#i’m just very frustrated. and tired. it’s just all about money | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

0cta9on · 6 days ago

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Continue?

Length: 2.9k words

Genre: Smut

Le Sserafim Kazuha x Male Reader

(Author's Note: This was supposed to be for a prompt thing hosted by @mintwithchoco two months ago, but, uh.... yeah. Thanks to @gangplanksorenji for reading it over <3 Enjoy :>)

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】

“GOD! FUCKING! DAMMIT!” Kazuha punctuates each word with a slam of her fist against the claw machine. If the fire in her eyes was real, it would no doubt reduce the entire arcade to smithereens.

“Kazuha, please… We were supposed to close up an hour ago…” you yawn, eyes barely cracked open. All you get in response is a furious glare from your coworker before she shoves another quarter into the machine. If it weren’t for the fact that her anger, for all its fire, only makes her as scary as a grumpy little puppy, you’d be a little more inclined to push her along.

“Shut up! We’re not leaving until I win that teddy bear!”

“But we have the keys, we can just open the—”

“NO!” she screams. “I have to win it! It’s about the principle!”

As if she has any principles.

You let out a long, tired groan as your body sinks to the black light carpet that lines the floors. Had you been paired with any of your other coworkers, you would’ve been more than comfortable leaving already—in fact, you would’ve already been closed up an hour ago, when you’re supposed to. But, since there is clearly no God up there, you’re stuck with Kazuha, the absolute worst closer in existence. Leaving now would all but guarantee your unemployment.

“Fuck, I was sooooo close that time!” Kazuha drives her fist into the glass panel of the machine, the resulting thud echoing throughout the empty arcade. She stares daggers at the teddy bear she’s dropped a million times at this point, the heat from her breath fogging up the glass. For reasons unbeknownst to you, Kazuha has been obsessed with that specific bear for the past week, with its stupid little overalls and its stupid little farmer’s hat. No matter what line of reasoning you give her—”You are losing money at this point,” “We have an entire box of those bears in the back.”—she’ll just snap at you and go on and on about getting it “the old fashioned way.”

Before you can even react, she drops to her knees and wiggles her lithe body into the prize chute. Normally, you’d be worried about her potentially damaging store property, but your brain short circuits at the sight of her ass in those tight jeans.

“K-Kazuha!?” you exclaim. “What the hell!?”

“I’m getting that damn bear one way or another!”

A series of metallic thuds can be heard from inside the machine, her unusual obsession with that damn bear nearly causing the machine to topple over. You can only watch in utter disbelief as her arm peeks through the top of the prize chute, nowhere near the toy she’s been hunting for. If only there was a simpler, less exhausting way for her to get that damn toy…

“I think I can almost— ah… shit…” Despite her voice being muffled by the machine, you can very clearly hear the distinct tone of regret that often follows her random bouts of rage. “Hey bud, uh… can you help me out here?”

You groan, rubbing your eyes. “I already told you, just use the key—”

“N-no, it’s not that, um… I’m, uh… stuck…”

“...what?”

Kazuha squirms like a fish out of water as she tries to free herself from the prize chute, but with her shoulders stuck squarely against the sides, all of her efforts are for naught. An incredulous chuckle escapes your lips as you watch the ridiculous scene in front of you, a pair of slim legs poking out of the machine illuminated by trashy dim lighting—had you happened upon her like this with no prior knowledge, you’d think it was a set up to a bad porn video.

“So, um, can you help me out here?” she pleads, all the anger drained from her voice. With a sigh, you reluctantly kneel behind her, frustrated but not entirely unhappy about the direction tonight is going—it’s not everyday that you get to freely ogle at her assets like this.

If Kazuha is good for anything, it’s being eye candy. Aside from the middle schoolers keeping this dingy arcade in business, a good handful of your patrons are college boys trying to chat her up and the occasional newly-divorced single father spending “quality time” with his kid. Her temper doesn’t allow any of them to get close without a few scratches, but it seems some of these weirdos like a challenge, always coming back week after week under the guise of breaking their DDR high score or some other lame excuse.

You firmly grip Kazuha’s waist, silently thanking the inventor of skinny jeans, and pull on her with all the strength you can muster. Despite all her squirming and the honest effort you put in, her body shows no signs of budging. You could laugh if this wasn’t cutting into your valuable sleep time.

“Dammit. Hold on, Kazuha, maybe if I try—” As Kazuha continues to try and shimmy her way out, you notice a small pink remote slip from her pocket. It’s a simple remote, only having a couple buttons on it, but all of the text is in Japanese, making it impossible for you to know what its use is. “Uh, what is this remote for?”

“What remote?”

“This pink one that fell out of your pocket.”

“WHAT!?” Panic seeps through her voice as she desperately thrashes her legs around, kicking your hand and sending the remote careening into the air. “W-whatever you do, don’t push the—MMPH!”

It’s almost comical just how quickly Hell breaks loose in the blink of an eye—as soon as the remote hits the wall, Kazuha’s slender legs start to writhe erratically, her movements less like she’s trying to get out and more like she’s being electrocuted by Zeus himself. A flurry of slurred expletives and harsh grunts can be heard, barely contained within the metal walls of the machine. At first glance, you’d think she’d be in pain or experiencing some kind of claustrophobia-induced panic attack, but as you pick on the unmistakable sound of buzzing coming from in between her legs, it all starts to paint a rather filthy picture.

“Turn it—fuck!—Turn it off already!” she commands, barely keeping it together. You shake your head out of your daze and reach for the pink remote, pressing another button at random—although, with how great that went last time, perhaps you should’ve taken a second to think this through.

“W-wrong button, y-you—augh!—dickhead!” The buzzing in between her legs grows louder and her movements more frantic, more erotic even. She squeezes her legs together in some last ditch effort to mitigate the damage, but the growing wet spot on the front of her jeans tells you all you need to know about how she’s truly feeling.

“Oops. Did I mention that I can’t read Japanese?” you chuckle in amusement as you watch the pure insanity unfold in front of you.

“Top right! B-button on the fucking top right!”

As much as you would love to keep her like this all night as payback for making you stare at work for this late, you decide to show some mercy, her body going limp as soon as you hit the off button. You lean back against the wall and let out a long sigh, the absurdity of the night not lost on you. Time seems to slow down for a while, the distant beeping of the arcade machines and Kazuha’s occasional shaky breath keeping you company as you try to gather your thoughts. After all that, there’s no way in hell the two of you can just go back to being regular ol’ coworkers.

“...What the hell, man?” you mutter after a long silence.

“I DON’T WANNA HEAR IT!” she barks, somehow still having energy left in the tank to berate you. “I work five days a week dealing with sticky-fingered little shits and perverted old men for minimum fucking wage! God forbid I try to make it a little more fucking bearable!”

You let out a soft chuckle at her expense. “Y’know, most people just go to work high instead of doing all… that.”

“Eat a dick,” she fires back, rising back up on her shaky knees. Her tone is sharp, but there’s less bite to it now; you swear you can even hear a hint of playfulness in it. Enjoyment. There’s a brief silence. Not wholly uncomfortable, but just enough to make your skin crawl. Like the calm before the storm.

Then, muffled yet crystal clear:

“So, are you gonna do me or what?”

You didn’t think tonight could get any weirder, but boy, you were wrong by a long shot. “...what?”

“Hey, don’t pretend you don’t stare at my ass every time we work together. You probably jerked off to this exact scenario last night, you perv.”

You scoff at her. “I-I’m not a perv—Whatever, fuck this, I’m going home.”

“Hold on, you’re seriously gonna pass on an opportunity to fuck me?!” she asks, seemingly offended that someone would decline her so easily.

You barely take two steps towards the door before stopping and seriously thinking about her proposition—you could either go home and salvage as much sleep as you can, or you can bang your hot, albeit ill-tempered, coworker in this position you’ve only seen in dirty videos… seemingly for free? No repercussions whatsoever?

“Why me anyways?” you ask, your gaze shooting back and forth between the door and Kazuha’s tight ass.

“The only other people we work with are two girls and the walking bag of loose skin that owns the place,” she explains. “Unless those girls have a strap, you're the only one with decent dick around here.”

You sigh, shamefully sinking to your knees behind her. “I don’t even have a condom,” you say as if you’re not one zipper pull away from satiating your filthiest desires.

“I’m on the pill, you pussy.”

“How do I know you’re not lying?”

“You really think I would risk birthing one of those little demons?” she argues.

By all means, this is a terrible idea. Kazuha is simply bad decisions personified, fucking her would certainly lead to more shit you’ll have to deal with down the line. But then again… the damage is already done, isn’t it?

With all caution thrown out the window, you undo her jeans and peel them off of her, revealing the toned, creamy flesh of her ass hiding underneath and a pair of pink panties drenched in her arousal. “Jesus Christ…” you mutter in awe (Although, if He were real, he’d probably be very disappointed in the decisions you’re about to make).

Kazuha wiggles her hips at you, almost like she knows how much you’re gawking at her. “How’s the real thing compare to your fantasies?” she teases you.

You caress your hands up her supple thighs, the gentle pressure of your fingers creating perfectly round dimples in her skin. Her ass, free from the confines of her jeans, sinks into your touch, soft yet firm at the same time. “Much better. Sooooooo much better,” you say as you massage Kazuha in your hands.

“Quit messing around and fuck me already, we don’t have all night,” she complains.

“Didn’t take you for the needy type,” you chuckle, pulling at the waistband of her panties.

She scoffs. “As if. You should be the one thanking me for giving you this opportunity.”

A pink vibrator is tucked snugly in her pussy, sticky with her juices. You tug on it slightly, causing Kazuha’s body to shiver with pleasure. “Yeah, sure, thanks, whatever.” Without warning, you yank the vibrator out of her, causing a yelp to echo around the claw machine.

“Y-you fucker,” she breathes shakily. With a quick unzip, you’re already poking your length against her entrance, teasing her quivering cunt with your tip.

There’s a moment where you pause to survey the scene in front of you, dick in hand, Kazuha’s naked lower half just waiting for you to enter her. Like gazing over the edge of a cliff, you wonder if this is the right decision or just plain reckless, your mind teetering over the edge of right and wro—Ah, who cares, pussy is pussy.

You plunge into her honey pot, the sensation of her tightness unlike anything you’ve experienced before. Kazuha pushes her hips into you as much as she can, begging you to go deeper, harder, rougher. Muffled grunts of pleasure rattle the claw machine around, if you weren’t so drunk on lust, you’d worry that the machine might topple onto you with how wild you’re going.

“Oh god, you’re so big!” she huffs, words you’ve only ever heard in your dreams.

“Yeah?” You grow bolder, giving her ass a firm slap that makes her squeal. “You like my big cock?”

“Don’t push it.”

You scoff. Even as she’s getting railed from behind, Kazuha is still Kazuha.

Your fingers sink into that dainty, slutty waist, pulling her into you with each lust-fueled thrust, her ass jiggling beautifully as it meets your waist. With half her body inside the machine, you can only imagine what she looks like as she takes you from behind, eyes rolled back into her head, sweat dripping down her chin, those plump fuckable lips fixated into a permanent “O”. However, even through the mess of moans and cursing, Kazuha still manages to have something to say.”

“Is this seriously the best you can do?” she hisses at you between breaths. “All that size, and for what?”

“Ugh, do you ever shut up?” you groan, slapping her ass hard enough to leave a mark.

“Maybe if you give something worth shutting up for,” she snaps, purposefully tightening around your length. You slow down your thrusts, not wanting to finish too quickly—as annoying as she is, she’s also the only good fuck you’ve had in a while. You wanna savor it.

Noticing this, she pounces at the opportunity to mock you. “Aww, you ran out of steam already? You need a water break, bitch boy?”

That fucking does it. Your gaze shoots to the side, spotting the discarded pink vibrator, still glistening with Kazuha’s juices. You fiddle with the remote, putting it at its highest setting, and pressing the vibrator against her clit without warning.

Kazuha jerks around like she’s been electrocuted. “Fuuuuuuck!” she screams, her voice reaching octaves only dogs can hear.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you say with a smirk, picking up the pace and ramming your cock into harder, deeper. “Is this too much for you? Do you need a water break?”

The vibrator buzzes mercilessly against her clit, your thrusts growing rougher, almost angrier as you let out all your frustrations on her dripping cunt. The mechanical groan of the claw machine as it shakes from Kazuha’s movements combines with the lewd slapping of skin-on-skin to paint a rather obscene picture of questionable decisions.

“Where’d all that fire go, huh?” you huff, pushing the vibrator even deeper against her clit. All she can respond with is an aggressive punch to the wall of the machine and a gasp that sounds vaguely like a fuck you, but it’s hard to tell with all the incoherent babbling coming from her lips.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” you taunt her, hips on fire from ramming into her.

“F-f-fuck… y-you—AGH!” Her body tenses, her back arches, and she lets out a strangled cry that the claw machine fails to muffle—Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if the neighborhood down the block heard her orgasm. Even as her legs give out, you continue to hold her up, still thrusting, still pushing the vibrator against her overstimulated clit, and still enjoying this walking volcano being reduced to a puddle of desperate whimpers.

“P-please… stop…” she manages to croak out.

Finally, you show her some mercy, tossing the vibrator aside and adjusting your pace to slow yet deep thrusts. She trembles underneath you, too wrecked, too overwhelmed to produce much more than a faint coo. “Aw, look at you. It’s kinda cute seeing you like this,” you tease.

Even as you slow down, she still pulses around your length, and fuck, even with most of her fire quelled, it’s like her body is built to constantly crave pleasure. You grip her hips, knuckles glowing white, and bury yourself deep into her dripping, fucked-out core, shooting everything you have as your own high reaches you. As the last drop of your seed leaks from your tip, you collapse backwards, the weight of an entire shift and an intense impromptu fuck session pushing you deep into the black light carpet. The only sound left is the hum of the arcade machines and tangled puffs of heavy breathing.

While you’re left on the ground, exhausted yet satisfied, Kazuha manages to easily slip out of the prize chute and stumble to her feet, much to your surprise. “W-what the fuck… How… When—”

“After you shut off the vibrator, I figured I could angle my shoulders to the side and get out pretty easily,” she utters like it's no big deal.

You stare at her in a daze. “Then why the hell didn’t you—”

“This was fun. Let’s do this again,” she interrupts without so much as a glance in your direction. And then, as if nothing happened, she readjusts her jeans, grabs the maintenance keys from the prize counter, and unlocks the claw machine, nabbing the teddy bear that she’s been obsessed with for the past week. All that time, money, and effort, completely thrown out the window in the blink of an eye.

A bubbling feeling of rage builds in your chest, but even if you had the energy to let it out, Kazuha is already walking towards the exit, tossing the keys squarely onto your chest.

“Close up for me, will ya?” she asks, giving you a wink before skipping out of the double doors, leaving you in a sweaty, sore, confused mess on the floor.

#le sserafim #nakamura kazuha #le sserafim kazuha #kpop fanfic #kpop gg #kazuha x male oc #le sserafim kazuha x male oc #kazuha x male reader #le sserafim kazuha x male reader #smut #kazuha smut #le sserafim kazuha smut

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aothotties · 4 months ago

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Happy belated birthday, Gojo Satoru 💙

Warnings: MDNI, unprotected sex, creampies, multiple orgasms, oral (m. receiving), Satoru calls y/n mommy, reader calls him Daddy, overstimulation.

Picking out a gift for the man who has everything is not easy by any means necessary.

It also doesn’t help when he tells you that he doesn’t want anything at all, just to be in your presence.

You damn near start to pull your hair out of frustration until you realize what you can get your husband… well not so much get, more like make?

A baby!

From the moment you met Satoru, he’s always been very vocal about wanting to have a family one day.

You’ve always been on the same page about wanting kids, you just wanted to start a little later than he did.

And honestly, now is a better time than ever. You two have been married for almost a decade, you’re at the height of your career and have enough money saved up to go on a long break. (The moment you tell him you’re pregnant he has you quit your job)

After a few more days of thinking everything over you conclude that this is what you truly want.

So on the day of his birthday, you spend the entire day trying to get pregnant :)

Before his eyes can even open your thick lips are wrapped around his cock and your tongue is leaving messy licks on his tip.

Poor Satoru can barely get a word out before you lift your sheer nightgown and slide down on his length.

“I-is this all for me, baby?” He bites his lap at the sensation of your tight hold wrapped around his long shaft.

You slowly nod your head and throw it back at the feeling of his thrust against your g-spot.

“ ‘m ready Toru. I’m ready for a baby.” You lean down and suck small hickeys along his jaw and neck.

His eyes widen and his tip begins to twitch and leak at your words.

“H-huh, baby are you serious?” He holds your thighs down against his pelvis and looks you in the eyes.

You giggle at the shock on his face and nod your head in return.

“Yes baby I’m serious, now’s a better time than ever don't you think?” You lean down so your chests are pressed against each other, he gives you a soft smile and rubs a thumb against your cheek.

“This is the best fucking present ever baby.” He smashes his lips against your own and starts controlling the motion of your hips.

You moan at the speed of his thrust and grab the sheets near his head. The sound of wet skin slapping fills the room as you two ravage one another’s bodies.

After he fills you up the first time, he flips you on your side and holds you close against his chest.

“You’re doing so good for me baby.” He whispers in your ear, he holds your leg in one hand and holds the back of your neck in the other.

“Oh god!” You moan, your head resting on his shoulder as a pool of heat stirs in your lower stomach.

“You close sweetheart? Gonna spill that pretty pussy all over me?” He bites at your lower lip and you desperately nod in response.

“Go ahead and let go princess, let daddy fill you up again, yeah?”

And after he fills you up for the third time, you think you’re safe…. until you feel him lifting your hips.

“S-satoru!” You grip the sheets at the way he playfully rubs his tip against your swollen clit.

“Don’t you want to make sure it sticks princess?” You’re cut off when he fills your tired cunt once again.

Your entire body shivers at the feeling of being so full and you immediately feel an orgasm arising.

“That’s it, mama, you’re almost there.” He pulls you against his chest and wraps a large hand around your throat.

Tears form in the corners of your eyes as the pleasure continually rises to the breaking point.

“D-daddy!” You cry out and grab the back of his hair as your back arches and you fall apart in his arms.

He holds you against his chest and rides out his third orgasm for that morning. He rests his face on your neck and pulls you against him as you both fall back against the sheets.

“So, you wanna try again in about… an hour or so?” He checks his watch and looks over to see you already back in a state of slumber.

He pouts at how quickly you went back to sleep and opts to cover you both with a blanket instead

Ari

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x black reader #jjk scenarios #jjk x y/n #jjk imagines #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #satoru x reader #satoru smut #gojo x black reader #gojo x black y/n #satoru x black reader

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sierrale8ne · 6 months ago

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40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER TWO

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @patscorner @wbbgetsmewetter @makethemhoesmad @authentic-girl03 @rosemariiaa

kalena speakss 🪽! wanted to give yall another chapter tonight since college is kicking my butt atm and idk when the next update will be. hopefully soon tho!

May 2025 — Los Angeles, California

“I just don’t see why you keep acting like our relationship doesn’t matter. I'm tired of acting like it doesn’t piss me off.” Julian spoke, disrupting the peace I had created for myself as I got dressed in the bathroom.

We were supposed to be getting ready for the Sparks home opener game against the Dallas Wings. I was exhausted from getting into LAX at an ungodly hour of the night, and now the conversation was giving me a headache.

“Ju, are we together?”

“Yes—”

“Did you ask me to be your girlfriend?” I turn around, slipping the mini gold hoops in my hand into my ears.

“No, but—”

I cut him off before he gets the chance to defend his position. “Then we’re not together.” I sigh. “I like where this is going, I really do, but we can’t keep having this conversation, Julian. I’m tired of it. This is just the way my career is working out right now.”

“So what? You make more money when the public thinks you’re single?” Julian asks. He’s very visibly frustrated, as he has been since before I even stepped off the stage in New York.

“No. I make more money when I keep the main thing the main thing. And right now the main thing is my music.” The words bounce off the wall for a moment, silence cutting through the air. I feel bad. He really is a great guy, and I hate to put him in a position like this, but it’s the way it has to be. “Ju’ come on. You have to understand where I’m coming from. I’m sorry.”

My hand reaches out for his shoulder, attempting to lessen the blow. Instead he steps back from me, shaking his head with a huff and leaving the bathroom.

“Have fun at the game, ‘Raye.” He speaks as he leaves, and it’s my turn to huff.

I turned around. Looking intently at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

This is the closest thing I’ve had to a relationship in years, and yet, I’m spending the majority of it fighting over something dumb. But is it really dumb, or am I being insensitive?

I really do like Julian. He’s funny and sweet, he never fails to go out of his way to support me; I mean he just caught a flight to see me on Jimmy Fallon. He buys me flowers, he cares about communication, and all the little things. But for some reason I Just can’t keep up with it.

It sucks.

—

May 2025 — Crypto.com Arena, Los Angeles, California

The atmosphere in the arena is booming, and oddly enough I find myself surprised at how many people have filled Crypto. I’m seated courtside, underneath the basket nearest to The Sparks bench. The game is halfway through the first quarter and at a timeout when I take my seat.

I have on a burgundy leather set from Fashion Nova. The shirt is a cropped button up that I only fastened at the bottom button and matching shorts. I’m wearing a pair of matching burgundy Prada slingback pumps that my recent success has gratefully allowed me to purchase.

I sent a last minute text to my sister, telling her that Julian bailed and I would love it if she joined me, hence the slight tardiness.

I’ve never seen Cassie as excited as she is right now. She’s beaming with energy, you would’ve thought she’s been planning this for months rather than being invited last minute. She’s for sure more of a basketball fan than I am, I credit that to my uncle. Whereas my dad made me more of a football fan.

“You’re gonna be getting infinite Christmas gifts this year for this, oh my God.” Cassie jokes with a kool aid smile on her face. I giggle, brushing her off.

“I’m glad you’re having fun, Cassie.” I giggle, brushing her off playfully. My phone dings, and I pull it up from my lap to check the notification.

Hey I feel like shit about earlier

Talk when you get home?

It’s Julian. Of course it’s Julian. I try to fight the urge to frown but I can’t help the way the disheartened expression forms in my face. I shut my phone off, shaking the feeling off and turning back to the game.

The buzzer sounds, alerting us that the game is starting again. It allows me to finally bring my attention back to the game. The Sparks are down seven, but you couldn’t even tell that the fans were bothered by it.

“Jumbotron.” My sister whispers to me and I notice the camera moving past ‘celebrity row’ and getting shots of everyone.

“Bro.” I groan. I don’t hate it, it just gets so awkward. The camera man stays out there for too long and then I forget what to do with my hands.

But regardless, the camera approaches me and my sister. I look up briefly at the Jumbotron before back down at the camera in front of me. A smile spreads to my face and I wave emphatically. Fortunately it doesn’t take very long and the camera man backs away a little.

Only briefly though, because within a matter of seconds he’s crashing to the ground and his large camera falls into Casandra’s lap.

During all the basketball games I’ve ever watched, I’ve always wondered how common the players run into the media crew or the stands. And every time I've sat in an arena, I’ve always said it would never be me. So you can imagine my surprise when a 6 '1 Paige Bueckers fell right on me after getting fouled going for a layup, knocking over the camera man in the process.

“Oh shit, man you good?” Paige asks him. Her hand helps steady him on his feet and Cassie hands him his camera back, mumbling hurriedly if he was alright. The man nods, patting her on the back.

My eyes meet hers, and suddenly I’ve never seen a prettier set of eyes. A shade of blue that was indescribable. Her hand reaches out to the both of us, palms outstretched as she asks, “Are you guys okay?” It comes out as a stutter and I barely notice it but it’s there.

I nod. And then I remember she still has free throws to shoot. “Yeah. All good, thanks.” I smile. Paige turns around, brushing her teammates off with thumbs ups and high fives when they ask if she’s alright.

I would be an idiot to say that I wasn’t a little star struck. Sure, I wasn’t completely up to date with all things basketball, but I knew more than enough to know just how much Paige Bueckers was loved in the basketball community. Hell, the city of LA basically through a parade when they got that #1 overall pick.

She was a superstar, in all possible definitions of the word. You couldn’t go more than five minutes without seeing her face on TikTok or some commercial.

And she was stunning; the last five seconds of me staring at her confirmed it in my mind even more.

—

“Thanks, Holly.” I beam with a smile. It only takes a few seconds of me walking away from postgame to hear yelling in my ear and Cam’s long arms around my shoulders.

In the least cocky way possible, I played an amazing game. Yes, the defense I faced tonight was different than when I was at Connecticut and efficiency wise I did struggle a bit. Who am I kidding— I played phenomenal.

26 points 9 rebounds and 7 assists, the pick-and-roll with Dearica racking up many of those. The team came out with a narrow win over the Wings, getting our season off on the right foot.

“That’s my fuckin’ rook!” I hear Azura Stevens hype me up. I dap her up cleanly, the smile on my face physically impossible to get rid of. For only being on the team for a month, they did a great job of welcoming me with open arms.

I could definitely get used to this.

A towel hangs around my neck, picking up all the sweat from the game. I’m walking towards the locker rooms with a few of my teammates when I get pulled back for some autographs. I don’t say no, honestly I can’t remember the last time I refused to sign an autograph. Or if I ever did.

There’s a young girl in front of me alongside her mom. She has on the UConn National Championship shirt from a month ago, her eyes wide as she pushes my sparks jersey up to me. I sign it with a smile, my heart swelling in size when she squeals and thanks me profusely.

“You’re welcome. Thanks for coming out!” I grin. My feet carry me through a few more fans. I sign all sorts of memorabilia from hoodies, to jerseys, phone cases, and shoes. As well as a wild number of selfies before I hear my name.

“Paige, come here!” It’s Rickea, as her voice has become widely recognizable in the last month that I’ve been here. “Oh my God, walk slower!”

I roll my eyes as I pick up my pace. She’s standing courtside with her warmups on. “Finally. I wanted you to meet a friend of mine. Maraye, this is Paige.”

When I look over it’s the girl from the TV last night, standing there with her purse in hand and— oh my God I ran into her like an hour ago. I fell into her lap. Oh my God this is embarrassing.

She looks even more gorgeous than when I was drooling over her last night. Her hair is the same, from what I can remember, but her outfit is completely different. The color she has on is similar to the one from last night, but the set shows off so much more skin. Her legs are toned, the top she wears is unbuttoned just enough to give me a show of the lace black bralette under it, and her gold septum shines in the arena light.

“Hey.” I greeted her and the girl who sat next to her earlier in the night. “I do apologize about earlier by the way.”

“Don’t worry about it. It happens.” She reassures me.

“P, Cam, and I were watching the show last night. You did great, Raye.” Rickea pushes at Maraye’s shoulder. My eyes catch how she blushes in response.

“You on a world tour or something? New York last night, and LA tonight.” I joke, and she laughs. Her laugh is possibly more angelic than her singing, and the way her accent popped out when she spoke might even have an edge on that.

“Nah. I just couldn’t miss opening night. Kea’ would never let me live it down, plus my sister is like a huge hoops fan.” She explains, gesturing to the two women next to us.

I’m towering over her as I look at her but she still keeps eye contact with me. My eyes never leave hers, I didn’t even want them to.

“I was just telling her about Cam and Ben’s dinner party on friday.” Rickea starts. She turns to face me, but I’m still stuck on Maraye and her— well her everything. Rickea swats my arm as slyly as she can to get my attention. My eyes rip away from the musician with an incredulous force. “You are going to that, right?”

“I, uh, I’m not sure. I gotta check on when Drew and my dad are coming to town.”

“Maybe I’ll see you there then?” Maraye speaks.

Someone please help me figure out why her eyes are so mesmerizing. They’re big and a perfect shade of brown. The slight tilt of her head when she asks me nearly drives me crazy.

“Yeah maybe.” I nod before looking at Rickea. I don’t know how long we’ve stood here, but what I do know is that coach will hand our asses to us on a silver platter if we’re late to the first media session of the season. “Yo, we gotta…” My head tilts towards the tunnel.

“Oh shit you’re right. It was so good to see you guys!” She jumps, pulling Maraye and her sister into a group hug. “Tell y’all folks I say hi!”

The four of us exchange waves and we walk off the court. By the time we make it to the tunnel Rickea is letting out a loud cackle and pushing me away from her. “You’re not even trying to hide it!” She laughs. I know exactly what she’s talking about but I act clueless, it’s too early for my teammates to be ridiculing me over my choices in women.

“You are sooooo going to that dinner party.”

A smirk spreads on my face and I roll my eyes. For the first time all month, I can’t even disagree. Nothing is stopping me from going to that dinner party.

#sierrale8ne #kalena’s works ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅#paige bueckers #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x oc #uconn wbb #la sparks #lesbian #my fic #40 days and 40 nights

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valeisaslut · 9 days ago

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Hey val! just wanted to say collide is genuinely incredible. genuinely one of the best pieces of writing i’ve ever read, not exaggerating. I’ve been seeing you absolutely burning ellie to shreds and it made me wonder, what’s popstar!reader’s backstory? read she came from the voice but is there more to her pre-ellie life? she seems so layered and complex on her own, and i’d love to know how she got to where she is now. any lore you can share??

omg first of all—thank you so much for this, seriously. it means the world that you’re even asking about reader’s backstory. i’ve spent just as much time building her as i did ellie, and i love that she’s getting some of the spotlight too!

popstar!reader’s backstory is a little quieter than ellie’s, but it’s just as important.

she was just a normal girl, honestly. small town, two parents, one younger sibling. soft-spoken, always lost in her own little world—writing lyrics on her forearm in pen and humming melodies while unloading the dishwasher.

her parents were sweet but practical, the kind of people who clapped at school recitals and told her to make sure her dreams had health insurance. supportive in that detached, surface-level, “good for you, honey” way.

she taught herself how to sing, how to play guitar, and later piano—mostly in secret. lessons felt like too much of an ask. her family wasn’t struggling, but money was always discussed with that careful tone, like even wanting something made you selfish. so she figured it out alone. saved up for her first guitar by babysitting, bought a secondhand keyboard off Facebook Marketplace, and sang quietly into her pillow late at night so no one would hear.

she taught herself how to produce on GarageBand when she was fourteen, recording rough demos on an old laptop that overheated if she used too many vocal layers.

she'd mimic runs from old YouTube covers, learn chords from blurry tutorial videos, and practice until her fingers went numb. there were nights her voice would crack and she'd cry out of frustration, but she always came back to it. because no matter how hard it was—music made her feel like someone.

she wasn’t popular. not disliked, just… overlooked. you’d find her sitting in the back of the bus, hoodie up, scribbling verses in the margins of her homework. she barely even spoke in class, but when she sang? people shut up and listened. she just didn’t let them very often. the want was always there, but the fear was just as loud.

and then came 10th grade. her first real heartbreak. a girl from her English class—older, confident, the kind of girl who knew the effect she had on people. reader fell hard. it was messy, unrequited, and when the girl said “i’m not into girls like that” with a casual shrug? it destroyed her. she wrote ten songs that month. none of them were happy. she posted one of them on SoundCloud under a fake name. it got 43 listens. she made it her phone wallpaper.

no one thought she’d actually do anything with music. her teachers told her to “focus more on the sciences,” and her guidance counselor literally said, “sweetheart, music is a lovely hobby, but not a career.”

no one ever really believed she’d make it.

and honestly? most of the time, neither did she.

but something clicked her senior year. she was tired of being scared. tired of hiding. so she said fuck it—and auditioned for The Voice with one of her own songs without even asking her mom about it.

the rest happened fast. all four judges turned. her clip exploded online—TikTok, Twitter, YouTube, everywhere. people were calling her “the girl with the pain in her voice”. and yeah, she won. of course she did. got signed to a label before she even had time to process it.

her debut album was a glittery, razor-sharp pop masterpiece. dramatic, vulnerable, unapologetically girly. every song sounded like crying in the back of a club bathroom and screaming in your car on the way home. girls memorized the lyrics. gays dissected the bridges. critics tried to play it cool but couldn’t help calling it a cultural reset.

but through all the fame, reader stayed pretty much the same. she never really leaned into the chaos of it all. she wasn’t into parties. barely drank. never touched drugs. she didn’t care about being seen—she cared about being good. her team would throw her into red carpets and she’d sneak out early to finish demos in her penthouse. at one event, she literally left mid-party to go sit in the parking lot and hum a harmonie she couldn't get out of her head into her voice notes.

she barely dated. not because she didn’t want to—but because she didn’t have time. she never let herself have time. the industry was demanding, to say the least. she had something to prove. to everyone who doubted her. to herself.

she built herself from the ground up. no shortcuts, no handouts, no famous parents or flashy connections. just talent. obsession. the belief that maybe—maybe—her voice mattered. and a little bit of spite.

she gave everything to her career. and she became a star.

and then came ellie. and for the first time… she stopped thinking about the next song. because suddenly, someone made her want to stay in the moment. and god, that scared her.

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cameronspecial · 1 year ago

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Let Me Get It For You, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.7K

Summary: Rafe is determined to make his angel's wants come true.

A/N: Inspired by this video.

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron is a loving and devoted boyfriend. He is always trying to provide for Y/N and get her everything she wants. However, even with all the money he possesses, the universe seems to be against letting him give her exactly what she wants tonight. She watches as his hand moves the joystick in the direction of the pink unicorn and holds her breath as she watches him press the button that lowers the claw. For the second time tonight, the claw wraps around the toy but raises without the prize. “Ughh, this thing is a piece of crap,” he groans, kicking it. The bartender looks over at the couple, “Hey, man! Don’t kick my shit.” Y/N yells over an apology, glaring at her boyfriend slightly. “Rafe, it’s okay. You’ve tried twice already, I really don’t need it,” she reassures. Her hand places itself on his chest and gives him a small rub of comfort.

He pulls out of her touch to put more money in the machine and focuses on trying again. His new effort doesn’t work, leaving him empty-handed and more frustrated. As he pays for another round, she speaks up. “Seriously, Rafe. Let’s just go home. I’m tired.” He shakes his head, “No. You want this damn unicorn and I’m going to get it for you like any good boyfriend would.” “You are a great boyfriend. Winning me the stuffed animal isn’t going to prove anything that I don’t already know,” she says, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He looks over his shoulder to give her a kiss on the cheek, “It’s going to prove how much I care about you. Now, please, let me get it for you, Angel.”

Y/N knows arguing is futile, so she takes his credit card and goes to sit at a table to get something to eat. This is going to be a very long night.

——

Three hours later, Y/N and Rafe are still in the same positions. She is hunched over a book at the table and he is sitting on the bar stool he brought over to the claw machine. It has to be hundreds of games later, but he doesn’t care about his aching wrist. They are the only patrons in the bar and the bartender is now glaring daggers at Rafe while giving Y/N a sympathetic look. The bartender moves out from behind the bar and approaches Rafe. Rafe ignores the man, focusing entirely on the unicorn. “You got to go now. I’m closing up,” the worker says in a gruff voice. Rafe’s head moves from side to side, “We can’t. I need to get this stuffed animal for my angel.” “Nope, you need to go. Come on, man. Look how tired your girl is. Just cut your losses and go home,” the man disagrees, gesturing toward Y/N. Rafe looks at her and notices the way her eyes are fluttering open and closed and then sighs.

He gets off of the bar stool and heads over to her. He grabs her purse on the table, kissing her lips as an apology. “I’m sorry I made you stay so late, Angel. Let’s get you to bed,” he suggests. Her arm slings over his neck and they walk out to his car. When they get home, they go through their typical nighttime routine and fall into bed together, going to sleep in each other’s hold.

——

Y/N gets home the next day to find Rafe’s bed littered with stuffed animals. Front and centre is the pink unicorn with silver hooves. Rafe walks out of his bathroom, spotting his girlfriend with a grin. “You like it, Angel?” he wonders, coming to give her a kiss. She gives a small chuckle, “I love it, Rafe. But how did you get all of them? It must have taken you all day.” He gives her a sheepish look and he doesn’t want to admit what really happened, but he can’t keep a secret from her. “Actually, I just went back to the bar and offered the owner a thousand dollars for all of them,” he admits and this really gets Y/N laughing. “Rafe, you know all of this is probably worth like fifty dollars. A hundred, max.” His head buries itself in her neck to hide his embarrassment, “I know. But what my angel wants, she gets. And I wasn’t about to let one little unicorn get in the way of that.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia

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siolixz · 5 months ago

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ღ Of Love and Loyaltyღ

+18

Part 2

Pairings: Oz "The Penguin" Cobb x Reader

Reader takes Victor's place in this story. She and Oz have developed a relationship of sorts and she changed based on everything around her.

Reader is a young girl infatuated with a man decades older than her- who is also very dangerous and powerful (͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖)👌 pls take everything with a grain of salt. Oz's mom is actually dead in this story. I will write a third and final part to this after the last episode. Everyone in this story is 18+ and consenting 100%.

Enjoy, give some feedback if you want. (>‿◠)✌

Warnings: violence, age-gap relationship, smut(¬‿¬)

You finally made something of yourself. Sure it was all blood money, but you did- you did what you had to do to survive and not only that, to thrive.

Before leaving he told you to get in the car while he talked to Sofia outside, when you got back he was on his knees- a gun pointed at his face. You acted on impulse and drove the car into one of the guys there; best thing you could’ve done at the moment he told you.

You would think that planning to escape would distance you from him but it did the opposite- even after wrecking his car, that poor gorgeous car; you’ve never been in one as fancy before- let alone drive it.

“I’m so-sorry about your car.” you said as you stared at it in flames.

“Yeah- what're ya gonna do 'bout it- only the good die young.” he came closer to you and grabbed the back of your head- forcing you to look at him. “Don’t be sad about it- you’re worth a thousand more to me.”

He told you that you two were “really in it now”- and he couldn’t have been more right about that.

He got the Bliss operation back from the Maroni family by burning the mother and the heir apparent to their family- together. His brutality frightened you but If he wanted to rule the mob- he had to be brutal and unwavering in his choices, at least that’s what you told yourself to justify what he had done. Now not only Sofia Gigante was after you, but also Sal Maroni.

In the weeks following you had your own operation- underground, in a sewer system that connected you to all of Gotham, you became Oz’s eyes and ears above ground, traveling on your motorcycle- giving him news about the world above and delivering his money directly in his hands. He had given you your own gun—"just in case someone messes with you"—though you never ended up using it.

Oz trusted you, even after your attempt at an escape- he moved you two to an apartment on the East Side, one that reminded you of your old one; without electricity but it did its job. In the apartment you got very close to him, you got to know him much better and you changed too in the meantime, you were more confident- more sure of yourself next to him.

He was all you had, the one person who made you feel like you were the center of his world. One night- he came "home" late, as he often did. You were already in bed, curled up and trying to stay warm when you felt the familiar weight of his body sinking into the mattress. He slid under the covers and pulled you close, and you sighed, finally feeling the warmth and comfort of his embrace.

"The people in charge really don’t give a fuck about us," you murmured, exhaustion lacing your voice. It was a tired frustration—being cold at work and now being cold at home. Winter was coming, and your mind drifted to families with children who needed warmth.

He took a deep breath. The long days weighed heavily on him; managing his people and the constant stress left him drained. Most nights, he would grab a bite, and as soon as his head hit the pillow, cold or not, he’d fall into a deep sleep. You’d take advantage of those moments, cuddling close and pulling his heavy arm over you. Oswald slept like a rock.

"I’ll do something about it," he said, his deep voice vibrating through you. In the weeks you’d been together, you’d learned how to speak to him, how to make him feel powerful—your man, your only one. He was the only man who had ever made you feel this way, and you couldn’t deny the rush you felt watching him command respect when he barked out orders to his men, a cigar perched between his lips. God, he was handsome. Your stomach would flutter every time you caught a glimpse of him, even if only for a second.

He was a towering presence, terrifying when he loomed over you, and seeing him angry was enough to scare you senseless. But it also sets your heart racing for other reasons too.

Before the club, his gaze never strayed from you; now, it was his hands that constantly sought you. He couldn't help himself when you were close, sometimes grabbing you in public like an eager kid in a candy shop. You learned that when he called you into his "office," it meant he was either seething with anger or burning with desire—either way, you knew he’d end up taking it out on you.

He’d told you more than once that he hadn’t felt this alive in years, and you could sense the shift in everything he did—from the way he spoke to the intensity in the way he fucked you. He had changed.

You told him about Squid- about how he came up to you today- asking you where you got your clothes- “what shit you got cooking” - Oz asked you if it was going to be a problem, you told him no; he could count on you- you won’t let him down.

“You know, I think you’re the only thing keeping me good, doll.” he traced circles on your arm. If you were keeping him good, what was Oz like when bad? The thought sent a shiver down your spine.

You felt his hands traveling under the blanket and beneath the sweater and t-shirt you had on and you proceeded to hiss once they made contact with your skin “your hands are so cold” you said and he chuckled.

The next day, you made true to your promise and met up with Squid- you had a plan, of course you did, you would give him some money and hope he would leave you alone.

Of course the dumb bastard declined the money- of course he tried to intimidate you to “bring him to the big man” or else he was gonna go to the Maronis or Falcones- maybe they would help him; the fuck was he thinking? That a small-time asshole like him could make a deal with Oz?

So many thoughts were running through your head, what if you did bring him to Oz? You didn’t want to bother him, he had enough stuff he had to worry about- plus the things Oz would do to him were too graphic to think about. What if you ran? No, he would catch you- probably beat the shit out of you too. Shit.

“Ok, I’ll take you to him.” you said as you were going down the steps, him following. Fuck-fuck you had to shoot him, this motherfucker was going to ruin whatever you had going on.

You had to shoot him, no other time better than now- your pistol was in the front of your jeans. Do it now. You grabbed your gun from your pants and before you knew it, you turned around and pulled the trigger.

When you opened your eyes, Squid was gripping his throat- blood was coming out in buckets- he stared at you and your shocked face. Neither of you believing what you just did. Your breathing was becoming heavier and heavier- almost gasping for breath- you just shot someone- he was going to die.

Oh god, he was dying. You watched as the light drained from his eyes and you didn’t want to stick around to see him pass so you ran- you ran to your motorcycle and then you drove above the speed limit, probably breaking a few laws too until you got underground.

He was probably dead by now- you just killed him. You never realized that you were crying as well; you ran to his office and thanked the lord that no one was around to see you.

You opened the door and there he was, wearing a well tailored shirt and a vest- writing something down- money next to him. He quickly looked up as he heard you come in and then dropped his head down to continue what he was writting “Well look who decided to pay me a visit”, he muttered with a smirk; you tried to control your sobs and when he heard the shallow breath you took to steady yourself- he looked up again “The fuck happened?” he immediately got up and went towards you.

You told him what happened between sobs as he held you on his lap, seated in his chair. You told him everything; about Squid- how he threatened to go to the Falcones or the Maronis- how you knew you had no choice and while leaning back he told you that it will get easier, this isn’t the end of the world.

“You wanna know something?” He grabbed your face and made you look at him “You did what was right, you protected yourself, what you have. No one can take that from you- I’m proud of you.” Your sad demeanor was gone by now and replaced with the familiar warmth you had whenever he said something like this.

He kissed you and brought your body and embraced you “You’ve grown so much in these weeks, you’re no longer the kid that used to sneak around buildings-” you kissed him, bringing his lower lip between your lips. You wanted to forget- forget what happened and what you did- he always made you forget all your worries, you only ever thought about him when you were in his presence. He put his arm beneath both of your legs as you were sitting and you almost yelped when he got you on his desk.

“Oz-” Ok, maybe getting him started wasn’t the best idea, whenever you got him going he would forget about the windows in his office or the fact that someone might hear you.

You tried to bring one of your legs between the two of you, trying to stop him “-Oz, when we are home” you tried to reason with the man, even if getting fucked in his office would turn you on in the worst ways and you would be lying if you said that you weren’t getting wet already.

He loved the power he would hold over you- whenever he would manhandle you in any position he would like or whenever he would order you to do something- you couldn’t lie, you liked it too; sometimes he would have you suck his cock as he solved the men's pay, sometimes he would have you on all fours on his bed- Oz was a man that loved to be in control, to be number one- the best. You knew that.

He was already getting your jacket off, “Oz-” he grabbed the money from the table and placed it away from you two, before getting back to kissing and groping you.

He grabbed hold of your clothed pussy and from the feeling of his hand there- you raised your butt slightly up and pushed back into him.

This relationship that you two had, it made you feel like a woman- it was so different than the one you had with Robert, where it was just light touches on your face and small kisses- Oswald was a man, whenever he wanted you, he would have you and it made you feel as if you were wanted and desired- it made you feel alive.

He stopped and you knew someone was probably at the door. Shit- this is so embarrassing, you looked down and without making eye contact, went into the small room connecting to his office- he had a bed there, a small one; not big enough for two people to sleep comfortably but it was something. It was also way more warm in here than outside where everyone else was working.

You took your sweater off and sat on the bed, while listening to what he was saying to the guy that came in, something about the meeting he had and a surprise. You had to ask him about that, but after he was done with you.

Your heart was beating out of your ches- the door opened.

He looked at you and made small steps towards the bed, you were smiling while scooting back- with butterflies dancing in your stomach; wondering what he was gonna do next when he grabbed both of your legs and placed them on either side of him before joining you on the bed- on top of you.

One of his hands immediately went to your ass, giving him easier access to rubbing himself over you and the other one was supporting him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer as your lips met his. Despite the darkness and heaviness of the moment, he still radiated a magnetic presence—full of charisma as ever, his scent enveloping you in a way that made everything else fade. From the sharpness of his aftershave to the depth of his cologne, he had it all. He started pushing himself even harder against you, where it was almost painful; you moaned in his mouth and against his tongue.

He raised himself on his knees on the bed, casting a shadow over you and ordered you to take your jeans off and get on all fours while he was taking his vest off and unbuttoning his dress shirt. Your hands were shaking a little bit as you unbuttoned your pants and took them off.

After you obeyed him and raised your butt in the air, he grabbed hold of it- to angle you how he wanted; excitement so palpable you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, almost laughing. You felt him slowly enter you, giving you a few small moments to adjust to his size- you closed your eyes and moaned, you don’t think you’re ever gonna get enough of this man; all of him.

“Oh baby-” he was always so vocal during sex.

The feeling of him stretching you out and the feeling of him pushing himself in you in and out- whenever he would press himself back in, he brushed up against your g-spot- the sound of his body when it connected to yours was so loud- it made your cheeks burn- you were so wet and he didn’t even touch you all that much, like that night at the club. He had a gun under your chin and you were so wet, who even were you anymore?

You arched your back, consciously making yourself as pleasing as possible for him. The act itself sent a thrill through you, but it also made your cheeks flush with a mix of desire and shy uncertainty- the usual girlhood embarrassment that flushed your cheeks overtaking your body whenever he had you like this.

When he found his rhythm- while grabbing your waist and pushing you back into him, he’d shower you with praise. “You take me so well… you’re such a good girl—my good girl.” He knew exactly how to make your stomach flip with words like that—this old dog.

He pulled you back against him time and time again before you felt like it was almost painful, your moans of pleasure mixing with those of pain.

He pulled himself out and got on his back next to you, ”Come ‘ere” you giggled in excitement- he loved whenever you rode him.

You squatted over him- your legs on either side of his body and with one of your hands- you brought his cock between your legs and you watched closely as his stupid grin was wiped from his face when you lowered down on him, mouth open- you gave him a quick peck on his lips. Your legs were almost shaking and a thin layer of sweat covered his forehead.

From this position you could feel him so deep inside- you started to grind yourself on him- it felt so good; you almost started crying again.

Oz grabbed your tits from underneath your shirt and was slowly pushing himself deeper in you “You’re my girl- I’m so proud-” he groaned as he said that, this mountain of a man- beneath you, between your thighs; you felt like you held the power “-I’m so proud of you.”

From this position you could feel him brushing against your clit, the feeling only making you go faster, the thrill of reaching your peak on him taking over “easy…easy” he repeated- obviously, you didn't listen.

You shifted the tempo, lifting yourself up before sliding back down, causing him to grimace. Without missing a beat, he pulled your upper body down, pressing you flush against him- you pressed your face against his shoulder and he grabbed it- holding it there; the cold feeling of his rings compared to how hot your face was giving you goosebumps.

You felt him adjust his legs and from this position he started to fuck you how he wanted to. He thrived on being in charge, practically reveled in the power it gave him. God, your throat was dry- you were sure you would be sore down there after you two were done.

You knew anyone walking by could 100% hear you at this point, you tried to be quiet but to no avail with this man. Oz seemed to like whenever people would stare at the two of you and it excited him to think anyone would be listening in.

You brought your face up when he slowed down and kissed him, putting your tongue in his mouth. This felt so amazing but you knew he probably had places he had to be. “Do I make you feel good baby?” you nodded, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to the right side of his face, right on the thick scar that ran from his mouth to his cheekbone.

He was a strikingly intimidating man, his features hardened by a life of danger. You slowly brought yourself down and up- trying to match his movements.

“You get so tight around me-” he placed his arm over you, bringing you as tight as he could on him.

One of your hands went under the pillow he had under his head and the other was gripping the side of the bed. His rhythm was becoming sloopy- switching between fucking you and kissing you, on your cheeks or on your mouth; he grabbed your ass in both of his hands, squeezing and pushing you down on him while he fucked you.

You looked in his eyes, the light from above casting a shadow over them that only added to his allure. “-I’m gonna cum” you nodded again- words escaping you “Tell me where-tell me” he closed his eyes- you knew he would start with that, the only way he finished was inside you.

Whether it was your mouth or your pussy. Oz loved when you would describe how he felt in you, how you loved when he would fuck you- how you wanted him to cum in you. It turned him on. It turned him on how embarrassed you would feel most of the time he made you say those things.

You told him you wanted it inside and It wasn’t long before he started his fast pace again and you closed your eyes, trying not to moan as loud as you would like- fuck he felt so good. It mustn't have been long before you felt him slow down and the familiar feeling of his cock pulsing inside of you. You had to drink some water- your throat was hurting. Oz hugged you close to him and while one of his hands was rubbing your back he kissed your forehead- “You feeling better?”.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's note: Bro you just fucked him AGAIN?

Finished there the story because I KNEW i would start writing a lot and I wanna finish part 2 in time for the finale. I'm sososos excited for it and sad it will end ugh. Anyways hope you enjoyed and thank you to all the people that wrote nice things to me regarding my writing, I've been having some health problems lately and your messages made me feel so much better, truly. Have a nice day :))))))

#oz cobb #the penguin #the penguin tv #oswald cobb x reader #oz cobb x reader #the penguin hbo #oswald cobblepot #the penguin x reader #oz cobblepot

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padfootagain · 3 months ago

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Love in Verses (XLV)

Chapter 45 : ‘Nobody, but nobody can make it out here alone.’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! Let’s find out what is gonna happen between the best friends!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so no minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 3230

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Alone

Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone I came up with one thing And I don’t believe I’m wrong That nobody, But nobody Can make it out here alone. Alone, all alone Nobody, but nobody Can make it out here alone. There are some millionaires With money they can't use Their wives run round like banshees Their children sing the blues They've got expensive doctors To cure their hearts of stone. But nobody No, nobody Can make it out here alone. Alone, all alone Nobody, but nobody Can make it out here alone. Now if you listen closely I'll tell you what I know Storm clouds are gathering The wind is gonna blow The race of man is suffering And I can hear the moan, 'Cause nobody, But nobody Can make it out here alone. Alone, all alone Nobody, but nobody Can make it out here alone. Maya Angelou

Andrew watched the name of his best friend shine across the screen of his phone.

What was he supposed to do?

“Y/N? What’s going on?” Siobhán’s voice came muffled through the phone.

“Erm…”

“WHAT?!”

“Nothing, it’s alright,” you lied, before mouthing to Andrew to take the call.

And so he did. He picked up the phone, moved to the bathroom and closed the door behind him so he wouldn’t hear your conversation and you wouldn’t hear his.

“Hey, mate…” he answered the phone, trying to sound casual, but he was quickly interrupted by a very not-casual Alex.

“Andy, I’ve fucked up. I’ve fucked up big time.”

Andrew winced.

Christ, if your best friend and his best friend were heading towards some hurtful drama, you and Andrew were in for an awful lot of trouble…

“What did you do?”

“Don’t be mad at me, okay? I know it was a bad idea. I know I shouldn’t have done it. But I just…”

He heaved a frustrated sigh. Andrew could hear in the slight breathiness of his voice that Alex was pacing.

“I know that she’s Y/N’s best friend, and thus off-limits. But I just… Look, I didn’t… Christ… Weeping fucking Jesus Christ…”

“What happened?”

“I slept with Siobhán.”

Andrew tried to fake surprise, but Alex was his best friend…

“Wait?! How can you know that!”

“I didn’t! You’ve just told me!”

“Yeah, and you’re clearly faking it, so how did you know? Did Y/N tell you about this?! Wait… that means Siobhán told Y/N…”

Andrew heaved a defeated sigh, rubbed at his tired eyes. He had not slept enough for this…

“Siobhán told Y/N last night when they were having a night out… I overheard.”

“Fuck… What did she say?”

“Mate… come on… she confided to Y/N, I shouldn’t even know about this…”

“She called me last night.”

“Okay… And that’s not good, because…?”

Silence.

“Alex?”

Silence still.

Oh God… Alex was going to tell him that it was just a one-night stand, and Andrew and you would be caught in the middle…

“I like her.”

Andrew raised a surprised eyebrow.

“Well… that’s grand!”

“NO! NO, IT’S NOT FUCKING GRAND, ANDY! I FUCKING LIKE HER!”

“What did she say in her call?”

“Wait… like… you have to understand how this whole thing happened, okay? Because… we spent the past few months talking… on the phone I mean. Like… a lot. And every time I was up north, I’d drop by and have a drink with her, cause she’s good craic, you know? A couple of weeks ago, I had a gig in Belfast. And so, obviously, I invited her. And then, one thing led to another, and we… spent the night together.”

“Okay… sounds normal to me, for now…”

“Yeah, but when I woke up she had run off.”

“Ouch…”

“Yeah… like… one-night stand kind of thing. She had just… vanished. She didn’t call me again after that, I tried calling her a few, but she wouldn’t pick up… just… we slept together and then it was radio silence.”

“I will refrain from joking about that.”

He could picture Alex rolling his eyes.

“Sex was amazing, don’t even start,” Alex replied, but there was a chuckle in his voice.

“I see… she bailed out on you.”

“Yeah…”

“And last night?”

“Well… I woke up this morning to five missed calls and three long voicemails telling me that she had freaked out, that she liked me… a lot, that she was sorry, that she… more than liked me…”

“And that’s bad, because…?”

“She was clearly drunk. Do you think she simply wanted to get laid?”

“Aren’t you in Cork or something?”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t know that.”

Andrew remembered Siobhán’s confession the previous night, and the panic in her voice this morning. It was obvious she genuinely liked Alex, but had freaked out for some reason…

“Look… I… I like her, okay? Like… I really do. A lot…” Alex admitted, his voice shaking. “I don’t want some weird… friends with benefits situation, or for her just to call me cause she has a craving, like…”

“I don’t think that’s what it was, Alex. I really don’t.”

“You think?”

“Yeah…”

He heaved a sigh. He couldn’t tell Alex what Siobhán had told you last night, she trusted you with it. But he couldn’t let his friend being misled by fear either.

“Look, I don’t know everything about what happened on her side, and I can’t tell you what I’ve overheard, because it would be betraying Y/N’s and Siobhán’s trust… but, trust me, she was not calling just for sex. I think she genuinely freaked out that night.”

“Why? Like… it was amazing, Andy. Not just sex… although the sex was mind-blowing… but the evening was grand. Everything was fine. We weren’t drunk, we weren’t high, she knew what she was doing, like… why would she suddenly freak out?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know, but I think you should give her a chance to explain herself.”

“You’re a sap. Perhaps it was just sex…”

“Trust me on this. Alex… don’t bail out just yet. Give her a second chance. You’d regret not to, and you know it.”

Alex groaned, but agreed anyway.

“I’m not going to be tender on her, though. She left me… like… that shit… hurt a lot…”

“I know, mate. I know. But give her a chance to make things right. If she doesn’t, then you’ll know where to stand. Something tells me you want to give her a chance, right?”

Alex heaved a sigh.

“I really like her a lot…”

“Then don’t give up so easily. Everybody makes mistakes.”

“Since when are you so damn wise, huh?”

“I’m a professor.”

“Y/N has had a good influence on you, you mean?”

“Obviously!”

They laughed, but Andrew was gentle again when he spoke once more.

“Are you gonna be alright?” he asked his friend, concern genuine and evident in his voice.

“Yeah… yeah… Thanks, mate.”

“Anytime.”

“I guess… there’s no way you can keep me updated on what happens with Siobhán…”

“I’m not a double-agent! And I won’t take the risk to piss off Y/N. Are you insane?”

“I’ve seen her angry once and I understand why you won’t take that risk, even for me.”

Andrew laughed.

“Yeah… terrifying. And super hot.”

“I don’t want to know anything else about that, bye, Andy!”

Andrew merely laughed while Alex was hanging up. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, and then walked out of the bathroom again.

You looked up at him, still on the phone with your friend.

“You can tell Siobhán to stop panicking. And if Alex calls, she better pick up the phone and have a proper conversation with him. He’s not mad. He’ll give her a second chance. I don’t think she’ll have a third though.”

You nodded.

“Did you hear that?” you asked through the phone.

“Yeah… thanks, Andy!”

“Don’t mention it.”

A high-pitched cry came from your phone.

“Oh my God! He’s calling me!”

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it.”

“No! Wait! What do I tell him?!”

“The truth, Siobhán. Tell him the truth.”

Before your friend could answer, you were ending the call.

Andrew kept on staring at you for a moment, while your gaze lingered on your phone. You hadn’t moved from the bed, the covers gathered over your laps and his t-shirt covering your chest, your hair messed by sleep. You rubbed at your eyes, heaved a sigh. When you looked up at him, you held out your hand, and he knew what that gesture meant.

Come here to me.

And so he came closer, he always did, chose to do so every time.

“Had you seen this one coming?” he asked, half-amused, half-worried.

“Not really… I mean… I knew she kind of liked him. I thought she was joking around more than anything else, though. And I thought that if anything was to happen between them, it wouldn’t be anything serious.”

“I didn’t think they were into each other. I thought they were just friendly. Alex didn’t tell me about it.”

“Siobhán only told me last night too.”

You held out your hand again, and he took it in his, interlocking his fingers with yours. But then you gently pulled him closer. And so, he climbed back into the bed, sat against the headboard and opened his arms for you to nestle in his warm embrace.

“Why do you think she reacted like that, though? Alex was upset.”

“Was he?”

“Hmmm… I mean, it’s Alex. He’s not like… the kind of guy to talk about his feelings a lot. But I know him. He was upset. He really likes her a lot.”

You took a moment to answer, and he didn’t rush you. He knew you so well, like the back of his hand, sometimes he caught himself thinking he knew you better than anyone on this earth, and sometimes he even thought he was right about that. You would answer, you simply needed time to gather your thoughts. Your touch was soft on his stomach, your fingers tracing mindless patterns over his skin after you slipped your hand under his t-shirt. Nothing sexual, you simply longed for the closeness that came with skin-upon-skin, and he knew what that felt like. The want… the need to reach out for someone he loved. Longing for the comfort that came with the simple, chaste touch. His heart sped up at the thought that you loved him like that, too.

“She just… I didn’t know her yet, when it happened, but she told me she had been in a serious relationship when she was very young. It got messy. I don’t know the details, but she told me he was very controlling. She was 18, and when she got out of all that mess, she wanted to just… enjoy herself. Discover herself. I think she values her freedom more than anything else now, and she’s scared that trusting another man again to the point of entering a real relationship will take that freedom from her.”

“Alex isn’t controlling at all… he’s a good man.”

“I know. And I think that if she’s falling for him, it’s because she knows that, too. But still… I reckon that’s why she’s freaking out.”

“I hope they can figure it out. Because they genuinely seem to like each other, but also because, if things turn ugly between them, it’s going to be difficult for us.”

“Yeah… I hope they’ll figure it out too.”

Andrew checked the time on the screen of your phone, you had discarded it on the bed. He heaved a sigh.

“We should get up and get ready for lunch.”

But you didn’t move an inch.

“Five more minutes.”

“We’ll be late.”

“You’re always late everywhere, might as well use that as an excuse.”

He laughed at that, bright and loud.

“I thought you’d have a good influence on me, try to make me be on time to things.”

“Absolutely not. Not when I can cuddle you instead. That is so much better than getting ready for lunch.”

Andrew smiled, tightened his hold on you.

Yeah… he couldn’t argue with that.

Your visit at Queen’s University was full of nostalgia. You pointed at things to show them to Andrew as you walked by together, hand in hand. You showed him your former office, introduced him to your colleagues. You would have been lying, had you pretended that you weren’t showing him off a little. But then again, you reckoned that you could…

Your former boss was still the same. Cillian was sweet and funny, and looked at you like a proud father. After all, you were young enough to be his daughter, indeed.

He seemed to like Andrew the second they shook hands, and he spent the next fifteen minutes asking your boyfriend about his research and his classes. He seemed impressed, you were so proud…

You headed to your old cafeteria for lunch, the one where you had spent years eating mediocre food while laughing with your colleagues, caught in your little academic bubble, oscillating between fear, depression, burn-out, female rage and love for your job. You hadn’t moved to Dublin too long ago, but still, it felt like a lifetime ago that you were working here. Your life was so different then. You looked over at Andrew, sitting next to you, doing chit-chat with some of your former colleagues, and you smiled at the thought that your life was so much better now…

By your side, Siobhán finally managed to catch your attention long enough to whisper an update on her love life.

“Alex and I talked this morning. A lot.”

“And?”

She heaved a sigh.

“I did what you told me. I told him the truth. That I was freaking out, that I was afraid to enter an exclusive relationship again. I… I told him about my ex.”

“And? What did he say?”

She smiled, something tender and sweet, a look you hadn’t seen in a long time on her.

“He said that he understood, that we could go slow, but… that he had feelings for me. That he… really liked me. And that he… he didn’t want to sign up for anything that wouldn’t be exclusive.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah… so… I said I could try, give it a go… But that I needed him to be patient with me. He seemed to understand.”

“I hope it’s going to work for you two! You would go well together.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, I know so.”

“And since when are you an expert in romance, huh? Just because you can quote any scene from Pride and Prejudice doesn’t mean you know shit about matters of the heart.”

But you gave her a cheeky grin

“Since I’ve found this tall lad I love very much,” you answered, leaning against Andrew.

He didn’t know that you were talking about him, he was busy with his own conversation. Still, he didn’t think as he shifted closer, moved his arm to wrap it around you, to rest his hand on your waist, to draw mindless patterns over your jumper.

“You two are disgusting,” Siobhán winced, but you knew she didn’t mean it.

You lingered in the cafeteria over a coffee that was growing cold. Some of your former colleagues went back to work, including Siobhán, but you kept on talking with Cillian, he didn’t seem ready to part just yet, wanted to make sure you were doing well down there, in Dublin. Meanwhile, Andrew was talking with a PhD student you didn’t know, but who had tagged along with the rest of the team at your table for lunch, and you didn’t mind that she was there, of course, you wouldn’t have wanted for her to be left alone simply because you were visiting and didn’t know her.

That was before she started seriously hitting on Andrew though…

He didn’t seem to notice, his answers were neutral and shy, the ones you knew he would use with any new person he would meet. Voice quiet, shoulders a little bent, trying not to seem too intimidating, his shyness coming through. Still, he was charming, kind, and looked like sin…

You noticed the way she stared as he ran his fingers through his glorious curls, and you hated it.

You hated too that you felt jealous. You trusted Andrew, and you couldn’t imagine him doing something as disrespectful as flirting with another woman while he literally had an arm wrapped around you. Still, your blood was boiling. More than anything else, it was boiling because you were frustrated with your own thoughts, with your own stupid doubts about yourself and your own worth. But she was smart, and so pretty, and was so confident, the kind of confidence and charisma you lacked in your daily life…

You hated yourself for thinking that Andrew could prefer someone like her over you…

When Cillian wanted a refill of coffee, before ‘finally letting you go’, you couldn’t say no. So, you stood up with him, went to the coffee machine and chatted with just him for a while, forgetting to fill up your mugs, but none of you were fooled. When it was time to leave, he was genuinely sad, but you promised him to come visit again sooner. Besides, you would see each other again in conferences and seminars, you were doomed to bump into each other regularly, as academics working in similar fields. You were still melancholic when you bid him goodbye.

When you walked back to the table, on the other side of the room, Andrew was standing up, his cheeks flushed and brow furrowed. He visibly relaxed when he saw you walking closer.

“Are you ready to leave?” he asked in a neutral tone, but you heard it still that he was angry.

Why was he angry?

“Yeah! Let’s go! I need to show you the library before we leave the campus.”

“Sure, lead the way, hun.”

You waved to the rest of your colleagues, before walking away. Andrew remained quiet until you were out of the building.

“What’s wrong?” you probed, and he threw you a cautious look.

“Cassie… the PhD student…”

“Hmm?”

“She was hitting on me.”

His cheeks turned crimson, you weren’t sure if it was out of embarrassment or outrage.

“The audacity of that woman! My partner is right there, I’m here because I’m accompanying you… and she hits on me?! Unbelievable…”

You tried to bite back your answer, but couldn’t.

“Well… it must be flattering, she was beautiful…”

He rolled his eyes.

“I’m taken. And she knew it. It was very disrespectful. That’s why I wanted to leave… I hope I didn’t rush you.”

“No… no, you didn’t, don’t worry.”

“Christ, I can’t believe it… I still can’t believe it.”

He seemed to read into your silence, into the way you walked just a little bit further away from him than usual, into the way your steps were not quite in sync with his.

He reached for your hand, made you stop and turn to him. Outside, students hurried to their next classes or towards the library you were heading for yourselves. You didn’t notice any of them as they passed by. But then again, how could you, when Andrew’s hazel eyes stared into your soul this way?

“Y/N. I would never do that to you. You know that, right? I… I’m not that kind of man, but after what happened with our exes, I would never…”

“I know. I trust you.”

And you did. You reckoned that you trusted him more than you trusted yourself, because if you doubted your own worth, the love in his gaze as he smiled down at you showed you that he never doubted.

He reached up to cup your cheek.

“I know it wasn’t a comfortable situation, but I love you. You’re the one I want.”

“I know. And I want you too.”

He looked away, mumbled the rest of his confession, before he started walking faster than before.

“I don’t think there is another person on this earth I could want more than I want you, baby.”

You grinned, hurried to follow him. You reached for his hand, held it tight in yours.

Maybe, he did love you as much as you loved him…

#andrew hozier byrne #hozier #the hoziest #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier x fem!reader #hozier fanfiction #hozier fanfic #hozier series #hozier au #hozier professor au #professor au #fanfiction #fanfic #writing

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distorted59 · 2 years ago

Note

First of all, I love your works soooo much! And I love you too

Please I really want Kirk Headcanons. He’s the love of my life! I want to cuddle him and also something smut things too

thank you lovely!! I'm sorry for taking so long, i hope you enjoy!! <3

He’s really shy!! When you first met him, he was very nervous. Blushing and stumbling over his words. (You thought it was absolutely adorable of course!!!) When he first shook your hand, he felt electricity running through his body. After a while he fell right into your trap, he was hooked. Begging for more every day.

He gets flustered a lot when he’s around you. He would mess up riffs during rehearsals or stumble over his words. One time he didn’t sleep very well, because he was overthinking all night. (May or may not have been horny all night) and he’d show up tired and sexually frustrated. You’d welcome him with open arms and took a nap together, when he woke up (hard) he got nervous. Your smell and arms around him drove him crazy. You noticed him stiffening once he woke up and quickly figured out what was happening. You’d start kissing his neck and rubbing him over his jeans. “Let me take care of you, baby.”

loves to eat pussy. Like he devours it. All of the boys would be into it but he’s addicted to it. Very good at it as well. He’d pull you to the edge of the bed so he could grind himself against the mattress while eating you out.

“Fuck, you taste so good, baby.” Kirk moans against your cunt. His hips are unrhythmic and desperately grinding against the bed.

you moan and tug on his hair, keeping him in place right between your thighs.

“Hmm!” you let out a squeal as he hits just the right spot. Kirk is humping against the bed like an animal.

“gonna make me cum just like this, honey, fuck!”

I feel like he gives the best hugs ever! Loves to cuddle and hold you close to him.

80s Kirk is such a cutie, I just wanna hold him and kiss all his worries away. like, he’s such a geek with all his comics and action figures. Imagine going with him when he wants to buy new toys.

“Oh my god, babe!” Kirk whisper-yells at you and holds up a new issue of ‘Monster Magazine’.

“Is that the new one, baby?” you smile at him, finding it overly adorable how excited he always gets.

"Yeah!" He looks at the back. “I’m gonna get this.”

He smiles excitedly at you and kisses your cheek. You giggle and blush a bit, not expecting the kiss.

“Can I read it after you’re done?”

“Of course, baby!” Kirk grabs your hand. “We’ll read it together!”

Talking ab horror…. he would be into monster roleplay…. HE WOULD DONT DENY IT. Like him dressing up as dracula and you are the girl who got lost….. like!!!????? and he finds you and traps you and bites you and fucks the absolute life out of you. Thank you for listening.

Also, the fact that in all those videos where he makes a joke and no one laughs??? c'mon now… baby is just trying to have some fun :(

his stutter is so cute!!! he still gets nervous sometimes and can’t look you in the eye or form a sentence. but you don’t mind. <3

I have been thinking about this a lot lately; giving Kirk head for the first time. him all whiny and excited, not knowing what to expect.

“I’ll be gentle, okay?” You look up at him through your lashes.

“Mhm.” He has his fingers over his mouth, unable to even speak. You stroke him lazily and smile at him. He throws his head back and lets out a huge moan when you lick the tip.

“Ooh~, baby!” He whines. “ngh.. fuck!” his chest moves up and down and he tries to hold your hair back for you.

you lick him from the base up and put him in your mouth. You’d think he’s seeing stars, cause he lets out the most heavenly moans you’ve ever heard.

“feels so good, baby~”

yes, just a silly little thought.

the older he gets the rougher he gets, i feel. I mean, the fame and money definitely upped his confidence. which isn’t a bad thing AT ALL.

One of my favorite eras of him is htsd, his hair is starting to gray a little bit, and his skin has that old deep tan. the mustache, the goatee. yes just yes.

I feel like he’s such a tease!!?? imagine going out for dinner with some friends, or the rest of the band. and he’s touching you all over.

“Does my baby wanna feel good?” he slides his hand over your thigh. He’s been touching your thighs an kissing your neck all fucking night.

“Kirk, please.” you whimper. “Not here, why here?”

“Why here?” he smirks against your neck and moves up to whisper in your ear. “Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying this as much as I do, princess.”

GIMME THAT I NEED IT NOW

He’s a really sweet boy, has a kind heart and actually looks too cute to be in a metal band. His voice is so sweet, his hands are very soft. (they become more and more calloused over the years). He would trace his fingers over your skin and whisper sweet things in your ears and place soft kisses on your neck.

ALSO Kirk with eyeliner!???? just imagine you making him feel so good after a show or sum and he starts crying in pleasure and it just drips down his face!!???? His face is messy and his eyes are red with tears as he craves more and more of you.

actually need that rn

and going to the beach with him!! maybe he'll teach you how to surf or just chill with you enjoying some drinks in the shade and going for a casual swim. <3

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iwoulddieforher · 2 months ago

Text

Birds of a Feather | Casey Novak × Alex Cabot

I'm back posting fics! Did anyone miss me? Probs not. Anyway, here: Set during the falling out when Liv was having trouble adjusting to the lack of Stabler, and Casey's beginning to dwindle. Very Casey-centric.

Warnings: Canon-typical case-related violence, Casey being super burnt out, minor references to Charlie/Liv & Case have big argument

Summary: Casey's exhausted from the uphill climb of returning to her former position of respect after being suspended, and Liv's becoming increasingly adversarial due to Stabler's resignation. A case involving a schizophrenic exasperates the problems between the two- and Alex shows up in the middle of Liv & Casey's blowout argument. ~13k words.

alternatively on AO3, which you can find here

“No, Sir, I know-” Casey tried to interject, pacing back and forth in her cramped, tiny office- they hadn't allowed her her original space back, and she had realized that was yet another form of punishment- and trying not to lose her sanity on call with her father.

“I’m not getting any younger and I don't like that you're still playing these legal games,” Major Novak barked, his voice the dry, scratchy cough it always was, “Casey, couldn't you have just let it be? You got suspended once, we all see the toll that took on you, and it's not like you're getting any younger either-”

“Daddy,” Casey let her voice break, finally, but it had been nearly half an hour of this back and forth and she was done, she was tired, and tears were starting to prick at her eyes. “Daddy, I know. I’ll- I’ve already asked about my work contract, I’ll…”

She moved the phone away from her mouth so he wouldn't be able to hear her sniff, forcing herself to swallow back the frustrated tears, before taking a deep breath.

Her admittance hadn't been a lie, either. She had checked what the circumstances of resigning her position had been, but- it didn't look particularly good. With a reputation like her’s, she wouldn't be able to be hired on to any sort of alternate use for her legal prowess like this, and she was far away from being able to retire properly. But her father wasn't wrong, as much as she hated to admit it, her job was starting to eat away at whatever sanity she had left.

At her submission, though, her father finally relented his beration, the line going silent for a long moment. “Good, Casey. And you mustn't worry about money, because your mother does need a keeper, and your siblings give us a share every month for that- we could fire her nurse, and you could replace her. I’m sure your brothers would be happy to support you.”

Casey grimaced, swallowing again, but with a hollow voice replied, “Thank you, Sir. I’ll consider it, really.”

She would be reduced from the formidable rising star protege prosecutor she used to be, replaced instead by being her father's failure of a daughter, the sibling who was at first so far ahead and then fell so far behind, designated ultimately to being her ailing mother’s keeper, because there was nothing else she was worthy of doing.

As she hung up the call, the darker part of her mind chided in bitterly that at this rate they shouldn't trust her to look after Mom- she’d probably fuck that up, too.

She ran her fingers through her hair, nails digging into her scalp a little more forcefully than need be, and sighed, deeply, as though letting the carbon in her lungs would cleanse her of the overwhelming feeling of filth.

Failure, she bit at herself, but her self deprecation was halted as her pager went off- she was being summoned to the precinct, evidently.

On the way there, Casey contemplated what had gone wrong in her life.

She stood at the side of the street, flagging down a taxi, and with a depressed sigh she remembered how she felt when she was youthful and energetic, eager to prove herself and ambitious, taking her bike where she needed before she had caved to those who told her it gave off an odd impression.

The fact she was about to be filled in at the precinct on the current case wasn't wasted on her demons either- she longed to show up at crime scenes like the used too, process evidence and witnesses and suspects herself, watch through the windows as detectives interviewed, jumping on leads to hound down individuals herself in the pursuit of ensuring justice.

She toyed loosely with her faux blonde hair as she climbed into the cab, her mind lingering on when it had been short and she had worn it in fiery, fierce curls that framed her face when she was back in white collar- how when she transferred to SVU, it became harder to get up in the mornings, and she defaulted to straightening it instead. Now it was long, and dyed lighter to be more what the others expected.

That sentiment- to be what others expected- hurt the more she thought about it. Over the years she really had lost that fire that used to be so central to the way she operated, and she wasn't sure if it had been tamped down or if she had simply lost it herself.

Coming back from her suspension was especially difficult. Those three long years of working odd, vague applications for her knowledge without being able to use any sort of licence were grueling and yes she had made it through but it had drained her an immeasurable amount.

She hadn't realized how much she had considered the squad some form of support system, or at the very least provided her a sense of stability, until during her suspension it was gone. Stabler, especially- Elliot had looked out for her, offered her a shoulder she had never accepted, but she liked knowing he was there. Catholics from a similar background, and he reminded her a lot of her brothers.

Casey had left New York entirely, traveled to Rhode Island, tried to find something that would make the nauseating guilt seep away. But nothing could. She had screwed up- honestly, that year had been a slow build to the climax of the violation, with the investigation into the juvenile sex offender operation, Saul Picard, and finally Officer Chase- it had brought her to an emotional epitome she simply could not bring herself down from, left lingering on cases now officially deemed closed, formulating arguments and motions she could never use.

Elliot had called her, a few times, to check in. He had been the one to see how broken the sex addict's rape had made her, and he was perhaps the only one of the squad to notice that build up. She liked talking to him, states apart, and he’d catch her up on the latest cases and complain about Greylek and how much he’d rather have her back instead of the stone-faced, impersonal ADA replacement.

She remembered the big smile he had flashed her when she first arrived back, and how it had momentarily comforted her.

Now she was back, but Stabler was gone- he had earned retirement, though, she couldn't argue against that, but still-, everything was different. Olivia was so much more adversarial, and Casey knew she was simply grieving the loss of Elliot and throwing herself nose-first into the depth of human depravity to fill the void, but it didn't help her enough to accept the jabs the older brunette shot at her without letting them build onto her growing insecurities.

Rollins seemed sweet but Casey had never interacted with her- the squad didn't get together like they used to after cases, the warm nature she had first been a jealous intruder into before eventually being accepted back in her youth was now gone. Perhaps she was too old for it now, anyway. But still, she missed the cold beers and clustered tables of cop bars, and Olivia and Elliot stopping by to invite her there. Olivia spending the nights with her in her office, grabbing coffee and chatting about the developments of cases.

She really, really missed the friendship, the solidarity that used to exist- gone, all gone, like her sense of self.

Amaro was Amaro. He followed Olivia around like Stabler used to, but it was obvious he was still fresh meat, and Olivia would not be able to bond with him the way she was seemingly tied to Stabler.

The judges were wary of her, the defense was always pleased because no judge would give her leeway and they could jab and object at whim, and she was hanging onto the DA and her job on a fine line that she felt like she would fall off any second.

Even if she didn't directly mess up, even if she never made a mistake again, she knew it was because she was playing it overtly safe, and overtly safe was no way to remake her name and image. She could be fired simply for not being interesting, for not securing the overhauling victories she used to be capable of.

But pushing the line the way she used to, to regain that feisty nature that used to make the defense’s jaw clench when she stood, required others to trust her in a way they didn't. She had forfeited that right to trust, and she had no way to get it back.

Maybe her father was right. Maybe she was getting too old for this- maybe the suspension was a sign this work wasn't what she was cut out for, and she was simply too stubborn to accept it wasn't worth it.

She was snapped out of her thoughts when the taxi pulled over, and after providing payment and exchanging courtesy she exited and tried her best to stroll into the precinct, focusing on long strides, not looking stupid when she pulled her coat off and tossed it over her arm.

Casey had started holding her jacket over her arm like that whenever she was here, so she’d have something to do with her hands, so she’d have an excuse to hold her arms tight to her body.

“So, what’s on the plate tonight, Captain?” She tried to sound cheerful, but not overly so, rearranging her face in the half-way-to-smug smile she used to flash so easily.

Cragen rubbed his nose and nodded, his broad shoulders sloped inward the way they always were. He nodded at her, and then motioned with one large hand towards an interview room, where a young man was speaking with Detective Amaro.

Olivia and Rollins were watching from the outside, staring intently, and although Amanda turned to jerk her chin up with a slight smile that Casey returned- nothing more than acknowledgement, but Casey could appreciate it- while Benson stayed still, her brow furrowed as she stared lasers into the ongoing interrogation. She did not move to welcome Casey into the space, and Casey had not assumed that she would. Regardless, she found her place standing beside her.

“A young woman was raped and strangled to death in Central Park,” Cragen said with a small sigh, “Our first suspect was the roommate, because of some suspicious texts we found on her cell, but he showed up himself willingly and agreed to talk.”

“Alright. So, he looks good for it?” She questioned, eyes on Olivia- she wanted some sort of glance, something, but Olivia did not look at her.

“She was a grad student working on a psych report on the condition of mental illness in the homeless population,” Amanda said, turning from the window and crossing her arms, shifting her weight from her heel to her toe in thought. “This guy- the roommate- goody two-shoes. Originally we thought he was so clean he must be hiding something, and he was, but just possession of marijuana. He’s real nervous about it, though.”

The young man inside the boxed room did seem beyond anxious, his shoulders angled inward, face tilted down at the table while he looked at Amaro with squinted eyes, shifting back and forth slightly. He looked ridiculously guilty, but not violent or suspicious for the crime that actually mattered- it reminded Casey of a kid caught with a hand in the cookie jar, who didn't understand what type of punishment they were about to receive. He didn't seem like a good suspect for rape and murder.

“So he wants a deal? What he knows about her research and I’ll take the misdemeanor off the table?” Casey glanced once again into the interview room, and Cragen shrug-nodded.

Casey lifted her shoulders and then dropped them, tilting her head with a slight sigh. She had expected more, something to actually grow invested in, hopefully something to spark her competitive nature- but this was nothing dramatic. “Should be doable, I can make a call.”

“But he’s asking for immunity,” Olivia mused, still not looking up, “So whatever he knows, he thinks he could be prosecuted for it. I don't think we should offer him anything until we really know what's going on.”

“It doesn't look like he’s capable of much,” Casey remarked, but Olivia just huffed.

“Like you’d know, counselor.”

Casey pursed her lips and made blank eye contact with the wall for a moment, feeling the burn of Cragen and Rollin’s eyes and the icy feeling of the lack of Olivia’s, before accepting the disrespect, and trying her best to shake it off.

“Alright, but he’s a spooked college kid. He might just be asking for what he saw on TV without knowing if he actually needs it- we could advise him to get a lawyer, and then I can discuss a deal with them. Depending on the reaction I’d get it’d be easier to tell if it's anything worth looking into.”

Detectives hate lawyers, and Casey knew that, so when Olivia’s frown deepened and Rollins looked vaguely dissatisfied with the suggestion, she wasn't at all surprised.

“Does he need a lawyer for this? Can't you just go in and talk to him?” Rollins asked, “He doesn't seem to have the funds needed to get a lawyer, and it always takes forever to get one of the community ones down here-”

“Can you handle that, Casey? It's been years since you spoke one on one with a suspect,” Olivia interjected, and Casey grit her teeth. A direct challenge, now, then. Okay.

“I’m sure I’ll find my footing,” She replied calmly, forcing a smile as though she and Liv were simply friends bantering like they used to be, before turning to the Captain for permission. When he nodded, she inhaled deeply and swung the door open.

“You, out.” She barked at Amaro, deciding how she wanted to play this on the spot. She got a little of a thrill when Amaro’s eyebrows raised but he otherwise agreed wordlessly, standing and leaving the interrogation room. She claimed the seat he had just left and settled in, leaning her elbows on the table so she could inject herself forward.

“Alright, I heard you're looking to talk about your options, here? I’m Casey Novak on behalf of the Manhattan District Attorney.”

She forced her voice to be softer, lower, and offered him a half-smile. This was a skittish little college teen, and she thought he might be receptive to a more gentle approach. Seemingly he was, because the tension in his spine eased a little and he looked at her tentatively.

“I know it's a crime, but I- I just, it's the only thing that can get me to sleep, sometimes, so I-”

“I know, I know.” She leaned back, then, spreading her shoulders comfortably, “I remember those college days, long nights, sleep schedules gone to hell, anything to take the edge off, right?”

“Yes, exactly-” He leaned forward, now, eager under her carefully crafted nonchalance.

“But listen,” Casey raised a hand, “If you know anything about who did this to your roommate, you need to tell me. You seem like a good kid, and I don't want to nail you when I’ve got bigger fish to fry, okay? We’re looking for a rapist, and you're just what got caught in the net, so to say.”

He hesitated, hard, but Casey knew the look in her eyes was powerful when she tried to make it be, and right now she was giving her best altruistic stare. He relented, as she expected.

“Listen, I- I knew it was wrong, so please-”

“Just tell me what you know,” She interjected, clasping her fingers together, leaning forward and placing her elbows back down on the desk, and giving him her best imploring head tilt.

“She was bribing them,” he blurted out, finally, “in exchange for interviews and check-ins she was- she was giving them drugs, and with a few even blowies- I told her it was disgusting and I don't even know if people like that can consent, but-”

Oh, okay. Casey felt tension leave her shoulders- this wasn't really worth pursuing in court. But for the sake of the case she didn't allow her face to reflect that, instead, she remained harsh.

“Well, we’ll have to look into that.” She said sharply, “Can you provide names?”

“No, but- but I know her password for her school laptop, I know what her’s is. I’m sure she’ll have reports and things in there…”

“Alright, good,” She said soothingly, offering her a slight smile, which he seemed to relax under. “Then turn that over to the detectives and I’ll see what I can do about the possession charge, yeah?”

With that, she stood, and exited the room, flexing her eyebrows triumphantly when she made eye contact with Olivia- who gave her a begrudging nod, but a half-smile.

“Alright, the victim was offering blowjobs to mentally ill homeless men in exchange for some storytelling,” Amanda scorned, “How.. studious.”

“I’m sure she left that part out of her paper,” Casey nodded, “but it’ll make great fodder for the defense counsel.”

She turned her head from side to side, and realized something that made her heart sink into her stomach uncomfortably. Olivia and Amanda were exchanging glances, and Cragen was waiting for his detectives to begin engaging-

They wanted to discuss, but not with her.

Rejection stung, but at this point Casey was used to it, so after she cleared her throat awkwardly she glanced in the direction of the door and sighed. Her steps had felt lighter when she managed to actually be helpful for once- she secured this guy’s information, saving them time and effort- but it wasn't enough to win back the squad’s affection. The joy she felt at the minor victory was now tamped down, the bitter taste of the scorn she was trying desperately to adapt too heavy on her tongue.

“I’ll get a search warrant for the laptop, need anything else while I’m over at the courthouse?”

The resounding response was not yet, so she tugged her coat back on and focused on long strides towards the door, not the looming, overwhelming feeling of discontent.

She tried not to spit out the taste of bile that lay heavy on her tongue.

The rest of that day passed with little excitement. She had motions to file, court cases to research, and an uneventful arraignment. It felt like she was following steps laid out for her, stepping carefully on the paved floor, nothing at all like how she had used to race through the woods, chasing elk and laughter like a wolf no man could bring down. She missed feeling fearless, feeling free.

Casey was always one to fight until she was breathless, a smile on her face as her chest heaved with exertion. To throw herself into the mix, to face danger and pain and laugh at it, to take people into her arms herself and ensure it would turn out okay. She couldn't do that anymore, not with the axe hanging over her head.

She couldn't keep working this job with the other shoe dangling, lace seconds away from snapping. She couldn't keep herself looking up and wondering how long, how many more seconds she had to retain dignity, until it dropped and stole the trajectory of her life with it.

If she was younger, if she had spirit and confidence in her ability like she used to- if she had the support she used to have, the trust others used to bestow upon her- maybe she could find it in herself to keep fighting the good fight.

But she was disillusioned and tired, and no one believed in her anymore.

Not even her family, evidently. Three days later, she received a follow-up call from her younger brother, the elder of the two twins that had been born when she was starting elementary.

“Casey,” he started in a curt yet languished voice the way he always did, the slight accent he had picked up since moving to the south and marrying a Texan not lost in how he spoke, “How are you holding up?”

“Just fine,” she lied casually through her teeth.

“I don't buy that. Dad told me about your conversation the other day- about how he wants you to quit.”

Casey paused. She had been in the middle of prepping for a hearing, but with this she put her pen down in defeat. If her father told her brother, the rest of her siblings either already knew about the conversation or would soon. He had probably called to enquire if they’d do good on his proposal to support her if she retired early to care for Mom.

“...I don't know what you want me to say about that, he wants me to resign my position, but I think I’m doing well here. I’m back in my old position and everything is operating just as they used too,” - but they weren't, and if she did retire out of desperation soon she didn't want her lie to bite her in the ass, so she tried her best to cover herself - “and although I am considering it for the sake of Mom, I…”

“Casey,” he implored, “I'm your brother. I can tell when you're lying, and you've been miserable lately.”

Casey sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and stared aimlessly down at the motion she was writing a rebuttal against, watching the inked words turn into meaningless gibberish under her eyes. She stayed silent, and listened to him sigh.

“You don't have to be such a martyr,” he said softly, and it hurt.

“I’m not,” she tried to defend, but it fell flat.

“Listen, it's okay to just- to admit it's gone far enough,” he sighed, and she tried to interject, but he didn't let her.

“You were the rising star, I get it. But after the suspension, Casey, I mean- I read the news, right? When you're mentioned in the columns now it's only ever criticism, and you're not happy like you used to be at reunions, even Benny noticed-” - referring to his son, one of Casey’s many nephews, - “it’s just..”

“Daniel,” she murmured softly, trying to get him to understand that she knew, she was completely aware, she was grappling with the evidence already and he didn't need to remind her of how far she fell.

“I just want you to know that it's okay. You were always the toughie out of all of us, but… Case, you were also the one to bring home the stray kittens and build birdhouses. You’re strong, believe me, we know that, but I know how big your heart is, and this … I don't like seeing you unhappy.”

She closed her eyes, trying to focus on the iron grip she used to have, trying not to start getting emotional over the phone. Her head bowed without her noticing, and one of her paralegals glanced into her office as they walked by- great, another person as witness to her weakness.

“None of us would think any less of you,” he tried to console her, coax her, “it's a bad situation. The legal system sucks, we all know that. And I’ve talked it over with Rachel, and we’d be okay supporting you if you need it. To nurse Mom, or to find something else to do. You don't have to keep being somewhere that makes you so unhappy.”

Silent tears were rolling down her cheeks before she could realize, large glistening drops landing on the paper in front of her, her shoulders beginning to shake. She sucked the self disgust pooling in her mouth and swallowed, trying to keep her voice calm and even.

“Thank you, Daniel. I’ll see you when you all come up, okay? We can talk about this more then,” She offered, and he hesitantly accepted that motion to postpone.

If he realized there was an undercurrent of a sob in her voice, he didn't comment on it. Daniel hung up the phone.

Casey began to cry in her earnest, elbows driving into her table so she could conceal her face in her hands, shoulders shaking under the burden.

It wasn't so simple. Yes, yes, she was unhappy. She knew she was unhappy, and they were all right, she could leave, and honestly she thought that maybe she should.

But it wasn't just pride, ambition or stubbornness that kept her in this chair, it was the overwhelming drive to help. To do something, anything, to help the people who couldn't help themselves. To shield little kids from the men who wove their nightmares, to show women with red marks around their throats there was a shot at a better tomorrow, to fight, because God- she did really love fighting.

When she felt like she had power in her step, she adored the heady rush of a good debate, the smug victory of smashing a defense’s proposed story to bits. It had made all the issues in her life worth it, that knowledge that what she was doing was shielding the innocent from the evil. The validation a ‘guilty’ verdict after a hard case gave her was simply unrivaled.

Suffering through grueling law school, sleeping for hours she could count without the full use of a hand so she could instead pour her time hunched over laptops and law books full of enough legal jargon to kill a middle age man with confusion, waiting tables and odd jobs despite the exhaustion that nipped at her mind had all been considered worth it to her. Yes it was draining but the feeling of finally being able to pace on the courthouse floor and demand that justice be served to those in dire need of it had been entirely worth it. Just the knowledge she was commanding attention, she had authority, respect, and she could use it to help- that was all she had wanted.

What would she do with her words, if they weren't being used for that? What purpose could she possibly have?

It wasn't like resigning would mean she could help society in other ways, no, not like this. She couldn't find a place of worth with a reputation tarnished by her failure. Maybe if she had gone straight from reobtaining her licence somewhere else, then it would've worked, but she had craved SVU. Branch was right; she had grown to want it.

The slap on the back from Stabler, the way Olivia touched her on the upper arm, the chatter with Cragen. The victims stuck with her, but after those first few months it had turned from terrifying her with the weight of her own sympathy to a relentless drive to succeed and save more potentials. After her suspension, though, it was neither. The faces blurred together, because dull victories were the only way she could hope to keep the position at all, so her level of emotional involvement- her level of involvement at all, really, could not be regained.

Perhaps, if she was lucky, she might be able to be a teacher- one who her students would inevitably find the truth about and then laugh at- or volunteer somewhere where her fight to be recognized as powerful would simply continue until she really actually hit rock bottom.

If only she wasn't so exhausted, if only someone believed in her, if only. She would love her job if she wasn't marked by warning signs. She had known she’d need to rebuild her image and the dignity of her office but she had expected the trust from the people she had previously held stature with, but- no, they had forsaken her, and she couldn't find it in her to be upset with them around it, so all daggers she could throw turned inward.

As all it always did, time took care of her sobs, and she calmed herself down physically.

Her mental wounds were still wide open, but as she dried her face and blew her nose, she knew she’d be able to recompose herself so no one else could tell.

She had to start re-writing the same motion, as her tears had fallen on the paper and botched the ink, but that was fine. At least she was still filing motions- what used to feel mundane compared to the thrill of the active cases was now a solace, because at least she could do *something*. Soon she’d be able to do, and internally would be, nothing.

Daniel was right- there was no real reason for her to keep doing this to herself.

She’d be replaced by someone younger and feisty like she had used to be, or by someone wiser with reputation. They’d fight for justice the same way she was trying to, only they’d be successful, and they’d be applauded for it. They’d go back to squads to share the victory with, and go home to families. They’d have people who loved them, who watched and applauded them from afar.

But still. She wanted it so, so badly.

Desperation drove her when she thought the exhaustion would burn her out. She wanted to be good so badly, too badly. It meant every step felt like it was on a tightrope. She needed to feel like her work meant something, like she was winning some kind of fight, like what she did mattered to someone.

Her career was coming to an end, at some point desperation would turn into depression and she’d drown, but while she had a spark still flickering in her heart she wanted to use it on this.

A last few victories, please. A last shot to be appreciated for her life’s passion.

It was a couple days later when she was called back to the precinct on a development in that case, and Casey’s mind was consumed with pondering if her concealer managed to hide the eye bags she carried as she stepped inside, green eyes scanning for movement. Rollins, Cragen and Amaro were standing in a little triangle around the center of the squadroom, arms crossed.

“You called?” She said to no one in particular, and no eyes raised to especially meet hers, so she just glanced from face to face and chewed on the inside of her cheek. She just had to do whatever they wanted her to do, and then she'd be allowed to leave again.

God, she didn't even want to try anymore. She didn't want to keep attempting to prove herself to people who’d never give her the opportunity or the benefit of the doubt to do that. She missed Stabler and Lake. She missed when being called to the precinct made her feel energetic, like she was being helpful, like someone actually wanted *her* there, not just… whichever ADA happened to be on SVU rotation.

“So, we found most of the names on the list that kid gave us,” Amaro started, and Casey tried not to think about how Stabler would've slapped her playfully on the shoulder as a thank-you for helping acquire that list, “and this guy- this one whose spazzing out right now-”

She motioned into an interrogation room, where a very heavily disheveled looking man was pacing back and forth, dirty fingers running through locks of hair so filthy Casey wasn't sure if he was greying or if that was just the level of particles in it. He seemed very clearly to be homeless, suffering from some demons the detectives seemed not to care about to any extent.

“He seems to be the only suspect from it. His name is Peter Devilin, and he has a record for simple battery- he punched a librarian- a couple years ago, before psychiatric intervention. Diagnosed with schizophrenia which got him out of any real repercussions.”

“We have him on CCTV near the crime scene,” Rollins followed up, “and we’re pretty sure he did it- he keeps rambling, talking to someone, and he mentioned the victim’s name multiple times. We talked to the psychiatrist who worked with him back when he had medical insurance and he gave us these-”

The young blonde motioned to a stack of papers and Casey was momentarily upset no one had needed to ask her for a subpoena to hand over said documents, but then was distracted by the information on the small stack of leather-bound journals instead.

She picked up the chain of custody documentation Rollins must have filled out, scanning over the brief notes momentarily. The psychiatrist’s name and the address of his work place was jotted down- ‘Marc Mercer'.

A small light in Casey’s mind blinked on, recognizing that name from somewhere. Where was it? It had to have been in some of the case documentation she had been reading- but it couldn't have been anything major, or surely one of the others would've flagged it already.

Novak’s mind pulled out the helpful answer that it must be the work of false attribution. She read hundreds of names a day in research or in motions, on witness counts or on old incident reports- if one of the detectives hadn't realized anything strange about that name, they would've already found whatever was related to it.

But still, that small defiant spark burned in her throat. She knew this name from somewhere and she could feel the fire spreading to her gut, marking that sensation as important.

While pondering on that, she picked up one of the leather-bound journals and began to skim through it.

“He wrote about what he wanted to do,” Rollins added, not necessarily helpfully as Casey was already reading but Casey had lost the spunk that would've previously rewarded the younger detective with a sly remark.

Olivia announced her arrival into the space with an elongated sigh, running her fingers through her brow hair and taking space between Cragen and Amaro, leaning against a desk.

“That was the parents, again.” She told her fellow detectives with a dejected, flat voice, her eyes fixating on a spot on the floor as she shook her head. “They're really messed up over this.”

Amaro grimaced, tilting his head almost helplessly. “They're parents. I’m a parent- imagining your kid growing up, hearing how they're so desperate to be something, to do something grand, and then… then they end up in the morgue.”

Casey bit her lip. She hadn't any children herself, nor had she ever had any sort of attachment to any youngster other than her little siblings, so adding into that conversation seemed forced. But still, she could empathize, and she did. All those ambitions, all those dreams… It was a tragedy in every sense of the word.

“They're upset we haven't done anything yet,” Olivia murmured in a hushed tone, her voice heavy with the expectations of the victim’s family and associates.

Casey’s heart grew heavy- she understood the weight Olivia must feel, the pressure to achieve any sort of semblance of closure for the grieving individuals. But she knew the only way she could help was to understand and affirm justice, so she simply stayed quiet and kept her focus on the pages unfurled in front of her.

Reading the journals, even just letting her eyes flit over them as she was doing, was very disturbing.

The majority of it were surprisingly intricately detailed drawings and diagrams of human anatomy- bones, joints, muscles, blood vessels, major nerves. Diagrams of how what could bend, what would hurt and what wouldn't as much.

It digressed later into detailed sketches of women in painful positions, noting the extent to which muscle and bone could be manipulated. Women with their faces contorted in obvious fear, women trying to shield themselves.

Around the drawings were furious, insane scribbled notes in barely legitimate handwriting. Some were simply notes correcting anatomical mistakes in the drawings- ‘this joint wouldn't bend like that, not really’, ‘this bone would be longer’, and other things along those lines. Other notes seemed to be wondering what the pain would feel like, comparing it against other things. Some notes were readable but Casey could not comprehend what they were supposed to mean, just random strung-together words that didn’t make much sense in that order, and others were written in such poor lettering she genuinely would have to spend time trying to decipher the words, which she did not want to do.

“...and these journals were made while he was medicated?” Casey muttered darkly, biting her lip.

This would be difficult to prosecute- the squad would of course urge her to convict based off of premeditated intent to commit crime using the journals and the notes as evidence, but the scenario in which this man went off of medication seemed to be not be his fault- if he lost his job and lost his insurance, then winding up unmedicated and at the hands of an overzealous and exploitative psychology student who ended up just a bit too close at a bad moment would easily be plead away by a half-decent defense attorney.

Plus, making graphic drawings wasn't a crime. People drew violence all the time, and she’d have to argue with the defense that this proved sexual intent- none of the drawings, horrible as they were, included penetration or overtly sexual imagery.

As if reading her thoughts, Amanda shook her head slowly. “According to the psychiatrist, he actively decided he didn't want to see him anymore, and didn't want to take anything. He had medical insurance via his work, but he got fired due to erratic behavior after his prescription ran out. So, he took initiative in the ending of his therapy, and thereby..”

“..the cessation of his medication and therapies was entirely his decision, and I could book him for this.” Casey finished, closing the leather-bound booklet in his palms and holding it for a long moment before setting it back down with the others.

“Why didn't the psychiatrist report this? If he knew his patient had prior convictions of violence, he shouldn't have let him make the decision to go off medication like that-” Casey began, but Cragen shrugged.

“The system is overcrowded already. People like that slip through the cracks, and no one knows what a danger they really possess until it really happens.”

“But this-” Casey motioned to the stack of journals, “This is more than just…”

“It's sick, but it's not like we don't see this all the time, Casey.” Olivia replied gruffly, crossing her arms- not defensively, just in her usual stance. “Maybe your time off let you forget.”

Her voice was wry and flat and nothing about it came off as overtly mean or mocking- but Casey knew better.

She really couldn't be in the 1-6 for longer than five minutes without some sort of jab that would haunt her for the rest of the week, huh? Olivia couldn't let her have just a little peace? Some semblance of respect? But fine, if she wanted to be like that, to hell with it. Casey would be leaving soon anyway, her reputation was already soiled completely and if snapping at detectives let her feel just a little bit less like a dog backed into a corner, then that's just what she'd do.

“I want you to look into the psychiatrist,” she countered- well, that wasn't even a real counter. “I remember his name- he came up in a legal case before, and before I indict anyone I want to know why.”

She had wanted to snap, but after the ‘you’re off’ comment she had made the other day she couldn't find anything else worth saying. She would’ve had them investigate the psychiatrist anyway. But she made sure to say it in a voice that showed she wasn't submissive to Olivia’s comment, and Benson's nostrils flared in response, so that was good enough for her.

In the back of her head, she fantasized what it would be like if it was the old squad. Stabler would be standing there with his hands on his sides, glaring down at the pages of the journals as if reading to beat the pages themselves up for being a threat to any women in his life- including her, Elliot had been protective of her, and although they never spoke about it Casey had really appreciated the feeling that someone was looking out for her safety- and if Stabler were there, Olivia wouldn't be being so mean. Instead of biting at her, Olivia would've pursed her lips and nodded along at the belief this kind of neglect was unjustifiable, and would've volunteered to make sure nothing sketchy was going on herself before Casey even asked. Stabler would swing on his coat and they’d wave her goodbye, promising to call with an update within the next couple hours.

She missed Stabler.

She missed the version of Olivia who wasn't glaring so harshly at her that she felt as though two holes were about to be layered through her face. The version of Olivia who got drinks with her occasionally after cases, who softened up eventually and opened up to her. Who confided in her, who let her confide back in turn.

Well, that hadn't worked out at all, actually. Casey’s biggest secret- Charlie- even before Stabler's absence had been abused by this woman, so she supposed maybe she had been played for the fool this entire time. Maybe she was just dumb, and that's why she didn't deserve her occupation.

What-fucking-ever. She was too tired to care.

“On it, boss.” Rollins smiled and did a small fake-salute in her southern accent, and Casey huffed softly with appreciation at the lighter gesture.

If she was as enthusiastic as the younger version of herself, she thought perhaps she and Rollins would get along. She seemed sweet. But Casey just couldn't find it in her to try to bond with the squad anymore, not with one foot out the door.

Olivia, though, remained steadfast. With her arms crossed and her eyes harsh, she was an adversary that chipped away at Casey’s fragile psyche second by second, until Casey genuinely considered stepping away.

“What good is it going to do?” Benson questioned, her voice flat. “You’re worried you won't be able to book the schizo, so you're redirecting to an overworked doctor instead? Don't do that, Casey.”

That comment was worse, and everyone in the room knew it.

The lines of Cragen’s face contorted slightly, his face turning from the floor to Olivia’s face, and Amaro and Rollins mirrored the reaction of mild shock. That wasn't just a small remark anymore, that was an outright challenge to Casey’s ability to prosecute- that was disrespect no one could dismiss.

“I don't think it's up to you to decide what I can or cannot do, detective.” Casey responded, trying to mirror Olivia’s cold demeanour, bristling and straightening her back to her full height. “I’d advise you to stay in your lane.”

“I don't think you can advise me to do anything, counselor, not until you man up and remember what we do here.”

“Excuse me?” Casey flashed, her eyes burning, but Olivia began stepping forward and Casey had to physically freeze herself to not start stepping back. Olivia’s broad arm extended and a small part of the faux blonde’s brain wondered if Olivia was genuinely going to strike here, right here in the middle of the squad room, but Olivia was only pointing at the schizophrenic mess of a person pacing and babbling in an interrogation cell. Olivia snatched up a crime scene photo of the mess left of the young college student’s body in her other hand, dangling the image forward into Casey's face as if threatening her with it.

“This man defiled, degraded and ripped a young woman’s brutalized body apart,” Olivia snapped, “I won't let you throw another case because you're too- … too shrouded by your own personal failures to do what needs to be done here!”

Casey’s mind raced and she did ultimately step backwards- if only to be able to make eye contact with Olivia around the photo pushed into her face- her heart beginning to pound in her chest.

“You’ve got some fucking nerve-!” She snapped, trying to surge forward with the intensity she used too, but although Benson growled in her throat she didn't back down.

Casey forced herself to take a deep breath, to calm the adrenaline surging through her bloodstream like fire.

“Listen, Olivia,” She barked, the concerned faces of the others fading in the background of her vision as she focused on the furious expression before her, “I just know the name of the psychiatrist and want to make sure we cover all possible bases- it's not like we have any concrete or forensic evidence, everything you’ve provided me with is substantial at best.”

“We have just short of a dozen notebooks filled with anatomical drawings of torture!” Olivia snarled with poorly concealed indignation, and Casey scrunched her brow in response.

“Some sketchbooks, a record they knew eachother and the fact he was in the general area are not enough to prove without a shadow of a doubt that he murdered and raped that girl.”

“Casey, look at him!” Olivia pointed again, jabbing her finger in his direction, and the room went silent for a couple seconds as they watched the man’s erratic pacing.

The way his eyes darted from side to side, recognizing shapes and patterns no one else could see, was all too familiar. The look in his eyes resembled Charlie’s to a significant degree, the wary pupils and the bags beneath them, rimmed with red and purple and poorly cared for skin. But Charlie’s eyes were a warm, sunrise-on-ocean-water blue, and this man’s were a more submerged brown color.

He was snarling under his breath, his face set in a heavy, paranoid glare. As Casey watched he glared so fiercely at the glass separating them she thought he was shooting a path directly into her soul- but it was a one-way mirror, and he must be looking only at himself, or at someone between them Casey and the others couldn't see.

“I- I know, Olivia.” Casey hated the way her voice faltered, the way she had grown quiet and stared longer than the others had- when she had forced herself to look away, the others were already looking at her expectantly.

“But I’m telling you,” she continued, trying her best to still be stubborn despite the way her heart was fluttering uncomfortably, “I’ll draft the indictment while you search, and if nothing else turns up, I’ll try him for it. I just want all possible bases covered. Something is up with this psychiatrist.”

Because even though she wanted to let her own perception collapse under Olivia’s harsh gaze, she stood for the law first and foremost, and everything she learned from all her effort was that there was something wrong, something was missing, and she wouldn't be able to argue anything with the ferocity she tried to allocate to each of her cases until she believed fully there was a reason to do so.

Olivia exhaled slowly, and Casey’s heart sank in her chest, because the fire in the brunette woman's eyes was turning instead straight to ice, and she already knew her heart wasn't prepared to hear what Olivia was going to say next. The sense of doom was bad enough that Amanda leaned backward slightly and Cragen extended a hand outward as if to pause the conflict he had tried to allow in order to drive the investigation forward, but Olivia couldn't be halted.

“It's depraved,” she started, “I get that. I get you don't want to believe it's his fault- you didn't want to believe it was *his* fault, either-” the others looked mildly confused and Casey was so, so mortified that Olivia was airing her dirty laundry publically, even if the others didn't know what she was referring to Casey being beaten and bruised by her own fiance, “but so help me, if you're too weak to prosecute a case as transparent as this, just do us all a favor and resign before I call the DA to do it for you.”

Cold shock enveloped Casey’s body, even though in the back of her mind she wasn't at all surprised. Still, she could feel the now-familiar weight of exhausted panic pressing against the inside of her face, and she couldn't figure out how to respond to that, because what could she possibly say-?

“You better watch your fucking mouth,” She tried, the only possible response she could come up with, trying to sound like she was seething and not about to cry. It was disrespectful and mean and it fell flat immediately, it wasn't intensely debative like the previous portion of the argument had been, it was just a stupid completely empty threat that did nothing but signal Olivia had successfully hit a nerve.

“You’re out of line.”

The voice was loud, flat, stern and commanding. Even though it wasn't at all spoken with the same erratic volume as Casey and Olivia’s voices had been, it had effectively had both of them stepping backwards in opposite directions- making space for the speaker to enter rather dramatically into the scene.

Alexandra Cabot strolled into the space as if she owned it, her hair flowing around her shoulders with a golden hue like a battle angel come straight down from the heavens, or alternatively like a kindergarten teacher come to set some rambunctious child straight.

Casey bit her cheek and looked away, fully tilting her head in the opposite direction and closing her eyes with an unfiltered grimace on her face. As if Benson’s very overt disapproval wasn't enough, now she was going to get scolded by her own colleague- the woman she supposedly was on par with, although Novak had never been able to elicit the same respect as the Cabot name.

Instead of telling Olivia to bite her tongue she should've been minding her own- she was about to pay the price for her disrespect in the way of humiliation in the most mortifying degree. Dragged off by Alex, come to defend her friend (who didn't at all need defending, Olivia hadn't even blinked), or being berated by her in front of the majority of the squad- Casey briefly debated which one would be worse.

The embers of fury gnawed on her heart, through, and bitterly she wanted to lash out at her. Fuck them all for putting her in this position- how could they not tell that she was already through? She wasn't trying to be difficult, she just wanted to chase justice the way she always had- fuck, the way they did too. Why couldn't anyone see that? All she wanted was to do her job well, and all she got in return was being reminded that she was sick and tired and alone-

God, Casey was so alone.

Green eyes opened, expecting to find the icy depth of blue staring straight into her soul like a dagger forced through a ribcage, only to find the back of blonde hair.

Alex was standing between her and Olivia, but not facing her- and as Casey watched the elder attorney cross her arms and stiffen her spine, elongating to the full potential of her height, she grew momentarily confused.

“Liv,” Alex snapped, “If someone else told me you said what I just heard from your mouth, I would've slapped them for tarnishing your name.”

Casey couldn't see Olivia very well at all, since Alex was literally directly between them, but she heard the audible pause, the half-step backward.

Alex wasn't yelling, she wasn't berating and she wasn't cruel. She reminded Casey rather like a benevolent judge- one of the younger judges, more inclined to ensuring respect and decency in the courtroom, who naively attempted to get the prosecution and the defense to be respectful. They didn't understand- just like how Alex didn't really understand- that they were trying to mix oil and water.

Casey had been putting up with Olivia’s occasional disregard for her for years. The girl in the icebox, the side comments, the unsaid yet constant comparison, the usage of the worst secret she had as an act of revenge. It was tolerable in the years prior to Casey's suspension- it was just Olivia dealing with the stress of the job, Casey had acknowledged and accepted that. She didn't think Olivia ever forgave her for her inability to prosecute Lake’s perpetrator, and she didn't think she ever would, just like how Olivia would never allow her to fully prove herself, no matter how hard she tried. From the day they met, Casey had known she'd never meet Olivia's standard. Olivia’s standard, though, was the woman using her own body as a blockade between the two.

“Alex, I-” She heard a softened voice speak, Benson suddenly turning complacent in the face of her trusted friend.

“I’m not finished,” Alex said, raising a finger in the air- not taunting Olivia with it in the slightest, rather simply indicating she held the floor right now just like she did in court and was not planning on relinquishing it.

“I know the dealing with victim’s families is emotionally taxing, difficult and strenuous, I just got finished with them myself-” (Oh, Casey thought, that's why they weren't asking her for subpoenas or search warrants, they must be bypassing her to get Alex instead, choosing to let her get close to investigations the way they chose to keep pushing her out) “but that's not excuse to question the integrity of the DA’s office by accusing a senior assistant district attorney,”

Casey felt herself swallow, her heart clenching at the way Alex said her full title with a note of reverence, with regard- but then, why shouldn't she? Alex, noble and respected as she was, was still an assistant district attorney, and technically Casey did outrank her in that regard, even though no one ever acted like it. Alex was acting like it now, though, and suddenly Casey felt like she was standing on solid ground again.

“of responding insufficiently.” Alex was still talking, still commanding the rapt attention of everyone in the room- even some of the background officers who milled about had frozen to watch her speak.

“You conduct investigations under the directions of your Captain, who I have not seen make any sort of inquiry against Novak’s handling or suggestions-” she nodded respectfully at Cragen who blinked and then chose not to respond, favoring instead to let her play this out, “and at the digression of the ADA herself, whether it be me, Hardwicke or her. To question her decision to direct further investigation is to imply the DA’s office and the body we compose as your working prosecutors lack authority and I will not allow you to employ such blatant disregard. Attempting to threaten an attorney into indicting solely at your whim is an affront to all of us- myself included.”

Alex then let her finger drop, because she knew it was unnecessary to keep holding it, Olivia wouldn't dare interject again when Alex was using her prowess the way she was. She had the circle of people entirely subdued into silence. Casey felt her chest loosen, and her ability to breathe came slightly easier.

“And that's all ignoring the disrespect towards information that was personally confided to you,” Alex said this in a lower voice, still stern and commanding but intentionally directed in a way only the circle of people could hear- again, Rollins and Amaro and even Cragen seemed rather perplexed, although despite the way they seemed confused when Olivia had brought up things unbeknownst to them, when Alex did they seemed to detach, trusting that it was simply not meant for them to be aware of.

“Which, frankly,” Alex shook her head slowly, “As your friend, I'm appalled by.”

Casey bit her lip, her hands twitching by her sides as she heard Alex inhale again, letting the momentary pause ring heavy in the air before making her version of a closing argument.

“Novak is a brilliant prosecutor and her decision to investigate any possible motive into who will most likely be your star character witness, as well as the person who gave you the only key evidence you have, is perfectly logical- I would've instructed you to do the same. I’m not entirely sure why you're so affronted, but your irreverence is palpable and I won't have that. You know better.”

Olivia audibly exhaled and Alex moved aside, glancing between the two for a half second.

No one took the floor for a long second, Benson staring at Casey with an air of discomfort and Casey staring back blankly, her mind reeling with the words that had come from Alex’s lips.

Someone was in her corner?

Someone was in her corner. Why?

Alexandra Cabot was in her corner, and Casey had no clue how the universe had granted her that solace, but Jesus Christ.

It wasn't miraculous, and it wasn't as though the weeks of exhaustion and slow deterioration were suddenly reversed. Casey was not suddenly a new, refreshed person. But the ember she had fostered, determined to keep alive until something happened- that ‘something happened’ had just unfolded.

Alex had granted her the respect, the acknowledgement she had so wearily accepted to deprivation of. Casey felt seen, as though a part of her had been invisible for months- years- was finally opaque and recognized. The ember she had tried so hard to shield flickered back and then became again a small flame, not the bonfire it used to be, but suddenly Casey felt as though she had the strength to bring it back to that level.

Alex trusted her- Casey wasn't sure how much of the conversation she had heard, how much evidence she knew about, but- enough that she assumed whatever Casey was demanding was for the best interest of the case. Alexandra Cabot, the golden girl of the squad, trusted that Casey was acting in the best interest of justice.

Olivia realized it, too. Casey was really just trying to cover all aspects of the case, not redirect or play her own agenda this time. It was as though she had had cold water splashed in her fevered, sleep-deprived addled face, woken up and made to see straight. Threatening Casey wasn't going to get her anywhere.

“...I’ll start pulling files,” Olivia said finally, her voice tinged with regret. “I didn't mean to … I didn't mean to cross a line. You're right, I’m getting tunnel vision.” (and I miss Elliot, Casey filled in mentally for her, I’m not doing well because I hate working without the stability and support my partner provided, and I just wanted to speed the case up so I can bury myself in a new shocking tragedy so I don't have time to think about him, because this case reminds me of how scared I was he would have to stop working because of Picard, and now he is genuinely gone, and I’m not coping well.) Casey accepted the partially verbal apology.

“Actually, I think Rollins and Amaro can work on that,” Cragen spoke finally. “Take some time and think about what you need to do to approach this case clear-headed, Olivia. See me in my office in an hour.”

Olivia bristled at the dismissal, but after being scolded so thoroughly by Alex- especially with the blonde still stationed so close- she didn't disobey. With a last glance at Casey- one with softened, apologetic eyes- she turned on her heel and left presumably to the cradle.

Amanda and Nick seemed to jump at the opportunity to awkwardly scramble off, impatient to begin working again and leave the very vocal confrontation between their senior detective colleague and not one but two of their ADAs.

“This was … something,” Casey murmured, after the silence stretched on for a longer moment, now exclusively between Cragen, Alexandra and her, “but I'm… I have work to do.”

“I’ll give you a lift, I need to return to the DA’s office as well.” Alex offered, and Casey thought it would be rude to refuse- especially because refusing would mean hailing a cab while Alex drove her own car, or hiding in the bathroom until Alex left, which seemed pointless and also moderately embarrassing.

“I’ll try to rein Liv in,” Cragen said as a final note, which both attorneys nodded too but otherwise let hang in the air.

Alex walked a couple inches closer to Casey than she would've entirely preferred, but didn't attempt to glance at her as the two ADAs exited the precinct, which she did appreciate.

“I’m sorry, Casey.” Alex said, her voice suddenly smooth and soft like a blanket Casey could wrap herself in, “I didn't mean to fight your fight for you. It was disrespectful for me to step in like that- it's just, I’m friends with Liv, and I hated hearing her berate you like that. She can get really carried away.”

“It’s fine,” Casey responded in what she hoped was a curt, indifferent voice. “Liv’s having a tough time without Elliot, I expected it.”

“That's no excuse for how she was addressing you, though.” Alex murmured, but in an observational, light, almost conversational tone instead of a pressing argumentative one. Casey could only shrug in response, tugging her coat back on as the two exited the precinct doors.

Obviously, Casey felt guilty for her inability to help carry the conversation. It wasn't in her interest to spend the drive back to the DA’s office in a prickling silence. But her hands were shaking just slightly near her sides, and she was consumed trying to calm her sympathetic nerve system to an extent to which she just really couldn't try to formulate the kind of precise, intentional words she’d want to be using with Alex. Making a fool in front of the elder, esteemed attorney by stumbling over exhausted, nervous words while trying to make sure Alex knew Casey wasn't actually upset at Olivia wasn't what she wanted to deal with right now.

Her heart was still beating uncomfortably, not particularly fast, but strong enough to register in her neck and ears. Casey’s lungs seemed just constricted enough to be a nuisance, and her mind was still whirling through a variety of observations, thoughts and topics. She wished she could scream at her anatomy to just stop, quit it, so she could take a deep breath and pause the cortisol flowing through her.

The faux blonde allowed Alex to lead her to where her car was parked, and they remained in a mildly tense silence throughout the brief journey. Alex seemed more inclined to allow Casey her retreat into introspection and Casey couldn't force herself to make words fall from her mouth if she tried- that is, if she tried, such she currently was not attempting to do.

Alex unlocked the car and circled around to the driver’s side, and Casey mechanically settled in on the front passenger’s seat, staring ahead rather blankly as she waited for Alex to begin driving- which she didn't do.

Once both car doors were closed, the blonde attorney turned to Casey, her expression unreadable.

“Casey, I’m going to hold your hand now.” Alex said in a soft, authoritative voice, before reaching over and clasping two hands around one of Casey’s. Her hands were soft and without discernible temperature, but they felt comforting in a way that mildly surprised her.

Casey blinked at Alex with furrowed brows, but she didn't move to shake the elder woman’s hands away, which Alex half-smile at encouragingly.

“If someone were to yell at me like that,” Alex continued gently, “I’d be all kinds of broken up about it. I can't stand loud sounds and erratic movements. And I’d want someone to sit me down, hold my hand, and listen so I could talk it through. Is that what you’d want to do?”

“No,” Casey said hoarsely, feeling a sob bubbling within her lungs. “I don't want to talk.”

Alex speaking to her with that tone, soothing, low and melodic, was simply too much for her right now. She wouldn't be able to recover if she lost her composure in front of her colleague, and if she tried to speak, tried to explain anything, she’d begin crying- she didn't realize how close she was to tears until just now.

“Do you want me to keep talking?” Alex hummed, and Casey again shook her head in denial. She felt guilty she was rejecting Alex with no type of explanation, but she couldn't explain herself, and Alex seemed to understand.

Then, so soft it was almost whispered, “..Do you want me to hold you?”

She said it so softly, with such a note of emotion, that Casey almost thought it sounded like that was what Alex really wanted to do herself.

Casey’s head met Alex’s shoulder before she realized she was moving, and despite what the overwhelming fear that sank into her mind said the second she did so, Alex was entirely receptive, her hands raising to cradle her skull softly.

She’s just back from international work in the Congo, Casey thought to herself miserably, I’m sure she’s used to cleaning up people’s breakdowns. I’m sure she’s exactly the type of good person I’m not.

Casey’s shoulders were shaking and she couldn't stop them, and her arms were numbly pawing around Alex's sides to bring the other woman closer. Alex tightened her grip, sliding one thigh across the divider in a way that must be uncomfortable and her other leg beneath her, so she could lean across and make the embrace all that much easier for the other woman.

The younger attorney could feel Alex exhaled against her scalp, and if Casey pictured it she could see Alex’s eyelids fall shut with empathy, her slim fingers laced around Casey’s shoulders like thread that held ripped fabric together.

But as much as Casey felt horrible about letting the woman comfort her, she couldn't bring herself to pull away. The allure of Alex’s warm, inviting figure, the solace being embraced brought, especially after the years of feeling so utterly alone, was too much to reject- it didn't stop her from feeling guilty about it, though. She didn't want to accept Alex's pity, but oh, how she did need it.

“It's okay,” Alex said the second Casey opened her mouth to apologize, “I’ve got you. It's hard, I know.”

That notion rang clear in Casey’s disoriented mind. Alex had referenced something specific in her verbal takedown she had no clue how the elder woman would be aware of.

“How did you know about him?” Casey said suddenly, raising her head and pulling back, staring at Alex with bleary eyes, “About Olivia telling Branch about-?”

Alex winced, then, her shoulders tilting inward just the slightest bit, her hands flexing as though she wanted to pull Casey back.

“...Liv told me,” She breathed finally, after a pause. Casey’s mind went momentarily blank, so stressed everything faded out to void, and she rested her forehead against Alex’s shoulder again, exhausted beyond measure. She'd resign next week, she internally decided, she’d recuse herself from all her active cases and leave. This was too much, all too much. But she didn't make any move to pull away from Alex, if anything, she shifted just the slightest bit closer. Alex was still talking, she realized faintly.

“She mentioned you during your suspension, when she thought- when she thought I was getting too involved.”

“What?” Casey murmured, her voice seemingly heavy and far-away. “You? You get too involved?”

Alex chuckled softly. “Haven't you heard about how I ordered an illegal search?”

It caught Casey off guard that Alex would offer up information like that. That she’d care about this conversation enough to divest vulnerability like that. Casey swallowed, once, and then when Alex’s hands flexed again, she lowered her face back to the blonde's shoulder. Alex’s slight anxiety seemed to soothe in that instant, her hands able to regain their purchase on the back of Casey’s head.

Casey thought that if she wasn't so emotionally pent up, she’d think Alex’s slight discomfort at not being able to hold her was cute.

“No, I haven't. Tell me about it,” Casey murmured, and Alex fully turned her torso in her direction, settling into a more comfortable position as she regarded the window thoughtfully, composing her words for the impromptu bout of storytelling. She wasn't particularly proud of this moment, but if it made Casey feel better, she’d divulge.

“This boy was the victim of a pedophile,” Alex started slowly, “and I knew- I knew something was wrong when he said he’d be going home, but I.. I watched him walk out of my office, and that night I got a call he’d try to kill himself, and it was horrible. He was hooked up to all those machines, and the mother was screaming at me- I had been decked by another victim of the same guy, and I thought I’d get it again from her.”

Casey nestled a bit closer, a small exhale against Alex’s neck that signalled she was listening. If Alex looked down, she'd see a rounded green eye attentively focused on her face, but she didn't. Alex was partially zoned out the way Casey always felt when she was recounting her own prior cases to herself.

“We knew from another victim, one who had grown up and been incarcerated, that the boy would have tapes of the crime in his room, and the judge denied my search warrant to go retrieve them. But I sent the detectives anyway. Liv asked me if I had a search warrant and I…” Alex shrugged slightly, Casey’s head following the motion from where it rested. “I tried to steamroll my way right through it. Still remember how…” Alex paused to search for a word she couldn't find, “how I felt after.”

It was hard for Casey to reconcile the woman before her as someone who had broken the law, but somehow the knowledge she was human like her stopped the churning of her stomach slightly.

“This seems stupid to say,” Casey murmured in her low rasp, “but I never realized you were… that you could make the kind of mistakes I do.”

Alex chuckled again sadly. “I’m far from perfect. I can be insensitive, harsh, I get tunnel vision. I put people in danger.”

Casey bit her lip, hesitantly raising her head again.

“And I call in favors,” Alex continued, “My uncle… I leaned on him a lot early in my career. On his connections with other judges. Petrovsky called me out on that before. I made a lot of publicity mistakes, too, once I didn't- I tried to navigate a case and let a boy off easy, and he ended up,” Alex swallowed, then, “murdered in the street.”

“Before I was suspended, I almost got an assault charge.” Casey admitted softly, trying to add into the conversation, not wanting Alex to be the only one bearing herself vulnerable. “I pushed a juvenile sex detention facility head against the wall after I found out that- that abuse was ongoing within the facility. After I sent… a boy there.”

“It’s tough.” Alex sighed as a response, and Casey nodded slowly. She raised her head back up, pushing her head instead against the headrest of the leather car seat, watching Alex watch her.

They sat together in silence, although unlike during the walk to the car, it wasn't uncomfortable. It wasn't bursting with racing minds and words not said, rather the budding sense of familiarity and camaraderie. Casey understood how Alex felt, and Alex understood what Casey wasn't saying. They were fighting the same fight, after all. Who would better comprehend the struggle than one who was in the same shoes?

“It starts to get exhausting,” Casey said slowly, her green eyes flicking upwards to scan Alex’s face, seeking validation in solidarity, “the politics of it all. I just …”

“... want to help,” Alex finished for her, tilting her head and raising her shoulder before letting it drop. “Want to make a difference, want to… ensure justice for people who need it. Provide solace to someone.”

“You get it,” was all Casey could respond with, but Alex nodded.

“Did you really need to go back?” Alex murmured, using her hand to motion to the steering wheel she wasn't using, and Casey pursed her lips.

“No,” she answered honestly. “I just didn't want to be in the precinct anymore. Did you?”

“No,” Alex responded in turn, and then blue eyes flicked up, studying Casey’s face as her lips curved into a soft, knowing smile. “I just … wanted the excuse to talk to you.”

Casey’s gaze slid around Alex’s features, taking in the softened gaze, the curve of her cheeks at her gentle smile, the tilt of her glasses, the slope of her hair. She noted how elegantly Alex always held her arms, but for once, she didn't try to compare herself against her colleague, rather just took in the fact a woman this gorgeous was trying to provide her with the solace she so desperately needed.

“Let's talk, then.” She murmured, and then in a rush of confidence, “It's been a while since someone tried to …”

She didn't know what she wanted to finish that sentence with. No one had stood up for her, no one had offered her a degree of companionship, no one had put in that much effort to engage with her. But that seemed utterly pathetic to divulge, so she bit her tongue. As always, as she was learning to understand through this brief interaction, Alex could tell what she meant without her needing to say it. It was comforting.

“Are we continuing this conversation in the parking lot, or am I driving you somewhere nicer, Ms. Novak?” Alex hummed, extending her arms to wrap around the steering wheel so she could lightly tap-tap-tap her fingers against it, and Casey chuckled.

“Somewhere nicer? What, are you asking me out?” Casey snorted, mirroring Alex’s turn to a proper sitting position and crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“...Would you be more or less willing if it was?” Alex smirked, but it was obvious she was jesting.

Casey grinned, closed her eyes, and flexed her eyebrows with a bit of snark she found within herself she hadn't been sure still existed. “I’m not a cheap date, counselor.”

“Then we’ll get along, because I refuse to eat anywhere that doesn't have tablecloths and a separate wine menu.” The elder attorney shot her a small smile, turning on the car’s ignition and beginning to pull out of the parking space, apparently having decided on a place already.

“Never ask me to cook for you though,” she followed that up with, “I can afford a good cut of steak, but for the life of me I wouldn't be able to cook it.”

“Then you buy it, and I’ll cook. I’ve been told I know my way around searing steak.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Alex chirped, removing one hand from the steering wheel to enclose the top of Casey’s hand, “I never did treat you to something after you saved my life. I wanted to.”

The teasing air morphed into something softer once more, warm and comfortable, as Casey’s eyes softened in Alex’s direction. The blonde was now focusing on the road, so she couldn't see the way Casey studied her features, which only created incentive for Casey to take her time doing so.

“Did you mean what you said?” She didn't like how timid her voice came out, but the words spilled from her lips before she could stop them. Alex shot her a brief glance, raising an eyebrow that signalled a nonverbal ‘about what?’.

“about … me being a decent prosecutor,” Casey pressed rather lamely, her voice not really full of conviction, because she didn't really know if she wanted the honest answer. She didn't want to hear Alex lie, and she didn't want to hear Alex struggle to justify it either.

To her surprise, Alex’s immediate response of “yes” was not hesitant or thoughtful. She said it as though it were an unarguable fact.

“I think you forget,” Alex added, “One of the people your legal prowess saved was me.”

That was before her suspension, Casey noted to herself with a sigh, back when prosecuting felt perhaps not as easy, but as natural as breathing. But maybe, possibly, with the knowledge at least one person wanted to put in the effort to support her, at least one person didn't struggle to decide if Casey was worthy of being an attorney- maybe that one person’s acknowledgement could satisfy her craving for validation. Maybe she really could climb her way back up again. Maybe it wasn't all lost.

But also, maybe that wasn't something she really had to decide ultimately in this particular moment. She could simply enjoy the company of another person who understood the intricacies of the life this job provided, chatter and storytell, and allow the drained battery to recharge. She didn't need to dedicate her life to SVU, and didn't need to start drafting her resignation forms either.

She could just choose on the simple decision of allowing Alex to take her for dinner, and worry about the rest when she could handle it, because it did now feel as though she would soon be able to handle it.

“You're really something, you know that?” She responded, turning back to face the road, and she could hear Alex smile in response.

“Just trying to repay the favor you did me,” Alex smoothed, “and… well, women like us, we should stick together.”

Casey nodded once in agreement, her lips curving into an easy smile as she replied, “that we should.”

#calex #casey novak #alex cabot #casey novak x alex cabot #svu #law and order svu #law and order special victims unit #lesbian #olivia benson

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