imheadintothemountains

[imheadintothemountains]

AHHHH ITS HAPPENING

PART FOUR

summary: in which you and sevika are divorced. part one, two and three. part five will be published soon.

word count: 7517

content warning; angst, smut, yearning and fluff.

thanks for reading!

~~~

Felicity’s jaw drops when you tell her that you’ve made amends with Sevika.

The silence that drags through her office is palpable. 

She waits, clearly gobsmacked, while you sit awkwardly across from her. Your hands fidget with the bracelet on your wrist that Ava’s given you.

Clearing your throat, you add, “We want to be friends.”

Her eyebrows shoot up, a cough leaving her seconds after. “A-Are you–”

“Obviously, not automatically. But we hope to get there,” You shift your weight. “Someday.”

She blinks. “Okay.” Her pen taps against her notepad. “Wow.”

“I just thought…” You shrug. “I’m tired of being stuck where I’m at. And what I have been doing isn’t working. It’s shocking, I know…But you were right.”

Felicity’s eyes sparkle with genuine merriment. “I’m proud of you.”

***

You heave a sigh, head falling back against the leather head-rest of your seat. A few beads of sweat trickle down your temples. 

15 minutes.

That’s how long it’s been since you’ve arrived at Sevika’s house. You’re supposed to be picking up Ava and you’ve texted her 3 times since arrival. There still hasn’t been a reply.

Usually, Sevika is very punctual. It’s rare that she doesn’t drop off or pick up Ava on time. Wrinkling your nose, you take your keys out of the ignition and open your door. This is something that you usually try to avoid–getting too close to Sevika’s house. Sometimes you meet her on her porch but most days she walks Ava to your car. It’s an unspoken agreement. During the first few months of Ava’s visitation, Sevika would attempt to invite you inside her house; always for a drink of water or snack. But she soon realized that you’d never say yes and therefore stopped.

Your walk across her front yard isn’t a short one. Her house is located on the outskirts of town, surrounded by acres of land with lush green grass that she consistently cuts and tends to. The grass in question tickles your feet with every stride, thanks to your sandals, and it’s a feeling that you welcome; a feeling that you don’t experience deep in the city where your apartment is. 

You hike your purse up on your shoulder, grateful that you’d been smart enough to check the weather forecast today. It's starting to reach the sweltering part of the summer, where you can only comfortably wear dresses without melting. Today, you’re sporting a yellow one.

When you reach the front door, you raise your hand to knock–but then you pause. Right fist hanging mid-air, your eyebrows furrow as you try to rationalize what you’re doing. Your gaze travels around your surroundings, surveilling the all-too-familiar furniture. Upon inspecting the white rocking chair, your muscles tense. It’s still bright in color, clearly cleaned on a regular basis.

That hadn’t been there before…

Forcing an exhale, you tear your eyes away, knocking three times. Your face winces with the amount of force you use and you rub your knuckles against your thigh.

A few seconds pass, murmuring occurring on the other side of the door before it swings open.

Mel stands before you.

She has a carrot hanging from her mouth, eyes surveilling you before widening. “Shit!” She exclaims, voice muffled from the food. “We lost track of time. Come in!”

Her hand reaches forward and grabs your right wrist before pulling you through the threshold. Your eyebrows raise and you chuckle in surprise. “Well hi.”

“...Sev told us you should be coming but we got so caught up…” 

You’re smacked with the smell of fresh pine; the invigorating woody yet sweet smell that always wafts off of Sevika. Whenever you’re near her, it clings to the air in a subtle way. It’s been a long, long while since you’ve encountered what it’s like to be fully wrapped up in it though. 

You swallow thickly, eyes blinking as they adjust to the room that you’re in. It’s the front sitting room, decorated with old paintings that you haven’t seen in years. The walls are painted a dark Mulberry Purple, two black loveseats facing each other with a gold coffee table in between. A stack of children’s books sit in one of the seats, most definitely Ava’s, with miscellaneous toys strewn around the room. Your eyes are looking everywhere, trying to take in what’s familiar and what’s different.

Before you can spiral, Mel is pulling you through the room. “Everyone’s in the back.”

You barely process what Mel says, “She painted the walls?”

A hesitation. 

“Well,” Mel begins, voice soft. “It has been years, so…”

You’re walking down the hallway, passing the winding stairwell that leads to the second floor. More paintings litter the walls. 

Then there’s the room with a single-panel glass door. 

A sharp memory of Sevika installing that door, cigar hanging loosely from her lips, revisits you. Your gut tugs.

Mel leads you through the living room, which upon a quick glance, your shoulders relax. It hasn't changed. There’s the black 5-piece suede chaise with grey pillow accents, 75-inch flat screen TV hanging from the wall (bigger than you remember), more toys sprawled on the ground. 

“Have you not been inside since…” Mel trails off. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice that she looks at you over her shoulder.

You grimace at the question, allowing her to pull you through the kitchen, then the dining room.

You don’t reply which is an answer within itself.

The back patio door that’s connected to the dining room is cracked open. You hear loads of giggling and hushed voices.

Mel opens the door fully, leading you to the backyard, which opens up to more grassland. There’s a small wooden playset consisting of swings, a tube slide and playhouse to your left. A blue kiddie pool is positioned to the right.

“Mommy!” The distant exclamation comes from Ava. She’s on a swing, gently gliding with the assistance of Sevika. Beside her, Lianna does the same with Grayson standing near.

The third person near them, who you barely notice until everyone looks in your direction, is Hazel. Dressed in another pair of her signature pilates-wear, she stands with her hands on her hips. Your eye twitches.

“We were playing spades, you know how Sev gets.” Mel explains, linking her arm with yours. The both of you walk down the porch steps in sync. “Anyways, three rematches later and here we are. Just know that she wasn’t intentionally ignoring you.”

Your brain travels to the previous decade that you’ve spent watching Sevika engage in rounds of Spades and Poker. The way her eyebrows always furrowed in concentration, gaze sharp, muscles taut. Her attitude would become the worse during those moments, completely foul and deadly. Anyone on the opposing end, which usually ended up being Grayson or Mel, would often lose.

And after a night of winning, when everyone would go home, she’d take you to bed and she’d have her way with you, which you always loved…

But now, she has Hazel.

Hazel, the perfect woman with insane abs and a lean physique. 

Hazel, her girlfriend.

You don’t realize how hard you’re staring at Hazel until Mel clears her throat.

“Were you waiting long?” Grayson asks, pulling your attention. When you look at her, you notice the way her eyes are glistening. You already know what she’s thinking–and you’ll probably receive some smart-mouthed text from her later on. She never fails to tease you about your obvious dislike for Hazel.

“Probably,” Mel checks her watch. “Fuck! It’s almost 5.”

You’ve been waiting since 4:30.

“Christ,” Sevika curses. She has already pulled Ava out of the swingset, resting your daughter on her waist and walking towards you. “I’m sorry.  I had no idea or else I would have bee-”

“Sev,” You hand shoots up. “It’s okay.” 

She stops in front of you, searching your features with obvious worry. 

Her hair has been pulled into a low bun, broad shoulders on display thanks to her black tank top. The shirt is thin and seemingly lightweight, due to her nipple piercings peaking through the material. It’s also tight, clinging to her ripped torso quite perfectly. You tear your eyes from her physique, hairs standing on your body from feeling…scandalized. The weight of everyone’s gaze feels heavy at that moment. 

“How are you?” You find yourself asking; suddenly desperate to know. 

“I’m well. And you?”

“I’m good.” Finding the pure brown orbs of your daughter, you reach forward and tickle her nose. She smiles. “Happy to see you, my little bug.”

Ava laughs. “I’m not a bug!”

“Really?” Your smile widens, humoring her. “Are you sure?”

“I’m a person,” She giggles. “A baby!”

“I don’t know,” Sevika mumbles, kissing Ava’s temple. “If Mommy says you’re a bug, then…you must be. Are those wings I see?”

You inch forward, slightly closing the distance between you and Sevika while you glance over Ava’s shoulder, feigning surprise.

“Those are wings,” You gasp. “And…Antennae!” Your hands find the crook of Ava’s neck, tickling her. 

She squeals in delight. “No! I’m-I’m,” Another fit of giggles. “Human!”

“My little human-bug,” You correct, hands dropping as you kiss her cheek. 

“Sorry again about losing track of time,” A voice interjects. Hazel’s. “But I’m happy to see you. I feel like it’s been forever.”

You stiffen, leaning back and straightening your posture. Peering to your left, you observe the way Hazel takes place beside Sevika. It almost feels as if she’s…intruding.

“I was beginning to worry,” Hazel continues, a bright smile stretching across her face. Her voice is syrupy-sweet. “The last time I saw you…Oh wow. I think it’s been nearly a month, no?”

Your nose wrinkles. “Nearly.”

“...And you look bone-tired, dear. Practically depleted. How long were you waiting in your car?”

Your arms cross over your chest. “Long enou-”

“Hazel!” Mel chimes, voice uncharacteristically notches higher. “Don’t you want to help me start dinner?”

“Not necessarily.”

“Really?” There’s a hard edge to Mel’s voice. “I could have sworn that we talked earlier about–”

“I’m okay, Mel, deary. Thanks though.”

Silence.

Another gust of wind appears. 

“Never a dull day…” You hear Grayson murmur, Lianna in her arms. “Hazel, if I were you, I would probably join Mel. She doesn’t like when someone,” Grayson coughs. “...Goes against their word.”

Hazel peers at Sevika, eyebrow quirking up challengingly. Almost as if she’s…waiting for something. But Sevika merely rolls her lips into her mouth, staring back at Hazel wordlessly.

After a few uncomfortable moments pass, Sevika says, “Well, it’s up to you. I’m sure Mel would understand though if you’ve changed yo–”

“Hazel!” Mel calls again. 

Hazel clucks her tongue, sharp orbs setting on you. It looks as if she’s internally debating something, as if you standing in front of her seems to be more dire than Mel. 

Slowly, eyes still daringly appraising you, Hazel rests her hand on Sevika’s forearm–the arm that holds Ava. “I’ll see you inside,” Hazel coo’s, kissing Sevika’s cheek. 

That causes you to avert your attention, finding sudden interest in the grass.

Hazel brushes past you, saying something to Grayson that your brain struggles to register as the two of them head back inside the house.

“She…isn’t in the best mood today,” Sevika explains. 

You hum, “...Never seen her like that before.”

A shrug. “She has her days.”

You take advantage of that moment, watching the way that the sunlight beautifully beams against Sevika’s skin. Seeing her sun-kissed has always felt sacred. 

“You do seem a little spent. Um, are you thirsty?” 

Your eyes widen at Sevika’s question. 

She wets her lips. “Like, do you want water or anything?” 

“I’m okay.”

Her lips part, throat bobbing as she swallows. “C’mon,” She whispers. “It’s 90 degrees out. At least a cup before you head home?”

“Yeah, c’mon,” Ava parrots, always taking after her Mom.

A gusty titter leaves you. You press a palm against your cheek.

“Yeah?” Sevika adds, pressing on.

Nodding, you clench your teeth, hating the smile that won’t leave your face. “Okay. Just one cup.”

Sevika’s eyebrows shoot up, “Well, would you look at that!” Her lips part, a breath-taking grin peeking through. It nearly paralyzes you. You haven’t seen her look like this in forever. “It only took 3 years. Can you believe it?” She murmurs to Ava.

Your eyes roll and you laugh again. “You’re an idiot.”

Sevika hums, appearing smug. “Maybe so.”

You fear you might die then, standing in front of her without the presence of trepidation. It’s definitely something that you’ll have to get used to–this newfound path to friendship. But, for now, you try to not let your brain get the best of you. 

The stroll back to the house is slow, both yours and Sevika’s strides miniscule. It’s a snail pace to be honest but you don’t seem to mind. 

“It’s beautiful here,” You find yourself muttering. Your hands gesture in front of you. “The house…”

Our house.

A lump takes root in your throat. 

Swallowing, you try again. “It’s good for Ava. That she can grow up here. That you’re giving her this…”

That we gave her this.

“I…” Your hands tug on each other, palms growing clammy. “I want to apologize to you. For leaving you here.” Blinking rapidly, you exhale. “For abandoning you, and us and this…this life.” Her stare burns the side of your face. “I’ve been thinking since the last time we talked. And I realized I never apologized. And I do want you to know that I’m sorry. That I carry that remorse with me almost everyday. That I wish, in another life, I didn’t do that to you.” Rubbing your hands against the material of your dress, you find your courage to face her head-on despite your welling eyes. Your feet come to a stop. She mirrors you. “The sitting room…and the paint. I know you’ve always loved that color. I saw the portrait, the one Dad made you…I’m glad you finally hung it up.”

She drinks in everything you’re saying as if your word is the bible.

“Dad wouldn’t have liked Ava’s toys lying everywhere though. Jesus Christ.” You laugh tearfully. She joins you. “And that rocking chair…”

Your rocking chair.

“Do you still use your office?” Your mouth is running faster than your brain. This newfound eagerness…this liveliness…it’s simultaneously foreign and familiar. 

“Of course,” Her voice is tender, swirling grey orbs darkening with each second. 

You’re sure that your heart will burst if it swells any more. 

“You’re more than welcome to be here, you know. You always have been.” Sevika’s voice is huskier, ringing with pure honesty.  “To visit,” She quickly corrects. “...If you want.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” You grow visibly unsure. “The commute is a pain.”

“Even if it’s just on pick-up days.” She shifts her weight. “And I can always drop the rocking chair off to you…if you want to use it again.”

“I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“I don’t mind, it was a gift. It’s yours to have.”

The reminder brings you back to a time where you and Sevika were happily in love. She had secretly made you the rocking chair from scratch; hand-carving intricate etchings and floral engravings into the wood. She surprised you with it once you reached 7 months pregnant.

The nostalgia leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. 

“Or the days when you need to clear your head, you don’t even have to text.” Sevika continues. “You can come and just sit in it. I cleaned the foot-stool last month.”

Your eyes flutter shut as you think about the reality of Sevika still doing all of this upkeep. You wouldn’t have been angry with her if she had decided to throw all of your things away. In fact, that’s probably what you would’ve expected. 

Ava reaches for you silently, her heavy eyelids a clear indication of her fatigue. You take her in your arms, silently resuming your strides. Ava rests her head against your shoulder. 

“I’ll think about it.” You finally reply.

Sevika’s lip twitches. “Okay.”

The solitude that envelops you is peaceful. The pair of you climb the porch stairs with the sound of buzzing Cicadas as a buffer. She opens the porch door for you and you step through the threshold first.

The way you walk through the house is second-nature. You find yourself admiring the low-light setting coming from a nearby lamp. 

“I’ll take your shoes,” Sevika  whispers, mindful of Ava’s drowsiness. 

You stop in your tracks. “Oh, right. Sorry.”

Instead of replying, Sevika crouches down. One of her hands gingerly takes your sandals as you step out of them.  

She sets them beside her boots, positioned near the patio door. 

“Thank you,” You add.

A voice travels from the kitchen. “...Don’t know what’s taking them so long.” It’s Hazel.

You exhale heavily, pace quickening as you round the corner. 

Sitting at the marble tabletop is Grayson. She holds a sleeping Lianna, eyes lowered as she scrolls on her phone. 

Mel is chopping vegetables, Hazel reading instructions on what appears to be a bag of Penne noodles.

“We’re here. Sorry,” You apologize, unsure why.

Mel’s head snaps up, first looking at Sevika who stands behind you. Then she glances at you. 

Oh God. You hate when she looks at you like that.

“Fucking finally!” Hazel cackles. “It’s been like…10 minutes. Isn’t that curious, Gray?” She directs to Grayson.

Grayson grunts. “I’m not in this.”

“Quite curious,” Hazel pursues. 

“I think,” Mel states. “We only have–”

“Sev, I need to talk to you.” Hazel’s voice cleanly cuts through the air.

A chill runs down your spine. 

Without waiting for a response, she storms out of the room. 

You’re frozen in place, holding Ava firmly to your frame, unsure what to do. 

You feel yourself grow cold due to Sevika's fading presence behind you. The sound of her footsteps grow distant as she follows Hazel.

Once they’re out of earshot, Mel practically slams her knife on the chopping board, jaw going slack. “Okay, what the fuck is going on?”

This is what you’ve feared. 

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Keep your voice down,” You hiss, walking towards her. You try your best to cover Ava’s ears with one hand. 

“Why the hell are you and Sev practically eye-fucking each other all of a sudden?” 

You wince. “Nothing’s going on. We talked a few days ago about…everything. And we made amends and we're fine now.”

“You did what?”

“And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It’s only been like 5 days, Mel. I’m still trying to figure this all out and I don’t want Ava to be confused–”

“Jesus christ.”

“I’ve been trying not to make a big deal out of it.”

“Are you kidding me? It’s a huge deal! You’re in deep shit.”

“I’m not in any–”

“You’re fucking in love with her.” Mel struggles to keep her voice lowered, vein popping out of her neck. 

“Mel–”

“You’ve always been in love with her. I can see it. Gert can see it. Gray can. It’s obvious! Lie to yourself all you want but you know it won’t work on me.”

Your eyes burn. You blink. “We’re just friends.”

“Right. And the sky is purple.” She rolls her eyes.

“For the record,” Grayson butts in, eyes remaining on her phone screen. “I’m team do-whatever-makes-you-happy, whether it’s friendship or more.”

Mel’s jaw clenches. She leans both hands against the island counter-top, deliberately inhaling before exhaling. “I’m not against this happening,” She says slowly. “You already know how I feel about you two. But I just need you to be smart about this. Because whether you like it or not, there’s another fucking person involved in this shit who is not being considered.”

As if on cue, “Do you honestly expect me to be okay with you becoming best friends with your ex-wife?” Hazel’s berates, voice raising several decibels.

Your mind begins to reel as reality sets in.

“We’re just friends. Nothing more,” You repeat.

Mel picks the knife back up. “All I’m saying is that we don’t need things getting any messier than they’ve already become.”

Your posture straightens and you nod.

You’re suddenly engulfed with the feeling of overstaying your welcome.

“Will you tell Sev I decided to go home early? I told her I would stay for a drink but I think it’s best I leave.”

Mel sighs, her features morphing into remorse. “Wait, I don’t want you to take offense. You know I love you both, I just really want to make sure–”

“No worries.” You’re already backing out of the kitchen. “I'll let you guys know when we make it home.”

You’re thankful that Sevika and Hazel have made their way upstairs. Attempting not to wake Ava, you do your best to slip on your sandals. Mel objects a few times more but you wave her off, quickly exiting the house and making your way to your car.

She’s right.

You’re treading in dangerous waters and you need to find a way to ground yourself. 

Immediately. 

***

It’s 11 p.m when your phone buzzes. You glance at it, expecting it to be another random news alert. Instead, it’s from Sevika.

Sev - 11:17 PM

I’m sorry about earlier with Hazel. 

Sev - 11:18 PM

I’m glad you two got home safely.

You stare at the screen, watching in anticipation as three dots hover in the chat. 

Sev - 11:19 PM

On the plus side, it’s good that you left when you did. 

Things went pretty south with Hazel. 

I wouldn’t want Ava to be around that.

Your heart picks up. You begin chewing on your lip, trying to think of what to say. 

Sev - 11:20 PM

We broke up.

Holy shit.

Your breath hitches and you sit up in your bed. You’re not sure how long you stare at your phone screen, but you know that it’s long enough for the screen to dim.

Before you can think properly, which it seems you haven’t been doing much of lately, you click the call icon.

The phone rings as you bring it up to your ear.

Your left hand begins pinching the flesh of your thigh. You wince.

Oay, so this definitely isn’t a dream.

“Hello?” Sevika’s greeting is low and gravelly, the way it always gets during odd hours of the night.

You freeze despite her not being able to see you.

“What happened?” You ask, voice soft. You don’t want to sound eager, even though you internally feel as if you’re dying to know.

Sevika sighs. “It wasn’t working.”

You cling onto every word she says, waiting impatiently for her to say more. “And?”

“And it was already falling apart. I told you before that we agreed to be casual. But even then it just…” Another sigh.

You fiddle with the material of your duvet, trying to remain calm.

But there were alot of mixed emotions that you were struggling to identify.

What is this life that you’re living?

“She was struggling with us being friends, as well.” Sevika continues. “Which I guess is understandable and even more the reason why things should have ended. I mean, who wants to date someone that’s friends with their ex?” A disbelieving chuckle leaves her.

“Yeah. That’s true. I feel bad.”

“About being my friend? Ouch.”

You roll your eyes. “You know what I mean.”

And you do feel bad.

Because, although you had only been alone with Sevika for only a few moments, you had wished it occurred for longer. You had wished she wasn’t together with Hazel–you had wished that she could be yours again. That wasn’t fair to Hazel, no matter how much you disliked her. And although it saddened you to know that things ended the way they did, it also relieved you. Hazel deserves to be with someone who doesn’t have a bitter ex. 

“Sev,” Your tongue is heavy in your mouth. “What really happened with Hazel?” Your heart is still racing in your chest as your grip tightens around your phone. 

“You happened.”

Warmth floods through you.

“But,” Sevika drawls slowly. “You already know that, don’t you?”

Nervously, you reply, “I wasn’t completely sure.”

You hear her tut her tongue. “ I talked with Mel about you.”

Your head spins at the admission. 

“And I think…” Her breath stutters. “I think, even though I want to do this with you–God, angel, you don’t realize how much I want this with you,” Your eyes close as you grip your duvet. Angel. “When you left me, I thought I was going to fucking die.”

Your wince from the sharp pain inside your mouth; you’ve been biting on your cheek too hard.

“And I can’t risk going through that again,” She finishes, voice strained. “If we were to try and something were to go wrong...”

A tear streams down your cheek. 

“I wouldn’t do that to you again.” Your voice breaks as you state this. “I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier. And how I’m welcome to come visit, to sit in my chair and relax on the porch. I want that and so much more. Spending our days in that house, with you and with our daughter. Growing old.” Your heart breaks at the sound of sniffling on the other line. “And it’s why I’ve moved to the other side of town.” A broken sob leaves you. “Because I knew this would happen if I didn’t…that I would begin to miss you and once I allow myself to miss you…” Another sob. 

“We built this house for each other,” Sevika warbles. “And yet you left me here, by myself for 3 fucking years. How can I trust that you won’t do it again?”

The pain you feel is beyond words. 

You remember the joy that you and Sevika shared when building your home. It had everything you ever wanted–everything she ever wanted. Those days were perfect. 

How could you have fucked something up so badly?

So much so, that there’s no remedy? No solution?

“I love you.” You confess. “I always have and I always will. We ruined things and I know it’s scary. And I know I hurt you. I’m sorry I did, I really wish I hadn’t. And I’m not saying this needs to be anything right away. But I want to try at some point. I want to give us that chance because I am so desperately in love with you. And that’ll never go away. I’ll never stop wanting you.”

“Every night, I wish I could be in your arms again,” You add. “I curse myself from all the nights I chose to be away from you in our marriage, sleeping in our guest room and for what?”

“Don’t do that to yourself–”

“But it’s true.” Blinking, you shake your head. “The moon shines through my bedroom window just like it did in our first apartment. Sometimes at night, when I think of you, I always think about how much you’d love it here. And it’s not just during the night when that happens. I think about you all the time.”

A beat passes. Blood rushes through your ears, you sink further into the comfort of your sheets. 

There.

You had finally told her.

Even if this goes the way you feel it will, you’ll at least be free of these feelings. You’ll have finally confessed them to her and not be weighed down with the thought spirals of what-ifs. 

“Fuck.” She whispers. “You don’t understand how much I want to get in my car and drive to you.” 

You wipe your tears away from your cheeks, trying to calm down your breathing. “And what if I want that?”

“...Do you?”

“I don’t think I’ve wanted anything more.”

Her breath is disconnected. It causes you to sink even more in your sheets, gut pulling and thighs squeezing together. Every inch of your body and soul screams for her. 

“Don’t fall asleep.” She mutters.

Then she hangs up the phone. 

***

You shiver as you stare at your full length mirror, double checking your appearance for the nth time.

For the past 20 minutes, you’ve juggled between anxious pacing and making yourself presentable.

Sevika should be here any moment now, a quick turn of events that you hadn’t anticipated but happily–and desperately–welcome.

You aren’t entirely sure about her motives for coming over but you do know that you want to be presentable.

It’s only after you’ve flossed your teeth when your phone lights up.

Sevika - 12:32 AM

I’m outside.

“What the hell is happening right now,” You mumble, eyes widening. 

With skyrocketing nerves, you tip-toe throughout your apartment, making sure to pull Ava’s bedroom door closed when you pass it. You chew on your lower lip self-consciously as you fidget with your pajamas.

After spending a few seconds looking through the peephole, you undo the sliding bolt before opening the door. 

“Hi, I–”

But your words are interrupted. Instead, you're met with Sevika’s lips crashing onto yours.

You gasp at the contact, the feeling of her hands cupping your face being the only reminder that this is real.

This is actually happening.

You don’t remember the last time you’ve kissed Sevika. For a second, the thought saddens you. But then you feel the trickle of her hands sliding down your face and you decide that it doesn’t matter. 

She dips down further, lips pressing against yours with firmness and urgency. Her hands fall to your hips, clutching them for dear life and pulling you to her.

A moan escapes you and you can’t help but lean into her touch. There’s a moment when she swipes her tongue into your mouth, nearly causing your knees to buckle. She kisses you like she has nothing to lose, like there’s nothing else that could steer her from this moment. You’re sure that this is what it feels like to see a sunset slowly melt into the horizon, evidently lighting the world on fire. 

Her guttural moan drives you crazy when it vibrates into your mouth. Both of her arms wrap around you, crushing you to her–causing chest to chest contact. She laps into you feverishly, moaning once again. 

You press into her; needing more. So much more. This isn't close to enough.

She breaks away, gasping for air. When you meet her eyes, you notice that they’re considerably darker and completely blown out.  You pull her through the threshold, swiftly closing and bolting the door shut behind you. Your pulse quickens when she dips down, sweeping you up bridal-style.

“Shit!” You gasp, eyes widening. Your arms wrap around her neck instinctively. 

“Where to?”

“The last door at the end of the hallway.”

You feel a mix of anticipation, desire and joy. 

Sevika gently presses soft kisses against the side of your face, mumbling, “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Yes.” You say without a beat. “I want you. In every way.”

It’s hard to rationalize what’s happening. Your brain is too fuzzy from her hot mouth pressing against your throat, which sucks and licks and bites. Subconsciously, you let out another moan, eyes fluttering.

You’re so distracted that you’re surprised when you hear her kick your bedroom door shut. 

It all happens very quickly–the way you’re laying on your bed with her body weight above you. Your legs spread further, eager to feel any semblance of her in between you.

She meets you with another kiss, pressing into you exactly where you need. 

Her hips rock while her teeth nip at your bottom lip. That’s when you lose your fucking mind. 

“Please,” You exhale, wrapping your legs around her and arching your back.

Her hips buck again, this time harder. The mere force of it only makes you feel headier.

The material of your shirt is tugged. “Off.” She orders.

Your shirt comes off quickly along with your cotton shorts. It’s all too familiar the way you allow her to strip you down. In return, you manage to rid her of her clothing, leaving her in just her underwear. This urgency to consume her is deja-vu. Like all the times throughout your marriage, it hits you like a semi-truck. 

“I’ll die if I don’t have you.” You admit, eyes catching onto the beautiful swell of her breasts. 

When she peers at you, your gut tugs from the way her eyes frost-over, jaw setting. She doesn’t seem upset with you, rather than upset with the words that have just left your mouth. 

“You never lost me,” She draws slowly, completely serious. 

Before you can reply, she kisses you. It's a brief one, only lasting for a few seconds. Then she does the same with your cheeks, and your jaw, and your neck…And…

You wait in anticipation, watching her become eye-level with your breasts. For a moment she buffers, then groans. “You're so fucking beautiful.”

Your eyes widen when she covers her mouth over your right nipple. 

“Oh god. Sev–”

Her other hand presses against your stomach, firmly correcting your habit to arch into her. 

Your cunt is too wet; throbbing and aching and dripping solely for her. “Please,” You echo, unsure of how long you’ll be able to wait. 

“So fucking desperate,” She mumbles against you. Then she’s hovering above you again, her forehead aligning with yours before she nods. “Alright then. Spread for me.”

Wordlessly, you comply, legs opening without any hesitation. 

She watches you closely, lips parting slightly as she easily sinks two fingers into you. Her attention zero’s in on your mouth–the way it falls ajar and how your jaw loosens. She pushes until she’s knuckles deep, groaning when you clench around her. “Don’t let Ava hear you,” She warns. 

And that’s the only thing she says before she pulls out and pumps again. It’s slick and audible. Her palm is rough, firmly pressing against your clit with each thrust. It’s when she adds another finger that your eyes begin to swell with tears. 

You pant, falling apart due to how keenly she observes you. Her fingers are thick, nearly filling you to the brim. Her mere strength not only rocks you but also the bed. 

It’s hard to find your focus, your cheeks staining with tears and vision blackening from your daze. The sound of her pushing into you is obscene. 

“Look at me, angel.” Her voice is carnal. “I need to see you.”

You do your best to keep your eyes open. 

She curls into you and reaches exactly where you need. 

“Shit, there’s that spot,” She tilts her head, appraising you with a grin. Her irises glint as if she’s just found a pot of gold. “You like it when I’m that deep, don’t you?”

She pumps once more–right where your sweet spot is–determined to garner the same reaction again. And she does.

All at once, she becomes relentless, drunk on your tears and your face and your heat. There’s something feral that unleashes at that moment. Your mouth gapes open while she continues to slam into you.

“Oh my God,” Your voice trembles. You feel your slick dripping down your thighs, surely soaking the sheets. The awe on her face is beautiful and dizzying. 

“...Haven’t even tasted you yet and you’re already about to come.” She breathes. “Go on, baby. Let it out for me.”

She makes an effort to press her palm against your clit with every thrust, pulling you closer to the edge. Your nails are digging into her back and it seems to egg her on, causing her to moan like she’s the one being fucked.

As if she senses it, her mouth covers yours, muffling your cry while her drilling remains steadfast. Her body rocks into you with every wave, not letting up despite your cresting. 

Her tongue swallows every sound and her body covers you while she works you through it. It’s only when she pulls away, pumps slowing down, that you realize how much you’re shaking. 

Your arms tighten around her and your eyes are heavy with fatigue. But you try to remember this moment despite your mind feeling cloudy.

It’s when she slowly pulls her fingers out of you, sucking them without any hesitation, when your stomach pulls again and that heat returns.

She notices it–of course she does–and her tongue swipes her lips.

Fuck.

“I know that look from miles away,” She rasps. “Lay back, angel. I’m not done.”

***

When you wake, you can’t help but groan due to the blinding sunlight that shines. 

Your lips are chapped, body bone-tired and eyelids heavy.

“What the hell?” You grumble, reaching down to rub your leg. You wince when your hand makes contact with your thigh. 

You struggle to sit up and you pull back your duvet. 

“Shit.” Your eyes widen, taking in the sight of circular bruises trailing up your thighs, and your stomach, and…

The memories flood you all at once; you and Sevika having your way with each other throughout the night. The laughter and the biting and the crying. And her confessions…how she had reminded you that you’ll always be her’s and that she wouldn’t have it any other way. It felt like a dream. It felt like coming home.

“Sev?” You whisper, reaching beside you. But no one is there.

Your eyebrows furrow as you try to backtrack to the previous night.

The two of you had definitely fallen asleep in each other’s arms.

No. It can’t be…

But, after all, it hadn’t even been 12 hours ago when Sevika was crying to you on the phone, explaining that she couldn’t risk pursuing anything that could lead to a broken heart.

Maybe it had been a mistake for her. With emotions running high (as well as hormones), maybe she woke up and regretted what the two of you had done.

This all had happened entirely fast anyway. You wouldn’t be surprised if you had overwhelmed her–if you had scared her away. 

And could you really blame her?

After all you had put her through, after leaving her and never looking back, is it really so surprising that she’d be protecting her heart?

You reach for your phone in a panic to check the time: 11:42 AM.

Your heart stutters. 

Oh no.

Oh god, no.

Adrenaline skyrocketing, you jump out of bed, slipping on your cotton shorts and t-shirt from last night. Your feet move with urgency as you throw open your bedroom door and call, “Ava?”

Because how on earth did your alarm not wake you? Moreso, how did you sleep this long and not be woken up by your daughter?

Your stomach pulls when you glance in her bedroom, surprised to see the door open (which you remember closing last night) with no one present.

“Ava?”  Your voice is firmer. Louder.

There’s nothing.

Chest heaving, you stomp down the hallway and towards the living room. “Ava?”

Then the kitchen.

Silence.

You rush to your front door, struggling with the lock due to your trembling hands. You swing it open, peering outside into the driveway. Sevika’s car is gone. 

She must have taken Ava when she decided to leave. Your stomach twists at the revelation and you press your hand against your chest, wishing the pain would fade. No matter how much of a wreck Sevika felt this morning, you’d never expect for her to do something like this. You still had a week with Ava. 

You run back to your bedroom, unlocking your phone and clicking Sevika’s contact.

You pace back and forth as the call rings.

And rings.

And rings.

When she doesn’t answer, your eyes squeeze shut and the automated voicemail message sounds. 

“Sev,” You start, holding your phone close to your ear. “I can imagine you may be feeling a lot of conflicted emotions after last night but please bring back Ava.” Your voice wavers. “Please. I just want my week with her.”

A lump forms in your throat and you bite back a cry. The more reality sinks in, the more you fall apart. Soon enough, you’re crouching on the floor, cursing yourself for how stupid you’ve been.

Why didn’t you think last night through? Why hadn’t you led with your brain for once?

You call Sevika again.

No answer. 

“Please call me back.” You plead before ending the voicemail.

Standing up, you go to the nearest drawer and grab a random pair of leggings, bra and t-shirt. Blood rushes through your ears as you change into the clothes. Then you’re grabbing your purse and phone, trying to decide who to contact first.

Mel wouldn’t take the news well. She’d rip one into Sevika and make things worse. Gert would do just the same.

You had to call someone that would be able to get through to Sevika; someone that could remain level-headed. It would either have to be Grayson or your mom. Your brain races a mile a minute as you walk towards your front door and slip on your sandals. You don’t quite feel within your body, distraught wrecking you in a way that you’ve only felt a few times before.

“Mommy!”

The exclamation jars you and your head snaps up, finding the source standing in the threshold of the front door.

For a small moment, you think you’re hallucinating.

But then Ava breaks out into a grin, water bottle in her hand as she walks towards you. 

“Good morning!” She chirps.

You freeze. “Ava?”

She ignores you, more interested in taking off her light-up sketchers. 

You reach forward, enveloping her in your arms as you sigh in relief. “You’re okay?” You ask, holding her tightly. 

“You’re too strong!” She grumbles, squirming in your embrace.

“Where were you?” You ask, voice warbling. “I was looking for you. I was calling you.” You pick her up fully, cradling your hand against her head. You struggle to gain your bearings. 

“Angel?”

Sevika appears in the door frame, eyebrows furrowing. She’s fully clothed in what she was wearing yesterday, holding a drink carrier of coffee cups and a brown paper bag.

“Why did you take her?” Your voice is strained.

Sevika freezes. “What?”

“You could have left without being petty. I still have my week with her,” You cough, trying to get all the words out while simultaneously gasping for air. “I get it if last night was too much for you, but you can’t just–”

“Woah.” Sevika’s eyes grow wide, lips parting in bewilderment. She steps towards you. “Hey, it’s okay–”

“You can’t just take her like that.” You’re wailing at this point. “And why weren’t you answering your phone? I was calling you. I almost reached out to my mom–”

“Baby.” Sevika’s eyebrows furrow. 

It’s that word alone that halts you.

“I need you to breathe for me, you’re nearly hyperventilating.” She sets everything in her hands on the floor, eyes watching you closely as she reaches for you. “You were sleeping and I didn’t want to wake you. I thought I’d get us food from the cafe nearby. I brought Ava with me, got her some treats…” She trails off, cupping your face with both of her hands. “I left you a note in the room. Did you not see it?”

The cogs in your brain turn as you register what she’s saying.

Oh.

“I thought you…” Your mouth is dry. You swallow. “I thought last night had been too much for you…that you panicked and left.”

Worry lines appear on her forehead. “...I would never do that to you.” Her thumbs rub circles into your cheeks. “And last night…yes, I think we should talk about that at some point. But I’m not going anywhere.”

Your eyes close on your own accord and you exhale shakily. 

She presses her forehead with yours. “I’m not going anywhere,” She repeats. She waits patiently while you attempt to recenter yourself, hands still caressing your face. 

“I love you,” She whispers, nudging your nose with hers. “God, I don’t think you’ll ever really know how much I love you. And I know we have a lot to work though, but don’t believe for a second that I’d ever do that to you. Okay?”

You idle like that for a bit, allowing the warmth of her presence (and her admission) to seep into your bones. 

But then Ava sighs in your arms, whispering a small, “I’m hungry,” as she nudges your arm. 

It’s the perfect icebreaker, easing the tension within seconds. 

“Are you?” Sevika speaks, voice soft as she directs it towards your daughter. Her hands drift from your face, poking Ava teasingly. Ava laughs.

Sevika closes the front door which you hadn’t realized was open this entire time. Swiftly, she picks up the cup holder and bag of food. “Let’s get some food in you,” She adds, meeting your eyes.

Your heart rate evens. You allow yourself to be swept up in the tenderness that emanates off of her. 

You nod and murmur, “Okay,” Following her towards the dining room as if an invisible string is pulling you to her.

You fear that Mel was right.

You’re in some deep shit.

[imheadintothemountains]

smoke signals (part iv)

lighthouse keeper!sevika x selkie!reader

summary: sevika is content with her life, the loneliness that comes with her job is inevitable. but then one day, as she reaches the peak of mundanity, almost turning into insanity, you appeared. cold, quiet, clueless, sea-sent you, like a wish fulfilment for her.

warnings: selkie!reader, reader has selective mutism in beginning. makeout (no smut yet)

a/n: a long awaited chapter, idk who will read this still but if you've been an og, thank you for your patience <3

taglist: @lilredbird101 , @djstinkyfartz @vellichor-and-flowerpetals

wc: 6k

part 1 part 2 part 3

---

Your whole life has been spent disregarding the feeling of fear that crept in your heart as you travelled. Because that's just the way you were. Ghosts could lurk beyond closed doors, and you'd find yourself kicking them open and challenging them upfront despite the fact that your heart is beating outside of your chest.

Little bird, your mother use to call you. The irony of being compared to an animal of the sky as you remained below wasn't lost on you. But that was how she saw you. Free, unafraid to soar.

And so that was how you continued to live as you cherished the memories of her, untethered to anyone or any place, uncommitted. And the freedom feels oh so good for a while. But as it goes for anything you do for too long, it will start to hurt soon enough.

But now that you've had a taste for stability, you're not sure if you could live without it anymore. It was inevitable, you know. The way you had imposed yourself on Sevika was so sudden, your presence had existed without any sort of grounding. Floating around her, making yourself fit in places you shouldn't. You'd be as easy to get rid of just as you were as easy to be taken in.

You're not so sure when the eviction would be due, but what you do know is that today, the process had begun.

You can hear Sevika conversing with the old man, Vander, as you remain seated at the corner of the boat, letting them unload her stuff in. The waves are peaceful today, the sailing would be smooth and wind gentle, you predicted.

Casting a quick glance behind you, you found that the older woman had already been focusing on the back of your head. Her piercing eyes don't move after being noticed but instead intensify. Whatever words being said by the man next to her was clearly being ignored.

In this very moment, you wished you could read her mind. While she assumes that you could already.

Sevika turns back to Vander once he finished asking his question, leaving you to the sea again. "What?" She asks him.

Vander sighed and shook his head in a fatherly manner before repeating himself. "I said, what the hell have you gotten yourself into, woman?"

Sevika responded with her usual annoyed grunt and looked away from him.

"I left you alone for a month and you've already found yourself in new trouble."

"She's no trouble, and I'm in no shit. So check yourself, Vander." She didn't mean to sound so defensive, and it wasn't like she didn't understand what he had meant with 'trouble', but she's also actively trying to avoid the facts that are currently staring right at her face.

"Oh, no? So when we get to land, you'll be handing her over to the arms of those wretches with no problem, aye?" Sevika shoots him a glare.

"I...have not come to a definite conclusion."

Vander raises a brow at her.

"You can't keep her Vika, that's kidnapping." He says matter of factly.

She snorted at the possibility of you ever being her unwilling captive. "Never said anything about that."

Vander relented and dropped the subject with another defeated sigh. She knew she was acting like a child, avoiding the truth and refusing to make the call.

She doesn't know why its so hard, she had come to this decision weeks ago when you had first appeared outside her door, and the fact that you had given her little to no information about yourself since then, just makes this issue even more complicated.

But how can she give you up to the enforcers when she knows that even they won't make an effort to really return you to wherever you came from? At first, the plan was to get you out of her hands. But now, the idea of sending you straight into the lion's den is absolutely unbearable.

The only person she'll ever really care about, and now she's forced to let you down?

She wonders if you know what this trip would really mean, you seem to be lost in your own thoughts for more than expected and she isn't sure if it's because of the change of scenery or the addition of another person in your presence that will soon be multiplied overwhelmingly.

A part of her wants to go over to you and wrap a comforting arm around your shoulder, but she's not sure if she should. im fact, she's not sure on how she's supposed to act around you at all, feeling like no matter what angle she tries to come from, the killing blow of her oncoming betrayal will be seen as just as traitorous in your eyes.

But god, what else is she supposed to do? Sevika's mind has reached a blank wall.

Impulsively, Sevika approached Vander with a question. "Say old man, you don't mind if we stay over at your place for a night or two, do you?"

Vander seemed surprised but not displeased. "Uh, sure. Why not?"

Sevika thanks him in a whisper and feels relief in her lungs as she's gifted with more time to come up with something better.

"The kids will be glad to see you." Vander added with a short laugh.

"The kids." Sevika breathed out, reminiscing about the last time she saw them, which was 2 months ago. "How are they?"

Vander shrugged, "They're well, and stubborn as usual." Vi and Jinx are your typical growing young adult and teenager. They had somehow inherited both Vander's bravery and stupidity despite not really being his children.

"The bar however, suffered many losses because of those damned pirates from last month. The kids have been helping me fix things up, but it just hasn't been the same." And that was the other issue when it came to the town, the random and consistent attacks from the pirates.

Thieving is a repetitive crime in town, but the damage that these pirates have done is incomparable.

The Black Fury pirates are notorious for their crimes all over the map and some might even call them legendary. They had only recently been invading Zaun during their little pit stops. They are well armed and not afraid to use their weapons. Even the enforcers have been unable to do anything about the sudden attacks.

Sevika can only hope that they won't be back here anytime soon.

She watches as you turn to face a different direction as the boat is finally reaching land. The silence of the journey is now being replaced by loud chattering voices of fishermen, sailors and townsfolk.

Once Vander managed to tie up the roads as the bottom of the boat meets the sandy ground.

People looked, but not at any particular interest towards the three of you as you cleared up your bags and tools out of the vehicle and made your way deeper into the crowd of lively people.

You survey your surroundings with an eager but patient manner, finding comfort in the way the voices mesh together, overlapping over eachother to the point that you wouldn't be able to make clear on anything.

You enjoyed calmness and peace, especially for these last couple of weeks. But anyone who knew you (not that there are many), would know that you truly thrived in loudness and bustling spaces that most humans find themselves in.

You jolted when you felt Sevika slip her fingers around yours, clasping your hands together. When you looked up to her as you continued to move behind Vander, she only cocked her head at the crowd and said; "can't lose you now."

You continue to gawk at corner shops and messy stalls selling cheap jewelry and greased up food as she leads you on. You could still feel her turning around every few seconds to look at you, as if afraid that you'd somehow disappear despite already being in her grip.

You didn't mind it at all. In fact, you were kind of glad for it. You were glad that she deemed you worthy enough to look back for. And you also seemed to enjoy the feeling of her strong calloused palms holding onto your colder, and much smaller ones. Buzzing warmth spread all over your body from the contact.

Although she tugged on your arms, she never pulled on it and let you walk at your own pace while you regarded the people with a keen eye, frowning deeply when you came upon a spray painted symbol of the Black Fury pirates on the passing walls.

The image had seemed to spook you for a little bit as Sevika noticed that your admiration for the dirty streets has been overtaken by something else. Your focus now shifted on arriving safely to Vander's home.

"We're almost there." Sevika mutters to you, translating your sudden gloominess to being tired and overwhelmed.

Sevika herself is not that big of a fan of chaos in the town. She favors bars and restaurants, sure. But the idea of having to be around so many people for too long have always put her on edge and increased her irritability.

She's more of a homebody, she'd say. But seeing how in awe you were of the vibrant streets and market had somehow forced her to see certain things from your point of view.

She took note of certain things that you looked at for longer than usual. The way your lips part open in pleasant surprise when being offered fresh fruits by stall sellers you've passed by in a flash, the way your eyes crinkle at the sight of rock-kicking children chasing around a dusty black cat.

And of course, the way your eyes lit up as you're met with the holy fish market, all in it's glory of sea water smell and middle aged mothers doing grocery shopping for their families.

The bar was much less full than you expected, probably because it was still morning. Only very few and sober customers were inside by the back booths being sheltered by the dim yellow lights above them. The moment you set your foot inside, you were greeted by two teenagers that came from the counter seats, welcoming the old man and Sevika with expecting smiles.

"Oh, well if it isn't the scary big shark coming to grace us with her prsence." The shorter, blue haired girl spoke.

She gave a half hug to Sevika before she slowly noticed your existence, quiet and careful behind her. "And, who's this?"

"A friend." Sevika spoke, too quickly for her own liking.

"Oh that can't be true, I thought Vander's your only friend." The redhead, who you assumed is the blue hatred girl's sister, responded.

Sevika rolled her eyes and dropped her bag on the floor before walking away with you still holding her hand. "I need a drink." She called out to the bartender as she seated herself down on the stools with you. “Of course you do.” The red head snorted.

"Whiskey neat for me and uh-" She glanced over at you and back at the bartender. "Do you got...juice-?" The bartender cringed. "Apple juice, that's it." He answers.

"Sure." Sevika sighed and nodded her head.

You didn't argue, but when your drinks came, you had slyly grabbed for hers first and tipped it over your lips before she could stop you.

Sevika stared at you with horror, watching you slam the glass back on the counter and began tearing out your throat with a violent and continous cough, hunching your back.

"Great." She groaned aloud. "Get me some water." She demanded from the bartender.

She lightly patted your back as you continued coughing up, amusement painted all over her face. "Your stubbornness is admirable, but it'll also be the cause of your death."

You chugged down the glass of water with relief while ignoring her words.

After enough time have passed, Sevika forced through the obvious elephant in the room and spoke first. "We'll be staying over here for tonight."

That part was clear to you. You looked widened your eyes in question, and then what?

Sevika wasn't sure either.

So instead of answering you, she changes the subject. standing up and clearing her throat, she then says; “I'm going to go put our stuff upstairs. But then after that. I was thinking that I could show you around, give you a little tour. How about that?"

You were unresponsive at first, mouth agape and brows furrowed in confusion. But then after a minute, you purse your lips close and gave a single nod. Sevika moved around you and grabbed the bags from the floor before disappearing up the stairs and away from your sight.

---

You're not sure how to feel at this very moment. It wasn't just Sevika and the impending doom of knowing you're about to be removed from her life. It was also the stupid symbol painted red on the fading pale walls you had witnessed a few minutes ago.

Sometimes it felt like no matter wherever you went, no matter how far you're willing to travel, the symbol will always follow from behind, haunting you for the rest for your life.

The last time you had a run in with the pirates was a year ago, at an unpopular island far away from Zaun. The incident has no significance to you.

What had really shaped your life was your first run in with them, as a baby.

There is truly no running from your past. Your mother had only managed to escape your father through death.

It was the classic selkie tale. Your poor mother had been kidnapped and forced into marriage with the pirate king of the Black Fury as he held onto her coat, making sure she'd be unable to escape.

She suffered for years by his side, and even after you came along, the sorrow and yearning for the sea never ended for her. And when the opportunity to snatch back her coat and her freedom appeared, your mother did not wait to claim the waves as hers again with little you following along.

Your peace didn't last long though, for they were relentless in tracking her down to the very ends of the worlds. And found her, they did.

You still remember pushing into the pulsing wound on your mother's chest as blood swims out freely after you've managed to remove the arrow from her skin.

He never tried to come for you. You're both glad and offended for that. You're glad that there's no target on your back, but you're offended that he perceives your existence as having so little value, being able to be so unaffected by the fact that he had robbed a child of its mother.

Sometimes it even feels like mockery when you keep bumping into them in every crook and corner of the earth you run to.

A wicked reminder of what he had ripped off of your arms. And even now, your father somehow manages to find his way into your life, mocking you as you're about to lose another person you care about.

You try to play it off for the whole damn time, but as you're sat at this squeaky stool, throat sore and apple juice untouched, all you really want to do is break down into tears.

You hear Sevika's faint footsteps nearing you and felt her hand on your shoulder seconds after.

Tilting your head up towards the woman, you're met with a certain softness in her face that she only reserves for you. She is silent at first, analysing your expression and trying to figure something out but not knowing what it exactly is.

"You ready?" She asks you then. You lifted yourself off the seat and beckoned at her to lead the way as a response.

You don't miss how she made sure to keep you on her right side and away from the open street. You noticed the flex of her palms and almost reached out for her hand first but managed to hold yourself back.

You would rather die than show to anyone else but yourself on how truly desperate for connection you really are on the inside. And so you waited for her fingers to find yours, but disappointingly, they don't.

"I thought I'd take you to the market first." Sevika says, breaking the silence. "It's less hectic this hour. If you think it's full now, wait till you see how it gets in the afternoon." It wasn't often that you'd get to see a nervous Sevika, and it was even less often that you'd get to see her rambling.

"It has like a shit ton of stuff you'd like- not that I really know what you like besides fish." She added with a short laugh. "But you're a girl, and girls usually like jewelry and sweet treats and shit, so yeah.",

“Shit” You repeated after her quietly before humming to yourself while keeping up with her steady pace. It hasn't even hit 12pm yet, but the sun is already scorching, it's heat being so strong that you're sure your skin could stretch and break under the direct streak of it.

You were grateful for the worn out roof shielding you and Sevika from the sun momentarily, but as you begin sweating from your forehead down to your back, reminiscence of the cold and welcoming sea comes in flashbacks at the back of your mind.

Being able to be one with the water again seems to be your only source of comfort for today. You find yourself peeking your head out to search for the sea once you reach the market entrance that's close to the shore.

Sevika waits for you to enter first, keeping herself close from behind. It was honestly hard for you to truly be immersed in the little shops when you can't help being incredibly aware of her presence.

It had never mattered before if she was watching you. But as of right now, you just couldn't shake off the feeling of having your every little movement be judged under her observation.

You wondered if the version of you she saw in her eyes, is the real you. You wondered if she truly sees you or if she's just seeing a skewered, misinterpreted version of you.

Well, at this point, it doesn't really matter now, does it?

Slowing down your steps, you start to notice a pattern in the stalls. They all are selling around the some thing for different prices.

One thing that looks attractive in this stall, will surely be found in a couple stalls upfront in a more expensive pricing range and maybe more choices of colour.

You lingered at the small jewelry stall that focuses on beaded bracelets and charms as a small purple bracelet attracts itself to you. It has a small seashell shaped charm in the middle with lilac and white beads around it.

The old lady selling it only offers you a warm smile as you window shopped on her collection.

"Do you want it?" Sevika asks. You quickly shook your head no but saw that she had already pulled out a few coins out of her left pocket before pouring them onto the old woman's hand.

"Take it." She cocked her head to the bracelet hanging right by your eyes. You pulled it off its hook and slipped it around your wrist with ease, grinning to yourself as it fits you perfectly.

"It's your color." Sevika complimented as she guided you forward, her hand stays on the small of your back.

"Thank you." You whispered gratuitously. She doesn't react as she doesn't hear you, but it doesn't matter as she will always know the words you never speak through the way you look at her. It's almost like you're interlinked with her.

---

The two of you spent the next 2 hours just walking hand in hand, trying out fruits on a stick and testing cheap perfumes on your wrists before picking your favourites and not buying any of them at all.

The conversations are kept short between you two, but it remained intimate somehow, real and vulnerable in a world that is anything but.

Sevika tells you about her favourite foods and how this market has been standing tall for over 30 years since she was still a child.

She had even graced you with a story on how she used to participate in thieving activities, pickpocketing topsiders that roamed the street and didn't know any better.

"Sometimes they don't even realise anything's missing." She tells you with a snort.

"It was all fun and games until one of them catches you in the act, though. These topsiders, they like to get the law involved. And contrary to popular belief, those ass kissers don't perform based on fairness."

You frowned at yourself. "You got caught?" You ask her, each syllables sounding mouthy as you spoke them. You can’t imagine Sevika ever getting caught with anything.

Sevika snickered. You don't miss the way her eyes widened slightly when she heard your voice, it always takes her by surprise. "The real question here is, how many times did I get caught?" By the bitterness in her tone, you're gonna assume it was a lot.

You feel your feet ache while walking on the street, exiting the market as it starts to get more crowded at the hour.

Sevika mentioned lunch and you could hear your stomach growl at the mention of grilled fish.

Bending down to rub the soles of your feet, Sevika stops at her tracks when she notices that you're no longer beside her. She sees you and poses a questioning look. "You good?" She asks.

You hummed lightly and decided to take the oversized slippers completely off. They never fit right since they belonged to Sevika, but either way, it has always been your nature to be barefeet.

You let out a relieved sigh and smiled at the feeling of your feet being met with the hot pavement that has been sunbathed for hours.

Sevika is amused at your antics but says nothing when you shoved the slippers into her arms before resuming your journey.

The place she takes you to next is familiar to Vander's bar, but has more space and people inside. The door rings with a small bell as she pushes it open. Sevika leads you to a small booth before heading over to the counter to order for you. It’s almost instinctive at this point. The need to take care of you. The ability to know your needs before you do. She came back soon after, sliding into the seat next to you instead of sitting opposite you.

“I um, got you the seafood set.” You nodded absentmindedly, pretending to care. There is an intense silence and awkwardness that builds itself between you and her. Sevika cracks her knuckles in anxiety, avoiding looking at you for a solid 4 minutes before eventually tilting her body to face you. You turn to face her too, pursing your lips into a small line as you wait for her to speak.Sevika opens her mouth and stutters. “I-I_” her mouth closes again, this time with her eyes too as she winces at her verbal failure. Your hand reaches out to lightly trace over her left hand that sat on the edge of the table.

Her eyes reopened as she lets out a deep exhale. “Hi.” You mumbled, starting the conversation for her. Her nose flared as a choked laugh escapes her. “Hey.” She responded.

“Do you know why we’re here?” She asks gently as she tries to read you. You say nothing, your whole body freezing at the question. Sevika lets the silence lingers for a few moments before she starts again. “I need to get you back home, sweetheart. I can’t keep you with me forever.”

Why not? You wanted to cry out to her. But instead you just stare at her, reactionless.

She keeps looking at you like she’s waiting for you to break, and when you don’t, she’s even more scared because she can’t tell how you’re feeling.

“Can you tell me anything? I could just give you to the enforcers, but I'd rather not do that.” It sounded like a threat, Sevika thought and silently cursed herself for it.

You turned your gaze downwards towards your lap, thinking to yourself. Then, you looked back at her and imitated writing on paper. Sevika got the message instantly and scrambled off her seat to find a piece of paper and a pencil. She returns victorious and slides the material towards you.

You hesitated with the pencil in your hands, knowing that whatever comes next will be a direct result of your confession. But you’ve reached the end of your rope, there’s nothing to grasp on anymore at this point anyways.

Sevika frowned as she watched you drawing a circle instead of writing. Her confusion fully formed into terror as you finished your sketch and slid the paper back to her.

She felt her throat tighten as she stares down at the drawing. “Do you know what this symbol means?” She asks, meeting your darkened gaze. You raised a brow as if to ask back; “do you?”

Sevika then pulled the paper into her hand before scrunching it into a ball, squeezing it with her fingers. “You’re with them? The pirates?” You shook your head and made an expression of disgust. “No? So you ran away from them?” She attempts again. “That’s how you ended up in the waters? Because you tried swimming away from them.”

Obviously that wasn’t an accurate representation of what happened, but that would be the easiest way to explain it to her. “I escaped.” You whispered out, voice cracking. Sevika’s intense look faltered as she stuffs the ball of paper into her jacket pocket and moved closer to you. She wanted to say something comforting, reassuring, but she wasn’t even sure if she was in a place to promise you anything at all.

The moment abruptly ended when the waiter appeared out of nowhere, placing two plates of hot meals before the both of you. In a flash, Sevika recollects herself, calming herself down as she returned to her initial seat and insisted you eat first before any more discussion is continued.

You were starving, and the sight of well cooked fish distracted you as quickly as a shark does its prey. Sevika had to force herself through every chew, her appetite had disappeared at the sight of the Black Fury symbol you had drawn out. She had so many questions, so many worries. Were you a fugitive then? Would you be killed if anyone from the crew spotted you? Would she?

Sevika watches as you devour the meal in such a short amount of time. How long had you been in the sea before you reached her lighthouse?

The ship couldn’t have been sailing anywhere near it, she would’ve seen it if it had. Your entire existence is a fucking mystery. She was intrigued as well as concerned. She has this strong nagging feeling in her chest that begs for her to protect you, a part of her that has long known what she refuses to admit. And that is the fact that she cared for you, more than one should for a stranger, or even a friend.

She wanted you too. Gods, she wanted you like nothing else. And that feeling scares the shit out of her.

And yet, attraction and all things emotional and possessive aside, the survival focused part of her is whispering in her ear to let you go. To give you up as soon as she could.

You have brought colors back into her life. You made her feel things she wasn’t sure she could still feel.

Think of all you’d lose if they discovered that you’ve been harbouring a fugitive. She urges herself.

Nothing much. She argues back. And it’s true. Sevika has already lost everything important to her. Everything except…you.

To know the exact shape of your hand against hers and never be able to feel the vreases of your palm and grip of your fingers again would feel like death itself. Even now, considering the idea of giving you up, made her feel broken, like all the air in her lungs have been ripped out of her chest. The Gods have already taken everything from her.

Once the heart is sure of what the mind isn’t, the pull would be hard to stray away from. How would she live now, in the cold and unwelcoming walls of the lighthouse?

Now that she has experienced what it was like to be warm again. Now that she knew exactly what she wanted from life. Because isn’t that what life is all about? To finally have wants again, and to live for the hope of it all.

Would it be selfish for her to ask for this one damned thing?

Just to be able to have you at arms length, always. To never know what it’s like waking up everyday being sure of your absence. I’m not asking for the whole world. She thought to herself.

But losing her would be the equivalent of losing herself and all the parts she have just learned existed in all the shabby, worn out corners of her deep and dark heart. It would break her. Is she so truly and very sinful that she deserved that?

The conversation was not brought up again by either of you once you were done eating, and the walk back was quiet as her hand held onto yours for the whole time. Her tired heart could not carry the conversation again, it would have to wait for the next day to come.

Now all she wanted was to hold you, to never see a world without you in it. And it is as if you feel the same way, with the way you lean into her touch and lets her keep you close.

—

Midnight strikes on the clock as Sevika wakes up with a gasp. Her arm reaches for you instinctively but finds only emptiness by her side on the small bed.

Her paranoia is halted as she finds you by the window. As you always are, even in the lighthouse. Sevika smiled to herself as she admired her view. She gently pushes herself the covers off and walks herself to your small standing figure.

Once you two arrived back at Vander's place, you had quickly went upstairs while she discussed the new information with Vander.

His face turned grim once he saw what was drawn on the crumpled piece of paper she had pulled out of her pocket.

Sevika knew Vander. He would never tell her to give you up, and yet she could still see through his facade and knew that he was afraid.

Neither of them had a solid answer on what the right thing to do is. It's all about perspective at the end of the day, isn't it?

Right and wrong. It all depends on whose perspective you're seeing it from.

You didn't flinch when she grasped your shoulder and remained unmoving as you stared off at the small view of the sea. There’s longing in your eyes. Your brows are knitted together as you stare away. “You miss it don’t you?” She mutters softly, snaking an arm around your waist.

Sevika sighed out softly as your back fell against her chest. “I miss it too.” And she did. She especially missed the mundane days of daily cleaning and fixing while you lurked near her like a little shadow, thinking you're subtle when you're not.

Your fingers wrap around hers as they remain on your waist, an acknowledgment.

“You know, at first I only ever took the job as a way to punish myself.” You frowned at her words, still looking out.

“I wasn’t a good person before you, never claimed I was” She murmured against your shoulder, grazing her lips gently on the cotton of your shirt. “I don't even think I'm a good person now.” She's not. She's selfish with the way she refuses to let you go.

“The lightkeeper before me went mad.” Sevika spoke.

“A shipwreck happened by the rocks, and no boats or help came until only two months later. He tried to find survivors by himself but failed. The bodies, their mangled and bloody state, it haunted him.” You tilted your head slightly, your gazes connecting as her head found safe haven in the crook of your neck.

“The stench…they said it covered the whole tower. And when they finally found him, he was just a shell of a man, out of his fucking wits.”

Your chest tightened at the visual imagery of her story. “When they explained what happened, I thought to myself; oh that’s perfect, just what I need.” A bitter laugh followed after her words. Your frown deepened as you felt sadness enter your heart.

“What a masochist, I know.”

“But then, as the months passed and routine formed, I realized it wasn’t so bad after all. It's isolating, sure. But I've always managed to feel alone even in a room full of people. The only difference now is I can see it as much as I feel it.”

“And then…” She trails off. “And then my first body appeared. You.” You twisted your neck up to lock eyes with her. “And gods did you haunt me as much as that poor man was haunted.”

There was sadness in the way she carried herself tonight. The way she held onto you like she'd never see you again. Was that the plan, then?

To lay everything out in the open one last time, in case the opportunity doesn't present itself anytime in the future?

You couldn't say anything even if you wanted to. There was desperation in the way you gawked up at her, yearning that clawed on your chest. And so you did the second best thing you could next to talking and closed the distance between you two.

Sevika had no hesitation once you’ve captured her lips with yours. Her metal hand found its place on the side of your face, cradling your cheek softly as her right arm brought you closer to her, gripping your waist with need.

The kiss was hot and passionate. You fit against her like she’s been moulded specifically for your body. Her tongue darted out and wetted your bottom lip. Gasping out softly and melting into her arms, Sevika snuck her tongue inside your mouth. You held onto the back of her head like holding onto reins and pulled on her hair. making her groan into the kiss.

Sevika is tireless now, her craving for you is carnal. Turning you to the side until you back bet the glass window, Sevika only broke off the kiss to attach herself on your neck instead. Her arms travel lower until she’s able to lift you higher and position herself in between your thighs as your legs wrap against her waist easily. Her grip on you is bruising, but you wanted all of it, the pain and intensity, everything that came with her.

Sevika tries to be gentle as her teeth finds the sensitive point of your neck, but as you whine against her, all of her composure fell apart. She bit into your neck and sucked into it, eager to mark you. Your nails dig into her back, making her moan into your skin.

She needed to become one with you, needed to be the one to make you fall apart. Needed to be the only one who knew how you'd look and sounded like in such a vulnerable position.

And she knew that you needed it too. Sevika would give you what you wanted, even if it's the last thing she'd do.

The next day, Sevika was woken up by the harsh streak of sunlight and you were nowhere to be found.

[imheadintothemountains]

[imheadintothemountains]

terrifying and heartbreaking

Actor Jonathan Joss was just murdered for being gay and married to a trans man. On the first day of pride 2025. He was best known for playing John Redcorn on King of the Hill. He was proudly indigenous, often playing indigenous roles. He was Comanche and white mountain apache.

I had no idea he was gay but he was married to a trans man named Tristan Kern de Gonzales (on valentines day 2025!)

They lived in San Antonio Texas where his family is from and he grew up, originally in the house his father built in 1957. He was 59.

In Janurary 2025 his home was burned down which made news. It killed some of his beloved dogs. He didnt elaborate beyond he believed it was arson (gofundme is still up and i suggest donating to help his funeral costs and his husband

Update: de Gonzales says hes fine he just wants justice but i still think its nice)

Now we know he and his husband had been threatened by several neighbors for being queer. They told pigs, pigs being pigs did nothing before or after it happened.

Yesterday Joss and his husband went to check their mailbox wherein they found one of the skull of one of their dogs nearby (statement from his husband

)

As they weeped and mourned in shock, a neighbor, Sigfredo Alvarez Ceja, was sitting waiting with a shotgun on his porch. When yelled at he aimed at de Gonzales…but Joss jumped in front of the bullet and was almost instantly killed.

Ceja, homophobic murdering coward, tried to take off but de Gonzales had called pigs who vaguely tried to do something. He was arrested and his bail set for $200k. Or as my sister said who the fuck sets bail for a murderer?

San Antonio.

De Gonzales is clearly mourning, posting pics on Joss’ fb page. This one really struck me

This is why we need pride people, and not rainbow capitalism. Please donate to the gofundme and let san antonio cops knows what you think. De Gonzales said multiple neighbors had threatened them…id like to see those people investigated for arson.

Go into pride with rage and knowing. Have joy, kiss puppies, dont bow to homophobes. And maybe enjoy a little king of the hill.

UPDATE

Jonathan Joss’ husband Tristan kern de Gonzales identifies as trans on his facebook page.

Which explains the ramp up of hate and why the murderer shot at de Gonzales (Joss pushed him out of the way). So this is also a transphobia related murder

The media and pigs are breaking their backs to not say queer. The local bews segment was stunning in its washing of the motive. Good news tho: the gofundme is funded!!!

And i apologize if i didnt include enough info about Joss being indigenous. To me it was so obvious and i just typed this out in rage quickly. Im very glad and touched its spread so far and im really glad to see ppl correcting media online. But do not forget racism likely had a hand in his murder/harassment

Update day 2:

I covered some of the uglier deflections by people who want to write off Joss’ murder here

If you are disgusted hate crime was off the table in under 24hrs contact the district attorney, only they have that power now that trump has dismantled the federal hate crime unit

And a lovely follower (who didnt want ther name shared) sent me this

This is in San Antonio on June 8th, 2025. It honors both queerness and being indigenous

[imheadintothemountains]

this is so beautiful

DRENCH THROUGH MY CHEST, THE IMAGE OF YOU AN IMPRINT ON MY BRAIN. (SEVIKA X READER)

𖤓 sevika lets you oil her hair. that's really all there is to it.

𖤓 contains: fluff, angst, familial issues, mentions of violence, can be interpreted as being set in zaun or modern!au, self-deprecation on sevika's end, sexual jokes, reader is described as: wearing a bra, having pimples on their back and skin spilling over their bra 𖤓 pngs in header/collage and divider respectively by: @/pngcabinet and @/cafekitsune 𖤓 inspired by: hair oiling being suchhh a love language for me + the quote "you can fuck anyone — but with whom can you sit in water?” from ilya kaminsky's poem, while the child sleeps, sonya undresses

There are only a few things that have been thrusted so consistently into the chaos of Sevika’s life that she’s sure they’ll leave imprints on her brain forever. One is the sight of blood on her fists. Since she was a child, she’s been filled with a rage for the world, for everything unfair. When she got taunted and bullied, instead of weeping into the skirt of her mother, she lashed out, punching and kicking. She’s not sure how much of it was derived from the insult of being bullied as opposed to the general rage that one person could see so little humanity in her. 

Another image is the anger on her father’s face. The way he’d scream at her for how rash she was, for spending too much time with what he deemed to be the wrong crowd. Her father thought most emotions were a waste, and anger was one of them. At least, anger in the way she wove it. Her father’s way of releasing rage was through authority and discipline, treating her less like a daughter and more like a subordinate throughout her teenagehood. Her anger was more volatile, like a forest fire no one could put a stop to once she set her mind to something. Until she reached adulthood, the emotion was something unforgiving to anyone – you got caught in it, you had no choice but to burn.

Then, there’s you. One of the nicer things, stamped into her consciousness on so many days that at this point, she’d probably need medical surgery to extract you out. Not that she thinks she’d ever want to. Even if you guys break up, as sour of a thought that is, she’d still want you there. Lingering and kept alive in the corners of her brain. After eight months of being yours, she barely knows how to do without you anymore, let alone exist without the thought of you. Nor without the images of you kept inside her brain like some sort of private scrapbook.

One of her favourites is the one she’s facing right now. Laying in her bed, smoking a cigar, she watches you with levelled eyes, unable to look away. Your back, dimpled and covered in a sprinkle of spots and pimples, bra digging in and coaxing some skin to spill over the straps. The curve of your ass is barely hidden by the ragged old underwear you’re sporting, tight over your cheeks. Your hands are buried in your hair, fingers scratching away as you apply coconut oil. 

It shouldn’t be that big of a deal to her. If it were anyone else, she’d barely give two shits. But, since the first time you did it, probably three weeks in, she’s found herself unable to walk away when you’re engaging in this weekly routine amongst the tiles and stained walls of her bathroom. Even when you’ve been livid at her, stomping away and slamming the door shut due to all her days away doing Silco’s work, she still lingers in the bedroom, keeping you tucked in the corner of her eye. Those nights, she takes an extra long time to flatten out the sheets of the bed, hoping that that excuse is enough to buy her some time to simply… Jesus, it’s embarrassing, but to simply admire.

Pathetic. She knows. And to think she used to mock the people who’d actually prioritize romantic love and make it the center of their world. Who knew it’d take just some pretty eyes and cooing remarks to get her buckling like this, weak and soft?

Her eyes roam about the back of your neck as your fingers curl into the curve of your head, pressing in and circling methodically. It’s a long-standing practice for you, one that you slip into with ease. She likes to think the twenty minute period every week gives you some respite from the world. An escape you deserve. 

When you’re combing the remnants through the locks of hair, she asks, voice rough as though it craves your company in order to be smoothed over, “You done?”

“Why, you miss me?”

She scoffs. While the answer is a resounding yes, she sure as hell isn’t going to admit that to you. “Nah, I’d just rather not have the electricity skyrocket because you insist on spending so long in there.”

“Yeah, but if I did it in the dark, how would you watch me then?” you say staring at her past the dip of your shoulder, the corner of your lip quirking up adorably. 

Sevika resists the urge to grimace. So much for subtlety. 

“I have legs, they can get me closer.”

“Then, why don’t you just come closer now?” You draw out the last word in a low tone, bottom lip jutting out in that way that drives her insane.

All it takes is the click of the light switch, and Sevika is discarding her forgotten cigar, heaving herself out of bed. Cat’s out of the bag – might as well enjoy the rest of your show.

Immediately, her thick arms, worn with scars of fight and passion, engulf you, pressing tight into your midriff. She leans her face into your shoulder, her nose burying into your neck and breathing you in as though she’s downright greedy for it. And she’s never really been one for greed, in spite of her many vices. Even her gambling has less to do with the reward itself as opposed to the thrill of the game and the instant gratification it gifts her during the long, dreary hours of little to no progress in her work.

The sweet, husky scent of the oil worms its way through her nostrils. It’s one she can barely catch a whiff of without thinking of you now. You, her girl – the stain she can barely muster the strength to wipe her brain clean of. Kindness epitomized, too precious for her rough hands, smelling of the oil whose addictive scent she can barely decipher between belonging to its own properties versus your pretty hair.

“Smells good,” she says in a low tone, the words taking a moment to fully come out. She’s not used to this, either. The compliments. It’s something you made clear your stance on early on, demanding affection and honesty from her. While her initial reaction had been incredulity, wondering how easy you must’ve had it in life to make a big deal out of whether or not she calls you pretty, part of her had been a tad – just a tad – impressed. You weren't going easy on her, insulting her by only expecting the bare minimum and simply settling. No, you were making sure she knew what you expected, and actually trusting her to show it. It was kind of attractive – in an irritating sort of way. But, she’d throw her head into a wall before telling you that.

“Thank you, baby,” you hum, massaging the last of your ends.

Baby. Baby, baby, baby. She feels like a lovesick teenager with the way her stomach flips from it.

She simply grunts, her palm rubbing circles into the soft of your tummy, continuing to breathe you in as you set the bottle to the side of the sink.

“You know, I can do yours, too.”

In the reflection of the mirror, she pinpoints you with a deadpan look. Already, you’ve turned her into your personal doll one too many times, wrapped in a fit of giggles when giving her two unflattering ponytails that stuck out like antennas, snorting out your juice at the sight of her glare after applying bright blue eyeshadow on her.

Besides, this would be different from those times. Those were annoying, and grating, and about a hundred other synonyms, sure, but for you to oil her hair… That made her tap into something she didn’t like and spent many moments of the day avoiding. 

“No.”

“Babe,” you complain with a pout. “It’ll be so relaxing for you. And God knows you need that.”

She chooses to ignore the thinly veiled dig, lightly pinching your stomach and ignoring the yelp that shoots out of you. “Cute. But, no.”

“Sevi–”

“No.”

“But,” you huff, turning your head to give her a glare in the dark shadows, “why?”

She tenses up, her fingers flexing. This is one of those moments – the kind where she can choose to retreat and stay away from those darker shadows in her brain that feel like they’ll clog her body anytime she’s near. Or she can make the decision to take your hand or enter it with you. As much as she tends to instinctually lean towards the former, the idea makes her uncomfortable with guilt. You deserve better than that. 

She clears her throat. “My, uh, my old man used to do it for me. Stopped after I cut my hair.”

When she says it out loud, it sounds so simple, barely covering the surface of the pain she had felt back then at sixteen. Because the full truth is: her mother used to do it, she died, her father kept it up for the sake of giving Sevika some silent comfort and the reminder of her, and then, stopped to prove a point once she cut her hair short. It was the last feminine thing of hers to go, and her father was too stubborn to prioritize nostalgia above pride. And so, the years of tradition had crumbled into pieces, and Sevika took the glass bottle to an alleyway and shattered it against the wall. She thought doing so would give her catharsis and let the rage burn a little stronger. Instead, she had immediately crumbled to the ground, trying to desperately collect the shards as angry sobs choked from her throat.

You seem to sense the thickening tension in the air, slowly turning in the lock of her arms and winding yours around her neck. She has to look away from that sympathetic, tender stare. “I’m so sorry, Sevi.” A beat passes, then you mumble, “I’d love to do it for you. I love your hair.”

She knows you do. You’ve never failed to show her your attraction, and while she’s aware of her own game and ability to get a woman when she wants, she’s never been the most certain of her physical appeal. If she were to confess this to you, she can already imagine your immediate conclusion, spoken confidently in your voice: childhood trauma.

Feeling slightly off balance from the praise, her eyes dart away. “I know.”

“So…” you trail off, combing your fingers through the dark strands, fingernails grazing against her scalp.

She clenches her teeth. A menace you are. You know exactly what that does to her.

And even with every drop of willpower it takes to resist from turning putty under that satisfying touch, she can’t find it in herself to say no to you. Both for not wanting to disappoint you, but also because to say no would be to admit she’s afraid of hair oil of all things. She understands the sting that comes with it, but that doesn’t mean she needs to give into it and cower away. That’s never been her preferred method of handling things. 

“Fine,” she relents, letting go of your waist to retrieve a chair, pointedly ignoring your squeal of delight.

With how tall she is, she’s left sitting in front of you, the wooden bar of the chair pressing into the soft of her neck as she leans back, letting you have your way with her. She can feel the faint squelching noise as you pour the oil into your palm, and unable to resist, says from under her breath, “That sounds familiar.”

You use the back of her hand to thump against her shoulder blade, an admonished gasp shooting from your lips. “You’re fucking disgusting.”

“I’m just stating facts.”

“Yeah, about my pussy, which is unneeded during the romantic gesture of me oiling your hair.”

“It may not be as romantic as you’re picturing it,” she snickers, rubbing her hands. “Maybe you only look good doing it.”

“Hey, just like you with sex,” you snark back, tugging on a lock of her hair, earning a sharp stare in return.

When she’s facing the wall of her bedroom, now adorned with polaroids and photo strips you insisted on pasting there so that she “can wake to something nice,” she lets a smirk curl at her lips. She doesn’t even feel the need to retort. You both know exactly just how well she treats you in that regard.

Her face tightens when your warm, slick hands slowly make their way into her hair, palm mindlessly pushing and pulling at her scalp. Her stiff body speaks of mountains of discomfort, completely unaccustomed to her hair being so gently tended to. Her mind is immediately flooded with memories, trying to remember the last time she did this. 

And that’s the thing – she can’t even pinpoint that with certainty. The last time her dad did that she didn’t even know it’d be the last time. And she doubts she appreciated it all that much at the moment. Probably hated being this close to him after all the fights and biting words that had festered into their relationship at that point. Despite it all, the idea makes her stomach heavy with guilt. Maybe she should have savoured it a bit more. It was one of those things that felt like a drag throughout her teenagehood, but then, was constantly searched for to be replicated once it was gone.

But, maybe she needs to accept that feeling will never return, even if it’s frustrating to not remember how it last felt. You yourself do it differently. While her dad was efficient and unfaltering, his rough hands pressing into her head in steady, consistent motions, you’re a lot softer, more messy with it. One moment, your nails are scratching into her scalp, fingertips making little circles that barely cause her pain, then the next, your fingers are melting in her strands, combing through slowly so that they don’t pull too much.

Sometimes, she wishes you’d handle her a little rougher, give her the amount of gentleness she really deserves. There are people, actual good people, who’d kill to have this kind of domesticity. And Sevika, who everyone is half-terrified of, who’s withdrawn from anyone who can’t benefit her, who has more horrors on her hands than she can count, is the person to receive it? What did she do to earn this? Even back when you guys first met, you gave her this understanding, as though she automatically deserved it. But, she knows herself – she doesn’t deserve it. Honestly, doesn’t deserve you most of the time either.

But, she tries to do right by you, anyways. Even if she thinks you’re too good for her, she’s not about to be one of those idiots who uses that as an excuse to sulk and do nothing because they consider themselves “undeserving.” If anything, she uses the doubt as motivation to prove herself to you.

Lost in her thoughts, she finally relaxes under your touch, her shoulders easing as you continue carefully prodding and twisting in her hair. Leaning back into you, she feels a shiver run down her spine as your nails drag along her scalp, sweet words falling from your lips as your fingers get further lost in her hair, rubbing into her hairline.

She gets why all the women like doing this in her culture. It’s like a massage, lulling her into complacency, the rigid contours of her body numbing out. It’s a feeling she usually avoids, both due to her personal stress and distrust for the world. But, with you, it’s welcomed. With you, there’s trust.

The thought strikes her hard. When was the last time she even felt such trust? When her dad did this with her, she never felt fully at ease, the muscles of her shoulders taut and tense as he applied it. But, with you, she feels like she can sink into it. She can get lost in the sensation, and get wrapped up in the memory of what it was like for her mom to do this. Of what it was like to have that link to her dad, her culture, severed in ways she fucking hated thinking of. Ways that still left a bitter residue no matter how hard she tried to not think of it.

Just like when she was bullied as a kid, the sense of injustice comes piercing through. Did she not deserve better than that? Shouldn’t her dad have acted like a fucking adult and just spare her of the back-and-forth? But, why should she even care? Why does she still care? What’s wrong with her?

Is it all coming back because you’re touching her like this? Her body has been subjected to punches and fights and bruises more times than she can count, and she’s nowhere near to being inexperienced sexually. She’s experienced touches of all kinds, but who does she trust to oil her hair? Barely a handful of people, and most of them are gone. 

She’s too late in biting back the hot tears that roll down her face. She grits her teeth together, embarrassment unfurling in her, filthy and painful. She can’t bear to lift her hand up and wipe at her face lest you see, so she keeps them fisted in her lap.

But, you notice, anyway. You always do.

When her voice is rougher than usual upon being asked if it feels good, you’re immediately bending down to peer at her. And while she usually faces any movement, any threat, head on, she immediately turns away.

“Oh, baby,” you quietly coo, your hands slipping from her hair, body circling around the chair to sit on her lap.

She feels cornered, given no choice but to meet your curious gaze, her own eyes still stinging. That’s another thing. While you demand to have your own feelings acknowledged, you do the exact same thing for her. In the areas of life she’d like to avoid and discard as filthy corners in the alleyways of her mind, you shine a bright light into them, promising to be at her side each time. “What is it?” you softly ask, arms hanging off her shoulders, careful not to touch her skin with your oil-drenched hands.

She tentatively places her large hands on your back, drawing random shapes. Not wanting to dive too deep into it, she says, “Just thinking. About the past, is all.”

“The oil stuff?”

“Yeah. In a way.”

“I’m so sorry he did that, Sevi. It’s so shitty.”

She ignores the protective instinct that immediately kicks in for her dad. You’re right, it is shitty. And it’d be stupid to deny that in favour of some familial obligation that still hangs over her head.

“Yeah.” She presses her lips together. “It’s fine. That’s just how things go.”

“No,” you firmly respond. “You don’t have to accept or resign yourself to that kind of stuff. You should never be treated like that. Never should have been either. I hate that you got used to it.”

She swallows hard. Getting used to it was necessary for survival. She was enraged by the injustice, yeah, but when she was still living under her dad’s roof, it was just easier to stomach it.

“I know,” she says absent-mindedly, rubbing her calloused thumb on the plush of your hip. 

“I wish–” you stop yourself, sucking in a deep breath. “I wish I was there, then.”

She forces herself to stare at you. She wants to match at least half of your guts in this regard. She hates to be weak and hide away.

“What, when I was sixteen?”

“Yeah,” you softly say, your hands stroking through her hair. “I would’ve oiled it back then.”

The image of both of you, budding teenagers, you cradling her to your chest, keeping up the tradition her dad tossed aside like it was nothing, has her stomach aching. A shuddering breath brushes past her lips. “Stop. I’m – fuck, I’m not used to this.” The words are meant to come out firmly, but they get caught halfway in her throat.

“No, I won’t stop.” You lean in closer, kissing the bridge of her nose, fingers beginning to coax at her scalp again. “Just let me do this, okay? You’ll get used to it in time. And trust me when I say so, because I intend to do this for you for a long, long time.”

Fuck. Someone needs to create a rulebook on shit you’re not allowed to say. Already, she finds herself tightening the lock of her jaw, trying not to let more tears leak out. There’s a kind of determination you say the words with – a promise that you would have been, and will continue to be, at her side for however long she lets you. Not just for tonight, or for a month, or for as long as your relationship lasts. Forever is what you’re promising her. A lifetime of you devoting yourself to her.

And she wants to let you. She doesn’t deserve it, that’s for sure. But, how long has she spent her life giving something up for one person or the other? Maybe she’s allowed to be a bit selfish.

It can’t be all that bad if it’s with you. She reckons there are worse things to be selfish about than you, undressed and on her lap, rubbing oil into her hair and pressing mindless kisses to her face. No one hurt, nothing damaged. Just you, turning stone into glass, easing her into your embrace with promises of a future and your presence in it.

And like an idiot, she’ll believe them all. 

“Yeah, if I let you,” she mutters when your lips brush hers.

“You know you will,” you whisper teasingly, pressing a wet kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Who else would you let do this to you, even if it’s just once?”

“Nobody, I guess,” she relents, dipping her forehead against your chin. She usually prides herself on being alone, but the admission causes a sting in her. 

“Yeah,” you whisper, tugging on her hair. “So, thank God for me, right?”

She snorts, squeezing her eyes shut. 

Even if there is a God, she’s sure they have nothing on you. Because you’re right – she’d let tons of people fuck her, fight her, and spit on her. But, only one who she would let dig into her scalp and soak through her hair, drench through her chest.

[imheadintothemountains]

hits so hard

it’s completely fine if ur uncomfortable w writing for this topic butttt if not, can you do reader with religious trauma x gf ellie?? <33

a/n: i’m so so sorry for responding to these request late! this is such a sweet request :0 i went to a religious school for awhile, at the school they constantly reiterated that if we liked the same sex, we were doomed to hell and this made me very paranoid for the longest time and i lashed out in so many ways so this prompt hits VERY close to home. thank you so much for your request, love <3 i hope that in the time it took me to get to this request, you’ve found some sort of peace of mind and i hope this can give you some comfort <3 I will be doing this from a ex-christian’s pov because it’s what I can relate to best, so sorry if it isn’t the way you wanted it! I still hope it resonates with you in some capacity.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

If a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination; they shall surely be put to death; their blood is upon them.

Leviticus 20:13, that verse plagued your existence. You had it memorized, of course, how could you not? The pastor only made you write it out a million times when she suspected that your relationship with one of your friends was more than sisterhood. It took you a very, very long time to work past the trauma, every time you thought about being with another some, your cheeks would warm and your heart would flutter but.. in the back of your mind, that verse would echo like a a broken record, reminding you that the same God who loved you, didn’t love you enough to let you love who you want to love.

For awhile, you thought you could ignore the idea of being with another woman, you forced yourself to go on dates with boys in button up collared shirts and stories about how they took their youth club to a play about the nativity or something along those lines. You played the perfect part, skirts past your knees, hair up in a neat bun, nude nail polish, and a bible in hand, attending church every Sunday like it was a vice.

Everything was fine, you convinced yourself but your perfect church girl facade went out the window when you saw her. You had never seen her before, she stood behind a gruff looking man, rubbing the back of her neck and wrinkling her nose at the stuffy church ladies tutting over her ‘boyish’ appearance.

You later came to learn that her name was Ellie Williams, adopted um.. something of Joel Miller, the church handyman and local contractor. She didn’t show up to the services, only came to assist Joel with a broken sink, a fence that needed mending, and whatever crap the church ladies would spew just so that they could get a glimpse of Joel.

You tried not to pay any attention to her, she didn’t look like the typical church goer type. She didn’t mind cussing around the church (though she never cussed IN church because that would mean a smack upside the head from Joel), usually walked in with a bad case of bed head and tired look in her eyes, and most importantly didn’t hid the little pride flag on her bag.

The pin was small, small enough that the other attendees didn’t notice but you did. The little plastic pin gleamed in the fluorescent lighting like it was mocking you, calling your eyes towards it.

“What, you like the pin?”

Your eyes darted up to the auburnette in front of you, your cheeks warmed and you cleared your throat, “U-um, not particularly.. I-I was just looking, that’s all,” you averted your eyes back to the broken sink.

That was how the two of you started talking, she’d say a teasing comment here and there when Joel and his fan club weren’t around. Sometimes, Ellie would even say something as small as ‘I like your hair like that’ and it would send your heart racing. Still, you chalked up your dumb feelings to being ‘just friends.’

Lucky enough for you, Ellie was patient, she didn’t mind playing the long game, hell, she even thought it was a little cute when you’d stammer over your words, your hand fiddling with the cross around your neck, and your eyes looking anywhere else but her like you were trying to recall some scripture they taught you in Sunday school. Hell, she didn’t even mind the way you lashed out at her the first time she kissed you because she could still see the pink of your cheeks in the dim lighting in her room.

After much thinking and wrestling with your own faith, you found yourself back at her doorstep, cross necklace back home in your bedside drawer and Leviticus 20:13 no longer echoeing in the back of your mind because right then, all you could think about was how could something as tender as a kiss be an ‘abomination.’

Ellie didn’t mind taking it slow with you, she listened intently as you said about how you didn’t know if this is right but then you’d look at her with this big glassy eyes and tell her that you’ve never felt this way about anyone else before, not even Jedediah Noah Christianson.

Ellie didn’t even mind hiding your relationship, she knew how hard it was for you to leave your church, even if some of the congregation were the very same people who told you that you were going to hell for looking at another girl, the way you were supposed to look at a man.

She was patient, she’d sneak kisses from you in the back of the church before you went to assist with the Sunday school kids, she helped you clean up after potlucks, made up more excuses to visit the church like needing to fix a broken valve or whatever. Hell, she even dressed more ‘church-girl-chique’ if it meant your very religious and uptight parents would let her spend the night. (A/N: unfortunately, she’d look very male gaze ellie here… but shes doing it for YOU… be grateful :()

When the time came and you came out to your folks, she was right there beside you. She rolled her eyes when your mother began to cry and say ‘I never wanted this to you’ then let out a scoff when your dad called you some very mean words, she even bit back with some words of her own before taking you to your bedroom and helping you pack a few bags, saying that there was no way in hell, she was letting you stay in that house any longer.

That night, she let your rest your head against her chest, her slender fingers raking through your hair as you sniffled, mumbling about how you never want to see your parents again and how you don’t want to go back to that place ever again.

After a few more months together, you finally allowed yourself to give into Ellie, though, the words of your parents and pastors still played, you learned to shut them out by focusing on Ellie. Though, every now and then, the words would get loud, too loud. Maybe you lashed out, sunk back into verses about homosexuality, or just clammed up, either way, Ellie was there. She waited for you, whether you yelled, holed up with a bible, or shut her out, she waited. Sometimes, she would even sit with you and play her guitar, hoping that the gentle strums of the strings were louder than your words.

Then when you slowly came back to her, tearful and muttering out apology after apology, she’d smile softly and tell you, “babe, there’s nothin to be sorry about, it’s not your fault. You know, I’ll still love, yeah? It’s alright, come here.”

“Both of them have committed an abomination,” you muttered out the verse to Ellie, your hands playing with the buttons on her flannel.

“An abomination, huh? That’s a pretty weird way of saying they loved each other,” Ellie chuckled at her own cheap joke before pressing a small kiss against your forehead, “Does this feel like an abomination?”

You couldn’t help but giggle softly, your fingers still tracing the buttons but with less anxiety and more fondness, “You’re such a dork.”

[imheadintothemountains]

─── all the quiet nights you bear

content warning(s): hurt/comfort, sickfic (mentions of fever dreams), fluff, light angst, no defined or established relationship, hint of yearning, gn reader (cishet men dni...obviously) 

wc: 1.6k

note: this is just shameless fluff i wrote because i’m sick and miserable and why not project that onto sevika ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

"and all the quiet nights you bear seal them up with care no one needs to know they're there for i will hold them for you." —Mitski, “I Will”

At first, the symptoms don't show in normal ways. In fact, they barely show at all. 

She’ll smother her coughs in the folds of her cloak, wave it off as a speck of dust in her throat, cigar ash. She was always good at that. Feigning strength. Covering up weaknesses. Like second nature. 

The fever that was ripping through the Lanes, a new virus of some sort, was on the radar of everyone who called Zaun home. But it was next to impossible to imagine Sevika falling victim to it. She had an immune system like steel. In all the years you had known her, you had never seen her catch so much as a passing cold. 

This time it’s different. Something is wrong. She’ll try her best to conceal it, but you know her too well to let even the smallest of hints escape you. The way she stumbles over her feet, catching herself on the doorframe, pausing briefly to catch her breath before she goes on with her work. The thin sheen of sweat along her hairline. Her labored breathing as the two of you walk up the steps into an airship. 

You know the worst way to confront her is to tell her point-blank to take a break. She’ll just scoff, mutter something about you overreacting, walk away before you can get another word out. 

Even worse would be to call her out within the earshot of any of the lackeys. They weren’t exactly devoted to each other, and certainly weren’t on friendly terms with Silco’s closest enforcer. They remembered their little “meetings” with her whenever they tried to sneak themselves a higher cut of the profits. A hint of a weak spot—the smallest of openings—they’d be on her like hounds. 

So you wait until you have her alone in Silco’s empty office. He’s out for the day on a business trip down the other districts of Zaun. As Sevika goes through the shipment records, you can see her hand trembling with exhaustion. 

Slowly, you walk over to where she stands hunched over the desk. You set a glass of water down on the table. She doesn’t look at you, doesn’t give a word or a nod of thanks. But she puts down the papers and drains the water like she’s been parched for days. 

“What’re you trying to do—infect the whole company?” You ask, keeping your tone casual. 

She snaps her gaze at you. “The hell are you talking about?” 

There it is. The tell-tale rasp in her voice. 

You reach up to press the back of your hand against her forehead. Irritably, she swats your hand away. You slap her back, reaching up again to feel her skin. She’s burning up. 

“How long have you been walking around like a living corpse?” 

Sevika turns away. “It’s not that bad. I can handle it.”

“‘Handle it’, my ass. You just marked all these shipment records as fulfilled.” 

Sevika looks down at the faulty manifests. She lets out a heavy sigh of frustration, swearing under her breath. 

“Go home, Sevika.” 

She tries to scoff, but it catches in her throat and turns into a coughing fit. 

“I’ll put it this way,” you say, laying a hand on her arm, “you stay, and you'll double the work by messing everything up. Best thing you could do for anybody right now is rest.” 

She opens her mouth to argue. You know exactly what she’s about to say, so you beat her to the punch. Gathering the papers into your arms, you push her toward the door. “I’ll cover for you. I’ll fix these forms up. You just try to stay upright on the walk home.” 

She snorts. “Nothing’s wrong with me.”

“Sevika.” 

She ignores you, reaches for the papers in your hands. You shake your head. If she thinks she’s the only  stubborn ass in this room, she’s forgetting who she’s standing in front of. 

Standing. Well. Barely. The woman’s ready to topple over any second.

“Right,” you say. You march over to the corner of the room, shoving the papers into your satchel. “Then I’m taking you home myself.” 

“What?” 

You hook your arm through hers, shepherding her toward the door. You can feel the heat radiating through her sleeve. “You’re in no damn condition to be working up here.” 

꩜

Once you’ve wrestled her into bed, she falls asleep almost immediately. Brows creased with the remnants of her resistance to the limitations of her own body. 

She’s out cold for seventeen straight hours. 

In the meantime, you straighten things up. Clean the bottles off the floor of her dimly lit apartment. Open the windows in the kitchen to let some of the stale air out, the smell of cigarette smoke hanging thick. For all the time you’ve known her, it’s been ages since you’ve last seen her place. It’s just the same as you remember. Minus the deck of cards that always used to sit at the corner of the kitchen table. It’s been replaced by several used-up lighters, which you throw away. 

She wakes up at intervals, blinking slowly at you as if she’s only half-processing you’re there. You have the papers laid out in front of you on the table, signing off all the reports of Shimmer shipments. 

You don’t notice her watching you at first. 

“Need something?” You’re already getting up, reaching for the jug of water nearby. “What is it?” 

Sevika parts her dry lips. In a voice scraped raw, so weak you need to lean in to hear her, she says, “you don’t…you don’t have to do this.”

“What do you mean?” 

“You don’t have to…look after me like this.” 

You huff impatiently. “Don’t waste your strength talking nonsense.” You feel her forehead again, pull the blanket closer to her chin. “Want me to make you tea?” 

Sevika searches your face, her grey eyes darting, before her lids close again. She turns over, pulling the blanket around her. “It’s fuckin’ cold,” she mutters, and drifts off again. 

꩜

The illness stays for days. 

You’ve moved in temporarily, your clothes hang haphazardly from the furniture, and dirty bowls and cups litter the kitchen. You’ve bribed everyone you knew at the Last Drop to keep things hushed about Sevika’s condition. As far as you know, only Silco knows the truth. 

You do everything you can to quell the fever. Bathe her face and body with cold compresses, stripping off her clothes and drawing the cloth over her skin to bring down the temperature. Murmuring softly to her as she flinched from the cold, muttering indecipherable things in her sleep. You wrap her in every blanket you can find in the apartment. You wake her up intermittently to get her to drink some water, feed her some soup, but nothing stays down for long. 

It’s worse late at night, when she has the fever dreams, when she thrashes in bed and drenches the sheets with sweat, crying out names of people you’ve never heard of before. When she wakes up and stares at you but doesn’t seem to recognize you, grey eyes glassy and bloodshot. 

“You here to finish me off?” She asks you in a wild, hoarse voice, over and over. “Huh? You here to watch me go?” 

You don’t know who she thinks you are. You wipe the sweat from her face. You climb into bed and press your body to her burning skin, holding her close until she stops tossing and turning, until you can feel her fall back into troubled sleep.  

You try not to let yourself get scared. Try to keep the fears at bay, try to keep your wits about you. By now you’ve heard the rumors of the spreading fever taking the lives of the weaker ones—a new infection, cross-contamination—something to do with the waste waters from Topside. People are dropping like flies. Rumors of new symptoms start to circulate. 

Not Sevika. It won’t happen to Sevika. 

She’s too strong. She’s fought for too long. 

You don’t let yourself think about the worst that could happen. Sevika had always been in your life, an unstoppable force…you’re realizing now you had taken her strength for granted. Never, never for a moment would you have dreamed of a possibility that you might lose her. 

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about a life where she isn’t there. 

You don’t think you could handle it. 

꩜

Around midnight at the end of a long, hellish week, her fever breaks. You could have cried out of relief. Her pulse finally drops to a normal rate. She wakes up briefly to drink some water and for the first time, her eyes are lucid when she looks at you. 

“Hey,” she says. “You look like hell.” 

“You look worse,” you retort, wiping a trickle of water that runs down her chin.

A small smile. The sight feels better than the high of any drug. 

You don’t need to watch over her that night. You watch the gentle rise and fall of her chest for several minutes, and feel a strange twist in your heart. Like the softest of wounds has opened up in your soul. Then you go back out to the living room, and promptly pass out on the couch.  

When you check on her in the morning, she’s already sitting up in bed, rubbing a hand over her eyes. 

“Hey, you,” you say softly, brushing the sweaty strands of hair out of her face. “Welcome back.” 

“I feel like shit,” she grumbles. Her peevish tone makes you smile. 

“As long as you’re alive.”

[imheadintothemountains]

ᓚ₍⑅^..^₎♡ an oath whispered by the river

ᯓ★ knight!abby and princess!reader

cw: abby is injured while protecting reader.

wc: 5820 ₍^. .^₎⟆

the halls of the royal court are too clean for abby's liking—everything reeks of rosewater and fresh fruit. she knows she doesn’t belong here, and it makes her jaw tighten.

the guards bring her to the throne room at dusk—torches flickering as she walks across the polished marble floor. abby’s steps echo loud and graceless—but she allows every person present to hear and look.

then there’s you—sitting at the end of the hall, raised above it all, draped in white lace and soft lilac silks. your gloved hands rest delicately in your lap, posture pristine—making you look like a portrait. but it’s your eyes that stop her—still and sharp. they find her across the room, and abby feels the shift in her gut like a punch, but she keeps walking. 

a week ago, she saved a dying baron from a bandit attack—and the royal family had set her eyes on her. that earned her the title of royal guard, protector of the crown’s most precious thing—you, the only daughter of the king and queen. it should feel like an honor, nevertheless, it feels like a weight around her throat. 

they tell her to kneel, so she does—one leg to the floor, her sword laid across her thighs. “i, abigail anderson—” she says, voice clear. “—swear fealty to the crown’s princess. i swear to protect her body with my own, to stand between her and death.”

a haunting silence blooms in the room. then, you raise—your footsteps are as quiet as snowfall. abby looks up at you, hating how untouchable you seem from up close—no scars, no calluses, not a single hair out of place. you lift her sword with both hands, struggling with the weight of it, and abby sees it. she should feel superior in some way, but instead, it only reminds her of the differences between both of you.

you touch the flat of the blade to her shoulder, left, then right. carefully, you lean in. “i don’t need anything from you,” your voice is low as you murmur. “only your strength.”

abby says nothing as you hand her the sword. when you step back, she stays on her knees—not lifting her gaze to look at you. 

now, her life is set. she will rise. she will follow. she will guard. she will pretend not to see the scorn in the nobles’ eyes. she will obey.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────

the evening air has the scent of honeysuckle—or maybe daisies. abby can’t tell since she doesn’t care about flowers—they always reminded her of graves.

you send for her with the simple invitation of meeting you by the garden, and she obeys. 

abby follows the stone path behind the castle, past the hedges and into the royal gardens where ivy coils up marble statues. the second she steps past the gate, she sees you—standing in a simple, soft pink gown, one that seems weightless and sheer. your hair falls loose, and your crown is gone. that alone unsettles her more than she wants to admit.

the two of you walk without speaking. she watches you from the corner of her eye, how the pearls you are wearing catch the sunlight or how your fingers graze a few flowers. eventually, you lead her to a clearing she hasn’t seen, past a small bridge—where a river that glints under the sun is. without a word, you slip off your heels, and step into the grass—the hem of your gown brushing dirt and dew—only to sit on the muddy bank.

abby’s brows draw in. “you’re ruining your gown,” she mumbled.

“it’s only water and mud,” you don’t look up.

“you’re wearing royal silk,” she steps closer, boots squelching in the earth. “if anyone sees you like this—if the king knows about this—he’ll have my head.”

still, you don’t turn—fingers tracing patterns through the water, slow and thoughtful. your dress is soaked to the thighs, clinging into your skin, translucent in places it shouldn’t be.

“princess, you’re ruining your gown,” she repeats, tone sharper.

“i’m the king’s daughter,” you say softly. “nothing i do is by nature ruinous.” 

she stares—abby wants to grab your wrist and drag you out of the water—but she doesn’t move, she just stares.

the river murmurs between you as the sun disappears beyond the trees—the wind is cool, and so is abby’s blood. she does not speak, she is still staring at you—helplessly drawn. the hem of your silk dress floats like a pale ghost in the shallow water—until you get up, stepping deeper. 

abby’s breath catches in her throat. “princess,” she warns, but you don’t look back. 

you move slowly, deliberately, into the river until the water laps at your waist. then higher as your dress clings to your body like a second skin. you pause only once—and then, in one smooth motion, you vanish beneath the current.

she tenses, taking a step forward, hand on the hilt of her sword. “god,” she mumbles. “what are you doing?”

the river stills as you rise. water pouring from your hair, streaming over your skin, glittering in the last light of the evening. you sweep your hair back from your face, eyes calm and unbothered, like this is where you belong—not in the throne, not in pearls, not wearing a crown. but here, soaking wet, half-myth, half-human. for a moment, abby swears you’re not entirely human—maybe you’re a mermaid crowned in pearls, silk trailing like fins. you glide back toward the river bank without ceremony, the soaked fabric spills around you.

“sit,” you order, expression unreadable. 

abby doesn’t move. “princess—”

“i said sit,” you don’t raise your voice.

she exhales, glancing toward the hedges as she sits—expecting it to be a trap. her armor clinks faintly, placing her sword across her lap. you step behind her, she hears the squelch of wet fabric as you lower your body.

your fingers were cool and careful, sliding through her braid, now loose from the day’s activities. “what are you doing?” you ask.

you don’t answer, nevertheless, you begin to undo her hair. 

she flinches when your soft hand grazes the nape of her neck as you undo her hair. “i can do it myself.”

“you could,” you reply, steady. “but i’m doing it.”

silence falls—only the sound of your fingers working through her braid and the water dripping from your gown.  

“you’re going to get me in trouble,” abby says, her voice ragged. “if someone sees you like this—if they see me like this—the king will have my head.”

still, you keep braiding. “i’m the one who gives order,” you whisper. “let them speak if they see. they’ll only do what i allow.”

her jaw tenses and she shuts her eyes as your fingers move slowly, with too much tenderness and knowledge. you finish the braid, abby runs her hand through it, feeling something soft, wrapping the end—a silky ribbon. fine. expensive. not hers. abby turns enough to see the missing ribbon from the hem of your dress.

“you used your gown?” she asks.

“i did,” you say. “it’ll last you until death.”

the moon rises behind the trees, and the night’s wind breathes around you. neither of you moves.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────

the walk back to the castle is quiet. abby follows two paces behind, trailing your damp footprints. 

inside the palace, you speak to a servant. “send a bath to my chambers,” you say. “and have a gown laid out—apple green. please,” you disappear behind your doors, leaving abby alone in the corridor. 

what are you doing to me? she thinks. and why am i letting you?

later, the bells toll for supper—you emerge wearing the green gown, hair brushed out and left loose, a single emerald pendant resting at your throat. abby waits outside your door, armor cleaned and her braid still tied with your ribbon. you walk and she follows.

the dining hall is empty—no king, no courtiers. just the long table lit by candlelight. you sit at the head, the way you were born to.

“sit,” you look up—seeing abby hesitate. “i said sit.”

“i can’t sit at the royal table,” she says.

you tilt your head, faintly amused. “you can. i’m telling you to.”

again, she hesitates. she had fought men twice her size. faced blades, fire, and war. however, nothing has ever felt as dangerous as this.

“i’m not supposed to—” she begins.

you cut in. “abigail, are you disobeying an order?”

she shakes her head. “no, princess. sorry.”

you nod toward the chair across from you. she sits—the chair is too soft, the table too polished, the plate too fine, and the food too much for someone like her—roasted meat glazed with citrus, still-steaming bread, pears dripping with something sweet and spiced, and a glass of red wine.

abby doesn’t dare to move.

“eat,” you say as you take a single bite, elegant and precise.

she stares at the meal—thinking that if she touched it, it would summon punishment. nevertheless, she picks up the fork anyway. the first bite is so delicious it hurts. abby has lived on salted meat, dry bread, and cold stew—and this is the kind of meal only royalty deserved. 

“do you think i’m cruel?” you ask.

“what?” she glances at you.

“you look at me like i’m a wolf—a threat,” you say, taking another bite of your bread.

abby sets her fork down. “i don’t think you’re a threat.”

“good,” you mutter.

the candle between you flickers—both of you now eating in silence, not a single glance exchanged. 

 ────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────

the next day, the sky was clear and the air windless. perfect for the occasion. the royal courtyard bustles—violet silks draped over marble columns, banners threaded carefully with silver thread, musicians tuning their lyres and lutes.

tonight is the spring ballad—a celebration of peace between kingdoms. since appearances mean everything, you arrived in a gown—a cascade of violet and petal-pink, pearl-threaded vines curling across your waist, pastel stones glimmering from your ears, neck, and wrists. your hair is swept half-up, and your crown perched on your head.

all eyes turn to you the moment you step into the ballroom. abby stands behind you, tall in formal armor—steel and a royal-blue sash, her braid is tight, and her hands hover near the hilt of her sword. she watches everything and everyone. something feels wrong.

you drift from noble to noble, offering words and hollow smiles. abby shadows each step, cold, and silent. the second you notice an unfamiliar pair of eyes, you turn to abby—fingers brushing her hand, and she understands.

a glass shatters. the first blade never touches you, as abby sees the glint, and moves before the thought finishes forming. her sword meets the attacker’s with a crash that sends nobles in panic. a second attacker follows, and she turns fast, blade raised as a dagger grazes her arm—shallow but sharp. she doesn’t flinch. 

guards pour in as the attackers are dragged away, screaming. voices rise—orders, demands, and threats pour. none of it matters because suddenly, you’re close to her.

“abby,” you say, voice cutting through the chaos.

“you’re not hurt, right?” she asks.

you’re staring at her arm, blood stains the edge of her sleeve, dark against the fabric. “you’re injured,” you whisper.

“it’s nothing,” abby sighs.

you take her wrist desperately. “you’re coming with me now. allow the guards to fix this mess.”

the second she hears your voice, she knows better than to protest. something cracked behind your eyes as you walked with abby—the guards parting as they’re instructed to move. you don’t stop until your chambers swallow you both, the door slamming shut.

“sit,” you order, as you pace around the room, grabbing a basin, a cloth, and a bandage.

she obeys and you kneel before her—gown pooling on the stone floor. you tear away at abby’s sleeve, hands controlled. 

“you’re acting like i lost a limb,” she mutters.

your eyes gaze up to meet hers. “you could have.”

you soak a cloth in the water, wring it out and press it to her skin. abby hisses through her teeth, but she stays still.

“you’ve never knelt for anyone, have you?” she asks.

“i kneel for no one,” you respond. “but i’ll kneel to clean your blood.”

she watches you as you carefully clean the bloody wound—tying the bandage wrapping. as you got up, she shifts in the seat, sword now left on the floor. 

“stay here,” you say as you step away—disappearing behind the silk divider into the bathing chamber.

water echoes—buckets poured into marble and the clink of glass as oil vails are uncorked. abby imagines it without meaning to—your gown slipping down, silk pooling at your feet, your bare skin meeting the water. she closes her eyes, not daring to move.

nearly half an hour passes before the divider parts again—you emerge, dressed in a sky blue royal nightgown—moving barefoot across the room.

“i had warm water brought,” you mutter. “you’ll bathe next.”

“i’m fine, i can go to my quarters—” she tries, only to be interrupted by you.

“you’re not leaving,” you order. “i’ll bring you something soft to wear.”

abby glances at herself—this isn’t how it’s meant to be. she’s the sword. the shield. she’s not supposed to be bandaged and bathe in the princess’s private room. 

“the water’s hot—go before it cools,” you say, glancing over your shoulder.

by the time abby returns, dressed in a cream tunic and wool pants—you sit on the bed, robe tied over your nightgown, a fresh bandage and a tub of ointment across your lap, your feet are tucked beneath you.

“sit,” you pat the mattress as your unwavering eyes find hers.

“you just cleaned it,” she mutters.

“sit,” your voice is colder. “i need to clean it again, you bathed.”

she grits her teeth and sits. your fingers are gentle as they untie the wrapping—the wound is crusted, angry, and reopened from movement. you don’t speak when she winces or when her breath hitches. 

but, when she hisses at the sting of the ointment. “damn—”

“abigail,” you say flatly. “shut your mouth.”

abby nods and stills as you wrap the fresh bandage with care. fingers deliberately  brushing her skin more than necessary. 

“you threw yourself between me and a blade,” you whisper. “this is how i show you i’m thankful.”

“it’s my obligation,” she mutters.

“no,” you lean back. “your obligation isn’t to bleed for me—it’s to protect me.”

“same thing,” abby whispers. 

your hands move to smooth the edge of the wrapping—thumbs brushing against her skin, like you can still feel the blood on your fingers, and you’re afraid it won’t be the last time. 

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────

the sun burns gentler here, as you lead her past the last arches of the palace garden—marble gives to moss and stone. abby follows, her sword bumping against her hip with each step.

every time you move, the folds of your pale rose gown sway around your ankles, and abby can’t stop watching you. she hates the way her eyes fix on your hair catching the sun, the slip of your sleeve down your shoulder, your fingers ghosting along the flowers.

you reach the river. the same bend where, once, stepped straight into the water. but this time, you say nothing as you look at the soft current and step out of your shoes, and sit down in the grass while abby stays standing behind you. 

even without looking at her, you could feel her staring. “you’re staring,” you say quietly. “are you?”

abby scowls defensively. “i wasn’t—”

“abigail, don’t lie,” her name from your lips is gentle and precise.

“it’s my job to watch you,” she shifts, fingers twitching on the hilt of her sword. 

“that’s not what i asked,” you wait, turning enough to look at her. 

and she breaks—she can’t speak when you look at her like that. chin tilted, expression serene—one that told her that you already knew she was staring, you’re just waiting for her to confess it.

you sign, leaning backward until your back hits her knee. abby’s body locks as she feels the warmth of your body through the linen of her pants. 

“you think i don’t see it,” you murmur. “but you’re always watching—and i let you.”

she opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.

“you never say what you’re thinking,” you continue, still quiet. “but you look at me like i might disappear.”

“i can’t say anything,” she swallows, her voice coming out dry. “you’re going to get me executed.”

a small smile pulls at your lips. “i could,” you tilt your face slightly, lips brushing her knee. “but i won’t.”

abby’s hands move uselessly at her side—her thoughts collapse, unable to do anything but focus on you. you’re calm, beautiful, and cold—like someone who just claimed something she hadn’t needed to ask for.

one moment your head is on her knee, the next you’re rising. the sunlight brushes your shoulders as you stand, and abby follows you with her eyes, each footfall silent in the damn grass.

the silk slips from your shoulder, not scandalously, but just enough—as you step into the river, the fabric floating around your legs, clinging in places, trailing behind you. water beads on your skin and catches in your hair—you lean back, allowing the current to touch your ribs, arms, and throat, your eyes close and your lips part.

abby forgets everything—her name, her body, her breath. the river moves, and so do you—swimming closer to her, graceful and effortless. she drops before her knees give out—sitting with her arms braced against the grass. 

then, you reach her, placing your head on her leg—dripping and cool. abby looks down at you, and the second she meets your eyes, she feels like she is drowning on dry land.

she feels it, something that shakes her down to the bone. her heart kicks hard in her chest—she closes her eyes before it begins ringing in her ears. because she knows you’re looking at her like she’s already yours. 

the river is still—not even the breeze dares to move, not with you half-submerged, your head resting on her knee. abby’s eyes are still closed, embarrassed by the fact that you must be able to hear her heart pounding. she doesn’t know what to do with her hands—fingers begging to reach for something that isn’t hers.

you break the silence, low and smooth. “is something wrong, abigail?”

she opens her eyes, she shouldn’t have. you’re looking up at her—lashes heavy with river water, lips rosy and parted as you breath, and your eyes, cold but not holding any cruelty. 

your arms lifts from under the water, droplets sliding from your wrist. you reach up with the back of your hand and touch her—a stroke across her temple, beneath her hairline. abby sighs—your skin is warm from the sun, wet from the river, and your fingers trail down the side of her face with excruciating softness.

“i asked you something,” you say, softer now. “don’t pretend i didn’t.”

her stomach coils—not knowing if she should flinch or lean into your touch. still, abby doesn’t speak.

“you’re flushed,” you whisper, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “is it the heat?”

“no,” she breathes—she didn’t want to lie.

you smile just a little. “then what is it?”

her fists tighten. she bites her tongue hard enough to taste blood—or maybe restraint, fear, or something that tastes like wanting. you lean forward again, closer—your cheek brushes her knee.

“why don’t you speak?” you ask. “you’re always brave in battle—why is this different?”

“because… you’re not supposed to do this,” her voice is barely hers.

your smile is still small—but it stabs abby more painful than any blade she’s ever faced, because she knows you know what you’re doing. you’re not careless or naïve, you move through life how a hawk circles above its prey—it’s all measured and calculated, as deliberate as any kill.

“you say i’m not supposed to do this,” you whisper, fingers trailing featherlight along her jaw. “but you’re letting me.”

“princess—” she tried, but it sounded weak.

your thumb brushes the corner of her mouth—a hush gesture. “no titles—not here,” your hand falls back to her knee, resting with gentleness that feels like cruelty. “what are you feeling, huh?”

“it’s survival,” abby says.

“why?” you whisper, tone somewhere between amusement and pity. “are you afraid of me?”

she looks at you, and it’s the worst mistake she’s made. your gaze demands and devours, it dares her to lie.

“no,” she says.

you exhale, slowly. “good,” you close your eyes.

the water whispers past you. above, the sky deepens—a darker blue, as dusk creeps in. the garden, the castle, and the world fade away, leaving only the press of your cheek against abby’s knee. your breathing is soft as it fans against her leg—such a vulnerable sight. it should make abby feel powerful, but it makes her feel like she is losing a game. 

minutes pass, slipping away. abby’s muscles ache from holding still—but her hand moves before she can stop it, fingers brushing through your damp hair. your lashes flutter as you lean into the touch. abby knows this is wrong. she is supposed to guard and protect you, not crave you like a forbidden fruit. 

“you’re trembling,” you break the silence. 

abby pulls her hand away as you lift your head—hair clinging to your cheeks in damp strands, skin flushed from the sun and the river, gown flowing in the water. 

“you look fevered,” you say. “you should get into the water.”

she shakes her head. “i’m fine.”

“you’re not,” you stand, dripping—your hand outstretched, but she doesn’t take it. “always so stubborn.”

“i’m not,” she says, looking at the ground.

you lean in. “you are—you just don’t want me to see it.”

there, you stand drenched, silk gripping to your frame—hand still outstretched, waiting. abby’s voice is taut, braced for a blow that never came—instead, you withdraw your hand. 

“you disappoint me, abigail,” you whisper, voice cold.

“that’s not fair,” she mutters, brows furrowing.

“life isn’t fair,” you step closer, abby can smell the river on you. “you should know that.”

“i do know—better than you,” abby looks up, jaw set.

you move closer, standing between her legs—looking down at abby in an almost merciless, consuming way. “you hate me,” you say—a statement, not a question. 

“i don’t,” she immediately says—swallowing against the knot in her throat. 

“you do,” you whisper. “you hate me for what i am. for what you’ll never be allowed to touch. and yet, you’d die for me without hesitation.”

“that’s my duty,” abby grounds out, trying to sound steady.

“no,” you look into her eyes. “that’s your curse.”

abby’s defenses collapse under your cruel mercy. “i—”

you straighten slowly, stepping back. “come,” you say, voice calm, as if nothing had happened. “before i catch a cold.”

she stands because she has no other choice, because she lost this battle the second she let herself care. abby follows you back toward the castle, sword heavy at her side.

the castle halls are darker now, the torches along the stone walls flickering. you walk ahead, your wet gown leaving faint traces along the stone, steps silent. she follows, silent too, body tense. 

you turn around. “go,” you say. “bathe. change. i expect you to be dressed properly for dinner—that’s an order, abby.”

“yes, princess,” abby nods—obeying because disobedience is not a luxury she can afford.

when abby returns, dressed in a clean tunic and pants—you’re waiting for her outside your chamber. you’re dressed in a simple, deep plum dress, a thin golden chain around your throat, and your hair is pinned up—leaving your neck exposed.

it was the first time abby saw you wear anything dark, something that made you feel even more distant and untouchable. beautiful, she thinks—and you catch her looking, but you say nothing, only turn on your heel and lead abby down to the dining hall.

dinner is quieter, as it was just abby and you, seated at the table—plates are laid out, offering glazed venison, warm bread, potatoes, and golden fruits. and abby still feels like she’s being tested, instead of rewarded. 

you sit across from abby—lifting your fork with precision, eating slowly and methodically. she tries to do the same, but her hands betray her, too aware of how your eyes flicker toward her when you think abby won’t notice. except she notices everything now—the tilt of your head, every brush of your lashes, and the tiny smile.

at the end of the meal, you place your fork down, the faintest click against the plate. you say nothing, but your eyes lock with abby’s with an unspoken question—she looks away first. the clatter of silverware fades into silence as you set your glass down, wiping your mouth delicately with a cloth.

without lifting your eyes from abby, you nod toward the doors. “come,” you say, tone smooth but commanding.

immediately, abby’s chair scrapes the floor—following out of the dining hall, back through the corridors, past workers who keep their eyes trained low. 

you stop at your chamber door, you push it open, stepping inside. however, abby hesitates, like she always does. “inside,” you whisper.

the room smells faintly of roses, and a fire crackles low in the hearth. a fresh set of linens and a basin with water awaits. you move carefully, gathering bandages and ointments—as you motion to the small bench near the fireplace. 

“sit,” you demand. 

abby sits down, as you kneel—the folds of your plum gown pooling around you. you take her injured arm in your hands, unwinding the old bandage. she tries not to shift under your touch, but without thinking—without meaning to—her rough, calloused hand lifts. her fingers brushing through your soft, silky hair. 

you freeze—and abby notices. she realized what she’d done, and snatches her hand back, heart pounding in her throat. 

“i’m—i’m sorry, your highness,” she rasps. 

you stay still—the firelight flickering over your cheekbones and lowered lashes. “leave it.”

you reach up with your free hand, guiding her palm back to your hair—pressing it there gently. abby swallows hard, every part of her body burning—but she keeps her hand there, as you resume cleaning her wound in slow strokes. 

abby sits there—a broken knight holding a princess, trying not to fall apart under the unbearable thought of not being allowed this ever. your touch remains gentle as you work, fingers smoothing ointment along her arm, wrapping it anew with white linen. abby’s hand stays buried in your hair, trembling against the crown of your head.

you say nothing—not when abby’s thumb brushes lightly, accidently, against your temple. not when her breath hitches. you simply finish wrapping the bandage with careful precision.

slowly, you look up—her hand slips from your hair the moment your eyes meet. you don’t move—your expression was so calm it made abby feel like she was pinned in place, as if she was some foolish thing caught between reverence and ruin.

“your hands are always trembling,” you say quietly—studying abby with detached curiosity, the one someone might give a wild animal, deciding whether to be merciful or kill it. “you’re not afraid of me, are you, abigail?”

she shakes her head. “no, your highness.”

you rise gracefully to your feet, brushing the creases from your dress with a slow hand, as if nothing had happened. “okay.”

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────

as time passed, it had become a routine—you and abby going to the river, it was your peaceful moment. today, the water gleamed, the surface broken by your skirt as you sat by the edge. abby had quickly learned to sit by your side.

for a long while, you just listened to the river—tracing idle shapes into the water, your face serene, hair catching the light beautifully. and abby couldn’t stop staring—your profile too perfect, the arch of your cheekbone, the dip of your mouth, your lashes fluttering. 

“you quite enjoy staring at me,” you say. 

abby’s body jolted, her face going hot. “i wasn’t,” she says quickly, looking away—sounding unconvincing.

you turn your head, looking at her with sharp, unamused eyes. “liar,” you smile.

“i was making sure you were safe,” she mutters, grasping for any excuse.

you let the silence stretch a second too long. “you’re bad at lying,” you hum.

the river kept flowing as you got up, stepping on the water—and abby did the same. you shifted closer, skirt whispering over the grass. abby held her breath, attempting to ignore the scent of sweetness of the soap you used that morning.

then, a sudden pressure—your foot pressing against the top of abby’s leather boot. your skirt lifting lightly. now, you are close enough that abby could see every detail of your face, and still you didn’t meet her eyes—you are looking, but not into her, instead, your gaze hovers around her mouth, cheeks, and chin.

abby squeezes her hands, her instincts battling—one side desperate to lean forward, the other terrified of moving. you tilt your head slightly, mouth parting—so close abby could feel the breath of it. she closes her eyes shut, her chest rising and falling sharply—trying to push every thought away from her mind. you linger there, suspended in the puzzling and sweet moment—then, you giggle, soft and shy. 

you slip back down onto the grass, cheeks a delicate pink. abby opens her eyes slowly, the world tilting under her. you peek at her, and for once, you didn’t seem cold at all. 

you study abby in that quiet way you always did—the kind that made her feel like she was being dissected piece by piece. “why did you close your eyes, abigail?” the question wasn’t cruel or mocking—just curious.

“i—” she starts, her fists pressing hard against her thighs. abby’s mouth went dry as you waited for her response. she knows she couldn’t lie to you—not when those expectant eyes were on her. she swallows hard. “i didn’t know what you were going to do,” she finally forces out.

you lean forward, lips parted. “and if i had done something?” you ask, almost innocently. 

abby lowers her gaze. “i would’ve let you.”

the confession cracks through the stillness. slowly, you reach out—fingertips grazing abby’s wrist—her body tingling at the contact. abby knew she was kneeling to a princess anymore, she was falling for you.

“let me do what, abigail?” you ask, calmly. 

she lets out a slow, almost broken sigh, shoulders sagging. she knows she was backed into a corner now—you weren’t letting her slip away with some half-lie. “whatever you wanted,” abby mutters hoarsely. 

your fingers tighten around her wrist. “anything?”

abby was a knight, a soldier, a protector—she wasn’t supposed to be this—this wreckless, this stupid, this anxious mess in front of her princess.

“yes,” she rasps. 

“what if it ruins you?” you whisper.

she wants to answer—to say ‘yes’ again, louder this time. nevertheless, you see the struggle, causing you to lean in, forehead nearly brushing abby’s. you are patient, too patient. you aren’t moving any closer, you were giving abby the choice or maybe the illusion of control.

abby’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out—because you had tilted your head, and for a second, she thought you were closing the distance for her.

instead, you utter. “say it.”

“i—” she croaked. “i would let you ruin me.”

your fingers, still resting on abby’s wrist, slid down, until your hand was covering her knuckles. “good,” your voice was softer.

then, so gently it seemed cruel—you lift abby’s hand, pressing it to your cheek, closing your eyes. abby stands there, her hand cradling your face, feeling your warm skin—then, you move, leaning in, unbearably slow, until your lips brushed against abby’s.

barely. a graze. a heartbeat. a cruelty.

abby’s mouth parts in shock—but before she could react properly, you pull back, causing her to look down, wide-eyed and dazed. you are still so close, and she could only focus on your mouth the softest, prettiest shade of pink.

this time, you close the distance properly—pressing your lips together with a devastating, aching softness. the kiss was nothing like abby had imagined—it was worse, it was better. her hands flying up instinctively, one still cradling your cheek, the other tangling clumsily in the fabric of your waist.

she broke. abby’s lips move against yours desperately, the taste of your sweetness making her dizzy. you whimper against her mouth—and it only made her kiss you harder, hands gentling their grip—naturally, the kiss deepened, movements uncoordinated and messy.

when you pull apart, abby is panting, her forehead falling against yours. neither of you spoke—there was no need, the kiss said more than words could. the sound of the river behind you rings, the scent of damp earth thick in the air. 

slowly, you brush your nose against abby’s. “abigail…” you whisper.

“yes?” she asks.

you pull back to see her, your fathomless eyes glued to hers. “i wanted to do that for a while,” you confess. 

abby lifted her hand, brushing a lock of your hair behind your ear—you lean into the touch, eyes finally softening. “i think i’ll die if you look at me like that again.”

“don’t look away then,” you smile.

the distance between you disappears, not in a messy kiss—but something slower, heavier. abby doesn’t hold back, she lets herself savor it—tenderly moving her lips against yours. 

you draw back enough to see her, your cheeks are a deep shade of pink, lips kissed red, but your gaze was steady. “i love you, abby—” your voice trembles. “i love you.”

you weren’t teasing or weaving your usual web of mystery and coldness. abby knew you meant it.

“i’m not playing some cruel game,” you continue. “this is not a trap—to see if the knight felt for the princess,” your intonation slows. “i would lose everything—i would give up my title, my crown, my place in this castle—if it meant i could have you.”

abby stares at you, stunned—not being able to speak.

“you’re the only thing i have ever wanted for myself,” you say, hands coming up to cup abby’s scarred face between them. “you don’t have to say it back, i only wanted you to know it.

abby didn’t think, she just moved—pulling you closed, burying her face in your hair. she knows she can’t protect you from what would come next, because if the king knew, it would be treasonous. but for the time being, she allows herself to have this.

she presses a kiss to your temple. “i have nothing to offer you,”  she whispers. “i’m not a prince, or a person with lands or a title—i’m not what you deserve. but, i’m yours, if you’ll have me. i would kneel before you a thousand times over. crown or no crown—i’ll stay by your side until my last breath, whether the world allows me or not.”

[imheadintothemountains]

yeehawww ─ .✦

[imheadintothemountains]

Angel… I just realized when jinx said to Sevika “don’t suppose you can swim huh lefty?” Sevika just sighed and…well we all know what she said 🙂‍↕️ My point is… could you write something where reader finds out Sevika can’t swim? Love your work and reposts as always Angel 😌😌💜💜💜💜💜

this is so sweet and cute eeek

men and minors dni

"are you gonna get in the water?" you pout.

it's a hot summer day and you've dragged your girlfriend to the cold springs to cool down. only, after two hours of hiking out of zaun, instead of stripping down naked and jumping in beside you, sevika just slid her socks off and dipped her toes in.

she chuckles from her perch. "i'm happy here."

"sevika! you've been bitching about the heat all day, and i'm naked in here!"

sevika grins. "i'm very aware. enjoying the view, too."

you roll your eyes and splash some water at her, doggy paddling over to her legs. "c'mon, sev. the water's so refreshing."

sevika pinches your cheek. "not gonna happen, doll."

"you shy?" you tease. sevika snorts and rolls her eyes.

"i'm missing an arm, dummy."

you frown. "so?" you ask. "ran's missing an arm and they swim all the time."

"yeah, well..." sevika trails off. you study her for a moment, before giggling.

"you don't know how to swim?" you ask. sevika shrugs.

"never learned." she says. you grin. sevika kicks some water at you. "don't give me that look."

"what look?" you ask. sevika laughs and shakes her head, pointing at your face.

"that look. the 'i'm gonna teach sevika how to swim look.' it's not happening."

"it's not?" you ask, pouting and blinking your eyelashes up at your girlfriend. "even if we stay in the shallow end?"

sevika's already stripping out of her clothes, cursing you out the entire time.

you try to bite back your giggles as you watch her slip into the water, cringing at the cool. she glares at you. "if you let me drown--"

"i'm not gonna let you drown, drama queen." you swim over to the shallow end where sevika's standing, kissing her cheek as you stand beside her. "i'm gonna be here the whole time, holdin' onto you. okay?"

sevika glares at you a little longer before relenting, a huff escaping her lungs and her posture loosening. "i... i trust you. i'm just... scared."

you smile softly.

here she is, the scariest woman in zaun.

only, for you, she's rid herself of her mechanic arm, stripped herself of her clothes, and whispered her weaknesses aloud to you.

"look." you whisper, guiding sevika to the waist height water. "c'mere." you say, twining her arm around your waist, then hoisting her legs around your hips under the water. sevika gasps, then bursts into laughter as you easily carry her weight with the help of the water. "see how easily i can hold you? if you start drownin', i promise i'll pull you out." you seal your promise with a kiss.

sevika's smiling at you when you pull away. "alright. can't be that hard, can it?" she asks. you giggle.

"first step to swimming is floating. do you know how to float?"

"i've never been in more water than a bath tub's worth, babe."

"so, no?"

sevika snorts and nods. "no."

you grab her waist. sevika tilts her head like you're about to kiss her. you laugh. "you'll get your kisses once you can float."

"what do i do?"

"you're lungs are the most buoyant part of your body, so you're going to lay back like a starfish, thrusting your chest toward the sky."

sevika gives you a suspicious look. "and that works?" she asks.

you snort. "if you do it right." you hold your arms out and sevika turns to lay back into the water, into your arms.

"like this?" she asks, starting to spread her limbs. you giggle.

"arch your back some more." sevika snorts and shoots you a dirty look. you cackle. "don't look at me like that, you haven't earned your kiss yet. c'mon. tits to the sky, sevi."

sevika adjusts her posture, and her weight in your arm starts to vanish. slowly, you pull your arms away, letting your girlfriend float on her own. "am i doin' it?" she asks.

you nod. "you're doin' it, baby."

sevika smirks. "gonna kiss me about it?" she asks.

you laugh and bend over her, pressing a kiss to her lips where she floats. sevika doesn't let you go, though. instead, she stands with you as you straighten back up, wrapping herself back around your body as your kiss grows heated.

"mmm. th-there's more to swimmin' than just floatin' sev--" you mumble against her barrage of kisses.

"you can show me once i'm done with you. i don't think you get how hot it is that you can hold me like this."

kofi

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette @ellieslob

@xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp @iamastar

@sevikitty @butchchase @nhaaauyen @notlores @mirconreadzztuff22

@veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @strawberrykidneystone @vkumi

@fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25 @sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown

@ruiwonderz @flowersandsuch111 @teethinamber @blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion

@dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth @leeidk87 @cinnamowor1d

taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys @runawaybaby3 @vikasfemme @lesbones

@chezze-its @lez-zuha @vikashoneybee @shanesevikasfuckdoll @imheadintothemountains

@ferxanda @helaenabugmom @spookymomfriendtm

[imheadintothemountains]

(Mommy... I MEAN YUMMY)

[imheadintothemountains]

SO GORGEOUS

hey lestvika nation.......pspsps here's JazzSinger!Sevika x Lest

[imheadintothemountains]

gave sevi my piercings and my earrings 👀

[imheadintothemountains]

hello sweet girl? how’s your weekend been so far? i hope you’ve been absolutely wonderful this past week! 🩷

i just finished reading your sweet, fluffy sevika fic and i loveeeed it!! Uggh I love you so much and your creative mind!! You’re such a talented angel! Thank you so much for all the sevika content you share with us!

How would you feel about writing something sweet that turns very smutty, hehe? Reader and Sevika are having a sweet romantic moment, maybe Sevika starts to pepper Reader’s face in kisses to make her giggle and then it turns dirty very fast after they realize how turned on they are and how much the love each other??

Bonus Points if it’s CEO Sev!!!

No pressure if you’re not the in mood for this!! Thank you so so much for everything you’ve already created for us! You’re a blessing!! 🥰

i was thinking about this ask all last night it's so cute heheeh

men and minors dni

a few weeks ago, while the two of you were renovating your new home, sevika broke her finger, jamming it between two piles of lumber.

the good news it was on her left hand. the bad news is that to get the swelling down and wrap the finger properly, the doctors had to cut sevika's wedding band off.

she was more upset about the ring than she was her finger, pouting at you while the doctors hooked her up to a steady stream of morphine. "'m so sorry." she whispered. you laughed and cupped her face.

"it's alright baby, we'll just get you a new one."

"but i wan' everyone to know i'm married all the time." she whined.

you giggled and kissed away her tears. "everyone does know that baby. we're really horrible at keeping the pda away from the office."

sevika snorted and puckered her lips, demanding a kiss. you couldn't deny her.

you've been scouring local jewelry shops for a ring suitable for your love ever since then. and now, six weeks later, sevika's officially healed and a package from the jeweler you decided on is sitting on your office desk.

you gasp as you walk into your office. your wife blinks up from her computer.

"whatcha got? another dildo?" she teases. you giggle and reach for your letter opener, breaking the tape seal and tearing open the cardboard.

"something way better than a dildo, baby."

sevika scoffs. "doubt that."

you chuckle and shake your head, quickly checking your planner to make sure she's free from meetings for the rest of the afternoon before pulling the small black velvet box out of the pile of packing peanuts.

sevika's shifted her focus back to her computer, typing away as she answers emails.

for a moment, you just study her. despite the fluorescent lighting of your office and the unflattering blue-grey glow of her computer screen, sevika still manages to look like an angel. you can't believe how lucky you are to have her. the money and status that comes with her job is nice and all, but you'd still be this fiercely in love with the woman in any life.

she must feel your eyes on her, because sevika's typing comes to a halt and she blinks up from her screen to look at you, a smile blooming on her features as she catches your eyes.

"what're you lookin' at?" she asks.

you chuckle and shrug. sevika proposed to you when you got engaged. now it's your turn. "y'know you're the most incredible woman i know?"

sevika raises a suspicious eyebrow at you. "you know other women?"

you laugh and circle around your desks, pulling sevika out from her spot and sitting in her lap. "i know many other women. and none of them have ever come close to making me feel the way you make me feel." you continue. sevika hums.

"are you propositioning me?" she teases again. you laugh.

"not yet. but soon."

sevika's brow furrows in confusion. you kiss the little wrinkles that form between her eyebrows before revealing the ring box to her. she gasps, then laughs. "my ring! gimmie gimmie!" she squawks, lunging for your box. you giggle and hand her the box.

sevika's smile grows ten times in size when she sees the simple gold band.

she's never been one for flashy, so you decided to keep your choice classic. it's almost identical to her old one, only this one has a special little secret.

"look on the inside, baby." you whisper. sevika squints her eyes, trying to make out the inscription. you snort. "where the hell are your glasses?"

"i hate those things, baby, they make me look like a nerd!"

"well too bad!" you pull open her desk drawer and gasp in triumph, placing the frames on her nose gently. sevika pouts up at you and you kiss her lower lip. "hottest nerd in the world." you say. she snorts, then turns her attention back to the ring.

to the moon and back again. it reads.

sevika takes a shaky breath, then she looks up at you. "put it on me?" she whispers.

you nod, taking sevika's hand in your own, gently pushing the band down her freshly healed finger.

"there. now we're married again." you tease.

sevika lets out a watery laugh, tucking her face against your shoulder. "it's beautiful."

"not as beautiful as y--" sevika shuts you up with a flurry of kisses all over your face, making you burst into laughter.

she pulls away with a big cheesy smile, tears brimming in her eyes. "i'd marry you again and again, every single day if i could."

"i can't believe people think you're scary." you tease.

sevika laughs and kisses you again, something gentle and sweet. you hum against her lips, reaching up to curl your hands in the lapel of her blazer.

sevika responds with a hum, her hands trailing lower to grip your hips and rearrange you on her lap so you're properly straddling her. you groan as your tongues meet, then pull away with a gasp. "we're at work." you remind her.

sevika hums. "so we'll keep our clothes on."

"our office is made of glass, sev!" you giggle.

sevika pulls your hips so you grind against the growing hardness in her pants. you let out a shaky sigh as she starts to trail kisses up your throat. "we can be fast."

"do you have extra pants in your desk?"

sevika chuckles as she pulls open her bottom drawer, revealing at least half a dozen folded pair of dress pants. you cackle. "i'm always ready for you, baby." she promises.

"you're a maniac. i adore you." you giggle as you sit forward to kiss her more.

sevika hums and spins her desk chair so the tall back is facing the glass walls leading to your office, and your back is facing the sparkling city skyline.

you giggle into one another's mouths as you kiss, and sevika's hands travel from your hips to your ass, slowly grinding you against her lap. with each motion of your hips, you crush your body closer and closer to hers, until your tits are squished together and your cunt is grinding on her hard cock. sevika muffles her moans into your mouth, smacking your ass as you move. you chuckle and pull away, looking down at your wife with love.

"so pretty." you whisper, cupping her face. sevika moans aloud. you duck down to muffle your giggle against her shoulder. "quiet, sev, seamus' cubicle is right outside."

"your fuckin' fault, callin' me pretty."

"you are. you're fuckin' gorgeous. could look at you for a million years and still be enchanted by you." sevika whimpers, biting your clothed shoulder to hide the worst of her moans. you laugh. "don't drool on me, this is silk."

"i bought this shirt for you, i'll drool on it as much as i want."

you kiss her scalp and wrap your arms around her shoulders, increasing your pace on her lap. sevika's thighs start to quiver underneath you. "y' gonna cum for me, baby?" you ask. sevika whimpers again.

"n-no." she lies. you laugh. "fuck off! i just-- you first." she demands. you giggle and shake your head 'no.' sevika squakws. "fuck do you mean 'no!?'"

"i mean, wouldn't it be hotter if i was just walkin' around all wet and ready for you the rest of the day? 'n when we get home, all you'll have to do is get me inside and get my pants down around my ankles and sink right into me--"

sevika cuts you off with a loud moan, shivering in her seat as she cums in her pants. you laugh and pepper her face with kisses, pulling your hips up before her cum can soak through her pants and into yours. "you're a fuckin' sex demon or something." sevika whines.

you laugh and kiss her again. "fucked you so good you can't even remember the word 'succubus.' and i still got all my clothes on!" you giggle, proud of yourself.

sevika rolls her eyes, pouting as you stand from her chair. "don't make fun of me. i'm your wife. and your boss." her pout slowly disappears as you walk toward her desk and pull open the bottom drawer, picking out a nice pair of dark purple pants that will compliment her light blue button up.

"here, darling." you hand her the pants. sevika grins up at you. "what're you gonna do if someone asks what happened to your tan pants?" you ask.

sevika chuckles and shrugs. "tell 'em my wife bought me a ring so beautiful i came in my pants about it."

you cackle and smack her shoulder, melting a bit as she joins in on your laughter. "you better not, you freak. tell 'em you spilled coffee or something."

kofi

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette @ellieslob

@xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp @iamastar

@sevikitty @butchchase @nhaaauyen @notlores @mirconreadzztuff22

@veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @strawberrykidneystone @vkumi

@fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25 @sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown

@ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby @blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion

@dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth

taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys @sevikasllver @runawaybaby3 @lesbones

@chezze-its @lez-zuha @vikashoneybee @shanesevikasfuckdoll @imheadintothemountains

@ferxanda @helaenabugmom @spookymomfriendtm @leeidk87 @cinnamowor1d

[imheadintothemountains]

this is so precious

Angel I need to share this with you. I saw this tiktok where a girls bf switched shoes with her on the way back from a night out. So he took off his shoes and gave them to her so she could be more comfortable, and then he put on her heels and walked the rest of the way back in them.

You think our sweet sev would do that???

- 🐥

oh COMPLETELY!!!

men and minors dni

this evening, when you decided to wear your most uncomfortable pair of heels, you were under the impression that tonight would be a lowkey dinner date, where the most walking you'd have to do was to and from the car.

that had been the plan. and dinner had been great. you and sevika spent the evening making lovey eyes across the table from one another, feeding one another bites of your dinner, and laughing.

but then you'd gotten back to your car, sevika had turned the key, and a horrible grinding noise rang out.

"fuck is that?!" you ask. sevika groans.

"it can't be good." she says.

so, your evening takes a turn. you spend forty five minutes sitting in the car waiting for a tow truck, then another forty five letting the mechanic poke around under the hood.

"yeah, i'm gonna have to take it to the shop." marcy the mechanic says. sevika groans and you rub her back.

"how long 'til it'll be ready?" your wife asks. marcy shrugs.

"two days, a week at most."

"a week?!" sevika cries.

you squeeze her shoulder. "relax, baby. marcy, thank you so much for coming out so late." you say.

"'course. you ladies need a ride home? it'll take a few minutes for me to get the car hitched to my truck, but i don't mind stopping on the way back to the shop."

you shake your head. you're tired and you just want to get home. you're only a few blocks away, and sevika probably needs the walk to calm down anyways. "that's alright, we'll hoof it. thanks marcy. text me when you get back to your shop safe, alright?" you ask.

marcy salutes you. "will do. you ladies have a good night. or... as good a night as you can, after this."

which is how you find yourself walking half a mile in your worst fucking shoes.

you manage just fine for the first few blocks. by the time you're in your neighborhood, your feet are aching and you're clinging to sevika's arm for support.

and now, three blocks from home, you just can't take it anymore.

"hold on, honey." you groan as you pull sevika to a bench. she frowns at you in concern.

"you alright?" she asks, pinching your cheek sweetly. you chuckle.

"my feet are killing me. just give me a few seconds to rest and i'll be good to go again."

sevika giggles and sits beside you, kissing your head. "didn't plan on an evening stroll, did ya?" she asks. you snort.

"no, i didn't."

"not our best date night." sevika laments. you laugh.

"not our worst either, though." you say.

"no? which one was our worst?"

"hmm... remember that time the restaurant caught on fire during our anniversary?"

sevika bursts into laughter. "you think that was our worst? our dinner was comped and we got free drinks for life!"

you snort. "well, what do you think our worst date's been?"

"the time we tried to go for a hike and a fucking hail storm started. i thought we were gonna get fuckin' iced off the mountain." she says.

you laugh and rest your head on your wife's shoulder. "god, that was horrible."

"or maybe the time we took jinx and isha to the aquarium and they both got food poisoning."

"they never shoulda eaten the fish sticks in that cafe. 's just wrong to eat fish in their own fuckin' house." you giggle.

"fuck, we were in that bathroom for hours."

"i'm just glad the cleaning staff was so fuckin' nice about all the vomit. i woulda banned us for life." you say.

sevika cackles and kisses your head. "how are your feet?"

"still sore, but i can manage."

"don't be stupid." sevika grunts. you frown, not understanding what she means until she bends over and starts untying her shoes.

"what're you doing?"

"i'll trade with ya."

"sevika!" you laugh. "we are not the same shoe size."

she giggles and shrugs. "so? we only got three blocks left."

"have you ever even walked in heels before?"

sevika shrugs again. "no. but how hard can it be?" she asks as she wiggles out of her shoes. you snort.

"sevika, you're gonna break your ankle."

"so, i'll hold your hand." she says. she shoots a mean glare at you, like she's daring you to protest further. you just roll your eyes and slip your heels off.

"i really don't wanna visit the hospital tonight, sev."

"i'll be fine." she giggles, handing you her fancy dress shoes and taking your heels in her hands.

you laugh as you watch her slip into them, standing with a slight wobble, before turning around and crouching to tie her shoes on your feet for you.

"my prince charming." you giggle. she winks up at you.

"i'm the one in the fancy slippers now, babe. think that makes me cinderella."

sevika helps you stand, and you sigh in relief at the feeling of your feet flat on the pavement. "thank you, love." you say, kissing her cheek. sevika winks at you, then weaves her arm in yours.

"anytime, dear."you start your walk back with slow, careful steps, holding onto sevika's arm and eyeing her feet in your stilettos. but, after a few moments, sevika lets out a scoff and straightens her spine. "this isn't so bad." she giggles. "look, i bet i could even--" she jumps a bit, and you cringe as she does.

"sevika! be careful!" you laugh.

your wife giggles, then starts jogging ahead of you. "oh, babe, these are easy. fuck are you complaining for? look!" she starts a little jig. you're shaking your head in disapproval, trying your best to swallow back your laughs. but when sevika trips and falls face first into your neighbor's front yard, you can't help but cackle.

kofi

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @butchchase @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @vkumi @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth

taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys @sevikasllver @runawaybaby3 @lesbones

@chezze-its @lez-zuha @vikashoneybee @shanesevikasfuckdoll @imheadintothemountains

@ferxanda @helaenabugmom @spookymomfriendtm @leeidk87 @cinnamowor1d

[imheadintothemountains]

am I the only one who never saw this official art? It’s from a limited edition vinyl release from 2020. they both look so hot

[imheadintothemountains]

bit of a pathetic sevi with glasses awweee