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surielstea · 1 month ago

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The Taste of Heaven

Kinktober day 5: Face riding + Impact

Pairing: Cassian x Fem!Reader

Summary: Cassian missed his mate, enough said.

2.1k words.

"Gods, I missed you so much sweetheart," Cassian confessed into my open mouth as my hips winded over his.

He had been gone, sent on a mission in Illyria for over two weeks. Over two weeks without my mate, without his warm laughter, without his wicked tongue that nothing could ever hope to replicate.

"Missed you more," I mumble, kissing him harder, needing him in my very bones in a sense, wanting him more than just inside of me but a part of me until I didn't know where he ended and where I began. "Please," I whisper.

"Please what? What can I do for you?" He asked, kissing sloppily down my jaw, my neck that he was already leaving marks on.

I didn't know how to answer his question, because in all honesty, I was unsure what I was pleading for, I only knew that I wanted more, so instead I breathed, "Whatever you want."

He smiled at that, his lips popping from the delicate skin of my neck. "Sit on my face," He ordered and my core tightened into knots, the kind impossible to untangle. I pulled away from his touch, breathing heavily as I pushed him down onto the bed and rid myself of my panties quicker than he could process.

He throws his head back in pure ecstasy as he watches my movements, his hands on my—now bare, hips and gripping me roughly, pulling me closer to his mouth. "So perfect," He raggedly whispered, his tone consumed with need. He stared at me like a starved man, and I was a full-course meal laid out in front of him.

I crawled up closer, now hovering over his parted lips. He impatiently attempted to pull me down but I resisted, holding myself up. "Please," He whispered, desperate to taste, to lick, to consume.

"Too heavy," I shake my head, and if it weren't for his dire need for me he might've scoffed a laugh, but instead it was a low growl that came from him. "Sit, now," He demanded and something feral burned bright in the dark pit of my stomach at his order.

"I might suffocate you," I continue to protest, despite my arousal now dripping down my thighs— much to his notice.

"Then I'll die a happy man, now sit or I'll make you," He gritted out, his hazel eyes filled with lust and desire and every needy emotion in between. I suck in a sharp breath and ever so slowly, lower myself.

He grows bored of my hesitance and pushes me the rest of the way down with his outmatched strength, and the moment his tongue meets my throbbing cunt, I lose all defiance and melt.

A moan tore from my throat, my head falling back as the heat of his mouth enveloped me completely. His tongue swirled and flicked against my swollen clit with practiced precision, and I couldn't stop the way my hips instinctively ground down onto his face. Cassian groaned beneath me, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of my hips as if trying to anchor me there. He worked me with fervor, relentless in his need to bring me pleasure, every sound he made sending vibrations through my core.

I tried to lift myself, worried again about the weight I was putting on him, but one of his large hands came down sharply on my thigh—once, twice. The sting was immediate, sharp, and hot, sending a jolt straight to my center.

"Stay," he growled against me, his voice muffled by my thighs but commanding nonetheless. The roughness of his voice paired with the sharp bite of pain made me dizzy with need. "I don't want you anywhere else."

I whimpered, my legs trembling as I sank down fully onto him and gave in to his demand. His tongue darted between my folds, circling my clit before sucking it, hard. My entire body jerked in response, and I had to grab the headboard in front of me to steady myself.

"Cassian—" I gasped, but it was cut off by the sting of his hand on my ass this time, the impact making me grind down harder. The burn was exquisite, each smack pushing me closer to the edge, making my arousal pool between my thighs, into his wanting mouth.

“Fuck,” He grunted lustfully, almost feral, and I felt his hands squeeze the abused skin where he'd struck, soothing and rough at once. His mouth never slowed, and I could barely think, barely breathe.

My nails dug into the wood of the headboard, providing me leverage while I arched my back, while he thoroughly devoured me. He responded with another slap, harder this time, and I yelped, the sound turning into a needy moan as pleasure and pain mixed in a heady cocktail that left me trembling above him. I was coming undone, piece by piece, and Cassian reveled in it.

"Cass, I'm—" I panted, the pressure building low in my stomach, tightening with every flick of his tongue and every punishing smack of his palm against my skin. "I'm so close."

His fingers dug into my hips again, pulling me down as he licked at me, each stroke more fervent, more determined. I couldn't hold back any longer, the orgasm barreling through me as I cried out his name, my body shuddering with the force of it. I ground down on his face, riding out the waves of pleasure as his tongue continued to work me, drawing every last bit from me.

But he didn't stop. Even as I told him too much, even as I whimpered and pleaded that I couldn’t take anymore, he kept going.

His tongue lapped at me with an insatiable hunger. He groaned into me, as though drunk on my taste, his hands squeezing my hips hard enough to leave bruises as he pulled me down harder onto his mouth. I gasped, trying to pull away, but his grip only tightened.

"Gods—" I breathed, squirming as the pleasure became too much. The overstimulation was unbearable, my body twitching from the onslaught. I tried to lift myself off him, my hands pushing against his chest, but he was far too strong. He growled again, his hand coming down hard on my ass, a sharp crack that made me cry out in surprise.

"Where do you think you're going?" he growled, the sound muffled by my thighs. "You're going to give me more."

The sting of his hand and the way his tongue continued to tease me made my breath hitch, my body spasming as he forced me to endure the overstimulation. My legs shook uncontrollably, but he held me in place, not giving me a chance to escape his tongue.

"Please, I—" I gasped, but before I could finish, his hand landed another punishing slap on my thigh. The pain mixed with the lingering pleasure, leaving me dizzy, and my thoughts hazy.

"You can take it," he murmured, his voice rough and low as he licked up my arousal, savoring every drop. "Give me another one."

My body thrashed as he worked me again, his tongue never slowing. I was completely at his mercy, his hands bruising my hips as he dragged me through the endless, torturous pleasure. My overstimulated nerves made everything feel sharper, and brighter, every flick of his tongue sending me spiraling further. I was crying out, shaking, barely able to breathe as another orgasm crept up on me, quick and unexpected.

When it hit, I couldn't hold back the scream. My body convulsed on top of him, and this time, I sobbed his name as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through me, my vision going white.

Only then did he slow, his tongue still teasing, still tasting, but gentler now, drawing out every last tremor of pleasure as I trembled above him. His hands rubbed soothing circles onto my thighs, the stinging sensation fading into a pleasant hum as I slowly came down from the overwhelming high.

When I finally managed to pull away, collapsing beside him on the bed, I could barely form a coherent thought. Cassian's face was still slick with my release, his hazel eyes dark with lust as he leaned down to kiss me, possessive and tender all at once.

"You taste like heaven," he murmured against my lips, his voice hoarse with desire. "Gods, I missed you." He repeated as if remembering how much he cherished the sweet feeling of me finding arrival on his tongue alone. His hand came down, caressing so softly where he had struck me, soothing the lingering burn with his calloused fingertips. "Did I hurt you? Was it too much?" He asked softly, his voice a little more raw than I had anticipated.

I smiled and shook my head, wrapping my arms around the back of his neck and pulling him impossibly closer. "No, no it felt good, all of it felt good," I reassured and his worried frown turned into a feline grin faster than I could blink.

"Come here," he whispered, his voice low and calming. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into the broad expanse of his chest. For a long moment, he simply held me there, his heart beating steadily beneath my cheek, a contrast to the wild thudding of just moments ago.

He shifted us carefully, rolling me onto my back with him still hovering above. "Let me take care of you, sweetheart," he murmured. His thumb brushed my cheek as his lips pressed a kiss to the top of my head.

He slipped out of the bed for a moment, and I heard the rustle of fabric as he grabbed a towel from the adjacent bathing chambers and my softest nightgown from my armoire in the corner. He returned swiftly, his large, warm hands moving carefully as he cleaned me up, his touch so gentle it sent a subtle shiver down my spine. There was nothing hurried about his movements, nothing rushed. He took his time, his expression softening as he wiped away the evidence of our passion. The silence between us wasn't awkward; it was full of care, full of unspoken understanding.

When he was done, he tossed the towel aside and slid my chiffon nightgown on. He smiled amusedly as I struggled to push my head through the neckline, my hair a mess as he helped me pull it down fully. "There," He whispered, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. "I'm so in love with you," He confessed and I flushed a deep tint, despite the fact that we've been mates for centuries, it was the earnest and genuine tone of his words that still had butterflies soaring in the pit of my stomach.

I couldn't conjure a reply in time before he was getting back into bed with me, pulling the covers up and over the both of us. He gathered me against him, cradling me to his chest once more, his hands running lazily up and down my spine in soothing strokes.

"You're sure you're okay, right?" Cassian asked quietly, his voice filled with sincere concern.

"I'm perfect," I whispered back, feeling the weight of exhaustion begin to settle in.

He tilted my chin up, pressing a lingering kiss to my lips. "You're perfect," he confirmed, his words brimming with admiration. His hand returned to rubbing my back, the repetitive motion lulling me into relaxation. "Let me know if anything feels sore tomorrow. I can rub it out for you," he added with a teasing grin, though the warmth in his voice remained.

I chuckled, nestling deeper into his hold. "Sounds wonderful," I murmured, my voice fading with sleep creeping in.

He shifted us one last time, pulling me more comfortably against him, our limbs tangled beneath the blankets. His fingers threaded through my hair, massaging my scalp with that same tender care, and it made my eyes flutter shut, a contented sigh escaping my lips.

"I missed you so much, sweetheart," he whispered again, his voice softer, more vulnerable in the quiet after the storm of our passion. "Every day without you was torture."

I smiled against his muscled chest, my fingers drawing lazy circles on his tattooed skin. "I missed you too," I mumbled sleepily, my words drifting off mid-sentence.

His arms tightened around me protectively, his lips pressing another soft kiss to the crown of my head. "Rest now," he whispered, his voice soothing. "I'm not going anywhere."

With Cassian's warmth surrounding me, his steady heartbeat beneath my ear, and the lingering tenderness in his touch, I finally let myself drift off, safe and cherished in the arms of my mate.

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drewsephrry · 6 months ago

Text

guilty as sin?

Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Words: 11.8k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, alcohol and drug consumption, cuss words, violence (punches mostly), cheating

Inspired by: Guilty as Sin? by Taylor Swift (and most of the songs from The Tortured Poets Department)

loml

party at top's 2nite

be ready by 8

Seen 5:53 pm

You

okay

i love you

Delivered 5:54 pm

You and Y/Bf/N have been together for three years now, but it feels a lot different than how it started.

At first he was really sweet, thoughtful and caring. He brought you flowers for most if not all of your dates. You loved him so much and trusted him with your whole life.

Although everyone around you seemed to have a very different opinion than you.

All the wine moms in their Sunday best would be clutching their pearls, sighing, whispering “What a mess!” whenever you would walk in the Country Club. They would shake their heads saying "God, help her" when you would tell them he's your man.

God save the most judgmental creeps who say they want what's best for you.

You had a lot of arguments with your parents about him and if he was taking care of you. Most of the arguments ending with you screaming “But daddy I love him.”

But lately, he was more distant.

When you went out or he was over at your house, where you spent most of your time together, he would sit on his phone. And you had gotten bored, feeling the need to cry when he left without kissing you or saying ‘I love you’ back.

But you couldn't just throw everything you had built away to the wolves or onto the ocean rocks.

You were in the middle of picking out an outfit for the party, when you heard the notification sound on your phone. You picked it up, expecting your boyfriend had replied but what you saw made you smile wider.

rafey

heard this today and thought of homecoming lol

*The Downtown Lights by The Blue Nile*

Seen 6:17 pm

Rafe had sent you the song that you had danced with him back in the homecoming dance that you hadn't heard in a while. You smiled at the memory and sent him a picture you had in your favorites folder, of you two in front of your staircase. Toothy grins and his tie matching the maroon color of your dress.

You

how could i forget?

*image attached*

Seen 6:18 pm

You and Rafe had been friends for many years, mostly because you and Sarah were best friends since you were both 5. That meant that you both spent a lot of time in each other's houses, going on vacations with your families and having family dinners almost each week.

You couldn't help but take a liking to the older Cameron, because he was always kind and sincere to you, despite what everyone else was saying. He was always there for you when you needed him.

When your homecoming date canceled on you at the last minute, Rafe stepped in without a second thought. Even if he was two years older than you and your friend group. Or when you first got your heart broken, he had gone out to buy you ice cream and stayed with you while you were watching ‘The Notebook’ with Sarah.

“He built her the house, Rafey!”

Or when you were in the Bahamas with the Camerons and your family and your period decided to ruin your vacation, Rafe was the one who went out and got you everything you needed.

“Can you unlock the door for me sweetheart? I got you the stuff.”

And afterwards stayed with you to ensure you were okay and did impressions of his family to make you laugh.

Or last year, when you and your friends had all decided to go to Florida. Everyone was high and they all reeked of weed. While you downed a bottle of wine and had accidentally locked yourself in the bathroom crying, wearing a short black skirt with the lacy details. Rafe was the only one who tried to help you out and when he finally got the door unlocked, he held you and tried to get you to quiet down.

“Shh, I know princess. You'll be alright”.

You were really ashamed to admit that Rafe had crossed your mind once or twice while dating your current boyfriend.

And you were mostly ashamed that he had invaded your mind in your more private moments with Y/Bf/N.

“How does that feel, sweetheart?” Y/Bf/N’s head, between your legs, his chin glistening with your wetness, his fingers inside you searching for that sweet spot that made you see stars. The sweet spot only you had found.

But the way he whispered the nickname that you had only ever heard from Rafe, made you close your eyes and imagine it was him fingering you.

“Ye-yeah, babe. Can you go faster?” You whispered, your eyes still shut and your hips grinding on Y/Bf/N's face. He smirked and dove right back in.

Your mind was still on Rafe though, imagining his long fingers touching that sweet spongy spot, his mouth sucking your clit, while his other hand would grab one of your tits, playing with the nipple.

“Mine.” Rafe whispered, pressing a kiss on your upper thigh while his fingers worked wonders inside you.

And that brought you closer and closer to your release. Moaning loudly, thankful that your parents had gone out.

“Baby, you squirted.” Y/Bf/N whispered, making you open your eyes and staring at him, sighing.

Was it a crime?

rafey

will you go to top's party tn?

Seen 6:21 pm

You

yes

wbu?

Seen 6:23 pm

rafey

see you there princess

Seen 6:24 pm

You giggled and continued roaming your closet to find a dress. You needed to take your mind off of Rafe, quickly and effectively. But all you could actually do is play Taylor Swift loudly on your speaker and get ready for the party.

At 8, your phone rang and you saw your boyfriend's contact.

“Hey, I'm putting on my shoes right now. Do you want to come upstairs?” You put your phone on speaker, while tying your heels.

“I'm leaving my house now. I'll be there in five. Just wait outside for me, okay?” You could hear him, buckling his seatbelt.

“That's alright. I'll see you in a bit. I love you and drive safely!” You smiled, finishing with your right foot.

“Yeah, bye.” He said, hanging up. You sighed, trying not to cry to avoid messing up your makeup.

Why was this so hard? You could do it with a broken heart.

After five minutes, you went outside and he had just parked, looking up from his phone when he heard your front door close. You got in and leaned over the console to give him a kiss on the lips, which he accepted.

“Hi baby. You smell good.” He said, starting the car.

“Thank you. It's the perfume your mom bought me for my birthday. I've put it on before.” You replied, buckling your seatbelt, sighing once again.

When you reached Topper's house, he helped you out of the car and walked with you inside the house, searching for your friend group. You found them in the kitchen, mixing up drinks and talking shit about a pogue that crashed Kelce's car.

All of the boys started hollering when you and your boyfriend, holding hands, entered the kitchen, greeting him with high fives. Topper gave you a side hug and thanked you for coming, to which you just smiled and replied that you wouldn't miss it. You felt Y/Bf/N pulling away from you to talk more with the other boys while you just stood in the middle of the kitchen, playing with the hem of your dress.

“Hey! There's my favorite girl!” A familiar voice was heard and you looked up to find Rafe approaching you. Holding a beer bottle, dressed in a light blue polo that showed every muscle of his.

Crashing into him made you feel like he's a paradox, making you question everything, even your own sanity and morality.

“Hi Rafey!” You smiled and he hugged you tightly when he was finally close. His scent engulfed you in a daydream, as you hugged him back.

“Fuck, are you wearing that perfume your ‘mother-in-law’ got you? Smells really good, sweetheart.” He said, grinning like the devil.

You nodded, surprised and looked around to search for Y/Bf/N, who was now gone.

“Want a drink?” Rafe asked, making you nod once more. “Your usual?” His grin wider as he approached the cooler pulling out a watermelon flavored Whiteclaw. You thanked him when he handed it to you and you grimaced when a shirtless guy with sunglasses entered the kitchen and started yelling.

“Let's go outside. It's quieter. Come on” He said, pulling your free hand to follow him. You looked around once more for Y/Bf/N but nodded to Rafe and let him pull you outside. His tan, veiny hand, way bigger than yours making your mind travel at what his long fingers could do.

Are you bad or mad or wise?

You shook your head from the dirty thoughts fogging up your brain and flushing your cheeks.

“He is there playing beer pong with the guys. Don't worry.” He exclaimed, walking outside and sitting down on a chair, pulling you to sit beside him.

“How have you been? I feel like I haven't seen you in forever!” He asked, sipping his beer. “Why haven't you been to Tannyhill lately? Did you and my sister fight or something?” He continued asking, chuckling with the last question thinking that was impossible.

“I've been good. Just really busy. I was literally there last week.” You replied, taking a sip of your Whiteclaw, the drink refreshening you. You looked to the table, where your boyfriend stood with his friends as they yelled at someone to throw the ball. You rolled your eyes and looked back at the cerulean ones, you couldn't stop thinking about.

Thinking about how he would stare at you while he would lower his mouth where you would need him the most, leaving love bites all over your breasts, your tummy and thighs. Then he would come back and messily kiss you, as he would enter you, swallowing your moans.

“Y/N, did I lose you?” He chuckled, snapping his fingers in front of you as you removed yourself from your trance. You felt your skin heating up, as you looked down and played with the hem of your dress once more.

Without ever touching his skin, how could you be guilty as sin?

“I'm sorry. Just in my head these days.” You apologized.

“Why? What's up? Is something bothering you with mr. Boring guy over there?” He asked, nodding his head towards the guys.

“What? He's not boring. If somebody's boring me, I think it's me.” You said quoting one of your favorite poets.

“Dylan Thomas? Really?” you looked at him, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

“Ho-Since when do you know Dylan Thomas?” you asked, never taken Rafe as a guy who reads poetry.

“Do you not remember? Last year? In Florida?” He asked, chuckling, also furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. “I called you a little alcoholic and you said that ‘an alcoholic is someone you don't like who drinks as much as you do’. I asked you where you got that from and you said Dylan Thomas. So afterwards, I found some of his work and I was really enamored. I guess. I-It's lame.” He tried to explain, getting embarrassed and shaking his head.

“It's not.” You whispered, grabbing his hand, smiling. “It's really cool actually.” He shook his head grinning at you.

“So?” After a minute of silent stares, he asked.

“So what?” You asked back. “What's up with you and Y/Bf/N?” He asked again. You sighed, knowing you cannot lie to Rafe but also knowing that you cannot tell him the complete truth, which is you have been falling for him.

“I-we are…No. I can't and I won't lie to you, things have been…I don't know how to explain it. He's just been a little distant lately. And…I don't know if I should even be telling you this.” You tried to explain, chuckling.

“Come on, I've known you since what? Since you were 5?” You nodded. “I don't mind listening to you talking about this or anything. You should know by now that you can always come to me. Always, Y/N.”

“I know. Just feels kinda weird talking to the wrong Cameron.” You took another sip of your drink.

“Do you want me to wear a wig or some shit?” He said getting up, pointing towards the house like he was going to get an actual wig. Maybe he would, if you said yes. You pulled his hand to pull him back down and laughed at him.

“Don't! I just have never talked to you about stuff like that before.” You said, looking back at the beer pong table, noticing that your boyfriend was suddenly gone. You shrugged it off, thinking he went to get a drink.

“You don't have to. But if you ever want someone to talk to, you know where you can find me, sweetheart.” There it was again. You felt like melting on the spot.

“I know and thank you Rafey. I really appreciate it. I just feel-” “There you are! I looked everywhere for you!” Y/Bf/N slurred. You looked up and planted a small smile for him.

“Was here all along.” You said lowly to which Rafe snorted. “Got something to say Rafe?” Y/Bf/N scoffed and sucked his teeth.

Rafe and Y/Bf/N were never big fans of each other. They were forced to hang out because of the rest of their friend group and mostly, because of you even though you didn't want either one of them to feel uncomfortable being around the other.

“Let's just go. I need another drink.” You got up, grabbing Y/Bf/N's hand, before anything could start between the two. Rafe tightened his jaw and rolled his eyes looking away.

“I'll see you around, Rafe.” You greeted him, smiling sadly at him. He nodded, understanding and got up to join the rest of the boys.

The following weekend, Sarah had invited you over for a pool day. You were laying on the daybed, looking at your phone screen, waiting for a notification or a call to go off. You had texted your boyfriend, hours ago, to go to a party later the same day and he hadn't given a single sign of life.

“Y/N, turn it off. It's going to bother you for the rest of the day if you don't.” Sarah stated, coming out of the big mansion holding drinks in each hand. She handed you one, sitting down on the other daybed beside you.

“I'm sorry. You're right. I…it's just that things are weird between us. He's been ghosting me a lot lately and he's really distant. We barely hang out and when we do he's mostly on his phone or playing video games with the guys.” You confessed, sighing. Feeling like a weight has been lifted, finally getting the chance to talk about this with your best friend.

“Have you talked to him about it?” She asked, swirling her straw around her drink.

“No. Whenever I try talking to him about it, something happens. But there's more. Can I confess something to you?” You worriedly ask.

“Dude, did you murder someone?” Sarah jokingly asks, raising her eyebrows. “No! Sar!”

“Not yet!” She adds and you chuckle, shaking your head and then put your drink down.

“I need you to promise me to not say a word about this Sar. It's so embarrassing and wrong on so many levels.” You expressed taking hold of her hands.

“Y/N, you're scaring me. Of course, I promise.” She said, extending her pinky as well, intertwining with yours.

“Okay, so these last few days, maybe even weeks, I have had some thoughts. I have been thinking about someone else while I'm with Y/Bf/N. I-There's this guy that I think I have feelings for but I really shouldn't. I mean, it's wrong. It's so unfair towards Y/Bf/N. Fuck, I'm such a bad girlfriend.” You rambled, holding your head in your hands.

“Okay. Stop. You're not. You're the best girlfriend anyone could have. Y/Bf/N has never treated you properly and I know what I'm going to say is going to hurt, but he's not the one for you. Especially after treating you like this. And having these thoughts doesn’t make you a bad person or a bad girlfriend. I mean there's no such thing as bad thoughts, only actions talk.” Sarah reassured you, pulling your hands away from your face and giving your shoulder a squeeze.

“Okay, now that we got that off your mind. Who is it?” Sarah asked excitedly. You raised your eyebrows, opening your mouth to reply but you couldn't form any words.

“I…it's-”

“Hello, ladies!” Topper appeared just in time, Kelce and Rafe following.

Sarah got up to greet the boys and you stood up, walking towards the older Cameron first.

“Hey Rafey!” You greeted, wrapping your arms around his waist. His large biceps curled around your shoulders, bringing you in a tight embrace.

“Hi sweetheart! You okay?” He whispered and you pulled away from his chest, nodding with a small smile. Then you hugged Topper and Kelce, making small talk with both.

“Hey, wanna help me in the kitchen?” Rafe suggested.

“Yeah, sure.” You nodded, walking inside the house, Rafe following you towards the kitchen. You sat on the counter and saw Rafe grabbing three bottles of beer from the fridge, leaving them on the counter beside you.

“What's up?” He asked, coming to stand between your legs, his two arms caging you. You felt your breath hitching, your whole body warming up and your swimsuit getting damp at the sight of his tan chest and abs.

“What do you mean?” You asked, clearing your throat.

“You don't seem okay. And I'm kind of worried.” He confessed.

“I'm good. Yeah. Thanks for asking.” You looked down at your thighs. “You sure? You can always talk to me. If you want.” He rambled, as you smiled once more and nodded before looking into his eyes, filled with concern and wondering if he had ever thought of you as something more than his sister's best friend.

“Yeah, I know. And thank you, truly. I just am in a weird situation with Y/Bf/N. He hasn't answered any of my texts today and we have barely hung out lately.” You confessed, pouting. Rafe's blood was boiling, seeing how Y/Bf/N had upset you so much.

“I'm sorry sweetheart, it sucks that he treats you like this. You deserve better, you know?” He admitted, reminding you of what his sister told you mere minutes ago. “Yeah, I guess you're right.”

“So what are you going to do?” He asked, only then making you realize how close you are to each other. His chain dangling from his neck, his abs and biceps flexing with each small movement and the black swim shorts clinging on his thighs that you'd want to ride.

“Honestly,” you sighed, “I have no idea. I need some time to think about everything.” You exclaimed, Rafe nodded giving you a compassionate smile.

“Come here.” He pointed to himself as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, making you wrap your own around his waist.

“I don't like seeing you sad. Especially because of him.” He added, making you chuckle in his chest.

“And you know what they say. Though lovers be lost, love shall not.” He exclaimed, adding another Dylan Thomas quote, this one happening to be one of your favorites too.

You pulled away from his chest and smiled wider, your eyes flickering between his blue ones and his plump lips. He licked his lips out of instinct and leaned in slightly.

“Yo, where are those beers bro?” Kelce entered the kitchen, making you and Rafe immediately pull away. You got off the counter grabbing two of the beers and walked towards Kelce, handing him one, before going outside to give Top his own.

“Fucking cockblock.” Rafe whispered, under his breath.

Some hours later, you were reading a book on the daybed, while the boys and Sarah were playing volleyball in the pool. They all got out and spread out to sit on the other daybeds by the pool to dry.

“You can join me, if you'd like.” You suggested to Rafe seeing he didn't have anywhere to lay down, pulling your sunglasses on your head.

“Do you mind?” He asked, approaching the daybed. “No, not at all!” You exclaimed, shaking your head and making space for him. He laid down, his skin touching you and cooling you down from the North Carolina heat.

In the span of a few minutes, quiet snores were heard as his chest went up and down with each breath he took. You couldn't help but sit and admire him and you reached with your hand to scratch his head.

The feeling of your hand in his hair, awakening him.

“I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up." You apologized profusely. Rafe smiled and laid his head on your chest, wrapping one of his arms around your waist falling back to sleep while you continued the scratching, pulling a strand or two on the back of his head making him sigh in pleasure.

Thinking about how you would pull his hair while he ate you out or when you would make out and he would lower his lips to leave sweet kisses on your neck.

Suddenly you felt consumed by your fatal fantasies, despite knowing they're make-believe but they feel like binding promises with him that needed to stop filling your thoughts.

Looking at his eyelashes fluttering, his cheeks now red from being in the sun for the whole day and the freckles that adorned his shoulders started making you think about who else could satisfy him, if not you?

Who else could hold him like you? Who's gonna know him like you do?

Hours later, after taking a shower and doing your hair and makeup, you were in Sarah's bedroom trying to decide what to wear for the party.

“I still have that green dress you wore to Kiara's birthday last year, you could wear that.” Sarah suggested from her ensuite bathroom, as she applied mascara. You sighed, still roaming her closet for a cute dress. Suddenly, a knock was heard.

“Come in!” Sarah yelled from the bathroom, the door opening revealing a dripping wet Rafe with just a towel around his hips.

“Hey, do you have any idea where my shaving cream is?” Rafe asked, looking around the room for his sister, his eyes landing on you searching around the closet wearing an old shirt of his and shorts that didn't leave much to his imagination.

“Oh, sorry Y/N needed it.” Sarah said, pulling you out of your trance. “What? Oh, yeah. I'm sorry for that!” You apologized, walking to the bathroom to grab it.

“It's no problem.” He thanked you as you handed it to him. “In how long do you reckon you'll be ready?” He asked both of you, since he was the designated driver for the night, staring at you chewing on his gum.

“If Y/N ends up finding an outfit, I think in about 20. Maybe 30.” Sarah replied, coming out of the bathroom.

“You'd look good in anything, Y/L/N.” He winked, walking out of the room, shutting the door. You were left standing with your mouth open.

“Did you find something?” Sarah asked, putting deodorant on.

“I'm gonna do the green again.” You smiled, clearing your throat and walking towards the closet to grab it.

Rafe drove you and Sarah to the house where the party was held. Sarah grabbed your hand and dragged you inside, before you got the chance to thank him.

You reached the kitchen and got drinks, before finding the rest of your friend group. You couldn't help but look around, searching for him.

Your eyes finally reached the ocean blue eyes and you smiled, as he took a sip from his drink nodding slightly at you. You shook your head smiling, feeling your phone vibrating in your bag. You pulled it out and your boyfriend's name popped up.

“Oh, shit.” You whispered. Sarah saw your shocked expression and looked down at your hands holding your phone.

“You're not picking that up. He fucking ghosted you for a whole day!” She exclaimed, taking it from your grasp and throwing it in her own bag. “Let's go dance! Get your mind off him.” She suggested, grabbing your hands and running to the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the living room. The rest of the girls joined you, as well as some tourons who seemed to take a liking to all of you.

Rafe was staring at you, as a guy put his arms around you. You seemed uncomfortable, grimacing and pushing him away as gently as you could. Sarah even tried pulling you closer to her, shaking her head at him. But he was stronger, pulling you even closer than before. He started grinding his hips on your behind and you seemed disgusted and wanted to get out there. Rafe walked through the crowd, pushing some people to get to you faster.

“What's up man?” He asked, putting his arms on this guy’s shoulder pulling him from you.

“Yo, I'm kinda busy dude.” The touron replied, slurring mostly, grabbing your waist to pull you closer again.

“You're not. She's with me.” Rafe was irritated that he couldn't take no for an answer. This time he pushed the guy away from you.

“Yeah, right. Dude go find some other girl to fuck.” The guy exclaimed, coming closer again before Rafe stopped him by grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. “What the fuck dude?”

“You're going to leave her alone and you're going to get the fuck out of here.” Rafe's jaw tightened.

“You cannot tell me what to do.”

Rafe scoffed and looked at you.

“Can you hold my beer, sweetheart? Thanks.” He asked, handing you his bottle. Before you could look up from the bottle in your hand, a loud smack was heard and people hollered.

You looked up and the guy is on the ground, his nose bleeding and Rafe keeps throwing punches at him. Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped, as Sarah pulled you towards her.

“Rafe! Stop!” You yelled, pulling away from Sarah. Rafe, at the sound of your voice, stopped the punches. He got up, spitting on the guy, before walking away.

You looked around, at the crowd of people staring at you expectantly. You opened your mouth to say something but you just sighed and walked to the direction, Rafe had gone.

You were reaching the staircase, when you felt something or rather someone, pulling on your hand. You turned around and Y/Bf/N was there.

“Why the fuck are you ignoring my calls?” He demanded, tightening his grip around your wrist.

“Not right now Y/Bf/N.” You tried to escape his grip but he was stronger than you.

“What the fuck do you mean not right now? You fucking ghosted me!” He exclaimed, pulling you towards him.

“Now you know what that feels like.” You replied, finally escaping his pull on you.

“Y/N! Y/N! Get the fuck back here!” He yelled, but it was no use. You were already up the stairs, searching for Rafe. You entered two bedrooms until you reached the third to find him sitting on the bed holding his head in his hands.

“Rafey?” You whispered, entering the room and closing the door.

“I'm okay, Y/N. Go back downstairs.” He advised, raising his head to look at you. His hair was messed up, probably from his fingers dragging through it.

“How is your hand?” You asked, approaching him and taking a seat beside him. Softly, you grabbed his hand to examine it. His knuckles were bruised and bloody.

You got up and walked in the ensuite, searching for a first aid kit or anything that could help you clean up his hand. You found some gauze and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. You sat back beside him and pulled his hand in your lap as you carefully cleaned his knuckles, grimacing whenever he hissed from the pain and lastly you wrapped his hand in gauze.

“All better now.” You exclaimed, sighing.

“Thanks.” He whispered. “I'm sorry that you had to witness all of that.” He apologized, looking at his now bandaged hand.

“I should be thanking you. That guy was…I-I really appreciate you helping me. I don't know what would have happened if you didn't step up.” You reassured him, grabbing his hand once again. He looked up and stared into your eyes, as you got lost in his gaze.

“My sister is probably searching for you.” He reminded you as he pulled his hand out of your grasp, making you frown slightly.

“Yeah, you're probably right.” You said, playing with the hem of your dress. “Y/Bf/N is here too.” You whispered.

“Wait, really?” You nodded as Rafe sighed.

“Do you want to talk to him?” He asked and you sighed, shaking your head.

“No, not right now. I don't know.” You replied confused. “He had the fucking audacity to grab me and yell at me ‘cause I didn't answer his call a few minutes ago while he hasn't even replied to one of my texts.” You rambled, rolling your eyes.

“He grabbed you?” Rafe asked, his eyebrows furrowing in concern and his jaw tightened.

“Okay, easy tiger. I can handle him.” You chuckled and he did the same. “He'll shit his pants.” He joked and you snorted.

“Yeah, right. Who's afraid of little old me?” You asked, rolling your eyes before turning to look at him again, catching him staring back at you. This time, you were closer than before. His lips mere inches away from yours. Your eyes flickered up and down his face.

“Y/N-” “Can I kiss you?” You blurted out. His eyes looked deeply into yours.

“You're drunk. I-We can't.” He explained. “I never finished my drink.” You said quickly. You felt like your heart was going to explode, your breaths were deep and quick.

“Sweetheart-” Before he could finish his sentence, your lips were on his. You pulled away for a split second, before he put his hands on your face pulling you back into him. Your tongues fighting for dominance inside your mouth, as one of your hands traveled down his chest and the other wrapped around his shoulder and into his hair pulling strands. He groaned into the kiss as he pulled you to straddle his lap, your dress bunching up over your hips, your lacy black underwear appearing, as you messily made out with him. His hands pulled your hips to grind on him, as he groaned.

After a few minutes, you pulled away, seeing his lips glistening with your lip gloss, his hair messy and his cheeks flushed. You felt a poke on your inner thigh and you giggled, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck.

“Sorry for that.” He apologized, chuckling breathlessly. “I just feel so high school every time I look at you.” You giggled and nodded. “The feeling's mutual.”

“I can't believe that this actually happened. Holy shit.” He cursed, falling backwards on the bed, pulling you with him giggling.

“What the fuck am I gonna do?” You whispered, as your lips brushed his jawline. “With you?” You whispered, as you bit the lobe of his ear.

“Y/N…” He shuddered. “I don't want you to think I'm taking advantage of you or anything. I know that things are messy with Y/Bf/N, but I can't handle being a rebound or something for you to make up your mind about him. Cause I'm down bad for you.” You sat up, listening to him.

“Rafe, I can't stop thinking about you. That's mostly the reason I want to break things off with Y/Bf/N.”

“What are you talking about?” He asked, his hands finding home on the curves of your hips.

“My relationship with Y/Bf/N was good at first, but I couldn't help myself but compare him to you at almost everything. Eventually my mind would just fog up and the only thing that was clear was you.” You confessed.

“Since wh-” His phone started ringing, interrupting him. He groaned as he pulled it from his pocket and answered it, after seeing it was his sister.

“She's with me. She's okay. Yeah. Bye.” He hung up quickly. “Y/Bf/N is searching for you. You should head downstairs.” He exclaimed, tightening his jaw once more.

“I don't w-” “We'll talk about this some other time, okay?” He said and you had no other choice but nod your head. You got off of him and walked towards the door, after pulling your dress back down and fixing your lipgloss on the vanity mirror.

“I'll see you around Rafey.” You greeted, as you reached for the door handle.

When you walked downstairs, you found Sarah in the kitchen with Kiara.

“Hey, you okay?” She asked immediately when she saw you approaching, wrapping her arms around you.

“Yeah, I'm alright. I just wanted to check on Rafe.” You nodded in assurance. “Hey, where's Y/Bf/N?” You asked, looking around the kitchen.

“I think he's with Topper.” Kiara replied, pointing towards the living room. You nodded, thanking her and walked there, Sarah and Kiara following not far behind.

You looked around for a few seconds, before your eyes fell on him sitting on the couch, with a blonde touron under his arm talking to Kelce while Topper was making out with a girl on the other side of the couch. Your eyes filled with tears and your jaw tightened.

Even though you were doing far worse things upstairs with Rafe, seeing this was killing you. You cleared your throat and approached them and when Y/Bf/N saw you, he removed his arm from around the touron and got up to greet you.

“Where were you? I was so worried, baby.” He said while you put on one of your fakest smiles and nodded. “I-I was in the bathroom upstairs. I felt kinda sick.” You lied, still smiling.

“Oh no. Let me order an Uber for you.” He said, pulling his phone from his pocket.

“I-What?” You were furious but also really confused. “I'm feeling fine now and I want to stay but would you really just get me a fucking taxi to go home?” You asked, scoffing.

“Don't.” He said in a warning tone, raising his eyebrows. You rolled your eyes and walked towards the girls.

“Let's get the fuck out of here.” Sarah advised, sending Y/Bf/N a death glare.

Sarah wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling you outside towards Kiara's Jeep.

“He's a fucking douchebag. I, seriously, cannot understand what you saw in him!” Kiara exclaimed, as she put the key in the ignition. Sarah smacked her arm from the passenger seat, while you played with the hem of your dress.

“Yeah, neither do I.” You agreed.

The next morning, you woke up from your phone ringing. You groaned as you picked it up before checking on the contact name.

“Hello?” Your voice was still groggy from sleep.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up, baby. I was just wondering if you'd be up for brunch at the Country Club.” Y/Bf/N suggested and you groaned once again before nodding your head even though he couldn't see you.

“Yeah, sure.” You agreed.

“Great, I'll pick you up in an hour. See you then.” He replied, smiling.

“Okay, bye.” You said, hanging up the call before he got the chance to say anything else. You looked over at the alarm clock on your bedside table, seeing as it was 9am. You got up and went into your ensuite to Take a warm shower. When you came out, your phone pinged signifying a new notification.

loml

love you

Seen 9:12 am

You just stared at the text, before leaving Sarah a voice message about what's happening. Then began getting ready, putting on one of your favorite sundresses and a pair of sandals.

When you reached the Country Club, you noticed that he was fidgeting and squirming in his seat.

“Are you okay?” You asked, genuinely concerned.

“Yeah, yeah baby. What do you wanna eat?” He said, picking up the menu, as the waitress approached.

“I'll have the blueberry pancakes.” You ordered smiling.

“I'll…um…I'll have the eggs benedict.” He said, as the waitress thanked and took the menus before she walked away. His eyes captivated on her walk back to the counter, making you roll your eyes.

“I'm sorry about last night. I shouldn't have reacted that way.” He apologized. “I shouldn't have grabbed you like that, I could've handled it better. But Y/N, I feel you slipping away and I cannot lose you. I love you so so much. You're the love of my life.”

“And I know this might sound crazy but I told Lucy I'd kill myself if you ever left. That's how much I've fallen for you” He said, chuckling, recalling a conversation he had with his sister. Gazing at you starry-eyed and you wondered if anything he was saying was true.

Your mind was trying to decide what to do. If you brought up Rafe, he would storm out, creating chaos. And if you broke things off now, he would make a huge scene, embarrassing you and tarnishing your family's name and reputation. Taking everything into consideration, you remembered what your mother always told you growing up. “Everyone deserves a second chance.”

“Last night was…eventful. I am not going to lie to you but I was hurt that you hadn't replied to me for a whole day, I was hurt that I found you with that touron. And after seeing how you've been behaving and-and treating me these last few weeks, I did not think we could recover from it. I thought we were done.” You confessed.

“I love you Y/N. You are the love of my life and I'll love for the rest of it. I'm so sorry I've ever made you feel like this. I truly am. But I am here, from now on. And I-I will change. For you.” He rambled, grabbing your hand from across the table. You smiled and nodded, letting him pull you for a kiss.

During the week, Y/Bf/N, truthfully had been a changed man. He was calling you every day to see what's up, hung out with you a lot more and even slept a few days at yours.

On Wednesday, you would be staying at Sarah's, as planned, but she had taken Wheezie on a shopping spree in the main land.

sarbear

the fucking ferry broke

might be extra late

go at mine

rafe is there

Seen 5:34pm

Your body covered with shivers, by Sarah mentioning her brother. You hadn't gotten the chance to see him after the party the previous week. You were really caught up with hanging out with Y/Bf/N, that you didn't get the chance to talk to him about what went down between you two. Even though your mind kept going back to the night of the party and the way he kissed you and touched your body.

You

hang in there

did you end up buying anything?

Seen 5:37 pm

sarbear

haul l8r

love you

sorry

Seen 5:40 pm

You

stfu

love you too

Seen 5:41 pm

After putting down your phone, you started making your bag for tonight before driving to Tannyhill. You rang the bell of the large mansion, a shirtless, tan adonis opening the door.

“Y/N? Sarah's not here.” He said, looking around the house.

“That's how you greet me? Come on, Cameron!” You smirked and he chuckled.

“Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry, where are my manners?” He asked, sarcastically.

“Sar said I could wait for her here.” You continued. “If that's okay?”

“Of course, yeah. Come in.” He opened the door further for you to enter. He walked to the kitchen, where he had left the fridge door open.

“I came downstairs to grab a bite. Do you want anything? Something to drink?” He suggested closing the fridge door.

“Water's just fine.” You smiled, reaching for the cabinet with the cups, pulling the purple one you've been using since you were 9, when you and Sarah went to Ikea with her parents and got matching ones. You have the other one in your home, for whenever Sarah comes over.

You filled it up and brought it to your lips taking a sip, as Rafe was searching through the pantry for snacks. He came out holding a few bags of candy and a bag of chips. You laughed at the sight and he looked at you confused.

“What? I'm hungry. You know, Rose says I'm still growing.” He muttered in a serious tone, making you cackle.

“I'm playing GTA with the boys upstairs. Wanna join?” He asked, making you notice the headset around his neck. He was already heading towards the staircase, after he grabbed your bag, where you followed like a lost puppy.

You entered his room after him, that was dark with the curtains closed, red colored LED lights lighting it up. The room was cold due to the air-conditioning, so cold that when you went in you started shivering, trying to cover up yourself with your hands. Rafe dropped your bag on his bed and noticed your shivering figure, immediately turning the A/C off, opening the windows.

“Are you just gonna stand there? Come on.” He said, sitting down with his back on the side of his bed, his ankles crossing. You followed him and sat down beside him, grabbing one of the bags of candy when you heard him chuckle.

“What?” You asked, furrowing your brows.

“Nothing. I really wanted those Sour Patch Kids.” He replied, pointing at the bag of candy.

“Oh, I'm sorry. Take it.” You shoved it in his hand. He shook his head and put his headset back on.

“Kelce, you still there?” He asked, as he pressed some buttons on the Playstation controller and you could see a tiny person walk around on the screen.

“Can I play too?” You whispered and Rafe chuckled.

“Yo, Kelce!” He called. “Is Top joining?” He asked.

“Okay, you got about 10 minutes.” He spoke, handing you the controller, removing his headset. “So, what do you wanna do?”

“Can I punch someone? Or, or can I drive?” You asked excitedly and he nodded, showing you what buttons you have to press to steal someone's car and drive it. On your first try, you crashed on a building and started running.

“Okay, let's try again. Triangle to enter. There you go.” He encouraged you, while you threw a grandma out of her car and started driving.

“I'm doing it Rafey!” You exclaimed. “I know, I see that. Come on, press R2.” He advised, smiling at you.

“I did it!” You screamed, jumping on him when you parked the car. “That was so cool!” You whispered in the crook of his neck, as you hugged him. His hands traveled around your back, holding you close to him. When you pulled away, you stared at his blue eyes.

“S-sorry.” You apologized, getting off of his lap and removing your arms from around him.

“That's alright.” He whispered, putting the headset back on and grabbing the controller from your hand.

“Hey Kelce, you there?” He called, as you started biting your lip, chipping the nail polish off of one of your fingers, feeling embarrassed.

“You okay?” He asked, still looking at the screen. “Y/N?” He whispered and you looked at him, thinking that he spoke to one of the boys.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. I just didn't want to make things awkward between us. Again.” You confessed and he nodded.

“You didn't. And I meant to talk to you about last weekend.” He admitted. “I do not regret what happened between us. And I know you probably did and I don't want to hear it. It's going to make things just worse for me. I'm already-” “Rafey.” You interrupted him. He turned to look at you, pausing the game. When you looked at his flushed from the heat cheeks and ocean blue eyes, you could not resist and every ounce of logic flew out the window. You grabbed his face and smashed your lips with his, your tongue entering his mouth as your hands traveled in his hair and chest.

“Y/N-” He pulled away “Touch me, please.” You whispered, begging him as you pulled him back on your lips. His hands faltered, as he brushed them on your back, pulling you on his lap. You both messily made out with each other, as Rafe's hands grazed your breasts and your ass, before hearing Kelce yell from the headset. You pulled away with your eyes wide.

“I have turned off the mic.” He admitted and you nodded, noticing your lipgloss, now transferred on his plump lips bringing you back to the last time you did this with him.

“You have to know I did not.” You confessed, your hand scratching the back of his head.

“Did what?” He asked, confused as Kelce continued talking on the headset.

“I did not regret it. I've wanted you for such a long time. Thought about you for such a long time. And I do want this, all of this…but-” “You're with Y/Bf/N.” He finished your sentence for you and you sighed.

“I tried to finish things off with him‐” “You love him, Y/N, I shouldn't get in the middle of this.” He said, trying to pull you off of him.

“No, no. I don't. I lo-love you.” You confessed, Rafe's eyes widened. “I do. I love you. You don't have to say anything and it may seem like I'm just saying it but I do mean it. I've loved you for such a long time.”

“Do you really mean it?” He whispered and you nodded, before Rafe crashed his lips back on yours.

“I'm so glad you said that.” He started. “Because I do too. I love you, Y/N. For, fuck, 8 years?” He scoffed and you smiled. He crashed his lips on yours again, before taking hold of the back of your thighs and swiftly lifted you in his arms before he laid you down on his bed. He removed his headset, throwing it beside the controller and then hovered over you, starting to kiss you messily once more.

His kisses started traveling down your body, slowly and gently. Your neck, your breasts, your tummy, your upper thighs.

You felt like your body was on fire, as his hands traveled on your torso, over your tank top.

“Can I?” He asked and you nodded, helping him remove it.

“Someone's eager.” He teased with a smirk on his mouth. “Very.” You answered, pulling him back to kiss him and then pushed his hand lower on your body where you needed him the most.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked and you nodded. “I need words, sweetheart.” That's all it took for you to make up your mind.

“Yes, Rafey. I want you. Your fingers, your mouth, anything.” You confessed and Rafe nodded before removing your shorts and panties in one move.

“Fuck.” He whispered. “You're gorgeous.”

Feeling more exposed than ever, you felt the need to close your legs, but he held them open.

“Don't be shy with me.” You nodded and you let him do his work on you. His fingers in delicate moves, traced your thighs and your pussy lips, before pulling them apart. You moaned, feeling his hot breath on you. He smirked, before he dove in with his mouth, licking and sucking your clit and shoving a finger in your hole. His finger entering and easily touching your sweet spot.

“Rafey!” You whimpered. He continued as he stared at your Y/E/C eyes. Moans were spilling out of your mouth as he added another finger, continuing his previous motions.

“Mine.” He whispered, kissing a spot on your upper thigh. You felt your body warming up, you were panting as he made you feel so good.

“Rafe, I-” “Go on, baby.” He encouraged, as in the span of a few seconds you felt the coil inside you snapping, cumming all over his face.

“Fuck.” You whispered, his face covered in your juices. He pulled his fingers out of you and pulled them in your mouth, making you moan once more.

“Than-” “Don't. It was my pleasure.” He exclaimed, coming over and kissing your lips, letting you taste yourself.

“Do you want me to help you?” You suggested, taking a glance at his cock, now hard and begging to get out of the confined space. “You don't have to.” He quickly brushed you off, shaking his head. He got off of you and into his ensuite to grab a towel so he could clean you up.

“Thanks.” You whispered, when he returned to bed. “You can take a shower, if you want.” He suggested, giving you yet another kiss.

“Y/N? Rafe?” Sarah's voice was heard.

“Shit.” You cursed, noticing you were still naked on Rafe's bed. He grabbed your articles of clothing and handed them quickly to you, as you did your fastest to put them on. Just in time, Sarah opened the door, finding you dressed sitting on Rafe's bed and he had fallen on the floor to grab his controller and headset, whilst also trying to cover his erection.

“I am so sorry. This day has been so chaotic. Come on, Wheezie wants to show you her new clothes!” She said, entering further into the room. You got up from your place on the bed, grabbing your bag.

“See you later, Rafe.” You greeted as Sarah pulled you out of the room, he winked at you and you chuckled before closing the door.

You and Sarah were watching 'The Breakfast Club’ in her bed, when Sarah fell asleep on your shoulder, drooling on your sleep shirt. Your phone pinged, from the night table beside you and you grabbed it smiling.

rafey

you asleep?

Seen 11:39 pm

You

not yet

your sister is tho

Seen 11:41 pm

rafey

fuck

i wanted to see you

finish what we started

Seen 11:43 pm

You bit your lip and smirked at his suggestion

You

i wish

btw i am going to talk to Y/Bf/N

break up w him

i don't want to lie to either of you

i want to be with you

if you want as well

i mean

we do not have to rush things

but it's up to you

Seen 11:47 pm

The dots on your screen disappeared, coming back minutes later

rafey

i wanna be w you

i love you Y/N

Seen 11:53 pm

You

i love you

good night

Seen 11:55 pm

“Can you grab me my water bottle?” Sarah said groggily and you smiled, handing her the bottle beside you. She took a few sips, before wrapping her arms around your torso and falling back asleep.

Saturday came around and it was a special one as you had planned a movie night with your best friends in Tannyhill.

Y/Bf/N had begun being distant again. You had called him many times since your last encounter with Rafe, to meet up and talk. But he never answered.

When all of your friends arrived, everyone sat around the living room as you helped Sarah carry the snacks and drinks from the kitchen. When you came out, you saw that there was one spot left besides John B, probably kept for Sarah. You looked around and saw Rafe smirking and nodding in his direction. You followed and stood in front of him.

“We can share.” He whispered, smirking. “If you'd like.” You nodded, seeing him make space on the loveseat. Before you could sit down, he pulled most of your weight to sit on his lap.

“Rafe!” You warned, whispering, pointing with your eyes to all of your friends.

“Don't worry, sweetheart.” He whispered in your ear, before he pulled a blanket over your legs. You made yourself comfortable on his lap, as his hands traveled low from your waist on your thighs, where your breath hitched.

“You're gonna have to be quiet. Can you do that princess?” He whispered in your ear and you nodded.

His fingers stroked your thighs, as you bit your lip trying to contain any sound from coming out.

“Y/N, what do you think we should watch?” Sarah asked, still looking on her phone searching for a movie, John B kissing the side of her head.

“I don't mind.” You whimpered, as Rafe brushed his fingers over your clothed private parts. “I'm okay with everything.”

His hand passed the elastic of your shorts and your panties, cupping your pussy. You shuddered and bit your lips once again, when you felt one of his fingers opening you up.

“You're soaking wet and I have barely touched you.”

“Rafe, it's already hard as it is to stifle my sighs and moans. Don't start with the dirty talk.”

The assault in you continued happening, Rafe pressing a few kisses on the side of your neck too before bringing you to an orgasm. You bit your hand, as you released.

“You okay Y/N/N?” Kiara asked, from the couch. You looked at her and nodded.

“Yeah, I just think I'm having cramps or something. I'll go grab a painkiller.” You said, raising yourself from Rafe's lap, making him adjust in his seat and running to the closest bathroom to clean up and throw some water on your face to cool down. Thankful that no one suspected anything.

It was Thursday when you were talking on the phone Rafe, about your birthday party that was on Saturday when your doorbell rang.

“Hold on, someone's at the door.” You said, walking from the kitchen to the front door, seeing that it's Kiara.

“It's Kie. I'll talk to you later.” You assured him.

“Okay, I love you.” He left a relieved sigh and you smiled, even if he couldn't see you.

“I love you too. Bye.” You hung up, before opening the door. “Hey, Kie. What's up?” You smiled kindly at her, but the look on her face made you wipe it off right away.

“I need to talk to you.” She exclaimed and you opened the door further so she could get in.

“You're scaring me, what's going on?” You asked her, as she sat down on a stool in front of the kitchen island.

“I was going to J’s and when I was going through the Cut, I saw Y/Bf/N's car parked outside of Barry's.” She explained, you furrowed your brows in confusion.

“Barry? The guy who sells weed?” You scoffed.

“Yeah. Well he doesn't sell just weed, you know that right?” She explains but you feel lost. “Coke, Y/N.”

“What?” You were confused. Y/Bf/N has never done anything other than weed.

“He wouldn't-” “ I saw him walking out holding a baggie of a white substance.”

Your face dropped. You couldn't believe your ears.

“What the actual fuck?” You whispered.

“Have you talked with him? I figured he didn't tell you about that.” Kie explained.

“I haven't since last week, no. I have called him multiple times but he has completely ignored me. It's like I don't even exist. And especially after our last talk, all his empty promises about changing. Fuck.” You rambled, Kiara nodding, holding your hand. This conversation making you consider if he was high at the Country Club when he was apologizing or the party where he grabbed you.

“You told him about this Saturday?” She asked and you nodded. “Yeah, last week. I don't know if he still remembers though.”

“Try calling him again and if he doesn't answer, don't bother anymore. We all knew he was an asshole, but treating you like this? And on top of it all, he does drugs? This guy is dangerous, Y/N.”

“Thank you for coming all the way here to tell me Kie, I really appreciate it. And I know. I…I'm kind of trying to break things off. I deserve better.” You whispered the last part, making Kie smile and squeeze your upper arm before she got up and left. You immediately grabbed your phone calling Y/Bf/N three times, with no luck of him answering.

You

you better have a good explanation as to why you don't answer my calls or texts for more than a fucking week

i really need to talk to you

it's important

Sent 12:28 pm

On Saturday morning, you had started prepping the house, cleaning up even if it will get absolutely destroyed later and putting up the decorations Sarah bought from Party City. Your phone pinged, signifying a notification and you pulled it from the back pocket of your shorts.

rafey

good morning

happy birthday sweetheart

i love you

do you want me to come over and help?

Seen 10:23 am

You smiled at his texts, quickly replying before Sarah sees you slacking off. And also because she doesn't know about you and Rafe yet.

You

thank you so much rafey

i love you too

no it's okay

your sister is here to help

gtg

Seen 10:26 am

In the evening, you and Sarah had started getting ready. She had helped you with your hair and you were now doing your makeup when your phone rang.

“Oh, it's my brother. Want me to pick it up?” Sarah asked, as you applied your eyeliner.

“No, just leave it.” You answered before she handed it to you.

“Y/N, I'm not stupid. I've seen you and him all these years. How close you always have been.” She confessed. “And I know that something is going on with you two. And I am happy for you two. Truly.”

“You're not upset?” You asked cautiously, putting down the eyeliner and your phone.

“I am more upset that you didn't tell me anything. Of course I am happy for you two. My brother may be an idiot and sometimes a total asshole, but he never has been to you. I just want what's best for you. For either one of you.” You got up and hugged her tightly, as you thanked her profusely.

“I know it's crazy, but he's the one I want, Sar.” You whispered.

“At least now you don't have to sneak into his room while I'm sleeping.” She joked and you looked at her with widened eyes.

“You knew?” You asked and she nodded.

“I was fucking awake dude. And you didn't do a good job at being quiet.” She continued. “In or out of my bedroom.”

“Sar!” You warned.

“Just make sure that I don't get a niece or nephew anytime soon.” She smirked and you grabbed a pillow from your bed and threw it on her. “Shut up!” You screamed, chuckling.

After an hour of getting ready and pre-gaming with Sarah, the guests started coming. Soon the house was filled with Kooks and Pogues, even some tourons.

You in a short purple sequined dress searched around the house for the one person who you were hoping had already arrived. People stopped you to wish you and give you presents and others invited you for drinks but you refused continuing your search for Rafe.

When you entered the kitchen to grab a drink, you saw many familiar faces approaching you.

“Happy birthday Y/N!” Kelce yelled, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around while you giggled.

“Happy birthday!” Topper approached, after Kelce put you down, to hug you.

“Thank you guys!” You spoke with a wide smile on your face as you looked around the kitchen.

“He's on his way! Sarah asked him to pick up more ice.” Topper pulled you closer and talked into your ear.

“W-who?” You asked, still going on with the act.

“We know, Y/N.” He smirked. “We are really happy for you two. Rafe has always had a crush on you. He was non stop talking or making everything about you. It was fucking time you two got together.”

You chuckled and nodded at Topper.

“Thank you, Top.” You whispered, making Topper wink at you. “Anytime.”

“Hello there, my birthday girl!” You felt strong arms wrapping around your waist, like they always did and his chin on your shoulder. You looked on your side and smiled.

“Hey!” You whispered and he leaned in for a kiss which you accepted. You hummed as he tried to deepen it, but you pulled away.

“I brought ice.” He pulled away to show you the bags of ice and you chuckled, pointing where to put them.

“And I brought you this.” He showed you a small black bag in his other hand. “I know you said that I shouldn't get you anything but I couldn't help myself.” You smiled and pecked his lips once more.

“You really didn't have to. But thank you.” You thanked him as he grabbed one of your hands in his.

“Wanna go somewhere quiet? So you can open it?” He asked and you nodded, pulling him with you towards the staircase. You got upstairs and unlocked your bedroom door, getting inside with your lover. When you closed the door, Rafe pinned you against it smirking.

“Don't get any ideas, Cameron!” You warned and Rafe groaned, before leaning in kissing your lips and then your jawline and neck. You pushed him backwards before things could escalate further and pulled him to sit on the bed beside you.

“It's not a big deal. I just hope you like it.” He handed the black bag to you and you smiled, opening it eagerly. You pulled out a black velvet box and an envelope. You opened the box, revealing a beautiful chain with Rafe's initial in diamonds.

“Rafe!” You whimpered, your eyes gathering tears.

“No crying on your birthday, sweetheart!” He warned, quick to wipe a tear that fell down. “You'll ruin your makeup.” He added, making you nod and try to stop the tears.

“I love it!” You said, genuinely.

You then opened the envelope and smiled at the scrawny handwriting.

Y/N,

Happy Birthday my love. I hope that it's a good one. It's the first of so many we have spent together that I get to call you ‘mine’, in some way. I hope you love the necklace. It's a reminder that I really know you, I don't own you (Yes, I did listen to Taylor Swift). I love you. Forever and Always.

-your Rafey

“Rafe! This is so cute! How can I not cry?” You wondered, hugging him tightly. He rubbed your back to try and calm you down.

“Can you help me put it on?” You asked, pulling away from him as he nodded, grabbing the box and removing the necklace carefully. You moved your hair on one side, as he put it on you and did the clasp in the back. You held the letter on your fingers, before leaning in and kissing him once more.

“It's the best gift anyone has gotten me.” Rafe smiled and got up.

“I'm glad. But now there are so many people down there waiting to celebrate with you and even though I feel honored to be up here, we should get downstairs.” He continued. “And because that dress is really distracting and I won't be able to resist if we stay any longer.” You chuckled and got off your bed, walked out of your room with him and locked the door.

Downstairs the party was going in full swing. Some people were dancing in the living room, others playing beer pong in the dining room and others were just drinking and mingling with everyone.

You were dancing with Rafe in the middle of the living room, all eyes on you two. Your fingers entwined and cheeks pink in the twinkling lights. There in your glittering prime as the lights refracted sequin stars off your silhouette.

“I'm gonna go get a drink. Want anything?” Rafe whispered in your ear and you shook your head.

“No, I'm fine. Thanks.” You replied, shaking your hips from side to side, Rafe squeezing your hip. “I'll be right back.” He pressed a kiss on your temple, before unwrapping his arms from around you and walking towards the kitchen.

On his way back, his sister stopped him, pointing at you.

“She's having the time of her life" She smiled. “Don't fucking ruin it.” Sarah warned before she noticed the one person none of you wanted there, entering the house.

“Shit's about to go down.” She nodded her head towards Y/Bf/N walking in the house with Barry and a girl under his arm. Rafe's eyebrows furrowed and his jaw clenched.

“I'll take care of it.” Rafe exclaimed. “Just get Y/N. Keep her away.” Sarah nodded, already walking in your direction.

“Sar!” You yelled over the music, the drinks making you a little tipsy.

“Hey, Y/N/N. Are you having fun?” Sarah asked, smiling at you.

“So much!” You started. “Where's Rafey? Have you seen him?” You asked excitedly, searching around for him. Sarah pulled you closer and hugged you tightly in her chest, trying to make you avoid any sighting of Y/Bf/N.

“I love you so much!” Sarah exclaimed and you smiled wider, looking up at her. “I love you too, Sarbear. You okay?” You asked, worry filling you.

“Yeah, just fi-” “There's a fight going on outside!” A touron yelled, grabbing everyone's attention, including yours.

“What?” You pulled away from Sarah, shocked.

“It's probably drunk tourons fighting. It's no biggie.” Sarah shrugged and you examined her face carefully.

“What? Oh” You realized. “It's Rafe, isn't it?”

“Y/N/N-” “Don't fucking lie to me, Sar.” You warned and she nodded slowly, before you took off running outside on your porch, as well as you could with your high heels. You pushed people to pass and find him. You needed to find him. You caught a glimpse of the back of his head, before you pushed some others ending up locking eyes with Y/Bf/N.

“There she fucking is!” He yelled, making everyone that had surrounded the two guys, look at you. Rafe turned around and came close to you.

“Go inside, sweetheart.” He advised and you shook your head when his hands touched your shoulders. Sarah came up running behind you, pulling you away.

“No, I'm not going anywhere. This is stupid.” You admitted, stepping up in front of Y/Bf/N. Rafe was close behind you, in case something happened.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, looking at him in disgust.

“Come on, baby. It's your birthday, I couldn't miss it.”

His eyes were bloodshot, white powder still on the bottom of his nose. You scoffed and crossed your arms.

“Like you ever cared.” You started. “You came here to what? Win me back? Tell me that you'll change?”

“Y/N, baby, I love you so much. I'm sorry.”

“You don't get to come here and tell me you feel bad. You have said that I'm the love of your life about a fucking million times and you didn't mean it once! You only wanted to show me off in public, whilst all you did was slide into inboxes and slip through bars. You have fucking hurt me time and time again. And like the fool I am, I fucking believed you.” You rambled, everyone looking at you as Rafe yelled at them to leave.

“Y/N, you don't mean any of that. You love me too. Come on now. Fucking behave.” He exclaimed, approaching you.

“I'd rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning of yours.” You scoffed.

“Was any of it true? Did none of our time together mean anything to you? Are you that heartless? Or did you really think I'm that stupid and I'd let you treat me like shit so you could get your dick wet?” You asked, pushing him.

“Stop it.” He whispered, his jaw clenching.

“Here, everyone! The smallest man who ever lived!” You yelled, making a show for everyone.

“Y/N, I said stop it! Fucking bitch.” He scoffed.

“And you know what? You never measured up in any measurе of a man.” You chuckled, as people around you hollered and laughed.

Y/Bf/N furrowed his eyebrows in anger, launching towards you. Right before your eyes, he was suddenly on the ground, with Rafe on top of him pushing him on the grass.

“Still pussy-whipped Cameron? She's too high up her ass to even notice you.” Y/Bf/N said, while struggling to get up with Rafe's weight holding him down. Rafe turned him around and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

“I'll give you about 5 seconds to get the fuck away from here. You'll never bother Y/N again. And if I see you around, I won't hesitate to fucking rip you apart.” He spat on his face, before getting off of him. Y/Bf/N got up and raised his middle finger towards you, before walking away.

“Good riddance asshole!” You yelled.

Rafe sighed, wrapping his arms around your shoulder pulling you into a hug.

“Go back inside folks! The party's back on!” Sarah shouted, making everyone run inside the house.

“You okay?” Rafe whispered in your ear, after ensuring no one could bother you two. You nodded.

“Thanks to you.” You confessed. “If you hadn't been here…I don't even want to think about what he could have done.” Your body shook and Rafe hugged you tighter.

“You're okay.” He kissed the temple of your head. “I'm right here. Always will be.”

You turned your head, grabbing his head and pulling him closer to you, attaching your lips to his.

“Now, let's go celebrate me!” You smiled, walking towards your house, making Rafe chuckle.

Scandal does funny things to pride, but brings lovers closer

A/N: i have been working on this since ttpd came out. i tried my best to add as many taylor references and if you're not a fan of her music, i'm sorry lol. hope you liked this, it's finally yours!!! also huge thank you to @rafeandonlyrafe for proofreading and helping me with her support and love!!!!!

895 notes · View notes

collaredsoldat · 24 days ago

Text

Condition.

summary: Soldat refuses to sit down, you notice he's in pain.

a/n: I saw someone caught one of the things I wrote earlier in hcs and I knew at some point I was going to delve deeper into it. So that's the push I needed. This one is potentially triggering thus no tags have been added to this post. Unedited; I have so may wips rn, I will check for mistakes later. ;; wc: 4.4k

You weren't too sure what the problem was.

Soldat didn't like to sit down. You thought maybe it was because he felt like he had to be on guard at all times, fresh out of HYDRA and paranoid the agents would somehow find his whereabouts, then forcibly break down your door and tear him away from your apartment that he deemed safe enough.

You noticed a pattern in Soldat's actions whenever he did reluctantly lower himself into a seated position. With each attempt, you saw a subtle but unmistakable wince or a barely audible hiss escaping through his clenched teeth, betraying his discomfort. These seated interludes were invariably brief, lasting a few seconds before he would abruptly rise to his feet once more.

The simple act of lowering himself onto a chair seemed to require an immense effort, though he tried desperately to conceal his discomfort behind a façade of indifference. The careful dance of pain that displayed anytime he attempted to lower himself down on the ground, or apply any pressure at all to his backside, shot up his spine and made him think twice.

On occasion, you noticed him favoring one side of his body as he sat, shifting his weight in what appeared to be an attempt to alleviate some hidden source of pain. But, more often than not, Soldat opted to forgo sitting entirely, preferring to maintain a standing posture that allowed for a quick reaction to any perceived threat.

It had only been a few days.

He maintained his resolute silence, stubbornly refusing to utter a single word. The only exception had been a barely audible thank you in Russian after you had carefully and gently bathed him. His demeanor remained guarded and defensive, occasionally punctuated by sharp, guttural exclamations of 'Нет' whenever you approached too closely. His words were replaced by growling and baring his teeth as if that were somehow off putting enough. He reacted as though you posed an imminent threat, despite your efforts to appear non-threatening and helpful.

You couldn’t really blame him, at the end of the day. His body bore the signs of telltale abuse and mistreatment for god knows how long.

As the days slowly passed, you grew increasingly concerned about his deteriorating condition. The pain etched across his features seemed to intensify with each passing hour, and you really wanted to confront him about his condition. He stayed in the spare room, his weary frame silhouetted against the window and sheer curtains guarding the glass. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion but remained vigilant, constantly scanning the darkened streets below.

Sleep had become a luxury he could ill afford, severe conditioning and sleep deprivation made it almost impossible for him to fall asleep naturally unless he completely collapsed from exhaustion. His paranoia and discomfort didn’t help his need to rest. The toll of his sleepless nights was clearly visible in the dark circles under his eyes and the slight tremor in his hand as he maintained his ceaseless vigil.

"Soldat..." You spoke gently, not wanting to startle him. Despite your cautious approach, your tone didn't have the desired effect. He still flinched visibly when you called his name, his body tensing as if bracing for impact. He turned to face you, his movements stiff and guarded, his eyes wary as the soldier watched you.

"It's okay, I just came to see you," you reassured him, your voice soft and soothing. You paused for a brief moment, allowing your words to sink in, before continuing with soft concern, "Are you doing okay? Are you in any pain?" As you spoke, you took a tentative step into the room, slow and deliberate to avoid frightening him further.

Soldat's reaction was immediate and instinctive to your step. He took one step back in response to your advance, his body language screaming discomfort and distrust. However, his retreat was cut short as his shoulder made contact with the cold, unyielding surface of the wall behind him. The realization that he had nowhere left to go flashed across his face, a fleeting expression of panic quickly masked by a forced blank stare. He stood there, cornered and tense, like a wounded animal trapped with no escape route.

You knew better than to approach too quickly. Experience had taught you that if he felt cornered or threatened in any way, he'd lash out instinctively. Although he hadn't physically harmed you before, you were aware of his potential to do so. He was a goddamn super soldier, and you were just a civilian. He could snap your neck with one arm. The tension in the air grew and you could sense his unease increasing with each passing moment.

"It's okay, I promise..." You slowly raised your hands, palms outward, trying to placate him. You were very cautious with your actions, designed to show him that you harbored no ill intent. You maybe hoped he’d recognize you were harmless, but understood why he still felt wariness in himself. You remained rooted to the spot where you stood, consciously avoiding any sudden movements that might startle him or exacerbate the fear you had inadvertently stirred. "I just want to see how you're handling yourself... you seem to be in pain, and I want to help. That's all I'm here for, nothing more."

You paused, carefully observing his body language. His already stiff posture became increasingly rigid as he pressed his back firmly against the wall. It was as if he was trying to conceal something from your view or instinctively protect an injury. His wince was unmistakable even in the dark room, as clear as a beacon in the night. Your ears picked up the sharp, hissing intake of breath when he inadvertently applied too much pressure to his backside. The sound was a clear indicator of his discomfort, and it only reinforced your concern.

"Please...Soldat, let me have a look at you?" You whispered softly, your voice barely audible in the tense atmosphere. Your heart ached with the desire to ease his suffering, to offer a gentle touch that might soothe his pain or provide the comfort he had been robbed from. You yearned for his trust, to create a haven where he could lower his defenses and find solace in your presence instead of constantly feeling so anxious and alone.

The air between you grew thick with anticipation, punctuated only by the shallow, measured breaths you both took. In the depths of his eyes, you could see the internal struggle unfolding—a battle between ingrained wariness and the desperate need and hope for comfort. Time seemed to stretch as he weighed his options, his body still rigid with uncertainty. Finally, after several long minutes, a subtle shift occurred in his demeanor.

Slowly, he began to peel himself away from the wall that had been his refuge. His body language was tinged with nervousness, his gaze never left you as he inched forward, scrutinizing your every breath, every twitch, as if anticipating a sudden betrayal. The distance between you diminished gradually until he came to a halt by the edge of the bed, his posture still coiled with tension, ready to retreat at the slightest provocation.

"There we are...good job," you offered gentle words of encouragement, mirroring the approach you had taken during his bathing session. The positive reinforcement had proven effective then, so you decided to employ the same strategy in this situation. "I can see you're in pain. Could you point to where it hurts?" You inquired softly, fully aware that he might not respond verbally given his usual restraint from speaking.

For a brief period, he remained completely still, his body language giving no indication of his thoughts. Then he shifted his posture, turning in such a way that his back was now fully exposed to your view. However, without the aid of words, the gesture alone didn't provide much clarity. The area of discomfort could be anywhere along his spine or surrounding muscles. "Is it your back that's causing you pain?" You asked, hoping for a more specific response.

He shook his head slightly, a subtle movement that nonetheless clearly conveyed a negative answer.

"Okay…is it your legs that are hurting?" You ventured, this query elicited a slight shrug from him, a gesture that hinted at possible agreement but still left room for uncertainty. You found yourself at a loss, unsure of how to proceed or phrase your next question in a way that would yield more precise information. After a moment's hesitation, you decided to be more direct in your approach, hoping it wasn't what you thought, but part of you knew deep down that it probably was. "You don't sit down very often. Is there some discomfort in your bottom?"

He almost made a scoff, his brow furrowing slightly at the unfamiliar sound. The concept of shyness was foreign to him, it contrasted to the harsh commands he was accustomed to hearing, vulgarity being barked at him about his body and how he looked. Soldat's eyes, initially narrowing with a hint of suspicion, quickly softened as he processed your tone. His gaze met yours, and he offered a gentle yet subtle nod. You noticed a flicker of discomfort cross his features, leaving you puzzled about the source of his pain. Hesitantly, you spoke again, "Can I see?"

He bristled instantly, a cocktail of emotions surging through him. Vulnerability and aggression warred within, his muscles tensing as if preparing for a fight. He had to remind himself that this was you standing before him, not them - not the towering figures from his past. You weren't one of the men who had loomed over him, using their size to intimidate and control. You weren't here to pin him down or force his compliance. Instead, you were asking for permission. The concept was so foreign, so at odds with everything he knew, that it almost felt like a trap. The idea that he might have any sort of autonomy, any say in what happened to his own body was terrifying.

Your simple act of requesting permission sent his mind reeling. It stirred up a maelstrom of conflicting instincts within him. Part of him yearned to seize this newfound agency, to exert control over his own choices. Yet another part, deeply ingrained and conditioned by years of abuse, screamed at him to flee. The mere possibility of having a choice was so overwhelming that it almost made him want to turn tail and run, to retreat to the familiar confines of obedience and subservience.

After a moment of internal struggle, he made a decision. He shifted closer to you.

His body language was a mix of caution and tentative trust as he allowed you to examine him. He was clad in the clothes you had provided, a simple black tank top and a pair of comfortable sweatpants. It wasn’t much, by any standards, but when he arrived at your home you had no men’s clothes at all. You hastily had to buy him an outfit of some kind. At least these clothes were stretchy, he hadn’t even told you his size.

His old uniform had been in a state of utter disrepair - torn, filthy, and reeking of neglect. You recalled the arduous process of attempting to salvage it, for whatever reason. The washing machine had groaned and protested, nearly breaking down after a single cycle as it battled against the ingrained grime and wear.

You delicately hooked your fingers into the elastic waistband of his sweatpants, slowly and cautiously tugging them down his thighs. This was different from when you had bathed him earlier; at that time, you hadn't been able to get a proper look at his condition. The warm water from the bath had caused his skin to flush, making any injuries blend seamlessly with the reddened areas. You hadn’t really looked at his lower areas either, your primary concern then had been to cleanse him thoroughly, rather than to scrutinize his body for signs of harm.

As the sweatpants descended to his knees, your eyes widened in shock, taking in the full extent of the damage. Angry welts and livid red lashes crisscrossed the backs of his thighs, creating a horrifying tapestry of abuse. The marks were severely inflamed, with some sporting small, beaded clots of blood that were desperately trying to peek through the swollen skin in an attempt to heal the split flesh. The pattern and severity of the injuries suggested that he had been repeatedly struck with a stick or a similar rigid object, each blow leaving its cruel imprint on his tender skin.

Your gaze followed the trail of lashes as they disappeared beneath the hem of his boxers, leading you to the realization that his buttocks likely bore the brunt of this vicious assault, explaining his evident discomfort and aversion to applying any sort of pressure to that area.

Steeling yourself for what you might find, you reached up to carefully peel down his boxers. As you did so, you offered him words of gentle reassurance, trying to comfort him since this was an extremely vulnerable position. "I'm just gonna take a look, okay?" you murmured soothingly as you slowly shimmied the underwear down to join the sweatpants at his knees, careful not to irritate his welts. Your suspicions were confirmed as the fabric fell away, revealing the full extent of the damage.

His buttocks were covered in a dense network of welts and bruises, the marks here even more numerous and severe than those on his thighs. Bruising painted his backside in various shades of purple, blue, and black, with the deepest bruises appearing almost pitch against his pale skin. The sight was enough to make your stomach churn, a mix of sympathy and anger rising within you at the thought of the pain he must be enduring.

Your gaze was drawn to the sight of dried blood on his inner thighs, your brow furrowing as you looked at the obvious bleeding that had been occurring. Without thinking, you instinctively reached out to get a closer look at the area, wondering if there was an open wound he had been concealing. You didn’t want him to have an infection, especially in that tender spot. Your hand gently caressed his cheek, gently trying to spread him to look.

Soldat's reaction to your sudden touch was immediate and he turned away from you, his movements awkward and uncoordinated due to his pants still being bunched around his knees. His eyes were wide with fear and anger, locked onto you as he glared fiercely.

"Не трогай меня!" He snapped, his voice sharp and filled with warning. The Russian words hung in the air between you as he stood rigidly, facing you with a defensive posture.

For a second, you were sure he was going to lash out at you physically with the way he postured up. But you realized that beneath the aggressive front he was putting on, fear was the dominant emotion. He continued to back away from you, his movements jerky and uncoordinated because of the way his pants were around his legs.

As he backed away, his knees collided with the edge of the mattress behind him. The impact caused him to lose balance, and he fell awkwardly into a seated position on the bed. The moment he made contact with the mattress, a sharp, pained sound escaped his lips, wincing as his face contorting in a grimace that showed the intense discomfort he felt from sitting. The force of his body weight had him sit harder than normal, the collision with the bed felt like he had fallen on his ass on the floor.

Almost as quickly as he sat, he struggled to his feet once more. His leg muscles flexed as he jerked himself upward, the sudden movement seemed to intensify his pain and you could see his knees trembling, threatening to give way beneath him. The agony that shot through his body was evident in every line of his face and every quiver of his muscles. He reached out and gripped the edge of the bed, trying to keep himself upright and not fall down to his knees.

Your heart ached seeing him so scared and hurt, especially in this sick way. You took a step forward, your hand held out as you cooed at him. "Soldat, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have touched without telling you. But you're bleeding, I just wanted to see where it was coming from, that's all." You attempted to explain your innocent reasoning, but he felt so much anxiety at the moment, he didn't trust you to just look. Those wild eyes made contact with yours, a look that told you to back off.

So you did. You didn't want to freak him out any more than he was right now.

His trembling legs felt uncontrollable, finally betraying him as he slowly collapsed to the floor, crumbling like a wilting flower. He surrendered to the soft embrace of the plush carpet beneath him, settling down on his side. He carefully curled into a tight ball, desperately trying to ignore the searing, relentless pain that radiated from his ass. The intensity of the sensation was overwhelming now that he had stimulated the pain by his accidental sit, causing him to retreat further into himself. It didn't help that memories were flooding his vision, he just saw boots surrounding him and vicious words being spat at him.

You observed his distress from a distance, recognizing the need for space in this. You made the decision to quietly exit the room, allowing him the solitude he seemed to desperately cling to. Attempting to intervene or offer comfort at this time would likely prove counterproductive, pushing too hard or too soon would only serve to exacerbate the situation, potentially causing him to withdraw even further. You wanted him to trust you so badly, but that meant patience was your best friend, and you required it for this delicate situation.

From what you had seen, your mind wandered to possible causes. You knew of the beating and relentless torture he faced, for whatever reason the idea of sexual assault hadn't crossed your mind until now. However...the blood trickling down his inner thigh felt like a slap in the face at your ignorance.

Of course they would do that. HYDRA was full of sick degenerates that were hungry for taboo and inhumane activities. The men in charge got away with everything, and being an asset in HYDRA was less than being a pet, a mere toy for pleasure and consumption. Soldat was basically just a doll for them to puppet around and fuck with.

After several long minutes had passed, you made your way back to the room. Soldat was still curled up tightly on the floor, his arms wrapped protectively around his face and his knees drawn up close to his chest. The poor soldier looked so pitiful as he curled into a small ball like that, as if he were shielding himself from an impending threat. Your heart ached at the sight, deep-seated fear must have driven him to such a defensive position.

You approached him.

Your feet moved silently across the plush carpet of the room, each step measured and deliberate so as not to startle him. As you drew closer, you lowered yourself to the ground, settling a few feet away from his huddled form. You wanted to be near enough to offer comfort, but far enough to give him the space he clearly needed.

"Soldat..." Your voice was barely above a whisper, soft and soothing to keep his frayed nerves calm. "Do you want me to help you clean up? I promise, I won't do anything you're not comfortable with. I'm not... I'm nothing like those bastards who hurt you." The last words came out with a hint of venom, your disgust for those who had mistreated him evident in your tone.

There was a moment of tense silence before Soldat eventually responded. He hesitantly lifted his head, the sight of his face made your heart clench. His face was flushed a deep red with random blotches, his eyes were glossier than you had ever seen them, brimming with unshed tears. The vulnerability in his gaze was almost unbearable to look at, making your chest feel tighter with each breath. You watched as he visibly swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing with the motion. His head inclined ever so slightly in what you interpreted as a nod of agreement.

Encouraged by his response, you continued in the same gentle tone, "I promise you, it'll help those welts feel better. Bit of cool water and some ointment will soothe the pain and help the inflammation." You paused, talking as if you were speaking to a frightened animal or scared child. "And I really need to make sure you don't have any tears or excessive bleeding down there. That could lead to infections or other bad things that will require more serious care, and I don't want your condition to worsen. I swear I'll be as gentle as possible."

A beat.

Then two.

Then three.

Soldat gave you another slow nod, just enough for you to notice his compliance. "I'm going to go grab some things, I'll be right back." You went to the bathroom where you kept a first aid kit, not really sure what you needed, but it contained some gels and ointments that you knew would at least soothe the swelling skin.

You carefully settled yourself beside him and reached for a bottle of soothing ointment, it was typically used for burns but equally effective for welts. The cool, smooth glass of the bottle felt reassuring in your palm as you unscrewed the cap. You squeezed a generous amount onto your fingertips, the translucent gel glistening and cooling your fingers already.

You lowered your hand to his ass, your fingers ghosting over his skin before making full contact. You tenderly began to spread the healing substance over one of his cheeks, ensuring every affected area was covered. You made sure not to press too hard, and to get it down his thighs too.

At the initial contact, his body tensed involuntarily. The sudden coolness of the gel against his heated skin elicited a sharp intake of breath, followed by a long, shuddering exhale. His mind reeled, struggling to process this new sensation. He never experienced the soothing balm of pain relief; it was an alien concept to him.

Throughout his time in HYDRA, he had been conditioned to endure, to bear the full brunt of every punishment, every ache, every sting. The mantra that had been drilled into him echoed in his mind: pain was the sculptor of his being, the unyielding order he was meant to follow. It was through suffering, they said, that he would be molded into their ideal.

And so, he had taken it all - every lash, every blow, every tormenting penetration they forced onto him. The pain had been relentless, a constant companion that he had learned to expect and accept, no matter how intense or unbearable it became.

But right now, things were different. For the first time in decades, the familiar sting of pain was gradually being replaced by a soothing coolness that spread across his skin. The sensation was so different, of relief, of comfort, of care. The contrast between what he had always known and what he was now feeling was stark and overwhelming, almost triggering him to react and wipe it away, to feel that horrible pain once again. He at least knew who he was, who he was supposed to be with the pain accompanying him like his shadow. Without it, the sliver of knowledge of his being was gone.

"Most of the lashes are already clotted to heal so...there's no need to bandage them." You spoke calmly, satisfied with the ointment being spread on him. "But I will wipe away the bit of blood from between your legs, okay?"

Soldat, still reeling from the memories plaguing his mind, somehow understood your words and gave a tentative nod.

He felt the warm, damp cloth gently press against his sensitive inner thigh, the soothing heat gradually softening the dried, crusted blood. With each careful stroke, you cleaned away the remnants of his ordeal. Even after it had long been over, his body carried the wounds of it, reminding him of the painful experiences. Your touch was tender, as if you were handling something precious and fragile. The level of care you were showing him left him with feelings he couldn't quite decipher. He struggled to understand and accept your gentle treatment with his own self-perception. You approached him with a kindness and respect typically reserved for fellow human beings, a category he had long since excluded himself from.

He was a machine.

He was a toy.

He was HYDRA’s fist.

He was not a person.

You delicately cleansed between the affected areas, ensuring no trace of blood remained. Your movements were slow and deliberate as you navigated around the swollen, tender flesh, careful with the area since you knew it was very intimate and you didn’t want him to feel like he were being threatened. After all the blood was washed away, you applied a cooling balm specifically formulated to alleviate inflammation and discomfort in that sensitive region.

"There we go...all done," you murmured softly. Your hand was so warm and comforting, trailed along his back in a gesture of reassurance. To your surprise, he didn't flinch or pull away from your touch, a small victory in itself considering he would with any other kind of physical gesture. Mustering his strength, he pushed himself up onto his elbows, twisting slightly to survey the damage inflicted upon his body.

Soldat turned away as quickly as he saw it, his mouth contorting into a pained grimace. The soldier couldn't bear to look anymore, his mind reeling from the vivid memories that assaulted him.

He felt the phantom strikes of various implements of torture - the sharp sting of canes and crops swinging down against his ass.

The bruising impact of hands and boots, the searing pain of teeth sinking into his abused flesh, and the cruel bite of leather belts. He especially hated when the buckle hit his groin.

These ghostly sensations, etched deep into his psyche, haunting him with the horrors he endured, making him flinch involuntarily as if the torment was happening all over again.

"It's okay." You whispered, "You are safe now." Your hand rubbed circles on his back, you'd keep this in mind, this kind of assault he endured. It was complicate things in the future, but for now all you cared about was his comfortability. You continued to whisper comforting things, pulling a blanket over him that had been on the floor by his makeshift bed. You draped it over his backside, covering him and giving him some kind of security with feeling covered up.

For the first time, he seemed to be accepting your touch without reservations, as you felt the soldier's back muscles relax under your palm.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Images found on Pinterest

#bucky barnes #winter soldier #the winter soldier #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier x reader #the winder soldier x reader #winter soldier x you #the winter soldier x you #captain america the winter soldier #catws #bucky barnes angst #blythewrites⛓

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bg-brainrot · 9 months ago

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Failed Every Insight Check and Fell all the Harder (Astarion x GN!Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Companion piece to: Failed a Dex Save and Fell for You

Summary: After a few months of traveling together, Astarion has begun to experience some new feelings around you. After one fateful day in Moonrise Towers, he finally figures out what those feelings are.

Tags: Astarion POV, POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Awkward Fluff, tw: mentions of astarion's past and all that comes with it, tw: mentions of araj scene, Feelings Realization, Jealousy

A/N: here comes the awkward, fluffy Astarion figuring out his feelings Valentine’s special. He’s a hot mess, of course. (happy Early Valentine’s because I will be busy on Valentine’s) And thanks to everyone who voted for this one!

Word count: ~4.8k

Ever since your group entered the Shadowlands, something has been bothering Astarion. He hadn't noticed at first– or rather, had tried his best to ignore it. But, as time goes on, he’s finding it more and more difficult to brush aside.

It had started out small. An odd pain in the pit of his stomach.

What was that? he'd thought, holding a hand to his abdomen in concern. Perhaps he was just hungry, but it certainly didn’t feel like the ever-present hunger in his belly. No, that was a dull, continuous ache. This? This felt like something was weighing him down. Maybe I’m ill. I shouldn’t mention it to anyone, lest Lae’zel slit my throat in my sleep.

Besides, the pain didn’t happen often. He noticed it a distinct few times.

Once, when you first entered the Shadowlands. He’d just watched you bend down, hands plucking at something off the side of the cursed lands’ road. He thought momentarily that he ought to stop you, that none of you knew what could be lurking in its magical darkness. But that tinge of worry was promptly replaced by that same gods awful pit in his stomach.

Because there you were, presenting your party’s cleric with your spoils. You were gifting Shadowheart a night orchid– had remembered that she mentioned loving them. You bore the woman’s wretched joke with a smile. Disgusting, Astarion thought. No wonder my stomach feels uncomfortable, what a pathetic little exchange.

Like everything that had bothered him in the last couple of months since finding himself free of Cazador, he decided to forget the feeling. Life is his to take full advantage now, why let something like that affect him?

Or so he thought until the next time the feeling made its return.

You had just arrived at the Last Light Inn as a group, found shelter through the Harpers’ well-established safe haven. Astarion was quite happy to be rid of the shadows, content to cozy up in an inn. He figured, if he played his cards right, you may even let him partake in your blood or ask for a bit of fun.

Then your party found Dammon. Equipped with Infernal Iron and one blazing hot barbarian, Dammon made magic happen in a matter of moments.

Astarion was glad. As much as the group was a bit much at times, he understood Karlach’s struggle with her body all too well. She deserved this small victory in reclaiming her body.

His feelings of genuine sympathy were short-lived though because a moment later you were wrapping your arms around the tiefling’s body. It was a test, of course, to see if Dammon’s fusing had worked. But there it was again, the feeling in his stomach. This time it felt twice as heavy, a lead ball in his guts. Maybe I should let someone know, he thought. This can’t be good.

But the sensation was soon forgotten as your group settled into the Last Light Inn. Old allies were in some miserable new states– requiring even more help, gods– and new acquaintances were made. It was all rather dull for Astarion.

The one time Astarion perked up was when you went head-to-head with the head Harper. He chuckled under his breath when you outsmarted the old crone, Jaheira. That’s right, Harper. Don’t mess with my protector.

Your first night at the inn was capped off with a bit of revelry: a game of Truth or Dare.

Astarion could sense your reluctance to play. You’d been acting odd all day, stiff and awkward around him. He saw this as the perfect opportunity to tease you to the high celestial plane– in fact, he already knew what he wanted to ask you. “You are going to regret this so much," he'd said to you from across the table.

Then the game began, and the deep, uncomfortable feeling never left his core.

Each and every companion received your attention throughout the game, in one way or another. Even that damned smith, Dammon, was given a dare from you. And Astarion just sat there, not even earning a glance, his mood growing more and more sour.

When, at last, he was able to taunt you with his question, you were far too in your cups to give a proper response. He sat on your lap, placed there from one of Shadowheart’s dares, staring into your surprised, open eyes, wishing that he'd thought of an easier question for an inebriated version of you.

The group had shooed you both out of the game upon seeing your state, though Astarion didn't mind. He'd much rather leave the lot of them and tease you by himself.

Once you were alone, you answered his question. That he, Astarion, was your favorite and for all manner of incredulous, unbelievable reasons. He’d expected you to say him. He’d asked to hear your praise, confirm your attachment in the name of his plan to seduce you. All the same he was left uncomfortable, juggling the sudden and unabashed flattery. Being praised for his looks was one thing but for being… himself?

The feeling in his stomach grew. Suddenly his lungs felt it, his undead heart felt it. What in the sweet hells is the matter with me? he thought, as he helped lay your drunken, passed out form to bed later that night. He hadn’t felt a sensation like this before– he hated it.

Then you reached out to him in your sleep, and he froze. Something about the touch quietened the pain under his ribs, and so he extended his fingers, gently touching your brow as you fell asleep. See? I’m fine, he assured himself. I truly am just ravenous.

He continued this way for several days in the Shadowcursed lands.

One moment, he was perfectly fine, hacking and slashing at a Shambling Mound with abandon. The next, he would look over at you, see you laughing at something Karlach said, and it felt like an iron ingot had made its way into his insides.

Damned tiefling woman. I’m far funnier than her, you know, he thinks, resheathing his knives with a little too much gusto. The sound of your laughter rang in his head for the rest of the evening, as if he were being driven to insanity by it.

The next day, you had fought a horde of Meazels. At first, Astarion thought the fight was delightful fun– the tiefling woman and the cleric kept getting teleported against their will and after his recent annoyance with both of them, he found it quite amusing. That is, until you found yourself garrotted, teleported as far away from him as possible.

He was on you in mere moments, ripping the creature off of you with his blades. It was almost as if he’d reacted instinctively and, as someone whose instincts typically led him away from danger, he found the sensation quite off-putting. Nevertheless, he'd freed you, asking, “Are you alright, darling?”

Astarion couldn’t remember what you’d even said because once he saw the marks the creatures left on you, the pit in his stomach dropped. Where there had been a heavy pressure before, there was now a sharp feeling. His eyes carefully trailed over your injuries, trying his best to focus on you and not the phantom pain building inside him.

You had been fine, nothing that a quick heal from Shadowheart couldn’t fix, but that feeling stayed in his stomach the rest of the day. It’s simply the Shadowlands, he'd thought. They not only play tricks on the mind, clearly they’re playing tricks on my body.

It was a few days later, as you helped the Harper’s deal with their lantern problem that the sensation shifted again.

Astarion watched, eyes glued to your form, as you dispatched the hideous drider, your twin blades piercing the creature in its most vulnerable spots. He’d seen you kill many monsters before, hundreds likely at this point. But something about the way your body moved in the Moonlantern’s glow, the way your face lit up as the creature’s body crumpled to the floor, caused the vampire to stop and watch.

This time, he’d felt the heavy sensation move up, somewhere just below his throat. He tried against all odds to gulp it away, but nothing seemed to work. We need to finish our business here and get out as soon as possible, he thought now, convinced it was the shadows warping his senses…

But as your travel continues, the feelings never go away.

It’s a different pressure, it builds, it ebbs, it flows between his heart, his stomach, his torso– and each time he brushes it off. Stewing in these uncomfortable feelings, Astarion spends the week in a hazy mire, not unlike the shadows that surround you all.

Then your group finally infiltrates Moonrise.

Moonrise Towers, the seat of the Absolute and a once grand fortress.

Now, Astarion can’t help but think it seems rather underutilized. Your group is walking along the empty parapets outside, which are woefully missing any sense of grandeur or ornamentation. “Darling,” he says, leaning into you slightly. “Don’t you think we ought to just kill everyone now and take the place for ourselves. Might be quite fun.”

You bark out a laugh, which he feels proud to have produced, and reply, “Maybe later. This is an infiltration mission only. Besides, once we defeat the Absolute, I’m sure there will be a vacancy.”

Astarion laughs back at you. Gods, he enjoys this. The way that he can say something that others would balk at and you will miraculously not only appreciate it, but also play along with it. Having fun with them is so easy, he thinks. And look, I’m still wearing all of my clothes! What a novel idea.

The thought is cut short when your group walks through an outside doorway into a room that can only be described as grotesque. Whoever works here clearly has some knowledge of arcana, if the ingredients and alchemical tools are anything to go by, but it smells utterly foul to Astarion.

It’s when you spot the drow woman hunched over a table in the corner that he realizes where the stench is coming from. Hells below, that woman reeks of something truly awful, he thinks, recoiling. He’d grown used to following behind you closely, but as you step forward to speak to the woman, he finds himself taking a step back instead.

The woman introduces herself as Araj Oblodra, a trader of blood– a rather poor trader, by the smell of it. She takes note of Astarion, who shuffles back instinctively, before you and her go about some kind of business with your blood. Astarion contemplates speaking up, shooing you away from her, but decides to stay back, as far away as he can remain without arousing suspicion. They can handle themselves.

Then, after the woman looks back toward him one too many times, he hears you snap, “And why are you so interested in my pale friend?”

“Ah, yes. Perhaps there’s one more thing we could discuss,” she begins, her voice a dangerous drawl. “He’s a vampire, no? Or one of their spawn at least.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Astarion says, all-too-ready to fill his role. “We’re all friends under the Absolute. I won’t bite.”

“Oh, I’d prefer if you did,” she’s quick to respond. Her eagerness picks at Astarion’s nerves, and he raises an eyebrow at her. Araj doesn’t deign to give him another moment’s look though, as she turns back to you. “I assume he belongs to you?”

“Excuse me?” Your voice sounds offended– on his behalf, Astarion wonders? “He’s his own person.” Your words cause the feeling in Astarion’s stomach to flip, and, as much as he wants to come to his own defense, he finds himself quite content to hear you do it for him.

“I’m sure he really believes that. How utterly adorable,” she says with a snide chuckle.

Adorable? he thinks, but he’s unable to interject before the woman continues to barrel forward.

The blood trader turns back to Astarion, face wrinkled with distaste as her tone changes to something a bit more confrontational, “Do you have a name, spawn?”

Her sudden shift in attitude, the proud tilt to her head, it all throws the vampire off balance as he goes to answer, “Astarion, b-but hold on!” Astarion holds up a hand to try to slow this woman’s tirade, all to no avail.

“Good. Now, Astarion, I’ve dreamt of being bitten by a vampire since I was a young girl,” Araj begins, laying out the scene for her request.

Too bad that the scene sounds quite ridiculous to Astarion. Surely he heard her incorrectly? “I’m sorry, you want to be bitten?”

The woman goes on a new insane diatribe– something about dancing with death– but Astarion can hardly be bothered. All he needs to know is that she’s offering some measly potion for being bitten and, gods, does he not want to bite this woman’s disgusting neck. Or wrist. Or really any part of her. “I will have to decline,” he says, with a gracious little bow. Your group is still infiltrating the towers, it wouldn’t do to tell Araj exactly how horrid she smells.

It’s entirely more grace than she deserved, that much is clear because she presses him again. Again, he refuses. “I gave you my answer.”

The drow scoffs, turning back to you once more, “Can’t you talk some sense into your obstinate charge?”

You, for your part, look confused. There’s a line of concern in your forehead as you look between the woman and Astarion, wondering what it is that you’re missing. “I’m surprised, Astarion. I thought you’d enjoy an opportunity like this.”

What?! he thinks, a sudden, sharp spike of anger shooting through him. He tempers his immediate rage and speaks to Araj with that same, false pleasantry she doesn’t deserve, “I’m sorry, but could you excuse us a moment?”

Astarion, not waiting for her response, pulls you aside, away from the drow’s nosy eyes and ears. Once you’re alone, he turns to you, his voice a hiss, “Are you actually asking me to do this? Trading me for some-some-some potion?”

“What’s the matter? Why would she be different from any other enemy?” you ask, leaning toward him.

Your voice is full of genuine worry, and some of his anger abates as he meets your eyes. Of course, they don’t know what they’re asking. How could they know? “Because there’s something wrong with her blood. I can smell it from here. Ugh, it’s rank.”

Now your brows furrow, and a sharp edge enters your eyes as you ask your next question, “What do you mean? What’s wrong with her blood?”

“I can’t say. It just smells… wrong. Unnatural.” His words sound pathetic to his own ears.

Of course that’s not an excuse, Astarion laments. What am I even thinking? The potion is clearly useful. They are going to make me do this, and I may as well prepare myself. I’ve put up with worse after all.

So, he stands straight once more, ready to put on the performance of a lifetime. His tone takes on a resigned tone as he continues, “Drinking it wouldn’t kill me, but it would not be pleasant.”

You both hear a sigh from behind you. “I don’t have all day, True Soul,” Araj calls, impatiently.

Your eyes remain focused entirely on him, ignoring the woman’s irritated sigh, her entitled words. “Astarion,” you begin, and he takes a breath in preparation for your other foot to drop. “Don’t do anything you don’t want to do. And if she refuses to take no for an answer again, we’ll simply have to start our assault on the towers a bit early.”

The breath leaves him.

"Alright. Uh, thank you,” he says, feeling the tension drop from his shoulders. He’d been prepared to acquiesce, to do exactly what you’d asked of him. But this? This is something he hadn’t been prepared for.

In a daze, Astarion makes his way back to Araj, putting on as polite of a facade as he’s still capable of making, “It's still a ‘no’, I’m afraid.”

“How very disappointing,” the blood trader says, shooting you both a disgusted look. She turns away in a huff, leaving your group alone to recover from the exchange. And leaving Astarion floundering in another new sensation.

Because once more, the feeling in the pit of his stomach has reared its ugly head– only this time it shoots through him like a bolt of lightning. He's not sure what it is, but it's stunned him into slipping off his carefully crafted mask. He turns to you once more, voice soft around its usual edges, "Thank you. I… appreciated that.”

"You have no need to thank me. It was always your choice, Astarion."

Huh.

The feeling sinks into him, settling deeper and deeper as you continue through Moonrise.

That night, you go to bed in your own bedroll, leaving Astarion to his meditations with a smile and a wave. It has been a long day for all of you, and it's clear from the way you take a glance back that you're worried about him.

Gods, he's worried about him.

After dealing with that vile drow woman, you'd all continued about the tower, ingratiating yourselves with even the most repugnant of creatures to appear faithful to the Absolute. But Astarion paid attention to almost none of it.

He'd stabbed when you told him it was time to stab, he'd joined your side when you called him to you, but his mind had been wholly preoccupied.

They didn't make me do it, he'd thought, as he unlocked some chest.

Well, isn't this exactly what I wanted? he'd thought, following you down some stairs.

Clearly they just fell for my charms, my masterful seduction, he'd thought, flanking a prison guard for you.

So why do I feel like this? he'd thought, staring at your back as you led the way before him.

Now, he lays here in his tent, staring at the fold of its ceiling in a rapt fascination he doesn't feel. The feeling in his stomach has stayed all day, tethering him to his thoughts with its continuous pressure.

When did I get to the point where I would follow them anywhere? Is their lack of self-preservation contagious? he asks himself, eyes narrowing in frustration. I shouldn't have gone into that horrendous tower in the first place. Then I wouldn't feel like this.

But he had.

And you'd not forced him to do so.

You'd not forced him to do anything.

They're a fool, an utter fool. I could have bitten that drow, as easy as breathing, he thinks, rolling his eyes at the thought. Close your eyes and push through, that's what I always say.

But did you want to? something in the back of his mind asks.

Of course not, but when has what I wanted ever mattered–

It may not have mattered under Cazador's grip, but it has always mattered to you. You're nothing like that evil man. You'd always been there for him, had managed to find trust in your heart for him, and had been genuinely kind to him.

The now-familiar feeling in his stomach seems to spread to the rest of his body, a warmth that doesn't quite feel warm. It bleeds all the way to his face and his lips curl up into an involuntary smile at the thought of you.

You– you, who had only ever been meant to play a bit role in the tragedy that is Astarion’s life. You, who had transcended your part, leaving Astarion contemplating every aspect of you in the stark solitude of his tent.

Your beauty when you're covered in blood after a battle, the mischievous glint in your eye when you're teaching a child a sleight of hand trick– even when anger pulls your brows together and you're yelling at him for saying something particularly naughty. Each and every one makes his smile grow wider.

You, his chosen protector, are so much more than just that.

They are incredible. The thought comes to him unprompted, truly as easy as breathing.

His eyes widen in alarm, staring blankly at the tent above him.

The feeling in the pit of his stomach wasn’t an illness. Nor was it hunger. No. It was guilt. It was jealousy. It was…

Oh fuck, Astarion curses to himself. Am I in love?

Now that he has a word to the sensation, that the feeling is in his grasp, he knows he's right. He doesn't have a lot of experience with love, if any– he'd never had the luxury under Cazador's cruel gaze and he can't recall much from before that– but he knows he's right.

And hells does he wish he could crush the feeling in his hands right here and now.

Gods, you complete and utter imbecile, he thinks, hitting his head against the floor. You have things to do, goals to accomplish. They were only supposed to be a means to those goals, not a – a–

Astarion’s mind blanks as he thinks of you again, your charm, your wit, your damnable caring.

Not a companion. Not a friend. Not a lover. When did those late night trysts turn from an obligation, a part of his simple, perfect plan, into something more?

Even now, as he thinks of those nights, he brings a hand to his lips, recalling a night where you had simply stayed in his bedroll. You had kept all of your clothes on, as had he, and simply held each other as you fell asleep. Their kiss that night was delectable, he recalls, tracing the line of his lips, as if he could still feel the ghost of yours on them.

Fuck, he thinks again, dropping his hand in frustration. How could I have been so blind? How did I not nip this in the bud before it got to this disgusting pining?

But he hasn’t nipped it in the bud. The feeling has grown, unfettered, quick as a druidic plant growth, all unbeknownst to him. It has been nurtured by your attention. It has been watered by your kindness. It has become unruly in the safety of your arms.

Now what? he thinks to himself bitterly, wiping a hand across his face with a sigh. What use are these feelings when everything they were built upon is a lie? You are, after all, still playing the role he set out for you.

He considers overlooking the feelings, just as he has inadvertently done in his ignorance. It wouldn’t be of any use to tell you, of course. You could hardly feel the same way about him as he does you, and he’d rather not add another nuisance in the fight against the Absolute.

Besides, if he told you, he would have to fess up, explain his entire plan to you. What would even be left of the two of you after that?

But, he thinks to himself. Let’s say I did tell them. What could they possibly say…

“I was pretending all along too.” – gods, that would break him. That much is all too apparent from the way his undead heart aches at the thought, with a pain he couldn’t possibly feel.

“I like you, but not like that.” – maybe this was worse. Actually, it was definitely worse. He may never recover. His ego would certainly never recover.

“I have someone else that I love.” – honestly, reasonable. What did he have to offer you after all? A bloodthirsty master and the occasional snarky comment? He wouldn’t be surprised to find you in Karlach’s tent at this very moment…

“I hate you.” – he might be able to take this the best. You should hate him. He’d done nothing but lie and manipulate his way into your bedroll. Hate, well, that he understood.

“I love you, but…” – every single 'but' cut like a different, jagged blade. But we’re in danger every day? An excuse, surely. But you come with too much baggage? True, but not something he would be able to resolve. But I don’t want to be with a monster? Again, reasonable, but out of his control.

Astarion runs through scenario after scenario, each one playing with his own emotions in a new and horrendous way. In the end, he all but slaps himself out of it.

No, I cannot tell them. I absolutely must take this to my second grave, he determines, shaking the thoughts away with a few hard blinks.

But the feeling in his chest is more persistent than ever. As if giving it a name and meaning has given it a new, annoying life. He laments to himself aloud, "I may never feel like myself again.”

If this is what love does to a person, he wants no part of it.

The vampire didn't have a restful night's reverie, that much is apparent. His mood is foul, his body tense, and his eyes are trying their damnedest to avoid yours.

No way, he thinks as you all set off for the day. I spun myself into a frenzy last night. Clearly. I feel absolutely nothing–

Then you turn back to him, concern lining your eyes as you address him. What had you just said? He had found himself somehow lost in your eyes, your lips, the turn of your nose…

Shit, he thinks to himself. No, get back in control. You have only just reclaimed yourself, you can't lose yourself to something as cruel as love.

But, try as he might, his eyes can’t avoid you.

All morning, he continues to sneak glances your way. Despite his roguish nature, he finds hiding his stares to be impossible. After all, you are the group’s leader. You are at the front, you are at his side, gods, you are everywhere. This feels like some kind of divine punishment…

You catch him looking, of course. And each time, he curses himself, gods, you idiot. You may as well broadcast your feelings to the world. And hells, how long have you felt this way?

Astarion tries futilely to act normal. This is just another day with the group in the Shadowlands. He’s not thinking about holding your hand in his. He’s not thinking about the way you look when you sleep. And, above all else, he is not thinking of your lips or the way that they move when you say his name.

Despite his inner turmoil, the world moves on. You lead the group through the Mason’s Guild, and you all manage to clear the place out easily enough.

The vampire thinks he’s finally reaching some sort of peace. Yes, this routine work he can do. No problem at all.

Then, you say something kind to Karlach, that infernally charming woman, who continues to support you at your side. Who, for all intents and purposes, should be the person who warms your bedroll at night, now that you can touch her. Not him, the man who can only make your bedroll colder. Who, even now, is avoiding your every glance.

Oh hells, he thinks, face dropping. The realization that he’s right is too much for him to bear.

Astarion stalks off, annoyed at himself and his thoughts, needing a moment to recollect himself. I can do this, he thinks. I can do this. I can–

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath once he knows he’s alone. “You’re supposed to get over this, you stupid fool. Shit. Gods dammit.”

He hears your familiar footfalls approaching and freezes, his shoulders tense with anticipation.

You find him in a pool of shadows away from the others, and he can’t help but feel like a beast that’s been cornered. He’s certain his face reflects that, reflects every bit of emotion he’s feeling as plain as could be, but your patience with him has apparently worn thin for the day. Your voice is less kind than usual when you say, “Do you need to talk?”

Seeing the anger in your face, the way that your hands are placed on your hips in annoyance, he knows he can’t keep his feelings to himself. He’ll only continue to push you away, into the strong, red arms of another.

No, he thinks, in a panic. I should– I need to–

He needs to do something about his feelings, unwanted or not. Really, he needs to tell you, regardless of what your response may be. If not, he may regret it for the rest of his undying life.

Now that he is in control of his own choices, he supposes that means all of them, for better or worse. That means even the most difficult ones. This is one of those difficult ones, isn’t it?

So Astarion swallows his pride, his anxieties, his insecurities, and settles his fate.

“Later,” he says, barely getting the words out. He blinks, and tries again, pleading with you with his eyes, “Please, just come by my tent later.”

Later, I will tell them. Everything.

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x reader #rogue + rogue #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion fluff #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion pov #astarion is bad at feelings #astarion feelings realization

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eyesxxyou · 6 months ago

Text

❝ sunshine pt.3 ❞ (hobie brown x male!reader)

｡ﾟ･ ¡ content. hobie x male!reader. reader pretends to hate dislike hobie. gay longing. denial of feelings. switch!hobie. switch!reader. missionary. save a horse ride a cowboy. using cum as lube. hobie being a tease. after your time in the bathroom, it's hard to deny your feelings for hobie. it's even harder to deny when hobie shows up on your doorstep.

Hobie Brown liked you.

He liked you from the very moment he met you. You were responsible, respectable, with enough sense in that brain of yours to last the both of you. You were quiet yet not shy and willing to speak your mind when need be. You were mean but in a nice way, in a way that really showed you cared more than you ever wanted to let on. He might have liked that most about you. Or it would be your lips that he liked the most. After all, he’s finally gotten a taste of them twice now.

You and Hobie met at a party through Riri. She had introduced you two and you had given him a once over and, looking rather unimpressed, dismissed him in the most polite way you possibly could. Hobie thought you to be prissy and stuck up and was ready to dismiss you as well as just that until he saw you glancing at him throughout the night, always within view of him. He knew you liked him right away, simply playing, or convincing yourself, that you didn’t. He thought it was cute.

You were avoiding him again. More so than before. According to your other shared friends, you weren’t even leaving your apartment. You didn’t want to risk any chance of running into Hobie on the street and being forced to confront your undeniable feelings right then and there.

But you had to talk about what happened eventually…right? You would have to talk to him eventually.

Would flowers be appropriate? Would they make you more upset? Imply something that was never there in the first place? Or would they soothe the undoubted rage you would feel upon seeing Hobie at your door when all you wanted was to be left alone with your thoughts. You didn't need him coming in and stirring shit up but Hobie wouldn't be himself if he didn't stir the pot just a little.

Hobie decided no flowers, not yet, you weren't ready for something like that. It would send you into a spiral, turn you off to any idea of simply talking to him.

He stood at your door for approximately 10 minutes, simply debating if disturbing you would be worth it. Hobie had the chance to make things a whole lot worse but also the chance to remedy your pain and confusion. He would be remiss if he didn’t at least try to make things better between the two of you. So he knocked, nervous for one of the few times in his life.

It was clear you didn't expect him to be at your doorstep when you opened the door. Your bored gaze widened into something of surprise, or maybe that’s fear he was seeing. You didn't hesitate to try and close the door on him but Hobie stuck his boot between the door and the frame to stop you. “Wai’, wai’, sunshine please, hol’ on.” He pleaded softly, sticking his hand through the crack to pry the door open but you had a surprising amount of strength.

“Could you stop fucking calling me that? It’s stupid and annoying.” Your words hold a bitter taste to them. Your lips are pressed into a firm scowl as you look at him. Your hands balled into fist pinned to your sides. “Why are you here, Hobie? I’m not feeling well” You let out a feeble cough to punctuate your point. It’s unconvincing even to you.

Hobie leaned against your doorframe and looked at you with those heavy-set eyes you found yourself thinking about far too often. “Ya haven’ been answerin’ ma calls.” His voice was soft compared to yours. It makes you feel a bit ridiculous for being so angry. But your anger was righteous; you had every justifiable reason to be upset.

“When do I ever answer your calls?”

“Touché.” Hobie tried to play nonchalant, shrugging his shoulders dismissively, shifting his gaze to the side. But — God — if only you knew how anxious he was to speak to you. His mouth ran dry and his palms, usually cool, where now hot and clammy. “But we still need t’ chat. Don' wan’cha goin’ ‘round thinkin’ I was just tryna get off or somethin’.”

You’re colder than usual to him, scoffing at his every word. Hobie was starting to think you might actually hate him. But if he’s right, and he nearly always is, you like him far more than you want to let on, you always have. This was all denial, a front, a way to protect your fragile world view and delicate self-image.

You turn yourself away from him, eyes shifting, head low. You don’t want to talk. Is it so hard to just be left alone?

Hobie could see you were shutting down. “Look– I’m no’ ‘ere to tell ya who ya are and who ya aren'. ‘M jus’ here fo’ support.” He was gentle, his lips twitched into a half-hearted smile, trying to be friendly and cordial. As much as someone like him can be.

Maybe it’s then that you realized the fact that he was just trying to offer you some kindness at a point in your life where you might have needed it most. You were so unsure of yourself, who you were, what you did. You always knew Hobie wasn’t a bad person, but you never knew he could be so tender.

You pursed your lips and sighed with defeat before opening the door a little more to let him through. His boots made your floorboards creak under the weight of them as he walked into your flat, his hand shoved into the pockets of his spiked and studded leather jacket. He was too comfortable, too cool for your liking. Or maybe you were too tense for his.

You closed the door behind him and crossed your arms over your chest as if to protect yourself. Your body language screamed defensive, closed, unwilling to listen. Your eyes shifted from side to side but never linger on Hobie for long. Back against the door, you shifted your weight from foot to foot, heel to toe. “I don’t know what you think is going on between us, what you think we share, but I’m not interested. It shouldn’t have happened.” You spat out, more at yourself than at him. “It was a mistake.”

Hobie grunted. “Way t’make a guy feel good ‘bout ‘imself.” He wasn’t hurt about it. You were going through a lot right now. And your words said more than you ever cared to say.

“I’m not gay, Hobie.” You say a little forcefully, watching with a sort of meticulousness as Hobie wandered his way closer to you. You watched him shrug as if it didn’t matter. “So wha’? I wouldn’ call myself gay either, I jus’ like who I like.” He slid his hands from his pockets, his approach still slow and steady. You didn’t dare look away from him or make a motion in any other direction.

“‘M no askin’ you t’be gay, sunshine.”

You swallowed as Hobie reached out and placed his large hand on your hip and closed the space between your bodies. This was the very reason why you didn’t want to be around him, because you knew that if he made a motion for you, you wouldn’t have the strength to pull away.

You wanted him. You wanted him carnally, wanted him the way one being always longs for another. You wanted his hands, his lips, his cock. You wanted all of him and more. Just one more time, one more time and you’d expel him from your mind and you’d be done with it all together.

You looked at him, desperation filling your glossy eyes like tears. “Then what do you want from me, Hobie? I don’t understand.” You don’t understand yourself anymore. You don’t know yourself. All you know is that you're wildly and completely, head over heels, desperately fiending to have him again and you didn't know what that meant about yourself.

Hobie stroked your hip tenderly with his thumb. “I jus’ wan’cha t’like me back. Is tha’ so hard?”

You turned your head away, lips pursed to stop them from trembling. You were utterly terrified. Terrified because you do like him back. You like him more than you ever wanted to let on. Everything you despise about him, his saunter, his carelessness, his full laughter, his smile, is truly everything you adored about him and he had seen right through you the entire time.

“I do like you.” It feels so good to get off your chest, to finally say it out loud. You look at Hobie, eyes hard yet glassy. Your lips are pressed firmly.

Hobie didn't understand. “Then wha’s the problem?” If he liked you and you liked him, why were you so against being with him? It wasn't like you’d lose your friends, they were totally accepting of queerness if not queer themselves. And so what if anyone else judged you? You never cared about anyone’s opinion before.

“I thought you were the most annoying person in the world just a few weeks ago. I still do. So what if we like each other? That doesn't mean we’re meant to be together. I’ve known myself well all my life. I’ve known what I wanted, who I wanted, where I wanted to be-”

“This is ‘bout’cha feelin’ like ya don' know yerself anymore?” Hobie scoffed. “Things change, sunshine. Life happens. Grow up.” It was harsh, but you needed to hear it. You liked men, Hobie specifically, men generally. Who cares? Not him, not your friends, not the people that matter in your life. “If I like you and you like me, wouldn' i’ make the most sense for us to at least try to make sometin’ outta this?”

You were silent. Utterly and terribly silent. You didn't know what else to say. You felt ridiculous for holding on to this idea of yourself that you’d never live up to. You couldn’t believe you were admitting this but Hobie was making sense. Who cares if you like men, like him. Sure, it might come as a shock to everyone but in the end, what does it truly matter?

You look at Hobie with big eyes and your hands reached out to pull him a little closer. Who cares, you told yourself. The guilt still ate away at you but with time, you knew it would go away.

Hobie deemed it safe to kiss you. He was cautious, easing his lips onto yours, tender and innocent until it wasn’t. It was all the sum of their parts. Lips, teeth, tongue, passion, drowning desire. You reciprocated with the same timid carefulness of someone unsure of how to be gentle, how to be intimate without being aggressive.

Hobie’s fingers curled into the fabric of your shorts, pulling you closer until your body was flush with his. Your arms fell over his shoulders, fingers mindlessly scratching at the nape of his neck while your teeth nip softly at his lip piercing. He pressed you to the wall much like you had done to him that night in the bathroom and pressed his body closer to yours. You didn’t mind that all his spikes in studs were digging into your flesh. You welcomed his sharp abrasiveness.

You guided Hobie to the couch, where the two of you fell into a tangle of limbs and caressing touches. Hobie was on top of you, his large hands still on your hips but slowly beginning to roam about your body while the two of you kissed.

Fuck, he was hard already but so were you so it made the matter all the less embarrassing. Your arousal only made him harder, more desperate for you. Hobie’s hands grasped at your hips and waist in an act of worship, before sliding between your legs to palm at your aching cock pressing against the front of your underwear.

“Hobie~” you whined softly, moaning onto the fullness of his lips before your tongue sought out his once more. “Fuck, fuck, just like that.” You should be embarrassed by how desperate you are, you both should. Your hands ferally tug at each other's clothing, just enough to get your cocks out and rutting against each other. His was bigger than yours, thicker, with veins running along the sides. He was uncut and pretty. And the direct comparison of your sizes made your cock twitch and leak onto your stomach. His precum dripped down and mingled with yours.

Hobie was not shy about rutting his hips and rubbing his length against yours. Your hands continued to pull off clothing after clothing. His vest, your shirt, his pants then yours. Until you both were totally nude, minus the spiked collar Hobie still wore.

“I don’t– I don’t know what to do.” You said between bated breaths and eager kisses. Hobie pressed his hips down against yours and you whimpered just slightly. You felt his smooth yet scarred skin under your palms and felt at ease. You looked at him almost pathetically and felt your face grow hot as Hobie rolled his hips into yours and chuckled at you. The leaky tip of his cock rubbed the underside of your mushroom head and you shivered.

Hobie’s lovely lips kissed your cheek and began to hover over your jaw and down your neck. “I’ll show ya, sunshine. We’ll take turns, yeah?” He suddenly became as sweet as sugar, so sweet you could taste it on your tongue when he kissed you again. “I’ll show ya how t’do i’, then you can do i’ t’me.”

He was so gentle when he touched you, but you writhed and squirmed with every trace of his fingers along your body. “Do ya have lube?” He murmured against your flesh as he kissed a small sweet spot at the base of your neck. You nodded, a bit slowly. “I think… It’s somewhere in my room. I never needed to — fuck — use it before.” For the life of you, you couldn’t remember exactly where it was. Your brain was too fuzzy, Hobie was starting to move his hips faster and the way his cockhead rubbed yours was starting to make you delirious. “I can’t remember,” you murmur hazily. “I can’t remember, I can’t remember. God, please don’t stop.”

“Yer actin’ like this ‘n ‘m not even fuckin’ ya yet.” Hobie chuckled lowly into your ear. It tickled and you weren’t sure if that’s what made you shiver or the way he wrapped his lithe fingers around your cocks and squeezed just enough to apply a perfectly delicious amount of pressure.

You couldn’t help but to roll your hips into his hand while Hobie thrusted his forward. He watched the way you huffed and whimpered, almost whining. You squeezed your eyes shut and simply let yourself feel his length against yours. His tip rubbed yours, precum leaking onto your slit. It was just enough to make you come undone.

You didn’t even know you came until you felt it pool all over your tummy. Your eyes opened, bleary and out of focus as your cock twitched. You reached down, looking up at Hobie who was pushing his hips in shallow thrusts. He was close, you could tell just by the way he moaned, deep and pretty like he was singing just for you.

You reached down and dragged your thumb over his dark tip, pressing against his slit and rubbing in short, tender strokes. Hobie’s hips shuddered and his lips parted just enough to let out something of a guttural groan. “Fuck– ‘m close, sunshine. Yer doin’ so good.”

Hobie came soon after you, with a few more short rubs of his tip, he spilled out all over your hand and tummy, his cum pooling in with yours into a large, milky puddle. It was warm, a bit more viscous than yours, came out in globs that landed on your abdomen.

Hobie leaned in and kissed you once again. You melted into him, your hands cupping his face to pull him closer. “Please fuck me, Hobie.” You plead with him, panting into his mouth with a desperation you’ve never before known. You parted your legs wider, exposing yourself to him, offering yourself to him. You looked so handsome like that, legs spread and cum on your belly. “Use our cum if you have to. Please, I need it.”

He was taken aback by your eagerness to be fucked. “This’ll be ya first time bottoming, yeah?” You nod sheepishly. Hobie smiles that smile you’d usually scoff at but now, all you could do is marvel at it. You swooned at it, your lips pulling into the smallest smile of its own. “Will you let me fuck you after?” You ask in the smallest voice as if you were almost embarrassed by your request. But you couldn’t help it. “Please, I really wanna fuck you.”

“Awww ya wanna fuck me, sunshine?” Hobie crooned at you. He laughed robustly as you slapped his shoulder and turned your face away. “You can always leave, dickhead.” He kissed at your neck and chest, nipping slightly at your skin. “You don’ wan’ me t’do tha’.” Hobie continued to kiss at your neck while dragging his fingers through the puddle of cum on your tummy.

Your lips parted and a small gasp left you as the pad of his fingers circled over the tight rim of your puckered hole.

“Ya wanna prep first, jus’ tease i’ open.” Hobie pressed a singer against your hole, listening to your soft whines as his finger eased into you. The intrusion felt odd, but not bad. He whispered for you to relax. “‘M no’ gonna hurt’cha.” He gathered more cum and made sure his path was nice and slick. “‘M gonna add another finger.”

“Just do it— please.”

Hobie wasted no time sliding another slickened finger into your taut hole, his eyes watching the way you bite your lip and stifle a whimper. His fingers didn’t search for your prostate, his cock would do that work for him. He was just focused on opening you up and ensuring that you’d be ready to take him. Your hands gripped his shoulders. Your face twisted, not exactly with discomfort. It was a feeling you could get used to with time.

Hobie and that dimpled smile that grove you mad. You almost wanted to say something but every time you opened your mouth, you simply cried out. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” You were desperate, every desire you’ve ever had spilling out of your mouth, every fantasy you’ve had about him since that night in your closet. You wanted him to fuck you, you wanted to fuck him, you wanted you bodies to melt into one another.

And when Hobie pulled his fingers from your wanton hole and gathered more cum to spread down his length, you prepared yourself for an unbearable pain. You’ve seen porn like this but no one has ever been nearly as big as him.

He placed his tip against your wet hole, looked at your face for any sign of pain, and slowly eased himself in.

Your mouth fell open and your back arched as you whimpered. You could feel him splitting you open, parting your tight walls to make space for him. Your walls were molded to his cock. Hobie groaned above you, hands gripping at your hips and thighs to ground himself. “Ya feel so good, sunshine. Bloody hell. Stay still f’me.”

But you couldn't, you wiggled and writhed with something of discomfort and pleasure. His intrusion was not exactly welcome but certainly not discouraged. The sounds that left you were ones you’ve never heard before. They were new and unknown, whiny and loud as Hobie pressed against something soft and sensitive inside you. Suddenly discomfort was welcome and you needed more.

He pressed his hips flush to yours, rolling his hips and offering shallow thrusts that made him poke and prod at that spot that made your toes curl. You tossed your head back, eyes rolling back into your head, fingernails sinking into his flesh. “Hobie, Hobie, Hobie.” You whimpered as he buckled down and pulled out only to fuck himself back into you.

Hobie was desperate, ravenous, trying so hard not to hurt you while also satisfying his need to have you. He loved the way you sang for him, your whiny moans growing higher with each thrust into your hole. You trembled and you sang and you opened your legs wider to feel him deeper if such a thing was really possible. You could feel him in your throat, choking.

Your orgasm came so quick you hardly had the chance to say anything before you were squealing, your cock leaking more cum onto your tummy with a few hard twitches. Your mind was so hazy, but you had enough sense to hide your face in the bend of your elbow to hide from the embarrassment of coming so swiftly.

You expected Hobie to laugh at you, tease you for it. But he gently took your arm from you face and leaned down to pepper kisses across your heated face. “I’s okay, sunshine. I’s ya first time. Only right you’d be sensitive.” His fingers traced up and down your side as he placed his lips on yours and kissed you with a tenderness you still couldn’t believe he was capable of.

“Y’want me t’keep goin’ or do y’want yer turn?”

He made you feel safe and comfortable. As comfortable you could be having sex with another man.

“Can you ride me? I wanna look at you.”

Hobie chuckled, slowly pulling out of you with a pop that made you shiver. “So obsessed with me.” Your lips tugged into a lighthearted scowl that soon faded as Hobie scooped up your cum from your abdomen and reached back to prep himself, slowly sinking a finger into his ass, soon followed by another.

You watched, dazed and amazed, admiring the contours of his face as he let out a breathy little moan. Hobie smirked at you, “like what’cha see?” You didn’t have enough sass left in you to pretend that you didn’t. You just wanted him, to feel him, to make him cum like he made you cum. You wanted his pleasure, wanted him.

You sat up into a sitting position and watched as Hobie came and straddled your lap. Your hands found purchase on his boney hips and he looked into your eyes as he stroked your cock with his cum-covered hand. “Le’s see how fast I can get’cha t’cum this time.”

“You don’t have to rub it in my face.”

“No’ rubbin’ i’ ya face, sunshine. I jus’ think i’s cute.” Hobie leaned down and kissed you again, just a peck that left you wanting more. He settled down and positioned your cock against his hole before slowly and carefully sinking down onto you.

It felt different than being with a woman, tighter, warmer, less wet. A moan ripped from your throat, your mouth falling open to gasp and shudder. Your hands stroked Hobie’s sides to soothe yourself. “Fuck– Hobie~ God, you feel so good.” You were gasping for air, breathless. Your cock was still sensitive. You’d cum in no time.

Hobie grinned, settling into your lap, rolling his slender hips into yours. He rode you slowly at first, drawing out noises no other person has ever made you vocalize before. He cooed at you, his lips on yours, his tongue in your open mouth. Then he rode you hard and fast, with the skill of someone who knew exactly what he was doing.

You were borderline pathetic. Rendered down to nothing more but a gasping, whimpering, drooling mess. You should have more self-respect, but Hobie was taking any semblance of it from you. His hole squeezed you tight, a vice grip that left your eyes rolling. “Ngh, mmh~” You were writhing beneath him, hands gripping, nails sinking into flesh.

You held Hobie close. His chest to yours, his cock slapping against your wet abdomen, his fingers laced into your hair. There was something so terribly intimate about it, how close you two were. The desperation on both parts was thick in the air, hot with the smell of sweat and sex. When Hobie stopped kissing you, a string of saliva connecting your lips. You two looked at each other and you felt as though your face had been shoved into lava.

Hobie grinded his hips down and his head lulled back. You had touched his soft spot and he let out a pretty, baritone moan. He squeezed you tight and stroked your cock softly and just as Hobie had suspected, you came, without warning. You had meant to cum on the outside, your hands attempting to push Hobie off of you when your cock began to twitch, but he seemed intent on staying.

You came inside, nice and deep, your hips shuddering. Hobie groaned, low and loud, and came onto you stomach and chest.

You both were left panting, tired and suddenly sore. Hobie looked at you, waiting for that moment where it all switches and you realize that you’ve made another mistake– where you suddenly become cold again. You looked up at him, eyes unsure but softly pleading for reassurance. “Please tell me this wasn’t a mistake.” Your voice was nothing more than a whisper.

Hobie got up off of you and sat on his heels beside you. His hands traced imaginary shapes into your cum-covered chest before leaning in to litter pecks across your face. “I’ wasn’ a mistake, sunshine. Nothin’ we did was a mistake.” His lips finally found yours and you didn’t hesitate to kiss him back. His lips soothed you.

“Le’s see where this takes us. We don’ have t’put a label on i’ righ’ now.”

You looked rather sheepish, turning your head away from him. “What if I want to put a label on it?” If you were going to do this, you wanted to do it right. You wanted Hobie to belong to you and you to belong to him. “Don’t get me wrong, you still annoy the hell out of me and sometimes I want to knock you over the head with a frying pan, but I want us to be something.”

There was that smile, that gorgeous, charming, irritating smile. It was so cocky, so arrogant, so Hobie. You adored it.

“Then le’s be something’.”

#across the spiderverse #atsv #spiderman atsv #hobie brown #spiderman #spider punk #hobie brown x male reader #hobie brown smut #hobie smut #atsv hobie smut #spiderpunk smut #spiderpunk x male reader #sunshine

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death---dealer · 5 months ago

Note

NAHHHH NOT CEASAR HITTING ON HIS SON'S GIRL!! SHAMEFUL !! (more please and ty)

like father like son, like FATHER LIKE SON [Gunshot, I am taken out ] Do i need to make this a series oh my god

It felt like even looking at Caesar was going to cause your heart to jump into your throat as you brought your knees inwards and rubbed them together as you tried to focus on Blue Eyes' hands making rapid pace with signing. It was immaculate to watch, especially when he was in the throes of conversation with Ash. Hands flew faster than you were able to really comprehend. They were giving you a kind re-cap of the fishing trip they had gone on that caused you to inadvertently flirt towards the Ape King himself thinking with grace that it was in fact Blue Eyes. Heat tickled your nose at that, thinking about the idea that Caesar thought about what piece of clothing you had lacked, what you had prepared for his son and it sat in the pit of your stomach like a brick. You were probably overreacting. Caesar was kind to you and always had been, his words weren't meant to be taken as flirtatious! Maybe it was just your mind playing tricks on you and he was being cordial to put you at ease, as he so often did and based that direction his actions on his nuanced knowledge of Human intricacies.

He could have just been making a joke to make you feel better about being embarrassed or he was plainly unaware that what he said make your heart stop in your chest for a few seconds, the look he gave you made fire splatter along your ribcage. You went with the latter option. He did not know, and he was most likely not even thinking about it, and you were left the fool for letting yourself think that he was thinking about it. A mess, you thought to yourself and sighed gently, but reality. Bringing your fingers down, you rested them on your knee caps and lightly traced the tucked away bone there and smiled at Blue Eyes when his gaze caught hold of yours and you wished he held it a bit more and pulled you into the azure depths of assurance and comfort. But, he was quick to chatter back to Ash as they were talking about how big the catch was today.

He'd gotten back only minutes after Caesar departed, the whole moment lost in the shuffle of his hands caressing your back and pulling you flush against him, your mouth gasping in surprise at that as he took you. Once, and then twice. Caesar had to know that happened - the time lapse between Blue Eyes arriving back and going to see his Father was too significant for the Ape King to presume that his son... Didn't lay with his mate.

Then... There was the whole scent issue. Blue Eyes probably wafted your scent straight to Caesar upon greeting his Father. Even now, you were blessed with the knowledge that any Ape in the vicinity was aware of what Blue Eyes had done to you, what you had done to you and while that was often shoved aside in favor of being ignorant to eyes on you, eyes critiquing you for even captivating the Ape Prince's attention and the mindless chatter of how you were going to ever give him an heir, you were unable to shake the feeling of a set of intensely focused green eyes boring holes into the back of your skull with malice intent.

Moving to the side, you adjusted your position on the rock you were perched on for the tanglement of conversations you were often blessed with after communal dinner, enough time to let your stomach settle before you trailed off to bed with Blue Eyes. There was no settling though, you felt like you were flying off the charts of carnal want, wanting another round with your intended to see if the gross sensation you had about his Father would dissipate. Anything, anything... You'd trail your hands along Blue Eyes' chest, you push him down and let yourself fall between his legs, something you hadn't gotten the chance to do but you were morbidly curious how the timid Prince might react when you touch him, barely grazing with the tip of your tongue ---

'Father.' Blue Eyes signed reverently, letting his eyes capture yours for a second, curious to know why Caesar was even here.

Your eyes widened as you looked over and found it difficult to even stutter out a small 'hi' at him as he drew down and sat next to his son. With them side by side, it was abundantly clear that while Blue Eyes was more like his Mother in personality and some aspects of his looks, it was diluted Caesar to his very core. The same intense stare, the same gait, the same movements of signing, Caesar must have been the primary parent to teach him growing up.

He knew, oh god he knew you had been thinking about him and now he's over here torturing you with his presence. In front of Blue Eyes no less. How uncouth, you muttered bitterly to yourself, letting your arms fall across your chest. You had an excuse, it was a cold enough night. Caesar fell into small conversation with Blue Eyes and Ash - even going as far as to thank them for the amount of fish that was caught today and with that, he gave you one good look before standing and walking off, your eyes watching that all too familiar stance before he was out of your vision.

'Are you okay?' Blue Eyes asked, reaching a hand up and placing it delicately against your knee cap where you had been rubbing at earlier.

'Do you want to...' Your signing came to a slow stop as you looked into his eyes, raising your eyebrows a bit suggestively in hopes that he understood.

'Talking to Ash. Did it when I got back, you want to again?'

You nodded.

'Can you wait until I'm done with Ash?'

You sighed quietly and nodded in agreement. it wasn't like he was wrong. 'I'll be waiting for you.' You were fast to sign that so Ash didn't catch on, letting your hand linger on his shoulder for a moment as you stood, Blue Eyes tilting his head into the minor affection as you set to trail towards the nest you shared together, unsatisfaction bubbling in your core. If you were going to be alone, you figured, maybe you'd do something to help yourself out. You had a feeling it was going to be sometime before Blue Eyes finally joined you.

#blue eyes #caesar #pota #planet of the apes #planet of the apes x reader #em answers #blue eyes x reader #caesar x reader

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cocksucker6000 · 2 years ago

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hi! can i rq the bjs w/ the boys sumeru edition ? :)

bjs with the boys ☆ ! sumeru edition

giving head both ways, ft. genshin men mond edition, liyue edition, inazuma edition

switch m reader + tighnari, cyno, wanderer, alhaitham (separate)

a/n ;; ITS HERE U GUYS…..its here………sorry if ppl are ooc. i was going to release this a lot earlier, around 3.1, but i thought i would hold off until more guys were released and i warmed up to them a bit. thanks anon for reminding me! no kaveh because i don’t like him sorry 🥲

tighnari ;; giving

he’s a little bit hesitant at first when giving you head…if he’s needy enough (and you’re to his hygienic standards) there’s no guarantee that you can pry him off of you. especially in his heats, all he wants is for you to fuck his mouth. and if you softly scratch his ears, he’ll melt—pulling is off limits, though. i also wouldn’t count on him to swallow. but, he wouldn’t mind your cum dripping down his cheeks…

tighnari ;; receiving

he’s still a little nervous, but much to his dismay, by gods is he sensitive. he loves it when you lube up a finger and prod at his hole in the meantime, holding a firm grip on his thigh. he certainly isn’t hard to get in your mouth, either—he’ll cover his mouth with his ears pressed flat against his forehead as he cums down your throat, just aching to be filled by you at this point.

cyno ;; giving

you really want him to do this? well, he supposes he could. his reluctant speech is definitely a shocker when he still holds such a strong grip on your thighs even after having orgasmed twice already. you aren’t sure how his jaw doesn’t hurt already, but your dick sure does and your head is fuzzy. oh! you got a little overstimulated? sorry, he just got a little distracted. absolutely not his intention at all.

cyno ;; receiving

that vice he had on your thighs earlier just translates to him gripping your hair like his life depends on it. he’d get so disheveled under the feeling of your warm mouth, he can’t help but cum so early and wrap his trembling legs around your head.

wanderer ;; giving

as long as it means he can be close to you, he’ll do it—but his grumpy attitude doesn’t last long when he’s whimpering around your cock and palming himself through his shorts. he can’t help it, just the thought of you drives him crazy. he needs your cum down his throat so bad, the poor thing tries his very best to make you feel good.

wanderer ;; receiving

again, it doesn’t last long to completely break him—and it’s even more fun this way. he bucks into your mouth and whines, biting down so hard on his lower lip that it might bleed. he paws at your hair, running his fingers through it when he cums, chanting your name like you were the god before him.

al haitham ;; giving

the head isn’t…great at first. mostly because he doesn’t want to hurt you, and let’s be honest, he’s a little bit inexperienced. but the scribe eventually opens up once you tell him it’s okay to be a little sloppy and rough, and safe to say he learns to really love it. sometimes he’ll even wake you up with your dick in his mouth, just because he’s bored and wanted to see you all hot and bothered in the morning.

al haitham ;; receiving

he’s hardly sure what to do at first. your mouth is so warm and wet, he can’t help but groan a little. and while he may be quiet, the way he twitches in your cheeks lets you know how good he feels. this is better than any time he’d fucked feverishly into his own fist, and he wasn’t even sure it could feel this good until now. he’s lucky you came along.

#genshin x male reader #male reader smut #tighnari x male reader #cyno x male reader #wanderer x male reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x male reader #alhaitham x male reader #haitham x male reader #sub wanderer #sub tighnari

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prncessjaeger · 1 year ago

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every girl gets her wish ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

ღsyponosis: eren’s pink obsessed spoiled!gf goes to the mall!

ღan: idk this is kind of a selfship then again idk, anyways song inspo for title: every man gets his wish

ღcw: suggestive ending but that’s it.

“baby, you think this top is cute?” you held up a pink longsleeved shirt and showed it off to eren, who was currently on the phone with his co-workers talking about boring business bullshit, “hm yeah but it’s pink…again-” “so?” your lips formed a pout, knowing he might not even buy the shirt (mainly cause you already have like 3 similar ones in your closet but who’s counting?) and that saddened you deeply. “soo you should pick the grey one, goes well with those pink patricia pants right?”

“they’re called priscilla pants and i mean yeah they do, but i wanna do pink on pink though…” your pout was evident and eren knew this tactic from a mile away…but he couldn’t just keep you sad all day, so! he sighed and grabbed the shirt, adding it to the pile with all the other clothes you’ve chosen. “so i can get it?!” “just keep looking for things you want, i’ll be at the front waiting.” he walked away, clothes in hand and you smirked to yourself, knowing you got your way once again.

once he paid for your items, you took him inside of this cute daiso like shop, and eren internally sighed before walking in, “oh my god eren! look at these cute headbands, wanna get em?” “no-.” “yes? okay, get that white basket and hold it please?” he snatched (playfully) the basket up and let you sit both headbands in there. you both browsed around the shop, grabbing anything, whether it was perfume sets, stationary sets, and other miscellaneous items. “i’m finished-and the basket’s not even that full this time, baby!” “right…” he looked down and saw the basket (which was full) and just agreed with you, wanting to keep you happy! “your total is $137.20! cash or card?” “card.” eren grabbed his card and you smirked once he tapped it against the green. “thank you for shopping here, girl! your outfit is too cute!” “thank you! yours as well!” you both left the store and immediately you grabbed the bag with the headbands in,

“eren-” “no.” whining, you ignored him trying to move his head away from you and put the headband on him anyways,

“aww you look adorable! now, let’s go get smoothies!” he finished up his call and smiled softly at you, grabbing you hand and instead of going to the smoothie section, he took you straight into victoria’s secret.

“oooh they have pink bralette sets and the teddy to match, grab those yoga pants eren with the pink lettering- oh my god! they have pink and grey sets!” eren picked up a few things and walked back to where you were, checking out the new scents for fall, “go try these on.”

“okay, you coming in?” he nodded, “yeah, give me a minute though.” you grinned and walked into the dressing room the worker, kira, opened for you and you checked out the cute set he picked out for you, and hastily tried it on. “eren!” “yes, my love?” “it’s on.” you could hear the scuffles from his shoes rushing to the dressing room, “lemme see it baby,” opening the door you pulled him in, not wanting anyone around you to see you in such little clothing, “soooo…?” “you look…beautiful baby, do a spin for me?” he took your hand and raised it up, twirling you around twice, “yeah, this is real nice…can’t wait to fuck you in it too-”

“eren! people can hear?!”

“so? now c’mere,” grabbing your waist, his lips connected to yours in a soft kiss, moving one hand cupping the fat of your ass cheek as he deepened the kiss, “mmh- eren, c’mon let’s buy it already?” he saw that certain glint in your pretty doe eyes and poked his tongue in his cheek,

“yeah, come one, we’re ending this mall trip a bit early today.”

ღan: boring, yawning, sloppy….lazy.

#eren x black fem!reader #eren x reader #eren aot #attack on titan #aot x black reader #eren jaeger x reader #aot x y/n #eren yeager #fluff #lana del rey

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hatsukeii · 20 days ago

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hey girllllll i’m here at ur cafe cause exams have been kicking my ass… i need a comfort drink RN !! can i get an oolong tea with pumps 19 and 20 from the sugar free menu :) ive been EYEING that customer in the corner right there.. yeah the blonde haired red eyed one— he’s called bakugou you say? fuckkk, set me up pls, sister? 😁😁

ps. good luck for ur exams hattsun! we can do this :p

hello hello:)) thank you for the wishes and good luck on your exams too!! i've got your order up! (why! would you put yourself through extra bitter tea!)

to kill a god / prohero!katsuki bakugou x reader

ingredient(s): angst<3 (you asked for it baby), pro hero katsuki x terminal patient reader, soulmates to dead idk, major death! major character death! anguish! pain! just straight up agony tbh

disclaimer(s): terminal illnes + major character death warning!! also like i think i used a hc that pro heros don't reveal their names to the public idk why, scarce use of y/n like once or twice, ending is! a little rushed but i hope it hits anyways, they are the embodiment of "are they lovers?" "no, worse" so...

wc: ~3.0k

drink profile: absolute defiance, hospital walls, luck and chance

Katsuki Bakugou, at six years old, declares that he wants to live forever. He wants to blow villains up for the rest of time, expend the nitroglycerin in his sweat glands until the world ends one day and everything is reduced to atoms. He lives out his childhood with his chest puffed out, like he cannot- no, will not die.

Even as his limbs weigh heavy on his teenage body, and he can feel himself hit concrete ground as whips of black shoot through his torso, he tells himself he is not dying. He's not fucking dying, because he has lived and fought like a god.

By the time he graduates from UA, Katsuki is certain that he has to, one day, meet his end. He pretends like he can live forever anyways.

When Katsuki meets you for the first time, it is in a hospital courtyard on a sweltering July afternoon. Hours of greeting and running around with children finds him sitting on a bench, away from the commotion that is contained within the hospital white walls of the pediatric sectors. His skin boils beneath his suit, and he tries to wipe his sweat-slicked forehead with a gloved hand. From beside him, a paper towel appears beneath his nose, slipped between an index and middle finger. Katsuki stares at your palm, eyes travelling to the IV drip inserted into your wrist. When he looks up, he isn't sure how you've gone unnoticed for so long, with your IV pole by your side, donned in a sterile blue hospital gown. You look not a day over twenty.

"Dynamight." Your voice comes out as more of a croak than a youthful chirp.

The towel is swiped into Katsuki's hands swiftly, before he pats at his forehead. "Yes?"

"Are you afraid of dying?"

He scoffs, slipping the dampened towel into his pocket. How absurd. Dynamight? Afraid of dying? Do you think he fights because he's scared of dying? Turning to you, Katsuki comes to realise that you might be dead serious, dull eyes boring into his skull. He could see nothing behind them. The IV drips, and drips, and drips. You stare. He isn't sure what to tell you.

"Hell no. But I don't wanna die." He leans into the hardwood bench, spreads his legs a little further apart. He doesn't know that he's lying, even when his stomach stirs and the wooden bench begins to cool, and coarsen into concrete ground and blood. He should look away before it all feels too real again, but you're looking at him like a child, twenty years too old, searching for answers in the face of what power means in this world. Katsuki hates it.

"Of course not. You're a hero after all. All the power in the world."

You stand, and leave him sitting there alone. That night, pro hero Dynamight waits for backup at a villain sighting for the first time.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Katsuki Bakugou promises to give you a taste of power when he meets you a second time at the same hospital, the next week.

He's not sure how his patrol shift has brought him here again, but he never got to stand up for himself. It's not his fault he's a hero, not his fault that he enjoys power in the spark of his palms, or that he isn't afraid of dying because he's clawed his way out of it so many times. But he knows what it's like, he says, standing by your bed. Knows what it's like to never die, even when everything is pushing him to. That's power, he tells you, absolute defiance. And you're sitting in a hospital bed surrounded by two palliative care workers who have to shoot you up with anaesthetics every four hours. So he leans down close, so close that he can sense the wariness coming from your stony eyes, see the hairs on your skin stand helplessly, and he frowns.

"D'you think you're weak?" His question is uttered to a husk of a human, who needs the wall to keep them upright. You wince painfully in response, unsure of what he wants to hear from your chapped lips. One of the workers doses you with anaesthesia, and you pinch your eyes shut. It still hurts, even after all this time.

"I'm just waiting to die, call that what you want. Weak, sure." You swallow at the thought, because you're fucking terrified. Katsuki takes it that you are scared of him.

"You're just fuckin'... waiting to die?" Vermillion eyes squint in disbelief, and you swallow again, this time at his question instead. He hates spineless quitters. He hates them more than he can imagine. Some part buried deep inside him wants to refuse death on your behalf, because he detests nothing more than the notion of going out helplessly, bound at the mercy of a hospital bed and anaesthesia. There has to be someone out ther with a quirk that can save you, and Katsuki isn't sure why but he's hellbent on finding them. Call it civil service. A hero's duty to save.

"If you're going to come here, Dynamight, at least make this easier for me, and don't act like I asked for it."

Right, Dynamight. That's what people call him, and you are no different, so he's not sure why he expected otherwise. When one of the two palliative workers approaches you with a syringe, Katsuki doesn't think he can bear the sight of another dose of chemicals worming its way into your veins. You're just another chickenshit defeatist, poisoning themselves in a hospital room.

He turns on his heels, and leaves while you hiss in pain.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

No one at the hospital is quite sure of what is going on between pro hero Dynamight, and a terminal patient. They watch him return, week after week, sometimes consecutive days in a row. When he steps through the automatic doors, he shoots every single worker that passes by him a curt nod, then hikes up the stairs to room 203. The only people in the room would be two palliative care workers and yourself, and the rest of the hospital staff is sure he's brokered a deal with the two workers to never let a single word out of 203.

Nobody else ever enters 203 while Dynamight is here.

But everybody talks.

They make rumours, pick up on singular words through the sliding door, then say he's grown weak. Soft. Pro hero Dynamight, no longer the first at the scene of a crime. Pro hero Dynamight, falling back from combat on live television. Pro hero Dynamight, visiting a terminal patient, day after day. He must have too much free time on his hands. Maybe he's had enough of hero work. Maybe he's gone mad.

What they conveniently fail to understand, outside the barrier of 203's white door, is that Katsuki Bakugou doesn't know what is going on between himself, and you either. He comes back every day not because he particularly wants to, but because he can't help himself not to. He finds you again, and again, and again, just to listen to you talk about hospital food, or how you've just watched him back down on live television, scrutinised by millions of watchful eyes.

Then, Katsuki asks you how long you have left, to which your answer is always decreasing. A year the first few times, then halved, and by this visit, his seventeenth, you tell him, "three months."

"That's a quarter of what you had five weeks ago."

"Tough luck." You stare at the IV drip in your wrist, watch the liquid seep into your veins through the thin tube.

He wants to promise that he can help you, even though it holds no power. He is not a doctor. Everyone else in this hospital is. But Katsuki Bakugou has almost died about a hundred times, and still he lives, so he thinks he must know something that they don't. Absolute defiance.

"Nothing is luck." He sits on the bedside stool, grinding his foot into the squeaky hospital floor. "It's all a wretched fight."

"Yeah, for you it can be." You laugh dryly, wiggling your wrist and watching as the IV tube sticks up in odd angles. "But luck's all everyone else has got."

A pigeon smashes into the glass window, and drops to the balcony floor outside in a flurry of feathers. One of the palliative care workers leaves to pick the mound of grey from the floor. Katsuki looks away when the other one shoots you up with another dose of anaesthesia. Something hums in the air, inescapable, like the time he woke up in a hospital bound in bandages, circulating oxygen from a new, pumping heart. His hands spark, and for once, he wonders if he just got lucky.

"Let me touch your sparks."

You finally speak again, a hand stretching out weakly to point at the crackles and pops of Katsuki's palm. Gingerly, he extends his gloved palm towards you, careful not to touch the equipment that surrounds your bed. When you take his hand in yours, something twists in his chest, and sparks thud at his suited torso instead. They're weak enough to do little damage, yet as he tries to ignite sparks again, they misfire a second time, scorching the dead pigeon pinched between the palliative care worker's fingers. Katsuki Bakugou has never been afraid before, but he jerks his hand away from you, yanking onto the IV drip and rattling the pole that wobbles at the force. He may as well be quirkless in your wake. Powerless.

"What the fuck was that?"

You shrug. You've always wanted to be a hero, watching their escapades from your bedridden world. You just got unlucky.

"Luck. That's luck. I wanted to become a hero with it."

You would have been a great hero, Katsuki thinks. You should have been a great hero.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Katsuki Bakugou doesn't realise that he has never called you by name until his twenty-third visit. He sits by your bed, gives you his hand, lets you do as you please with soft sparks that tickle and prick at your skin, as he has for the past four visits. He's figured that you would smile when they redirect to the spot just between the two of you, like fireworks that stutter and pop into flowers. Some part of him hates to admit it, but he's enjoying this much more than blowing villains up.

"You're getting better. That's the third in a row in the right place."

"All luck."

He swallows thickly, because he hasn't asked the question yet. How could he, when he's giving you exactly what he promised- power? He floats images in his head: IV drips, surgery, growing tumour, operation room, flatlines. They cover your body in a shroud of inevitable dread, and Katsuki would blow them apart if he could. But he's given you his quirk, and you're making fireworks with it.

"Are you scared? Of dying?" The fourth spark hits a mug on a desk across the room. It jolts off, and shatters on the ground. You shrink into the bed, pulling his hand into your chest, and his gut drops. There's a sort of bitter taste that worms into his mouth, but he lets his hand lie flat against your sternum when you push it closer to yourself, and it dissipates. Your chest rises, heavy and slow, like every breath is laboured. When you look up at Katsuki, he isn't angry. His cheeks are rounded, soft eyes watching your fingers around his hand, lips slightly pushed apart by his sudden question. It occurs to you that he might be asking more than just yourself that.

"What does it matter to me?"

"Should I be?"

He stares back at you, and you freeze. Pro hero Dynamight faces death head on every day like it's nothing, but some sick part of you wants him to be afraid too. It will take three weeks to catch you, maybe a few more decades until it chases his tail, but death finds everyone eventually, and that should be terrifying.

"You can choose. Do you want to be scared?"

He should defy this, just like he has so many times before. Dynamight has a fake heart, fake name, fake recklessness, it's all fucking bravado. Katsuki's been tasting blood in his mouth every night since his old heart stopped pumping at sixteen years old, his bed is bloodstained concrete ground when he wakes up in a cold sweat. He can choose, but can you do the same? And even if he did not have to choose, if he could be immortal, would he still pick a side? What good is being a god, if he can only live to watch death take you from above?

Your hair covers your face, your fingers ghost across his gloved ones, and he swallows the question of how long you really have left.

"What's your name?"

"Y/n."

He holds his breath, letting it out only to utter, "Katsuki." You hold his hand a little tighter in yours.

"I wouldn't be scared if I knew I could move on from this."

"Don't use me to make your choice. You have to move on from this. And you have to be okay with that."

At thirteen years old, Katsuki Bakugou is publicly asphyxiated for approximately one minute and twenty seconds, until Izuku Midoriya arrives on the scene, trying to wrench him out. At sixteen years old, he is pronounced dead in battle, until Edgeshot turns himself into his new heart. It has never been about defiance, and always about people being in the right place, at the right time. His life has been dangling from the promise of luck since the day he was born with a quirk that lets him pretend to be a god. So no, maybe he shouldn’t let somebody else make this choice for him.

"But I'm still scared, y/n. I'm still so fucking scared."

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Pro hero Dynamight breaks down on live television one week later, following a close call with a criminal syndicate. Millions of eyes glue to their home televisions, watching him scream profanities into a Juko News microphone outside a hospital. Parents cover their children's ears, angry commentators press backspace on their "dy-no might" comments, 6pm rush hour stops to stare at angry Shibuya billboards, but nobody changes the broadcast.

"You motherfuckers have no idea how fucking lucky you are to be alive! When have you ever, ever! Had to count your fucking days?" Spit shoots from Dynamight's mouth, and they think he's deranged, unhinged. He stands in front of the hospital- your hospital, and forces the retreating cameraman to redirect the lenses at his angry spew.

"Gone soft, weak, no might, quit the shit!" He points at the hospital behind him, right at the window of room 203. If you aren't hearing him from your bed, Katsuki is ready to grab the microphone, and yell it from the balcony for everyone to hear.

"You will never understand what it's like waking up to fucking hospital white day by day. I have seen it, people in there have seen it." He jabs a finger at the camera accusingly. "If you want heroes to die fighting so badly, I suggest that you fuckers try it for yourself."

Turning to 203, Katsuki stops for a moment. Reporters snap photos behind each other, yet nobody says a word. Have you made him soft? Made him weak? Have you killed Dynamight? When he remembers the fireworks between your noses, and the choice he's made for himself, he thinks the opposite.

"I will not apologise for wanting to live. I will not apologise for trying to live. And I will not fucking apologise for being scared of dying. Not when I get to wake up, and choose to be scared."

Katsuki throws the microphone to the ground, and stomps on it, storming into the hospital. Comments flood the broadcast. Coward. Fake. Spineless. Ungrateful. His PR team scrambles to get the footage deleted.

He hikes into 203. To hell with the news outlets, and the reporters, and the spineless keyboard warriors, because he's watching you take your dying breath if that's what it takes for him to move on from you. He slides open the door, and you're bedridden, breathing through an oxygen mask. You smile at him like you've saved him from something you don't know. He smiles back, because you have.

"I'll only move on when you do."

"Two weeks, Katsuki."

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

When pro hero Dynamight arrives at the hospital again, nine hours have gone by since his public meltdown. He returns to rubble, and dust, and a dozen rescue heros scrambling on their feet at 3am. They say that there's been a gas explosion, that the past few maintainence checks have failed to detect litres of propane seeping into every crevice of the institution, all while flipping through piles of concrete for signs of life. They tell him that more heroes will be here soon, and that he should focus on breaking open larger pieces of debris. As he sends explosion after explosion into deconstructed hospital walls, Katsuki wishes he could pretend to care about the mangled corpses crushed beneath what once was a hospital. He doesn't.

People all look the same when their heads are crushed between asphalt and concrete. Hundreds of IV drips are littered around the wreckage. It has been one hour, and even with backup, they have only found seven survivors. Dynamight cannot save people here, all he can do is blow rubble to bits, hoping to find beneath it one more person whose lungs haven't been crushed already. He is no hero. He couldn't even save one person.

Three hours of searching concludes with twenty-two survivors, all hauled into helicopters and stretchers, and flown away to someplace Katsuki doesn't care to know. Rescue heroes never confirm the death count, and can only give an estiamte of approximately three hundred fatalities, and twenty-two casualties. They never find your body.

Katsuki stands on broken rubble, and he thinks he has been killed again, two weeks too soon, all in the name of misfortune. Tough luck. He swallows his pride, because in the face of death, absolute defiance has never been his vice. As he gapes at this massacre of pure chance, his gloved hands can barely form sparks. How did you ever turn them into fireworks?

barista's note:

hi do you guys still love me<3 double pump of sugar free you were ASKING FOR ITTTTTTTT i do apologise i rushed the ending because i have more requests and i want to get through them but i am physically! incapable of like multitasking on writing like i have to finish one to start one or nothing comes out i fear... i hope the ending hit the vibes right anyways though because idk what i was thinking while writing this i think i was kinda just vomiting onto the page whatever felt right LMFAOOAO

tags: @catsoupki @laughingfcx @wishi-selfships @fiannee @chuuya-brainrot @zzwon @akaakeis @hiraethwa @bakery-anon @wyrcan @bailey-reeds @hiraethwrote @kuroppiii @kongkhoi @staraxiaa

#katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugou #mha bakugou #bakugou angst #bakugo angst #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha angst #mha angst #mha scenarios #bnha scenarios #bnha imagine #mha imagine

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all-pacas · 2 months ago

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random and very specific chase headcanons i will insist on secretly working into all my stories:

chase and his sister don't look much alike. not in a "they're not related" way, just he takes after their mother and she takes after their dad, lookswise: there's not a deep symbolic meaning for this, they just… don't look alike.

chase never considered himself a Rich Kid growing up, because yes, the big huge house and dad's fancy cars, but he went to one of those very fancy private schools where like. his best friend's father owned oil fields. his friends had superyachts. he was the poor kid in that school, which in turn greatly skewed his own self perception of his family money.

the novelty did wear off but he enjoyed searching people's houses at first, because he'd get to creep on people's houses and belongings and learn about poor people and normal people hobbies and just observe. like an anthropologist. chase wants desperately to Be Normal and has the sinking suspicion he isn't, but also doesn't realize how boring he truly is. (he comes from a Mental Health Is For Other People family)

he has fucked men and he does consider himself heterosexual. his sexuality is a rotisserie chicken of repression and catholicism and "if i don't look at it it will go away." he knows what bisexuality is he just truly believes it doesn't apply.

the reason he worked NICU to earn extra money was a) he actually did kind of mean it when he said he needed a break, but for chase a break is overworking myself and not sleeping because then i simply have no energy to think, and also his sister needed money for rehab. again. and she was cut out of dad's will too.

they talk maybe once a year, but chase has a huge guilt complex about his sister and whenever she asks him for anything (money) he just throws it at her. to her credit, she has only done this once or twice ever. he actually wishes she'd do it more, because then she'd need him, and he could be useful to her (in a way that didn't involve talking to her).

he has a fairly high alcohol tolerance, but is also very good at coming off completely sober even when he's totally drunk, which makes it seem like he has a superhuman alcohol tolerance.

chase has very specific rules for himself and drinking, because children of alcoholics is a constant mantra in his head, but he does still drink. part of it is just a… cultural/social thing, part of it is absolute self flagellation. for a long time the rule was don't drink at home, never drink alone, but after his divorce he started to drink more - at home, alone, whatever - in a sort of rotating self flagellation sort of mess of: what if i did.

cameron was absolutely his first serious relationship.

he genuinely liked and was close with his priest, his teachers in catholic school, he has never had any brushes with Catholic Church scandals, it was the one place in his childhood chase genuinely did find adults who cared about him. however, he does not go to church as an adult. maybe once a year or if he's very, very stressed. it's almost more of a nostalgic thing than a prayer thing. he feels safe in church. he lights candles for his parents and dibala and tries to convince himself he believes in it.

he still believes in god and does absolutely believe he's going to hell. so why not enjoy his life and sleep around and do whatever while he's still alive, you know? enjoy the time you have left because all you can look forward to in death is eternal torment and suffering!!

he thinks, incorrectly, that he can do a pretty good american accent when he tries

#robert chase #house md headcanons #malpractice posting

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deathworlders-of-e24 · 1 month ago

Text

Jane, Medical Technician

Part 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Without the useless procedures or petty vandalism, the Med Bay was actually kind of boring. Besides the occasional cold or sprained joint, nothing was really holding Doctor Jane Shaw’s interest. She did get to meet a few of the crew, and that was nice, but otherwise it was boring. She knew the mission had only been underway less than a week, but she’d been expecting a little more excitement. Like landing on an asteroid or dogfights with space pirates. Jane had been watching bad sci-fi movies since she was a little girl so her expectations were a little…unrealistic.

Jane was about to hit the mess hall when Doctor Huhuma came through the door, the 3 other simian like Indoprime in tow.

“Hey you guys, sorry, I’ll clear out of here right after I finish these papers.”

“No, Jane, stay and have lunch with us,” Huhuma said, “I already brought you a plate. It’s mostly fruit though, so I’m not sure how much you’ll enjoy it.”

“Well… alright, if you insist.” Jane had said polite greetings to the other Indoprimes when they’d come into the Med Bay previously, but she hadn’t really met them properly yet. In retrospect she hadn’t really met a lot of the crew yet, aside from that minor assault on Simms the Gally, and that wasn’t exactly putting her best foot forward.

Jane left her desk and came over to the exam table where the four aliens were enjoying their meal. Huhuma wore her lab coat as usual over the green medical uniform she always wore, which suited her in Jane’s opinion. Two of the others were in maintenance worker orange, and the fourth was in security personnel gray.

“Alright, you’ve met these guys before yeah? That’s Hayte there from Security, and these two are Marrin and Kub, they work maintenance with that other human who stole the service droid.”

“I told you, he didn’t steal it, it’s more like he… adopted it, the weirdo.” Kub laughed.

“Well is it cute?” Jane asked.

“Is what cute?”

“The droid.”

“I mean, yeah, I guess.”

“Then yeah, that tracks. Humans are suckers for anything cute,” Jane said, eyes flicking to Huhuma.

“See, I told you to be nice,” Marrin said, jostling Kub with her shoulder.

“So are you guys like siblings or what’s the deal here?” Jane asked, sitting to the Doctor’s left. She picked up a spiky red ball fruit, hoped it was edible to humans, and tried peeling it.

“Not exactly. Most Indoprime live in tribes, so we’re closer to what you humans would call cousins. Same tribe, different tree.” Huhuma reached over and pierced the fruit Jane had with her nail. “Now try.”

Once the fruit’s skin had been torn it peeled easily, like an orange. It smelled sweet.

“Thanks.” Jane took a bite. It was sweet and dark, like black cherries on steroids. “Oh my god this is fantastic, what is this?”

“It’s a makla fruit from our home planet,” Marrin explained. “Your Vending Machines get them almost perfect, but the ones back home are still better.”

“Well you’re all troopers for making due I guess,” Jane teased. The table laughed, and she relaxed a little. The 5 of them chatted throughout their breaks, Jane and Huhuma telling them about Simms the Gally and his unofficial punishment. Hayte approved, saying that security chief Ducane would probably agree with it but that he wouldn’t spill the beans on them.

Hayte told them about the chief, ‘Ducane the Destroyer’, and how the security teams were shaping up into ‘special forces’ like the humans had on E24.

“The guy is a monster, nothing can stop him. I’ve seen him in the GRID, it’s like he grows twice his size! I’ve never seen anyone run the gauntlet like him before in my life!”

“Well you know if any of you actually do get hurt in there, come see us immediately Hayte,” Huhuma said.

“Yeah, don’t bite it from just a simulation, we need you guys in case we run across pirates or something. I can’t use a blaster to save my life. Deadliest weapon I’ve ever held was a scalpel,” Jane said, popping another piece of fruit in her mouth.

“I thought all you deathworlders were trained soldiers?” Kub asked.

“Nah, not me. I got through the academy purely on brains. Can’t fight my way out of a paper bag but I can diagnose an ear infection at 20 yards.”

“Says the girl who tackled that Gally guy into next cycle,” said Huhuma, chuckling.

“Okay, fair enough. Maybe I got some fight in me somewhere,” Jane smiled at her. Then she noticed the rest of the Indoprime looking at her, Marrin smirking, the boys just with a blank stair on their faces. Jane covered her face with her drink as she took a long sip.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Their respective breaks ended, and everyone returned to their stations. Huhuma went to her office to finish a paper she’d been working on, leaving Jane to take stock of the equipment in med bay. She went down the checklist on her work pad, counting off items as she went.

3 emergency med kits with body stabilizers, check.

6 dozen microscopic sutures, check.

4 short wave laser scalpels… not check, there were only 2 there.

Thats odd, where’d they go? Jane thought. She’d grabbed one just the other day to get that pipe out of Simms the Gally, and she was sure she’d set it back to recharge, but now it and a second were missing from their slots in the port.

Jane hit a button on her work pad.

“Computer, has anyone checked out equipment from the med bay storage?”

[Negative]

“Crap.”

Jane knocked on the doctor’s office door. It hissed open, and Doctor Huhuma looked up from her computer. Her tail flicked behind her.

“What is it Jane?”

“I was doing the inventory out there and it looks like two of the laser scalpels got misplaced or something.”

“Are you sure you put it back from the Gally incident?”

“100% sure, and it’s not just that one, two are missing from the kits. If someone came in here and took them, those can be used as knives or weapons or…”

Jane’s imagination was overclocking at an alarming rate. Suddenly she was in the midst of a mutiny and pirates were taking over the ship, or someone used a scalpel to cut a hole in the ship and let all the oxygen rush out, or…

Jane took a deep breathe.

“Jane, calm down. I’m sure it’s just a clerical error, but what do you say we send a report to the captain and the security chief, okay?” Huhuma came out from behind her desk and put a hand on Jane’s shoulder. “You okay in there?”

“Yeah, sorry. It’s just… this is my first posting out of the academy, and I really wanted it to go well. I’m really glad now that you got the division head job, because I don’t think I could handle the pressure if I get done in from just inventory being off.” Jane chuckled weakly.

“Everything is going to be fine. We’ll report the issue to the captain and Chief Ducane, they’ll sort it out. But maybe we’ll change the code to the medicine cabinet too, just to be safe,” Huhuma walked on light feet to the storage room and began typing commands into the pad on the door. It tripped and beeped and glowed green, accepting the changes. “There, all done. And I’ll report that to the captain as well. Just be ready to assist the nurses with this if they need anything from in there, alright?”

She’s so nice, Jane thought. So in control of her shit. Kind of jealous actually.

“Thanks Doctor,” Jane said.

“Please, you can just call me Huhuma if we’re not in surgery,” she said laughing softly.

“Thanks, Huhuma.” Jane felt a blush coming on again, so she quickly turned and got back to her duties. The good doctor went back to her office, most likely to inform the captain of their inventory issue. All was quiet in med bay for the rest of the shift.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As much as she enjoyed having a meal with the Indoprime troupe on the ship, Jane chose to have a quiet dinner by herself in the mess hall that evening. She hit the vending machine, got a nice pasta dinner with a savory red sauce, and sat down at a corner table to read a medical journal on her work pad while she ate.

She’d just opened what she’d hoped to be an interesting article about new lumbar puncture procedures for different species when some ruckus caught her attention. Someone in a yellow communication division uniform apparently hadn’t chewed their food all the way, and seemed to be choking.

��Someone call med bay!”

Fuck, Jane thought.

She was once again on the move with no real conscious thought about it. A crowd had formed around the victim, blocking Jane from her newest patient.

“Move, move, I’m a doctor, please can you GET THE HELL OUT OF MY DAMN WAY!?” She hollered, progressively louder as she elbowed and shoved her way through the throng of people. Hearing her shout, the crowd parted and gave her the space she needed. Jane got to the man, prone of the floor, and rolled him over. He was a Scrib, a bipedal humanoid, bald, pale pink skin now turning blue. Thankfully Jane was very familiar with their anatomy.

“He’s not choking, this is anaphylactic shock, probably something he ate.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“His airway is closed, he can’t breath. His anatomy is basically the same as a human’s though, so I can probably fix it with…”

The Scrib’s eyes were glazing over by now and they slowly closed. His lips were a fair shade of blue.

“Fuck it, no choice,” Jane grabbed for the nearest table, slapping a tray of food to the floor. Thankfully the steak knife she’d spotted before was within reach. “First one of you to cry about this doesn’t get any good drugs for the rest of the mission,” she called out while slicing the man’s trachea open.

“Straw, pen, ANYTHING AT ALL?!” She shouted at the onlookers. They scrambled around frantically, coming up with the odd bendy straw from god knows where. Jane slowly inserted the straw into the incision, listening for any wheezing or airway problems, back burner-ing the thought about how many possible infections she’d have to treat because of this mess.

“She’s killing him!” Someone cried.

“Shut up!” Jane shouted back. “Somebody had better already be getting the nurses in here!”

Jane straddled his prone figure, balling one fist up and putting her other hand on top, placing them on the Scrib’s chest.

“Starting compressions SOMEBODY COUNT!”

Nobody started counting.

Damnit. Old school it is.

“Uh uh uh uh, staying alive, staying alive,” Jane sang, compressing in time to the beat. The aliens around her were panicked, incoherent, and generally distracting.

“You’ll crush his sternum if you keep that up!”

“The Human is trying to kill him!”

Jane barely heard them.

“Broken ribs can heal, but we can’t treat a dead patient! Stop distracting me and shut up already!” Jane kept up the compressions. “Uh uh uh uh, staying alive, staying alive…”

Doctor Huhuma and the nurses crashed through the doors to the mess hall, gurney in tow, right as the Scrib man opened his eyes. He flailed weakly a bit before Jane calmed him down.

“You’re okay, you’ll be okay, but don’t try to breath through your mouth right now. Listen, listen to me, I had to open a small hole in your throat so you could get air in, so just stay calm. These guys are gonna get you to med bay and get you all fixed up, okay?”

The Scrib looked dazed and confused, but nodded anyway. He slowly touched the straw sticking out of his throat and looked Jane in the eye. Jane put a hand on his shoulder and he clutched it in his own.

“You’re going to be okay.” Jane said it slowly and deliberately, squeezing his hand, willing the idea into existence. Huhuma and the nurses came over and loaded him onto the gurney. He seemed distressed at the idea of separating from Jane but once she assured him she was coming along he relaxed. Or relaxed as much as he could with a hole in his throat.

At least the aliens in the mess hall had stopped screaming.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“That was a brave thing you did today, Doctor Shaw.”

Captain Skitch had arrived in the med bay not long after the Scrib man had finished surgery. Jane had gotten to close up the incision herself after they’d administered epinephrine and he’d gotten his air way open again.

The insectoid captain had never heard of anaphylactic shock before, so when they explained it, he was stunned.

“It was nothing Captain. Scrib biology is basically just smaller human anatomy, so the two are close enough that I could wing it without a problem.”

“Absolutely not, that man would have died if not for you,” Huhuma interrupted. “I never would have thought of that. Leave it to humans to figure out that more damage would be the fix.” She laughed that hearty laugh again from deep in her chest. Jane enjoyed it.

“I’m putting you in for a commendation, Doctor Shaw. Doing your job or not, that was nothing short of miraculous. And I’m sure Ensign Mirn would agree with that.” The captain gestured to the Scrib, Mirn, now peacefully asleep on a recovery lounge.

The captain left, but not before hearing about the two missing lasers, saying he’d look into it further.

Jane dropped into a chair. She realized she’d never actually gotten to eat anything for dinner, and was starving, but the last thing she wanted to do now was eat.

Huhuma dragged a chair over to her and sat down beside her.

“Busy day, huh?”

The sheer simplicity of the question made Jane burst into laughter, so much so that her sides ached and there was more than one tear in her eyes. Huhuma joined her, and together they filled the med bay with stupid, laughing relief.

“You know,” Jane started as the giggle fits died down, “I was actually bored this morning. Like bored bored, like I was daydreaming about hostile takeovers of the ship bored.”

“I know, you were looking at the same file on the computer for 20 minutes without blinking.”

“Shut up, I was not.” Jane laughed again.

“Anyway, that was this morning. After all that with ensign Mirn, I think it’s good. Being bored I mean. Like, we’re the doctors, if we’re busy it’s probably not a good thing, right?”

“You’re not wrong there. Just remember, the ship hasn’t even been out a week yet. There’s still plenty of time for things to get… interesting.” Huhuma bumped her shoulder into hers, smiling. Jane could feel another blush coming on.

What is with me lately? She thought. A cute monkey lady smiles at me and suddenly I’m a teenager all over again!

“Well anyway,” Jane said, getting up before her face got redder, “it’s getting late, and now I’m too exhausted to eat, so I’m just going to go sleep until the end of time.”

“You’ll be here on time or I’ll come get you.”

Damn, not getting out of here without blushing.

“You got it, boss. Good night.”

“Good night, Jane.”

Jane rushed down the halls to her quarters. This job was going to be anything but boring it seemed.

#deathworlders of e24 #humans are deathworlders #humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #humans are strange #humans are space australians #humans are weird #earth is space australia #humans are insane #humans are terrifying

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