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bi-writes · 8 months ago

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gIvE mE yOuR bAbY !!!!!!! (previous part, dark?reader x ghost, 18+ !!!!!)

you throw the pregnancy test angrily into the trash. you're staring at the mirror now, practically snarling at your reflection. you've been fucking your lieutenant for weeks now, and nothing.

nothing, nothing, nothing.

the fucking brute doesn't even want a baby--he's appeasing you, giving into you, but you know it won't be long until your lieutenant becomes just a little coherent and realizes he might not want this, might not need this, not as much as you.

but you're focused. it's him, god dammit, and it will be him. no matter what.

it's late, but you make your way across base anyways. there's no one around, not even the crickets, or maybe the rushing in your ears is too loud for you to hear anything but your beating heart. you fit your key into the lock, shoving his door open, and you see the sorry bastard sleeping in his cot.

he's fully clothed, the paranoid little shit. his belt is nowhere to be found, and he had the good idea to leave his tact vest on the floor by the door, but he's still wearing his cargo pants and a standard issue shirt, his mask hanging off his fingertips. he snores loudly, his nose broken too many times to offer him a night of quiet sleep, and it angers you to see him so peaceful.

you shut the door and lock it, taking the band off of your wrist and tying your hair up before shoving your pants off and tossing your shirt into the corner of the room. you reach over him, undoing the button of his pants and shoving them low. he blinks away the sleep from his eyes just as you straddle him, trying to get his pants just that much lower on his hips.

"the fuck are y'doin'?!" simon growls, his hands gripping your hips on instinct.

"i'm not pregnant," you snap. "now shut up and do what you do best. take these--" you yank on his pants again, but he's more than two hundred pounds of solid fat and muscle, and your tugs don't even budge, not even a little. "--take your fucking pants off!"

he grunts as he finally lifts his hips enough to pull them just low enough. you whine with relief, slipping a hand over him, spitting on his cock before spreading it over his thick length. he hisses, leaning his head back, chubbing up immediately.

"christ," he groans, licking his lips. "never gets old."

"yeah, daddy?" you coo, leaning down and kissing him wet. "'s too bad it hasn't taken yet..." you pout a little. "it's not working, why isn't it working?"

"'cause y'pout too much," simon scoffs. "y'r such a brat."

you whimper, pulling your panties to the side, scooting up as you sink down on his cock easily. you're positively sopping, and he breaches your cunt without much resistance. you fall over him, your hands on either side of his head, and you rock your hips gently as he gets even harder now that he's inside of you.

"simon--" you cry, leaning your head back. "i just want it so bad..." you start to bounce, your eyes rolling back as you hear the smack of your ass against his thighs. "want your baby, simon..."

"ackk..." he hisses. "i know. i know y'want it, luv. ahhh--cunt's beggin' fer it."

you nod, your eyes fluttering shut, and you keep up the pace, the squeak of his cot rattling as you throw your hips back harder.

"fuckin' hell, swee'eart..." he grits his teeth. "really workin' for it..." he chuckles breathlessly, reaching back and gripping your ass with both hands, easily supporting you to bounce a little harder with just the flex of his arms. "fucked ya just this mornin', and y'r already cryin' for me..."

you reach down and grip his jaw, licking over his bottom lip.

"need it all the time," you whisper against his lips. "n-need to be full...a-always..."

simon hums, nodding, "yeah? tha' wot it is? not fillin' y'r cunt often enough, tha' wot y'r sayin', baby?"

you kiss him hot and heavy, your hips bouncing a little more frantically as you lick into his mouth. all teeth and tongue, all wet and slobbery, positively drunk on the way his cock punches into you. you're needy and angry and so, so desperate for it, and you need all the time, need him to just, please, please, please, keep me this full all the time, please--!

"y'r such a needy little girl," he growls. "always so wet..."

"shut the fuck up, simon, and just cum--!" you gasp, cut off by the smack to your ass that he chides you with.

"y'listen t'me--" he grips where your hair is tied up, yanking on it, forcing your neck back and baring the soft skin to him. he sits up, shaking you practically, manhandling you until you're underneath him now, scratching at his biceps as you try to gain control again. it's pointless, really--he can pin you down with one burly leg, and he's got the weight of his entire body holding your hips down as he forces his cock so deep, you feel him right in your stomach. "listen t'me, little brat, you'll get wot i give ya, and you'll like it, yeah? you'll take it, and you'll say thank you, lieutenant, olright?"

you whine, pushing your hips back, feeling the heat of him, and you don't stop crying until he cums. it isn't even about getting off yourself; you just need to be full of him, all the time, always, whenever he's near.

you lose none of your enthusiasm. simon wakes up with your mouth wrapped around his thick cock, and he falls asleep with you pushing back against him as he fucks you from behind. you grab him by the vest as he passes by where you're hidden in a supply closet, and you fuck him fast and hard before sending him off to training again. you slip into his office and take him on his desk, crowd him in the corner of the room that you both are sitting in when you're out in the field. you give him no room to breathe, you just force his trousers as low as holsters will let you and fuck him until he gives you what you need.

"insatiable little girl," he always says into your ear, but you can't help it. your lieutenant is not just your certified baby daddy, he's everything you've been looking for in a man. disgusting, all brute strength, a taker, selfish, obsessed. he isn't normal, and you adore that--you fucking hate normal. you don't want someone passive and sweet, you want someone possessive and a little fucked up, and it's just a bonus that his cock matches his size and that he knows exactly how to use it to make you boneless and feral.

he's just so hot. rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, you drool at the sight of his tattoo sleeve. as he gets dressed in the morning, you catch a glimpse of his bare ass, and you have to fuck yourself on your fingers to refrain from making him any later. seeing him smirk under the mask, it drives you insane, especially when he gives you those eyes--the eyes that say fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. you especially love him making his way back after an op, his body hot under his gear and smelling like sweat and sand and smoke. you lick the ash off his fingers and make him fuck you with his mask stuffed into your mouth because you want to taste the essence of him at his most authentic--adrenaline hungry and bloodthirsty.

"gonna milk me fuckin' dry," he murmurs one evening, running a thick hand over his length. you lay beside him and mewl, your knees still open from when he was just on top of you. your back arches as you feel his spend dribbling out onto the bed, and you reach down and use your fingers to stuff it back inside. as he massages himself, he grunts, the squelch of your slick making it easy for him. "twice olready, 'n y'wanna go again, tha' it?"

you give him big eyes, squirming under his gaze. you slip your fingers out, putting them into your mouth and sucking soft. when you let them go, you smile at him lazily.

"yes, daddy," you whisper, nodding. "p-please...please give me more..."

he chuckles, breathless, and he nods.

"woteva y'want, baby. turn over. give it t'me."

fuck, it makes you so wet all over again to hear him say it. to hear him tell you that you can have it all, have all that you want, that he'll give you whatever you need. it makes your head spin, it makes you dizzy and giggly. you've only ever heard him bark orders outside of this room, but when you're alone, he caters to you and only to you--he's wrapped around your finger, and he doesn't know it, and it makes you positively hungry and satiated all at the same time. hungry for more of it, satisfied knowing it's yours and only yours.

it's days later, when he has you cock-drunk (again) and utterly exhausted that he speaks to you again, really speaks. he smooths a hand over your stomach, pulling back your hips until you're nestled under his arm and pressed back to chest against him. he nuzzles his nose against your jaw, kissing under your ear.

"y'not pregnant yet?" he murmurs. "y'sure of tha'?"

you close your eyes, humming as you nestle into the warmth that he gives off. you shrug, trying to blow it off, trying to seem nonchalant and unbothered. you don't know what he'll do once he finds out. you don't know if he'll push you away, knowing he's given you what you asked for. you want to stay like this, basking in the post-orgasmic bliss of simon's incredible fucking, and you want to think of nothing else but gathering enough energy to do it all over again.

you can tell him about the positive pregnancy test later. right?

"guess not," you whisper, and you moan unexpectedly when you feel him chub up against your ass. fuck, he can go for hours--his stamina knows no bounds.

he doesn't tell you that he found that little test, in a plastic baggie stuck behind the extra toilet paper in the bathroom. instead he grins wide, knowing you've lied, and he hikes up your knee as he pushes into you.

"hmmm..." he growls in your ear. "then we won't stop. won't fuckin' stop until y'ave it. until y'r tits are fat, and 'm fuckin' sure y've got m'baby there--" he cups your pussy as he bottoms out, swirling two fingers around your puffy, abused clit. you nod, slipping his fingers into your mouth, sucking on them desperately.

you won't stop. you'll never stop. you'll never let him go.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon thoughts

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whytheylosttheirminds · 5 months ago

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june gloom - part 2: is this gonna end ever?

(Rafe Cameron x pogue!reader, 6.9k words)

part 1

summary: Six months after Rafe walked out of your life, you're finally picking up the shattered pieces he left in his wake. When you accidentally find yourself working at his wedding, your thrown right back into the chaos you thought you were free from.

content: angst/smut, 18+ minors do not interact!, mentions of alcohol abuse and drugs, mentions of cheating, what could be considered infiedelity

a/n: as a fair warning, the angst only gets worse in this one. however, I promise the third and final part will see a satisfying and happy ending for these two if you stick with me. also, this one got wordy, but after struggling with it for a while i'm very happy with how it turned out. thank you to this anon for inspo and for everyone's support on pt. 1.

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊

Crickets chirped a chorus around you as you laid back on the flannel blanket, the grass beneath making a soft pillow for your head. Your lips wrapped around the blunt, lungs expanding to welcome the smoke. You hummed in pleasure as the high-end strain went down way smoother than any of the trash you would usually get on The Cut.

“God, this is good shit,” you said with a lazy smile.

“Only the best for you,” Rafe smirked, leaning over on the blanket to pull the joint from your lips so he could join in your revelry.

He took a long drag and let it go in a smoke ring that rose above you and disappeared into the starry sky. You tried and failed to stifle your laugh.

“What’s funny?” He asked, eyes glazed over with his high.

“Nothing,” you chuckled. “Just…what frat house did you learn that in?”

“Shut up,” he teased back, making you laugh harder.

“No, I’m sure the sorority girls found that very sexy,” you continued.

“They did actually, thank you,” he joked. “You would’ve too.”

“Yeah right, I’d make a great Phi Beta Whateverthefuck,” you huffed sarcastically.

“Did you go to college?” He asked.

You’d known Rafe for about three months, spending nearly every night together since you first met at that club. You had talked about just about everything under the sun except yourselves, you were caught off-guard by this excavation into your history.

“Um, no,” you answered, taking the blunt back from him.

“Why not?”

You shrugged, taking another hit, “didn’t wanna.”

“Do you regret it?” He continued.

You sat up and pulled your knees to your chest, looking down at him with a frown.

“What?” He questioned.

“Why the sudden interest?” You said, harsher and less playful than you’d intended to.

Rafe sat up next to you, pulling his knees towards himself to mirror you. His eyes were intense on your face as he mumbled, “you don’t want me to get to know you?”

Truthfully, you wanted that and so much more, but you couldn’t tell him that. You knew this was just a way for him to pass the time until he could get you in bed again, and maybe you were okay with that. You decided you’d entertain the line of questioning, just this once, not knowing then that this was just the first of many deep, meaningful conversations you’d share with him.

You took a deep breath and said, “what do you want to know?”

He looked up at the stars as he considered the answer to that question. You took the opportunity to admire the way the moonlight reflected off of the sharp angle of his jaw.

He decided on “what’s your biggest dream?”

You bit your lip and looked down at your bare feet, digging them into the blanket, not used to this kind of conversation and yet feeling curiously comfortable opening up to him.

“I want to go to India,” you answered honestly. “I read a book when I was a kid about a little girl who grew up in India and I’ve wanted to go ever since.”

Rafe nodded in approval, “that’s a good one. You should go.”

“Yeah, as soon as I win the lottery, it’ll be my first stop,” you joked bitterly.

“Or I could just take you,” he shrugged.

You smiled at him, incredulous.

“What?” He asked, genuinely unsure of the meaning behind the look you were giving him. You realized he might actually be serious, even though you knew it would never really happen.

“Nothing. That’s sweet,” you smiled. “But I want to get there on my own. I wanna earn it.”

“I can respect that,” he conceded.

“Anytime you wanna lend me that private jet, though, just hit me up,” you teased.

Rafe chuckled, eyebrows raised, “oh I see…you’re using me.”

“I thought that was obvious,” you smiled coyly.

“Uh-huh,” Rafe said, playfully shoving your shoulders so you fell back onto the blanket.

You giggled as he climbed over you, caging you in between his arms as he held himself up, looking down at you, tucked perfectly beneath him.

“I think I’m okay with that.”

He leaned down and kissed you, his tongue sweeping over your bottom lip tenderly, lowering himself down until you were chest to chest…

“Are you listening to me?”

Your friend waved her hand in front of your face, trying to get your attention.

“Sorry, what?” You were pulled from your thoughts.

“I said they want us there at four this friday,” she showed you an email on her phone.

“Oh,” you blinked, coming back to the moment. “Where is it?”

“Some mansion on Figure 8. It’s a wedding, but they're doing like a whole weekend thing, so it’s Friday through Sunday. Last time I worked one of these I made over five hundred.”

When she first told you about the catering gig this weekend, you turned her down. You’d been carefully avoiding the north part of the island for the last six months, and a whole weekend would be a high-risk endeavor. However, you didn’t have to check your bank account to know you were near broke, and Figure 8 was where the real money was made. You agreed and ironed your white button down and black slacks, your go-to outfit for catering gigs.

As you pulled up to the address your friend had sent you, you cursed under your breath. The estate was huge, the old house immaculately kept and towering proudly under a crystal blue sky. You turned down the radio as your beat up car sputtered its way up the long, grand drive.

“We’re definitely not on the south side anymore,” you joked to yourself.

You pulled around back to the service entrance as directed by your friend’s text and tracked her down in the crowd of other blue collar workers. Everyone was moving quickly, arranging the massive party space according to the wishes of some unseen bride and groom.

You were put to work right away, polishing silverware and arranging it as instructed by the very specific, color-coded diagram you had been given. Tonight was only the rehearsal dinner, and there were two-hundred names on the guestlist. You chatted with your friend as you did various other chores, speculating about who could possibly be the owner of this massive property.

“Maybe it’s a crime lord,” your friend joked. “Like some mafia type shit.”

“Maybe it’s a celebrity,” you guessed.

You didn’t have to wonder for long.

“Hey! A little help here!” A delivery driver called to you as he struggled to lift something large and rectangular out of his truck, the mystery item protected with a large, black sheet.

You ran over to give him a hand, and he directed you to a big easel he had set out, “picture of the happy couple,” he explained. You called your friend over, informing her you were about to have all your questions answered.

Once you had set the canvas down, you asked the delivery driver if you could remove the sheet. “I don’t give a fuck, my job’s done,” he said, hopping back in his truck and driving off. You and your friend giggled as you did a little countdown and drumroll routine. You pulled the sheet away and her mouth fell open

“Of fucking course,” she immediately took out her phone to take a picture.

You stepped back to look at the giant, blown up portrait. Every muscle in your body tensed and the blood drained from your face, you grabbed the back of a nearby chair for support.

There on the oversized canvas, smiling that perfect, crooked, arrogant, beautiful smile, was Rafe Cameron.

He had his arm around the woman you recognized to be the one he’d left you for, calling off your whirlwind love affair in pursuit of something more optically appealing to his family. He’d found it; they were gorgeous together.

Six months had passed since you’d last seen him. The first few months were the hardest you’d ever faced. At first, you went out almost every night, needing to stay shitfaced to keep your mind from wandering to him or your fingers from dialing his number. Eventually, you had to delete him from your phone, not trusting yourself in those late night moments when you missed him so much you thought you might die. No amount of booze or weed could make you forget the feeling of his hands on your body, the sound of his voice, the look in his eyes when he fucked you that last time. Your friends started getting worried. You blacked out so often, you couldn’t keep a job. After three or four months of your reckless behavior, they called a sort of intervention and convinced you to calm down.

You decided if you were going to be alone, you’d make yourself good company.

You stopped drinking, and even gave up cigarettes. It took several false starts, but the patch got you through it. You picked up good habits, too, starting your mornings with yoga and meditation. You were planning to go back to school, tired of career-hopping through dead-end minimum wage jobs. You stopped eating take out so much, started grocery shopping and saving every spare cent you had for a travel fund. You even cut and dyed your hair, finding freedom in the ability to change whenever you wanted, in the fluidity of answering to no one but yourself. You were still untamed, but for the first time in your life, you felt a semblance of control. You decided you’d build a beautiful life even if you had to scratch and claw your way to it. And you’d do it all by yourself.

Slowly, and with the most effort you’d given anything ever, you were finally starting to get over Rafe Cameron.

Or so you thought. Now, standing in his backyard, decorating for his wedding, you felt like you were right back where you were that night in June, lying naked on your bed while he walked out of your life forever.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” A high-pitched, angry voice startled you, pulling your eyes away from the picture.

You whipped your head around to see her, even more stunning than she was in pictures, her wide Disney-princess eyes shooting daggers at you. Your first and most irrational thought was that she somehow knew who you were. The delusion of that concept was quickly made apparent.

“The picture was supposed to stay covered until tonight,” she barked at you and your friend, who looked at you with wide-eyed panic. “Aren’t you the fucking caterers? Why are you even out here?”

“S-sorry,” you stammered out, your mind reeling as it tried to connect to your reality. You picked up the sheet off the ground. “We’ll cover it back up.”

“No, don’t touch it! Where’s your manager?” She demanded, her hands on her hips. “They need to know about this. What are your names?”

Your friend looked at you with wide eyes, you knew she needed this job even more desperately than you did. Plus, she’d stuck her neck out to get you hired and now she’d lose the money and her credibility.

“It was me,” you blurted out. “Not her. Don’t worry, you don’t need to get anyone fired, I’ll just leave.”

It wasn’t a big sacrifice, considering you were already thinking if you stayed another minute you might have a full blown panic attack. At least if you threw yourself under the bus and got fired, your friend would have no reason to question why you ran from the property crying.

“Fine, whatever,” she dismissed your act of loyalty with a wave of her manicured hand while your friend looked at you with grateful eyes. “What’s your name then?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you handed her the sheet, which she snatched from your hands irritably. “I’ll just go.”

You tried to keep your composure as you walked back toward the house, praying you’d remember your way back to your car. Your heart was pounding, your anxiety and shock threatening to bubble over, you could feel tears springing up and your hands shaking.

You rounded one of the many corners of the massive house, finally out of her line of vision, and broke into a sprint. You passed through another courtyard, where more preparations were underway. There were far too many eyes on you. If you remembered correctly, there was only one more turn before the part of the property you were parked on.

Dirt crunching under your feet, you slid around the corner and straight into something hard and large. You let out a sharp “ouch” as your face burned with the force of the collision. To your horror, you realized you’d run into a person. You kept your eyes low, looking at the man’s feet as you held a hand over your face, wondering for a moment if you’d broken your nose. Then, a familiar scent flooded your senses, and you felt a large hand rest on your shoulder.

“Woah, I’m sorry, are you okay?” Rafe’s voice asked, clearly unaware of who he was talking to, you looked so different than you did six months ago.

You raised your wide eyes to look at him, hand still cradling your throbbing nose. You took him in through rapidly blinking lashes, begging yourself not to cry. His face shifted slowly from concern for a stranger to recognition of someone all too familiar.

He pulled his hand from you in shock, his mouth opening and closing and opening again, trying to form words that just weren’t coming. You knew you needed to get out of there before they did.

“I’m fine,” you said firmly, hoping he understood you were talking about more than just your injured face.

You sidestepped him and kept running, leaving him standing wide eyed and ashen faced as he watched you get into your car and peel away from his home, and away from him.

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

The key rattled against the lock, your hands shaking as you tried to get into your apartment. When you finally got the door opened, you peeled off your clothes quickly, as if they were covered in something radioactive. You pulled on a tank and some sleep shorts, fully ready to get in bed and stay there for days. Everything in you was unraveling. The sight and sound of him undoing the steel backbone you had built for yourself. You climbed under the covers, curled into a ball, and sobbed.

You cried so hard, it knocked you out. Without trying to, your body fell into a hazy, uneasy kind of sleep, haunted by images of Rafe. When you woke, blinking confusedly at the fuzzy outline of the time on your alarm clock, it was dark outside. The clock read 11:03pm. You pulled yourself from your bed with a groan, craving something to comfort you in your post-meltdown emptiness.

As you stood at the sink, filling the kettle for some tea, your mind replayed the events of the day. He’s getting married tomorrow. The rehearsal dinner that you helped set up for was probably over by now. You pictured him saying goodnight to her with a kiss, hanging his tux for the morning, making sure he had the rings ready. You already knew you’d lost him, but the permanence of tomorrow’s events felt like a boot on the neck of the small part of you that still wondered what if.

Your phone rang out loudly on the kitchen table, making you jump, so startled you almost dropped the tea kettle, the water now overflowing. You set the kettle down on the stove and turned on the burner before looking at your phone screen, which read “unknown number.” You hit decline and let it go to voicemail. After a minute, you poured your tea and sat at the table, watching as your phone lit up again with notification of a new voicemail. You unlocked it and pressed play.

You knew the voice immediately, though it was coming out slurred and strained. You clutched the phone to your ear with both hands to hear better.

“Heyyyy baby. It’s me. I’m sorry for calling so many times, blowin’ up your phone and you’re probably out somewhere, looking fuckin’ gorgeous like always. Shit there’s probably guys lined up to take you home. Do you remember when we met? Fuck you looked so hot. I thought if you said no to going home with me I might literally die. But you said yes! You said yes and you took me home and we, fuck…god…it was so good, you’re so good. Not just the sex. I mean, yes your pussy is so perfect, but…shit it’s raining…but you were- you are…jesus Rafe get it together. I can’t remember what I was saying. I’m so drunk, I- ouch, fuck!- I miss you, baby. It's cold out here but I don’t care, I couldn’t be there anymore. I couldn’t listen to them talk about this fucking wedding. Fucking flowers and table settings and shit I don’t care about any of that…just, please…baby…I need-”

Your phone beeped loudly, the voicemail cut off for length. You replayed it, twice. Outside your kitchen window, you could see the rain getting heavy. The low was in the 30s tonight, and it was supposed to keep raining for hours. You couldn’t hear much in the background behind Rafe’s drunken rambling, but you could tell he was outside. You pictured him stumbling into a ditch somewhere. He had hurt himself on the voicemail, did he fall? You couldn’t stand the thought of him alone, out in the cold rain, hurt.

Despite every instinct, you pulled up the number he called from and texted him.

Today 11:14pm

Where are you?

Today 11:16pm

‘Unknown’ shared their location with you.

You grabbed your coat and keys and ran out the door before you had time to second guess yourself. You found him lying on the beach, his clothes soaked through from the rain that was still falling heavily. He’d clearly thrown up, just a few feet from where he was laying now. You ran to his side and quickly checked that he was breathing.

“Jesus, Rafe,” you recoiled at the overwhelming aroma of booze radiating off of him.

His eyes flew open at the sound of your voice.

“Baby?” he groaned.

“We gotta get out of here, Rafe,” you struggled to help him up.

With an enormous amount of effort, you got him into your car. He leaned his head against the cold window as you drove, his breath fogging up the glass with each exhale. You looked over at him every few seconds to make sure he was still conscious.

Once in your apartment, stumbling through the door with his arm over your shoulder, you led him into the bathroom, guiding him to sit on the edge of the tub while you ran the shower, water heating slowly.

You tapped his arms.

“Up,” you instructed. He lifted his arms obediently and looked up at you through half-lidded eyes as you peeled off his wet polo, doing everything you could to avoid staring at his bare torso.

“Think you can do the rest yourself?” You motioned to his lower half.

“No,” he said with a smirk.

“Rafe,” you warned, not playing around.

“I can do the rest myself,” he said with his hands up in defense.

You left him in the bathroom fumbling with his belt. While he showered, you brewed a pot of coffee and poured two steaming mugs, sitting uneasily at the table when he finally emerged from the bathroom. He was in only his boxers and you blushed aggressively, as if you hadn’t seen him naked a hundred times before. He caught the redness in your cheeks as you looked down at your hands, swallowing hard.

“Sorry,” he said earnestly. “My clothes are still wet.”

You pushed back your chair and walked to your bedroom, returning with folded clothes in your hands. He looked suspiciously at the men’s t-shirt and basketball shorts you gave him, cocking his eyebrow at you. You just glared back at him, tilting your head slightly as if to say I dare you to give me shit about where I got them. He didn’t push it, pulling them on wordlessly.

“Coffee?” You offered once he was dressed.

“Please,” he slumped into the chair across from you, sipping the coffee with a sigh.

“Feeling better?” You asked.

“Much better, thanks,” he said. “Never mix rum and redbull.”

You snorted, “I could’ve told you that.”

“Well you weren’t there were you?” The sentence started playfully but ended with a bite.

You sipped your coffee, wondering who would be first to acknowledge the elephant in the room. You sat in silence for a few minutes, both drinking your coffee and letting the air grow thick between you.

Finally, he caved and spoke first, “why’d you leave?”

“Why would I stay?” You responded, voice dripping with spite.

“I- I guess I don’t know.” Now it was Rafe avoiding your eyes.

“Does she know…about me?” You asked timidly.

“No,” he mumbled, before sipping up the last drop of his coffee.

“And where does she think you are right now?”

“My bachelor party.”

“We should get you back there, then.” You stood and collected both mugs, bringing them to the sink.

Rafe scoffed, “you’re kicking me out again?”

“I never kicked you out, Rafe. You left,” you said, clutching the edge of the sink, bracing for an argument.

But he didn’t argue, he just let the silence settle between you for a long moment before finally saying, “I wish I hadn’t. I miss you.”

You turned, expecting to find him still slumped over the table, but he had stood and was now startlingly close. You jolted, squaring your shoulders in defense as he got closer to you.

“Don’t say that,” you pleaded. “I can’t do this with you.”

“Then why’d you come get me?” He asked, his eyelids low as he looked down at you. “Why’d you bring me here?

“Why’d you call me?” You asked back.

“I asked you first,” he said, no playful smile to match his childish words.

“Why does it matter?” You sighed.

“‘Cause it does, it matters to me, please just give me a reason,” his voice grew more desperate as he stepped even closer to you, his looming body caging you against the sink. He searched your face as he waited for you to respond, needing an answer you couldn’t give him.

“Are you gonna marry her?” Your words tightened the tension already growing between you, causing Rafe to close his eyes in frustration.

“I don’t want to talk about her,” he shook his head.

Rafe lifted his hand slowly, placing it on your waist. He squeezed gently at the soft skin of your side. You leaned into his touch for just a second before coming to your senses.

“Are you? Going to marry her?” You repeated stubbornly.

“Yes,” He said, eyes falling from your face to his hand on your side.

“Then you shouldn’t be touching me,” you grabbed Rafe’s hand and lowered it from you. “I won’t be a mistress. I won’t be that dirty pogue who fucks a married guy, I wanna be something better than that.”

You slipped out from between him and the sink, pacing to the other side of the room, but his body turned aggressively to follow you.

“You are. You’re so much better,” his voice cracked with urgency as he rushed to reassure you.

You shook your head in anger, raising your voice as you snapped, “then why are you marrying someone else?”

“Because I have to!” He matched your heated tone, as if he was the one to have something to be mad about.

“We’re going in circles, Rafe! We are in the exact same spot we were six months ago! Except I’m a different person now. It changed me, losing you. I got better, I got healthy, I got sober. I got over you!” You were yelling now, searching for the words to make him understand that he wasn’t the only one who had something to lose now.

“Well I didn’t get over you,” he stated simply.

“No, you got engaged,” you pointed out.

“Fuck that, fuck her, you know I don’t love her!” He scoffed. “You saw her today, you know she’s a bitch.”

“That’s really nice, Rafe, you should put that in your vows,” you huffed sarcastically.

“Oh c’mon, she doesn’t love me either,” he rolled his eyes. “She still fucks around, everyone knows it.”

He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, but it took you by surprise. You searched his face for a sign as to whether it was true or just something he made up to make you sympathize with him. The way his eyes fell to the ground and the apples of his cheeks blushed slightly told you it was true, she cheated on him, and he was ashamed of it. It made you sick, the thought of someone having him so close and caring so little. The only thing worse than the thought of her treating him like that was the thought of him accepting it as if it was what he deserved. You should’ve felt sad for him, but it just made you angrier.

“Then why, Rafe? Why?” You knew you were becoming a broken record but you just could not wrap your head around his choice. “Why are you still with her?” You hated the way it made you sound like you were blaming him for her actions, but you needed to understand.

“Because I’m going to have to end up with someone like her anyway, I may as well just get it over with,” he said with a resigned shake of his head.

“That’s fucked up, Rafe,” you said, even though you knew he already knew it.

“It is what it is,” he shrugged, defeated.

Your eyes caught the clock on your stove. It was almost 1am. Rafe was supposed to be saying his vows in twelve hours, and you knew if he stood here in your apartment for another minute, looking at you so helplessly, you’d crumble for him.

“I think you should go home,” you said, trying and failing to mean it.

“Not yet,” Rafe said, his tone implying there was something more he was waiting for.

And even though you wanted to, you just couldn’t give it to him.

Mustering the last of your pride, you took a deep breath and said, “If you’re waiting for me to ask you not to marry her, we’re both gonna be disappointed. I’ve been doing good, Rafe. I got my life together, and I won’t be responsible for ruining someone else’s. It’s not on me, you have to decide. If you don’t want to marry her, then don’t marry her. But do it for you, because I’ve got me covered.”

Rafe considered your words, standing completely still as they washed over him. He had to choose. He could either ruin his reputation and potentially lose his family to be happy with you or keep the lifestyle he’d grown so accustomed to and be miserable with her. He looked so sad, and you desperately wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but you stayed silent, wanting him to say what he was feeling all on his own for once. You needed a simple answer.

But Rafe Cameron never did anything the simple way.

He didn’t say anything, he just started walking toward you. Once he was close enough to touch you, and your back was against the wall, he reached up to touch your face gently with one finger, silently asking if you were still in pain from your collision earlier. When you didn’t wince or push him away, he leaned down, bringing his lips dangerously close to yours.

“Just one more time, please. Don’t kick me out, be with me one more time,” he whispered against your skin.

You shook your head slowly, whispering back, “I won’t kick you out, but I also won’t let you touch me and then marry her.”

“Fine, I won’t touch you.”

Rafe leaned back, only slightly, pulling his face away so you were level with his chest. He folded his hands behind his back to show you he meant it. You could smell his familiar musk, his chest so close to your face you could hear his heartbeat as you looked up at the pulsing veins in his neck. His hair, still wet from the shower, flopped messily over his forehead. A single drop fell from his bangs and landed on your collarbone. Rafe’s eyes darkened as he tracked the droplet rolling across your exposed skin, down your chest, over the curve of your tits and finally disappearing into your tank top.

Eyes locked to Rafe’s, you lifted your hand slowly, placing it over the spot the water had fallen, sliding your fingers delicately down the drop’s path. When you reached the neckline of your tank top, Rafe’s eyes consuming every movement, you reached up with your other hand and lowered one of the straps of your top slowly. You dragged your hand down further, cupping your breast through your lacy bralette and biting your lip at the pressure.

Rafe’s jaw clenched. He put one hand on the wall next to your head to steady himself, bringing his body impossibly closer while still not touching you. His other hand fell to his side, moving dangerously close to his dick.

“You better not touch yourself either, or I swear to god I’ll stop,” you warned him.

“Don’t stop,” He brought the drifting hand up to the wall on the other side of your head. “Please, baby.”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach at his voice, raspy and strained with need. With two hands on the hem of your shirt, you pulled it slowly over your head, leaving you in just the see-through undergarment.

“Take that off too,” Rafe tried to sound dominant, but his voice cracked, betraying him.

“You’re not in any position to make demands,” you scolded with a shake of your head. “And you’re not going to see me naked. You have a fianceé for that.”

Rafe was pained by this, his nostrils flailing as he clenched his jaw in frustration. You ignored him and put your hands back on your body, palming both of your tits again before trailing lower over your stomach. Rafe’s tongue darted out of his mouth and licked his lips as he watched the way your stomach flexed with anticipation, hands finally landing on the waistband of your sleep shorts. One hand pulled the elastic back while the other slid beneath it slowly. When your fingers ran over the fabric of your panties, teasing your clothed clit, your head fell back against the wall and your jaw fell slack. Rafe ran one of his hands through his hair as he watched pleasure flood your face, desperate to touch something, anything. The hand still on the wall closed into a fist. You started rubbing circles over your clit through your panties, the fabric already soaked through, wet since the sight of him in his boxers. Your breath hitched when you found the perfect rhythm and you closed your eyes tight, a melodic moan rising from your throat.

“Fuck baby, you’re so fucking sexy,” Rafe growled through gritted teeth.

Your eyes flew open and you pulled your hand from your shorts, suddenly very aware of the lack of space between you and the vulgarity of what you were doing. You slid under his arm and hurried to the other side of the kitchen.

“You should go,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around yourself and shivering at the sudden loss of his warmth.

Rafe stayed still, trying not to spook you. His head dipped low, looking down at his ringing hands.

“I missed you,” he mumbled helplessly.

“You mean you missed fucking me?” You asked spitefully.

One agonizingly slow step at a time, Rafe crossed the room. You turned from him as if to push him away, literally giving him the cold shoulder. But he wasn’t deterred, he just got closer and closer until he was right behind you, close enough for his breath to sweep across your shoulder as he said, “yeah, what if I do? I miss it so much. There’s not a day that passes without me wishing I was here, fucking you so good you scream my name.”

His arrogant words made you so fucking angry, and so fucking wet.

What little resistance you had mustered disappeared. Breathless, you whispered, “what else do you miss?”

“I miss your little moans,” he continued, the corner of his lips raising slightly at the sight of the goosebumps that shot up your arms. “I bet you still cry out for me when you make yourself come, don’t you? I want you to show me.”

“We can’t do this,” you shook your head.

“No, I can’t do this,” he corrected you. “You can do whatever you want.”

No fight left, you took his suggestion, and soon you were laying back on your bed, your shorts thrown on the floor, your hand moving feverishly under your panties. Rafe laid next to you, his body drawn in as close as it could possibly get while keeping his promise not to touch you. You’d made no such promise, the hand you weren’t rubbing over your slick folds gripping his arm for purchase as you moaned at your own touch.

“Talk to me,” you begged.

“Yeah?” He said excitedly, as if he had been waiting for permission.

You nodded desperately, bringing your eyes to his as one of your fingers dropped down to enter yourself.

“You remember the first time we fucked?” He began. “Right here on this bed. I took you from behind. You were so tight around my cock, like you were fucking made for me.”

You added a second finger, driven by his filthy words. His jaw clenched, restraining himself with more effort than he’d ever given anything as he watched you writhe.

“Keep going,” you whined, eyes squeezed shut.

“I had to turn you around, I had to see that pretty face when you came for me for the first time,” he recalled. “God, I bet you wish it was me stretching you out right now, don’t you? You wish it was my cock pounding you into the mattress until you can’t breathe, huh?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, lips pouting, overwhelmed by the memories and your need to feel him.

“Best pussy I’ve ever had,” he groaned, feeling himself twitching in his pants, desperate for his own release but committed to yours. “I need to see you come, baby, one more time. Please come for me?”

You cried out as you clenched around your own fingers, their size so inadequate with him so close, knowing what he could be doing to you. But you meant what you said, you couldn’t let him touch you, not while his bride was sleeping just across town, no idea her groom was in some pogue’s bed, begging her to come for him. Maybe it was sick, but the thought of him being so desperate for you that he was risking everything with her made your thighs clench around your hand, nearing the edge.

“Tell me about the first time you saw me,” you pleaded, the rasp in your voice warning him you were close.

“Holy shit, baby, you were so fucking sexy,” he said, rising up from the bed and propping himself on his arm to hover over you, the proximity throwing you into even more of a frenzy. “Dancing in that club, the way you move, shit, I wanted to lay you down on that dancefloor and fuck you right there. So did every other guy in there. But they didn’t get to have you, I did. And I’ve never been the same since I first touched you.”

It was all too much, his words, the memory, the sensation of your fingers sliding in and out so easily, the way he was talking making you so wet. Your high crashed into you like a truck, your back arching off the bed, your chest bumping into his as you came with his name on your lips.

“There she is, that’s my girl,” Rafe exhaled as you rode out your high. Eventually, your muscles gave out from the pleasure and you slumped back into the bed.

He watched you in rapture as your chest rose and fell with labored breaths, struggling to recover. Neither of you knew what to do next, the shock of what just happened washing over you. Your body was so exhausted from the chaos of the day and the aftershocks of your orgasm, all you wanted was him, and you were too tired to fight it.

“Rafe?” You whispered into the darkness of your bedroom, the light of the moon the only thing illuminating the small space.

“Yeah?” He whispered back.

“Can you hold me?” Your voice sounded so small, and you hated the vulnerability of your request, but at this moment the only thing you wanted in the world was to feel his arms around you.

“I thought you didn’t want me to touch you?” He teased gently.

“I said I’m getting better, not that I’m perfect,” you smiled, turning your body towards him. “And I want to know what it feels like to fall asleep in your arms. Just once.”

“Is it gonna be an issue?” He asked. You knew what he really meant was, “are you going to regret sleeping with an engaged man?”

The answer was yes, but you didn’t care.

“Just let me be a little selfish,” you said, turning around so your back was against his chest, pulling his arm around you. “I had you first.”

“You still have me,” he whispered against your neck, pulling your body into his.

“Shhh,” you said, lifting your fingers gently to his lips. “Go to sleep, Rafe.”

He smiled and did as he was told.

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

The sunlight landing on your face is what woke you from the deepest and sweetest sleep you’d had in six months. Your first instinct was to smile, humming in satisfaction as you stretched your well rested muscles.

Your second instinct was to reach for him.

You shouldn’t be surprised, shouldn’t pull your knees to your chest, shouldn’t be crying alone in your cold bed. Of course he left. He was always going to leave.

Some small, pathetic voice in the back of your mind said, “maybe he just went to break things off with her.”

Even though it made you feel like the most pitiful girl in the world, you checked his location, still available from the night before. He was on Figure 8, the address you had gone to yesterday. He was at his wedding.

He had wanted you to ask him not to marry her. He never would’ve said it, but you could see it on his face. He had too much to lose, too many people depending on him, too much weight on his shoulders. But maybe he would’ve given it all up, if only you’d asked.

You threw your phone across the room in frustration. Maybe you should’ve just asked him to stay with you, maybe you should’ve put your pride aside this one time, maybe this was all your fault.

You were up and out of bed before you had time to talk yourself out of it. You pulled on your catering clothes from the night before. Surely, they wouldn’t let you in the gate if you looked like some wedding crashing pogue, but maybe you could slip in undetected if it seemed like you still worked there.

You don’t even remember driving there, your stomach on fire with nerves and something that might even be excitement, as you raced across the island. The clock in your car read 1:03pm, and you prayed to whatever god was listening that the ceremony had started late.

As you planned, they let you right in the gate when you said you were with the caterer. You didn’t even bother to park at the service entrance, your tires squealing as you came to a stop right in front of the house, leaving the engine running as you ran towards the ceremony site. You could hear music playing in the distance, hoping it was the processional.

But when you turned the corner, you heard a large crowd break into applause. You came to a halt, backing up to hide under the cover of a tree a few yards from the end of the aisle. You watched as Rafe appeared, his beaming bride on his arm. He dipped her low, giving her a kiss as the crowd cheered again, the gold ring on his left hand glinting in the sunlight.

You were too late.

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

pt. 3 coming soon

#rafe cameron #obx fic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #angst #Rafe cameron angst #obx smut #smut #June gloom #rafe fic #rafe fanfic #rafe obx #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x you #rafe

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y2sims · 5 months ago

Text

10+1 Hairs in The New Hair System.

colors by pooklet.

binned, familied, tooltipped and compressed.

all four colors are in one .package file.

all the meshes are included! 💜

Agustin Blake Ponytail

texture: nouk's waves (from charismatictrait) mixed with poppet's wavy

mesh fix by charismatictrait

ages tf - ef

DOWNLOAD: sfs // mf

Anto Noelia

original texture

mesh conversion by entropy

ages cf - ef

24k~ polys

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Aurum Volume - unisex

original texture

mesh conversion by powerpcinside

ages tu - eu

11k~ polys

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Gramsims Merida

io's texture recolored

mesh conversion by grecadea, fixed by io

ages cf - ef

3120 polys

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Gramsims Merida Pulled Back

io's texture recolored

mesh conversion by grecadea

ages cf - ef

2040 polys

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ModishKitten Cloud Puff - unisex - two versions

v1: texture by nouk; v2: nouk+ea dreads (from drew-cricket)

mesh conversion by angelluvjoy, m conversion by deedee-sims

ages pf - ef; cm - em

8862 polys

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Simpliciaty Martch - unisex

original texture

mesh conversion by entropy, m conversion by vidcunds

ages cu - eu

10.9k~ polys

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Simpliciaty Skai - unisex

original texture

mesh conversion by digitalangels

ages pu - eu

3260 polys

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Sims2Lux 7

nymphy (from mrs-mquve) + trapping blend that i put together

ages cf - ef

2784 polys

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Wicked_Sims Bellatrix

if i remember correctly, i think i snatched the texture i used for this from the skai hair above 🤔😄. not my best work, probably looks better with the darker colors, but it's an old hair, and, well, very low poly

ages tf - ef

1960 polys

DOWNLOAD: sfs // mf

💜 like my content and want to support me? please consider leaving a tip or requesting some hairs through my ko-fi! 💜

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evermoresversion · 3 months ago

Note

If you could do one where reader and JJ used to be together secretly but they broke up and stayed friends and like months later when JJ is with Kiara all the pogues find out about their relationship it would be awesome <33

The crickets were chirping in the background while you leaned your hip against the wall in the backyard of your house and JJ was in front of you, playing with his hat. Your gaze was on the floor as you both stood in a tense silence.

“So that's it?” He broke the silence with a trembling voice and you sighed, looking up into his eyes, seeing the pain in them.

“You know this is the best decision.”

He nodded slowly and turned around, walking towards his motorcycle.

“We'll be fine, right?” You raised your voice and JJ just nodded again.

“Yeah, I just need time.”

He started the engine of the motorcycle and took off from there, leaving a feeling of emptiness in you but you knew everything would be fine.

It had been at least three months since the two of you had broken up and everything was going smoothly between you and JJ. All except that you started to notice Kiara very close to him until the two of them finally started dating.

You didn't feel jealous or anything like that since you always noticed a certain energy between them, but it was definitely strange seeing your ex with someone else.

One day when the Pogues were relaxing at the Chateau, you walked into the kitchen to make yourself a PB&J sandwich. You couldn't reach the peanut butter until an arm reached out and grabbed it easily for you. You turned around and it was the blonde you had been so in love with.

“Are you going to make yourself a sandwich?” You nodded with a knowing smile. You had always had a tradition that he would prepare your sandwiches and you would pay him with a make out session. “Let me do it for you.” He took the jam from your hand and began his work. “When we were dating you liked these.”

“I…”

“Were you two dating!?” A voice filled the kitchen, interrupting your words and you both stopped what you were doing to look at the person. It was Sarah.

“Y-yeah, I mean…” JJ scratched the back of his neck and looked at you for support.

“A long time ago.”

“Oh god.” She muttered and left the kitchen towards the porch where the others were.

You and JJ followed hot on her heels and Sarah was already telling what she had just found out.

“The two of them were dating, did you know that?!” Everyone looked at you both in surprise except for Kiara who was looking at JJ with a frown.

You both tried to think of what to say until finally you were the one who spoke.

"It was a while ago, we both got over it."

You looked at Kiara and she gave you a sympathetic smile. The others started asking questions about your former relationship until they finally stopped the topic because they were hungry.

While they went to buy something to eat, you, JJ and Pope stayed at the Chateau. You and the blonde went back to the kitchen to finish preparing your sandwich and that's when you realized that you could become good friends after all.

Until he touched your hand and all the memories came back to your mind.

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ponderingmoonlight · 2 months ago

Text

yotd men walking in on you in a hot spring

Pairings: Shin-Ah x fem!reader; Hak/Kija x fem!reader; Bonus with all yotd men hehe

Word Count: 4,6k

Warnings: it's getting heated in Hak's part y'all hehe

I would super duper appreciate it if you like even though you're not a fan of Yona of the Dawn but because of me hehe <3

Shin-Ah accidentally protecting you from danger

The hot spring’s warmth soothes every aching muscle in your tired body, the gentle lap of water against the rocks almost hypnotic. You tilt your head back, letting the steam curl around you like a protective cocoon while you can’t help but let out a sign of relief. When was the last time you’ve had some time for yourself? Away from constant danger, away from the snide remarks of Hak and Jae-Ha who annoy you straight to the core. No, it’s just you and the moon-lit forest around the spring which hums with life - chirping crickets, rustling leaves, and the distant call of a bird.

But then, the forest goes quiet.

The sudden stillness prickles at the back of your neck. You sit upright, scanning the tree line, your heart thumping louder than the now-muted sounds of nature. What on earth was that? Should you…call for the boys?

“SOMEONE HEL-“

Before you can call out, a shadow moves. There’s a blur of movement, and then he’s there.

Shin-Ah steps into the clearing like a ghost, his sword glowing faintly in his grasp. His golden eyes flash across you, scanning the surroundings with deadly precision.

“Shin-Ah?” you call, startled, your voice cracking slightly.

You instinctively sink deeper into the water, heat rushing to your face. There might be something dangerous out there, but…

You’re still completely naked.

His head snaps toward you, his gaze meeting yours. For a moment, his body remains rigid, and you swear his grip on his sword tightens. Then, slowly but surely, recognition dawns. His posture softens just slightly, though his eyes dart around the spring’s edge.

“Danger,” he murmurs, his voice low and clipped.

He’s still scanning the shadows as if expecting something, or someone, to emerge.

“Danger?” you echo, confusion lacing your tone.

“I didn’t…wait, is there something out there?”

Shin-Ah takes a step closer, the faint glow of his dragon power intensifying. You can see his chest rise and fall beneath his cloak as he breathes deeply, his heightened senses working overtime. Then, from the bushes nearby, there’s a rustle and a loud, sudden croak.

Your heart skips a beat, your body instinctively pressing against Shin-Ah’s. You’ve never really been a fighter, only joined because Yona is your best friend. You can’t die out here, butt-naked in a hot spring while taking a bath, right?

A frog leaps into the clearing, landing with an awkward splash near the water’s edge.

For a moment, neither of you move. Then Shin-Ah’s shoulders slump, his sword’s light fades as he lowers the blade. The danger was nothing but a…frog?

You burst into laughter, the tension in your body evaporating while you’re forced to hold onto Shin-Ah’s shoulder for support.

“You thought a frog was dangerous?”

Shin-Ah turns back and glances at you, his mask hiding any expression, but the way he hesitates and fidgets with Ao’s tail betrays his embarrassment. His ears, you notice, are bright red by now.

Still smiling, you tilt your head at him.

“You didn’t have to rush in so dramatically, you know. I was perfectly fine. Even though I have to admit I was glad seeing you when I heard that strange noise.”

But then his eyes flicker down to the water - and widen slightly as realization dawns.

Your body is pressed against his, your skin burning through his wet clothes. But it’s not only the fact that you’re touching him.

You’re…you’re nude.

His entire body stiffens, and he takes a quick step back, his hand gripping Ao a little too tightly while he stumbles back like an idiot.

You follow his gaze and remember too late: you’re naked in the hot spring. And to top it all off, you pressed your naked body against his.

“Shin-Ah!” you shout, sinking deeper into the water, your face burning hotter than the steam surrounding you.

“Don’t look!”

“I…I wasn’t!” he stammers, his voice higher-pitched than usual.

He turns so quickly that he almost trips on the hem of his cloak, spinning on his heel to face away from you. You can see the tips of his ears glowing crimson beneath his hood.

“I… I didn’t notice. I mean - I noticed, but I wasn’t looking-!”

Before you can stop yourself, a giggle escapes your lips. Did you ever feel more embarrassed than right now? Well, no matter how embarrassed you feel, one look at Shin-Ah’s tensed back tells you more than urgently that he feels 10 times worse.

“I hope I didn’t scare you with that body of mine-“

“Scaring me? Your body isn’t scary at all! I mean…I mean…-“

“What’s going on back there? (y/n), are you-…What the hell is going on here!?”, Hak blurts out while stepping into the scene.

“Hak, get lost!”, you shriek, hands desperately trying to cover your sensitive parts.

Hak pauses, taking in the scene with his signature smirk growing wider and wider by each passing second. His gaze bounces between Shin-Ah, who is still stiff and glowing faintly, and you, nearly submerged in the water.

“Well, well,” Hak drawls, crossing his arms with a cocked eyebrow.

“This is a unique look for the two of you. I didn’t realize you were having private lessons in…whatever this is.”

“It’s not like that!” you yell, mortification threatening to drown you more thoroughly than the hot spring itself.

“And don’t look, you idiot!”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not looking-” Hak teases, though his eyes deliberately flick to Shin-Ah.

“But it looks like Shin-Ah got an eyeful.”

At that, Shin-Ah’s head snaps up, his wide, horrified gaze fixed firmly on Hak.

“I… I didn’t! I-!” His voice wavers, flustered beyond words, as his golden eyes dart everywhere but toward you.

Hak’s grin only deepens.

“Relax, mask boy. I’m just saying, I didn’t expect you to be the bold type.”

“Hak!” you cry out, but before you can yell at him again, you feel the soft weight of something warm drape over your shoulders.

You glance down and see Shin-Ah’s thick fur cloak now shielding your exposed body, the comforting smell of his presence surrounding you.

Shin-Ah has turned to face Hak fully, standing between you and him like a shield. His tall frame blocks you from Hak’s line of sight entirely, his glowing gaze unwavering as he steps forward.

“Leave,” Shin-Ah says softly, his voice uncharacteristically firm.

“Oh? Feeling protective, are we?” Hak quips, unfazed.

He leans lazily against a nearby tree, clearly enjoying the situation.

“Fine, fine. I’ll go. Just don’t take too long, or I’ll have to assume you’ve been turned into frog food.”

He waves as he retreats, calling over his shoulder,

“You’re welcome for the rescue, by the way!”

The silence that follows is almost as loud as Hak’s teasing had been. You sigh, pulling the fur tighter around yourself as Shin-Ah glances at you hesitantly. His ears are still red, his mask tilting slightly downward.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your voice soft now.

“For the cloak… and for standing up to Hak.”

Shin-Ah nods slowly, his hand resting on Ao’s head for comfort.

“Sorry,” he whispers, his voice almost trembling.

“I didn’t mean… to make you uncomfortable.”

You smile despite yourself.

“It’s okay. You were trying to protect me.”

Shin-Ah stays silent for a moment before finally stepping back toward the shadows.

“I’ll… make sure no one else comes. Enjoy the rest of your bath.”

And with that, he disappears into the treeline, his presence lingering like the warmth of his cloak around your shoulders.

Kija and Hak walking in on you during an argument

The hot spring’s warmth envelops you like a comforting blanket, its soothing waters easing every ache and strain from days of travel. A sigh escapes your lips as you let yourself relax, sinking further into the water. What a hell of a week this was, the only truly comforting thing that happened was meeting Zeno. But stumbling over that hot springs? Priceless, without any doubt.

It’s been far too long since you’ve had a moment to yourself. Away from Hak’s endless teasing, away from the group’s constant chatter, and away from Kija’s persistence that he protects you from every little thing. No danger, no distractions - just you and the peaceful sound of the water lapping against the rocks.

But the peace is short-lived.

As usual.

A rustling sound breaks the stillness, and you freeze, your gaze darting around without a real aim. You listen closely, heart starting to race. The forest, once alive with the faint hum of crickets, has fallen silent. You sit up in the water, eyes scanning the darkened treeline.

Before you can call out, voices cut through the night.

“Hey, white snake! You think she fell into the spring or something?”

Hak.

Your heart skips a beat.

“Hak, don’t even say that!”, Kija’s voice follows, loud and frantic.

“Why would you assume something so catastrophic?! What if she’s injured - or worse?”

Footsteps crunch against the forest floor, and you feel panic rising as they grow louder. No, no, no. This cannot be happening. They aren’t on their way to you, right?

“Wait! Hak, Kija, don’t-!” you call out, your voice echoing off the rocks, but it’s too late.

The two burst into the clearing like a pair of wayward storms, Kija with his dragon arm glowing faintly in preparation for an attack and Hak looking as relaxed as ever, his glaive resting lazily against his shoulder.

The moment they see you, time seems to stop.

There you are, chest-deep in the water, steam curling around your bare shoulders. Kija’s dragon arm immediately lowers as his jaw drops, his pale skin quickly turning a deep shade of crimson. Hak, on the other hand, raises an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement.

“What are you two doing here!?” you shriek, sinking deeper into the water and flapping to cover yourself with your arms.

Hak is the first to recover, his trademark smirk spreading across his face as he leans casually on his glaive.

“Well, this is unexpected. Thought we were here to save you from drowning, but it turns out you’re just having a nice soak.”

He pauses, letting his gaze flicker to Kija’s dumbstruck expression before adding,

“This might be even better, honestly.”

“Don’t look!” you yell, your face burning hotter than the spring.

“I’m not looking,” Hak replies, though the playful edge to his tone says otherwise.

“Not really, anyway.”

“Hak!” Kija snaps, finally coming to his senses.

He spins around so fast you almost feel the wind from his motion, his back now firmly to you. His hands tremble as he clenches his fists at his sides.

“This is highly inappropriate! Miss (y/n), I…I deeply apologize for this unspeakable intrusion!”

Hak snorts.

“Unspeakable? Bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

He tilts his head, clearly enjoying himself.

“Relax, white snake. She’s fine. No harm done.”

“Fine?! This is mortifying!” Kija hisses through clenched teeth, refusing to turn around.

His dragon arm flexes, his knuckles white.

“We should never have come here!”

“You don’t say,” you mutter bitterly, your embarrassment mounting by the second.

Hak’s smirk widens.

“Oh, come on. It’s not every day you walk into a scene this memorable. You’ve got to admit, the timing’s kind of perfect. And the view is even better”

“Hak,” you growl, the water splashing as you resist the urge to throw something at him.

“Shut up and leave already!”

“Oh, I’ll leave,” Hak replies, holding up his free hand in mock surrender.

He glances at Kija, who still looks like he might pass out from sheer humiliation.

“But I don’t think Kija’s feet are working anymore. Guess it’s just you and me, (y/n).”

“GET OUT!” you scream, splashing water in Hak’s direction.

He laughs, dodging the spray with infuriating ease.

“Alright, alright. I’m going. No need to get violent.”

He turns, throwing an exaggerated wave over his shoulder.

“Next time, though, maybe leave a note if you’re sneaking off for a midnight soak. Could’ve saved us all some trouble.”

As Hak strolls off, still laughing under his breath, Kija hesitates, his back rigid and unmoving.

“I… I’ll make sure Hak never speaks of this again!” he promises, his voice high-pitched and frantic.

“Miss (y/n), please forgive us for this - this indecent situation!”

Before you can respond, he takes a shaky step forward to follow Hak, literally running away for dear life.

You still fail to catch your breath. As if Kija being here isn’t worse enough, why on earth did it have to be him? You’ve had a crush on Hak for as long as you can remember, still always admiring him from afar. Did he…look at you, maybe even find you attractive?

Out of instinct, you shake your head vehemently. What kind of nonsense is this? As if a guy like Hak would even look your direction.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart and chase his stupid perfect face out of your thoughts as you sink back into the warmth of the spring. There’s no use in interpreting too much into this situation. After all, it was probably Kija who worried about you, right?

But your pulse quickens again when you hear that familiar voice you tried so desperately to chase away.

“Don’t worry, it’s just me.”

You barely have time to react before Hak steps back into the clearing, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight, leaning casually against a tree as though nothing’s changed. His easy grin makes the air around you feel heavier.

“Hak,” you snap, trying to control the heat rising in your cheeks.

“What are you doing back here?”

He raises an eyebrow, taking a slow step closer, not at all bothered by the situation.

"Just making sure you’re all right, of course."

“Stop messing around. I told you I’m fine.”

You try to sound convincing, but it comes out strained. It’s hard to focus when his gaze lingers just a little too long. His eyes trace the curve of your shoulders, down your arms, your body beneath the water, and you can feel the weight of his attention like a physical touch.

Hak seems to notice your discomfort and smirks even wider.

“I know. You’re fine. But you’ve been avoiding me all day, so I thought I’d check on you.”

“I’m not avoiding you,” you mutter, your voice wavering despite your best efforts.

“It’s just… uncomfortable when you keep making things weird.”

His smirk doesn’t fade as he steps forward, and you instinctively inch back, but there's nowhere to retreat. He’s just a few feet away now, his body blocking the space between you and the edge of the spring. You feel like dying and flying at the same time.

"Is it weird though?" Hak asks, voice dropping to a husky whisper as he leans in, his presence overwhelming you.

“You never told me to stop… not really.”

You blink, and before you can protest, Hak continues, his tone darker now, almost teasing.

"You don't mind when I get close, do you? Not really."

The air grows thick, the steam around you suddenly feeling even hotter than before. His gaze locks onto yours, intense and unyielding. You’ve never seen him like this before, and the sudden shift in his manner makes your heart race. What on earth has gotten into him?

“Hak…”

Your voice comes out breathy, betraying your attempt to remain composed.

He smirks, but there’s something different about the way he’s looking at you now - something that sends a tingle straight down your spine. His hands flex at his sides as he steps closer, his body almost touching yours.

"You sure you want me to leave? Because I'm not getting that impression."

You’re too flustered to answer, heat rushing to your face, your body tense beneath the water. You're caught between the urge to push him away and the strange pull that draws you closer. His eyes flicker downward to where the water clings to your skin, and he breathes in slowly, as if savoring the moment.

"Don't look," you mumble automatically, your tone half-warning, half-pleading.

"I’m not."

Hak’s voice is low, teasing, but there's an edge to it.

"But if you didn’t want me to look, why are you hiding under the water like that?"

You glare at him, biting your lip to keep from responding too quickly.

“I’m not hiding.”

He takes another step forward, closing the distance until you can feel the heat of his body radiating against you.

“Sure you’re not.”

His voice is low and seductive now, each word making your heart beat faster. He leans in, his breath warm against your ear as his fingers brush the edge of the water.

“I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay. And it seems to me you’re not so fine with me leaving. Aren’t you?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and before you can stop yourself, you gasp when his hand barely skims your shoulder, sending a shock of heat through your body. Your instincts flare up, and you try to pull back, but his presence is suffocating, and there’s nowhere to go.

You glance at him, eyes wide with something between irritation and panic, but your words get caught in your throat as he steps even closer. The tension between you is suffocating now, crackling with something raw, something primal, something that makes the air heavy and thick with desire.

"You’ve been avoiding me all this time," he whispers, his lips brushing your ear, sending a shiver through your body.

"But you can’t hide from me forever, (y/n)."

You shiver, unable to speak, your breath coming faster as his hand traces lightly down your arm. His fingers linger just long enough for you to feel the warmth of them against your skin, igniting a fire within you.

“W-what are you doing?” you manage to breathe out, barely able to get the words out past the tightness in your chest.

Hak’s lips curl into a half-smile, the teasing edge still there, but there’s something deeper behind his eyes now.

“I’m just making sure you understand what I’ve been trying to say.”

His voice is thick, husky now, like the air between you both is too thick to bear.

The space between you both is impossibly small, and you’re not sure if it’s your breath or his that’s filling the air, making everything feel suffocating. You can’t remember the last time you felt this close to him - felt this seen by him.

But somehow, you never want it to end. No, you want him to stay like this, you want to feel him this close to you.

You want him, none other than Son Hak.

“Maybe…I want you”, you breathe into the night.

Bonus: all the men hehe

The hot spring is supposed to be your reward. After days of trekking through rough terrain, dealing with bandits, and sleeping in the dirt, this feels like heaven itself. Even Yun had chimed in, saying you deserved a moment to relax, offering you some alone-time in the hot springs. They had specifically assigned this hot spring to you, promising that no one would disturb you. Sometimes, they are able to act nice.

You sigh cheerfully, the warm water easing every ache and pain in your body. It’s peaceful, calm, and the perfect chance to relax.

Until the door to the changing area slides open with a loud clack.

You jolt upright, your heart leaping into your throat. Before you can even process what’s happening, Hak strides in, wearing nothing but a small, damp white towel slung low around his waist. Water drips from his messy hair as he steps confidently into the spring, seemingly unaware of your presence.

“Man, this is going to feel great,” Hak signs, stretching his arms overhead.

You feel like seeing a ghost. Didn’t the old lady tell you in front of everyone else that the hot spring number three will be reserved for you only? Are you mistaken?

“H-Hak?!” you sputter, your voice echoing in the steamy air.

He freezes mid-step, his dark eyes snapping toward you. For a moment, neither of you say anything. Then, his signature grin returns, twice as mischievous as usual.

“Oh? Didn’t expect to see you here,” Hak comments smoothly, his tone dripping with faux innocence.

“Don’t mind me - this is my assigned tub, too.”

“What?! No, it isn’t!” you snap, your face turning bright red as you sink lower into the water, desperate to hide yourself.

Before Hak can reply, another voice calls out.

“Wait for me, Thunder Beast! Don’t hog the spring!”

Jae-Ha appears, his towel slung over his shoulder and his long legs carrying him gracefully into the clearing. The green dragon freezes mid-step when he spots you, his eyes widening slightly before a sly smile spreads across his face.

“Oh my,” he jeers, tossing the towel around his neck like he’s suddenly a model.

“This is quite the surprise. If I’d known we’d have company, I’d have brought wine to celebrate.”

“Get out!” you yell, your face burning as Jae-Ha perches casually on the edge of the spring, clearly ignoring you.

“Oh, don’t be shy, darling. We’re all friends here,” Jae-Ha teases, kicking one leg lazily into the water.

Before you can scream again, a third figure enters. Kija, holding his white cloth with a prim sort of dignity, strides in with his nose held high.

“Hak, I told you to wait for the rest of us before-”

His words trail off as he spots you, blue eyes widen in sheer shock.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Kija’s face turns bright red. He spins on his heel so fast he nearly trips.

“What are you doing in here?! This is improper!”

“Me?” you shriek, waving a hand at him.

“You’re the ones barging in here!”

“Don’t yell at me!” Kija shouts back, his voice an octave higher than usual.

“I wasn’t told this spring was occupied! Especially not by you!”

“STOP SOUNDING SO DISGUSTED!”

He whirls back around to glare at Hak and Jae-Ha, who seem far less mortified than he is.

But there’s no time to argue or for further protest, because Zeno skips in next, humming a cheerful tune. He’s the only one who doesn’t even hesitate, wading straight into the water without a care in the world.

“Ah, nice and warm!” Zeno chirps, sinking into the spring as though this were a casual picnic.

He glances at you and tilts his head.

“Oh, you’re here too? That’s great! Makes it more fun!”

This can’t be true, right? They have to be a hallucination, every single one of them. But something about Hak’s slight grin tells you it can’t be, that this is bitter reality.

“Zeno, get out!” you groan, holding your hands over your face.

“What? Zeno didn’t do anything wrong!” he protests, grinning wide as ever.

Your sanity shakes on the edge as yet another figure appears. Shin-Ah stands in the doorway, frozen in place as he takes in the scene. His glowing golden eyes flicker between you and the others, and you can see the color rising in his ears even beneath his hood.

“Shin-Ah, please tell them to leave!” you plead, clutching the edge of the spring for dear life.

Finally someone with a little bit of sense. He nods once, almost robotically, before turning to departure - only for Ao to leap from his shoulder and dive into the water with an enthusiastic squeak.

“Great,” you mutter as the little squirrel starts splashing around.

“To be honest, Ao is the only one I really want here.”

“I-I’ll take Ao,” Shin-Ah mumbles, clearly flustered as he steps toward the spring, only to stop dead when his foot slips on a wet stone.

He stumbles, barely catching himself, and the towel around his waist slips a little before he falls straight into the water.

Straight against you.

Your naked self, to be exact.

“Shin-Ah!”

“I-I’m sorry!” he stammers, his voice barely audible as he scrambles backward, his movements awkward and frantic.

He dashes away from you as if you’re the plague, his face so red you think steam might start rising off him.

Before you can fully process what just happened, a low whistle cuts through the tension.

“Well, isn’t this interesting?” Hak drawls, leaning back against the rocks with that insufferable smirk of his.

He crosses his arms over his chest, looking far too amused for your liking.

“Guess we know what Shin-Ah’s type is now. Didn’t think he’d make such a bold move, though. Props to him.”

Your jaw drops.

“What did you just say?!”

Hak shrugs, feigning innocence as he gestures toward the flustered Shin-Ah, who looks like he wants to melt into the water and disappear.

“I mean, falling into you like that? Pretty smooth move if you ask me. Maybe I should take notes-”

“You should take notes on leaving me alone!” you snap, your voice practically reverberating off the rocks.

“Seriously, Hak, of all the idiotic, inappropriate - HOW IS THIS FUNNY TO YOU?!”

Hak raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained by your outburst.

“Come on, it’s a little funny-”

“IT’S NOT FUNNY!” you scream, throwing a handful of water in his direction.

He dodges effortlessly, of course, laughing even harder.

“You’re impossible!” you huff, clutching the edge of the spring to keep yourself from launching at him.

“First, you barge in uninvited, then you make inappropriate comments, and now you’re making jokes about this?! What is WRONG with you?”

“Plenty of things,” Hak admits with a shameless grin, earning himself a chorus of groans from Kija and a small splash of water from Zeno, who seems to be trying to cheer you up.

“Shut up, Hak,” Kija mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You’re going to get us all killed.”

Jae-Ha chuckles from his perch on the edge of the spring.

“To be fair, Thunder Beast does have a knack for digging his own grave.”

“That’s it!” you shout, pointing furiously at all of them.

“I’ll kill every single one of you right now!

Finally, Yun storms in just in time, his face already set in a scowl.

“What is wrong with all of you? I can’t leave for one second without laughing around like idiots and talking trash-”

He stops, taking in the chaos: you half-hidden in the water, Hak smirking, Jae-Ha lounging, Zeno grinning, Kija fuming, Shin-Ah frozen, and Ao splashing around like it’s a game. Yun pinches the bridge of his nose. So, that’s what’s going on here. Did all of them not listen to what the old lady said earlier?

“You were all supposed to be in the other spring!” Yun yells, his voice echoing so loudly that even Hak winces.

“Do none of you listen?!”

“It’s fine, Yun,” Zeno interferes, waving him off.

“It’s cozier this way! And being naked together helps with bonding!”

“Oh, I know something you can do naked that helps with bonding as well”, Jae-Ha comments with a slight grin.

You let out a strangled noise, your head sinking into your hands.

“I’m going to lose my mind…”

“Relax,” Hak says with a laugh, slipping into the water like nothing is amiss.

“We’re all friends here, right?”

“Out!”

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promisingyounglady · 1 year ago

Text

go back to bed. | JP x Reader

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Pregnant Wife!Reader

SYNOPSIS: after a difficult nights work, javier just wants to patch himself up in peace. of course, you’re not gonna have it.

WC: 1.3k

WARNINGS: mdni! reader is afab, no y/n, mentions of pregnancy, weapons, javi getting mildly hurt, profanity, suggestiveness, little bit of angst but a lot of sweetness too;(

AUTHORS NOTE: reblogging and feedback is appreciated

The sound of running water is what wakes you up.

Your vision’s blurry from sleep, but you still make out the dimly lit room, a sliver of light peeking through the crack of the bathroom door. The sound of crickets chirping softly outside tells you it’s the early hours of the morning.

You hear shuffling, the obnoxious sound of objects hitting your tiles, and a quiet string of mumbled curses that you know belong to him.

“Mierda”

You blink softly, sitting up from your warm covers as your senses come together. More clanging of objects and a pair of scissors falling to the floor follows, and this time you paddle softly to the door, a shiver going up your back from only wearing a thin, white cotton nightgown.

You squint gently, pushing the door just enough so that you could confirm it was Javier.

“Fucking cheap ass bandages” you hear him mutter under his breath, struggling to cut the cloth with scissors, using his teeth instead.

With his broad back facing you, you make out a disordered array of disinfectant alcohol, medical supplies and gauze on your bathroom counter. You cross your arms, worried as you step closer.

Javi looks tired in his mirror reflection, brows furrowed and moustache in a frown as you watched your husband struggle with bandaging a fairly large cut on his right hand.

Your eyes widened at the blood.

”Javier.”

Javi looks up in the mirror, caught red-handed (quite literally) in the act of secretly bandaging his bloody hand so his very protective, and might he add, very pregnant wife didn’t freak out.

You stepped forward into the bathroom light, your large bump peeking through the nightgown you wore.

“Go back to bed, querida” he quickly says, hunched as he tries his best to hide the blood stained tissues beside him from your gaze. You sighed, knowing why Javi doesn’t like showing you.

“Ay, Javier” You spit harshly, waddling over as you scolded your tall husband who stands timid underneath your concerned gaze.

You snatched the rubbing alcohol from his hand. “You really want to make your pregnant wife mad by sneaking around with cuts and bruises?” It’s now your turn to furrow your brows and inspect his bleeding hand, shaking your head as you saw his fugle attempts at bandaging it up.

“Do you even stop to think how I feel when I see you get hurt like this?” You exclaimed, glaring at the man.

You see the pair of medical scissors lying on the bathroom floor, a few tissues and bloodied cloths with it. Despite being six months pregnant, you tried to pick up the objects, a hand against your back in support as you awkwardly shifted down.

Javier already feels too guilty that his heart hurts even more when he sees you struggle to perform basic activities. “Querida, querida, stop” he quickly bends down, swiftly picking up the lying tool with his left hand and putting it on the counter before you could.

You straightened your back, sighing at the sight of your husband on his knees, picking up the bandages as well as evidence of another one of his violent encounters with criminals as a DEA agent.

“I’m fine, I promise mi amor.” He reassures you softly, trying to say something that could make you use a different tone than the one you’re using one with him. “I bandaged it up earlier, but it just unraveled so-“

As Javi is eye-level with your stomach, you softly run your fingers through his hair, feeling his words stop and body tense at the action for a split second before melting into your touch. Javi shuts his eyes, pressing his forehead against your stomach and giving you and your child a kiss.

At least he was home. At least he was here with you.

“I know.” he breathes out amongst the silence. “I’m sorry honey.”

Hm, is all you reply in return, acknowledging that your husband knows he was wrong to give his pregnant wife such a scare in the middle of the night.

Javi looks up at you, big brown eyes searching for forgiveness in your own.

“I tried to be careful, I really did. But then the guy pulled out a knife, and-“

Your eyes widened softly before an unsettling feeling resided in your chest. Thinking of your husband being so dangerous to protect his country was conflicting. But it was for his people. As well as you and your child.

”Get up, carino” you say firmly.

Javier pauses, sighing as he obliged to your every word like it was his command.

Now your husband looms over you, right hand facing upwards with his makeshift bandages, as his left gently touches your back, pulling you closer to him.

You try not to let the endearing action cause your heart to flutter. You weren’t letting him slide so easily.

You bite your lip, frustrated at the fact that Javier continued to go on dangerous chases and stakeouts to catch Escobar, meanwhile you were sitting at home everyday with a dull ache in your heart as you envisioned your child not getting the chance to meet their father.

But seeing the bags under Javi’s eyes, along with the way he lowers his head quietly, you sigh and grab the stained cloth on the edge of counter. In silence, you took his large, rough hand into your soft one and patched his cut.

Javi knows better than to say anything at the moment. Instead he promises something you know he means more than actually committing. “I’ll be more careful”

You pressed the rubbing alcohol firmly in his wound, causing him to wince slightly.

“Damn right you’ll be” you mutter, protectively helping your husband.

Javier smiles at your actions, an overwhelming sense of love filling his heart.

“Murphy almost got shot if it makes you feel better”

You pause from cleaning up the medical supplies and his newly bandaged. You looked into your husbands eyes, pure shock and horror.

“By our boss, carino” Javier smiles. “The targets got away because Murphy was dumb enough to- AY“

You drown the sounds of your husbands laughter and words with a smack to the back of his head, cursing at him under your breath as you left the washroom with pursed lips.

Javier didn’t need to take many long strides to catch up to you, wrapping his arms around your belly, latching onto your sides and laughing as he tried to hold onto your tiny but furious form.

”es broma hermosa, I didn’t mean to-“

”Have fun sleeping on the couch, Peña” you swatted his hands away. Javier locks eyes with your waddling form before holding on to you and spinning you around swiftly in strong arms. Now standing in the dim bedroom, with your belly close to his body and noses almost touching, he looks at you with a hope of forgiveness in his crinkled eyes. The distance makes you hate him even more.

“It’s a joke my love, I’m sorry” he says grinning stupidly like a fool, only wanting to have seen you smile. You smack his chest hard, glaring up at him. “You’re an idiot, I hope you get shot next time”

Javier roars with laughter, unable to take your venomous words seriously when you looked so innocent and cute in his arms. In order to apologize, Javier bends down to kiss your lips.

However, you’re stubborn and shift your face away, trying your hardest not to smile as Javier tries to show his love to you.

“Javi! I hate you” you exclaimed, the pregnancy hormones making you meaner than you really were.

Your husband doesn’t mind at all, not when he cheekily sneaks a hand under your slip and grabs the soft mound of your breast. The action makes you gasp, Javier grinning in victory when you finally let your lips press into his.

God, did this man drive you insane.

#fic: go back to bed #javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier pena smut #javier pena angst #javier pena fic #javier pena fluff #javier pena narcos #javier pena imagine #narcos fanfiction #javier pena one shot #javier pena x y/n #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #Pedro pascal fanfic #promising young lady : enid writes📝

1K notes · View notes

tasneko · 4 months ago

Text

Greetings peasants, read right to left you're welcome

Insert crickets sounds because I was gone for a long time, so here's a long content Soukoku edition dinner from s5 because I ain't liking whatever's happening in the manga, so enjoy (and this is the first time I made manga pattern kinda stuffs so yes)

Also!! Tysm for 100 followers, you guys are the absolute best, and tysm for the supports too <33

#bsd #bsd fanart #bungo stray dogs #bsd fandom #bsd dazai #anime art #anime fanart #bsd chuuya #dazai x chuuya #soukoku #still not over this #s5 ended it's been 1 year and the new chapters.. don't get me started please #I miss them so much #they gotta come back at all costs ugh

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giveafike · 6 days ago

Note

So uhm.. what are the chances of a follow up of "is it new years yet?" 👀👀

TLDR: part 2 to is it new years yet? recc to read that FIRST before reading this :)

Word count + info: 4.8k + dialogue.

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! Cussing.

Azzie Notes ✚: happy valentines day, my loves! So cute to build onto a seasonal special with ANOTHER seasonal special. Hope this lives up to the first part, anon! Loosely reminds me of Valentine by Laufey. Whether you're spending today alone, with family, with friends or with loved ones (or something in between all that) spend it loving the little bits and pieces of the day!

Taglist: thank u for ur support! if u wanna join the taglist, head on over here

🌙 - @le-moon-nade @anneioe @maya1the-bee @miss-d-d @hannahbanannax @mfcvbs @egevtntn @the-aizzlee @hello-missunperfect-things @joeybisbootiful @2manytabsopen 🌕 - @starlitf0x

blinked & suddenly, I had a valentine - B.T.S

————————————————————————

You chew your lip, scrolling through your camera roll for a photo that looks effortless but nonchalant. Something casual, mellow, like you didn’t spend way too long overthinking it. Which, obviously, you did. You were back in Florida, so you knew you would add a location tag - you were in a trendy little café downtown, where you and your friends were celebrating an early Galentine’s.

The air smells like espresso and overpriced pastries, your table cluttered with half-eaten croissants and empty mimosa glasses. Laughter and chaotic debate fill the space, but your focus is elsewhere. Specifically, on your phone. And, more specifically, on him.

You and Ben have been texting after New Year's Eve, or well, had been texting. At first, it was easy; inside jokes, dumb memes, conversations that left butterflies in the pit of your stomach and a dumb smile on your face, the kind of late-night conversations that left you curled up and eager for more. But then his tour picked up, college welcomed you back with a smack in the face that hit you like a truck, and the messages became… sparse. Shorter. Drier. Less fun. Now, checking in feels less like catching up and more like pestering. You already know how he’s doing, his last match was all over your feed. But that’s not the same, and you hate that it matters so much. You missed the way he’d send you random voice notes mid-practice or from his car drives, his voice slightly breathless as he joked about being worked to death. Or the way he’d text you after posting a clip of his sessions, asking if you’d seen his “epic comeback” (his words, not yours).

But lately? Crickets. You knew he was back here, in Florida, but you couldn't bring yourself to reach out, something about it felt like begging, especially during a week like Valentine's week.

You sigh, finally settling on a photo of your latte, some attempt at a heart in the foam that looks more like a deflated kidney. Whatever. You add a location tag and caption: Nothing says love like overpriced coffee and talking shit with your best friends <3.

Before you can second-guess it, you post. Your phone barely touches the table before you get side-eyed.

“Alright, who’s got you checking your phone like you’re waiting on exam results?”

You scoff, reaching for a croissant. “No one.”

A pointed silence follows. “So you’re just emotionally invested in your Instagram engagement now?”

Another voice chippers in. “Is it Ben?”

Your dramatic eye-roll gives you away immediately. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh my God, he ghosted you.”

You nearly choke. “He did not! We’ve just… been busy.”

“So he part-time ghosted you,” she corrects.

“He’s on tour, I’m drowning in school, it’s not that deep, we're busy people,” you argue, but even you don’t sound convinced.

“Right. And that’s why you’ve been on your phone all morning like a middle-aged woman tracking her kid’s live location?”

You groan, dropping your head onto the table. “I hate you both.”

“No, you miss him,” Liv singsongs, and you blindly throw a sugar packet at her.

Then, your phone buzzes.

You glance at the screen, expecting a notification from your emails. But it’s from Instagram already.

Your phone vibrates, but you ignore it. Then another buzz. The kind that isn’t a text, but an Instagram notification. You glance, just for a second.

Ben Shelton liked your story.

Your stomach does a stupid little flip. Because of course he saw it. Of course he engaged with it just enough to let you know he saw it, but not enough to actually text.

You lock your phone and flip it over.

“Wow...You put your phone face-down. That’s serious.”

You exhale sharply, shaking your head. “I’m putting it on Do Not Disturb because I’m not doing this today.”

“Yeah, we’ll see how long that lasts.”

And honestly? It lasts longer than you expect.

Shopping and side-errands keep you busy. There’s a chaotic half-hour where you all try on the dumbest Valentine-themed products and clothes you can find, one of your friends strutting out of a dressing room in the ugliest fur coat imaginable, another trying to convince everyone that this is the year they finally pull off red leather pants. You nearly cry-laugh in the middle of the store.

By the time you sit down for a late lunch-early dinner with the rest of your friends after their classes and shifts, the energy is still high. Pasta is being passed around, drinks are clinking, and someone is dramatically rehashing a dating horror story from last semester. Your phone stays buried in your bag.

Until-

“You know, you haven’t checked your phone in, like, hours.”

You blink. “Yeah? And?”

“And... I think you should.”

There’s a sudden hush at the table, eyes darting expectingly. It’s suspicious as hell.

You hesitate, but finally, dig your phone out. You tap the screen, unlocking it. A flood of notifications. Instagram likes, a missed call from your mom, a “lmk if you’re alive” text from your uni group chat. And then-

A text from him. Sent hours ago.

Ben: Crazy Galentine’s in FL? Bold choice. You holding up without me?

Your stomach flips. Again. You hate that it keeps doing that.

Someone is already trying to peek over your shoulder. “Oh my God. I knew it!”

You angle your phone away. “Mind your business.”

“So what’s he saying?”

“You’re blushing!!”

You close your eyes. Inhale, exhale, then start typing.

You: Holding up just fine, thanks. But this croissant’s got more personality than you’ve shown in weeks.

His reply is instant.

Ben: Ouch. Guess I’ll have to step up my game. What are you doing for the actual Valentine’s Day?

Your friends let out a scream so high-pitched that the next table turns to stare. You have to lean over to clamp a hand over her mouth. The reactions are so grandeur, you’d think they just got proposed to over text.

“HE’S ASKING YOU OUT!”

Your brain short-circuits. “Or, hear me out now, he’s just making conversation.”

Your phone gets snatched from your hands before you can hesitate.

“Nope. Not letting you overthink this.” She types something and tosses it back.

“What the fuck-”

You: Why? You got plans for me?

Your stomach knots as you watch the typing bubble pop up. Then disappear. Then pop up again. It does this for a few beats.

Ben: Maybe I do. You still free for me?

The smiles around the table are like you won the lottery itself, while you're being shaken and cheered around.

And you? You’re so fucking done for. The colour drains out of your face, mouth agape. Your head is in your hands. Gripping your hair at the roots. You’re barely processing the conversation around you, the clinking glasses, the exaggerated cheers.

“She’s frozen. She’s actually in shock.”

“This is so big. Like, national emergency big. Potential WAG in the making right now"

“She’s been single on Valentine’s Day since God knows when, so yeah, this is huge.”

You groan, tilting your head back. “Stop! You guys are so dramatic.”

“We’re just invested.”

You peek at your phone again, heart doing that stupid fucking thing where it stutters in your chest. The text stares back at you.

Ben: Maybe I do. You still free for me?

You exhale, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. You should probably answer. Like a normal person. But your brain is running on pure static.

What do you even say?

Yeah, totally free to publicly humiliate myself on a date?

Sorry, I can’t, I’m busy hyperventilating into my hands?

No. You need to be cool. Nonchalant. Demure.

You tap out a reply.

You: Yes. I’ll text you later, yeah?

It sends. And immediately, the second-guessing starts. Does that sound uninterested? Dismissive? Did you just ruin everything?

Your phone vibrates again.

Ben: Ye, of course. Don’t wanna interrupt your Galentine’s 👯

Another one, almost instantly:

Ben: Text me when you get home

Your face is so hot it could combust. You shove your phone down onto the table with a clatter. “Okay. Done. It’s over.”

But the excitement around you only amplifies.

“You have to reply later.”

“Obviously.” You scoff, playing it off.

“Wait.” A pause. “What are you wearing?”

The question lands like a grenade in your brain.

Oh. Fuck.

You have nothing. Nothing.

The horror must be evident on your face because gasps are let out. “Oh my God. She doesn’t have an outfit.”

The realisation spreads like wildfire.

“You cannot pull up in one of your boring sweaters.”

“Or those beat up shoes you refuse to throw out.”

“We need a game plan.”

And before you know it, someone is yanking out their phone, another is calling out malls, checking store hours.

“There is one tiny mall still open, but we have, like, an hour before they close. We have to go. Now.”

It’s ridiculous. It’s unnecessary. It’s cutting it so fucking close. But here you were dragged to the car while the rest of your table closed off dinner and paid the tabs.

"Get in, loser. We're going shopping."

"Did you just-"

"Yes, I Mean Girls-ed you. Get in! You're not driving, you drank and well last time you drove was New Year-"

"Ok no need to reopen old wounds." You scowl.

You barely have time to process before you’re shoved into the passenger seat, another friend slamming the back door shut behind them. The car peels out of the parking lot like you’re on the run from the law, not just sprinting to find a decent date outfit before the mall locks its doors.

"This is absolutely unhinged," you mutter, gripping the handle as your friend takes a sharp turn.

"You waited years for this. If you think I’m letting you pull up in some tragic little sweater and jeans combo, you’re out of your mind."

“I have good sweaters!"

"No. You do not."

The drive is a chaotic mess of bad playlist choices and a very heated discussion about what vibe you should be going for. Sexy-but-classy? Effortlessly cool? Girl-next-door-but-hot?

Your other friend, scrolling furiously, holds up a photo of some influencer in a red dress. "This."

You glance. "I am not wearing that."

"It’s literally Valentine’s Day, it’s themed-"

"I don’t care if it’s Cupid-approved, I am not rolling up looking like a walking heart emoji."

"Fine. What about-"

"Not the fucking leather pants, either."

Your friend groans, tossing their phone onto their lap. "You’re the worst."

The mall comes into view just as the GPS announces, "Your destination will be closing in 45 minutes."

"Oh, we have to haul ass."

And haul ass, you do.

The second you step into the store, your friend takes immediate command. "You- go find shoes. You- see if they have any decent dresses. You- well, just…try not to panic."

"Very helpful, thanks," you deadpan.

"You're welcome!"

The next thirty minutes are a blur of colour, unenthusiastic employees, fabric, and absolute mayhem. It feels like a Disney movie. You’re shoved into a dressing room with a handful of outfits, half of which are so out of your comfort zone that you genuinely wonder if your friends are trying to prank you.

One friend flings open the curtain. "Show us!"

"No."

A chorus of complaints erupts.

"Come on."

"This is a team effort."

You groan, reluctantly stepping out. "I look stupid."

Your friend gasps. "You look hot."

Another nods in approval. "Yeah, Ben is gonna die."

You cross your arms, looking in the mirror, smoothing over the dress. "I don’t know…"

"Trust me. When he sees you? He’s done for."

You turn back to the mirror. Okay… Maybe it’s not the worst. Maybe…you actually like it.

Maybe…this is real. Maybe it had just been a while since you last wore a dress, got dolled up for a date. And maybe, for the first time, you’re kind of excited for what happens next.

When you finally make it home, you’re wrecked. The shopping bags dig into your wrists, your feet ache, and the only thing standing between you and a glorious face-plant into your bed is the sheer force of will it takes to dump everything onto your chair instead of the floor.

You’re halfway to unconsciousness, sprawled out, limbs all over the place, when your phone buzzes.

u better text ben before u pass out lol

You groan into your pillow.

Your brain is already half-asleep, but fine. You’ll send a quick text, something chill, something casual.

You roll onto your side, grab your phone, and unlock it, squinting at the screen through the exhaustion. Ben’s last text is still sitting there, waiting for a reply.

Ben: Text me when you get home

You exhale, tapping the message.

You: I'm home now

Except. That’s not what happens.

Because your finger slips.

And instead of typing, you misfire straight into calling him. Your heart drops.

“Oh, fuck-”

You try to hit end, but it’s too late. The call screen pops up. His name. The dial tone. Your brain malfunctions.

And then-

Click.

"Hello?"

You black out. Not really. But it feels like it.

There’s a pause, and then Ben lets out a confused laugh. "Uh… you good?"

"I-" You bolt upright like that somehow helps. "That wasn’t on purpose."

He snickers. "Yeah, no kidding. You butt-dial me or something?"

"No!" You wince. "I mean- well, kind of. I was trying to text you, but I misclicked, and now-" You groan, rubbing your face. "Now we’re talking, I guess."

"Well, I'm not complaining." His voice is warm, amused. "But I gotta admit, didn't expect to hear from you this soon."

Your stomach flips. "Yeah, well, neither did I."

There’s a slight pause. Not awkward, just… there. A beat of something unspoken. Ben exhales. "So. Crazy Galentine’s, huh? You still survivin'?"

"Barely." You slump back against your pillows. "You know how dangerous last-minute shopping can get. I think I saw my life flash before my eyes 20 minutes in."

"Tragic way to go."

"I know." You grin. "How about you? Survive your Florida homecoming after your first two tournaments?"

"Hangin' in there." He sounds a little distracted, then there’s a muffled thud, like he’s just flopped onto a bed. "Was starting to think I scared you off."

"What?" Your brows furrow. "Why would you think that?"

"I don’t know, you kinda went ghost on me for a bit. Thought maybe you were over it."

Your pulse stutters. "Over what?"

Ben pauses. "You tell me."

And there it is.

That thing. The thing that’s been sitting between you for weeks.

You chew your lip, shifting slightly. "I wasn’t over anything. I just… didn’t wanna bug you."

"Bug me?" He scoffs. "You think I don't wanna hear from you?"

"You were busy! I saw all the interviews and clips. I figured, I don’t know-" You exhale. "I didn’t wanna be that person."

"What person?"

"The one forcing a conversation when the other person clearly has a million other things going on."

There’s a beat of silence. Then Ben lets out a soft laugh, one of those exasperated, are you serious? kind of laughs. "You’re an idiot, man."

"Excuse me?"

"You think I wouldn’t make time for you?" His voice is lower now, softer. "Come on. We both know that’s bullshit."

You swallow. "I-"

"I like talking to you." The words are simple. Easy. "And if I’ve been dry lately, it’s not ‘cause I don’t want to. It’s ‘cause I suck at this. The whole, like… keeping up with someone while traveling thing. But I don’t want you thinking I don’t care."

Your chest does something stupid. Tightens. "Oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

You let that sit for a second.

And then, because your brain is the way it is, you mutter, "Still think the croissant had more personality than you these last few weeks."

Ben laughs, this full, real laugh that makes your face heat. "Alright, alright, I deserved that one."

"You did."

"Guess I’ll have to make it up to you, huh?"

Your stomach flips. "Guess so."

There’s a pause, and you can hear his smirk through the phone. "So. What are you wearing for our date?"

"Woah... That’s a very bold question, Benjamin."

He chuckles, you can hear the smile in his voice. "Just trying to see if I'll be matchin' or not."

"I assume you're not planning on wearing the same dress as me, so don't worry," you say quickly. "And I’m not telling you."

"Why not?"

"Because you’ll just have to wait and see."

He groans dramatically. "Ugh, torture."

You laugh. "You’ll live."

"Debatable."

There’s another pause. A softer one. "You gonna sleep soon?" he asks.

"I should," you admit. "But this is nice."

Ben hums. "Yeah. It is."

Your eyelids feel heavy now, exhaustion creeping back in. You sink deeper into your blankets. "Okay. I’m really hanging up this time."

"Sure you are."

"Ben."

"Alright, alright. Sleep tight, Valentine."

You barely process the words before he hangs up. You’re left staring at your screen, warmth curling in your chest, wondering how the hell you’re supposed to sleep after that.

Somehow you manage to still your beating heart and fluttering stomach. The next day starts with a few good luck messages from your friends.

Hope you’re ready for your date, miss WAG Valentine’s girl 😏

Don’t overthink it. Just have fun. And don’t let him see you panic

If you cancel, I swear to God, I will show up at your house and force you out myself

You roll your eyes but smile. Then, the rest of the day is eerily quiet. For the first time in weeks, you’re alone. No bustling friend group, no plans. Just you, your apartment, and a long list of things you should be doing.

Laundry, dishes, some half-assed studying and catch up coursework. You sit at your desk, trying to focus, but your brain keeps drifting, back to last night, back to Ben’s voice in your ear, low and easy. You replay pieces of the conversation without meaning to.

And then-

Buzz.

Ben: Yo, what’s your address?

Your stomach jolts. You sit up straighter, rereading it twice, as if the words might suddenly change.

Ben: Don’t worry, not pulling up unannounced. Just need it for later.

You exhale, shaking your head as you type it out.

You: You got a time for me, or is this a surprise too?

Ben: 7

You glance at the clock. It’s barely noon.

You: Copy that. See you then.

Ben: Looking forward to it.

You lock your phone and let out a slow breath.

That gives you hours. Yet, somehow, after a good nap, those hours fly. By the time you start getting ready, the nerves settle in fast. Makeup first. Then hair. The whole process feels foreign, like muscle memory you haven’t used in forever.

And then, the dress. You slip it on carefully, smoothing it down, adjusting where needed. Then, the shoes.When you finally step back and look at yourself in the mirror, you freeze.

For the first time in so long, you actually got up for something. You spent years busying yourself and rejecting any chance of romance, nothing was really worth it - not worth stressing yourself over a sleezy "situationship", but now it sinks in. You actually put in the effort. And looking at yourself now, standing there, hair done, makeup set, dress hugging your figure. You almost don’t recognize yourself, it's almost weird.

Your stomach flutters.

Excitement. Nerves. Anticipation.

And then,

Ding-dong.

Your breath catches.

You hesitate for only a second before making your way to the door. A final deep breath, then you open it.

And there he is.

Ben stands there in a crisp shirt, nice pants, clean. But your eyes barely register the fit because in his hands,

Roses.

Bright, fresh, wrapped neatly.His gaze flicks over you, and something in his expression shifts. His lips part slightly, but for a moment, he doesn’t speak. Just takes you in.

"Wow." His voice is softer than usual. "You look… damn."

And witht that, it all feels worth it, all perfect. Your face heats. "Shut up."

"No, seriously." He grins, holding the flowers out. "These might be pretty, but you definitely win."

You bite your lip, taking them carefully. "Smooth."

“You clean up nice too y'know,” you tease, hoping your voice doesn’t betray how jittery you feel.

He smirks. “I should’ve brought my A-game.”

“This isn’t your A-game?” you quip, reaching for the flowers, setting them down to the side.

“Nah, this is like… my B+. I had to hold back. Didn’t want to peak too early.”

You shake your head, biting back a laugh. “So,” you start, turning back to him. “What’s the plan? We’re not exactly in a walk-in-and-blend-in situation.”

He shoves his hands in his pockets, grinning. “Yeah, I figured unless you wanted to spend the night dodging cameras, we’d keep it private. So, you trust me?”

You arch a brow. “That depends. Are you kidnapping me?”

“Wouldn’t be much of a first date if I was,” he says, leading you outside. “Though, technically, our first date was you hitting my car.”

“That was not a date.”

“I met you. I got your number. We flirted.” He shrugs. “Sounds like a meet-cute to me.”

You roll your eyes but your smitten smile betrays you. “So, where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” He winks. "You ready?"

You glance back at your apartment, nerves buzzing under your skin. Then, you look back at him, at the way he’s standing there, all easy and comfortable like this isn’t the first real date you two have ever had, nor the only date you have planned. He seems so confident, sincere and honest, like this was meant to happen. He holds out a hand for you, no pressure, just a simple invite. You take it, holding his large, warm hand in yours.

Fifteen minutes later, you do see. And it’s… kind of perfect.

Ben pulls up to a quiet, tucked-away spot by the water. The sky is painted in soft purples and blues, the last remnants of daylight fading. There’s a blanket in the trunk, takeout in a bag, and music playing softly from his phone.

“You planned a picnic?” You raise a brow, surprised.

He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, well. Figured you wouldn’t want to spend the whole night inside, but also didn’t want to spend it dodging people with iPhones.”

You glance up at him, then at the setup. “This is actually… really sweet.”

Ben smirks. “What, thought I’d just take you to a drive-thru and call it a night?”

“I mean, I did hit your car. Thought you might hold a grudge.”

“Oh, I do,” he says, opening the basket and setting up. “But I’m playing the long game.”

You both settle onto the blanket, the scent of warm food filling the air. The conversation is easy, mostly teasing at first. He asks about your classes, your friends, you ask about his training, and somehow you end up talking about the first time you met.

“I still don’t know how you managed to hit a parked car,” Ben says, shaking his head.

“It was a tight spot, let it goooo"

“Should've hit the Tesla, in my opinion.”

“Okay, well, maybe I was distracted.”

“By what? Your own bad driving?”

You swat at him, laughing. “By trying to keep the car calm, genius.”

Ben grins, leaning back on his elbows. “And yet, here we are.”

Here you are. Sitting next to him, by the water, the air warm and balmy, the food mostly gone, but the conversation still going. It feels like you both have been waiting for this. And now that it’s here, neither of you is in a rush to leave. You lean back on your hands, looking up at the sky. The stars are sharp tonight, scattered like someone spilled glitter across the darkness. It feels peaceful, so different from how you felt earlier, standing in front of your mirror, stomach twisting with nerves. Now, it’s easy, natural.

Ben watches you for a moment, something unreadable in his expression. “You know, I did want to text you more.”

His voice is softer now, a little more honest. You glance over, catching the way his brows pull together slightly, like he’s been thinking about this for a while. “Yeah?” you ask. “Why didn’t you?”

He exhales, looking up at the starry sky before answering. “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want to do the half-assed, ‘hey, wyd’ texts when I was exhausted or distracted. I didn’t want it to feel like… an obligation. But I don’t know. I think I got in my own head. Like, I’d think about it, but then I’d talk myself out of it. Tell myself you were busy, or I was busy, or-”

“That it was too late,” you finish for him. You nod slowly as you meet his eyes. “I get that, I think I did the same thing.”

“I also didn’t want to, like…” He pauses. “I don’t know. Screw this up before it even started.”

You tilt your head. “And what is ‘this,’ exactly?”

Ben meets your gaze, the corner of his mouth twitching. “I was hoping we’d figure that out.”

Your heart does that annoying little flip again, but you play it cool. “Well, if it’s anything like your tennis game, I expect a lot of effort.”

Ben scoffs. “You wound me.”

You smirk, bumping your knee against his. “We’ll see.”

A comfortable silence settles between you. It’s strange, really, how something so simple, just reaching out, had felt so difficult before. But now, sitting here next to him, it seems ridiculous that either of you hesitated at all.

You tilt your head, studying him. “Did you ever think I wasn’t interested?”

Ben’s lips press together in thought. “No… I mean, I hoped that wasn’t the case. But I also knew you weren’t just gonna sit around waiting for me to finally get my shit together.”

You smile. “Well, you got it together eventually.”

“I did,” he says, nudging your foot lightly with his. “And I’d like some credit for that, thank you very much.”

You roll your eyes, but before you can say anything else, something streaks across the sky.

Your breath catches. “Oh my go-”

Ben follows your gaze, and for a second, neither of you says anything as you watch the shooting star burn its path across the night before disappearing into the dark.

Your heart is still racing when you turn back to him. “That was my first one.”

“Ever?”

You nod. “I always missed them before. I’d be looking the wrong way, or I’d blink, or someone would swear they saw one, but I never did.”

He grins. “Guess you got lucky.”

You glance back up, like you’re trying to will another one to appear, but the sky is still. When you look at Ben again, he’s already looking at you.

“I think I already was,” you say, quieter now.

His expression changes just slightly, his amusement giving way to something softer. The space between you doesn’t feel quite as wide anymore. His gaze dropping briefly to your lips before flicking back up. But he doesn’t move. He doesn’t do anything except sit there, watching you, waiting. And maybe it’s because of the way your stomach feels light, or the way the night feels infinite, or because you’ve both spent too much time holding back, but this time, you close the space, taking the leap, the step forward. Maybe, you did miss him, maybe Cupid finally struck - whatever excuse it was, nothing you could say or do would convey as much as you felt other than his lips on yours.

It’s not rushed, not some grand, sweeping moment. It’s slow, hesitant, like making sure this is real. Like neither of you want to mess it up. Ben exhales softly against your lips, his fingers twitching like he’s deciding what to do with them before settling lightly against your jaw, thumb brushing over your cheek in the faintest touch, before holding your face. The kiss deepens just slightly, his nose bumping against yours, his other hand resting warm against your knee, holding you as though he was scared you might fade right then and there.

And then, just as naturally, you both pull back. Not far. Just enough to breathe.

You open your eyes to find him already looking at you, his smile small, almost like he’s trying to hold it back.

“What?” you whisper.

Ben shakes his head, his gummy smile wide and bright. “I... I'm just so happy, so glad we're here.”

Something about the way he says it, so simple but so honest, makes your throat feel tight. You barely resist the urge to look away. Instead, you huff out a soft, shaky breath, trying to mask how much that made your chest ache in the best way. “Yeah. Me too.”

His smile is small but real, and for a second, neither of you move. The warmth of his fingers still lingers against your jaw, your wrist. Then, finally, you lean back, the moment settling between you like something fragile but steady.

You think you’re gonna like seeing more lucky shooting stars.

#azzie asks #ben shelton #benshelton #ben shelton x reader #atp tennis

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girlrotterr · 9 months ago

Text

But I'm a Lesbian! pt.6

ellie x abby x dina x fem!reader a/n: omgg, the final chapter is heree!! thank you to everyone who supported this series!! I love & appreciate you <33

→ Part one! → Part two! → Part three! → Part four! → Part five!

You and Ellie hurried through the dark hallways, The darkness of the night was cold, the moon casting long shadows on the ground. The only sounds were the distant chirping of crickets and the occasional rustling of leaves. Your footsteps were careful, almost soundless, but your whispers broke the silence.

“You should start the fire,” you said, glancing nervously around to make sure no one was nearby.

“Me? Why me?” Ellie snapped back in a whisper, wincing slightly from the pain in her asscheek.

“Because you’ve got the lighter!” you argued, trying to keep your voice low.

Ellie shook her head, “And you have hands! It’s not rocket science. Just light it up and run.”

"Seriously, I shouldn't be the one starting it," you argued. "If something goes wrong, I don't want to be the one to blame.”

Ellie snapped back, "And you think I do? This is your mess too!"

"Ugh! Why do you have to argue with everything?" you exclaimed in a harsh whisper.

Ellie scoffed, "What are you talking about?"

"You're always disagreeing or instigating something," you shot back. "Shit, it's the reason for most of your fits with Abby! Which, by the way, there's clearly some gay-ass tension between you two..."

Ellie rolled her eyes. "Seriously?! You want to talk about this now? We wouldn't even BE doing this if someone didn't kill the fucking nurse!"

You gasped, feeling a pang of guilt. "I didn't kill her!... At least I don't think I did... fuck! I hope I didn't!!"

Ellie scoffed again, her tone sharp. "If that blow didn't kill her, then a permanent coma is her best bet."

You sighed in relief, "I don't need charges on my record so soon... I still need to commit—wait, wait, wait! Don't fucking change the subject! What's the animosity with Abby?!"

Ellie shot you a look. "What's with the questions all of a sudden?!"

"I need answers to all the crazy shit you've all put me through! Like, how did the nurse and Abby even happen? Why is the director of a conversion camp a closeted lesbian? And why is Dina the only somewhat normal person here—"

Before you could finish, Ellie swiftly covered your mouth with her hand, her eyes burning with intensity. "You're... insufferable," she said, her voice tinged with frustration. "From the moment you stepped foot into our dorm, you've been aggravating."

You blinked, taken aback by her sudden outburst. Ellie's face was close to yours, her gaze unwavering. "I was doing so well," she continued, her voice strained. "I had everything under control, focusing on my tasks, keeping my composure. And yet, you came along and ruined it all."

"You've taken over my mind. Suddenly every thought I have is centered around you. I can’t focus on something without needing to gaze at you." Ellie muttered, her voice softer now, almost pleading. "You've completely thrown me off balance."

You could see the conflict in her eyes, the struggle between wanting to push you away and needing to be close to you. Your eyes widened . Ellie’s words sank in, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. You mumbled something against her hand, and she slowly let it go.

"If you were having gay panic, you should've just said so," you said, half-teasing.

A sudden light illuminated the nearby path, casting long shadows across the courtyard. The director was doing her rounds, her flashlight sweeping from side to side. Ellie reacted instantly, grabbing your arm and pulling you down into the bushes. You both crouched low, trying to steady your breathing as the director's footsteps grew closer.

"Shit," Ellie whispered, her grip on your arm tightening. "We need to stay quiet."

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. The director's light passed dangerously close, the beam brushing the edges of the bushes where you hid. You could hear her muttering to herself, something about the nurse not being at her station. Ellie glanced at you, her eyes wide.

The light paused, and you both held your breath, the world seeming to freeze around you. The director's footsteps resumed, moving away from your hiding spot. You exhaled slowly, feeling a rush of relief.

"That was close," you whispered, glancing at Ellie.

You both stayed hidden for a few more moments, ensuring the director was far enough away. Then, cautiously, Ellie peeked out from the bushes, scanning the area. "Alright, she's gone. Let's move."

You both emerged from your hiding spot, hearts still racing. The courtyard was silent again, the only sound being the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze. Ellie took your hand, leading you toward the designated spot for starting the fire.

"Okay," Ellie whispered, her eyes darting around "We need to fucking hurry."

You nodded, your nerves on edge. "I'll keep watch. You start the fire."

Ellie shot you a look. "Alright."

She set to work, gathering some dry leaves and twigs, her movements quick and precise. You kept watch, scanning the courtyard for any signs of movement. The tension was suffocating, every rustle of the wind making you jump.

Ellie fumbled with the lighter, her fingers trembling slightly as she tried to strike a flame. The lighter jammed, and she cursed under her breath, shaking it and trying again. "Come on, damn it!"

You stood next to her, nervously glancing around. "Hurry up, Ellie! The director could come back any second!"

"I'm trying!" Ellie snapped back, shaking the lighter vigorously. "This piece of shit isn't working!"

The two of you exchanged heated words, the stress of the situation making it hard to stay calm. "Why isn't it working?" you hissed, your anxiety spiking.

Ellie pulled it away, her eyes flashing with irritation. "I've got it! Just give me a second!"

Just as you were about to respond, the lighter finally sparked to life. Ellie quickly brought it to the pile of dry leaves and twigs, the tiny flame catching and starting to grow. But before she could fully ignite the pile, the director's flashlight beam swept across the courtyard again, heading straight for you.

"Come on, let's go!" Ellie grabbed your hand, pulling you away from the scene. In her rush, she accidentally kicked a burning stick near the edge of the building. Flames began to lick at the wooden structure, spreading rapidly.

You and Ellie ran toward the forest, hearts pounding, not daring to look back until you were safely hidden among the trees. Breathless, you both turned to see the building catching fire, the flames climbing higher.

"Uh, Ellie," you said, staring at the growing blaze.

Ellie followed your gaze, her expression shifting from shock to disbelief. "Well, shit,"

_____

"Hold her legs up higher!" Abby grunted, struggling with the weight.

"I'm trying!" Dina hissed back, sweat beading on her forehead.

The two of them wrestled with the nurse's limp form, trying to fit her into the cramped space. Abby pushed, and Dina pulled, both of them gritting their teeth with the effort.

"Okay, almost there," Abby said, maneuvering the nurse's arm inside. "Just a little more."

Dina adjusted the nurse's legs, finally managing to tuck them in. The cabinet door barely closed, the nurse's fingers still visible through the gap.

"Shit, that’s not gonna work," Dina muttered, eyeing the barely shut door.

"We don't have time," Abby said, her tone urgent. "We need to get our stuff and get out of here..”

Dina nodded, moving quickly to the drawer they had been trying to unlock. "The nurse had the keys, right?"

Abby reached into the nurse's pocket, pulling out a small set of keys. "Fuck yeah."

Abby tossed the keys to Dina, but in the rush, Dina fumbled the catch, and the keys fell to the ground with a metallic clink. Dina scrambled to pick them up, her hands shaking . At that exact moment, a loud crash echoed. Abby turned to see the nurse's body come flying out of the cabinet, landing face down on the floor.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Abby groaned in frustration.

"Sooo, I know this isn't the most perfect time to ask this but.." Dina glanced at Abby who was holding the limp body over her shoulder.

"Just ask," Abby replied, her tone strained with the effort of holding the nurse's body.

Dina took a deep breath. "Do you think after all this, you and Ellie could reconcile?"

Abby's brows furrowed in surprise. "What?"

"Everything that happened with Cat, Ab's," Dina continued.

Abby furrowed her brows, "It wasn't that serious with Cat, alright? We were just having fun. And besides, Cat just wasn't the one for ellie."

Dina let out an exasperated sigh. "Imagine how Ellie felt walking in on you giving her crush mind-blowing backshots with another bitch suffocating on her tits!"

Abby rolled her eyes. "You were that other bitch!"

Dina scoffed, crossing her arms defensively. "Woah, woah, woah! I apologized to Ellie, okay?! I blamed it on the perc and told her that it made me hallucinate!"

Suddenly, the shrill sound of the fire alarm pierced the air.

"Shit, shit, shit," Abby cursed, glancing nervously at the door. "We need to hurry."

Dina's heart raced as she finally managed to open the drawer, revealing their confiscated belongings piled inside. "Got it!" She quickly grabbed their things and stuffed them into her bag, her movements frantic as she tried to gather everything.

"We need to go, now!" Abby urged.

___

You and Ellie sprinted through the forest, branches scratching at your arms and legs as you dodged trees and bushes. The glow of the fire behind you illuminated the night.

Finally, you broke through the tree line and spotted Abby and Dina emerging from the building, looking frazzled but unharmed. They hurried toward you, carrying bags filled with your confiscated belongings.

"We need to fucking leave now!" Ellie gasped for air, glancing back at the burning building. "The director's out here—what the fuck?" She stopped mid-sentence, eyes widening at the sight of the nurse still limp and draped over Abby's shoulder.

Abby adjusted her grip on the nurse, "She wouldn't fit, okay!" Abby said defensively, her voice strained. "I didn't know what else to do!"

Dina, her face flushed with adrenaline, glanced nervously at the approaching flames and the chaos behind them. "Her plump fucking ass would take up half the space!"

“Is she still out?" you asked, looking at the nurse's unconscious form.

Abby nodded, "Yeah, she hasn't woken up yet."

"We need to hide her somewhere," Ellie said, her mind racing. "If the director finds her like this, we'll be fucking screwed."

Dina pointed toward a nearby shed, half-hidden in the shadows. "There! We can hide her in there."

With a collective effort, you all hurried toward the shed, Abby struggling to keep the nurse balanced as you navigated through the forest. Ellie pushed open the creaky door, and you quickly cleared a space inside, shoving old tools and supplies out of the way.

Abby gently laid the nurse down on a pile of rags,"Hopefully no bears chew her alive," Dina said, straightening up and wiping sweat from her brow.

"Yeah, they’d have to chew through the silicone first." abby said.

___

As you continued through the forest, the distant glow of the fire gradually faded, but the urgency to keep moving pressed on. Finally, after what felt like hours, you stumbled upon a small clearing near the edge of the property. There, partially hidden behind some bushes, was the director's car.

"Fuck yeah," Ellie muttered, running her hand over the hood. "This is our way out."

Abby glanced around nervously. "We need to hurry. The director could be anywhere."

Ellie quickly got to work on the car, she pried open the dashboard and began fumbling with the wires. The silence of the night was broken only by the occasional crackle of leaves and distant shouts from the burning building.

Dina kept watch, her eyes darting around. "Come on, Ellie, faster," she urged, her voice tight with anxiety.

"I'm going as fast as I can," Ellie snapped back, her fingers working frantically. "This isn't exactly fucking easy."

Just then, you heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps rapidly approaching.

“You fucking clit sucking lesbians!!” You turned to see the director, flashlight in hand, sprinting toward you, her face a mask of fury.

"Shit! She's coming!" you yelled, panic setting in.

"Why did we let this fucking loser do this intricate ass shit!" Dina yelled.

"Shut up and let me concentrate!" Ellie snapped, her hands shaking as she twisted the last wire.

You all turned to see the director sprinting towards you, her flashlight beam cutting through the darkness.

The engine roared to life just as the director reached the car. Without a second thought, Ellie slammed her foot on the gas pedal. The car lurched forward, the tires kicking up dirt and gravel. The director, caught off guard, tried to jump out of the way but wasn't quick enough. The car clipped her, sending her sprawling to the ground.

"Oh my fucking god!" Dina screamed, turning to look back at the director lying motionless on the ground.

The car skidded to a halt down the road, and the four of you rushed out.

Blood trickled from a gash on the director's forehead, glistening under the dim moonlight. You covered your mouth, a wave of nausea washing over you. "This is why I wanted to escape alone!" you exclaimed, "Whenever I'm with you three, some insane shit happens!"

Dina clutched your arm, "Maybe we can be cellmates!"

Ellie began pacing back and forth, "I need a cigarette. " she said, running a hand through her hair.

Abby, meanwhile, had knelt beside the director. She rifled through the director's pockets, finally pulling out her wallet. "Well, we need money, right?" she said, flipping it open and inspecting it.

"Are you seriously robbing her right now?" Ellie snapped, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Abby stood up, pocketing the wallet. "We can't afford to get caught. If we have to be on the run, we'll need cash."

You felt a rush of frustration. "This is insane. We’re not criminals!"

"Maybe not, but we are now," Abby replied, her tone cold. "We don’t have a choice."

Dina glanced back at the car, her eyes flicking between the director and the vehicle. "We can’t leave her here. Someone will find her, and then they'll trace us."

Ellie stopped pacing and took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "We need to hide her, at least until we can figure out our next move."

You nodded, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you. "Alright, let's move her into the woods, somewhere she won't be easily found."

Together, you and the others carefully lifted the director's unconscious body, moving her off the road and deeper into the forest. The underbrush crackled underfoot as you carried her, the darkness swallowing you up. You finally found a secluded spot, laying her gently on the ground.

"Okay," Abby said, looking around, "this should buy us some time."

Dina sighed heavily, wiping her forehead. "Now what?"

"We get back in the car and keep driving," Ellie said, her voice firm. "We find somewhere to lay low and come up with a plan."

As Ellie started the car, the headlights illuminated a figure standing in the middle of the road. It was another nurse, her eyes wide with shock as she took in the scene."Excuse me, ma'am," Dina yelled out the window, “Where’s the nearest gay bar?"

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