She really forgot you. All the people in the mess hall became a blur as you rushed out. All you could focus on was the pain in your chest.

You paced out in the snow. You spent 5 years worrying about her hoping she wasn’t dead. 5 years hoping one day you would be reunited. 5 fucking years being angry that she didn’t come back. All for what? For her to be all cozied up in this stupid fucking town. She didn’t even think twice about you. Anger coursed through your veins.

“(Y/N).” Ellie said. You look back at her. She was all grown up. She looked just how you had imagined her to look after all these years. She really grew into her stupid face.

“No. You forgot me. Its fine, its not like I spent 5 years looking for you.” 

“(Y/N), just please calm down.” She said reaching out to you once again. 

“Oh, fuck you. I am calm, you don’t know me.”

“Just listen to me.”

“No, you left me in Boston. This… This seems to have worked out for you. This little perfect life you have going on seems to have been worth more than my life. I had to trip alone for so long and suffer alone, you told me you would protect me. I feel a little silly now thinking you were out there suffering, but you look just fine.”

“I thought about you every day. I tried going for you, but they didn’t let me.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “So what you don’t have free fucking will?” You yell.

“I fucking tried dude. Not a day went by that I didn’t think about you. Not a day went by that I didn’t hate myself for not bringing you along.”

You still couldn’t manage to wrap your head around everything happening.

Ellie pulled you into a hug. You felt your heart melt. You were 14 all over again. Tears begin to pour down your face. “I thought I would never see you again.”

“We’re together now,” Ellie whispered rubbing circles on your back.

You wanted to stay angry. You’ve been holding a grudge against her for 5 years and it all seemed to disappear the instant she wrapped her arms around you. Hot tears rolled down your face. She was really here with her arms wrapped around your waist. You were listening to her breathing. She was really here.

“Come on; let’s go eat.” She let go. 

You walked back into the mess hall where Jesse waited with your plate filled with food. You take the seat next to Jesse and begin to dig in. It had been weeks since you had a decent meal. Being in such a big group meant that your rations were smaller. You always found yourself giving your rations to Abby. She always worried about you not eating enough, but you were okay with it.

“You’re the girl in the picture!” Dina exclaimed as she realized as to where she had seen your face. You shoot her a confused look. 

“Ellie carried a picture of the two of you around everywhere when she first came to Jackson. It was her most prized possession. Now that picture has a home on her wall.”

She kept the picture. She really held on to it. Ellie's cheeks were a bright red color. 

“So what’s your story?” Dina asked. 

“I left the Boston QZ about 3 years ago. I was on my own for about 1 year. I met a group, they took me in and about 3 months ago we got attacked by raiders and they were all killed. I got away.”

You weren’t completely lying. Your timeline was correct. You did leave the QZ 3 years ago and you did fend for yourself for about 1 year and you did meet a group. You met Abby’s group, but they weren’t dead. They were sitting cozy waiting for you to deliver the old man. 

Ellie wasn’t convinced. She spent the better part of her childhood watching you lie to keep the two of you out of trouble. After 5 years she still recognized the way you rubbed your thumb on your index finger, the way your eyebrows ever so slightly twitched, and especially the smug look of confidence spread across your face knowing you wouldn’t get caught. You were lying and Ellie knew it. What exactly were you hiding and who were you protecting?

The rest of the afternoon you spent listening to the three share their stories. You heard about their wildest adventures and all the fun they had. They were living their best lives while you struggled and starved almost every day. You were jealous. They spent all of these years with Ellie getting to know her better than you ever did. They had a bed, hot water, and a meal to come home to every day.

Jealousy was a green-eyed bitch gripping you by the throat. 

————————-

“Abby, you need to come back to the lodge. You’re going to freeze to death out here,” Nora said, approaching Abby.

From the moment you set off to Jackson, Abby had spent her day watching over Jackson. She watched as you entered Jackson and since then she hasn’t had it in her to leave. She felt as if she left her position things would go south and you’d never return. She promised to protect you and she wasn’t going to break that promise, especially when the mission is to kill her father’s murder. You had to come back. 

“Abby seriously you’re going to die out here,” Nora spoke once again ripping Abby's attention away from Jackson. 

“What if she doesn’t come back?” Abby asked.

“She will. She is resilient. After everything with the two of you, she wouldn’t turn her back on you. She cares about you Abby despite everything.”

Despite everything.

They began walking away in silence, but all Abby could think about was the moment she would lay eyes on you again. The moment you would be back with her.

“What happened between the two of you? Why did she start to close off again? Owen says that she is completely different at the beginning, but out of nowhere, she closed everyone out. She started to be cold again. What happened?”

1 year ago

“Abigail, this is beautiful!” You say in awe. You walked right under the whales hanging on the ceiling. They were huge. To think that there are animals that big in the ocean kind of terrified you, but they were beautiful animals.

“This is nothing. Just wait,” She said observing you take in every bit of the floating whales. “Come on,” She said dragging you into a room labeled ‘Max’s Place’.  The room was filled from top to bottom with paintings.

“Wow, this kid is talented.” You said admiring all of the paintings in the hallway. The place was filled with amazing paintings.

“Let’s go you can admire all of the paintings after,” She said before dragging you towards a ladder. 

“Are you planning on killing me? I saved your life remember?” You said before backing away. There was no way in hell you were going down that death trap. No way. 

“You trust me?” 

“Mmmmmm. No,” You joke.

Abby glares at you before extending her hand at you, “Please for me.” 

You roll your eyes before reluctantly taking her hand. Your favorite pass time was to give Abby a hard time. The two of you begin descending the ladder. 

“You excited for your surprise?” Abby asked.

“Nope.”

“Such a buzzkill.”

“Shut up you love me.”

After what seemed like an eternity of climbing down the ladder your feet finally touched the ground again. 

You take in every bit of that long hallway. The small tanks of water and the paintings on the wall had your eyes flying all over the place. Abby just let you take it all in. 

“Seriously?” You groan approaching the cardboard castle. 

“Do you ever wait before you judge?” Abby asked before stepping through the castle. You followed her reluctantly. 

“Abigail…” 

The light traveling through the water lit up the room in the most perfect way. You immediately ran up to the glass to watch the groups of fish swim by. Abby stood back and watch the smile on your face grow causing the whole room to light up. You glance back at Abby who stood in the middle of the room watching the water closely as if she were waiting for something. 

“There he is look,” She said pointing ahead of you.

A seal swam by and gave you a small show. You couldn’t believe your eyes. You were in such awe of the animal that you hardly noticed Abby was resting her chin on your shoulder. Naturally, your body relaxes against her, resting your head on hers.

“Abigail, this is just… amazing… Thank you.”

“Do you forgive me for making you go in the water?” She asked knowing exactly what your answer would be. You kicked and screamed the whole way because you hated swimming. You were terrified, but somehow Abby had convinced you to do it.

“Absolutely not Abigail. I could’ve drowned,” You state as you turned to face her. 

She throws her head back as a laugh is released deep from her belly. It was like music to your ears. This version of Abby was your favorite. Seeing her this happy was enough to keep you going. The happy look was soon replaced with a serious one.

“Owen thinks we might have a lead on Joel. I know… It has been months since we last heard about him, but this… He’s close I know it. I just have to avenge my dad.”

You shook your head. This was your least favorite topic.

“This is your revenge, not mine. I don’t care about the old man, but I will follow you to the ends of the Earth, Abigail.” 

You hated talking about Joel. You hated listening to Abby’s voice crack. You hated the facade she put on for Owen to cover up her pain. You hated the tears gathering in her eyes. You hated all of it. You didn’t care to kill the man. You cared about her. You always found yourself walking out of the room anytime she discussed it. 

She didn’t understand why you hated talking about it, but she knew you’d follow her anywhere. She quickly changed to subject not wanting the tension to linger for much longer.”

“I still don’t understand why you insist on calling me Abigail.”

“It's your name. Is it not?” You asked getting closer to her. Her face was right in from of yours. Her blue eyes looked deep into yours.

“Yes,” She whispered bringing her face closer to yours. Her eyes went back and forth between your eyes and your lips. Her eyes took your breath away. You took her hands in yours closing the gap between the two of you. You felt lucky to even be in her presence. To be here with her hand in yours. You took your opportunity and kissed her. She kissed you back for a mere second before sending you tumbling back. Your eyes flew open to see a flustered Abby before you. 

“I’m sorry,” You said panicking 

“I don’t like girls. I’m with Owen,” She began. “I have to be back for training.”

With that, she ran out of the room.

You had just ruined everything. You misread the situation and the one friend you had made hates you.

Abby ran down the hall not understanding her feelings. She had never felt anything like that with Owen. Electricity raced through her veins as your soft lips kissed hers, but it wasn’t right. This isn’t how you feel about your best friend. This isn’t how things were supposed to happen, Abby is always in control. Abby knows everything about Abby, right? 

She had just ruined everything by walking away.

A quiet sob escaped your lips. You were alone again. Things were never going to be the same.

You lingered in the room watching the fish swim away without a care in the world wishing you were one of them.

Present time

“She came back and it was like a switch had been flipped in her. She was cold and her every move was more calculated.”

“She’s like this because you rejected her?” 

“She was never completely open with us. We saw glimpses of who she was, but we knew nothing of her past. We also saw glimpses of who she could’ve been, but I threw it all away because I couldn’t understand my feelings for her.” 

Abby knew that it was her fault that you had completely closed everyone out. She was the reason you refused to make friends with anyone else. She was the reason you were in Jackson risking your life. Even after breaking your heart, you were out there trying to fix hers. 

—----------------

“This is it. Your place. I am right across the street in that yard if you need anything.” Ellie said handing you the keys to your house. The wonders that waited for you on the other side of that door were screaming you name. A bed. A hot shower. 

“Thank you.”

You hand was on the knob. You twisted it putting on foot inside before Ellie stopped you.

“Is there anything you have to tell me (Y/N)?” Ellie asks. She knew in her heart you were hiding something. Protecting something.

“There’s 5 years' worth of things to tell you, Ellie.” You shoot her a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She nods walking away from you. You watched as she walked across the street into her yard. Her body disappeared into the garage. You close the door and quickly ran to find a bathroom. You drop in fron of the toilet bowl spilling the contents of your stomach inside of it. 

She knows.

----------------------

Writers note: I hope this was worth the wait!! Thanks for all the love on the last part!!

feedback is always appreciated :)

Question for all you lovely people: what was your favorite line(s) or scene(s) from this part?

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Odessa was not a woman of unreasoning, but she definitely wasn't one you bullshitted with either. She could sniff out a lie like a bloodhound; No exception to your father either when he tried to underhand her.

She laughed in his face when he proposed helping with the feral omnics around and using them as scrap metal. Offering to clean out her Wasteland just for parts. But she knew better and had leaned down from her imposing throne, using her axe to tip his chin up as she crooned; "And what's in it for me, old man?"

Whilst looking directly at you.

He tried offering money for the scraps, but in the end they had reached an agreement of some kind. You would come to her faux kingdom and help her with financials and factions that she couldn't seem to get right. And of course, he'd still pay handsomely for the scrap he took. But, if he overstepped his bounds or went against his word, he could kiss his scraps goodbye.

And judging by how she had looked at your during this dealing, you expected you'd be scooped up as well as 'aid for the salt in her wounds'.

It's how you two get close. Odessa- or Dez, as you find she liked to be called instead- keeps to her word and uses your knowledge for her own gain. And in turn, you get to see parts of the world you know you'd never be allowed to.

She takes to calling you Princess, and at first you scoff at it. But soon it turned into a fond pet name, something that made you feel pretty and cherished.

Your interests start to show again, an old love of engineering and tinkering coming into play on one of the weeks she has you. She finds you late at night in her very own workshop, using pieces of scrap found around to make a makeshift sculpture of her Champion. A little ball that when a button was pressed, popping open into the sculpture to form the little hamster inside.

After that, she'd come and watch you instead.

Her keen eyes on you as she straddled a chair backwards, resting her chin over the top of it as her honey eyes burned holes into you.

Then more watching as you got to stay for longer periods of time. Dez was interested in your routines, how you lotioned your skin, patting lipgloss on your lips and doing your hair. Softer things she was unfamiliar with, just like the rougher things you too didn't understand.

Tension built between the two of you. You couldn't look her in the eye without feeling flustered. And it seemed like she caught on quickly, trying to do everything to impress you.

She was like a puppy some days.

Some times you caught her making a struggle sound when lifting something heavy, only to act like it was no big deal when you walked in the room. Or how some days she'd try to cook something more elaborate with spices like you did, but it would be too much and inedible.

It's the thought that counted.

It wasn't until she shows up in your room in her wing with flowers does it occur to you this silly queen had been trying to court you.

From there, you…try not to go home too often.

Your father doesn't like that you're enjoying time away. It all becomes too much one day when he tries to tell her he's breaking off the arrangement to the Queen. To which Dez laughs in his face and reminds him that she's not against taking his only child.

Not that you would be against it either.

When your relationship starts, she's all chivalry. She's loud, huge, and isn't scared to get into fights with people who even look at you sideways.

She holds your hand in public, grabs your ass, presses a hand on your lower back- you name it. She says it's to 'Give that lot something to really look at' and 'Let em know what's the Queen's property'.

It makes you feel…wanted.

But Dez also grabs your hand to guide you gently down the steps, or helps you tie your dresses up in the back. She'll sit with you while you take a bath, watching you with all your fancy bubbles and soft lotions with curiosity.

And then hunger when you offer for her to join you.

In turn, you learn to get a little dirty. The basics of self defense and standing up for yourself. Learning how to say No with certainty and getting into hobbies you'd long since forgotten.

It's one day after one of your baths does she make her move. She's upset about something, frustrated, looking to blow off steam. She tells you you smell so good, that you're so soft.

That she wants to tear you apart.

You go that night sore and bruised with bite marks lining every inch of you. With a snoring girlfriend lain across you and holding you like a stuffie.

Princess becomes more than a pet name after that.

One final night, you have a fight with your father and sneak out that night. Your private dropship already knows where to take you, the built in AI taking you there.

It's dark out, but Dez is already waiting for you. As if she got wind of it before you even showed up. You don't question it or try to make sense of it, just taking her hand silently as she escorts you off your ship.

"Rough night?" Are her first words that break the silence as she leads you inside her bedroom. You laugh dryly, wiping at the mascara trails under your eyes silently as she hands you a tissue.

"S'alright, love. You can stay here as long as ya need, yeah? Been in my fair share of spats with my old man too back in the day." Dez comforts you, opening her large arms as you come towards her to rest your head on her.

Your head reaches below her chest. Her hands are warm and rough as they rub across your back, focusing on the exposed part of your upper back where your dress dips down. Her short nails soothingly rub across your skin as you breathe in her scent slowly.

"Got any positions available in your kingdom, Your Highness?" You murmur as a jab to be humorous, but it comes out quietly.

In turn, Dez spares you a little chuckle. She pulls away briefly, grabbing your chin to tip it up to her with a cocksure smirk playing on her lips. "Could use someone to help me keep documentation on things." Her thumb then rubs across your bottom lip, watching as you close your eyes and peck a kiss to it. "Could also use a lil' wife to keep me in line too."

"Wife, huh?" You tease back at her, reaching up to grab her hand and press a kiss to her palm. But when she doesn't laugh at first, you glance back up to her face to see she's looking at you expectantly.

It clicks.

"Dez you're not seriously proposing like that, are you?" Your tone is full of mirth, flattered even. Your smile breaks her as she starts to smile in turn, leaning down to kiss your forehead and then your nose.

"Nah, nah. Just a thought, Princess. Would wanna find ya a big ole ring. Somethin' that screams 'Queen', ya know? Maybe we'll even getcha a lil tiara, aye?" All the while she speaks, gesturing to your head and forming a circle with her fingers like she's measuring you.

"Are you going to bring fireworks for the occasion?"

"Of course, doll! Would do it in public too. Maybe after pulverizing some bloke in the Reckoning." Dez hums thoughtfully, cupping her cheek and letting her eyes flick over your now smiling face. "Though, worry it'll make 'em think you're part of that prize. The title and the bride up for grabs."

"I'd poison them in their sleep and get you your title back."

A grin splits across her face, her big, booming laugh echoing in the room as she scoops you up into her arms to squeeze you tightly. "Now THAT'S my girl!"

--

You stay there afterwards. Carefully bundled in her bed with her night after night. Most nights she's not there, busy with handling things. And in turn, you learn to stay up late with her. You write down all her words, keeping documentation on factions and any upsets that went around town.

It feels like a domestic lifestyle. She's even started teasingly calling you her bride and wife, much to your embarrassment.

Dez treats you gently, the utmost gentleman that she is- per her own words.

But one time, when you go to the bar with her, someone gets a bit too bold with you. Knocking shoulders with you, poking at you. You can see her from across the table slowly looking murderous. But the cherry on top is when the person beside you implies they could treat you better.

You're surprised they don't end up a bloody pulp. But you quickly learn why when Dez croons at them, "Oh, ya do, aye? And would you happen to know what little spots make her tick, hm?" In this venomous tone as she stalks around the table to come toward you.

You squeak as you're lifted off the chair by her, your body turned towards that person as her hands slide down your shoulders. Down to your waist where she grabs you tight and makes you gasp, a heavy flush covering your face.

You try to turn your head, but she grabs your chin, turning your head towards the person to make sure they're looking just as you are.

"See how her legs shake?" Dez continues, her free hand trailing up to your chest and making you tremble. "See how she melts at my touch?" Her hand on your chin slides down, and you automatically move to make room for it to wrap loosely around your throat.

Your lashes begin to flutter, your breath shaking.

"You wanna know what sounds she makes for me in the night? Screaming my name? Ya think you could do that? Mate, I can make her scream for me without ever bein' inside her." Her words are harsh and heavy, but you're so distracted by her hand trailing down to the bottom of your dress. Her hand slides underneath, over your thigh, bending you over with her height only.

"Doll," She directs to you, her tone so sweet and kind. You hardly have time to breathe. "Remind this poor, blubbering fool who you belong to?"

"M-my Queen."

"And who only gets the utmost pleasure in having you?"

"You, my Queen."

"Now. Be a good girl and tell this bloke to fuck off." Her tone is sweet to you, so kind. You're shaking at the feeling of her body heat behind you as she stands to allow you to stand.

Her hand catches your chin again, directing you to open your eyes and look at the poor son of a bitch avoiding eye contact with you as the whole bar stares.

"Fuck off."

You don't get to finish your time at the bar. From there, Dez tells everyone to get back to what they were doing and have a good night. Said with a big slap on the back to the person who had been flirting with you.

You barely make it to the bedroom before Dez is snarling and slamming you into the nearest surface- but of course with a hand behind your head to avoid impact.

You whimper as she captures your lips in hers, bending down to do so. Her hand grabs your hair, her other one quickly shuffling up your skirts to fit her large thigh between yours to cause a moan to gasp from you.

"My pretty girl," She snarls against your lips, kissing down your neck as she pulls your hair. Forcing you to expose your neck as you gasp out. Her thigh presses up harder into you, feeling how wet you are already and making her breathlessly chuckle. "Oh? My sweet Princess liked that, hm?"

You try to nod, but can't move a muscle when she sucks a bruise into your neck with a cry from your own lips. "D-Dez-"

"Yeah, keep sayin' my name, angel. Gonna make you scream it real soon." She promises, her voice sounding like a growl as she scoops you up to deposit you on the bed.

You hardly get one bounce in before she's grabbing your hips and tugging you to the end of the bed where she gets down on her knees in front of you. Your dress is shuffled up where you quickly hold the skirts in place to watch her helplessly.

She moans at the sight of you, her finger trailing over the wet spot on your panties and pressing with just enough pressure over your clit to make you squirm. "My poor baby. A queen should never let her bride be wanting, hm? How selfish of me."

Your panties are ripped off, tucked into her back pocket before Dez is quickly yanking you close to bury her face into you. Her tongue knows exactly what you like best, licking flat over your whole cunt before her lips seal over your clit.

You scream out, your hands finding her braids and grabbing onto them for support. Your legs quake as she presses forward, forcing your feet to press to her shoulders and effectively pressing you into a better, open position.

It works to her favor, as she quickly introduces a thick finger pressing inside of you just like you like.

You cry out when her tongue flicks across your clit, back and forth nice and slow before taking you back between her lips again to suckle. She presses in a second finger, curling them upwards just as she moans helplessly into you when you pull her hair.

You cum quickly like that, with her fingers pumping into you shallowly and her tongue flicking across your clit nice and slow as if savoring you.

"Dez- D-Dez, fuck, baby, please, f-fuck-" Your cries are all her name like a prayer, fucking your hips into her face as she growls into you again.

It's only then does she pull from you, not giving you anytime to think as she forces you onto all fours.

Two fingers slide into you again, her other hand coming below you to sandwich your clit between two fingers to massage it in time with her fingers fucking you.

You scream her name into the mattress as your fingers claw for support in the sheets. Your face buries into them, desperate to muffle your pathetic whines as your eyes roll back into your head.

You're over sensitive, but you can still make out her words behind you. Each one more claiming than the next.

"No one else gets to see you like this."

"What a pretty Princess for her Queen, hm? Not such a good little girl now, are you? Just look at how well you take me now."

Then finally, her hand leaves your clit, giving her enough space to lean over you as her fingers fuck into you still. Spoken as she nips your shoulder and murmurs behind your ear, "Beg. Beg to cum around my fingers, pretty girl. Let 'em hear ya all over the wasteland, yeah?"

Then Dez moves. Moving to lay on her back under you, keeping her fingers sunk into you and using her free hand to grab one of your hips bruisingly.

She yanks you down to her awaiting mouth, moaning into you just as you sob out and start to hump into her face and back into her fingers.

You know Dez doesn't need to wait for you to beg, pleas already slipping from your lips in a higher pitch with each swipe of her tongue. Each curl of her lips sloppily kissing over your clit in open mouthed, messy kisses with a brush of her tongue on each kiss.

You scream for her. Screaming her name loud enough to be heard outside the open window for sure as you cum on her tongue and fingers.

Your back arches, twisting your fingers in the sheet as your eyes roll back into your head. You don't even realize you're kicking your legs and squirming too much until both her hands take a hold of your hips.

Dez's strength in her very fingertips makes you shiver, sobs racking your frame as overstimulation winds into your bones. Tears bubble in your eyes, your body shaking as you whine her name quietly.

It's then that she slides out from under you, wiping her mouth off with the back of her hand before readjusting you.

She pulls your trembling form into her arms, cradling you bridal style and fixing your dress into place. You cling to her tightly, burying your face into her neck as she rubs over your back crooning to you gently.

"You did a good job, love. Not hurt, are ya?" Her voice is gentle, using her cheek to nuzzle at the top of your head. You shake your head quietly, humming to let her know that your reply is no.

"Good. Cause I ain't done with ya yet." Dez chuckles softly, kissing the top of your head with a turn of her head. Your reply is a soft whine, feeling how one of her hands cheekily slides under your dress to squeeze at your thigh.

"What? Haven't even properly bruised ya up yet. After a slight like that, I'm itchin' to tear you apart." Her words are a promise, despite her soft tone. "'Sides, we know you can take more than just that."

"You're going to kill me." You groan back to her, lifting your head finally just in time to catch her gaze. Your cheeks flush at how dark her eyes are.

How hungrily she looks at you.

"Not gonna kill ya," She promises, leaning in to kiss your forehead tenderly. "Just gonna make sure ya can't walk tomorrow."

And you know Dez. Her promises?

They're not ever broken.

---

You looked so soft and pretty. All Odessa could do was think about how someone like you could end up with him. She also couldn’t believe the rumors she had heard about you too. Apparently, you became Queen from fighting every wife Mason Howl had, tooth and nail.

The story went like…

“Queen (y/n) was an outsider. She didn’t come from the wasteland either. She got to the Reckoning and when She and Mason were the last ones standing, she offered herself to him. He accepted.”

Or something like that. Dez didn’t care. She assumed that you were probably taken from some wasteland village. Forced to marry Mason. She would liberate you. Then the Reckoning began.

During her fight, Odessa noticed that you had been staring at her quite fondly. Your fox-like eyes would narrow at her with an attractive smile. She likes the way your plump lips would curve at the sight of her winning. It was short-lived. Mason had tossed you to the side and was ready to fight to maintain his power.

From a safe distance, you watch your miserable husband lose. Falling to the ground as he squirmed and whimpered. You couldn’t help but smile more.

But now that everything is over…what about you?

Odessa went to you once the citizens began to clear out. You didn’t look like you were from here at all. You stood out so easily. She was surprised to see that you weren’t upset about the whole event. This meant that you were forced to be here, right?

You hadn’t said a word yet. You gave her another smile. Your smile was so pretty. Your fox-like eyes were closed but your eyelashes were very present. Long and full.

Odessa rested her shotgun on the back part of her shoulder with her axe in her other hand. “You, uh, don’t gotta stay here, ya know.” The bigger woman avoided eye contact. The crown on her head felt more and more present as she looked at you. This was…awkward.

“Why would I need to leave?”

“‘Cause, you don’t gotta be here. I’m the Queen now. He doesn't control you.” She elaborated, still refusing to make any sort of acknowledgment towards you. This made you smirk and you snaked your way closer to her. “…but what if I want you?”

Odessa perked up, finally looking at you in the face. Your beauty made her highly uncomfortable. What was she supposed to say to you?

“What?” Was all she could bring herself to say. This made you giggle. “Come with me.” You replied, grabbing her arm and tugging her in your direction. Odessa took one last look around. Almost everyone was basically gone from the event. She was supposed to go drink and celebrate her win at this time, but you gave her such a sense of mystery.

She chose you.

“Alright, fine.”

You led her to some part of Junkertown that no one else was allowed to be. She’s never seen it before. It was assumed that this is where the leader of the town would stay. It almost looked like a high-end part of town but every single building belonged to just her…and you. The two of you had been walking for a long time in silence before you finally said something.

“So, what’s your name?” You asked politely. You noticed that she was walking with you now in contrast to you pulling her to follow. She was definitely an Amazon of a woman. She was an entire two feet taller than you…but she didn’t scare you.

“Dez,” Odessa answered dryly. “Hm.” You half-smiled, not exactly believing her. “That’s a nickname. I asked for your name.” You uttered firmly, giving off an energy that wasn’t as soft as Dez believed you to be. She knitted her eyebrows together at you. “Aye! My name is whatever I say it is. I’m your Queen. I can have you thrown out like your lil boyfriend too!” She snapped. You could tell she was trying a little too hard.

“If you ask me, you should’ve killed him.” Your voice was still firm but it was sweet and generally nice to listen to.

Odessa would be lying if she said she hadn’t been caught off guard by this. Kill Mason Howl? What was your deal? Sure, he threw her family out. She had been plotting to take him down for years…but she wanted him to be alive to suffer for what he had done.

“Kill ‘em? Why?” The bigger woman looked down at you. You were nonchalantly unlocking the door of some kind of room. It almost looked like a hotel suite. “Because…” You muttered. “…those who are unworthy are unfit to live.”

Ugh. Eerie.

“The best thing about being Queen is the executions! But let’s not focus on him anymore. He’s in the wasteland.” You pulled her inside with you. “This is where you’ll be sleeping.” You told her. She looked around before shrugging. “Ain’t bad.”

“I’m glad you think so. I’ll run your bath.” You smiled kindly before disappearing into a nearby room. Odessa sat on the nearby couch. It’s not something she had ever seen in the wasteland or Junkertown. The stuff in this room was clearly made and shipped from outside of the town. “A bath? For what? I’m supposed to be at the bar celebratin’, ya know-?!” She yelled at you but there was no response. You emerged from the bathroom.

You were…

…naked?

“We are celebrating.” You replied seductively, finally making your way over to her. Your body was small but your breasts were perky with a heavy bottom. It was similar to an hourglass figure. You straddled her lap and were beginning to initiate before she stopped you. “What? Do you prefer the company of men?” You tilted your head in a cute way. Dez was as red as a tomato. There’s no way this was happening but she surely wasn’t turning you away.

“No.”

“Then what is it…?” You learned close to the Queen’s ear, whispering just close enough where she could feel your breath on her ear. You ground your exposed cunt on her leg. “You don’t gotta do this.” Dez gave you a worried look but still instinctively held you by your waist.

“Silly girl.” You laughed. “I was never Mason’s hostage.” You lowered your head and placed wet kisses on the inside of her neck. “Then why are you here?” She moved her head out of the way for the kisses and enjoyed them fully without even realizing it.

“It’s because I want to be Queen.” You narrowed your eyes and stopped grinding. You made a mess on her pant leg but Dez didn’t mind at all. “You do this with Mason too?” She frowned. You smiled deviously. “Every night.”

“So, it true you gave yourself up?”

You grabbed her free hand, guiding her to your thigh. She rubbed it tenderly with her thumb for a brief moment. You moved your hands up your body to your breast. Her thumb then brushed over your nipple and made you bite your lip just a bit. The faces you made were so pretty. Her hand then rested on your cheek, which you nuzzled into. “Gave myself up?” You said in a tone of disbelief. “That’s a matter of perspective. I believe I spared him.”

“So why not kill ‘im yourself and be the Queen? How do I know you won’t try to kill me?”

“Shh.” You placed a finger over your lips. “Does it look like I’m trying to kill you? Relax.” You rubbed your hands over her abs, going as far as to slip them under her shirt. She was a woman who didn’t wear much of a bra, so it was easy to access the best part.

Odessa exhaled loudly through her mouth at your touch. Her hands got lower and lower from your waist to your ass. Her big hands squeezed it firmly before jiggling it perfectly. Your nipples hardened and your pussy continued to make juices that wet the better part of her pants. Maybe this would be better than a night of drinking!

Dez couldn’t remember the last time she was with someone that wasn’t a whore paid to be there. She was surprised that anyone wanted to lay with her for free. Were you doing this because she was Queen now?

“Aye.” She called you but you didn’t respond. You moved the kissing from her neck to her face. The only thing she could do was turn red and hold you close. She wanted so badly to kiss your lips. “Why are you doing this…?”

“Don’t ruin the moment.” You whispered before finally pressing your lips to hers. “You ask too many questions.”

Dez finally relaxed, kissing you back and allowing herself to fall deep into your web of pleasure. Her hands on your body were more gentle than any man's would be. It made you feel different.

You’ve always heard the saying that it’s only girls that know what girls want. Perhaps, it was true. You pulled away from her. Her eyes were closed and her lips were still puckered and waiting for more. “Come bathe with me.” You whispered as you got up from her lap. You went into the other room but as you went through the door, you beckoned Odessa seductively.

You had completely disappeared before she finally got up and followed you. When she arrived, you were already in the tub. The water was soapy and had become too cloudy. She couldn’t see your naked body. “Join me.” You beckoned the bigger woman again.

“I ain’t gettin’ in no water.” Dez snapped once she realized the possibilities. You could drown her if you wanted, right? She’s been around enough to understand all the ways she could die.

“Aw.” You playfully pouted, making her lose eye contact. “Then maybe you can wash me.” You shifted inside of the water, causing her to see more of you. The suds covered your body so well. It made her want you again.

‘Fuck it.’ She thought to herself.

And before you knew it, Odessa had undressed and got in with you. You smirked at the situation. You loved having control.

Dez eyed you carefully as you grabbed the cleaning tools and shifted toward her. She let you wash her body, getting all the dirt and grime from being around. It felt nice to have a proper bath. Done by a pretty young lady, no less. She was beginning to really feel like the Queen she’s always seen herself as.

She found herself pawing at your breasts and lower abdomen. Your skin was soft and supple. Your nipples were hard and yearning to be sucked. “Wanting more so soon?” You questioned, giving her a small smile. Dez’s face didn’t change. She shamelessly stared at your assets.

“Just say the words.” You cooed as you gently cleaned her skin with the soft washcloth. Dez furrowed her eyebrows and bit at her lip before finally blurting it out.

“Alright. C’mere.” She barked, pulling you to her by your waste. You released the cloth into the water and held onto her for support. You felt her other hand slip between your legs. Her breath hitched at the feeling of your clean-shaven lips against her fingertips. Without warning, she shoved her fingers inside, causing you to moan loudly.

“Y-You like that, don’t cha?” Her voice was awkward. The statement sounded better in her head. Was she trying to talk dirty? You smiled seductively and humored her. “Yes, I do~”

“Make me cum, my Queen.” You leaned close to her ear. Your head sat in the crook of her neck as she fucked you with her long digits. “You’re so tight.” The woman commented. “Like a virgin.”

You giggled. “Oh yeah? Would you like to be my first then?”

Odessa’s eyes widened. She stopped for a brief moment and eyed you. “You a virgin?” This made you laugh even more. “No. Tightness being associated with virginity is a common misconception.” You told her. “Real women will always be tight.”

You didn’t want to hear anything else from her. You closed the distance and kissed her again. You had already succeeded in leaving your mark on her. Now she would never let you go. She pulled away from you and reattached her lips to your erect nipples. Her tongue did wonders for you, making you finish much sooner than you expected. She hasn’t even done oral for you yet.

“You please me.” You patted her head, almost like a dog. A person like her saw this as affectionate. To anyone else? Who knows.

You looked so beautiful with a euphoric expression from creaming like that. It made her wonder something, though. She didn’t exactly feel special once she processed the situation. “Aye.” She barked at you. “Yes?” You answered sweetly, rubbing her cheek with your thumb. “You’d do this if someone else won too, right?”

“If I said yes, would that be bad?” You tilted your head in a cute way. She wanted to be upset but she couldn’t. You were just too pretty. “I dunno.” She muttered.

You narrowed your eyes at her but your smile didn’t fade. You grabbed her face by her jaw, making her look at you. “You have power and I want to be the Queen. I killed for this crown.” You hissed. This was so unexpected from your gentle nature. “Lose a Reckoning and you’ll never see me again.”

You expected Odessa to be upset or even afraid of your actions…but she wasn’t. She smirked at you before giving you a hardy laugh.

You wake with a start, the vision of a beast at the forefront of your mind. Bolting into an upright position, you blink several times as you attempt to regain your senses. At the same moment you realize you're sitting in a small bedroom that is not your own, you feel a shiver wrack through your body. You're covered in sweat, but you're absolutely freezing. Glancing down you find yourself naked above the waist, a dingy white sheet covering your lower half which you can feel at least includes underwear, but that's it. Nausea hits hard at the understanding that you're sitting, almost entirely nude, in someone else's bed. Though you should be thrilled that you are somehow miraculously still alive after that nightmarish encounter, you're terrified to discover who found you, brought you to their bedroom and then stripped you of your clothes.

Taking a quick scan around the room, it appears to be empty of any other occupants. Maybe the owner left. Maybe you can find your clothes and leave before they return. Another pass and you come up short. No sign of your clothes, or anyone's for that matter. However, you do spot a small dresser against the wall opposite the foot of the bed. Trying to be quick about it, you swing your legs over the edge of the bed and immediately stand. Your bare feet barely touch the cold wood floor when the side of your head throbs with dizzying pain and you fall back to the bed, landing flat on your back and subsequently on your very fresh wounds.

Excruciatingly sharp pain sears across the entirety of your back, ripping a high pitched scream from your hoarse throat. Rolling onto your front, several sobs wrack your body as your eyes screw shut and the pain pulses in sync with your heartbeat. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment. Burying your face in the mattress, you claw helplessly at the sheets while riding out the remaining aftershocks.

Just as you're starting to feel numb again, you hear the sound of a door quickly opening then slamming shut over your quiet whimpers. Lifting your head off the mattress as much as you can manage with how completely drained you feel now, your teary eyes only pick up on a large, dark form steadily approaching you. It disappears to your side, just out of your periphery and you give up on your attempt to hold your head up, letting the side of your face crash back down on the mattress.

Heavy footfalls register in your buzzing ears and you feel the bed shift as someone clearly larger than you sits beside your legs from where they hang partially over the edge.

"You need to lie still."

That gruff, yet undeniably feminine, voice sounds terribly familiar, too unique to be just anybody. It's a woman. A large, commanding woman. Your heart sinks.

Sevika .

Oh god no.

You're lying face down, in just your underwear, on Sevika's bed. What in Janna's name had you done to deserve all this? You're half tempted to beg her to throw you back to the wolves- humans- frightening hybrid?- whatever they were. To put you out of your misery.

"You need new bandage-"

"I need my clothes and I need to leave," you interject, and though you tried to sound demanding, it came out embarrassingly pathetic with how you choked as another wave of pain spread simultaneously from your head and back.

Her short, low, condescending chuckle has you gritting your teeth, biting back a nasty retort.

"You're not going anywhere, sweetheart," she sneers.

There’s that damn pet name again.

The bed shifts once more as she stands. She appears in your periphery again, and this time your vision is clear enough to make out her dark red cloak as she passes by.

"I want a shirt," you insist, "and pants."

Another chuckle, and fuck if your mind doesn't take note of how pleasantly rich it sounds. Just like her undeniably pleasant voice.

"I'm not taking your shirt off every time I have to clean your wounds. And you can have some pants once you're done soiling my bed sheets with your sweat."

She's gone from your line of sight again, but you hear her footsteps continue into another room. The sound of water running hits your ears. She must be in the bathroom. Slowly, carefully, you push yourself up on your forearms, and pull further onto the bed until you're lying with your head on a pillow. Facing the door that you assume leads to the bathroom, you catch sight of the spot you must have been lying in before waking. There are four very definitive lines of blood staining the sheets, perfectly aligned with where the beast's claws had torn through the flesh across your back.

You have so many questions, but judging by how dodgy Sevika’s responses are to your demands, you’re pretty sure she’s not the one to ask, but what other choice do you have?

Your thoughts are interrupted as she strides back into the bedroom carrying what looked to be a roll of bandages and a small bucket.

"Why am I here?"

"You're injured," she replies, walking to your other side and out of your view.

Stating the obvious rather than answering the question. Lovely.

"I can get help from Piltover doctors."

"Not gonna happen."

You hear a chair scrape across the floor followed by the slosh of water as something, presumably the bucket, is set on the bed beside your waist.

"Why the hell not?" You snap, turning your head on the pillow so you can glare up at her.

"Need to keep an eye on you."

Mouth open and ready to reprimand her for dancing around all your questions, all that comes out is a shriek of pain as she rips off one of the very long, very painfully attached bandages. Your eyes shut tight and you choke back a whimper. When you open them again, unable to hide your pained expression despite your best efforts to look as peeved as you are, you catch her smug smile faltering, slipping into concern when she notices just how much pain you're in. She's quick to school her expression into something more stoic, but you know what you saw flash in her eyes. Those gray eyes remain focused on your back as she wets the next bandage with a cloth from the bucket, this time removing it much more carefully.

It would appear she doesn't want to hurt you at least. She saved your life and is trying to care for you. Yet here you are hurtling questions and demands at her without even a thank you. Guilt settles in your stomach and the nausea returns.

"I'm sorry. I'm being rude," you say softly, genuinely. Her eyes flit to yours briefly before returning to the task as she cleans your wounds with a surprising amount of tenderness for a woman you’re certain has killed far more than you wish to know. "I should be thanking you for saving me," you continue, flinching when she unintentionally wipes a particularly sensitive and deep section of one of the gashes. Rinsing out the cloth, she says nothing as she rises to her feet for better reach and continues to tend to your wounds. Odd how when you were speaking to her in a less friendly tone she seemed to have something to say, albeit very little, yet now, as you're being more respectful and grateful, she suddenly has lost her words completely. Maybe she just isn't used to topsiders treating her with respect and gratitude. You may not have much experience with the inhabitants of the Undercity, but you're more than aware of the disparities and conflict between them and the people of Piltover, especially enforcers.

Letting your gaze drop from her face and settle at a comfortable height, you find yourself staring at her midriff, which up until this point, you hadn't realized how exposed it was. Even with the cloak covering much of her left side, from this angle you can clearly see the right half that pokes out between her low cut pants and cropped top. Beautiful dark skin, taut over toned abs, slim waist and wide hips. Those abs flex as she moves over you to reach the far end of your back, bringing that stretch of skin dangerously close to your face. As if that isn't demanding enough attention, the v-line that drops from the curve of her hip and disappears into the front of her pants is entirely too… distracting .

Realizing a bit too late that her ministrations stopped at some point, and that you've been far too blatant in your gaping stare, your attention shoots up to her face. Heat rises immediately from your neck to your cheeks and clear to the tips of your ears when you find her watching you ogle her. You would have been much less mortified if she had looked annoyed, or just unresponsive, but no, of course that's not her expression. It's downright haughty, taunting even. Those gray eyes sparkle with mirth and her dark lips are pulled into a toothy smirk that affects you far more than it should, and in the wrong way. Given how ungodly hot your cheeks burn at that, you're certain she can see the blush. She only confirms it when that smug smile tugs higher. Again, you wish to be thrown back to whatever beast you'd encountered so you could be put out of your misery.

Turning your head to face away from her and hide as much of your embarrassment as possible, you opt to break the silence with more questions nagging your brain.

"So you saw those… things , right? What the hell were those?" You can hear her move the bucket to the floor before she starts to apply fresh bandages.

"Werewolves," she states simply, as if that is somehow obvious and just clears everything up. It does make some sense though, and the thought had crossed your mind, albeit not seriously. You've heard of such creatures, part man, part wolf, but never truly believed such a thing existed. Just figured they were something for parents to use in scary stories to keep their children from staying out late at night.

"Did you kill the second…" your question trails off as a memory flashes in the back of your mind. That werewolf's front left leg, or arm, was made of metal… brass colored with silver tipped claws . Sevika's hand, her left hand, the one she'd used to grasp your shoulder when she escorted you out of the Last Drop, was disturbingly similar and far too unique to just be coincidence. And then there was the beast's groan, the deep, pained sound of a woman.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Sevika's hand pauses at the top of your shoulder, near the end of one of your cuts and you're unsure if it's because she's finished or because she knows you've made the connection. A lump forms in your throat as fear takes hold off your body and mind. Warm fingertips ghost down along your side closest to her, tickling the swell of your hip before finally lifting away and leaving your body to tremble as a shiver runs down your spine.

For a moment the room is completely silent and although you can't see her beside you, you can feel her heated gaze on you, watching, waiting for your reaction. You want her to tell you it's a misunderstanding, a wild coincidence, anything other than the truth you know it is, but she apparently refuses to speak until you do. Opening your mouth you try to say something, but find you simply can’t. The room is suddenly too dry and you can't swallow that godforsaken lump in your throat.

"Drink, please," you manage to choke out.

Hearing her footfalls, you close your eyes, too overcome with fear to meet her gaze as she rounds the bed. Some part of your brain, and you're not sure if it's the rational or irrational part, says you shouldn't be afraid of her. She's not going to harm you. She's literally done the opposite, saved your life and treated your injuries. But some part of your mind also can't forget the fact that she's clearly one of those deadly beasts and likely behind many of the brutal murders. Even in her human form she could decimate you. Any why wouldn’t she do just that now that you know she’s one of them.

"You're gonna have to sit up if you want this," Sevika states flatly when she returns, and you're not entirely sure you can, not by yourself at least. Your body is somehow both aching with pain and numb with fear. Not about to ask for assistance from her, you attempt to roll onto your side and push yourself into a seating position without aggravating your injuries. Of course you fail, a short cry of pain ripping from your throat when you twist your upper body too much and in the wrong way. Closing your eyes and biting your lip to fight the pain, you feel a large, warm hand grasp your arm firmly, but not so much as to cause pain. Opening your eyes you catch sight of Sevika's metal fingers wrapped around a glass of water while her flesh hand helps pull you into a seated position on the bed.

Once you're sitting fully upright, she releases your arm and holds the glass out for you to take. You reach for it, but are mortified to find your hand visibly shaking and quickly pull it back to your side.

"Hey, sweetheart." Sevika's voice is low, but demanding your attention, a complete contrast to how you feel a calloused finger slip under your chin and very gently tilt your head so you're forced to make eye contact with her. "No reason to be afraid." 

"I'm not afraid," you lie. "I'm just not feeling well." That last part is at least true, but it seems she's not buying it considering how her mouth curls into a taunting smirk. You hold her gaze, hoping you look far more convincing than you feel.

"Did you know," she starts slowly, "werewolves have an enhanced sense of smell?"

You didn't exactly know that, but it's not surprising. What you really don't know is what the hell that has to do with your current conversation. She doesn't give you a chance to reply though as she leans over, thumb and finger gripping your chin to turn your head as she brings her mouth uncomfortably close to your ear.

"I can smell your fear," she whispers and you're not sure what affects you more. The fact that she can sense such a thing, or the way her husky voice and warm breath makes your body tremble.

She straightens back up, smirk still on her face and fingers on your chin. Your eyes search hers for answers to unasked questions. Did she notice how your body responded? Was that intentional? Could you really trust her not to harm you? Your distress must be apparent as well, as she tries again to calm you.

"I have no intention of hurting you," she states definitively. Her smirk is gone, replaced with a stern expression. She does seem sincere, and you remind yourself that she really hasn't shown any hostility toward you. The worst thing she’s done is taunt you.

Whatever fear you had subsides considerably, and you allow her to bring the cup to your mouth to help you drink. Parting your lips, it doesn't go unnoticed how her stormy eyes focus on them as she slowly pours the cool water into your parched mouth and finally clears away that hellish lump in your throat. You take it all, emptying the glass like you haven't had anything for days, which raises another question.

"How long was I out?" You ask when she pulls her finger and the cup away, setting it on the nightstand at the side of the bed. Realizing as your gaze drops to your lap that you are still in just your underwear, breasts entirely exposed, you quickly grab the sheet and pull it up over your chest, tucking it beneath your arms. Sevika, turning back to you, takes notice, evident by how the corner of her mouth ticks up just the slightest bit. You're not sure why you're being so bashful. She's a woman, with breasts of her own, and she's obviously already had an eyeful of yours. Yet you can't prevent the way your cheeks flush at the thought of her seeing you in a state of undress.

"Only a day," she replies.

Hesitantly meeting her cool gaze, you push for more answers, "So is your… involvement why you're keeping me here? So I can't report you to Marcus?" Your own question plays back in your mind and it really doesn't make sense. If she was just afraid of you ratting her out, why would she have saved you when she could have just left you to die or finished you off herself? There must be something else.

Sevika pulls out a cigarillo from the pouch on her hip, tucking it between her lips before taking out a lighter and flicking it open. You search her eyes for answers, transfixed, as the reflection of the flame dances behind them. Taking several short, quick drags, she pushes the gray smoke through her nose before flicking the lighter closed and stashing it back away.

"The sheriff is fully aware," she says as she takes a seat in the old wooden chair across from you, thighs spread wide and cloaked arm draped over the back.

"What?!" You ask incredulously, eyes widening in disbelief. In all honesty, you thought he was being way too nonchalant about the whole thing. And his refusal to accept anything you'd pointed out to him was certainly odd , but you had no idea he was actually privy to the situation.

"He works for Silco," she adds with a wide smirk, tendrils of smoke seeping from between her teeth. "Paid to keep his mouth shut and keep certain people from putting their noses where they don’t belong."

Your fingers curl into fists from where they lie on the mattress at your sides. Fury burns so hot behind your eyes you don’t even catch the little jab she threw in there. You want nothing more than to stalk out of there and tear into Marcus, rat him out to the council.

Rat… that's exactly what he is. Sneaky, dirty, no good rat!

"Calm down, sweetheart," Sevika chuckles around her cigarillo, "his participation in this is less dirty than his other involvements with Silco."

"What the hell are you talking about?" You ask, voice raised, "What's more dirty than covering up a recurring mass murder carried out by- by-" She cocks a brow, challenging you to finish that sentence knowing full well you place her in the same bucket as the other werewolves . "Beasts," you finally huff out.

Pinching her cigarillo between her fingers, she removes it before speaking again.

"Listen, I'm sure even you, a rookie enforcer," she doesn't bother to pause or even acknowledge how you respond to that insult. And if it weren't for the fact that she was finally giving you a decent explanation, you'd have interrupted her. So you sit and grind your teeth as she continues. "...is well aware of the type of business we run down here. Shimmer is our main source of income, so Silco has- someone constantly working on new variations to give the Undercity a chance at rising from beneath Piltover's feet. Turns out his guy created a variation that didn't quite go to plan and now we have werewolves killing without prejudice or care."

Brows furrowed in a mix of anger and confusion, you point out, "But what about you? You say without prejudice or care, yet you didn't kill me."

"I'm not the problem, I'm the solution," she states simply, but it only leaves you even more confused.

"Care to elaborate?"

"Can't kill a werewolf with just anything. You need silver, or another werewolf. I took an improved variation of that shimmer, one that allows me to retain most of my consciousness and control. It's becoming difficult to keep up though, with fools wandering off the beaten path, getting taken down but not out-"

This time you interrupt, patience gone. "Are you calling me a fool?"

"Don't like being called a fool by a beast ?" She asks, brow raised.

Your indignation slowly melts away, giving way to guilt, yet again, as you realize she was only returning the blow you'd dealt her earlier.

"I'm sorry," you murmur, averting your gaze, "I said that before I understood you were actually trying to help and not another one out there murdering the innocent."

"There's something else I think you'll want to know," she replies and you lift your gaze to hers again. "If the werewolf's saliva enters the wounds of a victim who doesn't die, it infects them, turning them into a werewolf within minutes."

That's an important detail, but you're not sure why that's so important to you specifically. And then it dawns on you.

You were injured in all manner of places between the initial fall and the werewolf attack itself. It had crawled over you, leaving many chances for it to have left saliva in your open wounds. Could have even had saliva already on its paw when it slashed you.

"But I didn't turn, did I? I'm in the clear, right?" You ask, praying she can provide the answer you desperately need to hear.

"Not yet," she replies before taking a long drag of her cigarillo, smoke billowing from her mouth as she supplies you with the clarification you were about to ask for. "Thick cloud cover blocked the moon for the remainder of the night, so there really wasn't enough time to determine whether or not you were infected."

"So what, I just have to wait until the next full moon to find out?"

She nods in response.

"That’s why I can’t leave?”

Another nod.

“Why bother? I mean, why didn't you just finish me off? Then you wouldn't have to deal with me. If I do turn, you'll have to fight me and risk being killed yourself."

Smirking down at you as she stands, she puts out her cigarillo in an ashtray on the nightstand before replying, "A mouse is no threat to a wolf."

Brows furrowed and mouth open to point out you'd be a damn werewolf too, you're cut off when she continues speaking while heading towards the door.

"I can't guarantee your safety if you leave this room. The boys roaming the bar right now, which leads to your only exit, will jump at the opportunity to play with a pretty thing like you. So be a good mouse and stay put while I take care of a few things."

Pretty thing?

She leaves no chance for you to reply, slipping out the door without so much as a glance back, leaving you with an overwhelming amount of startling information and feelings to digest.

Sevika doesn't return until hours later, though you don’t really have a sense of time. Her room is oddly without a clock or window. You wonder if perhaps the latter is related to her condition and its ties to moonlight.

You’re lying face down on your stomach, completely exhausted, achy, feverish and near passing out when you hear the door open. Forcing your bleary eyes open, you watch Sevika stride in carrying a tray of what appears to be food and drinks.

“Hungry?” she asks, setting the tray on the nearby nightstand and standing at the edge of the bed at your side.

You’re honestly not sure. On one hand you’ve been without food for at least a day, but on the other hand your stomach has been churning ever since you first woke after the attack.

“Not really, but I should probably try to eat something,” you reply and try to push yourself up on your elbows, clenching your teeth and fists to fight the pain and aching that pulses through your body.

“Need some help?”

Yes.

“No!” you grit out, pushing yourself further up despite your trembling arms. You're in pretty bad shape. Probably suffering from some sort of infection, just hopefully not the-

Your thoughts are interrupted by Sevika’s condescending sneer, “You don’t have to impress me, sweetheart.”

“Impress you?” you scoff, straining your neck to glare up at her, though it all comes out far less confident than you intended given how much you’re struggling to hold yourself up. “Why the hell would I be doing that?” You instantly regret that, noting how her brow arches. “That’s not what I meant,” you sigh, “I didn’t mean anything against you personally, I just- that’s not what I’m doing. I’m just not used to needing help.” When she simply keeps that damn expectant gaze on you, you finally cave. “I could use some assistance, please.”

Bending over the bed, she slips both hands, including her prosthetic, which you notice she keeps covered by her cloak, beneath your arms. Slowly, but effortlessly, she helps pull you upright onto your knees and you grip her shoulders to steady yourself. Too busy squeezing your eyes shut in concentration, it isn’t until you’re stable enough to open them again that you realize how close you are to her. Your face is just inches from hers, but what’s worse than that is the fact that your chest, still completely bare, is pressed against hers. Your eyes lock with hers briefly, but you're certain she has to see the way your cheeks flush. That thought is gone though the moment you see how her pupils are dilated. She blinks, averts her gaze and then her eyes are back to normal.

What the hell was that?

"You ok?" She asks gruffly, but there's an odd hint of panic in her tone.

You most certainly aren't in more ways than one, but you know she's specifically referring to your ability to sit up on your own, which you're pretty sure you can. Not trusting your ability to form words, you simply nod. She slips her hands away slowly as you sit back on your haunches, legs bent on either side of you to hopefully keep you from tipping over should you feel dizzy.

Without the sheet covering you or her warm body pressed to yours, chills wrack your body. Wrapping your arms around your chest for warmth, not to mention some decency, you glance behind you at the sheet. You're not going to be able to pull the damn thing out on your own. Turning back to Sevika to ask her to assist, you're startled to find her cloak removed.

"Here," she murmurs, and you swear you catch a glimpse of something soft in her eyes before you lose sight of her as she slips the cloak over your head. When her face comes into view again, it's the usual stoic expression. Unable to tear your eyes off hers, you watch as she straightens the cloak so that it covers the entirety of your front and sides, leaving only your back exposed.

"Thank you," you say softly, as if speaking any louder might ruin the tender moment. You can't help but wonder how someone so terrifying and dangerous could be so attentive. And more importantly, why did that make your stomach flutter? You must have hit your head pretty damn hard.

She makes a low hum that you almost don't catch, presumably her way of accepting your gratitude, and moves to take a seat at your right side. The bed shifts considerably with her weight and you find yourself tipping toward her despite your earlier precaution. Your hand shoots out from beneath the cloak to grasp the first solid surface you can find to prevent yourself from ending up in her lap. Unfortunately that surface just so happens to be the top of her thigh. Her noticeably thick, warm, muscular thigh- and oh lord why do you even notice those details? Blame it on your head injury again.

For a moment you sit there frozen, staring at where your hand sits on her thigh, and you can feel how the corded muscles flex and strain beneath it. Cautiously, your eyes raise to hers, fearful of her reaction. Her gaze is focused on your hand, but her pupils are wide just like they were when she'd helped you up. It's like she's fighting some urge. You'd like to think that urge is to smack you for touching her, but that's obviously not it considering she had the same response when she was the one touching you earlier. That urge is likely quite similar to the ones you've been denying, are still denying.

Pulling your hand away, you mumble a quick apology. She offers no reply, but she seems to relax, her pupils returning to normal size and she reaches for the tray of food. There are two glasses, one with water which you assume to be for you, and the other with a dark amber liquid. You take the water, but she catches you eyeing her glass as she takes it.

"Whiskey," she says to your unasked question.

Taking several sips of your water quenches your thirst, but you could really use a drink to calm your nerves, and maybe clear your head.

"Could I have a few sips?" You ask.

She quirks a brow. "You think that's a good idea?"

You know what she's referring to. Health wise you are definitely not doing so good, but you're more concerned with your mental state at the moment.

"I should be fine if I eat something with it," you insist, trying to convince yourself just as much her.

She shrugs and hands the glass to your empty hand. Taking a large sip you instantly regret it. It burns your already sore throat, causing you to almost sputter. Quickly washing it down with several big gulps of water, you catch her wide smirk out of the corner of your eye as it blurs with unshed tears.

"Shit that's strong," you choke out as you hand it back to her.

"Tried to warn you," she chuckles, but with the way she's eyeing you it's clear she's just teasing you. You smile back at her coyly, unable to deny how lovely that raspy little laugh of hers sounds.

"I thought you were just worried I'd make myself sick," you reply in your defense and watch in awe as she manages to throw back nearly half the drink without so much as a flinch.

Show off.

Offering the tray to you, she waits for you to scan over the proffered food. It's all foreign to you. Nothing like the typical cuisine you're accustomed to topside. There's something that resembles mostly fresh bread, so you grab a slice of that in favor of your other choices that you can't identify.

The two of you eat mostly in silence, save for the times you ask if you can have a much more timid sip of her drink. Either that drink is starting to work or your body is just shutting down, because you start to feel considerably more relaxed. You're also feeling pleasantly warm beneath her cloak, which when you turn your nose toward the collar and take a deep breath through your nose, you notice it smells quite nice, like her. Noticing how your right thigh feels oddly more heated than the rest of your body, you glance down to find her thigh pressed against yours. Your eyes flit up to her face just as she's finishing her drink.

“Do you call all women 'sweetheart'?” you ask without warning, your filter apparently useless in your current state.

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Sevika turns to you with a raised brow.

"You've been calling me sweetheart since I first met you in Silco's office the other day," you explain.

“Just the sweet ones,” she replies with a voice low and suggestive and a smirk wide enough to reveal those sharp canines.

The point where her thigh is pressed to yours is no longer the most noticeably warm. Now it's moved to the apex of your thighs, which you unknowingly rub together when she releases another one of those short, deep laughs. Though you don't realize you've done it, she sure as hell does. Her eyes drop to that point, pupils instantly blowing wide again. And you're not sure if it's the alcohol, your exhaustion or the onset of a fresh fever but you swear those eyes flash that same glowing purple you saw when she was in her werewolf form and she looks- hungry .

Oh shit- that's- that's so-

The heat that overtakes your body is dizzying and you start to sway from where you sit beside her. The room begins to spin and you have to close your eyes to prevent any risk of becoming sick.

Sevika must break from whatever spell she's under, because somewhere in the back of your head you can hear her muffled questions of concern, asking if you're alright. You try to answer, or at least you think you do, but you hear nothing come from your open mouth. Vaguely you feel the bed shift and her hands slipping under your arms to steady you before you pass out.

When you awake some time later, you're at least of sound enough mind to recall where you are this time. Lying stomach down on Sevika's bed, you blink several times, waiting for your eyes to adjust to the darkness save for a faint light seeping into the bedroom from the bathroom doorway. Turning your head to the other side you're a bit startled to find Sevika leaning back in the wooden chair against the wall, facing you but her head is limp against her shoulder where she rolled her cloak into a makeshift pillow. She appears to be asleep, her chest rising and falling with slow, shallow breaths.

Feeling guilty for taking over her bed, which is big enough for a second person, even of her size, you're tempted to tell her to get in. But as her soft snores reach your ears and you catch sight of how her mouth hangs open slightly, you can't bring yourself to disturb her slumber. Instead you lie there, smiling fondly at how adorable this brute of a woman is like that, and it doesn't take long for you to drift back into comfortable sleep yourself.

The next time you wake it's to the sound of heavy footfalls across the floor at the side of the bed. Eyes fluttering open you catch a glimpse of Sevika's cloak just as it disappears out of your periphery. Feeling considerably better, at least as far as the fever, aches and fatigue go, you chance trying to push yourself up to prop on your elbows. Seems someone takes mercy on you and you're able to do so with minimal pain, only a bit from the cuts across your shoulder.

"Did I wake you?" Sevika's voice is deeper and raspier than usual. She must have just woken up herself.

"Don't think so," you murmur, turning to watch her grab a glass of water she must have had ready for you.

"Drink?" She asks, rounding to your side of the bed again and offering the glass to you as you manage to sit yourself upright. Holding the sheet over your chest with one hand, you use the other to take the glass.

"Thank you."

"How are you feeling?" Her expression is stoic, but you notice how her eyes flit to your throat as you swallow several large gulps of water. Besides the way that little action makes your body feel, you're still feeling considerably better even after all the movement to sit up.

"Quite a bit better today actually," you reply, holding the glass on your lap and watching as you swirl the remaining water absentmindedly. "Seems the fever and body aches have passed."

She hums in response and steps closer to your back. "You need fresh bandages."

"Do you have a shower or tub I could clean up in?" You ask, realizing it's been at least two days since you had a proper wash beyond what she'd apparently done the night of the attack.

"Shower, but I need to step out so you'll have to be patient."

Raising you narrowed eyes to hers, you make no effort to hide your indignation at her statement. "I don't need you here to help me shower. I told you I'm feeling better. Do you expect me to just sit on this damn bed until the next full moon?"

"I expect you to sit on that damn bed until I return," she sneers, a single brow arching, challenging you to continue arguing.

Biting your tongue, you remind yourself she's just protecting you. She just won't say it in so many words. When you don't supply a retort, her lips curl into a smug grin and she heads for the door.

"Be a good girl for me sweetheart, and maybe I'll bring you something nice," she taunts before slipping out of the room and shutting the door behind her.

Good girl?

This woman is somehow both insufferably tormenting and insufferably alluring, and you're not sure which is worse.

After poking around the bedroom and bathroom, exhausting all possible searchable areas, you come back to the bed with nothing to amuse you and the realization that Sevika is a very busy woman considering the lack of personal items. It almost feels like nobody lives there. Feels more like the shittiest, most poorly stocked inn you'd ever seen.

Just as you're pulling the sheet over your chest to try for a nap you hear the door creak open. Sevika steps in carrying a rather large wooden crate full of all manner of items. Without a word, she strides over to the bed and drops the crate on the mattress beside you.

"Looks like you were a good girl," she teases, drawing your attention from the items in the crate to her smug face.

"And how can you tell that?" You ask suspiciously.

"Your scent."

"Well I smell bad because I need a damn shower!" You snap.

The nerve of this woman!

"Not what I meant, sweetheart," she replies as she pulls out what looks to be a black robe from the crate.

You watch her expression for a moment as she pulls out more, including several books, snacks and fresh bandages. Apparently she has no intention of supplying you with an explanation without you asking.

"Then what did you mean?" Your biting tone seems to go unnoticed as she empties the crate and sets it on the floor before answering your question.

"The sweat and- other bodily fluids."

You're not sure what she means by the latter, but either way those sound like things that would in fact smell bad.

"And those things don't smell bad?" You scoff.

"Yours don't."

She's obviously expecting a reaction with how her gray eyes dart to your face for a brief moment, then back to the items on the bed. And a reaction she gets. Blood instantly rushes to your cheeks. You really need to create some sort of Sevika translator, because every damn time you think she's being rude or nasty, it turns out she's actually being… nice? Maybe that's not the right word for this situation.

Unsure how to even respond to the unintentional compliment, you avert your attention to the various items in the bed and it dawns on you that she'd brought books. For your entertainment presumably. Again, you're pleasantly surprised by her thoughtfulness. About to break the awkward silence to thank her for the books, she speaks up first.

"I need to change your bandages- after you shower."

She notices your hesitation to move, your hand fidgeting with the sheet currently held over your chest, and makes no effort to hide her amused smirk. Picking up the robe from the bed, she tosses it onto your lap before grabbing the bandages and heading to the bathroom. Once she's out of sight, you let the sheet fall and hold the robe over your chest instead. No point in putting it on if you're about to get in the shower.

Entering the bathroom, you find Sevika sitting at a small bench beside the shower, lighting the fresh cigarillo currently tucked between her lips. You can't help but notice how yet again she's sitting with those thick thighs spread wide, like she needs to take up as much space as possible. Gray eyes meet yours for just a moment before returning to the lighter as she tucks it back into the pouch at her hip.

The shower is rather small, and not the cleanest. What looks to have once been white tiles are now more of an off-white and covered in various… blood stains. Not that you expected much more from the shower belonging to Silco's brute of a henchwoman, and you're desperate to feel even a little cleaner. As you step inside, you hang the robe on a small brass hook just outside. With your back to Sevika, you glance over your shoulder at her. She seems to be preoccupied with her smoke and the bandages in her lap, but you wonder how long that will last.

Janna, is she just going to sit and watch you shower?

Turning the shower on, you try to be patient and wait for it to warm, but you're craving that clean feeling so bad you step into the water while it's still tepid. The moment it hits your back, you're grateful you didn't let the temperature rise, because it stings like fucking hell. You bite down hard on your lower lip to keep from whining in pain. After a few seconds under the gentle spray, the sting subsides and you relax, at least as much as you can while you watch the disturbing amount of blood wash past your feet and down the drain.

Once the water running off your back is fairly clear, you grab a bar of soap and wash as much as you can comfortably reach quickly, careful to only use your left hand to avoid strain on the gash over your right shoulder. Before attending to your lower half, you take a quick peek over your shoulder again. Sevika's attention is on her mechanical arm as she tinkers with something you can't quite make out. Doesn't matter. Point is she's not watching you as you slip out of your underwear to wash it as well as your lower half.

Feeling considerably fresher, you hang your wet underwear on another hook to dry. You'll have to go without and just wear the robe in the meantime. Looking over your shoulder once more to figure out where the towel is, you catch Sevika's gaze just as it rises up to yours from… your ass? You're quite certain you just caught her staring at your bare ass, and she confirms it without a word. And not in the way you'd expect. She doesn't attempt to feign innocence with nonchalance. Nor does she look even remotely remorseful for being caught. No. Instead she intentionally locks eyes with you while her lips curl into a toothy grin.

That smile alone could kill.

Suddenly the water is not nearly cold enough for how your entire body heats at the way she's looking at you. And you must look like a deer in the headlights with how you stand there frozen and wide-eyed.

"Need a towel, sweetheart ?"

Her question, clearly meant to tease with how that rich voice of hers lifts every so slightly when she uses the pet name, knocks you out of your stupor enough to break from her gaze and turn off the shower.

"Yes. Please," you reply, keeping your attention focused on the brass shower handle, anything to avoid catching her gaze again as you hear her heavy footfalls approaching. Expecting her to just hand you a towel, you nearly jump when you catch her human hand reaching around your front side with the towel. Body frozen again, you stand helpless and unable to breath as her prosthetic reaches around to grab the other end of the towel before pulling it against your chest. She's so fucking close from where she stands behind you, you can feel her warm breath fan over the tip of an ear. You can feel the heat emanating from her body.

"Hold it."

Smoke billows into your view from over your shoulder and that deep, reverberating voice hits your ear so unexpectedly your knees nearly give out.

Shit. Get it together. What did she say? Hold it?

The towel. She wants you to hold the towel. Quickly, you grab the top of the towel with both hands. Her grip releases, and your front is well enough covered, but your backside is entirely bare. She needs access to your back though, and you tell yourself that's all it is. There's nothing else going on here.

She takes a step back to give herself room to work and you immediately miss the warmth she was providing. She starts working on carefully removing the first bandage, and you're grateful for how much less painful it is than the first ones she'd removed.

The silence of the room is terribly uncomfortable as she works on removing your bandages. If it weren't for the calming scent of her cigarillo, you might not have been able to handle it. You've had a million questions you wanted to ask her, and yet now you can't come up with anything to say, too frazzled by all the odd… tension between you two. All the strange looks, wicked smiles, flashes in her eyes, the pet name. But most importantly, how your body and mind reacts to all of it.

Apparently too lost in thought, you don't realize she's finished applying the new bandages until you feel something cold and… sharp ghost over the swell of your hip just past where the cuts end.

Her metal claws.

Your body visibly trembles, yet you pray she somehow missed it.

It was just a coincidence.

"Cold?" She chuckles, and dammit she's close enough again that you can feel that warm, smoky breath, feel her eyes on you from where she towers over you from behind. You're tempted to glance back to see just how close she is, how she's looking at you, but your knees are already weak, you can't take the chance of catching another bone melting look from her.

"Yes," you manage to get out, though barely above a whisper. It couldn't be any further from the truth though. Your body feels as if it could burst into flames at any moment.

"Arms."

Her command catches you off guard, but as you glance to your left side, you see her holding out the robe for you. Helping you slip into it one arm at a time so you can still hold the towel, she gently pulls it up over your back, letting it sit along the top of your shoulders and close to your neck. She lingers close to you just long enough for you to forget how to breathe, fearful she's going to wait for you to drop your towel so you can cover your front with the robe.

When she finally steps away, her footsteps growing quieter, you release the breath you'd been holding. Removing the towel, you wrap the robe around your front and secure it with the tie around your waist. Despite how tight you pulled it across your chest, it does nothing to hide your cleavage. And why that bothers you so damn much, you're still not entirely sure.

That night, or what you are presuming to be night based on your circadian rhythm, you set down one of the books Sevika had brought you, eyes far too heavy to stay awake any longer.

Sevika, who had come back not long ago after disappearing for a good chunk of the day, sits on the wooden chair beside the bed counting what you assume are earnings from whatever she'd been doing that day. Something you'd probably be better off not knowing. Glass of whiskey in one hand and a cigarillo between her lips, her gray eyes lift to you when she catches your movement.

"I'm exhausted," you offer to her unspoken question, evident by her arched brow, "Gonna call it a night."

Lying on your stomach, you struggle to grasp the sheet at your feet to pull it over your back.

When you feel the sheet suddenly moving on its own, you turn your head to find Sevika bent over you, pulling it up for you.

"Thank you."

She says nothing, but you notice how her eyes catch yours briefly before darting away. You realize, as she puts out her cigarillo and sits back in that hard ass chair, that she intends to sleep there again.

"You know you can sleep in your bed. There's plenty of room and it won't bother me."

Both her dark brows raise this time and you can't hide the smile that tugs at your lips. Apparently she was not expecting that. She's quick to school her expression though, gray eyes glancing to the empty side of the bed, then back to you.

"Not a good idea, sweetheart."

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

"Why not?" You ask, brows furrowed in confusion.

"It means it's not a good idea."

There's something in those stormy eyes that you can't quite make out, but she's clearly fighting something. Snapping you in two for being so much trouble? That's what you'd like to think, but you're pretty sure it's something else. But she's also clearly not going to explain herself. And frankly, you're too tired to play twenty questions to get the answer out of her.

"Just get in the damn bed," you insist, "I can't stand watching you try to sleep in that awful chair." That seems to snap her out of whatever she's lost in. She makes some sort of frustrated growling nose, rises from her seat, and stalks over to the other side of the bed.

Feeling the bed shift as she sits at the edge of the bed, you're tempted to turn your head to watch her, but when you hear her steel-toe boots hit the floor one at a time, you realize she's undressing. To what extent she'll strip down you're not sure, but as you consider the possibility that more of that rich brown skin could be exposed, the temptation becomes too much.

Confident her back is still turned to you, you take a quick peek and instantly regret it. She is, in fact, still turned away, but she's pulling off her leather vest, leaving her upper half in only a strapless bra. You're awestruck at the sight. There's so much skin and muscle covering her back, human shoulder and arm you're not sure where to look. Then you spot the lightning shaped blue scars that travel clear down her left side before fading a few inches above the waist of her pants, and all you can think about is how it would feel to trace every single one with your fingers. If you didn't know any better you'd swear the temperature in the room kicked up several notches.

Too enthralled with how gorgeous she is, you fail to notice that she's turned her head to peer over her shoulder. At least not until your eyes travel back up to towards her neck and you catch the pair of stormy eyes on yours.

Shit.

Unlike Sevika, you aren't so comfortable with being caught openly gaping at someone you've only just met days ago. Even though it's far too late to play that off as accidental, you quickly turn your head away and lie back down on your pillow. At least maybe she can't see your damn blush.

For several, long beats, she's silent and still, and it's pure torture.

Is this why she thought this wouldn't be a good idea?

The sound of her belt buckle reaches your ear and you're not sure whether you're relieved she seems to have decided to disregard your ogling or feeling worse with the knowledge that she's now working to remove her pants. As you hear the zipper drop and the bed move as she stands, you manage to keep your eyes to yourself this time. The mattress shifts one final time as she finally slips onto it and under the sheets before turning off the small bedside lamp.

Despite your mind racing over the rollercoaster of events over the past few days and what was to come, it doesn't take long for the exhaustion to kick in and for you to drift off to sleep.

Lying on your back in a small clearing among a mass of soaring evergreen trees, the full moon disappears from your sight, blocked by the face of a wolf. A large, growling, werewolf with purple eyes that are currently transfixed on yours. You're trapped, unable to move, and frozen beneath it as it slowly stalks closer and it's shadow overtakes your body. Your heart rate spikes and your breaths become shallow. But none of this stems from fear. It's something else entirely, yet it takes over every part of you all the same.

Unable to break your eyes from that of the beast's, you're only able to make out the large paw and metal hand that cages you from out of your periphery. A trail of saliva, dripping from the werewolf's mouth, warms your naked skin as it creeps further over your body.

The last bit of visible moonlight disappears from your view as the beast's face hovers over your own, pupil-blown eyes never leaving yours. You blink, slowly, opening your eyes to find Sevika, stripped of her clothing, staring down at you with the same feral expression as the beast's. The same glowing eyes and exposed canines poking out from her curled lips as she releases a deep, possessive growl. And when she lowers her head, her face drawing closer to yours, you're not sure if her intention is to kiss or to bite, but your eyes flutter shut, willing to accept either. Or both.

"Sevika," you moan breathlessly.

Blinking several times, your eyes fight to adjust to the pitch black that surrounds you. Mind still buzzing from the high of your dream, it takes you a moment to remember you're lying in Sevika's bed, with her. Turning your head toward the side of the bed she'd been sleeping on you're startled to find a pair of wide, purple eyes staring back.

Lips parted, ready to ask her if she's alright, realization hits you like a ton of bricks.

Oh god. Oh shit. Did- did you moan her name out loud?!

The low, reverberating growl that leaves her throat is just like the one from your dream, only it's definitely real this time. And to your absolute horror, your parted lips allow the most pathetic whimper to leave your mouth. But not the kind bred from fear. It’s wanton, lustful, needy and so terribly obvious.

And then, in the blink of an eye, she's sitting upright at the edge of the bed, hurriedly slipping back into her clothes.

"I've got to go," she growls without looking back at you.

Pushing up onto your forearms, you fight whether or not to ask her why. Clearly it's related to what just transpired, but what you don't understand is if she's mad at you or, what seems more likely, herself.

But why is she mad?

"O-ok," you force out.

"I'll be back later," she says, her tone back to the gruff, more collected one you've become accustomed to over the past few days. Then, she's storming out the door before you can come up with anything else to say.

Not exactly feeling well rested, you let your face collapse against the pillow again with a frustrated sigh. As you adjust to get more comfortable, you notice the sticky, wet signs of your arousal between your thighs and wish, more than anything, to have an excuse for it besides your obvious, no longer deniable, attraction to Sevika. And for a goddamn clean pair of underwear.

You stand in the office of your superior, along with half a dozen other enforcers, listening as the Piltover sheriff provides a brief on the latest findings regarding a series of mysteries murders.

For several consecutive months now, there has been a seemingly random night in which dozens of citizens of both Piltover and the Undercity had fallen victim to these brutal, animalistic killings. It appeared the killer, or killers, worked indiscriminately, targeting man, woman, or child, rich or poor, several of your fellow enforcers included. The only commonality being how mangled the bodies were left. With sharp, claw-like tears in both clothing and skin, and canine, fang-like bite marks and gouges in the flesh. Traces of purple-tinged saliva found near the puncture sites.

"With body count up to several dozens and quickly rising, we need to act fast to locate and seize the culprit or culprits," Marcus explains, and you struggle to keep your mouth shut and let him finish, knowing you have useful information to share. "Considering the sheer amount of deaths, and the short time between several of the reported discoveries, I suspect we are dealing with multiple assailants," he continues, and you're visibly, anxiously shifting from foot to foot now. He takes notice, eyes flitting to your dancing feet, but he seems to ignore it as he blathers on. "We have yet to determine a pattern beyond what seems to be a once a month occurrence. Calendar date and day of the week have thus far been random-"

Marcus stops abruptly, turning to you with blatant annoyance across his face. "Is there something you'd like to share with us?" He bites out through clenched teeth.

"Sir, if I may," you start, taking several steps forward to the front of the desk, across from where he sits in his chair. The look he gives you says you may not, that he was being sarcastic, but you ignore out and press on. "I believe there is in fact a predictable pattern, a very obvious one actually," you pause, though only briefly when you catch his eye twitch at your last remark. Probably not the best choice of words to use with your superior, especially given you’ve only been an enforcer for less than a year now, but he really is only superior by rank, certainly not by intelligence. "Do you have a calendar?" You question, gaze dropping to his desk where you spot a small calendar facing him. Without waiting for his reply or permission, you reach across and grab it, setting it flat so both of you could view it as you quickly flip back through the pages. "Last attack happened here," you state, finger pointing first to the date, then slipping down to the lunar phase for that day, a full moon. "Prior to that…" you start, flipping back nearly thirty pages before poking at another full moon, "...here." Without removing your eyes from the calendar, you turn back yet another thirty, this time without speaking, simply pointing to the phase of the moon.

Finally lifting your gaze to take in the sheriff's expression, you find him staring down at the latest page, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed.

"I can keep going, sir," you add.

He rubs his temple between thumb and forefinger, and you're certain he's going to try to argue when he opens his mouth to speak. Not giving him a chance, you cut him off, "And tomorrow is the next full moon." Flipping all the pages back in one swipe to the current day, you pull back slightly, pressing your palms against the edge of the desk and allow him to reluctantly turn the page to the following day himself.

"And that's not all I've noticed," you continue, running entirely on adrenaline and ignoring how Marcus won't even lift his head to acknowledge you as you speak, clearly in denial of the knowledge you've obtained on your own accord. "The traces of purple saliva we've found on the victims has a muted luminescence very similar to that of the shimmer that floods the Undercity. I believe whoever, or whatever, is responsible has been under the effects of some variant of shimmer. We should start by investigating the possible sources of this shimmer, and set a curfew for tomorrow, before dusk."

Standing fully now, you anxiously wait for Marcus to speak, unknowingly tapping your foot in the otherwise quiet room. Unable to see your fellow enforcers standing behind you, it's still very apparent by their silence that they are in shock and likely just as anxious as you, though for entirely different reasons.

"So, let's pretend your moon theory holds water. You expect me to, in the span of less than a day, tell not just the entire population of Piltover, but also the Undercity, the people who despise us, that we are enforcing a curfew… on Progress Day? And then top it off by sticking our nose in the business, the main source of income, of the Undercity?" He asks, speaking in a slow, measured tone.

Shit. Tomorrow is Progress Day. You hadn't even thought about that, but it really doesn't matter. Something has to be done before more lives are lost.

"Yes," you reply simply.

His narrowed eyes meet yours and you already know what he's going to say. Fists balling at your sides, you fight the urge to cut him off again as he speaks.

"You're clearly not in your right mind. Probably overworked. Take tomorrow off." He says with finality, one that you ignore.

"Sir, we can't just sit and let this happen again," you start, throwing your hands in the air dramatically.

"We are not going to just sit and let anything happen. We have a plan-"

"A plan?!" You scoff, "You mean that bullshit of sending more enforcers out to slaughter?"

"That's enough!" Marcus hollers, slamming his fist down on the desk. "You are dismissed and relieved of this team!"

Mouth agape, you stare dumbfounded at the sheriff.

Did he really just kick you off this case?

"Fucking unbelievable!" You shout, spinning on your heel and storming towards the door, pushing your way between two of your stunned coworkers. Just as you're about to shut the door behind you, you hear Marcus fire one last shot in your direction.

"Make that a week. Without pay."

Worthless prick.

Lying in your bed that night, you glare up at the ceiling unable to sleep with the rage that's currently burning a hole in your chest. That stupid man was too blinded by his own damn pride to see the obvious. And that stupidity was going to cost more innocent lives tomorrow night. Well, not if you have anything to say about it. He may have relieved you of your duties for the next week and kicked you off the case, but you could do your own investigative work tomorrow. Maybe even convince some to stay indoors come sundown. The money doesn't even matter. You just want to put an end to the senseless killings.

Sighing heavily, you roll onto your side, closing your eyes as you try to formulate a plan. You'd heard the name of the supposed criminal kingpin running the shimmer business. Silco. He's an obvious start. All you can do is hope he'll be willing enough to hear you out. To share any information he may have regarding an errant form of shimmer. Mind racing, it doesn't take long for exhaustion to set in, and your thoughts drift and fade into nothing as sleep finally takes you.

The following morning you're up bright and early, uniform on despite being relieved of your duties for the next week. Your plan, to claim you'd been sent by Marcus to investigate the Undercity, will be much more convincing if you are dressed as an enforcer. Successfully sneaking past several of your colleagues unnoticed, you make your way to the lift that will take you to the lowest level of the Undercity, a place you'd only visited once before along with Marcus and several other new recruits. It isn't until the rickety cage reaches the very bottom of its run that the weight of what you're about to do hits you hard. Just as hard as the Undercity smog that invades your lungs the moment you step out. Reality rears its ugly head; you're about to traipse right up to the criminal kingpin Silco under false pretense and inquire about a rather deadly set of events. That is, assuming you can even convince him to grant you audience.

Thankfully your memory serves you well and you're able to locate The Last Drop rather easily. Seems most of the Undercity dwellers are still asleep, only encountering a few threatening looking characters in the shadows of adjacent alleyways. Either your uniform or your hand hovering over the pistol at your side is enough to keep them at bay. The large neon eye of Zaun over the entrance, even when not lit, stands out amongst the considerably smaller, more drab buildings along the outskirts of the lanes. It's rather intimidating, probably intentionally so, and you start to second guess your plan the moment you push one of the large doors open.

There are several shady looking citizens within, all of whose attention is immediately drawn to you as you step inside. Clearing your throat, you attempt to stand tall and hold an air of authority, despite feeling like the only prey in a room full of hungry predators.

"I'm here to speak with Silco on behalf of Marcus," you announce to no one in particular. Two of what you're now assuming to be Silco's goons exchange glances before looking to something at your right. Following their gaze you find two rather large and intimidating looking bald men standing with their arms crossed at the bottom of a set of stairs leading to a balcony. One of them nods towards the stairs, and you take that as an invitation to follow.

As you reach the bottom of the stairs, you offer a nod to the other man, who makes no move to allow you room to pass, forcing you to turn sideways to avoid contact as you slip by. Swallowing hard, you focus on your breathing to calm your nerves as you follow a few steps behind the first man.

"Wait here," he grunts as the two of you come before a large door near the end of the balcony. As instructed, you stand near the railing while he knocks. You hear a muffled drawl, "Come in," from the other side of the door and try to catch a glimpse as the man steps inside, but his large frame eats up almost the entirety of the doorway before he's inside and closing the door behind him. You try to listen in on the short conversation, but become distracted when you catch several of the goons below are still watching you intently. The realization that you may be in over your head hits you, but it's too late now.

The door swings open again, startling you and you spin to find the large man standing just outside, waiting for you to enter the room.

"Thank you," you somehow manage without your voice cracking. He, unsurprisingly, says nothing and you walk past and into what you immediately identify as an office given the large wooden desk situated at the back center of the room, just beneath an ornate green window set within an intricate iron design. The door clicks shut behind you and you're grateful that whoever sits in the tall-back chair behind the desk is turned toward the window because you visibly jump.

Something moves to your left, just within your periphery as you step further into the room. It's only when you turn towards it that you realize there is another person in the room, and you're awestruck by the sight. There, sitting with thick thighs spread on a dark red settee, is a beast of a woman. She's leaning back, one dark-skinned arm, including a bicep that looked as if it could tear through the leather shoulder and arm guard covering it, draped along the backrest. Her other arm is oddly covered by a dark red cloak that hangs only over her left side. A cigarillo rests in the corner of her mouth, dark lips curled around it in an unabashed smirk. Your eyes meet hers, stormy gray and full of mirth, apparently amused by how jumpy you are. She's just as intimidating, if not more so, than the two large men guarding the stairs. But she's also incredibly attractive-

"So the good sheriff sent you, a fresh faced enforcer, all the way down here by yourself to speak with me?"

The low measured tone of the man at the desk pulls you from your thoughts, your attention returning to the desk to find he's now turned to face you. And you are definitely alone in a room with two very scary individuals. Silco, you presume, though a stark difference in both size and skin tone compared to the woman, is terrifying all the same. He's lean, almost frail, with ghostly pale skin. What has you frozen and unknowingly holding your breath is his frightening left eye. It's a fiery orange set within a black abyss. Almost the entirety of the left side of his face is horribly scarred, but as you force yourself to look at his good eye, both out of fear and respect, you found that teal orb to be just as intimidating in that you're certain he can see into your soul with the way it burns through you.

“Uhm- yes, he did,” you reply, taking a few steps closer in an attempt to keep the heated gaze of the woman out of your periphery and from distracting you any further. “As you may already be aware, Marcus is leading an investigation into the mysterious murders that have been plaguing your city as well as our own. Something we recently observed was that many of the victims seem to have traces of what appears to be shimmer along the gashes and soaked into their clothing. As the main distributor of shimmer, we’re wondering if there is any information you may have to share that might aid in the investigation.”

Silco’s brow, the one not affected by whatever had scarred the other half of his face, raises ever-so slightly. “Are you- excuse me- is the good sheriff implying that I have something to do with this?” He questions, tone measured and his teal eye calculating.

You’re certain he’s merely attempting to intimidate you, but you remain unaffected. Or at least play it off that way, but it’s impossible to deny the amount of tension filling the room between all three current occupants, including the woman whose gaze is literally raising the hairs on the back of your neck.

“No sir, you misunderstand me. I’m certain you’d like to know who or what is killing your citizens just as much as we do. We’re simply wondering if perhaps you could give us the names of some of your secondary distributors or material suppliers that could possibly be misusing or marketing tainted shimmer. We’re working with very little information here, so anything that comes to mind could help us solve this and prevent further deaths.”

Regarding you for a moment, Silco seems almost bored, and suspiciously so given how dire the circumstances are for his people. This ought to concern him and drive him to seek assistance, even if it’s from topsiders.

“Nothing comes to mind, but I’ll be sure to contact Marcus should something arise. Please let him know that the Undercity appreciates his dedication to our well-being and safety,” he replies dryly and with finality as he picks up several papers from his desk.

“Silco, sir, please, there must be something you can share. A name. There’s a definitive pattern of these killings occurring on nights of a full moon and tonight will be another full moon. If we don’t act quickly-” Your plea for his cooperation is promptly ignored and sharply cut off by Silco’s low voice, which you note now carries a hint of irritation.

“Sevika, if you would be so kind as to show our guest out.” His gaze drops to the papers in his hand. End of discussion.

Tempted to press him further, your words falter the moment you hear the floorboards creak and catch sight of the woman, Sevika, rising to her feet. Not wishing to wait for his obvious right-hand to physically remove you from the premise, you release a frustrated breath and turn on your heels, marching out into the hallway.

Heavy footfalls follow not far behind you, and as you reach the stairs you lose your cool.

“You don’t need to walk me to the door. I’m well aware of where it is,” you snap without looking back. You hear the deep, snide chuckle behind you before Sevika replies.

“Boss’ orders.” Her voice is as deep as her laugh, and just as thick with arrogance.

Biting your tongue, you hold back the snarky remark that threatens to spill out. It won’t help the situation, and there’s no denying this woman could take you out with little to no effort if she felt compelled to.

The large goons at the bottom of the stairs step aside for the two of you to pass and you ignore the heated stares from the remainder of the bar’s occupants, heading straight for the large set of doors that lead to the streets. Sevika is still trailing not far behind you, and it only proves to further test your patience. With the door in arms reach, you just need to get out and cool off. You wrap your fingers around the large handle and pull the door open only to find it forced shut as a much larger hand lands just above your own. Clenching your teeth, you ignore the way the large bicep at the side of your head flexes as Sevika invades your space, and focus instead on formulating something to say that won't end with you unconscious on the floor of this filthy bar. Whatever remark you have ready dies behind your parted lips when you feel something heavy and sharp on your shoulder, just under the arm currently preventing you from leaving.

Your eyes drop to the offending object to find a series of sharp, deadly looking silver-tipped nails attached to intricate brass hinged fingers. Each one curls and digs into your shoulder, piercing your uniform just enough for you to sense the cold metal points against your otherwise fury-heated flesh. You're forced to turn to face Sevika by those claws and your eyes follow them in a mixture of awe, wonder and fear as they drop to her left side and disappear beneath the dark red cloak.

"Listen here, sweetheart,” she sneers, and you’re not sure you appreciate the tone she’s taking with you, nor the seemingly condescending pet name. You raise your eyes to meet her steely gaze, and it takes you tilting your head back enough to crane your neck given how impossibly tall she is. “You and I both know Marcus wouldn’t send a rookie to question Silco."

Setting your jaw straight you attempt to hold your head high and remain cool as she towers over you in a clear attempt to prove dominance and induce fear.

“You don’t know that and frankly it doesn’t matter given the situation we’re in,” you grit out, fists clenching at your sides. Her eyes drop momentarily, apparently taking notice of that before raising again to meet your gaze. The nasty grin that tugs at her dark lips pulls higher and she takes a small step closer until your chests nearly touch, caging you in further between her massive body and the door behind you. You realize that she must have ditched her cigarillo at some point and something catches your attention in your periphery. Letting your eyes flit to her left cheek for a moment, you’re surprised to find a series of scars scattered like blue lightning, running from just beneath her eye, clear down her thick neck and under the soft leather choker that’s wrapped around it. Her gruff voice draws your attention back to her stormy eyes.

"I suggest you keep your nose out of the situation , unless you're looking to get hurt." With her proximity you can feel her warm breath fan across your face, filling the air around you with the smell of cigars and whiskey.

"Is that a threat?" you ask, indignation written plain as day on your face and you begin to question that initial physical attraction that hit you when you’d first laid eyes on her in Silco’s office. This brute and her boss are clearly in cahoots with whatever, or whoever, is behind these murders. Either that or they themselves are directly responsible, and given that terrifying looking claw of a left hand she had, the latter seems most plausible.

"No, sweetheart,” she replies, her voice dropping impossibly lower and you swear you catch a flash of purple behind those gray eyes before she lowers her head. “That's a promise," she rasps a mere hairsbreadth from your ear. The tiny hairs at the back of your neck rise again and a shiver runs mercilessly down your spine. Something about the way she spoke those words felt like more than the threat you want to believe is all she intended. And as she stands back to her full height, you find yourself ensnared by the way her thick lips curl into a wide, feral grin, revealing two white rows of teeth that you’re certain each include a pair of excessively sharp canines.

That's… different .

It isn’t until she steps away, the heat that had been radiating from her body disappearing along with her, that you are suddenly aware of just how excruciatingly hot your body had become. The cool air of the bar rushes over the small amount of exposed skin from around your uniform, sending yet another, much more visible chill, through your body.

Sevika’s dark, short chuckle rumbles from her chest and fills the otherwise silent room, bouncing off the walls and singing in your blood-pulsing ears. To say you're pissed is an understatement. It isn’t until you hear another snicker, one that certainly isn’t hers given how distinct hers is, that you recall the two of you are not alone. Clearing your throat, you attempt to straighten yourself up, because apparently at some point your body had gone limp and you were held up only by your back slumped against the door. Unable to clear your head enough to form any sort of retort or even a farewell, you silently turn, open the door and slip out into the smog-filled streets as quickly, albeit pridefully, as possible.

For the entirety of your return topside, you try to convince yourself that the only thing grating your nerves is anger, frustration and maybe a bit of fear, nothing else. That initial… allure or whatever it was you felt when you looked at that woman, is gone. She's bad news.

You spend the next several hours at a desk in your small bedroom pouring over the past several months of reports, of which you admittedly obtained copies illegally a few nights back when Marcus refused to let you review them on your own. It seems glaringly obvious that shimmer is somehow involved. Nearly every report, out of some hundreds of them, indicate the presence of the neon purple substance on or around the victim. And after the morning’s questioning with Silco and his- enigmatic second in command, your suspicions only grew. The two of them screamed shady business, and of course Silco was already widely known for such, but whatever this was didn’t seem business related, at least not something an industrialist should be interested in.

Reading a particularly detailed report on one of the latest victims, you come across the descriptions of the gashes found on various parts of the body. They were reported to be animal-like, as if the flesh was ripped by large claws. And chunks missing, torn by large, sharp canines. Your mind flashes back to your encounter with Sevika, that brief moment where you swore her eyes glowed purple, the flash of sharp, oddly long canines, those metal claws she hid beneath her cloak and to top it all off, the obvious threat she gave you. It all absolutely reeked of foul play.

Not one to admit defeat so easily, you opt to take a trip to the Undercity again later to question some of the locals. With a new lead, you focus your interrogations on Silco, or more specifically Sevika. Does she frequently mingle with other individuals? Based on the sheer amount of killings, she can’t possibly be doing this alone. Has she ever just up and disappeared the night of a full moon? What about any of Silco’s other subordinates? Do any of them have animalistic augmentations or body modifications?

Needless to say, you’re no luckier than you were talking directly to Silco. It would seem that either the Undercity inhabitants are just naturally uncooperative, or probably more-so they have an extreme dislike for topsiders, enforcers in particular. This also, unfortunately, makes them less perceptive to your suggestions that they all stay in that night. Your explanation that the killings coincide with a full moon either fall on deaf ears or earn you condescending laughter and snide remarks.

Just hours before dusk you’re back to your desk, slumped over in your chair. Out of leads and out of time.

Fit with your enforcer issued pistol and a rifle you’ve only ever used for target practice, you stuff your camera into a small pack attached to the belt at your waist. Unsuccessful in obtaining enough information to put a complete stop to the murders, you’ve opted to do the next best thing. Arm yourself to take out the culprit, or culprits, and maybe save a few lives. Or at the very least capture some pictures that could aid in solving the mystery before another attack a month from now. Ditching your enforcer uniform to a) avoid being caught in it while off duty and b) don something more practical than the standard issue dress, you opt for simple fitted jeans, ribbed tank top, black jacket and some sturdy ankle high boots.

Glancing out your window situated over the desk in your bedroom you can already see the full moon starting to poke out from behind the clouds in the nearly dark sky. You need to move fast. The area you plan to scope out, a heavily forested area with a winding walking path, is a far trek from your home. That particular area seemed to have the highest frequency of incidences in Piltover, so you’re hopeful that you’ll find something there.

Heading out, you’re disappointed, but not surprised considering it’s Progress Day, to find there are still a large sum of people wandering all throughout Piltover. Many of them are drunk, which you’re certain will make them easy targets, especially when they do finally decide to head home late in the night, likely alone and unarmed. Even many of your fellow enforcers are out enjoying themselves rather than holding posts and staying vigilant.

It makes your stomach churn and your vision blur with red at the thought of how Marcus simply chose to take no action, just like Silco. That odd little similarity hits you and you pause just outside the edge of the entrance to the forest.

Is that just a coincidence?

You’re pulled from your thoughts when the single lamp along the walking path that winds in and out of the woods begins to flicker. Gaze drawn upward to the flashing yellow, you catch sight of the full moon as it disappears behind the clouds just as the bulb in the lamp finally dies out, leaving you in complete darkness.

Not wanting to give away your presence by pulling out a flashlight, you push forward nearly blind, stepping between the tall evergreen trees and further into the darkness. The cloud above passes quickly, providing you with just the faintest glow from where the moonlight sneaks through the tiny gaps between the tree tops. Treading slowly, carefully, you attempt to move as quietly as possible. Once you reach the edge of a small clearing where you can see the edge of the walking path poking through, you find a relatively flat spot behind a large trunk and drop to kneel on one knee. With your rifle resting on your back, strap over your shoulder, your hand rests over the pistol on the opposite side of your pouch. All that’s left to do is sit and wait.

You’re not sure how long you’re waiting there, but it’s definitely long enough for your nerves to settle and for the sweet siren’s call of sleep to reach your mind and body. Eyes and body heavy, you shift to sit on your haunches, leaning your shoulder against the massive trunk. It’s eerily quiet tonight. No animal seems to be awake, not even the insects. The only sounds your ears can pick up on are the occasional rustle of leaves when a gentle breeze passes through or your own breathing when it’s otherwise calm.

Another cloud passes overhead, evident by how that tiny bit of moonlight you’re relying on suddenly disappears. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear something heavy was taped to your eyelids with how difficult it became to keep them open. Maybe you needed to move to a different spot, another one along the path. Your lids droop and you catch a glimpse of moonlight. Willing your eyes open again, you try to consider your options. Your vision goes black again as you start to nod off. When your head starts to slip along the rough bark of the tree, your eyes shoot back open again. The clearing is fairly well illuminated again, clouds apparently passed. Just as your eyes are about to fall shut yet again, your ears pick up on something.

A rush of adrenaline has you wide awake as you hear the sound of crunching leaves and twigs just past the clearing. Somebody, or something, is moving just out of sight. Careful not to make a sound yourself, you push back up onto both knees, then raise one to place your foot on the ground in the event you need to run. It could just be an animal. Or it could just be someone taking a late night walk. But your hand hovers over your pistol regardless.

Something starts to step into the clearing, into the moonlight, and your heartrate kicks up a notch. Whatever it is, it’s large enough to be human, but definitely on all fours like an animal. Holding your breath you watch wide eyed as it steps fully into view. It’s covered completely by dark, matted fur, with a large snout. It’s reminiscent of a wolf, but far too large and the rear legs are oddly similar to that of a biped.

The hand at your side trembles and a lump forms in your throat. You’re certain this had to be one of the things that has been terrorizing both Piltover and the Undercity. A breeze sweeps in from behind you and towards the beast. It raises its snout, sniffing at the air and you realize too late that it’s just picked up on your scent. You’re frozen with fear when Its head slowly turns in your direction and its glowing, purple eyes meet your own. Large rows of teeth, including two pairs of deadly sharp canines, glisten in the moonlight as its face contorts into a snarl.

Shit.

Pulling your pistol from its sheath, you take aim just as the beast lurches toward you. You pull the trigger and at a mere twenty or so feet from your target you manage to hit its front right shoulder. The howl of pain that rips from its throat is unlike any animal you’ve ever heard, and to your terror the beast is quick to return to pursuing you.

Fuck.

Firing again, you manage to hit the other shoulder and this time you spring to your feet, ready to flee. Another yelp echoes through the forest, but it still moves forward, quickly closing the distance.

A third shot behind your back as you begin running with limited vision through the dark forest. Eyes focused on the ground before you, you don’t watch for the hit, but you hear another howl and know it at least landed, but the heavy patter of large paws crushing the foliage behind you indicates it still wasn’t enough to take it out.

Heart hammering in your chest, you fire several more rounds blindly behind your back, apparently missing as there are no more cries of pain, just a series of terrifying snarls and growls that are gaining fast.

With your mind racing in panic, you lose track of how many bullets you fire, and to your absolute dread you find the gun now empty. Stomach churning you attempt to pull your rifle off your back. It’s not suitable for close quarters like this, but you are literally out of options. Before you can manage to get the damn safety off it you lose your footing, tripping on a large tree root that you couldn’t see.

A startled yelp tears from your open mouth as you find yourself falling face first to the ground. The side of your head hits something hard and unforgiving and for a fraction of a second you see white behind your lids. Attempting to scramble to your feet, pure adrenaline is the only thing powering you as your lungs burn and your head spins. Then something slices across your back, shearing right through your jacket and top, tearing flesh like it's made of nothing more than wet tissue paper.

The shriek of pain that rips from your throat echoes through your ringing ears. Collapsing to the ground again, your hands reach blindly for the rifle you’d dropped during your fall. Tears fill your eyes and the dark objects that surround you spin and careen, making your stomach lurch.

Somehow, miraculously, you manage to find your gun. Grabbing it by the barrel with one hand, you roll onto your opposite side, swinging as hard as you can towards the beast now crawling over your feet. The butt of it lands hard against the jaw of the snarling animal from where it towers over your legs. Saliva and blood fly from its mouth, but it quickly recovers. Watching in complete shock, your heart plummets to your stomach as it rises, crouching on hind legs that are certainly not like any animal, nor human, you've ever seen. Pushing yourself up into a sitting position, you struggle to right your rifle. The beast raises a front paw that looks far more like a hand, only with razor sharp claws, and swings faster than your dizzy mind can process, but you feel and hear the gun leave your hands and scatter some distance to your side. Frozen in terror and without any other defense, all you can do is close your eyes when that giant paw pulls back for another swipe, and await what you hope will be a deadly blow so as to end this quickly.

A sudden growl followed by a pained, animalistic yelp hits your ears and your eyes fly open just in time to see a second, larger beast just inches from your feet. Its attention, thankfully, is not on you, rather it appears to be snarling at the first which is now several feet away and limping in a defensive arch around you and its attacker. Leaning back on your palms, you attempt to scoot further away from what is certain to be a brutal fight between these two creatures. Vision blurring and body aching, you're only able to get far enough to lean your left shoulder against the base of a tree, careful to avoid the gaping gashes that spread clear from your right shoulder down to just above the left side of your waist. A sudden sharp throb at the side of your head has you touching it gingerly. It's wet, with blood no doubt, right where you'd hit it when you fell. You're most likely concussed, yet another mark against you on this cursed night.

As the second beast circles around the first, you catch a glimpse of something odd in the small beam of moonlight that filters through the treetops. The front left leg, or as you're starting to consider it- arm- is neither human nor animal. Not flesh or organic by any means. It's… metal . Clear from the hand-like fingers to the shoulder, it's entirely metal, reflecting in the light of the moon.

What the hell have you uncovered?

Unable to tear your eyes away, you watch in awe and horror as this larger beast lunges at the first. Between your fading consciousness and their gruesome fight moving further into the shadows of the trees, you're unable to make out which one is winning. Not that it matters. You're dead either way. But you can certainly hear that one is fairing far better than the other. Though both are clearly the same type of creature, you can pick up on obvious differences in their snarls, growls and whines. It all seems to happen so fast, but your fear leaves you unable to grasp time. Not long after the battle disappears further into the trees and completely out of your sight, you hear a final animalistic cry of pain and then everything goes eerily silent. It isn't until that moment that you realize your breathing has become dangerously shallow. You're barely holding onto consciousness, and as you watch only one beast emerge, it starts slipping faster.

Head falling limp against the side of the tree you're barely leaning against, your glazed over eyes struggle to track the slow, stalking movements of the victor. Moonlight streams first across its left hand, which reflects back. It's the second beast. It steps closer still, revealing bared teeth dripping with saliva and blood. Body so completely numb, you can't even feel fear anymore and your eyelids become unbearably heavy.

You blink.

It's at your feet, sharp canines ready to bite.

You blink again.

It's over your legs, its deep growl reverberating through your entire body.

One final blink.

All your clouded vision can make out is the terrifying glow of two purple eyes mere inches from your face, but you feel the wet, warm sensation spill down the front of your neck and beneath your shirt as that mixture of blood and saliva drips from the beast's mouth. Just before your lids drop, you swear you catch those eyes turning gray for just a second as the moonlight disappears behind the clouds.

Unable to open your eyes, your ears ring with the pained howl that erupts from the creature and somehow dissolves into a human's- a woman's- deep pained groan that grows quieter and quieter, until everything fades to black.

You sat anxiously in the unfamiliar room. Your leg involuntarily shook as you scanned the area. Various types of posters and drawings were displayed along the wooden walls.

Your eyes landed on the coffee table before you, observing the different comic books and trading cards scattered across it. You let out a small huff, finding it amusing how dorky Ellie is.

"Okay, I'm ready," she says, turning to you and holding a tattoo gun in her right hand. "I don't have a tattoo chair or anything so do you mind sitting on the edge of my bed?" She asks, gesturing towards her bed.

"Yeah that's fine," you say, walking up to her bed and plopping down on the edge. She makes her way over to you, her hands in the air so she doesn't contaminate any of her tools. "Where did you want the tattoo?"

"On my thigh," you say, awkwardly fumbling with your fingers. She looks up at you, and you look elsewhere in the room. You felt incredibly intimidated by her for some reason, blushing every time she looked up at you.

"You're gonna have to take your pants off." she says casually. "Right," you say, standing up and starting to unbutton your pants. She averts her gaze around her room, obviously sensing your awkwardness.

"Is this your first tattoo?" she asks, trying to make small talk as if this interaction isn't already awkward enough. "Yeah," You say, shyly sliding your pants off. "What made you want to get a tattoo?" she asks, still facing away from you. "I've been wanting one for a while, I just couldn't find a good artist." you shrug, sitting on the edge of her bed. "Good thing you found me," she says turning around to face you, giving you a reassuring smile.

You place your hands in your lap, trying to cover your panties. You purposely wore a nice pair of underwear because you knew they would be seen but you ended up slightly embarrassed by your choice. Maybe it was a little too bold.

Ellie looks up at you, this time you hold eye contact, not on purpose though. She just happened to catch you off guard and you couldn't make yourself look away.

"Lay back." she orders, you comply and stare at the ceiling, your hands still covering your intimates. She gently grabs your wrist and moves them out of the way, taking the chance to place the tattoo stencil high up on your thigh. You look down and notice a slight smirk across her lips. "I like your panties." she says, causing you to become extremely flustered.

You don't say anything in response, you just lean back and continue to look into space. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." She says, removing the stencil and grabbing her tattoo gun. "Oh it's fine, you didn't make me uncomfortable. I'm just nervous."

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you."

She positioned herself between your thighs, unexpectedly pulling you closer to the edge of the bed so can work more comfortably on you. You audibly gasp at the sudden movement, but she ignores you and continues to adjust herself.

You hear the buzzing of the tattoo gun, followed by her hot breath against your inner thigh. She was significantly close to your heat, her knuckles barely grazing your slit, causing the hair on your body to raise.

You felt a lump form in your throat like you could hardly breathe. The needle suddenly pierces your skin, making you suck in a sharp breath. "You okay?" she asks, proceeding to drag the gun across your skin, causing a whine to escape your lips.

You let out a hum in response, feeling your panties become more and more drenched the longer she worked in between your thighs. As much as you hoped she wouldn't, she certainly did notice the wet spot growing on your panties.

The tension in the room was thick, you could sense her peeking up at you every couple of minutes. The lust felt like it was about to consume you, you couldn't help but squirm under her touch; partly because of the pain from the tattoo, but mainly due to the ache growing between your legs.

"Fuck," you breathe out, feeling slightly defeated. This immensely attractive girl was placed between you, inches away from the one place you yearned for her to be. You didn't even really know her though, she was just some tattoo artist your friend recommended to you. You couldn't help but feel humiliated by how obviously turned on you were by her.

You felt her knuckles graze you again, this time there was definitely more pressure applied. It was subtle but noticeable.

The buzzing sound comes to a sudden halt. You lift yourself up on your elbows and look down at Ellie in confusion, watching her set her gun down before grabbing a wipe and cleaning the excess ink off your skin.

"Are you done already?" you ask, looking down at your piece, noticing how unfinished it looks.

"Sorry, I'm a little distracted." Ellie sighs, placing a bandage on your fresh tattoo and removing her gloves. After discarding the trash, she comes back and places her hand above your knee, looking up at you seductively. You felt your heart thump against your chest.

"I can come back later," you say softly, acting oblivious to her suggestive mannerisms. "I don't want you to leave," she responds, her hand slowly trailing up your thigh. She simultaneously makes her way on top of you until her face is inches away from yours, her thighs cradling you.

Your body went stiff, your breathing caught in your throat. "Relax," she says softly, using her right hand to move a strand of hair out of your face. You exhale, letting yourself loosen up. "Good girl."

She hovered over you, her eyes jumping across your features. The desperation in your eyes is evident to her. She had been studying your body language when she was tattooing you, trying to resist the urge to pin you down and fuck you the entire time. She knew you wanted her as bad as she wanted you, so she gave in to her desires.

Her hand travels down to your core, massaging you through the fabric. You let out a whimper in response. "I couldn't help but notice how wet you were," she mutters, tilting her head slightly and watching you fall apart beneath her. Her eyes were dark, full of lust.

She slid her hand under your panties and slipped two of her fingers into your entrance with ease, causing you to audibly gasp. A moan escaped her lips at how snugly you fit around her. "mm fuck, you're so tight."

She pressed her lips to yours, the kiss was intense and passionate. You moaned against her lips as she continued pumping her fingers in and out of you, her thumb finding its way to your throbbing clit and rubbing circles against it.

She made her way down to your neck, sucking on the exposed skin. The pace of her thrust quickened, and you felt her knuckles slamming against your surrounding skin. A string of moans fell from your lips as you felt the tension wither from your body. Your moans and whimpers send vibrations to her lips, waves of bliss traveling through your body. She curved her fingers inside of you, causing you to jolt.

You felt an orgasm approaching, and you gripped Ellie's shoulder as your thighs trembled. She noticed how close you were and stopped, causing you to pout. She bought her fingers to her mouth and sucked your juices off of them, humming while savoring the taste. She then snakes her fingers around the hem of your panties, slowly pulling them off and stuffing them into her jean pocket.

"Come here," she says, flipping over and pulling you on top of her. You sat on top of her shyly, your bare pussy resting on her abdomen. "Come sit on my face." She demands, putting her hands on your hips and encouraging you to scoot up. You comply, adjusting yourself until your pussy is hovering over her mouth.

She pushed your hips down and buried her face into your pussy, her tongue swirling against your folds collecting all the wetness you left for her.

"Fuck... you taste so good," she moans against you. She sucked loudly on your clit, watching as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You grind your hips against her mouth, holding onto the headboard for support. Your cries grew louder and louder as she increased her movements.

She placed her hands on the curve of your ass, guiding you up and down her tongue. Unintelligible babbles left your mouth as she drew little shapes on your bundle of nerves.

"Ellie-" you cried, your thighs already shaking as she works her skilled tongue on you. She hums against your clit in response, wrapping her arms around your thighs to keep you on her face.

"Fuck, don't stop," you whine, your words slurred together as she continues to fuck you with her mouth. She managed to sneak her fingers into the mess, groaning at the way you clamp around her.

"You're almost there, cum for me." she says, coaxing you through an orgasm. Moans and curse words spill from your lips. "Just like that, you're doing so fucking good." she praises. Your body spasms as white flashes before your eyes, everything around you disappearing and pure euphoria consuming your body.

you continue to sloppily ride out your high on Ellie's face, your climax washes over you and she makes sure to catch every last drop of your release. You twitch as she uses her tongue to clean you up.

You pull yourself off of her, plopping down in the spot next to her. Both of you take a moment to catch your breath, sweat trickling down your faces. "How about we take a shower and then I finish your tattoo?" she asks, leaning towards you. "Sounds perfect." you smile, sitting up out of the bed and starting to make your way to the bathroom, your shy demeanor from before clearly absent. She lets out a chuckle at how eager you are, taking your hand and letting you guide her to the bathroom.

SFW

• Let’s be real, you’re most likely “the baby” of your trio. Eternally stuck between them whether it be on the couch watching TV or when you all fall asleep at night.

• Kassandra was the tallest out of the three of you, standing at six feet five inches with an attitude that matched her height. She never let you all forget that she was a very tall woman.

• You and Kassandra make Eivor tie your shoes for you both. She liked to pretend it annoyed her but you both know she didn’t mind. Eivor loved being a gentlewoman for you two.

• You were the “I don’t need a coat I’ll be fine” girlfriend, then later when it’s freezing out Eivor was the one who offered her coat to you because Kassandra was the “didn’t I tell you to bring a coat?” girlfriend.

• You usually do the grocery shopping, no surprise there. When you say you need a specific ingredient, Eivor gets the wrong things and Kassandra won’t get it at all if she can’t find it within five minutes. Once you’d gotten the flu and tasked them with buying the groceries. Well that was.. certainly an experience. You gave them a list of necessities and base ingredients that were a must to buy. They must have split up in the store to cover more ground because they kept calling you! What is this and where is it located? Was Eivor’s main question. But Kassandra? I can’t find it, do we really need it? Yes, you needed dish soap..

• Eivor is always focused on the functionality of things rather than their artistic form. Even with her poetry, if was to serve a purpose and prove a point over all.

•Whereas Kassandra can appreciate art and poetry for their physical forms and attributes while also asking the question of why? What is this work trying to portray to me? As you can imagine they were a pair to take to museums. Eivor was a speed runner, done with half the place in 30 minutes. Kassandra liked to linger, observe and give commentary. More so if the piece was Greek in origin. At first it was difficult for you to decide who’s side to take when going to the museum. But then you got into a rhythm of speed running with Eivor so she didn’t have to be alone. Then you both would make your way back to where Kassandra was loitering and appreciate the art with her. Much slower this time haha!

• Eivor is Norse pagan and actively practices her beliefs. Both you and Kassandra like to spy on her when she’s meditating and drink in her beauty in such a calm state. You guys think you’re slick but Eivor knows you’re there, she just doesn’t say anything because secretly she enjoys the attention.

•While Kassandra is loose about her beliefs she never fails to tell a good story from Greek myth. Though sometimes you swore she got the stories mixed up on accident, you never dared to question her. Besides, it was endearing to watch her eyes light up talking about it.

• Eivor gives the best cuddles, it’s a well known fact between the three of you. She’s just so soft and warm and you can feel her love in the way she holds you. You and Kassandra often theorized that it was because she’s affection and touch starved, so whenever she receives both she soaks up as much as possible. You specifically tried to feed that part of her whenever possible.

• While Eivor does enjoy receiving affection, she still has her own barrier with it, Kassandra was the same way. You just knew how to read their body language well enough to know when it was okay to touch and when it wasn’t.

• You enjoyed watching them interact together, how Kassandra would hold Eivor when she was cooking at the stove. Pressing soft kisses to her temple and teasing her about their height difference. Which promptly earned her a vicious sneer and an elbow to the ribs.

NSFW

• They fuck the living shit out of you. Their sexual appetites individually are monstrous to say the least, but together? A titan capable of destroying worlds. Your world to be exact.

•Some nights the sex is soft and tender, a direct reflection of how much they both love you. Loving caresses of the flesh and velvety mouths sucking wet circles into your skin. Those nights made you feel like the luckiest girl on the planet, because you were. You got to sleep with two beautiful women almost every night.

• Eivor is a hard top whereas Kassandra can top or bottom depending on her current mood.

•They’re greedy and it shows, heavily. They didn’t know how to share or take turns at all, one prying for your attention when you were busy with the other.

•It’s no surprise you like to watch them fuck each other. Who wouldn’t? Especially when they both were feeling extra dominant. That’s when the angry, damn near sex fighting came into play. And you just sat there playing with yourself enjoying the show.

•Then there are the nights when they rail you into the mattress. You own several strap-ons, all of them get used. Kassandra’s favorite to use was short but fat, effective. Eivor’s favorite was something she liked to refer to as her hammer. You can guess why.

• One of Eivor’s favorite positions was doggy, more so when one of you was on your back beneath the other, just so she could switch between fucking you and Kassandra. Greedy as hell.

Kassandra Individually

• When it was just the two of you and Eivor was away, she preferred non-penetrative sex. Using her mouth and fingers to churn orgasm after orgasm from your body.

• Yes, she did like non-penetrative sex but that didn’t mean she hated it. Clearly not because she adored when you rode her. Kassandra loved to wrap her hand around your throat and watch you bounce in her lap.

• Being from a Mediterranean country, meant she was passionate by nature. It showed itself in the way she made love to you, her sultry accent whispering filth into your ear. Sleeping with her always felt like you were sleeping with a literal god.

Eivor Individually

• Eivor was a savage in the bedroom, her favorite activity was laying face down in your cunt.

• Her specialty was fingering. Which you used to not be super jazzed over but the very first time Eivor shoved those lovely fingers inside you, was the moment you saw the light. She was an expert at it!

• She was down to fuck wherever you asked, the woman was a sexual deviant if you ever saw one.

“Yes, well I would have half as much work if people took my advice of prevention as readily as they took my remedies. You’re much too brash, Eivor.” You spoke, brows furrowed as you finished up before crossing your small hut to rinse the remainders of the green balm off from your hands in a wooden bowl of purified water. 

“I think I can agree with her on that one.” Kassandra piped up, earning a glare from Eivor who was sitting on the bench where you often sat your patients - that is until their wounds were severe enough for them to need to rest upon the low-down bed. 

You walked back to Eivor to swat her hand away from her face, she frowned at this action, retorting:

“It stings more now than when you first dragged me here!”

“I can assure you that an infection will feel worse.” You replied, taking a seat beside her and gazing worriedly at the wound. She was a woman whose neck had felt the kiss of a wolf’s powerful jaw as a child and survived and yet you always found yourself worried over any little wound she came to you with. To begin with, you had told yourself that it was in your nature as a healer, you had been raised into this work and so it was only normal that you would want to treat her. But, over the years, you had realised that you worried because you loved this woman and wished to see no harm come to her and should harm befall her, you wanted to be the one to tend to her wounds, you trusted no other with such a vital task. 

“(Y/n)!” A pained voice cried from outside and you leapt to your feet to throw open the door. You looked down to be met with fiery red hair and eyes reddened by tears. 

“Arth!” You exclaimed, recognising the local fisherman’s nephew. He was clutching a bloodied hand to his chest and you quickly ushered him inside, inspecting the wound to find that he had got a fish hook stuck through his thumb. “Out, ladies, out!” You exclaimed to your two guests, placing a hand delicately on Eivor’s lower back when ushering her out. 

***

“She likes you. A lot.” Kassandra hummed as she strolled through the outskirts of the town with the drengr. 

“I know, we’ve been friends for as long as I can remember.” She gestured to her neck, “I can still remember her little tears when her father was treating this. She told me that if I died, she was going to become the best healer in the world to bring me back to life just so she could kill me herself for leaving her.” Eivor laughed, making Kassandra smile. 

“I mean as more than friends, it’s clear in the way she looks at you.” The Greek woman replied. 

“(Y/n)? No, we have been close since childhood.” Kassandra turned her head a little to the side, crossing her arms as she paused beneath a birch tree. 

“I have met many people with many stories over the years and I know the gaze of a lover when I see it.” She replied simply with a little shrug of her shoulders. 

“You are mistaken.” Eivor replied, her voice not as strong as it usually was

***

“(Y/n)!”

“Oh what now?” You sighed, turning to see Kassandra doubled over and clutching an arrow at her side. 

“You two are a recipe for disaster!” You cried out, ushering them inside. Eivor looked terribly worried and you grabbed her by the arm to pull her in before reaching out to Kassandra. But the foreign woman simply smiled before dropping the arrow, revealing that the wound had been fake and slamming the door shut. There was a heavy sound from the other side of it before a scuffling noise and you spun around to look at the window behind your work desk, only to find that a rack of clay pots which you kept outside was being pushed across it to block your exit. 

“Kassandra!” Eivor exclaimed. “What is the meaning of this?!” 

“You two will soon figure it out!” She called before you closed your eyes, listening to the sound of her footsteps growing distant. 

“She’s left us… I’m sure she’ll be back after whatever silly little prank she’s playing has bored her.” You muttered bitterly, glancing up to Eivor. Your frown melted away though at seeing the remnants of the balm which you applied earlier. You sighed, gesturing to the bench, “Sit. I’ll clean off that balm and use a liquid to try and clean it a little better.”

“Why do you worry over such little wounds?” Eivor asked, plopping down into the seat while you reached for two cloths, one of which you dipped into the fresh water before wringing it out. 

“I’m the town’s healer, it is my job. It saves Valka the trouble and she uses that extra time to bring us closer to the Gods.” You replied after a moment of hesitation. You walked over to the blonde woman before you were standing directly in front of her. “And… I care about you.” 

Eivor’s blue eyes flickered up to yours as you carefully cleaned away the balm, your other hand cupping the opposite side of her face. 

“(Y/n)...” The woman began, you hummed in reply, feeling your heart dance to the tune of her saying your name in such a sincere voice, “Have you ever been in love?” And then it dropped dead upon that dance floor. Eivor had been spending so much time with this mysterious new woman, had introduced her to her best friend… surely she couldn’t be…? 

“Why do you ask?” You deflected, stepping back to fetch the second cloth, dousing it with a small amount of a strong-smelling liquid from a corked bottle. A concoxion you had made yourself. 

“I am… wondering if a committed love could suit me.” It seemed that the both of you wished to dance around answers. 

“Then, no.” You replied, “I am not in love.” You replied. 

“Not even with that pestering boy back in Norway?” She laughed and you scoffed, knowing exactly who she was referring to. There had been a hunter’s son back when you were young who had sought after your affections eagerly. You had complained to Eivor for days about not knowing how to get rid of him, hating such attention. She never told you just how, but one day she came to tell you that he had been dealt with and he never so much as cast a glance in your direction again. 

“Especially not him.” You rolled your eyes yet smiled. You paused, “What… What did you say to him that got him to leave me alone at last?” 

“I cannot remember.”

“Liar.” Eivor’s eyes shot up to meet yours, you stood before her again but those blue hues quickly scrunched at the way the liquid burned her minor wound. “I’ve known you all our lives, there is nothing you can hide from me, my dearest,” You paused to dab especially gently at her brow, “ friend.” 

“Did you do that on purpose?” Eivor whispered. Your fingertips trembled, your subtlety caught like a rabbit in a snare, being held up like a trophy by such a question. 

“I don’t know what you speak of.” You replied, your own voice also dropping to a whisper. You swallowed hard, setting the cloth down on the side and going to take a step back but a hand on the side of your thigh stopped you. 

“Sit with me, please?” But you turned around, facing your back to the drengr. You always wished to be there for this woman who you held dearer than anyone else in the world, but you did not think that your heart could take her confiding in you her feelings for Kassandra. 

“If you wish to pursue her, I cannot fault you. She has a dry humour that I like and is very beautiful. I hope that her more cautious sense of adventure can tame your brashness. You will be a good match.” The tears streaked at your cheeks that the words and your throat felt squeezed shut at the effort to hold the sobs in. 

“It is not Kassandra that I have eyes for.” An ember of hope glimmered within you before doubt stamped it out. The two of you had known each other for so long that you truly believed she would have confessed to you by now if she harboured the same feelings. 

“Then surely it’s not…” You tried to think of someone, anyone, in the settlement who you could tease her for at the expense of whoever the poor soul was but you found that you let the sentence linger instead, leaving her the chance to finish it. 

“...(Y/n), I have known you for a very, very long time.” A hand came to rest at your shoulder, hesitantly trailing upwards to brush one of your braids back. You still remained turned away from her. “I trust no one more than I do you, I feel at home with no one more than I do with you, I feel no greater yearning for anyone as I do with you.” 

“How long…?” She didn’t need you to specify what you meant, the both of you knew that you had been counting for a while now. 

“Five years and if I were smarter, I would have realised three years before that.” You finally turned to face her, eyes glassy. 

“I’ve loved you since a wolf stole the first kiss that I wanted all for myself…” You whispered, fingers delicately gliding over the tainted skin of her neck. Eivor smiled and you found your eyes trailing from the scar to her lips. Slowly, hesitantly, giving her every chance to salvage your friendship from becoming something entirely different, you leaned up on your toes, a hand on her neck and another on her non-injured cheek. 

She closed the distance between you, hands taking in the curve of your waist to pull you flush against her body, lips meeting sweetly. You cracked your eyes open for a moment to meet hers before they fluttered closed again and your lips met once more. 

Time became a lost concept to you as you practically melted, like gold, in the arms of the woman you had yearned for since you were both just girls. You pulled away but kept the closeness, nose brushing gently against hers. A final chaste kiss was placed against her hot lips before your eyes met once more. 

“Does this mean I don’t have to purposefully get injured to get you to stay in my room overnight now?” Eivor laughed quietly and you smacked her arm. 

Chapter One: Academic Dishonesty

D… minus!?

What the fuck is this? Why did you have a D-minus in Norse mythology? It didn’t make any sense! You cheated on the final from someone with perfect answers! Even the essay questions had been done for you, all you had to do was not get caught. Well either she caught you, or your go-to person for academic dishonesty was woefully wrong.

The fact that the final lowered your grade that much was insanity. But Miss Varinsdóttir said at the beginning of the semester, the final is the only thing that matters… and you fucking blew it. The only thing keeping your shitty grade from being an F was your ethnography. The singular project you had for the class that you put your all into. Miss V loved it, she gave you a perfect score and genuine feedback, but clearly it wasn’t enough to keep you from failing. Because let’s be honest, getting a D in college was basically getting an F.

It was your own fault really, getting into vacation mode for the end of the semester about a month too early. Dangerous behavior for someone who needed her class for their degree. But that’s what you’d done, and you didn’t study for weeks and weeks, and then the final rolled around and you failed. Despite the hours upon hours spent in your professor’s office hours studying with her and being a sweet little teacher’s pet. Apparently dick-riding the professor got you absolutely nothing.

Obviously you didn’t just go to her office hours because you had trouble with the material. You also went because, well, Miss V was hot. You had a thing for butch women, the way they walked and talked and just existed attracted you like no other. And Miss Eivor Varinsdóttir was incredibly butch. Her rate my professor reviews were full of gay girls fawning over her more than rating the course and professor. Very few of the reviews were serious, and those that were said she was sweet but a tough grader. They hadn’t been lying.

Professor Varinsdóttir was very sweet and caring, you could tell she cared about her students. She cared about you. Why else would she let some nerd with clunky glasses hang around her so often? It certainly wasn’t because she was attracted to you, even if you caught her peeking at you from time to time. Her eyes sultry and half lidded during lectures, but that could’ve just been your imagination. You often daydreamed in her class about one day stealing a kiss from her during your weekly visit to her office. Or crawling into her lap and seducing her with ease, as if she wouldn’t place her position at such a prestigious institution over you. Her favorite student.

A self-appointed title.

Still, you’d never have the courage to actually make a pass at her. Even if you were taking her more advanced courses, you’d never embarrass yourself like that. You never had the courage to do fucking anything around her. Looking the woman in the eye was like pulling teeth for you. Her bold and stalwart demeanor and attitude brought out your submissive side, big time. You were so shy around her still, and you spent at least three hours a week with her. Barely mustering up the courage to squeak out an excuse me, Miss Varindóttir? when you had a question on homework. You despised ripping her from her work, but when she would turn her attention to you with soft, kind eyes and say yes, kjære? It made you melt.

Yes, she was an absolute dreamboat of a woman with a pantydropping smile. But she still gave you a fucking D-minus. Maybe she’ll let you retake it if you beg her? It was worth a shot.

Timidly you peeked around the doorframe to her lecture hall, watching the class within file out, some discouraged and others delighted. Having taken their own final exams and ready to hit the road for winter break. There were a few stragglers, taking their time grabbing their things. Seeing as they were her very last class for the semester they probably didn’t feel the need to hurry. But you did. So you popped in as Eivor turned her back to walk back into her office adjacent to the hall. The shades were drawn on the windows that allowed her to see the hall, as usual, she didn’t like to be disturbed much, except by you.

Quickly you shuffled down the steps and past the short lecture stage just as the very last students left the room. Good, at least if she humiliated you it wouldn't be semi-public. Again you found yourself peering into her office like a little creep and saw that she’d just begun inputting grades into the grade book online. Crushing other student’s dreams and aspirations, much like yours.

She looked so beautiful, she always looked so beautiful. Lost in thought behind her desk as she scribbled furiously in red ink on some poor fool’s essay portion of the exam. Jotting down notes and then typing something into her laptop. It was a bit old fashioned to hand grade every paper, but Miss V was just like that though, technologically illiterate most of the time. She was your only professor who graded that way, but in doing so, it made the class more intimate.

Sometimes you thought that’s why she kept you around, because the amount of times you’d had to help her copy and paste something was ridiculous. Yet oh so adorable, especially when she made the sweetest pout with pink dusted cheeks in shame of her technological illiteracy. It made you wanna kiss her. Even now when she looked fucking pissed, with that withering scowl on her face, you wanted to kiss her. But instead, you’d settle for a C at best, a kiss could come later.

“Uh, hey... professor Varinsdóttir? I just have a question?”

At the sound of your timid voice in her doorway, her gaze snapped to you, brows knitted together to form a severe blonde frown. Those cold blue eyes, which normally softened at the sight of you shivering in her doorway, remained stern. If anything, your presence only seemed to make her more frustrated. Still, she put the pen and paper aside to greet you properly.

“Yes darling, please sit.” Oh… she looked mad and disappointed. Did it have something to do with you or was it about the paper in front of her? Either way the tense aura radiating off her set you on edge. More on edge than you already were. Your glasses were pushed up your nose anxiously as you entered the room and shut the door behind you. If she was gonna yell at you or something you didn’t need the entire campus to hear it.

Were her eyes more intense than usual? You always cowered in her presence when she looked at you, it was involuntary really, but today it was more.. potent. Still, you managed to get yourself situated in the spot you normally took up, the chair directly in front of her desk. Her eyes followed your every move, and it was so very unsettling. You fidgeted with the fringe hanging off the rips in your jeans in an attempt to calm your nerves.

Alright, here goes...

“So I noticed I got a D on my final exam? Um... Can I ask why..?”

A single blonde brow rose, as if she were befuddled by the question. As if you were idiotic for even asking. Oh god, what did you do? She’s never looked at you like that!

Eivor took a moment to flick her frosty orbs over you before she spoke. Her tone was completely professional but the words still made your blood freeze.

“Perhaps you should be the one telling me why instead.”

Oh god-oh fuck-shit-

“...What do you mean..?” The words came out far more calm than you thought they would. Internally your mind was screaming at you not to panic. Maybe she just meant it in the teacher way? Like you should’ve done better because you know the material..? But the way her eyes narrowed at you told you otherwise.

“Do you take me for a fool?” Oh holy fuck she knows! How does she know!? You hid it so well! Okay just keep up the dumb student facade and maybe she’ll be convinced? It was a long shot but it was all you had. Shakily, your index finger rose to push your glasses up your nose again. Your eyes fell for a moment, to look anxiously at the wood of her desk, before timidly meeting hers once more. Only to stammer pathetically under the severity of her gaze.

“I… I’m not sure I follow..” Your professor’s eyes hardened at the answer you gave and a bit of disappointment flitted through her irises. Her brows pulled down into another withering scowl as she pushed aside the other students' paper.

“Kjære, I know you cheated.”

Fucking shit, this was so bad. So, so, so bad. She could get you expelled, she could fail you! She basically already did, a D was a terrible grade! You needed an A to keep your GPA up, or else you would lose it all. Your scholarships, everything, all your financial aid, gone.

How could she do this to you? Did she want you to start fucking begging because you would! That would be pathetic and humiliating but having a failing grade on your transcript was even worse. Your hands gripped the sides of the chair, hard, in an attempt to keep yourself from crying. Even though crying would’ve probably softened her heart for you to worm your way into. At the same time though, bursting into tears like an idiot would basically be a full confession. No, you couldn’t confess, just keep lying.

“What? I-I would never! I-“

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not fucking lying!” Your voice sounded so desperate for her to believe you. On the verge of tears, you couldn’t lose her respect, her approval. It was what you lived for, ever since you met her all you did was fiend for a simple good job. When she gave it to you, time and time again for your hard work, it gave you an addiction to pleasing her. Just to hear those fucking words. To tarnish your reputation with her… it would be the end of your world.

Your eyebrows were knit together at the top, eyes sparkling, begging her to please believe you. Even if it was a total lie and you did cheat like a motherfucker on this exam. The pathetic look you were giving her did little to change her expression, she just watched you for a few moments more. It was tense, and you could hardly look her in the eyes for more than a millisecond. Your tell, your Achilles heel, eye contact with Miss Varinsdóttir. It was your kryptonite, and she knew it.

“Alright.”

Her laptop snapped closed, her fingers toying with its placement on the desk until it was perfectly centered. She was calm, too calm. Yet when those frosty blue orbs looked up at you again a ferocity brewed within them. Deep below the surface of her professional clean-cut demeanor, there was a vicious beast lurking. One she could unleash on you at any moment if she so desired.

Your professor’s hands clasped together, fingers interlacing and placing themselves on the desk. It was so difficult to look at her, even on a normal day when she was tame and kind. But now? When you’d literally lied multiples times already about the test? It was nearly impossible. A deep breath blew from her nose, placating in nature, before she spoke again. Only this time much more severe than any other time she’d spoken with you. “Look me in my eyes and tell me you did not cheat on this exam.”

Oh fuck, she had you by the balls.

Your eyes wanted so badly to flick downward, to the mahogany of her desk, the shoes on your feet. Anywhere else but into those burning pits of blue fire. Well, you couldn’t look away now! If you did she would know you’re lying. How did she know that was your weakness? You supposed an entire semester of your timid shivering in her presence was a dead giveaway. Hours spent after class with her going over how you could do better on homework, and never once looking her in the eye. Your submissive behavior went virtually unchecked around her. How could she not know you folded every time she looked into your soul?

Your lip quivered ever so slightly, and you bit down on it to keep it from being a clear tell. A giveaway that you were riddled with anxiety inside and fighting the urge to bow to her like a docile little mouse before a cat. Eivor was watching you, blinking only once, slowly. As if she was agitated by your silence. She hadn’t moved an inch, clearly she wasn’t going to back down from this. Well you weren’t going to either! Your entire college career was on the line!

Okay, you could do this right? Just look the pretty lady in her face and say it...

“I didn’t...” you swallowed, your accursed throat closing up with anxiety and making you look like you were about to piss yourself with fear. Which you were but she didn’t need to know that. You tried again. “I didn’t cheat, Miss Varinsdóttir.”

Tears were resting on your waterline, threatening to spill. What could you fucking say? Yeah, I cheated and you caught me. What did she want you to say? Admitting to cheating was a death sentence to your college career!

For a moment Eivor said absolutely nothing, just stared harder into your soul with her eyes narrowed and a venomous scowl on her face. Then she stood from her chair and your eyes followed her, mouth dropping open slightly in surprise. What... what was she doing?

Eivor stepped around her desk, each footfall creaking against the old wood floors, reminding you of just how quiet it was. The blonde came to your side of the desk until she could rest her hip against it; with one hand pressed firmly into the surface of the dark wood in front of you and the other in the pocket of her pants. She was towering over you, all six feet and two inches of her, looking over your face with a baleful breath blowing from her nose. Some kind of Miss V special intimidation tactic, and it was definitely working.

Her patience with you and your dishonesty was wearing thin, very thin. You could tell the end of her fuse was fast approaching if you didn’t start coughing it up soon.

“I will give you one last chance, kjære.” Quite abruptly your chin was pinched between her thumb and forefinger. Eivor’s gorgeous face loomed closer, closer still, until she was hardly a foot away. It crossed a boundary. Soared well past invading your personal space. She shouldn’t be touching you like this, it… it wasn’t appropriate... but you didn’t have the stones to tell her not to. Did you even want her to stop? Eivor continued, slow, calm, every word enunciated with a chilling authoritarian bite. “Look me in my eyes and tell me the truth… Or I will punish you.”

Punish you? What did she mean by that? Like physically? Or academically? Either way, a sorry little whimper vibrated in your throat, accompanied by your quivering lip.

Something in your chest fluttered at the way she was handling you. Treating you like you were a brat that needed taming, needed discipline. So cold and calculating. A complete one eighty from the side you’d seen of her. You... liked it? Which was sick because she was only doing her job, if a little avidly. Still, it threw oil on the embers of something that had been smoldering within you ever since you first laid eyes on her. Being treated so severely, with such unyielding authority, made your nipples harden.

Your bottom lip trapped itself between your teeth once more, eyes peeking up at her from beneath gold-rimmed glasses and innocent fluttering lashes.

“Miss Varinsdóttir, I did not cheat on your final exam-”

Your cheek stung like you’d been pricked by a thousand needles. It was quick, sharp, and completely unexpected. She slapped you! Her hand gripped your jaw, fingers digging harshly into the skin to keep your attention focused on her. Those icy blues were blazing with fury and rigid determination.

“Open your mouth.” Your jaw dropped open, those submissive tendencies completely taking over to slip into a place of servility before her. Tongue lolling out to receive what you knew was coming. Her saliva, spat into your orifice like you were nothing but trash. You liked that too, the action solicited a pathetic whine of humiliation and ecstasy from deep within you. What is wrong with you? Trembling in your chair like an eager little slut for her. Shaking like a leaf. Eivor didn’t need to tell you what to do next, you were already swallowing and gazing up at her in search of approval.

The pad of one slender index finger trailed along your jaw to rest beneath your chin. Curling so her nail could scratch gently at the flesh there like you were a pet in need of attention. “There’s my good girl.”

Why did you whimper so pitifully?

Eivor smirked at you shivering beneath her. Ready and willing to be properly disciplined like she should have done when she caught you cheating in the first place. Though delivering corporal punishment in front of her class of one hundred students seemed a bit extreme. Even if she knew you would have loved nothing more than to be humiliated like that, like you were worthless. Ass burning hot and your peach dripping sweet nectar onto her floors. For now though, she would fish this confession from you, if only to watch you squirm piteously. “If you tell me the truth now, I will keep your little indiscretion between us, and you may attempt to earn a sufficient grade.”

You stared dumbly up at her, your eyes twinkling with the hope that she would manhandle you again. That she would maybe give you the praise you desired from her.

Very briefly the finger beneath your jaw traced the shape of your mouth, imagining your perfect lips covered in her cum. Or stretched around her cock. “But if you choose to lie again…”

Her arm rose, finger pointing to the door of her office beside her. “You can leave, and keep the shameful grade you currently have.”

Fuck, she really had you didn’t she? If you said that useless lie again she would kick you to the curb and your grade would remain the same. But… if you admitted to it, you had a chance of bettering it. Only how was the question, and you had a pretty good idea about that. She literally just spat in your mouth a few moments ago, did you really need a flashing neon sign to tell you that your professor wanted to fuck you?

More than fuck you, humiliate you, turn you into her eager little toy. Yet that alone was what made you decide your fate. Because, you had to face it, you were already Miss V’s little slut.

“I...did…” That wasn’t enough for her, she needed more. After what you did she needed so much more than that. Wasting her precious time in her office hours that could have been reserved for her other two hundred students. Only to try and cheat your way into passing, it was insulting. Eivor wanted to hear you say it.

Her fingers pinched your chin once more.

“You did what?” Her tone was expectant, attempting to pry the information out of you. The scalding burn of shame lit your cheeks aflame and made your eyes flick shyly to the carpet of her office. To look over its pattern and try to distract yourself from the feeling. You’d been defeated by her, utterly and wholly defeated.

“...I cheated, Miss Varinsdóttir...”

Your professor hummed softly in approval of this new statement.

“Much better.”

Your face was released, and your professor stepped away with a mean and vicious smirk. It wasn’t friendly in the slightest, on the contrary, it made your insides wither in fear. What did she have planned for you? Was it some form of bdsm torture? Or bondage? Yet when she began to gather her belongings you were confused, where was she going?

“So I can make it up?” The glasses resting on your nose were pushed upward again but this time much more frantically. Her constant moving and packing up her things made you do the same, only quicker and sloppier. Nearly dropping your bag all together when she snatched up her keys to her office and began her approach to her office door.

“Mm...” Miss Varinsdóttir chuckled in genuine amusement, whatever she was thinking must’ve been the culprit of her sexy, raspy laughter. “Sure, we can call it that.”

Oh god, what on earth was she going to make you do for this grade?

“Okay? Well… when?” Your tone was bitter toward the end, an attitude beginning to fester and grow in your chest. She was being so vague and it was getting on your nerves. You liked to know stuff in advance to be prepared… but she wasn’t telling you jackshit! Miss Varinsdóttir stopped to stand before you, a single finger trailing along your jaw, your mouth, in longing.

“Tomorrow, come here...” Your mouth was open, enough for her thumb to slip inside and press against your warm tongue. Expecting you to obey her silent command and suck. “and you may earn your grade.”

Earn it… you closed your mouth around the digit presented to you. Eyes fluttering shut, enjoying her attentions and desire for you-

Her thumb vacated your mouth, leaving you wanting more. Ready to beg her for more if you had to, yet her stern expression gave you pause. Her head jerked upward once, to nod at the door. “Now go.”

Alright, you were going…

Still you stopped halfway out the door to look back up at your professor with wide innocent eyes.

“Miss Varinsdóttir, are you mad at me?”

Her face softened, looking gentler, like she normally did when you saw her.

“No, darling.” Her hand caressed your cheek so tenderly, the same cheek she’d slapped only a few minutes ago. “Just disappointed.”