#and then it was like ‘get job’ and then increasingly ‘adjust to job’ and I did both of those things

[itspileofgoodthings]

Years ago, I asked you what the different alternate universe Maria’s were doing with their lives. Are the answers still the same?

OOOOOOF yes.

but now I’m in the period where I have to face that I do not, in fact, have multiple lives so I have to figure out what I’m doing with my one wild and precious life and the sort of (for me, at least) ease of following a particular school-related completion course that wasn’t too hard to commit to or finish has come to an end and I am at a crossroads where it’s just like—you could choose. And on some level, in the next few years, you need to. Low-key terrifying and I hate it.

[superchat]

you know honestly, for a 4 day work week after a 3 day weekend this week has been so fucking hard holy shit i hate it

[grzybobranie-zaniechanie]

Batman crack fic idea Janet Drake used to date Lady Shiva when she was in college, they break up when Janet marries Jack for social and money reasons.

Tim is born. When he's old enough the Drakes fuck off to do archeology and Janet hires a bunch of increasingly bizarre people who "owed her a favour ". There's a disgraced Russian ballerino, a mad chemist, the worlds best loclpicker, John Constantine, a black and white noire detective, some Welsh guy she found in the woods. Tim learns from all of them. Janet doesn't believe in public schools, so all of this is "homeschooling".

Flash forward, Tim is 11 Jack Drake dies on a dig in Australia, because a bird dropped a coconut on his head. Suddenly Tim has a new stepmum. Lady Shiva's nice, weirdly intense, but nothing he hasn't seen before. Janet takes over complete control of Drake industries, expands her business empire and destroyes her enemies with extreme prejudice. She teaches Tim all she knows about business. Shiva teaches him how to fight. Tim is happy he now has two mums who love and pay attention to him.

Stuff happens (I haven't figured out what yet) they find Cass and Tim gets a sister. Now, because this is DC and the children canonically yern for the streets (im thinking they're like 13 & 16 at this point), Cass and Tim become a new vigilante duo (I'm thinking Crows, one of tims nannies was an animal handler and he befriended all the crows in Gotham, they follow him around) and have perfected non verbal communication and creep out everybody with horror movie twin behaviour.

While sneaking around Gotham, they meet Steph, and she takes one look at them and decides that she likes Cass and that Tim needs to be bullied relentlessly. She is, of course, correct.

Meanwhile, Bruce is not having a good time, Jason is dead, and WE has competition for the first time in his life. He'd like to spiral into a pit of despair and find out who the new vigilantes are (and why are there so many birds?), but if he does that, Lucius will kill him or, worse, quit his job. So, instead, he and Dick are sent to therapy.

Jason comes back fully expecting to have to do a whole production out of this situation, takes one look at Bruce being forced to sit in a meeting with Janet and decides that he's fine actually, and why the fuck is Lady Shiva just hanging out at this gala with two kids hanging onto her?

By the time Damian is dropped off, everyone except for Bruce knows who the Crows are, Cass and Tim come over to hang out all the time. Damian is confused as to why The One Wo Sees All is in his father's house and how her brother manages to somehow be scarier than her. Damian does not like to be confused, so he still tries to kill Tim. This devolves into a roadrunner situation where Tim pulls out increasingly niche skills to get out of Damians traps. Later, this becomes enrichment for both of them.

When Tim is 15 and Cass 18, their mums decide they're old enough to be fine living with Bruce while they go off on their own adventures. Dick brings the Crows over to meet the Titans. He's told them about his cute baby siblings (Bruce is not the only one with an adoption problem). These children are not cute. They invoke fight or flight responses. Kon has one conversation with Tim, gets info dumped on, and falls in love immediately. He's finally found someone with an equal, if not greater, amount of weird, eclectic knowledge. Young Justice adventures are somehow even more bizarre than yj98. They are having the times of their lives.

Since Tim was never robin, Duke never started the We are Robin gang. But the Crows do have a cult, and he might be in it. His parents still get jokerised, and he starts living in Wayne manor proceeds to fit right in with the insanity (Bruce has given up on trying to control any of it).

The Justice League dreads whenever they have to meet with any of the younger Gotham vigilantes. Somehow, Jason ended up as the most almost well-adjusted one. He doesn't know how that happened either.

[0omillo0]

hi hi, i’ve been watching older skz yt videos and had the thought of being jisung’s girlfriend but also being apart of the skz film crew so being there for every single mv shoot, skzcode, etc. and jisung being so excited and waving cutely towards you while you’re behind the camera!

(i thought the idea was cute and i wanted to share but i literally have no one to share my skz thoughts with outside of socials and you’re the only page i’ve shared my ideas with so far although i’m anon, i’ve requested a couple of the angst han jisung stuff that you’ve written and your writing makes my day, i hope you’re doing well and taking care of yourself riri 🥹🤍)

Behind the Camera, In His Heart

Han Jisung x Reader ; fluff

As a part of Stray Kids’ film crew, your job was to capture the group in their element. Whether it was filming chaotic SKZ-Code episodes or sleek music videos, you were always behind the camera, steadying shots, barking instructions, or adjusting lighting. But there was one particular member who made it increasingly hard to stay professional.

Han Jisung.

Your boyfriend.

The love of your life… and also the biggest distraction on set.

“Y/N!”

Speak of the devil. You glanced up from your camera settings to see Jisung waving at you wildly from across the set. Dressed in his MV outfit and absolutely killing it, he grinned ear-to-ear and waved both hands in a frenzy like he hadn’t just seen you fifteen minutes ago.

“Focus, Han!” Minho barked, smacking Jisung on the arm. “We’re not filming Y/N-Code. Stick to the choreography.”

Jisung pouted dramatically, tossing a betrayed look at Minho before giving you one last enthusiastic wave.

“Hi, jagi!”

From behind you, Seungmin snorted. “He’s like a golden retriever who saw their owner.”

“I think golden retrievers have more chill,” Hyunjin quipped as he adjusted his hair in the monitor reflection.

“You guys are just jealous!” Jisung shot back, folding his arms but still sneaking little glances in your direction.

“Yeah,” Chan added, rubbing his temples. “Jealous of how much Y/N has to endure that.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. Being around Stray Kids day in and day out meant you were no stranger to their relentless teasing, but Jisung always made sure it was worth it.

“Jisung,” you called, leaning just slightly around the camera. “Focus! You’re holding everyone up.”

“I am focused,” he insisted, running his hands through his hair to look extra dashing. “I’m focusing on you!”

“Boo!” came the collective groan from the members.

Chan clapped his hands. “Alright, Jisung’s flirting session is over. Let’s run it again before I lose my mind.”

Jisung gave you a sheepish shrug before getting into formation with the others. But, as the music started and they dove into their choreography, he still managed to sneak little glances at you every chance he got.

Later, during a quick break, you were crouched behind the camera reviewing the footage when Jisung plopped down beside you, completely ignoring his makeup artist’s protests to touch up his hair.

“So, how did I do?” he asked, voice low and teasing as he nudged your shoulder.

“Pretty good,” you replied, keeping your eyes on the screen. “But you kept looking at the camera.”

He smirked. “I wasn’t looking at the camera.”

“Yah!” You shoved his arm, and he burst out laughing, the sound so infectious that even the other members glanced over with amused looks.

“You guys are disgusting,” Changbin groaned, tossing his water bottle at Jisung, who caught it with ease.

“Don’t be mad just because I’m in love!” Jisung shot back, leaning closer to you and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“That’s it,” Minho said, deadpan. “Y/N, I’m banning you from set.”

“Hey!” Jisung protested immediately, clutching onto your arm like a lifeline. “You can’t do that! Y/N is my muse!”

Jeongin’s head peeked out from behind the snack table. “You’re only saying that because she edits out your embarrassing moments.”

You grinned at that, tilting your head toward Jisung. “Is that true?”

Jisung straightened up and shook his head frantically. “No! I mean—yes—but no! I mean—”

The rest of the crew burst out laughing, and Jisung flushed as red as his stage outfit, burying his face in his hands.

Despite the teasing and chaos, being on set with him was your favorite thing in the world. Because behind every take, every chaotic SKZ-Code challenge, and every beautifully shot music video, Jisung always made sure you knew how much you meant to him—whether it was through over-the-top waves, secret smiles, or soft words whispered when no one else was watching.

And you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

taglist: @intartaruginha @hannamoon143 @inlovewithstraykids @whoa-jo @madirye062 @vixensss @sseawavee @emilyywhyy @halfwinterhalfuniverse @velvetmoonlght @flourishmoon

[lacydollette]

OFFICER ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

pairing: hunter!dean x officer!reader

warnings: mutual pining, heavy smut, oral (male receiving), face riding, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, slight breeding, explicit language, 18+, wc: 3.5k

Dean Winchester adjusted his FBI Badge, his lips curling into a smirk as he and Sam walked into the building of the New Orleans Police Department. They were here to solve a twisted case—a series of weird ritualistic murders rumored to be tied to a witch. And Dean knew exactly who they needed to talk to.

"Officer Y/N Carter," he said under his breath, glancing at his brother. "She's the lead on this case. And from what I've heard, she knows what she’s doing." Sam raised an eyebrow, catching the glint in Dean's eye. "You mean you've heard she's hot."

Dean grinned. "Can't a guy appreciate a woman's professional skills?" Sam rolled his eyes but didn't press further as they approached the front desk. A young officer glanced up at them, clearly caught off guard by the two suited men.

"Agents...?" she asked, her gaze flicking to their badges. "Sir Abney," Dean said smoothly, flashing his most charming smile. "And this is Agent Moore. We're with the FBI, here to see Officer Carter about an ongoing investigation."

The officer nodded and picked up the phone. Within moments, you stepped into the room, and Dean had to suppress a whistle. You were stunning—tall, with sharp blue eyes that seemed to take in everything at once. Your dark hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, and you moved with the kind of confidence that Dean couldn't help but admire..

He didn't try to hide his smug smile. Typical. You had dealt with enough of these guys to know the look-half admiration, half underestimation. "Agents," you greeted them, voice cool and professional. "I hear you're looking into the same case I am."

"That's right," He said, offering his hand. "Agent Abney. This is my partner, Agent Moore." You shook his hand, grip firm, and Dean couldn't help but notice the slight twitch at the corner of your mouth, as if you were suppressing a smile. "Officer Y/N Carter. I've been working on this case for weeks. It's been... unusual, to say the least."

"That's why we're here," Sam chimed in, his tone more serious. "We've been tracking similar incidents across the state. We think your case might be connected." You nodded, your expression thoughtful as you led them to your desk. "Let's compare notes, then."

As the three of you discussed the details of the case, Dean found himself increasingly drawn to you. You were smart, no doubt about that, and you didn't shy away from speaking your mind. But there was something else, too—a spark between you and Dean that you couldn't ignore. You caught his eyes on you several times during your conversation, and each time, you looked back at him with a mixture of curiosity and longing. He had that charm that could probably get him out of most situations, but you weren't so easy.

After the three of you had gone through all the information, you leaned back in your chair, studying them with sharp eyes. "Well, it looks like we're dealing with the same thing—a unknown woman with a serious grudge and a knack for creative murder."

"Seems that way," Dean agreed, leaning forward slightly, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "You've been a big help, Officer Carter. I gotta say, it's not every day we come across someone as competent as you in law enforcement."

You raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on your lips. "Is that your way of complimenting me, Agent Abney?" Dean grinned, leaning back in his chair. "Just stating the facts, ma'am."

You chuckled softly, but there was an edge of suspicion in your eyes that Dean didn't miss. "Well, I'm happy to help. But don't think I'm not keeping an eye on you two. I've been doing this job long enough to know when something's off."

"Nothing to worry about, Officer," Dean said smoothly. "We're just here to catch this killer."

"Uh-huh," you said, not entirely convinced. But before either of them could say more, your phone buzzed on the desk. "Excuse me, gentlemen," you said, picking it up and turning slightly away from them. The brothers took the opportunity to exchange a glance—Sam's annoyed and Dean's smug.

"I think we're done here," you said, getting up. "I'll reach out if I find anything else. And you two—keep me updated."

"Will do," Sam said, and Dean gave you a nod before they headed out of the station.

As they left, Dean couldn't shake the feeling that you were more than just a by-the-books cop. And judging by the look you had given him, you weren't quite done with them, either. Something told you that these two had a lot more going on than they said.

Back at your desk, you watched the two 'FBI agents' walk out, your mind already working on unraveling the mystery that was surrounding them. There was something about Dean that didn't add up—besides the fact that he was ridiculously charming. When you'd shaken his hand, there had been a spark, a feeling that you couldn't quite put your finger on. And then there was that name—Abney. You were almost certain you had heard it before, but not in any official capacity.

As soon as they were out of sight, you turned to your computer, pulling up the database. You typed in 'Abney' and 'Moore,' then hit enter. A few seconds later, the screen flashed with the results—nothing. No agents by those names in the FBI database. But then, almost as quickly, a few more results popped up—articles, reports, sightings—all linked to two brothers who had a reputation for impersonating law enforcement.

Winchester. Dean and Sam Winchester.

A slow smile spread across your face. Well, well, well. You had them now. But instead of going straight to your superiors, you decided to play this one a little differently. If Dean wanted to flirt, you'd flirt back—but your way.

You quickly reached down into your pocket, pulling out the sleek little paper card that Agent Abney, better known as Dean Winchester, had given you earlier, then picked up your phone. It was time to see just how far Dean was willing to go.

Later that evening, Dean's phone buzzed as he and Sam were going over their next move. He picked it up, frowning when he saw the message. It was from an unknown number, but the address and the time were clear.

"Meet me at this address after dark. We need to talk. – Y/N." Sam glanced over. "Something up?" Dean grinned. "Looks like Officer Carter wants a little one-on-one time." Sam's expression turned wary. "Dean, we should be focusing on the witch, not..."

"Not what? Pursuing all possible leads?" Dean interrupted with a smirk. "Relax, Sammy. I'll handle this." Sam sighed but didn't argue. "Just be careful." Dean winked. "Aren't I always?"

Your apartment was on the edge of the city, in a quiet, upscale neighborhood. Dean arrived right on time, his nerves buzzing with a mix of anticipation and curiosity. As he walked up to the door, he wondered what exactly you wanted to talk about—but something told him it wasn't just about the case.

He knocked, and after a few seconds, the door swung open. You stood there, dressed casually in jeans and a fitted black shirt, your hair loose around your shoulders. The look you gave him was one of both suspicion and something else—something that made Dean's heart beat a little faster and that kept you from not calling him out just yet.

"Officer Carter," he said with a grin, leaning against the doorframe. "What can I do for you?" You raised an eyebrow, stepping aside to let him in. "You can start by dropping the act, 'Agent Abney.'"

Dean's grin faltered slightly as he stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him. "I'm not sure what you mean." You crossed your arms, your expression unimpressed. "I mean, I did a little digging after you left. Turns out, you're not FBI. In fact, you're not even a cop."

Dean's stomach dropped. He was usually better at covering his tracks, but you had seen right through him. "Look, I can explain—" You held up a hand, cutting him off. "I'm sure you can. But I'm not interested in your excuses. What I'm interested in is why you're really here."

Dean's mind raced, searching for a way to calm the situation. But before he could come up with anything, you stepped closer, eyes locked on his. "And what I'm really interested in, Dean Winchester, is what you're willing to do to keep this little secret between us."

The way you said his name sent a shiver down his spine. There was no anger in your voice, no threat—just a challenge to see if he would accept. And Dean never could resist a challenge.

"What do you have in mind?" he asked, his voice low as he stepped closer, closing the distance between you two. Your smile was slow, sultry, as you looked up at him. "I think you know, Dean. After all, you've been flirting with me since you walked into that station. So why don't we see if you can back it up?"

Dean's breath hitched. He wasn't often caught off guard, but you definitely had the talent. You were sharp, confident, and undeniably sexy. And the offer you were making? Well, it was one he couldn't refuse. He reached out, his hand sliding to the small of your back as he pulled you closer, his touch sending electric shocks to your skin. "You sure about this?"

You didn't pull away. Instead, you tilted your head slightly, lips curling into a sly smile as your hands rested on his chest, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath his shirt. "I'm sure, Dean. But this isn't just about keeping your little secret—this is about you proving that all that talk isn't just for show."

You could feel his pulse quickening, your words sparking a fire in him that he hadn't felt in a long time. There was something about you—something in the way you looked at him, the way you challenged him, that made him want to prove himself.

"Trust me, sweetheart," Dean murmured, his voice husky as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "I never make promises I can't keep." A shiver ran down your spine, your breath catching in your throat as his words washed over you. You hadn't expected to be so affected by him—hadn't expected the way his touch would make your knees go weak.

But you weren't about to let him know just how much power he had over you, not yet. This was still a game, and you weren't going to lose.

"Then show me," you whispered back as you leaned into him, lips brushing against the stubble on his jaw. "Show me what you've got, Winchester." And Dean didn't need any more convincing.

In one swift motion, he closed the remaining distance between you two, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both fierce and possessive. You responded immediately, hands sliding up to tangle in his hair as you pulled him closer, matching his intensity with your own.

The kiss deepened, becoming a battle for dominance as your tongues clashed and your breaths mingled. Dean's hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, every line, while your nails dug into his shoulders, daring him to take it further.

He backed you up against the wall, the hard surface pressing against your back as his lips trailed down your neck. Your head fell back, eyes fluttering shut as you give yourself to the pleasure. It was intoxicating, the way he made you feel, the way he took control. But you weren't about to let him have it all his way.

With a sudden burst of strength, you pushed him back, flipping your positions so that he was the one against the wall. He looked momentarily surprised, but then his lips curled into a wicked grin, his eyes darkening with desire. "Feisty," he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. "I like that."

"Good," you shot back, voice breathless but steady as you trailed your hands down his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath. "Because I'm not done with you yet."

You kissed him again, hard and demanding, pouring everything you had into it. Dean responded equally, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you closer, pressing your bodies together. The world outside melted away, leaving only the two of you.

You both stumbled towards the couch, lips never parting, your hands never stopping their exploration. Dean's shirt was the first to go, quickly followed by yours, leaving you both bare to the waist, skin burning with each touch.

You pushed him down onto the couch, straddling his lap as you looked down at him, eyes blazing with lust. "You're not getting off easy, Dean. If I'm keeping your secret, I want something in return."

Dean's hands gripped your thighs, his eyes locked on yours, filled with a hunger that matched your own. "Whatever you want, sweetheart. Just say the word." You leaned down, lips brushing against his as you whispered, "I want all of you, Dean. I want you to make me forget everything except this moment."

And with that, any ounce of restraint you two had left crumbled. Dean's hands moved to unfasten your jeans, his fingers working with practiced ease as he stripped away the barriers between you. Your hands were just as eager, tugging at his belt, then his pants, until you were both bare and aching for each other.

Your eyes admired the men underneath you, his muscular chest heavily raising up and down as he observed you. You were quick to press a few kisses to his stomach before shifting your naked body down so that your lips were on the same level as his hard length.

Desire was burning in your eyes as you peeked up at Dean who was already tensing up, knowing what was bound to happen. Without another second passing your plump lips wrapped around his tip, cheeks hallowing as you began sucking, earning a deep growl from him.

Slurping sounds began to fill the four walls of your living room as you took him down your throat, the noises that left Dean's lips satisfying you. "What a cockslut," Dean grunted. His dirty words making your core tingle, pressing your thighs together as you started to suck him off at your own pace now, getting a slight taste of his precum in the process.

As he started to buckle his hips up just second later and shove his cock further down your throat you knew that he wasn't going to last any longer. Dean reached down to take your hair in his grip, tugging on it as he fastened his movements. You were drooling and spitting already when Dean finally released himself into your mouth, feeling the warmth of his cum on your tongue. You teasingly licked the corner of your lips clean as you stared up at him, and you could tell by the smug look on his face that he wasn't done yet.

Dean harshly pulled your fragile body up to him, his calloused hands pulling at your hips, shifting your frame towards his face with ease. He needed to devour you, and he needed you now. "Can't wait to taste you, sweetheart." He muttered from inbetween your thighs, his warm breath falling against you.

The softness of your skin on top of him, his rough hands gripping tightly on your hips and rubbing your ass cheeks created a familiar sensation you were aching for all day. Every touch of him felt like being electrocuted.

Moans began to escape your lips as he guided you to move against him, your core rutting into his face, tongue now lapping at your entrance as his nose brushed against your sensitive nub. Dean definitely took his time with you, devouring your wetness in smooth motions, his warm tongue licking through you, again and again.

You felt the knot in your lower belly growing as Dean moved up to suck at your clit, while two of his fingers prodded at your entrance before slipping in with ease. You felt so full with his fingers inside you. You arched your back at the intense pleasure Dean was giving you, your sweet whimpers filling the room.

Dean immediately knew that you were on the verge of releasing, until it happened right in front of his eyes. Your legs trembled, hands gripping onto strands of his hair, while his rough grip on your hips forced you to still move against him while you rode out your high.

He let his tongue slip through your folds one last time before pulling back, his lips covered by your wetness, making them glisten in the dimly lit room. "You're addicting." Dean growled, his green eyes staring up at you while you were still catching your breath.

It was just when you were about to move off of him that Dean grabbed your weak-kneed body and threw it back down, back pressed against the soft fabric of the couch. He was still aching for more.

He crawled over you, grabbing your hips and rubbing his tip between your folds before pushing all of him inside, earning something between a gasp and a moan that sounded too good in his ears falling from your lips.

"You are taking me so fucking good," Dean began praising and kissing you, his breathy voice making you clench around his cock. His hips met yours with every thrust as he found the perfect pace to fuck you right through it. The friction between you electric.

You felt his hands grabbing your breasts as they bounced with each thrust, playing gently with your nipples, adding extra pleasure to your body. It was raw, it was intense, and exactly what you both had wanted. "Yeah, just like that..." Dean muttered in between his own moans, his fingers finding their way to your clit, moving them in circles, and forcing another orgasms out of you.

As your walls clenched around him you could tell by the way his movements got sloppier that he wasn't too far from releasing himself again. You pulled him down, lips hungrily devouring eachother as you moaned into his mouth, "you fill me up so well."

Dean pounded into you a few more times before he spilled inside you, little droplets of sweat had built up on his forehead as you brushed his hair back with your hands, his hips still moving painfully slow, some of his seeds spilling out of you.

He then collapsed right next to you, his body tightly pressed against yours while your heart was still racing from the intensity of what you two had just shared. Dean's arms wrapped around you, holding you close as he pressed a kiss to your cheek, his own breath coming in ragged gasps.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke, content to just hold each other, to let the silence stretch between you two. Finally, you pulled back slightly, looking at him with a satisfied smile. "Well, Dean, I think you've more than earned your secret."

Dean chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver through you. "Glad to hear it. But something tells me this isn't the last time you're gonna hold something over me." You grinned, leaning in to brush your lips against his. "Maybe not. But you know what? I'm okay with that."

Dean's smile softened as he looked at you, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair out of your face. "You're something else, Y/N Carter." "So are you, Dean Winchester," you whispered back, "So are you."

feedback and requests are greatly appreciated !!

links: dean winchester masterlist!

[innocent-artery]

Trial and Error

1.6k words

Summary: Your new boyfriend Eddie finds out that you've been faking orgasms. He makes it his mission to make sure you don't have to.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader

For the sake of avoiding spoilers, extensive warnings will not be given. This story includes sexually explicit material, reader discretion advised.

While reading, I recommend listening to the altar is my hips, a spotify playlist by me!

~

One hour.

It had been the most blissful hour of your life, but it increasingly became more frustrating as it went on.

Eddie hovered over you, pile driving his cock into you with force that had prompted him to place an extra pillow behind your head when it had knocked against the headboard a while earlier. One of his arms propped him up onto his elbow, the other toying with one of your nipples. His pubic bone was brushing your clit with each push of his hips, and his mouth was latched onto your other nipple dutifully.

So why couldn't you orgasm?

In theory, Eddie was doing everything right. It wasn't like you were uncomfortable with him, and you did feel good, it just wasn't building like it was supposed to, you couldn't get that push to tip over the edge. You'd managed to get yourself there on your own, but Eddie, skillful as he was, wasn't you. He couldn't feel exactly what you felt, he relied on reaction. You'd tried giving him directions, from which he learned well, but when they fell just short of getting you to orgasm, you stopped trying to adjust, not wanting to feel nit-picky or difficult.

And so eventually you'd fallen into a habit of pretending to orgasm. It was easy at first, when you were still testing the waters. When he'd fingered you and you couldn't orgasm, you faked it, brushing it off thinking that you just needed his mouth. A few weeks later, when he added his mouth, you brushed it off again, resigning to believe that only his dick would do the job.

And here you were, with his dick inside you for the first time, and you were back where you'd found yourself all those times before. Still hitting that brick wall you couldn’t get over.

You knew deep down that you should just tell Eddie. He'd made it abundantly clear that he wanted to make you feel good. But after time you'd simply given up on it. You still felt good, you thought, and that was good enough.

The thought seemed overwhelmingly clear now, and for some reason that escaped you, it pricked at your waterline.

Glancing over at the clock, you entertained the act again. You took a fistful of his hair, arched your back with a loud, gasping "Fuck, Eddie" and deliberately clenched your pussy around him. You felt his hips stutter, then still as he pulled out. You watched as he fisted his cock a few times, spilling his cum over your stomach. The muscles tensed with the foreign sensation.

You opened your eyes, watching Eddie hovering over you, panting, and you felt your pussy throb. That was only more frustrating.

A moment of silence fell over the two of you, the hot smell of sex thick in the air. You assume Eddie believes you came, until you note the slightly perplexed expression on his face, staring at your collarbone as he was lost in thought, rolling something around in his head. He seems to have concluded the thought with a sigh out his nose, leaning up to kiss you sweetly.

"Feeling good?" He muttered, grinning into your mouth.

"Mhm," you sighed between kisses. "Hardest I've ever come." This was, in fact, total bullshit.

At that, Eddie stopped, pulled away to see your face. "Really?"

You nodded. He shrugged. "That's strange, because I didn't feel it at all."

You froze.

He popped his lips, giving you a sympathetic smile. "I wasn't sure at first, thinking you just didn't have much of a physical reaction when you came. Was still unsure just asking now, but your reaction gives it away."

The wind seemed to be knocked out of you, opting to watch your hand play with his hair than look him in the eye.

"I'm not mad, sweetness, I just don't understand. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know." Your voice was small. "I think...I think I just didn't want to be a bother. I tried telling you stuff to make it better but it still wasn't working- not that you're doing anything wrong!" you added quickly when he blinked at you. "So I just stopped."

"Honey, you know I'm glad to go to whatever lengths are needed to make you orgasm, and if you don't I'm not doing my job." He was earnest in his words, and it made your heart both swell with love and sink with guilt.

"I know. I just feel bad when you've been eating me out for half an hour and I'm no closer to an orgasm than I was twenty minutes ago."

Eddie sighed, pecking your cheek and sitting up on his calves. "I'm not sure you're hearing me, bubs. I genuinely do not care, in the nicest way possible. You need hours? I've got all the time in the world. You need a specific technique? Show me what to do. I don't care if getting you to orgasm takes a little more work, I'd rather take the time to learn than have you pretend for my sake."

Tears pricked at your eyes again, but this time with love. You sat up and pulled his face towards yours, kissing him with as much adoration and gratitude as you could muster.

"Sweetness?"

"Yeah?"

"Have you been able to make yourself cum?"

You mumbled an 'mhm', in between kisses.

"I have an idea." He pulled away, eyes now sparked with determination. "I want you to get in whatever position you normally do when you touch yourself."

When he pulled back, you were still for a moment. It took his raising of an eyebrow and gentle gesture to snap you out of it, shifting your weight and the pillows until you lay comfortably on your back.

"Good." Eddie adjusted himself so that he was propped up on his elbows, face level with your pussy. "Now, show me how it's done."

Your jaw nearly fell open. "Eddie..."

Eddie tilted his head, searching for signs of hesitancy on your face. After a moment of stunned silence you began to move, both hands reaching for your tits. Groping, massaging, pinching, caressing. Slowly, so slowly, pulling soft hitches of breath followed by sighs each time. You felt your eyelids flutter closed, partly from the sensation you were losing yourself in, partly from slight embarrassment.

Your left hand traveled up to your neck, soft caresses over your jaw and pulse point before finding the pressure points that had your brain turning fuzzy and a low, breathy noise rumbling in your throat. The right hand found the flesh of your thigh, groping it softly before alternating with your ass.

Eddie chuckled softly. "Didn't know you grabbed your own ass, pretty."

You felt your cheeks warm. "I usually just imagine you doing whatever I'm doing, so..."

"Do you?" Even with your eyes closed you could see the ego-inflated grin pulling his lips back. "Good, that's good. Show me what you picture me doing."

You continued like that for a moment, just feeling around your body. Your middle finger traced the junction between your thigh and your cunt, making your body tense with excitement.

When your eyes had had the courage to open again, they met a lovely sight. Eddie was crouched dutifully down in front of you, hungry and lust-blown eyes noting every slight movement of your hand, gaze flicking from one had to the other, to your face, to your pussy on display in front of him.

Nearly shaking in anticipation, you reached down gingerly to graze a fingertip against the spot right above your clit, which had your hips following your hand when it left.

A soft breath was pulled from you at the action, but it turned into a choked gasp when your finger finally pressed down towards where slick had gathered. You opted to sift it around, collecting it on your fingertips before sliding them up to your clit, a firm, slow swipe making you let out a weak sound.

Once you found a rhythm, you opened your eyes. Eddie was staring intently at your motions, trying to burn every little motion into his brain, wanting to memorize the exact shape you drew into your body. His eyes flicked up to your face every so often, but when they caught on that you were staring, they lingered. He leaned down, pressing soft kisses to the insides of your thighs, hands caressing the backs of your thighs, a motion intended to be soothing but instead sent shivers into your skin in its wake.

"Eddie..." you sighed, motions increasing in intensity. Through your growing desperation you managed to stay slow, keeping yourself on edge.

The boy in question groaned into your skin. The idea that he'd asked you to show him exactly what you did when you were alone and that this was what you thought to do. Say his name. That was what came naturally, that was what fueled your desire. Him.

It didn't go unnoticed that your soft moans were getting louder, airier, higher pitched. Eddie reached his hands under you to grip your ass, caressing and squeezing the flesh.

"Good, good." Eddie murmured.

"Fuck, say that again," you gasped.

"What? That you're doing so good? So good for me, yeah? Look fuckin' perfect, 'n I can smell you from here. Christ baby, sound like a damn song, sound so pretty."

Your fervent motions plus Eddie's soft touches and sex-incarnate voice all tipped you over that sticky sweet edge. This orgasm didn't barrel into you, rather, it washed over you, warmth coursing over you from your core outwards. It felt like euphoria.

When you came down and opened your eyes, Eddie was staring at you with a stupid but awestruck look.

"Well, there's no going back, 'cause I can definitely tell the difference now."

~

[midnight-bay-if]

How would the RO's react to getting home super late and being greeted by a very sleepy MC hugging them and saying "I missed you" ?

S: Another long day, another broken promise. They had spent far too long relying solely on themselves, so when Rain suggested they delegate tasks to finish early, their brow creased, leaving them to wonder, 'Why?’. They enjoyed their work and had always believed in the principle of ‘if you want a job done well, do it yourself’. This had been a gross miscalculation and neglect on their part.  

They had left you waiting.

So, when they return home in the early hours, they expect to walk into a dark, cold house where an eerie silence taunts their lack of forethought. They are already composing an appropriate apology for you in their minds so they can properly express their regret the moment you open your eyes. They barely settle on a word, a foot barely in the door, before a weight pulls them into a warm embrace.

“I missed you.”

They did not believe it possible that their guilt could grow, but your whispered declaration only solidified in their minds how terribly they had behaved. “Forgive me, darling,” they whisper, pressing a gentle kiss against your forehead, “I could offer an explanation if I thought to, but none would be adequate enough to explain my absence. I apologise for not returning to you sooner. If there is anything I can do—”

“Saying ‘I missed you’ wasn’t a criticism, my love,” you explain gently. “You’re passionate about your work, and I think it’s wonderful.”

“You’re far too good to me.” You notice the faintest flush on their cheeks, the stray hairs that are typically so perfectly in place, and their rising chest, and you realise how quickly they must have rushed home the moment they became aware of the time. They run their thumb softly across your cheek in a tender caress.  “I am impossibly fortunate to have you. If there is any way you would like me to reward your patience, tell me. I will make it so.”

Rain: They were feeling a bit spiteful—a surprise even to themselves. However, the desire for their time to be exclusively yours has become increasingly excessive since entering a relationship with you. It appears that Selby has grown more demanding. Their more reasonable side understands how perceptions influence the situation—Selby isn’t pushing them harder; they wish to spend more and more time with you—but that doesn’t diminish their sour mood in the least.

As soon as the mission concludes, they insist that Selby drives them to your apartment, practically flinging open the door without much consideration for the lateness of the hour. They simply want to see you.

It appears the feeling is mutual, for before their eyes can adjust to the sudden light, your arms are wrapping around their waist, your cheek nuzzling against their chest. “I missed you.”

Three words. That’s all it takes for a bad day to become joyous. That is a power you possess; it’s entirely yours. “I missed you, too,” they whisper, their arms squeezing you tighter. “So much. So, so much.” They release you just enough to gaze into your sleepy face. “But you must be terribly tired. Would you allow me to tuck you in?”

Taj: They felt the weight of the day on their shoulders, and all they wanted was to sleep until midday the following day. As always, they completed their mission with only minor grumblings about the late hour. Their complaints were never directed at Selby, not any longer. Theirs was an unenviable position, and Taj knew that despite heading home to their bed after a job well done, Selby would stay awake for hours yet, writing up a report while the details remained fresh, only to sleep for a couple of hours before getting to work making breakfast for the team while Taj rolled over in bed, refusing to be dragged out until dinner.

Well, that was how they lived before… before you.

Having a spare key to your apartment already seemed a bit absurd, but being welcomed with a tight embrace and a whispered ‘I miss you’ felt like an entirely different novelty. Someone misses them? They have someone who thinks of them when they are away? Someone willing to wait despite the myriad of reasons they give you not to? It’s stupid. Ridiculous. And the only reason they feel their heart beating.

“Hey, Koel,” they whisper in the tone they always adopt when feeling slightly soft and vulnerable, lacing their words with a sharp edge. “You shouldn’t stay up waiting if I’m working late. You’ll fuck up your sleeping habits.”

“You’d do it for me.”

“What makes you think I’d do something like that?” they scoff.

You smile. “You saw the sun rise this morning.”

N: It wasn’t their typical routine. In an ideal world, they wouldn’t spend two minutes outside your company. Not because their heart yearns for you (they are not that pitiful) but because their already waning power withers like a rotting apple after it has fallen from its tree, forgotten on the ground with the sun bearing down on it. You revitalise them in a dependency they despise relying on. This fettered symbiosis turns their stomach… but it has its consolations.  

So, when they return home in the dead of night, they are grateful to be breathing the same air as you once again—though taken aback by the sudden inhalation of your breath as you pull them into an embrace so tight that they fear it might burn you.

“I missed you.”

‘What nonsense!’ The reprimand imperils their tongue, yet they manage to suppress the biting remark before it can take root. Perhaps it isn’t the heat of their touch they should have worried about, but the sting in their words. This has so often been the case. There is power in the coercion, but far too often with you, their instinct is to forsake the charm in favour of chastising your gentleness.

How dare you lower your guard with me? They think. Do you not remember what I am? Why I am still here? Do you think that will change because you dare to love me?

They pull away just enough to run their fingers along your neck and towards your cheeks, cupping your face with the mercy of someone who understands that you have made the wrong choice, yet does not wish to inflict a wound where none need exist.

“Of course, you've missed me, my dear,” they cajole patronisingly, for the alternative is recognising their genuine gratification. “The feeling is entirely mutual, but I wouldn’t want to bolster your ego any further. There's hardly enough space in this tiny hovel for my own.”

They refuse to acknowledge that your ongoing confessions are far beyond what they ever deemed themselves worthy of, for to do so would be to concede that their power is not what they desire. Not any longer.

“Let’s go to bed, and I will demonstrate exactly why you have missed me so.”

Umbra: They hadn’t intended to be away for so long. Recently, you had been kindly encouraging them to take some time apart from you. Initially, they had interpreted it as a disparaging judgment of their character—believing you sought distance because you found them strange, broken, unsettling—but you swiftly reassured them otherwise in the dark of night with dishevelled sheets and honeyed words. No, rather, the distance was meant to encourage them to explore more of the world beyond you.  

Odd, they thought. Why must one be encouraged to leave their happiness behind? Fresh air and sunlight mean little to them compared to the light of your life. They are content to remain your shadow for as long as you shine.

But they did as they were told, your smile providing all the encouragement they needed. They did not venture far. The rooftop opposite your apartment felt like a sufficient distance, although they were uncertain about what an appropriate amount of time away would be. They did not want to disappoint you, so they fidgeted away the hours while keeping a watchful eye on your bedroom window. Just in case of danger, they promised.

When they finally feel brave enough to return home, they are taken aback as you squish them against yourself, leaving them fearful that something terrible has happened during their absence, despite their caution.

“I missed you.”

At first, they thought the words fell from their mouths since they parrot what they so often feel, but then they realise it was you. Their usual despondence at being held disappears in an instant, and their long limbs encompass your form, holding you with a strength they typically dare not evoke.

“Yes,” they mutter, the word choking their breath. “I have all the sun I need right here.”

(Hope you enjoy! But... I do seriously need to learn to rein it in if I'm ever going to finish writing the 40+ asks in my inbox.)

[ghouldump]

I want to be lestats make up artist and stylist so baddddd after that trailer.

Imagine touring with him while he constantly tries to woo you.

And the fans just seeing him being flirty toward reader

SOMEBODY TAKE MY PHONE AWAY I AM NOT WELLLLLLLLLLL

Diva | Lestat De Lioncourt x Reader

ෆ lestat is a handful to tour with but he's also incredibly handsome and charismatic.

lmfaooo same, more rockstar lestat coming soon!

Touring with Lestat De Lioncourt was not the easiest, at least not at first. The number of makeup artists and stylists who accepted the job, before quitting was ridiculous. Everyone was terrified of him, or of making him angry, walking on eggshells around him.

You were a well-known makeup influencer, starting with tutorials, but with your renowned success, you began working with celebrities, doing makeup, or simply styling them. When you were contacted by his manager, offering twice as much as others, explaining he couldn't keep a stylist or makeup artist, you accepted. You had dealt with plenty of other celebrities in the past, with even more diva tendencies, so you weren't going to let some rockstar ruin your coins.

Meeting him, you immediately realized two things, one, he was even more handsome off-screen, and two, he acted as if everyone was insufferable, like he was gracing their presence, doing them a favor.

“Can we get some makeup on him,” the director told you, picking up the pallet and brush, moving to his cheek, he scoffed.

“Does it look like I need makeup?” he asked you, while you rolled your eyes.

“Actually, yes, you could use some lipgloss and highlight,” you said, matching his tone. Everyone grew quiet, watching the interaction. He turned his head, looking at you, before smirking.

“You may,” he said, letting you lift his head, and apply the highlight, before taking a thinner brush and dabbing the tinted lipgloss onto his lips.

“Better?” he asked you.

“Much better,” you grinned, walking away.

“I like her,” he said, adjusting in the chair.

Instantly after, you were offered a contract, the first in nearly twenty artists to be able to lift a brush to his skin, they needed you. As the tour began, he continued with the shenanigans seducing the audience, while managing to keep them terrified.

“Sit still, I hope you don't frown at your fans like that,” you told him, as you clamped the necklace around his neck.

“And who did your hair?”

“He did,” his assistant mumbled.

“I can tell”

“Is something wrong with my hair?” he stared at you through the mirror.

“Nope, it fits you, wild and untamed,” you snickered, as you moved in front of him, using a brush to apply glitter to his face. Using your finger, you rubbed a bit on his chest.

“You know I enjoy when you touch me there, ma chérie,” he said.

“Whatever,” you laughed, finishing his look.

Over the last few months, Lestat became increasingly bold with his flirtation with you. Hell, besides his manager, you're the only person on his team that he talked to, with eye contact.

“They're ready for you,” His assistant said, reading a text from her phone. Standing, Lestat kept his eyes set on you.

“Come, we haven't finished our conversation,” he held out his hand, stopping you as you were about to put away the makeup.

Taking his hand, he led you out of the trailer, his arm going around your neck to pull you closer.

“What is it?” you asked him, biting back your smile.

“Have you thought about my offer?”

After touring the States, he was set to go on a world tour, and he insisted that you renew your contract to come along.

“I don't know, that's a long time, Les,” you said lowly, intertwining your fingers with the hand over your shoulder.

“I’ll need my makeup done and only the best clothing”

“I thought you didn't need makeup?”

“I don't, but only you could do the task so beautifully, I wouldn't dare let one of those amateurs near me,” he frowned.

“Oh my god, there he goes,” a fan screamed, causing an uproar. Lestat remained unfazed, his arm still around you, his eyes unmoving from your face.

“Is that his girlfriend?”

“He has a girlfriend? I thought he was gay”

“No girl, he's bi”

“Then I still have a chance!”

“They're so cute together”

“You’re going to have us in blogs in the morning,” you told him.

“All publicity is good publicity,” he shrugged.

“We’ll talk more later,” you told him, rubbing your lips together, when you realized he was staring at them.

“Hopefully about you staying with me, and not wanting to go home”

“You need to focus on your concert right now, and we can talk later,” you laughed.

“Fine, make sure to scream extra loud for me, ma chérie,” he said, blowing a kiss to you, before walking up the steps, the loud music starting up.

Crossing your arms, you watched as he performed, his aura exuding sex appeal. After all these months of working with him, you could see why he acted as if he was gracing people with his presence. He was more handsome than most, the attention falling on him wherever he went, and here he was, openly desiring you.

Late nights, after he'd come back from doing whatever, he'd come to your hotel rooms. You eventually realized that on the inside of this beautiful man, was a lonely soul. He craved companionship and being around him, you didn't know how much more you could take before you gave into temptation.

[stunie]

“SHH…. KEEP IT QUIET.”

╰ ❤︎ ft. gen narumi (kaiju no. 8) x cat hybrid! f!reader. 4.2K WC ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⭑

summary ᯓ⭑ : narumi’s back to streaming one of his games.. again?! well.. he’s gotta get that follower count up somehow, so today he’s got his dick inside his newest pet- but remember. it’s just cock warming, ok? nothing more. dumb cat .. listen here. make this look, in his words, ‘not so suspicious,’ and he just might give u a reward later if u can do a half decent job.

contains : explicit smut (18+), cat hybrid! reader, brat taming, cock warming, creampies, cum play, degradation, dirty talk, dumbification, hate sex? kind of, heavy overstimulation, mild exhibitionism & dacryphilia (barely), fingering, oral sex (cunninglingus), orgasm control?, pet play n pet names, squirting, teasing, unprotected sex, not proofread >_<

note : aaand the first fic on this blog is up !!! am seriously hoping u all have fun reading this one <3 i had such a blast writing it ^^

“Better start quieting down,” Narumi warns, grunting as he adjusts his position on his gaming chair before his fingers are rapidly clicking at his mouse. “Stream’s about to start in about… thirty seconds or so.”

You don’t have to look in his direction for him to sense the clear disdain in the glare you’ve got plastered across your face. He feels you bury your nose into the muscles of his shoulder as you try and steady your breathing, arms wrapped loosely around his neck in a weak attempt at staying hidden from his viewers- try and make it look like you weren’t just gushing all over Narumi’s face a minute or two ago.

It all happened too fast.

You hadn’t even recovered from the orgasm he ripped out of you five minutes ago when he had you flat on your stomach to spread you open with his fingers before burying his face inside your cunt, lapping, sucking, then fucking his tongue in and out of you. And actually… you don’t even recall him wiping the juices from his chin before shoving you on his lap. For all you know, your slick could still be all over his face right now in front of thousands to see.

Had he given you time to catch your breath, you wouldn’t be here playing this little game right now.

“I'm not even ready, you asshat,” you hiss under your breath, whisper coming out unsteady with the way his fat cock forces your walls to stretch in order to accommodate his thickness, walls still fluttering from the effects of your last high. Only now, you're clenching around his dick instead of his tongue. You think you heard Narumi scoff at this, but he's greeting his watchers only a second later.

With the way his arms are coming up to wave to them, followed by a dramatic slam of his hands onto his desk at a particularly provoking comment (most likely from hoshina), it doesn't take you very long to start squirming in his lap. Each movement Narumi makes has his fat tip prodding at your gummy walls, and it's becoming increasingly harder to stay quiet like this..

You'd never admit it, but he's big. On any other day, you think you'd be more willing to agree to be his little pet cocksleeve; keep his dick nice and warm for him while he tries to rank up in this game. But today is different. He's got you needy, got you gushing over his tongue, and it leaves you feeling greedy for something thicker.

Your pointed ears perk up at the abrupt sound of his mouse clicking around, your tail eagerly swishing side to side as you imagine the types of comments flooding his inbox at the sight of you. Do they think you're cute? It's not obvious that you're all soaked and needy, is it?

If only Narumi let you turn around and see for yourself.

You wouldn't ask him, of course. Not a chance. Stay planted on his dick, stay quiet, and if no one suspects you, it was your win. And your reward? Two free orgasms from Narumi. However way you want- he might add.

“Oh geez,” Narumi's sigh pulls you out of your thoughts. “Already asking about her?”

“She's napping. Yeah— so let's talk about me,” He babbles into his mic, and his free hand starts to roam around the swell of your ass. “You all should head to your instagram before we get started. Let everyone know she's sound asleep on my shoulder right now. That's just how safe she feels around me.”

You think it's a good thing he decided to have you face his direction rather than the screen, because you didn't want to have to listen to the earful he'd give you if the viewers had caught you rolling your eyes at him for the umpteenth time that day. Regardless, the slick pooling underneath you was getting more and more uncomfortable with each passing second, and you're becoming keenly aware of the sheer amount that's dripped down your thighs, now collecting and smearing across his lap.

And you don't really like feeling wet.

A small shift in position is all you do. You're quiet and slow when you raise your hips a bit, just barely hovering above his thighs in your attempt to get rid of the slick that's making his thighs lewdly stick to yours, but he catches the shift in weight in an instant.

“Ah— stirring already, cat? This chair's supposed to be comfy, y'know,” He drawls, not sparing you a glance when you flinch at the words, still clicking away at his game all too casually. So casually that you don't even react when his hand wraps around your tail, not until he roughly yanks you back down in one hard motion.

You're crashing back onto his lap, thickness sheathing itself fully inside you as your mouth falls open in a silent scream, tongue lolling out at the fullness. You think it's absolutely appalling just how easily he's able to mask his reaction by simply adjusting himself on his chair, taking advantage of the movement by giving you a warning thrust into your cunt before he's still again. “No, what?” He snaps, ignoring the way you're practically panting into his ear with need now. “She's definitely comfortable. Very happy to be here, actually.”

“I’m not lying. She loves me.”

You hate that it's not exactly an understatement. The word “loves” has your mind flashing to the events of last night, more specifically- the image of you crying and trembling underneath him, fistful of his hair tight in your hands as you desperately cling onto him, babbling “I love you” over and over as he mercilessly bullied his cock into you.

It's even worse because you know he absolutely loved every second of it. Every second that you're not acting like such a fucking brat, which- to his dismay, wasn't very many.

Narumi's eyes shift towards the side of his screen, scanning through the newest comments that have popped up in his inbox.

Enchantedknight46: u sure ur not forcing her to keep u company Imao ?

tooezusuck: it's ok if u are

12steelwing: Did u bring here on here be u lost more followers last stream? Need eye candy to gain some?

Batmansballs: I think she's pretty so idrc, but what's that? A cat costume?

His eyes twitch. A part of him is wholeheartedly thankful you've got your head buried in the crook of his neck, glad you're not reading these comments. God, he's irritated just imagining how these fuckers would get in your head so easily, get you swinging your tail all happy and purr something along the lines of “Aww, they think I’m cute? Better make me feel good if you want me to stay here with you. They kinda look like they'd take good care of me, huh Gen?”

He sighs before he's clicking his tongue, raising his other hand to roughly jut an accusatory finger at the screen. “Can't just watch my game, huh? Listen up. When I wake her up and she says I'm right, you all better start typing your apologies” He grits through a forced smile, ripping his headset off before it's being tossed haphazardly onto his desk.

You hiss when he's tugging you by your ear, tilting to whisper a “hear that?” and the sound of his voice sends an electrifying shiver straight down your spine. “They wanna see you. But don't go forgetting our deal already. Just one person notices and it's a loss for you.”

“Don't forget.”

It's not like Narumi's worried about losing or anything. Just one quick glance at your face and he can tell you're going crazy with need, frustrated tears collecting along your lashes, and your lips are all swollen and pouty. Most likely from... biting them to stay quiet? A very interesting observation.

He'd make sure to tease you about that later.

“I hate you sometimes.” Your whisper comes out strained, followed by a whimper that slips out when his cock involuntarily twitches inside you. Oh, that's right. He actually likes when you get mad at him- that fucker.

You're inhaling sharply, gathering yourself to the best of your ability before you finally pull yourself off of him, heavy cock slapping against his stomach as you turn, feet planted on his thighs when you reach to grab his headset. Narumi's eyes are trailing down your frame the next second, and if those viewers weren't here right now, he could probably fuck you just like this. Have your hands grip the table, move your feet a bit so that you're balancing on the edge of the seat, squatting just above him and letting him fuck his dick up into you just like that..

“Hello? Can you guys hear me?” You blurt out, voice sugar sweet and innocent, and he almost wants to gag at the implication. You were absolutely anything but. “Ah— so you can! That's good.”

There's a moment of silence as you cutely adjust the headset, glossed lips tugging into a pout with the way it doesn't sit right against your ears. Narumi's leaning back behind you, elbow on the armrest as he rests his head against his palm. He looks bored even.

“Hmmm,” you hum, eyes scanning over the comments... and yeah, they love you. Your pretty lips tug into a knowing smile after scanning comment after comment as they all begin to flood in, all of them saying the exact same thing. But how could they not? You were just a sweet little kitten, fluffy and innocent, and you emphasize this with a slow and alluring sway of your tail, eyes half lidded and completely seductive as you lean in towards the cam.

“Mhm, I guess I love him....” You shrug, feigning disappointment, “But hey. You guys love me way more, right? I can totally tell.”

You feel Narumi perk up from behind you in disbelief, head lifting from where's he had it resting it on his hand. A slow blink. Then two.

Did you just fucking say ‘I guess?’

“Mhm!” You nod at a comment, and he feels his veins bulge against the skin of his neck. “Deal. So why don't you all leave him and come watch me play instead? My user is st-agh!”

The rest of your words come out muffled against the palm he's clamped over your mouth. You recognize it as the same one that was rubbing at your cunt just a few minutes ago, and you can tell because you can taste yourself on him.

“Mmph!” You retort, gasping when he's roughly pulling you back into his lap, chair scooting forward as he grabs his mouse. “Streams over,” his voice comes out a pitch lower, “Said she loves me. Start typing up the apologies.”

He's leaning to switch off the stream the next second, and it falls eerily silent as soon as the in-game lobby music abruptly shuts off. You fiddle with your tail, chuckling nervously as you crane your neck to get a glimpse of Narumi... and you really shouldn't have.

He looks mad.

Before you can even get a word out, Narumi's tossing you onto his bed, and you yelp as soon as your back hits the mattress. He doesn't give you a second to even gasp, his hands looping around your ankles and pulling you back towards the edge of the bed until his cock is flush against your drooling cunt. “Huh. You're a real fucking naughty kitten, know that? Anyone ever told you what a piece of work you are?”

He hates that you're getting off to this. If you weren't on your back, your tail would be eagerly whishing back and forth, ears peeking up with anticipation from the change in tone. He'll admit that he likes when you're mad, but you're not much different from him. It's obvious with the way you keep glancing down at his cock, and he thinks you might as well just stare at it with little pink hearts in your eyes.

“Just you,” you shake your head, “Everyone else says I’m an angel, Gen. Your viewers too, apparently.”

There's a warning thrust to your cunt, your eyes widening when his tip catches against your clit just perfectly, and the sound the action makes is nothing but filthy — wet and sloppy. Narumi's hands slam down beside your head, looming over you as your walls clench around nothing. “Yeah? Wanna talk about my viewers?”

“Take a look at the screen behind me. It's got my exact follower count.”

You crane your head to peer over his shoulder. “And?” His lips tug into a grin. “We're changing the game a bit.”

“Not fair, Gen,” you pout, eyes furrowed as your tail comes to rub the softness against his bicep. “I won, so you gotta make me cum twice now.”

“Yeah yeah, well the count's at 18,567 now. Get on your knees before I forget.”

Narumi's easily hoisting you up before you can move yourself, rudely flipping you over and letting your hands scramble to catch yourself, face falling flat against the mattress. But it's fine, he thinks, because cats always land on their feet, or whatever.

“It's at 18,566 now by the way, thanks to you.”

“They would've left either way!” You protest, eyes clenching shut in pain when he grabs a fistful of your tail. “And i don't care about your follower count.”

“You should. Each loss is gonna be plus one for you.”

“Huh?”

He sighs. “18,565... so that would make four orgasms now. Two plus two, my dumb kitty. It's not very hard.”

The realization suddenly hits you, and you crane your neck to look at him. “That's not fair! And that's way too much, I'd never agree to tha-”

One sharp tug to your tail has you biting your words.

“Way too much?” He asks incredulously, kneeling at the foot of his bed, “Didn't think the ungrateful cat would ever be satisfied.”

You flinch as soon as you feel his breath fanning against your cunt, and he notices. You look absolutely delicious like this, pussy pretty and swollen- and completely drenched for him. His fingers are spreading your folds, content with the way your tail starts to sway like clockwork. “But,” you whine, “You lose so many followers. I'll be here forever.”

His eyebrow twitches at the implication.

“That's your fault— you have yourself to blame,” Narumi pushes a finger inside your hole, the digit curling against your walls as you cry out. It takes him a little less time to find your spot each time you're under him. By now... he's got it memorized. Could probably find it in his sleep, he thinks, you're so easy. He'd be able to find it blindfolded too, but it'd be such a breeze that it's not even worth buying a blindfold to find out. “You take a bunch of my followers,” he continues, “And I use up one of those nine lives of yours. Yeah? So sit still.”

“You're the worst.” You pout, face contorting as soon as he slips in a second finger, curling skillfully against your sensitive spot, and oh- you feel his lips ghost just over your clit.

“Yeah yeah— about time I start hearing less talking and more meowing,” he grunts into your cunt, and he's lapping at your slick the next second, tongue roughly flicking over the pearl with precision, and his fingers aren't letting up, still beating your insides as you start to feel the familiar feeling build up deep in your belly.

“A-ah!” You cry out, hands grasping at the sheets as your tail whips upward, back arching deeply to relieve some of the stimulation. It's a lewd position you've got yourself in, and he loves it.

This was the best part.

Narumi can feel his cock ache when he feels your walls hungrily clench around his fingers, your desperate mewls muffled against the soft sheets of the mattress as he laps at your cunt. He loves watching you approach your high, loves the way the brat gets fucked out of you only after he gets you creaming, even if it's just for a bit.

And he's so sloppy with you. He's licking up and down, sucking at your clit before pulling back and lewdly spitting on it, his fingers making your pussy squelch and squirt as he fucks them in and out of you, and oh-if only you could see the way your slick has begun dripping down his wrists. “There you go,” he groans straight into your cunt, and it makes you jolt, “Hurry. I'm aching and it's annoying.”

“F-fuck…” you try to retort with something, anything, but the words get stuck in your throat. You can't. Not with the way your thighs have begun trembling, pretty eyes hazy and lidded as you feel the tight knot balling up in your stomach.

Again? And so soon? This would be the second time you've come undone on his mouth just today, and a part of you wonders what the count is at now— and exactly how you're gonna be able to handle it.

“...Ah! gonna c-cum,” your eyes clench shut, pointed ears twitching, and he's shoving a third finger inside a moment after, reaching deep inside you as his tongue keeps his pace against your swollen little clit. “Gen!”

Narumi's free hand loops around your thigh, pulling you flush against his face, his tongue roughly flicking your clit the same time he curls his fingers particularly hard, and that's all it takes to have you screaming, tail slapping across his face as you gush, the knot snapping inside you with an intensity that has your vision blurring with white.

“Fuckin' whacked my eye, you damned cat,” he growls, fingers slowing his movements as your walls spasm and flutter against him before he takes them out, thick string of slick connecting the two. His tongue is coming to push inside instead, and you cry out loudly when you feel him pushing deeper, appendage curling and reaching deep inside your pussy as he hungrily laps at your juices.

Even when your jaw falls slack, body going limp and falling flat onto the plush bed, he doesn't stop. He keeps you flush against his tongue, forcing you to let him have his fill until you've been reduced to nothing but a sloppy little mess, whining and shaking under his touch.

“E-enough…” You slur, chest heaving up and down in heavy pants as you come down from your high, vision now dotted with blurry little stars.

“Geez,” Narumi huffs, rising back to his feet as he swipes his thumb over his mouth, wiping your juices off before he's popping the digit in his mouth and sucking.“Your stamina sucks.”

“It's at 18,563 by the way, so get up. We're nowhere near finished. Consider this your training.”

You can't respond, and you can't move your legs. The way you struggle to get back on your knees has his ego stroked nice and good, but he's on quite the time crunch. Narumi’s reaching for your tail next, yanking your hips back up for him as you yelp in pain. “All talk, huh? Where's your usual spunk?”

He's roughly pulling you backwards, one quick yank of your tail to fully sheathe himself inside you, and your eyes roll back at the stretch. “Gonna put your nine lives to the test, so you'd better prepare yourself. We're already at 18,561 now and it's all your fault.”

The noises he's pulling from you are just obscene, and the grip he has on your tail is nothing but mean, pulling you back to meet his hips halfway as he pounds into you roughly, foot coming to rest on the edge of the mattress to better leverage himself. “You in heat or something? You're soaked. The bratty cat likes this, huh? Falling in love with me?”

“F-fuck no!” You cry into the mattress, hands scrambling to grasp at the sheets to ground yourself.

“S-said you're just alright— Gen...!”

He's looming over your form the next second, hand pushing your face down into the sheets, your thighs trembling wildly as you whine beneath him. You're way beyond your limit, legs using every ounce of strength left to keep your ass up for him. “Alright?” He spits,“Don't get too carried away— s-shit, don't go forgetting what you are now. My cat, you're my pet. And I’m your owner,” his hips stutter a bit, balls slapping against your clit as you mewl, eyes rolling back in your skull.

You can't even retort if you wanted to. Your back is arching all on its own to take him deeper inside, and he's not letting you move, hand pushing hard against your head to keep you still for him. “Ah, Gen, Gen-”

“That's it. Got you right where I want you, fuckin' pet. Boutta make a mess for me again? Say you love me when you do. Fuck, do that again— you know what.”

You think you might be bleeding from how hard you're gripping the sheets, the painful knot building up in your stomach all over again as you approach your high a little too fast for comfort. “C-close again..!”

“Hurry, lemme hear you. You know what I want.” His fingers come to rub at your swollen clit, and his cock pummels against a spot that has you abruptly crying out as you're thrown headfirst into your third orgasm, hot white flooding your vision as you spasm and squeeze around his cock so tightly. “F-gen! I love you— fuck, love you..!” You gasp when he doesn't slow down, tongue lolling out when you feel your cunt gushing, juices squirting all over his hips as he groans loudly.

“Yeah,” his voice sounds borderline feral, “Good fuckin' kitty. What? Want a treat?” and it's almost pathetic how quick you are to start nodding, eyes cock-drunk and lidded as he chases his own high.

“Well you're not getting one. Check the count yet? It's at 18,560. Know what that adds up to?”

How would you know? Your brain is all fuzzy, vision spotted with splotches of white and the words coming out of your mouth aren't even coherent anymore. The only thing in that mind of yours is how good Narumi feels, how his dick reaches the deepest parts inside you..

Feels so good, god— you love him. No one can do it like him.

“Times up,” he snaps, “That's plus one.”

His voice comes out a little breathless from how close he is, and your walls are tight around his length as your high starts to dissipate- suffocatingly tight. “Gonna give you your milk first, get you nice and full and we're gonna start all over again. How's that sound?”

Your whines are incoherent to him, but it doesn't matter. You're just a cat, anyway.

“F-fuck, stay still and take it,” he rasps, and it only takes him a few more thrusts, a few more until he's groaning loudly, cock spurting thick ropes of cum inside your cunt as you gasp underneath him.

A lot.

You're always in disbelief with the sheer amount, how he always fills you up to the brim, hot spurts shooting against your walls as he groans above you, fingers digging deep into your ass as he holds you still, making sure you're taking in every drop.

“Gen,” you choke, “The count...?”

There's an exasperated sigh from narumi before he's pulling out of you, hand coming to flip you over. The sight of you is really something, tear stained cheeks as you sniffle and hiccup, and oh— you look absolutely ruined, those pretty lips all swollen and pouty and the look you're giving him is to die for.

Your pussy is even worse. His cum has already started to seep out, fat droplets dripping straight onto the tail he knows you're so proud of, the one you're always waving so obnoxiously in his face. Now stained with his cum— as it should be. You're his pet, after all.

“Gonna take out the suit,” he says, “Let’s speed this up.”

[squoxle]

Hello can u make smthing like heeseung and Yn having s3x in the movie or smthing?

I wasn't sure if you meant at home or in public, but I chose public bc it's just more fun that way. Who doesn't love a little risky play?

Now or Never ~ L.HS

𐙚pairing: bf!heeseung x gf!reader | 𐙚wc: 500 | 𐙚plot: during a movie date with your boyfriend, you desperately felt the need to be filled, but going home would take too long so it had to be Now or Never... | 𐙚cw:🔞MDNI!! blow job, mutual masturbation, kissing, public sex, insinuated second round

Maybe it was the way he styled his hair today or the cologne he was wearing, but whatever it was made you think nonstop about fucking him.

To be fair, nothing made you happier than feeling your boyfriend inside you.

You didn't care what hole he used, you just wanted to be filled.

A large tub of buttery popcorn sat between Heeseung's legs as the movie played. His eyes were glued to the screen and you couldn't care enough to pay attention to what was happening.

You reached over to place your hand on his thigh, and his eyes jumped at your sudden touch. "Are you okay?" he asked looking over to you.

"I'm so horny right now, babe," you hummed, giving him a little squeeze.

"Right now?!"

"Mhm," you nodded.

"Did you wanna leave now? We can go straight home."

"That'll take to long."

"We can do something in the car if you want."

"I wanna do it right here, right now," you whispered, leaning in to kiss his lips.

"But--"

"Please," you knew how much he loved to hear you beg for him. This was exactly what you needed to do to get what you wanted. "It's now or never..."

You watched as he sat back in his seat, pushing the popcorn forward a bit as he one-handedly unbuttoned his jeans, zipping them down before worming his dick out of his boxers.

He stroked it with one hand as you adjusted your position in the seat next to him. You leaned over the arm of the chair and wrapped your lips around his tip, quietly sucking as he grew in your mouth.

Other than being filled, this was one of your favorite feelings, his dick hardening against your tongue. You felt him throbbing in your mouth as you slowly bobbed your head up and down.

You could hear him taking deep breaths as you sucked him off.

"Hold on," he muttered, readjusting his position. "Put my hoodie over your lap," he said handing you his hoodie. You placed it on his lap as he reached his hand underneath to stimulate your clit through your panties.

You hummed at the warm sensation burning inside of you as he played with your wetness. He slid his fingers between your lips as you went back down on his cock.

He groaned, gripping a handful of your hair as you satisfied him. Though it was becoming increasingly difficult, you somehow managed to contain yourself as he fingered you.

You felt him jerk in your mouth as he yanked his fingers out to shove his dick down your throat. He held you down as he emptied himself in your mouth.

"How about a round two in the car," he whispered in your ear as he leaned over your head resting across his lap.

You didn't say a single word to him, you just gave him that look that told him everything he needed to know.

❀ Thank you all so much for reading! Make sure to check out other works on my masterlist!

❀ 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @chlorinecake @mimikittysblog @nikisvanillaccola @wonbinisbabygurl @mrswolfhard3 @laylasbunbunny @sussyjake @furious-eagle @cherrriesss @abbyizzy @weyukinluv @addictedtohobi @thatonenoona @wavykook @givemeyourtmihyun @jaeljn @hoonmywk @valennshit @19-yunalyn @hoonbby @frostedblankets @hoonsyo @no-mannerism @perfectxserendipity @chubbibish @ihrtlix @bunniesforsoobin @thereadersparadise @thatbooknerdfr @aiden2001 @belongstoheeseung @jakeybabe @donut-crazs @rizzhee @nikimeows @woonieees @uarmyxtae @rebecca-johnson-28 @they2luv1naia @isa-2007 @silcry @riverscafe @pearlwhitesoul @nikohiroshi @thatbooknerdfr @wonniewonwon @sughoonieeee @babyy-bambii @adrika04 @sehunsharpasseyebrows @wtfyangjungwon @fr-3-akn-4-stymf @rikiloversworld @shawyle @sunoosrightbuttcheek @uarmyxtae @lovesickxmina @urfavberry @urauntiefaye @breadlover01 @taehyunsfavmoa

[creating--memories]

This is How it Went

Part 4: You can say we're nothing but you know the truth

Themes: Angst, fluff?

Warnings: light mentions of internalized homophobia, that's it I think?

Wc: 4k

Author's note: Hi friends, for those of you still awake I hope you enjoy part 4. Thank my job for literally not giving me anything to do today so I wrote most of this at work oops 🙈 Anyways um I kind have an idea where I want this to go but please send ideas if you have any. Also, please ignore that the timeline for this doesn't match real life. I know Azzi already announced her commitment before prom, but let's just pretend for the plots sake. Also ofc I didn't edit this so um ignore any typos.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

P 💗

1:26 AM

Azzi

Azzi

P 💗

1:45 AM

AZZI FUDD

1:46 AM

Az 💗

Paige.

What the fuck.

it’s 2 AM

P 💗

Actually its 1:46 AM

Az 💗

Ok well why are you texting me at 1:46 AM

P 💗

Well

1:47 AM now

but

I wanted to show you something

Az 💗

…

It can’t wait till the morning?

P 💗

technically it is the morning

and no, it can’t wait

Incoming Facetime Call from: P 💗 Buckets 🏀

Az 💗

Paige

It’s the middle of the night

you’re gonna wake my whole family up

P 💗

Azzi just answer the phone

I promise it’s important

Azzi groaned as she reluctantly pushed herself up to rest her back against the pillows on her headboard. At the end of her bed, Stewie stirred slightly from her movements letting out a small yawn, clearly disturbed from a deep slumber.

She reached down to give the dog a small pet on the head

“Sorry Stew” she whispered

“I don’t know what’s wrong with her either”

Stewie crawled slowly over to Azzi and settled into her lap, his eyes slowly drifting closed as he settled back into sleep.

“She’s lucky we both love her” she mumbled as she opened her phone to the Facetime app, finally returning her best friend’s call.

“fiiiiinally” said Paige as Azzi’s face filled the screen on her phone, her voice echoing against the walls.

“Hello to you too” responded the younger girl.

Azzi stared at Paige’s image through the phone, it was slightly pixelated (thanks Uconn Wi-Fi), and her hair was pulled into a low ponytail at the nape of her neck, a thin white headband holding back a few strands of hair that were escaping from her previously slicked back up-do. In the background the bright light of the gym shone down through the phone screen, blinding Azzi with the stark contrast from the dark room around her. As her eyes adjusted to the brightness, and the familiar face of the blue-eyed girl, she found herself relaxing a bit, a small smile forming at the corners of her mouth.

It’s not like Paige and Azzi weren’t used to being far away from each other, they did live about 1,000 miles apart until a few months ago, if anything they were physically closer now. But despite the decrease in geographical distance from each other, it had seemed to become increasingly more difficult for the two of them to get a moment alone.

Azzi was happy for Paige, really. She was settling into UConn quickly. She was doing great on the court, she had been bonding with all of her teammates and overall seemed to be thriving. Every time the blonde talked about UConn her face lit up with excitement and confidence that seemed to radiate off of her through the phone calls and facetimes. But things were different. Paige’s schedule was a lot busier than it was in high school. She couldn’t come home straight after school to talk to her best friend. Her weekends were booked with practices and during her free time, she had team bonding or other school events. Not to mention, the blonde basketball player had begun to get even more media attention in her college debut, and she had interviews, brand deals, and a plethora of other media engagements scheduled around the clock.

So, when the older girl finally did get some time alone, she always made sure to talk to Azzi. Azzi appreciated that her friend made the effort to find the time to talk to her, but she couldn’t help but feel a little guilty, embarrassed almost. She didn’t want to be the kid-friend who was still in high school begging her best friend to pay attention to her when she probably had much better, more interesting things to do. So, Azzi pulled back. She rarely texted first, always waiting for Paige to start up a conversation, to which she always replied, but she made sure to wait a bit of time as to not seem toodesperate. But as much as she tried to put on a cool, nonchalant front, she ached for the sound of Paige’s voice, her presence, to be wrapped up in her arms again enclosed in her bedroom with the rest of the world shut out around them. So now, despite her grogginess, at 1:47 AM, in the dark, her blond-haired, blue-eyed best friend on her phone screen, she couldn't help but feel a sense of ease wash over her, happiness that hadn’t felt this calm in a while. Happy to finally get her best friend all to herself.

“So what is so important that you needed to wake me up for? And why are you at the gym in the middle of the night?” Azzi implored.

“just getting some extra shots in. You know I gotta stay on top of my game” the blonde smirked.

“Well, you know what else keeps you on top of your game? sleep. something both you and I should be doing right now.” Azzi responded

Paige chuckled and rolled her eyes.

“That’s beside the point Az.” she waved her hand in dismissal

“Anyways, I was just here at the gym, putting in some extra hours, it takes a lotta work to keep up this physique you know”

Azzi sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes in fake annoyance, as Paige continued on.

“But, I was looking around at all of the names around this room, all of the championships won and how amazing the legacy is here and how one day, I want my name to be hanging up there too.”

She angled her phone towards the outer edges of the gym letting Azzi get a clear picture of her descriptions.

The blonde took a brief pause looking her best friend in the eye.

“And… when I thought about it, trying to picture my jersey up there… I pictured your name next to mine”

Azzi couldn’t help but blush at the thought of Paige picturing their jerseys next to each other. Bueckers 5 and Fudd 35carrying on the UConn legacy.

“Paige —” Azzi sighed

Paige cut her off before she could continue

“I know you still have a lot more time before you have to decide where you’re committing, and— and I’ll support you wherever you go. But, I really, like reeeeaallyyyy want you to come to UConn. And I just thought maybe if you saw all of the greatness that would surround us in this gym and how amazing we could be together that you would want to come too.”

She looked away from the camera and at the floor, trying to avoid the curly girl’s gaze, nervous about how she may respond to her proposal.

Azzi looked at her best friend endearingly, her eyes softening with the wholeheartedness of the blonde’s words.

“P, you know I think we’re amazing together too. And I really appreciate you showing me all this, seriously. But recruitment, especially with COVID and everything has been so difficult already, I— I just need a little bit more time to think about everything you know?”

Paige nodded slowly still adverting her gaze from the younger girl.

Azzi could sense the hurt on her face. She wanted nothing but to tell her yes, that they can spend the next 3 years playing side by side making the best college duo anyone has ever seen. But this was a big decision, and she needed to make it with her head and not her heart.

“Yeah that makes sense.” Paige nodded.

“I just— I really miss you Az” she confessed.

When her blue eyes finally looked up at Azzi through the screen, the brunette felt a lump creep up in her throat, the sincerity of the comment hitting her.

“I really miss you too P.”

Both girls were silent for a moment. Their words hanging in the air.

“You’ll be home for Christmas, right?” Azzi asked hopefully.

By home, Azzi meant where she was now, and even though she didn’t clarify, Paige knew what she meant. Home was where Azzi was. Home was with Katie and Tim, Jon and Jose, and of course, Stewie. And as much as she was dying to see her dad and Drew, home was in Virginia with the Fudd’s. So yes she’d be home for Christmas.

“Of course,” Paige responded cheerfully.

“Good, I’ll be counting down the days then,” Azzi said with a smile.

“Now show me what you’ve been up so late here practicing”, said Azzi, changing the subject towards something more lighthearted.

Paige propped up her phone and began to show off her practiced form for her three-point shot.

As Azzi watched her energetic best friend, the tiredness that had previously faded started to drift back in. Slowly she stopped fighting it and she drifted off to sleep, the sound of Paige’s sneakers and the bounce of the basketball lulling her to sleep.

—

Winter break came and went, Paige keeping her promise that she’d be home for Christmas, flying in the moment her last practice let out and heading straight for the Fudd’s house. Paige and Azzi spent the next few days spending every second together, challenging each other to games of 1v1 in Azzi’s driveway, even in the snow, baking cookies, in which Paige was banned from the kitchen for eating the raw cookie dough too many times, and fighting over which Christmas movies to watch, alternating between forcing Jon or Jose to be the tiebreaker of their antics.

By the time New Years rolled around, the two had fallen back into a comfortable rhythm going through their days attached at the hip forgetting about all of their other obligations for just a few more days.

Despite how happy Paige was to finally be with Azzi again, there was a thread of anxiety that she couldn’t shake off since she’d arrived. Since they last saw each other, neither of them had brought up the kiss they shared the day before Paige left for UConn, and as much as Paige wanted to confess all of her feelings to Azzi the second she stepped off the plane, she stopped herself. Ever since she had started her freshman year, she had felt the younger girl pull away a bit. Paige was always the one to text first, the one to bug her with calls, and she couldn’t help but feel like she was constantly begging for the curly-haired girl’s attention. Paige had confessed her frustrations to Nika on multiple occasions:

“No, like I get it, it’s her senior year. She wants to enjoy her last season before college. It just sucks sometimes.”

She couldn’t help but feel like Azzi was pulling away because of that day before she left for UConn. Maybe she was pulling away because she regretted it. Maybe she just got caught up in the moment and was scared for Paige to leave, so she gave in to it. She felt guilty about it all. She hated feeling like she was just some creepy lesbian who preyed on her friends. She didn’t want to feel these things for her best friend but she couldn't help it. So instead, she pushed her feelings down and decided that it was better to just pretend the kiss never happened.

Which was working. Until Paige found herself at a New Years party at one of Azzi’s teammate’s house, the brunette dressed in a shimmery silver tank top and black ripped skinny jeans that hugged every inch of her figure perfectly. Her hair was pulled back into a half up half down style, two strands left out, framing her face. The curly-haired girl was slightly tipsy, making her cling to the blonde even more than usual.

The two stood now in the back corner of the room, Azzi’s hands pressed up against Paige’s abs, her fingers grasping at the blonde’s T-shirt, as Paige leaned against the wall, her eye contact locked on the Brown-eyed girl in front of her.

Azzi was doubled over laughing at one of Paige’s absurd stories from one of her practices with Geno.

“there’s NO way you said that to him Paige.” Azzi pleaded.

“Sure did. I don’t need no old man telling me I don’t know how to defend the three-point line.” scoffed Paige between laughs.

“Paige! You’re gonna get yourself benched” yelled the younger girl playfully.

“Nah. Grandpa would never.”

Azzi rolled her eyes at her friend’s cockiness, finally recovering from the laughing fit she had been caught in.

Suddenly, some rambunctious girl ran into the room that stood in, waving her hands to get everyone’s attention.

“ONE MINUTE TILL MIDNIGHT” the girl yelled, and then quickly made her way to the next room, presumably to do the same thing.

As the girl left, Paige and Azzi turned their gazes back to each other, the quiet between them contrasting from the extreme bouts of laughter they had shared moments ago.

“So… You save anyone your New Year's kiss?” said Azzi, tentatively looking up at the blonde girl in front of her.

Paige shifted between her feet, an uneasiness settling in her stomach.

“Uh, no. not this year,” she said, scratching the back of her neck nervously.

“Me neither.” responded the younger girl.

Azzi rocked back and forth on her heels, both girls standing in the awkward silence between them.

“Well, maybe we could be each other's then?” said Azzi, finally breaking the silence.

Paige’s heart nearly jumped out of her chest.

“yes” she blurted out

“I— I mean yeah. Maybe we could.” she nervously tried to play off her previously overly enthusiastic response.

As her blue eyes landed back on Azzi’s brown ones in front of her, the sound of chants filled the room, counting down the seconds left till midnight.

“10…”

“9…”

“8…”

The two girls inched closer to one another, Azzi’s hands finding a comfortable spot on Paige’s shoulders, and the older girl’s hands resting on the younger girl's hips.

“4…”

“3…”

“2…”

“1…”

Paige held her breath, her heart was beating so fast she thought it might stop.

Slowly Azzi pulled on Paige’s shoulders slightly, closing the gap between them and pressing their lips together. The blonde sighed at the contact, letting herself lean into the kiss, breathing in the familiar scent of the girl in front of her.

Before they started drawing the attention of the rest of the people at the party, Azzi gently pushed herself off of the older girl.

No longer stuck in a trance of their shared kiss, Paige suddenly snapped back to reality and a panic started to set in. Before even a few seconds passed, Paige was pushing her way through the crowd and running towards the back door.

“Paige wait!” called Azzi

but the blonde was already out of earshot, the sound of excited cheers and “Happy New Year’s” muffling out her pleads.

—

When Azzi finally made her way through the crown of people at the party, stopping occasionally to hug friends and teammates, flashing a smile and a “Happy New Year” to her drunken classmates, she found Paige sitting on the back porch steps, her hands gripping the t-shirt on her chest, heaving into the cold winter air.

“Paige! What’s going on— are you okay?”

The blonde’s hands trembled as she tried to answer her younger friend.

The blonde stuttered out her words between tears.

“I— I’m sorry Az. I’m sorry for everything. I— I don’t know what came over me, I’m sorry for making you kiss me. I know I shouldn’t—”

“Hey, hey let’s calm down”

Azzi moved to sit next to the trembling girl on the steps. She rubbed slow circles on the older girl’s back as she tried to slow her breathing. After a few moments and Paige’s breaths started to stop coming in small bursts, Azzi took both of her hands in hers and looked at her tear-filled eyes.

“P. Tell me what’s going on?”

Paige’s hands clenched in Azzi’s grasp.

“I— I’ve been trying to stop it. I’ve been trying to pretend like they’re not there but Az I can’t. I have these feelings for you, feelings friends aren’t supposed to have. And I thought maybe you had them too, that night before I left for UConn and I kissed you.”

She slipped her hands from Azzi’s grasp and wrapped her arms around her stomach, attempting to soothe the pain that was pulsating throughout her entire body.

“But then, when I started college you started to pull away. I thought you didn’t want to talk to me. I thought maybe you regretted kissing me and I was just forcing myself onto you.”

“Oh Paige” Azzi sighed

“So when we kissed, I just freaked out and ran away. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable again. I didn’t want to push you away again.”

Azzi pulled the distressed blonde into her lap and squeezed her tightly as she let muffled cries into the younger girl’s chest. After Paige’s tears subsided a bit, Azzi pulled back and took her face into her hands.

“P I’m so sorry. I never regretted anything. I’ve felt those feelings for you too Paige.” the curly-haired girl reassured.

“I didn’t mean to pull away, but I was scared. You were off at school starting the next big chapter of your life and I didn’t want to be your annoying friend in high-school constantly bringing you down. I didn’t want to get in the way.”

Paige breathing settled down, the clarity of the situation finally releasing some of the tension she was holding in.

“Az, remember what I said that night? the night before I left?”

Azzi shifted slightly on the step

“You said you’d never forget about me”

“Exactly,” Paige said as she moved the younger girl's hands from her cheeks to hold in her own.

“Azzi, you could never bring me down. Every moment we’ve spent apart has been torture for me. The last thing I could think is that you’re getting in the way. I miss you every day Az.”

Azzi let out a small smile, her heart warming from the older girl’s confession.

“Gosh, why are we so stupid” groaned Azzi as she squeezed her eyes shut in regret.

Paige let out a chuckle and the comment and pulled the younger girl into a tight embrace.

“I don’t know. But can we agree to not be stupid again?” she responded

Azzi leaned into the hug, squeezing the other girl tighter.

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

—

Unfortunately for both of them, they indeed were stupid again. Very stupid.

Paige leaned on her crutches while watching Azzi comb through her freshly flat ironed hair in the season her vanity.

“I just don’t see why not?” scoffed Paige, picking at the hair of the unicorn plushies that sat underneath her arms.

“Paige you can’t even walk” said Azzi turning back slightly to gesture to the blonde’s foot wrapped in a clunky boot.

Since their New Year’s revelation, Paige and Azzi had fallen into a comfortable, slightly confusing situationship of sorts, where they weren’t together, together, but they also weren’t seeing other people. And they acted as if they were dating, although never said that they were. Azzi would visit the blonde at school. And the whole time she was there Paige would go completely MIA from the rest of the team, only appearing for practices or other mandatory team obligations.

“Damn girl, I thought she kidnapped you or something.” would tease **Aubrey when the blonde would suddenly appear at practice.

They would spend the whole time lost in each other's presence, wrapped up in the sheets of Paige’s small dorm bed, laughing and talking until the late hours of the night. They stole kisses whenever they could, making up for lost time they had spent apart. Even though there was an underlying uncertainty to their situation, both girls were too wrapped up in the feeling of being together to care. They didn’t talk about what they were, or what this meant for either of them. Which is how they ended up here. In Azz’s room, arguing about whether or not Paige could take her to her senior prom.

The blonde winced at the younger girl's comment as she rolled her eyes

“way to rub it in Az.”

“P you know that’s not how I meant it, I’m just trying to make sure you stay on track for recovery” Said Azzi, giving the older girl a pitiful look.

“Doc said minimal movement in the boot is fine! I could make it work! I don see what the big deal is?” Paige argued back

Azzi set her hairbrush down on her vanity, and turned her body to face the blonde girl head on.

“Paige it’s not just that.” she sighed

“I already have so many eyes on me waiting for my commitment announcement. I really don’t need any more speculations about my life or my identity for that matter”

Paige felt the sting of the Azzi’s word ripple over her skin. Her frustration quickly transforming into hurt.

“So you don’t want people to know you’re gay. That’s it isn’t it.” Paige shot back

“That’s not what I said Paige”

Being gay really shouldn’t be a taboo thing for Azzi. She played women’s basketball for god’s sake. No one really “came out” in basketball, one day they just pop out with a girlfriend and that’s that. But for some reason the idea of thousands of people speculating about her sexuality, before she even makes a name for herself scared her.

“Then what? You just don’t want people to know you’re with me?” Paige pressed further

“No, I— I just don’t need all of the unnecessary attention. You know the rumors that are already out there about us. Imagine if there’s a million pictures of us together circulating the internet.”

“Well Azzi, we’re about to be spending a lot more time together at UConn. So if you can’t handle taking pictures with your girlfriend at prom then I don’t know what you’re gonna do in a few weeks when media day rolls around” scoffed the blonde.

“Oh, so I’m you’re girlfriend now?” Azzi said as she crossed her arms.

“I don’t know what you are Az. But if you’re too scared to be seen next to me, then maybe we shouldn’t be anything at all.” said Paige.

“Paige,” let out Azzi quietly

“Forget I even asked” she said as she adjusted her crutches and turned towards the door.

“Have fun at prom Az, I’m sure your date will think you look beautiful,” she said over her shoulder.

As much as she wanted to be angry, Paige couldn’t help but let a semblance of truth slip into her words. She really did hope Azzi had fun at prom and she really did think her date would think she looked beautiful.

But she couldn't find comfort in the thought, because each time she imagined the younger girl’s date slipping the corsage onto her wrist, or pulling her in for a slow dance, she couldn't stop wishing it was her.

So instead, she gripped onto her crutches tighter and hobbled out the door, not turning back to face the younger girl left sitting in her room.

[hopelesswrites]

Double Shot Extra Sweet

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: your restless heart finally settles down when a grumpy man enters your work for his morning coffee.

Note: shes longer, shes got an age gap, shes got potential for more? (Let me know how you feel about this plz)

-

Being the new girl in a workplace wasn’t unnatural for you. You had jumped from job to job for the past year, never being able to settle into one place. You passed it off as a quarter life crisis. Every decision you made seemed to be a result of this crisis, you had moved cities and changed degrees, all because one day after turning 25 you had a hunch you were on the wrong path. A year later and you were in this big new city, on your third cafe job because the other two didn’t vibe with you.

This place however was looking promising. It was a small shop sandwiched between a laundromat and a news stand. The owner Emma was a bubbly older woman with red cat eye glasses and long red acrylics. You learned quite quickly just by the decor of the cafe she was a big fan of cats. Despite the tacky cat shaped clock and the “good meowning” doormat the shop was tastefully designed. It was warm and inviting much like going to your grandmother’s house for tea. The part of the shop you loved the most though was the small free library box out the front. You had taken a small romance book the day you went in for your interview, noting the out of place “theoretical physics” book and a biography on Carl Gauss.

Your first week on the job went by quickly and you seemed to adjust to the clientele easily, most being early morning professionals on their commute to work.

In addition, you quickly decided your co-worker Charlotte would be your new best friend, so after the first rush hour of the morning you both got back to chatting about your lives.

“I swear to god, my brain has been so muddled lately, my classes are so difficult, and I can’t believe I had to ask Mr Wilson 3 times what milk he wanted, I just can’t concentrate its getting concerning” you rambled just as a tall man approached the counter.

“Good morning! What can I get you today?” You spoke happily, noticing the frown etched onto the man’s face. It deepened when he looked around the cafe then back at you.

“Is Lisa not working today?” He asked, ignoring your question. You frowned back at him, noticing how increasingly uncomfortable he was getting.

“I’m sorry, she moved back home to look after her father, but you’ve got me most mornings, I promise I make a good coffee” you encouraged, hoping this man didn’t become your first upset customer at this new job.

He seemed to take a moment to think, eyeing you cautiously before giving you his order. You carefully inputted the order into the till before pulling out a cup.

“Name for the order?” You asked, raking through a list of names you think this guy could possibly have.

Richard? No

Steve? Absolutely not

Lucas? Maybe..

“Spencer”

You raised your eyebrow at him, not what you expected, but it suited him.

“Won’t be too long Spencer” you motioned for him to wait to the side of the counter while you made his coffee. You quietly observed him while you worked. He stood so stiffly, looking around the room as if to look busy. He was older, at least in his late 30s and had the sharpest jawline you think you had ever seen. Somehow, his strong bone structure was softened with fluffy curls framing his face. Honestly, you thought he was gorgeous, if only he loosened the scrunch he seemed to permanently have between his eyebrows.

“Spencer?” You called, sliding his coffee towards him on the counter. His head snapped towards you, frown not slipping as he reached out for it. You watched him inspect the cup, you made sure the lid was on tight, no spills. He took a tentative sip, you can practically see the cogs turning in his head, deciding if you were worthy of the job, making his morning coffee.

“Good?” You asked, suddenly a wave of nerves washing over you.

Spencer looked at you, and you swear you saw the line between his brows twitch and the corners of his lips turn up a tad.

“Yeah good, thanks” he answered before leaving.

For the rest of the day, you couldn’t stop thinking about Spencer. You had a deep desire to know everything about him, but in the same thought, you loved the mystery, it almost made him hotter.

He looked bookish, his old man cardigan giving him an English teacher vibe, but he had this look in his eyes that told you he didn’t spend all day talking about Shakespeare. You also noted his need for routine, your presence this morning obviously throwing him off. You hoped you had proven yourself worthy of being a part of his routine though, because you could get used to him being a part of yours.

-

The following day Spencer returned, instead of a cardigan he had on a brown blazer, one of those ones with the patches on the elbows, it was a cute look you thought.

As you suspected, Spencer was all business, sticking to his routine, same coffee order, stood in the same spot to the side of the counter, you were sure he even looked around the room in the same methodical way he did the day before.

You called his name out, he took a sip, he told you it was good and then he left.

This went on for the rest of your week, and it was this daily interaction that had you deciding you were in the right job finally. You woke up and were finally excited to go to work, you just wanted to see that grumpy older man.

Naturally, you started to romanticise the interactions, you were just a girl after all, a hopeless romantic who lived vicariously through the couples in romance novels. You could already picture the ao3 tags if this were a fanfiction. #agegapromance #grumpymmc #cafemeetcute.

The first day Spencer didn’t show up was the following Wednesday, and you declared it the worst day of your life. In fact, your headache returned the second the clock ticked 8am and your favourite grumpy troubled English teacher hadn’t walked through the door. You held your breath for another 10 minutes, maybe he was running late, and he would rush in hair dishevelled, tie askew, face flushed. But you were left disappointed for the rest of your day.

Thursday was much the same, in fact, Thursday had you writing up your resignation letter in your head, clearly this job wasn’t right for you.

Come Friday you were well and truly ready to admit yourself into the emergency room. Your headache was almost excruciating, you couldn’t muster a single smile for your customers. So, when it was well past 9am, the morning work commuters were at their respective jobs and the door chimed your frown stuck in place, you barely looked up when the customer walked up to the counter.

“Are you still getting that headache?” The man spoke, snapping you back into reality.

“Excuse me?” You looked up at Spencer, eyes wide. He was here, and your life had purpose again!

“You said you were getting headaches last week and you look in pain, I thought maybe you were still getting them”

You barely acknowledged the fact that Spencer had been listening to your conversation with Charlotte or that he could tell you were actively fighting a headache right then, all you could think about was he was here, in the softest looking sweater vest, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looked incredible, a real life angel.

“Probably just not drinking enough water” you brush it off, pulling out a cup from your stack and writing Spencers order on the side.

“Headaches can also be caused by lifestyle choices, high stress and anxiety, bad diet and even posture” Spencer explained. This was the most you’d ever heard him speak. His voice was like velvet, you thought if he was one of your college professors you would have no trouble learning your course content.

“Is my posture bad?” You asked suddenly insecure, pulling your shoulders back a bit on instinct.

“Not the worst, but if you’re studying and hunched over a desk all day that could cause your headaches”

You didn’t know how to explain your headache had suddenly disappeared in his return and it was obviously psychological, so you nodded in agreement.

Still, curious, you wanted to prod for more information on his whereabouts, his addition to your routine becoming increasingly important to you.

“Where have you been all week? I was starting your think you found another barista”

Spencer looked up at you, eyes wide at the continuation of conversation, obviously assuming your exchange would end at the headaches.

“I sometimes have to go away for work”

Curious, you thought. What English teacher travels for work? Maybe he was a guest lecturer at universities.

“I’ve been trying to guess what you do for work” you chuckle while you popped the lid on his drink.

“And? What have you come up with?”

You take a moment to consider your answer. “One guess a day, no hints. My original thought was English teacher, you look studious”

A small smile crept its way onto Spencers face. He took the drink straight from your hand this time. “Not an English teacher, better luck next week”

Spencer had long left the cafe before it hit you, he knew your work schedule. He knew you didn’t work weekends.

Those 2 days off were excruciating. You couldn’t wait to see Spencer Monday morning. You had so many ideas in your head. He seemed to know about headaches which had you thinking about what medical professionals travel for work.

When Spencer returned you wasted no time. “Do I get to know what circumstances you’re travelling for?”

Spencer smirked, “you’re the one that said no hints”

You huffed in annoyance but continued your routine in making Spencers drink. “Fine, brain surgeon”

Spencer scoffed, “not a brain surgeon, no”

You shrugged your shoulders, “maybe you’re a highly awarded brain surgeon and have to travel to different hospitals to perform high risk operations” you felt the need to justify your decision. Spencer smiled at you, “no it’s a good guess”

Tuesday you tried for architect, which puzzled Spencer, you had to explain he gave off a prestigious aura, “you look like you could measure walls with just your eyes” you told him.

“I am very good with numbers” he replied. You had to scold him for giving you an unwarranted hint but kept numbers in mind.

The rest of the week was the same. “Engineer” “no” “data analyst” “no”. you were getting frustrated, and you felt no closer to knowing Spencer than you were that first day.

The following Monday you spotted Spencer outside the cafe, he had stopped at the library box. You watched him put a book in and take one out, stuffing it under his arm before entering the store. You recognised the book immediately; it was an old textbook of yours that you had bought for your course. You only donated it to the library because you had bought the latest edition and didn’t need that one anymore.

“I didn’t take you for an archaeology kind of guy” you joked, pointing at the book.

“I find it fascinating actually, the study of archaeological context has aided in solving many cold case murders”

“I know, it’s my book, I’m studying forensic archaeology” you laughed. Spencer quirked a brow, “how are you enjoying it?”

“It’s fun actually, I like that I feel like I’m actually going to make a difference with my career one day”

Spencer nodded along, obviously wanting to say something else but bites his tongue. “You haven’t had your guess today”

You rolled your eyes, already getting fed up with your own game. You were about to make your guess when Spencers phone chimed. He pulled it out of his coat and frowned at the screen, the first frown you’d seen from him since that first week.

“I’m sorry, I have to go” Spencer rushed, taking his drink from you. “I’ll be away for a couple days, by the way” He gave you a sad smile, “keep working on your guess, I know you’ll figure it out” and then he was gone.

Your world felt like it slowed right down, and you had been forced back to reality. The rest of the week dragging on. Work, no Spencer, late night lectures, sleep, repeat. Come Saturday Charlotte had decided you were going out clubbing to forget “that nerdy dilf” as she put it. You had to explain to her that the ‘nerdy dilf’ was actually a super complex and interesting man who you were growing very fond of seeing every day. This didn’t help your case, and she declared you needed “dick your own age”

Safe to say you were not excited to go out.

The club was one of the bigger venues in town, one of those places with booths you could hire out and bottle service, not exactly your crowd. Charlotte on the other hand was having a blast and had found a group of guys to flirt with. They had their own booth right by the door, you saw them as you walked in, they were observing the room like a bunch of creeps hunting for prey. Carmen seemed to be the ringleader and found a keen interest in Charlotte, his friend Jesse deciding to take on the challenge of flirting with you. There was one other guy who had a girl you didn’t know latched to his hip, Charlotte said her name was Angela, she was clearly wasted and could barely stand, but seemed comfortable enough with the guys, you assumed they knew each other.

The night seemed to drag on and Jesse seemed to get increasingly pushy. You were ready to leave and excused yourself to grab Charlotte, you watched as Carmen noticed you approaching the two and gestured towards Jesse who was close behind you. Before you realised what was happening you were being grabbed from around the waist and dragged over to the door. The man with Angela was already by the door and you watched him disappear into the street with her cluelessly following.

“What are you doing?” You struggled in Jesses grip, looking over to Charlotte for help, she had her head on Carmens chest struggling to keep her eyes open.

It suddenly hit you, were you being kidnapped right now?

You screamed, not caring how big of a scene you caused before a hand was pressed firmly to your mouth. You continued to struggle as you were dragged away, no one seeming to notice. You reached out for Charlotte, just about reaching her shoulder with your fingertips as she was guided out behind you.

Your looked around hoping someone, anyone would notice when a loud voice screamed “Hey!” in your direction. A man rushed over and began to scream, pulling Jesse aside, his grip loosening on you allowing you to slip out of his arms.

“What are you doing with those girls?” The man yelled over the music, causing a couple more heads to turn. You rushed over to Charlotte, but Carmen pulled out a gun, facing it at your head.

More voices echoed around the room as security guards surrounded you.

“Let me go man” Jesse tried to get away, but the original man pinned him to the wall.

Before anyone else could make a move Carmens arm redirected its aim, and one shot fired straight above your head towards the man who had Jesse. Another shot went off as a guard tried to pull Charlotte away, this one was closer to your ear and a ringing echoed through your head. You felt something wet hit your face, but shock had completely set in. There was more commotion before both men ran out of the venue, leaving you and Charlotte standing there.

You don’t remember moving but at some point, you were guided back into the club and into a back room, a manager’s office. A woman crouched down in front of you and began to speak but you couldn’t hear anything she was saying. You had never witnessed a shooting before, you’d never seen someone die before. You knew the guard that was beside you had died, you figured that out when you touched your face and realised it was his blood splattered across your cheek.

A nudge to the arm pulled you out of your daze and you looked over at your friend. “The lady says we need to stay and speak to some FBI agents, okay?” You could only manage a weak nod.

You don’t know how long it took but the door to the office opened and in walked two pairs of feet. You didn’t bother looking up, but you knew these were the agents you had to give your statement to. You wondered how serious this had been for the FBI to be involved.

The man with black leather shoes on approached Charlotte and began to speak, you weren’t listening, but you watched as he guided her out of the room. The other man stood in front of you his voice sending blood rushing up to your ears, you knew that voice.

He crouched down, resting a hand gently on your knee and looked up into your eyes.

Spencer.

He had on a navy blue button up shirt with a navy vest strapped to his torse, big letters reading FBI over his chest. His hair was as fluffy as always and he had that crease between his eyebrows again, a stern but sad look on his face.

“Hey, you” He spoke softly once you confirmed your recognition in the form of a struggled smile. All your emotions washed over you at once and the tears began to fall freely down your cheeks.

Spencer squeezed your knee rubbing his thumb soothingly in a back-and-forth motion. “You’re okay, you’re okay” He whispered taking his other hand and swiping away tears that were only replaced by more.

“I would have never guessed FBI” was all you could think to say, overwhelmed with the entire situation. Here you were after almost being kidnapped and the FBI agent gently rubbing your knee and swiping away tears was your ‘nerdy dilf’ work crush!?

Spencer let out a small laugh, “are you crying because you couldn’t guess my job?”

You laughed back, “no I’m crying because I was almost kidnapped tonight”

Spencers face went serious again, “I’m sorry, I do have to ask you a few questions about that, is that okay?” You nodded your head and allowed Spencer to sit beside you. He reached over for something and returned with a wet rag, gently wiping away the blood from your face while he asked you his questions.

The moment was so tender you wished it hadn’t been tainted by the memory of the men from earlier. Spencer asked you what time you got to the club, what you remembered seeing when you entered, what you knew about the men and what you knew about Angela.

“Are you going to get Angela back?” You asked once he had finished, feeling more childlike than every under his stare.

“We’re going to try, I promise I will get those men though”

You trusted him, Spencer didn’t seem like the type of person to make promises lightly. There was a darkness in the way he said it, like he was haunted by every promise from his past he couldn’t keep.

The other agent returned with Charlotte and pulled Spencer aside to talk. You watched and waited for your next instruction as Spencer returned back to you. “I’m going to have Officer Berkley drive you both home, another Officer will be stationed outside both your apartments in case these men are stalking you” Spencer shot off orders in that stern tone he used when you first met him. You felt ashamed of the thoughts running through your head at this time, and a quick glance from Charlotte let you know she knew exactly what was on your mind.

He was just so hot.

English teacher was sexy, but this? This was insanity.

Before you were escorted outside Spencer pulled you aside slipping a card in your hand. “Call me if there’s any issues, okay?” He gave your hand a quick squeeze before strutting out of the room in search for his partner.

-

Sunday dragged on, you watched your window anxiously, making sure the officer in charge of protecting you was still there. You and Charlotte had both taken the Monday off work, being advised to stay in your homes until they caught the men. All you wanted was to know what was going on. Spencer wouldn’t tell you anything that Saturday night and neither would the officer who drove you home. You wondered how Angela was, had they killed her? How many other women had they kidnapped?

Monday night you were just about to get into bed when a knock at your door interrupted your nightly routine. Your heart felt like it stopped, what if it was one of them. A quick glance out your window had your worries increasing, the officer wasn’t in his car.

“Miss, are you in there” You heard his voice from outside, followed by another knock.

You opened the door to see the man assigned to your protection.

“Feds caught the guys; I’m just letting you know you’re safe and that I’m heading home” He looked tired, and you began to feel bad for the job he had to do.

Once he had left you quickly shot Charlotte a quick text to make sure she was okay and went back to bed. In bed your eyes were locked on the little card you had placed on your bedside table the night before. Spencer told you to call in case of an emergency, but you needed to know if he was okay. He had been out there tracking down the men that tried to kidnap you, men that were violent and had already shot two other people, what if he got hurt?

Before you could think too much about your decision you pulled your phone out and dialled the number, clicking call immediately so you wouldn’t psych yourself out of it. The phone rung and your heart pounded heavier and heavier with each second that passed.

“Dr Spencer Reid speaking” That sweet voice echoed through the speaker. He sounded softer over the phone; you wondered if he was home now and also in bed.

“Hello?” He spoke again, pulling you out of your daze.

“Spencer” You answered, suddenly lost for words.  

Spencer repeated your name back to you, “We arrested those men, Angela is safe”

“I know, the officer told me, are you okay?”

There was a silence before Spencer answered, “I’m fine, why do you ask?”

“Those men were dangerous, I was worried”

Spencer let out a breathy chuckle, “I’m fine, thank you for checking up on me” another beat of silence. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I am now” hearing his voice had instantly calmed you, and you finally felt tired enough to sleep.

“You should get some rest, ill see you tomorrow?”

Your heart fluttered, “Yeah, see you tomorrow Spencer” You hung up the phone, smiling ear to ear, if Charlotte could see you right now, she would absolutely tease you to no end. But you were too happy to care, you were safe, you loved your new job, you love your degree and you got to see Spencer, your very sexy FBI agent nerdy dilf every morning.

[scorpioriesling]

Invisible String - Part 2

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Eris x reader

Warning(s): light angst if you squint. Please be advised; future parts might not be suitable for all audiences. Proceed with caution.

Summary: You'd taken the nanny position for the royal family over a year ago, not expecting what would come of it or how close you'd grow to the child you cared for. Things became tough for Eris when his wife left him and his daughter, and he found it increasingly harder to raise Riley himself. He soon realizes, you've provided a lot more than the typical job description duties for his daughter... and maybe for him, too.

SR’s Note: I added in the advisory so that younger / uncomfortable readers won't begin the series without knowing or expecting potential risks in content to come. For those who enjoy or look forward to content as such -- get excited! Nonetheless, I hope readers will enjoy this series that came to me in a dream one night. (; Much love to all.

Tags: @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @talesofadragon @rcarbo1 @mandziaaa @lilah-asteria @a-frog-with-a-laptop @kitsunetori (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

You paced back and forth awkwardly around your room, not sure what to do with your time. Normally, you'd give Riley a bath and see her off to bed -- but not tonight. Her father had come home during dinner today, and you almost couldn't believe your eyes when he'd materialized before the both of you in the dining room.

Gods, you'd never seen her so excited to see him come home in all the time you'd known the two. She truly missed him when he was gone, just waiting to see her dad come home at the end of the day. You understood; to be honest, you worried some nights when he would be gone late, always apologizing like his timing was the end of the world. He failed to realize that it was his safe return you were more concerned with.

You paused, shrieks of laughter heard from the opposite end of the Wing and you smiled to yourself. Padding over to your open doorway, you peeked your head out, listening as Eris' faint voice spoke with his daughter, saying something that had her giggling once more before you heard the distinct sound of her door latching shut. You retreated back into your room, trying to find anything to busy yourself as the sound of his shoes drew nearer toward your room.

"Could I offer any help with the last of those?" Eris asks, leaning casually against the doorframe as he gestures toward the stack of heavy boxes piled in the corner of your room. You turn, crossing your arms and then uncrossing them, not quite finding a comfortable position.

"Um... well, I could probably get them, tomorrow." You shrug, biting on your lower lip. Eris' eyes study your face for a long moment before he chuckles, walking over to the pile and pushing up his sleeves with such grace. He lifts the top box, his arms flexing under the weight as he adjusts his grip under the edges.

You try, really, really hard not to stare.

"I'll leave these outside to be picked up in the morning, unless you needed them to be kept for something?" He asks, and you all but shake your head before he heads out of your room, leaving you in awe. You shake your head, get it together. That is your boss, for Gods sakes. You take a deep breath, pushing your hair behind your ears before reaching for the next highest box, barely reaching the upper rim before its contents nearly spill over on top of you.

"Cauldron damned-" your curse is cut off when the box doesn't completely dump out on to you, but is caught haphazardly between your hands and one of Eris'. His other one is wrapped around your waist, preventing your impending collision with the floor.

"Woah! Woah," he says, his voice much closer than you expected and you open your eyes you'd inadvertently squeezed shut. He loomed over you, holding you so close to his chest that you sucked in a breath, your eyes widening when they met his peering down at you.

"I'm..." you made to stand, and he lifted the cardboard from your hands. "I thought I could help with that one." You said sheepishly. He chuckled, glancing sidelong at you.

"Always trying to do everything," he muttered. "Honestly, I'm just surprised to hear Y/N actually say a bad word out loud."

You set your hands on your hips, raising an eyebrow and ignoring his teasing remark.

"This is my mess, anyhow. I was just trying to help."

He turns, heading for the door once more.

"Allow me to help you for once, hm?" He says, winking and walking out. You roll your eyes, irritated at how warm your cheeks feel. You flit about the room, putting random smaller items away and folding a few articles of clothing as Eris makes the last few trips. When he comes back in for the final time, he sits on the edge of your bed with a sigh, running a hand through his hair.

You look to him, noticing his exhaustion from the day again. "Thank you," you say, and he looks to you again. He offers you a small smile, leaning back on his hands.

"For all that you've done, helping you move a few boxes is incomparable." Your lips curve upward as you place a few more of your skirts inside the drawers of the dresser, averting his eye. After a few shared moments of quiet, he speaks again.

"This room... its... I'm glad someone is using it again." He says, his hand running softly over the duvet. You glance at him, his fallen expression puzzling as you go about tidying up.

"Oh?"

He's quiet again before he looks at you. "I used to avoid coming in here, after... well, after Selene left." He says quietly, and you pause. The air feels thick, you try to keep breathing evenly as your mind races.

"She... the two of you didn't share...?"

"No." He whispers, looking at the floor. "She thought only mates should share a room."

You shoved the drawer closed, walking slowly to the bedside and sitting next to him.

"I'm sure this is common knowledge by now, but our marriage was simply a transaction, a sign of goodwill between our courts." He let out a humorless laugh. "No magic, golden thread there."

For everything he'd done for his court, all the battles he'd won, every fight he'd fought and all he'd witnessed... this was a subject he rarely discussed, as it seemed tomdrag him down the most.

"Eris..." You said softly, reaching out a hand timidly and placing it on his arm. He braced lightly against the touch, and you leaned closer. "I'm so sorry that you were treated that way-"

He sniffed, his hand rubbing along his jaw quickly before he stood, your outstretched hand slowly retracting with the distance between you two.

"It's alright. Nothing for you to worry about, anyway." He flashed a humorless half-smile, and you stared up at him with concern. You could tell it was a tough subject for him, and you definately didn't want to pry; but he didn't exactly have many other people to open up to.

"Well... alright then." You say defeatedly. He nods, turning and heading for the door. He looks over his shoulder only once more before closing the door behind him.

"Sleep well, Y/N."

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

"Apple juice, please?" Riley asks, and you pour her a fresh glass, delivering it to her awaiting hand. She sips quietly, then blinks a few times when you sit down beside her. "Oh -- thanks!" She smiles.

You nod, silently praising her good mannered habits. You could still remember when you arrived at the Forest House, the little spitfire was ordering people around at the ripe age of three. "Give this!" and "Do that!" was all she managed, and though her heart was pure, you did encourage better etiquitte; luckily, it stuck.

"Daddy said he have a surprise," she swung her legs under the table, some of her juice swishing in her cup. You raised an eyebrow.

"Did he, now?" You weren't sure what she was talking about, or if there really was a surprise at all. Eris had made haste this morning, rushing past you this morning on his way out the door. He'd barely kissed his daughter goodbye before he was on his horse and halfway to the border-

"He did! He said he had one." She insisted, and you nodded in understanding. What it could be, you had no clue.

"Well, lets finish our dinner so we're ready when he gets home, yes?" You suggest, and Riley agrees, jamming the last of her chicken nuggets into her mouth and chewing with maximum effort. You shake your head, smiling at just how normal the girl was. You were just glad she found joy in chicken nuggets still, and didn't request challenging dishes every meal quite yet.

Insisting on wearing her fluffy pink footie pajamas, Rylie then sat in your lap on the couch, her stuffed beagle clutched in her hands as you brushed out her wet-clean locks.

"Braid it pretty?" She asks, and you leaned in, kissing the top of her little head. She grinned, holding her little beagle's head to her lips and kissing it's head just the same.

"Anything for you, Riles," you say, getting to work on the long strawberry strands. She sits very patiently for a four year old; that is, until you've secured the band at the end of your work and the front door creaks open.

"Daddy!" She's up in an instant, running to the door with glee and clinging to her father's leg the moment she spots him. You stay seated a moment longer, listening from the living area but not quite ready to see Eris yet. After the tense conversation last night, you couldn't help but feel... awkward, after the conversation.

After a few minutes, Riley has retreated to the living room looking rather dejected. Your brows knit as she stalks toward you, her beagle hanging limply from her fingers.

"Daddy says bedtime. You take me please?" She says, looking down at the floor. You frown, your hands lifting under her arms as she wraps her legs around your waist.

"Of course sweetie," you try to sound upbeat, but she only lays her head on your shoulder. You pet her head, wrapping your other hand around her to keep her propped up against your waist as you make your way to her end of the Wing. You look around as you go, not seeing any sign of Eris on your way. He literally just got home, what the Hell could he possibly have to do right now?

Once you reach her room, you place her gently atop her plush duvet, her eyes half closed when her head touches the pillow. You pull a loose blanket over her legs, knowing sometimes she gets cold at night, and kiss her little cheek one last time before moving toward the door.

"Y/N," she whispers. Your eyes meet hers in the dim light, your fingers stalling as they reach for the glowing tableside lamp.

"Yes dear?"

"Can you please read? Please?" Her bottom lip trembles. "D-daddy always reads... he reads my book..." she sucks in a breath of air, and you rush over to her bed, taking her little hand in yours.

"Yes, of course honey!" You say, hoping she will feel better. "I would love to read you a story," you look left and right, searching for any tomes near her bed. She lifts a limp hand, her finger pointing to the book resting at the opposite end of her bed.

"You'd like that one? The Kissing Hand?" She nods, one tear slipping free and running down her cheek. You hastily grab the book, and she scoots over, making a space for you to lay beside her. You scoot close, reaching an arm around her and she snuggles close as you flip open the book. Her little fingers wipe her tear from her cheek, and you begin to read.

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You weren't sure when you'd drifted off, but when you slipped back into consciousness, your back ached from its cramped position on the small bed. You looked around, the darkened room coming into view as well as the peacefully sleeping babe next to you.

You must have fallen asleep reading to her, you thought. Surely you'd left the lamp on though; its glow would come in handy now as you tried to slip silently out of her embrace, sneaking out in absolute darkness. At least the door was still cracked open.

You'd stumbled around quietly enough and made it down the hallway to the kitchen, the clock on the wall coming into view.

Four in the morning. Gods.

You kept walking, feeling along the walls until you found your bedroom door, and let yourself inside.

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You woke up that morning to the delicious smell of cinnamon and sugar, the comfort of your plush bed surrounding you as the first light of day drifted through your curtains. You yawned, stretching out your arms and slowly opening your eyes.

Ahh, what a lovely morning.

Morning. The sun was out.

You threw the covers off of you hastily, your bare feet hitting the cold wood floors in a rush as you lunged for your door handle. Riley was surely awake by now, and surely starving. You bounded down the hallway, your steps faltering when you heard her familiar ramblings from the kitchen and registered the smell of food wafting through the air.

As you approached, you watched in pure shock as Eris stood over the kitchen island, his hand holding his daughters as he helped her spread icing over a tray of steaming cinnamon rolls, smiling and talking along with her. He hadn't noticed you walk in; but she sure did.

"Y/N! Finally! You're awake!" She squealed happily, and you forced a smile, still confused by the scene before you. Eris looked up then, his eyes meeting yours only briefly before he went back to the treats he was making.

"Good morning Riley," you said hesitantly, stepping closer toward the island. Eris' eyes flicked up again, snagging on the silk pajamas you'd changed into before collapsing onto your bed last night. You crossed your arms over your chest.

"Good morning. Eris." You said, and his mouth pressed into a thin line.

"Morning Y/N." He said plainly before turning to Riley, lifting her off the counter and setting her on the ground.

"Bunny, why don't you set the table," he handed her the silverware and a few plates. "And we'll join you in just a few minutes?" She nods, skipping into the dining room, as Eris braces his hands against the countertop, his eyes locked on yours once more.

You stare back, shrugging when you can't understand the point of standing in silence. "What?" You ask. He sighs, biting the inside of his cheek.

"Y/N, I'm sorry for the... discussion. We had. The other night, it was... highly, unprofessional." He nodded, looking down at the pan of cinnamon rolls once more. You raised an eyebrow, a soft laugh erupting from your lips and causing him to flick his gaze to you again.

"What is funny?" He asks, seeming a bit taken aback.

"Nothing, no," you say, smiling softly at him. "I just... Eris, I live in your home. I spend every day with your daughter. I think we're beyond professional, aren't we?" You say. He cocks his head to the side, a small smirk curving the side of his lips.

"I suppose we are, then."

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

"Daddy. These cimanim rolls. Are. Delicious!" Riley grins with delight, Eris' expression a mirror of his daughter sitting next to him at the table. You watch the two and your heart swells; one day, you could only dream of having something so special as that.

"Why, thank you Princess!" Eris says, and she holds her chin high. You shake your head at her, and Eris' eyes meet yours, his face giving away exactly what he's thinking. After a few more quiet moments, he speaks up again.

"Bunny, I wanted to ask you about doing something fun today," he says, and Riley immediately perks up.

"Fun?" She asks, and he nods.

"In the Town Square, there is the Autumn Festival, and it would make me very happy as your daddy if you would go with me-"

"Yesss!" She shrieks, every single one of her teeth showing as she smiles in excitement. You can't help but feel so happy for her -- she deserves time with her father, and he's finally home to spend it with her, doing something she had been longing to do anyway.

"Ohmygosh I can't wait! I will wear my Princess dress so everyone knows I am a Princess, okay," she explains hastily, only pausing to take a sip from her glass of milk.

Eris nods, looking to you. "I figured you may appreciate at least a day off as well," he adds quietly, and you offer him a gentle smile. Truly, you didn't need one, but you appreciated his consideration all the same. Riley doesn't quite catch the incinuation, though.

"Y/N, you have to wear a dress. You can't borrow from me this time because you're too big," she says, hopping from her chair. "You have a dress?" She asks. Your eyes meet her dad's and his mouth opens to answer first.

"Bunny," he starts. "I don't think Y/N was going to come today," he explains. Rileys brows knit in confusion as she looks at him.

"Why not?"

"Well," he says, trying to tread lightly. "Maybe Y/N has other things she would like to do today. It's okay though; just me and you can go." He says, but Riley looks to you, her eyes looking you up and down.

"What... what else do you want to do though?" She says, and you chuckle.

"Riley, honey, today you can go have fun with your daddy, alright? Me and you play here everyday," You reason with her. She doesn't let up, and Eris studies you from across the table.

"Daddy -- can Y/N just come too?" Riley says. You sigh, looking to Eris for help, but he only stares quietly at you, a small smile on his lips.

"I really will just stay here-"

"Yes." Eris says, and you meet his eyes, Riley spinning in happy little circles at the end of the table. "Y/N can absolutely come with us today."

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[hyperiondickrider]

Baby Bunny~

(Chapter 2)

Vox x Reader; Valentino x Reader; Alastor x Reader; maybe Lucifer x Reader

After your untimely death, Mr Vox was kind enough to take you in and give you a job as his assistant. However, it appears that you’ve caught the eyes of few other demons, who are certainly not afraid of a little competition…

Vox was an angry man. At least, right now he was.

“What the FUCK does that ancient prick think he’s doing, putting his hands on my little assistant?” Yes, Vox was in quite the mood, watching your every step and action through his monitor. Watching Alastor drag you along through public, knowing he could see you both, was simply the most fucking audacious move he has ever made.

“God fucking dammit, I told her not to speak to that old-timey asshole.” Staring at his monitors and muttering profanities, he felt his screen begin glitching and buffering out of severe irritation.

“My, my, Voxxy, I wonder what’s got you so out of sorts, hmm?”

“Shut the fuck up, Val, you fuckin know why I’m pissed.”

“What? You miss the little conejita, hm?”

“Get out of my room, Val. I got work to do.” Through gritted teeth he managed to compose himself, returning his gaze to his monitors, focusing in entirely on you, and your fearful eyes.

The way your bunny ears fluttered when you were thinking. The way you batted your eyelashes in surprise. The way your little button nose twitched when you were upset.

God, it was hard to stay mad at you.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sharp buzzing of his doorbell, likely signally your arrival. He watched on his screen as Alastor bade you goodbye, planting a soft kiss on your hand, and watched your face darken with a blush at the action.

If he was angry before, now he was fucking seething.

No sooner had you entered the building and greeted the secretary, then Vox harshly grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you up to his office, ignoring your pretty little whimpers and pleas on the way up.

Finally in his office, he slammed the door and locked it before speaking.

“Y’know, dollface, I only had one rule for you here. Don’t fucking speak to Alastor. And y’know what, pretty girl? You just fucking broke it.” The lights in the room start to flicker and glitch as his irritation grows.

“‘M sorry, Mr Vox, b-but he wouldn’t l-leave me alone..” you cower away from his as he approaches you, eyes welling up with tears as your nose begins to run.

His anger stalls as he sees your teary eyes, letting out a sigh and releasing his power.

“C’mere, dollface.” He beckons you over, taking a seat behind his desk. As you approach he grabs you by the hips to sit you snugly on his lap, straddling him, as your face grew brighter.

“Y’know I can’t stay mad at you, babydoll. Just promise me you’ll try to avoid that asshole?”

You whimper affirmatively nuzzling into his chest as he pulled you in for a firm hug, reluctant to let you go.

“Okay, dollface. Run along now, Val wants to see you.”

Satan, was he such a sap for you.

Climbing off his lap you walk towards the door on shaky legs, gently waving him goodbye before closing it behind you.

Adjusting your skirt, you decided to go find Mr Val, to give him your report.

Wandering through the building, you finally found a staircase, and climbed up a few flights to reach the porn studios, where Valentino could usually be found. Growing increasingly uncomfortable with the amount of naked people and lube in the environment, you began to get rather desperate.

“Excuse me, do you know where I can find Mr Val?” You timidly asked the nearest actor.

“Uh, yeah, he’s in studio 6 right now, but be careful pretty girl. He’s in a mood right now.”

Hurriedly thanking the actor, you rushed off to studio 6 eager to speak to Val and leave the porn studios as quickly as possible.

“Goddammit, kitty! Why are these putas so fucking incompetent!” The sound of glass breaking indicated Mr Val’s presence, the actor’s observation of his poor mood being dead on.

“Well, if it isn’t the little asistente~ Any news for me, bonita conejita?”

And as always, his piss poor mood could be fixed in an instant by the presence of a pretty little thing. Feeling better already, he pulled you into his lap on his couch, your back against his much larger torso, as he began picking through strands of your hair, humming softly to himself.

“I-i found Angie, Mr Val. H-he’s stayin at the princess’s hotel in the center of town. I-I know you’re sad he’s not stayin with us anymore, b-but I think this could mean his work will improve, s-since he has more space ‘n all..” you trail off, embarrassed at your rambling, while Valentino simply chuckles at your naïve attempt to protect Angel from him.

He turns you around on his lap, blowing pink smoke into your face, making you cough gently.

“Such a kind little bunny, hmm? Trying to protect Angel Dust from the big bad moth man, yes? You really are una conejito estúpida, but such a cute one~”

He grabs your jaw forcing you to look him in the eyes, your skirt riding up as he forces you to lean forward, hands on his chest to brace yourself.

“I could make you a star, bebé bonita~ how’d you like that, everyone would know your face. And pussy I suppose.. no, I think I’d rather keep you all to myself, conejita.~”

He pulls you ever closer to pat your head and rub your ears, knowing just how much you love the attention.

“Hmm, you better go now, bebé. I got films to direct.” With a grin, he’s shoved you off his lap leaving you in a shaky heap on the floor. You carefully hoist yourself off the floor, deciding to head home for the day, all whiny and teary from how worked up everyone’s got you today. Oh well, hopefully Vox will take care of you later.

A/N: I love writing Val so much omg it’s so fun he’s such an ass

Tags: @whocaresimnothere

[liveontelevision]

Sweet Radio Demon Alastor x Reader

As promised, here she is -

It's inspired by Living Tombstone's song Alastor's Game!

CW: Reader is a cannibal and it's a p big part of the story so mentions and details of cannibalistic intent and murder

♡♡♡

Some people just don't belong in Hell. The structure of divine judgment must be rigged, punishing any poor soul who commits sin without realizing it. Those individuals don't belong.

Then there are those who do. Those who realize there's an afterlife and instantly come to terms with their placement. That's when all the Oh, I'm definitely going to Hell for this jokes start to bite back.

It's always easier for those who choose to be sinners to adapt to Hell's settings. The job market for porn stars and actors is extensive, and protection is almost guaranteed despite the souls owed or deals made.

But, what interested you the most, you depraved sinner you, was the loveliness of Cannibal Town. Not only was it the nicest part of Pentagram City, but you felt right at home considering your appetite when you were living.

It was immense. Some kind of craving that you could never satisfy, no matter how many callers you invited into your home and how many of them never left. You got creative, playing with recipes, spices, and cooking methods, but it was never, never, enough.

Sometimes, you'd wonder how you got to this point. You were a normal enough kid, went to school, had a nuclear home life, and you were comfortable financially, the works.

You remember it feeling like a stomach ache.

A stomach ache that brought you to tears and kept you from school some days. You almost assumed it was something every child went through until you learned what subdued the pain.

Meat.

It was the solution. You ate like a carnivore at first, then the food became increasingly rare as you aged up. Until you stumbled upon some strange forums online (There's something online for everyone, I suppose). You gave in to the cryptid suggestions. You tried rodents at first, only after thorough mental and food preparation, but fuck did it do the job. It made your body shutter and your mind hazy, momentarily melting any thoughts of guilt you might still have.

As time went on, you grew hungrier. Animals weren't cutting it.. but maybe he could.

You found him online, chatted for a while over some messenger, then discovered how much of a dirtbag he truly was. That seemed to disarm you from the whole idea.

Poor thing.

Maybe if he was kind enough, he would have been spared.

You invited him over.

As you watch him approach your door, you tussle your hair, and adjust your clothes that leave little to the imagination. With a continuous, you can do this, you can do this, you're drawn to the knocking of the door.

"Damn, babe, if I knew you actually looked like this, I would've come over sooner." He props his arm on the doorframe as he speaks.

Is.. is that supposed to be a compliment?

Your eye only twitches a bit before you cover your expression with a cute giggle. Holding your hands behind your back, you lean forward.

"Not too bad yourself, big guy. How's a movie sound?"

One thing leads to another, you're seated on your couch, and his hands are immediately on you. For someone who acts so big and tough, his touch is awkward and uncomfortable. Like he doesn't know what he's doing.. probably because he doesn't know what he's doing.

The inexperience helps.

You didn't take into account how large he was. Assuming this would go as planned, you'd be set for weeks, but the actual action of getting him down still worries you.

You're barely an hour into the movie, which you can hardly remember, before his sloppy lips are on yours, which you respond to with a grimace. He doesn't seem to take into account your reactions, grunting against your very unresponsive lips.

Disgusting.

Pig.

He places a large hand on your waist, pulling you roughly to him.

Strong.

Muscular.

You need more. You need to evaluate your prey. You place your hand on his wrist, delicately running your fingers up the entirety of his forearm, tracing and digging into each vein and muscle you can find. That continues up to his chest. Before long, you find yourself straddling him, his wide hips forcing your legs apart a decent amount. Despite his build, his composure clearly shows he's nearly at your mercy. While you're running your hands along his body continuously, occasionally kissing him or letting out fake moans to his ear, you're feeling his ever-growing length pressing into your leg.

You'd be disgusted by the sensation if you weren't planning your next move internally.

You hid weapons everywhere. If you remember correctly, there should be a knife sitting in the crevice between the couch’s armrest and the side table. You just have to reach -

"Take this off." You command with a breathy voice, tugging at his t-shirt that had some unknown stain on it. You almost regret putting so much effort into your appearance.

Oh, well. You're taking notes in the back of your mind for any future endeavors.

You guide his desperate hands to pull the shirt over his head. In one movement, you drop the shirt and take the hidden knife into your hand. You hadn't realized until just now, but -

You're shaking.

You let out a deep breath. With your arms reaching over the arm of the couch, you're essentially caging him in. Nothing looks suspicious yet. Not to him, at least.

You lean in to give him one final kiss. You aren't exactly sure why. It's not doing anything for you. Maybe some sort of sympathy is crossing your mind?

… You'll have to work on that.

You pull away slowly, giving yourself time to examine the state he's in. His eyes are glazed over, his breath shallow.

Now.

Do it now.

You're ready. You've studied anatomy, disarmed yourself to the idea, and prepared for the worst.

You have to do it now.

You straighten your back, the knife now visible to him. He doesn't seem to notice at first until your arms are in the air, hoping to find some momentum in the stab. With your eyes still open, you find the spot where it should end this without too much pain for either party. You dive as fast as you can, but you made a fatal error.

You shut your eyes.

The moment was immediately silenced by the tension of his hand fisting the blade of the knife. He caught it. He stopped it just before it could pierce his chest, only bleeding from his palm. You both sit silently, in disbelief, perhaps.

A silent curse slips from your lips, and that seems to snap him back to this failure of a hook-up.

"You fucking psychopath!" He screeches. He stands, effectively throwing you off his lap as he does so. The action forces a small yelp out of you, and your grip on the knife is immediately taken from you. You stare up at him from the ground.

The tables seem to have turned. He's looking down at you, stumbling and struggling to find his grounding, all the while holding the knife. Despite this, despite his large build and his newfound advantage, he bolts for the door.

Was this better than him attacking you? Will he go to the police? You almost hope he's fragile enough to not admit he was attacked by a frail creature, or that he'll use this as a story to brag to his friends over, I escaped a psycho bitch last night.

You start cursing again. They become more frantic and louder as you follow him out. You watch him stumble off your patio and back to his car. You manage to find reality when a previous thought hits you.

You hid weapons everywhere.

A shotgun sits by your front door. It wasn't the most hidden, but in your defense, it was dark enough outside that it went unnoticed. And you're in a rural enough area that some wouldn't bat an eye at the sight of it.

With shaky hands, you pick it up, already loaded, and aim it at him. He's already in the driver's seat, but you're too exposed to let him just drive off at this point.

You didn't really know much about guns. But in an emergency such as this, it seemed like it would come in handy. So when you took your shot, you never considered the consequences of shooting bullets at a running car, especially with your poor aim.

You come to moments later, fire and pieces of metal surround you. You try to take in your surroundings, but your ears are ringing, and your senses are overwhelmed by the severe burns covering most of your body. You manage to find your home, still mostly intact. The car, on the other hand, is completely decimated.

In the corner of your eye, you think you can spot some resemblance of your date sprawled along the asphalt. With a heavy breath, which you consider might be your last, you let your head drop onto the pavement.

-

"My my, what a predicament you've got yourself into!"

A voice?

It echoes through your head. You can still only see the crackling of the fire surrounding you, and your ears still ring, but the voice seems clear as day. There's a bit of a static to it, but still it's clearnes startles you. You attempt to respond through the pain.

"W-Who-"

"Save your strength, my dear. I'll be quick since it seems you won't be with us much longer." The voice says. You can hear footsteps, a clear clicking of heels that echo in this ethereal space you find yourself. You struggle to lift your head, only catching a glimpse of the stranger kneeling in front of you.

"I'll clean up this little mess of yours, and we can discuss my repayment once you're in less of a.. scorched state. Deal?"

How could you consider the consequences? Or even comprehend his words while you’re like this? You aren't sure what he means, and you have no time to question. Your consciousness seems to be honing in on the burns.

You let out a horrific scream, clutching your arms, only intensifies the pain. If you could see the stranger, you'd see a disturbingly unphased smile.

"Help me - H-Help me! Please!" You beg and cry out, finally reaching out your hand to him.

"So? Do we have a deal?"

"Deal - Deal! Fuck- I-It hurts..!" You sob, biting your blood-dampened lip to prevent any more screams.

He takes your hand, gripping onto the raw skin of your burns. Your next scream comes out silently. You feel your vision blur before your body finally comes to terms with its seemingly sealed fate.

-

You shoot up from your bed, your face running with tears. They feel cool, running down your heated cheeks. You quickly wipe your face, leaving a wet smudge of makeup and sweat across your fingers.

Right.. make-up from the date.

You scan your bed, no man in sight. It’s a relief to wake up in your bed alone. Shifting out from under the covers, you look to your hands, waving them in front of your eyes and running your hands across your own skin.

Smooth.

Maybe even softer than you remember previously.

Some sort of calming amenity seems to be sweeping over your body. With glazed eyes, you examine your body that should be severely burned, yet you feel nothing.

Still, in a state of shock, you rise and wrap yourself in your blanket before leaving your bedroom looking a mess. You roam your home, looking around with still-damp eyes. You feel like a tourist. Like none of this is yours.

Not anymore.

You find yourself standing by your front door, opening it without hesitation. It's a clear sunny day. The grass is just as green, if not greener, and there were flowers there that you don't recall ever planting.

Suddenly, your bare feet against the heated pavement sends a slight panic through you, as the more gruesome details of the previous night conjured in your mind.

That's why nothing looks right. You were sure your porch was blackened by the fire. The grass was a flame, and there was a car - and that man and the voice -

You approach where his car was parked, only to find a torn-up strip of rubber, assumingly from its tire.

"What the.." unable to even complete a thought, a familiar voice only brings up more questions.

"Ah, my apologies! I assure you it is quite out of character for me to miss a spot." You see a disturbingly tall figure come from behind, swooping down to pick up the rubber scrap. He examines it within his red talons, turning it back and forth. You stand dumbfounded, but he goes on anyway.

"So, what exactly caused your date to ..implode? Was he not to your liking? Too handsy? Too-"

...

You're too tired for this.

You rub the sleep from your eyes, turning on your heels and letting the blanket drag across the rugged pavement behind you as you head back inside. You almost expect some sort of resistance from him, a qwip on how rude it is to walk off in the middle of a conversation, but there is none. Maybe you just imagined that little interaction. Maybe there wasn't really anyone there, and you're still tired or still sleeping.

You open the door, and that same bright smile greets you from inside your own home.

That seems to wake you up.

Your wide eyes scan his face, then peek inside your home behind him. You turn back around to see where he previously was, and obviously there's no sign of his travels. You slowly turn back.

"May I speak now?" His voice is laced with a radio filter, and it hits your ears in the strangest way. The reality of the situation turns your exhaustion into apprehension, yet you nod your head anyway.

"I may have caught you in the midst of your disarray, but I must admit, I'm curious about what led to it." He steps aside and gestures for you to come inside. To your own house.

"H-He got the upper hand is all." You decide not to comment, moving inside sluggishly. As far as you know, this strange being has no idea of the sins you've committed. You quickly fib.

"He attacked me, actually."

"Oh, how devastating!" He lets out a saddened sigh, a hand over his heart with fake sympathy. "Now, was that before or after you attempted to drive a knife through his chest?"

With a defeated groan, you flop onto the couch.

"What are you? A sleep paralysis demon? A.. nightmare? Am I still asleep?" You grumble, running the possibilities out loud and not expecting a true answer. You actually hoped that it would all go away. That this voice in your head, this hallucination, is just that.

In your head.

"Ooh, I like the sound of that.. A nightmare~ has a nice ring to it wouldn't you say?" He stands in front of you, his hands folded formally behind his back.

"Now. Enough with the compliments. What truly happened, my dear?” When his voice suddenly turns sympathetic, you find yourself actually in need of someone to vent to.

“Well, since you're clearly just a nightmare - or.. something - ” You sit up, take in a deep breath, and with its release, you reveal yourself.

All of you.

Every single animal you've killed to curb your pain, what seems to work and what doesn't, and the previous nights failure. You talk about the number of friends and family you've scared off throughout the years, everything.

“I.. was gonna eat.. him…” You squeak out your final sentence. You've never really said it out loud before. And never in front of someone else. It made your own blood run cold. Not the thought of the act itself, but just sharing it aloud. your eyes stay fixed on your fidgeting hands in your lap when a loud cackle interrupts your anxiousness.

“My word, aren’t you just the cutest basket case? You're lucky to be dealing with a demon of similar tastes.” He hisses his final words, all with a sly smile. He sounds prideful in his admission. His words seem like they're meant to disarm you, and even though he essentially admitted to being a cannibalistic demon, it works.

“Well.. since we have sooo much in common-” Your voice drags, the notion of being similar to this demon feeling strange to mention out loud, “-would you.. help me? With all this..?”

Expecting another laugh, maybe some more teasing, you're met with a confusing expression. His smile is still there, unmoving, but you catch the smallest twinkle in his eye. He stands and faces away. The hope of finding an outlet for your cannibalistic intent starts to dwindle.

Your misplaced disappointment is overtaken by the flickering of lights and the soft tunes of a radio nearby, one that you recognized but were sure had been broken for decades. He turns his head unnaturally, looking over his shoulder to meet you with blackened eyes.

“I would be absolutely delighted.”

-

“Lucky for you, some of your late-night delivery seemed to withstand the flames!”

You follow that transatlantic accent to your kitchen, unamused by his continuous puns and casual speech. This big scary demon friend of yours presents a commically large plate, with a very familiar carcass sitting atop.

He did nothing to make it look any less disturbing than it truly was. the skin was nearly burned off, the smell was just awful, and the shirt was somehow still recognizable through it all.

You cover your mouth in response. The fact that it doesn't smell much different than some of the other carnivorous meals you’ve prepared nauseates you more than the sight of the corpse itself.

“Quite a specimen, very good choice! But, you needed tips, correct?”

All you can think of to respond is a simple nod of your head.

“Then let's get started!” With a snap of his clawed fingers, a sleek black apron covers his suit.

The next few hours were grueling, but.. fun? If you're allowed to call it that. You were given multiple pointers, and sure, they were all quite helpful, but they were in excruciating detail. What certain parts of the body you should pick or avoid was one thing, but discussing what wine pairs with what organs? It's not a conversation you ever thought you'd have.

By the time the meal looks normal, all decorated with spices in a baking pan and in the oven, you instinctively go to do dishes. As you fill the sink and start bringing things over, a little creature has you nearly tripping. You look down, seeing a strange little stitched doll carrying most of the dishes to the sink. No matter how strange it looked, you respond with a curious hum, fully desensitized to it at this point.

“Huh..” is all you can say. You take any remaining dishes and follow suit, plopping it all into the water. The little doll seems to be tugging at your leg when you try to walk off. It's holding its arms up to you, letting out little murmurs that sound restrained by the stitches across its mouth. You hesitate at first, but scoop it up in your arms and place it aside the sink. And it gets to work scrubbing away.

“Damn, you're cute, and you clean? Can I keep you?” You ask it quietly, giving it a quick pat on the head. It seems to smile.

“Quite a delightful little thing, one of my better creations, I must admit.” The response from him seems to scare the poor thing straight. It immediately lowers its head and focuses on cleaning. You scoff at the interaction between the two. if his own toy is scared of him, should you be as well? “That being said, I simply can not part with it. My apologies.”

“Oh, I was kidding. Mostly.” You reply quietly. You hear the first chuckle from him that seems genuine. No ill intent, just a joyous response to your little quip. It felt kinda.. Nice.

-

“So, Mr. Scary Demon Man-” You clear your throat before you speak. “-why are you here, exactly? did I do something to summon you? Or-” He cocks his head to the side at the title, a little twitch to his eye.

“Not at all, my dear. I simply wanted to help you in your little endeavors, from one cannibal to another, Haha!” His tone goes back to that of a salesman. Like he’s trying to convince you he’s something he’s not.

“Well.. thank you, I guess. I don't really understand why you’d want to help me without wanting something in return, though. You don't seem like-”

“-A charitable man? I suppose that’s fair.” He doesn’t give you a chance to reply. “If you’re so desperate to return the favor, why don’t we strike a deal? Just a little one. Between friends.”

You weren’t stupid. His words made it clear that this was his intention from the moment he chose to save your life. You shrunk a bit.

“Sure, between friends.” You let out a sigh, your somewhat chipper attitude immediately fading. He takes no time to be empathetic.

“Good! Now, you seem to have an eye for food. This meal was ideal considering your poor execution.” You can’t stop your eyes from rolling. “And you can’t get meals quite like this where I’m from. How about you keep providing, with my assistance, and I’ll make sure it’s prepared to the best of my abilities. In exchange for all my hard and generous work, I get half the spoils! Seems far more favorable on your end, but I’m feeling rather generous today.”

Where he’s from? You want to question it. You want to know more about him, you want to know -

“What’s your name?” Your sudden questioning leaves him speechless for a moment, but he’s quick to recover his charming smile. “You never told me.”

“Well, considering you won’t need my name if you don’t agree to this little game, how about I throw that in as well? You provide the living flesh, and I’ll handle the rest. And, you’ll get my name.” He stands before you, a bit too close for your comfort, as he reaches his hand out to you. “Call it a deal?”

An ominous green glow surrounds the two of you. It sends some kind of wind through your clothes and hair. His hand is especially bright, and his eyes go back to that frightening black that you experienced previously.

At the end of the day, if this is what you have to do to stifle those damned pains, it doesn't seem all that bad. You extend your hand, instinctively flinching at the seemingly impending danger. But that still doesn't stop you.

“O-Okay.. Deal.” With the touch of his palm against yours, the glow flashes, forcing your body to tense and your eyes to squeeze shut. It only lasts for a moment, though. When you open your eyes, you first examine your connected hands. His hand is huge compared to yours. From this proximity, you can truly take in how unnaturally tall he is.

Attempting to tug your hand back, his grip tightens, forcing your hand to his lips for a quick kiss to your knuckles. An outdated and surprisingly intimate action leaves you a bit flustered.

“My name is Alastor. It’s been a pleasure, my dear~”

-

And so, your transactional deal went on, right until your demise. You used a similar tactic to bring more meals to your doorstep, finding a handful of poor saps online. You weren’t exactly sure what he meant when he offered his assistance, but when the time came, a strength took over your body that you never experienced before. There were no more shaky hands or sympathy. Your aim was always true, and it was just so easy. Any impending dangers or possible retaliations were alerted to you by a subtle whisper, a voice, coming from just behind you. It was startling at first, but quickly became a comfort.

When it came to preparing the food, which Alastor said he’d handle, you’d essentially leave your victim's remains in the kitchen and would come back to a meal ready for the oven. Sometimes, you’d leave the body as is, limp on the couch, or sprawled on the floor, only when you were too exhausted to deal with the clean-up. On nights like that, you’d wake up to a completed meal the next morning. You liked to picture him going through your home, rolling up his sleeves and wearing that apron, cleaning things up, and cooking in your kitchen how he did that first night.

That being said, you didn't normally see his physical form. There was the lent strength and whispers during your hunts, but other than that, contact seemed to nearly cease. Why was that upsetting you? You cursed yourself for being too much of a romantic - for making this seem like anything more than a delusion you conjured up to make this whole action easier for you.

And that pain? That constant hunger that was never sufficed nearly went away. In fact, you’ve never felt fuller.

He did return on especially rare occasions. You never complained, and you attempted to hide your excitement when you'd catch him lurking in the corner of your eye.

Sometimes, it was to cook for you again. Despite the deal being in full swing, you would ask him to show you some of the recipes. Normally, it would just appear, looking delicious and homemade as always, yet you still pestered him to show you how to prepare some things. He always acted burdened by it, but seeing him cooking felt.. Domestic. Like, when he was cooking, he was truly in his element. It made it easy to forget what he was, which you found yourself questioning less and less. It simply didn't matter anymore.

One particular visit was late into the night. He actually woke you up from the racket, which had never happened before. Stumbling out of your bed, expecting to see police raiding your home or something worse, you’re instead met with a swaying radio demon and a shattered vase. Whenever he was around, soft music would play from your busted radio, a contrasting notion to the fumbling man in front of you now.

“Alastor?” You call out, a wave of relief hitting you and bringing the baseball bat from your hands to the floor. “What the hell are you doing? It’s like.. three in the morning..” The realization of the time makes the previous adrenaline seep out of you.

“Ha-ha! Isn’t that an interesting concept? The Devil’s Hour. Throw some religious implications, and it drives people mad! In reality, it’s just when your feeble body is at its most vulnerable.” He rambles on, spilling the drink from his bottle as he exaggerates his actions. He walks to you as he goes on, his body still swaying. “When your little fragile human heart reaches its lowest speed. When waking you would cause.. distress.” He goes on, his words suddenly sounding melancholic.

“Your breathing is erratic.” He adds, staring intensely at your heaving chest. “And you are hot to the touch-” The back of his claws trace the apple of your cheek, where even you can feel the heat radiating from your skin. Because his voice has no filter. You’ve never heard it like that before. You’ve never heard him sound so human.

His hand traces down your face to press against your chest. He’s feeling your heart. And it’s beating erratically.

“Your heart is fast. Are you distressed?” He leans in closer, to the point where you can smell the alcohol on his breath. “Do I make you distressed?”

In a flustered panic, you push him away. His closeness, his touch, it all threw you off guard.

“N-no, I’m just tired. You woke me up in the middle of the night, asshole.” You cross your arms over your chest, watching him laugh and struggle to find his bearings after being shoved. With a groan, you pull him by his slender arm over to the couch. He sits down with a thud, and you sit a careful distance next to him.

“That is what is so refreshing about you, my dear.” He lets out a dreamy sigh, and you pull the whiskey from his hand before he can break anything else. “Why - you have no idea who you’re dealing with, I could be a powerful demon overlord,” He slurs his words. “But, to you, I’m just your sweet radio demon~” He sings out.

Alastor leans into you, uncharacteristically tapping your nose. You swat his hand away, forcing another loud chuckle from him. He stays leaning forward, even seated beside you, he towers over you. Your wide eyes meet his.

“Even your eyes show no sign of fear. How curious.” You stay like this a little longer. His breath still reeks of expensive whiskey, but you can’t seem to tear your eyes from him. You’re terribly focused on keeping your distance, but he doesn't seem to have the same concern.

With a sly smile, he removes his coat and flips to his back, laying his head in your lap. With his long legs crossed over each other and hanging very much off the couch, you’re almost nervous to touch him. He wasn’t especially touchy, only doing so when necessary; fingers brushing against fingers, a hand on the shoulder for a mere second- why can you remember each moment so vividly? Why is it so fresh in your mind?

“Alastor, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you at home? or.. wherever you are when you're not here?” That’s still something you’ve questioned. You weren’t one to pester him so insistently, wery on losing the good thing you have going on.

“Unfortunately, I’m not sure! Be careful with your alcohol, my dear! Ha-haa!” He slurs out with a grin. “I suppose.. I prefer to be here.”

“What? Why? If you’re some powerful overlord, don’t you have somewhere better to be getting sloshed?” You scoff, keeping your eyes away from his head that was still perched comfortably in your lap. He seems to even nuzzle into your thighs a bit, and it only flushes you more. You take an unpermitted swig of his confiscated drink.

“Hm! Well, I can’t exactly get meat this fresh in Hell-” He taps his chin in thought to your rhetorical question that clearly went right over his head. “-besides! It’s not nearly as nice without you.” He sounds so matter of fact, so sure of his words. You hold your breath, suddenly reliving every moment together before this.

You’d chat and joke around in the kitchen, but you’ve really learned more about him than you thought. How he sews together those strange little creatures. And he seems so proud of them, despite their clear fear of his presence. You noticed he always puts some sort of spice in the meals he cooks, and that even if it's too much, you eat it anyway. How he simply hates getting dirty despite his occupation. He rolls up his sleeves, has that dumb apron, and uses those little toys of his to keep clean.

You loved it.

You’ve done nothing but enjoy every moment with him. You don’t need to know what he is to know that.

Wait, did he say Hell?

“You’re from Hell? There’s a Hell??” With a more shocked exclamation than feared, you finally look down at him. He’s too far gone, humming along to the music, he barely hears your questions. With a clearly defeated sigh, you brush his hair from his face. He winces from the action, his smile wavering but not breaking under your touch.

“Ah, I wish I knew how you survive this cozy little life.” His voice is quiet and mumbled.

You.

I can live this way because of you.

He manages to finish off the bottle with one more swig - when did he take that back?

Your thoughts begin to wander, absent-mindedly twirling strands of hair through your fingers, raking your fingers down his scalp, only to startle yourself with the sensation of animalistic ears. And they’re twitching. Whether it be your reaction or his, it seems to force a little yelp from you, so you reel your hand away.

“I didn’t mean to alarm you, darling.. Could you - or.. You can.. Continue. If you’d like.” His voice had dropped that strange filter again. You feel woozy. That whiskey you had shared, maybe it was strong. Or.. it was the middle of the night, you were sure you were just tired. You spiraled to come up with any reasonable excuse other than developing feelings for a Hellbound demon. You wonder if you-

Oh, you’re definitely going to Hell.

But, could it be something to look forward to?

Your intimate thoughts cloud your mind, leaving your hand mindlessly petting a literal demon. Your fingers combed through his hair, delicately clawing up the ears and pinching the softness at the tip of each one. Despite your thorough and elaborate massage, your mind has wandered to how a relationship with a possible hallucination of a demon would work out. But that's ridiculous, isn’t it?

“Alastor, can I ask you-” your words are brought to a halt and your eyes drop. A quiet hum of satisfaction, leaving a barely conscious radio demon, who’s head still sat in your lap. With a curse under your breath you decide you're trapped.

There was absolutely no chance of escape. What, were you supposed to wake him? What if you upset a powerful overlord demon, or whatever he claimed to be? Albeit uncomfortable, you force yourself to sleep. Enjoy it while you can, who knows if it's even real?

You didn't see him for awhile after that.

-

Alastor was a poinient man. He never missed a pick up before. So when you realized the meat you've portioned off for him was still sitting in your fridge, you start to worry. You're not exactly sure why, you’ve pushed any and every intimate thought from your mind.

This is purely transactional.

Even though his portion had gone untouched for a few days.. A few weeks, if you really think about it, you already had a date set with another victim.

It went on as usual. A dumb hunk of meat thinks he’s all that until you’re straddling him. You decide to stick to what you know works; a knife to the heart.

You mapped exactly where to plant it, as he fiddles with your top, and with a raised arm, you go to claim your next victim.

There was no warning.

There was supposed to be a warning.

The next thing you know, you're pinned to the floor, your wrist being gripped so tightly you have no other option than to scream and lose your grip on the knife.

Your date took no time. No hesitation.

The last thing you see is the opposing view. A stranger straddling your body with a knife held high above his head.

It seems so quiet.

And it's awful.

Where was the warning?

If anything, you should've at least heard Alastor's voice telling you how to avoid this. You always do. A slight pang of worry hits you, but it's quickly overtaken by anger.

With a final yelp that's fueled with frustration, hurt, and a broken heart, you met your demise quickly and alone.

By the time you've come to, you're surrounded by a handful of black eyed children. You immediately scramble backward, hitting your back against a brick wall. You’d notice your surroundings if these little scavengers werent eyeing you with an innocent curioustity. You let out a hiss, holding a hand over your eye. A streak of blackened blood comes from it, your palm thoroughly stained with it.

“You must be new~”

“You’re very handsome!”

“How did you die?”

A bombard of tiny voices and questions go straight over your head, a ringing in your ears forcing your mind to go hazy.

“Alright, give ‘em some space, kids!” A sweet voice seems to bring you back. You look down to your seated body. Your skin is a deathly gray, and your top is stained with your own blood. It’s still red. “Don’t overwhelm the poor thing, I’m sure they’re quite shaken!”

Your eyes then trace up the silhouette of a vintage looking entourage, then to a sharp-toothed smile. The woman stands before you, a hand held out to you.

Her eyes are just as black and her skin is just as pale as those children that now whisper and giggle to eachother nearby.

It didn’t take you long to realize your misfortune.

You died.

You’re upset sure, but you find that you’re mostly angry. None of this wouldve happened if you- if he-

“Come on, cutie! Let’s get you cleaned up.” Her considerate smile clears your mind almost immediately. You don’t hesitate accepting her assistance.

-

“He was supposed to help me. He said he would be there for me! I died because of him..!”

A strained smile and a quick nod is the only response you get to your angered rambling. The kind face that scooped you off the streets was Rosie, one of the most powerful overlords in Hell, who just so happens to own most the souls in Cannibal town.

Lucky you.

She did exactly as she said, having her fun and playing a bit of dress up with you. It wasn't exactly your style, but there were more concerning things when it came to your appearance. Your eyes were just as black as Rosie’s. As those children who have been following you around.. In fact, most residents of cannibal town had this feature.

You really are in Hell.

Right where you belong.

Right along side people who are just like you. It almost felt.. Comfortable.

You confided in her, going on and on about some jerk of a demon who broke a promise that cost you your life. How he had been helping you in fights, saved your life a number of times, taught you how to cook, showed up drunk to simply sit in your lap, then just fucking disapeared when you needed him most. Your face was turning red, from anger or the way you gushed about him, Rosie couldn’t quite decipher.

What wasn’t comfortable was the period clothing you were put in. But according to Rosie, it’s Perfect! What a doll!

“Is Alastor. The radio demon?” She completes your sentence with a sigh, standing to tower over you and placing a hand on your shoulder. “I hate to break it to you, hun, but no one’s seen him in quite a while.. If i’m being entirely honest with you, he���s a dear friend of mine.” You instantly tense at her words. You just went on a rant about how shitty he was, only to find out he’s disapeared with no explanation. Maybe it was a good reason. A good enough reason to leverage your own life? You aren’t sure.

“I have to find him!” You finally say, as if a lightbulb switched in your head. He seemed so unattainable all these years, but now? You’re in his house. “Miss Rosie! Can you help me? His name-”

“I can’t say he didn’t wrong you, but he’s a man of his word, hun.. If he’s not holding up his promises, then he might be in some real trouble.. ” You hear her voice crack, yet she doesn't let her smile drop.

Another factor to consider that Alastor might have bitten more than he can chew, yet she still sympathises with you. You nearly knock the wind out of her with your arms encircling her small waist. Your head rests just at her chest. You can’t see her face, but her arms are around you almost instantly.

-

As you got settled in town, you did actually use the skills that Alastor had taught you throughout your lifetime. You understood why he made your previous deal. Demon flesh was just fine, but you really needed to spice it up to be anything special. And even then, it still couldn't compare to fresh, living, meat.

You started off just making and baking your own food. Then, when one cannibalistic child asked to try some, they told their friends, who told others.

After a while, you were cooking for half the town. You had a line every morning out of your own home. Once Rosie took notice, it was time for you to make a deal.

“Why can’t I sign a contract with you? You’ve done so much for me, I trust you with my soul.” You had taken Rosie out for dinner, where you planned to discuss a potential deal. Even with you barely being in Hell for a year, you heard plenty about Extermination Day, contracts, dealing in souls, all of it. You did your research. You talked to some of the townsfolks and saw no real downside in giving your soul away. Your proposal seems to surprise her, though.

“You still have your soul? Didn’t you make a deal with Alastor?” She asks, quieting her voice when she says his name, as if just the sound of it would make you upset. It only makes your eye twitch, though, just at the thought of the whole ordeal.

“I did, but he didn't say anything about my soul.. Was he.. Supposed to take it?” You question.

“Well.. he’s made deals like that before, favors for favors, right?” You nod. “But to go all the way to Earth just for some food? That’s.. Not like him…” Rosie seems to be lost in thought, trying to piece together his intentions. You clear your throat, and attempt to calmly bring her back. You slide a tupperware container of lady fingers you had made just before this.

“I want a restaurant, Rosie. I’ve been keeping an eye on that abandoned shop in the town square. I can feed everyone in town if you’ll let me. And.. protection, of course. Would that work?”

She opens the box with a sparkle in her black eyes, almost immediately popping one of the delicate treats to her lips. With a hum of satisfaction and a snap of her fingers, the glowing golden paper floats in front of your eyes.

“It’s a deal, darling!”

-

You could barely call it a restaurant at first, but you were elated. Rosie granted you some extra hands to make deliveries and assist in the kitchen. Everything seemed to be going your way. Your first extermination day went by quickly. For some reason, angels weren’t destroying everything in town. And you and your little shop were both safe, untouched, really.

You had a steady job, loving customers, and a residency near the center of town. You were almost surprised how having a shared interest, in eating human flesh, can bring people together. And after just a few years, you had a community.

You had a family.

Something you never really though you’d have, in life or death; A home.

Things were going so well. This was supposed to be your happy ending. It had been a few years since you had signed the contract, and you still feel satisfied with your decision. You could really be yourself here.

In Cannibal Town.

In Hell.

It made you laugh sometimes, how much joy the underworld brought you.

On a say that seemed like any other, you had sold out your stock for the day early, and went on to send the rest of yout employees home, when you heard a ruckus near the gazebo.

The screech of a microphone, and a very distant agitated Susan, is all you can truly hear from where you are. You drop everything to join the crowd.

It was the princess of Hell.. You weren’t one to keep up with politics or media, there was no need for you. You entertained yourself plenty just by residing in town. But, you managed to hear her blow up before being dragged away. A tall, rugged figure takes their place, ready to entertain the crowd while the Princess gathered herself.

“Come one, come all! While our little princess is collecting herself, who would appreciate a quick song, hm?”

“There is no fucking way..” You mutter to no one but yourself.

Alastor.

He holds his hand up to his ear, waiting patiently for the adoring crowd to praise his presence before he went on. You knew Rosie was a friend of his, he was a cannibal afterall, but for the entire town to love him just as much? Including Susan?

It’s absurd.

He went on to perform some showtune, one that sounded familiar to you. The crowd excitedly surrounds the pavilion, dragging you nearly to the front. You held a look of disgust. A look of betrayal.

You didnt want to see him, you told yourself. Things were perfect as is, you felt no need to repair a relationship with your imaginary friend you conjured up while alive.

Although, you never thought you had to. He had been gone for years, he nearly became just a passing thought.

An unreasonable part of you stayed put. A part of you wants him to see you and recognize you, to remember what he had forgotten. You stood with your arms crossed, your heart beating rapidly just at the sight of him.

He looks entirely the same, completely unphased. You’ve changed so much visually, and you’re happier now. Bolder. You’re not shying down now.

He catches your eyes.

The music screeches to a halt, sounding like a record player needle dragging across the disc. You’re holding back a smile, almost proud that you were able to stop him in his tracks. This had to be the first time he’s thought of you in over seven years.

And stops singing.

Lucky for him, the princess is finally ready to make her own point. You stick around, not exactly paying attention to her lyrics. You keep your face of disdain strong, stepping away and flinching at any advance Alastor would make to reel in the crowd. He seems to distract himself just fine until Charlie whisks away the crowd. Again, you're firmly planted in your spot.

Alastor turns to you, much more apparent of who he’s dealing with now that you stand alone from the crowd. His ears are flat against his head, and his smile is turned at the corners. His eyes seem to dart back and forth as if he’s deciding whether or not to stay. To be with you.

Oh, he’s nervous.

You’ve never seen him nervous before. It feels good. You’re making the almighty Radio Demon nervous. You smile just slightly. But not a smile between old friends, but a smile in response to his realization that he fucked up.

Despite your delay, Alastor continues on with the rest of the parade. Your body immediately lost all tension once he leaves.

-

“Well, well! I knew I recognized that menu. I was ready to tear apart some poor sinner for using my recipes.” A familiar, antagonizing voice echoes throughout your little empty shop.

You turn on your heels, almost startled by the sudden intrusion.

Almost.

But, you'd be lying if you said you weren't hoping for it.

Just a little.

Of course, he'd come back. Maybe to make another lowly deal. Or to get you to do more menial tasks for him, to flaunt his power and authority.

“Yeah, well.. when you've been left for dead, and all you have is your skills, you do what you have to, to survive.” You snap, turning your back to him to continue wiping off an already spotless counter. “Plus, it never hurts to marginalize.”

“I've actually tried some of your food here.. Hm! And I hadn't the slightest idea who prepared such a meal. You've gotten better, I'll give you that! Such a small world.” He says with a nostalgic sigh. You can hear his heels clicking throughout the empty store, circling the room before eventually approaching you.

How can he speak to you like you were still.. aquitanced?

“I hope whatever kept you busy these seven years was worth my life.” You mutter. You weren't sure if you wanted him to hear that or not. Maybe if he did, he'd finally apologize or-

“Oh, it was! A nice little sabbatical is exactly what I needed.” You quickly turn to see him polishing his claws against his coat and smiling quite brightly. “I will say it is a pleasure to be meeting you here! I'm glad you settled in so easily.”

“You killed me, Alastor! You were supposed to keep me safe.. and now I'm dead! Because you disappeared without a word!” You start to scold him, finally hitting a breaking point. All he does is scoff at you.

“Oh please, I didn't even take your soul. And it's not like you'd end up anywhere else if you were to perish later on.” He speaks so casually about it all.

But, you were ready to cry. To kick and scream at his arrogance.

The feeling of sharp fingers engulfing your shoulders leaves you suddenly tense and puts your murderous thoughts on hold. He's vanished from in front of you and now looms over you, his eyes meeting yours from over your shoulder.

“Plus, you seem to be quite happy here! Why don't we just call it even then, hm?”

He can not be serious.

You pull away from him, the tears welling in your eyes finally letting loose.

“Alastor, stop!” You yelp, turning to face him. “That’s.. so unfair! You broke a promise! And you-” you hold your finger out to scold him even more, but you feel your body simply going slack. “-you hurt me.. I just.. thought that after all that time, after that night, you'd care a little more..” You look up to him, in the hopes of being met with some sort of sympathy. But his unnatural smile goes unwavering. You rub your arm awkwardly, losing your confidence as your words turn more vulnerable without your realizing.

“Oh, I can feel your pain, not to worry dear. I truly meant no harm when I couldn't hold up my end of the deal.” He's smiling and drawing out his words, only setting off a sense of unease within you. You finally let out a shaky sigh.

“With everything you've done for me.. I thought that.. you might've liked being around me…” You let out, your voice running slightly ragged from the previous shouts. “I thought we were having a good time! Then after all this?” You grow an uncertain smile.

A previous sight that made you giddy before only brings you dread now. His ears are flat, his eyes struggle to meet yours. He's losing his composure.

“I wouldn't be surprised if you wanted it to happen.” You laugh through your words, your hands raking through your hair in a stressed manner. In your little pits of passion, you don't get the chance to see his wavering smile, the grimace on his face, any of it. When your words are met with silence, though, that's when you finally look up to him.

He's nervous, again.

“Oh.. my-” your sentence barely starts before he attempts to cover his slip up.

“Now let's calm down, I really didn't mean for- I didn't intend-”

“Isn’t there rules to this? Were you ever allowed to meddle with my life in the first place - let alone - be on Earth??”

“-God! You killed me on purpose?? Just so I could come down here to do your bitch work?” You snap, your laugh becomes delirious and your tears betray the anger you're meant to be showing.

He’s scrambling for a witty reply, his expression finally showing his true intentions for the first time in a long while. He’s speechless.

“I’m such an idiot.. Of course, you never cared. Bastard.” You mumble your words to the room, losing any fear of him hearing your insults.

Your vulnerability sends a strange shiver down his spine. One he’s never felt before, one that makes his chest ache and his muscles tense.

“Well - Now, let's just talk for a moment before you-” Alastor extends his hand out to your turned back, but it never reaches you. A delicate grip takes his wrist, bringing him to a full stop. He stops, unnaturally snapping his neck to see who would dare disrupt the Radio Demon himself.

His ears flatten against his head, and with a sudden disbelief in what he’s seeing, his eyes return to their normal crimson.

Rosie towers over his hunched form, her eyes stern.

♡♡♡

“Al, sweetheart, you gotta go. You're disturbing my client.”

I love when Alastor fucks up and found out

THIS IS A TWO PARTER I PROMISE

Tag list:

( @vififofum / @thornwolfy235 / @tinywolfiegirl / @chipper-chip / @bat-boness / @misfitgirlwrites / @nayomi247 / @lonelynmisunderstood / @escapistoftherealworld / @hamthepan / @kyo-kyo1 / @looking1016 / @polytheatrix / @littledolly2345 / @lillianastuff / @yourlocalcryptidbee / @0strawberrysorbet0 / @themageofblood / @jayyyayaysblog / @floralsightings / @azmosposts / @8har0ley8 / @actuallyspiderwoman / @sirenetheblogger / @christineblood / @kaytemchugh / @cimadreamer / @simpdevil66 / @m3ow1 / @acrazyartist / @redfoxwritesstuff / @meesachan / @corvusskid / @alientee @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx / @alon3lylov3r @sapphireravensworld / @mjmdragons / @catticora / @carrie0-1 / @shamblezzz / @cassandras-nest / @the-maladaptive-daydreamers / @str4wberry-t00th-anon / @voxrei / @raythegay )

[iwoulddieforher]

Birds of a Feather | Casey Novak × Alex Cabot

I'm back posting fics! Did anyone miss me? Probs not. Anyway, here: Set during the falling out when Liv was having trouble adjusting to the lack of Stabler, and Casey's beginning to dwindle. Very Casey-centric.

Warnings: Canon-typical case-related violence, Casey being super burnt out, minor references to Charlie/Liv & Case have big argument

Summary: Casey's exhausted from the uphill climb of returning to her former position of respect after being suspended, and Liv's becoming increasingly adversarial due to Stabler's resignation. A case involving a schizophrenic exasperates the problems between the two- and Alex shows up in the middle of Liv & Casey's blowout argument. ~13k words.

alternatively on AO3, which you can find here

“No, Sir, I know-” Casey tried to interject, pacing back and forth in her cramped, tiny office- they hadn't allowed her her original space back, and she had realized that was yet another form of punishment- and trying not to lose her sanity on call with her father.

“I’m not getting any younger and I don't like that you're still playing these legal games,” Major Novak barked, his voice the dry, scratchy cough it always was, “Casey, couldn't you have just let it be? You got suspended once, we all see the toll that took on you, and it's not like you're getting any younger either-”

“Daddy,” Casey let her voice break, finally, but it had been nearly half an hour of this back and forth and she was done, she was tired, and tears were starting to prick at her eyes. “Daddy, I know. I’ll- I’ve already asked about my work contract, I’ll…”

She moved the phone away from her mouth so he wouldn't be able to hear her sniff, forcing herself to swallow back the frustrated tears, before taking a deep breath.

Her admittance hadn't been a lie, either. She had checked what the circumstances of resigning her position had been, but- it didn't look particularly good. With a reputation like her’s, she wouldn't be able to be hired on to any sort of alternate use for her legal prowess like this, and she was far away from being able to retire properly. But her father wasn't wrong, as much as she hated to admit it, her job was starting to eat away at whatever sanity she had left.

At her submission, though, her father finally relented his beration, the line going silent for a long moment. “Good, Casey. And you mustn't worry about money, because your mother does need a keeper, and your siblings give us a share every month for that- we could fire her nurse, and you could replace her. I’m sure your brothers would be happy to support you.”

Casey grimaced, swallowing again, but with a hollow voice replied, “Thank you, Sir. I’ll consider it, really.”

She would be reduced from the formidable rising star protege prosecutor she used to be, replaced instead by being her father's failure of a daughter, the sibling who was at first so far ahead and then fell so far behind, designated ultimately to being her ailing mother’s keeper, because there was nothing else she was worthy of doing.

As she hung up the call, the darker part of her mind chided in bitterly that at this rate they shouldn't trust her to look after Mom- she’d probably fuck that up, too.

She ran her fingers through her hair, nails digging into her scalp a little more forcefully than need be, and sighed, deeply, as though letting the carbon in her lungs would cleanse her of the overwhelming feeling of filth.

Failure, she bit at herself, but her self deprecation was halted as her pager went off- she was being summoned to the precinct, evidently.

On the way there, Casey contemplated what had gone wrong in her life.

She stood at the side of the street, flagging down a taxi, and with a depressed sigh she remembered how she felt when she was youthful and energetic, eager to prove herself and ambitious, taking her bike where she needed before she had caved to those who told her it gave off an odd impression.

The fact she was about to be filled in at the precinct on the current case wasn't wasted on her demons either- she longed to show up at crime scenes like the used too, process evidence and witnesses and suspects herself, watch through the windows as detectives interviewed, jumping on leads to hound down individuals herself in the pursuit of ensuring justice.

She toyed loosely with her faux blonde hair as she climbed into the cab, her mind lingering on when it had been short and she had worn it in fiery, fierce curls that framed her face when she was back in white collar- how when she transferred to SVU, it became harder to get up in the mornings, and she defaulted to straightening it instead. Now it was long, and dyed lighter to be more what the others expected.

That sentiment- to be what others expected- hurt the more she thought about it. Over the years she really had lost that fire that used to be so central to the way she operated, and she wasn't sure if it had been tamped down or if she had simply lost it herself.

Coming back from her suspension was especially difficult. Those three long years of working odd, vague applications for her knowledge without being able to use any sort of licence were grueling and yes she had made it through but it had drained her an immeasurable amount.

She hadn't realized how much she had considered the squad some form of support system, or at the very least provided her a sense of stability, until during her suspension it was gone. Stabler, especially- Elliot had looked out for her, offered her a shoulder she had never accepted, but she liked knowing he was there. Catholics from a similar background, and he reminded her a lot of her brothers.

Casey had left New York entirely, traveled to Rhode Island, tried to find something that would make the nauseating guilt seep away. But nothing could. She had screwed up- honestly, that year had been a slow build to the climax of the violation, with the investigation into the juvenile sex offender operation, Saul Picard, and finally Officer Chase- it had brought her to an emotional epitome she simply could not bring herself down from, left lingering on cases now officially deemed closed, formulating arguments and motions she could never use.

Elliot had called her, a few times, to check in. He had been the one to see how broken the sex addict's rape had made her, and he was perhaps the only one of the squad to notice that build up. She liked talking to him, states apart, and he’d catch her up on the latest cases and complain about Greylek and how much he’d rather have her back instead of the stone-faced, impersonal ADA replacement.

She remembered the big smile he had flashed her when she first arrived back, and how it had momentarily comforted her.

Now she was back, but Stabler was gone- he had earned retirement, though, she couldn't argue against that, but still-, everything was different. Olivia was so much more adversarial, and Casey knew she was simply grieving the loss of Elliot and throwing herself nose-first into the depth of human depravity to fill the void, but it didn't help her enough to accept the jabs the older brunette shot at her without letting them build onto her growing insecurities.

Rollins seemed sweet but Casey had never interacted with her- the squad didn't get together like they used to after cases, the warm nature she had first been a jealous intruder into before eventually being accepted back in her youth was now gone. Perhaps she was too old for it now, anyway. But still, she missed the cold beers and clustered tables of cop bars, and Olivia and Elliot stopping by to invite her there. Olivia spending the nights with her in her office, grabbing coffee and chatting about the developments of cases.

She really, really missed the friendship, the solidarity that used to exist- gone, all gone, like her sense of self.

Amaro was Amaro. He followed Olivia around like Stabler used to, but it was obvious he was still fresh meat, and Olivia would not be able to bond with him the way she was seemingly tied to Stabler.

The judges were wary of her, the defense was always pleased because no judge would give her leeway and they could jab and object at whim, and she was hanging onto the DA and her job on a fine line that she felt like she would fall off any second.

Even if she didn't directly mess up, even if she never made a mistake again, she knew it was because she was playing it overtly safe, and overtly safe was no way to remake her name and image. She could be fired simply for not being interesting, for not securing the overhauling victories she used to be capable of.

But pushing the line the way she used to, to regain that feisty nature that used to make the defense’s jaw clench when she stood, required others to trust her in a way they didn't. She had forfeited that right to trust, and she had no way to get it back.

Maybe her father was right. Maybe she was getting too old for this- maybe the suspension was a sign this work wasn't what she was cut out for, and she was simply too stubborn to accept it wasn't worth it.

She was snapped out of her thoughts when the taxi pulled over, and after providing payment and exchanging courtesy she exited and tried her best to stroll into the precinct, focusing on long strides, not looking stupid when she pulled her coat off and tossed it over her arm.

Casey had started holding her jacket over her arm like that whenever she was here, so she’d have something to do with her hands, so she’d have an excuse to hold her arms tight to her body.

“So, what’s on the plate tonight, Captain?” She tried to sound cheerful, but not overly so, rearranging her face in the half-way-to-smug smile she used to flash so easily.

Cragen rubbed his nose and nodded, his broad shoulders sloped inward the way they always were. He nodded at her, and then motioned with one large hand towards an interview room, where a young man was speaking with Detective Amaro.

Olivia and Rollins were watching from the outside, staring intently, and although Amanda turned to jerk her chin up with a slight smile that Casey returned- nothing more than acknowledgement, but Casey could appreciate it- while Benson stayed still, her brow furrowed as she stared lasers into the ongoing interrogation. She did not move to welcome Casey into the space, and Casey had not assumed that she would. Regardless, she found her place standing beside her.

“A young woman was raped and strangled to death in Central Park,” Cragen said with a small sigh, “Our first suspect was the roommate, because of some suspicious texts we found on her cell, but he showed up himself willingly and agreed to talk.”

“Alright. So, he looks good for it?” She questioned, eyes on Olivia- she wanted some sort of glance, something, but Olivia did not look at her.

“She was a grad student working on a psych report on the condition of mental illness in the homeless population,” Amanda said, turning from the window and crossing her arms, shifting her weight from her heel to her toe in thought. “This guy- the roommate- goody two-shoes. Originally we thought he was so clean he must be hiding something, and he was, but just possession of marijuana. He’s real nervous about it, though.”

The young man inside the boxed room did seem beyond anxious, his shoulders angled inward, face tilted down at the table while he looked at Amaro with squinted eyes, shifting back and forth slightly. He looked ridiculously guilty, but not violent or suspicious for the crime that actually mattered- it reminded Casey of a kid caught with a hand in the cookie jar, who didn't understand what type of punishment they were about to receive. He didn't seem like a good suspect for rape and murder.

“So he wants a deal? What he knows about her research and I’ll take the misdemeanor off the table?” Casey glanced once again into the interview room, and Cragen shrug-nodded.

Casey lifted her shoulders and then dropped them, tilting her head with a slight sigh. She had expected more, something to actually grow invested in, hopefully something to spark her competitive nature- but this was nothing dramatic. “Should be doable, I can make a call.”

“But he’s asking for immunity,” Olivia mused, still not looking up, “So whatever he knows, he thinks he could be prosecuted for it. I don't think we should offer him anything until we really know what's going on.”

“It doesn't look like he’s capable of much,” Casey remarked, but Olivia just huffed.

“Like you’d know, counselor.”

Casey pursed her lips and made blank eye contact with the wall for a moment, feeling the burn of Cragen and Rollin’s eyes and the icy feeling of the lack of Olivia’s, before accepting the disrespect, and trying her best to shake it off.

“Alright, but he’s a spooked college kid. He might just be asking for what he saw on TV without knowing if he actually needs it- we could advise him to get a lawyer, and then I can discuss a deal with them. Depending on the reaction I’d get it’d be easier to tell if it's anything worth looking into.”

Detectives hate lawyers, and Casey knew that, so when Olivia’s frown deepened and Rollins looked vaguely dissatisfied with the suggestion, she wasn't at all surprised.

“Does he need a lawyer for this? Can't you just go in and talk to him?” Rollins asked, “He doesn't seem to have the funds needed to get a lawyer, and it always takes forever to get one of the community ones down here-”

“Can you handle that, Casey? It's been years since you spoke one on one with a suspect,” Olivia interjected, and Casey grit her teeth. A direct challenge, now, then. Okay.

“I’m sure I’ll find my footing,” She replied calmly, forcing a smile as though she and Liv were simply friends bantering like they used to be, before turning to the Captain for permission. When he nodded, she inhaled deeply and swung the door open.

“You, out.” She barked at Amaro, deciding how she wanted to play this on the spot. She got a little of a thrill when Amaro’s eyebrows raised but he otherwise agreed wordlessly, standing and leaving the interrogation room. She claimed the seat he had just left and settled in, leaning her elbows on the table so she could inject herself forward.

“Alright, I heard you're looking to talk about your options, here? I’m Casey Novak on behalf of the Manhattan District Attorney.”

She forced her voice to be softer, lower, and offered him a half-smile. This was a skittish little college teen, and she thought he might be receptive to a more gentle approach. Seemingly he was, because the tension in his spine eased a little and he looked at her tentatively.

“I know it's a crime, but I- I just, it's the only thing that can get me to sleep, sometimes, so I-”

“I know, I know.” She leaned back, then, spreading her shoulders comfortably, “I remember those college days, long nights, sleep schedules gone to hell, anything to take the edge off, right?”

“Yes, exactly-” He leaned forward, now, eager under her carefully crafted nonchalance.

“But listen,” Casey raised a hand, “If you know anything about who did this to your roommate, you need to tell me. You seem like a good kid, and I don't want to nail you when I’ve got bigger fish to fry, okay? We’re looking for a rapist, and you're just what got caught in the net, so to say.”

He hesitated, hard, but Casey knew the look in her eyes was powerful when she tried to make it be, and right now she was giving her best altruistic stare. He relented, as she expected.

“Listen, I- I knew it was wrong, so please-”

“Just tell me what you know,” She interjected, clasping her fingers together, leaning forward and placing her elbows back down on the desk, and giving him her best imploring head tilt.

“She was bribing them,” he blurted out, finally, “in exchange for interviews and check-ins she was- she was giving them drugs, and with a few even blowies- I told her it was disgusting and I don't even know if people like that can consent, but-”

Oh, okay. Casey felt tension leave her shoulders- this wasn't really worth pursuing in court. But for the sake of the case she didn't allow her face to reflect that, instead, she remained harsh.

“Well, we’ll have to look into that.” She said sharply, “Can you provide names?”

“No, but- but I know her password for her school laptop, I know what her’s is. I’m sure she’ll have reports and things in there…”

“Alright, good,” She said soothingly, offering her a slight smile, which he seemed to relax under. “Then turn that over to the detectives and I’ll see what I can do about the possession charge, yeah?”

With that, she stood, and exited the room, flexing her eyebrows triumphantly when she made eye contact with Olivia- who gave her a begrudging nod, but a half-smile.

“Alright, the victim was offering blowjobs to mentally ill homeless men in exchange for some storytelling,” Amanda scorned, “How.. studious.”

“I’m sure she left that part out of her paper,” Casey nodded, “but it’ll make great fodder for the defense counsel.”

She turned her head from side to side, and realized something that made her heart sink into her stomach uncomfortably. Olivia and Amanda were exchanging glances, and Cragen was waiting for his detectives to begin engaging-

They wanted to discuss, but not with her.

Rejection stung, but at this point Casey was used to it, so after she cleared her throat awkwardly she glanced in the direction of the door and sighed. Her steps had felt lighter when she managed to actually be helpful for once- she secured this guy’s information, saving them time and effort- but it wasn't enough to win back the squad’s affection. The joy she felt at the minor victory was now tamped down, the bitter taste of the scorn she was trying desperately to adapt too heavy on her tongue.

“I’ll get a search warrant for the laptop, need anything else while I’m over at the courthouse?”

The resounding response was not yet, so she tugged her coat back on and focused on long strides towards the door, not the looming, overwhelming feeling of discontent.

She tried not to spit out the taste of bile that lay heavy on her tongue.

The rest of that day passed with little excitement. She had motions to file, court cases to research, and an uneventful arraignment. It felt like she was following steps laid out for her, stepping carefully on the paved floor, nothing at all like how she had used to race through the woods, chasing elk and laughter like a wolf no man could bring down. She missed feeling fearless, feeling free.

Casey was always one to fight until she was breathless, a smile on her face as her chest heaved with exertion. To throw herself into the mix, to face danger and pain and laugh at it, to take people into her arms herself and ensure it would turn out okay. She couldn't do that anymore, not with the axe hanging over her head.

She couldn't keep working this job with the other shoe dangling, lace seconds away from snapping. She couldn't keep herself looking up and wondering how long, how many more seconds she had to retain dignity, until it dropped and stole the trajectory of her life with it.

If she was younger, if she had spirit and confidence in her ability like she used to- if she had the support she used to have, the trust others used to bestow upon her- maybe she could find it in herself to keep fighting the good fight.

But she was disillusioned and tired, and no one believed in her anymore.

Not even her family, evidently. Three days later, she received a follow-up call from her younger brother, the elder of the two twins that had been born when she was starting elementary.

“Casey,” he started in a curt yet languished voice the way he always did, the slight accent he had picked up since moving to the south and marrying a Texan not lost in how he spoke, “How are you holding up?”

“Just fine,” she lied casually through her teeth.

“I don't buy that. Dad told me about your conversation the other day- about how he wants you to quit.”

Casey paused. She had been in the middle of prepping for a hearing, but with this she put her pen down in defeat. If her father told her brother, the rest of her siblings either already knew about the conversation or would soon. He had probably called to enquire if they’d do good on his proposal to support her if she retired early to care for Mom.

“...I don't know what you want me to say about that, he wants me to resign my position, but I think I’m doing well here. I’m back in my old position and everything is operating just as they used too,” - but they weren't, and if she did retire out of desperation soon she didn't want her lie to bite her in the ass, so she tried her best to cover herself - “and although I am considering it for the sake of Mom, I…”

“Casey,” he implored, “I'm your brother. I can tell when you're lying, and you've been miserable lately.”

Casey sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and stared aimlessly down at the motion she was writing a rebuttal against, watching the inked words turn into meaningless gibberish under her eyes. She stayed silent, and listened to him sigh.

“You don't have to be such a martyr,” he said softly, and it hurt.

“I’m not,” she tried to defend, but it fell flat.

“Listen, it's okay to just- to admit it's gone far enough,” he sighed, and she tried to interject, but he didn't let her.

“You were the rising star, I get it. But after the suspension, Casey, I mean- I read the news, right? When you're mentioned in the columns now it's only ever criticism, and you're not happy like you used to be at reunions, even Benny noticed-” - referring to his son, one of Casey’s many nephews, - “it’s just..”

“Daniel,” she murmured softly, trying to get him to understand that she knew, she was completely aware, she was grappling with the evidence already and he didn't need to remind her of how far she fell.

“I just want you to know that it's okay. You were always the toughie out of all of us, but… Case, you were also the one to bring home the stray kittens and build birdhouses. You’re strong, believe me, we know that, but I know how big your heart is, and this … I don't like seeing you unhappy.”

She closed her eyes, trying to focus on the iron grip she used to have, trying not to start getting emotional over the phone. Her head bowed without her noticing, and one of her paralegals glanced into her office as they walked by- great, another person as witness to her weakness.

“None of us would think any less of you,” he tried to console her, coax her, “it's a bad situation. The legal system sucks, we all know that. And I’ve talked it over with Rachel, and we’d be okay supporting you if you need it. To nurse Mom, or to find something else to do. You don't have to keep being somewhere that makes you so unhappy.”

Silent tears were rolling down her cheeks before she could realize, large glistening drops landing on the paper in front of her, her shoulders beginning to shake. She sucked the self disgust pooling in her mouth and swallowed, trying to keep her voice calm and even.

“Thank you, Daniel. I’ll see you when you all come up, okay? We can talk about this more then,” She offered, and he hesitantly accepted that motion to postpone.

If he realized there was an undercurrent of a sob in her voice, he didn't comment on it. Daniel hung up the phone.

Casey began to cry in her earnest, elbows driving into her table so she could conceal her face in her hands, shoulders shaking under the burden.

It wasn't so simple. Yes, yes, she was unhappy. She knew she was unhappy, and they were all right, she could leave, and honestly she thought that maybe she should.

But it wasn't just pride, ambition or stubbornness that kept her in this chair, it was the overwhelming drive to help. To do something, anything, to help the people who couldn't help themselves. To shield little kids from the men who wove their nightmares, to show women with red marks around their throats there was a shot at a better tomorrow, to fight, because God- she did really love fighting.

When she felt like she had power in her step, she adored the heady rush of a good debate, the smug victory of smashing a defense’s proposed story to bits. It had made all the issues in her life worth it, that knowledge that what she was doing was shielding the innocent from the evil. The validation a ‘guilty’ verdict after a hard case gave her was simply unrivaled.

Suffering through grueling law school, sleeping for hours she could count without the full use of a hand so she could instead pour her time hunched over laptops and law books full of enough legal jargon to kill a middle age man with confusion, waiting tables and odd jobs despite the exhaustion that nipped at her mind had all been considered worth it to her. Yes it was draining but the feeling of finally being able to pace on the courthouse floor and demand that justice be served to those in dire need of it had been entirely worth it. Just the knowledge she was commanding attention, she had authority, respect, and she could use it to help- that was all she had wanted.

What would she do with her words, if they weren't being used for that? What purpose could she possibly have?

It wasn't like resigning would mean she could help society in other ways, no, not like this. She couldn't find a place of worth with a reputation tarnished by her failure. Maybe if she had gone straight from reobtaining her licence somewhere else, then it would've worked, but she had craved SVU. Branch was right; she had grown to want it.

The slap on the back from Stabler, the way Olivia touched her on the upper arm, the chatter with Cragen. The victims stuck with her, but after those first few months it had turned from terrifying her with the weight of her own sympathy to a relentless drive to succeed and save more potentials. After her suspension, though, it was neither. The faces blurred together, because dull victories were the only way she could hope to keep the position at all, so her level of emotional involvement- her level of involvement at all, really, could not be regained.

Perhaps, if she was lucky, she might be able to be a teacher- one who her students would inevitably find the truth about and then laugh at- or volunteer somewhere where her fight to be recognized as powerful would simply continue until she really actually hit rock bottom.

If only she wasn't so exhausted, if only someone believed in her, if only. She would love her job if she wasn't marked by warning signs. She had known she’d need to rebuild her image and the dignity of her office but she had expected the trust from the people she had previously held stature with, but- no, they had forsaken her, and she couldn't find it in her to be upset with them around it, so all daggers she could throw turned inward.

As all it always did, time took care of her sobs, and she calmed herself down physically.

Her mental wounds were still wide open, but as she dried her face and blew her nose, she knew she’d be able to recompose herself so no one else could tell.

She had to start re-writing the same motion, as her tears had fallen on the paper and botched the ink, but that was fine. At least she was still filing motions- what used to feel mundane compared to the thrill of the active cases was now a solace, because at least she could do *something*. Soon she’d be able to do, and internally would be, nothing.

Daniel was right- there was no real reason for her to keep doing this to herself.

She’d be replaced by someone younger and feisty like she had used to be, or by someone wiser with reputation. They’d fight for justice the same way she was trying to, only they’d be successful, and they’d be applauded for it. They’d go back to squads to share the victory with, and go home to families. They’d have people who loved them, who watched and applauded them from afar.

But still. She wanted it so, so badly.

Desperation drove her when she thought the exhaustion would burn her out. She wanted to be good so badly, too badly. It meant every step felt like it was on a tightrope. She needed to feel like her work meant something, like she was winning some kind of fight, like what she did mattered to someone.

Her career was coming to an end, at some point desperation would turn into depression and she’d drown, but while she had a spark still flickering in her heart she wanted to use it on this.

A last few victories, please. A last shot to be appreciated for her life’s passion.

It was a couple days later when she was called back to the precinct on a development in that case, and Casey’s mind was consumed with pondering if her concealer managed to hide the eye bags she carried as she stepped inside, green eyes scanning for movement. Rollins, Cragen and Amaro were standing in a little triangle around the center of the squadroom, arms crossed.

“You called?” She said to no one in particular, and no eyes raised to especially meet hers, so she just glanced from face to face and chewed on the inside of her cheek. She just had to do whatever they wanted her to do, and then she'd be allowed to leave again.

God, she didn't even want to try anymore. She didn't want to keep attempting to prove herself to people who’d never give her the opportunity or the benefit of the doubt to do that. She missed Stabler and Lake. She missed when being called to the precinct made her feel energetic, like she was being helpful, like someone actually wanted *her* there, not just… whichever ADA happened to be on SVU rotation.

“So, we found most of the names on the list that kid gave us,” Amaro started, and Casey tried not to think about how Stabler would've slapped her playfully on the shoulder as a thank-you for helping acquire that list, “and this guy- this one whose spazzing out right now-”

She motioned into an interrogation room, where a very heavily disheveled looking man was pacing back and forth, dirty fingers running through locks of hair so filthy Casey wasn't sure if he was greying or if that was just the level of particles in it. He seemed very clearly to be homeless, suffering from some demons the detectives seemed not to care about to any extent.

“He seems to be the only suspect from it. His name is Peter Devilin, and he has a record for simple battery- he punched a librarian- a couple years ago, before psychiatric intervention. Diagnosed with schizophrenia which got him out of any real repercussions.”

“We have him on CCTV near the crime scene,” Rollins followed up, “and we’re pretty sure he did it- he keeps rambling, talking to someone, and he mentioned the victim’s name multiple times. We talked to the psychiatrist who worked with him back when he had medical insurance and he gave us these-”

The young blonde motioned to a stack of papers and Casey was momentarily upset no one had needed to ask her for a subpoena to hand over said documents, but then was distracted by the information on the small stack of leather-bound journals instead.

She picked up the chain of custody documentation Rollins must have filled out, scanning over the brief notes momentarily. The psychiatrist’s name and the address of his work place was jotted down- ‘Marc Mercer'.

A small light in Casey’s mind blinked on, recognizing that name from somewhere. Where was it? It had to have been in some of the case documentation she had been reading- but it couldn't have been anything major, or surely one of the others would've flagged it already.

Novak’s mind pulled out the helpful answer that it must be the work of false attribution. She read hundreds of names a day in research or in motions, on witness counts or on old incident reports- if one of the detectives hadn't realized anything strange about that name, they would've already found whatever was related to it.

But still, that small defiant spark burned in her throat. She knew this name from somewhere and she could feel the fire spreading to her gut, marking that sensation as important.

While pondering on that, she picked up one of the leather-bound journals and began to skim through it.

“He wrote about what he wanted to do,” Rollins added, not necessarily helpfully as Casey was already reading but Casey had lost the spunk that would've previously rewarded the younger detective with a sly remark.

Olivia announced her arrival into the space with an elongated sigh, running her fingers through her brow hair and taking space between Cragen and Amaro, leaning against a desk.

“That was the parents, again.” She told her fellow detectives with a dejected, flat voice, her eyes fixating on a spot on the floor as she shook her head. “They're really messed up over this.”

Amaro grimaced, tilting his head almost helplessly. “They're parents. I’m a parent- imagining your kid growing up, hearing how they're so desperate to be something, to do something grand, and then… then they end up in the morgue.”

Casey bit her lip. She hadn't any children herself, nor had she ever had any sort of attachment to any youngster other than her little siblings, so adding into that conversation seemed forced. But still, she could empathize, and she did. All those ambitions, all those dreams… It was a tragedy in every sense of the word.

“They're upset we haven't done anything yet,” Olivia murmured in a hushed tone, her voice heavy with the expectations of the victim’s family and associates.

Casey’s heart grew heavy- she understood the weight Olivia must feel, the pressure to achieve any sort of semblance of closure for the grieving individuals. But she knew the only way she could help was to understand and affirm justice, so she simply stayed quiet and kept her focus on the pages unfurled in front of her.

Reading the journals, even just letting her eyes flit over them as she was doing, was very disturbing.

The majority of it were surprisingly intricately detailed drawings and diagrams of human anatomy- bones, joints, muscles, blood vessels, major nerves. Diagrams of how what could bend, what would hurt and what wouldn't as much.

It digressed later into detailed sketches of women in painful positions, noting the extent to which muscle and bone could be manipulated. Women with their faces contorted in obvious fear, women trying to shield themselves.

Around the drawings were furious, insane scribbled notes in barely legitimate handwriting. Some were simply notes correcting anatomical mistakes in the drawings- ‘this joint wouldn't bend like that, not really’, ‘this bone would be longer’, and other things along those lines. Other notes seemed to be wondering what the pain would feel like, comparing it against other things. Some notes were readable but Casey could not comprehend what they were supposed to mean, just random strung-together words that didn’t make much sense in that order, and others were written in such poor lettering she genuinely would have to spend time trying to decipher the words, which she did not want to do.

“...and these journals were made while he was medicated?” Casey muttered darkly, biting her lip.

This would be difficult to prosecute- the squad would of course urge her to convict based off of premeditated intent to commit crime using the journals and the notes as evidence, but the scenario in which this man went off of medication seemed to be not be his fault- if he lost his job and lost his insurance, then winding up unmedicated and at the hands of an overzealous and exploitative psychology student who ended up just a bit too close at a bad moment would easily be plead away by a half-decent defense attorney.

Plus, making graphic drawings wasn't a crime. People drew violence all the time, and she’d have to argue with the defense that this proved sexual intent- none of the drawings, horrible as they were, included penetration or overtly sexual imagery.

As if reading her thoughts, Amanda shook her head slowly. “According to the psychiatrist, he actively decided he didn't want to see him anymore, and didn't want to take anything. He had medical insurance via his work, but he got fired due to erratic behavior after his prescription ran out. So, he took initiative in the ending of his therapy, and thereby..”

“..the cessation of his medication and therapies was entirely his decision, and I could book him for this.” Casey finished, closing the leather-bound booklet in his palms and holding it for a long moment before setting it back down with the others.

“Why didn't the psychiatrist report this? If he knew his patient had prior convictions of violence, he shouldn't have let him make the decision to go off medication like that-” Casey began, but Cragen shrugged.

“The system is overcrowded already. People like that slip through the cracks, and no one knows what a danger they really possess until it really happens.”

“But this-” Casey motioned to the stack of journals, “This is more than just…”

“It's sick, but it's not like we don't see this all the time, Casey.” Olivia replied gruffly, crossing her arms- not defensively, just in her usual stance. “Maybe your time off let you forget.”

Her voice was wry and flat and nothing about it came off as overtly mean or mocking- but Casey knew better.

She really couldn't be in the 1-6 for longer than five minutes without some sort of jab that would haunt her for the rest of the week, huh? Olivia couldn't let her have just a little peace? Some semblance of respect? But fine, if she wanted to be like that, to hell with it. Casey would be leaving soon anyway, her reputation was already soiled completely and if snapping at detectives let her feel just a little bit less like a dog backed into a corner, then that's just what she'd do.

“I want you to look into the psychiatrist,” she countered- well, that wasn't even a real counter. “I remember his name- he came up in a legal case before, and before I indict anyone I want to know why.”

She had wanted to snap, but after the ‘you’re off’ comment she had made the other day she couldn't find anything else worth saying. She would’ve had them investigate the psychiatrist anyway. But she made sure to say it in a voice that showed she wasn't submissive to Olivia’s comment, and Benson's nostrils flared in response, so that was good enough for her.

In the back of her head, she fantasized what it would be like if it was the old squad. Stabler would be standing there with his hands on his sides, glaring down at the pages of the journals as if reading to beat the pages themselves up for being a threat to any women in his life- including her, Elliot had been protective of her, and although they never spoke about it Casey had really appreciated the feeling that someone was looking out for her safety- and if Stabler were there, Olivia wouldn't be being so mean. Instead of biting at her, Olivia would've pursed her lips and nodded along at the belief this kind of neglect was unjustifiable, and would've volunteered to make sure nothing sketchy was going on herself before Casey even asked. Stabler would swing on his coat and they’d wave her goodbye, promising to call with an update within the next couple hours.

She missed Stabler.

She missed the version of Olivia who wasn't glaring so harshly at her that she felt as though two holes were about to be layered through her face. The version of Olivia who got drinks with her occasionally after cases, who softened up eventually and opened up to her. Who confided in her, who let her confide back in turn.

Well, that hadn't worked out at all, actually. Casey’s biggest secret- Charlie- even before Stabler's absence had been abused by this woman, so she supposed maybe she had been played for the fool this entire time. Maybe she was just dumb, and that's why she didn't deserve her occupation.

What-fucking-ever. She was too tired to care.

“On it, boss.” Rollins smiled and did a small fake-salute in her southern accent, and Casey huffed softly with appreciation at the lighter gesture.

If she was as enthusiastic as the younger version of herself, she thought perhaps she and Rollins would get along. She seemed sweet. But Casey just couldn't find it in her to try to bond with the squad anymore, not with one foot out the door.

Olivia, though, remained steadfast. With her arms crossed and her eyes harsh, she was an adversary that chipped away at Casey’s fragile psyche second by second, until Casey genuinely considered stepping away.

“What good is it going to do?” Benson questioned, her voice flat. “You’re worried you won't be able to book the schizo, so you're redirecting to an overworked doctor instead? Don't do that, Casey.”

That comment was worse, and everyone in the room knew it.

The lines of Cragen’s face contorted slightly, his face turning from the floor to Olivia’s face, and Amaro and Rollins mirrored the reaction of mild shock. That wasn't just a small remark anymore, that was an outright challenge to Casey’s ability to prosecute- that was disrespect no one could dismiss.

“I don't think it's up to you to decide what I can or cannot do, detective.” Casey responded, trying to mirror Olivia’s cold demeanour, bristling and straightening her back to her full height. “I’d advise you to stay in your lane.”

“I don't think you can advise me to do anything, counselor, not until you man up and remember what we do here.”

“Excuse me?” Casey flashed, her eyes burning, but Olivia began stepping forward and Casey had to physically freeze herself to not start stepping back. Olivia’s broad arm extended and a small part of the faux blonde’s brain wondered if Olivia was genuinely going to strike here, right here in the middle of the squad room, but Olivia was only pointing at the schizophrenic mess of a person pacing and babbling in an interrogation cell. Olivia snatched up a crime scene photo of the mess left of the young college student’s body in her other hand, dangling the image forward into Casey's face as if threatening her with it.

“This man defiled, degraded and ripped a young woman’s brutalized body apart,” Olivia snapped, “I won't let you throw another case because you're too- … too shrouded by your own personal failures to do what needs to be done here!”

Casey’s mind raced and she did ultimately step backwards- if only to be able to make eye contact with Olivia around the photo pushed into her face- her heart beginning to pound in her chest.

“You’ve got some fucking nerve-!” She snapped, trying to surge forward with the intensity she used too, but although Benson growled in her throat she didn't back down.

Casey forced herself to take a deep breath, to calm the adrenaline surging through her bloodstream like fire.

“Listen, Olivia,” She barked, the concerned faces of the others fading in the background of her vision as she focused on the furious expression before her, “I just know the name of the psychiatrist and want to make sure we cover all possible bases- it's not like we have any concrete or forensic evidence, everything you’ve provided me with is substantial at best.”

“We have just short of a dozen notebooks filled with anatomical drawings of torture!” Olivia snarled with poorly concealed indignation, and Casey scrunched her brow in response.

“Some sketchbooks, a record they knew eachother and the fact he was in the general area are not enough to prove without a shadow of a doubt that he murdered and raped that girl.”

“Casey, look at him!” Olivia pointed again, jabbing her finger in his direction, and the room went silent for a couple seconds as they watched the man’s erratic pacing.

The way his eyes darted from side to side, recognizing shapes and patterns no one else could see, was all too familiar. The look in his eyes resembled Charlie’s to a significant degree, the wary pupils and the bags beneath them, rimmed with red and purple and poorly cared for skin. But Charlie’s eyes were a warm, sunrise-on-ocean-water blue, and this man’s were a more submerged brown color.

He was snarling under his breath, his face set in a heavy, paranoid glare. As Casey watched he glared so fiercely at the glass separating them she thought he was shooting a path directly into her soul- but it was a one-way mirror, and he must be looking only at himself, or at someone between them Casey and the others couldn't see.

“I- I know, Olivia.” Casey hated the way her voice faltered, the way she had grown quiet and stared longer than the others had- when she had forced herself to look away, the others were already looking at her expectantly.

“But I’m telling you,” she continued, trying her best to still be stubborn despite the way her heart was fluttering uncomfortably, “I’ll draft the indictment while you search, and if nothing else turns up, I’ll try him for it. I just want all possible bases covered. Something is up with this psychiatrist.”

Because even though she wanted to let her own perception collapse under Olivia’s harsh gaze, she stood for the law first and foremost, and everything she learned from all her effort was that there was something wrong, something was missing, and she wouldn't be able to argue anything with the ferocity she tried to allocate to each of her cases until she believed fully there was a reason to do so.

Olivia exhaled slowly, and Casey’s heart sank in her chest, because the fire in the brunette woman's eyes was turning instead straight to ice, and she already knew her heart wasn't prepared to hear what Olivia was going to say next. The sense of doom was bad enough that Amanda leaned backward slightly and Cragen extended a hand outward as if to pause the conflict he had tried to allow in order to drive the investigation forward, but Olivia couldn't be halted.

“It's depraved,” she started, “I get that. I get you don't want to believe it's his fault- you didn't want to believe it was *his* fault, either-” the others looked mildly confused and Casey was so, so mortified that Olivia was airing her dirty laundry publically, even if the others didn't know what she was referring to Casey being beaten and bruised by her own fiance, “but so help me, if you're too weak to prosecute a case as transparent as this, just do us all a favor and resign before I call the DA to do it for you.”

Cold shock enveloped Casey’s body, even though in the back of her mind she wasn't at all surprised. Still, she could feel the now-familiar weight of exhausted panic pressing against the inside of her face, and she couldn't figure out how to respond to that, because what could she possibly say-?

“You better watch your fucking mouth,” She tried, the only possible response she could come up with, trying to sound like she was seething and not about to cry. It was disrespectful and mean and it fell flat immediately, it wasn't intensely debative like the previous portion of the argument had been, it was just a stupid completely empty threat that did nothing but signal Olivia had successfully hit a nerve.

“You’re out of line.”

The voice was loud, flat, stern and commanding. Even though it wasn't at all spoken with the same erratic volume as Casey and Olivia’s voices had been, it had effectively had both of them stepping backwards in opposite directions- making space for the speaker to enter rather dramatically into the scene.

Alexandra Cabot strolled into the space as if she owned it, her hair flowing around her shoulders with a golden hue like a battle angel come straight down from the heavens, or alternatively like a kindergarten teacher come to set some rambunctious child straight.

Casey bit her cheek and looked away, fully tilting her head in the opposite direction and closing her eyes with an unfiltered grimace on her face. As if Benson’s very overt disapproval wasn't enough, now she was going to get scolded by her own colleague- the woman she supposedly was on par with, although Novak had never been able to elicit the same respect as the Cabot name.

Instead of telling Olivia to bite her tongue she should've been minding her own- she was about to pay the price for her disrespect in the way of humiliation in the most mortifying degree. Dragged off by Alex, come to defend her friend (who didn't at all need defending, Olivia hadn't even blinked), or being berated by her in front of the majority of the squad- Casey briefly debated which one would be worse.

The embers of fury gnawed on her heart, through, and bitterly she wanted to lash out at her. Fuck them all for putting her in this position- how could they not tell that she was already through? She wasn't trying to be difficult, she just wanted to chase justice the way she always had- fuck, the way they did too. Why couldn't anyone see that? All she wanted was to do her job well, and all she got in return was being reminded that she was sick and tired and alone-

God, Casey was so alone.

Green eyes opened, expecting to find the icy depth of blue staring straight into her soul like a dagger forced through a ribcage, only to find the back of blonde hair.

Alex was standing between her and Olivia, but not facing her- and as Casey watched the elder attorney cross her arms and stiffen her spine, elongating to the full potential of her height, she grew momentarily confused.

“Liv,” Alex snapped, “If someone else told me you said what I just heard from your mouth, I would've slapped them for tarnishing your name.”

Casey couldn't see Olivia very well at all, since Alex was literally directly between them, but she heard the audible pause, the half-step backward.

Alex wasn't yelling, she wasn't berating and she wasn't cruel. She reminded Casey rather like a benevolent judge- one of the younger judges, more inclined to ensuring respect and decency in the courtroom, who naively attempted to get the prosecution and the defense to be respectful. They didn't understand- just like how Alex didn't really understand- that they were trying to mix oil and water.

Casey had been putting up with Olivia’s occasional disregard for her for years. The girl in the icebox, the side comments, the unsaid yet constant comparison, the usage of the worst secret she had as an act of revenge. It was tolerable in the years prior to Casey's suspension- it was just Olivia dealing with the stress of the job, Casey had acknowledged and accepted that. She didn't think Olivia ever forgave her for her inability to prosecute Lake’s perpetrator, and she didn't think she ever would, just like how Olivia would never allow her to fully prove herself, no matter how hard she tried. From the day they met, Casey had known she'd never meet Olivia's standard. Olivia’s standard, though, was the woman using her own body as a blockade between the two.

“Alex, I-” She heard a softened voice speak, Benson suddenly turning complacent in the face of her trusted friend.

“I’m not finished,” Alex said, raising a finger in the air- not taunting Olivia with it in the slightest, rather simply indicating she held the floor right now just like she did in court and was not planning on relinquishing it.

“I know the dealing with victim’s families is emotionally taxing, difficult and strenuous, I just got finished with them myself-” (Oh, Casey thought, that's why they weren't asking her for subpoenas or search warrants, they must be bypassing her to get Alex instead, choosing to let her get close to investigations the way they chose to keep pushing her out) “but that's not excuse to question the integrity of the DA’s office by accusing a senior assistant district attorney,”

Casey felt herself swallow, her heart clenching at the way Alex said her full title with a note of reverence, with regard- but then, why shouldn't she? Alex, noble and respected as she was, was still an assistant district attorney, and technically Casey did outrank her in that regard, even though no one ever acted like it. Alex was acting like it now, though, and suddenly Casey felt like she was standing on solid ground again.

“of responding insufficiently.” Alex was still talking, still commanding the rapt attention of everyone in the room- even some of the background officers who milled about had frozen to watch her speak.

“You conduct investigations under the directions of your Captain, who I have not seen make any sort of inquiry against Novak’s handling or suggestions-” she nodded respectfully at Cragen who blinked and then chose not to respond, favoring instead to let her play this out, “and at the digression of the ADA herself, whether it be me, Hardwicke or her. To question her decision to direct further investigation is to imply the DA’s office and the body we compose as your working prosecutors lack authority and I will not allow you to employ such blatant disregard. Attempting to threaten an attorney into indicting solely at your whim is an affront to all of us- myself included.”

Alex then let her finger drop, because she knew it was unnecessary to keep holding it, Olivia wouldn't dare interject again when Alex was using her prowess the way she was. She had the circle of people entirely subdued into silence. Casey felt her chest loosen, and her ability to breathe came slightly easier.

“And that's all ignoring the disrespect towards information that was personally confided to you,” Alex said this in a lower voice, still stern and commanding but intentionally directed in a way only the circle of people could hear- again, Rollins and Amaro and even Cragen seemed rather perplexed, although despite the way they seemed confused when Olivia had brought up things unbeknownst to them, when Alex did they seemed to detach, trusting that it was simply not meant for them to be aware of.

“Which, frankly,” Alex shook her head slowly, “As your friend, I'm appalled by.”

Casey bit her lip, her hands twitching by her sides as she heard Alex inhale again, letting the momentary pause ring heavy in the air before making her version of a closing argument.

“Novak is a brilliant prosecutor and her decision to investigate any possible motive into who will most likely be your star character witness, as well as the person who gave you the only key evidence you have, is perfectly logical- I would've instructed you to do the same. I’m not entirely sure why you're so affronted, but your irreverence is palpable and I won't have that. You know better.”

Olivia audibly exhaled and Alex moved aside, glancing between the two for a half second.

No one took the floor for a long second, Benson staring at Casey with an air of discomfort and Casey staring back blankly, her mind reeling with the words that had come from Alex’s lips.

Someone was in her corner?

Someone was in her corner. Why?

Alexandra Cabot was in her corner, and Casey had no clue how the universe had granted her that solace, but Jesus Christ.

It wasn't miraculous, and it wasn't as though the weeks of exhaustion and slow deterioration were suddenly reversed. Casey was not suddenly a new, refreshed person. But the ember she had fostered, determined to keep alive until something happened- that ‘something happened’ had just unfolded.

Alex had granted her the respect, the acknowledgement she had so wearily accepted to deprivation of. Casey felt seen, as though a part of her had been invisible for months- years- was finally opaque and recognized. The ember she had tried so hard to shield flickered back and then became again a small flame, not the bonfire it used to be, but suddenly Casey felt as though she had the strength to bring it back to that level.

Alex trusted her- Casey wasn't sure how much of the conversation she had heard, how much evidence she knew about, but- enough that she assumed whatever Casey was demanding was for the best interest of the case. Alexandra Cabot, the golden girl of the squad, trusted that Casey was acting in the best interest of justice.

Olivia realized it, too. Casey was really just trying to cover all aspects of the case, not redirect or play her own agenda this time. It was as though she had had cold water splashed in her fevered, sleep-deprived addled face, woken up and made to see straight. Threatening Casey wasn't going to get her anywhere.

“...I’ll start pulling files,” Olivia said finally, her voice tinged with regret. “I didn't mean to … I didn't mean to cross a line. You're right, I’m getting tunnel vision.” (and I miss Elliot, Casey filled in mentally for her, I’m not doing well because I hate working without the stability and support my partner provided, and I just wanted to speed the case up so I can bury myself in a new shocking tragedy so I don't have time to think about him, because this case reminds me of how scared I was he would have to stop working because of Picard, and now he is genuinely gone, and I’m not coping well.) Casey accepted the partially verbal apology.

“Actually, I think Rollins and Amaro can work on that,” Cragen spoke finally. “Take some time and think about what you need to do to approach this case clear-headed, Olivia. See me in my office in an hour.”

Olivia bristled at the dismissal, but after being scolded so thoroughly by Alex- especially with the blonde still stationed so close- she didn't disobey. With a last glance at Casey- one with softened, apologetic eyes- she turned on her heel and left presumably to the cradle.

Amanda and Nick seemed to jump at the opportunity to awkwardly scramble off, impatient to begin working again and leave the very vocal confrontation between their senior detective colleague and not one but two of their ADAs.

“This was … something,” Casey murmured, after the silence stretched on for a longer moment, now exclusively between Cragen, Alexandra and her, “but I'm… I have work to do.”

“I’ll give you a lift, I need to return to the DA’s office as well.” Alex offered, and Casey thought it would be rude to refuse- especially because refusing would mean hailing a cab while Alex drove her own car, or hiding in the bathroom until Alex left, which seemed pointless and also moderately embarrassing.

“I’ll try to rein Liv in,” Cragen said as a final note, which both attorneys nodded too but otherwise let hang in the air.

Alex walked a couple inches closer to Casey than she would've entirely preferred, but didn't attempt to glance at her as the two ADAs exited the precinct, which she did appreciate.

“I’m sorry, Casey.” Alex said, her voice suddenly smooth and soft like a blanket Casey could wrap herself in, “I didn't mean to fight your fight for you. It was disrespectful for me to step in like that- it's just, I’m friends with Liv, and I hated hearing her berate you like that. She can get really carried away.”

“It’s fine,” Casey responded in what she hoped was a curt, indifferent voice. “Liv’s having a tough time without Elliot, I expected it.”

“That's no excuse for how she was addressing you, though.” Alex murmured, but in an observational, light, almost conversational tone instead of a pressing argumentative one. Casey could only shrug in response, tugging her coat back on as the two exited the precinct doors.

Obviously, Casey felt guilty for her inability to help carry the conversation. It wasn't in her interest to spend the drive back to the DA’s office in a prickling silence. But her hands were shaking just slightly near her sides, and she was consumed trying to calm her sympathetic nerve system to an extent to which she just really couldn't try to formulate the kind of precise, intentional words she’d want to be using with Alex. Making a fool in front of the elder, esteemed attorney by stumbling over exhausted, nervous words while trying to make sure Alex knew Casey wasn't actually upset at Olivia wasn't what she wanted to deal with right now.

Her heart was still beating uncomfortably, not particularly fast, but strong enough to register in her neck and ears. Casey’s lungs seemed just constricted enough to be a nuisance, and her mind was still whirling through a variety of observations, thoughts and topics. She wished she could scream at her anatomy to just stop, quit it, so she could take a deep breath and pause the cortisol flowing through her.

The faux blonde allowed Alex to lead her to where her car was parked, and they remained in a mildly tense silence throughout the brief journey. Alex seemed more inclined to allow Casey her retreat into introspection and Casey couldn't force herself to make words fall from her mouth if she tried- that is, if she tried, such she currently was not attempting to do.

Alex unlocked the car and circled around to the driver’s side, and Casey mechanically settled in on the front passenger’s seat, staring ahead rather blankly as she waited for Alex to begin driving- which she didn't do.

Once both car doors were closed, the blonde attorney turned to Casey, her expression unreadable.

“Casey, I’m going to hold your hand now.” Alex said in a soft, authoritative voice, before reaching over and clasping two hands around one of Casey’s. Her hands were soft and without discernible temperature, but they felt comforting in a way that mildly surprised her.

Casey blinked at Alex with furrowed brows, but she didn't move to shake the elder woman’s hands away, which Alex half-smile at encouragingly.

“If someone were to yell at me like that,” Alex continued gently, “I’d be all kinds of broken up about it. I can't stand loud sounds and erratic movements. And I’d want someone to sit me down, hold my hand, and listen so I could talk it through. Is that what you’d want to do?”

“No,” Casey said hoarsely, feeling a sob bubbling within her lungs. “I don't want to talk.”

Alex speaking to her with that tone, soothing, low and melodic, was simply too much for her right now. She wouldn't be able to recover if she lost her composure in front of her colleague, and if she tried to speak, tried to explain anything, she’d begin crying- she didn't realize how close she was to tears until just now.

“Do you want me to keep talking?” Alex hummed, and Casey again shook her head in denial. She felt guilty she was rejecting Alex with no type of explanation, but she couldn't explain herself, and Alex seemed to understand.

Then, so soft it was almost whispered, “..Do you want me to hold you?”

She said it so softly, with such a note of emotion, that Casey almost thought it sounded like that was what Alex really wanted to do herself.

Casey’s head met Alex’s shoulder before she realized she was moving, and despite what the overwhelming fear that sank into her mind said the second she did so, Alex was entirely receptive, her hands raising to cradle her skull softly.

She’s just back from international work in the Congo, Casey thought to herself miserably, I’m sure she’s used to cleaning up people’s breakdowns. I’m sure she’s exactly the type of good person I’m not.

Casey’s shoulders were shaking and she couldn't stop them, and her arms were numbly pawing around Alex's sides to bring the other woman closer. Alex tightened her grip, sliding one thigh across the divider in a way that must be uncomfortable and her other leg beneath her, so she could lean across and make the embrace all that much easier for the other woman.

The younger attorney could feel Alex exhaled against her scalp, and if Casey pictured it she could see Alex’s eyelids fall shut with empathy, her slim fingers laced around Casey’s shoulders like thread that held ripped fabric together.

But as much as Casey felt horrible about letting the woman comfort her, she couldn't bring herself to pull away. The allure of Alex’s warm, inviting figure, the solace being embraced brought, especially after the years of feeling so utterly alone, was too much to reject- it didn't stop her from feeling guilty about it, though. She didn't want to accept Alex's pity, but oh, how she did need it.

“It's okay,” Alex said the second Casey opened her mouth to apologize, “I’ve got you. It's hard, I know.”

That notion rang clear in Casey’s disoriented mind. Alex had referenced something specific in her verbal takedown she had no clue how the elder woman would be aware of.

“How did you know about him?” Casey said suddenly, raising her head and pulling back, staring at Alex with bleary eyes, “About Olivia telling Branch about-?”

Alex winced, then, her shoulders tilting inward just the slightest bit, her hands flexing as though she wanted to pull Casey back.

“...Liv told me,” She breathed finally, after a pause. Casey’s mind went momentarily blank, so stressed everything faded out to void, and she rested her forehead against Alex’s shoulder again, exhausted beyond measure. She'd resign next week, she internally decided, she’d recuse herself from all her active cases and leave. This was too much, all too much. But she didn't make any move to pull away from Alex, if anything, she shifted just the slightest bit closer. Alex was still talking, she realized faintly.

“She mentioned you during your suspension, when she thought- when she thought I was getting too involved.”

“What?” Casey murmured, her voice seemingly heavy and far-away. “You? You get too involved?”

Alex chuckled softly. “Haven't you heard about how I ordered an illegal search?”

It caught Casey off guard that Alex would offer up information like that. That she’d care about this conversation enough to divest vulnerability like that. Casey swallowed, once, and then when Alex’s hands flexed again, she lowered her face back to the blonde's shoulder. Alex’s slight anxiety seemed to soothe in that instant, her hands able to regain their purchase on the back of Casey’s head.

Casey thought that if she wasn't so emotionally pent up, she’d think Alex’s slight discomfort at not being able to hold her was cute.

“No, I haven't. Tell me about it,” Casey murmured, and Alex fully turned her torso in her direction, settling into a more comfortable position as she regarded the window thoughtfully, composing her words for the impromptu bout of storytelling. She wasn't particularly proud of this moment, but if it made Casey feel better, she’d divulge.

“This boy was the victim of a pedophile,” Alex started slowly, “and I knew- I knew something was wrong when he said he’d be going home, but I.. I watched him walk out of my office, and that night I got a call he’d try to kill himself, and it was horrible. He was hooked up to all those machines, and the mother was screaming at me- I had been decked by another victim of the same guy, and I thought I’d get it again from her.”

Casey nestled a bit closer, a small exhale against Alex’s neck that signalled she was listening. If Alex looked down, she'd see a rounded green eye attentively focused on her face, but she didn't. Alex was partially zoned out the way Casey always felt when she was recounting her own prior cases to herself.

“We knew from another victim, one who had grown up and been incarcerated, that the boy would have tapes of the crime in his room, and the judge denied my search warrant to go retrieve them. But I sent the detectives anyway. Liv asked me if I had a search warrant and I…” Alex shrugged slightly, Casey’s head following the motion from where it rested. “I tried to steamroll my way right through it. Still remember how…” Alex paused to search for a word she couldn't find, “how I felt after.”

It was hard for Casey to reconcile the woman before her as someone who had broken the law, but somehow the knowledge she was human like her stopped the churning of her stomach slightly.

“This seems stupid to say,” Casey murmured in her low rasp, “but I never realized you were… that you could make the kind of mistakes I do.”

Alex chuckled again sadly. “I’m far from perfect. I can be insensitive, harsh, I get tunnel vision. I put people in danger.”

Casey bit her lip, hesitantly raising her head again.

“And I call in favors,” Alex continued, “My uncle… I leaned on him a lot early in my career. On his connections with other judges. Petrovsky called me out on that before. I made a lot of publicity mistakes, too, once I didn't- I tried to navigate a case and let a boy off easy, and he ended up,” Alex swallowed, then, “murdered in the street.”

“Before I was suspended, I almost got an assault charge.” Casey admitted softly, trying to add into the conversation, not wanting Alex to be the only one bearing herself vulnerable. “I pushed a juvenile sex detention facility head against the wall after I found out that- that abuse was ongoing within the facility. After I sent… a boy there.”

“It’s tough.” Alex sighed as a response, and Casey nodded slowly. She raised her head back up, pushing her head instead against the headrest of the leather car seat, watching Alex watch her.

They sat together in silence, although unlike during the walk to the car, it wasn't uncomfortable. It wasn't bursting with racing minds and words not said, rather the budding sense of familiarity and camaraderie. Casey understood how Alex felt, and Alex understood what Casey wasn't saying. They were fighting the same fight, after all. Who would better comprehend the struggle than one who was in the same shoes?

“It starts to get exhausting,” Casey said slowly, her green eyes flicking upwards to scan Alex’s face, seeking validation in solidarity, “the politics of it all. I just …”

“... want to help,” Alex finished for her, tilting her head and raising her shoulder before letting it drop. “Want to make a difference, want to… ensure justice for people who need it. Provide solace to someone.”

“You get it,” was all Casey could respond with, but Alex nodded.

“Did you really need to go back?” Alex murmured, using her hand to motion to the steering wheel she wasn't using, and Casey pursed her lips.

“No,” she answered honestly. “I just didn't want to be in the precinct anymore. Did you?”

“No,” Alex responded in turn, and then blue eyes flicked up, studying Casey’s face as her lips curved into a soft, knowing smile. “I just … wanted the excuse to talk to you.”

Casey’s gaze slid around Alex’s features, taking in the softened gaze, the curve of her cheeks at her gentle smile, the tilt of her glasses, the slope of her hair. She noted how elegantly Alex always held her arms, but for once, she didn't try to compare herself against her colleague, rather just took in the fact a woman this gorgeous was trying to provide her with the solace she so desperately needed.

“Let's talk, then.” She murmured, and then in a rush of confidence, “It's been a while since someone tried to …”

She didn't know what she wanted to finish that sentence with. No one had stood up for her, no one had offered her a degree of companionship, no one had put in that much effort to engage with her. But that seemed utterly pathetic to divulge, so she bit her tongue. As always, as she was learning to understand through this brief interaction, Alex could tell what she meant without her needing to say it. It was comforting.

“Are we continuing this conversation in the parking lot, or am I driving you somewhere nicer, Ms. Novak?” Alex hummed, extending her arms to wrap around the steering wheel so she could lightly tap-tap-tap her fingers against it, and Casey chuckled.

“Somewhere nicer? What, are you asking me out?” Casey snorted, mirroring Alex’s turn to a proper sitting position and crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“...Would you be more or less willing if it was?” Alex smirked, but it was obvious she was jesting.

Casey grinned, closed her eyes, and flexed her eyebrows with a bit of snark she found within herself she hadn't been sure still existed. “I’m not a cheap date, counselor.”

“Then we’ll get along, because I refuse to eat anywhere that doesn't have tablecloths and a separate wine menu.” The elder attorney shot her a small smile, turning on the car’s ignition and beginning to pull out of the parking space, apparently having decided on a place already.

“Never ask me to cook for you though,” she followed that up with, “I can afford a good cut of steak, but for the life of me I wouldn't be able to cook it.”

“Then you buy it, and I’ll cook. I’ve been told I know my way around searing steak.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Alex chirped, removing one hand from the steering wheel to enclose the top of Casey’s hand, “I never did treat you to something after you saved my life. I wanted to.”

The teasing air morphed into something softer once more, warm and comfortable, as Casey’s eyes softened in Alex’s direction. The blonde was now focusing on the road, so she couldn't see the way Casey studied her features, which only created incentive for Casey to take her time doing so.

“Did you mean what you said?” She didn't like how timid her voice came out, but the words spilled from her lips before she could stop them. Alex shot her a brief glance, raising an eyebrow that signalled a nonverbal ‘about what?’.

“about … me being a decent prosecutor,” Casey pressed rather lamely, her voice not really full of conviction, because she didn't really know if she wanted the honest answer. She didn't want to hear Alex lie, and she didn't want to hear Alex struggle to justify it either.

To her surprise, Alex’s immediate response of “yes” was not hesitant or thoughtful. She said it as though it were an unarguable fact.

“I think you forget,” Alex added, “One of the people your legal prowess saved was me.”

That was before her suspension, Casey noted to herself with a sigh, back when prosecuting felt perhaps not as easy, but as natural as breathing. But maybe, possibly, with the knowledge at least one person wanted to put in the effort to support her, at least one person didn't struggle to decide if Casey was worthy of being an attorney- maybe that one person’s acknowledgement could satisfy her craving for validation. Maybe she really could climb her way back up again. Maybe it wasn't all lost.

But also, maybe that wasn't something she really had to decide ultimately in this particular moment. She could simply enjoy the company of another person who understood the intricacies of the life this job provided, chatter and storytell, and allow the drained battery to recharge. She didn't need to dedicate her life to SVU, and didn't need to start drafting her resignation forms either.

She could just choose on the simple decision of allowing Alex to take her for dinner, and worry about the rest when she could handle it, because it did now feel as though she would soon be able to handle it.

“You're really something, you know that?” She responded, turning back to face the road, and she could hear Alex smile in response.

“Just trying to repay the favor you did me,” Alex smoothed, “and… well, women like us, we should stick together.”

Casey nodded once in agreement, her lips curving into an easy smile as she replied, “that we should.”