#i am sure everyone has said this before but it came to me like a prophecy

[randomreadingtimewithtsuki]

LUFFY WITH A BAKER PARTNER(related to Sanji perchance) THAT HE HARASSED SEMI CONSTANTLY FOR SWEETS

hcs or fic idc i just need fluffy luffy

Hello dear!

Thanks for requesting! This is my first OP piece, let me know how it goes!

Tsuki's note: As i am on episode 300 or something, i am not so sure about Sanji's family to do a convincing plot. So, bear with me here. Reader is his sibling from the heart aka grew up together like siblings.

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You were taken in by Zeff soon after he and Sanji started the restaurant.

You were a lonely rude kid.

But soon enough you found your passion in baking.

Zeff trained you to protect yourself - you never know what is lurking in these waters.

So very often you sparred with Sanji.

He was like a brother to you, always together.

Alas, before the strawhats got to Baratie to recruit Sanji, you were already gone for your own adventure.

A client saw you had great talent for baking and invited you to work in a renowned restaurant.

This person also loved Sanji's cooking but your stupid brother declined.

Sanji and Zeff fully supported you on pursuing that path.

They knew you could fend for yourself and the experience was great!

You were heartbroken that Sanji didn't tag along with you and also leaving the Baratie behind.

But you went anyway.

After months of leaving the Baratie and living on this new island, working for that restaurant you met the strawhats.

When they arrived at the island and reached the city, Sanji immediately recognized the restaurant that you would be there.

Alas, he had no time to explain anything, because the captain just rushed there. Luffy was gone in seconds.

Sanji chased after him in sheer desperation. Luffy could easily bankrupt a restaurant.

After the introduction was said and done and you hugged Sanji tightly, You offered the crew a cake you baked.

Soon you realized a single cake wasn't enough, because Luffy absolutely loved it!

He was like a vacuum cleaner swallowing the whole cake.

Well, that was not the end of your interaction with the captain, no.

While they were on the island, he went to you almost every free day he had to ask you for food.

You had told him your specialty was sweets, not meat, but he didn't seem to care.

Luffy claimed that, sure, there is no better food than meat, your baking goods came second place.

Did this comment made you happy? yes.

Did you like having him around your kitchen the whole time? No. He ate everything.

So to stop him from just blasting into the restaurant you promised him little treats.

It worked, surprisingly. But it was meant he came t nag you directly, quite often.

It made you wonder if your brother was actually feeding this boy or not.

A little bit before the crew went exploring he asked you make little bento's.

You thought that was weird, as Sanji has done them minutes ago.

But Luffy said he needed more strength than that and your food was the jackpot!

Again, happy? yes. Very.

You gladly baked what he asked, for everyone, of course.

You were worried sick as they took a long time to return - Luffy and Sanji promised to return to your work to say bye.

After a few days they were back beaten and bloodied, but smiling and filled with stories about what happened.

They didn't stay for long though, just two more days to recover.

These two days Luffy assumed you would keep your deal from before.

Well, you forgot about it, so he blasted in the kitchen upset, demanding his donuts.

To make up to him, you baked the donuts and cupcakes.

When it was time to say goodbye, you were invited in the crew by Luffy , who claimed that having a baker would be great.

But Sanji shot him down. Your silly brother didn't want you to sacrifice your career to be a pirate.

Despite you working with Zeff of a floating ship.

You didn't accept Luffy's invitations. The captain was very upset, but as soon as you explained you wanted to go to other restaurants to learn more recipes for him, Luffy got over the moon.

He accepted your negative, as long as you kept your promise.

And you did! After the two years time skip, you all met again.

This time you had tons of new recepies to share with Sanji and bake!

Needless to stay you had Luffy on your heels the entirety of their visit.

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Thank you for reading!

i feel like i wrote more about Sanji xSibling reader than anything, sorry !

[schrijverr]

Do You Want to Go with the Strange Man, Buddy?

Divergence from chapter 13, where tía Pepa is forced to drop Christopher off at the 118 while Eddie is at the academy, because Abuela isn’t feeling well and she has to work. This leaves Buck with a surprise introduction to make to everyone.

On AO3.

Ships: Buddie (pre-slash)

Warnings: mentioned minor character death, mistaken child abduction

~~~

Buck had been working out on his own. It’s a slow shift – almost q-word, but he’s not saying it – so he actually took a decent shower after. He doesn’t know what it is about the shitty showers, but they’re homely to him.

Anyway, when he gets out and back into uniform, he checks his phone to see he’s missed a call from Pepa. She’s supposed to be dropping Chris off at Abuela’s house right about now, so he frowns and quickly calls her back.

“Oh, Buck, good. You’re on shift now, right?” she picks up.

“Yeah, I am. Is everything okay? Is Chris?” Buck asks worriedly.

“Christopher is fine,” Pepa tells him and his muscles unclench slightly. “We’re outside your work now, can you be there quick?”

“I can be there right now,” Buck says, starting to move towards the doors without a moment of hesitation. “And you’re sure everything’s alright?”

“It is, it is. Mama just can’t watch him today, she came down with a stomach bug,” Pepa explains.

At that point, Buck is at her car, quickly looking inside and waving over to Chris. However, he doesn’t immediately go over to him, because Pepa has gotten out of the car and closed to door behind her, a clear sign she wants to talk to him real quick, before Chris can hear.

Lowly, Pepa says: “Mama can’t watch him and I can’t take him to work right now. I can when I’m off, but not before. I tried calling Eddie, but he wouldn’t pick up. Is he safe here? Can you get off?”

Buck knows checking your phone at the academy has a high chance of getting yourself yelled at, so he gets why Eddie wouldn’t see the call. Mentally he makes a note to send Eddie a text about it all, before he assures her: “Of course I can take Chris. My Captain’s pretty chill, he’ll give me off or make me man behind or something. I’ll figure it out.”

“Gracias, gracias,” Pepa says, kissing his cheeks. “I have to go rush back before my lunch hour is over now.”

“Of course,” Buck blushes, still not entirely used to the warmth of this part of the Diaz family. He takes Chris’s bag from her, slinging it over his shoulder, before letting her get in the car, while he goes to get Chris.

Pepa has said her goodbye to him by the time he gets to his door, so he’s just focused on Chris when he opens the door. “Hey, buddy! Excited to hang out with me today?”

“Yeah,” Chris cheers.

“Good,” Buck smiles, unbuckling Chris from his seat and lifting him out of the car. He puts him on his hip while reaching in for the crutches, then the two of them wave goodbye to tía Pepa.

With her car out of the parking lot, Buck suddenly finds himself alone with Chris. At work. And it hits him that this is going to be a very hard thing to explain. Hell, he doesn’t even know how to begin, because how the fuck is he going to play this off?

It seems like frat boy Buck is dying today and he hopes they’re not going to be too weird about it in front of Chris. He’s never wanted his own issues to touch Chris. However, it’s also going to be heartbreaking to introduce him to everyone as his son, knowing that won’t last forever.

Subconsciously, he hugs Chris a little closer, before forcing cheer into his voice saying: “Well, I gotta introduce you to everyone then talk to my Captain for a bit, but then I can show you all the trucks and equipment. How does that sound?”

“I get to see the trucks?” Chris asks excitedly. With Buck sharing stories over dinner or breakfast on an almost daily basis, he’s gotten very enthralled with firefighters, so it’s dream come true.

Buck’s heart melts at the sight and decides that no matter how today goes, he’s going to make fucking sure Chris can see those trucks up close and personal. “Yeah, Superman, of course. Let’s go. Wanna be put down?”

Chris shakes his head. He has quickly realized that they first need to get through boring adult stuff before he can see the trucks and he wants to speed the whole process up. Which means he is perfectly fine where he is, getting to look around while papi does the walking for now. He’ll be independent when they get to the cool stuff.

So, Buck apprehensively makes his way up the stairs with Chris in his arms. He’s unsure what kind of reaction he should be bracing for when the finds the others hanging around the couch with their mugs, pausing when they see him.

For a moment, all of them just look at each other.

Then Hen cautiously speaks up: “Uh, Buckaroo, where- where did you get the kid? Did someone… Did he get lost?” she corrects herself, knowing Chris can hear her and not wanting to implant the idea that he was abandoned before they know more.

And Buck knows he should explain, but just going ‘no, this is my son’ feels weird when it’s not forever and this set up is just too funny. So he doesn’t explain and instead shrugs: “No, I just saw him while I was at work and took him.”

Everyone’s eyes get wide and they all freeze, as if they can’t believe that they’re hearing that and aren’t sure if he’s joking or not. They know Buck can’t lie, but since it’s technically true, it doesn’t read like a lie, which is hilarious to Buck right now.

He keeps a straight face as he turns to Chris and says: “Isn’t that right, Chris? I just took you off the streets.”

Chris – a little shit after his own heart and a better liar than his papi – just grins and nods: “Uh-huh, you did.”

Chimney must decide that he’s fucking with them, because he rolls his eyes: “Alright, sure. Was there anyone with him?”

“Yeah,” Buck says. “She wasn’t paying attention. I mean, I took this little guy here right out of her car and we waved at her when she left. Didn’t even blink. Probably didn’t care I did, did she?”

“That’s right,” Chris chimes in again.

At this point everyone is starting to get actually concerned. Buck is a little offended that they are, but he also gets it. Who knows if he snapped or something? A child abduction case should always be taken seriously. So, he should probably also stop now. Maybe a bad joke to make to begin with.

“Buck,” Bobby says, getting up slowly and holding out his hands as if calming a distressed patient. “I am asking you, if you can give the child to me. Okay?”

And look, he should just explain now, because this has gotten out of hand – story of his life, he supposes – but he can’t let this moment pass. It’s an educative moment, a cautionary tale if you will. So he turns to Chris on his hip and jostles him slightly, before quirking a brow and asking: “Do you want to go with the strange man, buddy?”

In the background, everyone is just getting more and more concerned with Hen and Chimney also rising to their feet and putting their mugs down. Buck half thinks one of them might sneak away to grab a tranquilizer or something, a true sign he should have never done this, but it’s too late for that now.

Luckily for everyone, Chris puts them all out of their misery by giggling: “No, papi.”

“Good answer!” Buck cheers, pressing a kiss on Chris’s cheek as he hugs him closer. “That is right, do not go with a strange man.” He turns to everyone else, who is still staring at him, perplexed. Buck has never seen someone blue screen like that. Ignoring it, he just goes: “And that’s how you teach stranger danger, people.”

For a few seconds it’s silent. The three others in the room blinking at him as they try to wrap their heads around the sharp turn that has just happened.

Not wanting to wait around for the explosion, he barrels forward, talking to Chris again as he goes: “So, let’s make them not strange people. This is my Captain, Bobby. Do you remember me talking about Bobby?”

“I do, he’s the Captain with the nice food,” Chris tells him.

Buck blushes a little, saying: “He is indeed the Captain with the nice food, but that was our little secret, remember?”

“But, papi, you’re not supposed to lie,” Chris counters.

“It’s a non-serious lie,” Buck defends himself, feeling a little called out anyway. “But you’re right. No lying. Want to say hi and thank you for the nice food?”

Chris nods and Buck makes his way over to Bobby, so Chris can shake his head. “It’s nice to meet you, Captain Bobby. I’m Christopher. Thank you for the nice food.”

Bobby now remembers Buck sneaking leftovers out the fridge. He always let him, figuring the kitchen in his frat house sucked and he didn’t feel like cooking there. Having the sudden knowledge that his food has instead been shared with this kid. This son Buck has apparently had this whole time, twists something inside him.

A little shellshocked, he shakes Christopher’s hand, saying: “Uh, yeah, call me Bobby. It’s nice to meet you too, kid. I’m glad you like my food.”

Chris smiles at him, but Buck moves on to the others before Bobby manages to form his face into a semblance of a smile back. It hits him all over again. Buck is a father.

“This is Hen, the badass paramedic,” Buck says, gesturing to her first and she waves at Chris and Chris waves back.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” Hen smiles, shaking his hand when he holds it out.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Chris says politely and chipperly.

When Chris looks away again, she gives Buck a wide eyed look and quirks a brow. Buck sends a half grimace, half smile back. Then he moves onto Chimney saying: “And this is Chimney, the one with the funny name.”

“Hey! I’m also a badass paramedic,” Chimney exclaims, playing it up and snapping out of his funk, while Chris giggles. “Nice to meet you, kiddo.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Chris says.

During the introduction, it’s clear that both are obviously trying to hide how weirded out they are. Buck is starting to realize it might have been a little dumb of him to lean into the frat boy thing, but in his defense, it will probably be true soon. And that doesn’t hurt at all, no sir.

Shaking the gloomy thoughts off, he asks Chris: “I have to go talk to Bobby for a bit, do you wanna hang out with Hen and Chimney while I do? They know everything about the ambulances, I’m sure they’d love to answer your questions.”

“And then we can go look at the trucks?” Chris asks hopefully.

Buck just melts and he gives Chris a soft smile: “Yeah, buddy, then we can go look at the trucks.”

“Okay.”

He puts Chris down, encouraging: “Strong legs,” hovering a moment until he’s solid, before handing him his crutches. Then he points to the kitchen and says: “I’m going to be right there the whole time, so you can just call out if you need me, yeah?”

“I know, papi,” Chris assures him, a little bit of attitude that he totally gets from Eddie shining through.

“Alright, alright,” Buck grins as he shakes his head. Behind Chris’s back, he sends Hen a questioning look and a thumbs up, silently asking her if it’s okay. She gives him a reassuring smile and he relaxes a little with the relief.

He stays for just long enough to see Chris move towards them without any shyness, before making his way over to the kitchen. Bobby is right behind him and Buck feels very uncomfortable about the whole thing. Exposed in a way he usually tries to avoid.

So, before Bobby can say anything, he starts talking himself: “I know, I’m jumping this on you and I’m so so sorry. He was supposed to stay with Abuela, but she isn’t feeling well and tía Pepa can’t take him to her job and she couldn’t reach Eddie. But I can try to see if I can reach him, or stay behind and use my PTO or something. I totally understand if you can’t accommodate this right now. Again, I’m so sorry.”

“Buck, breathe,” Bobby says, brow creased worriedly. He places a hand on his shoulder and makes sure Buck is looking at him, then says: “We’re here to work with you. I’ll need to clear it with the Chief, but I’m sure we can figure something out until you figure out childcare.”

“Oh, that’s- that’s really nice,” Buck stammers.

Bobby still isn’t sure where the kid came from, but Chris is clearly Buck’s and he is panicking. As much as it hurts to think about it sometimes, he still recalls how stressful and scary being a parent can be. Of course he’s going to support him, even if he still hasn’t processed everything.

He squeezes Buck’s shoulder, searching for more words of support, finally settling on: “Of course.” He wants to ask more about the how and when of the kid, but before he can, Buck’s phone starts ringing.

“Fuck, that’s Eddie, I have to take this real quick,” Buck says, turning away, but not really moving away as he picks up: “Eddie? Hi, yeah, Pepa said she called you.”

Buck has never mentioned an Eddie before today and he doesn’t know how to feel about him, remembering what he almost fired Buck for. Maybe it’s more recent than that? Even if that seems even more ridiculous. God, Bobby hopes it is though.

He can’t hear what Eddie says. However, he does hear what Buck responds: “Everything’s fine. Abuela’s not feeling well, so she dropped Chris off here, until her workday is done.”

Then Buck listens briefly for a moment, before nodding, despite Eddie not being able to see. “Uh, yeah, that’s okay. Everyone here is super nice and helpful. Bobby says we can figure something out. So, I’ll keep him for now, no worries. We’ll look at the trucks and he’ll be thrilled. You just focus on training, I doubt your instructor will be pleased with you taking calls like this or missing out.”

Something in Bobby’s heart clenches at how soothing and worried Buck sounds. He gets the feeling he can now be reasonably certain he knows who Eddie is; his partner. Another thing they all missed. Buck has had a family this whole time. And they don’t sound strained, which is a relief. Though maybe also a bad thing?

That feeling is further confirmed when he sees a small shy smile on Buck’s face as he responds: “No problem. We’re a team, remember? Bye.”

He hangs up, before facing Bobby again face still slightly red. “Uh, sorry about that. Hope you don’t mind me promising that to Eddie.”

“I don’t. It’s okay, Buck, truly. We’re a team here too,” Bobby says, which makes Buck relax. He seems really anxious about this whole thing and Bobby worries about what makes him feel so on edge. “Are you okay?”

“Me?” Buck asks, taken by surprise. Then he smiles awkwardly and unconvincingly says: “I’m fine.”

Bobby levels him with a look and Buck looks away. Deciding that stern probably won’t work on Buck, he goes for compassion when he says: “Look, clearly this was something you didn’t want to share. I get that it’s scary and I just want you to know that we support you, no matter what. You’re safe here.”

Buck’s eyes widen momentarily, before his smile becomes more real. “Thank you. It’s not exactly like that, but thank you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I just assumed-” Now it’s Bobby’s turn to be awkward. He could have sworn Buck was just coordinating with his… spouse? Partner? Boyfriend? Husband? His Eddie. Maybe it’s a nickname? Maybe it’s something else that would explain the sleeping around. He hopes it will explain the sleeping around.

“Oh, no, Eddie is my husband,” Buck quickly assures him, which clears up exactly nothing. In fact, it makes it worse.

“Now, I’m confused,” Bobby tells him honestly, praying Buck will give him more information that will turn him into someone Bobby recognizes, someone more than a cheater, who lies and hides.

“Uh, it’s- it’s a bit of a long story. Me and Eddie are married as friends, for Chris’s sake. His mom walked out and I kind of stepped up. So, I adopted him when Eddie had to go back into the military. He is training to be a firefighter right now. When he’s stable, he, uh- he’ll probably divorce me. Kinda hard to bring that up,” Buck grimaces apologetically.

Bobby blinks a few times, that is indeed a long story and that’s with probably most of the details missing. However, it does clear up the sleeping around situation, so he’ll take it. Still, unsure what to say, he asks: “So, how long have you two been married then?”

“Coming up two years, but living together and raising Chris for three,” Buck answers, looking over to Chris with a melancholic note in his voice.

Okay, so this isn’t just a recent thing for a last tour, but a years long thing. Bobby knows what it is like to lose a kid, but to know they’re still out there? God. He doesn’t know this Eddie, but that is an awful thing to do to a person. He frowns: “And you’re just going to disappear when he is stable?”

“Uhm, yeah, probably. I mean, we haven’t really discussed it,” Buck rubs the back of his head, then admits: “I’ve been too scared to ask.”

“Buck…” Bobby breathes, unsure how to even begin to tackle all this.

“I know,” Buck sighs before he can figure it out. “I know I should talk to him. I know that. But if I know, I can’t cling to the possibility of it not happening, you know?”

He looks devastated. It’s only in his eyes, his face keeps that helpless half smile, but his eyes carry a deep grief that Bobby knows. He has already given up on keeping a professional distance, so he just pulls Buck into a tight hug and holds him close when Buck melts into it.

When he pulls back, he says: “The not knowing is killing you too. Talk to Eddie, tell him this. If he is a friend, he’ll understand and want to help. We’ll be here for you whatever happens.”

“Thank you, pops,” Buck says with a crooked grin, sounding a little choked up. He hasn’t called Bobby that since his second month there, but the nickname brings back a wave of nostalgia, and – treacherously – a voice in his head flirts with the possibility of being a grandfather, before Bobby represses it.

“Of course,” is what he ends up saying. His smile feels a little more forced, but he sounds genuine when he says: “Go show your son the trucks, I’ll call the Chief.”

Buck’s eyes sparkle when he says ‘your son’ and he nods eagerly: “I will. Again, thank you so much,” then he bounces off to the couches.

At the couches, Hen and Chimney have stared at Chris for all but two seconds. Neither of them have a clue what to do with the surprise news that Buck apparently has a kid. A kid that is now staring at the two of them with big eyes.

“Uh, so how old are you, Chris?” Hen finally asks. A standard question to ease into it.

“I’m seven,” Chris tells her proudly.

Hen quickly does the math. That makes Buck nineteen when Chris was born. She shares a look with Chimney, who did the same math as her. With Buck’s record of sleeping around, that doesn’t entirely come as a surprise. However, the well adjusted kid speaks to a lot more maturity that his recklessness would indicate.

“That’s already really grown up,” she smiles at Chris, who beams with pride.

Both of them are used to working with kids, so Chimney takes over: “Buck mentioned you were interested in the ambulances?”

Now Chris lights up even more. He sure is a happy kid, Hen thinks fondly. Apparently Buck is a good dad, that’s nice. And it becomes increasingly clear that he raised Chris, because when he starts launching questions at them that are truly impressively detailed, his face is the exact same one that Buck makes when he’s learning things and curious. It’s truly adorable to see.

They answer his questions the best they can, getting very charmed by this kid in front of them. They can almost forget that Buck pulled a kid out of thin air. Still, every time he does something Buck-esque they’re reminded all over again.

Hen wonders if there is some drama with the mother, since she now recalls Buck knowing a lot about custody. If Chris had been an accident, then they might not be together anymore and Buck has had to go to court about it. Maybe it had been a whole thing?

Chimney meanwhile realizes why Buck canceled so much on them at the start. Still does, they’ve just gotten used to it. At the time he’d been so jealous thinking he must have more fun parties or hot dates, but he probably was just going home to his son. Obviously childcare is an issue.

He wishes the kid had just opened his damn mouth about it. He remembers how rough it had been for Hen and Karen when they first adopted Denny. How it’s still difficult sometimes. They could have helped. Chim finally got the babysitting gig down. He has had practice.

It’s a bit of a mindfuck to have to reframe Buck from a frat boy to a teen parent. However, the pieces do fit in a way. The flashes of maturity, the way he can flip the switch to being responsible, the way he’s gold when there are kids on a scene.

So, yeah, Buck is a dad. That’s a little new.

But it’s only new to them, clearly it’s not new to Buck. Because when he’s done with his talk to Bobby he swoops back in, hauling Chris up over his shoulder as he says: “LAFD here to rescue you!” which makes Chris shriek with delight.

Buck puts him back down and ruffles his hair, matching big smile on his face. “Are you ready to look at the trucks now, Superman?”

“I am, I am,” Chris says, bouncing up and down.

“Alright, then, let’s get this show on the road,” Buck exclaims, gesturing for Chris to lead.

The four of them make their way downstairs, all of them smiling at Chris’s excitement at seeing the trucks. Despite being older than him, they all remember that same feeling from their first day.

It’s obvious that Buck takes much pride in his work and the fact that Chris thinks his career is cool. As he shows everything with much gravitas and importance, not to mention a matching thrilled sparkle in his eyes.

Chris gets to try on his helmet and sit in the rig, while Buck takes a billion pictures. After he’s snapped one in particular, he grins at Chris: “Daddy’s going to be so jealous of you, getting to sit in a real fire engine before him.”

“He will,” Chris grins slightly mischievously.

Behind the duo, both Chimney and Hen freeze. Daddy. There is a second parent involved. With what they know of Buck that is almost more unexpected than the kid thing.

Hen wonders if maybe the other dad is trans and it’s still what she first thought, while Chimney immediately grimaces. He doesn’t want to judge Buck too harshly, I mean, he didn’t for Hen, but it’s different with Buck. So, he can’t help but judge a little.

“Daddy?” Hen asks, deciding it’ll be better to just find out. If it puts Buck on the spot, they can pretend to buy whatever excuse he comes up with for now and interrogate him later.

“Uh-huh,” it’s Chris, who answers, “he’s becoming a firefighter like papi is!”

Buck on the other hand looks less enthusiastic and more like a deer in headlight, blinking two times, before quickly explaining: “Eddie is Chris’s dad – other dad. Bio dad? – uhm, he’s my husband, but we got married as friends. It’s a bit of a long story.”

“They made them kiss,” Chris informs the other two firefighters there a bit too gleefully. “It was really silly.”

“Chris was with us for the wedding,” Buck clarifies with a blush. “It’s a thing they expect you to do.”

Both of them just nod. Hen is sure that there is a much more detailed and much more stupid story there to explain all this, but honestly, she doesn’t feel like figuring it out. Chris is still right there and Buck looks like he’s going to kneel over if they ask more. She’ll wrangle it out of him when he’s had more time to get his head on right.

At that point the alarm goes off and Buck freezes a little. However, Bobby appears at the top of the stairs, about to go down the pole. Before he does, he calls out: “Buck, get yourself into gear. Kid’s coming with us.”

“Aye, aye, Cap,” Buck says, relieved to get some clarity. Then to Chris he goes: “You hear that, bud, you’re going to be a firefighter today.” Chris cheers. “Stay right there, okay, I’ll be with you soon,” Buck promises, before hurrying off to get into his gear.

When they’re driving to the accident, Chris has a thousand more questions and eagerly listens to all their answers and explanations. As well as to the little jabs and teases they throw at Buck. He takes them like a champ, rolling his eyes as he takes more pictures.

At the scene, Bobby sends Buck out there, keeping a close eye on Chris for him and walking the boy through everything that’s happening. He makes sure to pay extra close attention to Buck and explain what he is doing to Christopher.

Bobby tries not to, but he can’t help but wonder if Robert Jr. would have been equally as invested if he’d ever been able to go with him to work. He always misses his family, his kids, the most on days like these. On calls with kids, or when classes come in.

He puts it out of his mind though. Buck is closer to being his kid on most days and he has made some peace with it, even if he won’t acknowledge it yet. However, it makes it easier with Chris than with another kid. It doesn’t feel like he’s replacing his own, it’s a relationship he hasn’t had with anyone before yet. New is good.

After the call, Chris is in high spirits, excitedly rerunning every moment to everyone and asking more questions. He is very much Buck’s child. However, this also means he’s easily distracted by the video games they have and the pinball machine.

For a snack, Bobby asks if he liked one leftover in particular, making sure to whip that up, much to the boy’s delight.

By seeing Buck around Chris so much, it normalizes itself in their brains that Buck is a dad. The shock and newness wears off and they can appreciate this side of their probie they hadn’t seen before.

Buck is still basically an over excited puppy, but he matches Chris’s energy pretty well, never going further than he wants. He also has gotten the balance between letting Chris be independent and preventing him from doing something dangerous down to a science.

It’s very interesting to see traits they know he has being dialed up or down to suit this situation. How natural it looks on him, despite their previous assessment of him being a frat boy.

However, it’s also very obvious to all of them, that he is still a kid himself, raising another kid. None of them – bar Bobby – have a general idea of how long he’s been doing this, but they can all gather that Chris is older than most kids people Buck’s age have.

Of course he’s a firefighter, but he tosses Chris around like it’s nothing, keeping up easily with his boundless energy, and saying stuff like: “High five, Superman!” when Chris tells Chimney that his movie quote was weird.

All in all, Chris is having a blast and so is the 118.

They’re all helping Chris slide down the pole, grinning as he goes, when a brown haired man comes wandering into the firehouse. He stops short when he sees the whole spectacle, then smiles.

Out of everyone there, only Hen has spotted him. At first she thinks he might need help, but they have to focus on Chris’s safety first. However, when she sees him stopping to watch, she knows that must be Eddie. Buck mentioned them getting married as friends, but looking at him smiling at Chris and Buck, she doesn’t know how much truth there was to that.

Her theory that this is Eddie is confirmed when Chris is safely on the ground. Buck is grinning down at him, not paying attention to anything else. Then Chris spots Eddie and smiles widely: “Daddy!”

“Hey, buddy,” Eddie smiles back.

Buck immediately turns to look at him, a love struck look coming on his face when he says: “Eddie, hey!”

Fucking hell, she was so right that there is a much more detailed and much more stupid story there. It is obvious to her that if these two are married as friends, they’re both lying to the other and maybe to themselves about it.

“Hey, Buck,” Eddie greets back unnecessarily. “You two look like you are having fun.”

“We are,” Chris answers for them, bouncing up and down. “I got to try on papi’s helmet and sit in the rig and then we went to this crash and the sirens were on. We had these headsets and I got to see papi work. He saved this lady from her car. It was so cool!”

“That sounds very cool,” Eddie tells him, the utter adoration for his son clear in his eyes. He cards his hands through Chris’s hair and hugs him close.

While that happens, Buck has also come to circle the two of them. He says: “I thought tía Pepa was taking him today. You’re here early. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Eddie assures him. “Instructor let us go early today. I think he’s getting soft on us.”

“Pff, of course. LA training is soft on you all,” Buck teases.

Eddie rolls his eyes, apparently familiar with this particular taunt as he replies: “Here we go again. Let me guess, in Texas they forced you all to sweat through it like tough guys.”

“You got it,” Buck grins. “Anyway, I’m being rude. This here is Bobby, my Captain.”

Bobby steps forward, shaking Eddie’s hand as he says: “I’m Eddie Diaz, it’s nice to meet you, sir.”

“Likewise,” Bobby smiles. “And no need for sir. Just Bobby is fine.”

“This here is Hen and Chimney,” Buck moves on introducing both.

They shake Eddie’s hand too, telling him it’s nice to meet him while he returns the sentiment, though he adds: “It’s so nice to put a face to the names,” as he does. Whatever hiding Buck was doing, it was a one sided hiding act. However, none of them mention it. Not in front of Chris.

“So,” Buck claps his hands. “Did you come for a tour of the trucks too? I told Chris all the facts, he could probably give you a great tour. You know, since he’s been in an actual rig.”

“You’re full of it,” Eddie tells him, but he’s smiling too much to mean it.

“I know,” Buck replies simply and Hen wonders if they know they’re flirting.

Before either can figure that out, however, Chris tugs on Eddie’s hand, pleading: “Please, daddy, I can show you everything. There are loops on the hoses, just like papi said. Do they teach you that too?”

Eddie looks a little caught out, trapped between Chris and the 118. Carefully he says: “I’d love to, mijo, but papi and his team have people to save and help. We should give them space to work.”

“It’s okay,” Bobby says, before Chris can even pout properly. Much like his papi, Chris has got him wrapped around his little finger. “We have the house on low priority calls for the time being. You staying a little longer won’t be an issue.”

“You’re sure?” Eddie checks anyway.

“I’m sure.”

“Thank you so much,” Eddie says, before turning to Chris: “Well, then I would love a tour.”

Excitedly Chris directs Eddie to the trucks, telling him everything he’s just learned, while Buck chimes in from time to time with other tidbits or words Chris has forgotten. Throughout it all, Eddie listens with great pleasure. He’s clearly not as much of a talker, but it seems Chris and Buck more than make up for that.

While they all watch the family from the sidelines, Chimney asks: “So, does anyone know more about what their deal is?”

Bobby – the savior with actual information – answers: “From what I understand, they got married after Chris’s mom walked out so Buck could be there when Eddie had to go back into the military. They’ve been living together for three years, married two.”

Chimney whistles lowly, then checks: “And we all heard him say they’re married as friends, right?”

“Oh yes, we did,” Hen replies, sounding a little pained.

Next to her, Chimney cocks his head, watching Buck and Eddie bump shoulders every time they walk, because there is no space between them. Slowly, he asks: “And… are we… believing that?”

“Oh, definitely not,” Hen says.

“Come on, guys. Let’s not speculate too much. Buck hasn’t been comfortable sharing, we should respect that,” Bobby butts in, trying to be the responsible Captain.

That earns him a double judgmental look from both Chimney and Hen, before they ignore them and turn back to their conversation. “I don’t think Buck would do the whole sleeping around like that thing, if they were actually already together,” Hen says.

“So, we’re betting on pining.”

“Of course.”

“Okay, they’ve already been doing this for three years… That denial runs deep.”

“Yeah, it definitely does,” Hen agrees. “Did Buck mention anything about their communication to you, Bobby?”

Bobby sighs and rubs his brow, then decides he’s really no better than either of them. So, he admits: “It is their plan to divorce one day, but Buck hasn’t talked about it yet, because he fears Eddie will just cut him out.”

“…Now I don’t know if I should laugh at him or feel a deep sympathy,” Hen comments with a jikes grimace on her face.

“I told him to talk to Eddie about it. Clear the air,” Bobby offers.

“Twenty dollars on them figuring it out when Buck brings it up,” Chimney says confidently. “There is no way, Eddie is going to not kiss him about that.”

“Hmm, I don’t know.” Hen appraises Eddie again, squinting as she tries to get a read on him. “Twenty on them not figuring it out for another three years. And another forty on them never getting divorced.”

“Uhm, you can’t bet on things that are basically facts,” Chimney complains.

“Hey, you don’t know that!” Hen exclaims, knowing he is right, but she doesn’t care if it’ll get her forty dollars. They’ve been eyeing new cutlery.

“Ugh, fine! But I’d like it on the record that I protested it and I want my counter bet to be that they do a vow renewal instead,” Chimney says.

“Alright, deal,” Hen nods, shaking Chimney’s hand as they seal the deal.

They all return to watching the three at the trucks again. Buck has lifted Chris onto his shoulders, so he can properly point at all the things he’s talking about. Eddie is listening to him, sure, but he is definitely more focused on Buck.

After a few beats, Chimney wonders: “Hey, now that we know Buck adopted Chris and they met a few years ago. Do you all think there is some truth to him snatching Chris story?”

“God, I fucking hope not.” … “Five bucks says there is.”

“Ten says it’s an exaggeration.”

They shake on it.

“Fuck it,” Bobby mutters, then says: “Five on it being wilder than that.”

They shake with Bobby too, then wait until the tour is done. They haven’t gotten to speak with Eddie much, but it’s okay. Everyone has gotten the chance to observe him and he seems nice and polite when they say goodbye.

Buck stands there like a mom on the very first day of school, waving at them until they disappear when they do leave. The others kindly do not call him out on it. There is a bet now, so no interfering.

Still, the only reason they don’t ask, probably actually is because the alarm starts ringing so they have to go and focus on an emergency instead of Buck’s newly revealed private life.

Throughout the course of their shift, they do learn more details about how Buck got into that situation. When he tells them about dating Eddie’s ex-wife and meeting her while she shopped for eggs, is something they have a fucking filed day with. And it earns both Hen and Bobby some money.

They also learn about Eddie’s chopper getting shot down and Buck nursing him back to health. He chokes up a bit there and Hen rubs his shoulder.

As she does, she feels a little bad about the self satisfied grin she tucks away. If they can go through that and not confess, she was definitely right in placing her money on three years.

However, overall, it doesn’t change too much.

Still, when Buck comes in for his next shift, they all eagerly turn to him, wondering if he’ll turn back into over-sharer Buck now that the cat’s out of the bag. They need to know more about this nonsense he found himself in.

Buck does not disappoint. He eagerly hollers: “Eddie is not going to divorce me!” which turns the heads of everyone who hadn’t been there last shift. Seems like Buck is going to have to explain it all over again. And the betting pool will grow. Hen is so getting that new cutlery.

~~

A/N:

Credit to Memememe8989, who suggested this idea in the comments, I had a different idea that is somewhat related to this (which granted, I might still write), but this was just so iconic that it immediately gave my brainworms <333

Llsdkghdhkf there was so no reason for Buck to do pretend to have kidnapped Chris, but the idea was just too funny and you can’t tell me he wouldn’t in his awkward insecurity

The full phone convo for those curious:

B: “Eddie? Hi, yeah, Pepa said she called you.”

E: “She texted me to call you. Is everything okay?”

B: “Everything’s fine. Abuela’s not feeling well, so she dropped Chris off here, until her workday is done.”

E: “And is that okay? I don’t want you to get in trouble of this.”

B: “Uh, yeah, that’s okay. Everyone here is super nice and helpful. Bobby says we can figure something out. So, I’ll keep him for now, no worries. We’ll look at the trucks and he’ll be thrilled. You just focus on training, I doubt your instructor will be pleased with you taking calls like this or missing out.”

E: “Okay, that’s good. Thank you.”

B: “No problem. We’re a team remember. Bye.”

E: “I do. Still, thanks. Bye.”

[mirx-xko-offical]

I’ve always enjoyed the idea of body swap fics

the idea of you swapping bodies with someone like Rook you stressing out hard and rook having the time of his life gaining a deeper understanding of you

not to mention the fact the beastmen and merboys avoid ‘Rook’ like the plague and r very off scared of ‘your’ new personality

this lady’s, gentlemen and, our other gendered friends, is a amazing idea. I’ve never written for Rook so this is going to be fun !!

prompt: Body swap

Content warnings- Second person pov, nothing romantic (honestly because I don’t know how I’d make this romantic tbh), Not proofread, Rook (and probably Vil) is probably OOC mainly because I haven’t written him before (and quite frankly don’t like him that much but please don’t come after me for it 🙏), probably short because I’m trying to finish it for once

You’d never expect to not only wake up in someone else’s bedroom but, to also be in their body too… The bad thing is that you seemed to swap with someone who has a certain stalker reputation. Oh how you wonder how you’d make it through the day. Hopefully he doesn’t do anything weird to your body.

You dress yourself, looking at yourself in the mirror before a certain housewarden walked in, seemingly checking in on the blond that your soul is currently in.

’Rook! There you are. Where were you this morning? You were meant to wake me up!’

He complains as you just stood there awkwardly, unsure how to explain the current situation you’re in.

‘That’s the thing…’

You mumble on, explaining how you weren’t the blonde he was looking for but instead the magicless human. He simply stood there before sighing.

‘Why must it always be you potato…’

‘I don’t know..’

You sulk for a while as you followed Vil around, so ready to get out of the blonde’s body. Speaking of the said blonde, what just is he doing while he’s in your body? You’d much rather not think of it…

You sigh as you walked into your potions class, the only class you really have with him. Everyone turning towards you suspiciously as you kept your head low, most of them not knowing about the swap of bodies.

You sit down at Rook’s usual desk, looking towards the doorway before finding Rook or rather you walk in with the amount of confidence you’d never have in your life.

You decide to just keep your head low and wait u til the end of class to confront Mr. Crewel about it.

You look up at the clock again, something you did often today it seemed. 5 minutes til the end… You thought to yourself, your mind always making sure you knew the time.

Time passed by slowly as if it was slowing down to a complete stop. You look at the clock again, reading the time. 3 more minutes…

Then those 3 minutes turned into 2 and finally I to 1. Most of the students by then were already packing up their stuff as Professor Crewel finished the lesson.

You sigh at the sound of the bell finally ringing, standing up from your seat before walking up to the professor. You glance over to see Rook do the same.

You were the first to speak, telling him about the entire situation through your awkwardness, looking up from his desk to see him nod, understanding what you were saying.

‘I am sure I have something for you pups.’

He hummed as she stood from his desk, walking over to a shelf, grabbing a potion with a small purple hue. He gave it to you both, telling you to simply drink it and you’d be back.

You look over to Rook, him giving you his signature smile before drinking it himself, giving you a nod to drink it as well.

You looked down at the potion before placing your lips against it, drinking it quickly as if almost out of desperation.

You gasp before feeling your vision fade before finding yourself opening your eyes, looking down to find yourself back in your own body. You look at Professor Crewel before nodding to him respectfully, walking out of his class with a thank you.

You’re sure that both you and rook had came to an agreement, to never have this happen again.

[duohensheng]

hua cheng is the definition of i stand with my cancelled wife

[omgsomeonesomewhereonearth]

I started a whole fucking thinkpiece in the tags and then they told me i was out of tags aaaaaaaaaaaaa

other as in other than your agab, not other than your gender. so for eg a cis woman reading this the question is if you were amab would you be a trans woman do you think

[inkskinned]

you said you were stuck in a time loop, which was fine. i feel like late-stage capitalism has us all in a time loop, ammiright? you came barging in at 5:33. in the morning. i hadn't even processed the idea of coffee.

but you had this look of utter panic in your eyes. terror like the ocean. you grabbed my cheeks. im in a time loop.

i don't know why in movies the first reaction is to deny it. when someone is panicking like that, it's not appropriate to ask them to calm down. it didn't matter if i believed it, what mattered was that you believed it so much that it was consuming you.

so here we are. i pour you some of the dark roast. "you look like utter and entire hell," i say.

you push your fingers into your eyes. "you always say that."

i try to think of something funny to say that i wouldn't have said on previous time loops, but jokes don't land without the proper timing (lol). "remind me to think -"

"-yeah, of a joke that only works in the future. and before you say anything, i know you're pissed i just stole your punchline." you bolt the coffee, which is wild. it's very hot. you don't seem to notice.

i blow on mine to cool it down. i both am very pissed at you and also i can't see you in this amount of panic without wanting to help. but i'm also not really sure what we are, not since i saw you kiss her like that, no offense. it just was like, kind of rude when you knew i liked you.

and besides. i'm just like, barely a person. i write omegaverse fanfiction. i love the concept of a time loop, but what the fuck am i gonna do? send an alpha in there? i open my mouth.

you point at me. "you're about to ask why me. and then say some disparaging shit about yourself. i'm just a nerd who plays dnd or something. that self-own is slightly different each time." you sigh. "i know you think you can't really help me. i don't know who can help me. i only came to you because you fucking believe me." you check your watch, sigh, and throw your head back. you cover your eyes with one hand. "i've come here on 26 separate revolutions," you say. "you have believed me every time. and yeah, i have no idea how you fit into this but i just -" you sigh again. "i just like fucking talking to someone about it."

"do you need more cof-" i start, but you're already holding the empty cup out. i frown at it. "you're not getting any more until you promise not to bolt this one like an animal."

you laugh a little and sit up, pushing your hair out of your face. "okay, that's new dialogue. but to be fair to you, i'm not usually this rude. i'm still pretty new at all of this." you check your watch again. another sigh. i guess you're cruising for a personal best in the Sigh Olympics.

i almost tell you im not an NPC but i've played enough video games to know i'm very much an NPC. i pour you another cup. "so what happens in the loop?"

"really bad explosion." you mutter into the mug. you put your elbows on the table (rude) and bury your face in your arms like an angsty teenager. one hand floats up while you talk, because evidently you literally can't talk without your hands. "i have to save the day and there's this bomb and i have no bomb training and it keeps moving, you know."

"do i die?"

you peek up from your arms. "yeah. bigtime. you keep trying to run or stay or do anything and you always super die."

"oh."

"to be fair, like, everyone dies in it though.... so you're in good company."

i hate that you make me laugh. i hate that being around you always feels tingly and strange, this electric tension between us. something that is evidently (given how you stuck your tongue down a stranger's throat literally 3 days ago) (well. 3 for me) super one-sided. i take a sip of my coffee and close my eyes.

i die today, i guess. a little spark of panic starts at the top of my hands and starts whipping up my wrists.

"shit," you say. you look at your watch and jump to your feet. "i have to go. if i can come back, i will. i am still trying to figure out when is best to do everything, you know? the order of stuff. maybe morning isn't good for us."

i look up at you and think about how you keep kissing me in the back of my car and in alleyways and in the dark. and i can never fucking get a read on you. and i also think about how incredibly panicked you look. how broken. how long have you been doing this? "i don't want to die," i say.

you glance downwards. "well, you're not really dead, you'll come back in the loop."

"but i will have died." my hands are shaking. i am trying really hard to stay calm.

you push your hands through your hair again. "i really have to go. i will have this discussion with the next version of you, though. it is like, something i am thinking about."

"but i don't get a next version," i say. i don't really have the language for this, because i haven't had 26 tries with you. i only have my memories: you, a week ago. drunk and telling me you loved me in my ear. you, kissing her anyway. you, months ago, throwing up on my birthday, whispering to me i ruin everything i touch, always, over and over. please don't ask. i can't ever fucking have that be you.

i run my finger along the rim of the mug. "i don't want to die in this one."

you seem baffled by this. "i get that but - time will reset, you'll be fine, you won't even remember we talked about this."

"but i know now." i stand up too. "i have to live the rest of this day knowing i could die. knowing i probably am going to."

"you could always die, to be fair."

i feel my hands get out of control. "earlier, you said i always say a different insult about myself. what if you're just going through different parallel universes and those are all just different - but real - versions of myself? what if you're not in a time loop, you're in a fucking universe loop?"

"if it helps, i've wondered this too. also, you're hot in all of them. if that helps."

i point at you. "no flirting. i'm trying to figure out if i die today."

"who's flirting?" you catch my wild hands and give me that long, perfect smile. like we're in this together. "i won't let ya die." you check your watch and sigh again. "well. maybe not this time."

i grit my teeth. you are so not making quips at me while i try to explain the existential dread i'm having. "does the time loop reset if i fucking kill you?"

"honestly i don't know how long it continues after i die, because i just wake up. it could be that the loop goes until the explosion for everyone, and we're all in the loop, or it could be that when i die, the loop restarts. when i die i wake up, is all."

i pull away from you and stalk into the kitchen and start doing all 3 of my dishes. "okay, first, you know i was joking. and secondly, this is exactly my point. you don't know if this is just a parallel universe. maybe in the ones where you died, the explosion happened and nobody reset and it's just you travelling." i have to stop and push the heel of my palm into my eyeball. "... how often have you died?"

i look at you. you look at me. you give me this very sad, halfway smile and a little what can ya do shrug. something in that action seems so old and weary that i want to burst into tears.

"i have to go," you say. "really. for real. there's this family of five i save from getting into a car crash. and i know it's like oh but we're all gonna die in the explosion anyway, what's the point. and..." you shrug again. "it matters to me, is all. at least i saved them for now. at least i saved anything."

you pad over to me and wrap me in a tight hug. you always seem so tall against me. i feel your cheek rest against the top of my head for a moment. for a second, it's just us, and the space is warm, and my heart is a little broken hare.

you leave me there, and i stand in my stupid badly lit kitchen with my stupid mugs. i think about you. i start texting my mom that she needs to get out of the city, but it feels pointless.

i don't know what to do. tomorrow is the same day for you. but i have to prepare to die in my today.

[miserycanary]

DEFINITELY NUTS ᡣ𐭩 ⤷ next

pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & model!fem!reader

synopsis: Ghost mentions you but 141 doesn't believe that he got a wife

tags: crack (well, attempted), fluff

Ghost’s strict rules for privacy are something the 141 has known for years now. He’s not the type of person to blab about his personal life and often chooses just to keep quiet. So, imagine their surprise when he suddenly says that he’s going to take a day off because his wife asked him to watch a play. 

“Price, ‘am not gonna be here tomorrow. Got a date with my missus.”

All eyes are on him, everyone stills. “WIFE? Since when?!” Soap exclaimed, finally breaking the silence. His eyes were almost bulging out his eyes. “Never told you about her?” Ghost hums, unamused by the Scottish’s exclaim. “Johnny here does have a reasonable reaction. You never tell us anything ‘bout you, mate,” Price joined, chuckling and pulling out a cigar. The man just contemplates before brushing it off and bidding farewell, leaving the group confused. 

“Ain’t no way he’s telling us the truth. That man ain’t got no bone in his body to bag someone,” Soap voiced out, looking for anyone to support his disbelief. “I mean..” Gaz whistles out, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head as if he’s agreeing to some extent. That’s when, unbeknownst to Ghost, he got the reputation of being delusional and a liar. 

Soap, still doubtful days later, watches the lieutenant with a vision like a hawk. “Hey, lieutenant.” Ghost snaps his head up, looking at him. “How was the date with your wife?” Immediately, everyone else stopped what they were doing, silently listening. It was obvious he was baiting Ghost, emphasizing the wife as if putting on quotes. They weren’t as nosy as Soap but each one of them still held a bit of doubtness that the brick wall of the team managed to get a girl, and even marry her.

“It was okay. The missus had fun,” Ghost chuckles, fondly remembering how you were beaming on the way, rambling about the plot of the play. “Can we see pictures?” Soap smirked thinking he finally got the lieutenant but was taken aback when Ghost only shrugged and pulled out his phone before freezing. “Ah, we didn’t take pictures yesterday. Said she wanted to live in the moment.” 

Soap whipped his head to signal to Gaz, seemingly saying ‘See? He’s definitely lying! How convenient he has no pictures.” 

“How about just a picture of your wife?” Kyle suggested, now invested while Price seemed to be shaking his head in the corner. “I have none with me but..” With a few clicks, Ghost holds up his phone for everyone to see. Like birds, everyone flocked around him, curious to see. For a while, everyone was surprised and sure the man was lying. I mean, he just showed them a picture of a drop-dead gorgeous model from a magazine! 

‘He's definitely lost it’ everyone seemed to think, offering pity glances at the man who had this prideful shine in his eyes. Walking up to his superior, Soap patted him on the back. “It’s fine, mate… we understand how difficult it must be.” ‘not having a lady at all’

Thinking Johnny meant about your hectic schedule, he agreed. “It’s quite tough but we make it work,” he chuckled which made everyone wince.

‘Definitely nuts!’

Weeks passed after that and the topic never got brought up, until Ghost came in with a bento in hand covered with a handkerchief with frilly ends. When asked about it, he replied, “Ah, wife’s testing out recipes for an upcoming TV show. ‘S been practicing and asked me to bring one.” Once again, he was given pity glances and even heard a defeated sigh from Soap. 

‘He’s too far gone’

“How’s work?” you ask, dazedly paying attention to the movie you guys put, more invested in burying your face in Simon’s chest while he drapes both arms on your waist, completely engulfing your torso under his muscles. “Been getting a few weird stares,” he mumbles, playing with your hair and pressing kisses on your forehead. “Why?” you peer up, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I don’ know, princess.”

Meanwhile…

“Should we just… finally set the lieutenant on a date? I feel bad. I mean, he even lied about his “wife” making him lunch,” Johnny sighed.

“Probably the best idea,” Kyle nodded.

Now Price… he knows the truth. He met you before when you dropped by, asking for Ghost— which ended horribly— but he’ll lying if he said he’s not getting a kick out of this.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: probably won't be posting for a while :] Did you guys notice the hint to my previous work? Please do. 😔

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

[emmyrosee]

shhhhHHHHHUTUPIDONTWANTTOTALKABOUTIT

-

The first time you sleep over Katsuki’s, it’s not long after he’s moved into his apartment with the rest of his friends.

Which is bold, the only one who doesn’t flirt with you any chance they get is Mina -mainly because she has her own place- but she’s always telling Katsuki that the minute you get bored with him, she’s there to swoop in.

But his friends waste no time in making sure to rile Katsuki up with cheesy pickup lines that mean nothing to you, but everything to him. He hates the idea of having his friends hit on you, but you’d be lying if riling him up wasn’t exhilarating.

You smile as you hear bare feet pad along the tiling of the kitchen, a massive presence looming behind you; it’s warm, loving, and you feel yourself relaxing at the closeness.

“Morning,” he rasps, arms wrapping around your waist. You smile and curl against him, tipping your head back to look at him.

“You hungry?”

“You didn’t have to make us breakfast,” he murmurs, pressing a loving kiss to the curve of your neck.

You mewl and bend your arm to wrap around him, “I know, I just wanted to do something nice for my man and his friends for being such good company last night.”

He grumbles, “don’t ever refer to my roommates as ‘good.’ Bunch of fucking menaces and creeps.”

“They can’t be too bad,” you hum, turning off the stove. God knows how long you’ll both be drooling with affection. “After all, you let me meet them,” you coo. “And you’d never let your little baby be put in danger.”

“Fucking hate when you call yourself that,” he snaps, spidering his fingers up your side. You squeal and shrink to the side, only to be met with pokes on the other. “Katsuki!”

“Don’t be a little shit and I won’t have to torment you,” he snickers. You’re quick to flick off the stove with what little movement your arms can give you while protecting you from tickles, and you duck as fast as you can under his caging limbs to escape.

He must like the challenge, because he lets you go, only to barrel after you into the living room. A small coffee table separates you both, and you’re at a standstill as you watch each other.

“Katsuki!” You giggle, making a sudden dart to try and throw him off your trail. It doesn’t deter him, like he’s able to predict what you’re going to do before you do. “Y-You’re gonna wake everyone up!”

“I’m not gonna do a fuckin’ thing,” he snorts. “You’re the one screaming and whining.”

“Am not!”

“Are too.”

“Am not!”

“Are too.”

“Are not-“

“I think it’s bold of you to argue with me instead of sprinting away.” He shrugs, making a dash for you and wasting no time in grabbing you into his big arms. You writhe and laugh in his grip, desperate to not shriek and wake his poor roommates. Giggles bubble wildly over your lips, and he hauls you back into the kitchen before plopping you onto the countertop, distant from the stove. You instinctively move your hands to card his blonde hair, and he leans in to steal the last of your giggles from your lips.

“How much time we got before breakfast burns?” He mumbles, hands smoothing up your thighs. Crimson eyes glimmer with mischief, and he bumps your nose with his.

You chuckle and shake your head, legs wrapping around his thick waist, “it was burning before you came in; I turned off the stove so it wouldn’t burst into flames.”

He snorts, “good.” One of the hands resting on the meat of your thighs comes up to grip your chin, “now I don’t have to rush.”

“Ew,” you giggle, but it dies as quickly as you said it when he connects your kiss, working his lips against yours in this own way, full of passion and love with just enough tease to have you whimper.

The hand on your cheek shifts down to rest on your delicate throat, dangling like a necklace. A subtle act of dominance to make you shiver.

“I love you,” you murmur against his lips.

“I love you more-“

“Ewwwww!!!”

“Who knew he had a weakness?”

“Lookin’ good, Dynamight!”

Immediately, Katsuki’s shoulders hike up as the shrill voices from his friends ring through the air. You let out a string of laughter while the other boys you were visiting peer around the wall of the apartment, Sero with a face of disgust, Kirishima with a playful understanding and Kaminari with a cheesy bite of his lip.

“I’m going to KILL YOU IDIOTS!” He barks, abandoning you to dash over to the trio, mainly targeting Kaminari and Sero, who sprint away as fast as they can. Kirishima chuckles and makes his way over to you, helping you off the counter with a sigh.

“How’s he ever going to keep being Number One if you keep doing this to him?”

You snort and elbow his ribs while somewhere in the house, Katsuki caught Denki, and the screams ring loudly in the walls.

“Shut up and help me remake breakfast, dickhead.”

[norrisainz33]

the call || platonic grid & gr63

☆ summary: y/n y/l/n gets a call up to race for alpine with 6 races left in the 2024 season and she’s got something to prove.

☆ pairing: platonic!grid x crush!george russell x rookie!female!reader

☆ fc & warnings: no fc. some hate comments and poor grammar on my end

☆ a/n: i was inspired by franco and liam getting called up to race for the remainder of the season and here we are. no hate to este bestie, just pretending dw. this is not supposed to be accurate to exactly how things have been playing out. smau mixed with writing!!

part 2 | part 3

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

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f1: 🚨 breaking: y/n y/l/n will be racing under the number 95 for alpine for the remainder of the 2024 season alongside pierre gasly. y/n’s first race will be the united states grand prix. this is the first time since 1992 that a woman has raced in a grand prix format - this will be a historic weekend.

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user1: this is the best thing to ever happen to me you don’t understand

pierregasly: ready to attack the rest of the season with you ynuser!!

ynuser: here’s to a strong finish 💪🏻

alpinef1team: we can’t wait to have our girl on track!

user12: they really think a woman is going to be any better than what they had??? please….

user1: oh you are miserable. get out of here

georgerussell63: epic! ynuser i am so proud of you

ynuser: 🤍 see you in austin

user2: i can’t believe im witnessing a woman f1 driver in my life time. i am crying real tears of joy

landonorris: from our karting days to f1. you are amazing ynuser! looking forward to being on track with you

ynuser: so glad to be racing with you again lando 🤍

user3: this is monumental

user6: we got a woman in f1 before gta6

✿

you sat in silence staring down at the paperwork in front of you. everyone had long since left returning to their duties, allowing you to process what you had just been told. “it’s really happening,” you whispered feeling tears welling in your eyes. you were about to become an f1 driver - a real life f1 driver!! and no, not just a reserve driver who did nothing but the sim all day every day. your shoulders sagged as you blew out a sigh. “it was all worth it,” you thought back to the years of blood, sweat and tears put into racing — from leaving the comfort of your childhood home to go karting in europe, to watching your parents give up everything to make sure your dreams came true, to finding yourself in f1 academy where you won the championship, to fighting for a chance to race in f2 and becoming the only woman to finish in the points - you had given everything to this sport and you were finally getting your chance.

you picked up your phone and dialed your best friend. “y/n? hi! did you have your meeting yet?!”

“i’m going to drive the rest of the season,” you said softly.

“WHAT?!” your best friend practically screamed into the other end of the phone.

“i’m taking the second alpine seat!!! im going to be starting in austin.” the tears of happiness started falling now.

“oh my god y/n/n!!!! YOU DID IT BABY YOU DID IT!” you could hear your best friend jumping up and down in excitement.

“i did it.”

✿

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user1: i can't explain to you how excited i am to see you on track this weekend y/n

pierregasly: jealous you got the media duties with the horses and not the american football team like i did.....

ynuser: HAHA idk why they didnt send us together

pierregasly: they knew our joint slay would be too much to handle

user7: as a young woman in a male dominated field... thank you for representing us. i love you and i am so proud of you

yourbff: my flight lands in exactly 1 hour and i am shaking with excitement

ynuser: if you think you're shaking with excitement you should see me... just got word im in the pre race press conference with george and max v......... pray for me girl

yourbff: okok we knew this was going to happen. of course they'll want to talk to you!! you're the new face on the grid

ynuser: is it bad to admit im afraid?

yourbff: admitting you’re afraid just means you’re human y/n. you're allowed to feel

ynuser: idk what i'd do with out you

yourbff: you'll never have to know! now go get ready!! i'll be there just in enough time to make the conference start.

yourbff: p.s your media day fit absolutely ate that dress and the cowgirl hat was lethal. f1 should be thanking you for being such a baddie

georgerussell63: howdy ms y/n

ynuser: howdy georgie --- see you at the press conference 🙂‍↔️

georgerussell63: looking forward to it

landonorris: NEIGHHHH

ynuser: lando?

landonorris: sorry was pretending to be one of those horses so you'd pay attention to me

ynuser: hahahahaha you muppet. ive missed you

landonorris: i missed you too y/n/n! believe it or not i miss fighting it out on track with you too. ready to smoke ya just like i did in our karting days

ynuser: i mean you are in a mclaren and have a lot of practice so id certainly hope you were faster than me

landonorris: well when you put it like that its not as fun.......

user9: bought an alpine hat and am bedazzling a shirt with your name on it as we speak

✿

the alpine pr team had wasted no time sitting you down as soon as you got to austin. they ran through what to expect from your media duties, how to respond to any and all questions that might be thrown your way and how to save face if needed but somehow as you sat down on the iconic white couch and looked out at the crowd of reporters forming in front of you, you felt all of that training start to fail you. the nerves were taking over as george and max took their spots to your right. you were thankful when the british driver gave you a reassuring smile and a slight nod letting you know it was ok.

"good afternoon and welcome to the 2024 united states grand prix!" the interviewer beamed at the camera before turning his attention to the three of you. "today we are joined by max verstappen, george russell and formula 1's newest driver, y/n y/l/n."

the interviewer started by asking max about the championship and how he was feeling about lando continuing to close the gap. you used that time to steady your breathing, knowing a question was headed your way at any moment. "y/n, first of all, i want to say congratulations!" the interviewer grinned and you smiled back. "you are coming into this season with only 6 races left and a rather tall order to get up to speed quickly for some points and fight for a seat on the grid in 2025. how are you feeling about it all?"

you sighed, relieved at an easy first question, "thank you! i'm trying to take it all in stride. it's definitely a tall order because these guys have had 19 races to get a feel for their cars, work with their teams, and solidify their standings… i'm going to have exactly one free practice to learn everything before heading into sprint qualifying and i think that puts me a little bit on the back foot. though, i am more confident than ever that i can pull out some points and finish this season strong for alpine."

the interviewer nodded along intently as you spoke, "do you think being the first female in formula 1 since 1992 also puts you a bit on the back foot?"

this. this was the type of question you were dreading. you knew what it was like to be questioned about your skills purely because you were a woman, it had been happening throughout your entire life but that didn't mean it still didn't get to you. you picked your mic back up but before you could say anything into it, george was already speaking, "i don't think thats a fair question to ask. her being a woman has nothing to do with her racing, let us not forget that she is here for a reason. y/n has an incredibly impressive resume and i'd be happy to recite it for you if you need the reminder."

*george fcking russell. the man that you are* you thought as a smirk formed on your face. "thank you george," you said managing to keep your voice steady as you continued, "i don't think being a woman puts me on the back foot at all. it's 2024 - i think we're past the point of asking questions like this. I may be the first woman in way too long to race in a grand prix but i certainly will not be the last." you put the microphone down, daring the interviewer to say something in return but instead he turned his attention back to max and kept it there for the remainder of the session which you weren't mad about at all.

✿

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ynuser: p9 baby!!!!!! i scored two points!!!! cota - thank you for the love and for an incredible first weekend in formula 1. i will never forget you 🤍

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user9: best weekend of my life!!!! first gp i’ve ever been to and i got to meet you at the fan zone!! i couldn’t have asked for more

alpinef1team: try not to say goat challenge failed

ynuser: 🤍🩷

user10: i sobbed watching you cross the line

pierregasly: points points points points

ynuser: you next bestie!!

pierregasly: we’re going to both score big this triple header i just know it

user13: i love how these two have become instant friends. i hope alpine doesn’t split my family up in abu dhabi

user44: history - we’re watching you make history

francisca.cgomes: i don’t think you understand how attached i am to you now y/n

ynuser: and i don’t think you understand how much i love you kika. legally you have to come to all the rest of the races please and thank you

francisca.cgomes: for you? done!

pierregasly: um? hello?

ynuser: im sorry p.. look away

yourbff: i have no words. i love you more than life itself

ynuser: i love you - thank you for being there

landonorris: statement MADE

ynuser: 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

georgerussell63: i’m so proud of you im about to openly weep

ynuser: we can openly weep together

carlossainz55: congrats y/n!

ynuser: thank you carlos 🤍

francolapinto: viva y/n!

ynuser: viva franco!

lewishamilton: 🤍🤍

ynuser: 🩷🩷

user15: noticing so many of the drivers here supporting her is everything

user4: and the fact that so many of them are praising her efforts and talking so highly of her in interviews 🥹

user15: everyone loves her (except for the rbr duo, did you see her and checo having words after that race?)

user4: omg yeah grandpa was pissed but honestly he’s probably just worried she’s going to take his seat

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user9: pretty, talented, smart … you’re the whole package

landonorris: hell yeah it does. the car will be here in about an hour! meet us in the lobby?

ynuser: yes!! assuming we shouldn’t come down too early since we run the risk of people being down there?

landonorris: yeah, no more than 5 mins before

user10: hottest person on the grid no doubt

georgerussell63: blimey i’m excited

ynuser: me too! i need a drink after this weekend

georgerussell63: you better get used to it y/n! this is your life now

ynuser: and i’m glad it is 🤍

user14: i think i have a crush on you

oscarpiastri: hi

ynuser: hi oscar!! did lando send you the details for tonight?

oscarpiastri: yes he did!

pierregasly: me and kika are ready to GO

ynuser: me and y/bff are too! let’s get this party started

user11: keep this momentum going into mexico y/n!!

user4: we needed a chronically online it girl in this sport so bad im so glad you’re here

✿

george poured you another glass of champagne as you giggled, "i should really be sick of champagne by now but i don't know that i ever will be."

"well thats good y/n/n! you're going to be drinking a lot more of it soon enough," george said loud enough that you could hear him over the music. the club was packed with more people than you would've expected for sunday evening especially a sunday evening in texas but here you were in a packed club chugging champagne with old and new friends. oscar, lily, carlos, rebecca, lando, george, pierre, kika, franco, charles and alex all came out with you and y/bff and you were honestly a bit shocked by the turn out. though you should've known that lando and george were not going to let you celebrate by yourself.

you had grown up with the two of them on the karting track and you even managed to be in f2 in the same year george won the championship. they meant a lot to you -- you looked up to them since the start so to have their unwavering support now that you made it to f1 meant more than you could express. none of this was going to be easy but being surrounded by a strong support system would make it a lot less painful.

you smiled up at george as he downed the last bit of his cocktail, intently watching as the last little bit dripped from the side of his mouth. you took a big gulp reminding yourself of the room of people around you. that was another thing that was around since your karting days... your massive crush on george. while you both had seen other people between now and then, there was no doubt that it was still alive and well. but as far as that was concerned, it was a bit of a one sided crush. it's not that george had ever told you outright that he wasn't interested, you just never had the guts to tell him and he only ever made one move and has been ignoring that it happened since. the closest you two ever got to something more than friends was the night after he won the f2 championship. you two were inseparable during that season so when he asked you to come with him back to his hotel room after his massive party, you didn't think twice about it. you two flopped down onto the bed with your takeaway meal fresh in front of you and the tv turned on to some animated movie you couldn't remember the name of. george was sitting close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off of his body from where he gently was resting against yours. "y/n/n," he whispered causing you to look up at him, "i love you." you smiled, having heard him say this many times.. he was your best friend after all. "I love you too!" you responded and before you could process what happened, his lips were on yours. and unfortunately for you, thats about where that ended. george realized what he was doing and absolutely panicked, begged you to forgive him and to not talk about it again so thats what you did. but on nights like this one, where he was looking fine as ever... it was hard not to long for him.

"helllooooooo earth to y/n!!!" lando almost shouted pulling you out of your thoughts.

"yes, yes! hi!" you rolled your eyes taking the drink out of his hand.

the rest of the night passed in a blur of celebrations, laughs and champagne. things were looking up and you couldn't be more excited for what the future held for you. you had done it. your dream had come true.

✿

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alpinef1team: 1 down. 2 to go. mexico city, here we come!

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: omg if you made it this far... thank you for reading!!! likes and reblogs are massively appreciated. i'm thinking of making this a series with y/n racing in the last few races of the season. if you liked this, let me know so i can judge if this will get a part 2!! much love 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[aliyahwritings]

THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (03)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 8.1k words (get ready for #reallove)

Aliyah's Notes: whats that one saying? rainbows before the storm or wtv tf.

You didn’t believe in hatred.

Dislike? Sure. Irritation? Absolutely. But hatred was for people with time to waste, and in your world, every second was precious. Even now, as you posed under the bright lights of your latest Chanel photoshoot, your mind wandered to the few people you disliked.

Rude stylists, overly critical photographs, maybe a couple of models who thought being catty made them superior—but hate? No, that wasn’t your style.

You were in the middle of changing poses when your phone loudly buzzed on the nearby table. You ignored it at first, moving your chin slightly as the photographer directed you. You could answer it later.

“Gorgeous, Y/N! Hold that pose… yeah, just like that!” the photographer called out, camera clicking away.

The phone buzzed again, more insistent this time. You shifted your weight to one side, flipping your hair for the next shot. But the third buzz was enough to make you sigh.

“Alright, take five!” the photographer announced, waving his assistant over.

You stepped down from the set and grabbed your phone, frowning when you saw Rafe Cameron on the screen. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you swiped to answer.

“Finally answering my calls, sweetheart?” his voice came through, cocky and irritatingly smooth.

“Rafe, I’m working,” you replied, as you pulled your robe around yourself. “Not everyone gets paid to play with a ball.”

“Work, huh? I thought posing in front of a camera was more of a hobby.”

“You’re so funny,” you said flatly, glancing back at the crew who were resetting the lights. “What do you want?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “I’m taking you out tonight.”

You snorted. “Excuse me? Did I miss the part where I agreed to go anywhere with you?”

“You didn’t,” he replied, completely unfazed. “That’s what I’m fixing right now.”

You raised an eyebrow, even though he couldn’t see it. “You don’t ‘fix’ things with me, Rafe. You ask, I decide.”

“Is that our dynamic?” Rafe’s tone dripped with amusement. “You sure? Because I remember you agreeing to marry me.”

“That’s business,” you shot back. “Don’t confuse it with me actually wanting to spend time with you.”

“Uh-huh,” he drawled, clearly not buying it. “Business or not, we’ve got a public to convince. Tonight, we’re making our debut as a couple. We wouldn’t want the media thinking you’re too good for me, would we?”

“I am too good for you,” you replied smoothly, your lips quirking up. “But go on.”

He let out a low chuckle. “Dinner at La Belle, 8 PM. Be ready. I’ll pick you up.”

You glanced at the time. Seriously? “Wait, how do you know where I live?”

“I have my sources. I’m a basketball player; I can afford to have a few eyes on my future wife.”

“Creep,” you mumbled, ignoring the flutter of annoyance in your stomach. “And what makes you think I’m free tonight?”

“Because you’re talking to me instead of saying no.”

“I haven’t said yes, either.”

“You will, though. I can hear it in your voice.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re delusional.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, a smug edge in his tone. “But I’m also persistent.”

You exhaled through your nose, staring at your reflection in the vanity mirror as the makeup artist approached with a fresh brush. The look you gave yourself was somewhere between amusement and exasperation. “Fine.”

There was a pause, and you could almost hear the smirk stretching across his lips. “See you tonight.”

Before you could respond, he hung up, leaving you scowling at the screen.

“Everything okay?” your stylist asked, glancing at your reflection with a raised brow. She has been listening in.

You plastered on a smile. “Yeah… Just…  a guy, you know.”

She snorted. “Sounds like he’s already giving you headaches.”

“Don’t even get me started.”

Your thoughts swirled as you prepared to finish the photoshoot. Rafe’s voice still rang in your eyes. Dinner at La Belle? You weren’t sure why he frustrated you so much—you weren’t like this. Being optimistic and smiley was your trademark, it was who you were, but whenever Rafe was mentioned or around he made you snappy and full of attitude… and you didn’t know why. 

Hours passed in a blur of flashing cameras and outfit changes, and soon enough, it was nearing 7:30. Maya, your stylist, was packing up the last of your things when she gave you a look. “You better get going if you’re gonna make that date.”

“You’re right,” you muttered, checking your phone for the first time in hours. “Oh my God! I have 30 minutes—I gotta go bye, Maya.”

“Bye, girl,” she laughed and waved. “I hope you get dicked—”

“Lalalalala,” you screamed and ran away.

You slipped into your black trench coat and hopped in the car. You texted Rafe.

You: “I might be late. I’m sorry.”

Rafe: “What happened?”

You: “Shooting went overtime.”

Rafe: “Okay.”

You: “You should’ve picked a later time.”

Rafe: “Just get here in one piece. I like my women alive.”

You rolled your eyes, like every time with him, but couldn’t help but smile at his sarcastic tone. You fished out your small makeup bag and quickly powdered your face, adding concealer, mascara, blush, eyeliner, and lipstick. Now, you were one step ahead—ready to slip into an outfit as soon as you got home.

The car pulled up to your apartment, and you rushed into your apartment, your heart raced. You threw open your closet, eyeing the racks of beautiful dresses, each one tempting. 

You finally chose an elegant, sleek black dress that hugged your curves flawlessly, the smooth fabric flowing over your body with a low, scooped neckline. The rich black material shimmered under the light, emphasizing your figure with every movement. In a rush, you worked mousse through your hair, then applied a smoky eye that intensified your gaze, blending shades of charcoal and bronze. The look was bold, and perfectly matched the confidence you were determined to exude tonight.

Your phone buzzed.

Rafe: “You taking too long. I’m coming up.”

A series of sharp knocks echoed through your apartment, almost making you drop your phone. You whipped your head towards the door, quickly adjusting the strap of your dress as you glanced at the clock. 8:20—fuck!

“Give me a minute!” you shouted, frantically slipping on your heels. Your heart raced as you grabbed your earrings, juggling them in your hand while heading towards the door.

When you swung it open, Rafe stood on the other side, leaning casually against the doorframe, wearing that smirk that could only belong to him. His eyes immediately swept over your figure, starting at your legs, up to your waist, your exposed breasts, and finally your face. His gaze lingered, and though he didn’t say anything, the heat in his stare would’ve given you chills down your spine.

You didn’t notice. You were too busy hesitating on what to do with your hair.

“I am not ready yet,” you groaned, stepping aside to let him in. “I got home late, and I haven’t even had time to—ugh. I knew shooting was taking some time but I didn’t think it’d be this much. I’m sorry for making you wait. I swear I’m not usually like this—I hate being late.” You didn’t pause for a breath, just rambled on as you tossed the earrings on the coffee table and made a beeline for your room.

Rafe closed the door behind him, but his attention was fixed on you. He watched as you moved, the dress hugging your ass perfectly, accentuating your hurried movements. The sight of you—flustered, elegant, and completely unaware of his gaze—only deepened the smirk on his face.

“Nice place,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. His gaze followed you down the hallway, where your bedroom was slightly ajar.

Without waiting for an invitation, he stepped through the threshold and followed you inside, finding you in your room—which was the perfect picture of chaos. Clothes were draped over the bed, shoes tossed in random covers, and a vanity table cluttered with makeup. It was the kind of organized mess that only you could make sense of.

Rafe leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed, watching as you rifled through your vanity drawer for something. His eyes swept over the pastel-colored blankets and the flowery décor, stark contrasts to the girl who had been all sass and attitude with him up until now.

But he liked that. It turned him on, for some reason.

“I didn’t take you for the ‘pink floral everything’ type,” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

You shot him a glance through the mirror, briefly pausing from rummaging through your drawer. “And I didn’t take you for the ‘nosy guest who barges into rooms uninvited’ type,” you quipped, raising an eyebrow back at him. Your fingers grazed over a tube of lipstick, which you quickly uncapped and re-applied.

Rafe’s smirk only widened. “What can I say? I’m a man full of surprises.”

“Yeah, well, try surprising me by sitting quietly on my bed like a normal person,” you shot back, giving your lips one final press together before throwing the lipstick into the pile of clutter on your vanity.

Rafe made a show of glancing around your room. “I think ‘normal’ left the building when I saw this,” he said, gesturing to the soft pink pillows and floral patterns that clashed with the image you projected. “Didn’t peg you for the type to have a room that looks like a rom-com set.”

You turned, finally facing him fully, one hand on your hip. “Oh, look, a creep overanalyzing a girl’s bedroom.”

Rafe chuckled. “Just making an observation. It’s cute. A little... princessy for someone who tries to pretend she’s all tough, but hey, I can roll with it.”

You tried to fight the smile threatening to creep up. “First of all, I am tough. Secondly, I like pink, sue me.”

“I’m not complaining,” he said with a wink, his voice dropping a little lower. “You look good in pink.”

You scoffed and turned back to the mirror, fiddling with your dress. “You’re insane.”

Rafe just grinned, watching you trying so hard to look occupied, clearly flustered. “Probably, but I think you like that,” he said, his tone teasing. He stepped closer, now standing right behind you. His presence was warm, and his gaze never left your reflection.

You met his eyes in the mirror, your hands faltering with your hair as his intense gaze locked onto yours. The air between you thickened just a little, but you weren’t about to give in to his charm. “I don’t like anything that involves you, Cameron,” you said, but the words lacked the bite you intended.

He leaned down slightly, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. “I don’t believe you.”

The heat of his breath on your neck made your skin tingle, and for a brief second, you forgot what you were supposed to be doing. But then you snapped out of it, stepping away to grab your perfume from the vanity. “Well, believe this: we’re leaving in five minutes, and I still need to finish getting ready,” you said, your voice firm, though your cheeks betrayed you with a faint flush.

Rafe raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll let you finish...”

As you spritzed the perfume, you caught him eyeing you again, his gaze lingering on your tits. You couldn’t help but shake your head, a small laugh escaping your lips. “Eyes up here, Rafe.”

He shrugged, shameless as ever. “Can’t blame a guy for appreciating the view.” He paused for a beat, then added, “Besides, in five minutes, you’ll be mine for the night.”

You threw him a look that was half-amused, half-exasperated. “Creepy... This is just for show, remember?”

Rafe nodded, and as you finally slipped on your coat, he followed you toward the door, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. “Ready, sweetheart?”

You rolled your eyes again, but this time, there was no hiding the smile. “Yup! Ready, Cameron.”

Rafe’s hand wrapped around your wrist just as you reached for the door, his touch firm but gentle enough to send a flicker of electricity up your arm. You turned, brow furrowed.

“What now?” you sighed, trying to sound annoyed.

He took a step closer, his eyes locked onto yours. “You know what? I think we should practice.”

You blinked, trying to read his expression. “Practice?”

His gaze dipped to your lips for a split second before meeting your eyes again. “Yeah, practice… For when we’re in public,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, almost daring you to look away. “When we’re kissing… we wouldn’t want our kisses to look unconvincing, mmh?”

A laugh bubbled out of you, partly from surprise and partly to keep yourself from being completely thrown off by the heat in his stare. “You’re kidding.”

He raised an eyebrow, inching closer, the space between you shrinking until the scent of his cologne mixed with the tension already thick in the air. “Am I?” His voice was smooth, dripping with amusement, but beneath it, there was something else. Something far more dangerous.

Your breath hitched as you took a step back, your body colliding with the door. “You’re serious...”

Rafe’s smirk widened, but this time it was laced with something primal. “Yeah,” he murmured, leaning in until his lips were just a whisper away from yours. “You look so fucking good tonight, sweetheart.”

Your pulse raced, and for a split second, you considered pushing him away, but your body betrayed you. You stayed there, frozen in the moment, trapped by the intensity in his gaze, the closeness of his body.

Before you could even form a reply, he closed the distance, his lips pressing against yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. It wasn’t the playful, teasing peck you were expecting—it was deep, his hand sliding to the curve of your waist, pulling you flush against him. The kiss was full of fire and heat, a simmering tension that had been building between the two of you since the moment you met.

Your mind went blank, the world outside disappearing as your lips moved against his, as though you had been kissing him forever. His fingers tightened on your waist, and a low moan escaped from the back of your throat, sending a wave of warmth through your entire body.

When you finally broke apart, your chest was heaving, and you could still feel the ghost of his lips on yours. You stared at him, wide-eyed, struggling to catch your breath. Rafe’s blue eyes were dark, his smile gone, replaced by a hungry look that made your stomach twist in knots.

“That was...” you trailed off, trying to find the right word. But nothing seemed to fit.

Rafe’s thumb brushed over your lower lip, wiping away some of your smeared lipstick. “For practice,” he said, his voice rougher than before. “You know… just in case.”

Your heart pounded in your ears, but your brain finally caught up. “Uh-huh,” you mumbled, still feeling the warmth of his thumb on your lip. “Just practice.”

You tried to step away, but his hand was still on your waist, holding you there, his thumb brushing the delicate skin of your hip as if testing the boundaries between you.

“You, uh…” Your voice wavered, and you blinked, trying to find something—anything—to cut through the tension. “You’ve also got lipstick all over you.”

Rafe’s lips twitched into a grin, though his eyes remained locked on yours, full of heat. “I do?”

You nodded, taking a breath to calm your racing pulse. “Here, let me…” Without thinking, you reached up and brushed your thumb across his lips, wiping away the smear of color.

It should’ve been innocent. It should’ve been nothing.

But the moment your thumb touched his lips, Rafe’s eyes darkened even more. He caught your wrist, his fingers wrapping around it gently but firmly, his gaze never leaving yours. The warmth of his skin seeped into you, and the atmosphere between you both thickened, the tension pulling tighter.

You swallowed hard, suddenly hyper aware of how close you were, how your bodies seemed to gravitate towards each other without you even realizing it. The way he was looking at you—like he wanted to devour you—it made you feel dizzy.

His voice was a low rasp when he finally spoke. “You’re killing me here.”

Your breath hitched at the huskiness in his tone, your stomach twisting with nerves and something else entirely. You tried to laugh it off, to shake the moment. “It’s just lipstick, Rafe.”

His thumb brushed over your pulse, the simplest touch sending sparks down your spine. “It’s not the lipstick,” he murmured, his eyes flicking back to your lips.

You bit the inside of your cheek, desperate to break the tension before you did something you’d regret. “You’re all cleaned up now, Romeo. We should go,” you said, your voice shaky but determined.

Rafe’s hand lingered a moment longer on your wrist, his gaze searching yours, as if considering whether or not to push further. But then he dropped your hand, stepping back with a slow, devilish grin. “Yeah,” he said, his voice laced with amusement. “We should.”

You turned toward the door, your heart still racing as you tried to pull yourself together. But even as you reached for the handle, you felt his presence right behind you, his breath ghosting over the back of your neck, sending a shiver through your body.

“I like the dress, by the way,” his tone lighter now but still tinged with the lingering tension.

You glanced back at him. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

Rafe chuckled, his eyes glinting as he opened the door for you. You stepped out into the hallway, your head still spinning from the kiss, from the way he looked at you, from everything. 

He followed closely behind, his presence lingering in the space around like shadows. The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, and you stepped inside.

“That’s a nice place you’ve got, by the way,” he remarked, his tone casual.

You glanced at him sideways, unwilling to give him more than a passing look. “Thanks, but I’m sure you say that to all the girls you visit uninvited.”

He smiled. “Only the ones I’m marrying.”

“Look at me swooning,” you rolled your eyes as the elevator began its descent, the silence between you settling into something almost comfortable.

The elevator doors opened, and you stepped out quickly, determined to put some space between you and him. But even as you reached the front entrance of your building, Rafe was right behind you, his hand lightly brushing against your back as he guided you toward the black car waiting at the curb.

“Such a gentleman,” you whispered sarcastically.

“I try,” he shot back, opening the car door for you. His eyes gleamed with amusement as he added, “Besides, it’s part of my job as your husband to be a gentleman towards you, right?”

You slid into the car, crossing your legs as you settled into the plush leather seat. “We’re not married yet, you do know that, right?”

“But we will be, so what’s the difference?” he said, slipping into the seat next to you. His arm stretched out along the back of the seat, brushing against your shoulder.

“Well, there’s a big difference actually…” you whispered more to yourself, smoothing down your dress as you glanced out the window, trying to ignore the way his proximity made your pulse quicken.

As the car pulled away from the curb, silence filled the space between you. You weren’t sure if it was the lingering effects of the kiss or the fact that Rafe was sitting so close, but the air felt heavy, charged with something unspoken.

“So, we’re going to La Belle, huh?” you asked, breaking the quiet.

“Yeah, you ever been there before?”

You turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “The five-star restaurant in New York City where all the celebs go to get photographed? Of course, I’ve been there.”

Rafe grinned. “Perfect spot for our big debut, don’t you think?”

“You did your big one, bravo!” you nodded with a smile.

The car pulled to a stop outside of the restaurant, and you felt your heart skip a beat at the sight of the flashing lights. Paparazzi filled the sidewalk, their cameras already trained on the car. You took a steadying breath, feeling Rafe’s eyes on you.

“Ready?” he asked, his tone a mix of amusement and something else—concern, maybe.

You let a truthful smile spread across your lips as you met his gaze. “Fuck yeah!”

He laughed, and for a moment, you felt his hand tighten around yours, a subtle gesture of reassurance. The car door opened, and before you could second-guess anything, you felt yourself being gently tugged out into the swirl of flashing cameras, Rafe’s hand warm and steady around yours.

“Rafe! Y/N! Over here!”

“Look this way!”

“Is she your new girlfriend?”

Questions flew around, shouted from all the angles as you made your way toward the entrance. You kept your chin up, smile fixed, the years of modeling training kicking in to keep your expression calm and collected. Meanwhile, Rafe had his arm draped around your waist, his casual confidence almost comforting.

Inside the restaurant, the lighting was dim, intimate—a stark contrast to the chaos outside. The maître led you to a private table in the back corner, and as you slid into your seat, the reality of the situation settled back in.

“I felt like I almost died out there,” you said with a laugh as you glanced at the menu.

“I thought that was fun,” he said, picking up his own menu. “them thinking you’re my girlfriend when you’re about to become my wi—”

Before he could even finish his sentence, a familiar broke through his voice. “Oh, what a surprise, Y/N.”

You froze, looking up to see none other than Alina Ivanov, her polished smile almost too bright as she approached your table. Dressed in a sleek, form-fitting red dress and with her hair swept back in a low chignon, she looked like she belonged here. And, as always, her appearance felt like a subtle reminder of the rivalry she’d always tried to stir between you.

“Alina,” you said, keeping your voice polite but cool. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

Rafe’s gaze flickered between you two, sensing the tension immediately. “Friend of yours?”

Alina flashed him a charming smile before turning back to you, her expression a picture of innocence. “We’re worked together a few times,” she said, not missing a beat. “I was just so surprised to see you here. It’s not every day you bring a date to places like this… or just bring dates, period.”

You kept your smile polite, though your jaw was tight. “Unlike you, am I right?”

Her eyes lingered on you for a moment too long before shifting back to Rafe. “And who might you be?”

“Rafe Cameron,” he said, his tone smooth but his gaze sharp.

“I was joking. I know who you are, silly,” Alina said, chuckling softly. “My brothers are huge fans of yours. Always telling me how you’re the one to watch on the court.”

He offered a polite nod. “Glad to hear it.”

There was a beat of silence before Alina leaned in, her eyes glinting as she looked back at you. “So, Y/N, how’s everything going with… your work?” Her tone was light, casual, but the question felt like a dig.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “Busy as ever.”

“Oh, I can imagine,” she replied, her smile widening. “Things have been so competitive lately. But I’m sure you’re managing.” She tilted her head, her expression turning almost pitying. “Just let me know if you need any tips on balancing everything. We know what happened the last time that you were too stressed.”

For the first time in a long while, she left you speechless. Words hung on your lips, but nothing came out. A slight tremor shook your body as memories flooded back. Alina mentioning that moment…it was like a punch to the gut. You’d convinced yourself everyone had forgotten, buried it in the past. But of course, she hadn’t. How could she? It was the most humiliating, traumatizing experience of your career.

Rafe noticed the shift immediately. He always looked forward to your sharp retorts, the way you never missed a beat with your quick-witted comebacks. But now? He saw something different—a rawness, a vulnerability he hadn’t seen in you before. His chest tightened, a protective instinct flaring up, urging him to shield you from the wound Alina had reopened. He didn’t know what she meant, didn’t need to know. Your face told him everything.

Before Alina could twist the knife any deeper, Rafe stepped in, his voice low but steady, the edge unmistakable.

"Seems like she’s been doing just fine on her own," he cut in, his gaze hardening. "Haven't you seen her work lately?"

His tone was firm, no hint of the usual lightness. He didn’t look at you—he didn’t need to—but you could feel the solidarity in his words, a silent reassurance that said, I’ve got you.

Alina’s smile faltered, but she quickly recovered, brushing off his words with a delicate laugh. “Yeah, of course! I mean, I’d be hard-pressed to miss it with her face practically everywhere.” She turned to you, her gaze sharpening just a fraction. “Lucky for you, the timing’s been in your favor, huh?”

You clenched your teeth, trying to stop the trembles in your body. “Luck had nothing to do with it.”

Her smile stretched a little too wide as she inclined her head. “Oh, I totally get it, babe. Well, enjoy your night, you two.” She cast a lingering, almost possessive look at Rafe, her gaze dragging over him as though he were something she intended to claim. “And, Rafe, it was lovely meeting you. I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other soon.”

Without missing a beat, Rafe’s gaze stayed anchored on you as he replied, “Doubt it.”

Alina’s expression faltered, again, before she flashed a final smile and melted back into the crowd, her perfume leaving a sickly-sweet trace in her wake. The silence that followed felt dense, almost stifling, and you could still feel the sting of her words hanging in the air like smoke. You exhaled, trying to let go of the tension that had coiled in your shoulders.

Rafe’s gaze shifted, catching yours with an intensity that softened as he studied your face. “She’s... really friendly, isn’t she?” he said with a dry chuckle.

You let out a scoff, unable to resist. “That’s one way to put it.”

Rafe smirked, his eyebrows lifting. “She always this nice?”

“Only when there’s an audience.”

Rafe’s expression shifted, his humor fading into something more thoughtful. He leaned forward, just close enough that you could catch the faint scent of his cologne, and his eyes softened as they searched yours. “If she ever gives you trouble, you let me know. I’ve got no problem shutting her up.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected note of protectiveness in his voice. The way he looked at you was something new, something unfamiliar—and it stirred something you hadn’t anticipated. “Thanks, Cameron, but I can handle the Russian princess.”

“I know you can,” he replied, his voice low, every word rich with unspoken promise. “But you’ve got a husband now to help you with these… things”

His words hung in the air, sparking a warmth in your chest that surprised you. This side of him—serious, protective, and entirely focused on you—was so different from the cocky charm he usually wore like armor. For a moment, the world around you faded, leaving just the two of you and the quiet charge humming between your gazes.

A server approached, breaking the lingering silence as they took your orders. Once they left, quiet settled between you and Rafe again, pressing down as the sounds of clinking silverware and murmured conversations filled the space around you. For a moment, you let yourself tune into the chatter of the other tables, realizing how strange it was to be here with someone you hardly knew. Sure, you knew what the media had to say about Rafe Cameron—most people did. 

You thought back to what you actually knew about him. He was 25, a talented star on an NBA team, with a cocky smile. The media painted him as the consummate playboy, a regular at exclusive clubs, and someone who, judging by the number of girls he was photographed kissing, had perfected the art of fleeting connections. And yes, the tabloids had mentioned his dreamy abs.

It was a curious thought: this man across from you was, somehow, your future husband. Yet, aside from the stories, the rumors, and those dark blue eyes that sparked whenever he looked your way, what else did you know about him? You felt a pang of embarrassment.

Maybe it was because of the arrangement, maybe it was the fleeting glances across magazine covers and sports sites, but all you truly knew about Rafe Cameron could barely fill a sentence.

Finally, you couldn’t help it, you leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table as you studied him. He looked too comfortable, too at ease, like he belonged here. He was the perfect enigma: superstar athlete and notorious heartbreaker, with eyes that seemed to hold every secret and none at all.

“So, um, Rafe, what do you know about me?”

He stilled, his easygoing expression faltering for a second. You’d caught him off guard. “What do I know about you?” his fingers wrapped around the glass, as he searched for your face. “I mean, I know what people say. What I’ve seen.”

You tilted your head, waiting. “Which is?”

“That you’re the golden girl, flawless. Beautiful and nice, sure, but… it’s more than that,” his eyes traced your face, almost tender, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. “People can’t help but be in awe of you.”

A quiet breath escaped you, surprised by the way his words lingered, settling like an unexpected weight in your chest. Awe of you—it wasn’t something anyone had ever said to your face, and it sounded both charming and absurd coming from him. But something about the way he said it made you pause. You couldn’t tell if he was mocking you or if, perhaps, he actually meant it.

“So, I’m a tabloid fantasy, then?” you teased softly, trying to keep the edge of doubt in your voice.

He chuckled, but his gaze remained steady, as if searching for something hidden beneath your smile. “No, you’re more than that,” he murmured. “You’re the woman everyone wants to know, but it seems like nobody really does. Even some of my teammates can’t stop talking about you… some of them are practically in love with you. They think you’re beautiful and—”

“And would you agree?” you prompted, you didn’t why you asked. You didn’t care what he thought of you.

He hesitated, his eyes tracing over your features in a way that felt too intimate for someone you’d barely spent any time with. “You're not bad, but if you toned down the attitude and that smart mouth of yours, I might just find you beautiful.” You laughed and playfully flipped him off, earning a chuckle from him. But then his expression shifted, and he grew serious again. “But you’re nice, that’s what I wanted to say. Like, actually nice. Not the superficial stuff everyone says to stay in the good graces of the media… probably like that Alina girl who definitely pretends to be nice.”

You scoffed, but your heart betrayed you, thudding a little faster under his gaze. “Nice? You think I’m nice?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. His eyes moved slowly over your face, as if trying to peek back a layer, to see the person beneath the perfect photos and poised interviews. “You… you’ve got more edge than what people think, but still nice, you know.”

His confidence was intoxicating, an irresistible blend of cockiness and charm that made it nearly impossible to ignore the urge to close the distance between you and kiss him senseless. Tonight, he looked ridiculously good—his light yellow dress shirt with a crisp white collar, sleeves rolled up to his forearms in a way that only made you rub your thighs together. The way his black trousers hugged his figure and the subtle shine of his shine only added to the magnetic pull drawing you towards him.

A quiet stretched between you, heavy with unspoken tension, his words lingering in the air. He leaned back just enough, his guarded expression softened by the way his gaze stayed on you. “But what about you?” he asked, voice low and smooth. “What do you know about me, baby?”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh, watching him with newfound curiosity. “Honestly? Not much,” you admitted. “I know you’re 25, a famous basketball star,” you narrowed your eyes, watching the way his intense gaze never wavered from you. “You’re cocky—maybe a bit too cocky sometimes—and you love pushing people’s buttons. Especially mine. You probably like it, though, huh? Seeing how we'll react.”

He let out a low chuckle. “Go on…”

“And you’re a bit of a party animal. From all the photos out there, it seems like you’ve got a new girl on your arm every week. But despite that, you’re fiercely dedicated to your sport—and you’re damn good at it. The media practically worships every move you make on the court. That’s all I have on you.”

He raised an eyebrow, a glint of intrigue in his eyes as he leaned in, again. “And what’s your conclusion?” he asked, voice lower, as if this moment was just for the two of you.

“Not much,” you replied with a slight shrug. “I don’t know anything about you, Rafe—only the version everyone else sees.”

He breathed out slowly, his expression softening as he thought about your words. “So, we’re both just media fantasies,” he said, voice a quiet murmur. His fingers brushed against yours, the contact so subtle yet electric, igniting warmth that raced up your arm and made your heart pound a little faster.

“Maybe we are…” you replied softly, glancing down at his hand resting near yours on the table, close enough to close the gap between you. “But I guess if we’re planning on getting married and all, we should probably learn a bit more about each other, don’t you think?”

“Right.” His gaze softened, and a playful gleam flickered in his eyes. “So, what do you want to know?”

You tilted your head, unable to keep the teasing edge from your voice. “Honestly? If it were up to me, I’d probably prefer not to know a thing about you.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Can’t believe no one ever warned me about that smart mouth of yours. Haven’t seen a single headline on it.”

A smirk spread across your lips. “I’m saving it for my husband,” you replied sweetly, watching his expression shift, a spark of something in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place.

“Future husband,” he corrected with a soft smile, as if savoring the words.

“Future husband, that’s right,” you nodded. “So… I guess since we’re supposed to be newly dating, we should start with the basics, right? You know, things like your favorite color, your favorite movie…”

"That makes sense. So, my favorite color’s green, but not just any green—I’m talking deep green, like the kind you see in plants," he rambled. "And I guess my favorite movie’s probably ‘The Wolf of Wall Street’—"

"Oh, my God! Liking that movie is such a douchey choice," you teased, and he laughed along.

"Alright, then—what's your favorite movie, Miss Judgey McJudgerson?"

"I'm not judging—" he shot you a look and you sighed, nodding in surrender. "Alright, fine, maybe I judged a little. But can you blame me? Anyway," you continued, a spark of excitement in your tone, "a movie I can watch on repeat? ‘Crazy, Stupid, Love’. And don't even think about making fun of it, because it’s honestly a masterpiece."

He tilted his head, feigning offense. "Oh, so ‘The Wolf of Wall Street’ isn’t a masterpiece? Is that what you're saying?"

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms as you leaned back. "Look, I’m not saying that. I’m just saying all the jerks are obsessed with that movie."

His smirk grew, eyes glinting with challenge. "The jerks, huh?" His brows raised, his gaze holding yours. "So, I’m a jerk?"

You shrugged with a mischievous smile. "If the shoe fits."

“So,” he said, “you’re telling me my taste in movies is a red flag?”

You smirked, meeting his gaze. “I mean, ‘The Wolf of Wall Street’ is practically a requirement for men with commitment issues. It’s the kind of movie someone watches to feel cool, you know?”

“Ouch.” He raised his glass, looking amused. “So what does ‘Crazy, Stupid, Love’ say about you? That you’re a sucker for impossible relationships and grand romantic gestures?”

You feigned sigh, taking the glass of wine in your hands. “Maybe. Or maybe it just says I have taste,” you glanced at him over the rim of your glass, a smile teasing at the corners of your mouth. 

“Alright, alright. Enough on how shitty my taste in movies is,” he moved his hands dismissively. “Let’s focus on whether the ‘golden girl’ is a hopeless romantic. Are you?”

“Depends on who’s asking.”

“Your husband’s asking.”

You held yourself back from correcting him, and just scoffed. “I wouldn’t go that far. I just have a soft spot for movies with good storytelling, good humor, and good looking white boys.”

“You know, I might actually have a soft side for sappy movies too,” he shot back, his smile widening.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Right, and I’m the fucking queen of England.”

“What? Why? I could like them, you know.”

“Rafe, I bet you’d hate anything with a happy ending—”

“Holy shit! Rafe! My fucking dude on a date?”

The moment shattered as a voice cut through the air, loud and incredulous. Both of you turned your heads to see a tall blond guy wavering through tables with a grin as wide as the room itself.

“Topper,” Rafe muttered with a sigh and a look that bordered on agony.

“Rafe, my guy!” Topper laughed, eyes flickering between the two of you in delight. “I cannot believe my eyes. You—on a date? And with her?” He gestured to you, his excitement barely contained. “No offense, beautiful, but I thought Rafe’s only serious relationship was with basketball. You’re like a mythical creature right now.”

You fought back a laugh as Rafe shot Topper a glare, but the faint blush creeping up his neck betrayed him.

“Top,” he sighed, “aren’t you supposed to be somewhere? Literally anywhere else?”

“Oh, hell no. This is a one-in-a-million chance. Besides, I have to see this through. Rafe Cameron actually out with a woman he didn’t meet at a club? Man, this is incredible.”

Rafe pressed his fingers to his temples, visibly restraining himself from shoving his teammate out. “I swear, I’m this close to throwing you out of here.”

“Oh, come on, man,” Topper said, clapping him on the shoulder with a hearty laugh. “Don’t be like that! I mean, I thought you were incapable of going on a real date, and here you are, actually acting all gentlemanly.” He glanced at you with a grin. “So, what’s it like dating Rafe? Has he tried any of his classic lines yet?”

You shrugged with a grin of your own. “If by classic lines, you mean being generally annoying? Then yes.”

Rafe raised his eyebrow, feigning offense. “Annoying? Really?”

“Am I wrong?” You met his gaze head-on, smirking. “Every time you speak, you’re trying to get under my skin—”

“Because I want to see what that smart mouth of yours will say back to me.”

Topper laughed, completely entertained, while you just shook your head, trying not to laugh. “So, I was right. You love riling people up just to see their reactions.”

He shook his head, eyes glinting. “Not people, sweetheart. Just you.”

Your cheeks warmed despite yourself, caught off guard by his focus. You quickly recovered, scoffing, “Oh, and that’s my cue to swoon, right?”

Rafe leaned back, his smirk victorious. “Whatever works.”

Topper threw his head back, laughing, as if he’d just won the best seat at the theater. “Oh, this is good. You guys… yeah, I’m getting popcorn next time.”

Rafe gave his friend one last pointed look, his eyes practically daring his friend to stick around. “I’m serious, Top. I’m here on an actual date, so if you want to keep your teeth intact, I’d suggest moving along.”

Topper raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning ear-to-ear. “Alrighty. But I’ve gotta say, I never thought I’d see the day you’d settle down—especially with someone who can actually keep you in line,” he gave you a wink. “Good luck, beautiful. You’ll need it with this one.”

With a final smile and a nod to you, Topper sauntered away, glancing back with an amused shake of his head as he left.

Rafe turned back to you, letting out an exasperated breath as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry about him. Subtlety isn’t exactly his strong suit.”

You grinned. “Seems like he knows you pretty well, though. I’m actually surprised he didn’t say more.”

“Top’s just not used to seeing me on a date, that’s all. He’s right, though… this isn’t my usual scene,” his eyes traced over your face, lingering on the way you smiled. “But I’m getting married, so I gotta get used to it.”

The server returned with your orders, interrupting the moment. Rafe took a bite of his food and you did the same, each of you eating in a silence as the tension between you grew stronger. Finally, he spoke.

“So, back to this hopeless romantic thing you swear you’re not,” he began, his voice light but his gaze steady. “You say you’re not, but you can’t stop watching ‘Crazy, Stupid, Love’. Are you telling me you don’t want some big, dramatic love story? A guy standing in the rain, begging for a second chance?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to play it off, though his question struck a nerve. “I mean… who wouldn’t want that? But not everyone’s looking for a grand gesture. Some of us just want someone real.”

A flicker of something flashed in his eyes. “Real, huh? So you’re looking for real?”

“Of course. That’s all anyone really wants, right?” You felt vulnerable, caught off guard by his interest in something deeper. “But real is hard to come by… especially when you’re both in the spotlight.”

Rafe’s smirk faded, and for a moment, he looked down, almost as if he were weighing your words. When he looked back up, his expression was softer, thoughtful in a way that felt almost too intimate for a first date. “Maybe that’s something we have in common then.”

Surprised, you blinked, watching as he traced the rim of his glass absently. You hadn’t expected him to say that. The Rafe you knew from headlines and public appearances was never the reflective type. And yet, here he was, letting down his guard, even if just a tiny bit.

“So, the basketball star has a soft side?” you teased, unable to resist breaking the tension. “Who would’ve guessed?”

His lips curved into a grin, smoldering. “Don’t go spreading that around. Gotta keep some mystery.”

You both continued eating in a comfortable rhythm, making light conversation about inconsequential things—places you’d been, places you still wanted to see. Each laugh that slipped out came a little easier, every smile more relaxed as you both unwound.

As the last plates were cleared and Rafe paid, you glanced over his shoulder and noticed a familiar face in the back of the restaurant. Alina Ivanov, was seated at a nearby table, staring at you both with a smirk that sent a chill down your spine. Instinctively, you looked away, pulse spiking with a mixture of irritation and unease. It felt as though you were being watched through a magnifying glass, judged, evaluated, and silently torn apart.

Rafe’s gaze followed yours, and his hand found the small of your back as he leaned in. “Don’t mind her. Let’s get out of here,” he said quietly, his voice a reassuring warmth in the sudden chill. He guided you to the door, ignoring Alina’s gaze as he led you out into the cool night air.

Outside, the city hummed around you, and Rafe’s hand lingered at your back, grounding you. The air was a welcome relief, a quiet reprieve from the intensity of the restaurant. When you reached his car, he opened the door for you, his gaze lingering on you with an unreadable intensity before he rounded the car to the driver’s side. It was a small gesture, yet oddly grounding, as if he knew exactly when to offer support without crowding you.

(The chauffeur left and let them the car.)

The car ride was a soft blur of city lights, fading into a serene silence. You leaned against the window, feeling the cool glass against your skin as you stared at the passing streets, bright with shop lights and late-night wanderers. But your mind wandered far from New York.

You thought of home—your home country, the land you hadn’t seen in far too long. Your heart ached for the family you had left behind, a pain that had quietly settled within you. You hadn’t been the perfect daughter, nor the obedient child they had wanted, but you missed them, missed your siblings. You wondered what they’d think if they saw you now—would they be proud? Or would they find this new life of yours too far from the one you left behind?

Lost in thought, you barely noticed the car slowing to a stop until Rafe’s voice broke the silence. “We’re here.”

Startled, you lifted your head, blinking as you recognized the familiar building. The faint neon sign from the bodega down the street cast a soft glow, painting the pavement in shades of blue and pink. You glanced at Rafe, his face softened in the gentle light, a calm patience in his expression as he looked at you.

“Thanks for tonight,” you said quietly, feeling a strange reluctance to leave the moment behind.

His gaze flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes. “Anytime.” The two syllables held an unspoken promise, a rare gentleness that seemed almost out of place for him. He paused, watching you as if he wanted to say something more, but he merely gave a slight nod, lips curling in a faint smile.

You reached for the door, but his voice made you pause. “Hey.”

You turned, finding his face close, the space between you shrinking as his fingers brushed lightly against your cheek, catching you by surprise. His touch was soft, his thumb grazing over your cheekbone with an unexpected tenderness. His hand lingered, and he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek—a feather-light touch that sent warmth spiraling through you.

The kiss lasted just a moment, yet it was enough to make your heart race, to make you painfully aware of every point of contact. His breath fanned across your skin, and you could feel the faint scratch of stubble against your cheek. When he pulled back, his eyes met yours, the usual cockiness tempered with something softer, something far more real.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, a small smile ghosting his lips.

You smiled, trying to keep your composure. “Goodnight, Cameron,” you managed, feeling the warmth still lingering on your cheek, the phantom sensation of his fingers brushing against your skin.

As you stepped out of the car, you looked back once more to see him watching you, that familiar smirk playing on his lips but softened by something else, something deeper you couldn’t place. You gave a small wave, trying not to overthink the moment as he pulled away, leaving you standing in the quiet night, the warmth of his kiss still lingering on your skin.

chapter four

[reidalert]

IT’S OKAY NOT TO BE OKAY | spencer.reid

| spencer reid & fem!reader 3.1k words

| content: a case has you feeling helpless and guilty, and no matter who consoles you, nothing helps. maybe all you need is to take a break, but what if the break is being risky with dr. reid?

| warnings: mentions of death/kidnapping, flashback to the case, reader feeling vulnerable

| author’s note: i haven’t written in a longgg time and boy does it feel good to finally get these words out of my head. it feels like a privilege to get my writing spark back & i can’t wait to share all my ideas with you. i hope you enjoy reading <3

| masterlist

feedback and comments are highly appreciated!

You have thick skin.

Well, that’s what you say to anyone who asks if you’re okay.

But after today? After this case? You’re not sure if that’s true anymore. You don’t get affected easily, not when it comes to blood and gore. You’ve homed in on keeping your reactions and feelings at bay when it comes to that… but what happened out there? It’s made you feel helpless.

You knew from the minute JJ briefed you back at the BAU that this case was something you hadn’t dealt with before. Even Agent Hotchner had asked if you wanted to sit this one out.

But you said no. You wanted to get more experience to become a better profiler and a better agent. And it came at a cost.

You feel like an outsider. Like you’re watching yourself from an outside perspective as you go through airport security. The endless whir of machines and planes landing and taking off in the background do nothing for the thoughts racing in your mind.

You’re the last to be cleared and you know the others are watching you. Their eyes burning through your skin and doing what they do best. Profiling.

You don’t meet their gaze. You know as soon as you make eye contact with one of them, they’ll be asking you questions and it’ll make you torture yourself about whether you’re fit for this job. So, you make your way through the long and endless corridors until you’re at the gate for the jet.

The dull whirring of the jet engines helps you zone out. The leather seats are a cool comfort to your heated self.

Logically, it would make sense to let them know you’re not doing okay and that you need some time to yourself. But who are you kidding? You’re a thick skinned woman who can do anything… so you’ve made them believe.

You’re sitting on the farthest seat in the jet, right in the corner away from everyone else. You can’t deal with the questions you know they’re going to ask you.

But apparently, that doesn’t stop Agent Hotchner from taking the seat opposite you.

“I know what you’re gonna say.” You break the silence but continue staring out the oval window. The city lights below turn smaller and smaller as you progress through the flight.

“And what’s that?” Agent Hotchner asks. You’re not happy he’s here, invading your little self-pity bubble, but you do appreciate the way he keeps his voice quiet.

You shrug. “That something has upset me. Or that I’m too in my head about this case. Along those lines, anyway.”

Agent Hotchner regards you for a moment. You can feel his eyes staring at the side of your face as you purposefully stay looking out the window.

Because you know the second you make eye contact with him, he’ll see what’s going through your head. And he can’t.

“I gathered something was wrong.” His voice is low, a nice baritone that doesn't annoy you. “I know when someone in my team is different. And you’re different.”

You fight back the scoff that’s threatening to spill. “And what is that supposed to mean, Agent Hotchner?”

“Just…” he sighs. You’re very similar to Spencer Reid; in a way that you both struggle to admit when you need help. “If something is bothering you, I am here to listen.”

“Who says something is bothering me?” You kind of regret asking that question as you know damn well he’s about to go into an explanation of how he can see you’re upset.

He sits up a little straighter, hands clasped over his crossed knees. “You’re avoiding eye contact with me, your knuckles have turned white from how hard you’re gripping the arm rests—”

“That’s nothing—”

“You’re interrupting me. You don’t like being analysed as it makes you vulnerable. You haven’t eaten anything in the past,” Agent Hotchner checks his watch. “Six hours. Your stomach is warring against your emotions and you don’t like that. You’re sitting in a corner trying to push yourself away from other people.”

“Okay.” You bite out, now finally giving in to looking him dead in the eyes. “You’re a great profiler. No need to showboat.”

“I’m not showboating.”

You roll your eyes, “Sure seems like it.”

A minute or two pass in silence. Agent Hotchner is still staring at you and you feel incredibly small under his gaze. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t want you to say anything.” He fixes his shirt cuffs, acting so nonchalant as if he didn’t just profile one of his team members.

You grit your teeth. “Fine. Today messed with my head. That case was… it was wrong. So wrong that I can’t stop thinking about how I could have helped that family.”

Agent Hotchner leans forward, gently placing his hand upon your own on the arm rest. You feel your grip loosen and you fight back a grimace at how cold his hand feels against your warm one. “It’s not your fault. We all know we could have done something different out there, but sometimes the unsub takes a surprise route. Things like this happen and it’s unfortunate, but don’t blame yourself.”

You shrug again, avoiding eye contact once again. “Yeah.”

He stands, pulling his suit jacket to fit more comfortably. “If you need to talk to someone, come to my office.”

You only offer a silent nod in answer.

“Oh, and Agent L/N? Stop calling me Agent Hotchner, Hotch is just fine.” He offers a small smile and you shake your head, going back to staring out the window until your eyes feel too heavy to keep open.

“Why is there so much paperwork?” Your voice comes out all agitated as you rifle through a stupid amount of folders and loose paper.

Emily peeks over the cubicle dividing and raises an eyebrow. “You okay there?”

You sigh, slumping down onto your desk chair, spinning until you’re facing her side of the cubicle. “Do I sound okay to you? Who in their right mind decided to give me the goddamn paperwork for that goddamned case?” You glance around the wide room, trying to find JJ; this has to be her doing.

Emily purses her lips, “Doing paperwork isn’t that bad, Y/N. I mean, I guess there’s a lot but it’ll make the day go by quicker.”

“Oh, please.” You scoff, feeling yourself grow more annoyed by the minute. You know you need to get yourself in check, but the past 24 hours have ridden you like the Grim Reaper is taking jockey lessons in Hell.

“What’s got Little Miss Thick Skin so angry today?” Derek Morgan walks up to your desk, a hot mug of coffee in his hand. A brief thought had you biting your lip— it’d be wrong to spill it on him.

“Don’t start, please.” You rest your elbows on your desk, hands holding either side of your face as you stare at the paperwork. The names of the family you couldn’t save stare right back at you. Your stomach drops and you’re not sure how long you can stay in this office.

“Hey,” Derek places his mug on your desk before crouching down to your eye level. “What’s wrong, girl? If you don’t want to do the paperwork, I can take it off your hands. No big deal.”

You shake your head, “Don’t bother. I’m fine.”

Derek watches your face and you turn your head to look at him. “If you start profiling me, Morgan, I swear to God that coffee mug will end up in a place you really don’t want it.”

Derek chuckles and raises his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, girl. Just tryna help ya out.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t need help. I’m fine.” You scoot your desk chair closer and grab the closest pen, tapping it against the top of your desk to distract you from the fact you have to relive this case just a day later.

You don’t catch it, but Derek and Emily share a knowing look. They’ve seen this before. It’s not hard to notice someone you spend days on end with is struggling.

Derek grabs his mug and pats you on the shoulder. Emily sinks back into her cubicle and makes sure to keep an eye on during the day. If she finds you with smoke coming out of your ears, she’ll go get the fire extinguisher.

Your hand cramps as you write your final notes. The computer screen has turned too bright for your eyes and a headache begins to form behind your eyes. It’s been a long day.

Clicking the pen closed, you lean back against your chair with a deep sigh. You close your eyes just to rest them for a brief moment and scenes from yesterday plague you.

It’s like you can’t escape.

Your heart rate picks up speed. You’re not sure how it turned into a game of cat and mouse, but you’re adamant on putting a stop to it.

“What does he think he’s doing?” You’re standing with your palms pressed against a conference table in a police station in Washington. The projector casts a live shot of the news— a helicopter is chasing after the unsub in a car. The family you’re trying to protect is with him.

“He’s trying to flee.” Agent Rossi says, so matter of factly that it has you turning your attention to him instead.

You squint at him. “You saw this coming, didn’t you?”

He gestures to the screen. “You didn’t?”

“No, I did not.” You grit your teeth, moving so you’re now standing up straight. “I predicted he’d do something out of the blue. We all did. But we didn’t know he was going to kidnap them. That wasn’t part of his game.”

Rossi shrugs, “I’ve been in this job longer than you have, kiddo. It takes experience to know something like this. Don’t blame yourself.”

“What?” You let out a disbelieving scoff. “Listen here old man—”

“That’s enough.” Agent Hotchner cuts through your words, ending your little spat with Rossi. “We’re all here to do a job. So let’s do it.”

Faint footsteps sound behind you. You’re not sure who’s still in the office, but considering how late it is, there’s only a few people that come to mind.

“Hey, what are you doing here so late?” That all too recognisable voice makes your heart swoop. Spencer appears in your line of vision, his man-bag crossed over his torso. He looks ready to leave. “It’s nearly 7PM.”

“Oh.” You glance at the clock mounted on the wall. You didn’t realise that you were doing the paperwork for the Washington case for nearly 10 hours. “Guess I lost track of time.”

Spencer regards you for a minute. “Everything okay?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m fine.” You offer a weak smile, not trying to be bitchy to him like you were to the others earlier. You make a mental note to apologise to them tomorrow.

“It’s just— nevermind.” He shakes his head.

Your brows furrow, “No, what is it?”

“Ever since we got on that plane yesterday, you’ve been hostile.” Spencer rocks back and forth on his heels. “I know you don’t like to be profiled, I don’t either, but I know something is wrong.”

You twist in your chair, facing your computer screen with your hands hovering over the keyboard. You don’t want to talk about it, you just want to figure it out on your own.

“Y/N?” Spencer says your name and you look at him over your shoulder. His eyes all sparkly, his cheeks smooth, his lips… perfect.

You blink slowly. Your head isn’t in the right place, but your heart (and hormones) are.

You internally say fuck it and reach for the strap of his man-bag to pull him down to your level. Your breaths mingle and your eyes dart in a triangle from one eye to his lips to his other eye. And lo and behold, the triangle method actually works because Spencer leans in and you feel his lips ghost over your own.

And nothing.

He just stays in that position. Hunched down in your grip, lips mere millimetres away from your own and he doesn’t finish the job.

You breathe in a deep sigh, your senses being filled with his scent. “Why aren’t you kissing me?”

“I— I think it’s because I know you’re not yourself. It feels wrong.” Spencer's breath is minty as it fans over your cheeks and neck. You want to say something snarky, but you know he’s right. “I do want to kiss you, though. I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while now.”

You lean back a little, your eyes staring into his pretty brown ones. You don’t see a sign of a lie and your heart skips a beat. “Would it help if I admitted what’s going on? Would you kiss me then?” God, are you really that desperate to get kissed by Spencer Reid? Yes. Yes you are.

Spencer lowers into a crouch, one hand grips the armrest of your desk chair, whilst the other splays across your knee with a gentle squeeze. “If it helps you, then it’ll help me. Talk to me. Let me inside your pretty head.”

You reach out for his tie, fiddling with it to help your nerves. “You know I don’t like talking about how I feel, but this is something I can’t keep to myself anymore.”

Spencer nods, his hand on your knee giving you another squeeze. But this time in a reassuring way. That’s your go ahead sign to lay it all down.

“That case we did. The family where we couldn’t save them, where I couldn’t save them, keeps replaying in my head and I don’t know what to do to stop it.” You take a breath, your fingers still playing with his tie. “If we got there sooner, I know we could have stopped him from hurting them. From killing them. I feel like if I did or said something right or helpful, I could’ve saved them. I hate feeling like this because I know it isn’t my fault, but I just can’t help but feel guilty.”

Spencer stays quiet, letting your words sink in. “You’re right, it isn’t your fault.”

You sigh, dropping his tie and moving your attention to his face. To his lips.

“I wish I could go back in time and help.” You admit, feeling a small weight lift from your shoulders.

“I wish for that, too.” Spencer admits as well. Both of you find comfort in knowing you feel the same. It makes feeling like this just the little bit easier to deal with. “Thank you for sharing how you feel.”

You let out a small laugh. “Thank you for not dismissing me.”

“I could never dismiss you.” Spencer’s voice is soft and warm. His fingers slowly trail up and down your calf, sending a shiver through your body. “Would you like that kiss now?” The smirk on his lips has your stomach flipping and you want nothing more than for his lips to be on yours.

“I would very much like that kiss now.” You smile at him, leaning in and already feeling your body succumb to him. When your lips meet, you sigh. You’ve missed being able to be physical with him; it’s hard trying to stay colleagues when all you want is to be wrapped up in his arms.

Spencer lets his hands travel— up your thighs, round your back, cheekily up the hem of your dress. You moan lightly into his mouth and he swallows it.

Your hands grab for his collar to deepen the kiss. “More.” You mumble against his lips and he complies. Spencer bites your bottom lip to elicit a gasp from you so he can dive his tongue down your throat with ease.

You feel yourself involuntarily squeezing your thighs to quell the ache forming between your legs. God, you’d do anything to take him home with you right now.

Before you get a chance to start undoing his tie, a loud and clear cough comes from your right.

You stop moving but Spencer keeps going. Trailing open mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck, you now get a perfect view of Hotch standing outside his office with his arms crossed. You can’t make out what his face is portraying.

“Spence.” You tug on his collar, but he thinks you want him to go further. You feel his tongue lick a stripe up the column of your neck and you have to fight back a whimper.

You’d die on the spot if you let Aaron Hotchner hear you moaning.

“No. Spencer.” This time you push at his shoulders and the look he gives you makes you feel bad. But if you let him carry on, both of you would never be able to be in Hotch’s presence. Ever.

“Are you okay?” Spencer brushes a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Did I do something you didn’t like?”

You shake your head, your fingers quickly straightening out Spencer's tie. “I loved it. You were good, but, um…” your eyes drift off to where Hotch is still standing.

It’s as if Spencer was zapped by lightning. He shoots back away from you, and somehow manages to hit every piece of furniture around him. You want to laugh but this situation doesn’t call for laughing. You’ve been caught by your boss making out in the middle of the BAU.

“Reid, L/N. Care to explain?” Hotch moves slowly down the stairs, his aura too strong for you to look him in the eyes right now.

You twiddle your thumbs. “He was just helping me finish this file report from the case yesterday.”

Hotch looks at Spencer, knowing that he’ll blab the truth. “She was upset about not being able to save them and I wanted to help ease her pain and—”

“That’s enough.” Hotch raises a hand. “Since it’s past working hours, I’ll make a one time allowance for this behaviour.”

You have a big sigh of relief and Spencer lets out an audible groan of embarrassment. “Sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”

“You’re right. It won’t.” Hotch checks his watch and frowns. “I’m late for something. Finish that report and I’ll see you both tomorrow. Behaving correctly.”

You nod your head and Spencer keeps his head down staring at the floor. You watch Hotch leave the office and you finally let out your cringing grimace. “I am so sorry. I didn’t know he was here. I thought he left already.”

“I can’t be mad. I got to kiss the prettiest girl in here.”

“Shut up.”

Copyright credit to @reidalert as of 2024-present.

[atrwriting]

rivalry — blackwood and bracken arranged marriage au

pt. 1 — bracken!reader x davos blackwood

au where two marriage pacts end the rivalry between the blackwoods and the brackens (i don't care if this has been done before this is my version gbye)

as always, warnings: misogyny, davos is a fucking FREAK, smuuuuut, dirty talk, breeding kink

lmk if u want pt 2 — aeron bracken x blackwood!fem!reader ;)

my fiancé actually loosely edited this for me so if this sucks it's his fault

____

“let’s get this over with.”

you gulped. you had been dreading this moment ever since your father announced there would be a peace treaty between your family, the brackens, and the blackwoods. the ceremony, the feast, and the dancing were not your biggest concern — but your wedding night? nothing could stop your hands from shaking — and your new husband, davos blackwood, surely wouldn’t step forward and aid you in your time of anxiety.

you folded your lip in between your teeth, playing with the exquisite shift that was custom made for this exact night — a night supposed to be consumed by the throws of pleasure and a hopeful future, possibly in the form of an heir. you couldn’t believe the brokering of peace came in the form of a marriage pact — to someone who would never see you as anything but a bracken, his enemy.

two marriage pacts, actually — you married davos blackwood, and your brother, aeron bracken, married davos' sister. two feuding families. bound not just by one marriage pact, but two — because everyone knew that only one marriage would not have been sufficient for peace. not only was he forced to spend his life, or the rest of yours, with a bracken — but his sister? forced to marry a bracken, as well? aeron bracken? of them all?

you could see it on his face — gray with sick. it turned your stomach as well — to realize you were loathed so much.

“i can’t change who i am,” you said suddenly, keeping your eyes on the floor. “nor my heritage. i understand you loathe the sight of me, for what it reminds you of — but i can’t change that.”

he didn’t respond. he just undressed with his back turned to you, save for his pants and under shirt. you watched the muscles in his shoulders and back ripple as he tugged off the garments, preparing for bed. you couldn’t see his face as he undressed — and you weren’t sure if it was good or bad. good because you could speak boldly — bad because he refused to look at you, and possibly would refuse your request.

“but as your wife... even if it’s the one you didn’t wish for…” you sighed, losing your thoughts and confidence. “i promise to not be a bother to you — the only thing i ask… is…”

he turned towards you then, but not completely. it was like he gave you his attention, but was fully aware of what he withheld from you — even though you were practically baring your soul to him. you weren’t in his head, you couldn’t be sure… but his silence was enough of a signal that he most likely would not understand a woman’s anxiety in a moment like this.

here goes absolutely nothing, you thought. you mustered up whatever courage you had — albeit very little — and continued, “you do not owe me anything — but i… i…”

“spit it out,” he bit.

your mouth fell slightly agape with his tone. it was the way feuding men speak to each other — not a feuding husband and wife. it was like you were stripped of your femininity and your new identity as his wife, and replaced with that of a rival male — causing you to come to the realization that this feud ran so deep that not even two marriage pacts with the hope of inspiring peace would be sufficient.

he would always hate you. always.

he’s going to hate you as if you’re your brother anyway, you thought. might as well have the stones to match.

you clenched your jaw, raising your eyeline. you refused to cower to a man when it wouldn’t make him hate you less — and especially not if it definitely wouldn’t get you what you wanted. you were afraid, and out of options. with a sigh, you responded, “be gentle with me the first time. just the first — that is all i ask.”

you held his gaze then — refusing to look away. he needed to know how desperate you were, to avoid that unfathomable pain as much as possible. you’d look him in the eye, the eye of the enemy of your family for the last few centuries — because otherwise the shame and dishonor was too great, and too heavy for a new wife to bear.

if you weren’t so intent on not seeming weak, you should have looked — actually looked — at your husband. at how broad his shoulders appeared in comparison to his lean waist and hips. his light eyes that seem to pierce you in a way that only a dagger could; sharp, and forever on edge. how he was so handsome that you might done anything to see him smile or laugh… but you couldn’t. wouldn't. you most likely would never get that chance — but you bet that he looked so handsome when he smiled.

but he would never smile for a bracken.

“be gentle with you?” he asked, accusation already in his eyes. his fists were bawled at his sides as he walked towards you. “as if your craven brother would be gentle with my sister?”

“how dare you even insinuate my brother would treat his lady wife with anything but kindness and respect!” you spat, leaning towards him with anger dripping from your pretty lips. “he may not like this situation any more than us — but he would never harm a woman, no matter what family she came from.”

he shook his head, glancing away from you. “you are actually naive enough to believe that?”

you narrowed your eyes at him. “if you’re stupid enough to believe that of him — then why would you want to be the very thing that you hope does not enter your sister’s bed this very same evening? — do you wish to be as despicable as you believe him to be, my lord husband?”

“watch your mouth, wife!” he spat through gritted teeth. “you would do well to mind your craven tongue.”

you mouth fell agape at his words. “my craven tongue, blackwood?” you scoffed at his words, suddenly too angry to be in the room with him. you didn’t want to get this angry — you wanted this to be as peaceful as possible. “i suddenly find myself wanting to leave this room — do enjoy our wedding night by yourself husband. i’m sure you’re well acquainted with your hand —“

you went to push by him, but he grabbed you by the elbow. he refused to let you pass, but you did not press the subject with words or jerking movements of your body. you did not know your husband — only his reputation from the mouths of kin. you did not dare push his anger — not when he could do with you as he pleased in this room, with no consequence outside these walls.

“i have been made very well aware of a bracken’s inability to perform their duty — but you will not stop me from performing mine, wife,” he grit, glaring down at you.

“i asked you to perform it honorably, husband! — if you can’t, then your reputation precedes you,” you spat. “so what will it be? i put the cards in your hands — so deal.”

his nose curled into a snarl, matching the hateful expression on his face. hatred poured from his veins, while you could feel your own resolve slipping away from your face. fear was creeping back in, as boldness only got a woman so far in the bedroom of an angry man. fear, fear, fear. it leaked from every one of your pores like tears, but you fought those. you blinked several times in order to hide what you could. if he saw the fear on your face, his own expression didn’t change.

…unless he knew the fear was always there, and he didn’t care.

“…please,” you whispered, anger still on your face but your voice threatening to break. “just tonight, husband — please.”

“i would never hurt a woman,” he spat, the flames on his face beginning to subside. “only a bracken —“

“i didn’t think you would hurt a woman,” you spoke, trying to soften your voice. “i asked — because others have described this pain as one of the worst. i was afraid, lord husband — but not of you.”

while you intentionally softened your voice, your husband did no such thing. he merely let his anger die with your words, most likely at the fact that you were the one to admit weakness. you were the one to admit vulnerability. you were the one to have to beg. you had won, but at what cost to your pride?

it didn’t matter now. all that mattered was getting this done. quick, done, and over with.

“lie on your back,” was all he said, holding your gaze.

your lips parted as your eyes looked down at the floor. you turned in place, and began walking towards the bed. you laid down on, fighting the urge to twist your fingers together in anxiety. you kept your head forward, but your gaze down and to the side. out of the corner of your eye, you could see your husband walk over to the bed and climb on top of you.

he unlaced his leathers as he spoke, both of you avoiding the other’s eyes. “avoid allowing your muscles to tense up — it will only make it worse.”

you whispered a small “okay,” barely audible.

you opened your legs, lifting up slightly at your hips for him to rest comfortably. he adjusted, before you watched him bring his hand to his mouth. you couldn’t help yourself — you watched as his lips sucked his long fingers past their opening, lubricating the digits. his eyebrows knitted together with the motion, before his fingers found their way between your thighs. you fought the urge to jump or squeal when you felt his warm, wet fingers thread through your folds.

he let out a sigh of discontent before glancing up to your face.

“trust me, alright?” he asked.

you didn’t verbally respond. you simply looked at him with your lips slightly parted, eventually nodding.

that was enough for him. he climbed down the length of your body, settling himself between your legs. he raised the length of your shift up to your stomach, leaving your bare from the abdomen down. in your nervous state, you took it as a cue to slip your dress off. when he saw the cool air hit your naked breasts and harden your nipples into a peak, his own lips parted — and you felt a growing mass harden against your leg.

“you’re beautiful, wife,” he spoke — seemingly without realizing it. you almost thanked him, before he added, “...for a bracken.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, ready to respond — when he dipped below your navel.

you sucked in a sharp breath of surprise — you couldn’t help it.

his tongue licked up and down the length of your slit, and dove in between your folds. you immediately covered your mouth with your hand, all of your muscles going tense. davos had wrapped his arms under your thighs, hoisting them around his shoulders. his tongue was thick and messy against your folds, causing them to glisten in the flames of the nearby fire.

and once his tongue made contact with the pearl at the very top of your slit, you let out an exhale of ease. it was not lost on your husband — who drew a circle around the circumference of the bud. when he noticed you relaxed more, he drew another. when he noticed you fought the urge to buck your hips up to meet his mouth, he drew yet another. he knew what was happening — but he wasn’t sure if you did.

when you began to fist the sheets with your one free hand, he didn’t stop drawing.

he locked his head in between your thighs with them thrown over his shoulders. your cunt was dripping juices from your sweet, untouched hole — and davos found himself ashamed to admit that he lost himself in the act. for a moment, he couldn’t help but forget the name of the girl above him — the one taking everything he gave her, and acting so grateful with the way she couldn’t stay still.

but after that moment… he could’ve ripped away and plunged into you, making the act become done and over quicker. he could’ve… but he found himself enjoying it.

he continued to draw those circles — those small, tiny, wet circles that sent you in a haze — as he slipped a finger inside your cunt. and then two. he was greedy for your reaction. he was greedy for the way he knew, he fucking knew, that you had never experienced pleasure like this — not by you or anyone else. him, a blackwood, would be the one to make you feel so good you would forget your name and house for even the smallest moment — even the smallest moment would be a win for his pride and for his house.

a small part of him hoped you’d feel shame at the fact he’d make you succumb to the throws of pleasure... but a larger part of him wanted to make you feel so good that you allegiance to your house wavered. ...but when he began to suck on your clit, sounds filling the room — he knew it would be both.

from below, he watched you shove the side of your face into the pillow and pull at its threads. your hips began to ride against his face, coating his chin with everything you could give him. he held you down the best he could — bratty little thing you were, but it was difficult as he also wanted you to lose control. he watched as you tried to bite your lip, harder and harder and harder — before you gave up. you left out a sob into the pillow, legs still shaking, and davos kissed your clit.

when davos crawled back up to meet you, every nerve ending had pins and needles. you were warm from head to toe — no longer in need of the fire, your shift, or any blanket. you were shivering, but not from the cold — but from the comedown, a stranger to passion and lust and pleasure. all three twirled around in your womb like a fire that had never been lit; a treasure to be discovered — only by davos.

“can i kiss you?” you asked before thinking it through.

davos had a look of being caught off guard. he wasn’t expecting you to ask, and you saw it flash on his face. you suddenly grew worried —

he didn’t let you finish your thought. davos leaned forward and kissed you.

he kissed you in the way you would expect a boy you love to kiss you — sweet, gentle, but with a growing passion that could only be shared in the bedroom. he held his weight with one of his strong arms, the other tucked behind the back of your knee. he pulled your knee to his hip and you wrapped both legs around his hips. you pulled him into you and felt the skin of his pelvis brush against your cunt.

“you’re so sweet,” you spoke against his lips. with obvious sarcasm, you added, “...for a blackwood.”

he laughed then. “you’re obedient for a bracken.”

you flicked his stomach, causing him to yelp — but you didn’t let him pull away for long. with both hands, you pulled him back to meet your lips. it hadn't even crossed your mind to ask him to wipe his mouth, for you did not want to. the old gods and the new would surely curse you for such lust filled thoughts — but you didn't care. how could you care when you had found a way to bring peace between a blackwood and a bracken, even if it was temporary? how could you care when you sharing one of the most holy of relationships, being the intimacy between husband and wife? how could you care when this night was going better than you could have hoped?

you could sense him bring his own hand down to his large member, feeling his forearm brush your thigh as he fisted his length. as much as you wanted to reach out and pleasure him — you were worried for what came next. the pain. the inevitable.

davos lined up the red tip of his cock with your tight hole, barely stretched out by his fingers. he slid his cock up and down the length of your slit with the intent of collecting as much of your juices as possible. with a slight push, he entered you.

you immediately let your head fall onto the pillow as the stretch began to burn. the pain on your face was evident, and davos guided his hand to draw circles on your clit once more. your muscles loosened, welcoming the pleasure that davos brought you.

“please,” you gasped, flicking your eyes up to him.

he stared at your face with an intense look of study. with his eyebrows knitted together, he brought one of your legs over his lower back and held you by the back of your thigh. the stretch was felt in the length of your cunt, as it stretched to fill his size.

davos was concerned for your well-being, of course, but something was beginning to curl in his lower abdomen. he wanted to take your by force — prying your legs open, holding your thighs in place, and drilling his cock into your swollen, dripping cunt. he wanted you to moan his name in his ear and pull at his hair or scratch his back — but he couldn’t, not yet. not just yet. not when you were you worried before, especially now that your attitude had been lost.

he had half a mind to point that out — lest that return.

“keep going,” you spoke.

“what if —“

“i’ll tell you to stop if it hurts,” you interrupted. “it’s all felt so good — i don’t want it to stop.”

he quirked an eyebrow at you. “is my wife claiming to know more than her lord husband?”

you squinted your eyes at him, ready to bite back. “i’ll have you know —“

but he didn’t wait for you to finish.

he leaned forward, placing both forearms on the side of your head. you could feel his lips against your earlobe, causing a quick intake of breath to overtake you. as he leaned forward to your ear, his hips leaned forward as well. his large cock was fully buried inside you now, rocking back and forth as it hit a spot so deep inside you that you didn’t know how he was able to fit. it felt like it was right behind your tiny pearl, which was being nudged by your husband’s pelvic bone. the combination was driving you crazy, only nonsense poured from your pretty lips…

“you’ll take what i give you, my pretty bracken wife,” he spat. “or should i say, blackwood, hmm? no longer craven?”

you wanted to bite back. you wanted to slap him. you wanted to push him from between you and make him finished himself off — but you couldn’t. you couldn’t fight your hips as they raised to meet his own, holding still as he pounded into your pretty cunt.

“a cock made you forget where your loyalties lie?” he questioned with a scoff, but never forgetting to smirk. “that’s all you need, wife? no one’s ever made you feel like this before?”

“you fucking —“

“say it,” he spat, almost growling against your lobe. his hips were snapping against yours as your cunt milked his cock, hoping for the spend that would seal the accomplishment of the marital duty. you were almost in tears from the frustration and the pleasure — not sure how to channel it, not sure what to do with it. “say it!”

“no one, davos,” you cried into the open air above you. “only you, only…”

his hands were tangled through your hair now, keeping your head upright as he sucked on your neck. little nips and bites sent shockwaves throughout your body, and your hips began to stir in the familiar way they had moments prior. davos’ weight held you perfectly still and taut, subjecting you to the pleasure his cock brought in the most perfect way.

“bet you can’t stand that you’re buried in a bracken right now,” you bit, almost succumbing to tears. “— can’t stand that only my womb will give you an heir —“

he yanked on your hair then, extending your neck so you were at his mercy. a strangled gasp left your mouth as you clung to him, which surprised you. you once asked for gentleness, kindness, sweetness… but if you had known how good this would feel… you wouldn’t have even bothered. you would’ve pushed and pulled him all night — subjecting him to the same insults that he hurled towards you if it meant he would fuck you this good.

“and i’ll coat your womb in everything i have, wife,” he growled, pushing his hand between your bodies to rub circles on your clit. “everything i have — until you’re full of blackwood seed. until there's blackwood in your veins. a full blackwood honorable enough to give me a blackwood heir.”

“i’ll never be —“

you couldn’t finish your sentence. the combination between his large cock taking you and his skilled fingers working you… it was all too much. you couldn’t handle the pleasure and the bittersweetness of his attitude, as you were already so close to your peak and losing to him. you could feel the heat rise to your cheeks, as well as spreading throughout your womb… ready for him…

“davos, please — “ you cried. “i’m so close. please don’t stop…”

“tell me you’re a blackwood,” he spat. “say it — or i’ll stop.”

“you wouldn’t —“

“i would dare, lady blackwood,” he spat, interrupting you. “now tell me who you belong to — or i’ll leave you unsatisfied with this pretty cunt dripping.”

he immediately began to slow down his hips, and you felt his fingers begin to slow as well. you tried to fight the incessant need to have him continue, but it proved difficult. soon, frustration replaced pleasure. anger replaced lust. need replaced pride.

“i’m yours, lord blackwood — !” you cried, pulling his hips back into yours. “please —“

he didn’t let you finish. immediately, his lips were on yours. he tangled your tongue with his until you could feel it down your throat. his tongue, his fingers, and his cock — they filled you whole, leaving you wanting for nothing. he held you to still so tight that all you could do was whatever he wanted. his own hips were thrusting against yours — chasing his own pleasure while you unraveled like pretty thread.

“this tight, perfect cunt…” he growled. “so many little blackwood heirs will bless this womb… seven hells…”

he kissed you once more, and you felt something break inside you. your head threw itself back against the pillow as every muscle in your body tightened and stood still. a sob left your mouth, incoherent — but when davos heard it, heard it crying for him and only for him, he broke as well. the heat and passion between two sworn enemies threw you both into climax that neither of you had ever experienced before. you pulled at his hair, while he bit down on your shoulder. and there was your bond — sealed in pain, pleasure, and blood.

when your peak had cooled, you found yourself clinging to your new husband as he still laid on top of you. he was breathing heavily, having expended much energy and couldn’t bring himself to leave your warm embrace. you began to scratch his back, hoping to relax him and get him to stay on top of you…

“that feels good,” he grunted from his spot in your neck. “are you sure i was once to hate you, wife? i find myself unable to remember why our families hate each other at this moment.”

you giggled. “we might not be able to help them… but i don’t see why it must carry into our union.”

“oh, wife…” he spoke, kissing your neck once more. “if our fights always lead to that — i believe our union will be forever blessed.”

____

lmk what you guys think!! who's ready for pt 2 w aeron?? - L xo

[reignpage]

Finders Keepers

Summary: in which alien!reader crash lands right in front of Gojo and your story with him begins Word Count: 1k (just trialing a new concept so it's a quick opening) Warnings: a little cursing, allusions to experimentation and alien warfare, reader is naked but not in a sexual manner

“I can’t believe aliens actually exist,” Satoru mutters to himself. 

This has been an incredibly wild evening. 

When he stepped out of his apartment to throw the bins out, he hadn’t expected to see a blinding flash of light zoom past him and explode in the parking lot. Thank goodness for his infinity, otherwise he would not have fared as well as the minivan you landed on. 

Yes. 

You.

The woman who came straight from the sky and fell on top of a car, missing him by just two metres.

At first, he thought it was a curse; these things get pretty weird sometimes, after all. But using his Six Eyes, he could tell you were different. Sure, you looked like any other person, with arms and legs and a head. But you had a unique aura to you, positively otherworldly. 

If he was any other kind of man, he would have just left you there and pretended nothing happened — ignorance is bliss and whatnot — but what kind of Honoured One would he be if he didn’t do his duty and helped you out?

So, he slides down the massive crater you made (boy is that going to be a pain for maintenance to clean up) and carefully cradles your naked body in his arms, carefully so as to not touch bits and pieces no gentleman has a business looking at. Why are you naked anyways? 

Sensing people making their way down the stairs to inspect the commotion, he teleports back into his apartment quick as a flash before anyone could think to look through their windows. 

He throws a blanket at you and leaves you on the sofa as he paces the length of his living room and ponders what to do. On one hand, he could call the police and leave it up to them to deal with you. The government would know best about how to deal about falling space women, right? But then, don’t all the sci-fi movies talk about inhumane experimentation, weaponizing alien technology, and Area 51? 

That wouldn’t be a very nice thing to do, at all. 

And on the other hand, he could just take care of you himself. He has the means to, that’s for sure. You really don’t look any different from everyone else — surely, you need the same things he does: food, water, shelter and warmth.

Right?

Just as he’s about to pick up the phone to call his doctor friend, you begin rousing from sleep. Your eyes flutter open and they’re a normal colour, which freaks him out more if he’s going to be perfectly honest. 

“Uh,” Satoru scratches the back of his neck, shuffling on his feet a little, “hey? I’m Gojo Satoru. You can just call me Satoru, though. If you want, or can, I guess.”

You tilt your head, scanning his body, and you open your mouth. What comes out is definitely an alien language. Or maybe he needs to travel more. But he certainly does not comprehend a single thing that you say. 

Clearing his throat, he tries to smile comfortingly. “Okay, so I didn’t understand what you said. Sorry. But uh, do you need anything? Like, do you know where you are? Yeah, you definitely don’t know what I’m saying either, do you?”

You tilt your head again. 

“What is wrong with me? Seriously. What was I thinking bringing you home? You may have fallen from the sky but I’m the one that clearly hit my head. I really am an idiot.”

Glancing around the room, you don’t look any bit as frazzled and panicked as he is. Actually, you’re as cool as a cucumber, and there isn’t a hint of shame or embarrassment on your face when you push yourself off the sofa, blanket sliding down your body. 

“Woah! Woah!”

Satoru presses his hands to his eyes and leaves them there for a second or two before realising that does absolutely nothing and when he pulls them down, he doesn’t flinch when you’re standing before him, inquisitive eyes meeting his. 

His infinity is on and he’s ready to subdue you if you prove to be a threat, but so far, he’s simply letting you reorient yourself, getting used to your surroundings and giving you the opportunity to decide he’s not a bad guy. 

That being said, however, he’s still deciding whether to keep you or not. He doesn’t want you to be poked and prodded — that wouldn’t be a very cool welcome to planet Earth and he doesn’t need you to go around telling your alien friends humans suck, though they do. But he also doesn’t know if that’s the best decision. 

You could be a danger to jujitsu society, to his students, to the world. What if, right at this very moment, you’re leaking deadly radiation? And what if his infinity can’t keep it out? Can’t keep you out?

Gosh, there are so many things that could go wrong. 

It’s entirely possible too that you’re a blood sucking monster intent on wringing him dry for all he’s worth. Maybe you’re not even an alien. Maybe you’re a special kind of curse, the kind that can bypass his Six Eyes, though he’s fairly confident that’s not the case (there’s no one stronger than him, after all). 

What if this is Kenjaku all over again?

Yeah, on second thought, he should definitely call the police. Or Ijichi, or the Prime Minister of Japan, or whoever will believe him when he says there’s a naked, alien lady in his home, and no, he’s not a pervert playing out some sick fantasy.

But just as he’s lifting his phone, you lift your hand the same time he does and cover your eyes. 

Then you say his name in perfect Japanese with a sweet, soft voice, not a hint of hesitation or unsteadiness. You smile, eyes still obscured, and he feels himself mirroring your gleeful expression. 

“That’s right. I’m Satoru. It’s nice to meet you.”

He decides, there and then, to hell with radiation, alien armies, and the deadly risk you pose to everything he knows or cares about. The military, conspiracy theorists, and scientists be damned.

He’s going to keep you. 

[shegetsburned]

❝ a man of honor ❞ w. kento nanami 𝜗𝜚.

BRIDGERTON AU⌇

• — dearest reader. this author finds herself bearing the most curious of news, for it isn’t without surprise that the viscount nanami has caused ruckus amongst the young ladies of the ton, upon his arrival. gracing us with his presence, he has not yet announced himself eligible for this social season and, i believe, does not intend to do so. but doesn’t love find itself in the most peculiar of places when one least expects it? • — a/n. let’s just say that bridgerton has, yet again, a hold on me, also, i am in no way an historian nor a perfect writer but i do hope y’all can enjoy this different little piece.

.nsfw.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami who, despite himself, had found the need to return to london for a matter of affair and is set on departing as unbothered by the social season as he was when he first arrived.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami who has never taken his social standing lightly and knows he’ll be the object of many desires considering his status as a seven and twenty years old unmarried man. described as a man of honour, suited for the finest lady, but buried in his work and duties.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami who attends most balls, making quick appearances here and there and avoiding hungry mamas at all costs, partially hiding in the gardens or engaging in business conversations with other suitors, always eager to return to his chamber. that was until he found the most beautiful excuse to not participate in any courting competition and declare himself ineligible to the ton. you.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami who had found you hiding in the very same place he was, that night. a very debutante, who didn’t feel yet a need to marry. you had approached him in need of advice, not in need of a husband. you knew who he was but had no intention nor expectation for any kind of courteous exchange. you just wanted to know how he was successfully avoiding many of his greatest admirers without breaking a sweat.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami who did not give much thought to the both of you talking at first, it was easy and the conversation never felt forced. you did feel like a breath of fresh air. you had attracted attention amongst the men of ton quite easily with your gorgeous smile and attentive gaze, which kento had immediately noticed but when you felt like he was really listening to the words you uttered, you became quite acquainted to the viscount’s presence.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami whom you had invited for dinner with your family and was confirmed to be quite the gentleman everyone said he was. well, at least, that’s how he appeared before your family. from across the table, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. the way you parted your lips to eat or placed your mouth so carefully around the gorgeous glass to drink hypnotized him. your warm smile and laughter were music to his ears, therefore most of his attention was directed towards you.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami whose thoughts becomes dreams in a matter of weeks. your body draws itself in his head. every time you graze his shoulder with yours, his heart flutters. he’s almost ashamed to admit that he’d rather sleep than awaken alone in his bed when he’s been having the most indecent dreams about the gorgeous debutante he’s unable to have. your words resonate in his sleep until they become pleads and moans he wishes to hear.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami who despite his title, his honor and even his words, became aware of the fact that he wanted much more than being friends with you. although he didn’t want to burden you with his occupied life, he couldn’t help but boil when one curious man came to your encounter, asking for a dance. you weren’t a fool and quickly noticed the viscount’s name written all over your dancing card moments later. you did wonder how it would look to the eyes of everyone else, but he surely didn’t care.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami who has privatized your company not only by dancing with you all night during the ball but also by inviting you to his estate in london. it wasn’t long before you realized how occupied he was but also how he tried his best to escape your chaperone and have you all to himself in his bureau.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami who loathes the thought of not having you close to him. he had offered no ring nor promises, yet here he was, teaching everything your mama hadn’t. taking away every ounce of purity you once displayed to every other eligible suitor with his careful hands. you could still feel his lips along your neck and his hold around your waist hours after the act.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami who truly believes he is a man of honour, even with your legs parted for his hand to explore your most sensitive places with your naked back against the walls of the library of his estate. the sound you make, he wished no other men to hear when it graced his ears, hurrying his movements and developing the most intense of needs. he trailed your back ever so gently to detach and remove your gown with such delicacy it made your whole body shudder.

˗ˏˋʚ viscount!nanami who, despite engaging in such shameful activities, roams around you, just as before. having eyes only for you and ignoring every little distraction that came his way. the rest of the ton surely did wonder how the most anticipated pairing of the season will officially come to be. many questions lingers in one’s mind when two individuals such as yourselves spend so much time together. had he purposely made you wait to attract the other suitors’ attention and find you as desirable as he did? had he already compromised your integrity and claimed you for himself in secret? he did fancy himself the gentleman, so why hadn’t the big question been asked already?

surely, you did know it wouldn’t be the last time you’d be able to call him "my lord" and it certainly wouldn’t be the last time he’d be able to look at you in the eyes and call you his lady.

© shegetsburned 2024 please do not repost/edit/or claim my writing as your own.

[ohbueckers]

EXTRA POINTS. blurb!

pairing, paige bueckers x fem!reader. notes, glasses p fic per request of a few queens… MAMA WORKED AS FAST AS SHE COULD! @thaatdigitaldiary @absolutelydreadful & credits to @justliketoreadsowhat ‘s anon for the detail. warnings, none just fluff? sexual jokes as well because who am i without them, like…

the night air is still pretty warm, the scent of freshly cut grass still tingling your nostrils after the soccer game you attended with paige and her teammates. it had been a long night—filled with cheering, concessions, and paige’s arm constantly draped around your shoulder as she proudly showed you off. she somehow convinced you to tag along, but watching her light up during the game made it worth it.

now, you’re walking back to the dorms, the sound of sneakers and laughter being the only thing heard off the empty sidewalks as the team stalks a few yards in front of the two of you. paige has her hair slicked back into a messy low bun, a few strands falling loose, and her purple glasses perched perfectly on the bridge of her nose. the lenses catch a subtle blue tint from the streetlights, a little detail you can’t stop staring at—honestly, she looks so good, it’s borderline unfair. you never thought purple glasses could be your weakness, but here you are.

“you enjoying the ice cream, or are you too busy staring at me?” paige teases, glancing over with that signature smirk. she knows exactly what she’s doing, making it impossible to look away from her.

“shut up, paige,” you reply with a scoff, although there’s no ruthless intent as you nudge her with your elbow. “i’m just enjoying the quiet now that your fan club’s calmed down.”

“oh, you love it!” she laughs out, throwing an arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer. “don’t act like you don’t love watching me be all famous and stuff. plus, you looked cute taking all those pics with me. so i ain’t complainin.’”

you roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile creeping up on your face. paige had been asked for a picture more times than you could count on your hands, and obviously the tiktoks came with that. she’d dragged you into most of it, keeping you close the whole time, making sure everyone knew you were hers. it was chaotic and you were used to it at this point, and you could admit there was something fun about watching her be in her element.

“alright, maybe it was kinda fun,” you say, taking a bite of the spoonful of ice cream she’d held out for you so casually. the cold hits your tongue, and you savor the flavor for a second before narrowing your eyes at her. “but you still owe me.”

paige jerks her head back, grinning and clearly enjoying herself. “owe you? i’m literally spoon-feeding you right now. how do i still owe you?”

you quirk an eyebrow up at her, leaning in a little as you held her gaze, and it was the kind of look that said enough.

she chuckles, leaning back slightly, still holding the spoon in front of you like she’s ready for round two. “aight, fine, i’ll give you that. but let me get you back at home, baby—i got some ideas.” her voice drops a little lower, clearly playing but also half-serious. she may be all jokes, but she definitely knows how to back them up.

before you can even respond, she takes her own spoonful of your ice cream, the nerve, flashing a cheeky grin before planting a wet, playful kiss right on your lips. the cold of the treat and the warmth of her mouth clash, leaving you squealing and half-laughing, trying to push her away. “paige!” you protest, wiping the ice cream from your lips, but there’s no hiding the wide smile breaking out across your face. she’s such a menace sometimes.

as if one cue, everyone seemed to have glanced back at the right time, catching sight of something straight out of a rom-com.

“yo! they really can’t keep their hands off each other.” kk’s voice cuts through.

“really can’t take them nowhere…” aubrey quips.

sarah laughs, chiming in. “oh, we see you, paige! real smooth,” and morgan practically doubles over in laughter beside her.

paige smirks, and you swore she would’ve thrown up those rizz hands if her hands weren’t full. “what can i say?” you smile yourself, shaking your head at her and leaning into the blonde’s side as the banter from behind fades into the background. as much as paige plays around, the way she’s been with you tonight—keeping you close, showing you off, feeding you ice cream like it’s the most natural thing in the world—it’s those little moments that make it so easy to fall for her. every laugh, every teasing smile, even the way she annoys you, it’s like she knows exactly how to keep your guard down. and honestly, you don’t mind one bit.

“you know, you didn’t have to buy me ice cream,” you say softly, looking up at her.

“nah, i did,” paige replies, her voice gentle. “had to make sure my girl knows i take care of her. plus,” she smirks again, looking away like she’s cooking up some mischievous ass reply. “i’m tryna’ score some extra points for later.”

you laugh, shoving her off of you yet she barely flinches. “yeah, okay, keep dreaming.”

paige pulls you even closer, kissing the side of your head as your arms fall to your sides. she murmurs, “dreaming? nah, i’m ms. make it happen.”

[dovveri]

ordinarily

synopsis: you’re having a few issues with your sex life so you decide to start seeing a sex therapist with your boyfriend

warnings: reader receiving, cheating, lots of sex talk bcs this entire fic is literally set around sex, fingering, clitoral stimulus, vibrators, dildos + strap on, sana watches reader masturbate

w/c: 7.8k

a/n: if u didn't know im a psych student and this idea came to me at 3am while cramming sexual dysfunctions for my finals and i ltr wrote this in a few hours bcs i was OBSESSED - that being said this is all still fictional bcs... let's be honest i js wanted to have sex with dr sana but some of the facts are still real! the treatment however... not so real LMAO

❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“ms. l/n?”

“yes!” you scramble upwards at the sound of your name, pulling your boyfriend up with you and walking briskly towards the woman who’s called you. she offers a kind smile, gesturing for you to follow her.

“is it alright if i bring my boyfriend along?”

she nods, “yes that’s fine. it’s actually customary that both partners are here for appointments like these.”

she leads you towards her office, a clean, organised room with a small couch next to the doctor’s table and chair, and what looks like an upgraded version of a classic examination table.

she seats you both and rolls her chair forward so she’s facing the both of you when she talks. “so how can i help you today ms. l/n?” her eyes are kind, a hint of a smile on her lips.

“u-um just y/n is fine dr. …” you glance to her badge, “minatozaki.”

“alright y/n. sana is fine for me too then.” she smiles.

“r-right sana. so we’ve just been having some trouble with our- um- sex life recently and i think it’s mainly my fault.”

she frowns a little, picking up a notepad on her table to jot down some things, “why would you think that?”

“um well- i- i haven’t um- i’ve never had a penis in me before. my previous male partners would only ever use their hands or mouth but because we were getting a little more serious than that, i wanted to let ben-“ you glance at your boyfriend who looks a little uncomfortable, shifting around in his seat a little, “be the first and we’ve tried for a while now but it’s always just too painful? and i know everyone says the pain passes and whatever but it never seems to pass for me…” you blush, getting progressively embarrassed as you go on.

"i see. do you mind if i ask you a few questions about your sex life?"

you nod, feeling intimidated by the things she's jotting down into her notepad.

"how long has this been going on?"

"umm- i'd say we've tried to have penetrative sex for about 2 months now?"

"have you ever experienced anything like this before?"

"no."

"do you have any history of previous mental health problems?"

"not really, no."

"when you attempt to have sex, do you engage in foreplay?"

"u-um... yes."

"and are you able to secrete natural lubricant from that?"

ben lets out an undignifed snort. you elbow him, face burning red when sana looks up from her notepad, narrowing her eyes at ben who shrinks in his seat, covering his mouth.

"u-um yes i think so."

"ben? is this true?" sana's eyes are locked on ben.

"sorry doc are you asking me if my girlfriend gets wet?"

"for lack of better words yes."

"well yes she gets plenty wet. i always make sure she's turned on before i go in. if you’re asking about if i'm good at sex then yes. i am. plenty of girls in the past have cum because of me."

"i didn't ask that but thank you for your contribution." sana says a little sarcastically, looking back towards you and then down to her notepad. you elbow ben again in response who glances at you slightly annoyed, the tips of his ears red.

"what sorts of foreplay activity do you engage in, does it arouse you, and on average how long would you say your foreplay would go on for?"

"i- um- i-"

"this is a safe space. everything i'm asking is purely for diagnosis reasons, there's nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about, i deal with lots of clients everyday who come in and have talked about much more bizarre things and none of them are nearly as attractive as you are which makes it a lot worse when someone comes in here claiming they have sexual proclivities towards aliens or otherworldly beings."

you blush, the throwaway compliment in there didn't fly past you. "do people really ask about that?"

sana chuckles a little, "oh you'd be surprised the things people come in here about."

you laugh a little in response as well, feeling more comfortable around the doctor, "um well i guess we do all the normal stuff. kissing, whatever, um it usually lasts about... 10 minutes?" you turn to ben who shakes his head a little so you correct yourself, "20 minutes maybe. and um yeah i guess it does arouse me."

sana hums, making a few more notes, "are your nipples sensitive? your breasts? does he play with them? what about your clitoris?"

"i- um- yes... to all of those."

"have you ever orgasmed before?"

"i- yes."

she senses the hesitation in your voice, looking up curiously, "have you orgasmed during sexual relations with ben?"

you shuffle in your seat a little uncomfortably. ben looks at you expectedly, but you can't bring yourself to meet his eyes.

"yes. yes she has." ben replies for you instead when he realises you're not responding.

sana's eyes cut to his with a scowl forming on her face, "did you know only 64.4% of women are able to reach their orgasm during sex? and that number is even lower when the sex is just penetrative? in comparison, 91.3% of men reach their orgasm, in fact, sexual dysfunction in men is actually more common when men orgasm too fast."

ben raises an eyebrow defiantly, "your point doc?"

"that it's normal for women not to reach orgasm. and normal for them to fake it when their boyfriends are pretentious assholes that think they have the best game in the world but in reality, have inflated egos that would easily be shattered if he found out he wasn't as good as he thought he was. most of these women care too much about hurting their partner's feelings than to tell the truth."

ben leans forward aggressively, ignoring your protests for him to sit back down, "i don't know what kinda whack patients you got in here doc but i'm not one of them. i don't need anyone to worry about my feelings like you women do."

sana rolls her eyes, not backing down from his intimidation, "do you have any problems with sexual activity? come too fast? not able to get it up? not able to come?"

ben sputters, "w-what?! who do you think i am?!"

"it's a yes or no question."

"no! i don't have any of those problems! i told you i'm not one of your weird patients!"

"alright that's all we'll be needing from you today. i think this session will be much more productive for y/n if you leave the room. so if you'd please-" she stands up and opens the door, indicating for him to leave.

"what? you can't just kick me out! this is my girlfriend! i'm just as involved in this as she is!"

"actually, since you haven't admitted to having any problems with sex, and you've both said that foreplay and arousal is adequate, there's nothing more that involves you. so yes, i can kick you out."

ben looks back at you, his face red, but you push him forward, "just go ben don't make a scene. i'll see you outside." he frowns, sending a final glare to sana before stomping out the room.

sana closes the door softly after him, settling back down with a sigh.

"i'm so sorry about him i didn't know he would react like that i-"

"it's okay y/n. this is actually quite common. sexual dysfunction is often severely underreported in men, because of the masculine standards they put themselves up to, lots of them won't seek treatment. that's why most of the clients we get are women who come in here with their boyfriends, and a lot of the time these boyfriends don't think they have anything to do with the women's sexual dysfunction, and a lot of them can't accept that they do."

"but you just said-"

"i know what i said. and it's true that if your foreplay is indeed enough and arousing for you, and that this isn't because of any sexual dysfunction he may have, then it no longer directly regards him. however, just because it doesn't directly involve him, doesn't mean it's got absolutely nothing to do with him. i do think i have an idea of what you're going through, but to confirm i'd like to ask a couple more questions if that's okay with you? and hopefully you can be fully honest with me now that ben isn't here."

you shuffle in your seat a little. "yeah of course."

she smiles, going back to her notepad, "so backtracking a bit, i'm assuming ben hasn't been able to make you orgasm?"

you blush, shaking your head.

"how about with previous partners? is there anything they've done that's helped you reach that orgasm or are there any similarities you can think about between them?"

"mm well for one, i've only ever been able to come when i'm with women."

"oh?" sana looks up again over her specs, a twinkle in her eye.

"u-um yeah and with them it's mostly um, using their hands or oral, and even then i normally need at least some clitoral stimulation to come. i have tried using dildos before but i also find it a little too painful, but i'm at least able to bear it when it's with a woman, with ben i kinda just push him off because it's all too much."

"i see. that's quite normal. most women do require clitoral stimulation to be able to orgasm. a very small proportion of women are actually able to come from penetration alone. do you masturbate?"

you blush again, fiddling with your fingers, but her friendly smile reassures you, "yes. well- less since i've been with ben because he doesn't really like it when he finds out i've touched myself. he gets a little offended and always says i don't need to masturbate when i have him. he takes offense because he thinks i'm doing it since he's not doing a good enough job or something."

"hmm." she hums, jotting something else down, "is he doing a good enough job? i know you said foreplay was fine but i just wanted to check in on that again."

"he's alright i guess. like most men i've been with in the past he does kinda rush things a little, and he does do foreplay it's just a little rougher than i like sometimes. i also think um-" you blush, eyes flickering around the room.

"mm?" sana smiles gently again, encouraging you.

"i think he has trouble finding my clit? or i don't know he always kinda fumbles around when he fingers me so his hands always brush against my clit a little too rough and then he presses down on parts where he thinks it is and asks me if it feels good."

sana hums again, writing down some more notes before the next question. "so back to masturbation, before ben, how often would you say you masturbated?"

"oh u-um, maybe like once a month?"

"and you're able to make yourself come?"

"sometimes. sometimes it just gets too tiring and i end up just falling asleep."

"i see." sana writes a few finishing notes and then places her notepad on the table. "so from what you've told me today, it would seem like you have something called genito-pelvic pain or penetration disorder. normally this sort of behaviour has to go on for at least 6 months before it is diagnosable, but even though it’s only been two months for you, we can still work on ways to improve your symptoms. so there's nothing physically wrong with you or your body, this is more of a cognitive response to a fear of pain from penetration. what happens is because of this fear, you're vaginal muscles tighten when you're about to have sex, they're trying to protect you from this invasive thing that's going to enter your body and that it thinks will cause you a lot of pain. this is why it's so much more painful when someone does penetrate you, because you're muscles are already working actively to try and push it out, they only get tighter and tighter making sex more painful for you. this kinda creates this cycle of fear because it does hurt when you have sex, so the next time it happens, your muscles learn to anticipate this pain and try to close you off from this external invasion. does that kinda make sense?"

you nod a little hazily, the words floating around in your head.

"it's a good thing that you're still able to take penetration though. in some extreme cases women's vaginas have been sealed so tight penis penetration is impossible. now there aren't any medications for this unfortunately, but the main treatment is to unlearn this fear that's maintaining the disorder, and eventually you'll be able to engage in sex that is enjoyable for you again."

"how would i unlearn that?"

"well first of all, masturbation helps. a lot. you say you were only really doing it once a month in the past but actually, masturbating weekly or even twice a week is perfectly normal. and i know you said your boyfriend doesn't really like it but... well it's your body right? if he can't make you feel good then you need to start learning how to make yourself feel good. you need to start turning sex into a positive experience again. later down the line, that also means a lot more foreplay than what you're currently doing. i'm talking like an hour at least. using lube as well will be extremely useful, even if you are wet, it always helps to be fully prepared for that first penetration. i know this all sounds like a lot right now so we'll start slow. would you mind getting up on the examination table and taking off your pants and underwear. i'd like to examine your pelvic muscles a little more closely."

you nod, shuffling onto your feet and beginning to strip out of your clothes. sana pays you no mind, grabbing a new pair of gloves and slipping them on. you figure sana has done this plenty of times in the past, there was nothing to be embarrassed about. well... aside from the fact that sana was really pretty and her really pretty hands were about to be touching you and-

she's turning back around when you lay on the examination table, hands crossed on your stomach, fiddling with your fingers. you avoid her gaze but catch the way her eyes linger a little on your legs. she moves closer towards you, you keep your gaze fixed on the ceiling, feeling the tips of your ears go red at the attention.

she giggles a little and you're confused, "y/n you have to open your legs for me to be able to see anything."

"oh right i- um-" you shyly spread your legs apart, revealing your cleanly shaven lips.

sana squeezes something into her hand, "this is just lube. to see your pelvic muscles in action means i'll have to part your walls so i'm just lubricating them to make it a little more comfortable for you." she looks up at you, waiting for your consent, and when you nod, she gets straight to work.

you gasp at the cold feeling of the lubricant running down your folds, wiggling a little. then, sana's hands come in and start massaging the lube along your folds, spreading it so it covers the entire surface area of your core, fingers gentle as she spreads the liquid. your breath catches a little when she bypasses your clit, squeezing your hands together, and trying your best to not make any inappropriate sounds while in your doctor's office.

you sneak a glance down at her, watching the way she has her lip caught between her teeth while she focuses, eyes glued to your folds. she spreads your lips and starts applying the lube on your inner folds as well, meticulous with her work, making sure no slice of skin was missed.

"i'm going to start prodding around your entrance now alright?"

you can only choke out a hum in response, not trusting your voice to give away the fact that this was turning you on very much.

one of her fingers glides down to your entrance, her other hand still holding your lips open, and she starts to poke gently at your entrance, you can feel when a short fingernail dips in just slightly, wiggling around a little to try and loosen you up. at this point you're kinda glad sana went with the lube because it meant she couldn't tell she was actually getting you spectacularly wet on her own, your own slick mixing with the lube she's spread all over.

she starts pushing a finger in very slowly, but you cringe a little and shuffle your hips when she's about a knuckle in. she pulls out gently, "hurts?"

you nod, "a little."

she starts pressing gently against your folds again, "i'm just going to try massage your folds from the outside, hopefully it'll get your muscles to relax a little with some stimulation."

it is relaxing, the way she's gently pressing into you, it’s certainly never like anything you’ve felt before, it turns you on, but also eases you, it’s a combination you’ve never experienced.

when she gently runs a finger over the hood of your clit your hips jerk and you gasp.

“sorry! too much?” sana backs away quickly, hands raised so you can see she’s no longer touching you.

you inhale, forcing yourself to look at her, your gaze a little blurry, eyes lidded, “n-no. that was- g-good actually.” your voice is a lot scratchier than it was, you can’t believe how turned on you are from just minutes of being with her. “a-actually would it- um- are you allowed to take your gloves off? like if you want to! you don’t have to if you think it’s gross or anything i just think it could help a little so you can feel exactly where your skin and nails touch me.”

sana raises an eyebrow, seeming to consider you, and you want to crawl back into your pants, run away and never see be seen in public again the longer she takes to regard you.

but then wordlessly, she takes her gloves off, flicking them into the bin and reaching for the bottle of lube.

“oh um- you don’t have to. i’m wet enough i think.”

sana smirks then, squeezing some into her palm, “oh sweetie i know. remember what i said about lubing up anyway though? there can never be too much lube.”

you blush at the pet name, gritting your teeth when you feel the cool liquid and the soft touch of her fingers again. except this time it’s so much more real, you can feel every single brush, every stroke, every movement of her fingers against you. when she brushes against your clit again, you can’t help the faint moan you let out. your cheeks burn in embarrassment when you feel her still her movements against you. “s-sorry i-“

“it’s okay. you can make as many sounds as you want. just relax. stop thinking sweetie.” she brushes over your clit again, with a little more purpose this time, and you let out another whimper, trying to stop your hips from grinding against her hand.

the next few minutes are torturous. you're biting back moans every 2 seconds, focusing on keeping your hips solidly on the examination table, hands clenched tight together, you’re so wet you can hear the way she's sliding through your folds much more easily now, able to insert the entire length of her fingernail in with each stroke downwards. your breathing has gotten observably heavier, each inhale and exhale is strained, and you certainly couldn’t look at sana anymore, eyes glazed, just trying to focus on not giving yourself away.

"i’m gonna try go in again now okay?"

you nod, a little desperately, closing your eyes to block out the sight of her between your legs.

she gently prods at your entrance, now able to slide a knuckle in fairly easily, you feel like jelly around her, unable to control your own movements when you jolt downwards, sucking in more of her finger and moaning at the feeling.

“alright?”

“mhm just- just do it.”

“do what sweetie?”

“just- you know-“

“hmm?” she slips a little further in, and you clench around her, your muscles trying to trap her inside of you.

“f-fuck- i- yeah- fuck-“

she giggles a little and you flush, you realise again that she’s very attractive and very good with her hands and those hands are now inching even deeper into you, and before you know it, she’s got her entire finger buried inside of you.

you’re breathless at the feeling.

“painful at all?”

“n-no. not at all. feels- um- g-good.”

you can hear the smirk in her voice when she teases, “you feel good.”

you clench around her at the praise, unaware that sana’s trying her very best to stay as professional as possible, despite wanting so badly to rid you of all your clothes and fuck you until you were moulded to only be able to take her.

“relax baby. i’m going to slide back out now okay?”

you whine when you feel her retreating slowly, your walls gripping her finger, urging her to stay inside. but she comes out until just the tip of her finger is in you, and then pushes in again, filling you up deliciously.

you exhale deeply, back arching at the feeling.

“good?”

“fuck- so fucking good oh god-“

she’s pulling out and pushing in again, slow and careful, watching your body for any signs of pain and fixed on the way your face contorts in pleasure at the feeling of being sexually satisfied for the first time in months.

“think you can take another?” you peek open your eyes to find that sana looks slightly more dishevelled than before, her breathing also a little irregular now, her voice low with lust. you gulp at the sight.

“y-yeah.”

now that you've caught a glimpse of her, you can't look away, your eyes tracing the way her gaze is a little clouded, her tongue peaking out to wet her lips. then she's pushing in again with a second finger, rubbing your clit lightly with her other hand and pressing down onto the external parts of your folds to get you to loosen up.

you suck her in easily, whimpering a little when she stops and looks up at you in concern.

"k-keep going p-please- i can take it- fuck-"

so she continues her journey, pressing in deeper, and deeper, until she's able to fit two fingers snugly inside of you. you moan when she fills you up, pulsing around her, muttering curses and hands moving to hold onto the sides of the examination table.

but then, sana's pulling out again, and this time she doesn't come back. she clears her throat, moving towards the sink in her office to wash herself up.

you clamber onto your elbows hazily, completely soaked and watch in confusion as she dries her hands, her cheeks flushed.

"i think that's enough for today y/n. you can use the sink and this towel here to clean yourself up and get dressed. i'll wait for you outside." she doesn't spare you another glance and slips outside the room, closing it behind her to give you some privacy.

you take a second to recover because what the fuck just happened? you can only follow her instructions dumbly, picking up the towel she's left for you and cleaning yourself up, still incredibly sensitive when you twitch with each swipe along your folds. you put your clothes back on and rearrange your hair so that it doesn't look like you were just about to come mere minutes ago.

once you're tidied up and you've cleared your mind, or at least pushed all the lustful thoughts about being fucked into the table aside, you step outside the office, looking around to find that sana's with ben at the front desk, talking to the receptionist.

you clear your throat to announce your presence when you walk up to them. ben seems to have calmed down and he kisses your cheek sweetly when you sidle up next to him. you take note of the way sana eyes the action, her grip on the pen getting just a little tighter.

"alright y/n. i talked with ben to get an idea of your availability so i hope it's okay that i've booked you in for another session in about 2 weeks."

"yes that's fine!" your voice comes out unintentionally higher than you meant it to. the nerves and confusion hitting you at once.

"and i'll also set you a little homework. like we talked about, masturbation is key to getting better. so here's a self-care kit, it's got a clitoral vibrator and a few different dildo sizes as well as a couple of bottles of lube. i want you to try using the vibrator first, get used to the feeling of orgasming, and then start to bring in the smallest dildo. ben can watch if you want him to or help, but just remember what i said about making sex a positive experience. that's the main purpose of all of this, just relearning that sex is good and that it’s meant to be fun and enjoyable. i'll check with you in 2 weeks how the progress is going and we'll go from there. any questions?"

the entire time she talks to you, she barely looks into your eyes, it's clear she's already discussed all of this with ben who looks more than happy to be a bystander to your sexual pleasure if it meant he would be able to have sex with you later on. you find yourself a little disappointed that she won't acknowledge you. you shake your head no, and she slides you a few forms and the self-care package she mentioned, discreetly wrapped and in a cute little takeaway bag.

"great i'll see you in two weeks y/n. if you'll excuse me now." she sidesteps you and walks briskly back into her office, your eyes trail after her, but you shake the feelings from your head, refocusing on the present and the way ben has his arm wrapped around you.

❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

it's a fortnight later and you're sitting in a familiar waiting room, this time without ben because you convinced him to stay behind after his retaliatory actions the last time he was here. maybe you also just wanted to see sana alone but you weren't going to tell him that.

if you were being honest, sana hasn't left your mind once since you left the clinic two weeks ago. even when you were completing her assigned homework tasks, it wasn't broad muscles and rugged facial hair that you were thinking of, no matter how hard you tried, your thoughts always drifted back to the way sana had handled you so carefully, the way her fingers felt inside you, how she paid attention to every single reaction you made, every small sound, twitch, how attentive she was. and sometimes your thoughts drifted into territory that was a little more imaginative. those usually consisted of sana using the various toys she'd given you to bring you to heights you weren't able to bring yourself to.

"y/n?"

your head snaps up at the voice. you beam seeing her, she has her hair up today, pretty earrings and perfect features accentuated. she smiles in response at you, gesturing you to follow her to her office.

you settle into the familiar office again, much more relaxed and excited than the last time you were here.

"i see you're looking a lot more chipper than 2 weeks ago." sana comments with a smile, grabbing her notepad that you recognise from last week.

"just happy to see you again."

her smile fades a little at that, but you don't let that discourage you.

"right... so tell me how your fortnight has been. have you attempted to have sex with your boyfriend again? uh... bryson was it? or brendan?"

"ben. and no we haven't had sex again. i also took your advice and let masturbation be just a personal experience. he asked to watch and help but i told him it would be better if he didn't."

"that's good to hear. how has the masturbation been?"

"great! you were right! i've forgotten what having sex just for the sake of doing it for myself felt like. i've spent so long thinking i enjoyed it when i was really just an item for my partner's satisfaction. in a sense that brought me joy as well, being able to provide a source of happiness for them, but i realised that that's not a healthy thing to keep doing."

sana smiles genuinely, "very good y/n. i'm glad that masturbation has helped you realised that. how about your vaginal muscles? did you try using the dildos in the self care package?"

"um- yes i did but- i was actually hoping- uh-"

"hmm? what is it?"

"well i still haven't really been able to cum from using the dildos, only from the vibrator. it's not as painful anymore to put them in, and i'm still working up the sizes, but it still doesn't really feel good? like it just feels like there's something in me, it doesn't really derive pleasure or anything like that."

sana hums, thinking a little, writing down a few notes before closing her notepad. "would you show me?"

"i- um- sorry what?"

"how you've been masturbating. it may be something with the technique, but if it's something else more serious, i'd need to know about it."

"oh! yeah of course." you stumble upwards, repeating your movements from 2 weeks ago, stripping of your clothes, except this time, you take your top off as well.

sana yelps and turns around at your abrupt show of skin.

"something wrong sana?"

"oh- um- no nothing i just thought- um- i didn't think there was reason for your top to be off as well-"

"you wanted to see how i touched myself right? i generally try and stimulate my tits as well since my nipples are quite sensitive."

"right... yes of course." she turns around again, avoiding your gaze and looking to the floor, waiting for you to get on the examination table.

your lips quirk a little at how shy she's being, "is something the matter sana? you see naked bodies all the time in this line of work don't you? and you pretty much saw me naked last time as well..."

sana blushes even brighter, "um- well- yes but- most of my patients tend to be middle aged and they certainly aren't as attractive as you are."

"you think i'm attractive?" you're laid on the examination table now, head turned to the side so you can watch as the doctor fumbles where she's seated, still not looking at you.

"i- um- well- forgive me- i'm trying really hard to be professional right now and-"

"is that why you left in such a hurry during our last session?" you start trailing your hands over yourself, finding yourself easily aroused in the presence of the other woman.

"oh- um- well- yes i- i didn't want to make you uncomfortable-"

you moan gently when a practiced hand glides up to squeeze softly at a tit, the other sliding down slowly towards your centre. "you could never make me uncomfortable sana. well actually... i was only really uncomfortable when you left me so empty last time. i couldn't wait to go home and try out the toys you gave me, i haven't felt so turned on in so long and i needed to get that out of my system as soon as i could." you're trying to get a rise out of her, but everything you're saying is the truth anyway.

sana's eyes are on you now, wide and a little shocked at the words coming out of your mouth, and you revel in the way that meant her eyes now travelled your body. you try and angle yourself so she can see the way you squeeze at your breast, brushing over a nipple lightly with your palm and watching it pebble in reaction, your other hand dipping down to trace along your folds, finding that you're already dripping, the fact that the object of your sexual desires for the last 2 weeks is now only inches away from you, watching you touch yourself, driving you further off the edge of sanity.

"y/n..." sana's voice comes out almost 2 octaves lower than her usual register. you catch the way she wets her lips and crosses her legs.

"i'm so wet already i don't even need lube. and i know you kept saying to use it no matter what and trust me i did when i got myself off at home, but right now, just look-" you bring your hand up from between your legs, making an obscene display of licking your fingers and sucking on them, making sure she could see the arousal that coated your fingers.

sana's jaw tightens at the sight, she shuffles a little in her seat, unconsciously moving closer towards you.

"you don't have to worry about being unprofessional sana. i promise i want this just as much as you do right now." you slide your hand back down yourself, finding your clit easily after the practice you've gotten over the last fortnight, and rubbing circles around it.

"bold of you to assume i want this. this is my job after all." you leak at the register in her voice, it's something you've only been able to imagine in your fantasies.

"you don't want me?" you pout a little, turning onto your side so your entire body is facing her, your arm pushing your breasts together while a finger tugs gently on a nipple, your other hand still rubbing fast little circles into your clit.

sana chuckles darkly, her eyes closing, she seems to be trying to force herself to keep still.

"because just to be clear... i've thought about how you touched me every single time i came these past two weeks." your breath hitches when you recall the way you'd vigorously rub one out to her, sometimes multiple times a day ever since you started masturbating again. "i- oh fuck- no one has gotten me that turned on in such a short amount of time ever- nng- and i'd think about the way you felt inside me, and how careful and gentle you were- fuck- and then i'd think about how rough you could get as well- oh- and how i'd try and be so good for you- can you- can you pass me the dildo? i think i can slide the smallest one in now-"

she gets up from her seat wordlessly, exuding a dark aura that makes you clench your thighs in anticipation. she moves towards your bag, digging for the package and pulling it out, taking the smallest dildo and then moving back towards you. her pupils are blown, hungrily drinking you in, your fingers speed up just a little at the attention.

you reach out a hand mid-moan, asking for her to pass you the toy.

but she clicks her tongue, pushing your hand away gently and lubing up the toy herself.

you gulp, turning so you're laid flat on your back again, spreading your legs so she can see just how wet you were.

her eyes meet yours briefly, and you adore the way she checks in and makes sure you're okay with this, and you nod, giving her permission before she's sliding the dildo into you.

"oh shit-"

sana hums, pushing the little gold dildo in further, transfixed on the way your fingers move just a little rougher around your clit with every centimetre.

when she's completely inside you moan, clenching around the dildo, it was a comfortable size inside you.

"any pain?" her voice is rough, laced with barely concealed lust.

you whine, "n-no- you can move."

she starts pulling out, and it is almost painful the threat of being empty leaving you desperate, grinding down to try and keep her inside you, but she pushes back in, just a second faster this time and you moan unabashedly.

"f-fuck-" she starts up a rhythm, pulling out of you, then pushing back in, each time a second faster than the last.

you rub your clit, faster, harder, pulling on your nipple, switching to the other one to make sure both were attended to, you've never been built up this quickly. even when you were masturbating you had taken her advice and teased yourself for at least an hour before you got anywhere close to cumming.

you crave her, eyes lidded watching the way the veins in her arms become a little more visible when she thrusts in a little harder. you can hear the examination table shaking under you, you can't keep still at all, trying to meet her on each thrust, the tools and materials clattering about loudly. the possibility that someone could hear you outside flies across your mind but you can barely give it a second thought, in fact, it turns you on even more knowing that you were getting fucked by the most gorgeous doctor that you've been obsessed with the last fortnight, and on the other side of the door everyone was just going about their regular days, having no idea the heights of pleasure she was bringing you to.

"o-oh s-sana oh my god- holy fuck-"

"hmm? good?"

"yes yes so good- oh my god you feel so good inside me i'm gonna- oh fuck-"

"do you mind if i..."

you look down at her, vision a little blurry but you can tell she's asking to do something, "yes yes oh god- whatever- you can do whatever you want to me- oh fuck-"

you feel a soft hand come to rest on your stomach, sliding down to just a little below your belly button, and then it presses down just gently, "oh fuck!" your hips jolt upwards, pleasure running up your spine.

sana stops the pressure but keeps her hand on your lower stomach, "was that okay?"

"god yes- oh sana you're gonna make me cum please-"

so she presses down again, a little harder this time, and you feel the coil in you snap, white enroaching your vision, your thighs shaking, head tilted back, a high-pitched gasp leaving your mouth, feeling completely breathless.

sana waits for you to come down patiently, helping you through your orgasm, continuing her thrusts into your cunt but slower and much gentler.

eventually, you feel your back and hips meet the surface of the examination table under you again, breathing heavily and opening your eyes slowly.

sana's moved next to you, brushing strands of hair out of your face, you preen into her touch. but the next thing she does has you clenching tightly around the dildo that's still inside you. she brings her fingers to her mouth, sucking them in and making a show of wrapping her tongue around them. "exquisite."

you blush, clenching your thighs together at the sight.

she gives you a slow once-over again, before exhaling shakily and turning away, moving to the sink to clean up a little. you struggle a little to sit up, still recovering from your mind-shaking orgasm, and you're about to pull the dildo out of you when she speaks up again, still with her back turned to you.

"keep it inside you. that'll be your homework task for the next fortnight until our next session." she turns around, seeming to have collected herself a little better, her eyes fixed only on your face, purposely avoiding the rest of your body.

you sluggishly start to clean yourself up, wincing a little each time you accidentally move the dildo inside you.

"so you are able to come from penetration, you don't have to worry about that. and it's normal that you need some clitoral or other stimulation to be able to orgasm, often just penetration isn't enough. for the next fortnight i want you to continue masturbating, but i want you to practice leaving a dildo inside yourself afterwards, so your vaginal muscles get used to the feeling of something being inside. you can slowly work your way up the sizes, just don't push yourself and make sure you stop if it starts becoming too painful."

you nod, trying to bring your breathing back to a normal pace while you slip your clothes back on.

"alright. were there any other concerns you wanted to talk about?"

you shake your head, coming to a stand.

"okay. you can make the next appointment with the receptionist out front. i'll see you in 2 weeks y/n."

you nod, again, walking out the door when she opens it for you, but turning back before she can close it catching her a little by surprise, "thank you sana. i look forward to seeing you again soon." your voice is still a little scratchy but sana blushes, pursing her lips and nodding, closing the door after you.

you sigh a little dreamily, feeling more blissed out than you've been in a long time.

❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

this continues between the two of you for a few months.

you loved teasing sana and getting her out of her professional state. once you had worn lingerie under your coat to see her. you laugh remembering the way her eyes widened and her jaw dropped as soon as you took off your coat when you were in the privacy of her office. you'd let her fuck you however she wanted, and then you'd use each new experience to get you off during the fortnight that she'd give you new exercises, all increasing in intensity to help build you up to being able to take an average sized penis.

your favourite one to think about was that week that ben started complaining about how you'd been seeing sana for so long that surely you'd be able to take him by now. he insisted on coming to your next appointment but he was forced to sit outside and wait for you. little did he know you were on the other side of the door, a hand clamped over your mouth, the other holding you up against the door with your breasts pressed against it while sana railed into you from behind. of course she kept harnesses in her office. she had said they were mainly there for educational purposes, to show people how to put one on properly so it was safe and wasn't hurting anyone, it was just an added benefit that she also used them to pound into you with increasing dildo sizes each fortnight.

you lean onto your elbows while you watch her wash off the dildo she had just used on you. it was the biggest one yet and you're still fluttering a little remembering the way it filled you up while you rode her.

"what?" she turns around, drying off the dildo and slipping it back into your bag, pulling her shirt back on.

"just think you're nice to look at."

she rolls her eyes playfully, "shut up y/n."

you wiggle your eyebrows, "make me."

she glances at you, narrowing her eyes a little but making no effort to move closer, "as if you could go another round. you came so hard just then."

you giggle and sigh in satisfaction, resting your cheek on a hand, "i did. you're so good at what you do."

sana hums, finishing getting dressed and looking semi-presentable, settling back into her seat, but her expression changes a little while she studies you.

"what's up?"

"... have you tried having sex again with your boyfriend?"

"i told you i haven't."

she hums again, mind drifting elsewhere and you shrug, sitting up and starting to clean yourself up. "you can try now y'know? you were able to take that dildo and that's pretty much the average size of a penis already. unless he's bigger than that...?"

you scoff, shuffling into your pants, "no. he's actually smaller than the one you just used on me."

"then you should try having sex again."

you pull your shirt over your head, thinking over what she's saying. instead of sitting down in your own seat you climb into her lap, her arms wrapping around you automatically, hands gripping your waist while you make yourself comfortable. "doesn't that mean i won't be able to see you anymore?"

sana chuckles a little emptily, "i'm your sex therapist y/n. you knew this was going to end eventually."

"yeah but you don't fuck your other clients do you?"

sana laughs then, you feast in the sound. "no, no i don't."

"good. i was actually thinking..."

"hm?" she brings a hand up to your cheek, brushing slightly.

"would you... i don't know... like... i think about you when i get off yeah but i also think about you like... all the time..."

"mhm."

"so i was wondering if... i don't know if you felt the same if you wanted to like hang out outside of here? and like i don't mean to have sex i mean like go on a date maybe...?" you're shy, bringing this question up, blushing and avoiding her eyes.

"you have a boyfriend y/n." she deadpans.

"well yeah but i was thinking of breaking up with him anyway. now that you're bringing up having sex with him again i don't want that, and i don't want to stop seeing you. i guess just- just the threat that this all might be over soon- well i don't want it to be over. i like you sana." you say a little more firmly this time, meeting her eyes with decisiveness.

sana smiles then, all eyes, leaning in to peck you gently, "come back in a fortnight and we'll see. if you're no longer with him then... maaaybe i'll let you take me out."

your eyes brighten at her response, jumping out of her lap with excitement, "really?! oh my god i'll call him right now and do it-" you're reaching for your phone in your bag when she laughs, pulling you back into her

"don't do it over the phone silly. not even he deserves that."

you pout a little but it’s quickly wiped away when sana kisses you, lips slotting perfectly against yours with practiced ease. you sigh into her, addicted to the feeling, the taste, the smell of her. it was probably the easiest decision of your life, choosing your sex therapist over your boyfriend.