#LONG LIVE CAPTAIN DANGEROUS!!!!!!!!!!

[uinre]

You’re our Captain Dangerous, aren’t you?

[bumblingbabooshka]

[Tuvok & Janeway: Control, Distance, Duty & Connection.] Sources: St Voyager Transcripts / Mitski 'First Love Late Spring' / Disco Elysium

[biboomerangboi]

More reasons why Zuko being the Firelord is objectively the funniest thing on earth:

HES SEVENTEEN

He hasn’t been civilised in 4 years, his entire teenage experience consists of living on a boat and sleeping rough. The most stable bed he has was probably in Ba Sing Se he probably will just nap anywhere.

He has customer service experience which means he probably uses his customer service voice on his minsters.

Additionally he probably just wanders into to kitchen to get his own snacks and tea because he forgets what servants do.

He probably has no idea why he can’t just chase after an assassin he used to hunt the avatar for Agnis sake why is the captain of the guard demanding he stay in his room he’ll find the guy first (he’s probably right)

Katara probably has a free pass on Eco terrorism because what’s he going to do challenge her, she’ll beat his ass.

If he saw a minster doing something shady he will either invite lady Beifong to detect their BS or commit B&E and look for evidence himself.

He somehow found a baby dragon and raises it.

He will be far to willing to give Kyoshi island anything they want cause he feels bad and Suki scares him.

He randomly insisted on giving some earth kingdom village 100 ostrich horses.

The Avatar will just show up call him Hotman and demand the go on adventures and the Firelord will just dip because he’s been confined to long and has the Zoomies.

He takes far to much advice from Sokka and will genuinely believe if someone doesn’t get Sokkas plans they must be an idiot because Sokka is 16.

Sokka and Zuko also get into a lot of teenage rebellion phases by accident.

Toph just walks in breaks a wall of his palace and demands a field trip that always involves the Firelord having to explain himself to the cops.

He somehow knows every dangerous teen in the world and they all come for tea uninvited.

He has broken into both the NWT and Ba Sing Se.

He has a really well documented facial scar and official portraits but still disappears to be Lee the tea guy like no one knows.

HES SEVENTEEN.

[beloveds-embrace]

Idgaf abt how military works sorry yall but imagine the 141 gang having to do mandatory charity and no, not even Ghost can opt out of it regardless of how he says he’s honest to god not fucking fit to be visiting sick patients. But alas.

But they end up meeting you- frail, fragile, and sick you, no visitors around you. Though you look at them with curiosity and admiration, you keep yourself away, almost as if you don’t want to bother them.

You can’t help looking at them, though. You’ve been sick all your life- born to a mother who left you on the doorsteps of an overcrowded orphanage, left alone often and long for your body to just… fail you. You don’t think you’ve seen outside the orphanage walls and then these hospital grounds since your birth. You would be dead now if it weren’t for the CEO of the hospital taking pity on you after you turned eighteen and the orphanage cleaned their hands off you.

And so, you can’t help but envy them just a little. Strong, agile people in the military, bodies fit and healthy. Despite knowing they are always putting themselves on the line, constantly in danger, you can’t help the longing you feel. Longing you don’t realize is clear as day in your eyes.

The one to approach you first is the man you thought one of the prettiest men you’ve ever seen. He introduces himself as Kyle, and despite your silence- your interactions with others that are not doctors or nurses are far and few, and you are painfully shy- but he is nice. Gentle. Easily keeps the conversation going despite. He is so easy-going he has you grinning and laughing in no time. It catches the attention of a the Scot with a mohawk, who joins in by sharing even wilder stories. And then the man with the scary ghost mask, so often in their stories, comes to your little crowd. He is big, scary if the nurses’ reactions are anything to go by, and yet the only thing you’ve ever truly been afraid of is dying with a life not truly lived. So you don’t flinch or cower from him, merely ask if he has anything interesting to share with you.

The last you speak with is John Price. Captain John Price. If there is a man that can embody a bear, it has to be him. You are sure of it. Especially when you witness him smacking the back of Kyle’s head lightly after a teasing comment.

Maybe your chances of a long, fulfilling life are slim but today, just for today, you allow yourself to envision a life with them. Such a strange desire, a useless and wistful one.

“Thank you, for today.” You tell them quietly, when it’s nearing time to leave. Your hands are held in Kyle and Johnny’s, frail and weak compared to theirs. You smile at them, squeezing lightly. “I think this is the most happy and content I’ve been all my life. I won’t forget today.”

And in return? Neither will they. How could they ever forget you, the sweetheart in the hospital bed, your sickness keeping you away from the joyful life you deserve?

The won’t forget you. Not at all. And when you start receiving gifts, polaroids and letters and texts, you already know who is sending them to you.

It makes things just a little easier- your life just a little brighter.

Other works + help me choose a title for this!

[boogiewoogieweeb]

#YES EDWARD #see this to me feels like a glimpse of who he used to be #of the edward little that was deemed fitting for a prestigious naval expedition as first lieutenant #this is edward little when he's not being relentless ground down by an alcoholic captain and distrust and lack of respect #and the tightrope of covering for said alcoholic captain while not appearing to be insubordinate #when he's *actually* in a position of command #look i know they don't listen to him #but it's at a point when survival overcomes any thoughts of naval hierarchy or loyalty or anything except pure will to survive at any cost #it just makes me sad #as edward little always does #to think who he used to be #and who he became after being slowly but relentlessly eroded - @muchtodoonterror

THE TERROR ▸ 1.10 we are gone

[bi-writes]

hi! i was thinking if you could write an older!boyfriend simon x reader BUT reader is john price's daughter so is kinda of a forbidden and secret relationship !!!! they've been dating for a long time now until john finds out !!!!!

18+

"how is she?"

"doing well, john. but you don't have to worry about her anymore, you know that right? she's not yours to worry about."

"she is mine. i know she's not..." john huffs. "she may not be blood, but she's mine, yeah? so when i ask 'ow she is, you tell me, kate. can we agree on that?"

"sure, john. she's in georgia. her russian got very good. if you want to know my honest opinion, i think she'll be one of my best."

"well...i wouldn't stand for anythin' less."

"john?"

that voice is music to him. he turns, taking his hat off, and he laughs, genuinely, when he sees you. his whole face lights up, and you make your way to him. it's been months since you've seen him in person--even though he makes you send him constant updates about what you're doing and where you are, you find yourself missing this man and the warmth he gives off whenever you are in his proximity.

he's always looked at you so kindly. he's always taken care of you. whenever you pick up the phone, he's always answered.

"'ello, bug."

he crushes you in a warm hug. he puts a hand on the back of your neck and holds you to his chest, and the tension in his shoulders deflates now that he has you with him.

"hi, john. miss me?"

"well...you were the only one with sense in my house."

"you live alone, john."

"aye."

he pours you a hot cup of tea before he makes you tell him all about your new posting. most of it is classified, and you tell him that, but his face lights up when you talk about the new skills you're learning and all the opportunities that kate is giving you. his face scrunches a little when you talk about the more dangerous ops, but john never has the same regard for his own life.

the mess hall gets busy once dinner time rolls around. his men were not expecting you, and that much is clear when they see their captain even enjoying a meal in public and not secluded in his office. you smile at his sergeants, but when your gaze lingers a little longer on the doors, johnny just nudges you with his elbow.

"miss the big guy?"

"what? no."

"he had a long night last night," he wiggles his eyebrows at gaz, who just laughs a little. "i might need to try the whole brooding, scary look LT has got on. attracts the most bonnie things, fuckin' christ."

your plate flies when you stab at your food too hard. the cutlery clatters as it hits the floor, and you jump a little, swallowing.

"are you alright, bug?"

"huh? yeah, oh...yeah, just...fucking clumsy. i...i'm gonna...find the toilet."

the blood is rushing in your ears as you make your way out. you're vibrating, hot inside, and you feel him before you see him, even in your anger.

when he pulls you into the shadow of a nearby supply closet, you swipe the blade out of your boot and hold it up against his throat. even through the mask, the blade bites, and he hisses as you hold him up against the wall there.

"don't fucking touch me," you snarl, and ghost's eyes are bright and alive as he holds his hands up defensively.

"wot--"

"and don't what me," you snap. "actually, don't fucking talk at all, you cheating, manipulative, british piece of shit--"

"look so pretty," he murmurs, tilting his head to the side. "did you do y'r hair, baby?"

"i will kill you."

"'s olright. last thing i see'll be you."

"i'm not fucking kidding, simon!"

he bends a little, tilting his head, and you breathe out through your nose as he leans his forehead against yours.

"reckon ya spoke t'johnny."

you scoff. "told me all about your winnings last night, lieutenant."

"was no winnings, love, don't be so fuckin' naïve." simon swipes at the handle of the blade, curling his gloved fingers around your wrist and forcing it away from him. "y'r just mad cause y'r cunt missed me."

"don't flatter yourself, asshole."

"so if i pull your knickers down right now, y'won't be drippin', swee'eart?"

"that's irrelevant."

"'s not. turn around and bend over."

simon's sorry, so he eats your pussy from behind. he gets down on his knees, and the crack of them satisfies you immensely, up until you feel his mouth between your cheeks, tongue slicking up your folds. you brace yourself against the wall, palms flat against the concrete as he puts two gloved hands against your ass and spreads you wide to fit himself nicely there. he hums, groans, makes you whine as he slurps obscenely into your cunt, laving at the drip of you until the taste of you floods his mouth.

"simon..." you whimper. "tell me i-it's not true."

he presses a wet kiss to your ass, biting it firm.

"'s not true, love. promise."

"fuck your promises," you sniffle. "you're a professional liar."

"tha' 'ow it's gonna be, innit? not gonna trust me? believe me?"

you rest your forehead against the cool wall, and the shadow of him envelopes you when he stands. he grunts a little as he gets to his feet. his big hands squeeze at the curve of your waist, and you close your eyes when you feel his breath against your neck.

"i'm sorry, simon."

"for wot?"

"i just...i like you so much. so much."

"come 'ere," he murmurs in your ear. he pulls your hips back, pressing your ass against his pelvis, and you dig your nails into the wall when you hear his belt buckle and zipper. "my pretty girl. my pretty, pretty girl."

"i missed you s-so much, simon."

"i know, love. quiet now. someone'll hear."

it's not the worst place you've fucked. you've snuck quickies in the rec room. behind the mess hall. met up in filthy gas station toilets, fallen into the backseat of a car in the parking lot of numerous military bases. even once, you deigned to suck his dick in his office, and you had to hide behind his couch when john came in to ask about an op.

john had a rule. his men were off-limits. he should've thought about that before he hired a man straight out of your wet dreams for his stupid fucking task force.

you're weak. and simon is a man.

inevitable.

you're a mile into pound-town when someone interrupts. simon is cock-deep inside of you, pelvis up against your ass, one hand braced around your throat and the other squeezing your ass. your eyes are rolled back into your head, and there's drooling coming out of your mouth. it's hot, disgusting, filthy to let him have you like this, but it's been weeks since you've seen him, and the phone calls aren't enough.

you love talking to him. you love when he talks to you. he'll never be annoying to you, you'll never get tired of him, but the distances hurts. you want simon to be all around you--inside of you, against you, his voice in your ear and his mouth against yours and his warmth your only sheet, but you can't bring yourself to do more than this.

you're too afraid of disappointing people. you're too scared of simon's rejection. if your relationship is nothing but fun, nothing but sex, you can pretend it isn't real, but you're just lying to yourself now.

you babble, and it sounds like love, but then the hallway light blinds you, and familiar blue eyes nearly kill you.

"jesus christ!"

simon puts his body in front of yours to cover you, using a harsh boot to kick the door closed. you squeak, covering your face with your hands, and you groan audibly as simon pants against your back.

"fuck--" you gasp. "oh...fuck, fuck, fuck!"

simon buries his face into the crook of your neck, laughing a little.

"bloody hell," he breathes. "reckon we're fucked, huh, love?"

"it's not funny, simon! we're in so much trouble!"

"well..." he squeezes your throat gently, tilting your head back. "could still finish. no sense in pretendin' now."

"you are not going to come when he's probably waiting for us outside."

"i'm balls deep in my favorite girl," simon mutters. "could come just fine. just say the word."

"you're disgusting."

"mmm..." simon squeezes your hips. "keep talkin'. i like when y'talk t'me like tha'."

"fucking asshole."

"yeah...yeah."

"you stupid, immature, unhinged pain in my ass--"

"fuck."

well.

you're definitely never leaving this room.

[fangdokja]

A Heart Devoured (AHD) : A Dark Yandere Anthology

Step into a world of dangerous devotion and forbidden desires. A Heart Devoured is a collection of hauntingly seductive one-shots and imagines, each exploring the intoxicating grip of male yanderes. From possessive protectors to manipulative masterminds, these stories dive deep into the dark allure of obsession, blending romance, horror, and suspense.

Whether you crave a lover who would burn the world for you—or one who would chain you to it—this anthology delivers raw passion and chilling intensity that will leave you breathless and craving more.

You are their everything. Escape, if you dare.

Warning: These husbands take "forever" seriously.

────────────

Note: Want to make a LONG request for original yanderes (OC's)? Read the Rules and Regulations, first, before requesting. Failure to abide by the rules will have your request ignored and deleted.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

♡ For Reader-Inserts. I only write Male Yandere x Female (Fem.) Reader (heterosexual couple). No LGBTQ+:

♡ ⭐. Author's Personal Favorites. ♡ 🔞. NSFW / extremely explicit themes (non-con, sexual torture, dangerous edge play, degradation, humiliation, BDSM, etc.)

♡ Schedule. The following stories are released or scheduled for release:

Table of Contents

Yandere! Alpha! Wolf Hybrid & Little Omega

Drabbles

“You look prettier when you cry.”

“Do you know what I love most about you?”

“You don’t get to decide anymore,”

“And treasures don’t get to escape.”

“You’re waiting for someone to come for you, aren’t you?”

“Cry for me,”

“But don’t worry, darling. I’ll fill it with something better. Me.”

“You’ll only ever have one choice with me,”

Novelette 1 : Marked and Mated

🔞Run all you want, little omega—I love the chase.

Yandere! Chief of Police & Dollface

Headcanons

The sirens wailed, but no one was coming for you—they were his, just like you are now.

Yandere! College! Bully & Loser

Details: MBTI - INFJ ; Enneagram - 8w7

Oneshots

The worst part? You’ve stopped trying to fight it.

Novella 1 : Torn Between Us

In a world where no one cares, he’s the one who notices you… and that’s frightening.

Trust no one. Not even yourself.

🔞Part 3

🔞Part 4

Yandere! Criminal Prosecutor & Pet

Drabbles

“Soon, you won’t even remember what freedom tasted like.”

"Kneel. Now."

Oneshots

“This isn’t an interrogation. It’s a love story—you just don’t know it yet.”

Yandere! Divorce Attorney & Church Girl

Headcanons

In his world, love isn’t a choice—it’s a life sentence.

Novella 1 : Skin of the Saint

He didn’t believe in love, but she made him question everything.

She was everything he despised, and yet he kept returning.

She lived for her God; he lived to see her fall.

⭐He couldn’t touch her purity, but he could burn everything around her.

He wasn’t your savior, but he would break you like a sinner.

His love was a sin, but sins could be absolved—couldn’t they?

A stolen kiss, a forged marriage, and a choice that would ruin more than just your life.

🔞He kissed her like a punishment, touched her like a prayer.

Novelette 2 : Angels Cry, Devils Burn

Angels Cry, Devils Burn 1

Yandere! Emperor & Little Dove

Details: MBTI - ENFJ ; Enneagram - 8w7

Drabbles

“Do you know why I haven’t kissed you yet?”

“Do you like it?”

Headcanons

"I burned their world for daring to look at you—imagine what I’d do if you tried to leave."

Yandere! Ex-Boyfriend & Cheating Bitch

Details: MBTI - ENTP ; Enneagram - 7w8

Drabbles

“You disobeyed me. Again.”

“Miss me?”

“Pray I don’t snap. Because if I do, you won’t survive it.”

Novella 1 : Friction & Fire

She wasn't looking for love, but love wasn't asking for permission.

Some truths are better left buried.

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Yandere! FBI Agent & Sweets

Oneshots

He knows your favorite color, your childhood fears, and how you’ll look in a coffin.

Yandere! Hitman & любимая {darling}

Oneshots

“You should’ve pulled the trigger when you had the chance.”

Yandere! Hockey Captain & Ice Princess

Oneshots

You skate for freedom, but he’s about to make you his trophy.

Yandere! Isekai! Knight & Little Mouse

Details: MBTI - ENTJ; Enneagram - 8w7

Headcanons

What happens when a hero's love turns into an obsession that even he can't control?

Oneshots

In his eyes, your defiance isn’t strength—it’s foreplay.

Yandere! Marine Corps & Good Girl

Details: MBTI - ISTP ; Enneagram - 6w5

Oneshots

He crushed a man’s skull beneath his boot and turned to you with a smile.

"You’ll never escape me—not when I’m the only one keeping you alive."

Yandere! Nerd & Little Sugar

Details: MBTI - INTJ ; Enneagram - 6w5

Drabbles

“You think this is a game?”

Oneshots

No one else noticed the quiet boy in the corner, but he’s all you’ll notice now.

Yandere! Owner (?) & ???

Oneshots

Sold to the highest bidder—your nightmare begins now.

Yandere! Painter & ???

Drabbles

"You like testing me, don’t you?"

Yandere! Prison Warden & Fuckin' Filth

Oneshots

In this prison, there are no rules—except for his.

The rules are simple: obey, or suffer. And you’ve already broken every single one.

Yandere! Professional Gambler & Doll

Headcanons

He’s the last bet you’ll ever make—and the one you’ll never walk away from.

Yandere! Reverse Harem & Rape Slave

Novella 1 : Killer Charm

🔞Killer Charm 1

🔞Killer Charm 2

🔞Killer Charm 3

🔞Killer Charm 4

Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss & Wife

Details: MBTI - ENTJ ; Enneagram - 8w7

Novelette 1 : The Enemy In His Bed

⭐️🔞"I trusted you, wife, and now I'll teach you what betrayal feels like."

Yandere! Spanish Pirate Captain & Mi Tesoro {treasure}

Novelette 1 : El Capitán's Tesoro

🔞When the Capitán says you're his treasure, he means it—he’ll spill blood, even yours, to keep it.

Yandere! Stalker & ???

Oneshots

The man in your apartment knows you better than you know yourself.

Yandere! Sugar Daddy & Sugar Baby (?)

Drabbles

“You didn’t think I’d let you leave after the vows, did you?”

“What the fuck was that?”

Headcanons

⭐You’ve never feared a kiss before, but his feels like a loaded gun.

Novella 1 : Bye, Bye, Bye

In his world, sugar babies don’t get to keep secrets.

He gave you everything, but all you gave him was distance—and it was driving him mad.

The rules were clear: no emotions, no questions, no attachments—until he broke every single one.

Jealousy is a fire, and he’ll burn anyone who gets too close.

🔞He’s not just your sugar daddy—he’s a sadistic master who won’t let you go.

When devotion turns to madness, no one is safe—not even the one he loves.

Novella 2 : Money, Money, Money

Money, Money, Money 1

Yandere! Vigilante & Sweetheart

Headcanons

"I’ll burn the world if it means keeping you warm in the ashes."

He’d rather destroy you than let someone else touch you—because if you’re not his, you’re nothing.

Oneshots

He’s the savior of many—but your destruction is his true mission.

Yandere! Volleyball Captain & Babe

Oneshots

“They all warned you about me, didn’t they? But you just couldn’t stay away.”

Yandere! Zombie Apocalypse! Survivor & Little Prey

Details: MBTI - ISTP; Enneagram - 8w7

Drabbles

“No, I’d rather keep you. Watch you squirm. Hear you beg.”

Oneshots

⭐️In the world of the dead, he was the only thing keeping you alive—and tearing you apart.

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on this post. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “A Heart Devoured”: @definetlythinkimanalien , @floooring , @lilyalone , @theogborjie , @ne7zach , @songbirdgardensworld , @imnotabot28 , @ncsltgic , @aishiyaa , @scotchhopin

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1 [you are here]. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. ♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams.

[elysianightsss]

Pen Pal Price Part Two🫧🍑

nsfw ahead so I’ll cut it off at that point…reader is also described as chubby below because I am so they are too lol.

-

His voice startles you to the point where you visibly flinch, it’s nothing like how you imagined it to be. First of all, you didn’t know he was British. The accent that wraps around his words so sharply is one you recognise but can’t quite put your finger on in this moment.

His voice is deep, rumbles out somewhere from within his chest. It vibrates through the phone and through you. For him your honeyed voice drips into him like the sweetest summer wine.

“Sound so pretty.” You hear him mutter, barely a whisper but definitely something he was trying to hide. Your cheeks burn as you blush hard, your bottom lip caught between your teeth while you think of what to say to the man you’ve been writing to for weeks on end.

So many words exchanged and yet now you’re at a loss. Can’t think properly, it begs the question; how will you react when you meet in person?

“I haven’t got long, I guess now’s the time I tell you what I do for a living.” He chuckles lightly and you wish you could see his face while he does.

“Sounds intriguing.” You frown though your face is still smile stricken.

“Oh you bet it is love. Very dangerous, rough. I don’t think you’d want to hear about it.”

“Excuse me good sir, I live for danger. Did I not tell you how I dangerously painted the spare bedroom the other day? Though I don’t think it went well.” You joked looking over at the room that was half done and had paint streaks pointing in all different directions.

“Are you doubting your mad painting skills?” Your heart soared at the joke, at his laugh, just all of this. Being able to speak to him properly, being able to communicate more easily without waiting a whole week for his response to arrive by post. Shifting through the mail everyday desperate to read his words. You hadn’t felt this happy in years.

“Maybe just a little.” There’s a pause, and you think you hear some background chatter, something about unit leaving and someone definitely says captain, “maybe you could help me?”

“I definitely will.” He doesn’t hesitate with his answer, it’s so sure and so final. It says a lot about him. You’re desperate to know more. “I’m sorry love, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you tomorrow? Same time?”

And he does, you lunge for the phone practically jumping through the air to answer him. You chat about useless things, have silly little conversations about everyday life. There are days when you think it’s his day off work, those days he stays on the phone to you for hours. Those days are your favourite.

He tells you about the new book he got and even reads you a few chapters while you cook dinner, he makes you promise to cook him a meal sometime. You don’t hesitate to agree.

Again he loves the domesticity of it all, how prefect you are in his eyes, though his ocean blues haven’t actually seen you yet. What a perfect little wife you would make. He knows it’s far too soon to think about things like that but he cannot help himself.

The way you fly away with yourself, talking about what you’re doing that day or joking about something you saw on tv or giggling about the cupcakes you were making because the icing went wrong making what you piped look like pigs instead of the unicorns you were going for, for you niece’s birthday party.

He listens with his eyes closed, dreaming of the day he comes back from deployment. The day he comes back to you, to home smelling of freshly baked goods. His pretty lady waiting for him all smiles and giggles. He wishes.

“Um..” you pause unsure, wondering what if he says no.

“What is it love?” He asks so worried. So ready to fix any problem you throw his why. Once again though you hesitate and once more he encourages you, “Come on pretty lady, tell me. What’s up?” You let the nickname you’ve reprimanded him about numerous times slide with what you’re about to ask.

“D-Did you want t-to video call?” He grins at how fucking adorable you are. The way you stutter just asking a simple question like that. He bites back a groan at the way he stiffens in his trousers. Dirty old man.

“I would love to.” He of course then had to explain he had a flip phone. You laughed hard at him and said he would need a smartphone. You had no idea he would go and buy one just to video call you with. Another thing you reprimand him for, spending his hard earned money so easily like that. His little lady nagging him, and all he does is smile at the sound. He loves it.

Your heart hammers in your chest as the phone rings. A lot like the first time he called you. You had talked him through the set up and helped him understand what an app is and how to call on text on a smart phone. And finally, you told him how to video call. Which app to press, you were just explaining how it works when your phone begins to buzz with ‘John💕 is FaceTime you’ popping up on the screen. Your number of course being the first one he added.

You can’t help but feel nervous, checking you look semi okay on the screen before pressing the green answer button. Then your breath is knocked out of you so hard you actually choke, John fussing about getting some water and breathing for him goes in one ear and out the other. You can’t look away from him even as you catch your breath.

He’s nothing like you pictured and yet he’s perfect.

He looks like the kind of man you picture when you read romance novels and the kind of man that sneaks into the dreams that have you waking up hot under the collar and panties sticking to you uncomfortably. The little description of himself you asked for certainly did not do him justice.

“Hi love.”

“Hi John.”

“Fuck you’re gorgeous.” Even though you frown, you can’t stop a smile from splitting your face.

You’ve got chubbier cheeks and thicker thighs than most girls, something you’re insecure about and john can tell. But fuck you look gorgeous to him. Over the next few weeks John catches on to just how badly you feel about your body image, the way you put yourself down in favour of supermodels, the way you wear oversized clothing to cover yourself up. He finds himself grumbling, hating it each second more than the last.

He understands how badly beauty culture has fucked over women who are genuinely beautiful but are made to feel like they’re nothing. He gets it, he does. But he certainly doesn’t agree. Especially not with you. He finds himself dreaming of those squishable cheeks of yours, the way you’re so soft around the edges, he can tell.

You completely did him in last Monday, it’s the middle of winter for goodness sake, how did he know that you’d be wearing shorts when he FaceTimed you. Gym shorts that hugged your plump ass so fucking perfectly, that flashed your thick thighs to him. Christ, he’s been thinking about those pretty thighs all week long. When he’s running drills, your thighs are on his mind. When he’s planning out a mission with his unit, your thighs are on his mind. And when he’s alone at night with his hand wrapped around his swollen cock, your thighs are on his mind.

He can’t stand it anymore, it’s been agonising with how busy he’s been not calling you, not seeing you or hearing your voice. No knowing what you’ve been up to or how your day has gone. He calls and he praises the Lord above for bringing you to him, when you answer. A prayer on his lips, a beg for you to become his wife one day when you’re there smiling in the cutest silk pyjama set he’s ever seen. It hugs you exquisitely, showing off your rounded edges and all John can think about is how he can’t wait to sink his teeth into the soft flesh of your tummy.

You’re clearly fresh out the shower or bath with your damp hair and freshly wash face, but John’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life, in fact he tells you so. You haven’t felt your cheeks burn the way they did then, well maybe one other occasion.

“Love?”

“Yes John?”

“Would you like to meet me for coffee tomorrow? At that cafe you like?” He’s hopeful when he asks, you can not only hear it in his voice but see it in his face. “I’m in the area for work and have a few days where I’m free and I’d love to see you.”

You can’t recall a time in your life where all you did was smile, but since you found John, you don’t remember what not smiling all the time was like. You don’t remember anything other than how happy he makes you. So you take a breath, you muster up the courage and say yes.

“I’d love to see you too John. Just tell me what time and I’ll be there.”

[lay-z]

🇸🇪 Day 15 – Domestic bliss

A continuation to ❄️ Day 7 – Make do, which means it's set in the same universe!

Synopsis: This year, you’re not stuck, but willingly spending Christmas in a cozy cottage in the beautiful wilderness of Sweden. 

Pairing: alpha!TF-141 x fem!omega!Reader 

Warnings/Info: NSFW, 18+ | Omegaverse; military!Reader; a/b/o dynamics; emotional support (dog) omega; established poly!relationship; claimed mates; typical alpha/omega behaviour; knotting; breeding; fluff/aftercare  

Word count: 2.6k

↳ back to 🎅🏼 Masterlist ☃️

Location: Öjarn, Northern Sweden

EST. remng. time until exfil: Undisclosed

When the brass decided to transfer you to another unit after a year of serving with the 141, Captain Price didn't hesitate, made the necessary arrangements and swiftly claimed you as his omega, along with the rest of his squad. 

That was roughly two months ago. 

Now, the Captain's inner alpha preens whenever he catches a glimpse of the four mating bite marks along the junctures of your pretty neck; two on each shoulder, slightly different sizes, but all equal and serious in their claim. All binding for a lifetime, too. 

In return, each one of your mates wears your unique bite mark proudly; dainty crescent scars adorning each of their necks. You'd claimed them all as your mates eagerly, no questions asked, but “Who goes first?”. 

The Captain did.  

Then Simon.  

And Kyle. 

Johnny. 

You've become their perfect pillow princess. The sweetest most beautiful, supportive and docile omega each of them could've ever dreamed of and wished for. You help them decompress and unwind, sleep better and keep the nightmares at bay with your soothing scent and gentle purrs. 

They’re completely enamoured with you; so much so that the urge to hide you away and keep you from danger is becoming increasingly difficult to suppress. That’s why the Captain decided to bring you all here on leave, wanting to spend this Christmas in a more appropriate and comfortable way than the last. 

They rented a pretty cottage in the woods, close to a gorgeous lake where a herd of reindeer roams, far away from civilization, with a nice fireplace, plenty of supplies and provisions to last for several weeks, and enough spaces to relax, lounge and bond. To breed. 

John’s chest rumbles with a deep purr at the thought. He’s been planning on breeding you with his boys, start easing you into being knotted more frequently even before your upcoming heat.

It’s enough to make his cock chuff in his pants as he watches you fool around and playfight with his younger packmates, his dear Sergeants. They like to get a bit rough with you, enjoying the way you growl at them and giggle in delight, but they’re always gentle enough to never hurt you, knowing fully well that their Captain and Ghost would rip them a new one if you’d so much as catch a bruise on your supple skin.  

You squeal when Johnny pins you to the fur carpet in front of the fireplace, straddling your hips while Kyle holds your wrists above your head to keep you from thrashing. The young alphas growl playfully at you, and John hides his smile as he takes a sip of his morning coffee, keeping his distance for now. 

“Now what?” You ask through a giddy smile, eyes sparkling with mirth as your gaze flickers between Johnny and Kyle.  

“Now... we claim our bonnie prize. Right, Garrick?” Johnny shoots Kyle a look, the formers eyes already darkened from diamond blue to navy, his cock hot and heavy in his pants. Kyle clicks his tongue with a nod and licks his lips, just as excited as his packmate. Their heady arousal thick in the air around the spacious living room while your saccharine scent slowly mixes with theirs, creating a perfect concoction of a natural aphrodisiac. 

Your skin flushes, heartrate picking up at their possessive behaviour. A year ago, you would’ve felt flustered, embarrassed at how turned on you get by simply playfighting with them, but you’ve long learned that it’s perfectly natural. They want you needy and desperate, and bold about it. 

“Want you both,” you keen while your cunt slicks up and throbs around nothing, “I want you to use me.” 

Both young alphas groan. Kyle squeezes your wrists before he reaches for the hem of your flimsy sweater to pull it off you. Johnny snarls and grinds his big bulge against your warm core, seeking friction as he keeps the weight off his bad knee. 

“Alright! That’s enough for now, lads. Give our sweet omega a break.” John barks commandingly, sauntering over to the throuple on the floor. “Make yourselves useful and go chop some wood outside. It’s going to be cold tonight.” 

Both Kyle and Johnny leave you be reluctantly, the latter more hesitantly than the former, but as the leading alpha, the Captain’s word is law in this pack – in and outside of the field. He keeps the peace and balance, even if he must bring in Simon as his enforcer sometimes, and neither Kyle nor Johnny wants to get scuffed by the Lieutenant again. 

“Send Simon back inside when you see him, aye? I need to have a word with him.” He calls after the younger men as they scurry off to get dressed and follow their orders. 

John approaches you slowly, eyes never leaving yours as you roll over onto your stomach, lifting your legs, crossed at the ankles with your ass perched up a little, already presenting for him and luring him in. It always works. 

“Quite the tease today, aren’t you, sweetheart?” John kneels on one leg, knees popping as he goes down. He cups your chin, tilting it up to him. “How’re you feeling?” 

You blink your pretty eyes up at him with feigned innocence. “Good, sir,” you purr, flashing a warm smile when John huffs in amusement, “I feel toasty warm and safe here.” 

John nods, pleased with your answer as he rubs the pad of his thumb over your chin in contemplation. 

Your back arches against Simon’s flushed chest, damp skins sticky with sweat while he breathes down your neck, mouthing along the curve of your shoulder as he keeps you impaled on his massive cock while he sits with his broad back against the headboard of the large bed, your thighs spread wide open and draped over his strong legs, giving John a perfect view of your wonderful cunt and the way it swallows and stretches around Simon’s prick. 

Your syrupy slick is dripping around your hole, down your crack and his heavy balls. You feel so full and yet it’s not enough. You’re burning up inside. The squelch is obscene whenever he lifts you up a little only to drop you back down on his length, making you cry out in pleasure each time. 

“Remember, lad, don’t knot her. I need you to prepare her for mine.” John reminds him sternly, still casually leaning against the bedroom wall. 

Simon grunts, nodding curtly. “Yes, sir.” 

John hums in approval at his obedience. Although he’s allowed Simon to drop the formalities off duty, especially in an intimate situation like this, his Lieutenant simply cannot do it, can’t give up the control. Deep down, John knows it’s so that Simon won’t forget himself, scared of his own self that he might do something to you he will regret if he’d ever lose control. It’s like he’s clinging to the power dynamic; clinging to John being the leader, the one and only alpha who can keep Simon on a metaphorical leash, ready to pull on it if he gets too rough. 

John knows Simon would never do anything harmful to you. John also knows that Kyle and Johnny are more prone to wearing you out when no one is around to keep them in check. He makes a mental note to have a pack briefing soon. If he wants to start breeding you, he wants to do it right with everyone involved and on the same page. 

And then your high-pitched moans pull John out of his thoughts, and he watches your body quake and tremble while Simon keeps thrusting up into your convulsing walls, large hands gripping the fat of your thighs as he coaxes another orgasm out of you while he holds his own release back. 

John can see how badly Simon wants to come, too. The tendons and veins throbbing in his thick neck, the sweat trickling down his temples, pale and heavily scarred skin now flushed and hot, and the way his shoulders shake with restraint, are all clear indicators of this pleasurable torture, though Captain’s orders hold him back and he’s a fiercely obedient pup. 

John tilts his head to the side, eyes zeroed in on the way your slick keeps gushing around Simon’s cock. “Would you like Simon to come inside you, sweetheart? You want to relief him of his suffering, hm? Your choice, love.” 

Your lips are parted, eager to be stuffed with another cock, as you regard John with a heavy-lidded gaze, head lolling back against Simon’s shoulder as you moan and whimper, and ultimately nod.  

Your pleading voice and verbal permission is the only push Simon needs, and he drops your thighs to wrap his bulky arms around your torso instead as he pumps his hips and starts fucking you with wild abandon, grunting praises in your ear while his dark eyes keep flicking down to his claiming mark on your right shoulder. His jaw twitches and his canines ache to bite and claim you all over again, but he manages to suppress the urge for now. 

“Yes,” you whine, hands grasping and holding onto Simon’s tattooed forearms desperately while you turn your head, nuzzling his throat while your warm breath puffs against his sweaty skin. “Yes, please, Si!” 

When Simon cums and spills his release inside of you eventually, John is already shedding his clothes, dropping the fabrics on the bedroom floor before approaching the bed. 

You’re mewling and chirping happily as Simon’s cock keeps throbbing while his chest heaves with rumbling, satisfied growls. He tilts your head to the side to seal your lips in a sloppy yet sweet kiss, licking into your mouth to taste you thoroughly before John’s arm snakes around your waist, ready to claim you for himself. 

Simon doesn’t snarl, doesn’t growl possessively when his Captain comes to steal you away. No, he only whines deep in his throat, but lets go of you, nonetheless, right when his knot starts to swell, eager to lock inside you. 

“Not yet, Simon,” John reminds him with a low rumble as he pulls you into his own arms, against his warm hairy chest. “You’ll get your turn, lad.” 

You’re already at that point where you’re just happy to be passed around along your alphas, eager to serve and have their cocks fill you up repeatedly. It starting to feel different, though, and in the back of your mind, you already know why that is. 

“How do you want it, love?” John asks softly, meaty palms caressing up and down your flanks while his own cock is bobbing against his lower abdomen, weeping with precum from its ruddy tip. You want to lick and cherish it. Behind you, Simon traces the curve of your spine with the rough tips of his fingers, needing the contact. You shudder and whine needily. 

John’s eyes soften. “That bad already, huh?” He reaches for your wrist and pulls you closer until you straddle his lap and he can kiss you properly. 

“Something wrong, sir?” Simon asks, his gruff voice laced with concern for you.  

John pulls back from the sensual kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips that he licks away. 

“Our omega is going into heat soon and you know how needy she already is out of it,” he answers matter-of-factly. “Isn’t that right, princess?”  

You nod slowly, eyes becoming all glossy as you tremble under John’s loving gaze. 

Kyle and Johnny push and shove each other like a pair of rowdy pups after kicking off their wet boots by the front door, both carrying a pile of cut firewood. They’re still restless and buzzing with energy, even after exerting themselves outside in the snow, chopping wood for the past hour. 

“You smell that?” Kyle asks suddenly, dark brows furrowed quizzically as he drops the logs next to the fireplace, sniffing the air. 

Johnny rubs the cold tip of his nose with his equally cold hands. “Nah. Smell what?” He scents the air as well, eyes squinting as he picks up a familiar sound instead, one that has his heart start thudding rapidly in his chest. His eyes widen with glee as he looks at Kyle before they both take off sprinting down the hallway towards the master bedroom. 

What they find in the bedroom has them both freezing on the spot and their throats start rumbling with whiney growls, pricks already swelling with unbridled need and desire for you. 

The air is thick with the heady scent of sex, familiar alpha pheromones and your sweet, sweet slick. It makes their mouths water, and their chests swell with affection and pride.  

You’re on all fours on the bed, head resting on your folded forearms, your plump ass is up in the air, your back arched so beautifully as their Captain takes you from behind while Simon watches with heavy-lidded eyes, jerking his cock in rhythm with John’s shallow thrusts into your fluttering cunt. Neither of them minds the audience and you’re certainly calling out to them with soft, saccharine whines. 

Johnny doesn’t hesitate another second before he starts undressing in a hurry, more than eager to join, and Kyle swiftly follows the lead. 

“Permission to join, sir.” Johnny requests breathlessly and the mattress dips and creaks as he climbs onto the bed, already reaching you to pet your hair lovingly; his other hand squeezing his shaft to release some of that gut-wrenching pressure. Kyle crawls onto the mattress behind him, opting to lean against the headboard like Simon. 

Meanwhile, your eyelashes flutter as you blink up at your other two alphas; their heavy, delicious scents making your walls clench and convulse around John’s thick, swollen knot. Pressing your face into the mattress below, you keep panting and whining and moaning while John gropes and squeezes your ass cheeks soothingly, hushing you with his deep, husky voice before he addresses his packmates. 

“She’s going into heat soon. I had to knot her now, but she’ll need more.” He grunts out as his knot keeps throbbing, locked in past your soppy entrance. 

And their eyes darken at their Captain’s explanation. Now that they know what’s going on, it all makes sense.  

“Heat.” Kyle repeats under his breath, eyes trained on your while his cock twitches inside his boxer briefs. He remembers the first heat that got triggered when they’d claimed you as their omega, and his heart flutters in his chest, his stomach doing a little flip. It was one of the most stressful yet best and rewarding times of his life so far. 

When Johnny lies down next to you and starts caressing the curve of your spine, Simon glares and gives his calf a warning nudge with his foot. “Let her be, Johnny. Don’t overwhelm her.” 

“Am not even doin’ anythin’!” Johnny grumbles, glancing over his shoulder with a frown before his Captain’s stern glare makes him duck his head and simply lay down next to you like an obedient pup, and when you turn your head to gaze at the youngest alpha, he scoots closer to nuzzle his cold nose against yours sweetly. 

“And just to be clear,” Simon mutters, his cheeks flushing brighter as he keeps himself from bucking into his fist, “Cap’ already said tha’ it’s my turn to knot her next.” 

[wttcsms]

talk so sweet when you're doin' bad things !!

ᝰ.ᐟ after narrowly avoiding a kaiju attack unharmed, you think you’ve gotten away unscathed until you start feeling an unfamiliar, unsatiable heat building inside of you. it’s almost similar to the funny butterflies you get in your tummy when you see your older brother’s rival, third division vice captain soshiro hoshina. and wouldn’t you know it: you just so happen to cross paths with him. ( fem!reader )

pairing soshiro hoshina x reader word count 4.8k content contains soft dom!hoshina, slight love confessions, narumi's younger + civilian sister!reader, creampie, forbidden romance-ish, you two get caught by narumi in the end, sex pollen, biting (please look at hoshina's lil fangs & tell me he ISN'T a biter) kinktober masterlist

You’re in trouble. 

Gen always said you had a knack for getting yourself into situations. You always got in trouble back in school because one student would act up and make a mess, escaping in time, leaving you as the only person for the teacher to catch. Or, someone would break something in a store, and you’d be the unsuspecting customer to happen to walk down the aisle the same time the manager comes by to investigate. In a pay-it-forward chain, you naturally get stuck in front of the person with a 10-people group order, and you’ve always been too kindhearted (and people pleasing) to break the chain… 

Needless to say, it isn’t that you have a knack for getting yourself into trouble. It’s just that you always happen to find yourself at the wrong place at the wrong time. 

In your defense, your neighborhood isn’t just relatively safe — it’s as safe as can be. Gen’s the one who vetted it out for you in the first place, still a little annoyed that his little sister wants to play at being independent. Do you know how dangerous it is for a young woman to live alone in this city? He told you, before complaining that you’re one of the biggest headaches in his life. 

He says this, but he’s the one who patrolled your neighborhood for the two weeks leading up to you moving in. He’s the one who scaled the apartment complex and made sure the security measures were up to par. He’s the one who accessed all records of nearby kaiju attacks and took in the statistical data with careful consideration before finally agreeing that you could live here. You know your older brother cares. It’s why you always try to practice caution in your everyday life. The last thing you want is to be an inconvenience for him. 

This, you think nervously, goes a bit beyond a mere inconvenience. 

Right in front of the gates of your well-protected, super-safe luxury apartment complex is a kaiju. 

And while you and Gen might share the same genes, there are some differences between you and your older brother. The most important one right now being the fact that while he’s the captain of the First Division in the Defense Force, you’re just a civilian. 

A civilian who always finds herself in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

You’re not sure how long the monster’s been here, nor are you going to bother sticking around to find out. You have no clue when the Defense Force is going to dispatch, and you happen to be the only unlucky soul outside right now. The kaiju’s already detected your presence, and you fumble for the bracelet on your wrist, searching desperately for the emergency button on the wristband. Gen had gotten this custom-made for you. The minute you activate the button, Gen’s notified of your location. It’s an in-case-of-emergency-only, and you’ve never felt the need to use it before. Until now.

You take a few steps back, almost stumbling on the pavement, palming at your bracelet, letting out a sigh of relief as you find the tiny button. And then your heart drops as you realize just how bad your luck is.

The button’s jammed. 

Because of course it would be. 

Because you just always have to constantly be in trouble, don’t you? 

The last thing you can think about before your impending doom is that you hope Gen won’t be too upset. Everyone thinks your older brother is childish and sometimes hard to deal with, but you know him best. If only you were a bit more like him; maybe then you wouldn’t feel so resigned to your fate.

“[Name]? Whaddya doin’?” Casually dropping by — no, literally dropping onto the pavement — is none other than Third Division Vice Captain Soshiro Hoshina. 

On one hand, you’re happy he’s here. You are definitely not dying today. On the other hand… Why did it have to be him of all people? It’s one thing to have a near-death experience, but to have it in front of your longtime crush? You honestly wished the kaiju got a hit on you. Nothing fatal; just enough to have you in a coma, or better yet, turn you into an amnesiac so you never have to relive this moment in your memories. 

“H-Hoshina?” You squeak out. He gives you a concerned look before turning all of his attention to the kaiju, brandishing his swords in one swift, fluid movement. 

You’ve seen footage of Hoshina fighting before, even going out of your way to search up news footage of the Third Division’s missions just to catch a glimpse of the Vice Captain. You’re used to the way Gen fights; hard and fast, sometimes a bit flashy. He’s hard to miss when he’s hauling his almost cartoonishly big bayonet attached to his massive rifle. Maybe it’s crush bias, but you admire the way Hoshina fights. With him, he’s all lithe muscle and agility. There’s a sort of beauty to the way he fights, moving like a dancer, every arc and stroke of his twin blades purposeful. 

Despite the size of the beast in front of you, a muscular mass of pink and purple flesh, Hoshina makes quick work of it. So quick, in fact, that he doesn’t think to consult the command and support center as he digs his blades into its body, landing fatal cuts that take down the kaiju—

—and allowing its massive body to emit a strange violet gas that quickly starts to spread all over the scene. The scent of it is sickeningly sweet, and it overwhelms you.

Eyes wide, Hoshina sprints to your side, tugging at his own mask as if he’s about to force you to put it on, but you shake your head. You’re coughing, inhaling the mysterious vapor the now-dead kaiju is emitting, but you feel fine enough to start walking to the gate of your apartment.

“Fuck.” Hoshina curses, rushing to your side, gripping your left arm as you finish punching in the gate code. “Hey, are you hurt anywhere? D’you feel weird, funny, anything?” 

His concern for you is making you feel embarrassed, but it’s not like that’s the answer he’s searching for. 

“I’m fine, really.” You force a smile. “I’m safe now, all thanks to you. I’m sure Gen’s going to have a lot to say about this.” You roll your eyes, trying to lighten the mood, but Hoshina’s red eyes are staring deep into your own. He’s not laughing. In fact, this is one of the rare moments where you’ve ever seen the Vice Captain so serious. 

“Let me walk ya up to your apartment, at least. Just in case somethin’ happens.” 

You want to tell him that you’re pretty sure there’s no other kaijus lurking around in the hallway of your complex, ready to strike, but you can tell he’s stubborn. And besides, later at night, when you’re all alone and falling asleep to fantasies about a world where Soshiro Hoshina likes you just as much as you like him, you’ll romanticize the fuck out of him being so concerned for your safety.

Because at the end of the day, it’s Hoshina’s job to protect the defenseless citizens like you. He’d do this for any other person who has bad luck like you. It’s not like he’s walking you back, concerned for your safety, purely because it’s you.

Following your string of bad luck is the fact that the elevators are currently out of order. Fantastic.

You turn to him. “Um, I don’t really think walking up almost a dozen flight of stairs is in your job description. You can just leave me here, really! I’ll even call my brother, just in case you think something bad might happen to me in the five minutes you leave me alone.” 

“Don’t be silly, Junior.” This time, Hoshina does flash you his normal, teasing smile. The one that you fell head over heels for back on the primary school playground. The gesture is enough to make you almost ignore the way he brings up that stupid nickname. Junior. Narumi Junior — that’s who you are to him. His rival’s annoying little sister, always faithfully trailing behind her older brother, never saying a word when Gen starts throwing insults his way. “Just ‘cause I’m not captain of the First Division doesn’t mean I can’t handle a few flight of stairs. Ya doubtin’ me?” 

You shake your head, biting down on your bottom lip. Hoshina’s just being nice, you tell yourself. And you have to keep repeating this mantra in your head as you dutifully follow a step behind him on the stairs. 

You’ve noticed it before, but you’ve never been this close up ‘til now. Hoshina’s uniform fits him very well. The black fabric of the suit only serves to emphasize the lean muscles he’s spent years training, his Defense Force-issued boots only serve to announce every step he takes, even the gas mask he wears to protect himself — all of it just suits him so well. 

You try to ignore the flicker of heat lighting up your core, something a little bit more intense than the little flutter of butterflies you normally get when you’re next to Hoshina. You just have to make it back to your apartment, you reason. You’ll make it back to your apartment, and you can lay down on your bed, and then you’ll have all the time in the world to think about how nice Hoshina looks in his uniform, and how special you feel that he’s personally escorting you home. 

But the growing heat within you becomes harder to ignore, and you can’t quite control your labored breaths, not from the walk upstairs but from the fact that you truly do feel hot. Hot, and dizzy, and downright desperate for some relief. Something isn’t right, you realize. And Hoshina catches on quick, too, especially when your knees buckle and you nearly fall until he catches you in his arms. 

He says your name so seriously, you’re almost snapped out of whatever weird daze you’re in. “What’s the matter? What’s wrong?” His eyes scan your weakened body before pulling you closer to him. In a second, he’s lifting you up, carrying you bridal style as he starts to sprint up the stairs. You know there’s a time and place for everything, but you can’t help but admire the fact that Hoshina can carry you while running up several stories and he’s not even breaking a sweat. 

The thought of this makes your core grow warmer, and you wriggle a bit in his hold. 

“We’re almost to your apartment, don’t worry.” He reassures you, tightening his grip on you. Hoshina is holding you so close to him that with every inhale, you breathe him in. He smells of musky cologne and something familiar from your childhood, like mochi and other sweets. It’s a funny mix, but it suits him. You find yourself snuggling even closer to him, and if you were in your right state of mind, you would be screaming at yourself for being so bold. But the heat inside of you, it’s seeking him out. 

“I need your key, [Name].” He tells you, and despite the way he’s clearly in a rush, he’s still patient and sweet with you. 

You shamelessly bury the front of your face into his chest, trying to avoid him as you admit, “I must’ve dropped it.” 

He swears, but it’s not at you. “That’s okay.” He tells you, even though you’re proving to be a very inconvenient girl. “Hey, who pays for this apartment?” 

“Gen.” You sheepishly admit. You offered to pay the rent, but he’s the one who chose the insanely expensive penthouse for you. One of you is making a Captain-level salary, and it’s damn sure not you. It only makes sense he’d cover rent. 

“Good.” Hoshina says, before promptly kicking open your door.

And again, time and place for everything, but you can’t help but get a little too excited at his show of strength. 

Hoshina sets you down gently on your bed, frowning as he takes you in. 

“What’s the matter? You need to tell me how you’re feelin’, or else I can’t help you, okay?” 

Hoshina’s being so gentle with you, it’s enough to make your heart soar and ache all at once. He leans down, pressing a cool hand to your forehead. You must feel normal enough, because he doesn’t make a comment, even though you feel like you’re burning up. 

You know what’s the matter. 

You want Soshiro Hoshina in a way a woman wants a man. 

“...hot…” You finally mutter out, squirming on top of your sheets. “I‘m hot.” 

“Hot?” Hoshina’s confused for a few seconds, until he watches the way you press your thighs together, your tiny fingers tugging at your clothes, the way you bite down on the bottom of your lip before peering up at him curiously, trying to see if he understands you. 

It hits him all at once. A kaiju that’s a blend of pink and purple, the sweet scent its gas emitted. This is a rare type of kaiju; the one that boosts one’s pheromones, turns its victim delirious with lust. The only way to help, really, is for the affected person to be truly satiated. 

He knows it’s wrong to think of Narumi’s little sister like this, but Hoshina would be lying if he said he hasn’t thought about you writhing on a bed, wantonly calling out his name, begging for him to give you relief that you can’t find from anyone else. He dreams about it, really. Not just the sex, but everything that encompasses taking care of you. He wants to make sure that you’re always well taken care of, always safe, always protected. This isn’t the Third Divison’s territory, y’know. But between patrol breaks, Hoshina finds himself around your neighborhood just on the off chance that something bad happens. It’s a good thing he was there today. 

And it’s his lucky day, he thinks, that he’s here with you now.

No other man would treat you as well. No other man would be able to satiate you.

“Let me help you, baby.” The pet name rolls off easily on his tongue. He’s so used to teasing you, careful to avoid saying your name too much. He saves his reverent groans of your name for when he’s pumping his cock in the darkness of his room. “I know exactly what you need.” 

“Hoshina.” You moan out, and he swallows hard at how desperate you sound for him. “I need you so bad.”

“It’s the kaiju.” He mutters, getting on the bed with you, balancing himself on his knees. He’s towering over you from this angle, and you look up at him. “The kaiju’s gas acts as a… bit of a sex pollen, really. And I can help ya combat the effects, but I— I can’t take advantage of ya. You’re Narumi’s precious lil’ sister. It’d be wrong.” He’s trying to talk some sense, but you’re immediately frowning. 

“Nuh uh.” You whine out, pouting. And it’s thanks to the kaiju that you have lowered your inhibitions, because you would never admit this out loud otherwise. “I always want Vice Captain Hoshina like this.” 

Fuck. You know just how to drive a man crazy.

“Usin’ my title?” He grins, leaning down to get his face closer to yours. “Good girl. Ya mind your manners, don’t ya?” 

And he rewards you with a kiss. 

The kiss turns hungry, desperate. You’re tilting your head up a bit to try to capture his lips some more, even though the two of you are already as close as can be. You two are a mess of tongue and teeth by the time you have to struggle for oxygen, and as he reluctantly pulls back, there’s even a thin string of saliva still connecting the two of you. 

“So, ya always wanted me, huh?” The thought that the girl of his dreams could possibly want him as much as he wants her turns him on like nothing else. He must be dreaming, he decides. And then he thinks, he doesn’t fucking care if this is a dream or not. If he gets to fuck you boneless, then he trusts in himself to never wake up. “Whaddya like about me so much?” 

He’s just teasing you now. He’s always teasing you. It’s what he’s good at. You feel heat rise to your cheeks as you shyly admit, “I’ve always liked you. Even before you got the fancy uniform and your rank. You’re funny and sweet and you care about others.” Even in your sex-focused mind, the genuine feelings you harbor for Hoshina shine through. This catches him off guard. 

You might be under the effects of the kaiju’s vapor, but the sweet girl he’s fallen for is still laying down right underneath him. It’s not just lust for you. There’s genuine love.

“Fuck, I’m gonna treat you so well.” He peppers kisses all over your face; your cheeks, your eyelids, your jawline, teasing you ‘til he finally, finally, plants a kiss on your swollen lips again. 

He makes quick work of your clothes, committing the sight of your bare body to his memory. He tells you you’re beautiful, and he means it. You want to tell him to stop trying to charm you, but then he’s immediately going down on you, digging his fingers into the plush of your thighs as he spreads them apart, forcing you to open yourself up to him.

You’re caught off guard, but your body screams in relief as you watch Hoshina get eye-level with your cunt. He licks his lips before glancing up at you. 

“Such a cute pussy my lil’ civvie baby has.” Civvie — Hoshina never lets you forget that you’re a civilian, but you don’t know it yet (you will, eventually), but Hoshina’s never actually been bothered about this fact. Actually, he takes pride in the idea that he’ll be the one to take care of you, the one to keep you safe. 

Right now, though, he’s tasked with being the one who makes sure you’re satiated.

You have the prettiest pussy Hoshina’s ever, and as his mouth descends onto your waiting heat, he determines that you’ve got the sweetest taste, too. You let out cute, little mewls that only motivate him to devour you some more, and he groans into your pussy as he laps at your arousal, your juices seeming to never stop flowing. 

Your body arches up, and Hoshina has to apply pressure to his grip on your thighs, to force you back down so he can continue licking at your cunt at his own hungry pace. When bucking your hips fails, you find yourself losing control of your body, your legs spasming, your thighs clamping down on his head. Your fingers tangle themselves into the thick, dark strands of Hoshina’s hair, and he thinks you’re trying to suffocate him with your pussy.

What a way to go, honestly. 

He manages to lift his head up, cheeks flushed from the heat in between your thighs, chin and lips wet with your juices. “Ahh.” He smacks his lips, licking up traces of your slick that his tongue can reach. “My civvie has the sweetest pussy in the world.” He inserts a finger into your wet hole, and you literally yelp. Your walls hungrily clamp down on his single digit, and he laughs. 

“D’ya want more?” He sounds innocent enough, almost as if he isn’t leisurely fucking you with one finger. “‘Cause I can give ya more. All ya have to do is ask.”

“Pl-ease.” The word comes out in broken syllables. You clutch at his bicep, nails digging into the material of his combat suit. It’s because he still has his uniform on that he can’t really feel you. 

“Who are ya askin’?” He teases, pumping his finger at the same agonizingly slow pace he’s been giving you. You keep clenching around him, your body making it obvious who you’re hungry for. 

“I-I’m asking Vice Captain Hos— Soshiro.”

You say his title, and he feels himself tightening in his combat suit. You say his name, and his heart nearly skips a beat.

Oh, he’ll give you everything he’s got, now.

The intrusion of three fingers inside your cunt catches you off guard, and he swallows up that shocked moan of yours by slotting his mouth against yours, kissing you with a vigorous passion that has you realizing that maybe Soshiro just might like you back. 

He spreads his fingers while they’re buried deep inside your cunt, trying to desperately stretch out your pussy, get you nice and wet and ready to take his cock. 

“Ah! Wait! No, ‘Shiro, please!” You protest as he pulls his fingers out, licking and savoring the taste of your essence. You were about to cum, and he knew it. 

He plants a rather chaste kiss on your forehead before telling you, “You hafta ask me to cum, okay? Can my little civvie baby get that in her head?” 

You nod weakly, sniffling a bit as you’re disappointed from your stolen orgasm. 

“Hey,” he taps on your cunt gently, but with just enough firm pressure to make you understand you have to look at him, to listen to his commands. “When your Vice Captain tells ya somethin’, ya need to answer. Where’s my baby’s manners?” 

“S-sorry, Vice Captain.” You look up at him, teary-eyed. “Can I please cum?” 

“Aw, you’re askin’ me so sweetly, it’s hard to say no to you.” But from the familiar mischievous glint in his eyes, it’s clear what his answer is. “But today, you’re only gonna be able to cum all over my cock.” 

Hoshina makes no effort to take off his clothes fully. The uniform that you admire him in is only being pulled out of the way rather than completely off. Hoshina messes with the bottom half, pulling at the suit until he can free his cock. He’s already hard, and he pumps his cock a few times, using the fingers covered in his spit and your slick to act as lube. 

“See how hard your Vice Captain is? My little civvie got me all fired up.” There’s a feral, crazed look in his eyes as he stares down at you, at how your legs are spread and your pussy is so wet. “This is what you wanted the whole time, huh? You wanted to be stuffed full of my cock. Poor baby.” His tone is mocking, but it only makes your hole clench at nothing. You’re so heartbreakingly empty of him that you’ll do anything to make sure he gives you what he promised. “I know, you must be all hot and bothered right now. Pussy so empty, waitin’ for me, huh?” 

You nod, tears streaming down your face. Hoshina chuckles at the sight. He hasn’t even fucked you properly yet, and you’re already a mess. Fuck, he loves you so much. 

When he presses the tip of his cock to your entrance, your pussy is instantly swallowing him up, greedy for more of him. So he gives in, because the two of you have clearly been wanting and waiting for this for so long, why bother dragging it out any further?

“A-ah.” Your legs are trembling as your pussy engulfs more and more of Hoshina’s thick cock. “It’s too big.” You whine out, more tears falling as you take him in completely, his whole entire cock buried deep inside of you, throbbing impatiently, insisting that he pins you down and fucks you hard and fast.

“It’ll be okay.” He reassures you, rubbing comforting circles on your hip. “I’ll make ya feel so good. Ya just gotta relax for me, baby. Remember? You’re the one who wanted this so badly.” He coos, moving his hand to rub at your clit, the little nub hardening for him. “Good girl, atta girl, that’s my precious civvie. Doin’ so good for me; I knew you would.” He praises you when he feels you start to move your hips a bit, begging for movement now, and he kisses your cheek when he feels your pussy yielding to his cock. “I’m going to fuck you now, baby.” 

He doesn’t wait for you to answer.

“You feel so good.” He grunts this directly in your ear, which rewards him with a cute little whimper from you, and the feel of your pussy clamping down on him, tightening and preening at the praise. He’s holding himself up by his elbows, his face so close to your own as he fucks you, just like how he promised he would. It’s sweetly intimate this way, and you love it. He can tell.

“Your pussy feels so good around my cock. So tight. So fuckin’ wet.” His thrusts are deep, powerful. His cock seems to reach into the depths of your pussy, and you don’t think you’ll ever recover. You don’t think you want to. 

You curl your arms around his neck, bringing him even closer to you. Your string of moans and broken sobs of his name haven’t stopped flowing from your lips, and the pleasure is so overwhelming, so good, so Hoshina. You don’t realize what he’s planning on doing until it’s too late. He licks at the soft skin between your shoulder and neck, deciding which spot he wants to mark up first, before taking his sharp canines, the ones you love so much, and digging them deep into your flesh. 

“Ah!” The pain bleeds in with the pleasure. The sting of his bite is heightened when he nuzzles your neck with his nose endearingly, almost as an apology, before he bites down in a different spot. Marking his territory. 

It feels so good in such a foreign way, you forget what your Vice Captain told you. If you want to cum, you have to ask. But he’s making you feel so good, your climax comes without warning. Your walls tighten up around him, and he can feel you, can feel you creaming around his cock like the dirty, disobedient girl you are.

“What did I tell ya?” He growls, looking down at where the two of you are connected. He pulls out a bit, just to stare at the ring of white encircling his cock. “Hm?” He takes a hand to grab at your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes. “Is my little civvie so fucked dumb her brain doesn’t work anymore? I thought I told ya that if you wanted to cum, you better ask my permission.”

“I’m s-sorry!” You gasp out. “B-but you made me feel… Felt too good, I didn’t know I was going to!” You’re crying again now, and he almost feels bad. Instead, he likes this power he has over you, and he’s back to being his usual, teasing and mocking self. 

“Aw, did I break you?” He coos sweetly, pounding into your pussy with a fervor he hasn’t exhibited before. Your eyes widen when you realize he still has on his combat suit. He’s drawing out his strength from the suit, using it to fuck into you even harder. “S’okay, baby. No need to cry. I’m not mad at ya.” 

His hips stutter when he’s ready to finish. His thrusts falter in its usual pinpoint precise movements, and he drags your body towards him, pushing you deep onto his cock as he groans out your name. The heat of his cum fills your twitching, sensitive cunt, and you think you could probably cum again just from the pleasure of having Vice Captain Soshiro Hoshina fill you up. 

“Ah, fuck.” He breathes out, leaning his forehead against your own, panting a bit, his chest rising and falling. “You drive me crazy, ya know that?” 

You let out a weak giggle, equally breathless. Your mind feels a lot clearer now, the heat within you subsiding greatly. You wrap your legs around his slim waist, refusing to let him go even though he refuses to leave you in the first place. He looks like he’s about to say something until a familiar, booming voice comes from the front of your apartment.

“[Name]?” Gen calls out, his footsteps indicating that he’s coming closer. “[Name], where are you?” 

Your eyes widen in shock and fear, the cute afterglow of the moment officially ruined, all thanks to your annoying older brother. Hoshina is quick when he pulls the covers of your bed over your naked body, and he’s adjusting his combat suit as Gen makes it to your bedroom. 

You shut your eyes, not wanting to witness the expression on your brother’s face.

“Oh, Narumi.” Hoshina says brightly. “Funny runnin’ into you here.”

[orchidseason]

pirate!AU ✩‧₊˚ the stolen hummingbird [part 1/2]

𐙚 caitvi x f!reader

Kiramman, motivated by her hatred for VI’s sister, kidnaps you—the hummingbird—for your herbalist knowledge, and Vi, the theif she once shared a bond with. Consumed by revenge she drags them both into a dangerous web of conflict, and becomes blinded by how her quest for revenge is unraveling the very connections she’s desperately clinging to

warnings : word count 3.8, pirate captain!caitlyn, theif!vi, healer!r, enemies to lovers, injury, blood, loss of freedom/kidnapping, weapons, angst w comfort, side character death

You were known as the hummingbird.

Your knowledge and understanding of herbs, plants, flowers—it was unlike any other. Similar to a hummingbird, you flit from place to place, never in one place for too long. Your nickname precedes you, growing quite a reputation amongst the people. Those you have helped speaking good news, spreading word of your kindness. Those who even believe you are a myth, wishing to uncover who you are. All create talk, chatter that is ushered at tables in bars and whispered amongst alleyways.

Growing up, your parents were sick. The money crises caused you to be poor, unable to make enough to pay for medicine to help your parents. So, you took it upon yourself to create a way for them to live. It was built upon a passion to save them, help them as much as you can. It helped? You’re not fully sure, but one by one they unfortunately passed.

Herbs, plants, leaves, flowers. It never interested you. What did was the ability to help others, delay death even if it’s just another day. It started small, helping a family friend’s child. From there it was the bartender, a homeless man in an alleyway. From there, you were traveling to help someone’s aunt, friend, sometimes even their dog. You used it to heal. Seeing others smile when they realized a cut or wound or sickness, they had would be healed brought a smile to your own face. You know your parents smile down at you each time you save another. It became your job, maybe you’d consider it your destiny, your purpose.

Gulls’ Island is where you reside now. A client had a message sent to you, word of mouth. Two weeks ago, at a market someone had whispered the client’s location into your ear, having recognized you. So, like your title, you flit to their location. Now on the land, the sand under you as you walk ashore. It is night, lanterns lighting up the small town ahead of you. Their home resided on the dock; a boat parked nearby.

The chill of the air nipped at you as you grip your leather bag, hood over your head as you cross the wooden path. A few raps at their door and it opens, the person on the other side of the door looking distraught.

“Is it truly you? The one said to take away the sting?”

“Who is it that I’m assisting?”

The man opens the door fully, ushering you inside. It looks homey, the fireplace lit, and little trinkets settled around the room. You step inside, thankful for the fire as it warms you up. In the corner lies a table and a chair, on the chair lied a sick looking little kid. He had his forehead against the table, breathing shallow. You slip the cover off your head, stepping near him in caution.

“His symptoms?”

“Oh yes,” the man starts, “he’s not been eating or drinking regularly. Can’t keep it down that’s why. He seems to have a fever, headache.”

You hum, crouching on the floor and getting a closer look at his face. He’s sweating, a line dripping down his forehead. He’s shaking, fingers gripping the table.

Something feels off.

“And how long has he had these symptoms?”

“A week or so now?”

“I see,” you say and stand, eyes shifting around the room. There wasn’t a mess, it looked clean. No glass on the floor, or cuts in the wooden walls. You look back to the boy.

“Can you look up at me,” you ask softly.

He does and there’s tears in his eyes. Your expression hardens at the sight. The floor creaks behind you then and next you know you’re shoved against the wall. The man who had opened the door, explained the situation now had you pinned against the wall—a knife held at your throat. Your attention shifts from his weird expression to the woman who walks out from the bedroom, and your heart beating like a scared bunny in your chest.

Captian Kiramman.

You recognize her indigo shaded hair and eyepatch-clad eye from the pictures in the books you’ve seen and the hate posters around cities. The crew that she leads has a title that exponentially precedes yours. The Sapphire Pearl. Her stories are discussed in tragedies, her face only appearing in nightmares.

You keep your gaze steady, refusing to let your body betray you as Caitlyn’s eyes remain fixed on you. You don’t speak more, because you know there’s little point. Your hands stay still at your sides, fingers curled tightly, betraying the turmoil inside you.

She looks at you a second longer before nodding her head to the side and the man, gripping your arms in a tight bruising hold tugs you along with him. You look back to the little kid as you’re dragged out, seeing the cries escape him. Just in the other room lies his parents you presume, the bedroom where Caitlyn had been waiting. They’re tied, bound—and the sight makes your heart jump.

The man keeps a tight hold on your arm, the other holding the knife to your neck as they whip you out of the house and back onto the beach where you had only just arrived. The wind blows Caitlyn’s hair around that’s pulled back in a tight ponytail. Around the island and her ship comes into view. Settled aside an island in the distance, dark with no lights lit. You yourself couldn’t have seen it if it weren’t for a crew member pointing it out. You’re shove onto the smaller rowboat. Caitlyn sitting in it among you and a few crew members. As you’re seated, your wrists are maneuvered behind you and tied with a rope settled on the floor of the boat. Whoever tied them leaves no room, tying it to the point it hurts every time you move your wrists.

The ship as the distance grows smaller grows in size. The sheer volume bringing upon a fear within you. Just like before you’re shoved around, pulled by the same man, his hand gripping your tied hands and bringing you upon ship. They’re hundreds of people on board, their eyes on you as you’re brought on board.

You’re ushered into her Captian’s quarters. The door shuts behind you, hiding the three of you in privacy. Caitlyn leans back against her desk, and you’re held in front of her, no room to try anything.

She’s looking at you, expressionless, “the woman renowned for her assistance and healing?”

“If you want something, tell me your symptoms and I’ll hand you the ingredients for it and be on my way.

It made good sense to assume at first that she wants something you carry. A rare flower, a plant that’s only from a specific region.

“How considerate,” she says, “but the contents of your bag are not what I’m interested in, hummingbird. It’s you.”

She uncrosses her feet, heeled black boot stepping closer to you. Her eyes holding more than just simple curiosity, they’re dark and calculating. This isn’t a thievery of an item.

“Your skill, your knowledge. It’s your expertise I intend to claim, not your possessions.”

You take a deep breath to steel the way your body had a visceral response to such news. She continues, disconnected from the weight the situation holds.

“Until then, you’re to be held prisoner. Any act of rebellion will be punished.”

That’s the last word before she waves you off. It’s all a blur as you’re brought to the lower level and shoved inside a cell. The latch shuts above, and the rooms enclosed in darkness save for one lantern. You slide down onto the cold wood, chest heaving as you try and adapt to all that’s happened. Each time to try to take a deep breathe, all that you’re filled with is thick and oppressive air that smells of salt and sweat.

A jingle of chains behind you catches your attention. You turn your head only sideways, eyeing the cell across from yours in the corner of your eye. The swaying lantern’s light shifts onto her from time to time, lighting up the woman residing there.

She’s trying to keep it together, but you can see the tension in the way her muscles tighten, the way her hands clench into fists. Her hands are chained, not allowing her to go any further than the seated position she’s in. She’s furious, that much is obvious. Her eyes occasionally flicker to you, a mixture of anger and regret clouding in them. She’s not angry at Caitlyn. She’s angry at herself too.

Her voice is low and rough, but there’s an edge of vulnerability she can’t quite hide.

“Who the hell are you?”

No words are spoken as you turn your head fully to regard her silently for a long moment. There’s no need to rush an answer.

“I’m here, just like you.”

You let the silence settle between you, the words offering no explanation, no invitation to know more. It’s the bare minimum, and it’s all you’re willing to offer for now. The woman seems to consider whether to say more, then deicides against it.The tension is thick, but her guided silence says it all. You’re both here for a reason, a connection tying you all together. You both settle into a silence as the ship drifts away from shore.

You’re woken up with a start, your head lifting off the wall behind you. Three crew members come down. In a quick succession they have you in their grip as they bring you aboveboard. It’s the first time you’ve seen the sun in what—a week? Two weeks?

Caitlyn stands beside a huge table, maps and papers strewn across it. Her tight ponytail’s now loose, a sign of her anxiety and tearing her hand through her hand many times. You’re brought in as you were the night you were kidnapped. She doesn’t glance at you, eyes tired and closed off—focused solely on the map.

“What specially can you do? What all are you actually capable of? There’re rumors of your restorative infusions, one’s unlike anything one’s heard,” she stops her rambling, dragging a hand down her face, “What can do you do?”

She repeats, voice hoarse and said through gritted teeth.

“I heal.”

She shakes her head, mind working and thinking, “there needs to be more that you can do. As there’s one side of the coin, there’s the opposite,” she whispers like she’s come to a conclusion, like she’s had a brilliant idea, “I need you to make something that could kill.”

Goosebumps line your body.

“I can’t... I can’t do that.”

“You can do it. You’re capable of it. Once we arrive at this town, you are ordered to prepare it.”

“But it’s not what I do.”

She wasn’t listening, a hand waving at you to be thrown back into the cell after, rough hands of the crew shoving you. Vi, you’ve come to know her name over the past few days, focus is set on you as you’re brought back down. Her expression softens when it finds you.

“You, okay?”

“Fine.”

Vi’s eyebrows scrunch, “what did she want?”

You crouch onto the floor again, tired, “she ordered me to make something that could kill.”

It seems you’re still in shock. Your hands in front of you, shaking as you inspect them. Vi’s silent, but you can feel her frustration, her anger from where you sit. You look over the rough edges on your hands. Your hands are colder, harder to move from the cool of the water and little sunlight.

“It goes against everything I believe, Vi. I cannot make something in turn that will harm another. I can’t do that. I got into this to heal. Not... not whatever she’s planning.”

Vi’s listening, eyes stuck on the floor of her cell. She sighs, letting herself become vulnerable, honest with you.

“She’s after my sister,” she starts, “I knew her before all this. She changed when my sister killed her mom. She’s set on killing my sister. It’s the only thing on her mind. Believe me, I’ve tried to talk to her. She’s deaf to anything but revenge. The Caitlyn I knew is gone.”

Almost a month had passed.

You’ve grown used to the same walls, the same sounds of the waves hitting the sides of the ship. A few people have since been taken. Every cell has been filled. Your own cell had another woman chained across from you, making the space increasingly tighter.

After a month had passed you felt the first shift in the routined torture. It seemed the boat had come ashore. Ashford. That’s where you were. You knew since you had overheard a crew member discuss it.

It was a change, but true change didn’t happen until five days later. The sun rose and the sun set many times before it finally happened. Crew members came down again, opening the cell you sat in. Vi’s expression was dripping with poison as they dragged you up.

This is the third time you’ve seen Caitlyn. First was when she kidnapped you, second was when she commanded you go against all you’ve ever known, and now? She’s leaned back onto the chair, her right leg stretched out straight in front of her. Her face is strewn in pain, eyebrows furrowed. She looks furious, and pained, and conflicted—and many other things, they all flicker back and forth too quickly for you to keep up with.

Her cut has bled into her clothes, soaking the fabric and turning it a darker color. You’re sure you won’t be explained why such an injury happened, but it looks as if she snagged it on something.

The crew member announces their presence, but Caitlyn doesn’t rush to respond. She looks to you, silently commanding you to help her with the gash on her thigh—following that command she commands the crew guard to leave.

“But—”

“Haven’t I given you a command? Leave.”

The door shuts and so do your air pipes, the room suffocating.

Her eye-the uncovered one-is bloodshot, “why’re you still standing there?”

You’re reaching for your bag immediately after. It’s basic to always have enough for some form of cut/gash concoction. You mix it together, creating a yellow-ish paste—your eyes flickering to her thigh.

“Why kidnap me?” you ask, still focused on your work, trying to keep your hands steady despite the tremor in your fingers. “You’re obviously smart, Caitlyn. Do you really need my help?”

When she speaks, her voice is measured, betraying none of the emotion swirling beneath the surface. “I didn’t take you for your skills alone. I need your help… but it’s not just for making powders or salves.”

You glance up, brow furrowed. “Then what? Why capture me if not for that?”

Her jaw tightens as she leans in slightly, her words cutting through the air. “Because I need someone who understands pain… and how to make it disappear. You’re the only one who can help me finish what I started.”

You cover her gash, watching as she controls her pained expressions with ease. The only things that give it away are the little furrow in her eyebrows. You finish applying the paste and wrapping it. The room is quiet save for the distant creak of the ship. You wipe your hands of any excess.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Caitlyn mutters, the words barely above a whisper, her voice tinged with frustration, maybe fatigue. It’s hard to tell, but she’s looking over the secure work you did on her injury, your soft and careful fingers when you worked. You didn’t need to be careful. “But I’m not ungrateful.”

“Of course I did,” you start, packing all of the little bottles full of supplies back into your bag, “I may not have had a choice, but I—this is what I’ve always done. I’ve always helped where I can. I heal.”

There’s a shift in the air.

Because this time Caitlyn listened.

It wasn’t the last time you healed her.

A few days later you’re shoved up the stairs and forced onto your knees, Vi shoved alongside you. Her bicep brushing against yours. You look up, seagulls swarming stop of the ship—the sails fluttering in the wind. Caitlyn also stood in your vision, along with the hundreds on her ship.

“We’re traveling into Ashford, you two are accompanying.”

Ashford is full of colorful lanterns littering the rooftops, creating a welcoming and fun atmosphere. The ground has powders, scattered across the floor. Reds, purples, pinks, yellows, light blues—it’s like a disco ball. There’s a small home at the end that Caitlyn raps her knuckles upon. A man opens it, arms full of dark tattoos of a language you’re unfamiliar with. He welcomes Caitlyn, and only her—the door shutting after.

Unbeknownst to you all, that door shutting was like a countdown. The many people hidden in the roofs surrounding you engaged, aware of the trigger (that being the door).

Caitlyn had found out too, her intuition snapping into place quick. It turned out to be an ambush, supporters of Vi’s sister having tracked her there and tried to surround the crew she had brought into town.

It was in the blink of an eye, but Caitlyn had stepped in the way of an attacker—taking the brunt of the attack instead of Vi. The blood seeping into Caitlyn’s shirt from the jab to her stomach was concerning.

This was the second time you healed her.

She seemed more conflicted, eyes darting around as if she was reading her own thoughts. You had her laid down on the window chair, the noon sun shining onto the wound making it easy for you assess it. For some reason, you spoke—lips dropping open to ask a question like something tugged it out of you.

“Why did you step in front of Vi?”

It’s like her thoughts shatter, her focus coming back to the present. She exhales, her voice carrying in the quiet room, “because she’s not the one I’m after. Her sister is my enemy.”

The mixture is spread across her stomach, you watch as it flinches from the coldness of the paste. Caitlyn looks out the window, at the birds flying around.

“Vi’s sister,” she starts, the bitterness tasting in her mouth as she thinks about her, “I can’t... I can’t let that go. She killed my mother.”

But in the same breath, she looks conflicted, “But I don’t want Vi to suffer more because of what I want.”

There’s a pause, as if Caitlyn is fighting herself—fighting the love she still holds for her mother, and the desire that feels all too fresh, the one that’s consuming her and difficult to let go. It’s a fleeting moment, but it’s there: her love for Vi, burned under her pain, manifesting in subtle gestures and words left unsaid.

“I’m tired of the fighting. But I’m not done yet, I don’t feel I’ve come close enough.”

The air between you is thick with unspoken emotions—regret, love, and an overwhelming need for closure. But Caitlyn hides it well, masking it with the determination that’s been her shield. Just as she had opened up to you, her expression hardened once again—attention set on the seagull flying free.

She was still holding onto the passion for revenge, but her grip had loosened—not nearly as tight as it was when she had kidnapped you.

You’re dismissed after patching Caitlyn up. The event sun sinks low, creating an orange hue over the ship. You shut the door to the captian’s quarters behind you. The wind is softer now, the ocean brushing the sand in the background. The deck is mainly empty save for maybe ten other people—most other in the town, or under in the bunker drinking. Vi sat on a step, attention snapping to you. You glance sideways at her, silhouette outlined in the fading sunlight.

“You okay?” You ask, your voice a gentle nudge.

“Just amazing,” she says, but there’s a trace of something in her voice, “Just… tired with it all.”

You sit beside her, the air growing cooler as the sun disappears behind the horizon You’re unsure whether she’s taking about the trip to the town, Caitlyn, or the deal with her sister—could be all three. But regardless you don’t press her.

Instead you shift closer to her, seeking the warmth. You look out at the sea, as far as your vision will allow you. The sunset is beautiful—more vivid than what you could’ve imagined. But it doesn’t feel like something you can appreciate.

“Caitlyn doesn’t make it easy,” you say finally. It’s an understatement. She makes it incredibly difficult. On one side you understand her motives, on the other—youre furious, hurt with her.

Vi tenses at the mention of Caitlyn, but she doesn’t pull away.

“She’s been consumed by this need to make amends. It’s changing her. She promised me she wouldn’t change.”

Her voice cracks, just a little, and you feel the weight of her words, the deep ache behind them. You can tell how much it hurts her to see Caitlyn—the person who was becoming everything to her—became this shell of herself, this revenge-fueled version of the woman she used to know.

“You’re scared she won’t come back?” You ask softly, leaning in and meeting her eyes. The lantern near her icy eyes, lighting a fire in them from the hue. Vi doesn’t answer immediately, but the tremble in her hands and the shake in her eyes says it all. Finally she speaks.

“She was all I had left. After everything, and now she’s gone.”

You let her talk, listening to every word, eyes flickering around her face—seeing her.

“Vi” you start, “she’s still Caitlyn. Even if she’s lost and blinded by anger and hurt, even if she’s lost for some time. She’s still the person you knew. Maybe she just needs someone to remind her of that.”

You say, remembering what Caitlyn had spilled to you. Vi’s eyes flicker to you, searching you. For a long moment the world feels suspended between you two—unspoken words, shared understandings. The weight of her emotions hang in the air, but for the first time in a while, it feels like something between you two shifted.

Her breath hitches slightly, and she looks at you a little longer than usual—gaze trailing down to your lips for a moment. But just as the moment stretches, the sound of footsteps  disrupts it. You both turn, and Caitlyn appears out from the captian’s quarters. Caitlyn’s gaze shifts between the two of you. Her lips tight as she approaches the stairs to the both of you sitting there.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Caitlyn says, her voice colder than usual—annunciating each word.

Vi stands first, “we were just talking.”

Caitlyn cuts her off, “we’re leaving at dawn."

As Caitlyn leads the way towards the ship’s helm, you can’t help but wonder if this—whatever it is—might have just begun to change like the tides.

sapphire seas masterlist - next part (coming tonight)

[secretmellowblog]

On the subject of the Titanic ‘submersible’ that was lost in the deep with all its wealthy tourists— it’s so insane/eerie in hindsight to read this article from the Smithsonian that interviews the CEO Stockton Rush long before the disaster.

Despite the Smithsonian supposedly being an organization that cares about science and truth, and the fact that there were SO MANY obvious red flags from the beginning and so many people criticizing the company…..the article is a puff piece uncritically glorifying the CEO’s obviously terrible submersible project. It compares him in glowing terms to Elon Musk. It is an article about how private ventures like those of Stockton Rush and Elon Musk can and should be the future of the world.

We’ve obviously learned now that there were whistleblowers at the company who were warning for a long time that Stockton Rush’s submersible was unsafe— only to be fired and then sued. It makes sense the submersible was so unsafe, because the CEO in this interview is open about how he has no background in underwater engineering and is annoyed by quote “regulations that needlessly prioritize passenger safety.”

Soon after, the private [submersible] market died too, Rush found, for two reasons that were “understandable but illogical.” First, subs gained a reputation for danger. Working on offshore rigs in harsh locations like the North Sea, saturation divers, who breathe gas mixtures to avoid diving sicknesses, would be taken in subs to work at great depths. It was the world’s most perilous job, with frequent fatalities. (“It wasn’t the sub’s fault,” says Rush.) To save lives, the industries moved toward using underwater robots to perform the same work.

Second, tourist subs, which could once be skippered by anyone with a U.S. Coast Guard captain’s license, were regulated by the Passenger Vessel Safety Act of 1993, which imposed rigorous new manufacturing and inspection requirements and prohibited dives below 150 feet. The law was well-meaning, Rush says, but he believes it needlessly prioritized passenger safety over commercial innovation (a position a less adventurous submariner might find open to debate). “There hasn’t been an injury in the commercial sub industry in over 35 years. It’s obscenely safe, because they have all these regulations. But it also hasn’t innovated or grown—because they have all these regulations.”

The fact that Stockton Rush (who was piloting the submarine when the disaster happened) is on record complaining about the evils of regulations that prioritize people’s safety, and the Smithsonian uncritically regurgitated that rhetoric in their glowing puff piece about how rich tycoons like Elon Musk and Stockton Rush are going to save the world is just…..in hindsight of how everything ended it’s just so much horrible black comedy? It’s like a satire about the dangers of uncritically worshipping the rich.

It is mentioned in the article that Rush chose to make his submersible in a different shape, and with a different (cheaper) material than is usually used for submersibles. The article frames this as a result of daring innovation, and not of negligence/ignorance. This passage in particular, which in context is supposed to portray Rush’s critics as joyless naysayers who were proven wrong by the noble tycoon, is pretty foreboding in hindsight:

Rush planned to pilot the sub himself, which critics said was an unnecessary risk: Under pressure, the experimental carbon fiber hull might, in the jargon of the sub world, “collapse catastrophically.”

And then!!

The exact problem that happened to Titan this weekend, happened on Titan’s very first test voyage to the Titanic! The experimental carbon fiber hull had an issue and it caused communications to break down!

The dive was going according to plan until about 10,000 feet, when the descent unexpectedly halted, possibly, Rush says, because the density of the salt water added extra buoyancy to the carbon fiber hull. He now used thrusters to drive Titan deeper, which interfered with the communications system, and he lost contact with the support crew. He recalls the next hour in hallucinogenic terms. “It was like being on the Starship Enterprise,” he says. “There were these particles going by, like stars. Every so often a jellyfish would go whipping by. It was the childhood dream.”

Both Rush and the article writer treat this as a fun quirky story, instead of a serious safety failure and red flag with his experimental macgyvered regulation-flaunting submersible.

Other highlights from the article include:

Stockton rush saying that if 3/4 of the planet is water, why haven’t we monetized it?

Stockton saying we will “colonize the ocean long before we colonize space”

Lots of weird pro colonialism stuff in general??? This article loves colonialism and thinks it’s cool

Rush saying he plans for this to eventually help find more underwater resources for the US to exploit and profit from

Elon musk comparisons. The article writer does not mention that Elon Musk’s rockets explode and therefore it would be a bad idea to get in one of them, because that would imply it’s a bad idea to get into the submersible

Stockton rush seeing himself as Captain Kirk

The article writer comparing the tourists who plan to join Rush to Englishmen who went on colonialist journeys to Africa as if that’s like, a good thing. So much pro colonialism stuff in this article

So many sentences about Stockton Rush being handsome when he literally just looks like some guy

The article beginning with an editor’s note from years later disclaiming that the extraordinary submersible they’re advertising in this article is uh. It’s now uhhhh

But yeah it really does just bring home how so many organizations that supposedly care about scientific truth or journalistic integrity are willing to uncritically platform propaganda for wealthy CEOS. It’s frustrating how easily people fall for the fake myths that careless wealthy people invent for themselves, and even more frustrating that supposedly respectable institutions will platform irresponsible lies that end up getting people killed.

Rush is such an obvious and simple example of this, and his negligence is “only” killing five people including himself. But to me it feels like a cautionary tale to bear in mind when it comes to uncritical puff piece media coverage of similar “daring tycoon innovations” by people like Bezos or Musk.

[dckweed]

ROSIE!, alpha!simon riley x omega reader

in which captain price sends alpha simon on a much needed vacation to his secluded countryside cabin, but leaves out a most important detail- he has a live in omega caretaker to care for his little cabin when he’s away! and she’s the prettiest, sweetest little thing that simon ever did see..

warnings: alpha/omega universe, mentions/depictions of abuse, smut, pregnancy, kind of forced proximity?, ill add as i go...please note that i know NOTHING about COD but i am in love with the 141 guys and this has been rotting in my brain.

this will be a series, as well as there will be side stories for gaz, soap and captain price!

part one: over the garden wall and to the stream to die

It was a pretty day, the sun shone brightly down on your typically pale skin, staining it a light shade of red (you’ll loathe yourself later for not wearing sunscreen, cheeks, neck and shoulders red despite your large gardening hat that you put on for shade), it twinged a bit, but you didn’t mind. You were enjoying the garden, it had become lush and full over the past couple of weeks, the sun (despite its wrath on your skin) feeding the various plants and bushes with its light, making everything vibrant and fragrant. You were making your own arrangement of flowers, picking up some yellow roses and a few pansies, in hopes that it would make the kitchen of the cabin all the more cheery for the guest that would be arriving that day. 

You had received a message from your boss (for lack of a better word for the alpha that employed you to live in his home) the night before about an arrival, a guest come to lay low and spend the summer. You assume it’s another Alpha, one of the lot he had told you he worked with on his little task force and while it makes you nervous to be alone with an unmated Alpha that you don’t know, you know that John wouldn’t put you in any danger knowingly. With trust in the man that sent you a fat lump of money every other week, you had no qualms about welcoming the unnamed guest into the cabin. 

You had already turned down the guest bed, fresh linen adorning the mattress, and tidied up the whole house, and you even had a plate of fresh cinnamon rolls baked from scratch sitting out on the small table in the kitchen and it wasn’t even noon yet. Anticipation was beginning to eat you alive, a nervousness settling into your muscles that just made you ache for something to keep you occupied (a trait that got you many a beating by your papa’s hands when you were growing up, his voice still in your head calling you an annoying runt as he took the belt to any part of you it would reach), you hum as you continue to work, the pale blue of your pretty little sundress getting dusted by dirt every time you crouched down, your bare knees covered in the black soil of the garden. You didn’t mind, you liked the way the sun felt on your skin and the ground beneath you, you went for so long without feeling either that you would embrace both happily without complaint. 

Your bouquet was slowly becoming a large bunch, beautiful petals hanging over the edge of your little wicker basket that you brought along to carry the trimmings back inside in, not wanting to squish them in your hand the whole time, and you were just snipping through the last of a beautiful rose stem when you heard the garden gate squeak open, you pop your head above the bushes and look, eyes met immediately with a hulking form of an alpha, his forearms laden with a large duffle bag and a mask pulled over his eyes. 

“Who the ‘ell are you?” They’re brown and beautiful and they’re narrowed at you, looking about you, deciding if you’re a threat or not. Just like the rest of his body, his voice is thick and strong and deep. It verberates in your brain, the sound of his voice rattling around in there. Your breath catches and your cheeks flush and you have to avert your eyes, the little wolf in your brain barking at the sight of this man standing before you in the garden. 

‘He’s so strong, so pretty, look at him, look at him, look at him!’

“‘Ello?!” You jump, swallowing a thick lump in your throat, that nervousness in your body boiling up. The only thing that comes out at first is a squeak, and you close your eyes, cheeks flushing even farther. “You mute or somethin’ there Rosie?” A dig at the color of your cheeks you’re sure because there’s no way that he knew that that was what John and everyone else you’d ever met had taken to calling you if he didn’t know who you were. 

“I-um-..” What was wrong with you? “I..live here..” That was it? That was all you could come up with? ‘Not even your fucking name?’ 

“Like ‘ell you do.” Your bottom lip quivered, the gruffness of his voice scarring you more than you already were. Your knees shook but you straightened yourself up otherwise, your fathers voice ringing in your head about how spineless you were. 

“I do. I’m sure you’re the guest that Alpha John told me was coming, but he certainly didn’t mention how rude you were!” You huff, turning on your bare heel to stomp your way through the garden and back to the cabin, though you wanted nothing more than to climb over the garden wall and drown yourself in the stream not too far off from the house. Oh how badly you wanted to die from the embarrassment, but even more so you wanted to throw your bouquet of flowers to the ground and stamp on them, throw your fresh baked cinnamon rolls into the bin even, all of the things that you had done for the mans arrival to make the cabin nice and inviting and relaxing and all he could do upon meeting you was make fun of your reddened skin, flushed from embarrassment! Alpha’s could be brutes, you knew, but they didn’t have to be so rude!

‘Oh but cut him some slack, he’s so pretty, he looks tired..maybe he just needs a hot meal in his belly and his dick sucked..’ You gasp at the voice of your wolf, never had she been so crude! “No!” You shouted both in your mind and outloud, slamming your wicker basket down onto the wooden top of the island as you went about searching for the kitchen shears, not even bothering to listen to see if the man was following you. ‘Did you see how thick his thighs were? His arms? I bet he could hold us up with ease-’ 

There’s a shuffling of footsteps behind you and a clearing of a throat that interrupts your wolfs inner monologue. You turn around, not to acknowledge the Alpha standing in the doorway of the kitchen, the light of the sun shining brightly behind him through the open door, but to grab the fresh bunch of flowers you’d so graciously picked for the beast. They were beautiful, you didn’t have it in you to not trim up the stems and put them in a pretty vase. 

You keep your eyes planted on the work at hand, trimming each stem one by one and setting it off to the side. He shuffles in that spot for a moment longer, but you don’t look at him like you know he wants. He huffs after a few more seconds and you hear his footsteps taking him up the stairs, the smell of him wafting so strongly through your nose as he passes by you to get to them that you have to grip the edge of the counter so tightly your knuckles turn white. Your wolf nearly taking control of you completely, wanting to follow him. She’s chanting in your head about his smell and how she just wants to drop to her knees for him, let him do whatever he so pleased as long as it made him happy. 

She had felt that way about Alpha John at one point in time too, and just like that, you knew it would pass and she would calm down once she got used to his presence. 

You would just have to ignore her until then. You were good at that, ignoring her. Your father had beat it into your head because you were an omega that you were nothing, that you didn’t even deserve a wolf, and you had believed him. Had ignored her and your natural instincts for more than half of your life, until John came along. Until he saved you. And now here you were, living in his home, making it nice and homey and putting meals on the table for a man whose name you didn’t even know. 

Wasn’t that a funny thing?

Heavy footsteps echo above you as you work, and you begin humming, attempting to shut him and the annoying second voice out of your head. You take your time as you arranged the bundle of flowers, you had picked such a big bunch that you had enough for two full arrangements and you were just placing one of them in the middle of the round table that sat by the stairs in the kitchen when you heard his footsteps coming back down, a heavy pitter patter that sent your heart racing, but you were ready to face him now, to welcome him into the cabin. You suppose your wolf was right, he needed a hot meal, and who were you to turn away from cooking someone in need a good belly full of food?

He clears his throat again when he comes off the bottom step, from your peripheral you can tell that he’s fully facing you, large meaty hands on his thick, muscled hips. He wore a dark green tshirt that stretched so tightly over his muscly chest that you were sure it would rip, and it hung just barely above the waistline of his jeans, that fit him so snugly you weren’t sure how they hadn’t ripped already. 

“Listen, lovie, s’pose I was a bit rude back there, yeah?” You say nothing, but look up at him fully now, making eye contact as your hands still fidget with the glass vase you had set so neatly in the middle of the table. “‘name’s Simon..I work with your Alpha..”

“S’not my Alpha.” You say pointedly, and under the mask he still wears you can tell a smile is spread across his face at your words. “And neither are you, so don’t go getting your hopes up. You’ll be keeping your big paws to yourself while you’re here, or i’ll be telling John.”

“Yes Ma’am.” He says, his body seeming to relax now that you’ve spoken a full sentence to him. “What can I call you?” 

You sigh, cheeks heating. “Ironically, most people call me Rosie.” You say, turning away. You didn’t know what your actual name was, your father had never called you anything but Runt or Omega, and your siblings always followed in his suit. You were content to go by whatever John wanted to call you whenever he finally came to your rescue, who were you to argue with the man who had saved you?

“These for anyone?” He’s pointing to the plate of cinnamon rolls when you look over your shoulder, setting the second vase on the window above the kitchen sink. 

“Help yourself.” Your voice is soft, gentle, a smile spreading when you begin to talk about the food you had made. “Made them from scratch, strawberry cream cheese icing and everything!” 

He moans as he bites into them, and you’re sure he’s putting on a big show as a form of apology but either way it prickles you in the best way and puts a big happy grin on your face. “Jesus lovie,” He groans. “I’m gonna be fat by the time i leave, arent i?”

[thinkinonsense]

Touchཐིཋྀ

origins!logan howlett x fem!reader x black widow!natasha romanoff

cw: mdni!! oral (f+f), strap-on sex, fingering, squirting, doggy style, p in v, angst, some fluff, angsttt, dom!nat & dom!logan x sub!reader

masterlist

after a life of running and living in fear of an impending doom, you and logan had finally managed to build a peaceful life together. deep in the woods sat a wooden cabin where the two of you spent most of your days.

during the week, logan worked down at the lumberyard while you taught ballet to a group of young girls downtown. your boyfriend didn't know much of your past, just that you were tested on and abused back in russia. he never pressured you to talk about the past, his wasn't any better either.

buried in the back of your closet hid a box of belongings from russia. there weren't many things you valued from that time there but you did manage to take some photos of the girls you were friends with, a few journal, and an old pager given to you by someone you no longer knew. her face was everywhere but she never bothered to reach out again after escaping the red room.

"i'll see you later, honey." logan whispered as he kissed your cheek then left the bedroom.

half asleep still, you mumble a goodbye before your head hit the pillow again for the next couple of hours. you didn't have a class today but instead planned on going to town and getting groceries for the week.

it's a little after one when you finally jump in the shower, listing all the things you needed to buy and what you wanted to make for dinner. while picking out an outfit, you hear a faint vibration. logan kept your toys under the bed so, you knew that wasn't where the noise was coming from.

it could be?

inside the box, you can see the familiar number flash. hesitantly, you walk over to the phone and dial. pacing back and forth on the wooden floor, waiting for an answer.

"эй, принцесса."

hey, princess

you knew that voice like the back of your hand but you still couldn't believe it.

"natalia." your accent came out thick and heavy. she should've expected you to be upset still.

it's been everywhere. the news of the sokovia accords and the freeing of the winter soldier. you were keeping up with the news but not too closely. it was irritating watching natasha get to play super hero with the likes of iron man and captain america when you knew the truth.

"can we talk? i need a favor." she sounded desperate.

"i don't think that's a good idea." you sigh, unable to come up with a good excuse.

"c'mon, for old times sake?"

you hesitate. of course you missed her, how could you not? despite the red room being the worst time of your life, natalia was the daylight that kept you going.

"you don't even know where i am."

"look out your kitchen window."

pulling back the curtain, there she stood on your porch. long red hair just like you remembered, a small suite case next to her and a pair of black sunglasses covering her eyes. you hang up the phone and grab a kitchen knife from the counter; moving closer to the door.

"how did you find me?" you squint, feeling somewhere between anger and impressed.

"an old friend owed me a favor." she shrugs. "i didn't picture you as a living among the trees type of girl. you know, it quite dangerous to live alone in the woods."

"i can take care of myself" you remind her before adding, "and i don't live alone."

natasha's face falls a little. if you didn't know her as well as you did, you never would've been able to tell. she had a million questions but wasn't sure if she wanted the answers.

"what was the favor you needed?" you ask, trying to change the subject.

"i need a place to lay low for a bit."

was it horrible that you had to remind yourself that you are with logan now? now you love logan more than anything but you would be lying if you said natasha didn't hold a special place in your heart still.

"no games, nat." you put on your best poker face, knowing she could see right through you.

"even though i do miss playing with you," her lips linger closely to yours. sharing the same air. "i promise, no games."

"good. there's a guest room inside."

the two of you enter the house again and you show her the extra room. it's not very decorated, simply and neat. natasha didn't mind, she was just thankful you hadn't tried to fight her once you saw her again.

"so, who's the lucky lady that managed to tie you down?" nat chuckles to herself as she unpacks her things.

"his name is logan." you answer nervously.

why were you nervous? you didn't owe her anything, especially after the way she left you.

natasha felt the knife in her chest twist at the news. not only had you moved on but you were sickly in love. maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.

a car door slams shut, snapping both of you back into reality.

"i'll be back. there's towels under the sink if you want to take a shower." you linger in the door way, waiting for her to turn and catch a glimpse of you before you leave.

"thanks, принцесса."

she doesn't even look up at you.

⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒

logan could smell trouble miles away. the blood soaked in her jacket. the faint smell of her sweat and your cherry perfume. he assumed you were in trouble, maybe someone broke in or lured you out of the house to attack you. within seconds, he was back in his truck to check up on you.

"hey, honey." you smile, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss.

"hey... are you... are you alright?" he struggled to get out in between kisses.

"mhm, i was thinking we could go for a drive." you were talking too fast, trying to distract him from whatever was inside.

"what's going on, sweetheart?" one of his brows arched, waiting for the truth.

both of you climb into the truck but logan never starts the car. instead he listens to the rapid beating of your heart.

"there's something—someone, from my past that's inside. she needed a place to lay low for a little bit."

logan could tell by your lack of eye contact that there was something you were still hiding something about this friend of yours.

"I won't be upset." he saying lovingly, reaching for your hand.

"when i was in the red room, i worked closely with a woman that i also was in a relationship with at the time."

logan wasn't sure why you were nervous to tell him this? he knew you liked women as well and he wasn't threatened by it. sure, is it a bit odd that your ex was coming here to hide out? defintely but logan of all people should know what it's like to be in need of somewhere to hide out.

"it was more than just physical. she meant a lot to me until..." you debated on telling him more but still on the fence.

"until?" he tests the waters.

"dreykov sent me to budapest. she never looked for me." on the verge of tears, you bite down on your tongue. "it killed me because not only did she leave me but she abandoned all the other girls that were stuck in the red room."

logan pulls you into his chest, stroking your hair gently, letting you know that it's okay to cry. your brain didn't get the memo because nothing came out.

"you don't have to let her stay here if it's too much for you." he reminds you.

"i know. i'm just not sure if i can handle her leaving again."

"must've really loved her, huh, princess?"

you nod softly into his chest.

"i don't mind if she stays but if you don't want her too, that's fine too." he says. "just want you to be happy."

in times like these, it hits you just how lucky you are to be with someone like logan. someone so understanding and loving. he knew the pain you went through all those years ago and how deep the connection with the woman inside must be. you can't survive that level of abuse without something keeping you going. for you, that something was natasha.

⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒

inside the house, natasha watched you and logan out in the car. slightly intimidated by your boyfriends stature and entirely jealous of his arms wrapped around you. she had to remind herself that you were practically a stranger to her now. so much has changed over the years and neither of you were the same girls from the red room anymore.

when she saw the two of you exiting the car, she rushed back into the guest room. in the tiny hallway, she noticed the picture frames on the wall. there's a photo of a group of young ballerinas and yourself. natasha wonders if that's how you keep yourself connected to your past life.

next to your picture is your boyfriend -whatever his name was- and some of his friends outside of a fancy looking school. natasha tried to pay little attention to it on her way back to the room.

ten minutes pass before there's a soft knock on the door.

"come in." natasha calls out, turning off the television.

from behind the door, you appear with a plate and a glass in your hands. the smile on her lips, drops the moment she sees him at your tail.

"thought you might be hungry." you explain, handing her the sandwich you made for her

"isn't that sweet of you to think of me," she teases, watching the way your cheeks flush with color at her words.

logan leans against the door frame while you sit on the bed with natasha. he watched as you completely bewitched the red headed woman in front of you. she was practically hanging onto every word you said. he couldn't blame her though, you have the same effect on him.

"you must be 'lucky logan' ?"natasha cocks her head at the man behind you.

"guess so." he smirks, admiring the doe eyes you give him.

"hm, and you're okay with me staying here?" she asks.

"that's not up to me." logan shrugs.

natasha's green eyes shift over to your face, waiting for you to say something.

"i want you here, nat." you admit.

her heart flutters in her chest. she knew she didn't deserve a second chance and would leave if you asked her too but god, was she grateful that you still wanted her to be here.

"i don't deserve you, принцесса." she says softly, finding it hard to mask her feelings anymore.

"shhh..." you tell her. "just get some rest."

natasha actually listens to you, finishing her sandwich and crawling under the soft comforter. you reach for the empty plate and she stops you before you could walk away; placing a soft kiss on the inside of your palm. the tiny gasp that left your mouth didn't sneak past either of them in the room. once she let you go, you and logan exit the room and go into your own shared bedroom.

logan watched you pace back and forth, wiping her kiss mark off on your blue jeans. it pulled at his heart strings to see you so torn by natasha's presence. tears fall down your face like rain.

"don't cry, sweetheart." logan says, wrapping his arms around you.

"i'm s-sorry, lo..." you apologize, upset at yourself for still harvesting these feelings towards natasha.

"for what?" he asks, lifting up your chin to look at him.

"i love you so much." you blurt out, too afraid to say what you really wanted to.

"i know. i love you too." he smiles, bending down to give you a quick kiss then adding, "and i know you love her too."

"it's not–"

"it's okay." he assures you. "i'm not upset."

"you aren't?" you question, prepared for him to storm out and want nothing to do with you ever again.

"no."

without thinking, you completely collapse into his arms, so thankful for the man in front of you.

"i don't deserve you, logan." you whisper, kissing him gently.

"don't say that." he says sternly. "i'm just trying to give you everything you want in life."

⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒

hours later, natasha woke up. she could smell faint tobacco from somewhere in the house. it was enough to get her out of bed to see where it was coming from. in the living room, she found logan on the couch watching a western and smoking a cigar with his boots up on the coffee table. he didn't have to turn around to know that nat was there.

"she went to the grocery store to get something for dinner." he says nonchalantly answering the question in your head.

natasha hummed in response, keeping a distance from logan in case he decides to do something rash like fight her.

"you can sit down, you know?" he chuckles, blowing the smoke from his mouth. "i'm not gonna attack you or anything."

"i wouldn't blame you if you did." she remarks, picking the single chair in the living room to sit down at.

"the only way i would do that is if you decide to hurt her again." he states frankly, eyes glued to the television screen.

"i suppose that's fair; but i don't plan on it."

"good. she's practically a damn saint."

natasha smiles a little at his words.

"yeah, she is." she says. “i wish i hadn’t left her the way that i did but there wasn’t much choice in the matter.”

“why did you leave her there?”

“dreykov found out about us. he threatened to have her sold off somewhere to someone who would probably kill her or worse.” natasha’s voice was tiny for once. painfully reminding her of the past she tried to burry. “thought i made it easier by leaving. she doesn’t know it but i did try to go back for her. twice actually. once by myself and another time with my friend, clint. the first time, she didn’t recognize me. the second time, he ordered her to kill me. barely made it out alive."

logan remembered how after a couple of months dating, you opened up about your memory issues. constantly feeling like you were missing a piece of the puzzle that was your life from all the experiments. it’s one of the things that helped you two connect with each other.

���i’ve seen her kill with her bare hands. seen her tied to tables with needles injected into her until she was blue in the face and spitting up blood. she was one of his favorite’s. used to wake up to her screaming from the nightmares.”

“she still gets them sometimes.” logan mutters.

nastasha nods, wiping a tear away quickly.

“do you think she will ever forgive me?”

“i think so.”

“do you think i deserve it?”

“probably not,” he said honestly with a shrug. “but that’s not up to me.”

natasha appreciated his candor at least.

“she’s back.” logan said before she could even hear the car approaching.

logan got up to help you bring in the bags. once both of you are inside, you spot nat sitting in the living room awake.

"hey, whatcha doin’ awake already?” you ask.

"i haven’t been awake long.” she answers, getting up and joining you in the kitchen.

“i’m making pasta, hope that’s alright with you?”

“of course. want some help?”

you instruct her to boil the noodles while you prepare the sauce. the two of you stand close next to each other as nat watches over your shoulder.

"have you heard from yelena lately?" you ask, making small talk.

"no." nat's voice came out a whisper. "have you?"

"mhm." you hum, stirring the sauce. "she called a month ago, asked what i knew about these red vitals she was given."

"vitals?"

"yeah, i told her my memory isn't as good as it used to be."

natasha reaches over and lightly touches your ponytail, twirling the ends around her fingers to help ease you. that’s how she used to calm you down as teenagers, by playing with your hair. deep down you knew you shouldn’t look at her, not this close anyways. nat could smell your cherry perfume, over powering her senses. her plump lips tempted you, sending an ache down to your lower region. she watches you intensely, waiting for you to make a move and wanting you more than ever.

unbeknownst to either of you, logan knew what was going on. he could smell the need forming in your underwear, could practically hear natasha’s dirty thoughts about you. most boyfriends would feel threatened by this but logan was different. he worshipped the ground you walked on and he always valued your happiness. why would he deny you of the love you deserved?

"i-i'm gonna go grab some wine from the cellar." you stutter, leaving her there alone.

nat nods, walking back into the living room to breathe.

"you can kiss her, if she wants you too." logan says aloud, tapping off the end of his cigar on the ashtray next to him.

"you aren't just saying that so then you would have an excuse to try and kill me, are you?" she squints.

"she won't make the first move. too afraid that she'll hurt me." he replied, ignoring natasha's comment.

"you wouldn't care?" she questions.

"no."

"what if i wanted to do more than kiss her?"

"its up to her."

logan watches natasha's eyes cloud with lust at the thought. how could he fault her? you were the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen in all 200+ years of his life. plus he would be lying in he said that he wouldn't find it hot to see you and natasha going at it.

"hey, is red okay?" you ask, holding a bottle up as you rounded the corner.

both logan and nat looked at you with these hungry looking eyes like you were their prey. logan's nostrils flare a little at the sweet scent.

"r-reds fine." nat stutters, her throat was dry at the thought of being back in between your thighs.

"cool, i'll get the glasses."

as you turn to leave, logan calls after you, "can you bring me a beer, sweetheart?"

"of course" you nod, obediently.

when you return, the three of you sit and watch the western playing for a few minutes until logan huffs loudly, sick of this tension and neither of you two doing anything about it.

"are you two gonna kiss 'n make up already, or what?" logan teases.

natasha and you find each others blown out gaze. both of you needed this. needing closure.

"fuck it." natasha mumbles to herself, getting up and coming over to you.

the redhead straddles you on the couch, caressing your jaw in her delicate palm. you nod your head, letting her know that you wanted this as much as she did. from her first taste of you, she knew it would be impossible to pull away.

⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒

nat chases your plump kiss bitten red lips, backing you up until your legs hit the edge of the bed. your hands are up her shirt and under her bra, squeezing the soft flesh of her tits. rubbing your thumb over the blooming bud and listening to her pretty moans against your lips. she lays you down and strips herself of her clothes. you rush to do the same, wiggling out of your jeans.

behind nat, you see logan walk in with his beer in his hand and take a seat across from you in the corner. knowing that he's watching sent shivers down your spine. it wasn't until natasha grabbed your chin and squished your cheeks together that you realized you had been staring at logan.

"it's not his turn, it's mine." she taunts.

you nod your head and babble out an apology. she removes her grip on you only to lay down in between your thighs. a sight that you missed dearly.

"natty, please don't tease." you whine, arching at the soft kisses she trails inside of your thighs and hip bones, avoiding where you needed her most.

she smiles at the fact that your already shaking with anticipation. surprisingly, she looks over at logan.

"keep her legs spread for me, would ya'?" she asks.

he nods, already hard in his blue jeans. logan joins you two on the bed, sitting behind you and letting you rest comfortable against his chest. he places your legs over his to keep you open for natasha. she groans, sucking a dark plum bruise on your hipbone. meanwhile, logan's leaving similar marks on your neck and along your shoulder.

"please." you whine, wiggling your hips in her face. both natasha and logan can smell your arousal in the air. it's intoxicating.

"patients, baby." she scolds before licking a fat stripe over your clothed cunt.

"w-wanna feel you nat."

without hesitation, natasha tears the lacy material from your body and spreads you open. it's been years since she had last seen you in this position. she needs a moment to capture your angelic imagine.

"there's my girl." nat says, talking to your cunt. completely ignoring you and logan like you two aren't even in the room.

"isn't she a fuckin sight?" logan finally speaks up.

right as you open your mouth to beg her to do something, anything, she leaning in again to lick from your entrance up to your button.

"missed this pussy, принцесса..." nat says sloppily into your folds. "so wet for me."

"uh-uh." you moan, throwing your head back.

logan turns your chin to capture your lips, letting you moan freely into his mouth while his hands come up to massage your tits. fingers pinching and rolling the stiff buds in his palms.

natasha spends a while making out with your cunt; taking her time to savor the honey that pours from inside of you. she pulls back for a second to spit on your mound, letting it drip down before inserting her middle and ring finger. hers weren't nearly as thick as logan's but they are longer and still feel perfect in their own way. she watches how you and logan move together while she pumps in and out of you. for once, she didn't feel jealous of logan for having you. instead it made her heart swell to know that someone else loves you just as much as she does.

despite all the pleasure you felt, selfishly you wanted more. your right hand moves to intertwine itself into nat's red locks, pulling her head back to where you needed her most. her tongue swirled circles over your swollen bud, teasing it playfully. her fingers move faster inside of you as she grinds her clothed cunt against the mattress, moaning against your folds.

"ya' feel good, sweetheart?" logan asks, placing a soft kiss on your hairline.

"sooo good, lo." you purr, gazing up at him with doe eyes.

his low chuckle makes you clench down had on natasha's fingers. all that can be heard in the room are low moans and wet squelching noises. nat kitten licks your button until you reach your first high of the night.

too caught in euphoria to control your legs wrapping around her neck, squeezing her head with your thighs. your loud moans were barely audible to her at this moment. the red head could die happily right here, right now.

carefully, she pulls off of you.

"you did so good for me, принцесса." she praises, stroking your thighs.

as soon as natasha sits up, you reach out and kiss her, tasting yourself on her plump maroon lips. she melts into the kiss making it easy for you to flip her over on her back. logan gets up again, unbuckling his belt as he watches the two of you grind on each other in messy, uncoordinated movements.

"wish you could fuck me like old times, nat." you mumble, kissing her chest and leaving little love bites behind.

"i-i could..." she hesitates.

already ahead of her, logan's rummaging through her backpack and hold up a familiar contraption.

"lookin' for this, red?" he smirks, tossing the strap-on onto the bed next to her.

the last time nat wanted either of you two think is that she just dropped by to fuck you and leave but what can she say? she's prepared for anything.

"is this alright with you, pretty girl?" she asks you in between lightly nibbling on your pulse point while you grind your cunt against the soft skin of her abs.

natasha pulls back to look at you. her hand cradles your jaw, waiting for your answer.

"i need it natty." you nod. "need you inside of me."

those words make her blue eyes turn a stormy dark grey. in a rush, she puts it on and lets you line yourself up to the silicone. despite all the time apart, the two of you fell back into a seamless rhythm together. one of her hands rests on your hip, helping you move up and down while the other paws at your chest, rolling the stiff bud.

"uh-fuck." you whine, throwing your head back when she angles her hips up with a sharp snap.

"that's the spot, huh?" she smirks, watching your pretty face scrunch up as you try and focus.

weakly, you nod your head and babble something incoherent to both hers and logan's ears. it's not the same feeling that logan gives you obviously but the way natasha's fucking up into you makes you feel just as good.

logan makes his way over to you, palming his boxer covered cock as he leans down to make out with you. willingly, giving in as his tongue explores your mouth messily with a hand in your hair. natasha uses this to her advantage, bringing her thumb up to your clit and circle it slowly in contrast to the jolts of her hips hitting yours. logan swallows every little moan that spills from your plump lips.

" 'm so close, natty." you whimper, tears in your waterline as logan's sucks on your pulse point.

"is that so, baby?" she mocks with a light roll of her hips.

"d-don't stop, please." you beg, bouncing faster to chase your high.

natasha and logan were both wishing that they could feel you clenching around them instead of the silicone.

logan's big rough hands help you bounce in rhythm as soon as he sees your movements slow down.

"c'mon, princess." logan groans in your ear. "we wanna see you fall apart for us."

"cum for us, sweet girl." natasha purrs, sitting up to suck on your tit and picking up speed with her thumb.

that's all it takes for you to release on top of nat, hips shaking violently while you leaked all over her lap. eyes screwed shut, stars coming into vision as you try to calm yourself down again. it just felt so good to feel the contrasts between her and logan when they fuck you.

carefully, logan picks you up off of natasha's strap. she takes it off and throws it aside, watching logan help you recover.

"don't ya' think natasha deserves something too for how good she's made you feel, princess?" logan asks you.

"mhm." you nod, crawling in between her legs. "wanna thank you properly, natty."

natasha thinks she might cum just from looking at your big doe eyes in between her thighs. you play flat on your stomach, kissing the plush soft skin. her hips wiggle impatiently in your face. the sweet smell of her arousal reminded you of all the other intimate moments the two of you have shared. within seconds, you're ripping off her lacy black panties and tossing them somewhere to the side of the bed.

"so fuckin' pretty 'n so wet." you mumble to yourself as you pull her fold apart, watching her slick drip from her entrance. "is this all for me?"

"o-only for you, baby." she says with a shaky breath.

you lean forward licking a strip from her entrance to her button. your hands wrap under her thighs and pull her tight against your face, letting her use you however she wanted. natasha grinds down on your tongue, moaning when your nose occasionally bumping her clit. she taste sweeter than any other times you've buried your tongue inside of her.

"love how good your tongue feels, baby." she moans, brushing your hair out of your face.

mind fully focused on nat that you don't even register logan shifting around behind you, running his tip up and down your pussy. lightly slapping your clit before thrusting inside of you. his cock stretches you deliciously, making you moan against natasha's cunt. her fingers pulls a bit at your hair from the vibrations. it's always a struggle to get him to fit inside of you.

"tightest pussy in the fuckin' world, i swear." he mumbles to himself, watching you swallow him whole.

logan's thrusts start to increase as he paws at the flesh of your ass. his tip kisses your cervix repeatedly, making it hard for you to keep your mouth around nat. your forehead pressed against her thigh while you try to concentrate, licking your fingers and inserting them into natasha's tight warm cunt.

"fuck!" nat moans, clenching around your two fingers as they reach that spongey spot deep inside of her. "faster, принцесса. wanna cum for you."

her dirty words sent you into a frenzy. using all of your strength left to make her gush. the noises were so lewd it made your head spin. her back arches and soft moans fall from her lips as she tugs on your hair. like a faucet, she's leaking all over your hand, your face, and down on yours and logan's shared sheets.

behind you, logan is too busy trying not to cum inside of you too soon. he's gripping your hips so hard you know that there will be bruising left behind. every now and then you can hear him grunting and smack the fat of your ass, watching as it bounces back at him. the pleasure builds in your tummy. logan's hand snakes under you to rub at your clit.

"f-faster, lo." you whimper, lifting your mouth off of natasha for a second.

"i gotcha, princess." he groans, doing so.

within seconds, you release all over him. the string of moans vibrate against nat's core, overstimulating her until she cums again, soaking your face entirely. logan doesn't last much longer either. he paints your walls white and keeps you stuffed with his cum, only pulling out when it starts to sting a little.

the three of you are quiet for a moment, needing time to recover. who would've thought that two russia assassins and a mutant would need time to recover from anything, let alone sex.

logan's the first to move, going to bring towels and some water. you rest your head on natasha's stomach, she runs her nails against your scalp the same way she would when you woke up from nightmares. a tear rolls down your cheek, thinking about her running away again.

"what's wrong, принцесса?" she whispers, hearing you soft cry.

"just dreading you leaving again." you mutter, afraid to look up at her.

"hey, i'll be here as long as you want me here." she says, lifting your chin up.

"tasha, someone needs to save those girls. dreykov won't stop until someone comes after him."

there's a long pause of silence before she says anything again. her eyes glued to the ceiling, trying not to cry.

"you know, i used to picture a simple life for the two of us. something similar to this actually, minus the grumpy looking man in the kitchen. i wanted to give you a piece of normalcy but i kept running away, afraid i was the one putting you in harms way." she sighs shakily. "i shouldn't have ran. i should've come back. there's so much i couldn't give you but i see that logan can do that for you."

"look, i love logan more than anything but why can't we make it work too?" your question makes both natasha and logan pause, as he returns into the bedroom.

natasha looks up at logan, ready for him to finally yell and kick her out. especially now that she's coming between the two of you. instead he's looking over at you with a spark of love in his gaze.

"i don't think logan would appreciate sharing you full time." she says, avoiding your wide eyed stare.

"i just want my girl to be happy." he responds, lighting another cigar. "think she would be happier with both of us, red."

the time has never been right for you and natasha but who says it needs to be? she's finally back in your life again and you can't risk letting her go again.

"we will help you track down yelena and fight with you to free those girls from the redroom but i want you here with us, natty. please don't go again."

she finally looks down at you and her heart melts. how would she be able to leave you again? not after today. this is where her heart lied, here with you.

"of course, i'll stay принцесса."

[nadvs]

looking to score (one-shot)

pairing footballcaptain! rafe cameron x female headcheerleader! reader

rating explicit 18+

summary rafe has been flirting with you all season long. just when you think he’s never going to actually seal the deal, you do something to make him dangerously jealous and he realizes he’ll need you to prove who you’re loyal to.

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

The state championship game coming up means there are two sure things you can count on.

One, you have to hold twice as many cheerleading practices to make sure your routines are clean and flawless.

And two, everyone on campus has Rafe Cameron’s name in their mouth.

He’s the starting quarterback, the captain of the football team, the fucking pride and joy of your college. For him, it’s awesome. He loves the attention. As for you, you’ve given up on trying to stifle your eye-rolls any time someone mentions him.

Rafe is the cockiest man you’ve ever known. Your interactions with him have been limited, but telling. He’s been teasing you all season, flirting and acting like he’ll finally put a move on you. But then he never does.

Before every home game, as team captains, you stand first in your respective line in the tunnelled corridor that leads out to the football field. This gives Rafe a nice few minutes to flirt with you and does he love to lay it on thick.

Today, finally, it’s the day of the championship game, and your college is hosting. The campus is buzzing with excitement, colorful signs in the stands, every parking lot full.

You’re waiting in your usual spot. The crowds in the stands outside are roaring and the conversations of cheerleaders and college staff are bouncing around the concrete tunnel.

The players aren’t here yet, but you know it’s only a matter of minutes before Rafe leads them down the hall, pausing next to you, messing with you like always.

It’s almost torment the way he works you up, then does nothing about it. Nonetheless, you look forward to this little routine you two have and hope he puts his money where his mouth is one day.

Rafe lives for the buzz before a home meet. The local fame he amasses, the promise of an hour-long game where he’s celebrated for his aggression, the opportunity to talk to you before he steps out onto the field… it’s electrifying.

When he saunters down the corridor towards you, all height and breadth and fucking ego, his eyes trail down your body like he’s imagining what’s underneath your cheerleading uniform.

“Damn,” he lowly mutters to you. “I swear, that skirt keeps getting shorter.” He leans back against the hard wall, waiting for his cue to rush the field.

“Wishful thinking,” you reply, crossing your arms.

Rafe soaks in the sight of your cleavage, the way your tits press together under your v-neck top when you stand like that. His blood runs hot like it always does when he sees you.

“This is a big game,” he says. He’s rolling his helmet in his big hands, his shoulder pads wide, the red of his jersey somehow making his blue eyes look even bluer. “You shouldn’t be distracting me.”

“Do you ever give it a rest?” you ask. He bites his lip, gaze dropping to your legs.

“We both know you don’t want that.” His smirk is so cocky, his dimples so taunting, that you have to look away from him. He’s almost too hot.

“Got me there, Rafe,” you say sarcastically. When you roll your eyes at him, his dirty mind immediately imagines you doing that from pleasure while he fucks you.

“Good, get used to saying my name,” he chuckles.

“Because I’ll be screaming it later, right?” you quip. “Original.” Regardless, you feel yourself flush a little when you imagine him on top of you.

“I’m just sayin’, be prepared,” he says, amused as hell. The band starts playing the familiar entrance music in the stands, prompting you to get ready to run out.

“You want me so bad, it’s embarrassing.” You kneel over to pick your pompoms off the ground, purposely perking your ass in his direction. He feels his groin tighten at the view.

“I’m not embarrassed,” he says. You meet his eyes and can’t stifle the smile on your face, shaking your head as he pulls his helmet over his head.

Goddamn, he wish he knew if he actually had a chance with you. But he hasn’t ever made a real move, sure you’d reject him in a heartbeat. It’d be too big a blow to his ego.

The game is a close one through all four periods. You and your team cheer on the sidelines as the sun starts to set, trying to weaken the thick tension that stretches across the field.

Rafe plays fast and rough like usual, but you’ve noticed he has a sudden rivalry with one of the opposing players. Every time he gets even remotely close to number 33, who’s clearly been tasked with taking Rafe down, he’s shouting at him or shoving him.

His aggression is hot. Always has been. You look away from the field as if someone can read your mind.

Of course, it’s Rafe’s touchdown that wins the game for the home team. You’re elated, the cheering and applause and energy around you magnetizing.

You and the other cheerleaders storm the field, followed by the marching band and everyone on the coaching team.

In the crowd, you see Rafe with his helmet off, smiling the biggest you’ve ever seen. The stadium lights are strong, washing him in a bright light, showcasing the handsome planes of his face.

“Don’t rub it in, huh?” you hear. You turn to see a player from the other team smirking at you, his helmet hanging off his fingers.

“Kind of my job,” you reply, gesturing to your pompoms. He laughs, nodding as he looks down. Okay, he’s cute.

Rafe’s impulse is to look for you, brag to you about his win and about how you have no choice but to cheer for him.

When his eyes land on you, you’re standing on the field looking so fucking cute with your hip cocked, smiling at…

His blood boils. You’re smiling at another guy. The guy who’s been dogging him and pissing him off the whole game. Number 33. Why the fuck are you smiling at him?

Rafe can’t control himself. He starts to push through the crowd to get you the hell away from that asshole, when the coach stops him, talking to him about their play.

He loses sight of you and it makes every sore muscle in his body tense.

When the team heads inside, Rafe doesn’t even have the patience to peel off his muddy uniform. He leaves his helmet in his locker and rushes out of the room to find you.

He’s pissed off at your lack of loyalty. He’d like to think it’s because he cares about the team that much, but no. You’re his. Some dickhead, especially one on the opposing team, isn’t going to flirt his way into your pants.

When he spots you walking through one of the hallways that surrounds the stadium, he rushes to you and grabs your wrist.

You look up to see Rafe staring down at you with hard eyes.

“Why were you talking to that asshole?” he asks over the sound of the chattering crowds surrounding you.

Excitement burns through you. Is he talking about the player who flirted with you? Damn. He’s jealous. You give him a gratified smile.

“Only asshole I talked to today was you,” you reply.

“What did he say?” he demands, voice low. What’s worse is that you fucking smiled at him, a smile that should only be reserved for him, but he won’t say that out loud.

“He was hitting on me,” you reply, smirking. “Hopefully he’ll actually do something about it. Unlike you.”

Your response throws him for a second. If you want him to follow through, to finally resolve months of sexual tension, he’ll gladly fucking do it.

He angrily yanks you towards him and you allow him to guide you through the throngs of spectators.

Rafe has one thing in mind. He knows where the visiting teams park their bus. And he’s taking you there.

He roughly pushes open the heavy door to the back parking lot, pulling you behind him. The evening air is warm and the area is dark and fenced up and all you can hear is his panting.

Hard hands find your hips and push you against the cold, metal wall of the bus. Rafe’s finally facing you again, his stare penetrating. Your heart is hammering with anticipation.

“You want me to do something about it, huh?” he rasps. He pushes his hips against yours, grinding against you.

“Fucking finally,” you breathe.

His lips are on yours as he huffs a chuckle, unable to believe that you’re crumbling for him this damn easily.

His tongue runs against yours and his body feels so firm, the smell of his sweat musky and so fucking sexy. You feel the bulge of his hardening cock against your groin and you buck against him.

His hand eagerly runs up your thigh, below your skirt. When his fingers press against your cunt, you jolt, your breath stopping for a second.

“You wet for me?” he asks, pads of his fingers pushing up against your entrance. His breath is hot, his nose nudging yours. Arousal coils in your stomach, tight and hot.

You feel so soft and moist through your panties. Rafe knows he won’t be able to simply touch you for much longer. He needs to be inside you.

“Mhm,” you can only desperately hum.

His other hand moves from your hip to your face, squeezing your cheeks together as he looks down at you.

“What’s that?” he asks.

“Yes,” you reply clearly, eyes boring into his.

Excitement pools in you when he moves his hands away to pull down his pants. You eagerly hike up your skirt and yank down your underwear.

It’s so fucking insane to be doing this out here. Someone could come through the door in a second. But the risk of it just adds to the thrill.

You revel in the sight of Rafe’s hard, curved cock in his hand. He’s fucking huge. You can admit the ego is warranted.

Rafe loves your expression, the way your lips are parted in surprise.

“Damn, look at you,” he huffs with a smirk. “You want this dick so bad.”

You eagerly lift your knee for him and he takes the invitation immediately, holding your leg up against his hip.

The feeling of him lining himself up against your cunt is mind-blowing. He pushes into you slowly, every inch feeling better than the last.

“How long have you wanted this?” he grunts once he bottoms out.

“Feels like fucking forever,” you admit breathlessly. “What took you so long?”

“Just be grateful you’re getting it,” Rafe replies. So cocky. Typical.

He pulls back then thrusts into you. Hard. You let out a strained sob and he inhales sharply at how nicely you’re squeezing around him.

“Oh, my God,” you whimper. The leg holding you up is wobbly already, making you grateful his hand is firmly hooked underneath your knee.

“You think that idiot can fuck you like this?” he says, driving in and out of you.

“No,” you say, and you mean it. You’re not sure anybody can pound into you so effortlessly, with so much passion.

You dip your head back, eyes squeezed shut while he fucks you.

“Don’t fucking talk to him again,” he orders, his hand rubbing over your chest and roughly kneading your tits.

This jealousy, this ownership, is so fucking hot. He continues to pull in and out so hard and so fast that you know you’ll be sore tomorrow.

“I won’t,” you promise. He’s so big inside you, stretching you so nicely, that you feel your stomach tightening already. “Shit. I’m gonna cum.”

“Do it loudly,” he says with a self-satisfied laugh. “And say my name.”

You obey, and when the orgasm rocks through you, your blood runs hot and sparks go off through your entire body. Rafe feels you squeezing him even tighter and he groans, cumming inside you in hot waves, twitching.

You bite your lip as he pulls out, feeling aftershocks of pleasure rocking through you.

Realizing what you’ve just done, that you’re in a fully public area, you frantically pull up your panties and readjust your skirt. Rafe looks amused by your nervousness, slowly getting dressed again.

“That was…” you begin, but you don’t have the words. Rafe leans down, capturing your face in his hands again to kiss you deeply.

A loud bang forces you apart. You see a player from the opposing team stepping out the door, trailed by the rest of his team.

A few seconds earlier, and you’d have been mortified. But Rafe takes the opportunity to kiss you again before taking your hand and pulling you through the door, past the group of guys.

“Get home safe,” Rafe mutters to them with a smirk, his tone taunting and entirely disingenuous. He spots number 33 and smiles at him with nothing but contempt.

He squeezes your hand and tilts his head towards you as the two of you walk by the sullen man.

“Looks like you lost,” Rafe half-laughs, very clearly not talking about the game.

thank you to this anon for inspiring this fic! if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART THIRTEEN

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, heavy topics such as death, blood, and past trauma mentioned, lots of tension in this chapter masterlist

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

“Shadow’s Peak,” Price began, pointing to the circled island that seemed to be parted from all of its neighboring ones, “is where Graves resides when he’s not at sea. Nobody’s been to the island that’s been able to return home. It’s cursed to many, deemed uninhabitable.”

“If you have never visited it, then how do you know?” you risked asking.

Price looked up from the map, a frown on his face. “Ghost,” he answered, and you let out a sound of recognition. “You must understand that Graves is known amongst the people as a danger, same as us. People see monsters when they see pirates, but Graves lives up to the name.”

You trailed your finger along the map, studying the remote island and the ink around it. It looked as if Price had been the one to sketch it out himself, rather than a merchant selling it with the island displayed.

Monsters, you thought. For a long time, you were in the same boat as others. Pirates were never in good fortune. They were a rarity, but when they appeared on land in the public, you’d heard the stories. They almost never ended well.

“I do not think you are monsters,” you murmured quietly, more so to yourself than anything. Still, Price cocked his head, eyes locked in on you as you kept your own focused on the map.

“Even now, after everythin’ we’ve done?” he asked, watching the way your fingers flattened against the map. “You do not view us in the light everybody sees is in?”

You finally looked up at him, and you felt your breath catch in your throat uncomfortably. Your gaze flickered over his face, down to the frown lines permanently etched into his skin, and the way his eyebrows tugged together in heavy doubt.

“Perhaps at first, I did,” you admitted honestly. His expression didn’t falter, and he seemed to be expecting that answer. “I do not now. I have seen the true monster and where it hides. It is not you.”

Price blinked, softening. A look of relief passed over him. “We have done horrible things,” he muttered. “We are prepared to do more until we can no longer. I truly hope you’re aware of what you are agreein’ to, dove.”

You pressed your lips together. You contemplated, though you knew your answer and had already made it previously. You knew the moment Graves invaded your mind and filled it with parasites that he was the true monster in your world and not Price or his men.

It didn’t make their doings any better, not did it excuse it. But you knew they were trying, and that was all you could do in return.

Perhaps you were an idiot for thinking so.

“You will protect me?” you asked Price, catching him off guard.

“With my life,” he confirmed instantly. “I will not allow you to be harmed. I swear on it.”

You watched his finger cross an X over his chest. You didn’t know why it made your heart pick up its pace.

He was swearing to you, on behalf of him and his men, to keep your life as untouched as possible. It was an oath that was to be taken serious. Price was devoting his life to yours the same he did with Soap, Gaz, and Ghost as their Captain.

“What is your plan, Captain?” You gestured to the map, right at Shadow’s Peak that sat on the paper in its lonesome wake. “With Graves. What exactly is the outcome you wish for?”

Price looked at Shadow’s Peak briefly, his eyes hardening. The mood in the room shifted, and the heaviness weighed on your chest when you took a sharp breath in.

There was a protectiveness that came over him, one you were beginning to recognize when the thought of his men or you getting harmed seemed to take control of his thoughts. The idea that he cared enough for you that he placed you in the same category of priority as his men had your mind running astray.

“He has to die,” he grunted out firmly. There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation or doubt in his tone. “One way or another, I’m goin’ to kill that fuckin’ beast. For Ghost, and for you.”

Your breath hitched at the pure determination he exuded, the way his fists clenched on the table and jaw tightened until it looked painfully taut. Wide-eyed, you said nothing outwardly, though your mind was a gamble.

He was willing to kill for you. He was willing to die for you.

You shouldn’t be thinking that way. It was crude even being flattered by the prospect of it, yet your heart and mind were both in unity with how you were growing increasingly flustered.

When Price’s gaze met yours, and the hardness immediately softened and was replaced with a distant tenderness filled with words unsaid, you weren’t sure how much longer your thoughts could be suppressed.

“I’m goin’ to fuckin’ kill him, dove,” he said softly, a stark contrast to the venomous words being spoken.

Your fingernails dug into your palms, fists growing clammy and restless by your sides.

“I understand,” you whispered with a curt nod.

Price’s eyes flickered over your features, the silence growing between you two. His hand furled and unfurled on the table, fighting with itself to not reach out and touch you.

“You look tired,” he murmured, tearing his gaze away. “You should go get some rest.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but quickly snapped it shut when you realized. Price seemed to be in just as much a whirl of confused emotions as you. He was giving you an out, while also expressing his desire to be alone.

You could respect that. After all, you truly were tired, given your earlier sleep was interrupted by the cruel, cold hands of death knocking at your doorstep.

“Alright,” you agreed softly. “You should rest as well, Captain. You wear yourself out too much.”

Price looked up at you in surprise, expression furrowing. He bristled, slumping with a quiet chuckle under his breath. Shaking his head to himself, he spoke. “I have never been the one told to rest. It is usually me doin’ the biddin’.”

You smiled, watching his every movement as he sat in his chair, melting into it. “Perhaps you need to hear it more often,” you reckoned in amusement.

Price smiled back, and you did your damn hardest to ignore the low ache it gave you in your chest. “Perhaps I do,” he hummed. “Go on and rest, dove. We will talk in the mornin’.”

You nodded briefly, shooting him a farewell before retreating out of his quarters and into the night. The Captain watched as you left, eyes lingering on the door even after your absence, before forcing himself to bed, only because you told him to.

Strange girl, he thought to himself, yet his heart thought otherwise.

Upon entering your shared quarters, you nearly flung up in surprise to see Soap meddling about. Your clothes were spread out on his bed, and the miniature telescope you bought for Gaz was in his hands, held up to his eye as he peered through it curiously.

“What are you doing?” you asked suspiciously, eyes narrowed in on the telescope.

Soap startled, dropping the telescope from his eye and clenching it between his hand. “Dove!” he exclaimed. “Give a man a warnin’, will ye?”

You mumbled an apology, stepping towards the bed and eyeing your clothes. “Why are you going through my things?”

“Ach, I’m a nosy lad. Ye can’t buy all these things and not expect me to go through ‘em,” he tsked, and at your side-eyed glare, he stammered. “Don’t look at me like that. Makes me nervous.”

You let out a heavy sigh, seating yourself on the edge of the bed. You carefully grasped one of the flowy dresses you bought for yourself, thumbs running over the fabric. Its quality was rich, much richer than you were used to, and it felt soft under your touch.

“It’s pretty,” Soap hummed. “Didn’t expect ye to be into dresses like that.”

“I never had the opportunity or funds,” you explained, staring down at the dress. “Gaz was very gracious with gifting me the money.”

Soap cocked his head, looking between the dress and you. “That lad never buys me anythin’,” he huffed, taking a seat next to you. The telescope sat carefully in his lap. “And here he is, buyin’ ye a whole store.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at him. You briefly recalled Ghost seeming just as confused by the generosity. “Is this not common?”

Soap snorted, shaking his head. “Nah. Gaz is a stickler with his money. Doesn’t like to spend it unless necessary.” He sniffed, peering down at the fabric in your lap. “He clearly didn’t care to give ye some, though.”

You were surprised, to say the least. Gaz didn’t seem the type to be cautious with his spendings, and to learn that he gave you money despite that left you just as confused.

He had no reason to do so. He was simply being generous. But now, knowing it wasn’t just something he did casually, it left you wondering.

“Strange,” you muttered to yourself. Soap gave a hum of agreement.

“What’s this, by the way?” he asked, lifting the telescope. He inspected it, turning it in his hand. “Ye don’t seem the type to use it.”

You watched as he fiddled with it, growing a sense of protectiveness. You were scared he’d break it, or worse, deem it unusable.

“Gaz’s one request was to bring him back a gift,” you explained. “I know he likes to sit and watch the sky at night when it is quiet and peaceful. I got him a telescope to make the experience better.”

Soap’s eyebrows raised and he placed the scope to his eye, frowning. “I don’t think it works, dove.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “It does not work well indoors, Soap. It is meant for distance.”

“Ah.”

He pulled it away, smoothing a thumb over the gold detailing. As if sensing your faint distress, he turned to you, holding it out. “Ye gonna give it to him?”

You took it graciously, cupping it in your palm. “Do you know where he is?”

Soap nodded, giving you a toothy smile. “North end of the deck. That’s his favorite spot.”

You noted that in your mind. Gaz was always a lonely wanderer, so it came as no surprise that he was on the opposite end of the ship, soaking in the quiet. That was something the two of you had in common.

You couldn’t help but wonder. “Do you think he will like it?” you asked, uncertain.

You felt silly, stressing yourself over whether Gaz will appreciate your gift. A gift was all it was, one he specifically told you to surprise him with, yet you found your stomach in knots.

Soap lifted a hand, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. When you looked at him, he was smiling softly, a hint of amusement glistening in his eyes.

“He’ll love it,” he assured kindly, and he gave you no reason to think otherwise. “Though, I also like gifts.”

You felt your lips curl up involuntarily and you laughed lightly, something Soap reflected. “There is no need to be envious, Soap,” you jested, standing from the bed. “It is but a one time thing.”

Soap beamed, eyes following you as you stood. “Just a mental note for the future,” he replied back cooly.

You shook your head, making your way towards the door with the telescope in your grasp. You felt Soap watching you, and when you turned, you stilled when he seemed to be in thought so quickly.

“I really do think the dresses are pretty, by the way,” he murmured, voice much quieter. “They… suit ye.”

Your gaze flickered over to the dresses muddled behind him before returning to him. “Thank you,” you replied warmly. “I’ll be sure to try them on tomorrow.”

Soap smiled softly, giving you a nod. You returned the favor, turning back around to leave the quarters, beginning your mission to find the mysterious pirate who loved to vanish in the night.

Your nerves grew the closer you got to the North end of the ship, and you weren’t sure why. It wasn’t as if Gaz were a danger nor a stranger, yet your heart pounded aggressively against your rib cage with every step you took.

The telescope felt infinitely heavier in your hand, and you repeatedly swiped your thumbs over the gold detailing to rid it of any grimy fingerprints and ensure it looked good as new.

Gaz was exactly where Soap said he’d be, and you instantly paused your walking, staring at his back. His gaze was towards the sky, shoulders relaxed and at ease. One knee pulled towards him while the other dangled loosely over the edge.

“Gaz?” you called out quietly as not to startle him.

Gaz’s head tilted back to look at you, and a smile graced his lips. “Hey, dove. Y’alright?”

You stepped closer until you were standing by his side, peering down at the dark abyss the ocean offered below. It was black, your eyes struggling to adjust to the waves that lapped at the ship.

“Mm. Soap told me I could find you here.”

Gaz studied you, curious. “What’s the occasion?” he asked, before his gaze dropped down to your furled hand that held the telescope.

You shifted awkwardly on your feet, before Gaz gestured for you to sit beside him. You complied, letting your legs dangle with his one over the edge, knee brushing his.

“What’s that?” he questioned in faint amusement, nodding towards the telescope.

Gosh, you didn’t know why you felt so unnerved. Perhaps it was due to this being the first time you were gifting somebody something special. You feared he wouldn’t like it, and your heart kept lurching out of your chest as if it were running a marathon.

“Your gift,” you answered, slowly reaching the telescope out. He took it carefully, immediately observing the intricate detailing. “I know you like coming out at night, so I thought it may help you see the sky better.”

Your hands furled into fists on your thighs. You kept your gaze on the sea, reveling in the breeze that came with.

Why wasn’t he saying anything?

It had knots growing in your throat that you desperately tried to swallow down.

You felt foolish and silly. The entire duration of your stay on the ship, you held your ground and stalked your claim. You remained stubborn and fearless for as much as your fragile heart could possibly take, yet all it took for your resolve to crumble was a sickening anxiety over whether or not Gaz liked his gift.

It felt like you were a little girl again, fighting for approval from the other kids in the village. Wondering why you had to be different, why they couldn’t be friendly towards you.

You felt so stupid—

“Hm. You win,” he hummed, smiling faintly to himself.

You whipped your head up to look at him. The scope was pressed to his eye as he gazed up at the stars, admiring them through a new lens.

“What?” you breathed, confused.

“Our negotiation,” he recalled, pulling the scope away to glance at you. “You win.”

You stared at him dumbly, realization creeping in. If he didn’t like your gift, you were to owe him the money back for the clothes. If he did, then you were home free.

“You like it?” you asked, unsure. You thought he was messing with you. He was secretly more of a tease than Soap, and you knew it just from the day of the negotiation alone.

“Oh, yeah. This thing is a real dime,” he assured, inspecting the telescope in his hand. “You know me better than I thought. Lucky you.”

You watched as he looked into the scope again, his other eye squinting to focus. You shifted your gaze to join him in looking up while your stomach twisted and rolled in shot nerves.

“It’s a shame I lost, but I can’t deny that this is somethin’ I would’ve killed to have had I thought of it. You did well, dove,” he praised and you felt your heart leap.

Gaz turned to you before holding out the scope. You raised your eyebrows, shaking your head and throwing your hands up in protest. “No, it’s for you—”

“Look through it, dove,” he sighed. “Give it a shot.”

You paused, glancing down at the scope. You hesitantly took it, giving Gaz a quick look before lifting the scope to your eye.

The sky was pretty before, but now, it was breathtaking to look at. You didn’t appreciate it enough before.

Through the lens, the stars twinkled brightly, waving hello. They were much easier to see, and much more beautiful up close.

You could finally understand why Gaz enjoyed his time out here. It was as if lying under a blanket of warmth, shielded away from the troubles day brought and invited into a night of oasis.

“Beautiful,” Gaz breathed out. “Am I right?”

You nodded, lost in the shining lights. It truly was, and you felt calmer than ever since your first night aboard. In the night sky, there was no Graves, nor danger waiting for you. Just blissful serenity.

You reluctantly pulled the scope away, handing it back to Gaz. He was already looking at you, and when you met eyes, he grinned, taking the scope.

“It’s a nice gift, birdie,” he said calmly. “No need to beat yourself up about it. I could feel you gettin’ all nagged up before you even arrived.”

He knew you were there? Embarrassment flooded your body and you grumbled in feigned annoyance, looking away. He snickered to himself, resuming his time with the scope.

The air filled with a light silence, the only sound being the crashing waves that seemed to further the peace. It was an escape from the hands of life, and you understood enough to see Gaz in a new life.

He was a pirate, through and through, but that human side of him stilled longed for a simple life. You couldn’t help but think of the last time the two of you spoke beneath a blanketed sky, when he had confessed he was a prince, yet turned to a life of crime.

“What was your life like before?” you couldn’t help but ask. “Before you were a pirate, I mean. When you were a… prince.”

Gaz made a noise under his breath, one of thought, and he slowly removed the scope, letting his hand fall into his lap.

“I had everythin’ I could ever want,” he started slowly. He made no efforts to look at you, lost in his own world.

“Then why’d you leave?” you pushed.

Gaz glanced at you from the corner of his eye before sighing through his nose. “Everythin’ can still mean nothin’,” he explained. “There was an arranged marriage between a princess from a neighboring country and I. When I flat out refused, it caused tension.”

Gaz twiddled with the telescope absentmindedly, his focus stuck on the stars. You wondered if he was embarrassed or ashamed.

“I didn’t want a lifetime of dead romance between a woman I did not want. I wanted freedom and individuality,” he continued, growing solemn by the second. You could feel the passion in his words.

“Did you run away, then?” you asked, curious. “You left the kingdom?”

Gaz snorted through his nose, though it was more bitter than amused. “I fled like a coward,” he corrected sharply. “War broke out the moment I left. Blood and ash was the only thing left of my home.”

You gawked in surprise, feeling a tightness in your chest. It seemed all too familiar, in which your home was destined with the same fate. By none other than him, too. It was dramatic irony.

“Your family?” you whispered, and he shrugged.

“Dead, surely.” His fiddling with the telescope grew more consistent. “I wouldn’t know.”

You frowned, turning away from him when he began to seem uncomfortable. Whether it was with your questions or simply his past, you weren’t sure, but you hated ruining a decent moment. They were rare as is.

“I apologize,” you murmured lowly. Gaz perked up, throwing you a weary look.

“Hm?” He sat up straighter, shifting so his body faced towards you. “Why are you apologizin’?”

“I made things uncomfortable for you,” you replied, deflated. “It is a difficult topic, I understand. So, I apologize.”

Gaz went quiet, staring at you with eyes that felt like they’d pierce through your soul. Then, he smiled, tilting his head to the side and eyeing you down. “That is to nobody’s fault but my own,” he assured kindly. “You lost your home just as much as I. I am not uncomfortable talkin’ with you.”

You lifted your head up enough to side eye him, testing the waters. He didn’t appear upset, especially not with you, to your surprise. You’re used to Price having an easy temper to set off, yet Gaz acted as if no anguish had been spoken.

You felt relieved.

“I am glad,” you commented stiffly, awkwardly. “I do not feel uncomfortable talking to you as well.”

Gaz released a lovely laugh that filled the air, easing the previous tension you’d been building on your own. “I’m glad myself, birdie,” he retorted easily. “I appreciate the gift.”

The gift sat in his palm, no longer being fiddled and moved at an anxious rate. It sat calmly, his grip light on it, as if he was now worried about holding it too tightly and damaging it.

“Soap told me you do not normally offer luxuries to them, nor yourself,” you recalled. “Was I a special case?”

Gaz hummed in thought, a smile gracing his radiant features. You had to stifle your own beating heart and sweaty palms. “I feel bad for you,” he confessed without a moment’s hesitation. “I figured an act of kindness could go a long way with you. It seems it has.”

He shook the telescope teasingly before letting it rest back on his lap. You smiled small, happy to know he truly enjoyed the gift and not simply out of pity.

“You do not have to feel bad for me,” you assured. “I will be quite alright.”

“Will you?”

You cocked your head in question.

“It is a lot to take on for a bird like yourself. You should be out there, livin’ how you want. Now stuck on here with us,” Gaz said. His expression was unreadable, but you could sense the slight concern.

“I could say the same for you, could I not?” you replied with a shrug. “You also seem to suffer similar fate.”

Gaz quirked his eyebrows, pursing his lips. He mulled over your words, giving them a decent thought. Truthfully, he knew you were correct. Perhaps that’s why he liked you.

“You win again, dove,” he replied softly, a warm smile on his face.

You smiled back, unable to hold back the sudden burst of feeling that coursed through your veins. Gaz made you feel heard, and under the concept of moonlight and stars, it made everything feel much more of a rush.

Your eyes locking on to one another’s made you nervous, even more so that he did it so shamelessly. It seemed as if the two of you got lost in time, the world around you freezing. The sound of waves faded away, the rocking of the boat seizing to a halt.

“Thank you for the telescope,” Gaz thanked, voice soft as ever. You nearly missed it.

You fumbled for words, wanting to look away but unable to. “It is nothing,” you murmured, fisting the fabric of the old night shirt you wore and had yet to discard.

Your daze seemed to falter momentarily when you felt a finger graze your cheek, the touch gentle as it mapped out your skin. Gaz seemed just as entranced as you, and in that moment, you grew fearful.

Fearful of what?

You couldn’t figure it out.

The distance between the two of you seemed closer than ever, and you don’t recall either of you moving. The realization made you jolt, forcefully tearing your eyes away and leaning back.

“I am glad you like your gift,” you muttered, flustered. You made quick work to stand on your feet, stumbling in the process. “I should rest. Enjoy your night, Gaz.”

You didn’t stick around to see the surprised look on Gaz’s face, nor how it morphed into crestfallen. You left as quickly as you could, making haste to the shared quarters so you could lock yourself in, pray to the Gods you fell asleep before he returned, and that Soap wasn’t awake to burden you with any questions.