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fyeahnix · 9 months

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Dogsong | Sevika/Reader Explicit 10.6k F/F CW: breathplay, mild daddy kink, lesbian smut, no y/n use AO3 (read here for correct texting format)

High-energy evenings in Zaun melted down and metamorphosed into bustling and boisterous nights. Laborers swarmed from their day jobs tired and grumbling, eager to shake off the stench of a hard day's work with an even harder pint of hooch. The last rays of sunshine retired beneath the horizon; neon streaked the Lanes, picking up the slack where natural light abandoned its role. Buskers and ruffians bathed in magenta and mint hustled blue collar workers and businessmen alike. Black market vendors screamed over drummers to fence their hottest products before closing. Jericho's food stall was packed to the brim with Zaunites of every race imaginable starving for their last meal of the day. But The Last Drop? Closed for the night.

The bar-turned-nightclub was the landmark halfway point in your designated path home from work. The chartreuse lights blinked on one by one as the giant drew close to opening every night. Once the last light flickered on, the club was open to scrounge every last cog out of its dedicated patrons. Tonight, the cyclops slept. No lights and no patrons lined up around the corner waiting for the doors to open. The owner was preoccupied with more pressing matters this Friday evening.

How did you know that? The same reason your evening walk home was as peaceful as they came, even around the shadiest crevices of the Lanes. You'd witnessed muggings and assaults before, dodged solicitors and chem-stunted drug dealers seeking to become your next plug. Zaun's infamous crime lord, Silco, ruled with a more notorious underboss as his right hand—your girlfriend, Sevika. And your relationship with her had its perks. She made doubly sure that your usual trek home was safeguarded by her underlings hidden in plain sight. A watchful weapons salesman here, a nodding thug there. "Zaun royalty" was as close a descriptor as anything else.

When you entered your condo on Zaun’s Promenade level, you knew Sevika had only left recently. Wisps of cedarwood cologne clung to the foyer and living room and trailed back into the bedroom. Last year's name day gift to her—a custom, earthy note mastercrafted from Renata Glasc herself. You were thankful for the connection since you'd had next to no experience with fragrances on your own. Still, as infrequently as she sprayed the unique, luxurious scent, it left you yearning for her all the same.

An important business dinner whisked her away tonight. Normally, you were invited to events as her plus one, and her boss, Silco, would regard you with a gentle cant of his head. Tonight? The final stages of new business dealings—no outsiders allowed. Fair enough.

You still pouted at her yesterday when she had relayed the news. Sevika wasn’t immune to your perfected puppy-dog eyes, a skill you picked up from the very hounds you bred and trained in your profession. She placated you with a kiss on the forehead and the promise of dinner at one of Zaun’s finest establishments tomorrow night. At least you had that to look forward to after a long week and barely any time alone with her.

Sevika had left her discarded clothing and towels scattered from the bedroom to the bathroom, and you rolled your eyes at once again having to remind her to pick her shit up. A quick scolding text would suffice, but you decided against it. She probably left in a hurry again, and she wouldn't answer anyway. Rarely had the opportunity when discussing business.

Under steaming water, you showered, scrubbed away any lingering dog fur and hidden slobber. The relief was instant and welcome, but as water pounded your face and neck, you found yourself missing a pair of hands on you. You didn’t shower together often; between your schedules and Sevika’s disdain for hot showers, there wasn’t much opportunity. Friday was your dedicated time together in preparation to spend most of the night at The Last Drop. And Janna, did she know how to use her hands during that time.

Where would she have ventured tonight? What winding road would she have traveled? Which muscles would she have massaged first? Back, traps, deltoid? How far down would she have dragged her lips? You shivered at ghostly memories caressing your neck, your shoulders and hips. Arched into the imaginary fingertips under your breasts and across your ribs. Held still at the phantom hand nestled between your thighs—

But it was far, far too early to get carried away. She'd be back before the twenty-second bell, right?

Out of the shower, you stole a shirt from Sevika's armoire and paired it with your own underwear. Your shared bed was a mess of cream sheets and burgundy blankets that neither of you had time to straighten. You didn't mind the mess as much when you flopped onto the bed and snuggled into Sevika’s pillow. Her lingering scent, smoke and spice, rose proper butterflies in your belly. And with those butterflies, memories of your first encounter fluttered back.

You had met over two years ago. Ungrateful new owners and teething puppies made your week worse than hell, and that pushed you to craving a drink or five at the first watering hole you laid your eyes on. The Last Drop loomed in the distance with a "Grand Reopening" sign, so you shrugged and took your place in line.

New ownership—a middle-aged man with a timid adoptive daughter he doted on—had seized control after the previous owner's mysterious disappearance and death. The heady club atmosphere didn't match his gaunt, professional demeanor. The homely vibe was rendered extinct, usurped with neon and black lights. Exotic dancers shared a newly-built stage with underground indie rock bands, entertaining patrons drifting under the influence of a new street drug called "shimmer."

You'd taken solace at the end of the bar—ordered and enjoyed your first shot of vodka, no chaser, to wash down the anger and frustration. The squirrelly bartender eyed you closely when you quickly waved for a second shot. You were a lightweight and it took no time for the alcohol to kick in. You rimmed the second glass as a reminder to pace yourself.

The crowd and bass had been deafening. Pool balls cracked behind you in a rowdy game of nine-ball. Players swore and roared insults across the table over a heated poker game in the distance. Your guard lowered, easily lost in the music and bluster.

A piscine Vestayan male had approached you and leaned against the bar in your personal bubble. Glanced you up and down, licking his chops and flicking his barbels. Asked how your day was. You initially clocked him as bad news and hindsight confirmed that.

Short answers didn't cut it for him. Neither had telling him to go fuck his mother sideways with a rusty axe. His webbed, moist fingers landed on your shoulder, and when you jerked away and attempted to stand, they wrapped your upper arm. The strength in his grip was herculean, and you immediately regretted even venturing out for the night.

You had broken his hold enough to attempt an escape but bumped into someone solid behind you. A tall and dark-skinned woman with a strong nose and full lips had inserted herself between you. She took a final swig of her drink, then set it on the bar like it was a piece of fine antique glassware. Glanced the guy up and down before tilting up her chin.

The music had drowned most voices out, but you heard her rumble clear as day. "Is there a problem here?"

The guy's barbels flickered again. He released your arm, shook his head, and slinked off like the plague rat he really was. No argument, no fight, no challenge.

Before you'd taken the second shot, she stopped you and asked to buy you a drink instead. You scowled until she mentioned the drink had been spiked when your attention was diverted. One furtive glance, and the bartender immediately discarded it without a word. The entire ordeal made you want to leave and sulk in your bedroom for the rest of the night.

Sevika, as she had introduced herself, was persistent in a way unlike the asshole from before. She didn't press the drink more than once but sat with you for over three hours at the bar and chatted you up until you released the tension in your shoulders and jaw. Growing up in Zaun accustomed you to a certain flavor of brusque speech but never with the level of humor Sevika peppered in.

As the night carried on without issue and you planned to leave, she had offered to walk you home. You hesitated until you realized how much bigger and taller she was than other patrons in the club. There was no telling who you'd run into on the way back home, so you did what you thought was best and accepted the offer.

Vague conversation had colored the walk home. Your apartment at the time was over a mile away from the club, so you were thankful for the company in the dead of night. Sevika strolled a safe distance from you, never invaded your personal space, nor did she seek anything in return. She was, however, persistent.

"Drink offer's still open if you're interested."

You'd told her you'd consider it.

The smirk she'd given you was telling, like she already knew the answer you'd give. She fished an unfinished joint from a tin in her pocket.

Inhaled.

Exhaled plumes through the nose.

"The bartender, Thieram? Ask for me if you're ever at the Drop again. I'm there most nights."

"Most nights? Why so often?"

She'd laughed, drawing your blush at what you assumed was a rather stupid question.

"Guess you'll have to find out."

She'd taken a final drag, flicked the roach into the pavement across the way, and wished you good night.

You'd taken up her offer the next night.

It wasn’t extravagant or any novel-esque version of a meet-cute. A bad week at work and a pushy asshole brought you together purely by chance. Sevika didn't tolerate harassment in her club, and she thought you looked pissed off enough to strangle a gigalodon. Had plenty of bark between your teeth, she said, but lacked the bite to back it up.

And she was absolutely smitten with it.

You hugged Sevika's pillow closer, memories drifting as a Piltie drama slurred in the background.

Bzzt, bzzt!

Your phone stirred you out of nodding off. You unlocked it and checked the notifications. Sevika?

Should have smoked before this shit…

Poor baby. Dinner must have been stale. You typed up a response.

that bad?

It's bad. Fucking piltie. Won't stop bragging about his summer home and horse stables in the countryside…

ugh, another, seriously?

Good for business. Unfortunately…

details?

Sevika's responses were quick. You imagined her resting her chin on her bronze fist, right hand typing away under the table as a haughty socialite bored the group. You couldn't picture Chross having any patience for such gloating bullshit. And Smeech? Likely snapping his jaws and stroking his short beard.

You mean besides his apparent connections to Demacia? Nah. Don't have em all yet, go fucking figure. I might fall asleep at this rate…

I'll keep you company bear~

What would I do without you?

oh I dunno, I could prob list about 17 things…

Shut up lol

Sevika's following texts staggered in. Bouts of instant messages would follow minutes-long periods of utter silence. The updates for the meeting proved to be entertaining at the very least. Silco sat unamused. Renata picked at her nails while Eramis picked at his food. The new dealer droned on about the partnerships he garnered topside and how much wealth and prosperity he could provide Zaun. The man had his head crammed up his own ass, Sevika said, but Silco at least straightened in his seat once talks of shimmer exchanges with Demacian black markets commenced.

Despite the spicy entertainment, boredom set in for you as well. There was nothing else on TV save for the usual Friday night drama or movie. Any friends you had were more than likely busy with their usual weekly activities, as you would have been. You stared at your phone, hoping and willing for a text from Sevika to come in after your last response. None did.

Still, you could garner her attention. She may be stoic and gruff oftentimes, but she'd raise an eyebrow at a few salacious words, two if you were lucky. Why not roll the dice?

Vikaaa… how much longer? really been missing your hands all day

It was a start, and you buried yourself deeper into your blankets eager for a response. Sevika didn't enjoy texting much. It was tedious for her, too slow and monotonous where a simple phone call would suffice. Not to mention, she could only text with one hand. While she'd past gotten accustomed to gauging the grip strength of her metal prosthetic, her fingers proved a different challenge altogether. "Claws" were more accurate as she'd unintentionally gouged at least three phone screens by now. If not for you, she wouldn't text at all. You were grateful she'd made an exception for your disdain of most phone calls.

Still, the wait was agonizing. Minutes sailed by and you drifted before the indicator danced on Sevika's side of the conversation.

Yeah? Funny. I was just thinking about wrapping my hand around that pretty little neck of yours. Squeeze just a bit so I can hear you struggle to breathe.

Sevika may not have enjoyed texting, but she certainly wasn't terrible at it. You grazed your neck right where she would normally place her hand. Yours wasn't big enough.

dont you wanna hear me choke on your fingers instead?

You wet your lips thinking about Sevika's fingers exploring your mouth. Brushing your lower lip, stroking your tongue. You crossed one leg over the over, smashing your thighs together as Sevika's response came in.

Careful, sweetheart. Keep talking like that and I'll have you choke on my dick.

Would that have been so bad? You didn't think so.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Tell me where you want my hands first.

You swallowed hard. Playing hardball already only to dangle it over your head like a carrot. If that didn't say much about Sevika, you didn't know what else did. But fine, you could deal for now.

everywhere fucking everywhere. want your hands down my back, squeezing my throat, my tits, my ass, janna, I really want you playing with my tits right now

Your thoughts soared as wildly as a cliff-shrike’s first flight. Sevika's caress was calculated. She knew where to glide her hands to make you sing, where to prod her claws to make you growl. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't emulate her precision and poise. And her size? Out of the question. Your feeble attempt now was another failure for the books. A pinch at your nipple and clit coaxed a moan from you, but you still heard Sevika's usual croon of "patience" in the back of your mind.

Hadn't you been patient enough? You'd been waiting all day, hell, all week, and dragging your thumb over your clit for an ounce of relief grinded your nerves to ash. You huffed. If you had to suffer, then so did Sevika; it was only fair. You gathered your bearings enough to type a follow-up.

and your fingers? fuck I'm getting so wet thinking about them. want em in and around my mouth, pinching my nipples, buried in my cunt…

You set the phone down and breathed deeply. You wanted to do more, tease more, show Sevika what she was missing being away right now. You bit your bottom lip as you contemplated. Sevika would never say no to any selfies of you, even if they were sent at the most inopportune moments. Hell, if anything, they'd rile her up even more. Couple that with the danger of opening them around prying eyes, and you had a recipe for disaster.

You tugged your underwear down your hips and rested them at mid-thigh, exposing yourself to cool air and crisp sheets. From memory, you mimicked where Sevika would glide her hands in habitual order: jaw, sternum, hips, ribs, breasts. Between your thighs, a gentle tease, before running one finger right up your slit.

A sigh crept from your lungs.

You grabbed your phone—Sevika still hadn’t texted you—and snapped a quick photo of yourself. Your lower half, hand buried beneath a mound of hair, right on display. With minimal internal debate, you shifted positions for a second and caught your full-length mirror in your periphery. Perfect. With some adjusting, you knelt, bent over face down, and snapped a photo of your cunt and ass up on full display. Not at all an unfamiliar position. Satisfied, you shuttled them off into the void with a message:

missing you

It took no time at all before you saw the texting indicator bounce once more. Sevika's response, however, was delayed. She texted, then stopped and repeated the pattern three more times. What stole her attention so suddenly? A new proposition? A conversational shift? Maybe a nosy chem-baron spying over her shoulder?

At long last, her response dropped in and the corner of your lip lifted.

fuck

…Or she was speechless. That worked too.

Pride puffed your chest. With any luck, you'd rile Sevika up so much that she'd have no choice but to fold you into the compromising positionings you photographed yourself in. It wasn't the first time you tested the waters with an exhibitionist stunt like that. Certainly wouldn't be the last.

You'd often hung out with Sevika at The Last Drop on Friday nights. Amateur poker players—who were much too busy coveting what wasn’t theirs to keep their cog purses from drying up—dared to ogle you as you sat perched on her lap. You stared and winked at the spineless ones all while murmuring sweet nothings in your girlfriend's ear. They'd tug at their collars, lick cracked lips, swish their ragged tails like they had any chance in hell. Tunnel vision prevented them from gawking at your little grinds on Sevika's thigh. That or she glared daggers at them when you did. She was never bothered, only playfully whispered for you to knock it off in a voice so husky that you didn't mind the threat to pay you back in her private office upstairs.

Your phone vibrated right before you aimed to toss it across the bed. While you expected another text, a quick glance at the screen flashed Sevika's name with a heart next to it.

A phone call? Now?

You answered. "Didn't think you could talk right now, bear."

"You're a fuckin' menace, you know that?" she drawled, halfway between a growl and purr.

If only she could see you humorously twirling a lock of hair at that.

"Know who almost saw that? Take a guess."

You scrunched your nose. "Chross?" Gross.

"Nope."

"Please not Silco…" You didn't think you could face that man again if he ever saw those images. It was a dangerous game you played, sure, but anyone but him.

Her silence spoke volumes and your stomach dropped at least fifty feet. Of all the people…

"...Sev, I'm serious."

Sevika snickered. "I'm fuckin' with you. Nah, not Silco. Glasc."

Renata? That was more than a relief. Still, she'd throw you a sly glance across a dinner table the next time you saw her, but she wouldn't judge you for it. You may have only been acquaintances, but she was more than open about the certain… souvenirs she claimed from her own sexual escapades.

"Came at the perfect time. Needed a break and a smoke." On cue, you heard the crackle of embers from Sevika's inhale. "But don't think I didn't have anything for you. Check your messages."

You pulled away from your phone to do just that. She had—two images—and excitement trilled up your spine as you gaped at them.

Sevika took them in a restroom that was nearly as nice as the basic ones you'd seen topside. Soft lighting highlighted her dusky, brown skin well, accentuating a strong jawline and the sharp bridge of a once-broken nose. Jet-black hair was fashioned into its usual top knot with a few loose strands framing her face. The lower half brushed her shoulders and warned of an upcoming haircut. The black button-up she wore was crisp and tailored, one sleeve missing to accommodate her bronze arm, the other rolled up to her elbow to flaunt corded muscle in her forearm. The first button on the shirt remained unbuttoned, and you licked your lips at the tease of skin leading down her chest. Your eyes followed and you took note of the simple elegance of the dark brown waistcoat protecting her broad, muscular chest. Her gaze fixated on the phone carefully cradled in her claws.

You swallowed hard at the next image as another long drag crackled in your ear.

The hand clutching the phone hadn't moved, but Sevika's attention did. Light wolf-grey eyes bore holes in the mirror. Where her free hand had been jammed in her pocket previously, now it was thrust into the front of her undone black chinos. Unbuckled, unbuttoned, unzipped. Free from the confines, she displayed the gunmetal grey boxer briefs proudly. And with that display came the delicious glimpse of brown skin and trail of dark hair that snuck into her underwear.

Sevika was unbelievably handsome—suited up, naked, or any state of undress in-between.

The cherry on top? She was packing. The slight bulge in her underwear commanded your attention, made you salivate. Janna only knew you wanted to grind your ass against that. Or maybe worship with your lips.

"Don't get quiet now. You had so much to say earlier. What was it? You wanted my fingers in and around your mouth?"

A "yes" slipped between your lips like a snake's slither and so did your hand slither between your thighs again. Your eyes fluttered closed.

"Wanted them sheathed in that fucking pussy?"

You choked out a moan. A barely noticeable hitch in Sevika's breath coaxed a tug at the corner of your lip.

"Answer me," Sevika said, voice hardening.

You scrambled to find your own voice as you rolled your hips and lifted one leg. "Mhmm…" you started, attempting a pathetic nod Sevika would never see. "Want 'em deep. So fuckin’ deep."

Sevika sighed deeply. "Baby?"

The way her voice lilted forced your eyes open.

"I want you to stop touching 'til I get home. Can you do that for me?"

Like the hounds you trained daily, your ears perked. You'd grown accustomed to the intention and inflection in her voice and even caught the hint of a smirk at the end. Despite the honey dripping off her words, it was a command, no mistaking it. And though it coaxed a strained whine from your throat, no command she made ever came without buildup towards a worthy payoff. Sevika rewarded patience, after all.

Your words caught in your throat, but you pushed through. “Yes…”

“Yes, what?”

A quick smile broke through. So that's how she wanted to proceed? Considering the long week, you'd definitely play along. Your chest heaved and breath hitched before you spoke the words that served as a verbal handshake to start your "game."

“Yes, Daddy…”

The quick laugh that followed was broken—deep, breathy, a growl of triumph. Shifting fabric crinkled in your ear with a sharp inhale following suit. “That’s my good girl.”

And while you longed for a follow-up to her praise, you received nothing but silence in return. Sevika’s breath still lingered with the occasional drag of her joint. But there was nothing else you could perceive.

…Until you listened closely. Sevika was experienced, a master of controlling her own body. You’d seen as much when she threw rear hooks at the punching bag in your spare room or armlocked sparring partners at the gym. Years of boxing and mixed martial arts trained her to a level of discipline you only coveted. Breath control came to her easily. Well, normally, it did. “In through the nose, out through the mouth” was what she taught you, but her breaths now contradicted her advice. Shaky, uneven, so subtle that she may have been trying to hide it.

And then it clicked.

You tightened your grip on your phone, then released it to trap it between your ear and the bed. You lay there, paralyzed under the fear that if you breathed the wrong way or uttered a word that she’d stop. You shut your eyes and listened. It was a private show in your mind’s eye—Sevika with her hand jammed in her boxers, undulating her touch between her folds, abs flexing with every jerk. Lips parted, the small and cute gap between her front teeth peeking through. Attention focused on nowhere but her own actions.

And you couldn’t do a single thing.

You clamped your thighs together, moist from your slick. No touching… Now it was evident why she voiced the command.

Every Zaunite swear rolled past her lips as she lost herself in her ministrations, and you couldn't help but let a pathetic sigh escape yours.

Sevika shifted and the sudden sound of her belt clinking against the counter startled you. “What I wouldn’t give… to have you on your knees right now.”

Straight to the point. Straight to your cunt.

“Have you look up at me with those pretty eyes. And that pretty fucking mouth.”

There were more than a few occasions that you both had slipped away for a few precious moments during a business dinner. Lips met tongue met neck. Knees deadened in genuflection on carpet or hard marble, primed for worship. Sevika's breath hot in your ear that she’d forgotten what you tasted like and needed a reminder. If you had attended tonight, you'd bet your life savings you'd have had your face stuffed between her legs as you stared up at her with stars in your eyes.

“You better not be touching right now,” she warned playfully.

“‘M not…” you whispered back. It was hard. So fucking hard to keep your hands balled into the sheets instead buried in your cunt. Patience, a waiting game, and you relaxed as you grew tired and started to drift. “Not touchin’.”

Sevika let a strained groan rip from her chest. She was finished, and the jingle of her belt confirmed as much. As she came down from her high, she inhaled deeply. “What I wouldn’t give… to have you clean me up right now.” Her words echoed twice in your head as your world went black. You would clean her, tongue only, licking up every stray drip of slick that rolled down her muscular thighs. Silence festered between you for a spell, allowing you to delve deeper into the thought until she spoke once more. “Gotta head back. See you when I get home, cariño.”

You drifted into the abyss, your declaration of love dying on your tongue as the call ended.

------

The front door's lock clicked in the distance, and the instinctual bout of anxiety burned away as you realized what it was. Not an intruder, but your girlfriend returning from her business dinner at… first bell? Fuck, she was late. Memories of her earlier words quickly stamped out any surfacing annoyance.

Sevika shut the door and locked it, kicked off her boots, and threw her keys and something else onto the kitchen counter. Despite her size, she ambled silently through the condo, and it was only her usual sigh of relief that allowed you to track her movements to the bathroom. She used the sink, likely washing her hands and face before letting out another exhale that was muffled through a towel. The same routine you committed to memory through a sleepy haze for months prior. The same routine that ended when she finally poked her head into your bedroom.

Her eyes darted between you and the TV before she raised a brow.

"Thought you'd be asleep by now," she said.

"Is that why you told me 'no more touching'?"

Sevika approached and sat on the edge of the bed to hover over you, trapping you between her hands.

"Wasn't expecting it to be that long, baby. Dinner went over an’ our debrief at the Drop took longer than usual too." You scrunched your face in mock annoyance as she leaned in and settled at your collar. "But… I'm here now. So lemme make it up to you."

Sweet citrus undertones intermingled with herbal cigar and her own natural, smoky scent. Memories of your late-night parting kisses outside your old apartment wafted back like pleasant dreams. For a few precious seconds, you shut your eyes, craning your neck to submit to her. And just like old times, you trailed your fingers at her waist before raking your nails up her spine, drinking in the guttural groan at your collar.

Sevika kissed a pathway up your neck and along your jawline before she pulled away just enough to leave her own lips out of reach. Even through the soft, amber ambiance of the room's light, her eyes sparkled with genuine interest. The arcane scars on her left cheek glittered, silky under your fingertips.

"Hi, sweetheart," she said.

A sweet smile tugged at your lips. "Hi, bear."

Sevika closed the distance. Your foreheads knocked, breath mingled, and before her beautiful, dark lips could capture yours in a kiss, you halted her advance with a single finger.

"Uh uh. I know you saw that mess you left out when you came in…"

She sighed, shut her eyes at your light scolding.

"...so please. Pick your shit up and then maybe I'll keep playing with you."

When you let go and she opened her eyes again, her face twisted in half-amusement and half-apology, a cute and unguarded expression she reserved only for you. The twitch in her lips revealed her desire to retort, but ultimately she conceded.

"’M sorry. Woke up late, was in a rush."

"Baby, I told you I was working later today and wouldn't be able to wake you up. Some of the pups are having teething and potty issues this week."

"I know, I know," she murmured against your lips. "Slept through three of my alarms. I'll pick it up. All of it."

"You fucking better," you said, teasing her lips with yours before you steal a kiss. She wasn't caught off guard in the slightest. In fact, she was ready for it, leaned into it with all the bravado of someone who missed a long lost love. When you had your fill, you pulled away with her bottom lip in tow. "Now, stop stalling."

Sevika grumbled in protest. She pecked the corner of your mouth before retreating and snatching the first articles of her discarded outfit from the bedroom floor. The action was entirely juvenile, not at all indicative of the type of person Sevika presented publicly, but well within the line of her subtle humor you grew to love.

Regardless of said task, you couldn't help but break out a smile as you followed her out of the bedroom and into the hallway, a flighty bounce in every step. You tried to hide it as she glowered at you.

With her dirty boxer briefs in hand, she finally spoke. "The hell you smilin’ about?"

"Just find it funny," you said, circling her. "How much you harp on me about being patient. And yet… here you are, having to wait yourself."

Sevika clearly didn't find the predicament humorous. With an upturned brow, she flung her boxers at your face. You didn't have time to react and your head became a makeshift hamper. She choked out a laugh as you tore them off and threw them back at her.

You tailed her through the condo as she picked up her discarded nightwear and towels and tossed them in the hamper. The final destination was your bathroom and you leaned against your sink, biting your lip, suddenly drawn into Sevika’s chosen outfit for the occasion.

“What?” she said. “See somethin’ you like?”

Quite an understatement.

Photos didn’t do her justice. You couldn't help but rove your eyes over her. Her shirt and pants accentuated her toned musculature in a way that made you lick your lips. The getup fit her well, looked comfortable, and even masked her usual disdain for dressing up to “kiss businessman ass.”

You’d once made an offhand comment about how great she’d look in a vest. Her effort clearly didn’t disappoint. For someone who hated dressing up? Damn, did she exceed expectations.

Sevika rolled her eyes and motioned to undress herself. You caught her wrist in yours. Laced your fingers and squeezed as you lowered them both. She raised a brow, eyes searching yours. She was so eager to rid herself of her clothes, but you couldn’t bear letting her tear herself out of them so hastily.

Not so soon.

Not yet.

"Let me?"

She canted her chin. Studied you.

You released her hand and mapped out a path with deft fingers. Up her right thigh, ghosting over her zipper to her hip, relishing the flare of her nostrils. The bathroom light twinkled off the waistcoat's buttons as you ascended over them, each resounding with a simple tap when you flicked them. You traced the visible shirt buttons upwards, stopping at her sternum where it flared open. Beautiful brown skin starred with small freckles and moles gave way where you pressed. You glided over her neck, felt her throat bob when she swallowed. The scar on her left cheek shimmered under your touch, silky aqua and turquoise marbling that guided you back down her jaw and neck. Back to the second button on her shirt to finally undo it.

You looped the button through its hoop and more of Sevika's skin became available for you to dusk your lips over. Her audible exhale drove you further as you released the third. More skin, more area to cover with gentle and practiced kisses. If you could cover every inch of her chest, you would. Stain her, mark her, claim her with the most seductive shade of lipstick you owned. A rich burgundy that matched her favorite poncho would suffice, wouldn't it?

While you kept your mouth busy at her chest, you released every button on her shirt and waistcoat. As much as you desired to roll them off her shoulders, you kept them on, admiring how they framed her over her dark sports bra. You scored down her taut abs with your nails until you found and fiddled with her belt. A bit of handiwork made releasing it trivial, and it clinked beneath you both as you left it undone to fumble for the button at her pants. Unbuttoned and unzipped, her pants lay open and free for you to graze fingertips at the waistband of her boxer briefs. You glanced down. A subtle bulge hidden beneath dark grey.

A cold, metal hand teased your waist, found purchase at the small of your back, spurring you on. From her waistband, your touch rose up her lower abs, pressed against them to coax the slight give and jerk of her muscles. She was solid underneath you, honed and sculpted like an athlete carved out of Pentelic marble. You rebuffed any muttered insult of her being a brute. She wasn't, far from it. Mixed martial arts and boxing kept her in shape, but her intimidating size and strength only belied her gentleness with you behind closed doors. Besides, would a brute have enough patience and self-control to handle the pressure of being Silco's right hand? The weight of being heir to the metaphorical throne?

Sevika flicked her tongue over the corner of her top lip when you feathered the dark hair that vanished into her boxers. Your final descent brushed over that trail, crept over the bulge at the apex of her thighs. The metal hand at your back pulled you closer. Sevika lowered her head to rest at your shoulder and you caught the tail end of a guttural groan at your ministrations.

She inhaled. Deeply. Her lips latched to the juncture of your jaw and neck. Her rumble deepened, hips angled into your touch.

"Cariño…"

It was your turn to smile. You knew where to touch and prod, the correct tempo and intensity to render Sevika putty in your hands. She melted when you tugged at silky, black hair. Let her lips part and drag across your cheek until they met with yours. It was cute how hard she tried to reel it in and keep her control, how hard she tried to stifle the jerk of her hips. You congratulated yourself for the effort… until she spoke against your lips to render your work undone.

"Turn around for me?"

Tone relayed the intended message. It sent a shiver crackling up your spine that halted your movements. Surprise quickly morphed into latent arousal. Why keep her waiting when you could smell the direction this was turning?

Her grip loosened enough for you to adjust yourself. You turned, slowly, and faced the mirror to watch her rise to her full height behind you. Sevika held several inches over most human men in Zaun and a full head over you. The toughest men who frequented The Last Drop tucked their tails at her size and strength. With you? She was as harmless and cuddly as a teddy bear. And she proved as much when she wrapped her arms around you and squeezed for good measure.

She buried her nose into the crook of your neck and shoulder, planted open-mouthed kisses up the side of your neck and into your jawline. In pure Sevika fashion, she tipped your jaw to give herself more access to the column of your throat. You couldn't help the giggles that fell from your lips, and she followed suit with a few chuckles of her own.

Any words you would have spoken were lost in a whispered sigh as she nuzzled right against your ear and spoke. "Been missin’ you all night."

And your heart somersaulted out of its cage.

Your eyes caught Sevika's in the mirror—predatory, wolf-like—irises pushed to the edges by pupils blown wide. She stared back at you. Mischief brewed underneath as the corner of her mouth tweaked upwards. She pulled you in closer, ran her full lips up the nape of your neck.

"Tell me again where you want my hands, beautiful."

Fuck, her voice. Like a growl soaked in arousal. You shifted, aiming to turn around but she kept you in place. All you wanted was to steal her breath from her lungs, make her speak those words again into your mouth. Consume every consonant and vowel as sustenance.

Her hands roamed and if you didn't give her an answer, she'd probably decide for you. So, you dredged up your earlier conversation and relayed it back to her.

"My… my mouth."

"Yeah?"

You nodded pathetically. She obliged.

Her left arm stayed wrapped around your waist. She brought her right hand up to lift your chin. Examined you in the mirror, turned your head this way and that like she was contemplating what to do with you. Finally, she tutted and smiled.

"Such a pretty girl." She thumbed your bottom lip and you flicked your tongue out to graze it. She didn't mind in the slightest, even encouraged it by dipping in to brush the inside of your lip. When you wrapped your lips around her thumb, she allowed you for all of ten seconds before removing it and painting your chin with your saliva. "With a pretty fucking mouth, too. Don't you think?"

Another nod, and she nipped the shell of your ear.

"I wanna hear you say it, baby. Tell me." She squeezed you gently for emphasis.

You sighed, cheeks flaring with the words floating in your mind. "I… I have a pretty fucking mouth."

Sevika snickers and kisses you in three places. Lightning bolts on inflamed skin. "Good girl. Now, open." Her fingers slid across your lips, waiting for the access that you granted immediately.

Her index and middle split in your mouth, taking residence on either side of your tongue. You teased between both before running up the middle finger. You swirled it left, pulled it center, sucked it like your life depended on it. You repeated the same for her index. Her fingers were devoid of any distinct flavor, but if you thought hard enough, you feigned the savor of your dripping cunt from memory alone.

You sucked and sucked and sucked on her fingers, bobbing slowly as you maintained eye contact with the owner of the wolfish grin in the mirror. One draw of her fingers withdrew them far enough to let your saliva dribble down your lip and chin. You cleaned up as much as you could, but the rest streaked and smeared as Sevika removed herself completely to cup your chin, then your cheeks.

That same hand made the agonizing trip down your neck and chest to graze over your pert nipples peeking through the large shirt. The breath you inhaled made her stop, and her stopping made you whine in protest.

"Think I remember you wanted my hands on your tits. That true?"

While your head was swimming through the heady haze of arousal, you'd have been remiss to not notice both her hands at the hem of your shirt easing their way up. Each second she waited for a response made the trip more leisurely. Typical Sevika behavior. She was a master of drawing pleasure out until the last second—the true embodiment of the virtue of patience despite how many vices she indulged on the regular.

Once more, an eager nod didn't satisfy her.

"Use your words, baby."

"Y-Yes, I want your hands on my tits. Mmm… all over them…"

Sevika flashed you a quick smile before she peppered four kisses from your neck up to your cheek. The last she released slowly, letting her lips linger hot on your skin. Her nose feathered across your cheek, ghosted your earlobe. She kept silent, but her gaze followed her hands as they raised your shirt.

Slowly.

“Arms up,” she said.

You obeyed. Up, up, up the shirt rose. It stopped right over your face, and Sevika held you there with your arms raised for several seconds before you caught on to her game and hip checked her. She laughed at you when you cussed at her, but once the shirt was tossed aside, Sevika was free to fully engulf your breasts in each hand. Her hands were big; you placed your own over hers and relished at the difference in size. A groan roiled in the pit of your chest only to ease up and drift from your lips as a breathy sigh.

She massaged them, kneaded them, rolled them under strong hands. Her fingers, still damp and drying from your mouth, tweaked and tugged your nipples. The motion and temperature difference had you choking out a moan, and you felt it like a bolt of lightning from your cunt to the soles of your feet.

Her bulge pressed right against your ass. You pushed and grinded back into her to elicit a low groan. Not a full-size dildo or even a pack-and-play from what you could decipher, but the friction still felt fucking amazing.

"Feel good, babe?" She pulled your earlobe with her teeth, and with it, a strained moan from your throat. "You're lucky," she began. You protested when her claws left your breast and descended to squeeze your supple ass. "You're lucky it's late and I'm tired.” With her hand at the back of your neck, she bent you forward until your cheek lay flat against the cold marble counter. She flicked her tongue out against your tailbone, then the dimples in your back. Licked an unwavering trail up your spine until she reached your nape. The shiver she coaxed from you was delicious but didn’t hold a flame to the words she purred in your ear. “Or else I'd fuck you silly. Tear your little ass apart." She could be so much dirtier, so much kinkier. This? It was light work, and it still made you gush between your thighs.

No manner of struggling or rolling your hips made Sevika let up. But you still played along.

"Good thing… you don't need a strap for that."

"Oh yeah?" You felt Sevika's smirk grow from her place at your neck. "What else should I use?" She lifted you, gave you a quick swat on the ass—you flinched—before tugging at your breast again. She rolled the nipple between her thumb and forefinger then repeated the same motion with the opposite hand, making your toes curl.

You cursed yourself for being so fucking sensitive. Sevika had learned of it after your first night together and had been exploiting it ever since. With enough attention, it wasn’t impossible to make you come from nipple play alone. Janna knows she’d done it before and then laughed at you afterwards. Called you cute.

Whether she aimed to elicit another slew of moans from you, or make it difficult for you to answer properly, you didn't know, but she was successful regardless.

"Mm… your fuuu….f-fin….fuck…"

"My what? Speak up, baby girl."

"Fuck off, Sev. Your fingers. I want your fucking fingers inside me."

You let her tweak your nipple one final time before you grasped the back of her large hand, intertwining your fingers. She didn't resist, let you guide her hand slowly but surely down your ribs. Under your guidance, her touch remained gentle with a rebellious edge as she scored your heated skin with blunt nails. She pinched at your hip bone as you passed, then reached to trace the ring of your belly button before stopping briefly at the waistband of the underwear.

With one snap of the band with her thumb, you brought her hand lower and gasped when her fingers weaved through the hair on your mound. You squeezed it in your claw grip. Grinded against her again.

"I’ve barely touched you and you’re already writhing under me," Sevika whispered.

Well, she was right. You'd been so pent up and eager the whole night, a simple ghost of her fingers right where you needed her drove you wild. All the hours of waiting and you'd finally get closer to release. The grand question was… how quickly would she let you?

Sevika was notorious for her antics. Begging on your knees? She had you covered. Servicing her first and thanking her for it? A favorite of hers. Worshipping every inch of your body under honeyed words and praise? You never minded waiting there. Patience above all was rewarded, but she still made the experience enjoyable along the way. Which route she'd explore today was still undetermined, even with the familiar mischievous glint in her eyes.

No amount of grinding or snapping the waistband of her boxers made her budge. Instead, you earned a smirk and playful tug of your left nipple. You pouted.

She moved an inch lower to appease you, kneaded your left breast again for good measure. The motion kept you at attention, pliable and eager to please, to do whatever needed to get what you so desperately desired. You shot Sevika a glance that would have put your own hounds to shame.

"Look at my pretty girl. Can't wait to get fucked, can she? What’s the magic word, sweetness?"

Your heart rate spiked right as your belly backflipped. Embarrassment shouldn’t have crept up given how many fucking times you both have done this.

And yet…

“Please?” you said, supplementing with a slow roll of your hips. “Please, Daddy Bear?”

Well, any amount of embarrassment was worth the tremor that vibrated through your lover. It was cute how she couldn’t fully contain her excitement when her sadistic side poked its head out to play.

"Good girl. Let go."

You gave her blazing hand one final squeeze before you did.

Sevika inhaled at your hairline and planted open-mouthed kisses from neck to ear. The shudder in her breaths was evident enough that she wanted to drive further, deeper. She was losing herself, relinquishing her mastery of control. "I want to hear you choke on my fingers, baby. Can you do that for me?"

You nodded. "Mhm…"

"Good. Now, open your mouth."

You obeyed, stuck your tongue out for good measure.

Sevika traced the curve of your chin and jaw, then your top lip until she rested on your bottom. She caressed the center right under the tip of your tongue. "Get my fingers nice and wet, and then I'll give you what you want. Deal?"

“Mhmm…” You accepted her first offered digit between your lips to suck on. She let you control the pace, allowed you to grab her flesh hand in yours to worship and savor at your leisure. You rolled your tongue around it again, working arduously to cover every inch in your saliva.

When you were ready, you added a second, her ring finger. It reached the back of your tongue with ease, and the thought of how trivial it would be to gag on it made you throb between your thighs. But you weren't ready. Not yet. With both in your mouth, you set them on your tongue and began to suck them off.

In.

Rest.

Out.

Rest.

Out.

You repeated the motion, eyes half-lidded as you savored the moment. You sucked her fingers like you would her strap, albeit a much easier experience, but erotic nonetheless. Unlike her strap, there wasn't enough girth to stretch your lips or ache your jaw. Not enough length to tickle the back of your throat into gagging too hard. But you still took her all the way, and when she hit the back of your tongue, you coughed and choked and opened your watering eyes to cherish your girlfriend's reactions.

An excited tremble shook through Sevika, rocking you. She fixated on your mouth and the saliva that dripped down your chin as she removed her hand. "Fuck…" She took one swipe over your bottom lip—admired it—before dipping into your underwear.

The two soaked digits glided on either side of your clit. The temperature and texture difference forced your head back onto her shoulder with a loud gasping moan. Just like her virtue, her strokes were resolute, every one aiming to make you feel it from top to bottom.

Sevika never disappointed. For all the times she enjoyed watching and hearing you beg, she loved giving you a full body experience to make up for the wait. While she worked her fingers, she pressed herself into you. She worked her claws up your body—cold metal on burning flesh—until she reached and tugged on your nipple again. Her breath tickled your earlobe as she alternated between nips and featherlight kisses trailing to your collar. Abandoned your clit to tease a ring around your entrance.

"That feel good?" she asked.

Dragging the response from your brain proved more tedious than you imagined. You pushed past the mental haze, swam past the dark cloud until you found the words you were looking for.

"Mhm… y-yeah. Yeah… it feels so good…"

“Hahaha… here." She snatched her hand away and you whined as she painted your lips with your own slick. "Taste."

You pulled her soaked fingers into your mouth, lapping at the lingering juice extracted from her tease and craving more.

You stole her hand and guided it back into your underwear, back to sliding around your clit. "Vika…" you whined.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Want your fingers in me, bear… Want 'em deep."

There was no shame in the request, even if your cheeks burned brightly. But you did shudder at Sevika's rumbling laugh behind you. Hissed at her teasing loop around your entrance.

"Want 'em deep, hmm?" she mimicked. Her words lingered, clung to the air like the Zaun Gray as she finally, finally pushed one finger past the threshold into you.

A gentle "fuck" dribbled past your lips. You ground your head harder into her shoulder as you shut your eyes to the world, hellbent on focusing solely on the sensations she gifted you.

Sevika plunged as deeply as she could. Slow motions, in and out, with a curling caress against your soft and sensitive front wall. Then stopped to let you accommodate. Her claws grazed your ribs and under your breast once more before settling at your neck.

Your spine straightened, eyes flew open as she tapped your jugular. Your attention locked with hers.

"You still with me?"

The implication was clear. Sevika loved to be rough and push your limits, and you were more than willing to bend and test them under her watchful guard. Two years together was enough to solidify a clear communication base, but you didn't progress this far without a great deal of understanding and patience. She was surprisingly a good listener, which, in retrospect, shouldn't have been surprising given her line of work. Credit where credit was due, of course.

Finally, you sighed your agreement and braced yourself for the oncoming crescendo.

Sevika retracted her finger to add a second to the mix. She inserted, slowly, sheathed both inside you like a deadly weapon. Large fingers stretched you in that way you loved so much, and she muffled your oncoming moan with her own lips and tongue.

The fog that muddled your brain thickened by the second. Your focus darted everywhere, trying desperately to keep up with every angle of pleasure she massaged your senses with.

Her claws set firmly in place on your neck. Tapped there again in rhythm. Made you acknowledge their presence. She tutted when you arched against her to coax her plan into motion.

"Deja de moverte. Be still." Her index traced down the column of your throat, bobbed under your careful swallow. If you hadn't known her as long as you had, it would have felt like a threat. Instead, it was a warning, a safety precaution.

You stilled, relaxed, and breathed evenly, counting in your head like she taught you.

She pumped once, a test.

Paused.

Another, and Janna, it was difficult not to fidget.

A third, and she open-kissed the corner of your jaw for passing. She kept her pace slow and put pressure on the arteries, leaving your throat and breathing free.

Your pulse thumped against her metal palm. The restricted blood flow intensified every other sensation, had your eyes fluttering. You rasped. The abyss lingered at the very edge of your consciousness, and you wanted to go deeper, sink further, play chicken with it…

Fuck.

Fuck…

But Sevika pulled you out as quickly as you dipped in.

You mourned the loss, but knew it was for the best. Sevika knew it was for the best.

"Good girl," she cooed in your ear, then turned your head back to the mirror. "Look at you, sweetness. My pretty girl."

You gazed in the mirror to stare at the absolutely fucked-out figure in your girlfriend's arms. Half-lidded eyes and parted lips meshed well with erect nipples and crimson marks painting a beautiful and exposed neck. The heady redolence of sex wafted in the air. With your underwear lowered, Sevika's fingers plunged in and out of a pussy glistening with slick. Every thrust filled your ears with the gushing sounds of your juices soaking her fingers.

Your juices.

You were acutely aware it was you in the mirror. Aware of the high you got from the deadly, metal hand at your neck. Aware that your essence remained coated on your tongue. Aware that she fucked you in all primal senses until they dulled.

Blood pounded your ears.

She thrusted.

Heart rammed against your ribcage.

She thrusted.

"Vika…" you moaned. "Se-Sevikaaa…"

You buried your nose into her collar and your world went dark as your hips gyrated into her fingers and into her body. Your orgasm rolled through you like a wave, ebbing and flowing with Sevika's slowing thrusts, every jerk a splash against her. The mantra of her name on your lips broke down to a whispering prayer. She murmured against your temple, gentle words you couldn't fully comprehend with your mind still rattled.

Ragged breaths escaped from your lungs. Your legs wobbled even with Sevika holding you up with her metal arm. And Janna, were you hot. Despite feeling like you’d just sprinted a marathon, the blissfulness was unmatched.

"You okay, sweetheart?" she asked, then her voice dropped. "Or did I fuck you too good?"

You cradled her left arm—a nice chill for your burning skin—with your laugh rolling right into a satisfied purr. She wasn't wrong; even with her fingers she fucked you well into another dimension and it took at least a full minute before your awareness returned. Sevika was still very much buried inside you, unmoving, but still there.

And it felt… good.

She must have been thinking the same as she adjusted and kissed behind your ear. "Gonna pull out now."

And when she did, carefully, you winced and jerked against her. But you stopped her. Her eyebrow rose at you in the mirror, and you quelled her questions when you took those two fingers into your mouth.

"Fuck…" Sevika's claws dug at your hip as she stared at you like Janna herself made her ethereal presence known to the world. She was awestruck watching you clean her hand of your essence. Hungry. Feral. Predatory glint in her wolf-grey eyes.

She spun you around and after a few quick glances at your lips, leaned in to capture them in hers. The usual spark and dominance showed in her aggression—teeth clicked against yours, deft tongue eager to taste and explore your mouth for the umpteenth time. It dizzied you, made it hard to breathe. You shivered as cool metal waltzed down your back, and you retaliated with a prance up her abs.

Sevika flexed under you, rock solid, before she pulled away and stared at you with blown pupils. She tilted your chin up, holding you in place to command your attention, then licked her full lips.

"You taste so fucking good," she whispers.

You locked eyes with her. Experience told you everything she wanted to do to you. How she desired to bend and mold your body, stretch and push you to your limits, savor every bite like a last meal at Stillwater. You melted under her watchful eyes. All you had for her was a smile, and she mirrored it with a wolfish smirk of her own. You seized the moment and moved from her abs to sternum. The thump-thumping of her heart slowed, adrenaline and lust finally wearing off as she knocked her forehead against yours. You inhaled, the lingering base note of her cologne recentering you and pulling your focus back.

"Look at you. So fucking pretty," she said.

Even with your own essence spread across your lips, your knees buckling under her, your eyes half-lidded and dazed, she still gazed at you like you were the most beautiful specimen in all of Runeterra.

"You're such a good girl, you know that?" She released your chin to knock a strand of hair out of your face. "Don't you ever forget it."

You knew what you meant to her, inside and outside the bedroom, but you would never grow tired of hearing her say it.

"Do you understand me?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Daddy."

She gave you two quick pecks followed by a final and more passionate third. And just like that you both relinquished your roles to pick up again another day.

"Let’s get you cleaned up.” Sevika caressed your cheek with her knuckles. “Ready for a shower?"

You shook your head. "In the morning? Took one earlier. Don't feel like it. Also don't think I can stand much longer."

That was all fine with Sevika. She hoisted you onto the counter, asked you to wait, and sauntered off into the bedroom.

The high was finally starting to wear off as you leaned against the bathroom counter, replaced with the occasional brush with darkness. The ghost of Sevika's fingers still remained buried in your cunt—a nice stretch that left a delicious throb and ache in its wake. Wet stickiness between your thighs had you rubbing them together. You could only imagine how great Sevika's tongue would have felt if either of you were up for it.

Eventually, she returned in sweatpants and her sports bra with a washcloth she pulled from the linen closet.

"Hey," she said, lifting your chin gently. "Sleepy already?" Her lip twitched at what you assumed was an oncoming smirk but it never came to light. Your attention wavered and those were the last words you were able to decipher.

Sevika chuckled to herself.

With the mess between your legs cleaned and dried, Sevika flung your arms around her neck. The bathroom light flickered off and you floated to the bedroom and drifted down to the bed.

Sevika stretching over you was the last thing you saw before the bedroom was plunged into darkness.

------

Sudden rhythmic caresses across your ass and thigh stirred you from sleep. Distant cerulean lights sliced through pitch black, left splatters on the far wall. Heartbeats rocked beneath your cheek in tandem with the rise and fall of the strong, bare chest beneath you.

When the motions stopped, you drifted again, struggling to fight sleep until a light buzz startled you alert.

Worry set in at the annoyed and familiar ursine grumble. The hand left you to snatch the phone off the nightstand. It only took five seconds before your girlfriend set it back down and shifted under you.

Immediately, you felt your time together was over. Early texts usually meant last minute shipping manifests. And shipping manifests meant the rare days where Sevika left you in bed alone. Instinct took over and you straddled the body under you, hands planted on her muscular chest to keep her in place.

Sevika rose to her elbows. "What's up, sweetness? You okay?"

You could have laughed. Typical Sevika, overly worried about you while her sleepy, husky voice lit a small fire in your loins. You made a valiant attempt to stamp it down.

"¿Cariño?"

You reached out slowly. Traced down the soft curves of her angular face—forehead to nose, lips to chin—then cupped her cheek. You rested your own forehead against hers.

Neither of you spoke. Didn't need to. Your worry was evident but Sevika snorted. Her sigh tickled your cheek and lips. She peppered lazy kisses across your jaw, down the column of your neck, and back up to rest on your lips.

Simple reassurance.

Metal and flesh engulfed you and pulled you close until you settled your head back home on her chest. Warm fingertips traced the ridges of your spine—down, down, down—back to cup your ass and the back of your thigh.

"Just a reminder text from Ran. Still gotta be up in seven hours." Her voice deepened, a still-sleepy-growling-purr that rolled a shiver up your spine. "After we're done, I'm all yours."

You knew from experience and the nature of Sevika's line of work that she couldn't promise that. Still, her word was as good as gold. Phone communication could only tide you over for so long after a long and stressful week. You drifted off, mumbling to yourself and Sevika about how thankful you were to finally have time together.

#Arcane #Sevika #Sevika/Reader #Sevika x Reader #Arcane Sevika #Sevika x You #Sevika smut #League of Legends #Sevika fic #fanfiction #nix fics #graphic design is my passion.jpg #I put way too much effort into making that image and correcting the formatting so please support lol #seriously image editing is like the one internet skill I never picked up LMAO #heacanon #headcanon: sevika

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sassenashsworld · 2 months

Text

A little more of Silver Lore

I really want to do a return on the story of my SoSu while also a little on Arianne, her niece

Many trigger warning : rape, attempt suicide, violence

Nora Taylor

Arianne Taylor

Nora Taylor is my Vault 111 survivor.

The far earlier I've told about her story in The Path of the Private and Heartbeat of the Commonwealth is her relatively turbulent youth with her sister and both parents. Nora, while not as outspoken as her sister, was nonetheless able to confront their elderly father. She already had a clear sense of what she wanted and didn't want.

She could already put herself in dangerous circumstances when she was very young, such as confronting a gang of street thugs. The scenario led to a violent gang rape. She could only come home the next day, injured and broken, and that' when the chaos begin.

Hell, absolutely, because a lengthy court fight resulted in nothing, the young hoodlums being rich children who had paid for sufficiently skilled lawyers to ensure Nora never received justice.

It broke her father, too; unable to defend his daughter, he developed early dementia. His suffering lasted a few years, and he was at least able to assist his daughter during her early University cursus.

Because of what happened to her, Nora aspired to be a lawyer. She aspired to be the lawyer who would tip the scales and restore justice to other victims who, like herself, were going to confront the system that favors the wealthy.

Eventually, the sickness took hold of him, and Nora's father died.

Nora realized her future was put at risk almost immediately when he died. Without a father to support her and pay for her education, she would never be able to reach her ambition...

Nora was then 19.

She fled on the evening of the funeral, as the cerceuil lid closed on the family provider.

She was panicked, terrified of what would happen next. She despised not staying to morally support her mother, but she felt absolutely stuck, and terror took over.

It is in complete terror that she run from Cambridge to Boston, where she sought safety in an ill-reputed neighborhood near her university.

She had previously accompanied some low reputate students to an even less desirable bar. She dashed to the bar to acquire illegal chems that would allow her to forget, if only for a time, about her present situation. She then hid in an alley behind a dumpster to conclude her action.

That's when the container began talking to her.

Nora became concerned about the fact that she hadn't had time to take the chem yet.

The young man disguised in the container took advantage of this to further persuade her not to use the chem she had just bought.

They continued to converse somewhat.

Nate had just entered Nora's life.

Despite their lack of luck in the past, Nora and Nate promised not to give up. They planned to utilize the state to get them released from their sad faith.

They both joined the Army.

Nate stayed until Anchorage but Nora completed only the minimum service required to pay her university expenses. The service did not prevent them from marrying and enjoying a deep happiness.

They relied heavily on one another. Nora depended completely and blindly on Nate to guide her.

Not that she was stupid; rather opposite. But in every aspect of her life, she had to take the lead. Relying on Nate allowed her to balance the pressure.

Nora's career get on a pause when she became pregnant. She and Nate purchased a lovely humble house in a peaceful neighborhood near Concord.

During this time, Nora's sister get married too, but she, too, refused to give up her patronyme.

The two sisters were extremely proud to be Taylors, claiming to be direct descendants of the May Flower pioneers.

The two sisters fell pregnant a few months apart. Shawn had his birth before Arianne. They both took the name of Taylor.

However, Nora and her sister will not have many opportunities to visit each other. While Nora chose to live in Sanctuary to be closer to her mother stayed in Cambridge, her sister dicided to get along her husband to the Appalachians. However, the two sisters were fortunate enough to secure a place within their separate Vaults.

Here, Nora's fate and that of her niece Arianne diverge dramatically.

Nora's sister and her husband were on the road when the bombs went off. They had leaving little Arianne to the care of a close friend of them. She successfully guided Arianne to Vault 76, as the Overseer, but Arianne's parents never made it to the shelter.

The Overseer, a smart and kind woman, had already advised Arianne's parents to bring everything that could be significant into the vault. As a result, Arianne grew up under the Overseer's care while remaining true to her roots. She had access to her family's diaries and photographs.

She grew up as a proud Taylor.

She is very similar to her aunt, Nora.

The Overseer frequently make remark on it with amusement, but Arianne took it extremely seriously. She was so pleased to be like her aunt Nora, to resemble her as much physically as morally, that she even bleached her hair to make them white like her, unconscious of her aunt's trauma that had resulted to this peculiarity.

A few days before the bombs blew off, Nora chose to leave Shawn in the care of Codsworth and Nate in order to find employment in law. In the middle of the day, she returned to her mentor's office, where the secretary demanded if she might take his briefcase to the BADtfl. Nora gleefully accepted, hoping to get the opportunity to ask her former boss if he might re-hire her, but he was too busy to meet her due to a scandal involving an illustrious criminal disturbing the organization.

She was disappointed because she wanted to return home, but her car refused to start. She returned inside the building, hoping to call a tow truck, but all of the phones had been took as a result of the controversy.

She was patiently waiting for an opportunity through the circumstances when she noticed a man left by himself, who appeared to be distressed.

Taking pity on the man and realizing that she will have no access to a phone at the BADtfl, she decides to take him for a coffee.

The detective, who appeared to be really sorrowful, followed her without protest.

Nora soon recognized that the man's state was worrying. His attitude reminded her of her own on the day of her father's funeral, and remembering how Nate had saved her life, she decided to help him till the end.

Nora accompanied Nick Valentine to the CIT.

A few days later, the bombs exploded. Nora was no longer thinking about the BADtfl's man, who was almost certainly dead.

Synth Nick had also forgotten Nora.

Their lucky meeting didn't provide the spark needed to bring back this memory.

But one day, as they strolled down the same street, in front of the same cafe, Nora remembered.

She informed Nick about it, and as a result, he recovered some memories.

Nick and Nora then realized how their fates were entwined.

Nora got brain seizures comparable to skyzophrenia as a result of her exposure to Vault-Tec gases while exploring Nuka World.

After Nora went into a hazardous delirium and distanced herself from everyone, Nick retrieve her and brought her back and get her treated by an experiment serum of the Doctor Amari.

The procedure was somewhat successful; Nora regained mental awareness. However, this doesn’t come at no cost.

During the altercation, Nora shot Nick with her .10mm, resulting in coolant leaks that harmed his core. She and her friends were able to transplant the core of another synth before it was too late, but Nick's system was not provide with the same core as his "cousins" and he couldn't no longer performs as efficiently as he had before.

Nora felt a great deal of shame and guilt, even if Nick didn't hold it against her given how she was at the moment.

However, Nora had no ideas what this scenario was. Amari's treatment succeeded, but it also destroyed parts of her memories.

Nora, disturbed and guilty, gradually closes in on herself as time passes.

Nick was from time to time able to reach her again, but Nora loses her sense of right and wrong.

When she eventually gets to the institute and learns the horrific truth about Shawn, it was the final straw.

Nora tries to kill herself.

Nick manages to retain her in-extremis, but the damage to Nora's mind and heart was catastrophic.

The lore divides here.

In both The Path of the Private and Heartbeat of the Commonwealth, Nora started working for the institution at Deacon's request to infiltrate them and free the synths.

In The Path of the Private, Nick remains her main companion, but she uses more and more chemicals, becoming increasingly unstable and dangerous. Nick no longer wears white gloves to straighten her, and their relationship, while very close, is frequently murky.

Nora is strongly close to Nick, and he remains the person she most respects; but, because she no longer respects herself, they frequently confront each other.

At the same time, she is quite attached to Danse, which strangely keeps her sober when she is with him, but when she realizes that he is her "grandson" and that a relationship with him is impossible... it is another descend into hell.

Nick then persuades Nora to join him for a final investigation in Maine, trying to change her mind and keep her away from Hancock, who has a negative influence on her.

In Heartbeat of the Commonwealth, however, when Nora begins working for the institute, she keeps Nick away so that he is never in danger again as a consequence of her journey... but without truly exposing him of her thoughts.

Nick feels rejected by Nora and develops a severe depression.

In this state of abandonment, he finds a glimmer of hope in the persona of Jasmine. He eventually adopts her as his own daughter, which allows him to retrieve control of his life, even if the sorrow of Nora's "betrayal" remains raw.

Nora, for her part, occasionally attempts to return to Nick, but someone inform her that he has a new partner, and she disappears for two months without searching to learn more about his situation.

When Nora ultimately returns to Sanctuary, where Nick has taken up residence to offer a more righteous environment for his daughter to grow up in, they don't have much of an opportunity to explain themselves.

After a brief excursion together to get back Jasmine, which would have allowed them to explain themselves, they part ways without discussing. Jasmine need emergency care, which Nick must deliver.

Nora, for her part, is immensely upset with the welcoming she receive after two months away. She concive the idea that her friends see her merely as a functional role, and Nick's frigid and distant demeanor dashes her last hopes.

Now convinced that she no longer has a place in her small community and is no longer close to her best friend, she attempts suicide once more with an excessive amount of buffout.

Hancock persuades Nick to seek for her, and the detective saves her once more, but the chem causes Nora's brain to suffer further damage.

The companions and even Nick are not immediately aware of the situation, while Nora appears to act normally. But when Jasmine runs away again and the duo rushes against the clock to save the Commonwealth from the most catastrophic scenario, Nora is thrust into an episode almost worse as the one of Nuka World.

Nick, dying of fear about his daughter and traveling through a Commonwealth set on fire by a bunch of destructive mercenaries to find her, tries to manage the young woman as best he can, while Amari works hard to discover a better treatment.

However, challenges in their path continue to increase, and the day when Nora, Nick, and Jasmine will finally be reunited to enjoy some serene living doesn't appear to be imminent.

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mischiefandspirits · 2 years

Text

YA Vampire Love Story (1/6)

When Tim started at Louis E. Grieve Memorial High School, he’d just wanted to catch a criminal. He wasn’t expecting to find a pair of lifelong friends in Bernard and Darla.

Wait, does it count as lifelong if they stay friends after they die?

Part of my Colony of Gotham universe

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tim glanced over his new school as he walked up the path from the student drop-off.

Louis E. Grieve Memorial High School was a charter school, but may as well have called itself a private school for the lower-upper class considering how hard often all spots were filled when less charitable parents tried to get their students a place in the school. It was a step up from any other public school in Gotham, but not quite the same quality as Gotham Academy. High society saw it as the place for those who couldn’t quite afford or didn’t have the connections for the private school. It was, in their eyes, the school of upstarts and new money.

Which was why it was strange when Bruce Wayne, Gotham’s wealthiest and most connected billionaire, announced his third son would be starting at GHS instead of continuing at GA. According to Brucie, it was because of empty nest syndrome. With his elder two sons attending Gotham University and out of the house, he wanted to keep his baby close. GHS was only a ten minute drive from the manor, compared to the thirty minutes (not accounting for traffic) it was from GA. It was also in the calmer (by Gotham standards) neighborhood of Bristol. It made sense, so long as you accounted for Brucie being ditzy enough to not realize the social faux pas of sending his son to a lesser school.

Bruce, however, knew exactly what he was doing. Tim wasn’t at the school because Bruce’s nest was empty (his brothers showed up to mess with their father far too often for Bruce to miss them), but because the Colony needed an inside man as they investigated a lead on someone attempting to use the school’s chem labs to make drugs after hours.

Tim didn’t mind being that man. The only thing he’d miss from GA was the photography studio. He hadn’t had friends at the school once Jason and the few friends of his Tim liked had graduated. Tim was an introvert, he knew that. It was a fact Dick nagged him over, but not one he considered a downside. It wasn’t like he didn’t have friends. He had a few online friends he talked to a lot, like Ives, and recently he had Kon. That was plenty of friends. Besides, it wasn’t like the other GA students wanted to be friends with him either. To them, he was just another Brucie charity case, and not even a good one like the outgoing circus kid or the gruff Crime Alley thug (or the misunderstood theater prodigy, if you asked Jason’s fellow theater nerds).

Honestly, Tim was excited about going to GHS. He wouldn’t have to wear a scratchy uniform that made his skin scream on bad days, just his comfort jeans and hoodies. There wouldn’t be high society politics or expectations (Dick and Jason said to ignore that stuff, but he was a Wayne!), he could just sit quietly without talking to anyone except the occasional teacher that wanted an answer and everyone would probably just assume he was being an aloof rich kid. It was great!

With a small smile, he looked down at the schedule in his hand. He’d have already memorized it, but then he’d received an email that morning about a schedule change to accommodate the advanced biology class he’d wanted.

“Hey, new guy, huh?”

Tim blinked and looked up. “Huh?”

“Hold up there.”

A trio of students was sitting under a tree nearby. The blond in the middle was the one who’d spoken up. The other two looked up when he stood, but quickly went back to what they were doing.

“Transfer student?” the blond asked, walking up to Tim. “Foreign exchange? You didn’t go to SNMS, so what’s your story?”

“Uh… transfer. My dad wanted me closer to home,” Tim answered.

The blond hummed, placing his hand on his chin. “Well, let’s get a look at you then. See where you fit in. No visible face shrapnel, so you probably don’t belong in the tattoo and piercings crowd.” He started circling Tim, who watched him with a bemused smile. “Your eyes are clear and you lack the telltale hemp-ish smell that would place you with the heads. You’re packing quite a load of books, but I don’t get a nerd vibe from you. You obviously bathe too often and don’t walk with a permanent cringe. You could be a jock -- you look ripped enough -- but again there’re all these books to consider. Jocks and books don’t exactly mix.” He stopped, his hand on his chin again. “You’re an enigma, grasshopper. I can’t tell which clique you belong in.”

“Is that important?” Tim asked instead of pointing out just how much stereotyping had gone into the other’s detective work.

“It’s vital. A place for everyone and everyone in their place. That’s how the world works.”

Tim snorted. If only it were that simple. “And what group do you belong to?”

The blond’s grin grew as he pointed at himself. “None. I’m the exception that proves the rule. A nation unto myself, and a roving ambassador between all cliques. Don’t try it yourself. It requires extraordinary finesse. In short, I pretty much run things around here. You’re lucky you met me.”

“I can see that,” Tim said, voice heavy with sarcasm.

That only seemed to encourage the blond and he grabbed the paper out of Tim’s hand. “Let’s check out your class schedule.” He tisked as he looked it over. “You took Cooper for history? Big mistake, son. He grades on the curve. You’ll want to transfer to Weingast. He’s afraid of getting sued again so he gives across-the-board A’s, never tests, and never takes roll.”

“Um, I’ll stick with this schedule,” Tim said blankly, taking the paper back. Classes like that were boring and hell on the senses since people usually talked through them.

“A rebel, huh? Suit yourself. Name’s Bernard Dowd, by the way. Bernard, got it? Never Bernie. Call me Bernie and I’ll have to punish you.”

“Tim Wayne,” he offered as he started heading towards the school again.

Bernard followed. “Glad to know you, Timmy.”

“Tim.”

He laughed and put his arm over Tim’s shoulder.

Tim considered shaking him off, but the contact didn’t feel bad, and Bernard, while a bit obnoxious, didn’t seem like a bad guy. He actually reminded Tim a bit of Kon, though he was more nosy than protective.

“See? We’re getting along already. I sense we’re going to be good friends, you and me. Now let’s go over a few of the social rules. You’ll eventually have to learn them all, but I can cover the main ones that will let you survive the first day. Most important of all: never try to date any girl I like.”

By the end of the day, Tim had decided it was lucky he didn’t share many classes with Bernard. He was funny and nice, but first impressions made him think he’d prefer the blond in small doses.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Gotta scoot, Bernard. After-school job,” Tim lied as he rushed through the halls. Two months later and he finally had a solid lead on the drug case. It turns out they’d been putting too much focus on the science teachers and overlooked one of the gym coaches. He needed to plant some cameras, but to do that he’d have to leave the school and then sneak back in.

“Better watch where you’re going then,” Bernard called just before Tim rammed into a girl who was heading the other way. “Ow. That’s got to hurt.”

“Smooth move, looser,” huffed a girl who’d been walking with Tim’s victim as he sat up, hand on his head.

“Uh… hello,” the girl he’d run into said as she sat up as well.

He blushed and stammered out, “Wow. I’m -- I mean -- I’m sorry. I didn’t see -”

“Darla Aquista, meet Tim Wayne,” Bernard introduced as he helped the girl up. “Forgive him. He’s new here and hasn’t been housebroken yet. Pick up the lady’s books, Wayne.”

“I’m really sorry. Really,” Tim said, grabbing the textbooks and handing them to her as he stood.

“Don’t worry. It was clearly an accident,” she said, then left with her friend.

“Darla’s really something, huh?” Bernard sighed as the boys watched the girls go.

“Yeah.”

He elbowed Tim. “Hey, remember the most important rule.”

Rolling his eyes, he elbowed Bernard back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Your black eye is clearing up nicely. You almost can’t see it anymore,” Bernard commented, looking over Tim’s face.

“Shut up,” he said, ducking his head. You couldn’t see anything because there wasn’t anything to see. There hadn’t really been anything to see yesterday when Bernard had seen the bit of bruise that had been uncovered when Tim smudged his makeup, and even that much had been gone by the morning. Tim had ended up needing to add a bit of shadow around his eye so Bernard wouldn’t ask questions.

“Just saying. Wouldn’t want your face getting messed up. It’s the best thing about you.”

“You’re too, too funny Bernard,” Tim deadpanned. “Say, I need my algebra notes back, so -”

Bernard cut him off with a slap to his arm. He stared over Tim’s shoulder with wide eyes, whispering, “Oh my God. She’s here! But she never comes here!”

Tim started to turn to look around the diner that had become their go-to place for an afterschool milkshake, not bothering to lower his voice. “Who -”

“Don’t look, doofus!” Bernard whispered, grabbing his arm. “Do you want to get us busted?”

Tim turned back with a smirk. “Oh, if you’re acting this way, it has to be our goddess in residence, Darla Aquista. Why are you so afraid of her? She’s probably human. Why don’t you just go up and talk to her?”

“Me? Afraid? No way I’m afraid of any girl. It’s those jocks she always hangs with that scare me.”

Tim leaned back. “So if they weren’t around, you’d hop right up and put the moves on her?”

“Sure. Absolutely.”

Tim stood up.

“Where are you going, Wayne?”

“I’m calling your bluff. Don’t let me down.”

Three guys were standing against the wall next to Darla’s booth, all juniors or seniors in letterman jackets. One had a football patch, another had a basketball patch, and the last had a swimmer’s patch. They gave him curious looks as he approached.

“Excuse me, guys?”

“Who’re you?” Basketball asked.

“I’m Tim Wayne. I’m new here and have only one friend so far, so I can’t afford to lose him.” He gestured over his shoulder with his thumb towards the booth he left Bernard in. “The trouble is that he’s madly in love with Darla here and dying to talk to her.

“Now, as we all know, the official-rules-of-guys dictate that you’d be fully justified in beating the snot out of anyone dumb enough to make a pass at your girl.” He glanced at Darla to see she was watching him with a wide grin and half-lidded eyes. He focused back on the jocks. “So here’s the deal. Just this once, I’m willing to take the beating coming to him. I’m not suicidal enough to try fighting back, but I still suggest we go outside so that you’ve got all the room you need to do a proper job of it.”

The three shared a look.

“Hey, you’re all right, Tim!” Football laughed.

“You’re pretty cool. Funny, y’know?” Basketball nodded.

Swimmer slapped Tim’s back. “Besides, she really ain’t our girl. Darla doesn't date anybody. We just keep an eye out for her”

Football waved him towards the counter. “Come on. You can buy us sodas while your bud takes his shot at her.”

Basketball, arm slipping around T’s shoulders, added, “Or a double bacon burger.”

Tim gave the sulking Bernard a smirk as they passed.

He had to do it. Bernard could take a little teasing.

“I’m going to kill you for this,” his friend hissed then left to talk to Darla.

It was hard to hear over the hustle and bustle of the diner, but Tim just barely caught Darla’s words.

“Hi, Bernard. Your friend Tim is really funny. And cute, too. Do you know if he’s seeing anyone?”

Oops.

“I’m going to sneak into your room one night,” Bernard threatened as they were leaving the diner. “I’ll tie you up and gag you then sell you to… to Bolivian organ pirates.”

“Bolivian organ pirates?”

“They exist!”

“If you say so,” Tim snorted.

Bernard was still steaming the next day at school, muttering threats under his breath and cursing Tim for breaking the most important rule.

“Believe me, Bernard, I have no designs on Darla Aquista,” Tim finally said, shoving his friend.

“I’ve seen the way she looks at you, Wayne,” Bernard argued, pointing at his face. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed you looking back.”

“I'm happily involved with someone else,” Tim sighed. He and Spoiler had been dating for a few weeks. It was rough and new, but he really liked her and wouldn’t have cheated on her besides.

“So you keep saying, but where is this mysterious Stephanie whatsername? Why have I never met her? If you’ve got something you want to tell me, then speak up. We’re buds. I’ll understand. We’re two modern, enlightened men in the third millennium, Wayne. No need to make up imaginary girlfriends.”

“That’s not it.” He’d love to introduce Stephanie to his friends, but he technically wasn’t dating Stephanie. Robin was dating Spoiler. Specifically, she was dating the Robin she called Small-Twitchy-Magic. Stephanie didn’t even know Robin wasn’t a demon, let alone that he was Tim Wayne.

“In any case, you don’t want to be fooling around with Darla, anyway. She’s too dangerous for someone as innocent as you.”

“Excuse me?” If only Bernard knew.

“Rumor has it her old man’s the neighborhood leader of the familymen, if you catch my drift.”

“Henry Aquista!” That was why her name seemed so familiar. Aquista was a mob boss. Not a high-ranking one, but one just the same. He didn’t cause trouble so he wasn’t on the Colony’s radar, but Tim made sure to keep track of even the lower names.

“So you’ll stay away?” Bernard checked.

“Yes.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Please tell me you’re going to be at GA next year. I can already tell these snobs are going to get on my nerves. If I’m left alone with them for hours on end, I’ll probably stab someone.”

“Don’t stab anyone. That’d only make them think they’re right. You need to be sneakier.”

“You know, that’s a weird way of saying, ‘Yes, babe. I’ll be right by your side next year.’”

Tim sighed. He didn’t know where he wanted to go next year.

The case had long been taken care of and he could have left GHS months ago, but leaving meant no more afterschool milkshakes with Bernard or bumping into Darla in the halls. He’d miss quite a few of his classmates (far more than he’d ever imagined), but losing Bernard and Darla would hurt. He could try to keep up with them, but his life made that hard.

Leaving also meant being with Stephanie, though. She’d been brought in on the secret and was training to be Robin with Tim while Jason finished up his preparations to move on to a new identity that would run at Batwoman’s side. The truth coming out had only brought her and Tim closer while also giving Bruce an excuse to help Stephanie get into Gotham Academy, an offer she’d taken up at her mother’s insistence. It wasn’t charity -- neither Brown would have accepted it if it was -- just a chance to prove herself and earn a scholarship that would let her attend the school’s upcoming year. Even still, Tim knew the only reason she’d agreed to go was that it would pretty much ensure she’d get the full ride she needed to get into medical school.

So Tim didn’t want to lose Bernard and Darla, but he also didn’t want to leave Stephanie alone at Gotham Academy. A part of him wished Stephanie had transferred to GHS instead, but he knew it wasn’t practical since she lived on the other side of the city.

“Tim?”

“We’ve still got a few months before applications need to be submitted.”

Stephanie clicked her tongue. “I see. Well, is it going to be a few months until you get outside?”

“I’m almost out now. Why? Is the hall too loud?” The hall was pretty crowded, but he didn’t think it was loud enough for Stephanie to hear.

“Nope. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Surprise?” he asked, pushing through the doors and out into the front yard. When he didn’t get a response, he looked down at his phone to see Stephanie had hung up. “Okay, then.”

“Tim, wait up!”

Tim turned to see Darla running up to him through the crowd that was starting to disperse now that they’d left the school. “Darla, hi. What’s up?”

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“Sure. What do you need?”

“Well… you see… the thing is… I wondered if… oh, to hell with it.” She reached forward and grabbed the straps of his backpack to yank him into a kiss.

He froze, staring into her eyes as the crowd started ooh-ing and jeering. He didn’t… He knew Darla maybe had a thing for him, but he’d thought he’d made it clear that, no matter how flattered he was, he was taken.

Once his brain re-engaged, he pushed her away. “Darla, we can’t do this!”

“Tim, I know you’ve heard the stories about my dad, but they’re not true. You have nothing to be afraid of.”

“I’m not! I don’t-It’s not that! I told you, I’m already in a committed relationship.”

“Quit saying that!” She snapped, turning away and walking off.

“But -”

“You don’t have to keep lying. Just admit it if you don’t like me.”

Shoot! He knew Bernard still thought he was lying about Stephanie, but he hadn’t realized Darla did too. “Darla!”

She ignored him, climbing into her limo and slamming the door.

Tim groaned and pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes.

“That was rough. Sorry, dude,” Tyrone -- an ice hockey player Tim had helped out when he’d been failing chemistry -- said, walking up and rubbing Tim’s back.

“Thanks.”

“Bernard’s going to kill you, though.”

Tim groaned again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This first chapter likely looked pretty familiar to those who've read Robin #121, 122, & 126 since it follows a lot of the same story beats, just elaborating on the changes between this universe and the comics as well as giving a peek into Tim's head. The next chapter will start deviating from the comics more.

In this chapter: Tim is 14, Steph is 14/15, and Bernard and Darla are 15/16

Timeline:

Spoiler appears: Aug 17

Tim meets Bernard and Darla: Aug 22

Darla gets a crush on Tim: Nov 18

Stephanie finds out the truth: Feb 11

Darla kisses Tim: Feb 24

#Tim Drake #bernard dowd #darla aquista #stephanie brown #timber #colony of gotham #do i have to tag the tim steph ship if theyre dating but not endgame?

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