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dreamofbetterthings · 2 months

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Finally Home Wolverine x mutant! Reader

Prompt: “I’ve spent forever thinking about what I’d say to you when I saw you again. Now that you’re here in front of me, I can’t seem to find the words.”

VIP: Logan Howlett aka Wolverine (Played by Hugh Jackman)

Universe: X-Men (Originally Fox), Marvel

Summary: Wade was a man of his word, and managed to get Logan back to his universe, right into the arms of someone he hasn't seen in ten years.

Warnings: This is a different ending from Deadpool and Wolverine. Minor spoilers for the plot. Reader is basically a modern-day avatar (The last air bender universe, not the Jake Sully blue folks lol) since all the good powers are already taken haha. Also, The Last Stand doesn't exist in this universe because I refuse to acknowledge the pain I had watching that movie.

A/N

Holy cow I took my boyfriend to see Deadpool and Wolverine, and we loved it! Originally, there were a couple of stories for these two individually that I had in my WIPS, but I just needed to get a couple of stories out while the movie was still fresh in my mind. The ending might be a little out of character for Wade and Logan, but I had no idea how to end it, so it is what it is. Once again, minor spoilers ahead for the film. I'll have another one out soon for you all.

Enjoy!

Logan was never one to be straightforward with his emotions. Nobody knew what he was thinking, or how he felt about anything. The only thing he managed to convey was anger and rage. Not now though. The party at Wade's apartment was in full swing, and everybody was having a good time knowing their existence wasn't on the verge of collapsing.

Almost everyone, anyway.

Logan sat on the couch and watched Wade interact with his friends, his newfound family, and that damn dog. He watched as they all smiled and joked with each other, passing food and drinks about. It was a domestic life that he hadn't quite learned to adapt. He almost did though, with you. Logan pulls a photo out of his jeans and a melancholy look spreads across his face as he looks at it.

"That's not fair, you can teleport!" Brushing what was left of the water balloon off your clothes, Kurt shrugs his shoulders. "You'll just have to be faster and catch me!" You quickly aim before he disappears again, leaving you without a target.

It was a sunny day, thanks to Storm, and Charles decided to give the students a break. With so much going on in the last few months, everyone was exhausted. He thought it would be a good idea to set up a pool and let everyone relax. Most of them were just kids after all, and they were pushed so much harder than they needed to be for the sake of a world that won't always accept them. They yearned for a day to be themselves, to be kids, and today, was that day.

Everybody was outside either in or by the pool. Students were chasing each other with water balloons and water guns. Others were taking turns jumping into the pool, or playing water polo, or volleyball. There was a barbeque off to the side when the kids got hungry, and of course, alcohol for the adults. The sun was out, and it gave a warm contrast to the nippy water of the pool. The X-Men team, the adults anyway, were sitting in lounge chairs or standing around, making sure the kids were being careful and not hurting themselves. Storm was even walking around and taking pictures of everyone having fun, mentioning she wanted to get them developed and put in a scrapbook. A memento of when life was easier and calm.

Then there was Logan. Off to the side drinking a beer, watching everyone have a good time. He wasn't much for the domestic life, as he didn't make a habit of getting close to people. But, these were his people, and he was thankful to find a community that accepted him as he was, even if he would never say it out loud. He watched all the kids run around, but his eyes always found their way back to you. You looked happy and relaxed, even when chasing Bobby or Colossus around with water in your hands. This was a huge contrast from how you looked during the missions you went on. It was a good look for you.

Logan was pulled from his thoughts when a sudden burst of cold hit his chest. Looking down, he noticed his once-dry black shirt was sticking to his body, water dripping from it. All the kids gasped and stopped their movements. Charles looked at his friend, a slightly amused look on his face. He looked around, trying to figure out who had just signed their death wish before his eyes once again landed on you. Standing next to the pool, you looked around, pretending like you didn't just water bend to hit him from across the yard. Logan did something that confused everyone. He simply grunted, wiping off his shirt before taking another drink of his beer. Everyone relaxed and continued to have fun, although slightly surprised at the lack of reaction from the stoic man.

You had stopped the antics and started talking with Scott, asking him how things had been with him and Jean. The last mission put a bit of a strain on their relationship. Your back was to Logan, so you didn't see when he put down his beer and started to creep up towards you. Scott noticed when he finally made his way behind you but decided not to say anything. After finishing his sentence, Scott quickly excused himself and stepped away. That was when Logan decided to grab you from behind.

You screamed from suddenly getting picked up and tried to reason with the man as he walked towards the pool. "Logan, come on, let's talk about this for a second. You don't have to do this. I'm sorry, please just put me down!" Unfortunately, your pleas fell on deaf ears, and the others sat there laughing as Logan hurled you into the pool. The kids all yelled in excitement. They'd been trying to get you in the water for hours. Had they known it was that easy, they would've splashed Logan themselves earlier. When you finally came up for air, everybody was laughing, and you even heard a couple of shutter clicks from Storm's camera.

Logan just stood there with an amused smirk on his face. You fake pouted before he came over to the edge of the pool with his hand out. "You shouldn't have splashed me." With a huff, you go over to meet him at the edge. "You don't sound too sorry about it." He pulled his hand away and shrugged his shoulders. "Alright, I won't help you out." "Okay, okay. I accept your apology. Would you be so kind as to help me out of the pool?" He reached his hand back out, and you happily took it, only to shock him by pulling the man with all your strength into the pool with you. This got everyone laughing. Scott laughed so hard he fell to his knees. Logan finally came up for air, his poor shirt clinging to his body for dear life, and wrapped his arms around you to keep you from getting out.

He was smiling.

He didn't smile often, and it always warmed your heart to see those pearly whites. Storm ran up and managed to get a couple of photos of the two of you before running off again. "I think that makes us even." You shake your head. "Not even close, however, I don't want the entire school to think you aren't the brooding mysterious man that you waltz around as.” Leaning close to his ear you whisper so the kids can't hear. "So, if you want, you can make it up to me tonight." Logan stays frozen in place, his eyes following you out of the pool to look for a towel.

Storm had the photos developed later that night and slipped a couple under Logan's door with a note. "Don't worry, I didn't put these in the scrapbook. I think the fourth will be your favorite." - Storm

Logan's eyes welled with tears as he held the photo. She was right, the fourth photo was his favorite one. The two of you were soaking wet in the pool with your arms around each other, smiling towards the camera. The picture got crumpled over time, always in his pocket or folded out of reach, but he kept it.

He missed you.

Dear god, he missed you.

Your body was never found when the mansion was raided. He always assumed you were taken and experimented on. He would've rather you be killed instead of kept alive and tortured for who knows how long. After looking for you for what felt like forever, he finally gave up, assuming you were dead. The crumpled-up picture was the only thing he had to remember your smile, your laugh, you.

Logan blinked the tears away when Wade approached. "Hey there peanut. You got a second?" A grunt left Logan's lips. "What do you want?" The self-proclaimed marvel Jesus took his hand and pulled him towards the door. "I got a surprise for you, I think you'll like it. Don't worry about the party, we'll be quick." As the two men walk out the door, Wade pulls a TempPad out of his pocket, and Logan starts to protest. "I'm not about to do more universe jumping with you. Once was enough." Wade nods. "I understand, but I think you might change your mind once you find out where we're going." Before Logan can say anything else, he is pulled through a portal into a hallway that looks like a carbon copy of the one he was previously in. "I swear if I have to listen to another one of you assholes I'm going to kill you both." Wade shrugs the comment off. "It's not another me." He gets serious for a moment.

"I know I lied to you about being able to fix your universe, and I'm sorry. However, I did jump around and find someone that you've been missing for ten years." Wade knocks on the door and then steps back. It opens a few seconds later.

"Logan?"

You stood there, shock and disbelief on your face. Without a second thought, both your feet move until you collapse in each other's arms. A sigh of relief leaves the broken man's mouth as the war in his mind begins to subside. "It's me bub. It's me." Tears spill down your face as you hug the man who you haven't seen in years. The two of you finally pull away, and Logan turns to Wade. "How did you do this? I thought they were dead." The merc shakes his head no. "Took a while to track them down. I almost thought they were dead, luckily I was wrong."

A portal appears behind Wade as he reaches out to hand Logan the TempPad. "I couldn't fix your past, but I at least wanted to give you a familiar future. Don't expect you to, but come visit anytime. My door is always open. We'll miss having you around." Logan took the device from Wade's hands. He starts to walk through the portal before Logan calls him. Turning around, Wade sees tears in the older man's eyes. "Thank you." He nods, before walking through the portal, and everyone in his apartment smiles and waves goodbye, before it closes.

Logan puts the device in his pocket, before looking at his lost love. He reaches his hand out and touches your face, afraid that this is some sick illusion and you'll be ripped away from him. “I’ve spent forever thinking about what I’d say to you when I saw you again. Now that you’re here in front of me, I can’t seem to find the words.” You smile and take his hand in yours. "Well, luckily for us, we have the rest of our lives for you to figure it out." You begin to walk back into your apartment, Logan's hand in yours. He thought about visiting Wade again when the time was right, but right now, he had a life with you to catch up on.

He was finally home.

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wheneverfeasible · 1 month

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🧠🪱Wriggly Wednesday🪱🧠

Thanks for the tag @stervrucht!

So I was literally just thinking about Sugar Daddy Steddie with rockstar Eddie, coincidentally enough…

🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞

Okay so get this. Eddie Munson is some fucking metal legend. Corroded Coffin made it big, right? Right out of high school some scout saw them playing and swooped them up immediately, and before you knew it they were household names. Even people who don’t listen to metal know who they are.

And look, Steve Harrington? Metal is so not his scene. That much is obvious with his striped polos and overly large noise cancelling headphones, but he’s there in the crowd, front row, with a pack of teenagers scampering about. Obviously not his own, but he’s watching them, a glorified babysitter. He looks kind of bitchy, but the occasional fond smile settles over his lips as he takes in the lot who are having the time of their lives.

They all have backstage passes and are there for Dustin’s birthday because Corroded Coffin is his all-time favorite band and he’s always wanted to meet the guy he idol worships. They go backstage, meet the band, and it’s great. Fantastic even. The band is a lot more down to earth than Steve had been expecting, and there’s no naked ladies or drugs in obvious places, so he decides maybe they aren’t too terrible.

Except the frontman keeps hitting on Steve.

At first it was startling, because Steve isn’t some cheap whore (no hate to actual cheap whores, Steve is 100% sex work positive, but he’s there as a babysitter), but Eddie doesn’t spend the whole time hitting on Steve. He actually spends the majority of it talking to Dustin and the others, and he gives way more free shit to the teens than was agreed upon with the backstage passes, and he and the rest of the band sign anything and everything the teens want.

(Eddie also offers to sign Steve’s tits, which gets him a flat glare.)

And that should be it when they leave. Except Eddie slips Steve his number. For when he’s not acting a babysitter.

And that’s the thing. When Steve isn’t in babysitter mode? Fuck. Eddie Munson could get it.

Steve might not be a whore, but he is a bit of a slut. And Eddie had been far more charming that he let it be revealed, not least of which being because of how he handled Dustin and the others, especially sweet El. He’d absolutely beamed when she called his outfit “bitchin’” and there was no artifice there.

Now, Steve wasn’t some groupie, but…he wasn’t opposed to hooking up with a hot rockstar in a band he couldn’t really care about if it got him some good dick.

And good dick he gets. But first, Eddie actually takes him out, taking him out to a really nice and fancy restaurant, despite Steve not dressing for the occasion expecting this to be a hit-it-and-quit-it situation, but Eddie pays off the staff to look the other way. After all, Eddie’s not really dressed all that appropriately either.

Then Eddie takes him for an honest-to-god moonlit carriage ride around the park, complete with flowers and cheesy romantic music. Steve would like to say he was unaffected, but it really did it for him. He was a romantic sap but he was used to being the one always having to be the giver, never the receiver. It was…nice. And sweet, because god, Eddie Munson was secretly a sweetheart when you got him alone.

And then, after the sweet and romantic date, the two of them have the most disrespectful sex of Steve’s life.

He can’t get enough of it.

He knows what this is, however. He knows someone like Eddie Munson probably does this every tour, picking up some random person and wining and dining them and then teaching them things that would make the Kama Sutra blush.

Except, when he sneaks out Eddie’s room in the hotel penthouse in the morning, bruised and rumpled in all the right ways, the rest of the band lounging in the sitting room are as surprised to see him as he is to see them. Because, it turns out, apparently Eddie doesn’t do this. At least not to the extent he showed Steve.

No one was ever asked to stay until morning, at least.

But Steve has to go home, and he thinks that’s it. But then Eddie comes out and asks for a second date when he tries to leave. Offers more backstage passes to the next show for the kids, and Steve is hesitant to say yes, and that’s when Eddie hits him with another surprise.

Eddie says that he doesn’t care that Steve is a babysitter or a nanny or whatever, he isn’t doing this out of pity over Steve’s financial issues, which he accompanies with a slight tug at the worn and slightly frayed edges of Steve’s polo. He says that he just wants to treat Steve right because Steve deserves it. That he wants to buy him pretty things and shower him with whatever he wants. Wants to keep having the sweetest dates with the most disrespectful sex with him.

And Steve…well. Steve is stumped.

Sure, he’s wearing old clothes, but he thought he was just having a dick appointment. And yeah, he was a babysitter, but the teens were actually weirdly his friends despite the age differences, not to mention many were the younger siblings of his other, more age appropriate friends. And yeah, Steve had blushed when Eddie mentioned going to a fancy restaurant and said he didn’t have the money for it, but that’s because he left his wallet behind because, as previously stated, he’d thought this was just a dick appointment.

But you see, Steve Harrington was the CEO of a major international corporation that had been in the Harrington family for generations who, once Steve took the helm from his father, had also recently begun work in far more charitable organizations and activities. His company was, in fact, one of the major donors that supported the arena in which Corroded Coffin had just played in last night. The company’s logo, a small crown with the company’s initials, was printed on all the tickets and on the backstage passes.

How else would Steve have been able to afford over half a dozen of them if he was living on just a babysitter’s salary.

Yet, here was Eddie, offering to be his…sugar daddy?

Steve would have laughed, was tempted to even, but Eddie looked so genuine and earnest and like truly all he wanted was to spend more time with Steve.

And really. Steve was so used to having to be the one to provide luxuries for his dates, to be the one in charge, to always have to give give give. Maybe, just maybe, he could play along with Eddie’s utter misunderstanding and take just a little bit. He’d pay Eddie back when the rockstar got bored of him and moved on, so really, what was the harm?

So yeah, Steve just smiles and says Okay, Daddy, and accepts the goddamn gifts Eddie had apparently already bought for him even before their date, and he lets himself have his fun.

After all, it’s not like it’s gonna turn into anything long lasting, right? Nothing serious, right? And there’s absolutely no way that they could ever fall in love…

…right?

Aaaaand yeah. Other things that I envision could pop up in the story:

Robin is his best friend and works for him with international clients due to being polylingual. She discovers what is going on and calls him a dingus. She also wants all the gossip.

Dustin finds a diamond studded collar in his bedroom that says “Babygirl” and asks if Steve is getting a dog. He was looking for something to wear to impress a date and Steve forgot Eddie’s latest gift was still on his bed.

Steve is in full sugar baby mode when they accidentally run into one of Steve’s business associates and/or they are at one of the venue locations Steve secretly owns and he’s trying desperately to hide anything that might have his name or face on it.

In the end, Steve starts buying Eddie expensive gifts too which freaks Eddie out because he doesn’t want Steve to waste what little money he has on him. Or so he thinks.

Some big angsty misunderstandings and the truth finally being revealed. It ends with them agreeing to spoil each other, but only Steve gets to be called “Babygirl” and Eddie remains “Daddy”. Everyone is sick of how in love they are.

Hostage tag: @derythcorvinus

No pressure tags: @scoops-aboy86 @endlessmusings1801 @viviseawrites @steddieassheg0es @stevesbipanic (if you’ve previously been tagged, just ignore me!)

#tag you’re it #wriggly wednesday #brain worm wednesday #steddie au #sugar baby steve harrington #rockstar eddie munson #sugar daddy eddie munson #sugar daddy steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie

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xxbimbobunnyxx · 5 months

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Butterfly Fantasies (Older!Rafe Cameron x Reader)

Summary: You’ve been teasing Rafe for months and when he sees you flirting with another man, it’s his final straw. Wk: 3.4k

This is a prompt from me & @babygorewhore’s writing game!! Feel free to click the link and come play with us✨

Warnings: Rafe is your dad’s best friend, age gap (Rafe is late 30s Reader is early 20s), daddy kink, choking, spanking, pussy slapping, breeding kink, hair pulling, degradation 18+MDNI!!

You know it’s wrong, parading yourself around like this for your dad’s best friend. You had just finished your final year of college so you were home staying with your dad for the summer. But every single time you saw Rafe it was like your body was on fire. Him and your dad have been friends and business partners for years now. But you had only ever met Rafe once before, a few years ago at your dad’s wedding. You thought he was sexy then and somehow he’s even sexier now. He’s always coming over for drinks, or to go out on the boat, sometimes he and your dad talk business in his office.

But it felt like he was just always around. Wearing those expensive business suits with his hair slicked back perfectly. On days when he and your dad went out on the boat he would come over in shorts that were just a tad bit too short and those tight t-shirts or button ups, his thick biceps on display. When you’d run into him at the country club he always looked so fucking delicious in his golf outfit. That tight polo taunt against his shoulders, the way his large hands dwarfed the handles of the clubs. His hair was messier on those days, the ends of it sticking out from the cap on his head. You wanted to tear it off, lace your fingers through his hair and tug on it when it was void of its usual product.

It didn’t help that he was always looking at you. His eyes roaming your figure with a smug smirk on his face for just a little too long. The way he would send you little winks when your dad wasn’t looking. Resting his hand on the small of your back when he walks past you in the kitchen or in the hall. He was always calling you little nicknames like “doll” and “sweetheart. He even called you “princess” once and you thought you were going to cum untouched. You wanted to be his little princess so bad. So you started playing dirty.

Whenever you saw him you made sure to walk around in your skimpiest outfits. You’d lounge by the pool in your tiniest little micro bikinis, rubbing sunscreen on your skin causing it to glisten. You would wear your shortest dresses with thongs so small they might as well not even be there, bending over under the guise of “grabbing something out of the fridge” when he was standing behind you in the kitchen. Once you learned that he went to the country club every Sunday for brunch and golf, you signed up for Sunday tennis lessons.

Those days just might be your favorite. Your tennis outfit consisted of a tiny little white tennis skirt that barely covered your ass and an even tinier white sports bra that showed off your cleavage perfectly. It was just a bonus that your tennis instructor was hot and your age. It also didn’t hurt that Rafe could see the tennis court perfectly from the brunch table he always sat at. You’d make eye contact with him over your instructor's shoulder from afar while you grasped onto his bicep and giggled. If you weren’t mistaken you could just make out a slight switch in his jaw. He might be nineteen years older than you but you aren’t stupid, you can tell when a man wants you.

Rafe wants you bad. He’s been trying really fucking hard to restrain himself but it’s almost impossible when you’re constantly walking around in those little fucking outfits. Giving him that little smirk with that glint in your eye like you know you’re torturing him. He can’t stop thinking about you. When he’s working, when he’s golfing, when his hand is wrapped around his thick cock at night. Even when he’s buried balls deep in some bored housewife. All he can think about is you.

The way those little bikinis hardly cover anything but your nipples, and bottoms sitting so high on your ass they’re practically being swallowed. Those tiny little sun dresses that you seemed to always be bending over in, flashing him those pretty barely there panties that show the outline of your pussy. That fucking tennis outfit and that little douche bag tennis instructor whose hands he wants to cut off each time he has to watch him touch you.

But there’s one specific instance that won’t leave his mind, playing like a movie on repeat in his head. You were wearing these tiny little jean shorts with a little tiny crop top. You were sitting at the bar in the kitchen, eating a fucking banana of all things. But the way you were bent over to rest your elbows on the counter made your shorts ride down just enough to show off your thong and the little butterfly tramp stamp you had right above your ass. He stood there with his mouth agape for what could’ve been minutes or hours, he doesn’t know. He was stuck, completely enthralled by the sight of you. He felt himself starting to get hard when you looked over your shoulder at him, a smug smile painted across your glossed lips.

“Why don’t you take a picture? It’ll last longer.” You held eye contact with him while you finished off the last of your banana before standing up, winking at him, and walking away without another word. Leaving him so fucking hard and incredibly frustrated.

His final straw though? Your dad was throwing a celebration party for the company because they closed a huge deal and you were parading around in yet another barely there dress with all his coworkers and their sons ogling you. Currently Rafe was watching you with his jaw clenched so hard he feels like his teeth might break and he’s surprised the thin glass in his hand is still intact with the grip he has on it. You’re standing across the yard from him, that little white backless dress hugging every inch of your body so perfectly, showing off the expanse of your back and ending right at the top of your ass, flashing that little tiny tattoo to every single person here. When he’s the only one that should know about it.

The son of one of his employees rests his hands on your hips, leaning in to whisper something in your ear all while you maintain eye contact with him from across the yard, he has to physically stop himself from going over there and slamming the guy’s head into the bar. When you smirk at him, sending him a little wink before dragging the guy inside the house? He’s absolutely had it.

You had Rafe right where you wanted him, there was no doubting it now. The way he was staring daggers at every man that even glanced your way and the way his eyes hungrily drank you in as they followed your every move said it all. You wanted to know how far you could push him, if he would really snap and finally make a move. So you took it upon yourself to flirt with the cutest guy your age there. You really laid it on thick, giggling at all his jokes, running your hands down his chest, letting him grip your hips and whisper in your ear. All while Rafe watched with a death glare. You didn’t have to keep your eyes on him to know he was looking, but sending him little smirks and glances over the guy's shoulder was just too good to resist. Especially when you decided to drag the guy into the house with you, making sure Rafe watched you walk away.

“Do you want a drink? My dad keeps all the best shit in here.” You smile at him, you don’t even remember his name, it doesn’t matter anyways, he’s nothing but a means to an end.

“Yeah, I’ll take a drink, but I think I’d like to taste you more.” You internally gag at his cheesy line but still offer him a suggestive smile as you jump up on the counter with your legs spread just enough for him to get a glance at your panties.

“Come here then.” You beckon him with your finger and he comes to stand between your legs, resting his hands on your hips again.

“You’re really hot, you know that?” You snort, thanking him for his base level fuck boy compliment as he leans in for a kiss. Before his lips can even graze yours he’s being pulled backwards back the collar of his dress shirt. An extremely pissed looking Rafe glaring down at the smaller man.

“Get lost.” He practically growls, shoving the guy backwards by the grip he had on his collar.

“Hey man, what’s your fucking problem?”

“I said to get fuckin’ lost, fuck off before I break your fuckin’ legs.” The dude scoffs and rolls his eyes as he walks off. The minute you and Rafe are alone his hands are resting on the counter on either side of your hips, his face inches from yours. “You think this is funny, little girl? You wanna play games? I suggest you don’t start something you can’t fuckin’ finish.”

“Games? What games? I’m not play any games. I think I was being pretty straight forward with that guy.” Rafe exhales through his nose, grabbing onto your jaw with his large hand, squeezing your cheeks together.

“That guy?” He scoffs, shaking your head back and forth. “You know I’m not fuckin’ talking about him, doll. Don’t play dumb with me. Get up.”

“I’m not a dog, I don’t bark on command.” He laughs at that, actually laughs.

“Oh, baby, we’ll fuckin’ see about that. Up.” He releases his grip on your jaw and backs up as he looks at you expectantly. You mull over your options for about two seconds before sliding off the counter. The minute the heels of your boots hit the expensive linoleum, Rafe's large ringed hand grasps onto your forearm, pulling you into the nearest room. He shuts the door behind you, pushing you up against it and trapping you between him and the wood. “You’ve been driving me crazy, you know that?”

“Yeah? That’s exactly what I was hoping for…” You smirk at him, looking up at him through your lashes.

“You really think this is a fuckin’ joke, huh?” Rafe chuckles darkly, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. He grabs onto your throat, squeezing just enough to cut off your airflow. “You trying to get me in trouble? You know how fucking pissed your dad would be if he found out about this?”

“Mmm… I figure if he disowns me you could just be my daddy instead.” He groans, using his grip on your throat to manhandle you over to the desk. Your dad’s desk to be exact. You were so worked up you didn’t even process that he pulled you into his office.

“You’re a fuckin’ brat. Looks like someone needs to teach you some manners, little girl.” Rafe presses your face against the desk, using his other hand to pull your hips up so your ass is in the air. The same hand hikes your dress above your ass before landing a harsh smack on it. The sound echoes through the room, accompanied by the loud moan that rips through you. “Bet your spoiled ass has never been spanked a day in your life. Bet you get whatever you want, whenever you want. But not with me, daddy’s gonna make you beg for it.”

He lands another smack on your bare ass, your tiny thong covering absolutely nothing. Then another. And another. He keeps you in place by his hand pressing onto the side of your head causing your cheek to press against the cold wood of the desk. Little whimpers and moans fall from your lips as

your writhe underneath him.

“Gonna leave this ass covered in my hand prints, then when you walk around in those tiny little bikinis you’ll either think twice about teasing me or you’ll have to explain it to anyone who sees.” Both of his large hands come down on your cheeks at once before one comes from below, landing a harsh smack on your cunt.

“Oh fuck, daddy.” Your eyes roll back and drool starts to drip down your chin when he smacks your pussy again before pulling your panties to the side, the cool air of the room hitting your wet folds.

“Yeah, that’s right, slut, I’m your fucking daddy. Look at this pussy, you’re so wet. Just from this? You like getting treated like a whore?” Rafe smacks your bare pussy, the metal of his rings adding a delicious sting. “You sure as hell like acting like one. Parading around in those skimpy little outfits, trying to seduce a man twice your age.”

“I fucking love it daddy, want you so bad, just wanted your attention.” You whine, wiggling your hips. “Please touch me.”

“Please touch me.” He mocks you as he smacks your clit three times in succession. “I am touching you, doll. You’re gonna have to do a lot better than that.”

“Please daddy, please, I’ll do anything you want. You can fuck my pussy till it’s sore, fuck my ass, cum inside me, breed me, anything. Just please.”

The next thing you feel is two thick fingers being inserted knuckle deep in your pussy. Rafe curls them against your sweet spot before thrusting them in and out of you at a quick pace.

“Fuckin’ listen to that shit, you’re so wet for me. You’re dirty. You want me to fuck your ass and breed you? That what you sit around thinking about all day?” You’re about to respond but the feeling of his thumb on your clit has you moaning and pushing back against his hand. He grabs onto your hair, pulling your head back so he can lean over you with his lips pressed to your ear. “Answer the fuckin’ question, princess. Know you can’t be fucked dumb from just my fingers.”

“Yes! Yes, I think about you fucking me on every inch of this house. I think about you filling me with your cum until I’m knocked up. About being your little barefoot and pregnant wife. Want to shove the fact that I’m the one that gets you in all those old country club bitches faces.” Well he wasn’t expecting all of that, but he’s not complaining. Now that he’s thinking about it, it doesn’t sound so bad. He picks up the speed of his fingers, applying harder pressure to your clit just as he yanks on your hair, exposing your neck so he can lick across the expanse of it, sending you over the edge.

“That’s it, baby girl, cum for me, cum for daddy.” He pulls his fingers out and you can’t see but you hear the sound of him sucking them clean, accompanied by a groan. “Look at you, you don’t have any idea what you do to me, do you?”

He runs his large hand down your back, stopping just above your ass to trace his fingertips across your tattoo.

“What do I do to you daddy? Tell me.” He spanks your ass again, earning a little yelp from you.

“Don’t start getting sassy on me again. I’m calling the shots. But you drive me insane. Prancing around in those little bikinis, flashing me your slutty panties, this god damn tattoo.”

Rafe leans down, placing a kiss on it before licking across it. He hooks his fingers in the bands of your thong, pushing it down your legs. You try to kick your boots off to get it off your ankles but Rafe stops you, pulling them off himself.

“Keep the boots on.” Rafe grabs onto your ass, spreading you open for him before leaning down to spit on your asshole, watching it drip down onto your already soaked cunt. You feel his thumb rub down your slit right before he shoves his tongue as deep as it can go inside your pussy.

“Oh fuuuuuck, daddy that’s so good, thank you thank you.” Rafe eats you out like a man starved, nearly drunk off the sound of your moans and the taste of your sweet cunt. He leans down to suck your clit between his plump lips and you feel yourself getting close, clenching around nothing. And it’s like he reads your mind because seconds later he’s thrusting his fingers inside you, rubbing them up against your g-spot and sending you into an orgasm that makes your entire body shake. “Shit daddy, yesyesyes, I’m cumming, I’m cumming.”

He leans up, grips onto your hips, and flips you over with ease, propping you up on the desk. He grabs onto your face and connects your lips in a filthy kiss. His tongue intangles with yours, flooding your mouth with the taste of yourself mixed with him and it makes your head spin.

“Take this fuckin’ dress off.” He grabs onto the straps, pushing them off your shoulders so he can yank it down your legs. “No bra? God damn, princess, look at these perfect tits, shit.” He yanks off his shirt before undoing his pants, pushing them down his hips. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head at the sight of his cock. “Yeah baby, this isn’t some twenty something loser cock, this is what a real man’s dick looks like. Beg for it.”

“Daddy, please fuck me, please, I want you to fill me up. Put a baby in me so everyone on the island knows you I belong to.” You push your hips forward, spreading your legs further. Rafe decides that’s enough for him, roughly grabbing onto your hip with one hand and using the other to line his cock up with your entrance. He pushes inside you with one thrust, your tight wet pussy practically sucking him in.

“Ah, shit, you’re so fucking tight.” Rafe grabs onto your ankles, throwing them over his shoulders so he can fuck you even deeper. “Been dreaming about this pussy for months. Been dreaming about this sexy little body. Look at these perfect tits. Perfect legs. So fucking soft. Such a good little slut for daddy.”

He grabs onto your throat as he continues to split you open on his cock, his other hand finds your clit and it has you clenching around him. The desk is slamming against the ground and you’re both moaning so loud you wouldn’t be surprised if the entire party heard you outside through the music and all the walls. But you didn’t care, especially not as you gushed around Rafe’s cock.

“Yeah that’s right, fuckin’ give it to me, cum all over my cock. Gonna fill you up, gonna give you a baby just like you want, don’t even give a fuck what anybody thinks. I’m not ever quitting this pussy.” Rafe lets go of your throat to so he can wrap your legs around his hips, grabbing onto your ass as he fucks into you at a brutal pace, chasing his own high.

“Yeah daddy, fucking give it to me, fill me up, want it so bad.” You run your perfectly manicured nails down his back and it does him in. He presses his hips flush against yours as his cock twitches inside of you, filling you with ropes of his cum. The moans leaving him are your never favorite song that you want to listen to on repeat for the rest of your life. When he comes down from his high he lets his cock slip out of you before gathering the bit of cum that leaked out on his fingers, shoving it back inside.

“Can’t waste any, can we?” He brings his slick fingers to your lips and you happily suck them clean. He pulls them from your mouth before leaning in to place a much gentler kiss on your lips.

“I’m sorry about all that stuff I said I totally understand if you wanna forget this ever happened I-“ he shushes you, kissing you again.

“I’m not forgetting shit, princess. You’re mine now. Gonna fuck you full until it takes and then make you my pretty little housewife. I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks.”

Your dad was going to be so fucking pissed, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Not when you finally got exactly what you wanted.

Taglist: @voyeurmunson @oceandriveab @munson-mjstan @rafesthroatbaby 🖤

#rafe Cameron #rafe #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x you #outerbanks rafe #older!Rafe Cameron #rafe Cameron smut #Dolly writes #divider by me

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nohoney · 2 months

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touya x drug dealer! reader has been an idea that i’ve been wanting to do for a while. i had thoughts of cute flowing dresses, flutes of champagne, strawberries with brown sugar, and a powdery compact mirror with a credit card lined with white at the edge ♡

Touya hates going to the country club. He hates having to get ready to wear the stupid polo shirt and pressed pants his mother picked out for him. He hates having to take out most of his face jewelry, only leaving his eyebrow piercing as a slight rebellion to irritate his father. It’s all so annoying to him but to be fair—

They all hate going to the country club together.

It’s only an obligation for them to attend as a family. To show up so that Enji’s professional business ties can remain intact if the event is important enough. It’s the only time everyone agrees together as a family. Despite the fact that going to the country club is meant to be a luxurious get away, the Todoroki’s see it as anything but.

With the exception of Shouto who is too young to partake in anything, the rest of the family cope in their own ways to survive an agonizing event that none of them want to attend.

Enji smokes in private with the other men, Rei quietly nurses a glass of white wine as she makes polite conversation with the other wives, Fuyumi and Natsuo discreetly pass a weed pen between one another, and Touya…

Well he’s got his special friend that he knows where to find.

All throughout the club, there’s little signs that lead to a certain someone who exchanges little treats for just the right price. It could be money or it could be secrets or something else entirely, but the exchange given has to be deemed equal in value to what is handed out. There’s bouquets that are found throughout the entire club, all seemingly of the same variations except for one flower that’s meant to point you in a certain direction.

Touya walks through the club, noting the one flower that sticks out in the bouquets as a subtle sign of where to find you.

Following the secret path, it leads him this time to a room with only a single piano in the center and the white curtains drawn over the windows.

It’s a beautiful grand piece of shiny, lacquered black and is maintained regularly in its tuning. No music is being played though, all that’s heard is the tinkling laugh from one of the two people that are sitting on the piano bench. Touya walks with his hands in pockets, leisurely in his step when he approaches you. Next to you is the caddy that often accompanies your father on the golf course, amber eyes lifting to him and giving him a friendly nod.

“Touya, so nice to see you again!” you greet with a warm smile. You’re graceful in the way you stand up from the piano bench, sliding your hand along the caddy’s shoulders as you make your way to Touya. He leans down, used to the customary greeting of kissing each cheek from you. The perfume you wear is new, smelling more like citrus and freesia than the usual florals he’s used to.

Turning back to the caddy, you wave him off. “I’ll meet you later Keigo, okay?”

The feathery blonde haired caddy stands from the piano bench, pressing a kiss to your temple first before making his way out.

“So, what can I do for you today Touya? You wanna be perked up? Or you wanna relax?” You ask him immediately, leaning against the grand piano and clacking your manicured nails against the surface.

“You ever think that maybe I’m just here to see you? And nothing more?” Touya playfully nudged his shoe against your ankle, also noting the clean polish of your pedicure. Strappy white heels are your choice of shoe today to compliment your tea dress.

You’re this vision of a good girl, prim and proper, soft and sweet. All the mannerisms you exude are perfected and practiced, taught firmly from the all girls school that you attended. On the surface, you’re just simply the rich daughter to the man who owns the country club. You’re known to love lounging by the pool or reading under the shady trees by the garden. The older adults love to fawn over you, even trying to set you up with suitors but only if they’re screened through your father first.

Rolling your eyes at him, you flash him a smile that sends the message of ‘yeah right’ before you wave him over.

You lift the piano bench where your current stash resides. It’s organized meticulously of all types of different pills and already measured bags of different powders. Nude colored nails hover over the selection that you know him to always get, but you’re polite enough to ask first for confirmation before plucking the packed substances from their spot.

“The usual?”

Touya pulls money out from his pocket, the same exact amount that he’s paid every single time he’s seen you. “The usual.” he confirms.

You hold two baggies for him, one with two blue pills and the other filled halfway of white powder. Touya takes it from you and waits for you to take out the held out cash.

“Mm, this dress doesn’t have pockets. Can’t take it.” you smile as you shut the piano bench, “I’ll take a kiss though.”

Touya smiles back, pocketing his cash alongside the goodies you’ve given him. “Is that how you’re taking payments today? With kisses?”

He knows you want him, you’ve been wanting him ever since he had fucked you at your father’s birthday party just a few months back. He can still recall the champagne he tasted on your lips, the silky material of your party dress as he pushed it over your hips, the smell of peony and honey spritzed onto your skin when he had bit your shoulder. It was an amazing fuck, one that he thought about going back for, but he liked to see you dangle yourself for him. Beg him with those pretty eyes and try to seduce him with low cut dresses or leave lingering touches that you hoped pull him in.

You shrug your shoulders and play coy, stepping into his personal space to smooth your hands along his shoulders as if you were going in to hug him. “Special just for you, I’ll figure it out with the rest.”

His hand slides along the small of your back to pull you in and close the space. “You are so bad.”

“I happen to be a very good girl, my record shows that.”

“Your records were expunged by your dear daddy.”

“So therefore, I have done nothing wrong.” you giggle, “C’mon, stop teasing me like this. You never want to see me outside of this place. I only see you when you and your family come to the club for an event, and you guys always look so miserable.”

“And that’s why I’m here,” Touya’s hand drops lower, grabbing at your ass and relishing your little gasp, “because you help me get through these aggravating events.”

He teases you, has you chasing after him and keeps him entertained whenever he comes to this ridiculously posh club. You play the polite girl when you’re out among the crowd but he’s always felt your eyes on him whenever the two of you are in the same room together. If you could keep your eyes on him the entire time you would, but sadly you have to get pulled aside from so many people. From your inner circle, to polite introductions to your father’s colleagues, to the ones who want a little something to get them through the night. You carry yourself with grace and good posture, more than any girl that he had ever met.

You’re the classiest little drug dealer he knows.

And like every deal, a transaction has to be completed. So he leans down to kiss you, holding you tightly by your waist to bring you closer to him. You’re so eager for him locking your fingers behind his neck, sighing sweetly that makes him reminisce of that night you had together. The plush of your lips takes him back to that night, back when you smelled more floral and warm, when he had found you lounging alone at the pool and bored from your father’s party.

Surprisingly you pull away from the kiss. “I like you Touya, c’mon we had so much fun together at my daddy’s party. Don’t you wanna have fun again?”

“I never said that I didn’t want to do it again.” Touya points out as he takes a seat on the piano bench, “It’s crossed my mind.”

You pout at him, the gloss from earlier kissed off slightly sticky on his lips instead. Carefully you wipe away the remnants of the gloss from his lips, smudging it on the pads of your fingers. “You’re so mean, you know that? Don’t you know to not make your plug mad?”

“Ah, how can I make it up to you, princess? Please oh please,” Touya wryly plays along with you, “what can I do to get back in your good graces?”

You hold out your hand to him, “Take a walk with me.”

Walking out hand in hand with you, he is led out of the piano room and allows you to take him to wherever it is you have in mind. You pass by one person that you give a subtle signal too, Touya observing how they make their way to the piano room with a key in hand. He wonders how much you’ve paid off certain workers inside the country club to help and protect you.

He admires that about you, not being afraid to exercise your power. Maybe it just comes with being a spoiled brat who can get her record wiped clean when she calls her daddy with crocodile tears. All this wealth at your disposal and the only thing that entertains you is being the unofficial country club girl scout for xannies, oxies, and other treats.

Touya is led to different halls throughout the club, some he recognizes more than others, but not as well as you do. These are your grounds after all. The caddy from before is seen talking to a group of gentlemen, the elders clearly enjoying conversation with him if the boisterous laughter and the friendly pats on his back are anything to go by. Hell, Touya’s father is apart of the group and even he looks to be amused from whatever quip the feathery haired young man doled out.

Keigo must sense your presence nearby as he immediately looks up to see you. You blow an air kiss to him and he pretends to catch it in his fist. Touya can swears that when he looked at you, you mouthed ‘love you’ to him as they passed by.

He doesn’t know much about Keigo, only that he was brought on by you and that he happens to be very charming with many people. Looks wise, he can see why you went for him but Touya hasn’t taken any personal interest to get to know the caddy.

People pass by and give you pleasant greetings, all of which you returned kindly but never paused to have a conversation. There’s excitement running through you as Touya follows behind, wondering where exactly you’re taking him. He can tell by how eager your pace is that gives it away. It’s precious, he enjoys it too much.

You want him that badly.

━━━━✧

Touya’s not sure how he’ll explain to his mother how his pants got so wrinkled, but it’s a thought that gets pushed out of his mind as he smothers you in a kiss. He’s trying to recall his last excuse when his mother questioned how he became so unkept. The answer isn’t quite coming to him; all he can recall is just the adrenaline he had afterwards from fucking you so good. Normally he’s very smooth with his words, lying easily to anyone when it pleases him, but he had gotten pussy drunk off of you and his brain just wasn’t operating the same.

You and that cunt of yours.

He’s almost upset that he’s been denying himself this entire time. There were plenty of nights recalled the sloppy kisses from you, the elegant way you crooked your finger to bring him to you, and when you pulled on the roots of his hair when he had eaten you out. Truthfully he had wanted to chase you just as much when the deed had been done. But as he’s got you on your knees for him, Touya remembers why he decided to not give into you so easily.

“Please Touya? Please, pretty please?”

It’s so sweet when you beg.

He remembers after coming down from the high that arrogant look on your face when he had helped zip your dress back up. That because he had shagged with you then he was surely to come at your beck and call. Instead of giving in, Touya decided that he’d like to see you chase after him. To have you be the one sending text messages or letting late night calls go unanswered, declining private invitations from you to keep you frustrated.

He still has all your voicemails of you breathless and needy, begging softly for him to just want you back.

Your voice is small and pitched, whiny almost as you pathetically tug at his belt as you sink to your knees. You’re practically drooling for it, eyeing his bulge and caressing it gently through the fabric. Christ, he really made you that in love with his cock. “Oh princess, don’t tell me you’ve been pining after me.” He coos over you and tilts your head up to look at him, “All this time?”

“Yes, god yes!” You admit and jut your lower lip in a pout, “I would wait around for you, hoping you’d answer me or even come visit! I’ve always been so nice to you Touya, and you just ignore me!”

It is the spoiled brat in you that’s making you act this way. You’re such a good girl, a nice girl, a pleasant and sweet and pretty girl that there shouldn’t be any reason to give you this awful treatment. That’s how you see it. That you’re the one who blessed Touya with the rare gift of giving him personal access to you so therefore, he should be grateful and be falling at your feet.

Touya has his own pride though.

“Is that darling caddy you’re so fond of not enough for you?”

“I adore Keigo, I love him,” you admit, “but I want you too.”

You want him desperately, slowly crumbling your pride as you beg softly for him. This is what Touya wanted from you. To see you throw a bit of dignity away just for him.

“Yeah? You mean that?” he asks you, using a single finger under your chin to lift your gaze up to him.

“Yes.”

He could probably ask anything of you in this moment if it meant that he’d give himself up to you. Something that you would find worth it for him to finally cure your ache. Admittedly one of his fantasies with you is to use one of your fancy lipsticks to draw the filthiest names on your body and take pictures for evidence. He wants to write slut at your tits, whore written in fat letters on your back, maybe even cumdump on your tummy with an arrow pointing down to your cunt. Touya wonders if that would be too much though.

He wants to demean you so bad, knock you off your high horse and make you look pathetic.

Yet there’s also some desire in him to cherish you too. You are the darling of this club, adored and revered and Touya falls into that crowd too. That it wouldn’t be so bad if you were to wear a dainty necklace with his initial, have you in his car for leisurely joy rides down by the coast, and go on those stupid fancy picnics that you posted on your instagram.

“Need you Touya, need you!” you whine, catching his hand and leaning your cheek into his palm. Aw look at you, trying to look sweet for him, giving him doe eyes and batting your lashes.

There’s some laughter outside, just a small group passing by the room you’ve locked yourselves in for privacy. There’s a little sign that you hung on the door handles: the art gallery is closed. Nearby is a sculpture of a nude woman, crafted by one of the local artists here and was in the club’s newsletter not too long ago. Touya glances to it, finding it beautiful and better in person than in the photo they had taken of it. Art is usually better to see in person anyway-

“Touya!”

You’re not on your knees anymore for him, standing to your feet and smoothing down your dress. Ah, you’re upset now—actually upset at him. “If you don’t want me, then just fucking go. You’ve been playing these games with me and I’m tired!” you huff and try to pick up your heels that you discarded onto the floor when you had locked up the room, “Keep the stuff I gave you, I still won’t charge you for today.”

His hand goes to your wrist and he’s pulling you back to him, wrapping you up in a hug as he hushes you, “Don’t be so upset, it’s not a good look for you.”

“Well I wouldn’t be if you would just look at me!” you almost cry, sinking into his body and making a small noise when he hugs you tighter. “Everyone else wants me, why don’t you? Don’t you want me?”

It surprises him how genuine you’re being. You can’t be this upset, can you?

It makes Touya happy that he can make you this way.

“Never said that I didn’t, princess.” he admits finally, “I like you back, is that all you need to hear?”

He’s given a little nod, feeling your hand press at his bulge again. Your hand caresses his cock through his slacks and you sigh a little, slightly tilting your head up and nosing along his jawline. Touya bites down the smug smile that wants to sprout up on his face—this is how he wanted you, on his terms and not on yours. So now that he’s got you right where he wants you…

“Ow!” you cry out when Touya roughly grabs a handful of your hair right at the root, pulling you just enough to make you look up at him. He holds tightly and coos over your shocked expression, your wide eyes looking up at him with a small sense of betrayal. How could he switch up on you so fast like that? “T-Touya..!”

You pout up at him, your lips tempting him to kiss you.

“You’re not the good girl you make yourself out to be. Like you got everyone wrapped around your little finger, huh?” Touya speaks haughtily, his grip flexing slightly and tugging slightly on the roots of your hair, “Good girls don’t sell drugs out of a piano bench and fuck around with the piss poor caddy that’s so popular around here.”

“Maybe not other girls,” you hiss through your teeth, “but I can.”

You can do whatever you want, it’s how you lived your life. If there are any rules you’ve broken, you’ve always been very good to take care of it yourself mostly. Look at how you flout about, walking around with your pretty heels and waving the help over with darling manicured hands, discreetly handing cash and speaking with the sweetest lilt to get people to do what you please.

Touya snorts, but he does admire you all the same. If he had more drive to do anything, he’d probably be working under you too.

But he hates being inside this stupid country club, which is where you typically are when you’re not traveling or with your own gaggle of friends. This is where you like to work after all, and will be yours to run once your dear daddy passes.

“God, you’re fucking beautiful.” Touya sighs out before leaning down to kiss you. He’s unexpectedly soft considering the tight grip he still has on you, slotting his lips against yours too intimately for someone who also wants to ruin you all the same. It’s a long kiss he gives you, that it even gets the butterflies fluttering inside of his chest.

He pulls back and releases the hold he had on your hair, twirling his finger in a circle to indicate for you to turn around. You present your back to him, getting flashbacks to when Touya had first undressed you. His fingers are cold as he fiddles with the zipper at the back and pulls it down slowly. The dress loosens from your body and you shrug off the thin straps. It falls to the floor in a pool surrounding your feet, and you’re left standing in a little cotton panty that’s lined with lace. Your nipples are perked due to the chill of the room but you don’t bother to cover yourself to retain some modesty.

You’ve been wanting to be like this in front of Touya for the longest time.

You’re given another wordless command, blue eyes briefly glancing down to the hardwood floor. Kicking your dress off to the side, you kneel down in front of Touya once more and watch as he unzips his slacks and pulls his cock through the opening. Your mouth practically waters upon seeing his dick again, so thick and with the prettiest color at the tip you had seen. You’re about to go in when he stops you with a simple little tut.

Glancing up at him, you wonder what he could possibly have to say.

“Don’t get too sloppy, can’t walk out of here with fucking drool stains on my crotch.”

Touya hopes to fuck you in his bed one day, have you squirt on his sheets, and then cum all over your face. But while the two of you are here, the two of you have to be able to come out look presentable. He can’t go as wild as he wants on but he fucking swears that he’s gonna make you fucked out by him one of these days.

You nod in understanding before swallowing his cock into your throat. There’s some dreamy sigh from you as you bob up and down on his cock; you really must have been aching for this. There’s enthusiasm as you swallow all his inches, looking up at Touya and going all doe eyed for him. See how much you wanted him?

He admires your small gags, the way your body lurches when you choke deeply on his cock, but he reminds you again to try to keep your drool from getting on him. Touya wants to fuck your face, he wants to make you cry from fucking your mouth too hard, and even slap your cheek. There’s so much he wants to do but this isn’t the time or place to do any of it.

You’d be pissed off too if he even attempted.

You pull off his cock, a line of drool connecting your lips to his cock still but it gets wiped away quickly by the back of your hand.

Touya grabs your wrist to bring you to your feet, pulling you to the nearest wall to fuck you against. Your hands brace the flat surface, grunting when Touya uses one hand to jut your ass back to him and the other presses your head to the wall. With your back arched, he admires your elegant form under the soft lighting of the art gallery. The lovely still life painting of a bouquet does not compare to how fucking beautiful you are in this moment.

He can’t wait until he can ruin you to tears.

He offers his fingers to your lips, your mouth obediently dropping to lick and spit on them. It tickles a little with the way your tongue drags along his fingers but he doesn’t allow it for long. Touya only needs just enough to finger your hole, even spitting on his own fingers before he does a careful but quick prep after pulling down your panties.

“Oh god… oh fuck…” you mutter, your eyes shutting as relishing in his touch, “Fuck me please!”

“Relax.” Touya is firm in his tone, acting cool and masking the equal desperation that is surging throughout his own body. He wonders if you notice how eager his fingers are to be inside you, biting his lip to force down the wolffish smile on his face when he feels how wet you are. All that teasing before that he had done to you was worth it.

It was worth all of it to lead up to this moment.

His fingers withdraw and he sucks on them, savoring the taste of your slick along his tongue. Touya recalls how he ate you out at your father’s birthday party, driving you wild with his tongue on your clit and the sweet noises you made. It would be nice to do it again.

Your body shudders a little as the head of Touya’s cock nudges against your pussy, a sharp little breath sucked in as the first few inches sink into you. “Fuck!” you quietly curse.

Touya would like to savor this, to take his time and work you up into a sloppy, pretty little mess. To finger your clit until you cry out of frustration and then choke you if you give him an attitude. There’s so many things that he wishes he could do in this moment. But you remind him—

“Please hurry, we can’t be in here for long.”

Because you’ve got people waiting for you. People waiting to eagerly meet you, whether at your piano bench or if you’re needed somewhere else to help maintain your father’s appearance. No matter how much Touya has this vision of what he wants, he knows that he truly can not have you in his own way.

But he’s grateful to get you anyway.

He thrusts in, sinking in smoothly but with a sharp clap of his body meeting yours. Your pussy tightens up on him from the brief shock that is also coupled with a small gasp. His hands grasp your hips tightly and he pounds away at you, noticing how you help with the motion by moving back into him as well. It’s quiet inside the art gallery so all Touya can hear is you and the sound of his skin slapping against yours as he fucks hard into you.

“T-Touya!”

It’s just as sweet as the first time, observing how you occasionally look over your shoulder at him and give him sweet doe eyes again. But this time they’re glazed over, your eyelids dropping as you get lost in the pleasure, relishing in everything that you had been waiting for. Touya wonders how many nights you spent fingering yourself to him, he imagines your embarrassment when he would leave your needy voicemails or nudes in his inbox unanswered, and he dreamt more than a few times of you riding that pretty boy caddy in front of him.

I want to fuck you again.

Those words almost slip out as he reaches a hand to finger your clit. Your knees buckle but you maintain yourself, your own little sounds struggling to be kept in. Touya can feel it already, he can feel you just about ready to snap if the way your cunt is clenching around him is any indicator of anything.

“Please cum, please cum!” you desperately whisper, “Please cum in me!”

I need to fuck you again.

Touya fucks harder to get himself to cum, looking down to see that you’ve creamed all over him. He’s grateful that he pushed his pants down enough so that none of it catches onto his clothes. It’d be nice if you could clean up his cock with your mouth after he cums in you, but you’ve got to come out looking as proper as you can be.

So no hair pulling, no spitting in your mouth, no crying to ruin your makeup, and no marks are to be left.

But if you’re going to beg him to cum in you, you should be able to accommodate a reasonable request.

Touya leans over, feeling his control ready to let go as he’s about ready to burst as he mutters in your ear, “Keep my cum in you, keep me inside you.”

His words have your eyes rolling back, answering him with a jittery nod and a sweet yes hissed into the air. “Yes, fuck yes!”

I am going to fuck you again.

Touya jolts into you one last time, pressing himself so deep that you whine his name. He’s emptying himself into you, spilling cum into that delicious cunt of yours. He chances putting a hand at your throat to choke you, his fingers careful at your windpipe and peering down at you as your orgasm wipes your mind blank and has you going limp that he has to catch you.

And then there’s silence.

He’s holding your body against him, carrying your weight as your mind tries to start back up again. Touya drinks in this moment because he knows he won’t get a repeat of this. He may never get the upper hand again now that he’s given you what you’ve been aching for.

He wants to keep coming back not to just buy off you, but to keep seeing you.

“Good, Touya?” you manage to find your voice and lean back against him, patting your hand against his arms that are still holding you tightly.

“The best.” He answers

You chuckle, nodding your head and still remaining in his hold with his cock in you. He wonders why you haven’t bothered to start making yourself proper—

The door to the art gallery unlocks and it has Touya jolting. All the curse words he knows flash in succession in his mind but you pat your hand against him. “It’s okay, it’s Keigo.”

Sure enough, it is.

The pretty caddy with blond hair is approaching the two of you with two small towels in hand. Had he been waiting outside the entire time?

Touya wonders if every move you’ve made has been calculated. Did you know for sure that he would finally fuck you today after keeping you waiting for so long? And to have your favorite toy waiting on hand to clean you up as well?

He takes the offered towel from Keigo but doesn’t offer a thanks. Touya wipes off the remnants of you off his cock, throwing the towel over his shoulder as he pulls his pants back up. His belt buckle clinks as he makes himself presentable.

“Can we stay and talk for a little Keigo?” you ask leisurely as the caddy places the towel over a wooden bench for you to sit on. You’re smoothing down your hair as you sit down, Keigo kneeling down on one knee to massage your calves. Your dress and heels still lay discarded as you appear to take your time getting ready to leave.

“Just for a little, okay? Hana is looking for you—“ Keigo informs you and laughs a little as you groan at the name. It seems he has the sense to not continue the sentence.

Touya is dressed, his pants not as wrinkled as he hoped they would be. Rei will probably take notice like she did last time but this time, he has enough clarity to give an answer that he knows his mother will not believe but does not have any backbone to question.

He supposes that he should go out there.

He’s got what he wanted anyway.

“See ya princess.”

“I’ll see you out there Touya.” You call to him just as he’s out the door.

Stopping by a restroom first, he puts himself in the privacy of a stall after locking the door. He retrieves the dime bag and admires the scaling of the cocaine inside the plastic. He fishes out a key from his wallet, using the tip of it dip into the bag. He inhales a sizable bump into each nostril, wiping his nose clean before flushing the toilet for the sake of seeming as if he had used the facilities.

He joins Natsuo and Fuyumi, the weed pen offered to him as well but he declines. Just a little further down, Shouto is with two boys that he seems to have made friends with. One of them is blond and huffing his chest while the other has hair the color of an evergreen tree and seems to be the mediator of whatever fuss is going on.

Touya leans back into his seat, just a touch more awake as he tastes the drip at the back of his throat.

━━━━✧

It’s a relief when it’s finally time to leave.

Enji and Rei are side by side, she’s holding onto his arm for balance, teetering slightly to the right but is corrected by her husband as he helps her into the car. Shouto is waving his friends goodbye before going along to Fuyumi’s side. She asks him if she had fun and he answers yes. She is no longer high but Natsuo takes a small hit of the pen one last time to tolerate the car ride.

Touya is about ready to take his place inside the car when he hears his name. He looks back to see you walking towards him and he decides to walk to you so that none of his family eavesdrops.

“Thank you for seeing me today, I really enjoyed your company.” you speak with a bubbly lilt and your smile more pleasant than usual. Of course you’re happy—you and Touya finally fucked again.

“Thanks for having me.” Touya responds a little flatter than he intended to, just trying to keep his family off his tail so that they don’t ask questions.

“Text me later.”

It’s not framed as a hopeful question; you’re telling him to text you.

“I will.”

He means it.

No more ignoring or being coy, not anymore since you got what you wanted and Touya knows that he’s given up the power to you. It was nice to briefly wield it but he knows in the end that you are the one to hold all the cards and have things aligned with how you want them.

Touya avoids his father’s gaze as he gets into the car. He leans back into his seat at the very back of the car, crossing his arms over his chest and feeling the buzz of the coke starting to wind down. He chances looking back and you’ve hung around in your same spot, appearing to see him off.

The windows are tinted and he’s sure that you can’t see him through the glass but you wave anyway, as if knowing that he’s looking at you. He resists waving back.

And as the car starts, someone joins you. Wearing all black and with slightly unkempt white hair, Touya recognizes your foster brother. He’s only seen Tomura around a handful of times—unlike you that leaves a trail to be found, he’s a bit elusive.

The car starts to pull away, Touya watches from his seat as your foster brother leans down to you. One would think that he just leaned down to kiss your cheek but he swears that it was a kiss on the lips. It was hard to tell when enough distance had blurred the interaction.

Not that it matters to him anyway.

Later that night, Touya does as promised and he texts you. All the previous messages in his inbox from you were one sided but now he’ll be expected to reach out to you. Maybe you can meet him at a different place occasionally, take you for a ride in his white mustang or share a sorbet with you in the downtown area.

He knows that he will have to meet you more often at the country club though—it is where you work after all.

Touya hates the country club but he’s only ever gone to have a chance to see you.

#todoroki touya x reader #dabi x reader #dabi smut #tw drugs

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nhaaauyen · 1 month

Text

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨ The Ghost of You ୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

"This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong // To love that well which thou must leave ere long." -William Shakespeare (Sonnet 73)

PART III: WE THOUGHT LOVE WAS SOMETHING

zombie apocalypse sevika x reader au!: sevika was the super soldier; a killing machine driven solely by survival. you were nomadic, constantly searching for something in whatever was left of the world—till you met her.

series masterpost: part I // part II // part IV // part V

wc: 6.1k cw: brief mentions of alcoholism, violence author's note: ngl this just might be my favorite chapter so far, holy shit! thank you to all the lovely comments last chapter, you guys are srsly so sweet <3

Strings of twinkling lights crisscross overhead, swaying gently in the evening breeze. The air is filled with the mingling scents of grilled food and the earthy aroma of a crackling campfire.

It's a birthday party for Marcus's daughter, Ren, and the yard is alive with celebration. Sitting on mismatched chairs, adults chat animatedly with drinks in hand. Children dart between the adults' legs, their excited shrieks filling the air as they run around.

You can't help but notice Marcus's absence, and you wonder if he's working late or planning to surprise his daughter by showing up later. It's odd for him to miss such an important event, but you push the thought aside, focusing on the joyful atmosphere around you.

A group of kids approaches you, pulling you out of your reverie.

"Hey, lady! Wanna play Marco Polo with us?" one of them asks.

"Sure," You turn to Powder and Ekko, who are lounging nearby. "You two want to join?"

Powder rolls her eyes dramatically. "I'm too old for that," she declares, trying to sound mature.

You shrug and follow the kids to an open area of the yard. "Marco!" you call out, closing your eyes.

"Polo!" comes the chorus of giggly responses.

As you start to move, arms outstretched, you hear Powder’s voice again. "Wait, no! We want to join now!"

You chuckle to yourself as you hear Powder and Ekko scrambling to join the game. The yard fills with shouts of "Marco!" and "Polo!" as you navigate blindly through the space, guided only by sound and the occasional brush of a fleeing child against your fingertips.

Suddenly, your hands make contact with fabric. You grin triumphantly, sure you've caught one of the kids. But as laughter erupts around you, you open your eyes to find yourself face-to-face with Sevika. Ren, peeks out from behind her, giggling uncontrollably.

Sevika raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. "Ready to join the adults yet?"

You feel a blush creeping up your neck. “I was in the middle of winning a game.”

Sevika shakes her head in amusement and hands you a plate of food. "You know, you're not a babysitter. Let the kids have fun by themselves."

You take the plate, shrugging. "I know, but I don't mind."

"Ah, right. You like to hang out with people of the same maturity level as you." Sevika teases.

Before you can reply, a commotion erupts near the gate and both of you turn sharply to the source.

Grayson and Marcus have appeared, clearly amid a heated argument. Marcus's face is flushed, his movements erratic – clear signs of intoxication. Grayson stands firm, her posture rigid, and seems to be seething with barely contained anger.

A small voice pipes up beside you. "What's happening?" Ren peeks out, her eyes wide with confusion.

Instinctively, you move to shield her, gently guiding her behind you. "It's nothing, sweetie," you say, trying to keep your voice calm and reassuring.

But it's too late. Marcus catches sight of Ren, and his demeanor changes instantly. He shoves past Grayson, nearly knocking her over in his haste to reach his daughter. "Daddy's here!" he calls out, his voice too loud, too desperate. "Daddy didn't forget!"

Sevika moves swiftly, positioning herself protectively in front of you and Ren. Marcus stumbles to a stop before Sevika, his bloodshot eyes darting between her and his daughter. "How dare you," he slurs, turning back to Grayson. "You've gone too far now. This is my family!"

Grayson's voice is steel as she responds, "You lost the privilege of being a father when you became too drunk to do anything. The only reason why I'm still employing you is for the sake of your own daughter.”

His face immediately contorts with rage. "How fucking dare you," he roars. "You think you know everything? You can't even hold this place together!”

“You people think you are safe? Cause what, we have showers? Look at your pathetic captains, my wife has one fucking mission with you,” Marcus stabs a finger into Sevika’s chest and you expect her to retaliate but she stands still as a statue, “Because of you... she’s gone.”

The accusation hangs in the air and Sevika goes very still beside you, her expression unreadable but her fists are clenched so tight you’re worried she’ll bleed.

But Marcus isn't finished. His voice drops to a venomous hiss. "Fuck you. Fuck this place." He pushes past Sevika, reaching for Ren. "Come on, sweetie. We're leaving."

You instinctively tighten your hold on Ren as she looks up at you, her face questioning and so innocent about the situation. You want to protect her, to keep her from this mess, but you can’t and he scoops her up from your grasp.

As Marcus stomps off and the backyard falls into an uncomfortable silence, the cheerful lights now seem garish. You look at Sevika, there’s a tightness around her eyes and her jaw is clenched hard enough for a vein to be visible. Grayson approaches, her face a mask of controlled anger and regret, and she puts a reassuring hand on Sevika. The two share a silent look that is full of meaning.

"I'm sorry you all had to see that," Grayson says, addressing the stunned partygoers. "Please, try to enjoy the rest of the evening."

But the damage is done. The carefree atmosphere of earlier has evaporated, replaced by a heavy, oppressive tension. That night you couldn’t sleep, your mind kept wondering about the true cost of keeping Zaun safe and the toll it takes on those sworn to protect it.

Months ago if you told pre-Zaun you that you would care this much for the woman who was practically going to leave you as walker bait in the drug store, you would’ve thought you had gone insane. But somehow, Sevika had snuck into your thoughts and made residence there.

The garage door creaks as you push it open, letting in a sliver of sunlight. The air inside is thick with the scent of motor oil and metal. Sevika’s hunched over her workbench, her back to you, the whir of her bionic arm the only sound breaking the heavy silence.

You hesitate in the doorway, remembering Marcus's cruel words from yesterday. The pain in Sevika's eyes, quickly masked, had been unmistakable.

"Hey," you say softly. "Everything okay?"

Sevika doesn't turn around, her shoulders tensing slightly at your voice. It's clear she's not in a talking mood, but you can't bring yourself to leave her alone like this.

"Fine," she grunts, reaching for a wrench.

You lean against the wall, watching her work. The silence stretches between you. After a few minutes, you decide to try a different approach.

"So," you begin, injecting a note of cheerfulness into your voice, "got anything to do?"

Sevika pauses, then turns to look at you, an eyebrow raised. "You're that excited already, rookie? Haven't you been on five or six missions now?"

You grin, relieved to see a hint of her usual self. "Six, actually," you reply, then quickly add, "But who's counting?"

A ghost of a smile flickers across Sevika's face. She gestures to the motorcycle beside her. "Well, if you're so eager, you can help me with this. Make yourself useful."

You push off the wall, moving to her side. "What do you need me to do?"

You might not be able to relieve the damage from yesterday, but maybe you can help her focus on something else, even if just for a little while.

"Why are you so excited to get out there anyway?" Sevika asks as you work together. "There's nothing to see but walkers."

You shrug, searching for the right words. "I don't know... there isn't much left out there, but it makes me feel like I'm not in a snow globe, you know?"

Sevika pauses, looking at you with confusion.

"I feel safe but it’s just… not real? I want to be on the other side sometimes too. It's selfish 'cause we've got things so good here, but that was our world too, even if we lost it."

Sevika stares at you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, unexpectedly, her face softens. "I'm having a scout sent out today. Perhaps we can do our own scouting too."

Your eyes widen. "Really?"

"Yes," she nods, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "We need to expand our territory anyway. But first, help me with this. We won't be going anywhere if I can't finish this within the next hour."

"Got it, boss!" you say eagerly, reaching for a nearby tool.

Sevika rolls her eyes.

"How about 'captain' instead?"

She tries to look unamused, but you can see she's fighting a smile. "Suck up."

You saluted. "Yes, ma’am!"

"Smartass," Sevika replies flatly, but there’s a playfulness in her tone. "Now, less talking, more wrenching."

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

"Hell no."

Sevika, straddling her newly repaired motorcycle, looks at you like you've sprouted a second head.

"What?" she asks, confusion evident in her voice.

You stand outside your house, arms crossed, eyeing the bike with undisguised suspicion. "Are you crazy? I'm not getting on that death trap – when you said you'd pick me up after you changed, I thought you meant with a car!”

Sevika rolls her eyes. "Why do you think we spent so long fixing this bike?"

"Nope. Nuh-uh. Not happening," you insist, shaking your head vigorously.

"What? You can go out there and face walkers, but not ride this thing?"

"Walkers don't get you into crashes!" you retort, your voice rising an octave.

Sevika sighs dramatically, holding out a helmet. "Just get on. I promise you won't fall off."

Grumbling, you take the helmet and reluctantly swing your leg over the bike. "What makes you so sure?" you mutter.

"Because of this," she says, grabbing your arms and wrapping them tightly around her abdomen. You can feel her muscles flexing beneath your fingers, and suddenly your mouth goes dry.

Before you can process what's happening, Sevika kicks the bike to life. The engine roars, and you let out a shriek as she peels out of the driveway.

"What the fu–" Your expletive is cut short as you zoom down the street, the wind whipping past you.

You spot Grayson on the wall, grinning widely as she signals for the gate to be opened. "Have fun, ladies!" she shouts as you approach.

"Grayson!" you yell, but your voice is lost in the wind.

Sevika glances back, noticing your tightly shut eyes. "Open them!" she shouts over the engine's roar.

Reluctantly, you peek one eye open, then the other. The world rushes by in a blur of color and motion.

"I hate you!" you yell at Sevika, but you can't keep the laughter out of your voice.

She responds by revving the engine, speeding up as you clear the gate. "No, you don't!" she calls back, the wind carrying her words to you.

As much as you want to deny it, the scenery rushing past you is stunning. Lush greenery blurs into a vibrant tapestry, the sun's warm rays dancing across the landscape. The wind whips through your hair, carrying the scent of pine and wildflowers.

You catch Sevika's reflection in the side mirror. Her expression is one of pure contentment, as if riding this bike along the winding country road is where she truly belongs.

"You like it?" Sevika calls over her shoulder, a knowing tone in her voice.

"Maybe," you admit reluctantly. "Not too bad."

You can hear the smirk in her voice as she replies, "Well, I've got something to show you that might change your mind."

Your curiosity piques. "We're doing something else besides scouting?"

Instead of answering, Sevika begins to ascend a steep hill. The bike's engine roars with effort, and you instinctively tighten your grip around her waist, afraid you might slip off. The muscles in her abdomen tense under your hands, steady and reassuring.

"Look over," Sevika instructs as you climb higher.

"What?! Are you crazy?" you yelp, clinging tighter.

"Come on, rookie. Trust me," she insists.

For reasons you can't quite explain, you do trust her. Swallowing your fear, you turn your head to look over the edge of the road.

The view takes your breath away. A vast expanse of forest stretches out below you, a sea of green dotted with splashes of colorful wildflowers. In the distance, you can make out a winding river, its waters glittering in the sunlight like a ribbon of diamonds.

"Whoa..." you breathe, unable to form a more coherent response.

As you reach the top of the hill, Sevika brings the bike to a stop in a clear area that juts out like a natural balcony. From here, you can see for miles in every direction. Rolling hills give way to distant mountains, their peaks shrouded in a light mist. Birds soar on updrafts, their calls carried to you on the breeze.

You dismount the bike on shaky legs, your eyes never leaving the breathtaking panorama before you. The world feels impossibly vast and achingly beautiful from up here, a reminder of what still exists beyond the walls of Zaun.

"Worth the ride?" she asks.

You nod, unable to find words that could do justice to the moment.

The silence between you is comfortable as you both lean against the motorcycle, its metal still warm from the ride. The vast expanse of the world stretches out before you, a breathtaking canvas of oranges, pinks, and purples as the sun dips below the horizon. Sevika's gaze is distant, lost in memories you can only imagine.

"This spot... it's special to me. I came here when Zaun was first established."

You turn to look at her, surprised by the admission. She continues, "I understand what you meant earlier. About feeling safe in Zaun, about missing this." She gestures to the expansive view. "The freedom to just... exist out here."

You nod, encouraging her to go on.

"I also came here after..." she pauses, swallowing hard. "After Marcus's wife died. I was so close to saving her. I promised I'd bring her home." Her voice cracks slightly. "But I couldn't. Not alive."

The pain in her voice makes your heart ache. "It wasn't your fault," you say gently.

She turns to you, her eyes fierce. "I'm the captain. Every death is my responsibility. They trust me, they're my people."

You feel a surge of protectiveness. "But who takes responsibility for you? For your sacrifices?"

Sevika falls silent, considering your words. When she speaks again, her tone is delicate. "Every time you go out there, don't you think it could be your last?"

The question catches you off guard. "I do," you admit. "Every single time."

She moves then, positioning herself in front of you. Her hands rest on the bike beside you, her body close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from her. Her eyes search yours, intense and questioning.

"Then why?" she asks. "Why keep risking everything?"

You swallow hard, acutely aware of her proximity. "Because it's worth it," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Because out there, I feel alive. Because someone has to, and if not me, then who?"

For a moment, the world seems to shrink down to just the two of you, the dying light of the sun shining a golden haze on her face.

This close, you can see every detail – the faint lines around her eyes, the determined set of her jaw. Your gaze lingers on the scar that runs across her cheek. You resist the urge to reach out and trace it, to ask about its story.

Sevika’s gaze locks with yours, her voice dropping to a whisper, rough around the edges but laced with something achingly tender. "You make me want things I’m not sure I deserve."

Sevika’s hands hover near your body, fingers trembling slightly as if they’re unsure whether to close the distance or retreat. You see the conflict in her eyes—Every inch she moves closer feels like a dance of tentative steps.

You swallow, the intensity of her words wrapping around your heart. The raw honesty in her voice leaves you breathless, but you manage to find your own, soft and steady.

“Then let me show you.”

Without thinking, you take the first step for both of you. You gently cup her face in your hands, your thumbs brushing over her cheekbones. Your touch is tender, and your fingertips graze the rough texture of her scar. You can feel her breath hitch, a mix of surprise and anticipation.

For a split second, you feel her resist, a remnant of her walls trying to hold firm. But then she melts into you, her body softening as if surrendering to a battle she’s tired of fighting.

Her right hand comes up to cradle the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair, while her bionic hand settles on your waist, pulling you closer. The kiss is soft, almost hesitant at first, an uncertain exploration of new territory. But as the seconds stretch, it deepens, a slow dance of lips and breath.

When you finally part, both slightly breathless, you rest your forehead against hers. Sevika's eyes remain closed while her thumb strokes softly along your jawline as if she's trying to memorize the feel of you.

"I didn't think..." she starts, unsure of what she can, or even what to say.

You brush your lips against her cheek, feeling the raised line of her scar. "You deserve this, Sevika," you murmur against her skin. "You deserve everything."

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

The sun was blazing hot, its heat beating down on the training area Grayson set up in one of Zaun's less crowded areas.

"Remember," you say, adjusting Ren's grip gently, "It's not about strength. It's about precision and control."

Ren nods, and the other kids follow her steps with some additional adjustments from Grayson and Caitlyn.

You're about to move on to the next lesson when you notice one of Sevika's men approaching. Your heart does a little flip in your chest, but it comes to a stutter when you realize it's not Sevika herself.

"Got a mission for you tomorrow," he says gruffly. "Captain says to be ready at first light."

"Thanks," you reply, trying to keep your voice neutral. As he walks away, you can't help the twinge of hurt that settles in your chest. Sevika didn't come to tell you herself.

You shake your head, chiding yourself internally. She's busy. She's the captain. Why would you expect her to personally deliver every mission briefing?

Yet your mind still wandered to the kiss from a few days ago. The ride back to Zaun had been quiet, but not uncomfortably so. You had attributed it to both of you processing what had happened.

But then... nothing.

Since that evening, you haven't exchanged a single word with Sevika. A day turned into days and the silence began to feel deliberate.

You've caught glimpses of her – a flash of that distinctive silhouette disappearing around a corner, the echo of her voice giving orders from a distance. But every time you've tried to approach, she's been gone before you could reach her.

"Are you okay? You look sad." You're pulled from your thoughts by Ren's voice.

Forcing a smile, you turn your attention back to the lesson. "I’m all good! Just thinking, how about we work on our stances?"

Both Grayson and Caitlyn share a knowing look at your response.

“How about we take over? You have to be up early tomorrow.” Caitlyn offers.

You were reluctant, but you agreed, mostly because you knew you needed it and because you couldn’t handle the questioning looks the two women kept sending you.

You're grateful for Caitlyn's insistence that you rest early the night before – the extra sleep has left you feeling sharper, and more alert. As you approach the gathered group, your breath catches in your throat. There's Sevika, leaning against one of the vehicles. She's dressed in military-style cargo, paired with a black tank top that exposes her toned arms, something she wears normally but you find that your body reacts even more so to her now.

Your heart races as you draw nearer, but before you can even think about approaching her, Sevika climbs into the front seat of the lead vehicle. You swallow your disappointment and resign yourself to riding in the back of the truck with the rest of the team.

The journey is tense and quiet, everyone is lost in their own thoughts about the mission ahead. As the prison comes into view, you're struck by how eerily calm it appears. The high concrete walls are still intact, crowned with coils of razor wire that glint in the morning light.

The decision to split into smaller groups is made quickly, you were paired with Sevika but your excitement was short-lived when you saw the tense look on her face.

The massive iron gates groan as you push them open, the sound echoing ominously through the empty prison yard. The concrete beneath your feet is cracked with tufts of weeds pushing through.

Inside, the prison is a maze of long corridors and shadowy corners. The air is stale and heavy with the musty scent of abandonment. As you move deeper into the facility, the lack of walkers becomes increasingly unsettling. You exchange a worried glance with Sevika, both of you on high alert.

Suddenly, a shuffling sound echoes from an adjoining hallway. Without a word, you and Sevika fall into formation.

The first walker stumbles into view, followed closely by two more. Sevika moves with lightning speed, pinning one against the wall with her bionic arm. In a fluid motion, she drives her knife into its skull, the blade sinking in with a sickening crunch.

You dispatch the second walker with a swift kick to the knee, bringing it down before finishing it off with your own blade. The third lunges at you, but Sevika is there in an instant, her strong arms wrapping around its torso and slamming it against the wall. Your knife finds its mark, and the walker slumps to the ground.

You turn to Sevika, hoping to catch her eye, to maybe finally break the silence between you. But she's already moving forward, her eyes scanning the shadows for more threats.

With a silent sigh, you fall in step behind her. The tension between you becomes almost unbearable.

And finally, you can't take it anymore.

"Sevika," you start. "We need to talk about what happened. About the kiss."

You see her shoulders stiffen, but she doesn't stop moving. "This isn't the time," she says, her voice clipped.

"Then when is?" you press, frustration seeping into your tone. "You've been avoiding me for days."

Sevika sighs, turning to face you. "Look, it was... it was a moment. We were caught up in–"

Her words are cut off as you both enter a large, open area – the prison's leisure room. Rows of cells line the upper levels, and old, battered furniture is scattered across the floor. Before you can respond to Sevika, there's a loud bang behind you.

You both whirl around to see the heavy metal door swing shut. Sevika rushes to it, pulling at the handle. "What the fuck? Who the fuck did that?!"

You join her, both of you straining against the door, but it won't budge.

Then you hear it – a low, guttural groan that sends chills down your spine. You turn slowly, your blood running cold at the sight before you.

Descending the stairs is a massive figure, easily seven feet tall and built like a tank. He's decked out in makeshift armor cobbled together from prison riot gear. In his hands, he wields an enormous sledgehammer that looks like it could crush a skull with one swing.

"Shit," Sevika hisses, drawing her knife. You do the same, but your weapons suddenly feel woefully inadequate.

The behemoth charges with surprising speed. You and Sevika dive in opposite directions, barely avoiding the hammer as it crashes into the ground where you are standing. You roll to your feet, darting in to slash at the giant's legs, but your blade skitters off his armored shins. Sevika tries for a higher target, leaping onto a nearby table to gain height, but the monster swings his hammer in a wide arc, forcing her to jump back.

"We need to get that hammer away from him," you shout, ducking under another wild swing.

Sevika nods, her eyes scanning the room for anything you can use. "On three, throw your knife at his face. Aim for the eyes."

You count down together, then launch your knives simultaneously. The blades whistle through the air, but at the last second, the giant raises his arm, and your knives embed themselves harmlessly in his padded forearm.

"Fuck!" you curse, now completely unarmed. "What the hell is this guy? Is he a walker?"

Sevika shakes her head, narrowly avoiding another hammer swing. "I don't think so. I've heard about survivors getting all drugged up, ending up just like them. Mindless, but stronger."

As the behemoth charges again, you and Sevika split up, desperately searching for anything you can use as a weapon. Your eyes dart around the room, scanning the debris-strewn floor for something, anything that could give you an edge.

"There!" Sevika shouts, lunging for a mop propped against the wall. But before her fingers can close around it, the giant's massive form slams into her. The impact sends her flying, her back crashing hard against the concrete wall. You hear the air rush out of her lungs as she crumples to the floor.

"Sevika!" you cry out, your heart in your throat. She's trying to roll away, but her movements are sluggish, stunned by the brutal hit.

The monster looms over her, raising his sledgehammer for a killing blow. Time seems to slow down. You don't think, you just move.

With every ounce of strength you have, you launch yourself forward, shoving Sevika out of the way. For a split second, you lock eyes with her, seeing shock and something else – hurt, maybe? – in her gaze.

Then the world explodes in pain.

The sledgehammer connects with your leg, and you hear the sickening crunch of bone before you feel it. A scream tears from your throat, raw and agonizing. The pain is all-consuming, white-hot, and blinding. Your vision swims, dark spots dancing at the edges as your body tries to process the trauma.

You force your eyes open, fighting against the waves of pain. Sevika is on her feet, and the transformation is terrifying. Gone is any trace of the woman you kissed on that clifftop. In her place is a cold, merciless killing machine.

Her eyes, usually so expressive, are now flat and dead. Her face is a mask of fury, lips pulled back in a snarl. In one smooth motion, Sevika snatches up the broken mop. She doesn't hesitate, doesn't strategize. She attacks.

The two halves of the mop become dual weapons in her hands. She drives one splintered end deep into the giant's thigh, using her bionic arm to force it through the armor padding. Before he can react, she's already spinning, jamming the other half into the gap between his helmet and chest plate.

The behemoth staggers, caught off guard by the ferocity of her assault. But Sevika doesn't let up. She's a whirlwind of violence, striking again and again.

You try to move, to help somehow, but even the slightest shift sends fresh waves of agony through your broken leg. You can feel the bone grinding, sickeningly out of place.

The giant finally falters under her onslaught, his steps are laggard and his grip on the weapon wavering. With a snarl, she wrenches the hammer from his grasp.

The man’s eyes widened in realization, but it was too late. Sevika shoved him back, the force of the blow sending him crashing to the ground. He tried to rise, but Sevika was relentless. She raised the sledgehammer high above her head, her muscles straining as she brought it down with all her might. The sickening crunch that followed was final, the man’s head caving in under the weight of the blow.

For a moment, the world went silent, the only sound was the ragged breaths escaping Sevika’s lips. The hammer is still clenched in her fists and blood splattered across her face – his or hers, you can't tell.

Sevika stands over him, chest heaving. For a heartbeat, she's still that cold-eyed killer. Then she turns to you, and you watch the ice in her gaze melt into concern.

"Can you move?" she asks, her voice hoarse as she rushes to your side.

You grit your teeth, trying to shift, but the pain nearly blinds you. "No," you manage to gasp out. "I think... I think it's broken pretty badly."

Sevika's eyes scan your broken leg. "We need to stabilize it," you say through gritted teeth, reaching for a nearby stick. "I just tie this to keep it straight and–"

"No," Sevika cuts you off, her voice firm but gentle. "I've got you." She immediately tears off a piece of her shirt like it was paper and ties the stick to your leg to keep it straight. You hiss in pain as she tightens it, and her eyes flit to you with worry.

“Thank you,” You try to stand, stubbornness overriding your pain. "I think I got it now, you can't carry our stuff and me-"

"Yes, I can," she interrupts, her tone brooking no argument. Before you can protest further, she's scooped you up in her arms, cradling you against her chest with surprising tenderness.

"This is embarrassing," you mutter, your cheeks flushing despite the pain.

"Yeah, that's what you get for being an idiot."

"Wow, way to cheer a girl up,” you reply sarcastically.

As Sevika carries you through the prison corridors, you can't help but study her face. Her guarded expression softens as she looks down. There's something else in there too, a whirl of emotions you can't quite place.

You tighten your hold on her, tucking your head against her chest. You can hear her heartbeat, strong and steady. The smell of grimy blood and her shampoo somehow distracts you from the pulsing pain in your leg.

The sound of gunshots echoes through the building and you feel Sevika tense. "Fuck," you mutter, "what is happening out there?"

Sevika shifts you slightly, freeing one hand to grab her radio.

"We've got two severely injured," crackles a voice through the static.

As you emerge into the harsh sunlight, you see members of your group carrying people out. Two of them have nasty stab wounds, blood seeping through hastily applied bandages.

Sevika gently sets you down next to the injured in the back of the truck. You watch as the rest of the group gathers around the other vehicle, their voices low and urgent as they discuss the situation. There are still people left inside.

Despite the throbbing pain in your leg, your instincts kick in. You reach for your bag, trying to pull out the first aid kit. Sevika notices and immediately moves to stop you.

"Stop, stop," she says, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. "You're injured. Let us help, tell us what to do."

You look up at her, seeing the worry etched on her face.

"Okay," you nod, wincing as you shift to get a better view of the injured. "We need to apply pressure to those wounds. Get the gauze from the kit and press it firmly against the bleeding areas."

As Sevika relayed your instructions to the others, you had forgotten to close your bag properly. In your bag was the red shawl you kept from the night of the campfire, and unbeknownst to you Sevika had seen it in there, her jaw visibly clenching at the sight.

More of her crew comes out the building, hauling out the fallen attackers, their faces set in a hard scowl.

“Are the rest dead?” she demands.

A gruff voice answers, “Yeah, we got those fucking bastards. We wanted you to deal with these.” The crew shoves three people onto their knees, their faces unremorseful and stoic.

One man in the center is screaming at the top of his lungs, his voice raw with fanaticism. “YOU WILL REPENT! THIS IS A RECKONING! THE WORLD WILL BE CLEANSED OF FILTH LIKE YOU!” His words are overlapped with another man reciting a desperate prayer, his hands trembling as he clutches at invisible salvation.

Sevika’s face remains a mask of cold detachment, her eyes flickering with something darker as she assesses the situation.

“They’re not worth our bullets,” she says, her tone flat and unfeeling. The others understand immediately, pulling out their knives.

You see Sevika stride toward the vehicle's trunk, and she retrieves a machete, its blade gleaming dangerously.

Sevika’s expression remains inscrutable as she approaches the only woman in the group, the machete held steady and unwavering. The final girl locks eyes with Sevika, but there’s an almost reverent look to them.

Her voice is trembling, but defiant. “No one is safe—you cannot escape His wrath.”

Without hesitation, Sevika swings the machete. In a brutal, swift move, her crew slits the throats of the remaining captives. The girl’s final scream is a gurgle of blood as Sevika’s blade comes down with a clean, merciless swipe, severing her head in a single, precise cut.

Blood splatters across the scene, painting their clothes and the ground. The force of the blow sends a spray of it onto Sevika and her crew, but she doesn’t flinch.

You’re left watching in shock, the brutal display leaving you breathless and shaken.

Sevika’s gaze shifts back to you as the last of the blood settles. The fierceness in her eyes softens just slightly, the ruthlessness giving way to concern. She takes in your injured state and the rest of the crew.

“Head back,” she commands, her voice almost robotic. “We need to get them to the infirmary immediately.”

The truck lurches and bumps along the road, each jolt sending a fresh wave of pain through your broken leg. You shut your eyes, focusing on the thought of arriving at Zaun.

When you arrive at the infirmary, Sevika is out of the vehicle before it even comes to a full stop. She scoops you up, carrying you inside with a determination that’s almost palpable. As she crosses the threshold, you catch sight of the crew still being helped out of the vehicle, their injuries more immediate and visible than yours.

"No," you mumble, your voice weak but insistent. "No doctors... attend to them first."

Sevika's eyes widen in disbelief. "What? Are you crazy?"

You shake your head, the pain and fatigue making it hard to focus. “It’s a broken leg. From what I can tell, no internal bleeding. They’re bleeding, Sevika. They need help now.”

She hesitates, clearly torn between her instinct to protect you and your insistence. After a moment, she lets out a heavy sigh, clearly exasperated by your stubbornness. The adrenaline from the fight is wearing off, and exhaustion settles over you like a heavy blanket. Sevika administers a painkiller, and soon the sharp pain dulls to a throbbing ache.

Silence falls between you, broken only by the sound of your labored breathing. Sevika sits beside your bed, her posture rigid, eyes fixed on the floor.

"What's wrong?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. The fatigue is dragging you down, making it hard to keep your eyes open.

Sevika’s gaze remains locked on the ground, her face an unreadable mask. She doesn’t respond right away, but you can see the tremor in her hands and the tightness in her shoulders. With what little strength you have left, you reach out, your hand finding hers. The contact seems to jolt her out of her thoughts, and she finally meets your gaze.

What you see in her eyes is fear. Raw, unguarded terror. It's an expression you never thought you'd see on someone so strong like her, and it sends a chill through you.

Your hand moves to her face, fingers tracing the scar that runs along her cheek. Instead of pulling away as you half-expected, she leans into your touch, her eyes closing for a brief moment.

"It’s okay," you reassure, fighting to keep your eyes open. "I'm okay... just... don't leave me."

As you drift into unconsciousness, the last thing you hear is Sevika’s voice, a hushed murmur barely audible.

“I failed you.”

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@poxismind @kittykatz1227 @archangeldyke-all @abbyssgf @ivorydevil

@lez-zuha @iamastar @jellyfishrnice @anemoxlys @l0vel3tterl0ver

@lavendersgirl @h0pe-scotch @lia-winther @kittykatz1227 @dontknowwhenispawned

@sevikitty @sarahduke @raphaellearp @cewl-casper @crying-lighting443

@sodavrr @sweet-lover-girl @love-sevikalove

#arcane sevika #sevika #sevika imagine #arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #grayson arcane #wlw fanfic #zombie apocolypse au #sevika x female reader

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cassafrassie · 1 month

Text

testing the waters - (also on ao3) length: 2,938 words rating: G (v mild swearing)

It’s a slow, hot, lazy late August afternoon. The world has been saved, triangle demon vanquished, Grunkle Stan’s memories slowly returning to him, and Dipper and Mabel Pines lounge on the front deck of the Mystery Shack soaking up their last moments of summer before returning to Piedmont in just a few days.

Dipper lays flat on his back on the wood slats, watching the trees sway in the warm breeze while Mabel sprawls on the couch, tapping away on her phone.

“Oh-ho-ho!” She says after some time, breaking the easy silence.

“What?” Dipper asks, glancing at her but not moving.

“Nothing…” she replies in such a mischievous tone that Dipper immediately knows it’s anything but nothing.

Dipper lifts his head to get a better look at his sister. She’s grinning like a mad woman as she taps something on her phone.

It makes Dipper uneasy.

“Mabel,” he says, slower. “What is it?”

Mabel ignores him at first, still tapping away, but eventually looks down at him with a smug smile on her face.

“Time for you to get your own phone I think, bro-bro.”

“What? Why?”

“Well you can’t exactly expect me to be the middle man for you and your girlfriend forever.”

“Girlfri—…?” Dipper trails off as Mabel tosses him her phone, open to a short text conversation.

Pacifica: Mabel. Tell your brother to meet me at Lake Gravity Falls at 4PM today.

Mabel: OoOooh. Looking to do some more huggin’ are ya?? Or maybe taking it up a notch? 💋💋😘

Pacifica: Ugh, just tell him.

Mabel: What’s the magic woooord?

Pacifica: Now?

Mabel: Come on Pazmatazz we practiced this.

Pacifica: Don’t call me that.

Mabel: P

Mabel: L

Mabel: E

Pacifica: Fine! Please! Just stop!

Dipper throws the phone back at Mabel, a little rougher than he needed to.

“Do you have to be like that?” he bites out.

“Um, securing your romantic future? Yes, you’d think you’d be grateful, jeez. Make sure you shower before you go though, you smell like the inside of a gym sock.”

“Who says I’m going?” Dipper says, flopping back down on the deck. “She can’t just boss me around like that.”

“Sure, Dip,” Mabel says, returning to her texting.

---

Two hours later Dipper finds himself showered (he needed to anyway, okay?!), changed and waving his thanks to Soos for the ride as he trudges down toward the lake from the parking lot. To his right he sees the lake’s marina. It’s mostly modest speed boats and fishing vessels, but rising like a skyscraper above all the rest is a large pleasure craft, at least 80 feet from bow to stern, with the familiar “N.W.” emblazoned in gold script along the side of the bow. He figures this must be his destination, so he heads down the dock toward the end, where the massive yacht rests bobbing in the water in the final slip.

“Pacifica? You there?” he calls out from the dock, finally reaching the boat.

Pacifica’s blonde head pops out from a door to the interior almost immediately. She bounces up on deck and trots over to the side, leaning over to peer down at him.

“Dipper! You came!”

She’s is wearing a striped purple polo top similar to the one she wore the night the Lilliputtians attacked, simple pleated white shorts and camel-colored boat shoes. Her long hair is pulled back into a low ponytail and the overall effect is classy but understated. She looks… nice, Dipper thinks before shaking the thought away.

“Well you kind of made it sound like I didn’t have a choice.”

Pacifica shoots him a grin that’s just a little dazzling in the late afternoon light, and before he knows it his feet are carrying him up dock's boarding steps to the side of the boat. As he lifts his foot to step onto the yacht, however, Pacifica holds up her palm, stopping him.

“Ah, ah, ah, Pines! First rule of boating etiquette. Always ask for permission to board.”

“You invited me here!” he shoots back.

“Manners still matter,” she says, flipping her hair.

Dipper groans. He feels annoyance rising in his chest and is about to tell her to forget it, but then he studies her face and he sees the playful smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Oh. She’s… messing with him.

He feels his own mouth quirk up at the sides.

Well two can play at that game.

Dipper clears his throat, straightens his back and assumes an air of hyperbolic chivalry.

“Very well, Miss Northwest. Would your highness deign to grace herself with my presence by allowing me to step aboard thine’s most glorious seafaring vessel?” He finishes with an exaggerated twirl of his hand.

Pacifica giggles and holds out her hand to him palm up. “She will. Dork.”

He grips her welcoming hand and allows her to help him come aboard, taking a second to find his footing on the gently bobbing boat before releasing it.

“Pretty nice, uh, schooner you got here.” He says, hands on his hips, looking around.

Schooner? Is that even right? Why is he trying to impress her with big boat words? He doesn’t know a darn thing about boats.

Pacifica quirks an eyebrow but lets it go. “Yeah, it’s fun,” she says wistfully. “But I’m pretty sure it’s going up for sale next week along with the manor.”

“Oh,” Dipper says rubbing his neck. “Do you know where you’re moving yet?”

He feels just the slightest confusing feeling of guilt tugging deep in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t feel bad about Preston and Priscilla getting found out for their years of crookedness, but Pacifica didn’t really have anything to do with that.

“Another mansion here in town. It’s way smaller though. Only one swimming pool,” Pacifica says, her face falling briefly, but she shakes it off.

Dipper chokes back a snort, all feelings of guilt instantly evaporating.

“You want a soda? I can show you around,” Pacifica asks, though the way she confidently strides back toward the interior leaves him with the impression that’s it’s not really a question as much as it is a command to follow.

He trails after her, following into the inner cabin of the boat. They enter a spacious galley. The walls are lined in deep teak wood and a massive crystal chandelier hangs in the center of the room. Dipper thinks this seems pretty impractical for a boat, but then again little about the Northwests has ever been practical.

A steward brings a silver tray with an assortment of sodas and juices. Dipper picks a Pitt Cola from the offering and then continues following Pacifica deeper below deck.

“So, uh, what’s the occasion?” he asks, following her down a narrow staircase and down a hallway lined with staterooms. “You just showing off the last of your family’s spoils before it goes to the auction block?”

Pacifica rolls her eyes as she stops at a door near the end of the hall.

“No. Well, not just that.” She opens the door, which leads to a small storage room. She doesn’t turn on the lights, but he can make out that the cabin is filled with boxes and chests from the warm light coming in from two small portholes. “This is the main reason.” She grips a large trunk in the corner with both hands and tugs it out from the shadows. The same “N.W.” monogram is etched onto the lid, the faint light catching the gold script.

As she tugs, Dipper feels the cabin shift around him unnaturally. He realizes the boat is pulling away from the dock. He braces himself against a wall with one arm, but Pacifica isn’t as quick on her feet and she stumbles forward. Dipper reaches forward with his free arm and grasps her around the middle. Her hair ends up in his face.

Lavender, again.

“I gotcha,” he says.

Pacifica grasps onto his arm as she steadies herself, then meets his eyes for the briefest of moments before turning away from him abruptly.

She coughs. “Thanks.”

Dipper feels his face flush. Not going to think too hard about that.

Pacifica turns back to the trunk, kneeling down and fiddling with the lock.

“My family has had these tapestries for as long as I can remember. I’m not sure where they came from, but I took the one in my bedroom down the night after the party. I didn’t know why at the time, but after the last few days things started to come together… so I took the rest down too and stashed them down here.” She looks over her shoulder at him. “Mom and Dad don’t know.”

Dipper feels a burst of pride swell in his heart at her small rebellion, whatever this is.

He leans over her shoulder as she lifts the lid to the trunk, but freezes when he sees what’s within.

He sees the eye first. That piercing, maniacal eye. Then the shape and color. And its enough to send him gasping backward, air completely leaving his lungs.

“Dipper?” Pacifica asks, spinning around toward him.

Dipper’s heart feels like it’s stopped. Where’s the wall? He needs to grab on to something. His arm waves behind him until it finds purchase on the side of the cabin.

“Dipper!” Pacifica continues. “Shoot! I’m sorry, I should have warned you.” She slams the lid shut and turns to grasp Dipper’s shoulders. “Hey, hey look at me.”

Dipper reluctantly meets her eyes, but he’s glad he does. Her blue meets his brown and he sees her concern and immediately feels calmer. In the recesses of his mind, fleetingly, he had feared that this was all some sort of trap, but when he sees her sincerity he knows she’s still on his side.

“You’re okay. I’m here. Crap, I’m so sorry,” she goes on, lowering her eyes but still gripping his shoulders.

Dipper feels the oxygen returning to his lungs and his head clearing.

“No, no it’s okay. I’m okay. It was an accident,” he says, taking a deep breath.

Pacifica looks back up at him, lip quivering. She releases his shoulders.

“Hey,” he chucks her under the chin lightly. “All good. Nothing wounded but my pride.”

She gives him a wary smile.

He returns it, feeling relief as he watches her features slowly relax. She really is pretty, huh?

Shit.

No.

No, no, no we are not doing that right now, brain.

He clears his throat.

“So… uh, why exactly are you showing me this?” he finally asks, breaking their eye contact and gesturing to the trunk.

“Oh! Right.” Pacifica tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as she straightens up, putting her hands on her hips. “I want you to help me get rid of it.”

Dipper’s mind races through memories of spells and incantations he read in Ford’s journals. Was there one for expelling physical objects from reality? Could they summon a self-contained fire that wouldn’t compromise the boat? Maybe if they contacted the ghost of Archibald Corduroy he would be able to bring the tapestries to the… ghost realm? If that’s a thing?

Pacifica looks at him curiously. “Uh, hello? What’s going on in there?” she asks, tapping his forehead with her pointer finger.

He continues studying the trunk. “Just trying to think of the best way…”

Pacifica raises an eyebrow. “Come on, Pines. Lake Gravity Falls is 742 feet deep at its center. Where do you think we’re going?” She gestures around her to the moving yacht.

Oh.

Right. Well that could work too.

With some effort and griping the two manage to bring the trunk up the stairs (“Pivot! You have to pivot!” Pacifica had sniped more than once) and on the main deck of the boat.

Together they lift the heavy chest to the railing at the stern, letting it balance delicately just shy from tipping over. They each hold one handle.

“Any final words?” Dipper asks, turning to face her.

“Good riddance.” Pacifica says, still staring at the trunk, eyes focused on the “N.W.” monogram. She turns to him. “Let’s do this.”

Damn, she’s fierce. He gives her a half smile and nods.

They each let go of their respective handles and give the trunk a firm push. It goes tumbling overboard, falling the dozen or so feet it takes to reach the water before hitting it with a satisfying splash.

Dipper and Pacifica stand side by side, watching it sink below the surface slowly, murky darkness slowly obscuring it from view. Then it’s gone.

Pacifica turns and leans her back against the railing, letting out a long exhale. “Wow, it’s crazy how much better I feel.”

Dipper smiles at her. Her features do look more relaxed. Like a heavy burden— or curse, maybe—has been lifted.

He nudges her side with his elbow. “So this tub is going away in a few days right? What do you say we enjoy it a bit before it’s gone?”

Pacifica turns to face him and grins.

---

A couple hours, an impromptu water gun fight, and a few unceremonious pushes into the lake later, Dipper and Pacifica lay next to one another on their stomaches at the bow of the boat, each wrapped in a fluffy towel. Together they watch the sun drop below the tree-lined horizon. Orange and pink gives way slowly to purple and blue. Dipper lets his eyes drift from the hazy sky to the gentle waves created by the yacht cutting through the lake surface, and finally to his new friend. Her eyes have shut and her head is cushioned on her arms. The soft light of the dusk plays on her delicate features, and he takes a moment to watch the steady inhale and exhale of her breathing. He feels himself smile, and decides to let himself indulge in the warm feeling that comes with it. Just for now. Even if he still isn’t sure what it means.

After a moment her eyes flutter open and her cheeks dust with pink. “Guess I dozed off a bit?” she asks, scrunching up her nose.

“Yeah, but it’s okay. It’s been a big day.”

She yawns and looks at the horizon.

“So I guess you’re going back home to California soon, huh? After your party?”

“Yeah… but is it weird that to say that Piedmont doesn’t really feel like home anymore?”

“No.” She turns to him. “I think ‘home’ can kind of change. I never used to feel like Gravity Falls was where I belonged, honestly.”

“Really? Do you still feel that way?”

“I’m not sure… I feel at home right now though, I think.” Her cheeks grow rosier.

Dipper smiles, feeling his own cheeks warming once again as well.

“What are you gonna do? After?” he asks, not really knowing precisely how to articulate what he means, but trusting she will understand.

“I don’t know,” she laughs. “Back to school, I guess. Maybe I can convince my parents to let me start boarding. I’m just a day student right now, but there are a bunch of kids who live too far to go home at night. I wouldn’t mind staying away from my parents for awhile.” Dipper isn’t sure he completely understands how private schooling works, but before he can ask she keeps talking. “Mom and Dad—they, uh… fight a lot, you know? And I kind of think it’s just going to get worse now that we’re only really rich and not insanely rich.” She drops her chin to her rest on her right forearm, lets her left arm dangle over the side of the boat.

Dipper flashes back to four months earlier, hearing his own mom and dad say the most horrible things to one another late at night in their kitchen, long after he and Mabel were supposed to have gone to bed.

“Yeah,” he starts, slowly. “That’s… rough. I get that.”

She tilts her head to him, eyes wide. “You do?”

“Yeah...” He lets his own head fall forward, cushioned by his laced fingers. “I’m not really sure what I’m going to be walking into when we get back, either. Family-wise, I mean.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Honestly, not really. It’s too pretty and peaceful here right now.” He meets her eyes.

“Another time then,” she says, like it’s not even a question.

He feels a smile tug at his lips. On a lot of people, such declaration would come off as presumptuous, rude even. But Pacifica’s so naturally confident and matter-of-fact that it’s just… endearing. Honest.

And he knows it’s true, too.

“Yeah, another time.”

The yacht’s crew eventually brings the boat back to the marina just as the stars are beginning to make their first appearances in the evening sky. Her driver gives him a ride home, and clambering out of back of the town car, Dipper notices Mabel peeking through the Shack’s curtains. He rolls his eyes and turns back to where Pacifica still sits in the back of the car.

“So you’re coming to our birthday tomorrow, right?” he asks.

“Duh, I am the Party Queen after all.” She winks and his stomach does a funny little flip. “It would be cruel to deprive you of my presence on your birthday.”

He laughs and shakes his head, sends her a final wave and smile over his shoulder as he makes his way back to what will almost certainly be an interrogation of epic proportions from his sister.

But, yeah, maybe Mabel is right. Maybe it is time to get his own phone.

#dipper x pacifica #pacifica northwest #dipcifica #dipper pines #dipper and pacifica #gravity falls #dippica #gravity falls fanfiction

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cobrakaisb · 2 months

Text

humid summer

summary: summer rolls around, and for the first time in two years you find yourself outside the borders of camp half-blood but how long can you keep pretending to be a normal cruise guest on the princess andromeda?

featuring: BOOK SPOILERS (from here on out), multiple povs (reader, percy, and annabeth), plus more of reader and annabeth’s relationship, oh also angst

word count: 2.7k

series masterlist ||| previous ||| next

the summer heat combined with the florida humidity is stifling. you feel like you’re boiling in a pot of soup, as opposed to lounging on the pool deck of a cruise ship. even the ocean breeze does little to quell the heat. you almost feel bad for the other demigods — who you know are training on a deck somewhere on the princess andromeda — but you can’t bring yourself to that point. not when you, chris, and katrina offered for them to ditch too.

“how long do you plan on tanning for?” someone asks, and you recognize the voice as your boyfriend’s.

“until the sun goes down,” you answer, holding a hand up to your forehead as you give him a once over.

it is obvious that he hasn’t been training, not in khaki pants and a light blue polo, but he still has his sword hanging from a sheath around his waist. his arms are crossed over his chest, and he shoots you a disapproving glare. yet, all you can focus on are his muscles.

“you’re gonna get a farmer's tan, dude,” chris jeers, eliciting snickers from you and katrina.

“oh you’d like that wouldn’t you?” katrina teases, elbowing your side as you get up from your lounger and walk towards luke.

you lift up your shades, pushing them to the top of your head and smile softly at him. you’re trying your best to be apologetic, or at least seem apologetic, but you’re sure it isn’t working. your eyes flicker across luke’s supposedly serious gaze, but you can see the humor swirling in his eyes.

“you’re not mad are you? we were really just taking a break,” you explain, a soft pout on your lips to try and sell your story.

luke raises an eyebrow along with the corner of his mouth, and while you know he doesn’t believe you, he doesn’t provide a lecture or try to contradict your words. it’s clear to all the demigods on the princess andromeda that while you’ve aligned yourself with them — with his cause — your loyalties lie in the palm of his hands, a sentiment which isn’t lost on luke either. he has the ability to cradle it or squash it like a bug. there is no inbetween. yet, he continues to push his luck.

even now as you laugh poolside with chris and katrina with his firm hand resting on your hip, he knows that you’d slip away from him if you knew what was going on in the brig. if you knew who was there and what he’d done to lure them right into his clutches, you’d flee.

he clears his throat, demanding your attention. only when all three pairs of eyes are on him does he muster up the courage to actually be a leader: “i better see the three of you at training later, otherwise you can kiss those free nights goodbye.”

luke squeezes your hip once more before departing, walking back down the hallway he originally came from.

*****

the continuous rocking back and forth is starting to get to percy. with each sway of the large cruise ship, he can feel the insides of his stomach turning. the sounds of the waves crashing against the strong hull should be calming, soothing even, yet they only increase his feelings of nausea.

“don’t tell me you’re seasick, seaweed brain?” annabeth snaps, but there is a hint of sympathy behind her cold words.

“ugh as if,” he answers, but promptly squints his eyes after a particularly large jolt.

“i knew this was too good to be true,” he mumbles, leaning his sweaty forehead against the cool metal bars in hope of some relief.

“it wouldn’t be if you’d just accepted my offer. it’d make things a lot easier for the both of us,” another voice chimes in.

percy opens his eyes, immediately reaching for the ballpoint pen residing in his pocket. he can’t help but stare at the older boy, the person he once called a friend, with nothing but resentment and hatred. luke is leaning casually against the wall across from their holding cell. his arms are crossed, sword sheathed, and he looks like he has all the time in the world. there even seems to be a flicker of annoyance in his brown eyes.

“we both know things could be much easier. right percy?” luke continues, but he doesn’t make any moves or even reach for his sword.

“what are you doing here?” percy asks, mustering up enough strength to stand from the floor of their cell.

luke chuckles, shaking his head back and forth with a small tsk. “c’mon percy, you’re smarter than that. i bet even annabeth has this figured out. isn’t that right banana?”

“don’t call me that,” annabeth growls, fists clenched at her sides.

percy watches their interaction, an intense stare down. he’s only even seen luke partake in one, and he remembers how luke was the first to recede. you’re the only person who luke allowed to bully him into getting your way, and annabeth must remember that as well as she turns away from the boy she once called a brother. percy looks at annabeth, asking her a silent question, but she doesn’t even acknowledge him, simply keeping her gaze locked on a questionable stain on the floor.

“hmm, guess not. makes this even more entertaining,” luke says, stepping away from the wall and towards their cell.

percy doesn’t hesitate this time, swiftly lifting the cap off his pen with the flick of his thumb. his sword appears in his hands, and he grips the hilt so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

luke holds his hands up in surrender, “no need for violence, percy. i haven’t even gotten a chance to speak yet.”

“really? cause you’ve been doing all the talking,” percy snaps, his eyes never leaving luke’s figure as he searches for any impending danger.

luke chuckles again, but it’s humorless. his eyes turn back to percy lacking any and all warmth. with a clenched jaw, luke looks him up and down. percy feels his breath hitch in his throat; he remembers all too well the last time he fought luke. he also remembers that he has more training under his belt than he did a year ago.

“i’ll be honest with you percy, because i think we owe that to each other. i know my dad sent you here, hoping you’d convince me to change my mind, but it’s not going to work. we both know that,” luke starts.

“you, on the other hand, still have time to join me. percy, join us and all will be forgiven,” he finishes, extending his hand to percy.

percy stares at it, and without a second thought spits at the older boy.

luke grimaces, wiping the saliva on his white linen shirt. “well then.”

he turns to walk away, leaving the two teens and their cyclops companion behind, but he stops suddenly. his black curls bounce as he whips his head around over his shoulder, brown eyes meeting annabeth’s watery gaze: “i’ve done a lot of things, banana, but associating with a cyclops isn’t one of them.” and then he’s gone.

*****

the training room is already packed when you and katrina arrive. although a majority of the space is taken up by demigods, you can see some monsters hanging around the outskirts of the crowd. their presence is looming, much like their size, and you nervously adjust the bowstring strapped around your upper body. it feels like it’s choking you, a sensation only amplified by the lump in your throat. try as you might, you can’t seem to swallow it down, and it only worsens as other demigods focus their attention on you. while katrina leads you through the crowd towards chris, their whispers echo in your ears. it’s giving you deja vu.

you blink, and you’re back at camp half-blood. the dining pavilion is silent as you walk behind luke, weaving in and out of tables to get to cabin eleven’s. they’re trying to be subtle, quiet even, but their voices are much louder than intended. not to mention, all their eyes are on you, making it fairly obvious who their target is. a young girl turns to her friend, whispering something in her ear while making direct eye contact with you. you hear every word.

“and she gets to skip morning training for a pool day. like how is that fair?” an auburn haired girl whispers not-so-quietly to her friend.

your gaze snaps towards her, lip curled in a sneer. her blue eyes widen when they meet your anger-filled irises. she takes in a shaky breath followed by a cautious step back. after giving her a once over, you recognize her as holland, a fifteen year old daughter of athena.

luke’s hand grips your shoulder roughly, pulling you along before the situation can escalate despite your incessant protests that you can handle yourself and this girl. he’s not here to do that this time though.

“remind me again, holland, how many bullseyes you’ve hit? oh that’s right, none because you can’t even keep the arrows in the quiver, much less on target,” you ridicule.

her eyes gloss over and bottom lip trembles, yet she still manages a comeback: “i’m just confused as to why luke’s girlfriend gets special privileges.”

the silence in the room is loud. everyone was already eavesdropping, but now it’s blatantly clear; you can hear a pin drop. your nostrils flare at her words, and you straighten your spine. scanning over the crowd of demigods and monsters alike, all their eyes ask the same question: what’s your next move?

“is that what you all think?” you ask rhetorically.

“well, let’s put those theories to rest,” you continue, marching to the front of the room.

silently, and with hundreds of eyes watching, you remove your bow from your shoulders. the quiver filled with a dozen arrows brushes against your right thigh as you remove one. the wooden shaft is light and pliable in your hands; if you weren’t so determined to make holland eat her words it’d probably be snapped in half. you load the arrow, inhaling as you pull back the string. on the exhale, you release; a perfect bullseye.

“let’s see if i can beat holland’s record,” you taunt, already loading up for your second shot on the second target.

it’s bullseye after bullseye, and the silence in the room only gets heavier with each shot. finally, you run out of arrows and targets. you turn on your heel, facing the crowd. it’s arrogant, but you bend over into a deep bow with your eyes focused on holland’s blue ones.

“once you can do that, holland, you can skip morning training too,” and with that, you walk out the door.

you barely make it three steps before someone stops you. it’s luke; you can tell by the way he holds your bicep, firm yet delicate, and the rough calluses on his palm. you shrug, easily wiggling out of his grasp. his eyes are burning a hole in your head, but you refuse to meet his gaze, keeping yours locked on the vast horizon.

“what was that?” he asks, voice gruff.

“your army is getting cocky. someone had to put them in check,” you snap, crossing your arms now.

he scoffs, stepping beside you with his body turned so that he’s looking at you. he waits patiently for you to acknowledge him, but you don’t. the waves rippling out on the ocean are much more entertaining.

“maybe they know they’re on the winning side,” he replies, voice oozing confidence.

you’re silent.

“and i think you need to remember that too,” he continues, walking away.

“really? cause it feels a lot like camp. if i wanted to be judged, i would’ve just stayed there. i thought my boyfriend, camp half-blood’s golden boy, would understand,” you say.

luke freezes, but he doesn’t turn around. “then go back there,” he mumbles, opening the door to the training room.

you blink, registering his monotone voice and hurtful words. maybe i will, you think.

and yet, you still end up falling asleep next to him that night. whispering apologies to each other in between kisses and tangled limbs.

*****

percy promised himself that he would never see the princess andromeda again. turns out promises are meant to be broken. he thinks you might be starting to realize that too.

“and poisoning thalia’s tree was just the beginning,” luke confirms, standing across from percy.

sword at the ready, percy waits for luke to make the first move. his eyes flicker over to you, and he’s stunned by your confused expression. it’s clear that luke is the mastermind here, but percy always assumed it was more of a co-parenting situation with heavy emphasis on your involvement in the child’s — luke’s plans to restore the golden age — life. it appears, however, that he was wrong.

“thwarted again luke. the golden fleece is already on its way back to camp. i guess clarisse can be good for something,” percy taunts, but he’s just buying time.

annabeth already has an iris message queued up, broadcasting his conversation with luke to the entirety of camp half-blood. percy’s sure that he’s never beating those seaweed brain allegations, not when he’s so obviously struggling to bait luke. yet, the older brunette clenches his jaw at percy’s words, anger flashing in his eyes.

“kronos was right. i should’ve killed you when i had the chance,” luke yells, before going on offense.

percy throws a quick, albeit sloppy, parry. luke grunts, and percy thinks that playing dodgeball with joe bob and his laistrygonian siblings at meriwether college prep really paid off. for one, it definitely made him stronger. and two, he was able to deal with all the chaos of the party ponies around him, much like he was able to win that final dodgeball game.

in between percy fighting off luke, and the ponies demolishing anything in their sight, annabeth and grover get cornered. percy can see them, backs literally against a wall, as a hellhound growls in annabeth’s face. it’s not afraid of her dagger, and grover’s pipes aren’t doing anything to help the situation. percy turns, ready to jump in and leave his side quest with luke behind, (he’s sure there will be other opportunities), but he doesn’t need to.

*****

you know it’s wrong. somebody from kronos’s army should not be protecting the so-called enemy, but you can’t help it. annabeth is the little sister you never had, and even if she doesn’t see you in that light anymore, you refuse to stand by and watch her get hurt.

you whistle, and the hellhound fixes its beady red eyes on you. it probably expects you to run or cower in fear, but it only takes one swipe of your knife to turn him to golden ash. now, there’s nothing standing between the three of you.

annabeth steps forward, her gray eyes cold and calculating as she tries to determine your ulterior motive. you never once break her stare, even though your chest is heaving, and you feel like passing out from all the new information you received today.

“i swear i had no idea,” you say, voice breathless.

annabeth’s gaze softens slightly, and you only know that because you know her so well. you can’t imagine that she believes you; you wouldn’t believe yourself. yet, there are only three people who have seen your true colors, the person buried underneath the mask of hera’s daughter, and annabeth is one of them. unlike grover, annabeth can detect the hurt in your voice. she sees the disappointment in your eyes, and that proves she can trust you.

“leave with the ponies. i’ll make sure he doesn’t follow you,” you instruct.

on her nod, you turn away, heading back into the craziness of the party ponies to stop a red boxing glove from punching out ethan nakamura. she pats grover’s shoulder, leading him towards a less congested area, and waits for their chance to slip out.

true to your word, luke doesn’t follow them home.

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