#just so it can crack me up the way it did when i realized i'd saved it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

piastrisun · 5 months ago

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i know i'd go back to you.

pairings: charles leclerc + fem reader.

summary: the two cross paths again as they realise letting go was what they needed to find their way back to each other.

genre: hurt/comfort.⠀word count: 4.5k.⠀ warning: none.

request: first request!!!!! everyone cheered (me). ty so so much. <3

notes: back to you by selena gomez. when there’s more than one space between paragraphs it means it’s a time jump. i hope it’s not tedious and it's understandable.

PART ONE.⠀ ⠀PART TWO.⠀ ⠀ ALTERNATIVE ENDING?

autumn is just a step away, the crispness of the air hinting at change. it has been almost three months since your relationship with charles came to an end, yet the memory of that night clings to you like the lingering summer heat. time moves forward relentlessly, but you find yourself stuck, your heart unable to catch up with the weeks.

the leaves begin to turn brown, their vibrant hues echoing the transformation stirring within you. new york is everything you imagined it would be—vibrant, chaotic, alive with possibility. the art program consumes your days, each moment pushing you to create, to dig deeper into your passion. but when the city finally quiets down at night, that familiar ache returns. you think of him. even though leaving was the right choice, part of you wonders if you’ll ever feel completely whole again.

your small flat in brooklyn is a world away from the life you had with him in monaco. it’s yours, it’s freeing. it offered you a fresh start, a chance to rediscover who you are outside of the life you are used to. but even in the midst of pursuing your dreams, there’s a void. you’ve been in touch with all you family ever since you left, they say this heartache is normal, that healing is part of the process. but as the weeks turn into months, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re waiting for something—though you’re not sure what. maybe it’s an apology, a sign from the universe, or even a call from him. the silence between you remains unbroken, thick and impenetrable. and while you never ask them directly about charles, you know most of them can sense what’s going on beneath the surface. especially friends in common, they always seems to know.

however, most of your time there has been incredible, a dream come true in so many ways. you learned things you wouldn’t have in home, met so many wonderful people, and a new world so full of life. maybe this program, this city, was what you needed to find yourself, but did it mean losing him forever? you thought the decision to leave everything would give you clarity. that it would finally help you breathe again, and it does. but also creates a different kind of weight, pulling at your chest whenever you think about what could have been, about the life you envisioned together.

meanwhile, charles wakes up to another empty morning in his flat, a space that once buzzed with shared laughter, quiet conversations, and the small comforts of your presence. now, there’s only silence. he moves through his routine on autopilot, each action reminding him of your absence. he never told you to leave—never wanted you to—but he knows his choices, the way he let life pull him away from you, drove you to walk out the door. the guilt hangs heavy, like a shadow he can’t shake. since you left, everything feels hollow to him. he goes to work, travels for races, puts on the show the world expects of him, but inside, he’s always thinking of you. of the last look you gave him, the hurt in your eyes. he wishes he could go back, say the things he didn’t, fix the cracks that were already starting to show.

the apartment is a constant reminder. your favorite books are still on the shelf, your art supplies untouched, like some part of him hopes you’ll walk back in and pick up where you left off. but he knows better. he knows he failed you. he knows he has to apologise. you needed space to grow, to explore your art, and he, without realizing it, held you back.

in a desperate attempt to make things right, he searches for ways to show he understands. he wants you to know that if you decide to come back, he’s ready to be the person you needed all along. though he’s unsure if you will return, he clings to that hope. maybe one day, he’ll find your way back to you. he’ll always go back to you.

the knock at your door startles you, pulling you away from the last-minute packing for your evening out with some friends from the art program. it’s a celebratory dinner, a chance to mark the end of an era before possibly returning to monaco. you weren’t expecting anyone, but when you open the door, the last person you imagine seeing is arthur, charles’ younger brother. he stands there, his posture tense, his eyes filled with a seriousness you’ve rarely seen from him. his presence instantly shifts the atmosphere, and the excitement of your evening fades. this was something serious.

“hey,” he says, cutting off your attempt to greet him, and stepping inside without waiting for an invitation, as if the urgency of his visit is enough reason to intrude. “i know this is unexpected. and i’m not here to pry, believe me.” he reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out a plane ticket and placing it in your hand. “this is your way back. you need to go home.”

you blink down at the ticket, heart stuttering in your chest. “what—what is this?” you start, but arthur keeps talking, his voice calm with conviction.

“you and charles are meant to be together. i’ve never seen two people more right for each other than you two.”

you blink in shock, staring down at the ticket in your hands. “wait…”

you open your mouth to protest, but arthur cuts you off again. “look, he’s been a mess without you. he won’t say it, probably doesn’t even know how to. he doesn’t want to hold you back again. not after everything.” his voice softens, eyes searching yours for a flicker of understanding. “i don’t know if coming back is what you have in mind, but if it is, just consider what i said.”

“does he know you’re here?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

arthur shakes his head. “no. and i’m not planning on telling him. this isn’t for him, not entirely. it’s for you, too,” he says, his gaze unwavering. “i know you’ve found something here, and i’m not saying you should give it up. but if there’s a part of you that still loves him—” his voice lowers, “and i know there is—you should go back. it’s not something you can just walk away from. not forever.”

his words hit harder than you expected, leaving you standing there, speechless. arthur knows you nearly as well as charles does, and he’s never been one to get involved unless he truly believed it was necessary. and here he was, standing in your tiny flat in new york, asking you to come home. your time on the other side of the world has been everything, but you can’t deny his words. you don’t want to abandon what you’ve built here, but you also can’t avoid the thought of charles, waiting for you, even if he hasn’t said a word.

arthur’s voice is softer now, almost pleading. “just think about it. you’re doing amazing things here, i know. but are you really happy without him?”

you look up at him, emotions swirling, and for a moment, all the memories of charles come rushing back—his laugh, the way he used to look at you when you talked about your future together, his bright eyes, the warmth of those moments, and the plans of the wedding that never happened. the ticket feels heavier than it should.

arthur gives you a small, understanding smile, sensing your hesitation. “don’t wait too long, alright?”

for days, the plane ticket sits on your bedside table, untouched, as you try to avoid the decision in front of you. everywhere you go in new york reminds you of him—his voice, his presence, as if he’s been a part of this city with you all along. you wonder what he’s doing, if he’s thought about you, and what would happen if you went back.

the night before your flight is scheduled, you stand by your window, staring at the skyline, trying to convince yourself that staying is the right choice. the city has given you so much, but your heart still belongs to monaco—belongs to him. the pull toward him is stronger than you can ignore. in the quiet hours of the morning, something shifts. without thinking too much, you grab your suitcase, the ticket in hand, and head to the airport. your heart pounds in your chest as you board the plane, unsure of what’s waiting for you on the other side.

when the plane lands, the air feels different—heavier, somehow. but the familiarity settles around you. after checking into a hotel, you debate calling him, texting him, but something stops you. it’s not your turn to make the first move this time. instead, you send a quick message to arthur, letting him know you’ve arrived. his response is immediate: you did the right thing. but what if it wasn’t? what if charles isn’t home? what if he’s moved on? what if he doesn’t want to see you at all?

days pass, and you intentionally steer clear of the familiar spots that once felt like home. each corner brings a rush of nostalgia, a reminder of the life you built together. the park bench where you’d spent lazy afternoons in each other’s company, the part of the town in which he proposed—each place holds memories that now feel too heavy to bear. you feel like a ghost in a city that should feel welcoming, yet instead feels foreign and haunting. the sun sets and rises, but you remain in a haze, caught between your desire for freedom and the pull of the love you left behind. you stroll along the waterfront, watching the yachts bob gently in the harbor, their beauty stark against the turmoil inside you.

then, fate, or whatever it is, intervenes. you catch sight of charles in the distance, at the café you were going to get into, the one both used to love, the one you were about the scent of freshly brewed coffee fills the air, mingling with the warmth of sunlight streaming through the large windows, casting a golden glow that feels almost magical. as you step inside, a wave of nostalgia washes over you, but it quickly gives way to something sharper. your heart races the moment your eyes meet his across the room. he freezes, surprise evident on his face, clearly unaware you were back in town. his expression shifts from shock to something more vulnerable.

a whirlwind of emotions surges within you—excitement, fear, and a deep-seated ache pulling you toward him even as your mind races with uncertainty. yet, the familiarity of it all wraps around you like a comforting blanket.

he stands there, momentarily rooted in place, his eyes searching yours as if trying to unravel the months and emotions that have drifted between you. in that split second, memories flood back with stunning clarity: the late nights spent talking until dawn, sharing dreams that felt boundless, the whispered promises of forever.

charles swallows hard, the tension in his shoulders relaxing just a fraction as he takes a hesitant step closer. “hey, you’re back,” his voice is gentle, almost hesitant, as though he’s not sure if you’re really standing there in front of him. his shoulders relax, but his eyes remain locked on yours.

you offer a small smile, trying to steady the rush of emotions rising in your chest. “yeah. summer’s over, so it’s not that unexpected.” you let out a soft laugh, an attempt to bring lightness into the conversation, to ease the weight that’s hung between you both since the moment you parted. he chuckles, a sound you’ve missed more than you’d care to admit. it feels like home. “sorry, terrible joke. how have you been?” you ask, curiosity and nervousness intertwining in your voice.

charles tilts his head slightly, his expression softening as he mirrors your question. “do you want the truth, the lie, or a vague answer?” his lips curve into that playful smile you remember so well, the one that used to make your heart skip a beat. you nod, the tension easing as you laugh softly, choosing the third option to keep things light. “i’ve been… okay, trying to figure things out.” he runs a hand through his hair, his fingers lingering for a moment, as though buying himself time. his eyes flicker with a thousand unsaid words before he asks, “you? how was your summer?”

you swallow, a mix of pride and hesitation bubbling inside you. “it was good, actually. i painted a lot and explored some really cool places.” there’s a pause, a slight hitch in your breath before you add, “could’ve been better, though.”

his brows knit together, curiosity tugging at him. “why?” his voice is genuine, concern etched into the way he looks at you, unaware of the depth behind your words.

but before you can answer, you both step forward, the line moving as the barista glances your way. his attention shifts for a moment, but not before his gaze lingers on you, a thoughtful expression crossing his face.

“i’ll have the usual,” charles says, stepping up to order. his voice is calm, but there’s an underlying warmth to it. “two americanos, one with almond milk, and a blueberry scone, right?”

your heart swells with unexpected emotion, the simplicity of the gesture somehow making your breath catch. “you got it,” you whisper, almost to yourself, but loud enough for him to hear. he turns toward you, his smile quiet; he could never forget your picks. you try to hand him the money for your coffee, but he pushes your hand softly back to you, what he usually does to avoid letting you pay anything.

you both fall into silence as you wait for your coffees, the air between you thick with unsaid words. it’s familiar and yet uncharted at the same time, like returning to a place you know by heart but with the awareness that everything has changed.

when the drinks arrive, charles hands you yours, his fingers grazing yours for the briefest moment—a spark, a connection that neither of you can deny.

“can we talk?” his voice breaks the silence as you step out of the café, the bustling streets surrounding you, but it feels like you’re the only two people in the world.

“yeah, sure,” you nod, bracing yourself for whatever comes next, though your heart has already begun to race. you walk side by side, your steps falling into a rhythm that feels as natural as breathing. he glances at you, his gaze soft, almost vulnerable.

“i’ve missed you,” he admits quietly, as though he’s been holding those words inside for too long. you stop, turning to face him, the weight of everything between you hanging in the air.

“yeah, i’ve missed you too,” you say, and it’s the truth. the ache of missing him had never really gone away.

“i’m so sorry for the way things went,” charles continues, his voice low but steady. “i didn’t mean for things to end the way they did. i never wanted to lose you. you were right to do what you did. i see that now.” his hand reaches up, almost instinctively, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, the familiar touch sending warmth through you. “i was too caught up in my own world to realise how important your dreams were.”

you look down for a moment, the weight of his words settling over you like a bittersweet memory. “you didn’t want to lose me, but you pushed me away,” you say, your voice soft but resolute. “i needed to do something for myself, and you made me feel like i had to choose between my art and us. it hurt.”

charles closes his eyes for a brief second, his expression pained. “i know, i’m sorry. i wish i could take it back,” he whispers, his voice thick with regret. “i was hurt, and it’s not an excuse. i should’ve been supportive. i should’ve let you chase your dreams without making you feel like you had to choose. and i should’ve spent my summer break there with you, even if it was just for a month.”

“you should’ve been, yes,” you agree, the truth hanging between you both like a fragile thread. “but it’s okay. you’re apologizing now, and i accept them.”

his relief is palpable. “i would’ve understood if you didn’t. i acted like an idiot,” he says, though there’s a sadness in his laugh. his eyes meet yours one more time. “you’re brilliant. you know that, right?”

a soft smile pulls at your lips, the tension in your chest loosening just slightly. “oh, whatever, charlie. you’ve apologised.”

his laughter comes easily this time, and something inside you softens. the nickname slips out without you realising, but it feels right, like muscle memory.

“what have you been up to since i left?” you ask, the question laced with curiosity, but also a cautious hope.

he hesitates for just a second before the excitement builds in his expression. “about that. i want you to see something,” he says, leading you forward. you follow him without question, your heart racing as you both make your way to his apartment—the one that used to be yours too. a block away from the café, your footsteps fall into a familiar rhythm.

when you reach the building, the air feels thick with memories. his fingers brush against your arm, guiding you in as if nothing has changed, and yet everything has.

“i found an amazing art consultant here,” charles says as you walk through the door. “she can connect you to a lot of artists across europe. i contacted her and showed her some of your work. she loved it.” his voice is filled with excitement, his eyes bright as he watches for your reaction.

your breath catches. “you have to be kidding me,” you say, your heart swelling at the thought of him doing this for you.

“never,” he says softly. “this could be your bridge back into that world.”

as you step into the flat, the familiarity of it hits you like a wave. everything is exactly where you left it—the photos, the little trinkets, even the paintings you’d made that still hang on the walls. you feel a warmth in your chest, realizing how much he’s held onto. even if it was just a three-month breakup, it felt like an eternity.

“you still have my things,” you say, a mix of surprise and emotion coloring your voice. “you have everything.”

“why wouldn’t i?” he asks softly, his gaze filled with a tenderness you hadn’t expected. he leads you down the hallway, guiding you to a room you hadn’t stepped into for a long time.

“i—” charles pauses at the door, his hand resting on the handle as he inhales deeply. then, with a slow exhale, he opens it. “i cleared out the office and turned it into an art studio,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost unsure. “in case you came back, even if you didn’t. i wanted you to have a place to create, to feel inspired again.”

you step inside, your breath catching in your throat as you take it all in. the room feels like a dream, filled with all the supplies you’ve ever loved, organised exactly as you would’ve done it yourself. your pieces hang on the walls, even the new ones you had mentioned years ago. and there, on a shelf, is a small drawing he made for you when you first started dating—two figures, you and him, holding hands with the words, ‘i’m so lucky you fell in love with me’ written beneath.

“wow, you really thought about this,” you whisper, your voice soft as you take in the gesture, overwhelmed by the love behind it.

“every day,” charles admits, stepping closer, his voice thick with emotion. “i’ve been a mess without you. and you deserve to have everything you ask for, even when you don’t.”

your heart swells, and before you can stop yourself, the words tumble out: “i’m always going to love you, you know that?”

his eyes widen slightly, but there’s no hesitation when he responds. “i’m always going to love you too,” he says softly, his hand finding yours.

“i want to get back together. i want to do it right,” he adds, his voice steady but filled with hope. “if you take me. i don’t want to rush anything, but i want you to know that i’m here to support you, wherever that takes us. and i’ll do anything for you to trust me again.”

you hold his gaze, the weight of his words sinking in. “no running away,” you say, your heart in your throat. you want this, of course you do. “we have to do things right; it has to be different.” the way things had been left months ago didn't change how you perceived him; nothing ever could. he’s still the person you fell for nearly ten years ago. all you want from him is honesty, a genuine conversation about everything. and he’s finally doing that.

“i won’t,” charles promises, his voice unwavering. he steps closer, gently cupping your face, his thumb brushing your cheek with tender affection. “i promise you. i’m not going anywhere. not again.”

you search his eyes, looking for sincerity, willing yourself to believe him. “you need to mean that, charles. i can’t go through the hurt again. it would destroy me.”

he swallows hard, the weight of your words hanging heavily between you. “i do mean it,” he assures you, his voice steady yet tinged with urgency. “i’ve missed you too much to let you go again. i’ve been lost, trying to exist in a world that felt incomplete without you. i can’t let that happen again. and i won’t ever disappoint you again.”

you breathe deeply, feeling the truth in his words. “okay,” you murmur softly, allowing the warmth of his touch to pull you closer.

your lips meet his, and suddenly, the world around you disappears. the kiss is slow, yet filled with all the longing and love that had built up during your time apart—two hearts finding their way back to each other. his hands cradle your face as if you were something fragile, and you lean into him, your fingers tangling in his brown hair, the kiss deepening, passionate and full of the promise that this time would be different.

when you finally pull apart, his forehead rests against yours, both of you breathing heavily, overwhelmed by the rush of emotions. a playful smile tugs at charles’ lips. “so… boyfriend and girlfriend again?” his eyes glimmer with happiness, his grin widening as though he can’t believe this is real.

you laugh softly, shaking your head in disbelief. “oh, no,” you tease, a playful smile spreading across your lips as you brush your hand across his chest. he flinches for a moment, eyes widening in mock alarm, before recognition dawns and a grin breaks through. “we’re getting married, remember? you can’t back out now.”

his laughter fills the room, rich and full, as he leans in to kiss you again, this time gently, his lips brushing yours with sweet tenderness. “even better,” he whispers almost against your lips, and you can feel the smile on his face, the joy in his voice as he kisses you once more; he can’t stop it now. “just want to make sure i’m up to the task of being the best husband ever.”

charles gently pulls even you closer, his arms circling around you in a way that feels both familiar and entirely new. you sink into his embrace, your cheek resting against his chest, where you can feel the slow, steady rhythm of his heart. the hug feels like coming home. his arms tighten around you, and there’s a tenderness in the way he holds you, as though he’s afraid to let go, afraid you might slip away again.

when you finally pull back just enough to look up at him, there’s a softness in his eyes that mirrors everything you feel. and in that moment, with his arms still around you and the world outside feeling miles away, there’s a sense of relief in the air, a comfort neither of you thought you’d feel again so soon.

“you told someone we called it quits?” you ask, your voice teasing but with a hint of curiosity laced within it.

charles looks down at you, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “not exactly… just my family.”

you raise an eyebrow, playfully. “especially arthur, i’m guessing.”

he pauses, his smirk fading into a look of mild confusion, brow furrowing. “what do you mean?” he asks, his tone genuinely puzzled, not quite understanding where you’re going with this.

“oh, don’t bother, love,” you say with a knowing smile, your voice teasing. you think of how arthur, and perhaps even a few others, conspired to push you both back together. you’ll share the details with charles eventually, and the image of his reaction makes you smile. you know he’ll laugh, maybe even shed a few happy tears at the gesture.

he narrows his eyes in mock suspicion but decides not to press the issue. instead, his hand gently rubs circles on your back. “okay… but answering your question—everyone else thinks we only postponed the wedding.”

your eyes widen in surprise, and you pull back slightly to look at him. “oh! so you knew we could work it out, huh?”

he flashes a playful grin, the spark in his eyes returning. “sometimes i do know things, you know?”

the two of you burst into laughter, the kind that leaves your stomachs aching a little and your faces flushed with joy. it’s a bright, carefree moment, the kind that had been missing for too long.

as the laughter fades, you rest against him, your head finding its familiar spot on his chest, the rhythm of his heartbeat steadying your own. he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, and for the first time in a long while, everything feels like it’s falling into place.

“we’re really doing this again, aren’t we?” you murmur, your voice filled with hope.

“we are,” charles whispers back, his arms tightening around you. “and this time, i’m going to get it right.”

he kisses you again, gently but with all the love he has in his heart. the world outside seems distant, unimportant, as the two of you stand in the stillness of the moment, wrapped in each other’s warmth. and as you look up at him, the man who had once made you question everything but who now stands here, ready to give you the world, you know that this time, there’s no more doubt. only love. it’s not just a new beginning—it’s the continuation of something that never truly ended. the end of one chapter and the start of forever.

©⠀piastrisun original work. please don’t translate, claim or repost any of my writing, 24’.

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norizzsainz · 1 year ago

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🌶️ NFY : MCDONALD'S FOR P

[ carlos sainz x singer!fem!reader ] [ wc ] 0.9k words

[ summary ] carlos' and y/n's breakup comes as a surprise to many of their friends. no one ever thought the couple would ever break up, but alas, y/n was always ready to do whatever was best for the love of her life — even if it meant breaking up with him.

[ loki's lines ] this was so much better in my head, contemplating if it should've just stayed there

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━━━━━━━ DECEMBER 03, 2023

max would've burst into laughter on any other day when he saw the way you had arrived at his doorstep.

you wore a hoodie; the strings tightly tied until only your eyes could be seen.

he offered a small smile as your eyes met; brows raised when you lifted a bag to his face.

“mcdonald's for p,” you mumbled. “got you and kelly some food, too.”

max tried not to let his smile fall as he heard your voice, the hoarse tone letting him know you had a really bad cry session — or even multiple of them.

“come on in,” he stated, nodding you inside as he stepped aside after taking the bags from you. “thanks for the food. p will love you forever.”

you only let out a tired chuckle at his words, not adding anything more. max frowned at your lack of response, realizing something was really wrong with you.

you loved p more than anything, and the fact you didn’t say much about max’s words were enough of an indicator as to how bad the situation was.

“aw, babes.” kelly walked towards you with a frown. “what are you trying to do? suffocate yourself?”

“honestly, right now, i'd love that,” you commented with a sigh, wincing as kelly untied the hoodie. “thanks, kels.”

the frown on kelly's face didn't fade; her brows furrowed as she sat you down on the sofa. she observed you well, her gaze softening as she met your bloodshot eyes.

“this isn't like you, y/n. what's wrong?”

max's heart shattered as he watched the way your face scrunched, trying to hold back the inevitable tears that made their way down your face.

you covered your face with your hands, crying harder when kelly pulled you into her embrace, trying to offer any sort of comfort.

“y/n ...” max stood next to you, patting your hair gently as his girlfriend rubbed your back. “tell us what's wrong so we can help.”

“h-he said we had t-to break up.” max frowned, exchanging glances with kelly as you hiccupped over your words.

“carlos? was it his idea to break up?” kelly inquired, confused.

you pulled away from the hug, meeting her gaze. “not carlos.” you shook your head, wiping away your tears with your sleeve.

max tilted his head. “who was it, then?” he asked, waiting for your response.

“his dad. he said we had to break up.”

the couple’s eyes widened, never having guessed your ex-boyfriend’s father would’ve intervened in the relationship and forced you to break up with him.

“what? why the fuck would he do that?”

max sat on the coffee table in front of the sofa you sat on, fisting his hands by his side as he looked at you.

the man’s frown never faded, staring at you. “why did he tell you to break up with carlos?” he asked, teeth gritted to control his anger.

“he said i was messing up carlos’ focus,” you mumbled, looking at your feet. “told me to break up with him if i genuinely care about his career.”

“so, you broke up with him?!” max raised his voice, flabbergasted by your words. “what the fuck, y/n? why would you do something like that?”

“because i love him, max.” the couple’s hearts shattered as they heard the crack in your voice. “i broke up because i love him.”

“you can’t be serious, y/n.”

“i hate this more than anything, but i’ll have to deal with it. i know how hard carlos has worked to come this far, and i can’t just sit still, knowing i’m the reason he’s fucking up his dream.”

max frowned, shaking his head. “just because he fucks up his races doesn’t mean you are the reason for it, y/n,” he stated, trying to make you understand.

“i am, max. i know that very well.”

“come on, you know–”

“five times, max,” you countered, looking at him. “five times, carlos purposefully did not qualify for the races because he wanted to be there for me,” you confessed.

you watched the way kelly’s face dropped, while max’s expressions remained stoic.

he had noticed too. he knew.

you saw him take a deep breath, biting his lip as he contemplated what to say.

“so, do you think his performance will become better now that you’ve broken up?” max inquired, raising his brows. “because if he doesn't, then this would all be in vain, no?”

“this is what his dad asked for, and i–”

max shrugged. “you are just fulfilling his wishes, obviously. this ‘fucking up his focus’ was just a sad excuse,” he said.

“his dad never liked you, babes,” kelly spoke, patting your back gently. “don't you think this entire thing was just some excuse to get you guys to break up?”

you buried your face in your hands, trying to control your breathing as you sat back on the sofa. everything was overwhelming you right now, and it was sending your brain into overdrive.

these were the moments when carlos would be there for you; listening to your thoughts and sorting them out for you.

but, he wasn't going to be there for you anymore. you had to deal with this on your own.

“whether it's an excuse or not,” you stated, looking at your friends through your teary eyes. “we've broken up now.”

“and that's–”

“and that's that.” you were stern with your words. “i'm tired of all this. i just want some peace and quiet, okay? just wanna forget about this all and go back to living life as i normally do.”

kelly nodded supportively. “if that's what you want, that's what we'll do,” she said, pulling you into her embrace.

“we got your back, y/n,” max added, wrapping his arms around you two. “forever and always.”

you smiled into the hug, utterly failing to keep the tears from falling down.

“thank you for being there for me, guys. i love you both so fucking much.”

#[📝] works #f1 x reader #f1 #carlos imagines #carlos scenarios #carlos sainz imagines #carlos x reader #cs55 x reader #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz drabbles #f1 drabbles #f1 imagines #f1 scenarios #f1 carlos #carlos sainz #carlos

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d1s1ntegrated · 8 months ago

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shigaraki x reader oneshot

includes: angst, pent up feelings, tomura being emo af, reader being soft, pretty sfw just some kissin :3

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

tomura isn't good with his emotions.

he's clingy, angsty, childish. he wants to win everything and he ignores whatever makes him human.

so when he realizes that having you around makes him feel things, he feels sick. he wonders if he's cursed, he wonders if his past is finally coming to haunt him. they way you laugh at his jokes, the softness to your voice when you speak with him, the scent of your hair as you walk past him. he's so fucking angry with you, he's so confused and hurt and doesn't understand why.

he sits across the room from you and stares. he can't peel his eyes from you. he ignores you when you ask if he's feeling alright, he just gets up and storms off. when you knock on his door a few minutes later, he slowly cracks the door and rolls his eyes. it's the last thing he needs, to see you when all he wants to do is forget you exist.

"shiggy, are you okay? you've been staring off all night. did one of us do something?" you ask him in that same pleasantly soft voice, and it hurts his head.

"i'm fine." he avoids your eyes, but stares daggers into your socks. he picks at his nails from his sides and shrugs. you can hear everyone else from the other room, laughing and yelling at each other, and wonder if you should just go back out and give tomura his space.

"i can leave, if you want. you don't seem to want company. i didn't mean to bother." you propose, but he looks you dead in the eyes now, and in the smallest voice, replies,

"don't."

"okay." you nod and close the door behind you.

"do you want to talk about it?" you ask, and he shakes his head.

"just shut up and sit." he points to his messy bed, before shoving his piles of clothes off and fixing the duvet slightly. good enough.

"...okay." you comply, and sit. you go to speak but he cuts you off.

"y/n, do you think I'm sick?" he asks, and you look at him.

"what? that's the last thing i expected you to ask." you blink at him, confused.

"aren't you scared of me?" he asks another equally as odd question. you frown.

"if i was, do you think I'd be here?" he grits his teeth.

"yes, because you're reckless and impulsive and an idiot and i hate that." he starts, his tone annoyed.

"i mean you aren't wrong, but wh-" you try to reply, but he cuts you off.

"I'm not finished. don't cut me off." he snaps, but you nod and let him continue,

"i hate that you don't care. i hate that you laugh. i hate how you clean me up and you care for us and you're always here. every time i walk out the door i expect to come back and you're gone, but you're. always. here. you just don't leave! what is wrong with you, y/n, for you to be so stupid and naive, to care for people like us. like me. you're too soft. you're too...good. to be here." his voice cracks at the end, but his words are sharp as he speaks.

you stand and face him. his breathing is heavy, his hands shaking at his sides.

"im no better than you." your answer is simple, but it gets him to look you in the eye.

"why do you stay?" he is quieter now, like what he said before drained him.

you reach out and grab his gloved hand. he doesn't protest, but he winces. you squeeze his hand twice for reassurance, and you feel his hand untense slightly.

"because i want to." he looks to your hand touching his.

"why are you touching me?" he asks shakily.

"because i want to." you rub his hand with your thumb, feeling the roughness of his palm and the soft material of the glove.

"you aren't afraid?" he asks, his sanguine eyes blown wide from the contact. its not a new thing for you to touch him, but you don't do it often. usually only to path him up, or shove him playfully. never this...intimately.

you bring yourself closer to him and brush a strand of his soft hair out of his face. he shivers at the contact and clenches his jaw.

"are you?" you ask, and he scoffs.

"it feels like slow torture." he answers, and you're close enough to feel his breath on you.

"why's that?" you look up at him, your voice low, as if you're keeping a secret.

"because i know it's gonna end." he admits. your eyebrows raise, and you lock eyes.

"it doesn't have to, tomura." the sound of you saying his name makes him swallow hard.

"don't. don't say things like that, it pisses me off, i know it's a lie, i know you'll leave eventually and i don't want to deal with that." he pleads, his hand shaking in yours. you shake your head.

"i'm not leaving. i'm not afraid of you." you whisper now, but you release his hand and just hold your gaze on him.

"y/n. don't." he hushes, as if someone's watching. but the door is closed, everyone else is drinking and shouting still, too distracted with themselves to notice either of them are gone.

"i don't think you're a monster." you say, and it's enough for him to stop caring. his anger for you, his disdain for your stubbornness, his frustrations, all fizzle out into force, and he presses himself against you, his rough lips meet yours hastily, messily. he throws all of his preconceptions out the window as he grabs your face and kisses you. the tension that stood the few inches between you before, is swallowed up in the moment, and neither of you care. the air is heavy, your mind spinning. he tastes like sour apples and smoke, and suddenly it's all you can focus on. he smells subtly of the ocean, and you feel like you're drowning. you refuse to pull away, instead, you wrap your arms around the back of his neck and allow him to consume you. his kisses are hungry, desperate even, and uncoordinated. your teeth clash together and you laugh, but he still doesn't pull away. his hands move down to wrap around your waist, his fingers trailing down your sides and grabbing and tugging whatever he can.

finally, you both pull away for a breath, and you meet his eyes. they're wide, unsure. he opens his mouth to speak, but can't find the words, so you answer his unasked question before he finds the words.

"I'm not leaving still. if that wasn't confirmation enough, we can do that again, if you aren't sure" you smile as you say it, and he nods.

"i might need to double check" he smirks, and you allow him to pull you back in, smiling to yourself as his lips plant back onto yours.

if this is how it feels to be sick, tomura never wants to recover.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

my first one-shot! be nice i lowkey suck at proof reading :3 but anyways ye enjoy some soft angsty tomu and reader, and lmk if yall want either MORE of this or others!

also im working on a full-blown fic!

i won't go into detail, but its online to irl, slow burn, kinda not enemies but two angry ppl to lovers, and its obv shiggy x reader. :) ill prob post at least snippets here, and prob on my ao3 once i have a few chapters ready to go. so stay tuned!!

thanks yall <3

#shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki #mha shigaraki #shigaraki headcanons #bnha #mha #my hero academia #tomura x reader #tenko shimura #shigaraki smut #shigaraki oneshot #shigaraki x reader oneshot #myposts #myoneshots

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threepandas · 6 months ago

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Eve: Part 2

Prev: <-

He had clothes for me. And It would not have been so unsettling, had they been less... precise. Less flattering. Fit less perfectly. But they DID. A sundress, in a flattering cut. A lovely color for my skin tone. The sort of thing a man who wore only variations of the same outfits? Day in and day out? Definitely researched.

At least I had fucking underwear now.

Even if I still couldn't move under my own power, farther then an inch or so.

He didn't even have the decency to dress me like a doll. Fondly but with some detachment. A bit of distance I could cling too. No, I was the paralyzed toddler, to be cradled and cooed over as he manhandled me. Praises as though I DONE anything. Kisses pressed to bio-gel wet hair and skin.

Weren't I SUCH a good girl? Letting him do as he pleases. Unable to stop him. Weak as the newborn I was. Fuck. The echoes of pain still howled along my near weeping nerve endings. Begging for rest. For the finest pain medication cocktails money can buy. Anything.

Instead I got this.

Clingy hands and the near bitter cold of a lab.

A lab coat was pulled onto me next. It didn't match my little dress up outfit. But? At least it was WARM. Thank god. Already, the goo was making my clothes stick to me. Sucking away my heat. Leaving my... my EVERYTHING feeling gross and sticky. I wanted a shower. Not to be dressed up.

But I had a feeling I wouldn't be getting what I wanted.

"There we are~ All nice and covered up. We'll get you cleaned up soon, sweetheart. Daddy promises." The madman who held me hummed. His face tucked against my gel filthy hair as his hand rubbed up and down my limp arm, as though trying to draw warmth to it. A mockery of caring. This was possession. "Now let's get out of here, hmm?"

Scooped up like a princess, I felt more like a toy too be carted around.

I was carried, for the first time, from the lab that had been all I'd known.

I wish he'd left me there. Forgotten I even existed. Instead, I got to see firsthand, EXACTLY what he had done. And... and I knew... KNEW that none of those dead around me were innocent. They all had hand in atrocities, either directly or by compliance. Inaction. But.... but did they deserve this? Indiscriminate execution?

He didn't even glance down, as he strolled through the carnage he had made.

Too the elevators, where he casually kicked the corpse blocking the door, out of the way, before steeping inside. We rode in near silence. Just me, him, and the corpses of three security gaurds and a scientist. He was humming. Soft but pleased, as though the day had turned out surprisingly well.

He had to rest me on a hood, when we reached the carpark. So he could dig out his keys. I was swept up again. Though not carried far. Fancy. Good to know being a morally bankrupt, weirdly clingy, DEEPLY fucking cracked, mad scientist pays well... I guess...

Placed down on another hood while he...

Are you kidding me?

With a near skip in his step, I watch as my "father" strolls to the trunk of his car. Pops it open. Pulls out a FUCKING KIT. An honest to God duffle bag. Several unopened plastic carseat covers. How... how LONG has he been PLANNING this?!

Numbly, I watch as he preps his front seat for me. Both protecting the upholstery while somehow making an honest to God nest of comfort for his little passenger princess. There are layers. The motions look practiced. I... I feel like I'm in a fever dream.

He does realize I'm technically a science experiment, right?

We are... for lack of a better plot device, absconding in the night? He's not PICKING ME UP FROM THE HOSPITAL. He's kidnapping me! Stealing me!! What the ACTUAL FUCK?!

I don't ask. Know BETTER then to ask. I remember that much. You don't argue with crazy. You smile, nod, and quietly get the FUCK out of there at the first possible chance. Placate don't escalate. If the madman wants to play "happy family"? Suuuuuure, "Daddy". Of COURSE.

That's EXACTLY what'll do...

You know, right up until I can fucking RUN again.

Then peace out, bitchcakes. You can take your nuttypuffs and SHOVE IT. I am sore, cold, and YOU are the one who kept pumping me full of drugs! They HURT. A LOT. I know for a FACT the world's probably gonna end. In that weirdly symbolic anime way, where there's giant hands and faces or whatever, so? Screw you!

Noooooot that I SAY that.

Because, again, we do not provoke the crazy man with a gun.

And a PLAN apparently. Dooooon't LIKE that he has "A Plan". In fact, would Prefer Not. But I'm not getting what I want today. I'm getting lifted and put, like a precious if sickly child, into the little car nest he's made for me and tucked in. Watching as he rounds the car to slide protectors over his own seat as well.

Well... at least he's self AWARE of all the blood.

He starts the car. Turns on the heater, a few taps of the console screen has music beginning to play and my seat leaning back. He leans over to grab my seat belt, as though this were all perfectly normal, pressing a soft kiss to my temple as he gets me situated.

There are straight jackets less containing.

I am trapped. Bundled by blankets, wrapped and pressed in on all sides, pillows and fancy little comforts I never wanted or asked for. All to then be strapped down by a seat belt I can't even REACH.

Great.

Just... Great.

He leaves the car running. Keys hanging, tormenting me really, in the ignition. If only I could FUCKING MOVE. I watch as he gets out. Walks back towards the elevator. He seems to think we apparently have all the time in the world. And really, according to time on the console? We kinda fucking DO.

It's barely mid-day.

Not... not even lunch.

Somehow that makes it worse. It shouldn't. I know it shouldn't. Death and massacre can happen at any time. But... the fact that he so cheerfully killed each and every one of his co-workers? Massacred everyone in the fucking building but me? In broad daylight? Makes it... worse.

It feels like the sort of horror that should only happen during dark, moonless, nights. Someplace dark. Where you expect the wickedness of man against man, the inhumanity of so called civilized people. Not... daylight. Beneath the cheerful rays under which children play and people fall in love, life bustles around. It should be for LIVING.

It's a bias.

A naive thought.

Foolish of me to hold...

And yet? I still had it. Still found myself shocked. Guess I can be glad? That my innocence has not been COMPLETELY lost to this place. That there is still good in me. I seem to still assume the best of people, foolish as that is. How very dangerous.

My "father" is back. Wheeling boxes and boxes of hard drives. Lock boxes of things unknown. First the trunk, then the back seat. The car is stuffed. Every secret this place ever held it seemed. He's talking them. His grin has teeth. Is giddy and MEAN.

Looting the corpses of his enemies agrees with him, it seems.

The last trip is for his briefcase. A small pile of file folders. He's nearly dancing. Does a little twirl as he passes the front of the car, a slide to reach the door. Humming a showtime I don't recognize.

"Ah~ I've waited for this moment for YEARS~! Ha Ha!" Teeth flash and catch the low light of the carpark's emergency lighting, his eyes practically glow with a manic schadenfreude. "Oh my sweet Eve, you have NO idea how much I've been looking forward to the day I get to steal you away~ BURN this cesspit to the ground. And best of all? Finally get my hands on all this research! Put it to actual USE for once! No more filthy Adams. No more trying to fix the worthless and damned! Just us. Just Eden."

Well THATS not fucking ominou-...

Wait.

WHAT.

Eden. As in EDEN Eden? End game Eden? Super mega doom project Eden? Seemly perfect garden of bliss build upon horrors, that you think have to face Plot Relevant, "get one of several endings", Moral Quandary EDEN??? THAT ONE!? Oh, MOTHER FUCKER. Please tell me Crazy Daddy Pants isn't one of the Architects of the apocalypse.

I do NOT want to be ground zero for that. NOR in the Protagonist's way!

He buckles up. Pulls out of his spot. Casual as anything. The world is blinding, after a life spent inside. A depressing cyberpunk hellcity crowds the world around us. Somehow both choking the world of all color, even as it splashes itself with gaudy and neon like some sort of radioactive oil spill.

Clambering over each other like a bucket of crabs, dragging everyone else down as they claw at what's left of the sky.

A full city of Babel.

Yet? Even as I remember, lay witness, to this oh so familiar set dressing? Limp in my creator's car, as he drives. Smoothly navigating chaotic traffic worse then anything I could ever remember? My mind was faster then it had been. Processed information FASTER then I could ever have imagined.

I... I experienced time differently, I think.

It was... flexible? Slowing and speeding, depending on if I... not "concentrated"? But "payed attention"? I guess? Wanted to know. It felt almost like flexing something, yet there was no... flexing? Feeling? It was strange.

Yet...

Yet, with it...

I SAW.

A food cart. Owner sneaking a bedraggled man a few extra peice when he glanced away. Young parents, swinging their child between them. He is the center of their world. A first date. They are both widows, old grief still clings, but cautiously... they are ready to try again. There is SO MUCH. Lives and lives and LIVES.

The city is ugly, cruel, but the people are not.

They are not props in someone else's play.

The traffic dies off, as we get closer and closer to opulence. As brutalism shifts to a blend of art nouveau and art deco. Bits of greenery, kept like trophies to be displayed. I am somehow... unsurprised, when my creator pulls us into the garage of one of the more expensive but barren looking houses.

It is the sort of place that makes show room's seem warm.

Because, at least, show rooms TRY to mimic hospitality and warmth. A lived in quality. They, at least, SUGGEST that the dwelling they represent could one day be a home. This? This place hold no such illusions. This house would prefer itself to be a lab. Be left alone. The walls somehow radiating a disgust of you.

It is unbearably cold.

Scooped up again. The blankets have dried against my skin in places. So he merely takes them with, rather then (apparently) risk my poor hyper durable yet still sensitive skin. He's made me a living tank. Through agony after agony, day by day, yet NOW? Now I am treated like spun glass.

Carried into the house... and God, in the GARAGE was bad? This is somehow worse. I feel like tracking in a single speck of dirt would somehow get me treated to a summary execution. Literally. That nothing resides here but nutrient paste and room temperature, triple filtered water. A place where the color beige is treading dangerously close to being "too much".

Isn't this a form of torture? I'm pretty sure this was a form of torture, locking people in rooms designed like this.

Up the stairs, down a near barren hallway. The paintings probably came the house. They scream "generic and inoffensive". Where are we..? WHY are we going to the master bedroom? I do not WANT to be alone in a bedroom with you, my dude. Shit. FUCK!

I wriggle. I can twitch my feet a bit more now, but not by much.

"Shhhh, my perfection, I know. Being so filthy must be unbearable. But don't worry, Daddy's here. We're almost there." He croons at me, almost in the exact tone one uses to sooth a fussy toddler. I pray to God this isn't a sex thing. It's already weird, I don't know HOW weird I can tolerate before I snap. "Daddy's gonna get you all cleaned up, okay? Then you can take a nap while he pack everything to go. We're going on a little road trip to our new home. Growing girls need clean air and flowers, after all."

Oooooh fuck.

Fuck, he DOES plan to take me to Eden.

Ooooh ho hooo, I am gonna DIE die. Like... super mega death. Class A with sparkles Death. Eden is a seemingly utopian dream garden. A cottage core painting brought to life. Problem is? It's built on the back of endless suffering. Cruelty and blood, atrocity and hell itself made real.

You could like in heaven... so long as you ignored what it cost others.

Destroying Eden is what triggers the Apocalypse. Because it's BUILT INTO THE PLANET. Like a massive tumor. A parasite. Killing an already dying world even FASTER. But? Again. If you wanted to get YOURS and damn the rest? Beautiful beyond measure.

His bathroom is exactly the sort of rich person nonsense I expected from a house this size. Too much space. I get set down on a bench. Because THAT'S normal to just.. fucking have. How the hell does it not MOLD? No, wait, concentrate. I do NOT want this man bathing me! Yes, he's seen me naked. A lot. But that wasn't touching! No touchy!

He comes back with a pitcher.

And I discover that I am saved. Bio-gel is incredibly water soluble. He pours water over where the blankets stick to me to free me. Has removed his shoes and watch. Everything, really, that can't afford to get wet. I find out why? When he carries me straight into a walk in shower.

Fully dressed.

....at least he's respecting my boundaries?

Never VOICED them, though. So I have no idea what this is. Washing off the blood maybe? We don't stay long. Or, rather, I don't stay long. Just long enough to remove most of the gel. Then I am swept off to a fancy jacuzzi tub. Oooooh, bubbles. Warm water. Warm and comfy, massaging wat jet lined seat. Blergle....

I think my brain is melting out.

Waaaarm soup. Bubbles. Cook my muscles until I am noodle. Leave me, I wanna die here.

I am utterly blissed out. Boneless. No longer even TRYING to keep track of my surroundings. The indulgent chuckle from above me? Should probably worry about that. But on the OTHER hand... what if I just continued to doze off, here, in what is clearly heaven's water filled embrace? Hands gather my hair. Gently begin to work what smells like fancy shampoo into it.

Spa day?

My sleepy brain says it's probably spa day or something. This is nice~

By the time everything is done, my limbs are heavy and boneless. Relaxed. At least, I'm PRETTY sure that's why I can't move so good. Mmmm, sleepy. Warm now. I list to the side, only to be caught gently. The guy helping me, helps me change. Comfy new clothes. Hair ready for sleep. Even carries me to a big ol bed. Tucks me in. How nice...

I'm forgetting something...

Feels important. But I'm TIRED. I'll deal with it in the morning.

"Ah~ my perfect girl, I can't wait to give you EVERYTHING." Whispers a voice, like a confession, before a kiss is pressed to my temple. "You were made to be loved. Adored. The perfect child meant for a perfect world. I can not wait to finally bring you HOME. God's mistake was making Adam."

"All I need, is Eve."

#threepandas #yandere #yandere x reader #yanblr #reader insert #yanderecore #sci fi yandere #bad end eve #bad end eve au #tw gore #tw religious themes #tw heresy #what can i say #man has a literal god complex #he's an anime scifi otome game mad scientist #they take bible concepts and put them in a blender for ease of excuse making and sick new abominations #yandere otome #yandere otome isekai #captured reader

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iwoulddieforher · 14 days ago

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(told me ur new man don't make u- what?) That's A Damn Shame | Casey Novak × Alex Cabot

Alexandra Cabot, the Homicide Bureau Chief, comes to Casey Novak's office regularly, for idle chatter, for complaining. When she comes in dazed and having apparently just hooked up with her subordinate, she asks Casey for help understanding why the hell she did that- and Casey teaches her exactly how well she understands her. Warnings: Explicit sexual content (fingering, A receiving), extensive discussion around cheating/affairs and compulsive heterosexuality The title is from "ALL MINE", the song, but the song has literally nothing to do with how this fic ended up ?? This was initially supposed to be a lighthearted character study for Alex paired with Casey's sassiness but my beta reader is currently staring blankly at a wall .. Read below or alternatively on ao3, which you can find here

"Hey," Alex muttered, strolling her way into Casey's office without asking, throwing her bag on the floor next to the couch and proceeding to collapse down on it, "Are you working on anything confidential or would otherwise need me out?"

A bemused Casey Novak raised an eyebrow, setting her pen down from where she was sitting down at the desk and raising her eyes to examine the homicide bureau chief flopped gracefully on her couch. "No, not really. Can't catch a break?"

"I had sex with Jim Steele."

"Oh!"

"Why did I do that?" Alex raised her head and squinted in Casey's direction, and Casey realized not only was Alex missing her glasses, but her lipstick was also smudged, her mascara coating a millimeter of skin below her eyes, and her hair was tussled. Had she come directly here from... apparently having sex with her subordinate?

"..Uh," Casey offered blankly, trying vaguely not to conjure the image of a flushed Alexandra Cabot being pounded down by some man she had hardly met, and then doubly hard trying not to envision Alex naked at all from how that thought would stir the anatomy of her abdomen, "You tell me?"

"I'd love to tell you, if I knew." Cabot let herself go limp, chin resting on the wooden armrest of the couch so she could watch Casey pause from what she was doing to stand and come over to sit beside her.

"So... how are we feeling about that?" Casey prompted, slinging one leg over the other and leaning backward, stretching her arms out and letting her spine unfurl, small sounds of her joints cracking from hours of being hunched over a desk satisfying her enough to let out a long, contented sigh.

Casey, by now, was used to Alex showing up in her office. They had become fast friends since Alex had rejoined the pursuit of justice since leaving witness protection, now that Casey had dealt with one man who had threatened her and the other had died in prison. Alex inviting herself inside, occasionally bringing along Chinese as a bribe to persuade Casey into allowing her office be used as a lounge room for the blonde, was not by any means an uncommon occurrence.

Truth be told, Casey didn't even really remember how this whole arrangement had started, just that it would happen at least once a week- Alex would wander in, distract her for an hour or two with snark and humorous conversation, and then proceed to wander her way back out.

At first, Casey had been almost eager yet simultaneously tentative, because, well- the first time they had met they had gotten along so well that the night ended with Casey sprawled open, trying to catch her startled breath as Alex licked her lips and rose casually as if she hadn't just brought Casey to the most intense climax she had ever experienced. But she found that this apparently wasn't what the blonde Chief of Homicide was seeking, only companionship, because Alex never made a move and at some point mentioned a boyfriend, and Casey had shrugged to herself and decided to resign from that idea.

"I just- I don't even know how it happened!" Alex admonished, twisting and wriggling for a moment so she could slide her legs over Casey's lap. She was now effectively lying on her back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling with very bewildered blue eyes, her knees elevated slightly as they rested on top of the leg Casey had crossed over the other of her own. Casey patted her raised knee with one hand sympathetically.

"He was- we were arguing, I guess maybe I was being unfair because- well, no, it's my job to get results and that's what I've been fucking trying to do- well, anyway," Alex huffed, her hands waving and gesturing into her air above her as a way for her to emphasize her utter confliction, a sight that only made Casey more amused, "And he insinuated I was fighting with him because Robert and I aren't doing well and then tried to walk away from me! The sheer nerve of this guy! So I grabbed his hand and he literally almost hit me as he waved me off and then-"

Her energetic recounting turned quietly the mild mortification and she covered her face with her hands, eyes squeezing shut as if disgusted, "and then all of a sudden he was kissing me and in literally less than a second he was ripping my cardigan apart- literally, one of the buttons broke, look-"

Casey did look, and yes, one of the buttons on Alex's cardigan was in fact missing.

"And then he pushed me up and on the table and used the hand not on my hips to shove all my papers off my desk and then I was being pushed backward and my cardigan wasn't on at all and he was on top of me and I was taking my glasses off and then he was shirtless? I think I helped him rip his shirt off? He literally ripped it off Casey he broke his undershirt-" a pretend-pained gasp, then, incredulously, "and he didn't even manage to get it all the way off it was just hanging like halfway on like a rag, Jesus. And then he was fumbling with his belt and it sprang out of his pants and-"

"Okay Cabot," Casey cut her off, "Good lord, that's enough detail for me," The younger woman said this hastily, swiping her hand impulsively to bat at the elder woman's face, and Alex groaned again loudly, rolling her head side to side as if trying to shake off the fact that had just happened or at the very least the recollection of it.

"Casey, why the hell did I do that?"

Casey snorted, tossing her head backward to stare at the ceiling alongside her friend who seemed utterly transfixed by it, a defined crease of bafflement between her eyes, as though the painted cream above them would have some profound answer to her question.

A bit selfishly, Casey thought she wouldn't have minded hearing Alex continue in her description, because her fumbling, flushed ramble sounded almost sexy in the frantic tone she was using and Casey really did like hearing Alex talk. Most of the time when Alex came into her office and proceeded to make herself comfortable, this is what they did- tell stories back and forth, exchange troubles and woes they knew only the other would be able to really understand. But if she had let Alex keep talking the next time she was alone and ovulating she knew that detailed recount would nag at her mind and that seemed wildly inappropriate since Alex clearly was not fond of it in hindsight, besides, the sexual memory she wanted to associate with Alex was the one they had shared, not that of Jim Steele with his undershirt half torn open half still clinging on to his frame humping like a dog into her. Alex was too physically glorious for that- Casey didn't want to be distracted by needing to cut his bumbling out of her imagination constantly.

Alex groaned again, loudly, thumping herself against the head with a knuckle and then fully arching her back to stretch out her shoulder and spinal muscles with the discomfort. "I'm about to be engaged, for God's sake, we're planning the fucking engagement party..."

Casey chuffed in the back of her throat, tilting in a way that made her faux blonde hair sway idly. "So, do you not want to be engaged? Did Steele dick do any good for you?"

"No, absolutely not." Alex retorted a bit too hastily, a bit too firmly, but it sounded like she was answering exclusively the first question, ignoring the second.

Casey jotted that down, mentally, to prod at that line of questioning later. Girl gossip, she supposed it was.

"My family would have my head on a platter if I... he hasn't asked me yet but I know he will soon, and I can't say no- Casey, why the fuck did I just do that? Why?"

She emphasized the 'y' in 'why' so long it sounded almost like a sighed whine that made Casey flex her eyebrows, another mildly entertained huff leaving her nose, and she patted Alex's knee again mock-patronizingly.

It was as if her brain was stuck in some sort of a looping track, able to diverge based on Casey's questions for a few moments until sheer bewilderment brought her straight back to a question neither could genuinely answer.

"Well- you said you and Robert were having problems, was this some kind of revenge sex action?"

"No," Alex sighed, "Although... I guess it wouldn't be wrong to say my issues with Stilton are... maybe it did add to it, actually, yeah."

"What kind of issues have you two been experiencing?" Casey sat upright, folding her hands self-importantly in her lap, deciding to play faux therapist, which made Alex roll her eyes and raise one leg to bump her shin against the side of Casey's face playfully- it missed, slightly, hitting the entire side of her body gently, pushing up against Casey's chest and cheek. Pretend outraged, Casey grabbed her leg and forced it back down. "That was not very ladylike, Miss Cabot, how dare you. Answer the question."

She didn't release Alex's leg, though, no, opting instead to smooth delicate little circles with her thumb at the side of Alex's knee, gazing half-focused at the blonde's long, lithe, frankly sexy as hell legs as they lay haphazardly over Casey's own.

Alex liked physical touch, she liked it a lot actually despite being so reserved with giving it, and Casey had grown accustomed to how casually Alex provided her with it- this position as an evident example, Cabot entirely content to lay sprawled over Novak and jest by pretending as though she were going to kick her, and Casey too had begun reciprocating in that right, leaving her hands in small motions on Alex's body in random places.

It could very easily pass for platonic, but Casey wasn't sure if that was the only thing she felt, although Alex apparently did not seem to care either way.

"I..." Alex turned her head, finally awkward, a bit of her composure returning after the initial shock faded and she began actually pondering the answer to her vital question. "It just... doesn't seem like we really know what we're doing, I guess. It's not like we argue. He gets home from work before I do and then I get home from work and he expects me to cook and I don't. I order something, and then I take my portion to eat in the study because I have more work to do with my volunteer associations and he thinks that's pointless and I don't, and then I do the dishes which is just two forks and two knives, and then we go to bed if neither one of us has more work to do, and we sort of just lay next to each other and..."

"Intimacy isn't going well?" Casey hummed, her fingers straying from just her knee, her index and middle being used to create a little man that walked down the length of Alex's tilted shin and then back up it. She liked the fact she could toy with Alex's body like this, that she could just enjoy the feeling of the pads of her fingertips along ridiculously expensive fabric while still listening intently. Truth be told, sometimes Casey didn't especially like making eye contact and needing to seem like she was paying full attention by scrutinizing her own body language- Alex had no such expectations, she trusted Casey was being attentive to her regardless.

"It's just not really happening." Alex muttered, "I mean, we do, at least once a week, but it could hardly be considered being intimate. It's- it feels like we think we're supposed to, at least, but it's so... quick, it feels like he's barely paying any mind to me. I do all the work, I'm on top of him and I try to make it seem like he's in control still, doing my best to be entertaining, and he doesn't really look at me that much. He just squeezes his eyes shut and moans. He doesn't even hold me."

With a jerk of her eyebrows, Alex opened her eyes, a soft scoff leaving her mouth. "That feels almost pathetic to say. I mean, maybe I'm just getting older-? It's not like I have the body I did in my twenties-"

Casey bopped her on the head for that comment with no hesitation, an incredulous chuckle leaving her throat. "Seriously, Alex? You know you're sexy as fuck, you aged like top-shelf wine does. Continue, but without the self-deprecations."

Alex raised a teasing eyebrow, flashing her an affectionate, broad smile, which Casey returned easily, equally as playful. It felt warm in her usually cold office with Alex semi-on-top of her, despite the fact Casey was frequently chiding Alex for her skin being cold to the touch, citing iron deficiency or low blood flow and trying to encourage her to eat more red meat. Perhaps Alex just made Casey feel warm herself.

"Alright, if you say so," Cabot conceded, "but it really feels like he doesn't think he has to be an active participant. And it's not like he's very active in any other aspect of life either outside of his conferences."

"What do you like about him, then? I know ambition is such a turn-on for you."

Alex snorted, but indulged the question, "I really like... this sounds self-centered, but how much he knows about me, I guess?"

"Oh?" Casey tilted her head again, shifting her gaze from her hand running along Alex's shin to the halo of blonde hair splayed out around the elder woman's head as she lay on the couch. Casey's previous comment about the other woman being beautiful was not forgotten about, to her at least, and now that she was indeed thinking about it she allowed herself to indulge in gentle admiring of Alex's features as she spoke.

Alex inhaled to respond, and Casey's eyes traced the delicate curve of her collarbones that stood out so deliciously from her skin, and when she parked her lips to speak Casey's jade eyes flickered to examine that motion, too.

"He notices things. I like that a lot about him. When I came out of protective custody everyone at the galas my family instructed me to attend wanted to talk about what had happened, hear how difficult, that sort of thing. A couple weeks in he struck up a conversation with me, and it was just... different."

Despite being very heinously attracted to her, Casey realized vaguely that she had little issue listening to Alex recount her love story with her soon-to-be fiance to her. She was the one Alex was laying on top of right now, at least, she was the one Alex came to bother at work when the blonde woman could easily be- well, not for this particular conversation, but for their previous ones- on the phone with her man instead. Little moments like this were enough to satiate her. She wouldn't be made upset by some false notion that Alex would for some reason be her's, and regardless, Alex showered her constantly with affection through their casual friendship- Casey never felt like she was or would have to be fighting for anything. It was comfortable.

"He knows my coffee order, and how I take my whiskey," Alex murmured, and Casey's eyes followed the gentle, perked slope of her nose as the blonde sighed softly along with those words.

London Fogs were her guilty pleasure, but she couldn't find many cafes that made them just the way she wanted them to. Otherwise, an Iced Americano was her usual order, or a Red Eye for those nights when work was particularly grueling. Alex took her whiskey with a splash of water if she was drinking something expensive and wanted to really savor the taste- she had said it brought out the flavor- but was also fond of Manhattans in a more casual setting.

Casey knew this, the information surfaced for her easily without contemplation. At some point or other, though source misattribution was certainly at play, Alex had divulged the information to her in some casual conversation and Casey's brain had scribbled it down as important.

Alex blinked, and Casey watched the batting of her eyelashes, the small shifts in the range of dilation of her eyes as Alex continued to stare upward- okay, maybe she was taking this fake therapy session seriously- the small refined details in the corners of her eyes that showed her wisdom, her years of ensuring the streets were that much safer for everyone else. Casey briefly compared the lines that showed tiredness below her eyes with that of the former moments in which she had paid close attention, but decided they weren't particularly worse or better, and she knew Alex struggled with insomnia on occasion normally, so bringing up her sleep schedule was unnecessary.

"What brands I wear," the cardigan Alex currently had on was St. John, but she often wore The Row or staples from Giorgio Armani, "the little things I do when I'm uncomfortable," toying with the third joint of her ring finger with the opposite hand was Alex's most obvious tell, "just.. stuff like that."

"You said he struck up a conversation with you- how did that happen?"

Alex shifted again, moving so she could extend one bent elbow up beside her head, a soft arch and small wriggling movement as she tilted the line of her torso and her hips against each other and then back the other way as she squinted to pull the recollect back together. Casey rolled her eyes with a small chuff- Alex's back must be hurting her from being dicked down on an unforgivable wooden table. If she was sitting up Casey would offer to smooth the coiled tension out of her vertebrae, but it didn't seem like Alex wanted to be upright at the moment, so she just saved the offer mentally to provide to her later.

Besides, Alex with her rear against Casey's thigh, moving slightly, allowed her to feel more of her- not sexually, not romantically, just... just the way Casey enjoyed having Alex near. Her eyes traced a line over Alex's cardigan, imagining the soft pale skin below it that she had been graced with once, admiring it without the need to have it physically before her once again.

In Alex's shifting, she had managed to trap some of the fabric of her top beneath herself, and thus the length of her cardigan in which a button had been ripped away stretched apart to reveal a thin sliver of her body beneath the fabric. Casey extended a hand to poke her gently where the button was intended to be and was rewarded as a muscle in Alex's leg jolted and her abdominal muscles contracted, a snort leaving the elder woman's throat as she swatted at Casey's wrist playfully.

"We had already known each other from high school, technically, although we had never talked much back then."

"Oh, so another acclaimed alumnus from your preparatory school?" Casey chuckled, and Alex flexed her eyebrows and closed to eyes in a nonverbal 'Yes, I know, I know' 'You've already made it clear you think it's hilarious I went to a private school'.

"Okay, Novak, alright, but yes. He just pulled me aside after some of my uncle's friends were scrutinizing what I managed to accomplish in witness protection and asked me if I still preferred the Viennese Waltz over the Cross-Step, and I remembered the only real conversation I had ever had with this guy is during one of the constant mandatory dance seminars. I said no, over the years I had grown more accustomed to the English Waltz, and he smiled this big, easy smile at me and said he did, too. And then he danced with me. It felt natural, like it was something we had done before. It felt right."

"Cute," Casey commented, trying to envision that but for the first time not able to follow because she had no clue about dancing. Her public school had, evidently, definitely not had a mandatory dance seminar, let alone multiple.

"You don't know what those are, do you?" Alex propped herself up on her elbows, then, straightened her neck to flash Casey a teasing look, and Casey rolled her eyes but shook her head.

"No clue, princess."

"I'll teach you sometime."

The idea of Alex swaying her along to some music she wouldn't be able to recognize, the soft, illustrious voice in her ear telling her where to step and when as one firm yet tantalizingly soft palm rested on the crook of her waist while the other encased her hand, was too much to deny. Casey shrugged instead of outright rejecting it, and Alex made a mental note to engage in this activity with her later.

"So, it started well, and then it just fizzled out?" Casey proceeded with the line of conversation, distracting Alex so she could continue fantasizing idly about dancing with her, and Alex took the bait.

"No, I don't think it fizzled out, I think we never really had it to begin with. He's charming, and in the formal events we go to he's so sweet, so affectionate, but it lasts as long as the people around us can see. Don't get me wrong- it's not like he's a bad person, or anything. I just think he doesn't know how to act around me when it's just me, and especially not when I try to let my hair down. It's awkward."

"Well, that's definitely not ideal," Casey said carefully, "One of the things I liked the most about being with Charlie is how at ease he made me. And you're certainly stiff enough as you are, let alone keeping the facade up at home, too."

Curious emotion swirled in the blue of Alex's eyes the same way it always did when Casey mentioned Charlie, which was very, very rarely. Olivia had inadvertently taught the ADA not to relinquish personal information about her life and especially not her sorrows to anyone who may ever grow frustrated by her, lest she wanted what had hurt her most in this life to be thrown back into her face with the intensity of a hailstorm, but Casey supposed she trusted Alex enough not to do that. Conflicted between elaborating on what she meant and then the devil's long tongue lapping at her heart and tainting it with soft panic, Casey swallowed nervously and averted her softening eyes from the blonde's.

Unconsciously Casey pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and sucked at it idly, which she stopped doing only when she felt cold yet comforting fingers encase the side of her face gently.

"I'm always worried you're going to break your skin like that," Alex hummed softly under her breath, and when Casey obediently let her lip free of her self-imposed agitation of it Alex ran her thumb along the length of it, smoothing over the reddened skin so carefully Casey became mildly amused by what she perceived as over-exaggerated concern. Regardless, she didn't mind Alex's hands on her wherever the blonde wanted them to be, and she tilted her head just barely into the feeling of the homicide chief's palm.

Alex was soft with her. She felt so safe here, her face cradled in Alex's lithe fingers, despite the thrum of her heart at her own mention of her ex-fiance.

She distracted herself by instead acknowledging the beauty in Alex's concerned features- the upwards tilt of her plucked, defined eyebrows, the small fold just below her bottom lip created by the little frown she sported. Around her shoulders, glittering like strands of something more valuable than gold, her blonde hair flowed as she drew her face closer to Casey's in order to inspect the fragile layer of skin on Casey's lips. Casey inhaled slowly, and she savored the smell of lavish perfume, vanilla, and the low tint of labdanum- below that, the faintest note of tobacco on Alex's breath from the cigarettes she snuck. Alex's hair smelled like eucalyptus, like violet leaf, and Casey didn't have to ponder that before attributing it- she already knew what it was. The woman's hair smelled like the shampoo Casey had gifted her.

"Is that why you slept with Steele?" Casey mumbled, running back to catch the last train of conversation because she wasn't sure she wanted to keep going on this one, and Alex resigned to accept back to the previous line. "He made you feel like you could let loose?"

"No," Alex sighed, flopping dramatically back down, and although in this position she couldn't keep her grasp on Casey's face she angled one side of her body so her fingertip could draw idle small spiral shapes on the faux blonde's hip.

"I didn't know what to do with my hands the whole time- it felt weird trying to touch him at all, not like it was taboo I just... didn't find myself wanting to." - Interesting, Casey mused, because Alex certainly had an affinity for touching Casey, - "So my arms were just awkward on the desk next to me and I didn't know how to rearrange my face, or anything like that, and the fact I noticed probably means I wasn't letting loose if I was concerned about it."

"How does he make you feel?"

Alexandra considered that for a long second, her body going still, hand dropping from where it played on Casey's waist, and her eyes returned thoughtfully to the hole they had bored into the plaster of the ceiling earlier.

"I... I suppose it felt like he was looking at me. Like really, looking at me. Sure, he's probably picturing some idealistic fantasy version of me who's definitely not who I actually am, and yeah his eyes were on my breast a lot more than my face, but... he kept his eyes on me the whole time. Some part of me, at least."

The faux blonde ADA found her gaze drift over to Alex's chest, something in her stomach whirring to life as she considered the soft flesh, remembered how it felt to see, to feel, to bite. To cup the anatomy in her palms and push gently, to roll the skin between her fingers. Alex had lovely breasts, that much was very obvious, but Casey couldn't imagine looking at them more than she looked at her face.

Because oh, how angelic Alex looked lying there. She was still stationary, her body lacking movement other than the soft rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, her face stuck in a look of tentative contemplation, her eyebrows a centimeter closer together than they should've been as she tried to untangle the knots that were her romantic or sexual relationships in her mind. The ridge of her eyebrows, the way her bone structure dipped so perfectly, how her cheekbones were so defined yet her face so round and soft, her jawline sharp enough Casey thought she could nick herself on it if she wasn't careful. Her lips were so perfect, her eyes even more so. Casey would be fully content to drown in her complexion.

"Okay, Cabot." Casey nodded firmly, a conclusion drawn with finality, her sharp mind still geared to be attentive and offer some sort of advice or conclusion despite the majority of her brain space being used for admiration.

"You're having an identity crisis. You slept with Jim Steele because you're having an identity crisis."

Alex snapped upward, a flash of indignation in her taken-aback eyes and expression that made Casey chuckle. She shook her head, adamantly, raising her hands as if threatened.

"No, absolutely not, where did you think to get that from?"

Casey studied how even faux outraged, Alex was still equally as beautiful as she was in thought, her eyes being drawn to the delicate column of her throat, emphasized by the bands of muscle in her neck that shifted as she moved, as she swallowed. It was impolite not to meet the eyes of someone talking to you but Casey couldn't help herself from letting her eyes flicker down.

Alex's mouth had rounded in a bewildered 'o' shape, her lips parting, her eyes fixing Casey with a sharp stare that made her chuckle only harder. Watching Alex be playful with her like this almost felt as though they had something that transcended simple female friendship- Casey could easily kiss her without hesitation now. She didn't.

"Also, forgive me for saying this, but it doesn't particularly seem like you love either of these people-?" Casey continued casually, having mastered her poker face that allowed her to simultaneously follow a conversation while her mind was somewhere entirely else, ignoring Alex's sheer flummox.

Alex kicked her again, with her knee this time, a bit more forceful than last time but still so gentle and slow Casey registered it and actively decided not to dodge. Alex held herself up in an awkward sitting position by stiffening her arms and putting the weight of her torso on her shoulders, staring and shaking her head with complete bafflement at Casey as though the faux blonde friend of her's had just told her she was growing roses from her ears.

"Casey," Alex barked, her voice sharp yet never losing the small taste of playful banter the two always shared and Casey had grown very, very fond of, "You will explain to me what you mean this instant. Talk."

"Listen," Casey patted her on the knee again, inhaling and composing her thoughts slightly, "You became entangled with Robert because he knows things about you, and because he already did know you before witness protection, didn't you? He had known who you were before. He referenced that in the first thing he had said to you."

"I, I suppose-?" Alex spoke quickly, hastily, her eyes flickering to the side as if trying to visualize her soon-to-be fiance.

"And Steele had a fantasy about you, and he wanted you so desperately he fucked up your designer clothes trying to get it, but you did it because he was looking. To some extent, you felt like he saw you, perhaps the more primal side you felt like you couldn't show Stilton."

Alex pulled her legs up, wrapping her arms around her legs and straightening a bit more so she didn't need to rest all her weight on her wrists anymore, but her leg lay still against Casey's torso, the peak of which rested near her sternum, and neither woman seemed to do anything about it.

"It's all about identity, no? In witsec, you had to be someone else. Robert knew who you were before and remembered the things you had to change about yourself in order for your own protection, and it must've been hard to return from that, trying to step back into your own shoes after pretending they weren't yours for so long. But Robert's validation of who you are only lasts so long as you're in crowded areas, and when he doesn't know what to do with you in quiet settings, you feel like you don't know what to do with yourself."

"Oh, Casey-" Her brow was furrowed now, the corners of her eyes shifting as she squinted.

"And then Steele's validating your power, the fact you're the chief of homicide, he's looking at you and knowing who you are and fantasying about a version of you that he made up because he's so enraptured in the person you are now that-"

"Now that I'm allowed to be myself again," Alex sighed despairing, shifting to press her forehead firmly into Casey's relaxed shoulder and curling into her side. "Oh, fuck, Casey, no wonder you're such a formidable prosecutor, you just read me like an open book."

As if something just occurred to her, she bolted straight, sliding one leg off of Casey's lap so she could push herself up, straddling the younger woman. "Oh hell, did I do that to you?"

Casey leaned her head into one of her own palms, offering a nonchalant shrug.

"Wasn't that the premise of us sleeping together? I was trying to build your confidence and help you get your sense of power back. You looked really satisfied with yourself when you got me squirming. I was trying to help foster your combative spark back."

"What?"

The blonde's voice was so startled, a note of genuine upset in her voice that it did actually manage to catch the ADA off guard, her eyes quickly flickering around Alex's widened, rounded blue ones, searching intently. Alex wasn't teasing her anymore, based on the emphasized crease between her brows.

"And you were okay with that? Casey, I- I assure you, when we slept together I wasn't thinking about me, I was thinking about how much I liked these."

To gesture to what she meant by that, Alex slid the pads of her fingertips beneath the fabric of Casey's untucked blouse, over the waistband of the slacks and gliding, pressing softly, against the relaxed yet defined muscles that formed her abs. Casey jerked, and Alex's eyes darted down the observe how the other woman's body tightened beneath her fingers, to admire the lines between the blocks of abdominal muscles that emphasized the extent to which Casey's core was built.

"Whoa Nelly, you don't need two affairs in one day, Alex-" Casey muttered quickly, suddenly breathless. As she said it, though, she registered in her brain she really wouldn't mind if Alex never stopped the gentle swipes of her thumb inside the dips between her muscles for the rest of her life.

"It wouldn't be an affair if it was with you," Alex shrugged, retrieving her hand from where she had let it explore and patting the hem of Casey's blouse above where it had just been to shift the fabric back down over. "Robert doesn't think homosexuality in women 'counts'."

"...What? Is he stupid?"

Casey's incredulousness at the attitude of Alex's soon-to-be fiance towards potential lesbianism did not deter the blonde, though, who as though lost in thought allowed her hands to move in the same idle patterns along the younger woman's torso, although above the fabric of her blouse this time.

"You know the function I was trying to convince you to come with me too?" She asked instead, averting her gaze from Casey's, her fingertips drawing lazy circles on one of the lower buttons of Casey's shirt.

Casey snorted, leaning back and spreading her shoulders out- if Alex wanted to play around with her shirt, she was welcome to do so, "Yeah, I remember I said I'd rather use a strand of Roger Kressler's over-greased hair to floss my teeth than show up to that."

"He barely even has any!" Alex laughed sharply. Casey felt the other woman's sudden reaction to her unexpected sassiness- the broad, amused smile- infect and catch up on her own face, too.

"Okay, well, I ended up bringing Olivia, and she met Robert there. Those two had a little too much to drink that night and then Liv made a comment about how the two of us had kissed before and if he wasn't careful she'd steal me back to have for herself again, and he said he didn't mind me with women because it wasn't the real thing."

Stilton's rejection of the conclusion a female partner could rival a heterosexual relationship was not unheard of to Casey. She had heard about such beliefs before, and considering Alex was a born member of the last traces of what one could consider noble society in America, the people she was surrounded by having traditional and utterly archaic understandings of homosexuality was not very surprising.

What she was more startled by was the reference to Benson. Olivia's jesting as such did not surprise her, the brunette was lively and humorous and Casey appreciated that about her, but the information that Alex and her former colleague had kissed before was previously undisclosed information, and now it felt odd. If Olivia and Alex had previously kissed- perhaps not coupled as they had, but if Olivia was joking about it, surely it had crossed the brunette detective's mind before ... Casey wondered, then, if Olivia had an enclosed office and not only her desk in the bullpen, if Alex would be choosing to spend her hours with her instead.

For the first time, Casey felt an inkling of jealousy. She did not feel the need to compete with men, for she was on a different level of connection to Alex than Stilton or even Steele, but she didn't like the idea that the 'friend' she borderline flirted with and basked in the presence of so comfortably could potentially have another version of the connection they shared with someone else.

But when she registered her vision again, Alex was staring intently down at Casey's stomach as if something fascinating was written on the impressions made by her muscles against the tight, tailored fabric, and with a soft scoff to herself she decided she hardly needing to be jealous- she did not have to compete with Olivia for Alex's attention, because evidently, Casey's lap was the one Alex was currently straddling.

Returning to the conversation and breaking out of her thoughts, though, Casey realized there might actually be an implication of something else on Alex's mind from the way she hadn't denied Casey's joke comment about a second affair. Alex was staring down at her with some sort of intensity, after all.

"Hmm, that's... well, we would know it's an affair, wouldn't we?" Casey kept her tone light, because, in all honesty, she wasn't entirely sure if Alex had been jesting or even meant to imply anything by what she had said, although Casey was certainly thinking about it now.

She entertained the thought of allowing Alex back under her shirt, perhaps to a greater extent, and she too entertained her eyes as they drifted back to observe the shade of lipgloss adorning Alex's lips. She could kiss her.

"Regardless of the whole sapphism-denial belief," Alex murmured, "I did just genuinely have extra-relational involvement, and if I'm honest, I don't know if I care."

So- the concept of them was on the table.

Casey sighed, tilting her head and allowing her body to shift slightly. Alex shifted off of her, returning to sit beside her simply on the couch, her body angled to Casey's stationary stature.

"Do you really want to engage him, then?" Casey questioned, although she was sure she knew the answer. "If you don't love him, and you don't feel guilty about sleeping with someone else?"

Alex shrugged. She, too, knew that Casey was already aware of what she would respond with, but Alex supposed if Casey was deciding the contribute to the conversation verbally she might as well proceed with the motion set.

"I'm turning forty, soon." She said this as though that was an adequate reason to get married. "My family expects it," Casey supposed that reason made at least a bit more sense, "I know we'd have a stable, uneventful life together," ever-planning, always eyes toward the future, Casey supposed Alex was, "and he likes me. I might not find anyone else who would marry me- I might not find anyone else who I'd accept to marry."

None of those were decent reasons to marry someone, Casey wanted to implore her, but from the vague and nearly blank tone in Alex's voice, it was obvious Alexandra Cabot was entirely aware she was signing up for a marriage of convenience. She did not love Robert Stilton.

Casey's mind was brought back to Charlie, to the way she had felt when she realized Charlie was planning on proposing to her, to the pounding feeling of life in her chest- god, she had been so young then, she had still been studying. It felt like a lifetime ago that she had genuinely believed she would find a life partner, and over the years she had accepted it. Accepted what Alex could not. Casey was content to live a life alone, failing the expectations of her parents, rather than marry without love so strong she'd be overcome by it, marry without total conviction. It didn't make Alex's action morally wrong to her, though, she understood the feeling completely. Casey had still a better relationship with her family than Alex did her's, and Casey could bear the weight of romantic failure. Alex was raised to be a woman of proper society, and if the term spinster still existed, Casey was sure it was never Alex's fate to become one.

Alex would have married some man, eventually, and despite her doubt, if it wasn't Stilton, it would be another. Alex's relationship had developed at an exponential rate, dating to the thought of marriage within months, and Casey was sure a woman like her with a plethora of potential suitors would find another to throw herself at if Alex did find a serious issue with Stilton. It would blossom just as rapidly. There was no doubt Alex would be married before forty.

And perhaps a potential other man would feel differently towards sapphism.

Selfishly, oh god, very selfishly, Casey realized she would not mind Alex marrying Stilton specifically if it meant she would not have to relinquish the faint traces of affection, the lingering touch of Alex that lasted too long to be entirely platonic. She had expected it to leave as Alex's relationship with her true partner developed, but tonight's conversation made it obvious Alex was not in love, and that meant whatever- whatever strange thing grew wings between the two women- Casey would not have to bid it farewell. Suspicion from Alex's husband would not have to be a fear for her, for he did not recognize the pounding of Casey's heart for his woman as anything real. It felt very real to Casey, though.

She realized she had gone utterly silent for too long, but then again, so had Alex, when her ears perked to the sound of church bells ringing through the streets, signaling summons to the faithful to recite the Lord's prayer. Casey focused on reciting it internally in her mind- Alex was not religious, if it was Stabler near her they would mutter it under their breath out loud,- and prayed that the Lord would forgive her for the thought she was having towards a blonde Chief of the Homicide department. Not forgive her for homosexuality, no, she knew God loved her regardless of that- she prayed to Him that he would not recognize Alex's marriage, the one that would surely be officiated and be proclaimed to be before Him, so Casey would not have to grapple with the idea of violating the holy sanctimony of Alex's future marriage.

A marriage of convenience was still marriage, and Casey would not dare offend her Father by violating that bond.

But it hadn't been formed yet, she justified, and perhaps something would occur soon to allow her the Lord's response that what she was doing was not...

"Oh, it's six already?" Came Alex's soft voice, broken out of her own independent internal monologue.

"Evidently." Casey nodded, tilting her head to angle it in the direction of Alex, breathing deeply until she caught the faintest hint of nicotine that she could normally only catch if Alex was inches from her face.

Icy blue eyes that contained the passion of a hot spring found eyes as stubborn as the shade of chrome tourmaline that matched them, and they stared wordlessly at each other. Alex's pupils began to dilate slowly and Casey was sure her own must be following suit.

She watched as Alex swallowed, and their eyes communed with each other for a long, long moment, before Alex shifted up and stood, breaking the extent of charged eye contact.

Alex left in this way often, looking at her and then beginning to drift her way off, exchanging goodbyes only when she was already in the doorway. Casey had noticed this about her-, when Alex no longer wanted to entertain conversation, it was like a switch flipped, and she would leave at the earliest availability. It wasn't something Casey took personally anymore, it was just something Alex seemed to do, and Casey had weeks ago resigned herself to accept whatever Alex found herself doing.

She did as Casey expected her to, traveling to the door in her languished, long gate, reaching the door, and resting her hand on the door handle, before she turned back, a flicker of complexity in her elegant face.

"...Casey?"

"Mhm?" Casey was still lying backward on the couch, her arms spread out over the sides of the backrest, but she folded herself into a more composed sitting position under Alex's attention.

"Would you care? If we- ..."

Casey, then, (god, finally) recognized the telltale signs of unadulterated lust in Alex's face- she felt silly for not realizing that earlier- and her own previous question sprang straight back to mind. The only thing Alex had not answered, the note Casey had made to pick the interrogation back up at a later time- this was a later time, and it was now again relevant- 'Did Steele dick do any good for you'.

Snapping out of her emotionally complex daze, Casey almost laughed at the absurdity of it.

"Oh, he didn't get you off, did he?", Casey realized out loud, and all of a sudden the deep unsettling feeling of yearning was replaced by sheer bafflement and wild amusement, her voice coming out in a snort when she asked, "Steele couldn't finish the job?"

Alex apparently found it irritating that Casey thought this was funny, because she crossed her arms at her and came as close as the illustrious Alexandra Cabot could come to pouting, her bottom lip forcing the teardrop formation above her top lip to distort slightly. Casey, too, thought this was amusing.

"..He thought he did," Alex tried to defend somehow, although Casey had no clue how that could ever be some sort of defense, and she broke open into an audible guffaw, covering the lower portion of her face with her hand.

Alex's subordinate had not managed to bring her to climax, and the sexual frustration was evidenced by how this conversation had gone- she had come here to satisfy it, somehow.

That notion soothed the strange boiling feeling in the base of Casey's heart- no, this was not some twisting and writhing tumultuous emotional affair, and if it was it was one-sided on Casey's part which she could easily put up with on her own, Alex was here simply because she was horny. That was what Casey could force herself to assume, anyway.

Because Casey could deal with that- and she could certainly deal with Alex, too.

"But now you're worked up and you know Robert won't be able to take care of you either?" She couldn't resist prodding further fun at Alex, her voice reclaiming the teasing note they always used with each other in the long hours they had been spending together over the past months.

It was easy, how fast she managed to flip back into this other side of her, the playful, almost youthfully energetic face she could wear around Alex.

Alex's grip on her crossed arms tightened and she tilted her head in mock outrage, just as she had done earlier- she, too, had suddenly snapped out of whatever shared emotional exertion she had been faced with while Casey dealt with her feelings and Catholic guilt.

They were friends.

They were friends, and they could banter, and Casey was not at odds with the concept of friends with benefits- she had done it before herself before and after Charlie, and she had no argument to participate in it again. She'd just ignore the fact Alex would soon become someone else's, it was an issue she could spend hours pondering later.

Alex had come to her because she was aroused and knew Casey could handle that, because they were friends and she trusted her nakedness and her pleasure to be in Casey’s hands, and there was nothing else at play. This was sexual entirely by nature, and nothing else. This is what Casey told herself like a grounding mantra.

It wasn't like she could expect Alex to reflect the depth of her emotion. Alex would not be able to comprehend how Casey felt about her. Friends with benefits, the benefit being the violation of Alex’s engagement, was what Alex would offer, and it's what Casey would lick off the plate same as she would with anything Alex provided.

"..well then, Cabot," she let her lips form a smug, easy smile, and she arched her back invitingly as she leaned back, "come sit on Daddy's lap."

"Please never refer to yourself like that again." Alex's voice was incredulous, but she flipped the lock on the door and yanked the lever for the blinds to snap shut, turning the overhead light off so the only light source was the dying sun outside casting molten gold on the side of Casey's office wall.

Alex's first step back towards her was so tentative it almost scared Casey out of it, but then her next was with a hasty recklessness that reassured her again.

The blonde stood before her, and leaned down, hand reaching for her throat with Casey craned up to allow her, and as Alex ran her long, slim fingers along the junction between Casey's jaw, neck, and ear, they rediscovered the same charged energy in lust-blown wide eyes.

And then Casey was kissing her, soft but without hesitation, and how Alex melted into it, like this was something that was supposed to happen, like it was natural.

It was not rushed, and although it was heady and exciting it was not needy, it was not impatient. Casey knew they were about to sleep together but there was no drive to forfeit any form of foreplay, and Alex's soft, composed movements seemed to suggest the same.

Alex's fingers, the ones on the hand not cupping the side of Casey’s face, for that palm was being used to tilt the faux blonde's face to the side so Alex could encourage her to tilt her head so she could kiss her deeply, reached down to begin undoing the buttons on her own cardigan, the knitted fabric spilling open to reveal her chest, the expanse of skin Casey had been previously fantasizing about, and it was simultaneously so exciting and yet familiar it felt like either the first time or the product of many, surely not the second.

The blonde pulled them apart as though gauging Casey’s reaction to the motion, a thin thread of saliva connecting their tongues as Alex leaned back, and when Casey did not violently tug her forward like she almost expected her to, Alex smiled softly and accepted Casey’s previous offer.

It took less than five seconds for Alex to undo the latch on her belt and let her designer pants drop uselessly to the floor, and then one long, lissom leg found purchase on the couch beside Casey's slightly parted thighs, followed smoothly by the other. Casey had to crane her neck upwards, now, to reach her head up to find Alex’s lips again, and god- fuck, no,- did it feel like coming home.

A gentle push-pull rhythm was developed, a soft turn exchange between whose tongue was exploring where, and Alex stiffened imperceptibly as if she expected Casey to take more or expect more than she was providing, but Casey did not. The elder relaxed, then, breathing contently through her nose, rewarding Casey with the feeling of air against the smooth skin of her face as Alex exhaled.

Alex did not settle down, though, and Casey supposed that much was implied, since in this position with Alex effectively upright on her knees, there was space between the elder woman’s lower extremities and Casey’s still-clothed legs.

From how the column of Alex’s throat pressed against Casey’s face, the younger woman could smell the faint traces that Steele must have left- a slight tinge of metallic saliva across Alex’s neck and the junction of her collar to her shoulder, which Casey was more than happy to quickly replace with her’s, lapping at the elder blonde’s skin. As much as she wanted to bite, to suckle, she would never dream of it, for in an hour Alex would go home to a boyfriend who could not know this happened. But still, she could assert superiority over Jim Steele. Alex moaned softly at the feeling of Casey's tongue soothing any last traces off of her, leaving only her own.

One of Casey’s hands found an easy hold on the curve of Alex's waist, supporting her, while the other began smoothing gently on the skin of her thighs, not near anything interesting, but enough that Alex let out an almost girlish whine. Both of Alex’s hands shifted to rest on Casey’s shoulders, and after a second, her elbows too, the blonde wrapping her arms around her, one hand tangling loosely in faux blonde locks.

“Casey, au, mmph-” Alex moaned into her ear softly as Casey's fingers crept up on her soft skin, echoing the moan again with increased vigor when Casey’s nail drew a small circle, and Casey snorted with a mild degree of amusement, before letting her go.

"...Alex, you don't expect me to genuinely believe that, do you?"

"Hm?" The blonde straightened with confusion, blinking down at Casey who looked at her with a very dead serious expression, piquing one eyebrow in an arch above her green eyes.

"You don't make sounds like that," Casey rasped, eyes flicking to Alex's face as the blonde pulled back hesitantly, Alex's hands coming to clasp around her jawline with that adorable nervous crease between her eyebrows, "And if I'm honest, your fake moans aren't going to get me anywhere."

Alex’s face flushed, the axis of her spine tilting backward as her eyebrows flexed together, not from the sex but from the embarrassment of being caught faking. Casey thought her surprised blush was rather cute.

The blonde was not a moaner, Casey had known that from the first time they slept together, from how as soon as Alex wasn't paying attention to her complexion anymore she fell silent and steady-faced. Anything she did in the earlier phases of relations was purely for the benefit of her partner, and she must be very used to performing in this way for Stilton and Steele, but it wasn't adding to Casey’s experience at all, no.

Alex’s form spoke more than her mouth did, from the way her muscles coiled beneath her skin like a jaguar's, from the way her hips twitched the slightest bit impatiently. She was clearly aroused, but the manifestation was not from her lips, and faux evidence was as pointless to Casey’s sex drive as it was to her in court.

"I'd rather you shut your pretty mouth,” Alex heard Casey coax, the blonde felt mildly disoriented, and she felt lithe fingers return and trace up, higher… She felt like she was supposed to whimper now, and for anyone else she would've made herself do so, but Casey was instructing her not to provide what wasn't genuine, so she didn't.

Casey’s voice was low, that honey-rusted thrum that Alex thought she may never get enough of, that Alex thought the real reason she kept coming into her office was just to hear her talk, even if it was to poke fun at her, even if it was a busier day and Casey couldn't spare absentminded time and instead just complained about what she was working on, was just to listen, to be intoxicated by the sound. She kept talking, but through the haze, Alex wasn't entirely sure if she managed to catch everything that was being said, filthy comments sliding from Casey’s mouth like diamonds dripping from the mouth of a dragon.

“And focus on the feeling of my hands,” Casey was saying, talking her through it as she prepared Alex to take her, “Feel them, Alex? How they're spreading you open?"

And yes, yes, that Alex did. Her fingers pushing the useless fabric covering her away, her middle finger sliding through the folds of her flesh while Casey's pointer and rings sprawled to the side, tugging her further exposed. Alex felt a muscle in her thigh jerk inadvertently. Casey was good at what she knew how to do, and Casey certainly knew how to use her hands.

She leaned forward again, nuzzling her nose into Casey’s hair and wrapping her arms gently around her head and neck. Casey’s body was warm, very warm, and she smelled like sandalwood and everything right with the world.

"And then I'm going to take this and.." The faux blonde was referring to the real evidence of her arousal, then, the warm liquid that pooled in the valley of her thighs, and Casey rolled the pad of her fingertip in a small, innocent circle to collect it there, before dragging it up and to the sensitive bundle of nerves just above.

The muscle in Alex’s thigh that Casey had been gauging her status off of pulsed, contracting, and releasing three times in quick succession, and she felt Alex swallow.

"Just like that, pretty one.” God, her voice- that same muscle stiffened at the sound and didn't let her go until Casey paused, and apparently this, too, was funny to the faux blonde, who scoffed softly, but to her credit concluded her statement, “Your body does all the talking for you and that's what gets me off."

A shaky exhale left Alex's lung and it stirred a strand of hair on Casey's head softly, and then her hips were moving with a greater need, the pad of Casey’s fingertips on her clit building the tense spring Steele had managed to create, to some degree, with his recklessness, but consuming it entirely making it so, so much worse. Her arousal was now entirely and exclusively Casey’s doing.

She didn't want Casey to restrain her or just hold her tightly, she took liberty in her ability to buck and squirm, and Casey did not even seem to consider holding her down or switching positions to make it easier for herself, seeming to be entranced by the simple fact she was making Alex writhe.

The muscles in her abdomen began to pound and contract, squeezing desperately around nothing as Casey continued gentle, firm circles, and Alex gritted her teeth. Casey was taking so long, too patient, teasing her- it was completely unlike sleeping with anyone else, the way Casey was building her up and relishing the way she was about to be brought back down with seemingly no impatience to get to that stage until Alex was hounding for it. The men in Alex’s life did nothing of the sort- she did all the work for Robert herself, to the extent she had to toy with herself beforehand to make sure the engine was even ready to go at all, and Steele just took what he wanted in a way that Alex was sure he thought metaphorically to be as a lion devouring gazelle but ended up more like a dog breeding without real intention, affection or even acknowledgment.

It seemed wildly silly to Alex that she had allowed him inside of her, a mere hour or so ago, just because it felt like she had his attention. Casey, now, was looking up at her with those unforgiving yet simultaneously ridiculously kind green eyes, narrowed and passionate and it made Alex feel guilty to even attempt to compare the two. Steele was a fine man but Casey might as well be heaven.

She was so aroused it began to feel as though it almost hurt, and Casey’s deliberately languished stimulation was not helping. Alex could feel her muscles keep trying to close down around fingers that weren't there.

Alex didn't understand why Casey was taking so damn long, despite her bucking, why wasn't Casey inside her already? It was obvious that's what she needed, why wasn't-

Oh, she realized, a coherent thought bursting through the dam, she’s waiting for me to tell her too.

It's what Alex needed and they both knew that, but Casey was waiting for Alex to tell her. Casey was letting Alex control her motions despite the fact Alex was in a position in which Casey could have her way with no argument.

Something about that made Alex feel disgusted with herself, perhaps the way that fact made her heart falter hopelessly. This was meaningless sex, wasn't it? It was intended to be. This was only because Steele couldn't force orgasm through her form, and if Alex hadn't been reckless earlier, they would not be here. But Casey was more attentive than Alex thought anyone had ever been to her before, and Alex hadn't even noticed that last time, because Alex had been the one more determinedly topping.

"Inside me, Casey," She muttered into her hair and tried to ignore the spillage of emotion inside the cavern of her chest, "Now."

"As you wish," Casey cooed, her voice still ridiculously smug, but without a second two of her long fingers were pushing right where Alex needed them to be, sinking in and filling her, thinner in diameter but so much more satisfying than Steele, and Casey's eyes were watching Alex's reddened lips part to form a breathless, wordless shape.

Alex didn't realize she was still anxious about not forcing reactions, not promoting herself to exhibit something to keep her partner enthused, until she heard Casey marvel, "You're so responsive," and Alex remembered how Casey could read between the lines of her skin. She closed her eyes and nestled her head on the top of Casey's, feeling her pant against her neck.

The heel of Casey’s palm stayed firmly against her clit, every movement of the faux blonde’s arms further building the tower of soft, intimate emotion swelling in Alex’s core, head, and heart, her fingers not so much dipping out of her as simply curling down and then springing back up, with Alex’s muscles contracting and gripping her digits tightly. God, it felt- On occasion, Alex would squeeze herself intentionally around the shaft of Robert, but this was most certainly not that, this was raw and unplanned, unthought of. Casey pulled reactions from her so seamlessly that Alex didn't know what exhibition of her lust she was displaying until Casey began praising her for it.

Men seemed to think the rougher, the more volatile their actions, the faster she’d be, but under Casey’s intent and smooth, lavished movements, deliberate and slow, Alex found herself warning her within minutes in a firm whisper, which sounded void of emotion, except Casey wasn't daft enough to not notice the way Alex had begun to tremble, "Casey- I'm getting close."

"I know."

And then Casey was faster and Alex’s eyes were squeezing shut with further vigor, and she didn't realize she was shivering with the pleasure until Casey’s free hand left the side of her thigh to the small of her back to keep her upright, not holding, not restraining, just supporting, and Alex sunk her hips down to meet the final, deep thrust of Casey’s fingers within her.

The spring snapped, and so did Alex.

Casey thought to herself vaguely that Alex’s climax might be the most ethereal thing she had seen in her life. Why would God allow her to see this, if it wasn't meant for her?

Elegant fingers and rounded fingernails clamped down around Casey’s shoulders, digging into the fabric of her blouse and the skin beneath it in a way that must hurt if it didn't feel so good.

Alex did not fold in on herself, but rather in a smooth, fluid motion each vertebrae stacked on top of each other, her muscles unfurling, her shoulder blades pushing back and spreading open as though she had wings- well, perhaps she did, Casey would not have been able to tell because that was not where she was looking.

Casey watched as Alex towered over her on her knees, her spine elongated, and her chest tilted backward in a way that caused the curves of her ribs to stand out against her skin, her pelvis tilting forward so she wouldn't be at risk of toppling backward.

Alex's eyes slid open, slowly, and she breathed through her mouth, and the younger ADA allowed her a long moment of utter silence while she looked up and admired.

Her cheeks showed evidence of blood racing through her veins, although Casey wouldn't consider it a blush. The dying light glittered and was reflected in the beads of sweat adorning her temples and chest. Her hair rippled easily around her throat and her collarbones, gold shining in the light of the last ember the sun managed to cough out before it, and the room too, sank into comfortable darkness. Her eyes were narrowed, pupils blown so wide the blue of her eyes was nonvisible. Her eyebrows, the ridge of which always carried such emotion, whether it be nonchalance or anguish, were entirely relaxed, and so too were her slightly parted lips and the lines on her cheeks that emphasized every expression she made. Alex wasn't pretending to be anything right now, she was just allowing her chest to heave with the effort of recovering from the perfervid orgasm Casey had given her.

She looked invincible, statuesque, all-powerful, and all-consuming.

Casey did not waste her time admiring by wondering if this could ever, in some other lifetime, really be hers.

"God-” the assistant district attorney breathed, Alex’s sheer beauty having spurred into verbal expression, but Alex shook her head in a small, breathless movement and the younger woman obediently shut up.

Alex stood up on her knees for a long moment, catching her breath, before she glanced down, contemplative, at the mess she had made of herself between her thighs. Removing one hand from Casey's shoulder, she moved to collect the fluid into the junction between two of her fingers, and then brought it back up to her friend’s face.

"Open your mouth, Casey- suck. Taste what you've done, and clean it off.”

With a soft scoff but a hast to comply which defeated Casey’s attempt to be nonchalant, she parted her lips and extended her tongue softly, allowing Alex to place her fingers down on it. Alex ignored the fact her hand was still quivering which was not helped when Casey closed down around it, nursing on her fingers softly, her tongue sliding between and around the columns of Alex’s fingers to taste what she had brought forth from her.

The look in Casey’s eyes as they half-lidded, staring vaguely at Alex’s wrist before traveling the length of her arm and finding her eyes, spurred Alex back on.

She slowly slid off of Casey's lap, hoisting her hips above the couch for a second to pull her mildly ruined panties back over her hips, before relaxing and eyeing Casey’s barely disheveled form attentively. Casey’s cheekbones and the top of her nose were tinted rose, and the look in her eyes displayed arousal.

Alex believed the natural continuation to be the soft request that left her mouth, "Can I care for you, now?", but Casey only sighed, lolling her head backward, the look of lust fleeting from her expression, although her eyes did not turn cold as it left. She regarded Alex kindly, softly. Too sympathetically for Alex to be comfortable with, but it was hard not to be comfortable around Casey.

"Shouldn't you be going home soon?” Casey murmured, “I'm not exactly sure, despite you saying he wouldn't consider this- this to be anything,” - what was it, she thought to herself, if not everything - “If I want an annoyed Robert Stilton showing up at my office impatient for you to go home and UberEats him dinner."

Alex’s eyes flickered down to her exposed chest, to her bare thighs, and registered that yes, he had said he did not believe sapphism to be anything deep enough to rival the heterosexuality that they shared, but it still probably would not be ideal for him to find her like this, or even for him to begin wondering. Besides, if he pondered why she was late, it might somehow be discovered she had slept before this with Jim Steele, and that would genuinely be an issue, which seemed entirely ironic. Alex was content to never feel him around her again, but she might drown if she didn't get to make time to stop by Casey’s office tomorrow.

She felt like she would drown right now, actually, at the thought of leaving.

"Can I stay here a little longer?"

Alex was worried, suddenly, that Casey might regret what they had just done. Perhaps Casey was nonchalantly trying to send her on her way, to tell her to go. Maybe Casey felt used, and Alex gritted her teeth at that thought because she had no clue how to make Casey not feel that way- if that was in fact what she felt- without returning the favor, and Casey apparently did not want her to.

But when she studied Casey’s eyes, they were warm, and she couldn't pick out the color as well in the near darkness but she would recognize the soft emotion in the younger woman’s eyes anywhere. Casey was content.

"You know I'd never say no to that,” Casey hummed, and the deliciously feminine rasp made Alex’s heart clench awkwardly. Casey had noticed Alex had grown concerned and was trying to reassure her. Casey was trying to reassure *her*.

The view Alex had of Casey’s face suddenly blurred and in the fact of her mind she was mildly concerned about her vision growing even worse still without her glasses, before she realized- no, this wasn't an issue of her optics, rather her eyes had glazed over with glassy, soft tears.

Casey’s eyebrows knit over her eyes with a spark of worry, leaning forward and grasping one of Alex’s hands between two of her own, inquiring in a gentle tone, "Are you okay?"

"You're my best friend, Casey."

She said that because she had absolutely no idea how to convey what she really wanted to. Alex didn't know how to make it coherent nor if she was even allowed to say it if she could. She wiped at her eyes with the base of her thumb, and the tears were gone quickly, but the impact they left did not fade just as fast.

Wasn't it so horrendous of her to do this to Casey? To plead out of the situation she had put herself in by pushing her issues and her problems to burden the shoulders of a woman who probably wouldn't see her again if Alex stopped showing up at her office? Casey had taken care of her bewilderment, of her sexual frustration, and now was trying to take care of her anxiety, too. And no one else who knew her would've even realized the blonde was grappling with emotions at all. Casey was just too giving, and it made a bitter taste fill her mouth.

In Casey’s mind, she was stuck somewhere between a daze induced by the imagery of post-orgasmic Alexandra Cabot standing like an angel above her- she was sure the sight of which was burned firmly behind her eyelids- and trying to figure out why Alex seemed like she was crying. Casey was the one who felt so much it made her heart twist uncomfortably, right? Alex was a free-spirited, illustrious woman who simply came down from the sky to grace Casey with her presence every now and again and allow Casey to please her with whatever means Alex so desired. Tonight it was sex, but it might not ever be again. Alexandra Cabot was probably not fond of Casey the way Casey was so enraptured by her. They were friends, as Alex had just said. Perhaps that was her intention to state that, perhaps she just wanted to hear out loud the verbalization that friends was all this was.

"That seems like a rather juvenile term.” Casey was trying to be lighthearted, hesitating, and hoping it didn't come off like she was denying Alex her friendship, but she couldn't accept the word completely, “We aren't exactly elementary students making friendship bracelets..."

Alex snorted, a smile flickering over her expression, and although it was forced genuine affection crept into it quickly and overtook the original intent. Casey returned her smile and Alex flopped down, her head on the side of Casey’s torso, right around her collarbone. How stupid was it that Casey could make her laugh even now?

"Confidant, then,” she bartered, “My consigliere."

She closed her eyes so her ears would encapsulate more of Casey’s small, casual chuckle, and then Alex felt herself tense slightly as she felt Casey’s hand creep below her cardigan on her back, tracing up and down the bones of her spine that stuck out from beneath her skin.

Alex groaned softly as she felt Casey's fingers begin to push against the knots she had formed in her spine. Of course, she hadn't realized how stiff and uncomfortable her back was until Casey was already acting on it, of course, Casey had been able to tell immediately. Alex wondered vaguely when Casey had gotten the idea to massage her because it seemed like it was planned, almost, for Casey did not explore, she moved as though she knew exactly how and what to do.

"... I suppose, so far as friends go,” Alex heard Casey’s voice falter, gently, “you're the best friend I've ever had, too."

The elder woman swallowed and curled more avidly against Casey’s body until she could feel the thrum of her heartbeat and the gentle rise and fall of her breathing as though it was Alex's own. Casey's hands became more insistent as she soothed out the traces of soreness Steele would've left on Alex's frame, if Alex had gone home before, if Alex had chosen to deal with her frustrations in solitude.

"I don't feel comfortable around him-” she was referring to Robert, the man she was supposed to soon leave to return home to, but then she added reference to Steele, too, “either of them- the way I feel so…” - she had no clue what to say, here, - “warm, when I'm around you."

Her blue eyes blinked open, and she knew Casey must see the age, the exhaustion her life had taken in them, they weren't as bright as robin’s eggshells the way they had appeared when she was still a child. Casey’s own paralleled this, the green chipped at the edges, like an emerald worn by time. They were old, they were too old to be acting like this. Like reckless teenagers in love, despite the fact that both women believed fully that the other did not love them.

‘I’m fond of you,’ Alex said with her eyes, with her breathing, ‘in a way that goes deeper than I think it should be.’ Casey studied her for a long moment, her breath catching, and in Alex's position, she could hear as her heart began to beat with a slight uptake in intensity.

A crease appeared between Alex’s eyebrows that conveyed ‘I don't know what to do about how I feel nor do I know exactly what I feel, I think the combination of what has happened to me and the things I’ve done to recover that inadvertently robbed me further of my control- I think it broke something-' and even though she wasn't rambling out loud Casey's slow blink dulled the race of her thoughts. Casey leaned forward, just slightly, a motion so small it might've not happened at all.

‘I’m here,’ she meant, ‘I don't care that you don't know. I don't care if you don't know who you are, because I know you. I might be in love with you and it doesn't hurt me. Don't be scared of me, Alex. Don't be scared that I know you. Maybe you only like me for the sake I see what you are, and that doesn't bother me.’ And Alex looked away, then, because she felt the tears she had refused to let fall prickle back in her eyes, and she would not cry in front of Casey. Her best friend. She put enough emotion on her best friend that she wouldn't let Casey need to help her cope with sobbing, too. Alex had not cried since witness protection and if she started now she may not stop. Robert was at home waiting for her. She could not allow herself to show up post-sex and post-tears, and she couldn't keep stalling for time, stalling for another few seconds being held by Casey Novak either.

Casey took pity on her. Their exchange was through exclusively body language and if Alex chose to ignore it happened, believe she had interpreted communication where there was none, that was her right.

"Maybe they also have your iron deficiency problem,” Casey joked because the words came easy to her, her facade was so strong the jest came off as so close to genuine to Alex, so casual and offhand it did really seem like they were nothing more than friends, and nothing had happened other than meaningless sex, “More red meat, I'm telling you."

"Should I get on that?” Alex scoffed, mirroring Casey’s nonchalance now, “Go home and order hamburgers or something?"

The return to normalcy was so fast, sliding porcelain masks back over warmed skin, that it hurt both of them to do so.

Casey turned to her. Internally she was scared that Alex would say goodbye and not come back. It didn't matter if the last time they exchanged anything intimate or kissed had just passed, but she wanted Alex to know she was welcome to return, that Casey hoped she would choose to do so.

"I won't force you out,” she said softly, “You wander in and wander out at your whim, Alex, and-” Alex raised her head to meet her eyes with a vague stare, which Casey was pleased by, “I'll be here."

"I think I should go home, then.” Alex whispered, “You're right, he's probably waiting."

Casey watched, unmoving and unreactive, as Alex stood, retrieved her garment from where it had been tossed on the floor, concealing the skin Casey had just fondled with quick work, the latch of the belt the only sound in the now silent, now still room. Alex picked her purse from the floor, and then turned, striding the same way towards the doorframe as she had just before they had engaged.

And just as before, she turned, because Alex couldn't resist catching a last glimpse, providing a last word.

"Casey-, quid pro quo?” In a soft, tentative voice she asked, “Can I return the favor tomorrow?"

A small thrill raced through Casey's blood and she provided a small, firm nod, tilting her head in a way that caused her faux blonde hair to spill effortlessly over and around her shoulders.

"Wander in and wander out at your will, Alex. You can have what you need from me.”

Alex was fully aware of why she slept with Casey when she left her office.

But she barely even left her office, no, because she couldn't make it more than a couple steps away with spinning on her heel, coming back in just as Casey had stood from the couch, wrapping her hands around the faux blonde’s collar and kissing her, quietly and quickly, hungrily, guilty, needy. Heady, fast, and soft.

As fast as the flash of blonde hair had reappeared in Casey's vision it was then gone again, and Alex verschwand quickly, lost in the wind, leaving Casey standing with her arms half-raised awkwardly, her lips in a started, kiss-swollen gape, the heart racing in her chest. That was certainly not friendly. That was the furthest thing from platonic.

Alex knew why she’d keep sleeping with Casey, too.

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

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waldau-archived · 1 year ago

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flustered — jeon wonwoo | 1.7k | fluff

first ever work on tumblr for any fandom! yikes. gender neutral reader. no warnings.

people often think wonwoo isn't the kind of person to express himself freely. you know how untrue that accusation is. wonwoo is far from emotionless. only his close friends know what actually makes him crack up, and you're one of the very few who knows what makes him cry.

but you have no idea what makes him blush.

ever since you've been in a relationship, you've never once seen him blush at anything you've said. compliments don't work, not when he accepts them gracefully and carries on like nothing's happened. he doesn't shy away when the band makes him perform silly antics for the fans, opting to do them with the small, ever-present smile on his face.

even mingyu is clueless when you ask him what it is that could possibly make wonwoo blush. teasing him about you never works because it just makes him smile even more.

so you decide to give it a go and try everything you can to make his cheeks turn red. it's silly, but it should be worth the efforts.

wonwoo doesn't like waking up early when he doesn't have to, but when you wake up today morning, his side of the bed is empty. you get up and walk to the living room, careful not to make any noise.

sure enough, wonwoo's sitting on the sofa with his laptop on the coffee table and a notepad and a pen on his lap, occasionally jotting down something here and there. you watch him for a minute or two before you walk up to him and put your arms around his neck, bending down so your lips are right next to his ear. "good morning," you whisper in the most morning-y voice you can muster. you don't think your voice has ever been this low before.

wonwoo doesn't even flinch. he grips your hands with one of his and turns around to press a kiss to your cheek. "good morning, darling," he says, turning to the laptop to pause the video on his screen before he looks at you again. "did you sleep well?"

"till i realized you weren't sleeping beside me, yes."

he chuckles and takes his hand off yours, laying down before raising his arms to you. you've done this a hundred times before — tumbling over the sofa and onto his chest and into his arms, secure.

he presses a kiss to your head. "do you have any plans for today?"

"none, unless you count me wanting to spend the rest of the day with you." you can't see his reaction, but his heartbeat is steady as it always is. you can feel his smile against your head.

"that's what i wanted to do, too, but do you want to go to the museum today? i know you've been wanting to for a while. maybe we could catch a movie after that."

you don't have the heart to say anything but yes. it sounds like the perfect day, even if you didn't achieve your goal.

the next time you try is when you get into an argument.

it's not an argument, not really. just a minor disagreement.

about a certain cat you want as a pet, and it reaches its final stage with wonwoo on his gaming chair and you standing in front of him, hands on your hips. "are you saying you're so heartless that you can't adopt the poor cat?"

"don't twist my words! it's not like i don't want to adopt it."

"that's the impression you're giving right now."

wonwoo sighs, running a hand through his hair. "i want a cat. and i want it with you. but don't you think it's not fair when i'm not home for a lot of time? i don't want you to raise it all by yourself. what if it doesn't know who i am?"

you stifle a snort. "that's your main concern?"

wonwoo tilts his head. "what else would it be?"

"you're afraid you're going to be an absent dad?"

"is that so bad?"

you let out a laugh. "no. not at all. but does that mean we can get a cat when we move in together?"

wonwoo hesitates. "yes, but i'd rather get it when i don't tour as much, you know?"

you sigh. "you just don't think it's cute enough, do you?"

"what? no! of course not! i was the one who showed it to you, not the other way round."

wonwoo looks cute like this, you think, arguing with you about the tiniest things ever. you hope you'll always argue about stuff like this. without a second thought, you move into his lap and hold his face in your hands, pressing kisses all over it. he lets out a confused noise before holding your waist and letting you do what you want.

"i love you, you know that?" you say earnestly, looking into his eyes.

"i love you too?" he says, frowning slightly.

"you look cute when you're serious. like you're trying to be angry with me, but you're not actually angry. and you also look a bit hot."

he blinks. "are you trying to seduce me into getting you a cat?"

you gasp dramatically. "why would you think that? i mean, what if i was?"

he looks at you for a moment before he chuckles and presses a kiss to your neck. "do you really want it that bad? i'll look into it, i promise."

the third time you try is when you're at the supermarket a few weeks later. wonwoo prefers shopping late at night, especially on friday nights, because there's not many people around.

you don't mind. you like spending late nights out with wonwoo, letting time pass while the night bleeds into day. especially because the day in question is saturday.

you're currently in the dairy products aisle, wonwoo looking at two different brands of tofu and comparing their expiration dates when you suddenly wrap your hands around his waist, pressing yourself to his back. there's no one else around you, and you really hope there's no camera capturing your antics.

wonwoo doesn't budge, simply putting one of the packets back. "i think we'll take this," he says, dropping the remaining one into your basket. "you're going to have to teach me how to make that soup."

you don't respond, still pressed to his back.

wonwoo sets down the basket and tugs you off him, pulling you around so you're facing him.

then he tips your chin up, leans down, and places a gentle kiss on your lips.

you don't know what to say when he pulls away. you can't even tell if it lasted for a few seconds or some minutes. he's worn his nighttime pajamas to the supermarket and he still looks amazing. you know you look like an idiot when he smiles at you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"you could have just asked for a kiss, you know." then he turns back to look at the other products like he didn't just steal your breath away in the middle of a supermarket close to midnight.

you were trying to get him flustered, but it's not like you're complaining.

it finally happens, but when you're expecting it the least. you and wonwoo have just gotten back from the fair that's been open near your place for the past week, somehow having time off from work on the same day.

you've enjoyed yourself for the first time in weeks, strolling through the place with your hand in wonwoo's, sipping on hot chocolate, letting him win you a mario figurine (he'd wanted to try again to get you a plushie, but you found the figurine infinitely funnier), and just taking a ton of pictures with and of him.

you've also bought a lot of little stuff which has amounted to the two bags currently occupying your hands, which is why you sheepishly ask wonwoo if he can unlock the door.

he takes your keys from your jacket without question and opens the door, letting you in first. you're thinking about whether you should set the bags aside and untie your shoes or risk a little damage by just kicking them off, when wonwoo slides past you in your stupidly little hallway and switches on the lights.

his foot catches with yours and he ends up with his back to the wall, while you trip and turn in a desperate attempt not to fall on your face and break the little jars of various jams you've bought.

you get a little more than what you've bargained for when you stumble forward and land your hands on the wall, one on either side of his chest. you're just thankful neither of you is hurt, but when you look up, wonwoo's face is slowly turning red.

for the first time in the two years you've been together, wonwoo's flustered. you're glad he flipped the lights on, because seeing him with a blush on his face seems almost alien. his vision constantly flits between your face and the spot over your shoulder, unwilling to meet your eyes.

you don't know what to say. "wonwoo. i'll fall if i keep holding on any longer."

"oh," he breathes, "yes. right." he looks at you for a moment, unsure how to maneuver you to stand without making you lose your balance, and settles for his hands around your waist. you manage to stand with his help, putting the bags on the floor carefully before a grin makes its way across your face.

"of all the things i've been trying to do to get you to blush, that's what did it?"

he looks at your eyes and then at the floor. "why would you even try to do that?"

"i've never seen you blush! i had to."

"did you get what you wanted?"

he still isn't meeting your eyes. his glasses are halfway across his nose because of the angle you're at, so you push them up for him. "i didn't even plan for this to happen, you know. but it's definitely what i wanted. and you're pretty," you add, revelling in the redness of his ears.

he shakes his head and lets out a small chuckle. "is there any chance you'll let me off the hook anytime soon?"

"as if."

#i kind of don't want anyone to find this but eh #comments appreciated the most if you'd like to interact!#jeon wonwoo #wonwoo fluff #seventeen #seventeen fluff #svt #wonwoo #fluff #waldau writes #established relationship

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starrystevie · 1 year ago

Text

18+ | modern office steddie au | cw: public sex, undernegotiated kinks, unsafe sex | crossposted to ao3 here

eddie doesn't do it often. okay, maybe that's a stretch. frequently might be a better word for it, more accurate. but he wouldn't say he does it everyday or anything. it's just a little break from the day, an escape from the monotony of corporate america.

he's only been in this new tech support job for a few months but he's already comfortable enough that working on his next novel at his desk doesn't give him anxiety anymore. he isn't afraid someone is looking over his shoulder all the time like he did when he first started with the company.

the thing is, eddie's good at tech. he's good at finding the problems, finding even better solutions. half the time all he's doing is updating and restarting people's equipment that hasn't been refreshed in years. so he finds himself with enough free time at his desk to work on the second installment of his fantasy novel when the problems seem to be at a low.

as he waits for his laptop to boot up, eddie cracks his knuckles and grabs his phone to send a text to his editor that may or may not also happen to be his best friend so he could cut back on over exuberant editing fees. he doesn't read the message over, just fires out a text to nancy quickly before pocketing his phone.

he only realizes the typo once he gets a laughing emoji in return and cackles at what he actually sent.

"getting ready to write some smut on the cock!!!!!"

it doesn't take long to send a winky face before correcting himself to say " on the clock obviously", before pocketing his phone and opening the document where his novel is. just as eddie is about to start typing, a voice behind him makes him jump out of his skin.

"what was so funny?" steve asks, arm propped on the top of his flimsy cubicle wall, legs crossed over one another, smirk on his face.

eddie forces himself not to swoon. he takes in the way his white button up stretches across his chest, dress pants oh so snug over his thighs, hair pushed back in the way that only steve harrington could pull off. he may have only been at the office for a few months, but ever since he first saw him, steve very quickly became the only thing eddie could think about.

"i'm sure you wouldn't find it funny," he starts, tilting his laptop screen halfway shut so steve can't catch him doing his other job, his favorite job, while at work.

steve smirks again, his cheek lifting enough to crinkle his eye. "try me, munson."

with a dramatic push, eddie rolls in his wheely chair and stands up so he can keep his voice low. "i sent my editor a dirty text on accident."

if steve's surprised, he doesn't show it.

"editor, hmm? for what?" his voice is as low as eddie's and it makes the cubicle feel even smaller than it is. like everything in the world has zeroed in on their whispers to each other.

"i might be writing a book. well, technically i've already written a book. this is just the sequel."

steve's eyes flick from eddie to his laptop and then back once more. "is it anything i'd know?"

he cackles again, picturing steve reading his smutty fantasy novel, eyebrows furrowed as he tries to make any sense out of the haphazard world map eddie drew for the back page. but then again, he could easily picture steve in the world he made. he'd be a prince- no, scratch that, an elven prince- just like the one he's writing about in this one.

"i do read, you know. i'm not entirely up to date with everything but i do like books." steve says it like he's almost hurt and it makes eddie look back up at him, mellowing out his wide grin into a softer smile.

"oh, i wasn't doubting that. i just doubt you read elf porn in your free time."

whatever hurt was lacing through steve's face is gone, replaced with wide eyes and eyebrows to his hairline and a bright smile pulling at his cheeks.

"yeah," he says a little breathless, "yeah, definitely not the first thing i'd reach for."

eddie gives him a told-you-so head nod and brings a hand up to run through his hair, tracking steve's eyes as he follows the motion for a moment. having his eyes on him rushes through eddie like a wave crashing and he's halfway tempted to do it again if he didn't think it would look forced.

"well you probably don't know mine then."

as he turns to go back to his chair, he hears steve cough to get his attention back, arms crossed over his chest to make his shirt pull taut over his beautiful, gorgeous, annoyingly perfect biceps. "so what was the dirty text?"

"well, it was actually a typo," eddie starts, cocking his head to the side with a smirk as he pulls out his phone, "so an unintentional dirty text. but still funny, none the less. and i don't think i can say it out loud without getting hr called on my ass so-"

he holds up his phone so steve can see the brief conversation between him and nancy, watches his eyebrows shoot back up to his hairline, watches as his mouth drops open for a millisecond before giving eddie another goddamn smirk. steve leans back, drops his arms to put a hand on his hip, and looks eddie less than subtly up and down.

"so... do you want to?"

eddie can feel the moment his heart stutters in his chest. a combination of steve's general... steveness plus the implication of what the text said and his mind travels to a dirty, dirty, not meant for work place until he pieces it somewhat together and asks-

"...are you asking if i'm gay?"

steve huffs out a laugh and takes a step further into eddie's cubicle. there already isn't much room and with him coming in the tiniest bit closer, their toes are almost touching.

"sure," he says like it's the easiest thing to say on a thursday afternoon. "it can be a two-part question if you want."

a few things run through eddie's head all at the same time:

steve's close enough that he can feel the heat radiating off of the arm he now has resting on his desk, and he's really about to come out to a coworker which he normally leaves for at least 6 months into a new job, and that he thinks he's going to pass out if steve is actually asking what he thinks he's asking.

do you want to write smut while you're on my cock?

he doesn't know where he finds the courage, honestly. call it a slow thursday, call it a little extra motivation for his novel. eddie scoots closer and throws caution to the wind.

"then yes to both."

he's never seen steve's office. he's been to the top floors before when some higher up needed him to install a web browser on his new desktop so he has kind of an idea of what the private offices look like.

eddie didn't expect the first time that he got to see steve's office would be spread out, bent over his desk with his novel pulled up on his laptop while steve runs his hands over his ass.

"here's how this is going to work," steve whispers close to his ear while he lays against his back, snaking a hand up to undo the knot of eddie's messy tie, popping open a button on his dress shirt in the process. "you stop writing, i stop fucking you."

with a hum, eddie presses his hips back, up on his tiptoes with his off brand dress shoes pinching his feet tightly. "i think i can manage that."

"i'm not finished," he bites gently at eddie's ear lobe, returning his hands to palm over his ass cheeks. "everything i do to you, and i mean everything, needs to be written down. turn me into a character or something, i don't care, but i expect you to be thorough."

he doesn't mean to moan at the instructions, really he doesn't, but it's so easy to picture steve morphing into a character in his world. his mind races trying to figure out how exactly to write him into the scene that had already started, but with a snap of his fingers as the idea clicks, he writes out a quick line and looks at steve over his shoulder for approval.

"who's sylvar?" steve asks, pronunciation clunky on his tongue.

"sylvar is an elven prince, might as well make you him. besides, you both have an s name."

steve chuckles, his breath ruffling eddie's hair. "okay, fair. prince, huh?"

he doesn't have to look over his shoulder again to know that steve's smirking so he rolls his eyes and finishes the sentence, only breaking away to gasp as steve brings his hand between his thighs to spread them further apart.

"i'm gonna take a wild guess and say that elidyr is supposed to be you?"

eddie nods and pulls his tie off the rest of the way. "let's see, he's one of the prince's newest attendants, known for being a bit out of control, gets chastised for staring at the prince's ass in his khakis too much-"

"you're making that one up, huh?"

he tosses his tie to the side and brings a hand up to tangle in steve's hair, pulling his lips down to his neck and waiting for him to get the hint and start kissing. "steve, i'm making all of it up. that's the way writing a book goes."

"is that so?" he murmurs playfully against his neck, teeth pressing against the skin as he smiles, hands yanking on his hips to get eddie flush against his cock. "...i don't see you writing."

eddie huffs and shakes his head before writing out quickly how sylvar grabbed elidyr by the hips roughly to show him how excited he was. steve takes the typing as the go ahead and quickly undoes both of their pants before running his hands up eddie's now bare thighs.

he didn't really have any idea of how well he'd be able to hold out to steve's ministrations while having to write them out at the same time, but any confidence he had in himself leaves when steve's palm cups his cock through his briefs. eddie cants his hips forward and brings his hand back up to tangle once more in steve's hair.

and just like that, the touch is gone.

"oh, come on!" eddie whines and brings his hands back to the keyboard, typing in random filler words until suddenly he has no underwear and hands pulling his ass cheeks apart.

"gonna fucking take you apart... shit," steve whispers and eddie doesn't think he was supposed to hear it, but he writes it into the scene anyway.

there's a cool dribble of what must be lube on his hole and he fights against the shiver it sends up his spine. "you have lube in your office?"

"no, i have lube in my briefcase. big difference."

eddie doesn't really see how to the two are different, but he laughs to appease steve before getting cut short as a finger starts to enter him. he must whine, must jerk or do something wrong because it's leaving almost as soon as it had arrived.

"steve, i swear to god," eddie groans, head dropping down as he types without looking. poor nancy is going to have a hell of time reading and editing over this draft.

they both sigh when the finger presses into him once more and steve weaves his other hand into eddie's hair to pull him up and look at his screen. "there you go, just keep typing. write about how good it feels."

and shit. that's hotter than he expected it to be.

it goes well for all of a few minutes, eddie typing and steve reading over his shoulder, scissoring his fingers to get him nice and wet and open. they both somehow manage to keep their composure, filthy words being muttered out loud that then end up on the screen.

it's after steve gets him cock in him that it all goes down hill.

"oh fuck-" eddie moans as his leg gets hoisted up for a better angle. steve's grip on his hip is brutal, bound to be leaving bruises, as he pulls eddie back to meet him in the middle.

his chest is rubbing against the pleather desk cover, nipples catching on just the right side of painful when steve pushes his shirt up and out of the way. his dick is flopping against his thigh with every thrust, the lack of friction driving him insane.

he swears he only takes his hands away from the laptop for a second but then steve's pulling out quickly, dropping his leg and getting eddie off balance. he whines like he's throwing a temper tantrum before bringing his fingers back up to type more nonsense, gasping when steve slides back in like no time has passed.

"read it," he huffs next to his ear, "tell me how perfect you make fucking me sound."

"oh my god," eddie croaks, eyes rolling back as steve lets go of his hip once more to pull his head upright. "sylvar fucks wi-without abandon, hitting every right spot possible inside elidyr, the heat of his h-heavy cock punishing him making him mad with lust."

"good, yeah that's good. like when i fuck you hard?" steve grunts out before pistoning his hips even faster, eddie's moans bouncing off the bare office walls. "tell me more, keep going baby."

"the grip he uses to hold onto elidyr's hair is the only thing keeping him upright. this is all he could want, tending to the prince's every desire, being whatever the prince wants him to be." eddie expects it when the fingers in his hair curl even tighter, his back bowing against the desk with the pressure, but he still keens loudly at the pull.

steve chuckles roughly, like he's barely holding on himself, hips stuttering before evening out. "is that what you want?"

"wha-" eddie murmurs, not trusting his voice much more than that, his brain turning into mush. "is what what i want?"

"want to tend to my desires, want to be for me to use however i please?"

and the thing is, realistically, eddie knows this whole thing is weird, blending his two worlds together in a way he's never done before, but it doesn't stop him from forgoing the rules and bringing a hand down to work over his cock. "god, don't stop. please, please, please..."

steve must be tired of the game, too, because he doesn't even attempt to quit what they're doing to punish eddie as he stops writing. he barely has time to appreciate that the game is finally over because the hand in his hair slides around to rest gently around eddie's throat, pulling him up so his back is to steve's chest, every thrust punching out another gasping breath.

"answer the question," he says, punctuating each word with a snap of his hips. "gonna let me use you how i want?"

eddie has died and gone to heaven and the cause of death is a mixture of steve's tongue, hands, and cock. his mind wanders to what else they could do together, what else he'd let steve do, what else he wants steve to do. he sends up a quick thank you to whoever is listening that he saw the job posting for this company so he could be here in this moment with a possible sex god in his midst.

the hand that he had braced on the desk for support makes its way up to cover steve's on his throat, a barely there pressure combined with his quick fingers on his cock that sends him over the edge.

he breathes out a "yes" as he shoots come across the stop of steve's desk and see stars dancing in his eyes. steve fucks him through it, whispers filth of what he wants to do to eddie right into his ear, and when he comes back to himself, he digs his nails in the top of steve's hand.

"want it, want you, however you want me-" he chokes out.

and when steve finally comes inside of him, eddie makes sure he bends back down with his cock still pounding into him to write some line about how nice elidyr thinks it feels to filled up from someone who probably shouldn't be giving him the time of day. he tries not to find parallels as steve kisses up the back of his neck as he rocks his hips for the final time.

eddie's bare ass is in a mixture of their come as they maneuver him around to let him sit up and wrap his legs around steve's hips, pulling their spent cocks together while they lazily make out. steve's hands dance softly over his bare thighs, eddie threads his fingers through steve's hair.

"how does it end?" steve whispers against his lips.

"i don't know yet," eddie says truthfully, his mind wandering as kisses start to trail down his jawline. "how do you want it to end?"

"i don't suppose they have bars in this elf world, do they? one where they can go on an actual date to before going back to the palace or whatever to ravage each other?"

eddie grins, tipping his head back to catch steve's lips one more time in a slow kiss. "i can arrange for them to go to the tavern. i think they'd both like that."

the next morning, slightly hungover and draped over each other in steve's way too large bed, eddie ignores a text from nancy asking why the names change halfway through the draft and wondering who the fuck steve is. eddie silences his phone and goes back to sleep, so glad that he didn't double check his first message yesterday for typos.

#HI this got long so i will be posting it to ao3 #shoutout to mickala and alice for turning me into this monster #pls excuse any and all typos because i wrote this at work and just want to go home #steddie #my writing #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steddie smut #modern steddie #steddie au

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