#approach as a friend and I won’t block on sight

[marlow-holly]

Since I’ve encountered a recent uptick in DM’s from people only interested in sexual conversations (or something along those lines) I am making it publicly known that:

I AM NOT CURRENTLY INTERESTED

I will block you faster than I block bots

[em-prentiss]

I’ve got my eye on you

----

You’re really in no shape to be at work. Aaron coaxes you home.

Cw: fem!bau!reader, reader is on her period, newly established relationship, fluff, use of pet names, no use of yn

Wc: 1.9k

if you have any Aaron requests, lmk <3

----

Your stomach cramps again as you walk out of the elevator. Wincing, you hurry into the bullpen, desperate to sit down and ease the ache in your lower body. 

Morgan looks up at you as you dump your things on your desk and sit down with a sigh. 

“Twenty minutes late, princess,” he grins. “Late night?”

“Not today, Derek.” You stuff your face in your hands, the pounding in your head intensifying. Your voice is low, strained, nothing like the usual teasing tone you take up with him. 

Morgan immediately frowns in concern. “Hey, are you okay?” He leans over the divider between your desks and takes a closer look at you.

“Fine,” you mumble, your voice muffled. You lift your head and give him a weary smile. “Just tired from last night’s case.”

He nods and leaves you alone as you turn on your computer and sigh at the stack of paperwork ahead of you. Looking up out of habit, you smile at the sight of Aaron in his office, his head bent as he works on something. 

The two of you had your first date just before this previous case. He got you flowers, specifically ones that wouldn’t trigger your allergies, and when he told you that with a flustered smile you felt yourself fall impossibly deeper. You had kissed him to stop his rambling, threaded your fingers through his as he walked you to his car and opened the door for you. Like a gentleman, you’d thought giddily, your heart bursting at the image of him in your head perfectly meeting reality.

He got you ice cream after dinner, intimately aware of your sweet tooth, and you were left wondering if it was too soon to think about marriage.

It had been a perfect night, one that left you wanting for more of him just like this; funny and relaxed and soft. You’d wanted so badly to push him into your apartment, have him take off your dress and press his lips to your skin. But you forced yourself to say goodbye at the door, his chaste kiss sweet against your lips. You wanted to take it slow, to do it right. He wasn’t going to be a quick fuck for you and you wanted him to know that. 

Because you’re in love with him, have been for years. And you’re pretty damn sure he’s in love with you too.

You’re broken from your reverie when you hear Emily approaching, a steaming mug in her hands. You give her a questioning look when she sets down the mug on your desk, the light color of the liquid telling you it’s some kind of herbal tea instead of coffee.

“You’ve got that first day period look about you,” she whispers before you can ask. You smile and pick up the tea, taking a sip and feeling the scalding liquid burn all the way down.

“That bad, huh?” You close your eyes when Emily brushes your hair away from your forehead. Her short nails scratch soothingly against your scalp and you hum, resting your head lightly against her stomach. 

“You’re a little pale,” she murmurs. “Did you eat?”

You say nothing and bring the tea to your lips again, avoiding your friend’s gaze. 

“Typical,” Emily sighs—quite boldly of her, knowing she’s no different. “Hotch won’t be happy about that,” she teases softly, her lips turning up in a gentle smile. She may or may not have given you and Aaron the final push you both needed.

You shrug as your cheeks tint pink. “I’ll eat in a bit,” you say, in no hurry to do so with the way your stomach churns. “The pain really blocks my appetite.” You scrunch your nose. 

Emily hums, all too familiar with the feeling. “I’d tell you to take some meds, but you need to eat for that.” She strokes your hair soothingly, making you lean into her touch.

“I will, Em,” you smile up at her. “When my stomach settles. This is helping by the way, thanks.” You tilt your head to the mug you’re now holding against your stomach, the heat of it seeping through your shirt.

“You’re welcome,” Emily squeezes your shoulder and heads to her own desk. 

Sighing, you tip your head back and adjust your grip on the mug in your hands, wishing you had something for your thighs too. And your head. And your lower back. 

You give yourself a few seconds before you rub your eyes and sit up straight, trying to start on your report. 

The words blur on the page in front of you and you blink, trying to bring them back into focus. You sip your tea, hoping it’ll kick start your brain into writing something, but your head pounds incessantly, jumbling up the words in your head.

The next sip of tea brings a sudden nausea with it, the liquid sloshing around in your empty stomach with nothing else. You set it down with a grimace. 

Fucking great.

Morgan and Reid are bickering incessantly behind you, Emily clacks away at her computer and Anderson is talking louder than usual, his voice piercing your head. You blow out a breath and grab your pen, forcing yourself to ignore them and look at your paperwork. You squint at the paper, the bright fluorescent lights of the bullpen like needles in your eyes.

You give up and slump on your desk with a groan, welcoming the darkness and the cool wood against your forehead. You cross your arms tightly over your aching stomach, feeling the frustrating press of tears against your closed eyelids.

Aaron leaves his office in search of coffee and catches sight of you with your head on your desk, your hair shielding your face. Your back shudders as you inhale, the ragged rise and fall of it visible even from a distance.

He hurries down to you and gently touches your shoulder, your name falling softly from his mouth. You tilt your head up to look at him, too tired to lift it from the desk. “Aaron, hey.” You give him a worn out smile. 

Your hair falls into your face. Aaron gently brushes it away and notes your crossed arms held tightly against your stomach, your nails digging into your biceps.

“Are you okay?” He asks worriedly, eyeing your tired face and the bags under your eyes. “You look pale. Are you sick?” He presses the back of his hand against your forehead, but your skin is cool.

If the cramps weren’t currently tearing your body to shreds, you might have felt the butterflies at his obvious concern. “I’m not,” you say slowly, wetting your dry lips. “I’ll be fine, my head just hurts a bit.”

A bit is a gross oversimplification, and from the look on Aaron’s face, he knows it too. “Just your head?” He raises his brows, his eyes pointedly drifting down to your stomach.

A strange heat rises to your cheeks. “I’ll be fine, Aaron.” You insist as you lift yourself up against the chair. The light shines directly into your eyes and you wince, pressing your palm against your lids.

“Clearly,” he mutters, looking at your desk and the still empty paperwork and reports you have yet to fill out. “Go home. You can finish this tomorrow.”

“No,” you shake your head adamantly despite the roiling in your stomach. “I’m fine, I just—” You shut your eyes and blow out a shaky breath when you feel a sudden cramp in your abdomen, “I just need a minute.” You rasp.

Aaron eyes your dull skin and the way you tightly grip your seat, your knuckles sharp as you take in ragged breaths. He sighs and crouches down in front of you, the gentle way he says your name forcing your eyes open. 

“Please. Go home or I’ll drive you myself.” His brown eyes are soft with concern, his brows furrowed and lips tipped downward.

You want to shake your head, but a sharp pain in your stomach almost makes you gasp. You bite your lip and look down at your watch. “It’s only 11.” You protest weakly. 

Aaron shakes his head at your stubbornness, your pain clear in the way your face twists. “You’re in pain, sweetheart,” he whispers, unable to stop himself from saying it. Your eyes widen slightly at the nickname, but he continues, undeterred.

“Please. Go home, take care of yourself. You can be here first thing tomorrow, I promise, but you’re not well now.” He’s using the same soft, soothing tone he uses whenever Jack is sick and refusing his medication, and it seems to have the same effect on you.

You wilt against the seat and nod. “Okay,” you finally relent, the relief obvious in your voice. 

Aaron smiles slightly, dimples poking out in victory as he stands up. You don’t even have to pack anything, your purse still closed on your desk. You pocket your phone and stand, your hand reaching for Aaron’s elbow when you stumble slightly. 

“Sorry,” you mumble. 

“Shh, you’re okay,” he steadies you with a hand on your back. “Come on, I’ll walk with you.”

You don’t protest and allow him to walk you to the elevator. A part of you is surprised that he’s showing this side of him at work, uncaring of the team’s piercing gazes that you can feel following you all the way out of the bullpen. 

You lean into his side a little when you’re out of sight, the warmth of his hand on your back seeping into your skin as you wait for the elevator. 

You’re almost disappointed when it dings.

The doors open and you walk in with a quiet sigh. Aaron walks in with you too, ignoring your surprised look. You open your mouth to protest, but he speaks first.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay driving? I can take you,” he offers.

You smile. The thought does sound nice. But you shake your head, despite your aching body and the long drive ahead of you. And the crushing need to let him take care of you. “I’ll be fine.” You force yourself to say. “Thank you, though.”

Aaron nods. “Drive safe.” He smiles at you gently. “Text me when you get home.”

“I will.” Your fingers magically find their way into his hair. You push the soft strands away from his forehead, biting back a smile when he involuntarily leans into your touch.

His hand finds the curve of your waist. “Maybe I can come by later?” He whispers. 

You feel your body grow warm, a comforting glow that he always brings out in you. You smile, momentarily distracted from the pain in your body.

“I’d like that. But I won’t be much fun,” you gesture to yourself with a shrug. The elevator stops and the doors slide open into the parking lot. 

“That’s just nonsense,” Aaron tilts your face down to kiss your forehead, his palms warm on your cheeks. “Be careful, honey.” 

“I will.” You stamp a quick kiss on his lips, your cheeks warm, and head to your car. Aaron holds the elevator doors open and waits until you get in before heading again to the sixth floor.

He walks back into the bullpen, past his team gathered at Emily’s desk, including Garcia. They smirk at him and he glares back.

“Not a word.” 

[cloudcountry]

OH MY GOD. THE MIX UP VALENTINE POST. YOU ATE!!!! could i rq a version with riddle, ace, deuce, octavinelle, and lillia? 🫶🫶

SUMMARY: you get a gift that was meant for the student you like, and the contents spur you to action.

COMMENTS: this is a spin off post of this post!! IM GLAD U LIKED IT ANON i was proud of that one myself ehehe

also the character limit is five so i picked azul from octavinelle

You stare blankly at the box of chocolate in your hands, the gift crammed into your desk haphazardly. At first, you thought it was for you—that’s what anyone would assume, right? Except...the note on top of it is not addressed to you, but rather, the guy you like. It makes you wonder if this is some joke, or if one of his friends wanted you to deliver it for him. You pick at the heart sticker sealing the note shut and peel it open, taking a peak of the contents.

Your eyes wide and your heart lurches in your chest, panic and annoyance roaring like red hot flames as you read what sounds like a genuine confession of love. Someone had their eyes on him? How did you never notice?

Was it weird to get jealous? I mean, he’s not even dating you yet...you don’t even know if he feels the same way. You can’t deny it doesn’t feel good that there’s another student trying to woo him, though. You’ve been so scared up until this point, so nervous about what he might think, but the clock is ticking. You’ve got to tell him before it’s too late.

Riddle sits up even straighter when he sees you approaching him with a heart shaped box and an envelope, his cheeks flushing pink. He clears his throat when you arrive, expression all twisted up as if you’re unhappy about something. Riddle turns to look at you, holding his chin high as he addresses you by name.

“Do you have something to tell me?” he asks, arms crossed over his chest.

“This is a pathetic gift for the Queen of Hearts.” you reply dryly, throwing the gifts on the ground and stomping on them, “Someone thought that would be enough for you, but I won’t stand for it.”

Riddle stares open mouthed at the torn envelope and crushed box of chocolates, but a giant bundle of roses blocks his line of sight.

“This.” you say, a bouquet of roses in one hand and an entire strawberry tart in the other, with the truffles from the box placed in a circle around it in your hands, “Is a far more fitting gift for courting the queen.”

Deuce freezes after he reads the note you gave him with a sour face, cheeks turning pink. He wonders why you look so upset when you just confessed how much you like him—even though the words seem a bit off...

“See, Deuce? I told you you were popular.” you scoff, wrinkling your nose in disgust.

You glare so intensely at the envelope that Deuce feels your anger and jealousy.

“Is this...not from you?” he asks softly, his heart plummeting out of his body. And here he was, getting all delighted and cheesy about it—

“Nah. It’s not.” you say flippantly, “I’m confessing my feelings in a much better way.”

Deuce gasps when you pull out a bouquet of dark blue roses, kneeling at his feet as you take his hand. He swears you see hearts in his eyes as he stares at the flowers and your face, which look up at him with determination he knows all too well.

“Deuce Spade, I want you to be mine.” you declare, and his legs turn to jelly as he babbles out an enthusiastic yes.

“I can’t believe someone who isn't me likes your dumbass.” you smack Ace’s arm as he snickers over the note, an immature gesture if there ever was one.

“Well, if you like this dumbass what does that make you, huh? A stupidass?” he quips, knocking his whole body against you.

You squeal and shove him back, sticking your tongue out at his shocked face as he falls off the bed.

“Really!? This is how you’re confessing your love to me?” Ace huffs, playful as always, “I want a divorce.”

“You idiot, I’m just speaking your language!” you snap back, throwing a pillow at his head, “All you do is tease and yap and jab so I’m giving you a taste of your own medicine!”

“Oh you’re on!” Ace jumps to his feet, pillow in hand.

It’s obvious he likes you back. It always has been. And even if that person hadn’t sent that note, you two still would have known just how much you care for each other, even if it remains (mostly) unsaid.

(You still trampled that note at least ten times during your pillow fight though.)

“Is this some kind of joke?” Azul says blandly, placing the letter down on his desk of his VIP Room, “This obviously isn’t your handwriting, nor is it your style of writing.”

“That’s because it’s not mine.” you say just as blandly, raising an eyebrow as Azul looks over his spectacles at you, “Were you hoping it was?”

“What is the purpose of this visit then? You bring me some random letter with a confession of love...don’t tell me you’re hoping to butter me up.” Azul chuckles, standing up as gracefully as ever, “You should know better than anyone that those tricks do not work on me.”

You stand up as well, arms crossed over your chest as you meet his stare with your own.

“Because, Azul, someone left that note in my desk. It was addressed to you, as you can see, so I bought it for you. What you just read is what encouraged me to take action.” you take a deep breath and summon all of your courage, there truly is no turning back now, “Azul, I am interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with you. I can assure you I’ve thought this over many times before coming to you with this proposal. If you’re willing, I would love to sit down and have a talk about the terms and conditions of this deal.”

You hold out your hand for a handshake.

Azul’s mouth forms an o shape, and for a second you’d say he looks shocked, but he composes himself quickly as is all too inclined to place his hand in yours.

“Well, well, well!” he beams, voice light and airy with what you can only assume is joy, “Let’s get negotiations underway, shall we?”

“Aww, you shouldn’t have.” Lilia coos, bringing a hand up to his mouth, “Why do you look so sour, sweets?”

“Because it’s not from me. It was stuffed in my desk and addressed to you.” you wrinkle your nose, the envelope clenched in your fist, “I don’t like the idea of someone confessing to you before I could.”

Lilia giggles, still hiding his mouth behind his hand. You stare blankly at him, tapping your foot so hard your ankle starts to cramp up.

“Oh, no need to look so anxious, dear. I’m sure you’re well aware of where my affections lie, yes?” Lilia approaches you, his fingers intertwining with yours as the envelope flutters to the floor, unnoticed and uncared for.

He doesn’t have much time left. He’s loved and he’s lost, he may as well go for what he wants while it’s still here, in front of him.

“That is such an indirect way of confessing.” you groan, squeezing his hand, “I even got you a whole bag of mystery flavored red lollipops...”

“Gifts are best shared, my dear!” Lilia laughs, pulling you over to his bed, “Now, hurry up! I want to see which flavor I get first!”

[cherriecove]

Fine Line Between Duty and Oaths (Part 1)

Gwayne Hightower x Targ!Reader

Summary: The second born daughter of King Viserys I Targaryen and Queen Aemma is just as brave, beautiful and stubborn as her older sister but cannot deny her growing love for a certain red haired knight who just so happens to be a dear friend’s brother.

Cherrie’s note: Use of she/her pronouns. No use of y/n. Just made some edits to help get rid of writers block. Use of @targaryen-dynasty's divider i love them Masterlist | Next Part

Despite the usual tranquility of the Godswood, where you often sought solace, the history books mandated by the Septa seemed particularly elusive today. The words seemed to dance around your mind, slipping away no matter how many times you tried to focus. As you began the chapter for what felt like the umpteenth time, you were jolted out of your frustration by a familiar sound of laughter.

Rhaenyra and Alicent appeared, arms linked and animated in their conversation. They made their way over to the heart tree’s shade, where you had been trying to study. Alicent settled beside you, leaning comfortably against the tree, while Rhaenyra flopped down and nestled her head in your lap.

“What’s got you frowning, hāedar?” Rhaenyra teased, noticing the furrow in your brow. “If you keep that up, you might strain something.” She playfully tugged at the corners of your mouth, stretching them into an exaggerated grin. “Much better, don’t you think, Alicent?” Alicent giggled and shook her head at the sight.

You sighed and gently nudged Rhaenyra’s hands away, setting the book aside. “I can’t seem to focus on these same old stories. They’ve hammered them into us enough already; it feels pointless.”

Rhaenyra’s face lit up with a mischievous glint. “That’s exactly why I’ve put my studies on hold. There’s no point in dwelling on the past when we’ve got something as thrilling as a tourney coming up.”

Alicent rolled her eyes, clearly skeptical. “You always say you despise these tourneys. You claim that all the knights try too hard to impress you and your father.”

Rhaenyra’s smile wavered, and she playfully nudged Alicent, who laughed at the jest. The thought of marriage had always unsettled Rhaenyra; the prospect of being bartered off to the highest bidder, with only the promise of bearing children, was both repugnant and frightening to her. It was a grim reality that not even princesses could escape.

“I think it will be exciting,” you said, turning to Alicent. “Your brother will be joining us, won’t he? Isn’t he a knight now?”

Alicent’s face brightened at the mention of her brother. “Yes, he sent word a couple of moons ago that he’d be attending. I’m eager to see him; it’s been quite a while.”

Just as you were about to ask more, your Septa entered the Godswood and announced, “Princesses! The Queen requests your presence.”

Both you and Rhaenyra rose, exchanging farewells with Alicent and promising to catch up later before following the Septa to the Queen’s chambers.

Entering the Queen’s apartments, you found your parents engaged in conversation on the chaise in the center of the room. They turned to face their daughters as you entered.

“Muña, you wanted to see us?” Rhaenyra asked, planting kisses on both parents’ cheeks before taking a seat. You followed her example, sitting closer to your mother. Your father stood up, clearing his throat.

“As you both know, we’re hosting a tourney soon,” he began. Rhaenyra glanced at you, then back at your father, nodding.

“Do you know why?” You asked, concern evident in your voice. “You’re not… with child again, are you?”

Your mother shook her head with a reassuring smile. “No, nothing like that. The tourney’s purpose is to showcase you both as you approach the age of marriage. It’s an opportunity for you to observe potential suitors and decide for yourselves, though, as your father and king, I will have the final say.”

Rhaenyra’s frustration was palpable; her dragon’s blood ran hot and fast. Sensing her agitation, you reached out to take her hand. “We won’t be wed until we’re ready, will we?”

Viserys’s expression softened as he looked at his youngest daughter. “Of course not, my little dragon. We dread the day you both will leave us to start that chapter of your lives.”

You nodded silently as Rhaenyra abruptly stood up. “If that’s all, I’ll be off. I want to fly Syrax.” She kissed Aemma’s cheek and left swiftly, not looking back.

Viserys cleared his throat, attempting to ease the awkwardness left by Rhaenyra’s departure. Aemma took his hand and rose. “She’ll come around, my love. You may go now, my sweet. Hopefully, your sister will calm down soon.”

You bid your parents farewell and left the room, only to collide with Alicent, who was hurrying down the hall. Laughing at the unexpected encounter, you asked, “What’s the rush, Hightower?”

Alicent’s face lit up with a brilliant smile as she grabbed your hand, pulling you along. “He’s here! Gwayne is finally here! You have to meet him.”

[xlpoww]

Jealousy, Jealousy

i really loved how bad for business turned out, and it seems you all did too!! so here's a continuation of the bfb universe/storyline :) it's not exactly a part two

warnings! jealousy (sanji's)

word count: 1,720

opla! sanji x f! reader

i actually took the time to reference back to this scene in the live action to make sure i got their orders right :) !! also hi i am alive !!! i just got busy with work- and i had a mini con to go to this weekend and i cosplayed nami! :D -> i have also been struggling with tremendous writers block, and was trying to force myself to write about zoro for days! but i couldn't, and i was frustrated with myself untill i rememebred this isnt a job, this is for fun for me and you guys. so i went back to some of the things i've written and felt like i could continue this one :) the story really flowed from there and i wrote a lot in a short span sooooooo &lt;3 ily all! thanks for reading as always <3333

sanji vinsmoke is jealous. 

the cook is used to woman falling at his feet, swooning over his flirty personality. either that or they get annoyed at him and clearly show disinterest. (oftentimes calling him names and sometimes resulting in him getting hit)

but you, the one girl he actually held a candle for, he couldn’t even seem to get a rejection from you. that would’ve made things so much easier for him and his heart. it’s gotten to the point he’s wishing you would tell him you don’t return his feelings. sure it would hurt in the moment, but at least he could have (hopefully) forced himself to move on.

but no, you won’t reject him; nor will you swoon at his advances. they seem to roll right off you like beads of rain on a window. never a hint of blush on your cheeks, no angrily quirked brows. how was he meant to understand? there are two reasonable reactions to such a forward man, either interest or not. how do you manage to toe the line so perfectly?

it drove him mad, not only were you horribly hard to read, every once in a while you would flirt aggressively back at him. it would always catch the poor boy off guard, leaving him stunned and blushing standing wherever he was. oftentimes you did it right in the middle of the kitchen, leaving him to deal with the playful teasing of the other workers, walking off to continue doing your job. 

you would be the death of him surely.

especially when the sight of you smiling so sweetly at that stupid swordsman causes a painful squeeze in his chest. his grip on the tray he was holding is bruising, and there’s a jealous rage brewing inside of him.

-

“hello my name is y/n, and i’ll be your waitress today. can i start you guys with any refreshments?” you flip over a page on your notepad, ready to write down the group's requests. what a charming bunch they were, with just a glance you could tell they really cared for one another.

“i’ll take a beer,” the green haired man speaks up, and you nod with a smile.

“i’ll take two beers, i normally have three but..” he trails off as the woman at the table speaks up.

“i’ll take a water.”

“and a glass of milk!” the endearing boy with a straw hat adds on, his words are muffled by the bun he was still chewing. when coming to greet them you’d brough over a basket of perfectly warmed buns with butter. nodding at them all, your pen into your apron as you repeat back to them. 

“three beers, milk and water, coming right up you guys.” you step back with a bow, turning towards the kitchen. doing so you notice your best friend is glaring in your direction, and as you walk back you tilt your head at him. when you get closer you realize his glare wasn't directed towards you, but the swordsman you had taken the order from. he doesn’t even seem to pay you any mind as you approach him, too focused on the table you had just walked away from. when you reach him where he stands in front of the doorway, you snap your fingers in his face. it seems to snap him out of it, and he looks down at you with a charming smile.

“hello my love, what can i do for you?” his hand is placed on your shoulder sweetly. the touch warms your body, but you shake it off to cross your arms. 

“what’s up with you, why were you glaring at my table? do you know them?” you gesture back towards your table, and a flush washes over his face when he realizes he’d been caught. he straightens his tie in an attempt to shake off his shame,

“not a clue who they are darling.” your eyebrow raises in suspicion, you’re not buying it. he seems to know you won’t, and he tucks his hand into his pockets as he shrugs.

“you just glare at people you don’t know now sanj?” a pout forms out of frustration. while you were wondering why he was lying to you so blatantly, he was internally swooning at how adorable you looked in that moment, and the sweet way you'd shortend his name. the grip you had over his heart was the strongest in all the seas.

“don’t worry, pretty lady, it’s nothing. now if you’ll excuse me i’ve got my own tables to wait on.” he’s internally scrambling to figure out how to distract you from what he was caught doing, in a moment of boldness (or a crazy attempt to change the subject), he leans down to press a kiss to the side of your head.

the action causes your eyes to almost bulge out of your head as you begin to blush. a smug smile forms on sanji’s face at the sight, he’d never felt more accomplished than he did in that moment. not only had he distracted you, he’d made your face light up all pretty and embarrassed. he winked at you before brushing past you to do his job, pushing open the swinging door into the kitchen behind you.

you’re left in shock trying to wrap your brain around his actions, ‘what had gotten into him?’ as bold and flirtatious as he was, you would have never expected a display like that in front of all the customers.

oh shit, the customers. ‘had anyone seen that? oh gods.’ your hands clench into fists as you attempt to bring yourself back to reality and calm down, and you push past the doors of the kitchen. your eyes are focused on the ground as you collect the drinks needed for your table, placing them all on a tray and balancing them on one hand. you take a moment to breathe in and compose yourself before walking back out into the dining room. 

you eyes scan the room and find your favorite blond waiting on a table on the opposite side of the room of your own. his location makes it easy to return to the table without incident, placing down the three beers before the milk and water. with a smile, you tuck the tray under your arm and pull out your notepad again to continue taking their orders. maybe doing your job could distract from the rapid beating in your chest.

“you guys decided on food yet?” 

“one of everything!” the boy with a straw hat speaks up, and you quirk your eyebrow. they didn't look like the big spenders you were used too, but it wasn’t really your place to mention that. your smile never slips as you nod, writing it down and once again bowing before you leave. by your luck sanji seems to be waiting for you at the doorway of the kitchen. so much for the idea you had to avoid him until you’d calmed down.

he holds his hand out, offering to take your tray from you. his kind offer brings a smile to your lips, and you decide to shove down whatever inner turmoil was happening and act like what he did hadn’t happened. (he sure was.)

“any interesting orders?” he smiles, quirking a brow at you as you offer him your serving tray. you laugh, holding out your notepad to show him where you had written down ‘one of everything’ sanji’s heart squeezes at how cute your handwriting is, and he can’t help the chuckle. “well it looks like you’ll need some help taking out this order then, love.” the pet name causes the usual skip in your heartbeat, and you smile, nodding in acceptance of his offer for help, pushing past him into the kitchen to get your cooks started on the order of everything.

-

the food gets taken out in waves, sanji always accompanying you with an extra plate or two. the table is rather nice about it, they’re always caught up in conversation. even still they thank you for every plate you place down, they seem like genuine people. it warms your heart to see such a close group of friends. 

you can’t help but notice the way sanji doesn’t even pay the girl at the table any mind, too busy glaring at the green haired man, his hands lingering on your shoulder or back longer than they needed to. how he’d managed to add on to his unusual behavior, you wouldnt understand.

not that he really had any reason to be placing a tender hand on your back while you were serving guests. the third time it happens you turn to look at him with a raised eyebrow, and he turns to smile down at you sweetly, his hand on your back rubbing up and down. you look at him incredulously, sanji steps back, bowing before walking back towards the kitchen. before he left his gaze lingered on the man longer than should have been acceptable. you have to hold back a frustrated huff, turning back to the table with a plastered smile

“don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything! i hope you enjoy your meal.” you finish off the sentence with a bow, turning to look at the swordsman when he speaks up with a snort. “are you sure, wouldn’t want to make your busboy anymore jealous than he already is?” your eyes widen in confusion, not only at the notion, but the unnecessary insult towards your sanji.

“whatever could you mean.” the whole table turns to you, and the redhead quirks a brow at you, adding on.

“you’re not really that clueless, are you?” your mouth drops open, and a blush begins to cover your cheeks.

“no, i didn’t think i was.”

and then you’re even more confused. what reason would he have to be jealous over you and a random guest? it’s not like the man had even given you the time of day, or you’d even wanted it?  all you’d done was take his orders. 

the thought feels so impossible, even so it has already quickly begun eating away at your brain and heart. it was the only logical explanation for all his odd behaviors tonight.

sanji vinsmoke, was jealous. over you.

taglist: @the-maladaptive-daydreamers @teenyforestfairy @gothicuwusposts @cheesesoda @scentisterror @shuujin @gcldtom

[aumarias]

“it’s not just pretending anymore, is it?”

college au , fake dating , suggestive themes

tomura leaned back in his chair, fingers threading through his messy silver hair, as he stared blankly at his sketchbook. the library was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of pages turning and the distant sound of a pen scratching on paper. he liked it that way, but it was impossible to ignore the interruption from across the table. 

"still playing solo, huh, shiggy?" touya’s voice rang out, punctuated by a smug grin. heleaned forward, resting his chin on his hands as he regarded his friend with mischief in his eyes. "i swear, at this rate, you’ll die alone surrounded by your sketches." 

tomura glared, his cold red eyes narrowing. “shut up, touya. i don’t need a girlfriend.” 

“sure, but you’re the only one of us without a partner,” touya continued, undeterred. “what are you scared of? commitment? or just being seen with someone who doesn’t wear a black hoodie all day?” 

the jab drew a few chuckles from nearby students, and tomura’s cheeks flushed with irritation. he turned his gaze back to his sketchbook, trying to ignore the conversation, but it was hard to block out touya’s relentless teasing. he could feel the eyes of their friends on him, waiting for his reaction. 

as the banter continued, y/n, a psychology major, sat at a nearby table. she glanced up from her book, catching tomura’s eye just as he shot her a look that was a mix of annoyance and desperation. It was a familiar sight—touya teasing tomura, and tomura’s stubborn refusal to engage.  

but today, something shifted in tomura’s expression. an idea sparked in his mind, and as he caught y/n’s gaze, a mischievous plan began to take form.  

after the teasing subsided and the group dispersed, tomura approached you, his expression serious. “can we talk for a second?” 

you raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “sure. what’s up?” 

“can we… pretend to date?” he blurted out, his tone brusque as if he was asking her to pass him a pencil. “touya won’t shut up about me being single, and if i have a girlfriend, maybe he’ll finally leave me alone.” 

you blinked in surprise, a smile creeping onto yourface. “you want to fake date me? why me?” 

“because with you, it’ll be more believable,” tomura replied, crossing his arms defensively. “and you won’t make it weird.” 

you pondered for a moment. “it sounds harmless enough. plus, I could use a break from the constant pressure of midterms. all right, let’s do it.” 

tomura’s expression softened, almost imperceptibly, and he nodded. “thanks.” 

--- 

the next day, they launched their charade. it started innocently enough with a casual study date in the library. tomura arrived first, looking even more disheveled than usual, his hoodie pulled tightly around him. y/n arrived shortly after, a stack of books in her arms. 

“hey, boyfriend,” you teased, taking a seat across from him. 

tomura rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. “don’t call me that.” 

“why not? It’s part of the act,” you replied, opening a book and pretending to read. 

they fell into a rhythm, the two of them working on their respective assignments while occasionally exchanging glances and comments. tomura found himself easing into her presence, feeling more relaxed than he had in a long time. 

“hey, so what do we do now?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence. 

“give me your hand” he said, “to make it believable, you know.”  

“right.” you reached across the table, placing your hand in his. “is this awkward?” 

“a little,” tomura admitted, but he didn’t pull away. instead, he turned his attention back to his sketchbook, sketching absentmindedly while holding your hand. 

as the weeks passed, their fake relationship began to flourish in unexpected ways. they staged outings to coffee shops, walked around campus with their fingers intertwined, and attended parties together, where they expertly danced around the questions of their friends. 

one evening, as they sat outside under the stars, she broke the comfortable silence. “you know, i didn’t expect this to flow so nicely. i thought it would feel forced.” 

tomura glanced at you, surprised. “yeah? me too.” 

“maybe there’s more to you than just a tough gamer guy,” you teased gently. 

“don’t get used to it,” he shot back, but there was no bite to his words. 

their moments together became more intimate, filled with shared laughter and late-night conversations. you found herself drawn to tomura’s passion for art, often listening intently as he spoke about his projects and inspirations. and tomura, in turn, began to appreciate your intelligence and wit, your ability to challenge him in ways he hadn’t expected. 

one day, as they strolled through a park, tomura suddenly stopped, turning to face you. “do you think this is a good idea? pretending to be together?” 

you hesitated, then replied, “it’s not just pretending anymore, is it?” 

he blinked, the weight of your words settling in the air between them. “what do you mean?” 

“i mean… i actually like spending time with you,” you said, his voice low. “i didn’t expect to, but here we are.” 

tomura’s heart raced at your admission, a warmth spreading through him. “this was supposed to be fake. just to get touya off my ass, but...i feel...i don’t know” 

you stepped closer, your expression earnest. ��so what do we do about it?” 

before he could respond, they were interrupted by the familiar sound of touya’s voice echoing nearby. “hey, lovebirds! what are you two up to?” he smirked, clearly enjoying the moment. 

“nothing,” tomura snapped, but he didn’t move away from you.  

you couldn’t help but laugh. “just discussing our ‘relationship.’” 

touya raised an eyebrow. “yeah, right. you two look too cozy for a fake couple.” 

touya ended up finding out the relationship was fraud two days into it, but he enjoyed seeing this side of tomura.  

“shut it, touya,” tomura muttered, but the corners of his mouth twitched, betraying his amusement. 

after touya left, you turned to tomura, a mix of excitement and uncertainty in your eyes. “so, is this real now? or are we still pretending?” 

tomura sighed, his usual bravado giving way to vulnerability. “i haven’t been pretending for a while. i like you, y/n. for real.” 

your heart soared at his words. “i like you too, tomura.” 

he hesitated for a moment, then reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers. his other hand moved to your waist, squeezing gently.  

they looked at each other, tomura glancing at your lips for just a second. but that didn’t go unnoticed by you. your hand reaches to push his head into yours, joining lips.  

he tasted like cherry chapstick, the way his lips moved against yours felt so right. he lets go of your hand to hold the nape of your neck, pushing you further into him. he pulls away ever so slightly, breaths combining. he opens his mouth to say something, until he’s interrupted. 

“are you guys gonna fuck now or what?!” touya yells, toga giggling beside him with her phone in hand. they high five, as if this was their plan all along. and it so totally was.  

please do not copy my work!

[noeou]

DATING ADVICE 4 DUMMIES.

asking your crush for dating advice, only to use it on them.

includes: ace trappola, jamil viper, and floyd leech. ( x gn!reader )

next parts: currently unavailable.

contains: pure fluff headcanons and drabbles. more old formats because this is an old prompt, may come back to this format tho.

ACE TRAPPOLA

he’s far from experienced when it comes to this so he’ll also suggest going to trey or cater, even vil! but his heart couldn’t take helping you win another’s.

if you insist, he doesn’t want you to get embarrassed when you attempt to ask the person out so he gives you very basic stuff instead of bad advice.

though he wants to give you bad advice, as mean as it sounds.

he gets a lot quieter and fidgety, finding every excuse to leave in the least obvious way possible (spoiler: he failed.)

“hey, can i ask you a question?” you asked, feet falling into step with his as you made your way to your next class.

“yeah yeah, shoot!” ace slung an arm around your shoulder as you walked, so you’d not get swept away from the oncoming crowd of students.

“ah, well.. you see, there’s this boy—”

“‘s he giving you trouble?” ace raised a brow curiously, subconsciously tightening his grip around you.

“no no, nothing like that.” you hid your smile, letting out a sigh. “i need your advice… asking him out. like on a date.”

ace’s arm became dead weight around you, immediately pulling away from you.

he hesitated, filling the silence by clearing his throat, covering his frown with his now free hand. "oh. i think i understand."

an innocent joy laced into your features; if this weren't the context, there wouldn't be a bittersweetness in his heart at the sight of it.

"so you can help me?" you asked.

"no." he crossed his arms, watching your enthusiasm disappear. "why on earth would you come to me for that? trey and cater are ten times better at this kind of stuff."

you sighed, "it doesn't matter, you must have something!"

“yeah, i guess. ask them to meet you at sam’s or something. then take them where you please, when they say yes.”

“you think they’ll say yes?” your grin returned at the thought of it.

“mhm, imma head off.” ace nodded as to say goodbye, wanting to put a distance between you both as soon as possible.

“wait wait—” you grabbed his wrist, panickedly, “i won’t get the chance to request an audience at sam’s if you run off..”

“you want moral support?”

you stared at him, dumbfounded, “no, think more… outside the box, as they say.”

a mess when he puts the dots together. during last block before dismissal, what you were implying clicked. the thought of it made focusing near impossible.

best believe he was the first one out of class and was early to meet you at sam’s.

still, any person that approached the shop gave him a sense of nervousness that he may have misread the situation.

“oh my.. i invited you here and you got here before me. were you waiting long?” you placed your bag on the table ace was seated out, desperately searching for the courage you had this morning.

“just ask me.” had deuce not slipped up about ace’s reciprocated feelings, you would’ve misinterpreted his glare for anger.

sheepishly you chuckled, “wh— uh, well… if you know what im gonna ask, why don’t you just answer?”

not that he’d admit, he wanted to hear it from you but this’ll do for now. confirming his suspicions, his cold gaze melted to a warmer one. one you preferred more than the former.

JAMIL VIPER

much like ace, he thinks worst case scenario. i mean, what are you supposed to think when your best friend asks for ‘boy advice.’ but once you clarify, he still couldn’t be more confused.

while he wanted to recommend focusing on school, he wasn’t completely sure if he wanted it for your success or his selfish hope.

withholding his thoughts, he recalled what he remembered the romance movies his sister would watch at home, as if they were realistic.

it wasn’t his intention to give you the worst advice possible, he just didn’t know what else to tell you.

maybe asking jamil for dating advice while he was on an unstable ladder, helping you polish one of the many dusty lightbulbs in ramshackle wasn’t the smartest idea.

he almost fell and hurt himself because of the mini heart attack you caused him.

“ow.” he sighed, grabbing his ankle.

in a rush you went to grab him an ice pack, apologizing profusely, “where does it hurt?”

jamil studied your expression as you put pressure on his ankle with the ice pack, still going on with apologizes.

it was times like this that made him think that your feelings were for him, but it could be a misunderstanding on his part.

“who is he?”

you looked up at him, confused.

“it will affect my answer.” he sighed.

“oh.. i, uh. you can’t know.” you pulled back, awkwardly.

the silence held an unfamiliar undertone that you couldn’t quite place.

jamil struggled to his feet, looking anywhere but you, “i’ll head off now, i’ll take the necessary herbs to prevent swelling. thank you for your time.”

the rest happens over text, late into the night. yes, he was still thinking about it then.

when you used the advice on him, he thought you meant to text someone else (something kalim does often.)

he’s very relieved, in the end. don’t let him forget how nervous he was when you originally asked, though.

the brightness of your lock screen lit up your dark room with a ‘ping!’ you didn’t know how to react to the message you reviewed this late into the night.

jamil: just ask him.

after a few deleted messages, you managed to ask him why he was still up before placing your phone back down.

jamil: can’t sleep.

____: wanna call??

jamil: i cant

[ you reacted with a ‘?’ ]

____: is smth wrong why are u being so dry wtf ??

____: don’t leave me on read.

____: i need to call u to tell u smth

____: oh come on

____: fine i like u

[ you blocked this number ]

not even ten minutes later, you could hear the clicking of pebbles against your window.

you peeked out and were greeted by the vice house warden. quickly your grabbed a paper, scribbling something on it and taping it on there.

were you petty for taping ‘Read at 11:28PM’ on your window? yes. would you get scolded for it tomorrow? yes. but it’s worth it.

FLOYD LEECH

funny enough, he was just asking jade for advice on making you take a hint. you don’t understand how badly jade wanted to snitch, but your conversation was already so awkward, it hurt enough.

definitely tried to put on the ‘heartthrob’ act, only making it cheesier than necessary. he didn’t really give you any advice, more of like reasons you should date him instead.

he hadn’t a doubt it was him you wanted to ask out, but he wanted to seal the deal (if that makes sense.)

“hey, shrimpy!” floyd waved enthusiastically at the sight of you.

a smirk made its way on jade face as he greeted you, “y/n. can i get you anything?”

“no, i’m alright. thank you, jade.” you turned towards the other, “i wanted you— i need to speak with you.”

ignoring the ‘he’s already yours’ from jade, floyd whisked you off to talk in a more private setting.

“what’s up?” he asked, using your shoulder as an armrest.

you looked up at him nervously, “i was wondering, say.. well, actually let me ask; have you ever had a crush before?”

“yeah, you.” he replied nonchalantly.

your face became warm at the thought of the different implications the statement held, choosing the safest one. “me? well, yes i have as well. or i do, present tense.”

“what are you talking about, shrimpy? i didn’t ask anything.” he returned.

“nevermind. i just wanted to ask will you—”

“yes.” he teased once more.

“no.” you nervous gaze turned into one of irritation. “will you give me advice for asking someone on a date, romantically.”

for the first time, the eel was genuinely surprised. “it’s not me?”

while you weren’t a liar, you couldn’t admit to it yet. you’re plan did backfire, but you’d be sure to have the last laugh.

when you went to thank jade for his words of wisdom, you didn’t notice his twin behind you. the amount of teasing you received made you regret going through with it.

bragged to azul and jade nonstop about it later, honestly, as he should.

“what is that i hear, shrimpy?” your eyes widen at the familiar voice.

jade let out a chuckle, prompting you to toss your napkin at him.

“hey, floyd! long time no see.” you waved awkwardly.

floyd slid into the booth seat across from you, “did you seriously ask my brother for advice on asking me out?”

“like you didn’t do the same.” jade glared, “kicking me won’t shut me up.”

“anyways, have i told you how adorable you are, shrimpy?”

[flyingwargle]

“coach! i brought keiji with me!”

akaashi steps out from behind bokuto, a familiar sight to the black jackals. they gather around him with greetings and waves, and he replies with his usual formality. foster joins the huddle and gives him a warm smile. “welcome back, keiji. it’s always a pleasure to see you.”

“thank you for letting me stay.” he bows.

“we welcome family, friends, and significant others. isn’t that right, boys?” foster shoots a look at his players. meian and barnes whistle innocently, and hinata scratches the back of his head. “i always appreciate your observations.” he turns his heel. “koutarou, can i have a word with you? shugo, get started on warm-ups, please.”

“sure, coach.” meian gestures for his teammates to head to the court while bokuto walks with his coach to the side. akaashi is about to take his spot on the bench when an arm slings around his shoulder.

“hey, ‘kaashi, i gotta ask for yer advice,” miya says. “ya got a minute?”

“i’ll do my best to help. what is it?”

 “i need ta see ya set. bokkun keeps sayin’ my tosses are second-best an’ i ain’t settlin’ for that.”

akaashi glances over his shoulder. “i’m afraid you’re out of luck. i haven’t set a ball since high school.”

“bokkun tells me ya still play,” miya points out, raising an eyebrow. “casually.”

“yes, as a form of exercise. i’m sure he only says you’re second-best because of our relationship.”

“that man needs ta keep romance off the court,” miya grumbles. “yer here anyway, might as well play fer a bit. i know ya got a pair of court shoes in his apartment.”

“i’m not dressed for volleyball, if you haven’t noticed.”

“miya!” meian calls out. “get over here!”

“just think of how happy bokkun would be if he could hit yer tosses,” miya says, sliding toward his teammates. “ain’t nothin’ better than seein’ yer partner shine their brightest, y’know?” he jogs away, leaving akaashi to stare after him, stupefied.

if he thinks about it, there isn't anything special about his tosses. each spiker has their own preferences, from the ball’s height, distance from the net or antenna, and speed. bokuto never had any specifications; right from the start, he simply told akaashi, “just give me a toss! any toss!” later, he learned that the third-year setter didn’t toss to bokuto often because of how streaky his performance was, and it wasn’t until after he retired that bokuto’s full potential was realized.

no, that isn’t accurate. akaashi was never able to draw out his full strength, but with someone as talented as miya, he could definitely raise bokuto to greater heights. if bokuto had gone to a different school, had someone better as his setter, would he have taken victory home? but that implies a future where they’d never meet, one that akaashi doesn’t want to think about.

“keiji?”

akaashi startles. bokuto is in front of him, hands in his, concern in his eyes. “you’re overthinking again. is something on your mind?”

noise filters in and blocks out the rest of his thoughts. akaashi shakes himself, looks up at him. “no, everything is fine. if you don’t mind, i need to head back to the apartment for something. i’ll be right back.” he kisses his check in farewell and hurries off. he should have a spare t-shirt and shorts somewhere.

when he returns, practice is underway. he sits on a bench, chats with the assistant managers, who relay any observations he makes. afterwards, foster thanks him for his advice before heading out, and bokuto approaches. akaashi stands. “why don’t we play for a bit?”

“you want to play volleyball?” bokuto gasps. “but–“

“miya told me that you said his tosses are second-best, and he wants to know why. it appears he won��t take anything short of a live demonstration.” akaashi takes his jacket off, reveals the faded fukurodani gym strip that he once wore daily. “so why don’t we show him?”

“nice ta have ya join us, ‘kaashi,” miya says, standing between hinata and sakusa. “i’m ready ta see what yer tosses are like.”

“akaashi-san’s tosses are great!” hinata chirps. “they’re super easy to hit!”

“that was before. as for now…” akaashi stands at the net where the setter is positioned. “it…has been quite a while since i last did this.” he can’t even remember the last casual game he played, anywhere from last month to last year. the days tend to blur together, lost in the monotony of adulthood.

after he warms up and declares himself ready, bokuto marches forward to go first, but miya holds him off. “gotta save the best fer last, y’know?”

“i’ll go, then!” hinata stands at the end line, ball in hand. “any toss you’re comfortable with is fine, akaashi-san!” he throws his ball and makes his approach.

hinata’s contact point is much higher than before. he’s in the air longer, similar to hoshiumi-san. so the toss should be… akaashi jumps, sets the ball. hinata spikes it effortlessly, cheering as he lands. “nice toss!”

“nice kill!” bokuto cheers.

sakusa is next. “i prefer if it’s close to the net.” akaashi nods, watching the ball as it arches through the air. sakusa’s jumps aren’t as powerful, his main strength being the snap of his wrist. he sets it slightly lower, close to the net. his spike is parallel to the sideline.

“sharp!” hinata comments.

“not bad,” miya remarks.

bokuto is last. their eyes meet, his golden eyes radiating with nothing but love. akaashi smiles, simply raises his hands as the ball arches toward him. he sets it, and bokuto meets it in midair, arm pulled back, slamming the ball down with enough force that it bounces off the wall. when he lands, he pivots and picks akaashi up in his arms. “yup, your tosses are still the best!”

“bokkun,” miya whines, “ya gotta explain why! what makes my tosses second-best?”

“it’s because his tosses remind me of the best time in my life.” bokuto’s grin is wide, eyes on his boyfriend, a spark in its depths. “i have fun playing volleyball every day with you guys, but nothing beats playing with keiji. i’d never want to trade it for anything.”

akaashi feels his chest throb with adoration. all his overthinking was for nothing. “thank you, kou. i feel the same way.” his cheeks warm as bokuto leans forward to kiss him, his teammates making comments in mock disgust. he laughs, happy to be in his arms, watching him shine the brightest he has ever been.

[ejlovesvi]

Hello!!! I just came across your page and really enjoyed your writing on the Taylor swift oneshot. So if it’s okay I wanted to request a oneshot with Gracie Abrams x fem!reader where they had just started fairing recently and the reader is in the f1 academy and is a racer and she doesn’t have family or friends to come to her races so she’s never had anyone come to support her and then one day during a big race she’s not expecting anyone to show up and then after the race she finds out that Gracie is there with a bunch of her friends to support the reader and then the reader gets really emotional and won’t let go of Gracie when she hugs her. Also, can you make the reader to be kind of awkward and shy but in a cute and sweet way. Thank you so much.

note: hello! thank you for requesting and for the support! i don’t know much about formula 1 but i’ll try my best to make it accurate 🙏 this is very short and not proofread. enjoy!

SO GOOD

pairing: gracie abrams x fem!reader

warnings: cursing, shitty depiction of f1, awkward reader, gracie being a cutie

masterlist

your anxious and sweaty hands grip the steering wheel tightly as you breathe in and out, using the box breathing method your girlfriend had taught you a while ago. you glance over to the crowd, your view slightly blocked from the clunky helmet that rests on your head.

searching the crowd for a familiar face, you come up empty. a feeling of disappointment in the pit of your stomach bubbles as your eyebrows furrow together and a frown paints your lips. you try to shake away the feeling and look forward with a new found determination.

you know this should be expected. your family doesn’t agree with your career choice, them claiming it’s a one way ticket to you being killed on a race track. and your friends don’t care that much either, too busy caught up in their own lives and drama. if your family and close friends don’t have the decency to at least show up you’ll simply show them what they missed out on by winning.

you focus ahead and take in a deep breath while glancing over to the flagger. the minute they swing the flags your foot stomps onto the gas pedal, your car taking off at elite speed.

through the rattling of the fast car you quickly glance to the sides as you watch yourself pass the other opponents with ease. you turn corners with careful precision and don’t let yourself falter once.

as you approach the checkered line for the last lap you notice a competitor, another popular f1 driver, right beside you at matching speed.

you two battle to turn sharper corners and be more skilled with your movements. as you approach the end line you press your foot harder on the gas even though it’s already fully pressed into the floor board.

both of you cross the line but in the intense moment you don’t have the right mind to figure out who won. you slow your car as you pull it into the cut off and break all the way. you turn it off and quickly unbuckle your seat belt, getting out of the car and slamming your door.

your competition does the same and walks up to one of the ref’s who holds a clipboard and speaks into his headpiece. you watch from a distance with crossed arms as they talk together.

the other girl nods and walks off the track through the safe path while the ref walks up to you. he taps his clipboard and points his pen to you, “you won by 3 seconds, congratulations.”

you smile slightly and take your helmet off, nodding to him. “thank you.” you breathe out and begin to walk to your tent.

you open the flap of the tent but abruptly stop when you see 5 people standing around there. you’re about to ask them why they’re there when you finally recognize the turned figure of one of the people.

at the sight of your girlfriend’s signature black ribbon in her hair you deeply relax and drop your helmet to the floor with a thunk, ignoring the grins from her friends.

gracie turns on her heel and grins wide at the sight of you, she opens her arms in invitation and you gladly accept. you hurdle your body into her, resulting in her grabbing your hips as she lets out a small noise of surprise. you snake your arms around her waist and hold on tight as you burrow your face into her neck.

the disappointment from earlier washes away like a small pebble in the ocean as you revel in the warmth of your girlfriend’s arms. she kisses your forehead sweetly, “you did so good, baby.” she coos, stroking your hair with her hands.

she tries to pull you back to look at you but you tighten your grip, not letting go of her warm embrace. she laughs slightly and relaxes her muscles, rubbing her thumbs into your hips.

right here right now you feel loved and appreciated. and that’s all you need.

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Twenty

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: angstyyy

Notes: Posting a day early - y’all can thank @losa12308 for catching me in a good mood, hope this helps ya feel better hun❤️

Word Count: 2130

Series Masterlist

Reader

Nearly two weeks Jacob Black has not only been ignoring and avoiding Bella, but Quil and I too. Ever since the night of the movies, since his uncharacteristically rude outburst at Mike Newton. Both of my best friends were stressed about it which in turn stresses me out. I’ve called him multiple times to leave voicemails about what he’s doing to his friends, but it was to no avail - radio silence remained.

Bella said Harry Clearwater told her it was mono, but anyone could smell that bullshit from a mile away. Did mono render you catatonic? Unable to communicate with people that care about you?

An uneasy feeling settled in my gut, it had to be more. Something was keeping him from us and I want to know what that something is.

I need to know, I can’t just lose another one…

• March 4th, 2006 • Home •

Reader

“Mom!” I shout through the empty house, trying to locate her.

A rare day we both have off to spend together and I’m about to ditch her.

“Yes, sweetheart?” I hear her voice drift from the laundry room as I make my way downstairs.

Turning as the sound of my approaching footsteps, she raises her eyebrows at my appearance - noting that my state of dress isn’t exactly for a day-in at home anymore.

“Bella called, was wondering if I’d go hiking with her? I think she just needs to take her mind off of Jake and wants company.”

My moms face falls slightly, but I can tell she won’t stop me from running to my best friend’s aid, “Just be careful and take your phone.”

“Thanks mom!” I surge forward and hug her quickly before snatching my keys from the hook by the door on my way out.

“And be back before dark!”

“Of course, love you!” I shout back.

“I love you too, honey!”

I speed almost the entire way to Bella’s - wanting to get her mind off of Jake was true, but she also wanted help finding the meadow.

As in, the meadow.

Her and Edward’s meadow.

• March 4th, 2006 • Ithaca, NY •

Jasper

For months I’ve been feeling with this crack in my soul because of her and I’ve been doing it alone. Admittedly it’s my own doing, but the chafing of not really having my brother in my corner has worn away at me in way that doubles the pain of the loss.

I find myself gravitating towards his closed door, something that before Ithaca would’ve been an odd sight, and knocking on the thin wood.

“Go away.” The words rumble in his distinct baritone just loud enough for me to hear.

“No.” I answer simply, just as tired.

The door whips open in a flash and his eyes send a shock through me. Not because they’re dark with hunger - but dark with anger. And his emotions reflect it threefold.

“What do you want?” His tone raises my hackles, reminding me that my brother isn’t one to be messed with in a mood like this one.

A delicate hand curls up and around his chest, the owner of it completely blocked from view by his massive frame, and he visibly deflates. His anger dialing back a fraction at the influence of just her touch.

A slice of pain lances through me, regret or just plain loneliness at this point I’m not sure.

“Hear him out.” Rose orders him softly, kissing him on the cheek as she slips out from behind him and meets my eyes before disappearing down the hall. “Good luck.”

I reign in the laugh that threatens to bubble up at her throwing me to the wolves, but it’s another thing I’m doing to myself of my own free will, I need my brother.

Holding open the door wider for me to enter, he turns on his heel and deposits himself into the loveseat across from the tv, some muted football game flashing on it.

“I miss you and I’m sorry.” I unload on him with no preamble. No drawn out apology has ever been a requirement of his, short and to the point always a favorite to him.

A dark laugh thunders from him in a way that crushes me even more, “That’s it?”

I nod, I had thought about this conversation for months since he started avoiding me, but all my rehearsed words vacate me.

“That’s one hell of an apology.” The remote emits a small crack as his anger continues to boil. “I got no say, no one wanted to hear me out, and I’m just supposed to suck it the fuck up and just go with the flow of what’s best for the family.” He’s practically vibrating with barely constrained rage, but I let him continue. “She’s not just yours, Jasper.”

A shock jolts me for the second time, his sadness tugging at my heart heavily.

“She’s yours and that’s what makes her mine.” I can tell my confusion spurs Emmett on and he rises from the couch, “As your brother, it’s my responsibility to be her protector and you fucking ripped that away from me. You’re hurting her on purpose and it’s hurting me.”

I’m speechless as his words sink in. Familial-like bonds in a coven as old as ours are strong, but I had no idea.

“She was also my best friend-my little sister. I told her I would be there for her and you’re making me break my promise - something I’ve never fucking done.” Turning away from me to pace in a very non-Emmett move, “Are you going to say anything?”

“I had no idea-”

“You never considered, never noticed, never asked. It’s only been you in pain. You and Edward. You don’t even see what it does to Alice every time you ask her to check on Y/n.”

Her name sends agony anew through me, a thin knife that slices flesh from bone with surgical precision.

“I’m scared.” He would’ve missed my whisper if it weren’t for his supernatural hearing.

“Scared of what?” He’s before me in a flash, gripping my shoulders. “Scared of loving her?”

“Scared of her loving me! Scared of hurting her!” The house falls into dead silence, listening. “You’ve never known terror like this with Rose! You’re not afraid to kill her just from being around her, smelling her, touching her. You have no restrictions, no boundaries!” Tears of venom swirl my vision, but refuse to fall.

I push him off me and turn, attempting to reign in my distress.

“Bro-”

“I can’t do this without you. It’s like wave after wave of grief and I’m at my limit Emmett.” The seriousness in my tone softens him, love and compassion flow from him in a way that feels like his old self and it loosens the tension inside me a fraction.

“I may be angry with you, but I’ll never leave you.” My brother spins me around and engulfs me in his signature bear-hug.

Esme may be the mother of our group, but Emmett is the glue holding us all together. I’d be drowning without my brother and if his death-grip of a hug is any indication, he knows it.

• March 4th, 2006 • Forks, WA •

Reader

“I’m pretty sure we passed that tree two times in the last hour, Bells.” Tromping behind my best friend, I keep my eyes fixed down to prevent myself from tripping over the dense foliage.

“We’re close, I just know it.” There’s a desperate edge to Bella’s voice that stops my teasing and squeezes my heart, I know that feeling. To be grasping for something out of reach to link me back to him.

Pushing through a particularly thick cluster of low-lying branches, I smack face first into Bella’s backpack.

“Bella, you can’t just stop-” Finally my surroundings make sense and I realize we’ve found it. It’s brown and sad as fuck, but we actually found it.

I spin, taking in every inch of the dead meadow as Bella drops to the ground, fingers clutching the crunchy grass. Facing the middle again, I gasp at the figure standing before us, the sound startling Bella into a standing position next to me.

“Bella and Y/n.”

“Laraunt.” His name is a choked gasp on my best friend’s lips.

“I didn’t expect to find either one of you here.” He begins pacing casually in front of us “I went to visit the Cullen’s, but the house is empty? I’m surprised they left you both behind. Weren’t you both sort of… pets of theirs?”

“Y-yeah, you could say that.” Bella answers him as I reach for her hand, a sort of dread sinking in as I think over his words and what he might be getting at.

“Do the Cullen’s visit often?”

You need to leave, darlin’. He’s not safe.

“Yeah absolutely - all the time.” Bella’s lie causes the hair on the back of my neck to raise.

“We’ll tell them you stopped by.” I chime in, trying to make it seem believable and also trying to keep the shaking from my voice - both from the deadly turn of the conversation and from hearing his voice in my head.

“I probably shouldn’t - Edward,” the name rolling of her tongue has her squeezing my hand in pain, “Because he’s pretty protective.”

“But he’s far away, isn’t he? They both are.”

Terror begins to flood my chest, he’s making sure we’re alone.

“Why are you here?” Bella flips the questioning onto Laraunt.

“I came as a favor… To Victoria.” His answer practically stops my heart and I know he can hear it.

“Victoria.” The whisper slips from me without a second thought.

“She asked me to see if either of you were still under the protection of the Cullens. Victoria feels it’s only fair to kill Edward’s and Jasper’s mates, given they killed her’s.” His eyes flicked between us, no doubt sensing the blow of both of their names. “An eye for an eye.”

“Edward would know who did it! And he’d come after you.”

Threaten him.

“Jasper would hunt both of you down.” My emotions fill my voice, the threat not as potent as it could be.

“I don’t think they will. After all, how much could you mean to them if they left you here, unprotected?” The vampire sighs, like he’s actually fucking torn, “Victoria won’t be happy about my killing you, but I can’t help myself - both of you are so mouth watering.”

“Please don’t, y-you helped us-” Bella begins to panic, but he flashes directly in front of us with his speed, fingers reaching for our faces.

“Shhh-shhh, don’t be afraid! I’m doing you a kindness - Victoria plans on killing you slowly, painfully. Whereas I’ll make it quick. I promise, you’ll feel nothing.”

“Edward I love you.” Bella’s confession slips as I close my eyes and squeeze her hand in mine. At least we go together, right?

“I can’t believe it.” The awe in Laraunt’s voice opens my eyes as twigs begin snapping in the tree line behind us.

One large wolf, black as night, emerges from the forest. Large being a gross understatement - more like the size of a fucking horse. Behind the massive animal emerges more of the same, although slightly smaller, but no less scary.

A pack of wolves. A pack of supernaturally huge wolves.

And they’re facing down a vampire, no less.

A vampire on a mission to kill us.

Run.

The command zings through me and takes charge. I yank on Bella’s arm as Laraunt bats away the first wolf like it was nothing, it’s yelp stunning her into action.

The panicked sprint through the woods for her truck is much faster this time than the hike out, neither of us stopping or looking back.

Afraid to see if anything was giving chase.

Afraid to see if the wolves didn’t buy us time.

The ride back to Bella’s was tense to say the least. Too stuck in my own head to even say anything to her, the terror still coursing through my veins keep my mouth shut and fists clenched. What if Laraunt got away from them? What if he was still hunting us?

I never realized until now how scary it is, not having the supernatural protection of the Cullens.

I never realized that I took for granted the safety Jasper surrounded me with. Well, used to surround me with.

The sour thought sends another all-too-familiar painful zap through my chest.

As soon as Bella pulls into her drive, I hop out and climb into my own as she runs inside, probably to tell her dad about the absolutely massive wolves lurking in Forks’ woods.

Wolves that might’ve just saved our lives.

Next

Taglist Part 1:

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[sittinginthecorneralone]

Listening to music rn n this song got me thinking of Toxic!Ghostface!Amber…

cw; Violence, murder, abusive and controlling behavior, I mean it’s a toxic relationship what do you expect

She was sweet at first—you had absolutely zero clue of the person she actually was. Mistook her possessiveness for clinginess, her bitter attitude towards your friends for her simply not being a very sociable person. Boy, were you dead wrong about her.

It didn’t take long for her to show her true colors. You wanted to go out with your friends? No, no, you can’t leave her. Why do you need to go with them, anyways? What’s so fun about them? Ambers right here..

You can’t have friends, you learned. Can’t be close with nobody, for that matter. Not even family. Amber didn’t like when you were around anyone besides her. She made that very clear. When you had been invited over to your best friends house, under the illusion it was them texting you—only to be met with the sickening scent of iron, red, everywhere, and oh my god you were going to fucking faint—

The body of your friend, all mangled up in their living room. Practically unrecognizable. A figure coming from behind you—bloodied knife in hand, ghostface mask on. The person reached to take it off, revealing.. Amber? By then, your mind was racing, and you can’t think, the rest of the night a blur of shouting, blood, and Amber. Although there was one moment you distinctly remembered—when Amber had knocked you to your knees right beside the body, her hand in your hair, making sure you were looking. “You see this, babe? This is your fault.”

Your fault. Those words burning into your memory. You stopped talking to the rest of your friends, after that. Your family, too. Blocked everyone. You didn’t want anyone else to end up dead, just because you spoke to them. And you probably should report this to the authorities, get Amber arrested or something. But you were scared. Too scared to do so. Scared of what she might do to you before the cops got to her. You stopped going out as often. Not like you could, anyways. She was practically isolating you.

She wouldn’t let you leave. No, not without her permission. Not without her. She’d grab you by the wrist when you tried to storm out the house, pulling you back. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” She’d hiss, a dangerous look on her face. You can’t leave—She won’t allow it. The one time you had managed to slip out while she was sleeping, she had fucking tracked you down like some hunter to its prey, dragging you back home.

Almost always had her hands on you. If not, she had her eyes on you, watching you from wherever she was, made sure to keep you in her line of sight. It’s why it was so hard to leave—even while she was sleeping, she was clinging to you tightly. It wasn’t like cuddling—had her arms wrapped around your waist, tightly, it almost hurt sometimes. Pulled up against her, held you like you were merely a doll. Strong, even in her damn sleep. She was a light sleeper, too. Would jostle awake at the slightest bit of movement from you.

You were getting sick of it—how close she kept you to her, how you weren’t able to go out and be your own person, how she possessed and control you. Constantly arguing, or, no. More like you, tears in your eyes, begging for her to leave you be, while she denied, denied, denied. Threw harsh, cruel words your way, called you demeaning names. It always ended with you losing—she’s not giving you up that easily. Hell, she started to threaten you. “I’ll kill your whole fucking family if you leave me!” “I’ll kill myself!” “I’ll kill you!”. You snapped, once, though. Started to actually fight back.

Shouting at the dark-haired woman. The fight only getting more heated and aggressive, Amber pissed, approaching you—and you had slapped her across the face. A heavy silence falling over the two of you for a long moment. Ambers hand rubbing her cheek, looking in a daze.. until that dangerous look was back in her eyes. All that fiery energy back, tenfold. You woke up the next morning with bruises scattered around everywhere.

Now your arguments were ten times worse—getting physical, more brutal. You pull a knife on her, you slap her, she kicks you down, she pins you, she hurts you. You always came out more injured than she did. Never stood a chance against her, in the first place.

It was a constant loop. Silence, something pissing off Amber, arguing, fighting, sleeping, repeat. The situation seeming more and more hopeless with every bruise, every threat, everything. You can’t leave. You know that. She’ll track you down before you can get far enough away, she’ll go after your family, she’ll kill you before you can even get close to escaping. Had no choice but to stay.

You were hers, y’know. Till death do you part.

[astarionmademewriteit]

Ch. 2: My Forbidden Lover

MDNI. 18+ ONLY. Blank bios will be blocked.

Enver Gortash x f!Durge (pre-tadpole)

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 3.4k

Tags: Pure smut; Oral (female receiving); Face fucking; Dom/sub dynamic; Bondage; PIV rough sex; Blood kink; Cum Play; Praise and degradation kink; Bodily harm (in a sexual context); Orgasm denial (kinda? But not exactly); Choking; Biting; Durgetash is switch-coded; Subby Gortash; Minor jealousy; Brief mention of Astarion's background with non-consentual sex; Really graphic depictions of sex.

Summary: After having come to an agreement with Astarion and plotting to kill Cazador, the dark urge goes home with her lover Gortash where they engage in filthy sex.

A/N: Please refer to the first chapter to set the scene. This is pre-tadpole days where the Dark Urge has an established relationship with Gortash and befriends Astarion while he is still in the clutches of Cazador. The story will follow her eventual amnesia and Illithid kidnapping where she will fall for Astarion, who doesn't reveal the fact that he knew her from before the Nautiloid crash.

I meant for this chapter to spill over into the next day when Durge meets up with Astarion, but I'm a simp for Durgetash and it just got away from me. Please enjoy!

Ch. 1 | AO3

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵

We walk through the brisk night air, the stars spatter the sky–holding their ancient secrets close. I hook my arm through Gortash’s as we stroll through the streets. We are sporadically approached by admirers of Enver, offering their gratitude for all he has done for the city.

“I assume our new friend was receptive to your requests?” Enver murmurs once we catch a moment alone.

“He’ll warm to the idea. He is understandably terrified of Cazador,” I stroke his broad arms, contemplating my conversation with Astarion, “I sweetened the deal. In return for information, I promised to provide him with blood and a victim for Cazador. I assume that won’t be a difficult request to fulfill.”

Enver nods, “We can supply him with a thrall. They should comply willingly,” He stops and moves to face me, “As for the blood, dear assassin?” His question does little to hide the concern underpinning his tone.

“Enver, you wound me,” I close the little distance between us, pressing my body flush against his, “I have access to plenty of blood. Why are you concerned?” I cock an eyebrow, waiting for him to confess.

He chuckles darkly, recognizing my playful banter, “I do not relish the idea of sharing you. Especially your delectable blood,” he lines the column of my throat with gentle nips at my flesh, “I would hope that was just reserved for me,” he growls.

I run my fingers through his dark hair, pulling away to look into his eyes, “You have the exclusive privilege of spilling my blood, Enver,” I place a small kiss on the corner of his mouth, “In any case, Astarion and I are kindred spirits. I recognize myself in him,” I contemplated the thinly-veiled terror that he had tried hard to mask, but I recognized it for what it was immediately. His volatile environment wrangled him into submission, and he was forced to do things that I believe he was unwilling to do–completely severed from his own autonomy.

It was similar to my condition, although I still had the freedom to make choices–choices that Astarion was completely robbed of. It was my hope that our new agreement would help him regain some of his autonomy, no matter how little–even if it was to my advantage, at least for now. I felt a small pang of guilt, wondering if he felt used in other ways instead. I would have to ask him tomorrow.

“Indeed,” Enver agrees after a moment, “But, do not lose sight of the grand design, my love. We are no heroes”

A smile plays on my lips, “If I didn’t know better Enver, I would think you were jealous,” I hook my arm through his once again and we begin our tread back to his waiting palace.

Once we are safely inside the confines of his home I rest on the edge of Enver’s desk while he writes correspondence and runs through the list of powerful targets that threaten our plans. Next on our list was the beloved Duke Ravenguard–he could be a powerful asset should we enthrall him with an Illithid tadpole. I offer to send Orin, my bloodkin, to complete the task so that we may focus on other things.

“That’s enough work for tonight, my dear,” I caress his cheek with the back of my knuckles and he watches me with a darkened expression. I lift myself from his ornate mahogany desk and move towards Enver who still sits in his chair. I turn and sit on his lap, peering over my shoulder and watching him expectantly.

He sweeps my hair to one shoulder and slowly begins to pull the zipper down the back of the evening gown I wore to Cazador’s ball–taking great care to ensure the delicate fabric does not catch in the zipper.

I stand and let the soft fabric slip from my shoulders until the garment pools at my feet. His eyes rake over my exposed body, drinking in my frame with hungry eyes. I drive the heel of one of my shoes into his chest, waiting patiently as he nimbly unbuckles the straps around my ankle. He places small kisses up the calf of my leg, nipping at my flesh–hungry to taste me.

I kick off my heel and repeat the same gesture with my other foot. He glides his hand up my calf to my inner thigh, digging the claws of his gold filigree gloves into my flesh. His hard grasp dimples my flesh until he draws blood and a sigh escapes my lips. He places small kisses along my inner thigh as he works to unbuckle my shoe.

Once I have discarded my shoe, I watch him with eager eyes as he works his way towards my upper thigh, savoring the way his lips feel as they bite and suck at my flesh–tasting my blood. I intertwine my fingers through his dark hair, willing him to focus his attention at the apex of my thighs.

His agonizing slow pace up my inner thigh has me growing impatient, “Enver,” I growl in warning, tightening my grip on his hair until a satisfied groan falls from his lips.

“Far be it from me to keep my favorite assassin waiting,” he murmurs before swiping his tongue up the seam of my dripping cunt. I instinctively pull at his hair more aggressively as he tongues and sucks at my sensitive clit. My legs immediately begin to shake as pleasure undulates through my body.

Enver repositions my leg until it is resting on his shoulder, providing him with a new devastating angle that practically sends me into a frenzy. I hold his head against my aching cunt and throw my head back as I hear his stifled breathing. “Be a good boy for me, Enver,” I growl, “You may only draw breath once I’ve been satisfied, or you can suffocate. Whichever comes first.”

He moans as he slips his tongue into my slick entrance, nosing my clit in the process. His warm tongue fucking me expertly until I’m panting uncontrollably. He hums into my pussy, sending tantalizing vibrations straight to my core.

He hooks his arm around my thigh, pulling me closer as he hungrily services me–his golden filigree claws drawing more blood as they dig deliciously into my flesh. The pain brings me such pleasure that I can feel myself building to a dizzying crescendo.

Enver continues to drag his tongue in slow concentric circles around my clit, sucking and nipping at it until I’m losing myself–spiraling into an intense climax that has me writhing underneath his tongue. I grind myself against his face–his stubble adding another layer of overwhelming sensations that has me coming undone just for him. He growls against me as I drag my sensitive cunt against his face, relishing the way I use him for my pleasure.

Once I’ve come down from my orgasm, Enver pulls away–his face gleaming with my slick. I pull him up by the collar of his robe, and we collide into a feral kiss. The taste of my arousal and the coppery aftertaste of blood fills my mouth as our tongues slide against one another.

I finger at his robes, clumsily unlacing the clothes that separate me from his flesh. He assists me in removing his clothes, our lips crashing back together with a ferocity that could buckle my knees. I push him hard until he is falling on the bed behind him, my eyes scanning his exposed flesh, devouring him completely. I circle the bed before grabbing his wrist and binding them to the bedpost with barbed wire that cuts deeply into the exposed flesh beneath his golden lattice gloves. I repeat the gesture with his other wrist, and watch as blood flows freely from his wrists–dripping down his arms in crimson rivulets. I drag my tongue up his arm, drinking in the taste of his life-essence, and ecstasy thrums through my body at his flavor.

“You taste so good, my love,” I murmur before making my way to the foot of the bed and crawling up his body until I’m straddling his waist.

“It’s all for you, my assassin,” he croaks, his voice gravelly and thick with lust.

I drag my nose up his throat, sucking and kissing at his salty skin. I sink my teeth into the soft flesh where his neck meets his broad shoulders, and Enver cries out in pleasure as blood rushes to the surface. I can practically hear his heart beating against his ribcage as blood fills my mouth–his wrists pulled taut against his restraints, causing more blood to flow freely from his veins.

“I love when you bleed for me, Enver,” I growl into his ear. His heavy panting rings like music through the bedroom, and I savor the way his body writhes impatiently beneath me, “You’re doing so well,” I praise, which only spurs his need to be inside me.

“Please,” he whispers, begging to feel my cunt wrapped around his leaking cock.

“Oh, Enver,” I whisper seductively, cupping his face with my hand, “How I love to watch you squirm.” I line myself up with his throbbing cock, already leaking with pre-cum.

His swollen head immediately stretches me wide open, and I cannot stop the moan that falls from my lips as he fills me completely. Enver whimpers beneath me as my pussy slides down his length at an agonizingly slow pace until I am sitting flush against him. I clench around him instinctively, forcing another moan to escape his lips.

I lean over and crush my lips to his as I begin to rock my hips seductively against him. I bite hard into his lip, drawing more of his sensational blood–relishing the coppery taste as it fills my senses completely. My nails dig into his hairy chest and welts immediately begin to form, marking him as mine.

I lift myself up and begin riding him slowly, savoring the way his cock spears into me–threatening to split me in two. I clench my pussy around his length every time his cock withdraws from me, effectively massaging his swollen head.

“Gods below,” he moans underneath me, “You’re so perfect, my dear assassin.” He instinctively bucks his hips, brushing against my cervix and causing me to cry out in shock. He drags his cock slowly out of me before forcefully thrusting back inside, hitting my sweet spot with agonizing precision. The barbed wire confining his wrists continues to pull blood from his flesh, painting him like a beautiful masterpiece.

I lean back, propping myself on his thighs as I continue to ride him relentlessly–allowing him to watch as he pierces me with his throbbing member. My arousal rings like a symphony throughout the room, only spurring me to ride him harder. My nails dig into his thighs, bringing more blood to the surface. I watch as his body slowly trickles with blood and images of our own demise flit through my mind.

I knew I wanted to keep him until fate intervened and I was forced to kill him and myself in Bhaal’s name. It would be incredibly beautiful, slicing his flesh open until he had been drained of blood completely. I would die a beautiful death next to my lover–and I would be free of the carnage I was meant to exact on this world. And it would all be by his side.

As the images flit through my mind, my desperation becomes more prominent. I can feel myself nearing the edge of no return. My body begins to quiver as he continues to meet me thrust for thrust until I am exploding into a tantalizing climax–falling over the edge into a depth of pleasure that I could only ever experience with Enver.

His name falls from my lips and echoes throughout the room like a haunted hymn as he coaxes the pleasure from my body. Enver’s breathing becomes ragged and I can tell he is chasing his own release. I cannot help the sadistic tendencies that wash through my body in moments like these.

I wrap a shaky hand around his throat as I continue to ride him with newfound ferocity born from my own ecstasy. He watches me with a dark expression as he nears his own climax, biting at his bruised bottom lip as I apply pressure to his throat, cutting off his blood flow momentarily.

His eyes roll into the back of his head and a dangerous smirk plays on my lips when I think about how desperate he sounds. Just when he is on the verge of climax, I pull myself off him completely and watch as thick ropes of cum spill from him and onto his stomach. He bucks his hips desperately searching for any kind of friction that will ride him through his climax–to no avail.

I release my grip from his neck and he eyes me with unfiltered frustration when he realizes the game I’m playing. His wrists are pulled taut against the barbed wire–the metal digging into his flesh as he struggles against them, desperate for some satisfaction as his hollow orgasm washes through him.

He lets out an animalistic growl as I remove myself from the bed, a dark grin gracing my features as I watch him struggle. “Oh, Enver,” I chuckle sadistically, “You never learn, do you?” I inch towards a bar cart and pick up an expensive decanter, leisurely pouring myself a glass of rich dark liquor. I seat myself in his chair, and watch as he grows more desperate by the minute.

“Please, my love,” he eyes me with wild anguish, pulling against his restraints harder than before–ignoring the stinging pain that travels through his arms. I cross my legs and lean back, taking another sip of the strong liquor. It burns my throat as it goes down, and the satisfaction I feel as I watch him squirm is delectable. My body welcomes the warmth of a roaring fire nearby and I sit and watch as he fights against his restraints–admiring the way his crimson blood paints his flesh.

“Gods, you look so pathetic, Enver,” I chuckle, “It’s utterly adorable.” I throw back the rest of the liquor–it’s rich burn soothing my throat and it’s warmth washing through my body completely.

Enver has settled down slightly, but I can tell he has found no satisfaction in his climax–just as I had hoped. “My beloved assassin, this hardly seems fair,” he grumbles–his voice perfectly diplomatic.

“When have you known me to play fair, my love,” I shoot back playfully, gripping the arms of the chair, “Besides, I’ve decided that you haven’t begged nearly enough for my liking.”

He glares at me from the bed, and a satisfied smile pulls at my lips as I wait patiently for him to convince me that he deserves his own fulfillment. Plea after plea begins to spill from his lips, his body continuing to fight against his restraints as he grows more and more desperate. I tap my foot impatiently as he continues to beg.

It isn’t until a tear of frustration falls from his eye do I stand, effectively quieting his supplications as he watches me closely. I move to the foot of the bed and crawl over him once again, and I can hear as his breath catches in the back of his throat. I drag my tongue across his stomach, licking up his spent–savoring its unique taste. I smack my lips when I’m done and note that Enver is hard once again as he watches me clean up the mess he made.

I pull away from the bed and move to release him from his restraints–kissing his wrists and sucking the blood that paints his skin in a rich crimson. I repeat the gesture once again with his other wrist. As soon as he is free from his constraints, he charges forward, pouncing on me like a wild, untamed animal.

“My turn,” Enver growls in my ear as he tangles his rough fingers into my hair and pulls back hard until I’m looking up at his looming form. He forces me across the room and throws me into the edge of his desk, the hard wood digging into my hips deliciously.

I whimper under his hardened touch as he bends me over his desk and presses my face into the desk with aggressive strength. He forces himself inside me without a moment to lose, desperate to feel my wet cunt wrap around his cock once again.

He begins a punishing pace, rutting his hips into me with unrelenting force that causes uncontrolled moans to fall from my lips. He places a large, rough hand on my waist and forces me down, causing me to arch my back until he is hitting my sensitive spot over and over again.

The force with which he fucks me into his desk causes papers to fall from the table top–teetering to the floor. Ink splatters across his desk as it tips over with every thrust. My cries rip through the air as he spears himself into me, allowing his frustrations to spill over into his movements.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” he growls as he slams into me–the desk digging painfully into my flesh with every cant of his hips. I dig my nails into the desk, trying to steady myself, but it is useless as he continues to abuse my dripping pussy.

The force of his hips slamming into me sends me over the edge once again and I cry out with unfiltered ecstasy as I fall from grace–my orgasm rocking through my body causing my cunt to spasm wildly around his length.

“There you go, my dear assassin,” He growls, “Just like that, baby.” He talks me through my climax, and the rush of adrenaline courses through my body as his claws dig into my flesh, bringing blood to the surface.

I whine underneath him as he uses me for his own pleasure–our roles effectively reversed in a matter of minutes. His breath grows ragged as he watches his arousal spear into me over and over again with such force that I fear the desk will tip over.

Once I’ve recovered from my orgasm, I feel his thrusts becoming sloppier as he chases his own, deserved release. “Cum for me, Enver,” I beg as his breath grows heavy with ecstasy. He thrusts into me violently a few more times before he is spilling into me–his cock spasming wildly inside me as he cries out my name. He whimpers out a string of expletives as he is awarded with his own pleasure.

He leans over me, his body flush against mine as he continues to fuck through his orgasm–savoring the feeling he was so cruelly denied just minutes earlier. I moan loudly, his name falling from my lips like a prayer of devotion until he finally stills inside me.

We catch our breath, neither of us daring to move until we have regained our strength. Enver chuckles darkly above me before pulling out of me completely. I whine at his sudden absence but gather myself as much as possible. I will my shaky legs to move back to the bar cart and pour us both a drink while Enver rests in his chair, sweat dripping down his dark features.

I offer him a glass before curling into his lap and nuzzling into his shoulder, noting the dried blood streaks that mar his body. I bite back a satisfied smile as I replay the events of tonight in my mind.

After a moment, Enver sighs, “We have made a mess of things, my dear,” he ruffles my hair with a rough hand before chuckling under his breath. “I think a warm bath is in order.” I nod my head in agreement, suddenly too tired to speak. “We have a great many things to accomplish tomorrow, my lovely assassin.” He throws back his drink and polishes off his glass in a few large gulps.

I wrap an arm around his waist as I continue to nurse my drink–memorizing the way his body feels against mine. I laugh to myself, realizing that I could never forget how his body feels against mine. I turn my thoughts to what lies ahead, already calculating more plans for the grand design.

I couldn't imagine doing this without him–My forbidden lover.

[kidstemplatte]

I know this might be a heavy ask (feel free to ignore), but the way you write Terzo brings me so much comfort. I had a really scary experience tonight with a man, I won’t go into detail but he was weird with me on my train journey and then followed me for the most part of my walk home. If you’re ok with it, I would love for you to write how Terzo would comfort his s/o when they get inside their home a little shaken up.

Thank you for everything you write, it’s amazing 🤎

silence

pairing: terzo/reader

summary: reader enters house shaken after being followed on the way home by a man.

i have so much to say in response to this, so there's gonna be a message at the end of this for you, anon, and everyone.  i always kind of feel the need to include a message in my fics but this one is gonna be longer. sorry i know i’m typing like im accepting a nobel peace prize or something but this really means a lot to me <3

Do I pretend I’m on the phone? No, I’ll look distracted. Should I go on the other side of the street? That’s too obvious. What if I turned around and walked the other way? No, then we would cross paths, and then he might- Satanas- What do I do?

You strode down the sidewalk at full-speed, adrenaline pumping as you sought to complete your one objection: Make it home.

As you approached your block, you turned the corner rapidly. The sound of the man’s footsteps had quieted down, leaving you in an ominous silence. Was he still following you?

Taking a leap of faith, you counted to three and turned around.

One, Two, Three.

Gone.

You let out an audible sigh of relief.

The train ride home today, typically uneventful, had been a very unpleasant one to say the least. A perverse man sitting near you had taken it upon himself to say some drastically inappropriate things to you, things that made you squeamish and sick to your stomach. Even when you got off the train, gathering your things in a hurry, his harassment didn’t stop. You could hear his persistent pacing behind you for the majority of your walk home.

Things like this came with adulthood, they unfortunately happened to many people.But that didn’t make it any easier. Moments like these made you long for the innocence and naivety you possessed as a child. When strangers weren’t potential harassers, but potential friends. When a man’s smile signified kindness instead of danger. You were so innocent, so blissfully unaware of the cruelties of the world.

You safely made it back home, swiftly unlocking the front door, before entering, slamming it shut, and locking it again.

“Hello-“ Terzo’s lively greeting came to a quick halt when he caught sight of your panicked state.

“What is wrong? What happened?” he questioned, his voice softer than usual.

“I just- on the train ride home this guy was saying things to me, and he was behind me most of the walk home and I was scared he was following me.” You explained.

Terzo, immediately going to protective mode, dashed to the windows and looked outside. “Do you need me to call the police? Should I summon some of the Ghouls, perhaps? They could-”

“It’s okay, Terzo. Thank you. He’s gone.” you assured him wearily.

“Are you positive?”

“Yes.”

Terzo took a deep breath in and out, turning around to face you once again.

“Okay.” he responded. “Come here, lovely.” he cooed, holding his arms out. You eagerly accepted his invitation, melting into his warm embrace as he moved his hands lovingly up and down your back. “Nothing will hurt you when you’re with me. Nothing.” he whispered, gently kissing the side of your head as it was buried in the crook of his neck.

“I just- I feel gross.” You sniffled.

Terzo gently pulled away, placing his hands on your shoulders and looking you in the eyes.

“You? Gross? No, no no, cara mia. What is gross is that imbecile shithead who was saying those things to you. Is there anything you want me to do? To make you feel safe?”

“I just don’t want to be alone.”

“Lucky for you, neither do I.” Terzo smiled, “I never do now that i know you.”

You smiled at his affection, placing your hands on each side of his face before giving him a kiss.

“Want to order dinner? I burnt the spaghetti earlier.” Terzo confessed.

“Terzo- How did you burn spaghetti?”

“I am a culinary talent.”

He actually was, that’s what made it so funny. You and Terzo settled on ordering pizza. Not fancy pizza. The greasy fast food kind that Terzo secretly loved. Despite his efforts to be perceived as a “foodie”, the man secretly loved eating like a teenage boy. It’s a little fun fact about him you thought was very adorable. You two weren’t strangers to 1 am McDonald’s runs or late-night Doordash shenanigans.

“Movie? What do you want to watch?”

“Nothing scary, please.” You laughed.

“Nothing scary it is, then.” He replied.

As you two started a movie, a comforting favorite of yours, and settled on the couch, you took a seat, but were interrupted by Terzo wrapping his arms around your waist and rearranging your position.

“Hey!” You laughed. “What are you-“

Before you could protest, Terzo had snuck behind your spot on the couch, wrapping his arms around you.

He ran his hands up and down your body, in a way you knew wasn’t suggestive, but purely out of affection. He played with your hair, gently scratching your scalp in circular motions the way he knew you liked.

Terzo had a wickedly adorable trick he loved to play on you. Sometimes, when you were laughing at something, Terzo would devilishly tickle you to amplify your laughter even more, eager to hear more of his favorite sound in the world. You knew of this little game, so you often stifled your laughter during funny scenes to avoid his tickling. However, Terzo knew you long enough to recognize even a slight laugh from you when he felt your body jolt even in the slightest.

“I felt that…” he would say ominously before you would beg for mercy, even though you both knew you loved it.

“I didn’t laugh! I swear! I promise!”

Your pleas meant nothing. Before you knew it, you were nearly screaming as Terzo viciously tickled you in all the places he knew were your weak spots.

“No! Stop! Stop! Satan, please, help me!” you squealed through a fit of laughter.

Your struggle resulted in you and Terzo both falling onto the ground.

But he did not stop.

“Why are you doing this to me?” You cried, smiling so hard your face hurt.

“You must pay the price.”

“The-haha- the price for what?”

“For being adorable.”

Eventually you made it back to the couch, stomachs hurting from laughing so hard. And when you cried at a touching scene, he peppered kisses on your face and neck, holding you even tighter than before. You two had laid together for so long, so comfortable in silence with each other, that eventually some other movie had begun playing automatically.

“I love you, cara mia.” He whispered, his breath in your ear sending a warm shiver down your spine and making your eyes grow heavier.

There was no person, no place, nothing in the world who made you feel as safe as you did with Terzo. Safe enough to let go, fall asleep in their arms, without fear of what may happen when you weren’t fully present.

“I love you too.” you whispered, falling into a peaceful slumber in the arms of your lover.

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

a little message:

first off- i'm so so so sorry that happened to you. that stuff is so terrifying.. we live in a very scary world full of scary things and scary people and i’m so sorry you had to experience that. you deserve to feel safe.

second off- i can’t ignore this ask. i know this sounds silly, i’m on tumblr writing fanfiction about a satanic band for christ’s sake, i’m not trying to act like some saint,  but this is really why i do this. fanfiction has brought me so much comfort throughout my life and given me a safe space. i want to be that for someone else. i wanted so badly to bring this fic to you last night when i first read your request,but i was sleep-deprived and couldn’t finish it, and i didn’t want to rush it. ❤️

finally- thank you for your support and for your kind words. i cannot even describe how happy i am to bring anyone comfort. thank you for trusting me with your experience and for your kindness. i am so honored that you requested this from me. seriously. it made me tear up a little bit.

thank you for reading this.

if you have send me a request, it is coming.

i love you all, stay safe out there❤️

<3, alice

[separatist-apologist]

Cowboy Like Me

Never thought I'd meet you here

Summary: When Nesta is stranded in rural Montana, she finds herself rescued by an unlikely pair.

Day 1 of @sjmromanceweek: Meet-Cute

Also, check out this art of Cowboy Cassian from @melphss

Read on AO3

Nesta was in hell. 

Who got married in Montana? Montana seemed like the sort of place you exiled people to die in lonely misery. She didn’t give a fuck about all the open sky, the clean air, or the nature that quite literally ambled up to her rental car looking for a snack. Nesta wasn’t built for this sort of life and maybe it said something about her that she couldn’t imagine anyone else who was.

She’d made a mistake, though. When she’d rented her airbnb, she’d just assumed it was an actual home, like the pictures had depicted, and not some ramshackle hovel with a literal hole in the ground for shitting.

For fifty dollars a night, she supposed she deserved that. Nesta thought that maybe she also deserved her twisted ankle. Heels on a gravel road had been an obvious mistake—was she supposed to go barefoot? She hadn’t brought anything else. Nesta emitted a soft scream of hatred for this new, cheerful place before propping herself up on the hood of her car to look at her swelling ankle.

All this for a wedding. The minute Nesta managed to get back into her car, she was going to book a flight home and block this friend forever. Why was she even trying to have friends outside of Gwyn and Emerie, besides? Nesta maneuvered her phone from her black skirt pocket only to find that of fucking course she didn’t have service.

She screamed again, irate with the whole endeavor.

“All right, ma’am?” a masculine voice called. Nesta whipped her head to the side of the long, gravel drive, intending to give that busybody man the middle finger for his trouble.

She hesitated. To start, the man in question was astride a large black horse. She had no quick comeback for a man who was pulling towards her shiny red sedan like he’d stepped straight out of eighteen forty six. 

He swung one of his long, powerful legs off the creature with ease, revealing himself to be at least six foot-five. Nesta had never considered herself a small woman, standing at five-nine without heels, but as he approached, his rough stubbled face hidden beneath the brim of his cowboy hat, Nesta felt positively dainty. 

He swept his hat off his head and Nesta wished he hadn’t. Holding it against the blue and green flannel of his shirt, he was like something out of a magazine ad for country living. Warm brown skin, hazel eyes, and dark brown hair that fell to his shoulders was a lethal combination on this man. His chiseled jaw, the stubble grazing his cheeks, and his rough features made Nesta think he had no trouble picking up women.

And that irked her, even as she swallowed with desire. He was absurdly stunning, the absolute dream of anyone hoping to marry a cowboy from a long-forgotten age. Those eyes of his, framed with ridiculously long lashes, swept over her, and then her surroundings.

“Tricked, huh?” he asked in a rich, deep drawl. “You wouldn’t be the first. Won’t be the last.”

“Someone should burn this place to the ground,” she hissed, one hand still gripping her hurt ankle. 

He chuckled. “I don’t think that would stop someone from tryin’ to sell it. You hurt?” he added, his eyes falling on her ankle. 

“I twisted my foot,” she admitted. He knelt, the sight emptying out all of Nesta’s thoughts. She could only stare at his thighs, bulging in his tight jeans. His hand was large enough to wrap fully around her ankle, and ever so slowly, he pulled her foot from her scuffed black heel.

“This is your problem,” he said, holding up her shoe with a frown. 

“Well I know that now,” Nesta hissed, “you must be a psychic.”

His eyes flashed. “Can you drive?”

“No,” she admitted, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I wouldn’t go around insultin’ the only person who can help…but that’s just me,” he replied. 

Nesta hesitated. “Are you a doctor?”

He snorted, rising to his feet again. His large, muscular body blocked the bright sun the way a tree might, and Nesta couldn’t pretend she wasn’t grateful.

“Cattle rancher,” he replied, “but I know a thing or two about tapin’ up a sprain. We’ll get you iced up and bandaged and on your way Miss…”

She sighed. “Nesta Archeron,” she half grumbled.

“Miss Archeron—”

“Nesta. Don’t be ridiculous.”

He smiled, setting her heart racing. “Miss Nesta, then. I’m Cassian, and I’m walkin’ towards you real slow because I don’t want to spook you.”

“Why would you—put me down right now!”

He shook his head. “And let you finish breakin’ what you started? No offense, darlin’, but carrying you is a lot safer than letting you hop on the horse—”

“Why can’t we drive?”

He looked down at her, his amusement plain. “And what would I do with Bryaxis?”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Nesta breathed, gripping Cassian’s neck until her nails dug into his skin. “I’ve never been on a horse.”

“He doesn’t bite,” Cassian replied. “I’ll be right behind you.”

She couldn’t help her squeal as he hoisted her up into the fine leather saddle. Nesta’s bare thighs touched the material, spreading her legs obscenely, though Cassian didn’t seen to notice or care. He merely swung himself up behind her. He put one hand on her hip, the warmth seeping through her silken skirt, before reaching for the reins.

“What were you doing out here, anyway?”

He nodded towards a saddle bag. “Needed a few things in town.

“And you took a horse?” she replied, trying to imagine where he’d even park it.

Cassian’s laugh rumbled through his chest. “Where are you from, Miss Nesta?”

“Chicago,” she replied, well aware she was proving every city slicker stereotype true. “Have you ever been?”

She felt him shrug. “Nope. I’ve been to cities before, but not so far south.

So far south. Nesta didn’t know how to respond to that. “You’re not missing much, honestly.”

“No? Is Chicago not home sweet home?”

It was Nesta’s turn to shrug. “It’s where I live.”

If he had thoughts about that, Cassian kept them to himself. That was just as well—Nesta didn’t want to fight some stranger when she was currently on his horse, unable to even run. He’d left her shoes on top of her car and her suitcase in the trunk. Nesta was literally at his mercy, given the small, two-lane road they were currently traveling down had no hint of civilization besides the two of them. 

She’d done such a shitty job picking an airbnb. 

“What are you doin’ up here, then?” he asked after a moment. His voice had the most pleasant gravel, deep and dark like a star-flecked sky. Nesta knew she was leaning against the broad plain of his chest and found she didn’t care. 

“My friend is getting married,” she said. “I guess her fiance grew up out here.”

“Oh yeah?” he replied, an obvious smile in his voice. “Married on a ranch?”

Nesta twisted in her saddle. “Don’t you dare—”

“Lots of people rent out my barn on the edge of the property. You can stay up with me, if you need a place. I’ll charge you a real fair price.”

She rolled her eyes. “What’s that?”

“You ever mucked out a stall, Miss Nesta?”

She poked him in the ribs, turning back to face the endless expanse of cloudless blue. “Is that your thing, then? Humbling the city girl by making her clean up shit?”

“Maybe I think you’d be real pretty with a little mud on your face.”

Nesta swallowed. “I don’t do mud,” she said, looking at her immaculate nails.

“What do you do, then?” Why did he sound so suggestive? Nesta’s hands were clammy–nervous. When had a man ever had that effect on her? 

“Law,” she told him. “Corporate law.”

He made some soft, noncommittal noise that was, honestly, a lot better than a lot of the finance men she dated. Cassian acknowledged he’d heard her without feeling the need to cut her down in service of his own ego. 

“I don’t know much about that,” he finally admitted. Nesta could have kissed him for it, though she wouldn’t. 

“It’s pretty boring,” she said, earning another of his soft noises.

“I don’t believe that for a minute,” he replied. “You don’t strike me as the type to spend your time sufferin’.”

“Well…I do get to humble really rich men with a fair amount of regularity,” she admitted with a smile. His grip on her waist tightened. 

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, his breath fanning against the back of her neck. She shivered, unintentionally leaning further into him. She was acting like a cat in heat over a man she’d known for fifteen minutes.

“I’ll pay,” she breathed. Behind her, Cassian went stiff.

“Pay?”

“For a room,” she clarified, wondering what he was thinking. “If you were serious about your offer, I’d pay you for it.”

“Oh, darlin’, there’s no need for that. Just a little hel—”

“I told you I don’t do dirt,” she snapped. “You can have money or nothing at all.”

“I’m not takin’ your money,” Cassian drawled. “Just keep after yourself and don’t disturb the cats.”

Her heart stuttered. “Cats?”

“Yeah. My girl just had kittens and she’s real skittish, so if you see her, be real quiet and soft.”

Nesta could have died. “What's her name?”

She wanted a cat so badly. Her landlord expressly forbade any animals at all, and Nesta was too much of a rule follower to risk a secret cat. The thought of spending three days surrounded by a mama cat and her little kittens seemed like heaven.

“Cheddar,” Cassian admitted ruefully. “She’s orange. Dad must be black, though, because half her little beans are black, too.”

A soft squeak slipped from Nesta’s throat. “Do they have names?”

“Not yet. Maybe you’ll help me out with that,” he added with what sounded suspiciously like hope. 

She didn’t dare unpack that. Not as Cassian pulled off the road, steering his steady horse down another gravel path. Untouched grass stretched for miles in every direction until the sky met mountains in the distance. 

“Your friends will be down there,” Cassian told her, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. Accident, she swore, watching the point of his finger. “But we’ll be up here. I’ll walk you down for the wedding…keep you from wreckin’ that other pretty ankle of yours.”

“Does that work on the women around here? Your folksy charm, your aw shucks—”

Cassian laughed. “Are you askin’ if being nice gets me laid?”

“Does it?”

“My good looks get me laid, darlin’.  My folksy charm, as you so eloquently put it, is just called manners outside of the city. No need to pretend.”

“You’d be surprised,” she told him dryly. Cassian merely held her close, his eyes fixated on the two story ranch just in the distance. Nesta could have wept with relief. The saddle was rubbing against her inner thigh, chafing her delicate skin and the woodsy scent of smoke and pine coming off Cassian was threatening to throw all Nesta’s good sense out the window. 

His home sprawled against the Montana countryside. Built to look as if it was made of wood—and maybe it was, for all she knew—the house had to be worth a cool million in Nesta’s estimation. She didn’t dare look over her shoulder at him, though. Didn’t dare acknowledge she knew this man wasn’t the simple, rural cattle rancher he was trying to embody. 

And Nesta certainly didn’t let him see that she was weirdly relieved. She liked an ambitious man. And unlike all the men she’d been dating back home, Cassian wasn’t slick. Nesta would have put all the money she had on Cassian being the sort who had his heart on his sleeve for all to see. She had no business thinking about that.

This wasn’t a date.

Cassian swung off his horse and gently pulled her back into his arms.

“Don’t you go runnin’ off,” he warned Bryaxis.

“Will he?”

Cassian merely shrugged as he took her up a stone laid path towards his glass and wood front door.

“If he goes anywhere, it’ll be next door to his girlfriend.”

She couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her. “Your horse has a girlfriend?”

“He’s a good-looking horse. Why shouldn’t he have a girlfriend. I catch him all the time down by the fence nuzzlin’ her with his nose.”

“Like you, then?”

Cassian chuckled. “I am very single, Miss Nesta—”

“Just Nesta,” she interrupted, breathless as he brought her inside. “The Miss makes me feel like someone’s kindergarten teacher.”

“Fine, Nesta. I, unlike my horse, am very single.”

“Any particular reason?” she asked, wishing she sounded snide and not interested.

Cassian set her on a long, dark leather sofa, He swept his hat off his head as he knelt in front of her again. 

“You want to know why I’m single? Maybe I work too much,” he said softly, sliding her his hand up  and then back down her knee. “Maybe I’m a shitty kisser.”

“I’ll bet it’s the second,” she replied. Cassian’s hazel eyes met her own, a smirk curving over his sensual mouth.

“And you? Are you a shitty kisser?”

“Terribly deficient.”

“I figured,” he murmured, turning his gaze back to her swollen ankle. Cassian grabbed a red pillow from the corner of his couch to prop up her foot. “Why don’t you stay here and I’ll get us all set up, hm?”

“Okay.”

Cassian vanished long enough for Nesta to fire off several quiet texts and otherwise study his really nice home. The living room had a wall made of pointed windows, and though everything had that wood cabin aesthetic, it was cozy and cheerful and bright. She flipped through her work emails while she waited, dragging a knitted blanket off the back of the sofa over her lap. 

Was she insane for hanging out in a stranger's house? She would never have dared back home—her friends thought she was insane. And yet she was at the right place, and if Cassian wanted to hurt her, surely bandaging up her foot wasn’t necessary. She doubted his neighbors would have heard her scream if she stood outside and emptied her lungs of air.

Cassian returned nearly an hour later, balancing a glass of water and a plate in one massive hand, and her suitcase in the other.

“You got my things?” she asked him, surprised he’d bother. She’d assumed she’d have to hobble back out there for it.

“Of course, darlin’,” he replied, setting a nice sandwich and two ibuprofen down on the wood coffee table right in front of her. “Unless you plan on wearin’ that skirt the entire time? I don’t mind, but…”

Her cheeks flushed. “Thank you. That was really nice.”

He ducked his head. “Have somethin’ to eat before you take the medicine. You look like you haven’t had anything but coffee today. Pain killers won’t settle well on an empty stomach and while you’re cute, you’re not cute enough to clean up puke.”

Nesta was rendered speechless. That was for the best. Everytime he casually said something nice about her, Nesta was far too tempted to crawl into his lap and repay him for his generosity in a different sort of way. Instead, Nesta remained perfectly still while Cassian wrapped up her ankle with a beige colored bandage and pressed a bag of frozen green beans against the aching bone. 

“Keep this elevated,” he insisted, taking a spot close enough that Nesta could have scooted forward and put her head in his lap. She was far too tempted. 

“Want to watch something?” she suggested. “Or are you busy?”

“Not too busy for you,” he teased, reaching for the remote. “How do you feel about history?”

Their eyes met, and in unison, they said, “Ancient Aliens.”

Cassian smiled with satisfaction. “Fuck yeah.”

They wasted the afternoon that way. Nesta inched closer and closer until her head was propped up against his thigh. Cassian kept his arm casual against the back of the couch, unconcerned as they giggled their way through each new show. He didn’t stop until the sun dipped low, bathing the room in shadow.

“Want to help me make dinner?” he asked, his voice gruffer than before. She looked up at him.

“No eating out?”

His lips curved into a sly smile. “Are you asking to be eaten out?”

She smacked at his stomach, heart racing all the same. “You don’t seem like the cooking type. Isn’t that something for your little wife?”

“Are you offerin’?” he joked. “I accept. C’mon, lazy bones. At least come talk to me.”

“Does anything bother you?” Nesta asked, unconcerned when Cassian lifted her back into the air. She winced at the jolt of pain lancing through her ankle, though she couldn’t pretend she didn’t like the ease with which he carried her through his house. Cassian was careful, setting her atop a granite kitchen island so she could watch over his attempts at cooking.

“So tell me, Miss Nesta—”

“Just Nesta.”

“Nes,” he grinned. “Miss hot shot attorney. What do you think about my humble home?”

She looked around, pretending to survey with an arched eyebrow. “It’s a little rustic—”

Cassian’s fingers were between her ribs before she could stop him, tickling until she thrashed and gasped for a breath of air. 

“Stop it, stop—”

“Rustic,” he chuckled, pulling out a nice creuset pot and setting it atop the range. “You’ll have to work on your insults.”

“I think you just wanted an excuse to touch me,” Nesta replied. Cassian smiled.

“Maybe,” he conceded. “It’s not everyday a beautiful woman is waitin’ for me on the side of the road.”

“I wasn’t waiting. I was stuck.”

He shrugged. “Sure felt like you were waitin’ for me.”

“Maybe you were waiting on me.”

“Almost certainly,” Cassian agreed cheerfully. “Do you eat pasta?”

“I’ll eat anything,” Nesta agreed. Cassian nodded.

“You and me both, sweetheart.”

And God, but Nesta wanted to find out if that was true. Cassian had a box of recipes he’d inherited from his mother that he’d been more than happy to show her. While Nesta pulled the cards out one by one, Cassian made his own tomato sauce. She knew it shouldn’t have impressed her and still it did. 

He was nearly done when his cat, Cheddar, slunk into the room. Three black and orange kittens flopped just behind her, the third tumbling face first over the threshold from the hall to the tile. Nesta gasped.

“Oh my God,” she whispered.

“Where are the other four, mama?” Cassian asked his cat as she wound her way through his legs to rub against him. “What are those little demons up to?”

Nesta carefully hopped off the counter so she could scoop up one of the babies.

“Probably peeing in my boot,” Cassian grumbled, stirring his sauce with a wooden spoon. 

“Babies,” Nesta breathed, delighted when the three that had ambled in with their mother immediately bounded towards her. Her favorite, for no reason at all, was the one with the split black and orange face. She had the brightest blue eyes and when Nesta lifted her up to really look at her, the small creature meowed loudly. 

“Well now you’ve done it,” Cassian teased as Cheddar trotted over to see what the fuss was. “Be careful–mama cat has claws.”

Nesta scratched behind her ears. “Maybe for you.”

“I suppose like calls to like,” he grumbled. While he plated their food, Nesta played with the kittens until there was a snag in her skirt. Cassian offered Nesta a hand and when he pulled her up to her feet, balancing on one foot, he yanked just hard enough that she fell into his chest.

Into his lips. 

“Oh,” she whispered, unsure what to do. Cassian kept her steady with one arm, the kiss polite and chaste and just enough to make her want much, much more.

“Sorry,” he murmured, brushing a strand of her hair off her face. “Probably shouldn’t kiss the woman rentin’ one of my rooms, but…”

“It’s alright,” Nesta assured him, letting him lead her to the blocky table just outside the kitchen. It might have been awkward had Cassian not been so charming. So laid back and nice. He’d made her spaghetti and didn’t care when his cat spent the entirety of the meal winding her lithe, orange body through his feet and purring so loud Nesta felt like she was competing for his attention. 

Cassian kept the conversation going as if nothing had happened, but Nesta couldn’t get the feel of his mouth against hers out of her mind. He’d smelled crisp and clean and when her hands had pressed against his chest, he’d been all hard, toned muscle. 

“Why don’t I clean up down here, and you can get settled in your room?” Cassian suggested when Nesta had been silent a little too long. She was undressing him in her mind, and when she looked up at him, the little smile on his face made her wonder if he wasn’t aware. 

“Sure,” she agreed, if only to get out of helping with the dishes.

“I’ll carry you up,” he added, his eyes flashing. Nesta shook her head, her pride unable to stand being taken up and down the stairs.

“I can do it myself.

“Are you always this difficult?” he asked, rising to his feet. Cassian was a big man. Nesta had never felt small in comparison, had never once looked at a prospective lover and thought herself little. Cassian, though. Cassian exuded strength. In another life, he might have been a warrior prince worshiped by the masses. 

Nesta offered him a feline smile. “Maybe.” Back home, that refusal to yield would have earned her nothing good. With Cassian, though? A slow smile spread over his rugged face.

“Wouldn’t be any fun if you weren’t, I suppose. Go on then, Miss Nesta. Yell if you need me…I’ll come runnin’.”

Nesta suppressed a shiver at his sensual tone. “Is that a promise?”

He looked her up and down, his expression suddenly ravenous. If Nesta had less pride, she might have hopped over to him, pressed her hands to his chest, and let him finish what he’d started. 

“It is,” he said simply, those hazel eyes finding her face again. 

It was shree will that made her turn. As if she had something to prove. And Nesta made it all of four little hops before Cassian was coming behind her and sweeping her up off her feet. Nesta gasped, unprepared to be so close to him again.

“C’mon,” he murmured, holding her like she was something delicate.

Something fragile.

And no one thought that about her. Nesta swallowed hard, biting back the urge to snap at him. He didn’t know what she was like and maybe that was a blessing, because Nesta didn’t have to put on a show for him. She could press her head against his chest and sigh, “Thank you,” without needing to scowl, to stare him down so he knew not to ever try such a thing again.

“Tell me if I’m wrong,” he drawled softly, taking that first wooden step. “But I’ve got the feelin’ that back home, you’re somethin’ of a ball buster.”

Nesta tightened, her hackles raised. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“No, ma’am,” he chuckled. “It’s just…I’m thinkin’ that most of those men up there don’t know how to act right when it comes to you. And because they can’t make hide or hair of you, they treat you bad. Try and break you, make you small? So you’ve gotta be real tough, don’t you baby?”

Nesta swallowed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said crisply, careful to enunciate every single syllable which she knew only proved his point. 

“That’s what I thought,” he said softly, taking her upstairs. Nesta didn’t want him to let her go. I was a strange thing, to be so seen. To be laid bare by this man she didn’t even know. 

“Don’t get mad at me for sayin’ this, but you remind me of Bryaxis—”

“Your horse?”

“He was mistreated too,” Cassian explained. “Screamed at, whipped…you name it, he endured it. But all he needed was a soft hand. A little patience. I figure you probably aren’t too different.”

“Where are you taking me?” 

Cassian had opened a bedroom door that absolutely belonged to him. The dark masculine reds and blacks of the bed were a dead giveaway, along with the half-full glass of water on a wood bedside table and a stack of books dog-eared haphazardly. A leather jacket was hung from a chair near the open closet door, and though it was dark, Nesta could see an adjoining bathroom at the far end of the room.

“Where, I think, you want to be tonight. Tell me if I’m wrong—I’ll put you somewhere else.”

“This is your room, Cassian.”

She could see he was trying not to smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

Tell him he’s stupid. Tell him he’s wrong. Demand he put you back in your own room and—

“Okay,” she whispered before she could talk herself out of it.

Relief all but crumpled over his features. He murmured something that sounded suspiciously like Thank the good lord, and set her atop his neatly made bedspread.

Nerves shocked through Nesta, rendering her silent for a moment. Cassian, for his part, seemed to have realized that he, too, had her in his bed and didn’t quite know what to make of that.

“I ah…why don’t I wash up the dishes and you can take a shower?”

“That sounds good, Cassian.”

It sounded better than good, and though Nesta swore she wasn’t going to say so, she called, “Unless you think I need help in the shower?”

Cassian froze. For all his bravado, it was obvious he’d never thought he’d get this far. Nesta crawled toward the end of his bed with exaggerated slowness, holding his stare. He took a slow breath, those eyes of his darkening to almost black.

“Is it safe for me alone in there?”

The knot in his throat bobbed. “I reckon it’s not, Miss Nesta—”

“Just Nesta,” she reminded him, rising up on her knees so she could touch the hard planes of his stomach. “Do you think you could call me that, Cassian?”

“I…” his voice trailed off when her fingers found his belt and tugged. 

“You know,” Nesta continued with far more bravado than she felt, “I don’t think I’ve properly thanked you for coming to my rescue today.”

“You..” he cleared his throat. “That’s not necessary. I—Nes—”

“That’s better,” she crooned, having undone the button of his jeans. A lump was forming—hard and thick and Nesta was desperate to see what the cowboy had hidden in those black pair of briefs. 

“Nes,” he tried again, his hands resting on her shoulder. He wasn’t stopping her, and given the way his fingers curled against her, she thought he was trying very, very hard to be a gentleman.

That wouldn’t do. 

“I’d be a poor guest if I didn’t thank you,” she said, slipping past the waistband of his underwear. Nesta gasped when she curled around him—or, tried to. As she pulled Cassian out, she realized she’d need to rethink her plan to thank him with her tongue. Cassian was enormous, both thick and long. Hardly a grower, given he was still stiffening in her curled hand.

Neither of them spoke for a moment, each waiting for the other to do something. Deciding he was erect enough, she pumped him. Her fingers just barely fit around his shaft, and even with two hands she couldn’t have fully covered him. Nesta certainly wasn’t going to be able to fit him all in her throat.

But god she wanted to try. 

He exhaled a breath when she stroked him again, earning a chuckle from Nesta. “Tell me how you like it,” she murmured, softening her grip. Nesta had to hope that the cowboy liked it rough, because she wanted him to fuck her within an inch of her life. 

“Nice and slow?” she tried, making a sweet pass over that large cock of his.

Cassian shook his head, his dark tresses, whispering against his broad shoulders. What was he like out of control? 

“What about this?” she tried, pumping him harder, squeezing tighter. He shook his head again, allowing her to make a third, rougher pass. Nesta twisted her wrist against his head, her nails grazing the sensitive vein trailing his now very erect cock jutting from between two powerful legs.

“That's what I thought,” Nesta murmured, looking up through dark lashes. “Just like me.”

“Nes—” 

Nesta silenced him by taking him into her mouth. She had to use her hand to make up the difference and she didn’t care. A soft, strangled noise escaped Cassian as his fingers plunged into her hair. 

Yes.

This was what she needed. Nesta took him until she gagged, and then she took a little more, teeth grazing his sensitive skin, hand punishingly tight. Cassian moaned, tugging at her hair. Nesta sucked again, trying so hard to communicate that she could take it. He was holding back, practically shaking from the effort. 

Nesta took more of him, widening her jaw in order to accommodate the sheer size of him. That was all it took. Cassian made a rough, snarling sound, pushing her off him.

“You’re a lady,” he panted, reaching for the buttons of his shirt. 

Finally.

“And in my house, ladies come first,” he continued, eyes flashing as he shrugged out of that shirt. Nesta swore softly at the sight of all that gleaming, corded muscle. Nesta had never seen someone so effortlessly toned, so big.

Powerful.

“I seem to recall something about eating out,” she said breathlessly, swallowing hard when Cassian prowled toward her.

“I haven’t forgotten, darlin’,” he promised, hovering over her with his unbuttoned jeans and a smile that made Nesta’s heart race. “But first, I think I’m owed a kiss.”

“Just one?” she asked as his lips ghosted over her own.

“Let’s start with one and go from there,” he said, sliding his hand around the back of her head. Nesta had only her ripped dress between them, which provided no protection against Cassian when he pressed the weight of his body against her. 

In another life, she might have kissed him nice and slow—teasing it out, exploring him thoroughly. Right then, though, Nesta thought she might explode if she didn’t have his mouth directly on her, his tongue stroking, thrusting, tasting. He was just as excited, grinding himself into her while she pulled at the strands of his hair.

He tasted like snow kissed wind, somehow. Like the crackling of a fire and a frosted window—like some memory she’d long forgotten. Nesta dug her nails down the back of his neck and against his shoulder blades until he bucked into her, wild and nearly unrestrained. Nesta could not remember the last time she’d wanted someone the way she wanted him.

“Off—get this—off,” Cassian panted between messy, hungry kisses. He was pawing at her dress, trying to figure out how to take it off. Nesta arched her back into his chest, earning matching moans from them both as she yanked down the zipper

Nesta would never know how she managed to get that dress off her body given Cassian never stopped his frantic kissing. Nor did she figure out how her bra joined her clothes on the floor. She only realized she was nearly naked when Cassian licked down the column of her neck before burying his face between her breasts.

“Fuck, Nes,” he breathed, both hands covering them entirely—no easy feat, given how large they were. Cassian massaged them, callused thumbs dragging over her aching nipples until Nesta was certain she was making a mess all over his bedding. 

His mouth latched around her and Nesta was lost, ripping at his hair as her body bowed off the bed.

“Responsive,” he teased, his tongue tracing around the sensitive bud. “I wonder…”

“Cass—” she gasped when his hand made its way between her legs. Nesta writhed when he began drawing circles on her clit, teasing touches that weren’t even close to what she needed, even as he switched between her breasts, sucking and licking. She could feel it all in her pussy, like every nerve in her body was intimately connected.

She could have come from that—for the first time in god knew how long. At least, without her own hand, without assistance from a toy. Nesta couldn’t recall the last time a man had pleased her so easily, so effortlessly.

Cassian pulled back, wild and impossibly sexy. Holding her gaze, he nipped his way down her body until he found the red pair of panties still clinging to her hips.

“Aw, for me?” he teased, kissing against the fabric. “Sweetheart, you’re soaked.”

Nesta pushed herself against his face, but Cassian was still licking against the lace. 

“I’ll bet you could come just like this. Couldn’t you?”

If he was doing it? Probably. Nesta merely whined, arching when he hooked his fingers into her underwear and peeled them off her.

He whistled softly. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby. Do you know that? I feel sick at the sight of you.”

She didn’t have a chance to respond. Cassian’s tongue slid down the center of her, rendering speech impossible. Nesta reached for something to hold on to, and found his hair for purchase. Cassian groaned, the sound vibrating against her. Her thighs tightened around his face, earning another groan of pleasure. 

Cassian’s tongue was everything. She realized, after a lifetime of thinking she was just difficult to get off—too fussy, too particular, too exacting—that what she really needed was someone who knew what they were doing. Cassian had her spread apart, licking and sucking her clit with the sort of expert precision that told Nesta he liked what he was doing. 

She regretted not sucking him more. Nesta was going to come apart in record time and she knew she was going to beg him to do this again in a few hours. All weekend.

For fucking ever. 

Release was gathering on her spine, burning hotly through her blood until Nesta didn’t recognize the noises coming from her throat. Cassian, too, was rolling his hips into the mattress, trying to alleviate his own arousal. Nesta nearly stopped him, if only to have that long, thick length in her body.

As if he could hear her thoughts, Cassian pushed one of his fingers into her. Nesta tightened around him and Cassian swore at whatever he felt, though he didn’t stop. He fucked and sucked in time, working her like she was an instrument only he knew how to play. Nesta built up, up, up, until she was fucking his hand, rolling all over his face like a wild animal. 

Nesta broke apart with a scream she couldn’t control, bucking against him as she shattered into fractals of starlight. Cassian didn’t stop, riding her through wave after wave with clear, obvious excitement. It was only when pleasure became edged with pain that Nesta released the grip her thighs had around his face and Cassian came up for a deep breath of air.

“Fuck,” he said, his lips gleaming from her arousal. “Fuck, Nes—”

“Come here, come here,” she panted, scrabbling for his shoulders. Cassian obliged, kissing her frantically. His tongue was coated in the taste of her, pushed against her own. Nesta liked it, wanted more of him.

“Condom,” he breathed, finally shucking his jeans to trip over to his dresser. Nesta propped herself up on her elbows to watch, admiring his firm ass as he went. Cassian was quick about it, rolling the condom onto his cock with what she swore were shaking hands. His eyes shone, and if she didn’t know better, she would have sworn Cassian could not believe his good luck. 

“You sure?” he asked, hesitating at the end of the bed. Nesta nearly laughed, given she was spread out and still trembling from his mouth. Any other man would have jumped on her, would already be balls deep buried in her.

He was sweet, she decided.

She wanted to keep him, though she had no idea how. She’d figure it out later. “I’m sure.”

“Good,” he said with another heart stopping smile. “I don’t know what I would have done if you’d said no.”

“Sure you do,” she offered in what she hoped was a sultry voice. “You’d have gone into the bathroom and used your hand.”

“That was my plan to start,” he agreed, settling between the cradle of her thighs. “But this is much better. Have I said how pretty you are?”

“Once, at least.”

“Well.” He pushed himself an inch or so into her. Nesta gasped loudly. “You’re fuckin’ beautiful, darlin’.”

He’d punched all the air from her lungs. Nesta didn’t think she’d ever been stretched against anything half as large as Cassian. It was the sweetest pain that, with each shallow stroke inching him in deeper, became wholly pleasure. By the time Cassian had fully seated himself within her, a bead of sweat was trailing down his temple from the effort it took to go slow.

“Good?”

“Good,” she agreed, gripping the back of his neck for a kiss. “Cass?”

He hummed in response.

“I’m not fragile. You can fuck me, if you like.”

Cassian pulled himself out before snapping his hips so hard the headboard above them rattled. “Like that?” he grunted.

“Yes—yes, Cassian—”

He did it again, groaning loudly when she tightened involuntarily around him. This was Cassian unrestrained, his hair wild around his rugged, handsome face. His muscles bunched and shifted from the effort, held over her just enough that she could incline her had and watch his cock slide in and out of her body. 

He wasn’t finished, and Nesta already wanted to have him again. 

And again.

Cassian reached for her knees, bending them up by her shoulders to drive himself deeper. Nesta moaned, eyes rolling up into her head. The balls of her feet were pressed to his chest pushing him with each slide out, only for him to return with twice as much force. When she’d said she’d wanted it rough, well…this was exactly what she meant. 

“Nes, fuck—” he panted, eyes rolling up into his head as she came on his cock. Nesta arched hard, every muscle in her body going taut all at once. She clamped around him and Cassian came too, clearly unbidden and unprepared for the force of his own release. She wanted to drown herself in the noises he made, in the frantic thrusting of his body driving himself deeper on instinct. 

Cassian collapsed on top of her, dropping Nesta’s legs carelessly. She hissed when her bruised ankle hit the bed. 

“Sorry,” he whispered, lips against her jaw. “And I’m not, at the same time. Nesta, I…”

“I know,” she agreed, because she was certain they were thinking the same thing. Something else had happened between them, something they couldn’t so easily walk away from.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said, perhaps guessing those words were never going to come easy to Nesta. “I can hear you worryin’. Baby, you don’t have to worry about me.”

Nesta brushed her fingertips against the rough stubble of his face. “Promise?”

Cassian grinned. “I promise.”

[jerzwriter]

Just Passing By

From Here to There Series: Because you can't expect my neurodivergent brain to do anything in logical order... I still haven't explained how Tobias & Casey got together. It's time to rectify that. I'll be working on my masterlist to make this all a little less chaotic, I swear! :) I'll also be tidying up some former parts of my HC to tie things together. In the last segment, A New Chapter, we learn how they went from exes after a whirlwind romance to making peace after the chemical attack. It's roughly three weeks after the attack, and Casey is just back home from the hospital. She's struggling with the aftermath, and her friends can't seem to help. Tobias passes by on a whim, and the roommates are not happy to see him. But how will Casey feel?

Book: Open Heart (Book 2 - post Chemical Attack) Pairing: Tobias x Casey (F!MC) (Eventual) Featuring: Roomies - esp Jackie Varma Words: 2,100 Rating: Teen+ A/N: This is part of my HC for the couple.

Full Masterlsit | Tobias & Casey Masterlsit

This wasn't a planned visit. He was just driving home from work. There just so happened to be a parking spot on Casey's block... a parking spot on the streets of Boston? It had to be a sign. Right? It made sense that he'd stop in to see her. At least, that's what Tobias told himself as he made his way down the pavement toward Casey's front door. Her neighborhood didn't lie between Mass Kenmore and his townhome, but that, to him, was irrelevant.

Raised voices could be heard behind the door as he approached, but Casey wasn't among them. He may not talk to her much anymore, but he could still pick her voice out anywhere. He almost turned around; perhaps dropping by unannounced wasn't wise, but it would be foolish to turn back now. So, with a bit of trepidation he raised his hand and knocked.

"I'm coming," a woman shouted. Her voice was marked with annoyance, but when she opened the door, her expression went straight to disgust. "Oh. It's you."

Tobias looked over his shoulder, then turned around with a grin. "Sure is. Were you expecting someone better?"

"I wasn't expecting anyone," Jackie sneered. "But better isn’t really a high bar in your case."

"You’re doing wonders for my ego... Varma? Is it?"

Jackie crossed her arms and eyed him. "Trust. I wasn't put on this earth to coddle men's egos. Why are you here?"

He was about to respond when a more pleasant face appeared. "Jackie, who is it..." Sienna smiled politely when she caught sight of Tobias. "Dr. Carrick, good to see you!"

"Is it?" Jackie smirked as Sienna promptly shushed her. 

"Why don't you come in? Is Casey expecting you?"

"No, uh...I was just in the neighborhood and..." he was quickly drowned out by bickering from an adjoining room.

"Just give her time," Bryce insisted.

"I know," Elijah acquiesced. "But she can’t stay locked in her room. How will that improve her mental health?”  

"She does have to get past that," Aurora agreed, “but she needs to do it in her own time.”

“He’s right!” Sienna scolded upon entering the room. “The last two weeks have been hell on all of us, and she’s been home three days. Don't expect miracles.”  

When they turned to Sienna, several eyes widened when they saw the handsome doctor standing behind her.  

“Dr. Carrick,” Aurora acknowledged her boss.

“We’re not at work. It’s Tobias,” he insisted.

Jackie rolled her eyes. “He’s here to see Casey.”

Bryce raised a brow and mumbled to Jackie, but it came out far louder than he planned. “So she won’t talk to us, but she’ll see him?”

Tobias shifted uncomfortably, an unusual sight for the typically confident man. "For what it’s worth, she didn’t know I was coming.”

“Good!” Jackie enthused. “Then this is where I tell you it’s not a good time, and you should leave. If she’s not seeing friends, she’s definitely not seeing you.”

“Jackie!” Sienna reprimanded.

“What? Friends vs. dickhead exes that screwed her over... I think friends would have the edge, don’t you?”

“Jackie!” Sienna said again. “If not for Tobias, Casey and Raf probably wouldn't be here right now. Try to be a little nice."  

“Yes. Casey and Raf... yet he’s only checking in on Casey,” Jackie stated. “Funny how that works.”

“Look, Casey’s my friend, too," Tobias defended.

“Since when?” Elijah asked.

“Since after the...” Tobias stopped himself and sighed in frustration. “Look, can you tell her I’m here? If she doesn’t want to see me, I’m out. No questions. But I think it’s her choice to make... not yours.”

Just then, Casey’s bedroom door burst open, and she spun into the hallway with all the grace of a tornado. Her matted hair was tied into a bun that had been slept on for days, and her ratty NYU sweatshirt and pajama bottoms hadn't been changed for just as long. The dark circles under her eyes marked her exhaustion, but she found a burst of energy and was using it to set a few things straight.  

“For the record!” She blurted to no one in particular. “I never said I wasn’t going to therapy! I said I’m not going to the therapist’s office! There’s a difference! And I didn’t say I wouldn’t shower... stop acting like I am suddenly allergic to shampoo and body wash! But I’m not showering today! I know you want to help, but you guys need to let me breathe!”

“Let you breathe?” Elijah corrected softly. “Casey, you’ve been alone in your room for three days.”

“And as far as breathing, we’re the ones who won’t be able to if you don’t shower soon,” Jackie countered.

Aurora shot Jackie a look and attempted to be the voice of reason. “Casey. We’re just worried about you. You’re not talking to anyone.”

“Who said I’m not talking to anyone? I just don't want to be smothered. If I wanted that, I would have asked my parents to stay. I just...” her voice trailed when she saw Tobias. “What... what are you doing here?”

“He's leaving,” Jackie jumped in, but Tobias paid her no mind.

“I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop in to see you, but I can see it’s not a good time. I’ll text you in a few days, and...”

“No, it’s fine,” Casey interrupted, taking a bit of pleasure from the shocked faces of her friends. “You can stay. Why don’t you... why don’t you come to my room.”

“Are you sure?” He asked nervously.

“Yeah... follow me,” she replied with an unceremonious turn on her heel.

“I can't believe she'll see that jackass and not,” Jackie protested, but her voice was stifled when Sienna’s tiny hand covered her mouth. “Jackie, hush!”

~~~~~

If Casey was happy to see Tobias, you wouldn't have known it by her slouched shoulders and down expression when entered her room. Company of any sort wasn't on her agenda today, particularly not from a guy she once dated when she looked like... this. But feeling it would be rude to backtrack, she gestured toward a chair next to the window as she sat on her bed and pulled a blanket around her. Tobias took a seat in the chair.

“I’m sorry for not calling first...” he apologized.

“It’s OK,” she waved. “I’m sorry for using you.”

“Using me?”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I think I just used you to get back at my friends. I know they’ve been through a lot these past two weeks, too, and they just want to help, but since I got out of the hospital, they aren’t giving me air.”

“... so you agreed to see me just to piss them off.”

Her cheeks flushed, and a chunk of hair fell out of her discombobulated bun when she lowered her head in embarrassment. “When you say it like that, I sound like a complete bitch. I didn’t do it on purpose... Honestly, I was shocked to see you.”

“You’re not a bitch,” Tobias started. “I don’t think you are, and I don’t think any of your friends do, either. You’re coping with the aftermath of a very traumatic event. No one is going to be upset with you.”

“Still, it wasn’t nice of me to use you.”

“Hey,” he snickered, seeming to come to life. “I’ve been used for worse things and haven't complained. In fact, sometimes I even enjoyed it.”

His heart warmed when he saw a trace of a smile on her face. “Yeah, well... I don’t think you’ll enjoy my company right now... and that's all I'm using you for."

“That’s for me to decide. Besides, I didn’t come to be entertained. I came to see how my friend is doing.”

Casey laughed bitterly as she gestured at her disheveled appearance. “As you can see, I’m living my best life. These clothes may walk off my body if I don’t change them soon. I speak to...no... I bark at my friends in five-minute intervals. I won’t leave my room, much less the apartment. I’m fucking awesome. The spitting image of the woman you met at that diner last year.”

Tobias allowed the silence to hang, and both found themselves surprised by how comfortable it was. Then he sat up, leaning forward on his knees with an earnest expression.

“You’re not the woman I met at the diner last year... no more than I’m the man you met. Things happen... life happens, and people... change. You have to be gentler with yourself. When I lost my father... it was a hellish time for me. There was so much going on, and... well, I was in a bad place. When my Ma came to check on me a week after the funeral, I was wearing the same pajamas I had slipped into that night. Probably hadn’t brushed my teeth more than twice during that time. I’m confident she smelled me from outside in the hall.”

“Perhaps that’s TMI,” Casey half-smiled.

“It’s definitely TMI,” he chuckled. “I’m telling you this because you need to know it’s OK. We all go through hard times when we can’t be expected to be ourselves. We’re entitled to that. You just don’t stay there too long.”

“How long did you stay in it?”

“Me. Oh, it ended the day my Mom showed up. You don’t know her, but she’s a force to be reckoned with. She took one look at me, grabbed me by the ear, and tossed me in the shower with a bar of soap. By the time I got out, the apartment was tidied up, and lunch was being served with a side of one of her best lectures to date.”

“Can you spare me that treatment? I'm really not up for it yet.”

“Nah,” he grinned. “It’s not my place. I’m not your Mom, after all.”

“Yeah, well, my Mom only returned to Philly because I swore I’d be all right, and... I’m not all right, Tobias. I’m not all right at all."

"All right will come... then even better will follow. I promise you, one day, you’ll feel like yourself again.”

Casey turned her head toward the window, her skin appearing ashen in the late afternoon light.

“Forgive me if I don’t believe you,” she whispered so softly it almost went unheard.

“You don’t have to believe me. Not yet.   But you will one day, I promise. Now, what were you saying about therapy? You’re seeing Dr. Stevens, right?”

“I am. Well, I mean... I was... I haven’t since I left the hospital and I’m supposed to see her on Friday, but...”

“It’s important to go, Case.”

“I know,” she snapped but softened quickly. “I just... I can’t go see her.”

Tobias nodded in acknowledgment. “Because her office is right next to Edenbrook.”

Casey turned to him, surprised to see he understood. “I am not ready to go back there. I can’t go back there yet.”

“Understood. Dr. Stevens does have privileges at Mass Kenmore.”

“Privileges? Yes," Casey confirmed. But an office? No.”

“Understood. But if she’s willing to, I can arrange for space to meet you there. It’s not a big deal.”

“We could do that?” Casey asked.

“Why don’t you call her in the morning? If she’s willing to see you there, I’ll make it happen.”

Casey nodded her head with a yawn. “I’ll call her. I promise, after I get some sleep.”  

“That’s my queue to leave,” Tobias smiled. “You need your rest. But look, if you want the pleasure of my company again, promise me you’ll try to shower when you get up.”

Casey rolled her eyes dramatically as her head hit the pillow. “Fine! But if you think I’m sending you pictures of me in there to prove it or something...”

“Stop,” Tobias chuckled. “I’d never ask a friend to do that... and... we’re friends. Right, Case?”

“Yeah, we’re friends,” she said, her eyes already shutting. “Can you tell my friends I’m going to sleep?”

“Sure,” he smiled, thinking about how delighted they'd be getting that information from him. “Sleep tight, Princess,” he whispered, closing the door behind him. 

He could hear a pin drop as he walked down the hallway. He knew his past was working against him, and he had his work cut out for him to prove himself to those who loved Casey most. But he didn't mind. The biggest challenge would be proving it to himself. But he knew his intentions were good, and for once, that was all that mattered.

“She’s taking a rest,” Tobias announced as he passed the living room. “And I’m going to leave.”

He turned around briefly when Sienna called out his name. “Thanks for stopping by.”

“Yes, thanks,” Aurora concurred. "I'll see you at work."

The sun was beginning to set when he stepped out the front door. See, that spot had been there for a reason... because, against all odds, he was able to help, and for Tobias Carrick on this day, that was more than he could have asked for.

~~~~~

Next, we'll see how Tobias & Casey begin spending time together... and how each one of her friends and loved ones issues their own unique warnings. :)

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

@choicesnovchallenge / National Princess Day - because that's the first time she was called that, and she's on her way. lol

Tagging others separately.

[multiversed-daydreamer]

Raid Tensions

So a few friends and I were thirsting over Javi Peña in discord, and someone said "The aviators stay on during sex." and this was born

A/N: MDNI, Javi Peña x Reader, piv, Oral (m receiving), semi-public sex, dom/sub undertones, dom!Javi, sub!reader.

A/N: Edited for better flow... hopefully. Check out my Masterlist for more!

for @lumoverheaven this is your fault.

Summary: After a raid goes wrong, Javi and you both need to relieve some mounting frustrations.

You pant under the hot Colombian sun. The flack vest weighs on your shoulders as you watch DEA Agents and Search Bloc members rush in and out of the building your team raided as one of Escobar’s labs. It had been empty, someone somewhere having tipped the workers off before you arrived. You catch sight of your partner having a hurried conversation with Carrillo in Spanish before he turns and heads toward his truck. You follow, knowing he expects you to, even without prompting. 

You slide into his truck's passenger seat, eyeing how his forearm muscles flex as he grips the steering wheel tightly as he pulls out of the crime scene. You make it only about a mile away before he pulls into a narrow alleyway. 

You slip out of your vest before you leave the car without a word, waiting against the wall for Javi to join you. You’re not entirely sure when this situation between the two of you started, this mutual release of frustration and tension. You’ve both become used to how this works, it mostly happens after bad raids like today. It turns out you and Javi have very opposite needs when it comes to releasing tension, which allows you both to get what you need from the other. After a frustrating day, he needs to be in control after feeling out of control when no information crops up. You, on the other hand, feel like you’ve been fighting for control to keep your sanity after a long day of finding no leads, and at the end of the day, you crave someone to take that control for you.  

He rounds the car, dark eyes fixated on you behind his yellow aviators, and his sharp jaw clenched. “Kneel.” The command comes quiet and deceptively gentle but effortlessly authoritative all the same, and it never fails to spike your heart rate and make you want to obey him. 

You fall to your knees as he approaches, one large hand going to tangle in your hair. The other goes to his belt, unbuckling it as you reach out and unbutton his jeans. Together you manage to pull out his hardening cock. You lean forward to take the head of his cock into your mouth, flicking your tongue against that little bundle of nerves on the underside of his cockhead. 

Javi’s head tips back, and he lets loose a quiet groan. “Stop teasing, Hermosa.”  He pulls your hair, sending a delicious spike of pain through your scalp that zings right to your core.  He pushes his hips forward at the same time, forcing you to take him all the way down your throat. You choke, whimpering as he slowly draws out before slowly pushing back in, setting an easy pace that gradually gets faster as you begin to adjust and can take more of him in your mouth. He watches you, one side of his mouth curling up in a smirk as he watches you. You meet his eyes, knowing you won’t get to come if you look away. You whine around him pathetically, drool already leaking out from around your lips, coating your chin and his cock with it. You clench your thighs together to stave off your own arousal. He chuckles. “You’re so pretty when you drool all over me.”

He pulls out to give you a moment to breathe. The hand in your hair shifts and wraps around your bicep, hoisting you to your feet and spinning you to face the wall. Your hands catch against it, his arms curling around you to unbutton your jeans, yanking them, along with your underwear, down to your knees. “Jav!” You reach back, mildly concerned with how out in the open you are. The car blocks most of the entryway to the alley, but you still feel exposed. 

Javi’s hands adjust you. One goes to your upper back between your shoulder blades, pushing you further into the wall, the other is curled around your hip, and he uses it to yank your ass back. His spit-slicked cock brushes against the back of your thighs. “It’ll be fast. The car blocks us.” He lines himself up and pushes into you without much hesitation. You whine at the stretch. He’s always big, no matter how ready you are. 

“Fuck, Jav!” He doesn’t wait for you to adjust to his size, pulling back before sliding back in with a sharp snap of his hips. The hand between your shoulder blades slides up to curl around the back of your neck. Gripping tightly and finding his own pace. 

“Does it hurt?” He knows it doesn’t. 

“No.” Your voice comes out high-pitched, the grip on the back of your neck makes you feel needy, and it forces your muscles to relax between your partner and the wall. He chuckles knowingly, angling himself to shove his cock into the spongy spot inside of you over and over again. 

“Better come fast if you want to.” He growls, his pace hard and relentless as he rails you into the wall of the alleyway. The hand on your hip reaches between your thighs, finding your clit with his middle finger and rubbing quick circles around it. Your cries get louder as you approach the edge.

“Please cover my mouth.” You whisper as you try to stay quiet. He huffs in mock frustration. 

“So demanding today. Come for me first.” He says, snapping his hips particularly hard against that devastating spot inside you, forcing you over the edge with a helpless wail. He chuckles as he fucks you through it, laughing when you fall apart in his arms. “Let them hear you. Let others walk by and hear you cry on my cock like the needy little slut you are.”  You tremble as you start to come down from the peak of your pleasure, his hand finally coming to cover your mouth while the one between your legs returns to your hip. He pulls you back into his chest, moaning into your ear as his hips stutter. 

“So good for me.” He breathes as his pace falters, giving several slow, hard thrusts with accompanying groans as he follows you over the edge. You two stay there momentarily, his head bowed to nuzzle your neck as he holds you tight. He sighs and gently pulls out of you, stepping back so you both can adjust your clothing. You glance up at him, frowning for a moment. He hardly looks affected, his glasses still in place, his shirt kept in place by the vest he didn’t even bother to take off, which only highlights his lithe body. His hair is out of place from its usual combover, but he honestly just looks sexier with it falling into his eyes. 

As you get back into the car to head back to the station, you check his glove box and frown. “Do you have any napkins I can clean up with?” 

He starts the car back up and smirks at you, making your gut twist.  “No, I want you messy with my come for the rest of the day, baby. Understood?” 

You groan. “You’re such an asshole!” 

He reaches out and grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. “I asked if I was understood,” 

You whine at him. “Yes, sir.” Satisfied with your answer, he pulls back into traffic.