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sadiesdoll · 3 months ago

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𝜗𝜚 The Way You Stay. 𝜗𝜚

stripper!reader x loyal costumer!sevika ♡

contains: heavy angst, Sevika is kind of a bitch, pining, slow burn, domestic intimacy, fingering (r!receiving), no aftercare after sex, slight degradation, hickey, dom!sevika, slightly bratty sub!reader, drunk!sevika, emotional unavailability, Sevika is kinda soft towards the end.

Hey guys.. first time posting on here.. kinda nervy...

okay so I'm planning on making this a multi-part series or even just a 2 part. (Which is so crazy cus it's my first official piece of work ahh that's so brave of me omg who's proud) but um. Yes.

WC: 6779

Enjoy ♡

The bass thrums through the walls of the club, low and heavy, and the airs thick with perfume, sweat, and booze. You spin slow on the pole, letting your hands glide down its cool metal surface as you drop into a split. The men around the stage whistle and groan like clockwork, throwing crumpled bills that flutter to your feet like confetti. You ignore them, like you always do.

You’ve danced this stage a hundred times, but tonight the lights feel warmer. Heavier. Maybe because you already know who’s watching.

Sevika. She’s different from everyone else watching.

She doesn’t gawk. She doesn’t catcall. She sits in the back corner booth, same one every time. Manspreading, one arm slung lazily over the leather seat, watching you with a look that isn’t quite boredom, but definitely isn’t interest either.

You can never tell what she’s thinking, and it drives you crazy.

There’s a half-finished drink on the table, a fresh cigar between her fingers, and eyes that haven’t left you once.

It’s not the first time, and it sure won’t be the last.

She comes once every week. Sometimes even twice. Never brings friends. Never asks for anyone else.

Only you.

And still, everytime you slide into her space, it’s like starting over. And it’s frustrating.

The music ends. Applause erupts. You quickly collect your tips and slip off stage, heading to the back. It’s loud back here too. Music and moans blending from the private rooms, but you find a moment to grab a glass of water, letting the coolness chase the heat off your throat.

You step back out. And sure enough, Sevika’s still there.

You slide into the booth across from her, eyes flicking over the low drink in her glass.

“Rough day?” You ask, dropping into the seat across from her for once instead of her lap, just to mess with her. Your voice is light, playful.

She doesn’t look at you right away, just exhales slow and steady, a ribbon of smoke trailing from her pretty lips. Then she finally speaks.

“Is it that obvious?”

You blink. That… almost sounded like honesty.

“Maybe a little,” you tease, elbow on the table, chin resting in ur hand. “I know you. You only slouch like that when something’s bothering you.”

That earns a glance. Nothing more. Just a slow drag of her eyes over your face, your neck, your chest, your thighs.

You’re still in your lingerie. You’re always still in your lingerie when she’s around.

“I slouch when I’m bored,” she says finally.

“Bored?” You echo, raising a brow. “Are you saying you’re bored of me?” You tease. Frowning at her.

She rolls her eyes at you. “Maybe I am.”

“Please, if you were bored you wouldn’t come here every night.” You say playfully. “But no seriously, you’ve been coming here for months. Sitting in the same seat. Watching the same girl.”

That lands. Barely. The corner of her mouth lifts, half a smirk, more smoke than smile.

“Hm, guess I’m a creature of habit.”

And maybe that should be enough. But it never is. You lean forward just a little, voice dropping just a hair.

“So.. why me?”

She doesn’t blink.

“Does it matter?”

You open your mouth. Then close it. Because yeah, it fucking matters. And it shouldn’t. But it does.

If she’s going to be so cold.. so guarded… then why keep coming back?

Why always you?

The silence stretches between you, thick with smoke and things unsaid. Your hearts beating faster now.. not from nerves, but from that familiar, confusing ache she always brings with her. Like you’re trying to figure out a puzzle where half the pieces are missing on purpose.

You can’t bring yourself to look away from her. Why does she look so beautiful even when she’s acting like an asshole? You ask yourself in your head.

She taps the end of her cigar on the ashtray. Glances at your thighs. Then your lips that were drenched with pink gloss.

“Gonna make me wait?” Sevika says finally, voice all gravel and laziness, her gaze burning low on your body.

You giggle softly, your hand brushing against her thigh like you’ve done a hundred times before. “Impatient tonight, aren’t you?”

She just leans back in the booth, arms draped over the leather like a throne. Her eyes don’t leave yours.

Fuck. Please stop looking at me like that.

You look at her for a few more seconds before you finally snap out of your trance.

You sigh and roll your eyes, playfully. “Cmon,” you murmur, slipping off your chair and tugging at her wrist.

Her hand brings comfort to you. It’s so warm. Heavy. Familiar. Filled with cuts and bruises you wish you could erase.

You weave through the thick crowd, drunken laughter, clinking glasses, music humming through the walls, and Sevika follows in your shadow. Towering. Silent. Unshakable.

You don’t look back at her, but you feel her there, like gravity. Always there.

And yet..

She’s not holding your hand back.

Who are you kidding? She never does anyway.

Yet, your fingers squeeze hers once on instinct. Maybe hoping, just for a split second, that this time will be different. That maybe tonight she’ll squeeze back.

She doesn’t.

You’re about to lead her further down the dark hall, toward the room the two of you basically own now. The one with the ambient lighting, ripped couch, and the creaky bed that’s too familiar by now.

But before you get there, she suddenly grabs your wrist.

“Come here,” she says so softly you barley catch it. She tugs you toward a smaller, darker room tucked away behind an unmarked door.

You blink. “Here? But that’s not our-“

She interrupts you by shutting the door with so much force you could swear she broke it.

Her eyes flick to you, already dark and heavy with that look that you’ve seen too many times to count. “Don’t question it.”

You chuckle. “Eager tonight, aren’t we?”

She rolls her eyes. “Fuck off.”

“What? Not my fault you’re impatient tonight. Totally out of character for you.” You say while tugging on the hem of her shirt.

She grabs your wrist softly, and you get the hint. Quickly letting go of her shirt and looking up at her again.

“You’ve been such a fucking smartass lately.” She mutters, pulling away to lock the door.

You bite your lip, a teasing glint in your eyes. “Yeah? Think you need to fuck some sense into me?”

She doesn’t say anything. Instead, she turns around to look at you, then steps forward with a cocky look on her face. Her eyes never leaving yours as she closes the distance between you.

“Hm?” You hum one last time, your voice lacing with curiosity, before she shuts you up with a sudden, aggressive press of her lips to your neck.

“Fuck—“ you gasp, completely caught off guard, her fingers dig into your waist with a possessive force, pulling you into her like she can’t get enough of you.

She pulls away just enough to look at you, “Shut the fuck up.” Her voice rough and commanding. “You asked for this, didn’t you? Fucking slut.”

Before you can even think of responding, her lips clash onto your neck. “Sev— are you gonna give me a fucking hickey?”

She doesn’t say anything, but the feel of her tongue sliding against your skin is all the answer you need.

She grabs the hem of your bra and yanks it off without hesitation.

She’s fast. Too fast. And suddenly, you’re exposed beneath her. Every inch of you vulnerable to her gaze.

Without any further warning, she moves between your legs, her knee pushing them apart with a firm pressure that makes your pulse race.

“Please.” you whimper.

“Please what?”

“Just fuck me already.”

She chuckles. “Since you asked nicely.”

You’re giggling, a little breathless, when her fingers hook in your waistband.

“Sev—”

She slides her fingers down in one swift motion. She pauses, and looks at you for a split second, then glances down at your thighs. Her fingertips brushing over your slit.

“Fuck, you’re already this wet?” She murmurs, her voice low and husky.

You bite your lip. Embarrassed, you try to hide your face in the nape of her neck.

“No. Hey, look at me.”

You bury your face deeper into her neck. But then—

She slides one finger inside you with a suddenness that leaves you breathless. You gasp, then you moan.

“Fucking look at me.”

You look at her with dazed eyes.

“Don’t take your eyes off of me. Not until I say so.”

You nod, the words stuck in your throat.

Then she puts in a second finger.

“Use your fucking words.”

“Oh— Fuck!” You gasp, not processing what she just said.

She picks up the pace, her fingers pumping faster inside of you. Each thrust sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” she commands.

You moan, barely able to get your words out. “I want it so f-fucking bad. Please.”

She grins, satisfaction flickering in her eyes. “Now that’s my girl.”

You wrap your arms around her neck, moaning loudly in her ear. The obscene wet sounds of your cunt echo through the room.

“Mm.. yeah you like this, huh?” She whispers with a low, amused chuckle, “You like when I fuck the words out of you?”

“Y-yes I do. I really really really do.” You whimper, slurring the words like a dumb little slut too cock-drunk to even think straight. Your voice breaking with every thrust she gives you.

“Yeah? You do?”

“Mhmmmfuck. Harder.”

Sevika laughs under her breath, “Needy little bitch,” she mutters, her pace unrelenting. One of her hands snakes up your body, cupping your left breast.

“Oh my fucking god. Sevika..”

Your voice cracks, desperate and filthy, like a prayer you’ve said too many times.

She groans low in her throat, the sound vibrating against your skin. “Fuck— keep sayin’ my name like that.” She pinches your nipple with her middle and ring finger.

“Nngghhsevika.. I need you. Ineedyousofuckingbad.” You whine. She pulls out her fingers and starts rubbing quick circles around your puffy clit.

“I know you do. I know you fucking do.”

A weak yell comes out of your throat. Your hips jerk at the sudden shift, her fingers never slowing down.

“Sev—fuck, I’m gonna—“

She rests her forehead against yours, her lips hovering over yours but never kissing you. She’s driving you fucking crazy.

“Yeah?” She puts her fingers back in your pussy. “You’re gonna cum for me already?”

You can’t even speak. All you can do is nod, trembling under her touch, your legs are threatening to give out.

“Be a good slut and cum for me.”

You’re shaking. Thighs clenching, breath stuttering, and her big meaty fingers feel so fucking deep inside you.

“Fuckfuckfuck—Sevika, I—“

“Yeahh.. that’s it.” She grunts, her forehead still pressed to yours. Her fingers curl just right, hitting that spot that makes your back arch harder. “Come on, pretty girl. Make a mess on my fingers.”

And you finally do. Your moans barely audible as you bite down on Sevika’s shoulder, trying to stifle them. Her low groan of approval rumbles through your chest.

But she doesn’t hold you. She doesn’t say anything.

Instead, she suddenly pulls her fingers out, slick and glistening, and wipes them carelessly against her thigh like you were nothing more than a momentary craving.

You blink up at her with half-lidded eyes, still catching your breath, heart thudding, your cunt pulsating. You’re waiting for something, anything. But all you get is her usual stupid silence, and the stupid unreadable look in her eyes, and the stupid cigar in her mouth.

She steps back, adjusting her belt like nothing happened.

“Get cleaned up,” she mutters, turning toward the door.

You thought this time it would be different, you don’t know why, but you did. And you felt stupid for it. Of course she wasn’t gonna change, not for you, atleast. Everyone sees you as just a slutty girl that dances on a pole for a living, what makes you so sure that she doesn’t think the same way as others?

You sit there. Legs trembling. The door clicks shut behind her.

You stare at it for a long time, hoping she’d come back and give you some sort of.. comfort? You didn’t know what you needed, but it sure as hell wasn’t her just leaving you in this dark room like that.

Eventually, you pull yourself together, like you always do with her. You fix your clothes, wipe the smudged makeup from under your eyes, and walk out like nothing happened.

━━━━━━━━ ⊱⋆⊰ ━━━━━━━━

That night, long after the club had emptied, you lay in bed. Phone screen lighting up got tired face.

Your fingers hover over the keyboard. You’ve typed something out. Deleted it. Typed again.

Hey, are you home?

Backspace.

I had fun, you know. Didn’t seem like you did tho.

Backspace.

I’m sorry if I did anything wrong.

You hit send before you can stop yourself.

The screen stays empty. No typing dots. No reply.

Not even a “read.”

You toss your phone face down and let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

You knew better. You really did.

━━━━━━━━ ⊱⋆⊰ ━━━━━━━━

The next day, you wake up late, the sun already steaming through the cracks in the curtains. Your body aches, a mix of exhaustion and lingering soreness from last nights events. You roll over, checking your phone, you can’t help but glance at Sevika’s contact name, “Sev ♡” at the top of the text conversation. It stings a little, seeing it there, but still no response.

You sigh, rubbing your face, the guilt from last night settles back in, but so does the frustration. You wish she would just respond. Maybe she was busy. She works with silco after all. Or maybe she was ignoring you on purpose.

You roll out of bed, stretch, and glance at the clock, “Ugh. Shit.” You groan when you realize that you’re late. But that doesn’t matter. Because your mind keeps drifting to last night, how it felt, how it ended, and how you’re just supposed to move on now. You felt angry. Disgusted. Why is it so hard to let go of her?

You take a deep breath, you get dressed and head out. You prayed to whatever God that was listening to you for her to NOT show up today.

Even if you try to focus on the present, her absence looms over everything. It’s like she haunts you.

The club is already pulsing with life when you arrive. Music thumping, lights swirling, the scent of cheap cologne and stale liquor clinging to the air. You keep your head down as you pass through the dressing room, forcing on a half-smile when one of the girls calls out a joke you don’t quite register.

You go through your motions. Change. Makeup. Heels. But everything feels like it’s moving through molasses, like your body’s here, but your mind is trapped in a loop, stuck in last night, stuck in her

You’re halfway through your set when your gaze flicks to that one table.

Empty.

Your stomach twists, and you hate the part of yourself that’s relieved. Hate it even more for feeling disappointed right after. You look away quickly, gripping the pole tighter, grounding yourself in the routine. In the sweat. The rhythm. The fake flirtation. Anything but her.

Backstage, you finally let yourself check your phone.

“Just this once. Just to be sure.” You promised to yourself.

Sev ♡

No new messages.

Your heart sinks in the same familiar way.

“She really said fuck me and meant it,” you mutter under your breath, bitterly.

You toss the phone aside. Maybe it’s time to stop checking. But even silence feels like something from her.

You change out of your costume slower than usual, taking your time like it’ll somehow delay the emptiness waiting for you outside these walls.

Because if she’s not out there, if you’re not dancing for her, making her watch your every move, making her want, then what’s the fucking point? Why even be here? Why paint on the lashes, step into heels, fake the moans and smiles, if the one person you want to see it won’t even bother showing up?

Someone taps your shoulder. You flinch.

“You good?” One of the girls asks gently. It’s Lena, barely dressed, lashes already lifting at the corners, a lollipop in her mouth like always. “You’ve been zoning out for like… a full song.”

You blink at her, then force a half-smile. “Yeah I’m okay. Just a bit tired tonight.”

She hums while squinting her eyes at you, she’s clearly unconvinced. But she doesn’t press, just gives you a light smack on your ass and walks off with a wink.

You let out a faint giggle. Take a couple deep breaths. Fix your lipstick. And when you look back in the mirror, you repeat to yourself, Just one more set. You can do one more set.

You slip your heels back on, head out into the low haze of lights and smoke, the bass already rattling in your ribs. Maybe if you move the right way, smile the right way, you’ll forget how empty it feels when you don’t catch her eyes in the crowd.

You twist around the pole, bite your lip, arch your back just right, let your hands trail down your body the way you know they like.

“Damn baby, put me in a coma why don’t you,” a man slurs near the front. His eyes lingering on your tits, then dipping lower to your ass, shameless. His friends holler in agreement, bills already half out of their fists. “Come over here, give daddy a spin.”

You flashed a practiced smirk. You don’t even look at him. Not really. Just enough to play the game. Just enough to keep them paying.

Because none of them matter.

You’re not dancing for them.

You never were.

You drag your fingers up the pole, drop low, flip your hair back with a trained kind of grace, but your chest feels hollow. Your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

And somewhere in the crowd, unseen by you, a shadow leans back in her seat.

She is here.

Sevika watches. Hood pulled low, eyes half-lidded, that usual cigarette between her lips, but it’s not lit. Hasn’t been in a while.

She doesn’t clap. Doesn’t cheer. Doesn’t do a damn thing.

She just watches you. Cold. Detached.

But when you spin, arch your back, and drop into a split, you pop your chest forward with a practiced sway, hair falling on your face.

Her eyes sharpen. She shifts slightly, jaw clenched, fingers ghosting toward her glass like she needs something to anchor her. Just for a second.

Then it’s gone. Like it never happened.

She knocks back the rest of her drink, doesn’t even taste it, and mutters to herself, barely audible over the bass,

“Pathetic.”

You? Or herself?

Even she doesn’t know.

And before you even finish your set, she’s gone.

Like she was never there.

━━━━━━━━ ⊱⋆⊰ ━━━━━━━━

The night air slaps your skin the second you step out the back door of the club, still slick with sweat, heels dangling from your fingers, your jacket slung over one shoulder. You’re tired. Worn out. You just wanna go home and wipe your makeup off and sleep for the next 7 days.

You barely get five steps before a hand snatches your wrist and pulls you hard into the shadows.

You gasp, stumbling into the brick walk, “What the fuck-! Let go of—“

You’re about to let out a blood-curdling scream, but a calloused hand pressed over your mouth, and a voice mutters, low and sharp, “Calm the fuck down.”

Your heart jumps. That voice.

You shove the hand away with a force you didn’t even know you had, eyes wide. “Sevika?!”

She’s standing there, towering over you. Half-shadowed by the alley light, hood still up, cigarette balanced between her fingers like she doesn’t even want it. “Don’t.”

You scoff. Breath still ragged, heart pounding for all the wrong reasons. “Y-you can’t just grab me like that! What the fuck is wrong with you? And what are you doing here?”

She shrugs, leans against the wall like she’s got all the time in the world. “Drinks.” She says dryly, like it should be obvious. “Needed to clear my head.”

You narrow your eyes, looking at her with disbelief. “So you just happened to be at my club?”

“You don’t own the damn club.” Her voice is low, flat. Dismissive.

You scoff, “You know what I mean.”

Then she leans in, slow and deliberate, head tilted like she’s sizing you up.

You can feel the weight of her gaze even from above. Like she’s studying something fragile, something she could break if she wanted to. Her shadow swallows yours.

“I saw your set.”

You freeze. “What?”

She tilts her head, finally lighting the cigarette. The flame flickers just enough to catch a glint in her eyes. “You heard me.”

That makes your breath catch. Something twists in your gut. “You-“ you blink, realization hitting. “You were fucking watching me?”

A pause. Then a faint smirk.

“Didn’t need a front row seat to see what you were doing up there.”

And now your chest tightens. Because she wasn’t sitting at her usual table. You checked. A countless amount of times. She wasn’t anywhere in sight.

But she was there. The whole. entire. time.

“Why?” You ask. Voice tight.

She tilts her head, like she didn’t quite hear. “Hm?”

“Why were you hiding from me?”

“I wasn’t hiding,” she says lazily. “You just weren’t looking hard enough.”

Silence.

You swallow. Something cracks under your ribs.

“I was waiting for you.”

Another beat of silence.

You see it, barely. A shift in her stance. A small twitch in her jaw. Like your words did something, even if she’s fighting not to show it.

She doesn’t speak. Just studies you, a trail of smoke leaving her lips.

“You always dance like that for the ones who leave you in bed?”

“Oh fuck you, Sevika.”

She lets the insult hang in the air, unfazed, and Fuck you hate how unfazed she is.

You turn to leave, but she grabs your wrist.

Not rough, not gentle either. Just enough to stop you.

You whirl back around, not bothering to look her in the eyes. “Let go of me.”

“Or what?” She asks, voice low, unreadable.

You hate how her eyes burn through you. Hate that your pulse kicks up, not from fear, but from how you can see through your peripheral vision the way she’s looking at you like she already knows every inch of your skin. Like she owns the reaction.

“You think you can just disappear and show up like nothing happened?” Your voice breaks before you can stop it. Finally locking eye contact with her. “Like- like you didn’t leave me there wondering what the fuck I did wrong?”

A pause. Long enough to hurt.

Then, so quiet you almost miss it-

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

It hits like a bruise.

You blink at her. Something clenches in your chest, your fingers curling into fists.

“Then why?” You whisper. Desperate. “Why do you keep pushing me away?”

She doesn’t answer. Just stares. Her mouth twitches, not quite a frown, not quite regret.

And then— like it’s instinct, like it’s the only way she knows how to speak—

She grabs your jaw and kisses you.

Hard.

It’s messy. Angry. Her hand tangles in your hair, the other gripping your waist like she’s trying to memorize the shape of your body. You hate how easy it is to fall into it. To melt.

Your back hits the brick wall. Her mouth still on yours, rough and desperate.

She kissed your lips. She never kisses them.

“Please.” You whimpered against her lips, the way your lips quiver show just how much you crave her. And how badly you want her to crave you.

And then, so faint you almost miss it— she lets out a desperate, low whine against your lips.

It freezes something in you. Not with fear. But something else.

In that small trembling breath of silence between kisses, you let out a soft, broken sound-

“..yeah?” You say tenderly, while looking straight at her with the most doe eyes ever.

It’s barely a whisper. Half exhale. Like you’re trying to say I’m here without the weight of words.

You looked and sounded desperate, desperate for her to show some kind of vulnerability to you.

Your hands shift, arms wrapping around her neck, gripping her tighter. Not to pull her closer, not out of lust, but like you’re trying to steady her. Like maybe, just maybe, you want to hold her together when she won’t let herself fall apart.

And for a split second, it almost feels like she lets you.

But then-

She pulls back.

You whine at the sudden break of the kiss. Not again please. Please not again. You think to yourself.

Her breath is shallow, lips still parted, eyes not meeting yours.

Then her jaw tightens. That look returns. The guarded one.

Without a word, she steps back, like the moment never happened at all.

“You should go home.”

And before you can say anything, ask her to stay, curse her out, something-

She turns and walks off into the dark.

Like always.

Like nothing happened.

Like she didn’t just almost break in your hands.

━━━━━━━━ ⊱⋆⊰ ━━━━━━━━

It’s the next night.

You’re leaning against the back wall of the club, half-hidden in the alleyway. Your shift ended 20 minutes ago, but you haven’t left. You’re not sure why. Maybe you’re waiting for something. Or someone

You light a cigarette, even though you don’t usually smoke. It burns your throat, but something about the weight of the cigarette keeps your hand from shaking.

The alley door creaks open behind you.

“Hey,” comes a voice- Dez, one of the floor managers, poking her head out. She’s chewing gum like it personally wronged her.

“Alright, don’t kill me,” she starts, already holding up a hand like she knows you might throw the lighter at her. “But there’s this guy inside. Real big spender. Just rolled in, said he heard things.. about you. And he’s willing to pay four times the usual rate for some alone time in VIP.”

You groan. “Ughh Dez, I literally just finished my shift. Can I not rot in peace for 2 minutes?”

She grins, looking way too pleased for someone who just interrupted your smoke break. “Cmonnn. He’s not a creep, I swear. Just wants your company. One hour, tops. You don’t even have to touch him. He said he likes your vibe or some shit. And he’s hot too! Not even in a pathetic way.”

You scoff, tossing your head back against the wall while rolling your eyes. But you don’t outright say no.

Dez squints at you like she can see the gears turning in your head. Like she knows you’re considering it.

You let out a long, dramatic sigh and push yourself off the wall, “Okay fine—“

And then—

Footsteps.

Heavy. Familiar

You don’t even have to look. You feel her before you see her.

Sevika.

She steps into the alley like she owns it, like she didn’t vanish into the night the day before.

She was wobbling a little. Her coats a little crooked. Hair a little messier than usual. And her eyes..

Red. A little glassy.

She’s drunk.

Dez blinks. Her eyes flick between the two of you.

She mouths, “You good?”

You look at her, nodding while giving her a reassuring smile.

And then, with a smirk,

“Alright I don’t know what’s going on with..” - she gestures vaguely between you and sevika - “whatever this is, but I’ll leave you two alone for now. I’ll let the guy know you might be up in five.”

Dez leaves.

And you’re alone with sevika.

You don’t say anything at first.

Just stare as she leans against the wall opposite you, half-empty whiskey bottle dangling in her hand.

“Hey,” she says. Her voice is deeper than usual.

Her eyes are trailing over you, slow, like she’s trying to figure out if you’re real or just something she made up in her head.

Your breath hitches. Why is she looking at you like that?

“..Hi.” You say, quietly.

The silence stretches. The air feels thick now. Too thick.

She pushes off the wall, crosses the space between you with slow, lazy steps. Stops just a little too close.

You tilt your head while looking up at her, almost like you’re trying to search for something in her eyes.. but you don’t know what it is.

You can smell the smoke on her clothes. The whiskey on her breath.

“Didn’t think you’d still be here,” she murmurs, eyes dropping to your lips. “Guess I got lucky.”

You shift, trying to not look affected.

“You’re drunk.”

She hums. “A little.”

She reached her hand out and brushes your arm. Just a graze. But her touch lingers longer than it should. Touching you so softly like you’re made of glass.

Her finger toy with the hem of your top like she’s thinking about ripping it apart and just fucking you right then and there.

She wants to start something, and you know it.

“Sevika,” you say so softly, your voice tinged with concern. You’ve never seen her this drunk before. “Don’t.” Your tone shifts, growing firm.

She tilts her head. Smirks. But it wobbles.

“What?” She says, voice rough. “I thought you liked when I touched you.”

Your stomach twists. You break eye contact.

“I do,” you admit. Quiet. Honest. Embarrassed. “I really do.”

You grab her forearm, “But not like this. Not when you’re like this.”

She doesn’t answer. Just looks at you. And you look back at her. And for a second, she seems sober, just a bit. Her jaw ticks. Something in her eyes cracks open.

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

Her voice was shaky. It was subtle. But you heard it.

You blink. The words hang in the air, delicate and heavy all at once.

Your hand is still on her forearm. Her skin is so soft.. so warm under your touch.

“You came to me.” You say, barely above a whisper. It’s not a question.

She doesn’t nod. Doesn’t move. Just stares at you like she’s afraid if she does, something inside her might spill out.

And then, so quiet it’s almost lost to the sound of the city—

“Don’t make me regret it.”

You breathe in, slow. Her voice cracked at the last word. She tried to hide it, but you felt it anyway.

Your fingers trail down, slipping from her arm to her hand. You squeeze it gently, grounding her.

“I won’t.” You say, steady. Honest. Like a promise you haven’t figured out how to keep yet.

She exhales shakily, and for a moment, her forehead drops to yours.

It’s not a kiss.

It’s not even a touch, really.

Just heat. Breath. The closeness of someone who’s afraid they might shatter if you pull away.

And then, quietly—

“I’m so tired.” She whispers.

You close your eyes. Let the silence stretch. Then-

“Come on,” you whisper. “Let’s get you somewhere safe, yeah?”

You hook your arm around her waist. She doesn’t resist when you guide her. She leans into you. Like maybe -for the first time in a long time- she trusts someone to hold her up.

As you guide her through the narrow hallway, past the low thrum of music bleeding from behind closed doors, you catch Dez standing by the bar, still chewing on her gum while counting tips.

She raises a brow the second she sees you two.

“Well look who came crawling back,” she mutters, eyes flicking over Sevika slumped against your side.

Then she shifts her attention to you.

“You know that guy is still asking,” Dez says. “He literally won’t back down. Said he’ll double up if you head up now.”

“Dez, at this point, just tell him I’m sick. Or dead. I don’t care.”

She raises her brow higher. “Didn’t think you were the type to pass up a paycheck.”

She sighs while looking at you, “You takin’ her upstairs?” She asks, voice flat, suspicious, but not unkind.

“Yeah,” you say, short and clipped. Your shoulder’s under Sevika’s.

Dez blinks at the sight. At Sevika leaning against you like she doesn’t have a single bone left in her body.

“You sure about that?” She says, quieter this time. “She looks like she’ll knock you out the second you blink.”

You don’t look back.

“She’s not my problem,” you lie. “But I’m not gonna leave her like this.”

Dez opens her mouth like she wants to argue, then stops. She sees something in your face, something soft and stubborn and not up for discussion.

“..Alright,” she says finally. “Just.. tell her to not throw up all over the sheets.”

You almost laugh. Almost.

Instead, you nod and keep walking.

━━━━━━━━ ⊱⋆⊰ ━━━━━━━━

You reach the room. Your room. The one you both technically live in by now.

It’s quiet here. The air hums with the faint beat of the bass from the floor below, but otherwise, it’s just you and Sevika. Her arm is heavy around your shoulders. Her steps drag. But she doesn’t complain. Doesn’t speak.

You guide her to the bed, easing her down ever so gently like she’s something fragile, which is funny, really. Sevika, the bruiser. Sevika, the one who breaks bones with a single punch. Fragile.

But she lets you. That’s what gets you.

She lets you.

You kneel to unlace her boots. She’s watching you through half-lidded eyes. Like she can’t believe you’re doing this.

Like she doesn’t think she deserves it.

“You didn’t have to,” she rasps.

You pause. Glancing up at her, eyes soft.

“I know.” You whisper. “That’s why I did.”

The silence lingers, thick with something unspoken.

Sevika inhales, opening her mouth like she’s about to say something- but then quickly clamps it shut, biting back whatever’s on the tip of her tongue.

You catch the shift. “Say it.” You murmur, your voice so low and so gentle, but persistent.

Her eyebrows furrow, like she’s pretending she doesn’t know exactly what you’re talking about.

“I know you were gonna say something.”

Sevika’s gaze drops to the floor, her hand brushing against the edge of the couch like she’s trying to ground herself.

You finish with the boots, your hands resting on her legs for just a moment longer than necessary.

She looks at you, those dark eyes searching, but her voice is quieter now. “Why are you being so gentle to me?” She asks, her tone flat, though there’s an edge of something in there. Something hard to name.

You swallow, meeting her eyes directly.

“Because I want to be.” You don’t look away. Not even for a second.

Sevika exhales, her breath shaky as she looks at you like she’s trying to figure out if you’re telling the truth.

You sit next to her. She shifts slightly, leaning back against the couch, her fingers grazing the fabric of the cushion before brushing against yours.

“You don’t know me,” she mutters. “We fuck from time to time but that doesn’t mean you owe me shit.”

Your eyes soften.

“I don’t care about that,” you reply, the words coming out like you’ve known them all along. “I don’t need to owe you anything to care.”

For a moment, Sevika goes still.

The silence is almost unbearable. Uncomfortable. But you don’t look away, you study her face and god she’s beautiful.

Her lips press together tightly, like she wants to tell you more, but she doesn’t.

She throws her head back and massages her temples with her fingers, the tension in her shoulders palpable, like she’s holding herself together with sheer willpower. The room feels colder now, the weight of the silence between you both more pronounced.

You move a little closer, not enough to invade her space but just enough to let her know you’re there. You reach for her hair, tucking away a few stray strands of hair, your fingers brushing the soft skin of her neck. Your gaze drifting up and down her face, drinking in the way the light catches the curve of her jaw, the depth in her eyes.

“You know I’m not going anywhere right?” You spoke, your voice softer than you meant it to be.

Sevika stays still for a moment. Her eyes lock onto yours, intense and searching, like she’s weighing every word. The air feels heavy, charged, and just for a heartbeat, it’s like she’s thinking about saying something, something important. But she doesn’t.

You smile softly, “What are you looking at?” You say while letting out a faint giggle.

Sevika looks away quickly, but you catch it. The vulnerability. The uncertainty.

She lets out a shaky breath. But her voice is steady when she speaks. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.” Her eyes flicker back to you.

You ignore her. “You know.. I thought you’d be different when you’re drunk.”

She raises a brow at you, and you’re just an inch away from losing your mind.. because her eyes. They’re so dazed and pretty. “What do you mean?”

“I just thought you’d let your tough girl act slip away for a bit.” A dry chuckle escapes from your lips.

“Tough girl act?”

“Mhmmm.” You hummed playfully.

She scoffed, “Suck my dick.”

You give her a teasing look. “I did. Don’t you remember?”

A beat of silence follows, and you can see the nervous look on her face, whether from your words or the alcohol, you can’t tell. Maybe it’s both.

She doesn’t answer right away, just stares at you.

But her gaze doesn’t only stay on your eyes, she’s taking in every inch of you, eyes half-lidded, like you’ve knocked the wind out of her and she’s still figuring out how to function.

“You’re trouble.” She finally mutters. Her voice rough around the edges.

You grin. “You like trouble.”

You don’t know what’s gotten into you in this moment. You’re usually not really this bold with Sevika, but with her like this-looser, softer.. it feels easier to meet her halfway. She matches your energy, just barely. But you’re thankful for whatever you can get out of her.

She doesn’t deny it. Instead, she leans back, letting her head rest against the couch cushions, eyes closed for a second too long. Like the weight of the moment is sinking in.

That’s when the door creaks open.

“Hey.” Dez’s voice cuts through the quiet, gentle but definite. “We’re closing up.”

You both turn toward her, neither one moving just yet. Sevika blinks slowly, her eyebrows furrowed. Like she’s surfacing from something deeper.

You glance back at her. “Come on,” you say, soft but certain. “Let’s go to yours.”

Sevika looks at you like you’ve just told her that you murdered her entire family, “Hell no.”

“Why nottt!” You whine.

Sevika narrows her eyes at you, skeptical. Because,” she mutters. “I don’t just bring people over.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Why? You think someone’s gonna judge you for a few empty bottles and a pile of laundry?”

“It’s not that,” she mumbles. Running a hand down her face. “It’s…mine.”

You pause. There’s something in the way she says it. Like she’s not just talking about the state of the place, but about letting someone into her space, her world.

Your voice softens. “That’s kinda the whole point.”

She rolls her eyes at you. Then her expression turns into something unreadable for a moment.

“You’re really not scared of anything, huh?”

You shrug, lips quirking into a faint smile.

"I'm actually scared of lots of things," you say. "Just not you."

That makes her pause. Really pause.

Her eyes stay on yours a little too long, like she's trying to read between the lines of something you haven't said yet. Like maybe she wants to believe you, but she's still deciding if she can afford to.

Then, finally, she exhales through her nose, like she's surrendering to something. To you.

"Fine," she mutters, low and reluctant. "But if you lay a finger on any of my shit, I'm kicking your ass out."

You grin. "Deal."

Omg that was too long. Criticism and ideas are heavily appreciated (˶ˆᗜˆ˵) thank you for reading! ♡

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bbybhr · 4 months ago

Text

♡°•|Gears and grace|•°♡

Mechanic!sevika x pastor's daughter! reader

The arrival of the new neighbor wasn't subtle to say the least. The rumble of a heavy moving truck disturbed the usual quiet of the street, followed by the sharp clang of metal ramps hitting asphalt and the gruff shouts of movers. You were standing on the porch, two houses down, watching with quiet curiosity. Your mother, watering the flowers, tutted softly. "Bit of a commotion, wouldn't you say?" You hummed.

Then she emerged from the cab of the truck. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair pulled back severely. Even from this distance, the glint of metal replacing her left arm was unmistakable, catching the morning sun. A thick cigarillo was clamped between her lips, smoke curling lazily upwards as she gestured emphatically at the movers, her voice a low, authoritative rumble that carried easily down the street. Dark ink snaked visibly up her exposed right arm, disappearing under the sleeve of her tank top. She hefted a heavy box herself, biceps straining, moving with a brusque efficiency.

Your mother clicked her tongue again. "Well, everyone needs a place to live, I suppose. Bless her." There was a tightness in her voice, a familiar blend of piety and judgment that made you frown a little.

Later that afternoon, after the worst of the noise had subsided, your mother placed a foil-covered dish on the kitchen table. Perfectly baked blueberry muffins, still warm. "dear, be a good neighbor and take these over to... to the new arrival. A welcome gesture." Her eyes held a warning. Be polite. Be proper. Don't stare.

Clutching the warm dish, you walked the short distance, quietly. The house looked much the same, but the open garage was a stark contrast to the manicured lawns surrounding it. Tools lay scattered across a workbench, engine parts were piled in organized chaos,some boxes were still sealed on the ground and the air smelled faintly of oil and metal.

And there she was, wiping grease from her mechanical hand with a rag. Up close, she was even more imposing. The tattoos were intricate, dark patterns against her tanned skin. Her eyes, sharp and assessing, flickered over you as you approached the edge of the driveway. You felt suddenly very small, very... plain.

"Um, hello," you managed, holding out the dish as if shielding yourself infront of her gaze that seemed to capture everything. "My mother... we live down the street. She baked these. As a welcome." Your voice sounded breathy, unsure. You never had problem talking with strangers, you loved it in fact!but somehow your new neighbors had an...effect!

She paused, her gaze lingering for a second longer than necessary, taking in your attire. It wasn't unkind, exactly, but it was intense, appraising. She took the dish, her organic fingers brushing yours briefly. A strange jolt went through you at the contact that she didn't miss...she was seasoned woman she knew she had this kind of...effect, but you didn't seem to be one of those girls who would get effected, Not by her,not with the modesty that clinged to your style and every move even in your nervous state! well, don't judge a book by it's cover.

"Right. Thanks," she muttered, her voice rough, smoke-tinged. She didn't smile, didn't offer small talk. She just nodded curtly, turning back to the boxes, the muffins seemingly forgotten on the workbench.

You retreated, feeling oddly breathless, your cheeks warm which made your brows frown in confusion. She was unlike anyone you'd ever met. Rough, intimidating, undeniably powerful in a way that was both frightening and utterly captivating. Maybe that was the subject of your...nervousness.

That first encounter set a pattern. Drawn by an invisible pull you didn't understand, you found your way to her garage at least once a day. A pitcher of lemonade on a sweltering afternoon ("Mom made too much"). A plate of cookies ("Church bake sale leftovers"). the chain on your old bicycle conveniently slipped just as you were riding past her house. (You certainly didn't have a part in it). Soon enough because of your bike brave sacrifices you learned way more than just her name...

Your bike was a good excuse everytime that you didn't brought something over. Sevika would look up from welding something, visor flipped up, eyes narrowed behind protective goggles. You would explain the problem, feeling foolish but determined. Without much comment, she'd gestur for the bike, fixing it in minutes with deft, efficient movements of both her hands. You’d thank her profusely. She’d just grunt.

Through all these visits, You sat quietly on an overturned crate just inside the garage beside the work bench, observing her work. The focused intensity, the sure way she handled tools, the mesmerizing blend of human flesh and complex machinery in her arm. You noticed the details ... the way her muscles flexed, the calluses on her human hand, the occasional frustrated sigh when a part wouldn't cooperate. You learned to read the subtle shifts in her expression, even though she rarely spoke directly to you.

Sevika, for her part, noticed you too.picking up a fact or two about your family, your demeanor, and your preferences whenever your quiet voice filled the garage. She registered your quiet presence, the way you never seemed to fidget, your hands always neatly folded in your lap, a calmness that was unlikely in her world. She noted the modest, proper clothes,your shiny Mary Jane that never seemed to get dirty, your way of doing your hair that looked effortlessly neat, again, so different from anything in her own world. And beside this things she absolutely noticed the unwavering admiration in your eyes. It was plain, undisguised, and it stroked a part of her pride she hadn't realized was listening. The pastor's daughter, all innocence and propriety, looking at her like that.

When she found herself thinking about that quiet admiration that seemed to drop from your eyes whenever they layed on her,thinking about what might be in your mind, she wanted to laugh.It was absurd. Hilarious, even. Her and the preacher's kid? Two worlds separated by an unbridgeable chasm. Oil and holy water. Grit and grace. Impossible. Impossible?

And perhaps that was the crux of it. Sevika didn't do impossible. The very notion grated against her core. If something, or someone, seemed unattainable, it wasn’t a barrier! Oh no! it was a challenge. A puzzle to be solved, a situation to be controlled, dominated. The quiet admiration was flattering, yes, but the impossibility… that was intriguing. That sparked something deliberate within her. She would prove herself wrong. Or rather, prove the situation wrong.

One Saturday afternoon, the air thick with the smell of gasoline and summer heat, you were watching her wrestle with the stubborn engine of an old sedan. You sat in your usual spot, lost in the rhythm of her work.

Suddenly, her voice cut through the clatter of tools. Calling you.

You blinked, startled. She rarely addressed you so directly. She’d slid out from under the car, wiping grease on her jeans. Her mechanical hand rested on her hip.

"Yeah?" you squeaked.

"You just gonna sit there gawking all day?" Her tone was gruff, but lacked its usual edge. "Might as well learn something useful. Hand me that 10-mil wrench. No, the socket wrench."

Hesitantly, you stood up, your legs feeling stiff. As you stand up turning towards the workbench, she described the tool. You found the it on the cluttered workbench and walked cautiously towards her. Both of your figure now hidden behind the car from the street. The space felt charged, smaller than usual.

"Here," you offered it.

Instead of just taking it, Sevika reached out, her human hand closing over yours as you held the tool. Her skin was rough, calloused, grease ingrained in the lines, yet surprisingly warm. her thumb brushing against your knuckles as she talked. "Now, look here."

She guided your hand towards the engine block, pointing out a specific bolt. You were acutely aware of her closeness, the scent of metal and something uniquely her... smoke, maybe leather? Your breath hitched. Your mind, usually so ordered, felt scattered, unable to reconcile the strict teachings of your upbringing with the thrilling, terrifying proximity of this woman. Guilt pricked at you for reading too much into it, a familiar sting, but it was drowned out by a confusing wave of… excitement? Fascination?

Sevika demonstrated how to fit the wrench, her instructions low and steady, but her eyes weren't entirely on the engine. They flickered to your face, noting the flush on your cheeks, the slight tremble in your hand beneath hers, the wide, confused gaze you directed at her. The control she felt in that moment was intoxicating.

"You gotta... apply steady pressure," she murmured, her mechanical fingers brushing against your arm as she adjusted your stance slightly. The contact, metal against the soft fabric of your sleeve, sent a shiver down your spine. Time seemed to slow. The sounds of the neighborhood faded, replaced by the hammering of your own heart.

You looked up, needing to understand the shift, the sudden intensity crackling in the air. Your eyes met hers. Sevika's gaze was dark, unreadable, yet held a spark of something possessive, challenging. The air thickened, heavy with unspoken tension. Confusion warred with a strange, burgeoning awareness within you.

In that stretched moment, with your hand still held loosely in hers over the cold metal of the wrench, Sevika leaned down. There was no hesitation, no warning. Just a deliberate, decisive movement. Her lips met yours.

It wasn't gentle or tentative. It was firm, demanding, tasting faintly of smoke and something else entirely foreign that made your knees weak and your grip loose over the tool. The kiss was a claim, a spark igniting in the forbidden space between your two worlds, and your mind went utterly blank, consumed by the shocking, impossible reality of Sevika kissing you. Her lips moved ever the slightest on yours, it wasn't like her to kiss like that! But she knew it wasn't like you to have any experience in that filled...she was taking it slow, for your sake.

The kiss broke as deliberately as it had begun. Sevika pulled back, not far, just enough to observe you. For you, the world felt tilted off its axis. Your lips tingled, hypersensitive, the taste of her cigarillo that she smoked hour ago now was on your lips. Your lungs burned from lack of air you hadn't realized you weren't taking, and heat bloomed across your face, a tell-tale blush you desperately wished you could control. It had been… overwhelming. A clumsy, shocking collision on your part, met with a practiced, undeniable expertise on hers. You hadn't known how to respond, simply frozen under the sudden, firm pressure of her mouth.

Sevika, in stark contrast, looked entirely steady. Her breathing was even, her stance relaxed, mechanical hand leaving your arm and now resting once more on her hip. One dark eyebrow arched slightly, and a ghost of amusement flickered in her assessing eyes as she took in your disheveled state looking down on you face with the wide, stunned eyes, the slightly parted lips, the ragged catch in your breath. She saw the shock of a first kiss etched plainly across your features. Hooked, a low, satisfied voice murmured in the back of her mind.

"Well, " she murmured, her voice a low rumble that vibrated through the charged air between you. "Someone looks like they just got kissed for the very first time." She said feigning shocked.

Her words were a teasing prod, hitting the nail squarely on the head. Heat flared brighter on your cheeks. It was your first kiss, a monumental, terrifying, exhilarating first. But admitting that? Showing her just how profoundly she'd rocked your carefully ordered world? No. Some instinct, buried deep beneath the panic and the strange, fluttering excitement, urged you to mirror her coolness, to pretend this wasn't the earth-shattering event it felt like. You swallowed hard, trying to regain some semblance of composure, acutely aware that only the bulk of the sedan shielded this moment from any curious neighborhood eyes. If she wasn't standing right there, pinning you with that knowing gaze, you might have actually screamed, or maybe jumped up and down from the sheer, terrifying novelty of it all.

"Don't know what you're talking about," you managed, the words sounding thin even to your own ears. You avoided her gaze, focusing instead on a grease stain on the concrete floor.

Sevika merely smirked, a slow, confident expression that said she knew exactly what she was talking about, and knew that you knew it too. She didn't push it further then, just turned back to the engine with a grunt, leaving you reeling in the sudden silence, the ghost of her kiss burning on your lips.

Days bled into weeks. The garage, once just a place of curious observation, became a space charged with a different kind of tension. The dynamic shifted, subtly but irrevocably. Sevika began to punctuate the greasy silence not just with the clang of tools, but with kisses. They were unpredictable, never announced. Sometimes, while you were handing her a wrench, her hand would linger on yours, fingers brushing deliberately against your skin before she leaned in for a brief, firm press of lips. Other times, she might corner you against the workbench, the kiss deeper, more demanding, leaving you breathless and shaken.

She was terrifyingly good at reading you. Sevika seemed to possess an innate understanding of just how far she could push before genuine panic set in, before the ingrained guilt and fear instilled by your upbringing threatened to overwhelm the burgeoning, addictive thrill of her attention. She learned the subtle tells ...the hitch in your breath that signaled anticipation, the slight widening of your eyes when she crossed a boundary, the way you’d unconsciously lean into her touch despite your obvious nervousness. She played this knowledge expertly, doling out affection and intimacy with calculated precision, always keeping you slightly off-balance, always wanting more.

She knew exactly what she was doing, the practiced ease of her touches, the confidence in her kisses, designed to unravel you. A part of her, the arrogant, prideful part, relished the idea of someone seeing the pastor's pious daughter, willingly entangled with someone like her. It would be a delicious scandal, a testament to her power of influence. But she also recognized the brittle fear beneath your fascination. Pushing you into the public eye too soon would likely shatter the delicate connection she was forging, send you scurrying back to the safety of your prescribed world. So, for now, she granted you the privacy of the garage, the shared secret intensifying the illicit thrill for both of you.

Today felt different. An edgy anticipation hummed beneath your skin. You hadn't seen Sevika yesterday, a planned church event keeping you occupied, and the day before that, she'd been engrossed in a complex wiring job, offering no more than curt instructions and ignoring your hopeful glances. The absence of contact, after the growing pattern of unpredictable intimacy, left an annoying ache, a restlessness you didn’t want to acknowledge.

You were leaning against the workbench, watching her meticulously clean a carburetor part. She moved with that same focused intensity, her mechanical fingers surprisingly dexterous with the small components. The late afternoon sun slanted through the open garage door, casting long shadows. You traced a pattern on the dusty bench with your finger, trying to appear nonchalant.

Sevika straightened up, wiping her hands on a rag. She needed something from the higher shelves behind you. She moved towards you, her proximity instantly setting your nerves on high alert. Your breath caught. Is she…? She leaned in close, the familiar scent of oil, metal, and smoke filling your senses. Her face was inches from yours; you could see the faint lines around her eyes, the dark intensity of her gaze as she reached past you for a can of cleaner on the shelf.

Your heart, which had leaped into your throat, plummeted with disappointment. She pulled back, turning away without a word, without even a glance.

An involuntary sound, a small huff of frustration, escaped your lips before you could stop it.

Sevika paused, halfway back to her task. She turned slowly, that knowing, slightly cruel smirk playing on her lips again. "Something bothering you, Pastor's kid?"

You flushed, caught out. "No. Nothing."

"Really?" She took a step closer, invading your space again, her presence magnetic and intimidating. "Sounded like you were expecting something." Her eyes glittered with challenge. "If you want something," she said, her voice dropping lower, rougher, "you need to learn to ask for it."

The implication hung heavy in the air. Ask for it? Ask her? For a kiss? The very idea sent a wave of heat crawling up your neck. Your strict upbringing, the ingrained modesty, the sheer audacity of voicing such a desire warred with the memory of her touch, the addictive thrill of her attention, the frustrating ache of wanting it now. Embarrassment tightened your throat, but her challenging stare, the sheer force of her personality, pushed you.

"I... I just..." The words tangled on your tongue, thick with mortification. You couldn't look at her. "Maybe... could you...?"

Before the full, humiliating request could stumble past your lips, Sevika moved. Her human hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face up forcefully. Her mouth crashed down onto yours, harder than before, a kiss that wasn't teasing but staking a claim, punishing your hesitation and rewarding your tentative compliance all at once. It stole the air from your lungs, demanding a response you were barely capable of giving, lost in the sudden onslaught. You would plead more often if this is the reward you'll be getting.

But then, just as you felt yourself start to sway, the kiss shifted. Her lips left yours, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jawline, down the sensitive column of your throat. You gasped, your head instinctively tilting back, granting her access. It was uncharted territory, a shocking escalation that sent shivers racing across your skin. She paused there, her breath warm against your pulse point, her eyes, dark and intense, searching yours. It wasn't a question asked in words, but the query was unmistakable: May I?

Every warning bell from your past screamed 'no,' screamed 'danger,' screamed 'sin.' But the feeling of her lips against your skin, the possessive grip on your jaw, the raw, predatory focus in her eyes… it silenced everything else. You couldn't speak, couldn't think, could only feel the frantic beat of your heart against her proximity. You didn't pull away. Your eyes fluttered shut.

That was answer enough.

Sevika smirked against your skin before her mouth closed firmly over the juncture where your neck met your shoulder. You jolted at the sharp, sucking pressure, a sound somewhere between a gasp and a whimper escaping you. It didn't exactly hurt, but it was intense, startling, possessive. She lingered for a moment before pulling back slightly, her thumb brushing over the spot.

She surveyed her handiwork, a dark, blooming mark against your skin, a visible sign of her claim. A low sound of satisfaction rumbled in her chest. She leaned close to your ear, her voice a rough whisper that sent another wave of shivers through you.

"That's right," she murmured, the words a praise for you bravery of coming out of your comfort zone. "Good girl. Now you will know who you belong to everytime you look into the mirror."

Weeks passed, sevika ever the presistor never let the mark leave your neck, you had to constantly choose clothing with high collar but the smile on your lips screamed "worth it". Dinners at your parents’ house was usually a quiet affair, governed by polite conversation and the rhythmic clinking of silverware. Tonight, though quiet, felt different inside you. A secret warmth curled in your stomach, a buoyancy that made it hard to keep the corners of your lips from twitching upwards. You kept your eyes mostly on your plate, the high, stiff collar of your blouse feeling both protective and suffocating against the sensitive skin of your neck. The dark marks hidden beneath were a constant, thrilling reminder of Sevika, a secret language only the two of you shared.

"Mrs. Gable mentioned seeing you chatting with our new neighbor quite often, " your mother commented casually, placing a serving spoon back in the mashed potatoes "Sevika, wasn’t it?"

The sudden mention of her name made you inhale sharply, a piece of roast potato lodging itself in your throat. You coughed, eyes watering, as a strangled gasp escaped you. Your father immediately passed you the water glass, patting your back gently.

"Goodness, dear, careful," your mother fussed, though her expression held only mild concern, misinterpreting your reaction as simple surprise. "I was just saying, it’s nice you’re being so welcoming. Perhaps," she continued, turning a thoughtful look on you, "you could invite her to service this Sunday? It would be a kind gesture. Show her some community spirit."

Your father nodded approvingly. "That’s a fine idea," he said to your mother than after a pause he turned back to you "I’m really proud of you, dear, for looking past appearances and extending friendship. That’s true Christian spirit."

Guilt twisted sharply in your gut, mingling uncomfortably with the secret thrill. Spirit? Friendship? If they only knew. The image of Sevika’s lips against your neck, the possessive heat in her eyes, flashed in your mind. "Oh. Um, yes. Maybe I could," you mumbled, agreeing weakly. The thought of Sevika, Sevika with her utter lack of reverence for anything, stepping foot inside your father’s church was terrifying.

The next afternoon, back in the familiar territory of the garage, the anxiety from last night returned tenfold. You perched on your usual crate, watching Sevika work, but your usual quiet observation was replaced by a nervous fidgeting you couldn’t control something so out of ordinary for you. Your mind was occupied, What if she laughed in your face? What if she said no and thought you were trying to force your beliefs on her? Worse, what if she said no, and your parents took it as a sign she wasn’t receptive to ‘friendship’ and curtailed your visits?

Sevika, predictably, noticed immediately. She put down the wrench she was cleaning, her sharp eyes narrowing on your tense posture. She wiped her hands on a rag and walked over, stopping far too close, that familiar invasion of your personal space that still made your heart hammer. Her human hand came up, calloused thumb brushing softly against your cheekbone, a gesture that had become unnervingly familiar, a prelude to intimacy.

"Alright, Pastor’s kid," she said, her voice low. "Spit it out. You’ve been wound tighter than a spring nut since you got here.”"

Her closeness, the casual intimacy of her touch, momentarily scattered your thoughts. You took a shaky breath. "My parents… they, uh… they want me to invite you to church. On Sunday." The words tumbled out in a rush, braced for refusal or mockery.

Sevika’s expression didn’t change much, perhaps a flicker of surprise deep in her eyes, quickly masked. Church? Her? The idea was ludicrous. She hadn’t stepped inside one since… well, she couldn’t even remember. Honestly, she couldn’t care less about stained glass and sermons. But then she looked at you, properly looked. Saw the genuine anxiety knotting your brow, the way you chewed on your lower lip, the plea in your wide eyes. Seeing you this worked up, this vulnerable… fuck it. How bad could one boring hour be? Besides, the image of walking into his domain, the pastor’s holy ground, with his daughter marked and claimed by her… the sheer audacity appealed to her confrontational nature. But it wouldn’t be Sevika if she didn’t make you work for it, just a little.

She pulled her hand back, folding her arms, leaning against the workbench with feigned contemplation. “Hmmm, church,” she drawled, tapping her mechanical finger against her bicep. "Don’t know. Not really my kind of place, you know? Lotta judgment, usually."

"No, it’s not like that!" you rushed to assure her, desperation making your voice high-pitched. "Everyone’s really nice, and Dad’s sermons are… well, they’re good! Please, Sevika? It would make my parents happy..." and I don't know what will happen if you decide not to you though to yourself.

Sevika watched your earnest pleading, a slow smirk building. She already knew she was going, but the game was too enjoyable you were too adorable to resist like this. She pushed off the workbench, to lean in close again. Her eyes dropped pointedly to the high collar of your shirt. Before you could react, her fingers deftly hooked under the fabric, pulling it aside just enough to reveal the fading, but still visible, mark she’d left days before. Her head dipped, and her lips attached themselves firmly to the spot, a deliberate, possessive reclaiming. You gasped, hands automatically coming up to grip her forearms, clinging as the familiar heat and pressure sent tremors through you. She lingered, tasting her claim, reinforcing her ownership right there in the greasy light of the garage.

She lifted her head, eyes dark and intense. The smirk was gone, replaced by smoldering satisfaction. "Okay," she said, her voice rough. "I’ll go." She released your collar, letting it snap back into place, hiding the freshly renewed evidence. Her gaze held yours. "But you owe me one, Pastor’s kid. Big time. One day, I’m gonna ask you to do something for me, and you’re gonna do it. No questions asked. Got it?"

Staring into those commanding eyes, feeling the phantom heat of her mouth on your skin, you didn’t really know what else you could possibly give her, what favor she could possibly want that she hadn’t already begun to take. But trapped in the force of her will, you could only nod dumbly. "Got it."

Sunday morning arrived with a nervous flutter in your stomach. You stood near the entrance of the church with your parents, greeting familiar faces, your eyes constantly darting towards the heavy wooden doors. And then, she arrived.

Sevika stood framed in the doorway, a stark contrast to the pastel dresses and neat suits surrounding her. She wore dark jeans, sturdy boots, and a plain, dark button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal both her mechanical arm and the intricate tattoos snaking up her human one. She looked… out of place, yes, but also undeniably powerful, her usual intimidating aura somehow amplified in this setting of quiet reverence.

Your father, ever the gracious host, stepped forward immediately, hand outstretched. "Sevika! Welcome, welcome! We’re so pleased you could join us."

Sevika took his hand, her grip firm. "Pastor," she acknowledged, her voice neutral. Her eyes, however, immediately found yours across the small space. And they widened, just slightly.

You wore a simple white dress, knee-length, with short sleeves and a modest neckline it was your typical Sunday attire but sevika had never seen it. seeing you like this, bathed in the soft light filtering through the stained-glass windows, your hair neatly done, a gentle, almost shy smile gracing your lips as you met her gaze… Sevika felt an unexpected jolt. You always looked neat, proper. But today, surrounded by the trappings of your faith, you looked… breathtaking. Ethereal. An innocence so potent it was almost provocative. That kind smile, directed at her… damn it all, she wanted to drag you out of here right now, push you against the ancient stone walls and kiss you senseless, wipe that serene look right off your face and replace it with the dazed flush she was becoming addicted to.

The service began, and you found yourselves sitting side-by-side in a wooden pew. You felt Sevika’s restlessness beside you, the slight shifting, the way her mechanical fingers tapped silently on her knee. You assumed it was discomfort the unfamiliar hymns, the prayers, the sheer foreignness of the environment for someone like her. You risked a small glance; she wasn’t looking at the altar or your father in the pulpit. She was looking at you. Specifically, at the way your hands were clasped loosely in your lap as you bowed your head in prayer, your expression earnest and focused. Adorable. Utterly, maddeningly adorable.

Leaning closer during a moment swallowed by the organ’s swell, Sevika’s lips brushed your ear. Her warm breath sent shivers down your spine despite the sacred surroundings. "Where's the Restroom?" she whispered, her voice a low, rough command against the delicate shell of your ear. "End of the hall." You whispered back gesturing with a tilt of your head to the direction. "Great, yo have five minutes to come after I go" she voiced in a stern tune that didn't allow any argument.

You jolted, turning wide eyes to her. Now? Here?

Sevika merely raised a knowing eyebrow, a silent reminder of the debt you owed. Pride flared in her chest ... cashing in the favor so soon, so brazenly, right under the nose of the Pastor himself. She gave your knee a quick, firm squeeze under the cover of the pew, then stood smoothly and slipped out into the side aisle, heading towards the back.

Your heart hammered against your ribs. This was insane. Sacrilegious. But the memory of her kiss, the weight of her promise, and the undeniable pull she exerted overrode everything else. After what felt like an eternity, but was probably only two agonizing minutes, you mumbled an excuse about needing water to your mother and slid out of the pew, legs trembling as you followed Sevika’s path.

The restroom was small, utilitarian, smelling faintly of bleach and old plumbing. Empty. The lock clicked shut behind you, loud in the sudden silence. Before you could even take a breath, Sevika had you backed against the cool tile wall, her mouth descending on yours in a hungry, almost frantic kiss. It was all pent-up frustration from the service, the forced restraint, the maddening sight of you looking so pure and untouchable.

Her hands were immediately busy, fingers fumbling with the small pearl buttons at the neck of your white dress. One, two, three gave way, exposing the smooth skin of your collarbone and the tops of the marks she’d already left. Her lips abandoned yours, attaching themselves to your neck with bruising intensity, licking, sucking, biting lightly, drawing a choked gasp from you.

"So damn beautiful," she muttered against your skin, praising the way you trembled under her assault. Her hands roamed, sliding over the fabric of your dress, mapping the curve of your waist, the swell of your hip, then drifting higher to cup your breast through the material. She was trying to maintain some semblance of control, trying to just "put out the fire," as she’d thought of it, but touching you, marking you here, in this forbidden place, was intoxicating.

Her mouth moved lower, leaving a trail of fire across your collarbone, then lower still, finding the delicate skin just above the swell of your breast, hidden by the loosened dress. She nipped gently, then soothed the spot with her tongue, leaving another dark bloom against your skin.

She pulled back abruptly, breathing hard, her eyes blazing with a barely contained inferno. Her mechanical hand cupped your cheek, tilting your face up to hers. You looked dazed, lips swollen, eyes wide and dark, the picture of illicit surrender.

"You’re making me crazy, Pastor’s kid," she growled, her voice thick with desire. "Making me want things I shouldn’t, especially not here." She leaned her forehead against yours for a second, trying to regain control. "God help you when I finally stop holding back."

And with that lingering threat, that promise of future intensity hanging heavy in the small, sterile room, she released you, leaving you trembling against the wall, marked and claimed within the very heart of your father’s church.

An: do we want pt2? (•-•)

#sevika #sevika reader #sevika x reader #sevika arcane #wlw #corruptions #arcane fanfic #au #suggestive

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thisrots · 2 months ago

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save a horse, ride a… reader?

✩ warnings: top!receiving!sevika x bottom!giving!reader, cowboy sevika riding/fucking ur face, she kinda has a big clit in this, little bit mean sev, mm that’s ab it! porn with not a lot of plot :p

✩ word count: 1k

you always watched Sevika and how she rode her horses. with precision, dominance, little bit of roughness. specifically, you focused on her hips. how they bucked forward with each movement, thighs clenching around the animal.

you did always wonder how that would feel like—being the one underneath her rocking hips, smothered between her bulky thighs.

being the one to let her ride your face.

the day you built up enough courage to ask, she let out a dry laugh, completely thinking this was just one of your perverted little comments. It was your dead serious expression that gave away the complete opposite—you meant every word.

“Well, uh… Alright then, peach.” Sevika started, peering down at you and your desperate puppy face, hands on her round hips. “Let’s see if you can handle all this. Yeah?”

fuck, you were already in heaven. melting into the sheets like hot honey from the mere sight. Sevika straddled your face with her thick, plush thighs, hovering her drooling cunt over you, letting it drip against your face. she toyed with herself, taking her pointer and middle finger and sliding them between her bulging clit, groaning at the feeling of her arousal sliding out of her and onto your pathetically pouty lips.

“What do you want, baby doll, huh?” she’d tease, spreading herself open, light pink bud on full display. “Gotta use ‘em words.”

you let out an exasperated groan at the sight, hands gripping onto the fat of her thighs, fingers digging into her skin. “Sit on my face, please.” you spoke with no hesitation. “Ride me—U-Use my mouth. Please?”

Sevika could never deny you, your pleads were one of her weaknesses, and you’d use them to get your way often. your mouth watered as she inched closer, slowly, but surely. you could smell her tangy musk from a long day’s work outside (you’d totally begged her not to shower before—you little freak), making a drool tear run down the side of your cheek.

“Alright, alright. Open wide, baby.”

and so you did. your jaw dropped, tongue lapped out and panting like a dog waiting for its treat.

“Make room for—” you cut her sentence short by suddenly pushing her forward, greedily catching her swollen clit in your mouth, her eyes rolling back in complete ecstasy. “M-Mama—fu-uck, G-God—”

were you going to pay for that later? most definitely. did you give a fuck? nope, not one. Sevika thrusted forward, forcing your head back down, putting all her weight down as she began to fuck your face. her thighs were pressed up against your cheeks, squeezing tightly as she free used your mouth.

“Impatient lil’ slut… This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

you couldn’t have nodded more eagerly, tongue too busy working on her bud to respond. you were getting crushed—completely suffocated by the muscular woman as you struggled to take a breath, looking up at her with glistening, awe struck eyes. this is exactly where you wanted to be, pleasantly dizzy and drunk off Sevika. your eyes followed her happy trail up, past her flexed abs, gaze stuck on her tits. they were bouncing up and down against her bucking hips, brown nipples hardened and poked out, lips cracked open as she let out hoarse moans and grunts.

your hands wandered up the back of her thighs, gripping onto her tight ass, pressing her deeper into you. she was damn near throat fucking you, licking her from sopping hole to clit, occasionally choking on her meaty pussy as it filled up your mouth. the room was steeped with the vulgar noises of her sticky, wet shlick against your plump lips, whiny muffled moans vibrating against her skin.

“That’s it, darlin’. Nnghh! You j-just—lay there ‘n look pretty, take every last bit of me.” Sevika managed between gutturally raw moans, her rocking hips making the bed squeak. she could feel you in her core, hot, blissful, pleasure taking over her body.

your muted sounds were damn near pornographic, needy slut sounding like you were stuffed to the brim by nothing but her. she knew you were probably drenched, puffy pussy throbbing and aching from her fucking into your mouth. you had mascara stained tears running down your face, jaw soaked with the perfect mixture of spit and arousal, letting out little exaggerated ‘mm, mm, mm’s!’ with each shove of her enlarged clit into you.

she wasn’t just using your mouth, she was using your whole goddamn face. she’d rut against you, bud poking your nose as her slick hole pulsated against your hot tongue, pressing it into her heat. she tasted salty, a little twang stuck between her folds from the sweaty summer heat—yet you moaned into it and devoured her pussy like it was the best meal you’d ever had.

as her hips rolled back, you caught her cunt lips in your mouth, latching onto them as you held her still. your tongue sloppily trailed against her entire pussy. hole, lips, clit. repeat. sevika’s body trembled, shallow breaths shuddering in and out quickly, moans embarrassingly growing in higher pitch and sound. you obscenely loudly suckled on her, head moving up and down as her thighs clenched against your cheeks.

“Ahh, yeah—mmh! Yeah, just like that! Gonna fuckin’ c-cum all in that pretty lil’ mouth of yours—!”

Sevika’s back arched like the string of a bow, sweat dripping down her forehead as her climax washed over her body like a tidal wave. her whole body jerked with each flick of your tongue, clit twitching with overwhelming pleasure, making strangled and lewd noises you’d never heard come out of her mouth before.

her cum was scolding hot, pearly white substance shamelessly spilling into your mouth with each continuous, rough grind of her hips, making you grip so hard around her you completely clawed up her thighs.

“Swallow.” she ordered, ignoring your little leg kicks and whimpers. you gagged as you garbled it all down, throat bobbing as her thick juices coated it white.

once she finally lifted off you, a string of your drool and her cum clung onto your lips, heavily breathing as you fluttered your lashes at the towering woman with glassy eyes. “T-Thank you, Sev.”

Sevika tutted, a toothy, smug smirk curling up on her lips. “Ain’t got nothin’ to be thanking me for yet, honey.” her thumb ran across your lips, cutting the string as she messily wiped you clean.

“We’re just gettin’ started.”

#arcane #sevika arcane #sevika nsft #arcane sevika #sevika blurb #sevika x y/n #sevika x you #sevika x reader #sevika #sevika x reader nsft #sevika reader #sevika arcane x reader #sevika x f!reader #sevika drabble #cowboy sevika #arcane nsft #arcane women

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jinftranda · 6 days ago

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HELLFIRE: The Living Dead [Sevika x You]

Chapter 1

character introduction

sypnosis: a zombie apocalypse resurfaces after a group of scientists’ questions are left unanswered by history. Unfortunately, it also happens when you are pulling strings in an attempt to fix your relationship with your wife, Sevika.

content: modern au ( Sevika still has her left arm), reader and Sevika are married, reader wants to get divorced (but did not absolutely happen because of the apocalypse), side plots and ships : p, lots of genre in one fic, mild description of blood and dead bodies, gore-ish?, trigger warnings will be added, andddd a lot more that i will uncover later on!

notes: my 3rd au and i’m still working on my issues at writing, my first time writing something like this, this au inspired from different zombie movies/medias

additional notes: character status and health will be posted as soon as i get into future chapters!

JUST IN

A Group of scientists unfolds the mysteries left unsolved at The Nation of Zaun— reports say that one of the scientists started experiencing unexplainable occurrences after investigation.

Background story: The nation of Zaun suffered a deadly and terrifying pandemic a hundred years ago. The pandemic was caused by sanitary and cleanliness issues; scientists from the local laboratories had come to Zaun to investigate further. But according to the others, one of the scientists experienced unexplainable occurrences in his body, with eyes turning white, veins becoming more visible, and changes in overall appearance. The scientist is allegedly locked up in a laboratory for testing.

Comments (10k+)

—

Anonymous: OMFG, just leave that damn place alone for God’s sake!

Replies:

@sharksdontpoop: Agree! Past is past, they should just leave it there.

Replying to @sharksdontpoop

@diabolical_weirdo: There won’t be a future without the past. 🤔

Replying to @diabolicalweirdo

@__randa.x: omg shut your bitchass up

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@jinjo__on: Can y’all delay the apocalypse? My package hasn’t arrived yet

Replies:

@yx._esxp: and the world keeps spinning

@immalosernlover: We’re literally about to go through another pandemic, and that’s what you’re worried about? Have a grip on reality girl 😭🤚

Replying to @immalosernlover

Anonymous: Most sane person in the comment section

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@apobangpo4lifer: See? This is what happens when you’re messing with something that should be left alone.

Replies:

@sapphirezrela: thank you 4 saying this. i haven’t closed my eyes in days because i’m scared that i’ll get attacked by a zombie while i’m sleeping. and posts about it aren’t helping me ☹️

Replying to @sapphirezrela:

@apobangpo4lifer: Poor thing! I’m so sorry that you’re going through that 😞

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@8_8crying.outloud: Thanks a lot to those scientists

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@chronicoleyonline: “Just let the city breathe” well the city’s breath is going to kill us all

Replies:

@seokjinsarmpithair: I’m lit too afraid to go outside rn, and this made me chuckle 😭

Replying to @seokjinsarmpithair:

@chronicoleyonline: Chuckle only? Not laugh??

Replying to @seokjinsarmpithair

Anonymous: i think we should start talking about your username first

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@totalrando.onthenet: And what are we supposed to do with this information

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@alan.is.datboi: Kinda excited for a zombie apocalypse to happen tbh 🤣

Replies:

Anonymous: Are you also excited to get mauled by a zombie? 🥰

Replying to Anonymous:

@Justhere4yuri: LMAO 😭😭

—

You are currently sitting in the front seat of the car, next to Sevika. It was another dreadful ride home, and the two of you are doing absolutely nothing to light up the mood. You cross your arms and lean against the car window.

You’re holding your breath because the smell of the car is making you sick.

“What, are we just gonna go home like this?” Sevika asks angrily, her eyes still on the road. You didn’t answer her, and you kept looking through the window.

Unfortunately, you weren’t able to hold your breath for too long. Cause after you said that to yourself that you weren’t going to throw up, you were on the verge of releasing everything you ate earlier.

You tap multiple times on the car window, desperately trying to signal Sevika to stop the car.

Sevika pulls over, and she looks at you with irritation across her face. She unlocks the door of the car, and you immediately rush outside, finally breathing.

You look back at the car while still catching your breath.

Sevika’s expecting you to get back in, but to her surprise, you shut the door on her, and you walk away.

Sevika’s left annoyed, she grunts from frustration, and she catches up to you, still inside the car.

She lowers the window, “Get back in!” Sevika shouts at you, you ignore her, and you walk faster.

Sevika drives faster, but she stops driving just ahead of you.

Sevika’s about to open her mouth, but you spoke first.

“I can’t do this anymore!”

You shout at her face, you gasp for air while looking at your surroundings; you’re glad that no one is around to witness a somewhat telenovela scene on the highway. Sevika raises her eyebrows at you and shakes her head in confusion.

You stomp your foot out of frustration before speaking, “You’ve been too busy on your job, and it’s driving me crazy!” you exclaim at her, but you weren’t finished letting it all out.

“Don’t get me wrong, I understand that you’re working really hard so that I’d live with ease— but I can’t hold onto you anymore..” You stop. “Don’t even get me started when you start forgetting some of our important dates!” you continued.

Sevika could only watch and listen.

“And I still haven’t forgotten the car you gave me for my birthday,” you mutter.

“What?” Sevika asks furiously, every woman in the world would want a car.

But why are you complaining now about getting one?

“I’m carsick, Sevika!” you cover your mouth,

“Carsick!” you scream again at her.

Sevika’s eyes goes wide when she remembers that you’re carsick.

“I can’t help but vomit whenever I get in any type of car, but you gifted me one!” You can’t help yourself from sobbing. You gifted me that because, apparently “You don’t want me to use public transportation.” Well, that car is the reason why I’m riding public transportation!”

“And the smell of your leather seat covers is making me wanna throw up,” you manage to utter.

“I’m s-sorry—” Sevika pleads .

“I’m breaking things off with you,” you say to her, it almost sounds like a whisper.

Sevika’s eyes shoot open upon hearing your words. It’s obvious that she’s mad by just looking at her face.

“I don’t love you anymore..” you mutter quietly.

She gasps in disbelief and runs her hands through her hair.

Sevika heard it, clearly.

She palms her face and swears loudly.

She glares at you for a second, but closes the car window and drives away quickly.

You’re now alone.

You arrived home an hour after you ended things with Sevika, the drive with her is already unbearable and dreadful, but it only hits you ten times harder when you’re on your own.

You enter your home, and the first thing you see is that Isha is sitting on the dinner table with her iPad. You walk up to her, only to be pulled in a hug by Vi.

“You’re back!” She hugs you tighter with a warm smile on her face. Even though you can barely breathe, a smile creeps up to your face while sighing in contentment. But when Vi pulls away, your happy expression goes back to your dreadful state earlier. Vi raises her eyebrow upon the change in your expression.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Vi asks, she sounds concerned.

You gathered the guts to finally tell her what happened, and you sighed before speaking.

“I-I just ended things with Sev..” you reply without energy.

It was clear that Vi didn’t expect to hear that from you, after all, you and Sevika have been married for 15 years.

“Wait— you two got divorced?” Vi asks with almost a high-pitched tone. You try to avoid her gaze, but she won’t stop until she gets answers. You shake your head tiredly.

“Oh, so it’s not an official breakup?” Vi follows up on her question.

“Yup,” you reply, while walking in Isha’s direction. You were too busy eyeing Isha earlier that you didn’t see Caitlyn beside her.

”Hey, Ish,” you say as you tap her arm. Isha looks up to you with a smile on her face. She hugs you tight. Caitlyn’s too busy with the children’s coloring handbook that she didn’t notice your presence immediately. She took notice of you when Isha tapped on her arms, and she pointed at you.

Caitlyn’s face lights up when she sees you. She stands up from her seat and hugs you gently. “What took you so long?” she says while getting back on her seat. She nods to you to take the seat beside her. Vi walks to the three of you and sits on the chair next to Isha.

You're eyeing Vi to let her do the talking.

“M-Me?” Vi almost choked as she asked, you nod gently.

“Finally.” That’s what Caitlyn said after hearing that you and Sevika finally broke off.

“You’re waiting for this?” you ask with a high-pitched tone. You were surprised when you found out that almost everyone you’re close to wants you to divorce Sevika.

“How come I’m only finding this out now?” You were desperate for answers.

“It’s honestly sad to see you glue your relationship with Sevika every day.” Caitlyn fidgets with Isha’s crayons as she’s putting them away now that Isha’s tucked to bed.

“You’ve seen me grow up, and I’ve also seen how Sevika is growing distant from you.” Vi follows up after Caitlyn spoke.

“I-I’ve never thought about that, until now,” you admit. You were so blindly in love with Sevika that you weren’t noticing her neglecting you.

You were neglected for affection, quality time, assurance, touch, and almost everything that makes the bond between a couple stronger.

But you were too blind.

You’re a smart person, but when it comes to Sevika?

It feels like you’re an idiot.

She gets you every time, even without effort.

That makes letting go of her so difficult.

“Cait, have you seen this stuff about a zombie apocalypse?” Vi chuckled after she asked Caitlyn.

“Nonsense— don’t believe those slop.” Caitlyn rolls her eyes while answering Vi.

“Zombie, what now?” you ask.

“There’s this article online about some scientist who started acting like a zombie after investigating Zaun.”

“Isn’t Zaun a dead city?” Vi responds to you.

“Yeah, why did they even go there? Isn’t it dangerous?”

“They might start another pandemic,” you say.

“Maybe just a stunt that the media is trying to pull.” Caitlyn chimes in on your conversation with Vi.

The three of you joked and laughed around while talking about the “supposedly” zombie apocalypse.

After that, you all went to bed.

Without knowing that you’ll be living in a nightmare, for quite a long time.

Taglist: @djstinkyfartz

—

an: howdy! we’ll be getting into the zombie stuff soon, stay tuned everyone 😚

comment if you want to be on the tag list!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated :3

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