something that could end badly. I knew things were changing for you both. I didn’t know the specifics obviously but, in the back of my brain, I knew that maybe you two were on the brink of…something. And it scared me. Especially considering all the time that you both spent on trying to move on from the divorce.”

You wipe your own tears. 

“I did warn her just as much as I did with you. But I was still being unfair towards you. I should have done it with more care and grace. That’s definitely apparent.” She relents. “I shouldn’t have been so forthright with it and I shouldn’t have accused you of not having the right intentions with Sev. I had become protective of her but had failed to be there for you as well. It was a disservice to you because I hadn’t even considered how this all was affecting you too. I was entirely wrong and out of line and absolutely a bitch for that. And I get it if you need some space for a while.“

You bite the inside of your cheek. “I just need you to know that even if this implodes between Sev and I again, that’s our burden to bear. And the decisions we make together is something that we should be able to truly decide by ourselves–without the help or involvement of anyone else.”

She sniffs, shifting her weight. “I understand completely.” 

Your heart continues to hammer inside of your chest–so rapidly that you’re surprised your ribcage doesn’t rattle. Despite the reconciliation with Mel, you can’t help but ponder over her confession.

This is information that Sevika has obviously omitted, probably because she didn’t want to worry you or make you feel more guilty than you already do. And she was right to do so.

You think it’d ruin you if you found out about this last week.

And it obviously has worried Mel enough to have her second guessing whether or not the both of you should be rekindling anything. Of course, it’s not Mel’s place to make such a decision for you, and you’d continue to reinforce that boundary if it were to occur again. But you can understand why she felt so concerned, considering how much of an emotional crutch she was to Sevika after the divorce. 

The permanent image of Sevika having a breakdown in your old bedroom nestles into your brain. Your throat tightens as you think about Mel having to find her like that.

And you find yourself stepping into her shoes, wondering how you would react if you found her in such a position; or, similarly, if you found Grayson in such a way. 

Your body stills and you flinch.

“Can I just ask one thing?” Mel mutters, peering at you hopefully.

You hesitate, growing suspicious. “...What is it?”

“Who made the first move?” Her head tilts as she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

And that's when you realize that you have yet to update her on everything that’s happened within the last two weeks. 

Suddenly, you’re thrown back to a time, 14 years prior, when Mel had asked you the very same question. It was after your Junior Prom, in which you took Sevika as your date. That was the day when everything between you and Sevika had changed for good. You remember being excited to update Mel on all that happened. She had asked for all the details. It was the first time you felt giddy with her about your love life; it was the first time you felt like you even had a love life to begin with. 

The deja vu causes goosebumps to raise on your skin.

You rest a hand on one of her forearms. “I have so much to tell you.”

Her eyes widen. “Really?”

“Would you prefer to wait for the morning? I know it’s getting late–”

“Absolutely not!” She’s walking down the hallway before you finish your sentence. “Let me freshen up first and then I’m all ears!”

***

Even though it’s been 14 years since you and Mel have shared a giddiness like this, it rarely feels like that amount of time has passed at all.

The both of you are seated at the kitchen island, trying to conceal your laughter while eating ice cream. You had texted Sevika that you were going to chat with Mel for a little while longer, so there was no need for her to wait for you.

When you tell Mel everything, she adds commentary at all the right moments.

“You begged to get back together with her less than 24 hours after she dumped Hazel,” Mel giggles. Her voice is muffled due to her mouth being full with ice cream. She sends you a mischievous grin, shaking her head in disbelief. “That’s the most lesbian thing you���ve ever done in the last five years to be fair.”

“I wasn’t even thinking,” You admit. “She texted me about the breakup and I hit the call button immediately. I mean, I was gagged. But also, like, I nearly shat myself at the idea of her being single again.”

She snorts, nearly choking on her ice cream. “I can imagine! If that were Gray and I, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

“I felt delusional thinking I had a chance. Like I hoped for it–of course I did–and subconsciously, I had already been daydreaming about getting her back. But when she texted me that, it felt like I actually could. Like, for the first time in years, I genuinely thought that maybe I did have a chance. And I sort of just…ran with it.”

You watch Mel watch you.

She swallows her mouthful of ice cream as her expression grows sober. The shift is gradual and leaves you mirroring her, the air around you suddenly coming to a halt.

She grabs your hand, which rests against the island countertop, before giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I’m glad that you two are doing this.” Her declaration is nothing but earnest. “It’s been forever since I’ve seen you this happy.”

You do feel happy. So happy that you’re almost wondering if it’s too good to be true. There’s a small second, during every night this past week, where you fear that you’ll fall asleep and wake up to this not being your reality anymore. A reality where Sevika doesn’t love you. A reality where you don’t get a second chance with her.

“I’m grateful but at the same time, I’m worried I’ll scare her away,” You admit. “Or lose her completely for that matter.”

“Oh babe,” Mel shakes her head, “You’ve always had her. She’s not going anywhere.”

The certainty in Mel’s response shocks you.

Your eyebrows raise while you appraise her. “...You really think so?”

She smiles smally, a knowing glint in those round brown eyes of her. “It’s hilarious that you’re still so oblivious.” She eats another spoonful of ice cream. “Trust me when I tell you this: that woman is fucking crazy about you.”

***

When you finally make your way to Sevika’s bedroom, you do your best to stay quiet.

Just as you imagined, you’re met with the sound of her soft snores once you open the door. Your muscles tense as you take a glance at her, noticing that her bedside lamp is still on. The room is tidier than you remember and as you tiptoe closer to the bed, you see a small pile of folded clothes at the foot of it.

Noisily, you reach out and grab them. There’s a pair of dark blue sweat pants with a t-shirt, boxers and some socks.

They smell clean, as if they were just freshly washed.

That’s when you realize that she’s most likely set them out for you.

With a fuzzy feeling blooming inside your chest, you tightly clutch the clothes while exiting the room. Quietly, you close the door behind you, thankful that Sevika is a deep sleeper. 

Your walk down the corridor is quick. The house is silent, almost everyone having succumbed to their slumber at this point, and you think that the stillness is peaceful. 

When you enter the guest bathroom, you notice that it’s still slightly foggy. Your body halts from the realization, glancing at your surroundings with slight hesitation. Of course, if you didn’t have a choice, you would gladly shower in here. But you didn’t particularly enjoy the sensation of the wet bath mat underneath your feet and it didn’t seem like there were any clean towels left, which meant that you’d have to look around the house anyway…

Turning on your heels, you find yourself retreating before you can even fully think this decision through. Your feet trek down the corridor like it’s muscle memory, passing the utility closet and Ava’s room and all the guest rooms. 

You enter the last room in the hallway. 

Your old bedroom.

It’s pitch black, so you blindly graze your hand against the walls until you find the light switch. It’s a panel of different settings; something that you remember Sevika having difficulty installing. You opt for the dimmest option.

The hardwood is chilly, which is starkly different from the faux rug in Sevika’s new room. You catch yourself welcoming the feeling. 

You suppose that a large part of you should feel unnerved by being in this room. And even though it’s a bit jarring, you can’t help but be relieved that you’re surrounded by a room so recognizable. It was comforting amidst all of the updates and changes that Sevika had made to this house. 

The next 15 minutes roll by quickly. After wandering back into the hallway to retrieve clean towels from the utility closet, you’re heading into the master bathroom. Thankfully, the water warms up quickly once you turn the shower on, and it doesn’t take long to find soap that is still in decent condition. 

You close the bathroom door, trying your best to not be overwhelmed by the memories that begin to bombard you.

This is the very same bathroom where you tested positive for Ava’s pregnancy.

The same bathroom that Sevika would decorate with candles and rose petals, filling the bathtub up with your favorite bubble soap. 

The same bathroom where you two would shower together. Some days she’d have her way with you, absolutely ruining you before carrying you back to bed.

Other days, the pair of you would get lost in the beautiful simplicity of cleaning each other; smelling of the same soap. She’d cackle at you every time you failed to not eat shit due to how slippery the shower floor was. And you’d scowl at her in return (despite loving the fact that you were able to make her laugh).

You can’t help but allow your mind to wander to your current apartment, which isn’t nearly as nice as this house but still feels like home all the same. Your shower was barely big enough to fit both you and Sevika, but the two of you had managed over the past week. Your apartment bathroom definitely wasn’t full of the same amount of heartfelt memories but it was unique in its own way; plastered with writing and painted hand-prints that you and Ava had done over the years.

Before you can drown further in your thoughts, you finally step out of the shower and begin to dry your body. Shivers ripple through you from the cold air.

Sevika’s clothes are slightly larger on you. You have to tighten the waistband of her sweatpants so they don’t fall off and her socks have excess room around your feet. You welcome the smell of her; the delicious woody scent that clings to her skin at all times. It lingers everywhere she goes and is the very thing that grounds you as you throw your dirty clothes into the laundry hamper that sits beside the digital scale. In one swift motion, you open the door as you flicker off the bathroom light, exhaling in relief because you finally feel clean.

“Holy shit!” You curse, jumping slightly. Your right hand presses against your chest and you immediately feel the rapid thumping of your heart.

“Sorry,” Sevika greets. Her eyes widen by a few centimeters, lips twitching while she takes in your frazzled state. “I woke up and couldn’t find you. I got worried.”

You stare at her, trying to reset your heart.

“I was going to come back.” You explain. Your hand falls back down to your side. “I wanted to shower first.”

Sevika is sitting on your side of the bed (at least, the side you used to sleep on). Her eyes are puffy and droopy, a clear sign that she’s just woken up from a deep sleep.

She wears black cotton shorts and a tank top. The swell of her breasts and her nipples (along with her nipple piercings), peek through the material of the shirt. The sight is tantalizing and would have completely distracted you if you weren’t already tempted by her sculpted shoulders; how they manage to convex perfectly as she places her hands on her knees.

Your arms fold across your frame while you walk towards her. “Thank you for setting your clothes out for me,” You whisper, taking a seat beside her.

The duvet is mind-numbingly soft underneath you. She doesn’t automatically reply.

Her gaze remains on the floor, her hands clasping together as she sits up straight.

Her lashes look soft as they brush her deep-set cheekbones with every blink. You take that as your opportunity to admire the roundness of her nose and the fullness of her lips. 

“I thought you would’ve been in the guest bathroom,” She finally says. 

You shift your weight, “Oh.”

It dawns on you that maybe this had been a mistake. That maybe you had jumped the gun.

That would make sense as to why she’s currently unable to look at you. 

“Is that where you would have preferred me to be?” You ask, voice growing smaller. Tentative. “I’m sorry if it’s too soon–me being in here. I wasn’t thinking.”

Her head snaps to you, brows shooting up. She seems bewildered. “What?” Searching your features, she shakes her head. “No.” She reaches forward, placing her hand on your knee. “I don’t mind you being in here. It just shocked me s’all. When I woke up, I thought that maybe you were still chatting with Mel or someplace downstairs.”

Her touch practically burns through the material of your sweatpants. 

You can’t help but appraise the way her hand rests on top of your leg; wondering, yet again, how you’ve managed to deny yourself of this for three years.

“I went to the guest bathroom first,” You admit. “And I could probably come up with some bullshit excuse but to be honest, I just found myself here–or rather, I wanted to be in here.” The weight of your words feel heavier than you intend. Sheepishly you shrug, peering up at her. “Is that weird for you?”

You watch your words wash over her with bated breath. Her pupils dilate, a flush of heat coursing through you from her smoldering stare. 

She hums softly and her hand stretches upwards, leaving a burning trail. Her palm is spread against your leg flatly, fingers finding solace against your upper thigh. “You don’t understand how long I’ve been dying to hear you say that.”

Your breath catches. “Really?”

She nods.

You tilt your head, watching her watch you. Her eyes are fluttering, gaze dancing between your eyes and your lips, as if she’s trying to look at both of them simultaneously. 

Your brain echoes the words of Mel from not too long ago…

Trust me when I tell you this: that woman is fucking crazy about you.

You take hold of her hand–the one that was gripping your thigh–to use as support. Then, in one swift motion, you pull her towards you, crashing your lips onto hers.

She inhales sharply, visibly surprised. And then she’s shifting, moving closer to you while tugging your hips. Seamlessly, you straddle her lap. Her tongue happily dances with yours while she moans into you. 

She begins to grind, pulling you against her with breathtaking strength. You feel warm and heady, chest rising against hers and back arching. 

When she breaks the kiss, she’s merely inches from your face, mumbling, “Correct me if I’m wrong. But I feel like you’re in love with me or something.”

Your face nearly breaks from the smile that stretches across your face.

A loud cackle falls from your lips and you notice that her own expression mirrors the joy sprouting from your heart. She watches you fondly, emitting a soft chuckle of her own.

Your hands are cupping the nape of her neck while your fingers massage her scalp. You sink farther into her lap; a subconscious reaction but a reaction that she likes nonetheless. 

“You couldn’t be more right.” You respond.

For a few seconds, silence filters into the room while you stare at her. You’re practically drunk from the intimacy and you think that this is the first time you’ve felt utterly consumed by love.

Your hands creep away from her neck, trailing her skin before they caress her cheeks. You hold her face still, leaning in to brush your nose against hers.

Time stretches. The tenderness in the air doesn’t exactly evaporate but instead dissipates into something perfervid. You’re well aware of the growing wetness in between your thighs; how your gut starts to tug with each passing moment. 

Your body becomes a mind of its own as you climb off of Sevika. 

Her gaze is pressing. “What is it?” She questions in confusion.

Your mouth waters as you kneel to the floor. You place your hands on her thighs, whispering, “Can I taste you?” It comes out as a desperate plea. “...Show you how much I love you?”

When you glance at her, you feel thrilled to see a reflection of desire. 

“Here? Right now?” Her voice is gravelly. Husky. 

“I’ve been wanting to all day.” You allow your nails to dig into her skin, lightly scratching her lower thighs. You aren’t even sure if the rest of your friends are fully asleep. They could honestly walk in at any minute.

But you can’t help yourself.

You need her.

“Close the door.” She replies. You stand to your feet without hesitation. “And lock it.”

After securing the door and turning around, you find her standing and the look on her face makes you feel as if you’ve just won the lottery.

You don’t give her much time to say anything else. 

Once you reach her, you’re tugging at her shorts. She’s kissing your neck, shuddering when your fingertips graze her lower stomach.

Quickly, she steps out of her clothes, detaching her lips from you so that she can tug her shirt over her head.

You’re on your knees in seconds, mouth watering at the glistening of her folds. 

“Just a taste,” You find yourself saying. “That’s all I need.” 

You swallow thickly, peering at her under your lashes. One of her hands comes to rest against the back of your head. 

“Are you really begging for it?” She sounds pleased but there’s also an underlying layer of admiration.

“Has there ever been a time when I haven’t?”

Because you always did throughout the marriage. You were never afraid to show her how desperate she made you.

Her lip twitches and she nudges you forward. “Go on then.”

You grip the back of her thighs as your tongue darts out to swipe her folds. It’s slow. Teasing. And you practically moan at the taste, overwhelmed by her musky scent. She hisses, digging into your scalp and tugging. The pain is short lived but is enough to have you nearly soaking through your pants. 

Fervently, your tongue circles her clit before you suck, tasting more of her–lapping up all that you can. 

“Fuck, baby.” She slurs, voice melting into a grunt. 

And she does it again–tugging your scalp. 

She slams your face against her cunt, your nose burying deep into her while she grinds slowly. She’s towering over you at this point, holding your head in place while she ruts against you as if you’re her own personal toy.

She continues to leak onto you, her juices trickling down your neck as your tongue shoots out. You can’t see anything, the weight of her overpowering you in just the right way. 

“You’re perfect,” Her hips buck with bruising force. “...Wanting me to use you like this.”

The sound of her wet pussy, humping and fucking your face, is sacred.

You emit a garbled moan.

Every thrust becomes more urgent and she holds your head with both hands now, her breathing ragged. 

You can tell she’s trying to control herself, not wanting to be so loud that the pair of you will grow to regret this tomorrow.

But her grunts only become more feral as time passes on. Eagerly, you keep your tongue out, slurping up what you can.

It’s brutal.

It’s beautiful.

“I’m–shit–you feel so good,” She grunts. “Your face is practically made for me.”

The praise sends a shudder through you. You whimper, palms pressing against the back of her thighs to press her further against you–eager to please her. 

That seems to send her over the edge, her thrusts shuddering as she lets out a low and guttural moan. 

“Fucking perfect.” She gasps, coming undone. She explodes onto your tongue all at once.

You drink everything that she gives you, swallowing heartily. Her rutting is slow to die down, hips adjusting to a rhythm that is sluggish. 

You don’t realize how dazed you are until she comes to a stop, releasing her hold on you as she exhales shakily. 

“Was that okay?” You can’t help but ask, still panting. 

You wipe your face, licking all of her juices off of your fingers.

She helps you stand, wrapping an arm around your waist while she crouches down to meet your eyes. “More than okay.”

And she kisses you. 

You smile against her lips, completely blissed out.

“I nearly died.” She adds. “...In the best way.”

You giggle before you reach forward to wrap your arms around her neck. “Let’s do it again, then.”

She inhales sharply, jaw falling slack.

“We need to move to the bed though.” You admonish. “My knees aren’t what they used to be.” 

[anthorius]

Art by Shuhao jiang

[anthorius]

—Hot Line (firefighter sevika x reader)

chapter 1 - next

synopsis: You’re fast asleep in your comfy little apartment, when the building fire alarm rips you from slumber like a personal attack. Groggy, annoyed, and barefoot, you stumble outside with the rest of your neighbors, expecting a false alarm and nothing more

What you don’t expect? A real fire. And an even realer firefighter—tall, broad-shouldered, absolutely gorgeous, and of course it’s her you choose to ask if you can go back to your home safe.

words: 2.2k (masterlist)

cw: meet-cute, slow burn, girls kissing/making-out, sexual tension, curious hands, fluff and crack. We’re going to horny jail, better touch grass

! comment to be tagged in next chapter !

You wake up to the ear-splitting screech of the fire alarm like it owes you money.

One second you’re dreaming peacefully about a stupid story that makes no sense, and the next—you’re blinking in the red glow of your bedroom alarm light, heart pounding like you just committed arson yourself.

“Damn,” you mutter, groaning as you swing your legs out of bed.

The room is cold. Too cold for your stupid little cotton nightgown, the one with the lace trim you swore you’d only wear for yourself and God. But whatever. You’re not thinking straight, not with the alarm still wailing like a banshee on fire.

You shove your feet into the first shoes you find by the door.

Combat boots. Good. Cute. Functional.

A tragic pairing with the nightgown, but you’re not in the mood to curate a fire-evacuation lookbook.

Out in the hallway, a few other residents are doing the same walk of shame—half-asleep, confused, wrapped in robes or dragging blankets like dramatic ghosts. You all shuffle down the stairs in a quiet, shared misery.

The air outside is biting, and you wince as the night air hits your legs. The boots weren’t a bad idea, actually. Your neighbors gather in loose clusters on the sidewalk, exchanging annoyed looks and whispered complaints. You squint up at the building.

And that’s when you see it.

Actual flames.

Real, orange, moving fire flickering through the window of old Mrs. Donnelly’s apartment on the second floor.

Your mouth falls open. “Wow.”

Mrs. Donnelly isn’t even in the country. She left three weeks ago and swore she’d be back with questionable wine. There’s no reason her apartment should be doing… that.

Before you can process anything else, a big, warm shape appears in front of you. A firefighter—tall, serious, and clearly used to dealing with confused people in weird pajamas—drapes a yellow emergency blanket over your shoulders like it’s totally normal for you to be out here half-dressed at 2AM.

“It’s just procedure,” he says, not unkindly.

You nod dumbly. “Sure. Thanks. Procedure. Okay.” You smile politely, but the man doesn’t get the time to see it before walking away to his duty.

You sit down on the edge of the fire truck because your legs are cold and honestly, you don’t know what else to do. You watch the glow of the fire through the second-floor window, blanket tucked around you like you’re camping in hell.

You’ve been sitting on the edge of the fire truck for what feels like forever, legs swinging absently, the cold biting at your knees even with the yellow blanket still around your shoulders. Most of the building’s lights are back on now. A few neighbors have returned inside. One of the firefighters gives the all-clear to an older man wrapped in a bathrobe, and you start to wonder if maybe it’s safe for you to crawl back into your sad little bed and pretend this never happened.

But instead of waiting, you hop down from your perch—boots hitting pavement with a soft thud—and you walk over to one of the firewomen standing near the truck. The blanket around your shoulders shifts, and you clutch it tighter on instinct, suddenly aware of how ridiculous you must look—wrapped in yellow polyester like a very sad burrito in combat boots.

She’s tall. Tall enough that you have to tip your head back slightly to look at her face. Her jacket’s unzipped just enough to see the dark tee beneath it, and her sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, revealing a strong arm dusted with ash and soot and a mech one. She looks like she walked out of a calendar made specifically to ruin lives, not save them.

You swallow, smile, and try not to stare too hard.

You clear your throat gently. “Evening.”

Her eyes flick to yours. There’s a pause. Then, in a voice like smoke and gravel:

“Evening, ma’am.”

You blink.

Oh.

Okay.

You weren’t expecting the ma’am. Or the low rasp. Or the fact that she says it without an ounce of sarcasm—just calm professionalism, like she doesn’t notice the way you’re standing there in a nightgown and combat boots like some kind of unhinged fairy tale character.

“I just—” You gesture toward the building with one hand. “Wanted to ask if everything’s alright now? If I can head back in? I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t want to, like… break protocol or something.”

Her brow lifts slightly, amused.

You swear you see the corners of her mouth twitch—just a bit—as she gives you a slow once-over. Not rude. Just observant. Curious. Like she’s trying to make sense of this nightgown-clad puzzle who showed up at her fire scene like it’s totally normal to be this adorable and mildly flustered.

“You always wear boots with a nightgown?” she asks, dry but not unkind.

Your eyes widen. “Oh my God.”

You immediately look down, suddenly so aware of your chaotic outfit. The emergency blanket doesn’t help. You grab at the edge of it, fidgeting without thinking.

“I forgot I was still wrapped in this thing,” you say with a soft, flustered laugh. “Sorry, you must think I’m completely—”

Before you can finish, she steps forward—not close, but enough to bridge the space between you—and lifts the blanket clean out of your hands.

“I’ll take that,” she says, smooth as anything.

You go quiet, watching as she turns slightly and drapes it over the open ledge of the truck behind her. She doesn’t miss a beat. Like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“Name’s Sevika,” she says when she turns back, meeting your eyes. Confident. Solid. Like she knows her name sounds good coming out of her mouth.

Of course it does.

You swallow and nod, smiling despite yourself.

“Sevika,” you say again, immediately regretting it. “Wow. Sorry. I—uh— my name, yes.”

That smirk returns. The brow lifts just a little higher. She doesn’t press. Just waits.

You tell her your name this time, correctly, and she nods once.

“Nice to meet you.”

You feel warm. Still slightly ridiculous. But her voice is steady, her eyes are dark and calm, and even though she’s clearly got a job to do, she hasn’t walked away yet.

Sevika shifts her weight, glancing briefly toward the building, then back to you.

“You’re good to head in,” she says. “We’ve cleared everything. Just keep your windows open for a bit. Air the place out.”

You nod. “Got it. Windows. Air. Okay.”

She doesn’t move right away. Her eyes linger on you for a second too long, and then—just as she turns slightly, like she’s about to step away—she throws it in, so casually you almost miss it:

“Sleep tight, Miss Nightgown.”

You freeze mentally.

Heat rushes straight to your face like someone lit you on fire. You try to play it cool—you do—but the smile that pulls at your lips is instant and completely helpless. You laugh, soft and embarrassed, eyes dropping to the ground before darting back up to her face.

“That’s not gonna stick, is it?”

Sevika just smirks, one eyebrow raised again like that’s an answer in itself. You’re pretty sure that’s her default expression and also your new religion.

Not to be too dramatic, of course.

Your cheeks are burning. Your heart’s doing something completely uncool in your chest. But you still nod, still somehow manage words.

“Okay then,” you say, backing up a half step, giving a little awkward wave. “Good night. Goodbye. I mean.” You blink. Panic.

“Jesus. Alright. Bye.”

And then you turn. Walk away. Definitely not fast. Definitely not running. Even if you want to. Just… leaving. Like a normal human who wasn’t just flirted with by a hot firefighter while standing in boots and a literal nightie.

You’re halfway across the sidewalk when you hear it—faint, under her breath, but unmistakable:

A quiet chuckle.

That night, after you manage to get back inside and shed your smoke-scented dignity at the door, you crawl into bed and stare at the ceiling for a full minute before reaching for your phone.

You don’t text about the fire. You completely forget about the fire.

Instead, you send your best friend a single, life-altering message:

A firewoman named Sevika just called me Miss Nightgown.

A follow-up comes exactly two seconds later:

She was like 6ft tall and hot and said ma’am and smirked at me. She wants me.

Your friend replies immediately with twenty-seven capital letters, several selfies of her screaming, and a helpful “go back outside and fake a fainting spell.” You’re tempted.

But you don’t see Sevika again.

Not that week. Not the next. Two whole weeks go by and to your ultimate, soul-destroying despair, the firefighter of your dreams seems to have disappeared off the face of the planet.

You still pass the station on your way to work. It’s not even out of the way—you just happen to take that street. That slow, steady walk past the glass windows where you may or may not slow down slightly and glance (longingly) in. No Sevika.

Once, you think you spot her—broad shoulders, a familiar ponytail—but it’s just a different firefighter. You go through all five stages of grief in under a minute.

At work, it’s easier to forget. You love your job. It’s a small, sunny café tucked between the library and the post office, and it has that cozy, well-loved feeling that draws all the best kinds of people. In the mornings, students settle in with their laptops and noise-canceling headphones. Elderly regulars read the paper and talk politics with anyone who will listen. On weekends, families flood in for pancakes and coffee and croissants that go suspiciously fast.

You know half the orders by heart. The baristas are your people. The espresso machine’s temperamental, the fan in the kitchen rattles in a terrifying way, and the register lags if you hit the wrong key—but you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

It’s a slow Tuesday morning when it happens.

Today, you’re working the morning shift, dressed comfy-cute in baggy jeans, a soft cami top, and your favorite Mary Janes. Your hair’s doing that nice thing it rarely does, and you’re actually in a really good mood. You and Sana are laughing behind the counter, and you’re putting the finishing touch—cocoa powder in a soft heart shape—on a perfect cup of hot chocolate for an old woman sitting outside.

You glance up.

And then your entire soul leaves your body.

Sevika.

Walking in.

With four other firefighters, all laughing about something—one of them says something about how “you owe me a muffin, I was the one on the ladder,” and it doesn’t matter because Sevika is right there, in the middle of your café, looking terrifyingly hot in her off-duty black tee and tactical pants, like she didn’t just vanish into the ether for two weeks and leave you wondering if she was a shared hallucination.

You mentally scream.

Out loud, you say nothing. Absolutely nothing.

But your coworker sees your face—sees the way your brain visibly shuts down mid-sentence—and whips around.

“Oh my God,” she hisses under her breath. “Is that her??”

You nod mutely.

Before you can say another word, Sana suspiciously straightens up and goes, “Oh shoot—I forgot to refill the pastry counter. Give me the chocolate. You’ve got the front?”

“What? No—Sana—” you whisper.

“Thanks, love you, bye!”

And she vanishes.

You’re alone.

You take a breath. Smile. Step up to the register with the warmth of someone who’s definitely not dying inside. You can do this. Just firefighters. Plural. Whatever.

The one at the front of the group steps up to the counter.

A man. Tall, friendly face, dimples. “Hi maam,” he says. “We’ll take five coffees—three black, one with oat milk, one hot chocolate. And…” he glances back at his crew. “Uh, two muffins and one of those little lemon tarts if you’ve got any left.”

You nod, too fast. “Consider it done!”

You definitely don’t look behind him. You try not to.

But you feel it.

You feel a gaze on you. Like heat. You know it’s her.

And then—

“Miss Nightgown.”

That voice. That exact voice.

Low. Rough. Slightly teasing.

You look up slowly, controlled. You’re about to implode but no one knows that.

And there she is.

Now, she’s leaning casually near the doorway, half her weight on one leg, arms crossed, hair tied back, and smirking.

Sevika.

The man at the front pays for the order with a cheerful “thanks,” and you manage to give him a very normal, very composed wide smile, despite the heat crawling up your neck.

The group starts to move toward the seating area, boots thudding against the floor, and just as they pass Sevika—still lounging near the door—one of them lets out a low whistle.

Sevika doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even look at him. But her smirk deepens just enough to make your knees wobble.

You glance up at her again, biting the inside of your cheek to hide the grin threatening to take over your face.

“I told you my name, you know,” you say, voice playful, meaning clear.

She raises an eyebrow. Slowly. Like she’s enjoying this way too much.

“Yeah,” she says, voice low. “But Miss Nightgown suits you better.”

You feel your soul leave your body.

Somewhere behind you, you’re pretty sure you hear Sana drop something and mutter ‘Jesus Christ’ under her breath.

The other firefighters have already settled into their seats, talking among themselves, leaving Sevika alone by the counter while you—red-faced and smiling like a fool—start prepping their drinks.

You grab a cup, trying very hard not to spill as you pour. “So… how’ve you been?”

Sevika leans an elbow casually on the counter. “Busy. Fires don’t wait for polite hours.”

“Rude of them,” you say, half-laughing as you reach for another cup. “Some of us are trying to sleep in nightgowns.”

Her eyes glint. “Tragic.”

You glance at her, and she’s already looking at you—calm, confident, like she’s got all the time in the world.

Your heart is not behaving.

You hand her the first drink, your fingers brushing hers just slightly, and you almost combust on the spot. She doesn’t move away right away. Doesn’t rush off. Just lingers.

“Still wearing boots with your sleepwear?” she asks, teasing but soft.

You laugh, warm and embarrassed, shaking your head. “No, just emotional armor these days.”

She huffs out something like a chuckle. It’s quiet but real. You’re quite proud of yourself.

And then you’re pouring the oat milk one, hands moving automatically, wondering if she can see how red your face is from across the damn counter.

You hand off the last drink—carefully balanced tray in Sevika’s hands—and wipe your fingers on a napkin like it’ll help your pulse settle.

She doesn’t move.

Not yet.

“I’m not overnight today though,” she says, casually. Like it’s nothing. Like your brain isn’t already slipping out of your ears from the way she says it.

You blink. “Oh?”

She tilts her head just slightly, eyes still on you. “What time’s your shift done?”

You open your mouth, but the words stall. There’s a pause—just one heartbeat—and then you’re smiling like you can’t help it, cheeks warming fast.

“Seven,” you say, voice soft. “I close up at seven.”

Sevika just nods, like that’s what she wanted to hear. Her smirk is subtle, but it lands. Right in your chest.

“Wait for me at the station.”

She says it simple. No flourish. No unnecessary fluff. Just direct. Like it’s obvious you will.

You bite your lower lip to stop from grinning. It does nothing. Your whole face is giving you away.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Okay.”

And then she turns, finally, drinks in hand, and heads back to her crew like she didn’t just drop a bomb on your day. You watch them leave—hear the bell above the café door jingle as it swings shut.

No beta read, maybe it doesn’t make much sense sometimes, sorry for that— I start to feel crazy when I spend too much time on a fic

I’m having fun with this, like there’s definitely going to be sexual tension and kinda smutty scenes but nothing spectacular ? Just enough to make us damp down there. My bad, that was the wind

The cafe part is definitely inspired from reality 🫠 there’s this police and this firefighter station next to my fav cafe I go to every week and I talked a few times with the police officers and the firefighters women… heh, lucky me 🔥

dividers: @/cursed-carmine

taglist: @lonerslug @blessupblessup @riotstemple29 @sevikasswifee @ahintofchaos @archangeldyke-all (tell me if you wanna be removed off the taglist for this fic since it’s multi chapters and you don’t wanna be updated)

[anthorius]

Hi my loves! Here's some more Sevika cause- yes. I hope tumblr doesn't mind some titiees...

[anthorius]

For most people, life doesn’t truly begin until they’re 26-30 or older. The way we romanticize and obsess over youth is super harmful. Your life is not over at 21, I promise you. It’s just beginning

[anthorius]

am sad and wanna cuddle her so bad 🥲

MINORS, AGELESS BLOGS AND MEN DNI

[anthorius]

Sevika x reader with a child. Said child wants to be a mini Sevika, they literally admire sevika sm, they try to copy the way she dresses and tries to act like her and even tries to follow her on missions

Like Mama Sevika

Sevika’s got a cigarette hanging loose from her lips, one arm resting lazily on the back of the couch when the sound of tiny boots clunking across the floor makes her lift her head.

“Look!” your daughter announces proudly, striking the most dramatic pose her tiny limbs can manage. She’s wearing Sevika’s spare coat, the leather one, far too big on her it trails behind her like a cape, a red marker line scribbled across her cheek like a fake scar, and she’s holding a toy wrench like a weapon.

Sevika blinks.

Then lets the cigarette drop from her mouth. “…The hell?”

“Language,” you say automatically from the kitchen, holding a spoon threateningly.

“She looks like me,” Sevika mutters, eyes narrowed. “She’s doing me. That’s my slouch.”

“I am you,” your daughter pipes up. “I’m like mama sevika!”

Sevika shoots you a look like, this is your fault.

You grin and shrug. “She says you’re the coolest person in Zaun. Her words.”

“She’s not wrong,” Sevika mumbles, but you can see it, the slight twitch of her lip, how her gaze softens. She doesn’t do well with compliments. Especially not from a six-year-old in combat boots three sizes too big.

Mini vika stomps closer, arms crossed like Sevika does when she’s being a little too smug. “I’m coming on your next mission.”

“No, you’re not,” Sevika says immediately, firm but almost laughing.

“But I have the scar.”

“It’s marker.”

“I have the coat.”

“You’re swimming in it.”

“I trained,” she insists, puffing out her chest. “I punched a pillow and everything.”

Sevika rubs a hand down her face, but the sound that escapes is a huff of affection. “Kid, you can’t come. Missions are dangerous.”

“I’m not scared.”

“I am.” Sevika glances at you like she didn’t mean to say it out loud.

You smile, heart melting a little.

Your daughter, undeterred, climbs up beside her on the couch, booted feet kicking. “Then I’ll protect you.”

Sevika pauses. Looks down at this tiny version of herself with scuffed knees and too much heart.

“…Shit,” she whispers, shaking her head.

“Language,” both you and your daughter say at the same time.

Sevika groans. “Great. Two of you now.”

You walk over and ruffle your daughter’s head, then kiss Sevika’s temple. “You’re a good role model, you know.” Sevika snorts. “No I’m not.”

But she doesn’t stop your daughter when she curls up under her arm like a baby bear, fake scar smudging against her shirt.

She doesn’t stop her the next day either, when the kid shows up at breakfast wearing a makeshift mechanical arm made out of cardboard and foil.

“She called it the Clanker 9000,” you whisper, laughing into your hand.

Sevika just sighs, but she’s biting back a grin. “God help Zaun if she actually becomes me.” You lean on the counter, watching your two girls, one grown and rough around the edges, the other all dreams and scraped knees. “I think Zaun would be lucky.”

And for once, Sevika doesn’t argue.

[anthorius]

hear me out😓😓sevika x reader where reader is incredibly sensitive during sex 😣😣😣

⌇ SENSITIVITYノ—DRABBLE

fingering, mean!sevika

you gasped when sevikas fingers grazed against the inside of your thigh. “shit,” sevika saw the way goosebumps covered your skin, “youre aroused already? i only just touched you.” you glared at her, your cheeks flushing.

“dont be mean.”

“oh but you love it when im mean,” sevika leaned in and kissed you, playfully teasing you as her nose rubbed against yours. her palm cupped your aching heat, fingers sliding barely past your folds. your breath hitched. “relax...” sevika muttered against your ear.

“i am relaxing, sev,” you said defensively, “im just sensitive... haven't been touched for a while...”

sevika chuckled and pressed a kiss to the side of your throat. “i can tell. the moment i told you id fuck you, your eyes lit up so quick i could tell you're a sweet innocent thing waiting to be broken.” you pouted at her.

“dont be mean,” you repeated althought you knew she wouldn't listen. sevikas mechanical arm curved under your waist, pulling you closer as her fingertips parted your folds and pussy lips.

“wet for me... all for me,” sevika kissed down the column of your neck and you gasped when one digit pressed against your entrance.

“shit, if you're so sensitive with just a finger how'd you react with four?”

[anthorius]

I wanna draw more Sevika but I have no thoughts in mind for an actual piece for some reason and pinterest aint pinteresting right now so here are some rough sketches of her with long hair that im gonna hate when I've slept and am awake at a reasonable time