#foolish fanfic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zepskies · 4 months ago

Text

Lost on You - Part 2

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: As you can see, I switched up the posting schedule slightly (check out the series masterlist for new "coming soon" dates). Thank you, guys so much for all the responses on Part 1! I hope you have just as much fun with Part 2. 😉

Word Count: 5.9K

Tags/Warnings: "Lies, lies, lies, yeah." ‘80s references, a new mission (and violence), cattiness, and some more cat and mouse tension.

🎙️ Series Masterlist || YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 2: Foolish Game

“You know, we really are a family here. The whole Payback team,” Crimson Countess said.

Her voice was filled with earnestness as she held the microphone to her ruby red lips with both gloved hands. She smiled and reached out a hand to you.

“But it’s truly my pleasure to welcome Sirena into the fold. It’s about time we got another badass chick on the team, am I right?”

She knew how to play up the packed crowd in the auditorium. They roused with cheers and clapping, and you stepped closer to her in the spotlight.

It wasn’t entirely an act when you gave them (and several cameras) a somewhat shy smile. You’d been on stages almost all your life, but never one like this. You knew you were being seen by the entire country right now.

On Countess’s other side was Soldier Boy and the TNT Twins, while on your side stood Black Noir, Swatto, and Mindstorm keeping himself in the back. Off at the far left of the stage were Arthur and Madelyn Stillwell, both seemingly patient and professional.

“And you look great, hun. I love the new suit,” Countess said, gesturing at you with a playful air.

You smiled a little more and affected some humility. You tried not to adjust the black mask sitting on the bridge of your nose. It felt like a pair of pool goggles.

“Well, a little leather goes a long way,” you joked into your own mic. It earned some laughs from the sea of flashing lights amidst darkness.

Countess laughed, a sultry sound. “I know that’s right.”

“I’m really just so grateful to be here on this incredible stage with you all,” you said, casting a hand at the rest of the team. “I’m just a girl from a dusty little town in Indiana. Seriously. Imagine Smallville, Kansas, but more tumbleweeds.”

Cue more indulgent laughter. The lie was well-rehearsed on your tongue, along with this next bit, as you looked into the closest camera.

“But if you all see some small greatness in me, then I’m honored and ready to serve,” you finished.

Enthusiastic applause met the end of your little speech. You smiled and lowered the mic. Countess nodded in agreement and offered her mic to Soldier Boy next. He stepped up to the center podium and leaned on it like he was John Wayne.

“Well, it’s a good day when another hero joins our ranks. I have a feeling that Sirena,” he paused, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, “Is gonna be a good fit.”

You didn’t like that smile on his face, but instead of letting that show on yours, you gave him a grateful smile. He had the gall to wink at you. Then he handed the mic back to Arthur and stepped back from the podium.

“All right, one more time, you guys. Let’s hear it for Sirena!” Arthur said to the crowd, and they erupted. You accepted the praise with a demure smile and a congenial wave, like you were Princess Diana or something.

The rest of your team gave perfunctory claps as well, but Soldier Boy was the first to head off stage. Countess and the rest of them followed suit, so you did as well. She and Soldier Boy didn’t even share a glance when she stopped off into the women’s restroom. An idea struck you, and you decided to join her.

“Hey, Countess,” you began to say, but she let out a humorless huff.

“What, are you going to follow me into the fucking stall?” she said dryly.

You were momentarily taken aback by her acidity. You blinked, and she turned to give you a bored look.

“I…just wanted to say that I really look up to you,” you said.

“Do you?” she asked, with a slightly mocking smile. Her gaze briefly ran down your form. “Is that why your suit looks like a Dollar Store knockoff of mine?”

Ah…okay, you thought. You saw what this bitch was about. She’d supported you in the public eye, but she didn’t actually want another woman on the team. She’d been a powerhouse for over a decade, and not just her years at Vought.

But for every icon, there’s the threat of becoming an old has-been, you thought.

“Well, you’ve got a point there. I asked for a cape too, but they thought it was a bit too…retro,” you remarked, hinting at a smile as you gestured at her suit, and the long red cape that draped down her back. “But really, I’m a big fan. I actually grew up watching you when I was a kid. I remember that little documentary you did with Vought Geographic. The one with the baby chimps? So cute.”

Countess’s brow twitched, ever so slightly. Both her fake smile and yours remained the same.

She broke first with a roll of her eyes.

“Just stay out of my way,” she said. Her cape brushed your arm as she breezed past you. Your smile remained until she was out of the room. Then you took a deep breath.

Be careful, you reminded yourself. You had to prove that you wouldn’t easily bend to whatever bullshit might get thrown at you, but you were still the rookie here. You had a feeling that this was just the first test of many.

You kept your guard up, even at the afterparty hosted at a nearby hotel. Tessa followed Countess’s lead and gave you fake smiles when you passed by her. Otherwise, she ignored you. Mindstorm was the only one who seemed truly indifferent towards you. (You barely ever saw him out of his room anyway.)

You couldn’t much tell with Black Noir. He’d never taken his helmet off in the few days since you’d met him, but you sensed nothing but vague interest from him. The other three men were more obvious in the way they looked at you.

In fact, you could’ve predicted the way Soldier Boy found you in a slightly quieter corner of the banquet hall. His gait was relaxed and arrogant as he made his way towards you.

He annoyed you on sight, no matter how damn attractive he was. All broad shouldered and brown hair coiffed, his face mostly clean shaven, save for some stubble. With his military green supe suit, the silver decal of an eagle stretched across his broad chest—he certainly looked the part of America’s first hero. Too bad he was also a chauvinistic ass.

But you also had a plan. It had started to form after that first encounter with him in the break room.

You kept your true thoughts off your face as you turned to greet him. He was holding his fifth tumbler of whiskey, and he smelled like it too. You sipped at a glass of red wine.

“Small town girl, huh?” he said, smiling with old-world charm. “I happen to be a city boy.”

“Born and raised in South Detroit?” you teased. “I didn’t take you for a Journey fan.”

“The mean streets of Philly, actually,” he said, with a tip of his imaginary hat. “I may be a Sinatra kind of guy, but I don’t mind a little rock ‘n roll.”

You inclined your head. “Same here. Not that my parents approved. Growing up, I had to hide my Rolling Stones records under the bed.”

That much was true.

“Ah, a little rebel,” he remarked. His gaze roamed down your form, and back up to your eyes, shaded by smokey makeup. “Who knew they made ‘em like you in Indiana.”

Your lips curved. “It’s not just cows and cornfields.”

“Evidently,” he said, taking a swig of his whiskey. “How do you like the big city so far?”

“To be honest, I haven’t had a chance to see much of it yet. This whole thing has been a whirlwind,” you said.

Lie.

The truth was, you were born and raised in Brooklyn. Maybe you had never lived in Manhattan before, but you were no stranger to the city.

Ben not only ate up the lie; he took the bait.

“Maybe I’ll give you a tour of the city one day,” he said. He thumbed at your chin once again with half-gloved fingers.

You tipped your face up to him, and you smiled.

“I’d like that.”

Your first mission with Payback was not at all what you expected.

To start with, you’d expected to do some patrolling, run down some leads, do some investigating. Instead, they had a Surveillance & Security team to do all of that for the team. Plus, they were patched in via the local police scanner of any new crimes in progress.

Arthur had paged you to come to his office. There he told you that you’d actually be going for your first save today. You were excited, until he told you that you’d be on a “team up” with Crimson Countess.

Great, you thought.

She didn’t look happy about it either, when you met her in the lobby downstairs. She gave you another frigid look before she swiftly exited the double doors.

Stay out of my way. You got the message loud and clear.

A black SUV took you two to the Lower West Side, where there was a robbery in progress. The front window of the jewelry story had been shattered, and tens of thousands of dollars in merchandise stolen by two masked men according to the store clerk. He’d been shot in the shoulder before the men took off. The police had yet to find them.

The most unnerving part of this was the cameras that followed you and Countess while you canvassed the area—like catching criminals was some kind of reality show.

“I think I can feel them,” you said, with your fingers on your temples. “They’re headed south through the alley.”

“Which alley?” she asked, waving a hand at the several blocks ahead of you. “And what do you mean you can feel them?”

You shot her a look, endeavoring not to be snarky. “I can sense them.”

Let’s just say, your powers were particularly potent when it came to men. That’s what allowed you to feel the robbers’ energies, set high with adrenaline. They were close.

You pointed the way, and Countess begrudgingly went along with it.

“Follow my lead though,” she said.

You agreed in the moment, but you were filled with maybe too much anticipation and excitement yourself when you turned the corner into the alley without waiting for your companion.

You found yourself staring down the barrel of a gun.

You froze, your breath stilling in your lungs. The safety clicked, and the man holding the weapon quirked his head.

“Haven’t seen you before,” he drawled.

“But you know me. Don’t you, handsome?”

Countess’s fist landed squarely across the man’s jaw. He yelped as the weapon clattered out of his hand. You jumped back as the gun fired, ricochetting off the brick wall. Countess rolled her eyes and tossed a fireball at the next man, who jumped out of his hiding place behind the dumpster. He screamed and dove to the side.

She didn’t wait for him to recover. Grabbing him by the collar with a gloved hand, she threw one hard punch that broke the man’s jaw. You winced at the telltale cracking sound. The other man just held his hands up in surrender, wide-eyed and afraid. You felt his fear radiating off of him. With another swift punch, she knocked him out as well.

You could only stand there with your mouth open in surprise. You managed to close it when Countess turned your way.

“I told you to follow my damn lead,” she said coolly.

The police filtered in shortly after, as did the camera crew. The director sighed at Countess.

“This was supposed to be Sirena’s first save,” he said. Countess turned to him with a sharp look.

“Train her fucking better then,” she snapped.

You chewed the inside of your lip, but you fought not to outwardly show your embarrassment. Why’d they have to partner you with her, for fuck’s sake?

The car ride back to the Tower was just as tense and silent. At least there was a black partition between you two in the backseat and the driver.

Finally, you sighed and tried to offer an olive branch.

“Look, I’m sorry. I just got a bit excited,” you said.

“You almost got yourself killed,” she drawled, not even looking at you as she gazed boredly out the window. “Even that would’ve been a challenge for the PR team.”

Your lips pursed in irritation. Oh, my God. Is she that insecure?

“Countess, I think we got off on the wrong foot. I’m not trying to replace you. I’m not trying to take anything from you.”

“Except my boyfriend,” she shot back. Finally she turned her head towards you with cool disdain. “You think I didn’t see you flirting with him last night at the afterparty?”

You rolled your eyes, though you hid a sliver of embarrassment. You should’ve known she’d spot that.

“He approached me, okay?” you said. Maybe you were about to let your pettiness to get the best of you, but you couldn’t help it. You smiled slyly. “And from what I hear, I’m the least of your worries. Looks like Ben has quite the appetite.”

The cracks of Countess’s cool façade finally broke through to anger. She glared at you tightly.

“He may have his little toys, but they never last long,” she said pointedly. “The only reason he’s giving you the time of day is because you’re new, and shiny, and full of silicon.”

“And young,” you added with a wink. “Don’t forget young.”

She seethed, and you were almost concerned that she might toss a fireball your way. Mercifully, the car rolled to a stop in the back entrance to the Tower to make it easier to navigate past any paparazzi. You slid out on your side, and you didn’t bother waiting for Countess when you went back inside the Tower.

All the way back up the elevator to your floor, you thought about the way you’d frozen at the sight of the man’s gun. You did have proper combat training. Your dad had paid for the lessons.

“You’re gonna pay us back one day,” as he’d said. “We’re investing in our future, just as much as yours.”

You shook your head and sighed. You should have grabbed the robber’s arm and reached for any flash of skin you could touch to compel him into submission.

The thought continued to unsettle you as you went into the breakroom first for something to eat. You ended up making yourself a sandwich and sat down at the nearby dining table with an unsweetened tea. Swatto happened to fly in for a coke and an old slice of pizza. When he noticed you, his insect-like wings folded back into his back after he landed on the ground.

Out of everyone, his suit looked the most cumbersome with the big shoulder armor and the condom-like mask over half his face. You understood why he wasn’t wearing it now. He was dressed down in an old Ramones shirt and a pair of jeans. He ran his fingers through his short hair and slid into the chair closest to you.

“Hey. How’s it going, beautiful?” he asked, with what was likely meant to be a charming smile.

You were close enough to sense his salacious thoughts. You restrained a sigh. Ordinarily you’d entertain him a bit more, but frankly, he was making a bad day worse and you weren’t in the mood.

So you smiled. While your hand slid over his on the table, you leaned in close to his ear.

“Shoo, fly,” you said. Your words held power as your eyes glowed violet.

Immediately, you felt the way Swatto’s body sat up straighter. With a blankness falling over his face, he got up from the table and left the way he came, forgetting his snacks on the table.

You shook your head and continued eating your sandwich in peace.

A few minutes later, there came an even rarer sighting—Mindstorm snuck into the breakroom next. He glanced at you with wary eyes, like a deer pausing before it took a drink from the pool. When you just stared at him in slight bewilderment, he quickly rucked through the cupboards for a bag of Bugles labeled:

MINDSTORM’S – DO NOT EAT!

As if anyone would want to steal a bag of Bugles.

Just when you opened your mouth to offer him some kind of greeting, Mindstorm quickly ducked out of the room. You blinked in confusion.

“Odd,” you said to yourself. “So very odd.”

“Right?” came a voice behind you. You screamed and nearly jumped out of your skin, but you realized it was only Black Noir, holding a beer.

“Jesus…” You held a hand over your beating heart. It wasn’t the first time he’d snuck up on you like that. Can this guy wear a bell or something?

“Don’t mind him. He’s got a few dozen screws loose,” said Noir.

Unlike the other two, he was fully suited up. However, he took his helmet off and set it on the table so he could drink. You held in a breath, as you were pleasantly surprised to see the face of a handsome black man. It was the first time you’d ever seen him unmasked.

Wonder what else he’s hiding under there, you thought. Your gaze briefly dipped down his chest and strong-looking thighs.

You both chatted over small things at first. According to Noir, Mindstorm’s apartment was completely soundproof, but it didn’t do much good for the guy, since he had a hard time keeping people’s thoughts out of his head. You thought New York City was probably a terrible place for him to live, in that case.

“And you’re smalltown, right?” Noir asked.

You offered a half-smile. “Guilty.”

“Yeah, same here,” he said, raising his beer. “From a nowhere town in Georgia.”

For the first time, you felt slightly bad for keeping up the lie. Noir seemed like a decent guy so far. You clinked your iced tea with his beer.

“Well, Nowhere, it’s nice to find a kindred spirit,” you said.

You two drank for a bit in a comfortable silence, until he turned to you with curiosity in his dark brown eyes as he took you in.

“So, what made you want to join Payback? The pay, or the free shit?” he asked.

You quirked a smile. You decided to give him the easiest answer he’d believe.

“Well, the free shit is a big perk. But…as vapid as it sounds, I wanted to get out of the background, make a name for myself,” you said. Noir nodded.

“Believe me, I get it. Around here, it can be hard to stand out,” he said. His brows knitted together while he stared hard at the table. You watched him, wondering what he meant.

After a beat, he perked up and met your gaze. “You know, I’ve been wanting to pitch a movie idea to Arthur.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, just trying to…you know, find the right words.”

Your expression eased, and you crossed your arms and turned towards him.

“Okay, let’s go then,” you said, waving at him in a bring it on gesture.

Noir’s brows popped up. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, why not?” you said. “Give me your best elevator pitch.”

Black Noir stood up from the table, nearly knocking over his empty beer bottle as he went. You grabbed it so it wouldn’t tip over. You were amused by his slightly flustered state. He set his hands on his hips and couldn’t quite meet your eyes when he started speaking.

“So, I’m thinking it could be like 48 Hours meets Trading Places. Except instead of a wise-cracking criminal or a guy down on his luck, I’m like, a wise-cracking ninja.”

“But ninjas don’t typically talk, do they?” you said. Clearly this guy had a thing for Eddie Murphy. “Aren’t they supposed to be stealthy?”

Noir raised a finger. “Okay, yes, but it’s a comedy. So that’s the ironic part, in a funny way.”

“So you’ll make witty quips before you kill your targets?” you said, holding in a laugh. You brandished an invisible sword. “‘You’re gonna need a new carpet.’ Fshh.”

You mimed a cutting motion, then blood spraying from your neck as you made some mock death throes. Noir stared at you blandly. You bit your lip.

And you were the first one to break with a laugh. The sound was infectious enough to break him too though. Noir couldn’t help but shake his head and chuckle along with you.

You were almost too distracted to hear a pair of heavy boots, and sense the male presence at the door. You turned at the flash of green in the corner of your eye.

Of course, the cast wouldn’t be complete without Soldier Boy. Or Ben, as he’d insisted you call him.

His gaze roamed the room with feigned disinterest, but you could tell when he looked over at you and Noir that he wasn’t pleased. He clung to stoicism as he approached your table with his usual gait: calm, controlled, and arrogant.

“What’s going on in here?” he asked with a raise of his brow. “Could hear you all the way down the hall.”

“Just working on a pitch for Noir’s new movie,” you said, though the man in question gave you a hard stare. One that warned you to stop talking.

“Noir’s new movie?” Ben said, with a curl of his lip. He turned to the other man. “Trying to compete with Red Thunder before it’s even out in the box office? That’s not very good form.”

“No, no. Of course not,” said Noir. “Just…throwing some ideas around.”

“Oh, yeah, I heard. Some kind of samurai bullshit,” Ben said dryly. His green-eyed gaze was sharp, however. “Why don’t you stop wasting people’s time on tragic fucking ideas, and find something actually fucking useful to do.”

You watched carefully between the two men. Was there some kind of bad blood here?

Noir’s lips pursed, but despite the spark of anger in his eyes, he kept it all inside when he lowered them. He got up from the table and left without another word, putting on his helmet as he went.

Ben shook his head and drew closer to you. You frowned up at him as you stood and crossed your arms below your breasts.

“Well, that wasn’t very kind,” you remarked.

“This is the real world, sweetheart. He still needs to learn his place on this team,” Ben replied. But then, his charm was back. His face eased into a smile. “I’m glad I found you. It’s time I made good on my promise.”

You tilted your head. “What promise?”

“To take you out,” he said. “Give you a little tour of the city.”

After that little display, you had even less interest to spend any more time with this man than absolutely necessary…

Remember the plan, you reluctantly reminded yourself.

“Come on,” he prodded, extending a hand out to you. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Releasing a breath, you uncrossed your arms and slipped your hand into his.

“Okay. I would appreciate you showing me around,” you said, giving him a smile with some feminine charm of your own.

His lips curved into a grin. He raised your hand up to his lips, and despite yourself, his stubble ignited small tingles across your skin.

“Meet me downstairs in half an hour,” he said.

After taking the time to change out of your supe suit and into something dressier, reapplying your makeup and fixing up your hair, you met Ben downstairs out front. He was waiting for you there on a motorcycle, of all things.

“Really?” you asked, giving the vehicle a dubious look. “I thought you’d be a limo kind of guy.”

“Oh, I am. But today we need speed if we’re going to cover the whole city,” he said with a grin. He revved the engine, and it let out a loud, rumbling sound. It looked like a death trap.

“I don’t know, Ben,” you said, for the first time using his name. You were actually nervous enough to show it.

He chuckled and motioned you over. Reluctantly, you went to him. His hand smoothed down your arm and held your elbow. He peered into your eyes.

“You think I’m going to let you fall on my watch?” he said.

You held his gaze. Eventually, you bit your lower lip, and you accepted his offer of a helmet (even though he was going without one), then his helping hand to climb onto the motorcycle behind him. You tentatively held onto his waist.

“That ain’t gonna cut it, baby doll,” he said. He grabbed your hands and tugged you closer, until your arms wrapped around his middle. You made a small sound of surprise, feeling the solidness of his frame. You had a feeling he was grinning.

“All right, hold on,” he warned, revving the engine once again.

Your teeth clenched with dread. “Please, go slooow—ahhh!”

Ben peeled out of the curved landing in front of Vought Tower with a screech of tires. You gripped onto his jacket like a lifeline and pressed yourself to his back as closely as you could—something you were sure was his intention.

You sensed his amusement, though he at least had the decency not to laugh at you. He merged onto the street and zipped through the layers traffic, heading towards the center of the city.

Ben didn’t just show you the city. He showed you his world.

He first took you to Top of the Rock at Rockefeller Center. Instead of the normal group tour to the observational deck, he had a short chat with management that had them letting you two up to an even higher level, into an exclusive bar. It was apparently so high up that only twenty people could be inside at a time.

You two enjoyed a couple of drinks along with the amazing view of the city, and of Empire State across the way.

“You don’t get views like this in Indiana, do you?” Ben asked.

You nodded indulgently. “You do not.”

Never mind that you had never even been to Indiana. Yet, you had also never seen the city like this either.

“Thank you for taking me out like this,” you said. You reached out and softly touched his hand. You met his eyes with a subtle smile. “I didn’t know what to expect when I got here, but you’ve been really nice to me. Makes me think I can actually belong here.”

He seemed pleased as he sipped his drink, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand.

“What can I say? I’m a nice guy,” he said.

You smiled, affecting demure as you ducked your head. It was an act you’d long ago perfected. Men tended to underestimate you, and you always used that to your advantage.

From there, he took you to clubs you’d never even knew existed, then to a restaurant so old, it still had a dress code. (And it was the best surf and turf you’d ever had in your life.)

When you got to Times Square, however, you were delayed practically an hour by all the fans who wanted Soldier Boy’s autograph. Once the first couple of young women recognized him, even out of his suit, it was all downhill as more and more people got excited by the world’s most famous superhero.

You stood off to the side, watching him be flirtatious to women of all ages, ruffling kids’ hair, and shaking hands with men, and even veterans who thanked him for his service.

You signed a couple of autographs and took some pictures with people yourself, but you knew you wouldn’t be recognized as much. You had to be content with waiting for Ben off to the side. Though admittedly, you were getting bored and more than a little annoyed that he was taking so long.

He seemed to realize it when he finally looked your way.

“Hey, Sirena!” he called out to you by your supe name, drawing your attention in front of a few of his fans. He waved you over, and even introduced you to the small crowd still gathered around him. He set a hand on your lower back.

“I’m sure you all know about Sirena, the newest member of our team,” he said. You looked up at him with some measure of gratefulness. Maybe this part of the day was working in your favor even more than you’d thought.

You intentionally leaned closer to him, laying a semi-innocent hand on his arm as you smiled at the others.

“I’m taking some time to show her around,” he continued, glancing down at you. “She’s from a small town, so this city can be pretty daunting. But it’s my home. My favorite place in the world. Especially because I get to see all of you.”

He swept a hand out towards the crowd, and they ate it up with cheers, clapping, and some flirtatious whistling. He shot a wink and a raised finger at that one.

“If you’ll excuse us,” he said, with one last parting hand at the people. He ushered you back onto the motorcycle, and off you went.

He was trying his damndest.

He wore that fake, debonair charm like a second skin as he got you a private tour of the Met, and treated you to rich food and expensive wine. He was showing off his wealth, his fame, and giving you the “best” of him.

However, you had already seen glimpses of the true man underneath the gaudy show. And it was ugly, with an edge of darkness.

You had that thought in the back of your mind, even while you two sat side by side on a ledge. He’d brought you to a spot near the Hudson River, close to an overpass. It wasn’t an area meant for parking (according to the No Parking sign), but he didn’t seem to care.

Neither did you, really. The view was too beautiful, with the large orange sun halfway sunk below the water. It cast shades of yellow and red and purple across the sky, even over the dark waters.

Ben was working on his third hotdog. You were licking your way around a scoop of cookies and cream ice cream on a waffle cone, letting the end of it swirl off your tongue. You resisted a smile, feeling the warmth of his gaze on the side of your face.

“So tell me,” he said, after he finished off his snack. He crumpled his napkin and tossed it somewhere behind him. “I heard you were making a name for yourself as a singer. What made you want to join Payback?”

He was giving you a little too much credit. You’d been making your money by being a background singer for various artists, but your last big break going on Whitney Houston’s latest tour was what finally put you on Vought’s map.

You considered his question with a tilt of your head. Black Noir had asked you the same thing, more or less. You’d given him an easy, predictable answer. With Ben, you edged closer to the truth...or part of it, anyway.

“I don’t just want people to know who I am,” you said. “I want to be remembered for something good. I want to prove it to my family too, that I can do it. …Is that naïve?”

Ben hummed in understanding, though he shot you a certain look.

“Not if you play your cards right,” he said.

His leading tone didn’t surprise you. You slid him a smile.

“And how should I do that?” you asked. You turned to him, setting your finished cone aside. Ben took the opportunity to reach out and draw a line down your cheek with his thumb. He wiped a small smear of chocolate from the corner of your mouth.

He smirked. “By sticking close to me, baby doll.”

You had to admit, his proximity was stirring you more than you liked. He was devastatingly handsome, and he knew it too. With his face inching so close to yours, it was hard for you to remember the things this man had said about you to Arthur, how he clearly didn’t give a fuck about Countess, and even what a dick he'd been to Black Noir.

Not to mention, how he acted all the time, as if the whole world was his.

Just as his lips neared yours, you leaned back. Your eyes met his knowingly.

“You already have someone close to you,” you pointed out. “What about Countess?”

Ben stilled. He sighed, but he didn’t let go of your cheek. He traced your jawline with the sensuous promise of a practiced hand. It made your breath difficult in your lungs, rising into your throat.

“Ah, Donna,” he shook his head. “We’ve been on the rocks for a while now.”

I’m sure, you thought wryly.

“What you and I have, right here, right now,” he said, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to your cheek. “It’s special. The moment I saw you, a pure connection.”

Your brows furrowed. Those words triggered some kind of familiarity in you. A pure connection…

Wait, isn’t that a line from one of his movies? you thought. Oh yeah, A Gentleman’s Promise. 1949.

You had to bite your lip to stifle your laughter. This man did not just quote himself.

Ben took your reaction for a different kind of inner conflict, as he continued pressing tantalizing kisses down your neck. You cleared your throat a little, fighting a sigh of pleasure.

Stick to the plan, you thought.

Because he was right. The fastest way for you to get what you wanted was to be close to him, to use his status to your advantage. Timing was everything, however.

You slipped your hands between you two and pressed gently, but firm against his chest.

“Ben,” you implored.

You were grateful that he actually stopped. His lips stilled against your skin, and he pulled away with a frown.

“What?” he said.

You looked up at him through your lashes, before you leaned in, stopping just shy of his lips.

“Maybe I’ll consider your offer when there’s a real place for me by your side,” you said with a smile. Then you backed off.

You gathered yourself and stood, coyly sauntering back to the motorcycle. You’d wait for him there.

Ben turned to watch you go, unwilling to admit he was both equally aroused and irritated. His jaw clenched, then eased.

After a moment, he joined you and drove you back to the Tower in silence. All the while, he couldn’t stop thinking. About your lips, your eyes, your voice, your soft body, your smile, and worst of all, the way you’d denied him. For fuck’s sake, you’d given him an ultimatum.

He couldn’t remember the last time someone had that kind of audacity, let alone a woman. He wouldn’t let show, or even admit to himself, how much it affected him. But the same thought kept turning through his mind as the streets of New York passed by in a blur.

Just who the fuck does she think she is?

AN: 😅 Lol Ben's got his work cut out for him. Think he'll be able to figure out her game?

Next Time:

“What’s in it for me then?” he asked, crossing his arms.

You blinked your eyes wider. Really?

“I doubt whatever you’re thinking, Soldier,” you said, a little more snidely than you meant to.

Ben's cocky smile said it all.

Your lips pursed in exasperation. You hadn’t thought you would have to bargain to get him to be nice to a kid.

“Okay, I’m sorry. Clearly you’ve had a long day, so I’ll just get out of your way,” you said, raising your hands in surrender. You turned to leave.

“All right, don’t get your panties in a twist,” he said.

You paused at the door, tossing him an annoyed look over your shoulder.

His smile deepened. “I’ll do it.”

His steps were measured as he approached you. You turned back to face him, albeit warily. As he seemed to like doing, he gently grasped your chin between his fingers.

“I’ll do it for a kiss,” he said.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 3

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Series Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Soldier Boy Tag List:

If you would like to follow along as I post each chapter, please follow my side blog @zepskieswrites with notifications on so you don't miss out. 💚

@spnwoman @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @adoringanakin @rizlowwritessortof @chernayawidow

@midnightmadwoman @deans-spinster-witch @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78

@deansbbyx @sarahgracej @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @jacklesbrainworms

@foxyjwls007 @iamsapphine @roseblue373 @lacilou @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@waynes-multiverse @my-stories-vault @syrma-sensei @alwaystiredandconfused @globetrotter28

@mrsjenniferwinchester @charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @k-slla @deanbrainrotwritings

@jackles010378 @deans-daydream @deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog @just-levyy

@leigh70 @kmc1989 @ghostslillady @siampie @jessjad

@beautyvaliant @mimaria420 @kaleldobrev @pieandmonsters @twinkleinadiamondsky

@stoneyggirl2 @sl33pylilbunny @spnfamily-j2 @mostlymarvelgirl @artemys-ackles

349 notes · View notes

piscespetals · 1 year ago

Text

summary: you & sevika work in an office, and developing a silly schoolgirl crush is the last thing you expected to happen at this point in your career...

word count: i stopped counting 3/4 of the way through once I reached 16k so this is pretty hefty!

content: pinning (of course), fluff, gay disaster, the tiniest sliver of smut

thanks for reading!

Kinda in my feelings about what it would be like to work in the same office as Sevika...

╰➤ I feel like you see her in passing a lot, since her office is only a few doors down from yours.

╰➤ The both of you often strike up casual conversations in the break room, filling the silence while awkwardly waiting for your food to heat up in the microwave.

╰➤ You always notice when she walks into the same room as you because she's constantly dressed to the nines—slacks hugging her thick thighs just right; form fitting and sleek. They shape the curved muscles of her calves as if the manufacturers make the material just for her.

╰➤ You also notice that she has a knack for neutral colors, especially with her dress shirts. She likes the top buttons to be undone, sleeves rolled up to her elbows and collar perfectly crisp. The air that swarms her is usually woodsy with a hint of spice.

╰➤ She's magical.

╰➤ And because of that, you aren't surprised at the buzz about her in the workplace. She's one of the new hires so it's natural for her to stir up curiosity. But beyond that, there's no doubt that she's quite the enigma. You've even heard a few colleagues gossip about how much they want her.

╰➤ The first time you interact with her is when you're waiting for the microwave to finish warming up your lasagna.

╰➤ Her dress shoes click softly against the tile floor as she enters the break room, causing you to glance over your shoulder. Your eyes widen when her gaze flickers from the microwave to you.

╰➤ "Hi," You mumble pathetically. Your stomach churns and your toes curl and all of a sudden, it's like you're a shy prepubescent person all over again.

╰➤ She smells good.

╰➤ "Hey," Her voice is deep and warm. It rings straight through you before settling at the pit of your stomach.

╰➤ "Uh," You swallow, shifting your weight. "I'm almost done. Then you can use it."

╰➤ She doesn't say anything else.

╰➤ Her lack of silence sparks a wave of nerves. Next thing you know, you're gesturing towards the microwave wordlessly.

╰➤ She follows the motion, eyebrows quirking up with interest.

╰➤ "I'm having lasagna for lunch," You announce. "This is my third time having to warm it up. I forgot how stubborn pasta can be in a microwave." Then you're patting the top of the rectangular miniature oven.

╰➤ You almost allow yourself to think that her expression has morphed into amusement. But before you get carried away with your thoughts, a loud ding! sounds.

╰➤ Quickly, you open the microwave door, carefully reaching for your steaming tupperware container so that you don't burn yourself.

╰➤ "Well, it's all yours!" You don't have the courage to meet her gaze anymore, finding more interest in the carpet as you leave the room and make a beeline straight to your office.

╰➤ Interactions after that are somewhat similar. Sometimes, she asks, "How've you been?" If the wait to use the microwave is longer than usual.

╰➤ The conversations are more surface level than anything—a routine song and dance to fill up silence for the sake of politeness.

╰➤ They're strings of, "The weathers been nice lately" and, "What are you eating today?" and, "How's the workload been for you?"

╰➤ Then you both are scurrying off to your own little sanctuaries, not planning to see each other until the next business day.

╰➤ There's another time when you're late to going on break. You usually like to be one of the first ones to clock out and heat up your food. There's only one working microwave because your boss is too cheap to replace the second one (that has been broken for several months now), which causes a long line to form for those wanting to warm up their home lunches.

╰➤ Unfortunately, today is the day where you have to join the majority and step in line. Due to a phone call that lasted longer than you expected, you don't end up going to lunch until 15 minutes later than you usually do.

╰➤ You're softly rocking on your heels when Sevika comes into view. She rounds the corner of the office, stalking towards the line with taut muscles and a grinding jaw. An air of annoyance lingers around her, eyes unfocused and seemingly far away, hands—

╰➤ "Are you gonna step forward?" Shane, a co-coworker, asks. He appears disgruntled, pointing at the gap of space in front of you.

╰➤ That seems to gain Sevika's attention. She peers at Shane shortly before dragging her piercing stare towards you.

╰➤ Shane huffs at your silence.

╰➤ "Oh, right!" You breathe, breaking away from Sevika's regard. "Uh, sorry."

╰➤ Taking a few steps forward, you close the distance, doing your best to ignore Shane's rant about "dillydallying workers."

╰➤ A few moments pass before that familiar image of Sevika's grey eyes resurface in your brain. Glancing back towards her, you find her scuffing the heel of her dress boots against the carpet, attention set on no particular thing. She jumps between the carpet, to the gossiping co-workers nearby, to the flickering ceiling lights.

╰➤ Just when you're about to turn back around, she glances towards you. Your gut pulls, ears rushing with adrenaline and veins buzzing.

╰➤ Then, she mouths, "Hi," and you almost combust right then. Gone is the frustrated expression that was adorning her features moments before. Instead, a ghost of a smile plays on her lips.

╰➤ You blink a few times; stunned.

╰➤ You think you wave back at her, but you can't seem to be entirely in touch with whatever your body is doing.

╰➤ "Um, hey." You reply, clearing your throat.

╰➤ It's loud enough for her to hear. But it also may have been too loud. A few other people surrounding you look over in confusion.

╰➤ "Were you talking to me?" Brian, a colleague who's standing right in front of Sevika, asks.

╰➤ You bite the inside of your cheek. "Oh—uh, no. Sorry."

╰➤ Brian looks around, not so subtly, probably trying to find out who the hell your greeting was directed to.

╰➤ Sevika laughs at the interaction. It's the kind of laugh where she presses her lips together, shoulders shaking and eyes dancing with humor. She's trying to be polite—trying to contain her laughter—but she's not doing a very good job.

╰➤ The sight causes you to shuffle your feet in embarrassment, blowing a raspberry.

╰➤ "Look, I've only got twenty minutes of my lunch break left so if you aren't gonna pay attention..." Shane admonishes, voice thin. He's gesturing to the growing gap in front of you again, clearly fed up with your lack of wherewithal.

╰➤ You bite the inside of your cheek, choosing to ignore the way that Sevika seems to be laughing harder now. Fighting off a giggle of your own becomes difficult.

╰➤ "Okay." You reply. Then you face forward, catching up with the rest of the line. "Sorry."

╰➤ The next time you see Sevika, it's when you run into her before a staff meeting.

╰➤ Literally.

╰➤ You aren't paying attention, too busy with shuffling through your purse for a granola bar, eyes downcast and head hung low, when you walk straight into her.

╰➤ Her body is firm, your forehead knocking against the rounded muscle of her shoulder. Your breath catches, eyes widening as you try to glance up, struggling to regain your bearings.

╰➤ Strong hands grab onto your upper arms. The feeling of thumbs pressing into your skin jolts you awake from the daze you've been experiencing all day. And like a moth drawn to a flame, you feel yourself hovering closer—drunk off of the delicious air that surrounds you.

╰➤ Sevika's air.

╰➤ "Oh," You huff, blinking up at her with wide eyes. In the back of your brain, you register the feeling of her large hands encircling your biceps. It's a feeling you welcome. But it becomes faint when you realize the reality of the situation. "I'm so sorry," You spit out, remorse crashing into you. "Fuck—I mean...frick." A startled laugh escapes you. "Frick because fuck is totally not work appropriate...obviously."

╰➤ You swallow thickly. Your legs tremble, an undeniable pressure sprouting in your gut under the feeling of Sevika's pressing gaze. Her stormy grey eyes examine you with interest. It leaves your mind clouded over with impure thoughts—unprofessional thoughts.

╰➤ "I wasn't looking." You add.

╰➤ "Clearly." Sevika's sporting a shit eating grin. Her hands squeeze your biceps. "You good?"

╰➤ "I'm good. Just—" You clear your throat. "Well, I was actually looking for a granola bar. I forgot to take a lunch break because I'm drowning in paperwork. And then Cam announced the meeting at the last minute so I thought I could get a quick bite on the way. Except I'm pretty sure I've somehow lost my granola bar which is just my luck. And-"

╰➤ Sevika's eyebrows are raised so high that they almost meet her hairline. "I see," She mutters, sounding impassive.

╰➤ Fuck.

╰➤ Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

╰➤ Maybe you're talking a bit too much—a habit you've been trying to break lately—but it's only because Sevika makes you nervous.

╰➤ It goes beyond her demeanor that screams, "I don't like people so respectfully, leave me the fuck alone."

╰➤ Sevika is your work crush. She's gorgeous and good at meeting the weekly stats, and smells good.

╰➤ Despite the office rumors of her unapproachability and death glares, she's not entirely awful in your presence. She's pretty cordial with you in fact. Which means, she doesn't dislike you as much as she probably does the others.

╰➤ After all, she always lets you use the microwave before her. And she doesn't make you feel completely useless when you tell her a cringey joke, or make an embarrassing attempt to strike up conversation.

╰➤ But now, you've opened your mouth.

╰➤ You've opened your fucking mouth and have probably turned her off before she could even get a chance to truly know you.

╰➤ You've fumbled.

╰➤ The realization embarrasses you.

╰➤ "Yeah," You respond. The both of you fall silent and you imagine a static screen being displayed on a person's TV somewhere in the world. That's the perfect personification of this moment, you think.

╰➤ Sevika hums, letting her hands fall back to her sides. Then she's stepping back, slightly faltering and looking down at the space between you both. You follow her gaze, eyes widening at the sight of fingers gripping the hem of her shirt. Your fingers.

╰➤ "Oh! Sorry," You repeat. You tug your hands away, breath catching in your throat. "This is—" Your lips pinch together.

╰➤ God, this is embarrassing.

╰➤ Clearly scandalized, you tread a few paces backward.

╰➤ "Um, actually, I should go pee! I haven't had a chance yet, w-with the workflow and all. Especially now that the staff meeting starts soon," Your thumb juts in a general direction of the restroom behind you. "Gotta hate those bladder infections, am I right?" Pathetically, you force out a laugh.

╰➤ Humor trickles onto Sevika's features. Her lip twitches. "Right..."

╰➤ "Not that I have a bladder infection right now! I'm preventing one by going to the bathroom. My bladder is perfectly fine." One of the straps of your purse falls off your shoulder. You readjust it. "...Not that you care, or like, anything."

╰➤ A pause bleeds into the atmosphere. Slight chatter travels from a few offices down. People emerge from their desk, hastily making their way to the conference room behind Sevika. You struggle to ignore the sound of tapping keyboards and squeaking chairs. The lull is excruciating.

╰➤ "Okay, well–" You force a cough. "I'll go now. Catch you later, Sevika." You almost allow yourself to believe that her eyes widen when you say her name.

╰➤ But then you're turning on your heels and scurrying away, discarding the ridiculous notion.

╰➤ It's the next day when you run into her again. There you are, standing in front of the microwave, when you hear chuckling. It's easy for you to know it's hers. You find yourself savoring the sound every time it leaves her lips.

╰➤ A smile stretches across your face, and you peer over your shoulder, eyes landing on her for the first time that day. Sevika's wearing a white long-sleeve undershirt, partially covered with a black sweater vest and beige slacks. She has her hair styled in a half-up, half down. She's fiddling with a gold plated watch on her wrist, expression smug and eyes regarding the person beside her.

╰➤ The microwave beeps; a sign that it's time for you to retrieve your lunch and head back to your office. But your eyes can't help but linger on the stranger beside Sevika.

╰➤ Well, they're not really a stranger. Their name is Kai. You don't know Kai personally. You just know of them. They work in the warehouse, so you only see them during the times that all departments are required to attend the staff meetings.

╰➤ Occasionally, you may see Kai if they visit one of their friends that work on the same floor as you. They have chestnut brown eyes and a badass sleeve that covers their entire right arm. But besides that, they’re a complete stranger.

╰➤ "Smells good," Kai announces, turning to you. There's a glint in their eyes as they gaze at you, and that makes you feel exposed for some reason. You can't understand why or even how.

╰➤ Then, your attention diverts to the way that Kai’s fingers dance along the cuff of Sevika's sleeve. They trail up the material, alongside Sevika's forearm, before pulling away. It's the smallest gesture—something a general onlooker wouldn't notice without staring incredibly hard—but you noticed. You wish you hadn't.

╰➤ "Thanks," You mumble.

╰➤ You turn around, swallow, blink, and open the microwave door. You ignore the burning of the tupperware container against your skin, trying to shut out the pounding of your heart.

╰➤ "Hey," Sevika greets, the quietest she ever has.

╰➤ It's harder for you to meet her eyes in that moment. You're distracted by Kai’s swaying, and how it's perfectly on beat with the music that echoes through the office speakers; how they’re majestically relaxed in a way that you never can be.

╰➤ You don't understand why such strong feelings surge through you; feelings of envy and doom and a hint of jealousy. It doesn't make sense. It isn't logical. But it's there. It's annoyingly there.

╰➤ "You're the one who just got promoted to be Cam's assistant, right?" Kai asks. You stop in your tracks, halfway between the microwave and them. A wave of shock washes over you. You never thought they ever noticed you.

╰➤ "Um, yeah. It's not really a promotion, though..."

╰➤ "No?" Kai glances at Sevika out of the corner of their eye. "Vika said so. She's mentioned it a few times, actually."

╰➤ That's when you find the courage to glance over to Sevika. Her cloudy grey eyes observe the floor, jaw grinding and hands shoved into her pockets. Sevika knows your job title?

╰➤ It feels ridiculous to be excited over such a revelation. After all, you and Sevika work in the same fucking building. How can she not know what you do?

╰➤ But there are countless coworkers in surrounding cubicles who never catch your attention; people you've never talked to. People who would never know that your office resided within walking distance from them. And the notion is the same for you when you find yourself surrounded by unfamiliar faces on days you stray too far from your office.

╰➤ But Sevika knows. She pays attention. Whether that's a good or bad thing, you allow your heart to savor the thought.

╰➤ "Oh," You mumble, swallowing thickly. Suddenly, the thought of Kai’s close proximity to Sevika doesn't seem so bad.

╰➤ "Well, anyways, there's a clerk position opening up and I may have interest in it. Kinda wanna be a corporate person now, you know?" Kai grins, laughing lightly. You smile in return. "If I land the job, maybe you can help me get adjusted to office life? Show me the ropes a little. Vika says you're the best one on the sales team."

╰➤ Vika says you're the best one on the sales team.

╰➤ Vika says you're the best.

╰➤ Sevika's head lifts, rolling her eyes as she nudges Kai with her elbow. Kai yelps then coughs seconds after.

╰➤ "I just do what's in my job description." You bashfully admit.

╰➤ Kai’s grin widens. “Right…” Their words are slow and heavy with an unspoken implication.

╰➤ Their gaze shifts to Sevika, then you, then Sevika, and back to you again. The hairs on the back of your neck stand and you find yourself feeling self conscious; it feels like they know something about you that you don't want them to.

╰➤ “I’m just gonna squeeze by really quick,” Kai announces.

╰➤ You side step, allowing them to head towards the vending machines. You make the mistake of not being spatially aware, moving over a bit too far and knocking into the table positioned to your right.

╰➤ "You okay?"

╰➤ Your eyebrows furrow at Sevika's question—at her concern. The way her gaze flickers between you and the table has your stomach tugging. Your fingers tighten around your tupperware container.

╰➤ "Just clumsy," You explain, nodding at her. "Which you probably already, uh, know."

╰➤ Your memory travels back to the day before, and how you ran right into her.

╰➤ You're not sure you'll ever be able to forget something so embarrassing.

╰➤ Sevika smiles and you realize that it's the most genuine thing you've seen all day. "Oh," She says knowingly. "I do."

╰➤ She's teasing you but you don't mind it. You couldn't even if you tried because you're too caught up in how breathtakingly handsome she is. The intricate details of Sevika's smile always has a powerful effect on you.

╰➤ She has the tiniest dimples in her chin, puffy dark lips gorgeously contrasting to the whites of her teeth. And her gap—goodness, that gap has you wanting to curl up into a ball and melt away. It's placed right between her two front teeth.

╰➤ You hold your tupperware container tighter against the lower pouch of your belly, feet rocking forwards and backwards, head swimming from Sevika's presence. She has you completely gone for her. A proper crush—and surely, due to the current circumstances of being coworkers—a rather inappropriate crush too.

╰➤ "You know," You find yourself saying. "I just realized...I've never actually introduced myself to you."

╰➤ Sevika straightens, eyes flashing with that familiar light of humor. "You're right. You haven't," She clicks her tongue. "How rude."

╰➤ Your skin prickles, "I'm the rude one?"

╰➤ "Are you insinuating otherwise?"

╰➤ "Yes." You nod, trying to erase your smile. Your cheeks are starting to ache. "Did it not take you two months to say more than just Hi to me?"

╰➤ "Not true." She clears her throat. "Sometimes, I would say hey instead."

╰➤ Your jaw drops and silence fills the room.

╰➤ And then you're laughing. It's the type of giggle that bubbles over with an emotion similar to returning home. Your cheeks ache and so does your stomach; your vision momentarily blurs from the action of squinting. Sevika joins you with her own laughter but hers is more beautiful. It's like the soft breeze of the wind on a spring morning. You'd try to make her laugh forever if you really could.

╰➤ Soon you're exhaling softly, features relaxing as you glance towards her. "I'm sure you already know who I am, and what I do here. But, for formality reasons..." You begin. It feels weird to introduce yourself to her, especially after seeing her nearly everyday for the last four months. After all, it seems like she knows enough to have already talked about you to Kai. But it makes you feel better to do it this way. You give her your name personally and shake her hand.

╰➤ A proper introduction.

╰➤ Sevika repeats your name under her breath, trying it out for herself. The sound of it causes your toes to curl inside of your shoes. When she shakes your hand, you take note of how large her fingers are compared to yours. One of her hands could engulf the both of yours without any effort. And her skin is warm and calloused. Despite the rough exterior, she touches you with such fragility that you have to glance down for a second. It's almost as if she's afraid of breaking you.

╰➤ But then the moment is over. Kai returns, this time with two bags of Doritos in their hands. They throw one at Sevika, and thanks to Sevika’s fast reflexes, it’s caught without a single flinch.

╰➤ “This should hold us over until Leah clocks out.” Kai sighs. “She wants to go to Famous Dave’s again and I’m kinda in the mood for like, anything other than that. Like I can only eat a certain amount of that stuff before I start suffering from a serious case of heartburn.”

╰➤ Sevika scrunches her nose, popping a chip into her mouth. “Then tell her that.”

╰➤ “I can't,” The whine of Kai’s voice becomes oddly endearing. “You know how she gets.”

╰➤ “Then don’t tell her.”

╰➤ “Or maybe you can tell her. She listens to you.”

╰➤ Sevika rolls her eyes. “No.”

╰➤ “Why not…”

╰➤”Kai, just talk to her. It’s literally not that hard.”

╰➤ “...That’s what she said.”

╰➤ You marvel at the way that Sevika stops mid-chew, gaze still downturned at the red bag in her hand before muttering, “Hilarious.”

╰➤ You try to wipe the growing grin off of your face as you bite the inside of your cheek. Kai glances at you once more, eyes sparkling a gorgeous brown. “Do you want to join us? We’re catching dinner at Famous Dave’s.”

╰➤ Your jaw falls slack, shock hitting you like a ton of bricks. “Oh.” You respond. A breathless laugh leaves you. “Um…”

╰➤ “It’ll just be me, Leah and Vika. Do you know Leah? She’s in accounting. Kinda tall, lanky…socially awkward with bright purple hair?”

╰➤ The description doesn't ring any bells for you. “Uh, no. I don't think I’ve seen her around yet.”

╰➤ “Understandable. She works all the way up on the 8th floor.” Kai tilts their head, regarding you with a warmth you aren't used to receiving from anyone in this building besides Sevika and your boss. “Anyways, the offer still stands?”

╰➤ That’s when Sevika glances up at you through her lashes. She doesn’t necessarily crack a smile, but a corner of her lip has curved into something subtle.

╰➤ “I wish. But I’m working overtime to help Cam with our pitch tomorrow.” You attempt to ignore the way your heart deflates as you say this.

╰➤”Aw, man.” Kai tosses their empty Dorito bag into a nearby trash can.

╰➤ "But we should definitely plan something soon.” Before you do anything stupid, like flaking on Cam last minute just to meet up with coworkers for dinner, you urge yourself to bid them goodbye. “I'll catch you guys another time, alright?"

╰➤ "Nice meeting you!” Kai calls. A short hiss escapes the bottle in their hand as they twist off the cap and tilt their head back. It's a diet coke.

╰➤ "You too!”

╰➤ It's awkward when you slip past them both, proximity dangerously close to Sevika. You find the courage to whisper, “Later Vika,” to her at the last second.

╰➤ Her body stiffens and it almost sounds like she chokes while swallowing another mouthful of her chips. It’s probably the least collected display of behavior you’ve ever witnessed from her.

╰➤ You stifle a laugh, brushing past her and towards the direction of your office.

╰➤ You feel really fucking sad today.

╰➤ Days like today are days that you dread. It isn't a result of anything particular. Of course, you want to be able to blame an event or cause. But the truth of the matter is that you're just having a really bad mental health day.

╰➤ It first starts off with you waking up late. You never wake up late. Your mornings are pretty routine. Some may call them mundane, but routine helps you get through the day easier. So when your alarm doesn't sound and you wake after a bad dream, realizing that it's 30 minutes past the time that your alarm usually rings, your heart sinks.

╰➤ You don't have time for a full breakfast. You have to settle for toast and orange juice instead, slipping on the cleanest pair of jeans and shirt that you can find. When you make it to work, you're just on time. But everything is off.

╰➤ Because instead of your usual business casual attire, you're sporting faded jeans, a blank t shirt and beat up sneakers. Your muscles are still sluggish and your eyelids are heavy. So far, the morning isn't great.

╰➤ As time passes, you realize that you're quite ahead in your work. Cam is off for the day, which means you don't have any extra errands or tasks to do for him. There is truly not much left to accomplish.

╰➤ You settle on the mission of clearing out your voicemail box. But that's soon completed. Your latest emails are nothing of importance and you don't have any upcoming meetings to attend. A cloud of doom hovers over you. By 11 AM, it doubles in size. Once noon hits, it's time for your lunch break and a sorrowful cloud clings onto you like a leech.

╰➤ It's hard to gain a semblance of what to do next. Your heart's true desire calls for your bed and a long restful sleep. Your chest seizes with dull aches and your mind swarms with everything yet nothing at all. This is a familiar feeling that you always hate. It's hard to prevent days like this. It always creeps up on you before you can find the strength to prevent it.

╰➤ You're nearly 30 minutes late to taking your lunch today. You've packed a deli sandwich with grapes, pretzels and a bag of potato chips. But none of it is appealing. And for the first time in months, it's a cold lunch—which you don't usually prefer.

╰➤ Your legs take you to the break room. It's almost empty, with only the buzz of a few coworkers trailing in and out. You sit at one of the tables in the corner, sighing softly and staring down at your lunch.

╰➤ You aren't hungry. Whenever the rare days like today hit you—days when your appetite for life fades—a dwindling appetite for food soon follows. But if you don't eat, then you'll later find yourself crouched in your bed with aching temples, fighting off the pains of a skipped meal. So you open the tupperware container that has a handful of green grapes and take a few bites.

╰➤ There's something about working in an office environment that you enjoy. It's mostly independent-driven, which you prefer. You don't mind the quiet solace that comes along with being in your own office, surrounded by towers of paperwork and due dates. The system of doing the same tasks throughout the day—of working through the same checklists—always leaves you feeling at ease.

╰➤ Even the soft rings of telephones and fingers typing against keys provides you the same comfort that brown noise does for other individuals. Everything about your job is monotonous and ordinary, and therefore absolutely perfect.

╰➤ Your shoulders soon relax as you eavesdrop on a conversation between two coworkers huddled together on the other side of the break room. It's silly workplace gossip about other folks that you don't know, but for the sake of people watching, you allow yourself to become preoccupied with the way they interact with one another.

╰➤ Both of the girls are dressed in fashionable attire, with sleek knee high boots and pencils skirts. Their faces are painted with spotless makeup, nails freshly manicured and eyebrows perfectly arched. Your gaze travels back to your faded old jeans and dirty white New Balance sneakers.

╰➤ Sighing, you tug on the soft hem of your crew neck sweater, which you've thrown on due to the chilly air of the building. That's when a chair beside you squeaks. The legs are dragging against the tile floor due to someone pulling it out and sitting on it.

╰➤ You're met with the familiar features of Sevika. Her hair is pulled back into a perfectly sleek low-bun. There's a slight hint of mascara and eyeliner, barely noticeable if you hadn't already seen her on the days where she's bare faced. She smells of everything good; the walking embodiment of heaven.

╰➤ And she looks just as nice as she smells, with her beige button up and black slacks and matching black dress boots. She looks expensive. She always does.

╰➤ You blink, not only taken aback by her beauty, but also by her sudden presence. Isn't her lunch break supposed to be over by now?

╰➤ "Hi." She greets, which is nothing more than a murmur.

╰➤ Sevika has a very distinct way of communicating. Her lips move so fast that sometimes, you aren't sure if she's truly speaking or if it's all just your overactive imagination. She doesn't talk much, but when she does, it's intentional. You know that every word she does say is meant to be said. And you appreciate that trait about her.

╰➤ She's not the type to raise her voice. Out of all the encounters you've had with her, there's never been a time when she's even gotten remotely close to losing her composure. But a part of you is not sure if composure is the right word. Sevika just seems to be naturally indifferent; mellow. Constantly unbothered. That's what draws you to her. And that's why you feel a dose of comfort shoot through you at that moment. Her presence will probably always be welcomed, no matter what mood you're in.

╰➤ You give her a small smile in return before popping another grape into your mouth.

╰➤ She hovers for a bit. You're not sure what to say, or even if you should say something.

╰➤ "Not using the microwave today?" She adds.

╰➤ You force out a small chuckle. "No."

╰➤ Silence resumes.

╰➤ Her lashes are quite long.

╰➤ She really is beautiful.

╰➤ You glance away from her, absentmindedly playing with the tattered ends of your sleeves. Your left leg is crossed over your right, rocking back and forth out of habit. There's a moment when it lifts a bit too high, knocking into Sevika's shin.

╰➤ You grimace, "I'm sorry."

╰➤ Out of the corner of your eyes, you pick up on the movement of her broad shoulders shrugging. "It's all good."

╰➤ Your rocking resumes. You make sure to angle your body away from her after that; ensuring that you won't accidentally kick her again.

╰➤ Slowly, you nudge your container of grapes towards her, "Would you like some?"

╰➤ She hesitates, "No." Another pause, then, "It doesn't seem like you've eaten much of your lunch today."

╰➤ "I'm not as hungry as I usually am. It's been a rough day."

╰➤ She positions herself to where her elbows lean against the tabletop. It appears that she's inches closer and the smell of her practically overpowers you because of it. "Is it worth talking about?"

╰➤ You peer up at her, eyes widening when you see the dilation of her pupils. Her hands are clasped together, chin resting on her knuckles and grey eyes regarding you with interest. The squaring of her shoulders causes her muscular biceps to bulge through her beige dress-shirt. It's a gorgeous sight.

╰➤ Your heart stutters.

╰➤ "Um," You blink, trying to concentrate despite the ongoing brain fog. "I'm just sad today, Sevika." You swallow thickly, finding yourself inching a little closer with your chin resting on your own hand. "But there's not a particular reason why. It's ridiculous, to be honest. Simply one of those days, you know?"

╰➤ She shifts towards you.

╰➤ Your foot brushes against her calf.

╰➤ A solemn ease envelopes around the both of you as an expression of understanding trickles onto her features. She nods quietly.

╰➤ There's not much to say, or rather, not much that you want her to say. You're grateful that she doesn't make a huge deal of your admission. Sadness lives in every human throughout their life. Just sitting with her is enough to ease the tide waves of grief that has been rolling through you. At that moment, sitting in the break room with Sevika, your sadness somehow finds a way to transform into still water; a sea of tranquility solely from Sevika's presence.

╰➤ She hooks her foot around the leg of your chair, dragging you closer towards her. Your stomach does somersaults and if you weren't so flustered, you'd probably be brave enough to ask her why she's doing this. But instead, you're left trying to stabilize your heart and trembling fingers. You allow yourself to bask in her closeness.

╰➤ "Your sadness isn't ridiculous," Sevika begins, wetting her dark full lips. Her breath smells of peppermint. Your foot grazes against her calf again, this time for a few seconds longer. "I don't know who or what's made you believe that, but it never will be."

╰➤ The shift in her is abrupt; something powerful enough to cause you to gawk at her. With each passing second, all of your worries slowly begin to unspool and relax, because her words ring with unrelenting truth. You know that she 100% believes everything that she's just said. That's enough for you.

╰➤ "And I don't blame you." Sevika adds. "I mean, this job alone is enough to send anyone into a fucking spiral."

╰➤ You laugh for the first time today. Your palms rest against your cheek and your eyes crinkle shut momentarily. Somehow, she makes laughter on even the most difficult days easy. "Oh, I don't know." You respond, after finally calming down. "This place isn't so bad."

╰➤ "Are you sure?" Her eyebrows raise. "I find that very hard to believe."

╰➤ "Well, there are perks. Like the wattage for the microwave here...It's—what—1500? That's way better than the one in my apartment."

╰➤ She rolls her eyes, but you don't miss the way that they flash with amusement. "Sweetheart, no wonder you're depressed. You've turned to microwave usage as a source of entertainment."

╰➤ A giggle escapes you and you squirm in your seat from her teasing.

╰➤ Sweetheart.

╰➤ The pet name echoes in your ears.

╰➤ "There's not much else to be entertained by. The wallpapers here are quite dreadful."

╰➤ She grins, glancing at the wall behind you. "Oddly obsessed with microwaves and picky about interior design. Noted."

╰➤ Your nose scrunches as you fight off another smile, sighing melodramatically.

╰➤ Sevika looks as if she's going to speak again. But then her phone vibrates against the tabletop quietly. She grabs it, peering at the screen before exhaling. "That's my cue." She says with a reticent expression. "My lunch break is up."

╰➤ You feel yourself deflating but you do your best to cover it up, nodding instead. "I should be getting back too."

╰➤ You both stand up, the lingering tension in the atmosphere snapping like an elastic band. Sevika spares you one more look, pocketing her phone and stretching her arms. Her smile is small but the effects of it leaves you feeling disembodied.

╰➤ "See you around, sweetheart."

╰➤ Then she leaves.

╰➤ You stare at the door in front of you, trying to gain the courage to knock on it.

╰➤ This is ridiculous, really.

╰➤ You're ridiculous.

╰➤ Your palms are sweaty and your heart is beating entirely too fast. You want to turn around and walk back to your own office. You want to forget about ever doing this, or being delusional enough to think that this was a good idea.

╰➤ But you've already gone through the trouble and effort of preparing everything...

╰➤ Plus, numerous coworkers have witnessed you standing in front of this door for quite some time now. Turning around and walking away without even knocking would not only be embarrassing, but also probably attract some negative attention.

╰➤ Sucking in a breath, you raise your free hand, knock three times, then exhale.

╰➤ One second passes and you instantly regret it.

╰➤ You shouldn't have done this.

╰➤ You're sure numerous minutes pass before the door finally swings open—at least it feels that way. Round brown eyes greet you and your heart skips a few beats.

╰➤ You definitely should have thought this through a little more.

╰➤ "Oh, Kai." You breathe. "Hi."

╰➤ “Hey!” Surprise filters onto their features. "What are you doing here? Have you been standing out here for long? Sev—uh, you have…” They disappear behind the door, whispering something indiscreetly.

╰➤ "I was just stopping by." You shift your weight, growing uneasy. You try to glance past them but it's hard to see considering you're several inches shorter than them. "F-For um, well... I was hoping to speak to Sevika."

╰➤ Kai appears in front of you again, smirking impishly. “...Any minute now, Vika. It’s not like you have someone waiting out here for you or anything.”

╰➤ You swallow. Inconspicuously, you glance around you, hoping that no one is eavesdropping from their cubicles. "I was wanting to give her something. I'm sorry that I interrupted." You rub your palm against your forehead, not knowing where to go from here. "Honestly, it can wait. It's not urgent or anything. It's just a gift. I know we don't usually stop by each other's offices like this so I'm sorry for showing up unexpectedly. I just thought...I don't know. I can come back? Yeah, I'll just come back another time-"

╰➤ "That's not necessary." Sevika appears over the shoulder of Kai. Your chin tilts up in order to meet her gaze, and you take a few steps backwards, clasping your hands behind you. "You weren't interrupting anything." The handsome woman muses, brows raised. You marvel at the way that her eyes glaze over you, up and down, before settling on your face again.

╰➤ Nodding, you allow your attention to flicker to Kai, who is now standing in between the both of you with raised eyebrows. The awkwardness of it all makes you clear your throat, shuffling your feet and wishing you had thought of a better way to do this. Maybe you should haves waited until you saw Sevika again in the break room.

╰➤ "I’ll catch you guys later, okay?” Kai chirps, barely glancing at Sevika as they pocket their phone. They’re practically beaming at the both of you when they step past the door threshold. Then, they disappear behind the rows of cubicles.

╰➤ Your mind reels at everything that's just happened. You struggle to fully understand why the temperature of the central AC suddenly feels like a searing heat wave.

╰➤ When you peek over at Sevika, you find that she's already observing you. Her two front teeth sink into the plump flesh of her lower lip, eyes a darker shade of grey and swarming with undeniable heed. You can't help but admire her lips and how they appear to be perfectly crafted. They look softer than a billow of feathers, and you desperately want to touch them—want to feel them—and want to allow them to sweep you up into another world.

╰➤ That hunger inside of you grows, a specific feeling that she's only been able to bring out lately, and you know that no one can ever satiate such a desire but her.

╰➤ God.

╰➤ You've got it bad.

╰➤ She releases her lip and you become enamored with the way her throat jostles as she swallows. Painfully aware of your obvious staring, you force your attention back to her eyes.

╰➤ "I've got something for you," You say. Your voice is unfamiliar to your ears—huskier.

╰➤ Silently, she gestures for you to come in. You step forward and close the door behind you.

╰➤ Sevika's office is similar to yours. The desk and chair are quite the same, along with the filing cabinets and additional chairs for guests. But she also has a dark purple rug, with numerous framed pictures and a mini fridge shoved in the corner.

╰➤ A pair of dark purple curtains are drawn, allowing the sunlight to creep in, and more picture frames line the windowsill.

╰➤ Before you allow yourself to get too swept up with your surroundings, you turn to her and pull your left hand out from behind you, which holds a card. It's a simple blank one that you bought at the store and it has the words thank you written with one of your favorite sparkly ink pens, along with your signed name and lip print stained by your favorite lipstick shade. Above the personalized message are a few pairs of pressed tulips.

╰➤ "I just wanted to express my gratitude." You explain. She takes the card, staring down at it silently. "I was feeling a bit down the other day and you helped me by keeping me company. It may sound silly because it was just a simple conversation but," You shrug. "Conversation goes a long way sometimes. Especially for those that need it."

╰➤ Her thumb traces over one of the petals, lips parting and eyes widening. It's hard to know exactly what she's thinking and a part of you believes that maybe you've overstepped—that you've crossed an unspoken boundary. Her ongoing silence causes an unexpected panic to stir within you.

╰➤ Desperate to clean up a situation that you fear will go haywire, you open your mouth to say, "These are from a small garden that I’ve been trying to grow." Your forefinger hovers above her thumb, gesturing towards the flowers. "I pressed them myself, so that they won't die on you." You lick your lips, mouth feeling dry all of a sudden. Oh god. Why does she look like that? Why isn't she saying anything? This can't be good. "And I...well, now that I'm thinking about this, I'm realizing that this may be coming off as weird. I'm sorry. If I've made you like...uncomfy or anything, I totally understand and I'm sorry. My intention wasn't to make things weird."

╰➤ Her head raises at that, expression completely unguarded. It's rare when you're able to see unfiltered emotions flitting across her features. Sevika isn't the type to walk around with her heart on her sleeve. But with the way that she's looking at you, you realize that there's something unbelievably tender about her gaze.

╰➤ "And you'll probably tease me for this," You continue. You curse yourself for sounding breathless. Tearing your eyes away from her, you point at the card again. "But I used my microwave to press the flowers. Only because the other methods would have taken too long."

╰➤ That's when she laughs.

╰➤ You exhale softly from her hearty chuckles, relief immediately enveloping you.

╰➤ Laughter is a good sign.

╰➤ "I should have maybe waited to give you the card. I just didn't want to anticipate your reaction until noon, if I'm being honest." You wring out your hands, not able to shake the nervous jitters running through you. "I hope you like it."

╰➤ She runs her thumb over the material once more, lips rolling inwards before she rubs them together, deep in thought. You impatiently wait for a sign, any sign, that indicates her feelings towards your gesture.

╰➤ Her eyes, set deep above the plane of her cheekbones, slant as they peer downward towards the cardboard in her hand. She inhales through her nose, relaxes her lips, then exhales.

╰➤ "You didn't have to do this," She finally replies. "But of course I like it." She doesn't smile. However, you do notice a new light in her expression when she refocuses her attention on you. "Also, you apologize a lot." She pauses before adding, "...More than you need to. You haven't done anything weird at all."

╰➤ You want to bury your face in a pillow and squeal. But you settle for a smile instead. "Oh."

╰➤ Her lips crack into a knowing grin before she turns on her heel and walks over to her desk. She delicately positions the card so that it's standing upright next to a picture of her and a skinny brunette man. "The card is beautiful." She observes. Despite the natural raspiness of her voice, it has a warmer lilt to it now. "Thank you."

╰➤ You determine that Sevika thanking you is a new favorite. You want to shower her with endless gestures if it means that she'll continue to show fondness towards you.

╰➤ She leans against her desk, halfway sitting on the top surface, before shoving her hands in her pockets. Through the material of her slacks, you notice that they seem to be balled into fists.

╰➤You shift your weight as a strong sense of pride swells in your chest, opting to rest your shoulder against the door frame.

╰➤Only—you remember too late that nothing is actually beside you, and that the door frame is several paces behind you. Instead, you stumble when you realize that there's nothing close enough to catch your weight.

╰➤ Your arms sprout out in an attempt to catch your balance.

╰➤ "Um," You mumble dumbly, flustered by the mess that you've become. "...Thought there was a wall beside me." You clear your throat, attempting to right yourself again.

╰➤ Sevika stares at you, eyes dancing with merriment, as she struggles to swallow her chuckles. She forces out a few coughs, trying to cover up her mirth, but it's clear that she finds your lack of coordination entertaining.

╰➤ You rest your hands on your hips in an attempt to find a comfortable standing position. You want to cringe. You want to crawl under a rock and never be perceived again.

╰➤ You puff out your cheeks before blowing out a heavy exhale. The room feels really hot and your heart is doing backflips in your chest. You can't tell if it's because of your stupid schoolgirl crush or the embarrassment of nearly eating shit in front of Sevika.

╰➤ Probably a combination of both...

╰➤ "Gravity really hates me." You jest.

╰➤ Her grin widens. "I can tell."

╰➤ You let out an exasperated chuckle, palm reaching up to rub against your forehead. She has to be aware of her effect on you.

╰➤ Like it's just painfully obvious at this point.

╰➤ Right?

╰➤ Your lips part and your hands pool with more sweat and you feel like the biggest lovesick loser to ever exist. There she is, with her perfect face and perfect laugh and perfect everything. You've barely talked to this woman outside of lunch breaks yet here you are, giving her pressed fucking flowers and worshiping the ground she walks on just because she sat with you for a few minutes. There can't be any other way that you can become more obvious.

╰➤ Your hands are flailing ridiculously around you, towards her plush purple carpet and curtains and picture frames before you're saying, "Nice office by the way."

╰➤ And she's looking at you with that knowing expression that's borderline condescending, which you really love despite how much you want to hate it, when she replies, "Thanks, darling."

╰➤ You blink rapidly and try not to combust right then.

╰➤ Your feet carry you to a nearby bookshelf before you can think otherwise. A shitload of CD’s are neatly stacked on them with names of artists you didn't know anyone still listened to. You preoccupy yourself with shifting through them, trying your best to ignore the zoo erupting in your stomach. There’s collections of Nina Simone and Freddie Hubbard and Bill Withers. Your eyebrows raise at the eclectic catalogue, not bothering to swallow the surprise that sprouts within you. It should be known at this point that Sevika will never fail to surprise you.

╰➤ Your hands tremble as they hold an ABBA CD. They cling tighter to the plastic case, attempting to make the shaking less noticeable. Something warm brushes against your shoulder, before taking the CD from you. You peer at Sevika, observing the way that she wordlessly takes out the disc and moves to a CD player that is situated farther to your left.

╰➤ Despite her being concentrated on getting the speaker system to work, you’re totally enraptured by her. Her smell surrounds you like a cloud of ecstasy. Her hair is down today, a feathery cut that stops just below her jaw. Loose ends are tucked behind her ear, highlighting the rarest features of her face that you probably have overlooked before. Her lips purse together while she deeply concentrates, puffing out in a way that makes them look unbelievably inviting. Your breath catches, a prominent ache building between your thighs as the room fills with the beginning chords of The Winner Takes It All.

╰➤ She hums underneath her breath as the first verse begins, neatly placing the CD on top of the player. Slowly, her eyes drag back to you, unfocused and clearly lost in the music that fills the room. But then she freezes, seemingly not expecting you to already be observing her. The harmonies of the song contrast to the moment of stillness then; a corded tension falling between the two of you.

╰➤ The feelings you have in that moment are visceral. Your head is spinning and your heart is racing. No matter how hard you swallow, your throat remains dry and your skin yearns for her—for her touch and her warmth and her firmness.

╰➤ Your eyes burn and you have to blink rapidly in order to clear your vision. You can't understand why these feelings have hit you so suddenly, and why they're so intense for a woman that's only your coworker. But you try not to scold yourself too much, rubbing your palms against the material of your skirt instead.

╰➤ “What’s wrong?” She whispers, scanning your face.

╰➤ And that's when you realize how close you're standing to her. Maybe you were the one to step forward—or was it her?—and shorten the distance, but you can't know for sure. You should pull away. You should bid her a good day and return to your office (you'll have to be on the clock soon anyways) but you can't.

╰➤ You can't because it's too late. She’s already roped you in with her aloofness and cheshire grin and warm sultry voice. The window to escape has already passed. You're simply in too deep now.

╰➤ “You're just really fucking beautiful.” You blurt out.

╰➤ When Sevika registers what you've said, it seems like she stiffens in shock. Her lips part, a sharp breath being sucked in while her stare intensifies.

╰➤ You don't have enough wits to properly downplay your words or try to retract what you've said. The most you try to do is blink away the tears in your welling eyes and say, “I’m sorry.”

╰➤ You take a step back, then two. The reality of the situation hits you like a brick wall. You let out a heavy exhale, trying to calm the storm beginning to brew in your mind.

╰➤ Holy fuck.

╰➤ What if you’ve made her uncomfortable? You've clearly crossed a line. You're at work. In fifteen minutes, you’ll both be on the clock and trying to get your day started. This is inappropriate.

╰➤ You feel like employees from the Human Resources department will barge right in at any moment, confronting you about your intentions and hauling you off to be questioned. Guilt rumbles in you like an unrelenting river breaking through a dam.

╰➤ Sevika is shaking her head, eyes searching yours with growing alarm. “Sorry? Sweetheart, you have nothing to be sorry fo-”

╰➤ “...with the flowers and the card and calling you beautiful. I shouldn't be doing those things and saying stuff like that. I mean, not because I don't think you're beautiful. You're so beautiful. It's just... Oh lord—I’m doing it again. Fuck. Frick. Uh,” You gulp, taking a few more steps backwards. “I just don't want to make you uncomfortable. I'm totally aware that we’re coworkers. And I don't wanna be that one creep in the office who-”

╰➤ “No, it's okay.” She shakes her head again, a small smile appearing on her face. “You haven't weirded me out at all.”

╰➤ You stop mid rant, mouth hanging open and eyes trailing back to her. “Are you sure?”

╰➤ “Completely sure.”

╰➤ Your attention hooks onto the details of her laugh lines. They become more prevalent as her smile widens. You want to brush your lips against hers and feel the curve of her laugh lines against your skin.

╰➤ You fight the urge, responding with, “Okay,” instead.

╰➤ She hums quietly underneath her breath, arms folding against her chest.

╰➤ “Okay,” She echoes. Her weight rocks backwards, a slight sway that causes her hair to brush lightly against her jawline. You're captivated by the sharp edge of her jaw—and how it seems to become even sharper with each passing second—as she momentarily clenches it.

╰➤ She’s opening her mouth to say something else when there's a knock on the door. “Sevika?” The silhouette of a woman, probably a coworker, shines through the frosted-glass door. Reality slams into you like a semi truck.

╰➤ Your heart jumps at the interruption. For some reason, you take a few more steps away from Sevika and your muscles tense.

╰➤ There's a hesitation that looms in the air.

╰➤ Sevika's eyes hold something undefinable. Her gaze is level and full of intent. And you can't understand why everything feels so convoluted right now.

╰➤ After a few agonizing seconds of silence, she sighs, shoulders falling as she shifts her attention to the ground. “Come in.”

╰➤ The door opens and a pretty brunette with glossy lips and mascara-coated eyes walks in. You've seen her numerous times throughout the day. She's one of the receptionists.

╰➤ She smiles at you and you're surprised when she greets you. You’ve never realized she knows your name.

╰➤ “Tara,” Sevika addresses. “What's up?”

╰➤ The receptionist turns to her, “I was trying to call you but it was going to voicemail. I wasn't sure if you’ve turned on your phone for the day? I’m really sorry for interrupting. But you have a gentleman waiting for you in the lobby, he says he has an 8 o’clock with you? I just wanted to confirm.” She clears her throat, shifting her weight awkwardly. Then she’s eying you again with a small smile. “I’m sorry—”

╰➤ “No, no. You're totally fine.” Sevika’s features morph into an expression that's more genial. “Did you catch his name? I do think I have an 8 o’clock, I just lost track of time.” She’s making her way over to the CD player, swiftly cutting it off. The music stops and the air stills.

╰➤ Hair stands on your skin as she walks to her desk, fiddling with a few buttons on her landline.

╰➤ “Yes,” Tara replies, glancing down at a yellow sticky note. “He’s from the branch in Chicago. He goes by…”

╰➤ “I’ll catch you later, Sevika.”Your voice is rushed and barely above a whisper. The feeling of overstaying your welcome floods you.

╰➤ Sevika glances up under her lashes, hands faltering from the paperwork she's rummaging through. You don't give her a chance to reply, simply shooting her a smile and wave before slipping out of her office.

╰➤ You sigh at the sign in front of you, bold words reading, BROKEN! PLEASE USE ANOTHER ONE on a piece of paper attached to the microwave. A low groan burns in the back of your throat. You’re starving. In fact, it’s been forever since you’ve let yourself grow this hungry.

╰➤ You didn't eat breakfast this morning. You were too preoccupied with thinking about Sevika’s gift, and how the hell were you going to give her a card with pressed flowers in a non-creepy way. But the task has been done, and for the most part, Sevika didn’t appear turned off by your gesture. So now, you are hungry.

╰➤ Your stomach growls and your mouth pools with saliva. Spinning on your heels, you march out of the break room, trying to think of any other parts of the building that has microwaves. Your floor definitely doesn’t, which means you would have to take the elevator. And you don’t want to do that, especially if it means having to walk through another department.

╰➤ Your mind is swarming with what ifs and maybe’s as you travel through rows of cubicles. The possibility of finding an unoccupied microwave is slim to none. If the one on your floor has been broken all morning, then there’s surely a growing line at the other ones. Dread gnaws at you and you huff with distaste.

╰➤ There’s a part of you that considers eating your food cold. But your nose wrinkles at the idea and it’s quickly disregarded.

╰➤ When you reach the elevator, you're met with the sight of Sevika leaning against the adjacent wall. She is lazily scrolling on her phone, her other hand occupying her pocket, and her cross body bag hanging off of one of her shoulders. Similar to the sudden dip of a rollercoaster ride—visceral and unexpected—a warmth spreads within you. Your head feels light–weightless even–and you can feel the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

╰➤ Your arm lifts and presses the button that summons the elevator. It’s a silly action, since you’re sure Sevika has already pressed it if she’s waiting for it to arrive. But you need something to do with your body; something that can expel some of the excess energy and calm your belly acrobatics.

╰➤ Your movement seems to catch Sevika’s attention, causing her scrolling to momentarily freeze as she glances up.

╰➤ Your gazes lock and your breath hitches and you’re pretty sure you begin to hear fireworks sounding in the distance. She smiles and you return the gesture. Or was it you that smiled first?

╰➤ “Hi,” You say.

╰➤ Her attention trails to the lower half of your face, lingering there for a few moments before climbing back up to your eyes. In a millisecond, she’s pushing off of the wall, body upright and phone slipping into her pocket. “Hey, you.” Her grin curves even more.

╰➤ You don’t know what’s making you feel so lovesick: the inviting cadence of her voice or the fact that she’s practically glowing. You don’t think you’ve ever seen any blemish on her face besides a few faded scars. Seriously–what kind of skin care routine did the robust woman have? You made a mental note to ask her.

╰➤ “The weather’s been nice today.” She adds.

╰➤ You fight off a chuckle, nodding in response. The conversation is elementary and completely like all the other ones that you’ve had with her countless times before. But you enjoy how mundane your chats are with Sevika. It isn’t really the topics that interest you rather than the calming consistency of her presence. The both of you could be counting the wall tiles to pass time for all you care.

╰➤ Sevika cards her fingers through her hair as she rolls her eyes at a corny dad joke you’ve just told. “Clever.” She quietly muses, husky voice thick with sarcasm. Her lips are fighting off a smirk though, so you know she isn’t as annoyed as she’s trying to seem.

╰➤ “Thanks.”

╰➤ When Sevika centers her weight, she peers at the carpet, causing a singular strand of hair to fall in front of her forehead. A small part of you wants to reach out and run your fingers through it, but you softly shake your head to refocus. You listen to the faint rings of telephones in the distance instead.

╰➤“Well,” You drag out, growing uncomfortable by the silence. “Did you have a good weekend?”

╰➤She lifts her head, nodding softly. “Yeah.” A slight pause. “I went to dinner with some friends on Saturday, and then we watched the superbowl on Sunday…Made a day out of it, really…” She clears her throat. “Yeah. It was nice… What about you?”

╰➤ You don’t register the swaying of your body until your shoulder brushes against her bicep. “It was okay, I guess. I finished a novel. Went grocery shopping…did some gardening.” You wrinkle your nose, embarrassment washing over you. “Probably not as fun or eventful as yours, I suppose.”

╰➤ “Ah,” She chuckles. Her bicep brushes against your shoulder again. You can’t decipher if it was her fault or yours this time. “I doubt that.”

╰➤ You offer a thoughtful hum, but keep quiet otherwise.

╰➤ The elevator sounds with a soft ding! All too soon, Sevika is encouraging you to step on board before her.

╰➤ “Hi Shane,” You say, smiling at the coworker that is already inside of the service lift. He barely regards you, lips frowning and worry lines prevalent on his forehead. He takes off his baseball cap momentarily, revealing a receding hairline glistening with sweat, before wiping it off with the back of his hand and repositioning the cap.

╰➤ “Hi.” The middle aged man grumbles. He nearly throws a fit when Sevika takes her time walking through the elevator doors. His face is firetruck red, left foot tapping impatiently as his finger presses the button for the 8th floor.

╰➤ Your eyebrows shoot up and you look at Sevika. She observes the entire situation with passive amusement.

╰➤ “Stupid elevators.” Shane grumbles.

╰➤ You press your lips together, trying your best to refrain from laughing while reaching around him to press the button for the 6th floor. Usually, there’s a few microwaves on that one. “Where to?” You angle your head towards Sevika.

╰➤ “6th floor as well.”

╰➤ The atmosphere fills with the trademark grinding of the elevator and Shane’s disgruntled mumbling. The minutes tick by agonizingly slow and you even feel bad for giggling quietly when Shane huffs again, looking up at the ceiling with a grinding jaw.

╰➤ Your fingers press against your lips in an attempt to remain calm, and your eyes flit over to Sevika knowingly.

╰➤ Shane’s always been pegged as overly anxious and impatient in the office. He seems to be perpetually unhappy with everyone and everything. He seems to just be unhappy in general.

╰➤ A few levels down, the doors open and relief fills you. Riding the elevator with a fretful Shane definitely wasn’t on the top of today’s To-Do list. But then you falter at the sight of a plain concrete wall in front of you. Your eyebrows furrow and you glance back at the row of buttons. The number 6 is no longer illuminated, but you certainly aren’t facing the cubicles on the 6th floor right now.

╰➤ "Shit…" Sevika mumbles. “This isn’t good.”

╰➤ “Oh, come on!” The elevator shakes slightly in response to Shane obnoxiously stomping his foot.

╰➤ Your breath hitches and you feel your arms searching frantically, trying to grab onto something to ground you, but only finding empty air.

╰➤ Sevika’s already scanning the surroundings, probably for an emergency call box. You don’t say anything. You’re not sure if you can.

╰➤ Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out.

╰➤ “I can’t believe this!” Shane’s voice is several pitches higher now. “I’m going to miss my appointment. Dammit!” He stomps his foot again, snatching his cap off. It falls to the ground and his hands tightly grip his hair–or, what’s left of it.

╰➤Sevika’s head snaps in the general direction of his. “Let’s not do that.” Her voice is icy. It comes off as a command instead of a suggestion and even you find yourself trying to gain your bearings.

╰➤ Shane sends her a glare but he makes sure to keep his foot planted and his mouth shut.

╰➤ Your eyes are burning and you're beginning to find it hard to breathe.

╰➤ You’re stuck.

╰➤ The elevator is fucking stuck.

╰➤ No–you can’t freak out. That won’t help.

╰➤ Your hands are bunching against the material of your clothing, feet working into nervous tapping. Oh God.

╰➤ Oh God.

╰➤ Sevika finally finds a button next to an icon with the emergency bell symbol, which doesn’t seem to be immediately obvious at first glance. The noise is loud and jarring when she presses it, before an automated voice begins to speak words that you can’t fully register.

╰➤ And then she’s talking with an operator, that much you can process, but it’s all blurring together too much for your liking.

╰➤ Shane is breathing loud. Annoyingly loud in fact.

╰➤ You want to tell him to shut the hell up, especially when he starts crying, but you can barely see through your blurred vision and it doesn’t seem like your body will listen to your brain even if you will it to.

╰➤ Then there’s warm hands pressing into your shoulders, squeezing them, before lowering to your elbows.

╰➤ “It’s okay,” Sevika reassures. “I just talked to the operator. They’re going to try to reset the system.”

╰➤ You shake your head and grip onto her shirt. “We're going to die.”

╰➤ “Hey,” Her breath fans against your cheeks as she ducks down to look at you levelly. Her touch retracks before you feel warmness on your face. Her thumbs are swiping your skin. “Sweetheart, it’s gonna be okay.”

╰➤ That’s when you realize that you’re the one who’s breathing heavy, because you’re also the one who’s crying. Her thumbs are wiping away your tears.

╰➤ “Sev…” You respond, breath ragged. “I’m sorry. I’m just scared, I-”

╰➤ “It’s an honest human reaction.” Her lips brush against your left earlobe as she pulls you in for a hug. “...Better than stomping your foot and shaking the entire cabin, that’s for sure.”

╰➤ You let out an ugly combination of a sob and laugh.

╰➤ “Not funny, you asshole.” Shane isn’t too happy with the jest.

╰➤ “Hey!” You find yourself objecting. You lift your head but know it’s no use. Sevika’s too tall for you to be able to see over her. “Be nice, you two.”

╰➤ Shane grumbles a few other curse words, this time much quieter. Sevika tightens her hold around your waist, nose rubbing into your shoulder with an odd tenderness, but she doesn’t say anything else.

╰➤ You’re sniffling as you try to relax in her hold. You’ve given up the task of restarting your heart because you know that you’ll never be able to truly calm down until you’re safely out of this elevator. But for the meantime, you try to distract yourself with the smell of Sevika, and the feeling of her pressed against you. You cling onto her like a raft in the middle of a storm, praying that she can continue to keep your worries at bay.

╰➤ “Sev,” You say again, voice shaking. “I’m really scared.”

╰➤ “I know.”

╰➤ The elevator slips down a considerable amount, causing the both of you to lose your footing and nearly fall. Your scream melts into a gurgle of cries as Sevika curses lowly.

╰➤ She lowers the both of you to the floor, hands attempting to steady you. The panic you feel is definitely taking over now.

╰➤ “We’re going to die.” You hiccup, eyes widening.

╰➤ “Darling,” Sevika pauses. You almost believe that she’s trying to gather more patience, and you can’t blame her if she is. But the pause is too brief for you to know for sure. “We aren’t going to die. Hey–”

╰➤ Her fingers are gingerly pinching your chin, urging you to meet her gaze. An air of passivity rolls off of her. “Can you breathe with me? You’re hyperventilating.” Her brows begin to furrow. “I can’t have you passing out on me, you know.”

╰➤ “We won't make it out of here.”

╰➤ Her lips fix into a thin line, “Do you trust me?”

╰➤ Your reply is immediate, “Yes.”

╰➤ “Can you trust that I will make sure you get out of here safely?” Her palms begin to press against the sides of your face, holding you close to her. She strokes the apples of your cheek with her thumbs, expression pensive. “I've got you. I…” She wets her lips, eyes flickering with an odd light. “I promise.”

╰➤ A few stray tears escape your eyes, rolling down your face and onto her palms. You inhale a long shuddering breath as you nod, mouth souring everytime you think of your current predicament.

╰➤ “Okay.” You rasp.

╰➤ The both of you are a breath apart, huddled in one of the corners. That's when you realize that you're actually sitting in her lap.

╰➤ “I just can't believe I’m stuck here simply because I was wanting to use the 6th floor microwave.” Your eyes flicker shut, another wave of doom hitting you. “I just wanted some lasagna!”

╰➤ Sevika laughs. “If only you took the stairs.”

╰➤ “I know, right? I don't usually because I'm lazy, but maybe-”

╰➤ “I get that this is an emotional moment right now,” Shane grunts. “But does anyone have a bottle or something? I really need to piss.”

╰➤ Your nose crinkles. Ew.

╰➤ Sevika grinds her jaw. “You will keep your pants on, or so help me God…”

╰➤ “Okay, okay. I got it.”

╰➤ You clear your throat, shifting in her lap and glancing at Shane. He has his left leg crossed over his right, legs tense and face seemingly straining with concentrated effort. A vein is bulging out of his neck and sweat is gathering around his forehead again.

╰➤ “Tell me another one of your lame jokes.” Sevika whispers, completely disregarding him and squeezing you closer to her.

╰➤ The shift in conversation feels like emotional whiplash.

╰➤ Everything about today has been weird. You never thought a day would come where you're actually sitting in her lap, and being comforted in the most gentle way.

╰➤ But then again, you never anticipated getting stuck in an elevator with her so…

╰➤ “They are not lame.” You refute, feigning offense. “They're dad jokes.”

╰➤ “Okay, well...” Her attention zeroes in on your nose. One of her hands raises, brushing at it before inspecting a small fuzzy and flicking it away. “Tell me one of them.”

╰➤ Your blink in thought, scanning your brain for one that you haven't told her yet. It's starting to become hard to decipher which jokes you have and haven't shared with Sevika, especially as the months continue to carry on. You fear that you'll run out of them sooner than you’d like to (at least the funny ones) and then you won't know how else to entertain her.

╰➤ “What do you call a fake noodle?”

╰➤ Her forehead scrunches as she ponders on a possible answer.

╰➤ A slow smile curves at your lips while you mutter, “An impasta.”

╰➤ You can practically see the gears in her brain shifting before she registers the pun. Her lips are puffy from constantly being chewed on when they pull into a playful scowl. The tiniest wrinkles appear along the slope of her nose as she scrunches it, eyes peering at you through narrowed slits.

╰➤ “You're ridiculous.”

╰➤ That causes you to laugh, heart warming at the slight annoyance in her voice. “Ridiculously funny and charming? Sure.”

╰➤ “...Oh my god.”

╰➤ “You love my jokes, just admit it.”

╰➤ “Sweetheart…They're not actually yours. I know you google them.”

╰➤ “ It's my delivery though. No one delivers jokes better than I do. It takes actual skill.”

╰➤ “Somehow, I find that hard to believe.”

╰➤ “...There's the timing you have to consider and the vocal inflection.” Your hands fall down her arms, resting in your lap as they tug on one another. “It involves real artistry.”

╰➤ “How dumb of me to think otherwi-”

╰➤ “Oh, thank you! God! Thank you!”

╰➤ You jump at Shane’s outburst, examining the way he stands to his feet, a grin breaking across his face. He’s pointing at the elevator doors, which are now closing. A low hum fills the air. Soon after, the sound of cogs becomes louder and the elevator begins moving.

╰➤ You and Sevika startle at the sudden shift, moment now broken. When you peer at her, she's smiling softly, grey irises drinking in every one of your features.

╰➤”I told you we’d be okay.” She says.

╰➤You're too relieved to properly respond, allowing her to help you stand up instead.

╰➤ The intercom beeps and a voice says, "Rescue team here. Please remind us how many people are there with you?"

╰➤ “If you feel any sort of stress from today, please don't hesitate to use this number.” Cam says as he shoves a business card into your hand.

╰➤ You roll your eyes. “I’ll be fine. I swear.”

╰➤ “There's no shame in using the services, I promise. Just input your employee number and the company code on the website and it’ll—”

╰➤ “Cam,” Your left hand reaches up to squeeze his shoulder. You make sure to hold his gaze. “I’m totally fine now, I promise. I’ll admit that it shook me up a little, because it felt like we were going to be stuck in there forever. But everything's okay.”

╰➤ He scans your face, searching for any sign that you're being untruthful. When he doesn't find any, he nods smally. “Go home.” His stare becomes stern. “Take it easy for the next few days.”

╰➤ “Cam—”

╰➤ “I’m serious! If you go back to your office for the rest of the day, I’ll take a deduction from your wages.”

╰➤ You roll your eyes, “That doesn’t sound legal.”

╰➤ “I’m sorry, I can't hear you anymore.” He shrugs his shoulders, pacing a few steps backwards. “I have meetings to attend now.” He doesn't allow you to object, adding, “Have a good weekend, kid,” before turning around and leaving the room.

╰➤ It hasn't been long since you’ve been rescued from the elevator—maybe 30 minutes, at most. Cam made his way over to the three of you once he received notice of everything. You feel relatively fine. The medics accessed you first, since you seemed to be the most shaken up when they arrived. And ever since they finished, Cam has somehow convinced himself that you, Shane and Sevika should take the rest of the day off.

╰➤ He also seemed adamant about offering you the free therapy services that your company provides, hence the business card in your hand. But you feel like it might be a desperate gesture to cover his ass. Surely, this isn't the first time that someone's been stuck in the elevator while on the clock.

╰➤ The medic team seems to just be finishing their assessment with Sevika and Shane now. You stand off to the side, watching helplessly, as Sevika sits in a chair and chats casually with a buff paramedic woman.

╰➤ The three of you were momentarily moved to a nearby conference room when rescued from the elevator. One of the office supervisors said it was to give you all a space to “wind down and decompress.” But you're pretty sure it's because the company is trying to gloss over the elevator incident.

╰➤ The door to the conference room opens and you're met with the familiar face of Kai. Their eyes are wide—frantic—as they scan the area.

╰➤ “Dude,” They gasp, attention on Sevika. “You won't believe the stuff that's circulating the office right now…it's some crazy shit!”

╰➤ Then they’re grabbing one of the chairs closest to Sevika, plopping down in it. “Are you guys okay? Seriously, what the fuck happened?”

╰➤ “We were stuck in that stupid contraption.” Shane butts in. “We could have died and they only care about giving us PTO and a stupid link to telehealth.”

╰➤ It's the first time you've heard him talk since stepping off of the elevator.

╰➤ “I missed my damn appointment and the fee I’ll get charged is ridiculous,” He slams his hand on the table, fingers spreading out against the surface and jaw grinding. “I’m gonna sue these motherfuckers.”

╰➤ Surrounding medics have been slowly packing up their equipment, but they momentarily freeze at the sound of Shane's threat. The one closest to Sevika lifts an eyebrow, expression bemused as she pockets her phone.

╰➤ “I’m not sure if you can do that, Shane.” Kai quirks. Their eyes dance with humor as they swallow a chuckle.

╰➤ “I’m 62. I can do whatever the hell I want!”

╰➤ Kai nods, slightly taken aback. “Touché.”

╰➤ Shane grumbles under his breath, standing to his feet with the help of a nearby medic. He’s slightly hunched over, gripping the lower part of his back while he hobbles to the entrance door.

╰➤ “Bye Shane!” You call.

╰➤ He waves you off irritably, not bothering to turn around and give you a proper farewell.

╰➤ “And they said you fainted when the rescue team came,” Kai turns to you, expression morphing into something kinder. You think you see their eyes travel to Sevika for a split second, but you conclude that it’s just your overactive imagination. “How are you feeling now?”

╰➤ You laugh incredulously, “Do people just live to gossip here? That was barely an hour ago.”

╰➤ “It's not like there's much else to do around these parts,” Kai grins wickedly. “Besides the scandalous office romances that people chat about. But that's old news. This is the most exciting thing we’ve had since Christmas!”

╰➤ You laugh harder, hands coming up to rest against your cheeks as you work through your shock. “That's one way to put it.”

╰➤ The three of you are alone now since the last two medics managed to slip out of the room inconspicuously. And now it's harder to escape the overwhelming fatigue that looms in the air. Secretly, you thank Cam for giving you the rest of the day off.

╰➤ “I have to get back soon. I’m supposed to be meeting the Amazon delivery driver in t minus one minute.”

╰➤ “Oh my god,” Sevika rumbles, shoving her friend out of their seat. “Go do your job.”

╰➤ “Yes ma’am.” Kai wipes their hands on their jeans, leaning down and kissing Sevika on the cheek before ruffling her hair. “I’m glad you didn't like, die or anything, loser.”

╰➤ Sevika merely grunts.

╰➤ Kai winks at you, “Bye lovebirds!”

╰➤ And then there were two.

╰➤ You carefully pivot to face the herculean woman a few feet away from you. The crease between her brows, even though heavily prevalent when Kai was here many seconds ago, are now gone. She stares at you for a beat, lower lip caught between her teeth and hands drumming against the muscles of her thighs.

╰➤ “Sorry about Kai. They're a bit childish sometimes.” Sevika mutters. But despite her words, you can tell she thinks fondly of Kai.

╰➤ “I like them.” You find yourself admitting. “They’re funny.”

╰➤ “They’re annoying.”

╰➤ Her lips twitch into the smallest hint of a grin. Your own smile grows and subsequently, her eyelids flutter. In the midst of today's chaos and fading professionalism, the heart of something tender passes between the both of you. The air cracks and sparks fly. It's fleeting—but it's there.

╰➤ Her throat jostles as she swallows, “How are you feeling?”

╰➤ There's an unmistakable burn within you that her question creates. “I’m better than before.”

╰➤ Her eyes trail down your body, then back up to your face. You assume that it's a mistake. But then her gaze wanders again, and this time it's for longer. This time, it has more intent. Your stomach flips.

╰➤ Her lips barely move when she responds, “Good.”

╰➤ You sense the moment slipping away, and a tiny part of your brain nudges you to leave the room and go home. God-forbid Cam stumbles back in and sees that you're still here. But for some reason, you hover.

╰➤ “Thanks for earlier, by the way,” Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth and your hands are growing clammy. “For helping me and stuff.”

╰➤ And stuff.

╰➤ You're not sure if thanking her for the other stuff is appropriate, considering you were practically straddling her and holding onto her in ways that's crossed many, many lines. But that seems to be the ongoing trend between you and Sevika; you cross too many lines with her.

╰➤ “No need to be thanking me.”

╰➤ You shrug, “...Was still kind of you.”

╰➤ Her lips rub together and that's when you realize how soft they look. A small hum escapes her and you watch inquisitively as she opens her mouth.

╰➤ But then nothing comes out, leaving her with a slack jaw and gaping mouth. Your brows start to furrow, chest tightening while several more beats pass and Sevika remains dazed.

╰➤ A whooshing sound fills the air due to the AC turning on. Dust particles begin to circulate around you, and your ankles are tickled by the new draft blowing from the vents.

╰➤ “Is everything okay?” You try to keep the worry out of your voice, but the shift in her is abrupt.

╰➤ Her eyes cloud over with something indescribable, a sense of apprehension rolling off of her in thick waves.

╰➤ “Um,” Her words drag and her eyes dart away from you. They settle on an empty space between you and the nearby wall. Her body is completely rigid, as if the floor will give out at any moment. “Would you ever want to hang out?”

╰➤ Your heart crawls up the walls of your esophagus, beating with all of it’s might.

╰➤ You shift your feet, then tug at your fingers.

╰➤ “Like, outside of work?” She clarifies. She dodges your eyes, settling on the other details of you instead; like your restless feet and your fidgeting hands.

╰➤ “You’d want to do that?”

╰➤ “Well,” She gives you a sidelong glance. “I wouldn't be asking you if I didn't.”

╰➤ Your internal debate resolves and your smile stretches wide—so wide that you think your cheeks are becoming sore.

╰➤ “Oh,” Your voice is barely above a whisper, so you have to clear your throat. “Okay. Well, I want to also.”

╰➤ She mirrors you and breaks into a silly grin, gap visible and nose wrinkling.

╰➤ “Just let me know when,” You add. “And I’ll be down.”

╰➤ “How about Saturday?”

╰➤ “Um—wow. I didn't know you meant so soon. Will Kai be okay with you choosing the day on their behalf?”

╰➤ Her eyebrows shoot up. “Kai?”

╰➤ “Yeah, have you even asked if…” Oh.

╰➤ Oh.

╰➤ Your gut ignites at the revelation.

╰➤ The greys in her irises darken an alluring shade.

╰➤ “Okay,” You nod, understanding completely now. She doesn't need to say anything more for you to realize the full weight of her offer.

╰➤ God.

╰➤ Oh God.

╰➤ You've dreamt about this moment for months but you never thought it’d actually come true.

╰➤ “Okay,” She parrots. “It's a date, then?”

╰➤ Your toes curl inside your shoes. Nodding enthusiastically, you confirm, “Definitely.”

╰➤ You never are the type to enjoy the action of driving cars.

╰➤ It’s mostly to do with the fact that your life could very well be in someone else’s hands. The likelihood of surviving another day without being in a car accident feels like sheer luck sometimes.

╰➤ But your road anxiety is heightened even more as you brave the heavy city traffic, trying not to pee your pants at the idea of being near Sevika in less than an hour.

╰➤ You exhale, drumming your fingers against the steering wheel restlessly. Why is this taking so long?

╰➤ After ages of waiting, you’re finally able to get to the other side of town. It’s quieter here and far less busy. Sevika texted you the suggestion this morning and you immediately agreed–the quieter, the better.

╰➤ But your heart stops when you find yourself parked in front of a towering brownstone building, with multi-story terraces and sleek black protective gates. The streets are nearly empty and the distant chirp of birds fill the air.

╰➤ Your lips are pulling into a frown when you look at your phone screen, reading, You have arrived at your destination for the nth time.

╰➤ Swiping away from the GPS app, you allow your thumbs to click on Sevika’s contact number.

╰➤ Two rings sound before she answers, “Hello?”

╰➤ “Hi–” You crane your neck to look out of your window. “I think I‘m here? I’m not sure where your place exactly is though...”

╰➤ You hear shuffling on the other line along with the soft hum of music. Then you see movement from a window on the second floor. Curtains are pushed aside and a familiar figure comes into view. The sliding glass of the terrace door is pushed open, and she’s sticking her head out, scanning the row of cars lined up along the street.

╰➤ “Oh,” You breathe, heart stuttering. “Nevermind. I see you.”

╰➤ You remain seated in your car, like an idiot, while her eyes lock with yours.

╰➤ Then she grins, which is a heartbreakingly beautiful thing to witness.

╰➤ “Sorry for being late,” You rasp into the receiver, eyes never leaving hers. “I got stuck in traffic.”

╰➤ “You’re two minutes late, sweetheart.” Her voice is thick with amusement. “That’s hardly anything to fuss about.”

╰➤ The following stretch of nothing is almost too painful to bear. Something is holding you back from stepping out of the car. Whether it be fear or nerves, you can’t really tell. All you know is that this feels like uncharted territory.

╰➤ “I’ll come down and get you,” She says. You nod. She disappears into her apartment and the line goes dead.

╰➤ The air of Sevika’s apartment smells overwhelmingly like her: woodsy with a hint of apple cinnamon. Your shoes click against the floorboard when she guides you through the doorway, knuckles brushing against your forearm and leaving a fire in its wake.

╰➤ “This is me.” Her voice is soft around the lock of the deadbolt and chain guard. There’s a lowly dimmed lamp hanging from the ceiling, a coat rack placed in the corner and a sitting bench to your left. She looks over slowly–hesitantly; as if she’s trying to gauge your reaction.

╰➤ You find yourself swallowing thickly as you’re smacked with another smell of her.

╰➤ When you don’t respond, she toes out of her shoes, movements quiet and swift. Silently, you follow her lead. She gathers your boots with hers and positions them underneath the sitting bench.

╰➤ “This way,” She mumbles. You allow her to side-step, walking down the hall and toward a connecting room, where you faintly see a burgundy living room set. The walk down the corridor almost feels too quick, since you keep getting distracted by the countless art and picture frames lined up on her wall. You realize that the walls appear to be so decorated that you don’t see much of the paint.

╰➤ Her living room appears to be similar, littered with different pieces of art and photographs that you could stare at for hours if given the chance. The atmosphere is tranquil but the furniture and color scheme is deliberate and poised. The ceiling is much higher than yours and the windows are fairly large. Much of the interior is splashed with dark velvety hues of red and purple.

╰➤ Two brimming bookshelves stretch to the ceiling, lined with countless collections of CDs and novels. The brick fireplace is already lit and emmenates a warm glow around the room. Sevika’s gaze is clear and level when you peer at her. And her eyebrows lift inquisitively.

╰➤ “It’s…” Your voice cracks, causing you to clear your throat. “This is really nice.”

╰➤ Her head is tilted, eyes squinting ever-so-slightly with a nature that is purely meditative; as if she’s trying to pick out any signs of dishonesty. The burning sensation of her dissection is potent. Your mouth pools with saliva as the seconds tick by.

╰➤ A low whistle escapes you as you try to compensate for the tension. “Why so quiet?” Your legs shuffle.

╰➤ She licks her lips and hums. “Just trying to make sure this is okay.”

╰➤ “What?” Your eyebrows are furrowing.

╰➤ She gestures at your surroundings, “This. My home—at least, that you’re comfortable being here. If you prefer to spend time in a more public place, then…”

╰➤ “Oh.” Your features relax. She’s trying to be polite. “No. This is fine, Sev. I’m always comfortable around you.” You wipe your sweaty palms against the material of your pants.

╰➤ Her eyes follow the movement of your hands, before they linger on the lower half of your body for the tenth of a second while her jaw flexes. You gaze at her with growing anticipation due to the dead silence. She takes a long inhale through her nose, refocusing her attention back to your eyes with what seems like a great deal of concentration.

╰➤ A shaky smile spreads across your lips. You travel over to one of the nearby bookshelves, which holds a CD player that’s currently playing a smooth jazz solo. You have to find something to do—anything—other than stand there and grow lustful under her pressing gaze.

╰➤ “You have quite a collection,” You begin.

╰➤ Your back is turned to her as you look through the cases that are neatly stacked together. Despite being covered with clothing, the skin of your back grows hot, as if her gaze is seeping straight through the material of your shirt.

╰➤ “A lot of them were my parents. They loved collecting music.”

╰➤ You don't have the heart or gall to mention the past-tense reference of her parents. Instead, you nod.

╰➤ You feel like you're hypervigilant to everything about her in that moment. The sound of her weight traveling across the carpet becomes heightened, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand when you see her shadow appearing out of the corner of your eye. When you look towards your left, you struggle to contain the zoo that rips through your stomach. She's close. Very close.

╰➤ Her shoulders brush against yours while she reaches across you to turn down the stereo. "You can pick something else if you want," Her voice dips into something low and syrupy. "I don't know what type of music you like." Then she's walking away. Your eyes follow her as she disappears into another room. "Are you thirsty?"

╰➤ "I'll listen to practically anything as long as it's not country." You shuffle through the CD's, stopping when a particular one catches your eye. A classic. "What do you have?"

╰➤ Once you've replaced the CD with one of your choice, you mosey into the other room to join her. It's a kitchen, fairly minimalist compared to the living room, and painted with nearly all black decor. The sight of Sevika standing there is unfamiliar. Her hair is tied up in a half up half down, small tendrils escaping and brushing against the sides of her face. Her nose is wrinkled, eyes squinted and lip rolled inwards.

╰➤ She leans most of her weight onto her hands, which are resting on the surface of the kitchen island. Her sleeves are rolled up to her elbows, and attention is focused acutely on a book that's sitting on the counter. Something savory wafts in the air and you spy a stove behind her that seems to be emanating an exceptional amount of warmth.

╰➤ "Um," you mumble. "Is everything okay?"

╰➤ Her eyes flicker up to meet yours, at first holding something distant, before they cloud over with an undeniable light. Her hands tighten into fists, pressing against the marble countertop before she relaxes them. Then she's standing upright, one arm falling to her side while the other rubs against her forehead. "I'm..." Her words trail off as she glances at the watch on her wrist. "Fuck."

╰➤ Then she's whipping around, opening the oven door. A small cloud of smoke appears.

╰➤ "What are you cooking?" You close the distance between the two of you, swiping through the smoke before peering into the oven.

╰➤ "Nothing anymore." She sighs. "It was supposed to be—"

╰➤ "Lasagna."

╰➤ You reach for the oven mitts sitting on the nearby countertop, slipping them on before grabbing the deep-dish pan.

╰➤ "I noticed you have it a lot." She continues. "I just thought—since you seem to like it..."

╰➤ You set it on the hot pads, inspecting the top layer of the pasta dish.

╰➤ "Actually, it doesn't look too bad." You say. "It'll have to go back in, and we'll need to turn the heat down to 375, so that it cooks all the way through the layers without scorchi—"

╰➤ That's when it hits you.

╰➤ "Wait," You abruptly right yourself, snapping your head towards her. She's already watching you, drinking in everything you were saying. Her eyebrows raise at your outburst. Hands still covered in mittens, you're stepping around her, doing a double take at the book that's still open on the kitchen island. "Is that a cookbook?"

╰➤ She doesn't immediately respond.

╰➤ When you crane you neck to get a better look, you're barely registering the words Classic Homemade Lasagna Recipe before her large hand abruptly lands on the book with a loud smack! Her fingers are outstretched, keeping you from being able to see majority of what's written. But it's too late, your assumption has already been proven right.

╰➤ The book is shut before you can say anything else. She opens an overhead cupboard, sliding it in there with one quick motion.

╰➤ "Oh my god," You fight off a wave of giggles, lips stretching into a wide grin. "That was definitely a cookbook."

╰➤ She brushes a few loose hairs out of her face and chooses to avoid your gaze.

╰➤ The stillness that follows is nearly unbearable. In the distance, you hear the current song from the CD player fading out. A car is honking from the street outside and the buzz of the AC comes on. You're still turned towards her, hands covered by her oven mitts and cheeks aching from the smile on your face. She continues to dodge you; resolute.

╰➤ You can't contain your laughter anymore. It's bellows out of you like a songbird breaking free from its cage. That seems to finally draw her attention, and wills her to glance at you. Upon locking eyes, slowly, she smiles an equally warm grin.

╰➤ And just like that, the elastic band of tension that existed all evening snaps.

╰➤ Her laughter quickly follows yours, deeper and soothing and just as beautiful as the last time you heard it. Her rigid stance melts away and her fingers relax.

╰➤ "Sev, why—" You wet your lips. "You didn't have to go out of your way to a get recipe and make this. I would have been fine with take-out."

╰➤ "Kai sent me the link to the cookbook yesterday and I figured why not. It was only $20," She rolls her eyes. "Plus it has better reviews than the lasagna recipes I was looking at online."

╰➤ The cookbook was only $20.

╰➤ Adrenaline courses through your veins from such an implication. Sevika bought a cookbook just to make one of your favorite foods. No one's ever done something like that for you before.

╰➤ No one's ever paid close enough attention to even notice your love for lasagna.

╰➤ The way Sevika always manages to nonchalantly flatter you will forever be something you struggle to fathom.

╰➤ You're biting the inside of your cheek, trying your best to contain your buzzing excitement as you place the pan back into the oven. Your back remains turned to her, stomach flipping and fingers nimble.

╰➤ "This is very kind of you to do," You find yourself muttering.

╰➤ "I mean," The sound of her body weight shifting is subtle. "It's our first date. It's the least I could do."

╰➤ "Still kind."

╰➤ You don't allow yourself to brush over one of her many kind gestures. You don't allow yourself to take any of this for granted. Sevika has been very good to you, especially in a world where people haven't been in the past. Often times, she's been more than just your friendly coworker.

╰➤ Whether she wants to admit it or not, she's the one who's actually a sweetheart.

╰➤ "Why don't you like to accept my compliments?" You inquire. You take off her oven mitts, setting them on a nearby counter-space before turning around. Droplets of perspiration trickle down your forehead and the back of your neck. You wipe them away with the palm of your hand, stepping away from the searing hot oven and towards her.

╰➤ Sevika is resting against the kitchen island, arms crossed over her chest and eyes solely fixed on you. You don't miss the way her jaw flexes as you come closer. But you choose to ignore it, positioning yourself to where your right hip is pressed against the island cupboards, just off of Sevika's left shoulder.

╰➤ "Because most of the time, I'm not doing anything extraordinary." She wrinkles her nose. "It's the bare minimum, actually."

╰➤ "Well," You almost come to a standstill as you rack your brain for an appropriate response. "I still appreciate it."

╰➤ That's when you send her a smile. Similar to an innate feeling, you expect her to return the gesture, since there's never really been a time that Sevika hasn't.

╰➤ But the seconds continue to stretch and her smile never appears.

╰➤ Her lips part and her throat bobs as she swallows thickly. You don't think you've seen her eyes look so lucid before.

╰➤ A part of you wants to be consumed by her. You want her to have you; in whatever way that would mean for her. You'd be happy with any scenario. But another part also wants you to remain present in this moment; to fully cling onto every moment that passes with you in her presence. It's a heartbreakingly beautiful conundrum to be in.

╰➤ "The bare minimum barely checks off the list. You know that, right?" Her voice is firm during this wake of silence. Assertive. Strong. But her words manage to undue something within you; something you didn't even know was tightly wound to begin with. "You deserve to receive so much more than the bare minimum from someone. And you deserve to not have to thank them for that."

╰➤ She says it with such conviction that you almost believe that she's been thinking about this for a while.

╰➤Hearing those words nearly break you.

╰➤ They're arguably obvious. But despite how much the general public likes to make instagram captions and TedTalks about it, you've never really been told this before. Not directly. Not with such certainty.

╰➤ "And," She wets her lips, eyes darting away from you for the first time. "Of course I don't want to be too full on this soon. I'd like to think cooking you one of your favorite foods would give me a good start. But there's—" She's shaking her head with creases forming in between her brows. "...a lot more that I want to offer to you other than shitty lasagna."

╰➤ You don't respond for a beat as you feel a new unspoken surge of energy igniting between you two. It's takes form as an invisible current, growing with each ticking second.

╰➤ Her attention doesn't waver, remaining clear and steady and safe. You find it hard to breathe with the careful way that she's studying you. Air pacts into your lungs at an alarming rate and your heart beats a mile a minute while your throat locks.

╰➤ Your lips part. Then, "What else are you wanting to offer?"

╰➤ You watch as she cards her fingers through her hair. There's a bounce to her silky locks that leads you to believe it's been very recently washed. If you step forward more, all you have to do is reach up to touch it. She's so close.

╰➤ Incredibly close.

╰➤ You don't know how it's happened but somewhere deep inside of you, where the abandoned and empty house of your life resided, a bright light has been ignited. Somehow, that house is no longer empty. It's no longer cold. Sevika has managed to cast an exceptional amount of life into you.

╰➤ Everything becomes watery at the revelation; her black marble countertops, her crème colored button-up, the swirling grey of her irises. It's all blurry. You struggle to blink away your welling tears.

╰➤ How typical of you to get emotional during a time like this...

╰➤ Sevika doesn't reply. She just peers at you with an expression that makes her look as if she's short circuiting. The air is warm, with the oven being heated to a scorching 375 degrees just a few feet away. It's warm and Sevika doesn't falter in managing to unravel you from her regard. It's warm, and your hands are reaching out. It's warm because it's her. She's the warmth.

╰➤ Your hands stop mid-reach, hovering in the air as she fleetingly glances at them. Your pulse thumps against the side of your neck; eyelids fluttering. "What else?" You press. A gentle nudge. A plead.

╰➤ You need to hear her say it; for the sake of confirming that everything is requited.

╰➤ She closes the rest of the distance by grabbing your hands with hers. They're larger and wrap around yours without any extra effort. The gesture is small. But it somehow still causes your legs to nearly give out. She tugs you, urging you closer. You stumble as you give into her magnetic pull. But you're too caught up in all that she is to truly feel embarrassed by it.

╰➤ "I want to offer you everything good." Sevika states it firmly; earnestly. "I don't feel that with people very often. But you," She squeezes your hands, puffing out a heavy exhale. Her breath brushes over your face, minty and enticing. "...I'd do anything to bring goodness into your life."

╰➤ "You already have." The lump in your throat explodes, almost blowing it out completely. Your voice is hoarse—thick with emotion.

╰➤ Her breathing becomes shaky and her mouth falls open. You watch as shock transforms itself onto her features.

╰➤ "Seeing you everyday in that stuffy break room...getting to know you and being able to talk to you," You continue, head bowing as you try to gather your thoughts in a way that won't overwhelm her. "Those days rest with me right here." You bring both your hands and hers to rest against your chest. "I already hold a deep tenderness for you. And it's something that's only for you. Do you know that?"

╰➤ She keenly follows your lips as you speak, leaning so closely now that her forehead grazes against yours. The movement is painstakingly subtle but it still makes your surroundings blacken. The feeling that takes over is close to a rebirth; like being pushed into the ocean by yourself and somehow resurfacing with Sevika fundamentally built into you.

╰➤ And when she kisses you, you know, down to the marrow of your bones, that this is something holy. Teeth clatter and hunger intensifies. Her hands have found solace by clinging onto the rolls of your hips, digging into you, hooking you to her. Ink becomes imprinted onto your heart, screaming—scrawling—Sevikasevikasevikasevika endlessly.

╰➤ She trembles slightly when you press against her; your hands resting against the firmness of her biceps. You reach for her further, never fully satiated, while your toes pull you upwards. Your neck cranes and your chest constricts from the way you desperately lean against her. You're chasing her—her mouth, her smell, her lips, her taste—and she welcomes you with just as much desperation.

╰➤ She's whispering, "...okay, okay," her voice a gentle echo. Her fingers curl into you, positively leaving marks. "I definitely know now."

╰➤ Sevika transforms from warmth to burning heat at that moment. You cherish the feeling.

╰➤ Somewhere, not too far away, a celestial body explodes.

╰➤ When she's lifting your shirt off of you, the burgundy color of her duvet being lit by a bright moon shining through her window, that same feeling of your world revitalizing returns.

╰➤ A mix of soft sighs and oh sweetheart and countless cresting follows. Your legs quiver and symphonies sound in your ears while she devours you as if you're her last meal.

╰➤ "Don't stop," you continuously plead, drunk off of the beautiful disaster that such a person could cause.

╰➤ She whispers into your skin, mouthing—kissing—and nipping, with a broken voice, "I won't. I promise."

╰➤ I promise.

╰➤ The headboard cracks. There's laughter, and snack breaks and savory kisses.

╰➤ And when you're lapping into her with unadulterated vehemence, giving her everything that she wants to take, you promise too.

╰➤ You'll promise everyday if she asks you to.

╰➤ You'll promise until your life expires—until the world ends. Until she decides that she doesn't want you anymore.

╰➤ Long gone are the moments of uncertainty; of hesitancy.

╰➤ After the both of you have recovered from chasing such a high, her arm remains draped over your waist, tugging you into her. She mumbles, "Stay," with a vulnerability that has you shaking your head before a beat of silence can pass.

╰➤ "Always."

╰➤ Another explosion emerges; this time larger. A supernova.

╰➤ Your lips press against her throat. She shivers. Her grip tightens. The moon shines brighter.

╰➤ Always.

#au writing #fanfic #arcane au #lesbian #arcane netflix #fluff #sevika #sevika x reader #piscespetals writing #sevika pls marry me #sevika imagine #sevika x y/n #arcane sevika #arcane women #coworkers to friends to lovers #foolish senseless desperate gay pinning #this took me two weeks to edit good grief

722 notes · View notes

musings-of-miss-j · 5 months ago

Text

no rest for the wicked (nor the foolish)

part eight: in which you're forcibly removed from your comfort zone by none other than the resident ginger, and you meet a certain someone's alter ego(s)

a harbingers x gn reader series!! (includes dottore, childe, arlecchino and pantalone x reader. the rest of the harbingers will not be romantic interests)

notes: surprise surprise, the burn is still slow!! mentions of blood, gn reader with a dosage of snark that probably exceeds the recommended value

series masterlist

author's notes: *daddy's home plays faintly in the background, slowly but surely increasing in volume as i approach you on a hoverboard with a comically large witch's hat on my head and a ridiculous pair of sunglasses on*

word count: 4725

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚** ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚** ੈ✩‧₊˚*

It was, by all accounts, supposed to have been a completely normal lab session. You were planning the reaction route you’d take to test the enzyme you’d synthesised and the various ways to ensure its effectivity other than the rate of the reaction and the yield as you waltzed through the door (the inscriptions were glowing a pretty purple-pink hue reminiscent of sakura blooms that day). The redox apparatus from two days prior was sitting exactly where you’d left it, nothing out of the ordinary there. The abnormality came in the form of a segment currently in the process of detaching the round-bottomed flask where your product had accumulated from the condenser; the first thought to register was the sheer audacity for anyone to even contemplate touching your experiments, while the second, this is my chance to study the constitution of these ‘segments’ up close, wasn’t far behind. Glancing up sharply, your flask still clutched in his un-gloved hand, (a voice in your head shrilly protested his lack of adherence to safety procedures) the segment began moving away, no doubt to disappear to wherever him and the rest usually stayed. With more agility than you thought you possessed, you rounded the workbench and grabbed him by his sleeve.

“You. What are you doing with my condensate?” You demanded, grabbing the flask from between his fingers and setting it down on a stand. Now that the imminent danger of your work going to waste was neutralised, you took the time to analyse this segment of your supervisor’s while you had him cornered. This version of Dottore was at least five years younger than the one you were familiar with, probably from his late Akademiya years. And he wore no mask, leaving two brilliant scarlet eyes on full display, rimmed with pale blue lashes and dark shadows beneath them. The segment coughed and fidgeted, trying to find a way to escape your clutches.

“Hold still,” you ordered, reaching up to touch his face. You were startled by the smoothness of the skin, having expected something cold and metallic. How in Teyvat did he pull this off? You tilted the segment’s face this way and that, looking for hidden wiring or steel plating or anything else that would belie machinery, yet you found nothing. You gave his cheeks an experimental squeeze, and were further surprised when your fingers dug into what seemed to be soft skin, then dropped your hands, stumped.

“Huh. You look very human.”

“Prime did tell me that was the intention,” the segment agreed, flushed in the face and still trying to discreetly push past you.

Even his voice didn’t sound robotic in the slightest, riddled with natural dips of tone and perfect inflection for the context. Your eyes took in every detail, every movement, still failing to spot anything that would’ve given him away as a machine.

“Incredible. Did he give you a name?”

“No. Prime wouldn’t waste a second thinking about something so inconsequential.”

If you weren’t mistaken, the segment sounded almost bitter, staring blankly down at the wall with those striking eyes. You felt a twinge of pity; being a clone for Dottore was probably a thankless task. “Would you like one?” You offered, not unkindly. “If your system permits that sort of input, of course.”

“I- I have no use for such things.” It was strange to think that your Doctor, impenetrable and unmoving as he was, had been capable of stuttering to the point where he himself recalled and implemented the trait.

“How about Theta? I’ll need to distinguish between you lot somehow.”

“It’s of no difference to me,” the segment- Theta- mumbled, before shooting you one last look, then disappearing in the split second it took to turn your head in his direction. You wondered where he’d gone, and why he was so wary of you.

Oddly enough, you didn’t see the Doctor for the entire morning and well into the afternoon. It was far from ordinary for him not to be in the lab the moment you arrived, (you suspected he slept there, if he even slept at all) muttering under his breath as he worked and occasionally ordering you to hand him the wrench or scalpel or graduated pipette in a tone so entitled it tempted you to bash him in the head with the very equipment you handed him. Still, you couldn’t deny his usefulness. Having two pairs of hands was always easier than one, especially when the other pair was as experienced as they came; you could bounce any question off him and receive a convincing answer, even if he could never resist throwing in a mocking remark about ‘how shameful it must feel to have such a rudimentary fact slip your mind.’

However, you had much better uses of your time than fretting over the location of your boss, such as extracting a sample of noradrenaline from the brain of a body so fresh you half expected the eyes to open in the midst of your operation. Even after such a time-consuming procedure, the Doctor had yet to make an appearance. You wrote it off, assuming he wouldn’t be present that day, and ate all the fruit tarts you’d brought while boring holes into your notebook with your eyes and trying to determine what exactly had gone so wrong amidst your calculations that the percentage error was at an unforgivable fifty seven percent.

“One hundred cubic centimetres of sulphuric acid sounds unreasonable,” a voice from over your shoulder remarked. You blinked, refocusing on the sheet of paper. A whispered curse slipped past your lips as you registered where you’d went wrong; the decimal point of the volume of acid was indeed one too many zeroes to the right. You twisted to see who’d given you the hint.

It would’ve been incredibly easy to mistaken this segment for Dottore himself, but he lacked the jagged scar spanning from above the mask to his chin and cutting right through the corner of his lip. This segment’s face also wasn’t as harrowed, unlike Dottore’s hollowed cheeks and deathly pale complexion. You probably would’ve missed the difference yourself, if you weren’t so accustomed to the tiny details of the Doctor’s countenance. The segment grinned lazily.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?”

Oh, for the love of-

You shoved him away with a roll of your eyes. Not quite as Dottore-like as his appearance suggested, then.

“You segments are rather friendly today. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Since Prime isn’t here to hassle us about disturbing you, we thought we might as well make use of the main lab.”

A frown formed between your brows as you mulled over his response, absent-mindedly scratching out the mistakes in your calculations.

“Main lab? There’s others? And why would the Doctor forbid you from utilising it on my account?”

The segment leaned over, resting his elbow on the workbench and his cheek in his hand as he watched you. “What do you mean why”- a delighted expression crossed his face, and his resounding cackle made you look up apprehensively from your notes. “Oh, what a scream. You mean you don’t know?”

The notion of ‘not knowing’ made the scholar in you bristle. “Don’t know what?” You snapped, crossing your arms and turning to subject him to the full force of your glare.

“You’ll find out soon enough, lovey,” he replied with another laugh. You scowled.

Patronising piece of-

“I heard you even gave one of us a name,” he said, interrupting your furious train of thought. “I didn’t think you were so besotted.”

You clicked your tongue dismissively, waving him off. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s counterproductive not to know the names of one’s assistants.”

It was the segment’s turn to bluster. “I am no one’s assistant!”

“Mhm. Be a dear, Gamma, and pass me the dichloromethane so I can make some aspirin for the inevitable headache you lot are going to give me.”

Muttering and grumbling and secretly preening over his namesake being a highly dangerous electromagnetic wave, he slid you the bottle and even a measuring cylinder and pipette to boot. You rewarded his extra efforts with a small smile, and Gamma suddenly understood every nonsensical thought that Prime had experienced since you arrived in Snezhnaya.

Throughout the day, more and more of the segments appeared from Archons-know-where and took to hovering around you while you go about your business, or chattering and doing a fine job of distracting you from whatever you were reading, or even rushing to assist you. You didn’t complain; it was fascinating seeing these different facets of the Doctor. Most of the older segments are rather similar to him, although Gamma had a rather prominent flirtatious streak, while another you’d named Omega was more snappish and impulsive. The younger ones were unfailingly comical; Theta was so easily flustered and a little more apprehensive about explosive compounds than the rest, and Pi, whose name referenced the pastry that was such a direct contradiction to his character, was rude, arrogant and reckless.

(“Since you’re such a bitter pill to swallow, I’ll call you Pi.” You grinned at your own joke. “No other aspect of you is remotely close to sweet, after all.”

Pi scowled animatedly, shattering the beaker in his hands from how hard he’d gripped it. “I won’t answer to a name given by a simpleton.”)

“Pi, clean the mess you made in the fume cupboard! Some of us have organic lungs that can’t handle toxic fumes, you know!”

“I don’t see how that’s my problem,” he snapped back, then slunk off to do as you’d told him when you weren’t looking.

The youngest of the segments, who barely reached your waist and had yet to even speak in your presence, had taken to trotting after you wherever in the lab you went, weaving between your legs and staring up at you with wide eyes half-hidden by a mop of messy blue hair. You’d come immensely close to tripping more than once, but you couldn’t bring yourself to scold him at all, instead nudging him out of the way like a cat sitting in the middle of the hallway. The segments were helpful enough, even if you’d been talked back at more times that day than your entire career as a lab technician in the Akademiya supervising young recruits, and by the time you were contemplating the prospect of heading to the dining hall for a bite to eat everything was in order; reagents alphabetically stored in their cabinets, counters wiped and glassware washed, even the enormous, curved windows were polished to a high shine. You spared them an approving look as you walked past, arms laden with bottles of (carefully separated) acidic and basic waste, admiring the aerial view of the snowy forest below, draped over the mountainside like a shaken-out blanket. The young segment was still tailing you, a lollipop you’d fished out from one of your pockets in his mouth; his utter disregard for where he was stepping had put you on your last nerve, but every time you sat him down in a safe corner he’d stare dolefully up at you before reappearing in your peripheral vision a few moments later. It was a wonder you hadn’t lost your temper, really.

“Epsilon, I can see your reflection in the window,” you pointed out in an unimpressed tone to the segment who’d been on the verge of grabbing your shoulders in an attempt to startle you. He huffed and grumbled, shaking the hair out of his eyes and cheekily tipping the neck of one of the bottles you were carrying as though to let the acid milkshake within, so to speak, spill, then pranced away from your scathing glare with a merry tune on his lips. You didn’t know how the segments seemed so familiar with you, as though they’d known you all their lives; Pi somehow knew how much value you placed on your leather gloves, as he’d threatened to use them for chromium extraction when you didn’t let him take one of your fungi petri dishes, Gamma had off-handedly mentioned how it was a shame your ear piercings had closed up years ago because you couldn’t match with their fluorescent blue test tube earrings, and Theta wordlessly handed you a pile of the expensive cider wood parchment you preferred to use and hurried away before you could say anything. It was baffling, to say the least, but you appreciated the extra help. It meant you could skip off to have a rather overdue lunch without fretting over something or other you might have mistakenly left over a Bunsen burner, even if it was strange leaving the lab without the Doctor’s voice criticising your lack of commitment to your education as the door swung shut behind you.

You weren’t even surprised to find Childe outside, leaning against the doorframe and tossing a dagger through the air, letting it flip over itself before catching it once more. When you opened the door, he stumbled into you and the dagger slipped from his hands as he nearly knocked you backward; but in a rare moment of swift reflexes you jumped to the side to snatch it from mid-air before it could stab either of you in the leg, only for Childe to latch onto your cloak as he fell and subsequently landing you on top of him. For a long, drawn-out moment, you just stared at each other; one of your hands pressed to the floor near his head while the other gripped the knife a safe distance above you. You quickly noted two things. One: Childe was bony and being draped over him was overall an uncomfortable experience; the apex of each of his ribs dug sharply into your chest, and two: his eyes were a peculiar, beautiful shade, less like the sea and more like heavy velvet thrown over something that glowed bright and blue, dimmed by the weight of the fabric.

Childe was finding it difficult to process anything other than your closeness. Yes, you were even more breath-taking up close and yes he would’ve given anything to place his hands on your waist and pull you closer still, but he was even more enamoured by the dips and points of your knuckles where your hand gripped the dagger, the creases in your leather gloves around each finger and the oddly calculating look in your eyes as you appraised him. You could stab him, he realised with a rush, staring up at you. You could drive the blade down and lodge it between his ribs and he probably wouldn’t be able to react fast enough because it was you, and his blood would stain your cloak and blouse and a coppery taste would fill your mouth. He wondered if Signora was right, and whether you really would look better in red.

You cleared your throat, breaking the spell, and Childe suddenly noticed all the other tiny little things he probably wouldn’t get close enough to see again. The notion that such things would remain secret almost made him panic, and it took considerable effort not to clutch at you as you rose to your feet and dusted yourself off. You extended your hand to him, and he allowed himself a split second of self-indulgence, the liberty of seeing your outstretched hand reaching towards his collapsed body as something more than it was; he let himself believe that you, so bright and resplendent in your every trait you might as well have been the moon, were offering him, a creature writhing in the darkness, salvation or even just a moment’s respite.

You hauled him up from the floor with a grunt of effort (he couldn’t possibly be as bony as he felt. All that weight had to come from somewhere), then took off your glasses and held them to one of the wavering white lamps, handing him the dagger.

“Hello, Eleven.” You frowned at the new scratches on the lenses and started rubbing them with the hem of your blouse, even if you knew it was a fruitless endeavour. “How long were you waiting out here?”

“Long enough,” he all but whined in response, slinging an arm around your shoulder and ruffling your hair. Your only protest was a half-hearted grumble as you shoved your glasses back on, and his chest warmed with the thought that you no longer instinctively rebuked his touch. “C’mon, Trixy. I didn’t think you were the type to ghost someone after a date.”

“What are you talking ab- oh, for heaven’s sake,” you said exasperatedly, shooting him a look as he walked towards the stairs with you in tow. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

He beamed so widely you nearly stumbled on the steps, blinded by the intensity of his glee.

“So you’re not denying it was a date?”

You sighed out an incredibly inappropriate curse, drowned out by Childe’s hearty laughter.

“You are an incorrigible man.”

“Well you went on a date with this incorrigible man,” he countered cheerfully and not without a healthy dose of smugness. That earned him a withering look, and you detangled yourself from his side as you walked down the corridor.

“Everyone makes mistakes,” you said with a shrug, laughing slightly when he let out an indignant splutter. Childe bristled, trailing after you with an exaggerated pout.

“You should apologise for hurting my feelings, Trixy.” “If I were to apologise every time I bruised your fragile ego I’d never have time to say anything else,” you teased, linking your arm with his and pulling him along. “Now come on, they serve an exquisite pumpkin soup on Wednesdays.”

You wondered at what point you’d become so friendly with the Harbinger, to feel relaxed enough to so casually poke fun at him. Maybe your self-preservation instincts were decaying. Maybe it was worth it.

“I don’t want to see that… Arlie again,” Childe protested. You looked at him sidelong.

“Oh?” You asked, feigning surprise. “Why not?”

Because she outranks me and I don’t like having to share your attention, he thought. “She beat me in a fight once,” he admitted grudgingly. It wasn’t even a lie; that bitter defeat was indeed part of the reason he felt less than ecstatic around her, though the atrocities she’d carried out to become the fourth Harbinger were impactful too.

“Infighting between members of the same organisation should not be the norm,” you stated, shaking your head. “You Fatui are ridiculous.”

Childe laughed, tugging you closer by your linked arms to elbow you in the ribs. “You’re one of us ridiculous Fatui now, remember?”

“I am not!” You protested, affronted, before sighing at the self-satisfied expression on his face and changing the subject. “Tsk. So you refuse to speak to her just because you lost to her once? That’s immature, even for you.”

“No, no, defeat is all part of the battle. I don’t like that she refused a rematch.”

You hummed thoughtfully, chewing over his response.

“So you believe you’d win this time?”

“Maybe,” he replied with a shrug, steering you past the dining hall’s entrance. “It doesn’t matter though, does it?” He continued, as though the idea of combat for the sake of combat was the most normal thing he could possibly conjure. “Sparring with a strong opponent is the real goal. Say, Trixy. Are you any good in a fight?”

You snorted. “I’m a scholar, Eleven, not a warrior. And even if I was, I wouldn’t spar with you.”

His face took on an almost comically wounded expression. “What? Why not?”

“Because I know when I’m outmatched,” you replied dryly, letting him drag you along. A dejected expression you felt compelled to ease fell over his face. “Although I do have passable aim with a bow and arrow,” you reluctantly offered, and the change in his demeanour to unadulterated ecstasy was laughable.

“Really?! You’ve got to show me.”

“What? No, absolutely not.” Your reply was swift and decisive, but Childe was nothing if not meddlesome and persistent.

“No, no, no, you’re not getting out of this,” he jubilantly exclaimed, tightening his hold on your arm as if to prevent you from running off. “We’re going to one of the training grounds right now, and you’re going to do some target practice.”

“I’ll use your bloody head as a target if you don’t drop it, Eleven,” you threatened.

“Great idea, let’s try that too!”

Even as you lamented his utter insanity, Childe steered you to the west wing of the palace where you’d never been before. Upon looking around, you concluded that all forms of combat training happened there; the sound of crashing steel and muffled gunshots, interspersed with the occasional crackling, sloshing or rumbling from what was probably from Vision holders practicing how to utilise their elements in battle. The silver in the walls was twisted into different patterns from what you’d become familiar with, abstract depictions of battles long-past and a whole wall of solemn, important-looking text gleamed almost menacingly, commanding the attention of any who walked past it. From your passable fluency in the Snezhnayan tongue, you deciphered it to be an oath of sorts where the reader swore to carry out a myriad of jovial things such as turning the snowy landscape into a ruby’s facet with the enemies innards or their own, and wreaking havoc within the heavens until it rained scarlet. All in the name of Her Majesty the Tsaritsa.

Wow. Bloodthirsty much?

You eyed the oath distastefully, missing how reverently Childe mouthed it as he led you into an empty archery range. Rows of targets stood on the other side, pockmarked and their paint scratched, with a few of them sporting an unfortunate red-brown stain. You were grateful that there was no one there, at least; if you were a little rustier than you remembered then there was no one to witness your mediocrity other than Childe, who was presently looking through the extensive selection of bows and chattering about the various advantages and disadvantages of different models. You riffled through one of the many quivers of arrows scattered haphazardly about, admiring the high-quality steel of the heads. Some of them even had meticulous patterns along their shafts, no doubt hand-painted, and you appreciatively traced a particularly striking golden dragon with tiny, methodical scales spanning the entirety of the arrow, ending at the head where the dragons jaws were open in a roar.

“Well, Trixy? What bow are you going to use?”

You glanced up from the quiver, twirling the dragon arrow between your fingers, eyes skipping over the countless bows laid across the stands. You noted the ones tossed carelessly across them with a disapproving glance, and eventually picked the one that was the most similar to what you remembered using, long-limbed with a straighter taper and made from wood you recognised as Yumemiru from the distinctive diamond-shaped whorls.

“Why that one?” Childe asked, mesmerised by the sight of you in his element with a weapon at your fingertips. What were you thinking about when your hands reached for that particular bow? Did you have any specifications, preferences in regards to size or even the type of wood it was made from? Were your eyes drawn by the faded blue leather wrapped around the handle? Would you prove to be better, smarter, quicker than he was? The thought sent his heart racing and his brain spiralling with the prospect of having you as a competitor, an opponent.

“Does it matter?” You replied with a shrug, testing its weight in your hands. “I’m no expert when it comes to the craftsmanship of weapons. The bow I learned to shoot was probably older than me with a string practically on its last life.” You frowned slightly, looking up at him. “Why do you ask? Is there some sort of technique or guideline I should follow?”

“No, no, don’t worry about doing something wrong,” he reassured, his back to you as he assembled a quiver of arrows. You lowered the bow to stare at him, flabbergasted that he’d so quickly and accurately read the involuntary hesitation in your answer.

“Usually we have beginners start with a compound bow, but you probably have your own inclination by now,” Childe continued, oblivious to your astonishment. “What you’ve got there is a longbow,” he added, tossing you an archery glove. “They’re generally more difficult to master and harder to use.”

You pulled off your glove after making sure his back was still turned before replacing it with the one he gave you, and then picked up the bow again with new interest.

“I see. And yours?” You asked, nodding towards the one he had picked, white wood gracefully curved and narrowed at the tips.

“This one’s a recurve bow. They’re better at close range and generally need more strength to draw.”

Childe couldn’t help but be entranced by your contemplative expression, all furrowed brows and a distant gaze as you took in the new information. He had to agree that you really were a scholar before all else; the pensive look you so often sported might as well have been made to be worn by your features. In your eyes, even an archery range became an experiment, a mystery to untangle. You sighed and turned to face the targets, nocking the arrow and drawing the bowstring back to touch your chin. Childe watched as you adjusted your aim, mentally evaluating your form, then let the arrow fly. He let out a low whistle of appreciation when it hit the centre with a satisfying thunk.

“Clearly your aim is more than just passable,” he remarked with an excited glint in his eye that you didn’t quite like.

“Accuracy is all I have,” you replied with a shrug, lowering the bow and gently pressing your fingers into the indent the bowstring left in your chin, perfectly aligned with the barely-visible scar there. You’d forgotten how tender the skin could get. “I doubt I can still hit a moving target, for one.”

“But you can get the bullseye every time?”

“Not every time,” you corrected, making your way to the target to pull the bow out of the wood. The painted dragon really was a masterpiece, and you took a moment to admire it before heading back to the archers’ stand. Childe grinned and followed after you, bow temporarily forgotten.

“So most times then?” He pressed, trailing closely behind you.

“Where are you going with this, Eleven?”

“I still think we should spar,” he replied brightly, so close he was practically breathing down your neck. “We’ll make it so that if you manage to shoot me even once, I go down, or we could”-

You twisted around to poke his chest with the fletching of the arrow, cutting him off. “No.”

“Please?” He implored, rounding on you whatever direction you turned to avoid him. “Please, please, please?”

“No!” You repeat, louder and with the full force of your irritation. “I’m not dying before I get this damned certificate!”

There was a beat of silence as he stared at you, slightly aghast. “You think I’d kill you?”

“…I don’t think you’d do so on purpose, no,” you conceded, taking out your pocket watch. “But your strength exceeds mine to the point where fearing for my life in a duel wouldn’t be unreasonable.”

“It is unreasonable to assume I’d ever hurt you,” Childe groused, continuing to block your path every time you tried to move past him. “Stop trying to get away,” he added, bending over to pinch your cheek. You stared at him, utterly at a loss for words, then quickly smacked his hand away with an irate grumble.

“I need to get away, I still have lab work to do.”

Childe flapped his hand as if physically shooing away the idea. “You work too hard, Trixy. Take a break.”

“And what do you think this little exercise was?”

“A chance to impress me with your archery skills, of course,” he replied without missing a beat, wiggling his eyebrows teasingly. You rolled your eyes with a quiet huff of laughter, pushing past him, and he dutifully followed after you.

“You’re not very difficult to impress, are you?” You teased back.

Only when it comes to you, he thought wistfully.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ��✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚** ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚** ੈ✩‧₊˚*

taglist:

@viridian-coffer, @vvzhyxx, @darifes, @whore-of-many-hot-men

@aenishas, @lovel3tter, @randomidk-123, @autistic-deer

@luvenus702, @zoriaisasimp, @ra404, @crownohomo

@diamondcookie45

if i missed you somehow please message me directly, bold means i’m having trouble tagging you! to be added or removed please comment on the masterlist post of this series <3

183 notes · View notes