august

eighteen — bisexual lucy chen & angela lopez wife

[augustvandyne]

augustvandyne's materlist!

Just because there's not someone there, that doesn't mean you can't request them. Please send in anything you want and I'll let you know If I would be interested/will write

I watch a lot of TV so there's a possibility there aren't characters or shows listed here. that just means I haven't been asked or written them.

Also, there is a lot of ways I've formatted my posts so if you see a lot of different styles, that's why.

REQUESTS: CLOSED

The Pitt

Cassie McKay!

full fics

lay me down 18+ coffee stains. will they, won’t they not mine to lose every lifetime (18+) quiet after the storm invisible line (18+) wingman all I've ever wanted (part two) learning to stay (check tw) make it up to me 18+ best part of my day just friends take it (18+). thoughtful (18+)

headcannons

shy!r hcs

series

over time (ongoing)

Mel King!

found between sirens overwhelmed

Dana Evans!

your landing

Samira Mohan!

more than you know

Greys/Station 19

Addison Montgomery!

7 am come get me ice cream. a choice with me I'm here why did you leave? who did this? flustered saving grace. story for the grandkids

Maya Bishop!

the only one

Andy Herrera!

eight months labor secret four times andy had to save you, and one time she did

The Rookie

Lucy Chen!

nothing family barbecue five times lucy almost confesses (the one time she does) idiots. I love you flowers and cheesecake six months pregnant lunch date old feelings god is not on my side dodgers game turned date our girl. get out valentines day backup

Angela Lopez!

Paris almost getting caught going undercover fight falling asleep jealousy baby, baby baby jack (part two) set up. sick day

Yellowjackets

Jackie Taylor!

kiss me by the fire

Van Palmer!

braids

Lottie Matthews!

the wilderness

Shauna Shipman!

I love you, idiot a disaster

[augustvandyne]

hihiii i just wanted to say that i missed your writing and i hope you’re doing well 💕

thank you so much! i’m doing well and i also missed writing! i’m getting back into the swing of things slowly. there is more to come :))

[mrsmckay]

Omg i sent you the recent ask abt reader sulking!! Can i be 🐢 for you anon ask?? Alsooo i have one! Sent this to a bunch of my fav writers hereee and i wanted to send this to you too! Here it goes!

reader is jealous with mckay talking with victoria and reader did inform mckay abt it but mckay is a bit asshole and lowkey like seeing her baby jealous. So when reader saw mckay talking with victoria, and laugh out loud, reader is sulking so bad to the point she gave mckay a silent treatment throughout the shift.

So later when they're back in apartment, mckay sit on her designated place on their sofa just doing resting from the shift like usual. And reader plot a revenge by approaching mckay wearing nothing under her bathrobe. When she reached her, she kneel down, and rest her head on mckay's lap giving her the best fuck me eyes.

"You dont love me aren't you🥺?” then kiss mckays knee and just leave her alone by going to their bedroom. And mckay is going crazyyyyyy and you know what happened, (she said sorry and make it up for it)

why hello 🐢 <3

a new round of med students arrived at ptmc a week ago. one of them has been glued at your girlfriend cassie mckay’s side since then, tasked with teaching her. you and cassie have been together for over two years now, and you know she would never cheat on you. still, the sight of the pretty med student just a few years younger than you named victoria javadi laughing with and gaping at your girlfriend bothered you.

last night you told cassie that you were jealous. well, you didn’t actually use the word jealous, but cassie got the jist…

“you’ve been kind of cold at work lately.”

“cold?” you questioned, raising a brow.

“yeah, like not friendly. prickly. short. cold.”

“screw you,” you huffed with an eye roll.

“screw you too,” cassie threw back, no real bite to either of your sentiments. “but… is something wrong?”

“i just… i just don’t like seeing you with her. with that new med student. javadi.”

cassie couldn’t hold back the laugh that was begging to come out. she let out a roaring cackle, only making you feel worse and embarrassed. once cassie’s laughter subsided, she looked at you only to find you glaring at her. she mentally noted the hint of possessiveness behind your eyes.

“what?!” cassie exclaimed, still laughing. “she’s just a sweet girl who i’m helping out. you were new once too, baby.”

“yeah, and you helped me.”

“aww, i promise i won’t hook up with javadi too,” cassie teased.

annoyed, you rolled onto your side. cassie kept pestering you while you didn’t engage. when she tried to spoon you, you kicked her off. you fell asleep pissed off and woke up in the same bad mood.

cassie initially tried talking to you like normal until she realized you were still upset. she attempted to apologize, talking to you extra sweet, but you ignored her. during the entirety of your shift you gave your girlfriend the silent treatment.

at first she went out of her way to make it up to you— buying you your favorite chips from the vending machine, offering to help type up your charts, complimenting you during procedures… but when you repetitively dismissed her, not even acknowledging her as so much with a look, cassie stopped trying. instead, she put her focus entirely on work, deciding to deal with you later. part of solely concentrating on work meant being around javadi, only furthering your annoyance and jealousy. cassie knew this, a part of her enjoying watching you silently fume over her even when you were pretending not to care.

later, after your shift was over, you were still sulking, pettily refusing to talk to her. as cassie drove you both home, she racked her brain with ideas to apologize. cassie kept coming up blank, nothing seeming good enough for you. she could give you a full body massage, cook your favorite meal, go down on you for hours, literally get on her knees and beg you to forgive her, but it felt like you deserved something more.

once home, you uttered a single sentence to cassie— “i’m going to shower.”

cassie nodded and said, “come find me when you’re done?”

you locked eyes with her for a split second before stomping away, not giving her a yes or a no. you went to the bathroom and showered, an idea of your own coming to mind as you rinsed the day off of you. you wanted to make cassie pay. make her suffer. and the best way to do that? tempt her with something she can’t have.

after you got out of the shower, you lathered your body in vanilla lotion, one that cassie bought you because she loves how it smells on you. instead of putting pajamas on, you threw your robe over your dewy frame. then you strode out to the living room where cassie was, ready to humor (and tease) her.

“hey, baby,” cassie said with a warm smile as you entered, not suspecting anything.

“mhm,” you hummed in acknowledgment, still not wasting your words on cassie.

“okay,” cassie murmured before taking a deep breath. “babe, i will literally do whatever you want. buy you whatever you want. i will get on my knees if you ask. i’m sorry and i love you. just please talk to me.”

you stared at her, not giving away anything in your face. cassie sat on the couch waiting, her heart racing out of her chest. after a few very long seconds of intense eye contact, your gaze shifted to the coffee table, noticing cassie’s dishes sitting there.

“you’re messy,” you stated as you moved to the coffee table, unnecessarily putting your backside in front of cassie. “you need to learn how to clean up after yourself,” you scolded while bending down to grab her dirty plate and glass.

“god,” cassie mumbled under her breath, your bare ass and a glimpse of your pussy on display for her.

as if nothing happened, you walked away to the kitchen. you rinsed off and loaded cassie’s dishes, then returned to the living room. cassie was still sitting there, visibly flustered. you mentally smirked, not wanting cassie to see the real thing yet.

“come here, baby,” cassie requested, her voice low and gravelly.

“yes?” you asked as you leisurely walked over to the couch, pretending like you didn’t know the perverse thoughts circling your girlfriend’s mind.

“babe, please let me make it up to you. i need you so bad, my gorgeous girl.”

you slowly got on your knees, cassie staring at you wide eyed with anticipation. her mouth was open slightly, practically drooling over you. she watched your movements intently, nearly squirming when you placed your hands on her knees. you then rested your head on top of your hands, your eyes flickering up to meet cassie’s. you could see how much she wanted you. how much she needed you.

“you don’t love me, do you?” you taunted, your voice mockingly sweet. in a seductive manner, you batted your eyelashes at cassie, your doe eyes making her weak.

“of course i do,” cassie replied instantly as she brought her hands up to your head, playing with your damp hair draped over her lap. “so fucking much.”

your eyes darkened then, a flirtatiously wicked smirk finally forming for cassie to see. “good,” you said, planting kisses on each of cassie’s knees before standing. “now you can prove it,” you challenge. you then spun around on your heels and started walking towards the bedroom.

cassie licked her lips and stood up, pathetically jogging up behind you. she grabbed your hips possessively while her head dipped to your ear. “gladly, baby. you’re the only girl i love. i’m yours only.”

smugly, you huffed out a single laugh. “that’s what i thought.”

[augustvandyne]

Hii I was wondering if I could maybe write about Cassie and reader having their first time, but reader has really bad past experiences with sex so Cassie checks on her & reassures the entire time ? If ur comfortable writing something like this of course :)

thoughtful — c. mckay

cassie mckay x shy!reader

summary: cassie knows of your past sexual encounters and makes it her sole mission to make you comfortable.

word count: 2.8k

warnings: smut MDNI (18+), the past in question isn’t actually explained nor in depth, oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), praise, showering together, cassie mckay dimple worship (im obsessed with them), soft sex, fluff

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” Cassie’s hands are intertwined with yours.

They have been since you’ve left the hospital today. She held your hand the entire way to the car, the entire ride home, and even now, after you’ve eaten a late dinner, her hand is sown into yours.

She’s thoughtful, was the first thought that crossed your mind when you first met her.

You’d just started as a new grad nurse, scared shitless out of your mind when you arrived, way over prepared. But she helped you. She guided you.

Even though she was a doctor, had doctor things to do, she guided you through your first day.

After passing you off to the charge nurse, Dana, she checked in with you every so often to see how you were handling things.

It was thoughtful.

So was the random coffee that would show up at the desk along with sticky notes on the side, cute notes written on the color of the month. You were convinced she bought them in bulk in all different colors.

So was the birthday gift that somehow made it into your locker without you opening it. A cute basket with all your favorite snacks and drinks and anything else you loved. All topped off with your favorite colored bow.

So was the night she took you out for dinner after a rough shift that shook everyone. She noticed you nervously sitting in the break room, picking at your nails until they bled. She helped you stand, talked you down, opened up to you in a way she hadn’t opened to anyone else in the pitt.

That was the night you learned everything about her.

The night you knew you liked her more than just coworkers or friends.

But now, she is more thoughtful than ever. Her full attention on you, never leaving you, even as her favorite show turned on in the background.

She’s a vast difference from anyone else you’d been with in the past. She’s kinder, softer, thoughtful.

It warmed you.

You bit the inside of your cheek and looked down, unable to maintain eye contact for much longer without losing all of your confidence.

And you needed that tonight.

You feel the brush of her finger as she lifts your chin back up, dark blue oceans cascading over yours.

“I’m serious.” A crease has formed between her eyebrows.

You’d dubbed this as her ‘serious’ face months ago when you told her you didn’t want to have sex right away. When she’d made you a home cooked meal, your third date to be exact, continuously asking if you were okay.

She watched you bounce your leg beneath the table, watched you take long sighs in attempts to calm your nervous system.

You outright told her — fork halfway to her mouth — everything.

About your past relationships, how they ended, how the sex started and ended before it really even began.

She looked genuinely upset that night, so upset you were concerned a permanent frown would stay plastered on her face for the rest of her life.

Cassie reassured you that she would never do such things, that she’d take her time with you. She would never go overboard or do anything to hurt you. She’d always make sure you came before she ever let you touch her.

You never blushed so much in your life.

But you were sure tonight would beat that.

“I know you are.” A small laugh leaves your lips, but Cassie doesn’t find any of this amusing. That makes it all the more funny.

Or maybe you were just nervous and were finding everything funny at this moment.

“I don’t want to do this if you aren’t sure.” She squeezes her fingers between yours. “I don’t mind waiting. We can wait until we get married, for all I care. That’s not why I’m with you.”

“I know.” Your voice is soft in the quiet of her apartment, only the quiet lull of the television in the background. Right now, you were the only two that mattered. “And I appreciate that.”

She searches your eyes carefully, waiting for you to speak again.

“But I’m ready. We can’t hold it off forever.” One of your lips twists up into a small smile, eyebrows raised with amusement.

“I just want you to be sure.” She nods her head as she speaks, lowering her head only a few inches.

“I am.” Your free hand comes up to cup the side of her face, your thumb brushing over her cheek. “I promise I am. I wouldn’t say that if I wasn’t.”

“Okay. Okay.” She closes her eyes for a second, pressing her lips together, her dimples forming at the corners of her mouth.

You lean down and press a kiss to the one your hand isn’t covering, and Cassie leans into your touch.

“I just.. wish I knew you wanted to do this tonight.” She lets at a quiet sigh as you kiss down to the corner of her jaw. “I would’ve made it special.”

“This is special.” You lean your head back up to look at her.

“Really?” She lifts her eyebrows in disbelief. “We had takeout for dinner and we’re watching crappy tv on the couch. This isn’t exactly special.”

“It’s your special.” You emphasize. “And that’s all I want.”

“Okay. Are you sur—“

“Cassie.” You laugh, “I am absolutely sure. This isn’t my first time, you know?”

“But it’s our first time.” She leans down and your noses brush against each other.

“Cassie.” You whisper. “Take me to your bed.”

With a hitched breath, she scoops you between her arms, your intertwined fingers finally breaking its hold. She carries you down the hall, not even worried about the half open takeout containers or the television that’s still playing.

All she’s focused on is you.

She lays you gently against her bed, your arm wrapping around the back of her neck to pull her down into a kiss.

This one’s different from all your others.

Rather than the soft, careful Cassie you’re used to, this one uses her tongue, clashes teeth, lets out the most beautiful noise when you run your tongue against the inside of her mouth.

She breaks away from your lips to kiss against your jaw, towards your ear, "Let me lead, okay?”

“Okay.” You let out a breathy moan when she nips at your earlobe, hot breath fanning over your ear.

Heat pools in the bottom of your stomach as she kisses down your neck, taking time to find that sweet spot above your collarbone. She takes her time there, nipping, sucking, kissing, all to hear that sweet little sound you make.

“God, you’re beautiful.” She kisses lower, beneath your collarbone.

“You haven't even seen me yet.” You find yourself rolling your eyes.

“Don’t care.” She shakes her head as she leaves another mark. She fiddles with the bottom of your shirt, “Can I take this off?”

“Please.” You lift your arms so she can remove it easier.

You lean around your back to unhook your bra, and Cassie grabs the fabric from your chest, throwing it behind her onto the ground.

For a second, she only admires you, staring like she hasn’t eaten all day long.

She kisses down the valley of your chest before she brings one hand up to touch your left nipple.

“Is this okay, sweetheart?” She nuzzles her nose into the skin of your breast, nipping and sucking at the exposed skin.

“Mhm.” Your lower lip is pulled up between your teeth, breath coming out heavy, the softest moan coming from between your lips.

And Cassie wants to learn all the sounds you can make. She wants to elicit more sounds such as that one.

“So good for me.” Her lips attach to your nipple, and your body arches up towards her, eager for more. Your hands find her wavy red hair, weaving the strands in between your fingers like you had with her hand earlier.

Her other hand squeezes the flesh of your hip, pulling your body as close as she can get to herself.

“Cass.” Your voice comes out shakier than you’d intended, and you can feel her smirk against your skin.

“Yeah?” She peers up at you, blue eyes darker than you’d ever seen them before. “What do you need from me, baby? Tell me.”

“Can you touch me? Please.” You lick your lips and stare up at the ceiling, unable to meet her eyes, cheeks already flushed from her close proximity.

“Look at me.” She squeezes your hip between her fingers, emphasizing that she’s serious. It takes every ounce of courage you can muster, but you lower your chin to face her. “Good girl.”

“Please?”

“You don’t have to beg me.” A smirk finds its place on her lips once again.

Her hands come down to the tops of your sweatpants, eyes looking up to yours for a silent permission, which you grant with a nod and a lift of your hips.

She throws the clothing along with the rest on the floor, running her hands along the sides of your body, taking in the newly exposed skin.

“God, you’re—“

“You don’t have to do that.” You shake your head, looking away before her eyes reach you, arm instinctively coming up to cover the top of your body.

“I want to.” One hand comes up to move your arms. When you look back to her, her eyes are softer than they were before. “You’re beautiful.”

You choose not to say anything else, scared of what your voice might sound like.

“I know you haven’t had the greatest experiences.” She squeezes your hand. “But with me, this is what it will always feel like.”

“Okay.” You whisper with a small nod.

“Do you want to keep going? I won’t be upset.” There’s a crease between her eyebrows that you want to ease off.

“No. Please keep going.” Your eyes are pleading.

“Okay. Okay.” She nods, placing her lips against the tops of your thighs before making her way inward, spreading your legs apart with her hands.

Her mouth makes its way to your clit, placing a soft kiss that sends an unexpected shock through your body. Her tongue makes a soft lick up your slit, as if to test the waters.

You let out a small groan, biting the inside of your cheek as your fingers make their way through her hair once again.

“Mm-mm, baby.” She shakes her head as her mouth comes back up to your clit, sucking and licking softly. “I need to hear you. I need to know I’m doing a good job.”

“Okay.” Your voice wavers, breaking off into a moan when she presses her pointer finger inside. “Feels— good, Cass. So good.”

“Yeah?” She smiles against you, her licks beginning to quicken, her finger matching the pace of her mouth. “You think you can take two?”

“Yes. Yes.” You chant breathlessly, holding the back of her head to pull her closer to your center.

She slides another finger in easily, curling effortlessly when you pull at her knotted locks, as if to say easy.

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart. So good for me.” She lifts her head to look at you, but you’re already staring down at her. She watches your mouth open, a soft groan leaving your lips. “You’re close, baby. Why don’t you let go for me?”

You nod your head vigorously, arching off the bed when her fingers press deeper.

“So close, Cass.” You push her head back down onto your clit, moaning again as she sucks, fingers curling perfectly to hit the spongy spot inside of you.

You pulse around her and let go with a loud moan, nails scratching at her scalp, probably hard enough to draw blood, but Cassie doesn’t care. Not one bit.

“Fuck.” You sigh as her lips leave you, her fingers pulling out, leaving you feeling empty.

She crawls up your body, kissing your neck and nuzzling her nose into the space where your jaw meets your neck.

“Was all of that okay?” She looks up at you, and you nod, leaning down to kiss her soft lips.

“More than.” Your lips trail away from her neck, but she pushes her fingers through your hair now, pulling your head back up to give you a soft kiss.

“Not tonight.” She shakes her head.

You frown, looking at her guiltily like you’d done something wrong, but she only smiles.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” She shakes her head, placing another kiss on your cheek. “But we need to shower and we have a long shift tomorrow.”

“But—“

“Ah, ah.” She places a finger against your lips. “Tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.” You look between her eyes before kissing her dimple.

“I wanted tonight to be about you. I didn’t want you to think you had to do anything for me. Even if you want to.” She stays there a second, playing with a strand of your hair before standing and scooping you between her arms.

Cassie carries you into the bathroom to start a shower for the both of you, not too hot or cold. She washes your hair and body for you, not letting you lift a finger.

Only after you beg and plead to let you wash her hair, does she let you.

“You don’t have to, you know?” She leans her head back so you can get the top of her scalp. “I can do it.”

“I know.” You kiss her temple. “I wanted to.”

She lets out a small laugh.

“You know that’s what I like most about you?” You ask as she turns around to face you.

“Hm? What is that?” She lifts her eyebrows, waiting for a response.

“How thoughtful you are. Even if it takes away from your own needs or energy.” You look up at her through your eyelashes. “It’s your most attractive quality.”

She smiles at that.

“Besides these, of course.” Your finger touches over the groove on her cheek.

“And you know what I like most about you?” She smirks. “Everything.”

She kisses all over your face, erupting laughter from deep inside your chest.

“Cass!” You laugh. “I need to rinse your hair out. You’re getting soap all over me!”

“Good thing we’re in the shower, huh?” She switches you spots so she can rinse out her own hair, just staring down at you as she does so.

After you finish your shower, and finish the rest of your nightly routine, you crawl in bed beside your girlfriend, shutting the light off.

She opens the covers for you to slide in beside her, her arm open and waiting for you to mark your spot for the night on her chest. She plays with your hair, her other hand placed on the exposed skin of your hip, drawing miscellaneous shapes.

“Thank you.” You whisper after a few minutes.

“For what?” You hear a rustle as she tilts her head down to you.

“Taking care of me. It means.. a lot. More than you know.” You lean up so she can kiss the top of your head.

“You’re welcome.” Her voice becomes raspy as she tires out. “Let’s go to sleep. I’ll make you breakfast in the morning.”

You chuckle, “See? So thoughtful.”

“No, baby.” She shakes her head. “Bare minimum. This is what you do for someone you love.”

“Mm. Love you too.” You nuzzle closer into her chest, falling asleep in no time, not even realizing she just said she loved you on her own terms. Nor that you said it back without a second thought.

thank you for reading! as always, likes and reposts are appreciated. i’m always open to hearing your thoughts, so feel free to comment, send an ask, or dm me!

[mxmmyprentiss]

ex wife reader who has a panic attack and no one can calm you down. even dana is struggling. i just imagine santos being like “can we just fucking get mckay already?”

and everyone’s like :/ and look at you to see a reaction from the mention of cassie and you just let out a sob and nod

once cassie’s there i imagine a “jesus christ what happened?”

cassie dropping a “shhh it’s okay baby” she realizes she’d not called you baby in… a long time. and you curl into her and she’s just questioning everything

🫰🏻

idk about the timeline or the age gap of cassie and r so just use your imaginations 😂

you and cassie have always acted professional towards each other at work. no one knew that you two have dated, or once married for that matter. except dana who was mckay's confidant and santos, your work best friend.

in your defense, the whole thing was a whirlwind romance. you and cassie got married in a chapel in vegas during a conference week, both stone cold sober. you both loved each other before you really got to know each other, which you both realized wasn't as romantic as you thought and caused a lot of misunderstandings and miscommunications and a lot of hurt in the end.

but if anybody asked if you'd change your decision, you would lie and say yes.

-

you were having a good shift, smooth even. patients transferred upstairs, discharged, and recovered. not until this patient of yours, a man with anger management issues decided that it would be fun to berate and yell at you in front of the entire pitt. al-hashimi already stepped in and with her all-commanding voice, she scolded the patient and asked him if he still wanted to be treated or he wanted to sign a waiver and leave.

it didn't mean for you to trigger your issues with your father really. the trauma of just hearing a man yelling, especially at you, was a very sensitive topic that you had tried to work with with your therapist for years.

your heart raced as dana pulled you away from the room. she reassured you that you did nothing wrong. but your heart kept going and going until your chest hurt and it was harder to breathe and the voices got louder and louder and -

"darlin', what's wrong?" you heard dana ask and you tried, really tried, to answer but your throat was suddenly dry and your chest felt heavy it hurt. "let's get you into a bed, alright?" dana guided you in a free room, away from the commotion.

you started sweating a lot and dana couldn't get through you so she called santos for help, knowing you and santos were inseparable.

"hey, y/n," she cupped your face, asking you to take a deep breath in and long breath out. you heard her but you couldn't, for the life of you, get your body to respond the way you wanted it to.

stupid fucking body reaction.

"just call mckay," santos told dana. "she'll know what to do."

dana didn't hesitate, always quick on her feet, she easily spotted mckay charting.

"mckay, need you at south 8. asap."

cassie looked up. "what is it?"

"y/n is having a panic attack."

cassie didn't need to hear more. she beelined to your room. she found santos wiping the sweat on your face.

"step back," cassie ordered and santos was quick to obey.

cassie sat on the edge of the bed, giving you just enough space to breathe but also to let you know that you weren't alone. "look at me, baby."

baby.

cassie hadn't called you that since the divorce.

"good," she coaxed. "that's good. you hear me, right?"

you were still shaking and sweating but you nodded anyway.

"you're safe," she said. "can you tell me five things you see right now?"

taking a deep breath in, you looked around. "bed. wall. dana. trinity. y-you."

"that's good. you're doing good. four things you can touch?"

your hand began touching the things around you. "blanket. m-my hand. my legs. t-this," you tugged on the call bell.

"good job." cassie moved a little closer to your side. "how about three things you can hear?"

"i can hear my heart beating in my ears."

"is that all?"

"i hear you."

"and...?"

"i hear footsteps outside."

"that's great, baby. you're doing great." cassie took your hand and gently squeezed it. "what are the two things you can smell?"

you paused for a second, trying to focus. "i can smell the fabcon from this bedsheet. it's new."

cassie nodded, waiting for another answer.

"i-i smell you." valentino donna born in roma, you remembered it still. and a lotion that she put on every morning yet the smell stayed all day.

"one thing you can taste?"

you stared at her, thinking. your eyes dart to her lips but quickly looked up. you wer your lips and gulped.

"my throat is dry."

"here you go." dana offered you a bottle then took santos with her to give you some privacy.

"how are you feeling now?" cassie asked.

you stared at your hands. they're less shaky and sweaty. your chest already felt much lighter and your heart beat slower.

"better. i-i don't know what happened."

cassie gently ran a hand through your hair. "it happens, okay? no one's judging you here. least of all, medical professionals."

"i know but still... i-i didn't mean... i got scared."

"can you tell me what happened?"

cassie, ever the patient one, scoot in beside you. for a moment, everything was quiet. cassie was trying to get you to match her relaxed breathing and you did eventually. your head rested on her shoulder.

it took another minute for you to start telling her what happened and cassie listened closely.

[rockstarellies]

purple lace bra

“i think you’ve been teasing me more than enough, don’t you?” cassie says. you’ve been on facetime for over an hour.

you’ve been teasing her non stop. you’re wearing a lacy set of underwear under your clothes, the purple lace of your bra poking through your tank top. you pulled your tank down slightly again, exposing the lace sitting on your cleavage.

“mm, i don’t think so, dr mckay”

her breath hitched at that, and you could see it. she adjusted herself on her seat a little.

“get those clothes off for me. don’t make me ask you twice” she commands.

you want to continue your little show, but also could never deny her. besides, you wanted to see her reaction to your new set, you were wrapped like a gift in purple lace.

you pull your tank top over your head slowly, your boobs spilling out of your bra a little as you do. you look at her on the screen. she’s got the cockiest grin on her face as her tongue dances lightly on her bottom lip.

you play up to it, pressing your boobs together and fingering the top of your bra, exposing the nipples.

she can’t believe you’re hers. she wants nothing more than to fuck you senseless into the mattress. she drinks in the sight of your perfect form, all for her.

"show me the rest. come on, pretty girl. touch yourself for me" she rasps.

you oblige, moving the laptop screen down. you'd only been wearing the tank top and your underwear. you show her your matching purple lace thong, the sheer material showing off how wet you are.

she bites her lip at the sight. "you bad girl. show me how you touch that pretty pussy"

you gasp as you slide your hand down into your thong, circling your clit with your fingers.

cassie doesn't avert her eyes once.

"that's it baby, you're doing so good for me. missing me this much, huh? you have to tease me like a little brat?" she grins, watching as her words have an effect. your fingers move faster and your sounds get a little louder.

"cassie- please- i need you" you whine. she chuckles softly, seeing how close you are.

"stop" she says. she only has to say it once. fuck. you remove your hand slowly from your pussy, whimpering at the loss of friction and feeling desperate.

"bad girls don't get to cum that easily. you can wait until i get home”.

[rockstarellies]

is this a sick joke??? i’m gonna be plunged into insomnia now because of this. fiona ur so annoying (love u so bad but PLEASE)

[mrsmckay]

drunk texting cassie that she’s hot >>>>

🥐 maybe even a voice message omg

[augustvandyne]

this is the funniest thing at 2:30 in the morning

[augustvandyne]

Hi, how are you? I'd like to request a Samira Monah storyline similar to the one about Cassie, where people think they're dating but they're not, in the end they are. Please.

more than you know -- samira mohan

samira mohan x fem!r2!reader

word count: 5.2k

summary: five times people think you’re dating and the one time you are

warnings: swearing, not really much, for once there’s no age gap guys, drinking idk, it’s been a while be kind

a/n: holy shit it’s been a while. hi everyone i’m alive requests are closed right now but im gonna do my best to work through the rest of what i have halfway written (both for cass) and some of the requests. thank you for those who are still here and hi anyone who’s new here.

The invitation stares back up at you. The too white piece of paper, contrasted with the golden chrome on the cardstock, edges so sharp they look like they could cut your finger open.. it’s a laughing joke. 

One that makes you want to puke at your mailbox, or maybe rip the invitation up and litter for the first time in your life, or maybe just burn it over the stove. 

It reminds you how single you are, how unbearably in love Trinity and Garcia are. 

It’s stupid, really. You should be happy for one of your best friends. The group chat has been buzzing about this for weeks, and you knew the invite was coming in the mail. 

But it still stung. 

You always thought you’d be the one to get married at a young age. Always a hopeless romantic. Even after coming out as gay late in your high school years. 

But it just had to be Trinity. 

You’re twenty-six, and no girlfriend, pet, or even a succulent to take care of. Just you. 

You check both ways before crossing the street, successfully making it back to your porch before the phone starts ringing. 

She made it longer than you thought she would. 

“Hello?” You sigh into the phone, holding it in place between your ear and shoulder, trying to open the door to get back inside the air conditioning. 

“God.” Samira exasperated. “Even the invitation is insufferable.”

“Ha.” You fake laugh, shutting the door behind you, taking the phone into your hand. “I thought about burning it.” 

“Believe me, if I could, I would.” You can hear the eyeroll even over the phone. “This thing probably— like— can’t even be destroyed. It’ll always come back.” 

You blow out a breath of air, a small smile on your lips at your best friend, staring at the cardstock for the millionth time since you’ve checked your mail. 

“How are we the only single ones? Really?” You hear a shift over the line, probably her getting up to look at the stupid thing again. “I mean, we’re both attractive, young..” 

“Doctors.” You add. 

“Doctors!” She repeats. 

“Why did Trinity get to be first?” You can’t help but be envious of your friend. 

“I know.” Samira’s voice has calmed down into a low lull, softer in a way, like it usually did when she was deep in thought. 

“What’s on your mind?” You tilt your head, looking no place in particular, mind on the conversation. 

“Just.. we’re going to be last.” You can hear the grimace. “Years after Vic, Dennis, and Trin.” 

“I know.” You tap your foot against the floor. 

“Even if Dennis and Robby don’t have a big wedding, they’ll probably be next. And if Victoria and Cassie ever lock down theirs will be a small affair.. but still.” You listen to Samira rant about this, a small smile on your face and her voice drifts through the phone.

“I know.” You bite the inside of your cheek. “I know.”

It should be us, you want to say. But you don’t. Because that’s not what you’re supposed to say to your best friend. The one you’re definitely not in love with. 

“Trinity’s not going to make us wear a god awful color, is she?” You flip the invitation over and over again, memorizing the stupid thing front to back as Samira speaks. 

“I hope not.” You finally throw the invitation on the table. “I don’t look good in yellow.” 

Samira laughs over the phone, and this all feels like a distant memory now, standing along the side of the dance floor, holding a drink in your hand. 

Samira stands beside you, her dark curls cascading down her neck, paired perfectly with the burgundy colored dress Trinity most definitely had a say in. 

She holds her own drink, opting for a nonalcoholic beverage, rather than your own. 

“They make me want to puke.” She shakes her head beside you, catching your attention. 

“I know.” You laugh, watching the lovesick expressions on your friends faces. “Maybe we should just make the best of this..” 

“What do you have in mind?” A rare glint of mischief blooms over her face, but you only shake your head with a smile. 

“How about we dance?” You put your drink on the table beside you, sliding Samira’s out of her hand easily before grabbing it. 

“Ugh.” Samira feigns disgust, but happily lets you pull her along. 

“Come on.” You draw out the last word, spinning her around in a circle. “If we’re going to be part of the very small singles club, we might as well make the best of it.” 

“True.” Samira smiles at you with a gleaming grin, letting you take the lead. “I guess this is pretty fun.”

“How come?” You quirk an eyebrow, hand sliding to her waist to pull her closer. 

“Because I’m with you.” She admits, almost shyly, but there’s a small sliver of confidence in her eyes that makes you want more of this. “I like being with you.” 

Her eyes twinkle in the dim light, and you never thought brown could be your favorite color. But right now, it totally is. Or maybe burgundy was your favorite. 

She looked gorgeous in her dress, it matches her perfectly, and you want to see her in it more often. 

“Your dress looks nice on you.” Samira dips her chin shyly, admitting to you what you were just thinking to yourself. 

“I was about to say the same thing.” You blink at her, your voice gone quiet as if everyone’s watching you. 

And maybe they are. 

“Alright lovebirds.” Trinity puts a hand on each of your shoulders. “I want to dance with all of you.” 

“Trin—“

“Come on!” She turns without a response, expecting the two of you to follow, and you do. 

“Do you think..” Samira looks around as you follow the bride (or groom?). “That everyone thinks we’re dating?” 

“I don’t know.” You frown as you think about it, because that’s wasn’t a bad thing, was it?

“Not that I c—“

“Yes! Everyone does.” Victoria smiles up at you a little too cheekily, and you think it’s time for her to be cut off. “It’s actually—“ Hiccup. “—kind of cute.” 

“I think you should be done drinking.” Samira laughs, separating from you to dance along with Victoria. 

“Nooo.” Victoria shakes her head. 

“She’s far gone.” Dennis laughs, his matching burgundy suit hugging his body. 

“Yeah.” Trinity laughs along with the two of you. “So you and Samira?” 

“There’s nothing going on.” Your chest clenches regardless. 

“Okay.” Trinity shrugs and keeps dancing. 

Samira, ever the friend she was, decided staying at home for your 27th birthday wasn’t a good idea. 

In your defense, alcohol, an entire pizza, and crappy television sounded like heaven on earth after working six doubles in a row. 

But Samira didn’t like it. 

So here you were, the two of you, at the nicest restaurant Samira could afford. 

Only the two of you, thank God. 

That was the only way you would agree to going out tonight. And Samira couldn’t say she was disappointed. Not one bit. 

She loved your friends. 

But she loved you more. Probably more than she should. 

“I’m glad we could do this.” Your chin rests in your palm. 

“Me too.” Her hand lands over yours. 

Your breathing stills for only a few seconds before it returns to normal. 

You remove your hand from under yours and place them in your lap. 

“This is a way better place to be than my apartment, I’ll have to admit it.” You look around the restaurant, Samira’s eyes glued to your face and the amusement plastered on it. “But are you sure you can afford this?” 

“Trust me. I’ve got it.” She shrugs like she always does. 

“Okay.” You laugh softly, and it’s music to Samira’s ears.

“Seriously.” She meets your eyes with an expression that says she isn’t joking. “Get whatever you want. I have money saved.” 

“I feel bad.” You slightly frown, but when Samira lifts her eyebrows, you put your hands up. “Okay, okay.”

You pick up the menu, browsing over the drinks and entrees, trying your best not to look at the prices. 

“And pick a dessert too.” Her finger lowers the menu so she can see your face, an adorable smile on her face. 

She watches you begin to protest but shakes her head. 

“We can share it if it makes you feel better.” 

“It doesn’t.” You say. 

But you have to admit, the idea of sharing a dessert with Samira makes your cheeks heat and the butterflies in your stomach flutter uncontrollably. 

The waiter comes by soon after that and takes your order. 

Samira demands that the two of you share bites of each other's food, and you can’t say no to those eyes, so you agree. 

“That’s really good. I’ll have to get that next time.” She places a hand over her mouth as she chews. 

“Next time?” You raise your eyebrows. “You might be broke after this time.” 

“Don’t underestimate me.” She smiles and places her head in her hands, just staring forward at you. “Besides, I expect you to bring me here for my birthday.” 

“Oh, do you?” You raise your eyebrows. “I better start saving, then.” 

“That might be a good idea.” 

You can’t help but feel like she’s flirting with you. Or maybe it’s the atmosphere. Either way, you’re on cloud nine. 

You finish your meal, and the waiter comes back to clear your plates. 

“Is there anything else I can get the two of you?” He holds the plates in one hand, looking between the two of you. 

“Uh, we’ll have the molten lava cake for dessert.” You say it sheepishly. 

“And what would you like your ice cream to be for that?” He smiles down at you. 

“Vanilla.” The two of you say at the same time, smiling and staring at each other. 

“Perfect.” He nods. “I’ll be right back with that.”  

He returns soon after that, placing the dish between the two of you, two spoons on each side for the both of you. 

“For what it’s worth,” He places a hand over his chest. “I think the two of you are a perfect couple.” 

You open your mouth to tell him he’s wrong, but he’s gone as soon as he arrives. 

“We get that a lot, don’t we?” Samira smiles. 

“Yeah, we do.” Your eyes are starry, and you’re smiling stupid, but you don’t even care. 

This was the best birthday ever.

Especially with your date— best friend— by your side. 

“Is this about your mommy issues?” Robby looks baffled, his voice booming from the barely enclosed space he and Samira were last seen in. You can imagine his face, eyebrows pulled together, eyes condescending, smile way too smug. 

“Dr—“

“No.” Robby shakes his head, hands on the stethoscope wrapped around the back of his neck. He looks down, eyes closed, a scoff leaves his lips. 

“You’ve been in and out all day. You can’t focus on one thing for more than fifteen minutes without looking at your phone. You are a respected resident here, and should be setting an example for others here. Instead, you’re having a panic attack in the middle of the goddamn ER, and—“

“Robinavitch.” A coy smile plays on your lips, Al-Hashimi hot on your tail, almost seething from behind you. 

His head turns quickly, and it looks like he’s having an out of body experience, realizing where he is. 

“She—“ Her turns his head back to Samira, but mentally gives up, laughing to himself in disbelief. He puts his hands up, an awkward smile on his face as he exits the room, all but running right into the both of you. 

“I will go after him.” Baran’s eyes flit over your face. “I have faith that you can handle this.” 

Her head tilts in the direction of a shell shocked Samira, and you nod before she’s even finished the gesture. 

“Yes.” You say it too quickly, but Baran doesn’t question it at all. 

She leaves you with a curt nod, but you stand outside of the room for a few seconds before making a move inside. 

Her eyes land on you, and there’s a mix of embarrassment, exhaustion, and regret lingering in her eyes. 

You can’t tell which makes your heart ache the most. Like a knife. 

“I’m sorry.” She sniffles and looks down, unable to make eye contact with you. 

“Sammy.” Your throat aches, the lump overtaking the length of your esophagus to the point where you can’t even swallow. 

“I’m sorry.” She says again, a second knife stabbing directly into your chest. 

“Samira, baby.” You move closer, a hand on her cheek, lifting her face towards you. Her eyes glisten up at you, and that makes three. 

A third final strike in your chest. 

“Don’t cry. It breaks my heart to see you cry.” 

Samira bites the inside of her cheek as she looks up at you. She closes her eyes, as if to question what she did to deserve any of this. 

Her dimple shows, and it’s the most adorable thing ever. 

When she opens her eyes again, you’re staring at her cheek, but it’s awfully close to her mouth. Something passes over her eyes, but it’s far from the other emotions you saw earlier. 

She shifts up in her seat, and your breath hitches when her lips ghost over yours. 

Her nickname for you leaves her lips, but all you feel is the breath leaving her mouth, stuttered and unstable. 

“Sam.” 

“Yeah?” 

A few beats pass as the two of you look between each other's eyes and lips, neither of you having enough courage to close the distance. 

“We shouldn’t.” You want to kick yourself the second the words leave your lips.

Because why would you say that? You’ve loved her for longer than you’ve been friends, and that alone should be enough. 

To kiss her. To hold her. To tell her. 

But you don’t. 

“I—“ 

“You don’t have to.” Samira shakes her head, but she can’t make eye contact anymore. “I just need a few minutes and I’ll be back on the floor. Let Al-Hashimi know, okay?” 

“Okay.” You say wearily. “But Samir—“

“No.” She puts a hand out. “Please go.” 

So you do. 

It happens when you’re standing around a bunch of people, but it hits you regardless. You and Samira had travelled into a territory that was hard to come back from. 

Somewhere between friends and something more, something you didn’t want to name quite yet. 

You wanted her, you knew that, you just didn’t know what she wanted. And that made this a million times worse. 

It’s affected you for a few weeks now, more than you’re willing to admit. Not that you ever would think about admitting it. To her or to anyone around you. 

Ogilvie approaches her slowly, and you catch his movements from a mile away. 

It irks you in the worst way possible—or maybe it’s just him—the way he approaches her, hands held together, his nonchalant stance when he stands there, eyes blinking as he waits for her to notice him. 

Samira turns her head just slightly before going back to the conversation between Dana, Cassie, and Trinity. One you’re only partly listening to. 

Because now you’re annoyed, standing here watching him watch her, his facial features softening at her animatedly talking. 

“Dr. Mohan?” Ogilvie clears his throat, and suddenly five pairs of eyes are on him, including yourself. 

“What is it?” Samira looks concerned, and you want to wipe it off her face, want to tell her whatever it is, she shouldn’t have to worry. But you can’t. 

“I was just wondering..” He laughs softly, scratching the back of his neck. 

And the world slows down for you, because the way he’s standing, chest puffed out, confidence radiating off of him. The way he’s now nervously fidgeting but trying to hide it. The way his smile is too cheesy to be a simple conversation about a patient. 

It all adds up to only one thing. 

Something that makes your chest beat quicker, borderline painful at the thought, makes you sick to your stomach. 

But nobody’s eyes are on you. 

They’re all on Ogilvie and his stupid poise, his stupid smile, and his stupid ugly face. 

It makes you want to punch him, really, but you’re professional. So you’d never do that. 

“Well, spit it out.” Trinity stares at him with a bored expression. 

“Would you maybe want to grab a drink later tonight?” He smiles down at her. 

And she hesitates, glances over to you. And then all eyes are on you now. 

You think she might even agree, despite all the times you’ve made fun of him together. 

You think she might actually forget about the moment you had in the patient room a few weeks ago, just say fuck it, go on a date to spite you. 

But she doesn't do any of that. She doesn’t do anything. 

“Actually, I think they are already dating.” Cassie laughs awkwardly, staring between you and Samira, waiting for one of you to pipe into the conversation. 

“Oh—“ Trinity begins to speak, eyebrows raised, arms crossing over her chest. 

“I apologize.” Ogilvie puts his hands up in surrender, only now noticing the look on your face. “I had no idea.” 

“Actually.” Samira cuts in, and her throat constricts? begging her body not to look towards you, reach for you in any way. “We’re not dating.” 

“Oh.” Cassie looks surprised, a similar expression to Trinity taking place on her face. 

“But I’m not interested.” Samira presses her lips together and shakes her head.

Her eyes flick over to you, and for a second you think she looks regretful. Guilty, even, for admitting the truth. You weren’t dating. And you probably never would be. Her eyes are locked onto yours when she says, “I’m sorry.” 

And you aren’t sure if she’s saying to you, or to Ogilvie, but your heart sinks anyways. 

“Well—“

“She said she’s not interested.” You say a little too harshly, ripping your eyes away from hers. 

“Okay.” He backs away then, and everyone resumes the conversation, despite yourself being lost in your own little world. 

You don’t notice the way Samira glances at you every few seconds, trying to understand what you’re feeling, what you’re thinking. 

You don’t notice the way she watches you pick at your finger nails, drawing blood. 

You don’t notice the way she’s lost all interest in the conversation, her mind only on reassuring you she didn’t mean it in a bad way, that she wants to be with you just as badly, but just hadn’t quite found the words yet. 

And she’s grateful you don’t. 

Trinity bumps her elbow against yours, eyes asking the question you don’t even know how to answer right now; are you okay? 

So you settle with a nod, because that’s how it had to be. 

Samira shifts her body, so her hand just grazes yours, but you pretend not to notice, a small blush taking over your face. 

Someone asks you a question, pulls you back into the conversation, and you respond easily, ignoring the way Samira intently watches you. 

And you really wish this wasn’t the way things were. 

That you actually did have Samira, that you were dating, but you aren’t. And you’re pretty damn sure you’re far from it. 

“We’re going to be fed, right?” Trinity groans as she lifts one of the heavier boxes and places it—a little roughly—onto the floor. “Because I’m not doing this for free.” 

“Yes— careful!” Victoria puts her hands out. 

“What is so fragile that it can’t take a little force?” Trinity puts her hands on her hips. 

“That has some of the kitchen stuff in it. There could be glass.” Victoria stares at her blankly. 

“Oh, whatever.” Trinity waves her off and goes outside for another box. 

You laugh to yourself, cutting the box open to begin unpacking. You look over at Samira, who is already looking at you with amusement. 

Things have gotten better since a few months ago. 

It’s not as tense between you anymore. 

You apologized for things, the way her face tilted towards yours, watching you intently as you explained why you’d been so distant. 

It was selfish on your part. 

That you’d distanced yourself from her out of selfishness, let her explain that it wasn’t fair to her, that you shut her out so quick because of a small mistake. 

You agreed, talked for a long time, and things were good now, back to normal. 

Well, almost. 

Your heart still beats too quickly when you think about someone else asking her out before you get the chance to. Or that way she looks with her hair pinned low on her neck. Or anything that involves her, really. 

Just like now. 

When she has her shirt sleeves tucked, trying to cool herself down from the heat that’s wafting inside the small apartment. 

“Are you helping, or not?” Victoria raises her eyebrows when you look back at her. 

“Are you?” You match her expression, pulling a stack of plates from the box. “Last time I checked, this is your apartment.” 

Victoria only rolls her eyes. 

“Where’s Cassie?” Samira asks, eyes focused on unpacking the stuff in a box labeled ‘living room’. 

“At work.” Victoria shrugs. 

“This is her place too. Why isn’t she helping you move in?” Trinity huffs as she places another box on the ground, softer this time. 

“Because she’s at work.” Victoria laughs nervously, looking around. “You guys don’t seriously think she wouldn’t help, right?”

“No, of course not.” You shake your head, eyes softening. 

“She’s going to help when she gets home.” Victoria nods her head. “We won’t get everything done right now. The goal is to get everything inside and mostly unpacked. She’s going to help when she gets back.” 

“Okay.” Samira smiles, and you can’t stop looking. “We believe you.” 

Her dimple on the side of her cheek prominent with the light flowing in from the window, her brown eyes a lighter color now, like a light caramel color, hair sticking to her forehead from the summer heat. 

“Hey.” Dennis snaps in your face. “Are you helping or not? Because you seem to be watching your girlfriend a lot.” 

“Oh—“ 

Your eyes snap to Samira, and now her eyes are on you, watching carefully. 

“We aren’t—“ 

Your cheeks heat when you look back at Dennis, Samira’s eyes glued to your face, you’re sure. He waits with a quirked eyebrow, hands finding his hips. 

“Well?” He gestures with his hand for you to keep going. 

You look around the room, and everyone’s standing around now, watching the interaction. When they see you, they act like they are working. 

“For what it’s worth, you guys are really cute.” Mel shrugs with a nod, looking between Samira and you before she goes back to work. 

“We aren’t dating.” Your voice comes out with more force than you intend, and Samira looks like she’s been kicked. 

You watch her swallow with a small nod, almost like she wants to laugh at herself, and she looks down, focusing back on unpacking Victoria's books and blankets. 

“Oh.. I’m sorry.” Dennis’ lips tilt down, and he looks back at Samira before he places a hand on your shoulder. “We all thought..”

“Well you thought wrong.” Samira says in a low voice, back turned to the two of you. 

“Sam—“

“It’s okay.” She looks back with a smile. One you know is fake. It doesn’t reach her eyes, barely lifts her lips, and definitely doesn’t make her face light up in the way you love. 

Dennis looks back at you worriedly, apology written all over his face, and he goes back to work. 

It’s quiet for a while after that, everyone doing their part as the day passes along. Victoria orders pizza around lunch before you continue with the second half of the day. 

When Cassie comes back, everyone begins picking their belongings up, saying goodbyes quickly. 

Your chest clenches as you say goodbye, realizing now you have to drive back with Samira. You didn’t think about that earlier when you both hurt each other's feelings. 

You silently sit in Samira’s passenger seat, biting the inside of your cheek as you watch the city pass by. 

Nobody speaks. 

“Samira—“

“No.” She shakes her head, her voice soft, and you’re afraid she might break. Like she’s one of Victoria's porcelain plates, one wrong move and you’ll shatter it. 

“Just—“ 

“Please don’t.” She shakes her head, never looks in your direction. 

If you listen close enough, you could hear her never breathing. If you look close enough, you could see her obsessant blinking, Samira trying to hold herself together. And if you could read minds, you would probably hear, ‘hold it together just a little longer’ over and over again. 

“Please.” Her voice cracks, and it’s quiet, so low you barely hear it. 

“Okay.” You whisper back, nodding your head, eyes going back to the window. 

When she drops you off, you say a quiet goodbye, but linger in the seat. You beg silently in your head for her to look at you, but she never does, her own eyes glued to your front yard. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” You ask hopeful, but you only receive a small nod. 

A few weeks later, you’re invited out with your friends for a night out, something to take the edge off after a long few weeks. 

You agree, only second guessing yourself when thinking about Samira. 

You’d spoken with her over the days that passed, but it all felt wrong. Like there was an invisible wall between the two of you. And if you were being honest, there was. 

You knew there was a better way to handle the situation at Victoria and Cassie’s, but it didn’t go that way. 

In fact, you were sure it went the absolute worst possible way. 

The one that ended in Samira, your best friend and love of your life, ignoring you for days on end. 

You spend the night drinking probably way too much, dancing between Victoria and Trinity, sulking on the inside. 

When Samira arrives, you’re shit faced, to say the least. 

Victoria's on her heel the second she arrives, whispering into her ear. 

And her eyes shoot to you. 

You have to force yourself to look away. 

It’s too intense, too much for your heart to take. 

“I need the bathroom.” You half whisper to Trinity and half to yourself. 

“Do you want me to come?” 

“No. I wanna go alone.” You shake your head, halfway off the floor before your words are out. Your eyes never leave Samira’s as you walk past her. 

You can’t stay still in line. 

How could you be so fucking stupid? You were drunk off your ass. You knew she was coming. She was never going to believe anything you said now. 

But drunk words were sober thoughts, right? Maybe there was an inkling of regret running through her veins that also regretted this entire situation. Maybe she wanted to apologize to you tonight too. Maybe that’s why she actually showed. Or maybe she was here to make you jealous. Or maybe she really just wanted to—

“Hey.” Her voice drains out the rest of the way too loud music, the random conversations taking place in this line, and most of all, your thundering heartbeat. 

“Hi.” You're breathless. 

“I.. I don’t know what to say.” 

“Me either.” You swallow, suddenly feeling the most sober you had all night. It’s like a bucket of ice water was dumped over your head. 

“We should probably talk, right? I mean, I can’t keep going like this. Fuck—“ 

You’ve never heard her swear—okay, that was a lie. You had. Once. But that was besides the point. This meant she was serious, she was battling something deep within her. Deeper than your arms could reach. 

She pulled you out of the line to a darkened corner of the bar, one where nobody could see the two of you. 

Her eyes were fearful. And it scared you. 

“Samira..” Your eyelashes flutter with anticipation of what she was about to say. 

“I need to say something.” 

“Samira.” You shake your head. “Please.”

“Why?” Her eyes are pleading, the fear long gone now. Now she had a begging expression on her face, one you’d only seen a few times when Robby or a patient ripped her apart in front of a crowd. “Please, let me say this.” 

“I don’t think I can take it.” 

And you? 

You’re fighting your own battle. 

“I love you.” 

It stuns your whole world, spins you around like you drank way over your limit and can’t see. You think you might have a panic attack, or throw up, or both, even. 

“And I have for a long fucking time and I can’t get you out of my head. I thought time apart would be good for us.” Her hand comes up to your face. “But it wasn’t.” 

“Samira. I love you too.” 

“I wish you’d tell me that sober.” A sniffle rips between the two of you, and it takes a second for you to catch up. 

“Stop crying.” Your hands are wiping her cheeks, rubbing until there’s no more tears coming from her eyes. “I love you. Ask any one of our friends.” 

“I—“ 

“Sammy.” That stills her. 

Her lips crash into yours, and she tastes like the fruity drink you just finished, or maybe that was just you. But you didn’t care. 

Your hand slides into her curls, those ones you’d spent days wondering what they’d feel like between your fingers. 

“I love you. And I’ll tell you the same thing tomorrow. When I’m sober. When I’m drunk. When I’m sick. When we’re home. When we’re at work. Name a time or a place and I’ll do it.” Her face is between your hands. 

“Okay, okay.” She’s nodding, leaning her head against yours. “I believe you.” 

She places one more kiss on your lips, then one on your forehead. 

“Let’s get out of here.” You let out a breathy laugh. 

She grabs your hand and pulls you along with her across the bar. 

“Oh, thank god you found her.” Victoria runs a hand over your hair before she looks down at your intertwined fingers. 

“Are you..” Her face breaks out into a smile. 

You nod, a large smile on your face. 

“Oh, my God! This is huge. I have to take a picture.” She’s pulling her phone out, but Samira shakes her head, placing a hand over her camera. 

“Not tonight. You can take all the pictures you want tomorrow. Right now, I need to get her to bed.” 

“Fine.” Victoria huffs. “But I’m telling everyone. Unless.. you were gonna keep it a secret.”

“Even if we were—which we aren’t—our secret is out now.” You smile to yourself. 

“Okay. I’m so excited right now.” She turns quickly and is lost in the crowd, presumably on her way to the rest of the group. 

“That was okay, right?” Samira looks down at you, and her adorable doe eyes stare right into your soul. 

“Yes.” You excitedly pull her closer to you so you can kiss her again. Your other arm is wrapped behind her neck, holding her close. “I would shout it to the entire population of Pittsburgh if I could.” 

“I’m glad.” She lets out a soft laugh. 

“Me too.” You look into her eyes. “More than you know.”

thank you for reading! as always, likes and reposts are appreciated. i’m always open to hearing your thoughts, so feel free to comment, send an ask, or dm me!

[mxiaogod]

—21. Professor! Cassie Mckay x Fem! Reader

Warnings : NSFW, MDNI, academic power dynamics, oral sex, long ahh fic ahead, tried a new writing style

— Professor Cassie McKay is known for her unyielding standards and uncompromising discipline. “Leave my class if you haven’t brought your mind with you,” she often says, a warning few dare to test. An anatomy professor whose name alone unsettles even the most confident medical students, she has become a figure both respected and avoided. Across the university, her reputation precedes her.

It’s safe to say, judging by the way you shrink into yourself during her class, angling your body just enough to hide behind your blockmate’s head whenever her gaze begins its slow, deliberate sweep—that you are, quite thoroughly, terrified of Professor McKay. And this is coming from someone who actually loves medicine. On a good day, even. Unfortunately, her class has a remarkable talent for turning even your most motivated mornings into something faintly resembling academic despair.

It isn’t the subject you resent. Not really. Anatomy, on its own, is almost fascinating—beautiful, even. It’s her method of delivering it that feels like psychological warfare. You review obsessively, take notes like your life depends on it, and even go so far as to study lectures weeks in advance, all in the desperate hope of dulling the anxiety that comes with stepping into Room 104.

And yet, the moment she looks at you—really looks, like she’s peeling back layers, you forget everything. Completely. Facts you memorized like scripture scatter like startled birds, leaving you standing there, blank and painfully aware of it. It doesn’t matter how prepared you are; in that moment, you feel absurdly unqualified, as if you’re not already drowning in tuition fees and staking your entire future on knowing the difference between a vein and an artery under pressure.

Which is exactly why against all logic and in a way that would probably concern a licensed professional, you find yourself liking her. A lot.

Beneath the constant anxiety of appearing like the most unqualified med student to ever set foot in her classroom is a far more incriminating truth: your brain, traitorous as it is, has been quietly filling its margins with her name next to yours, circled, underlined, occasionally decorated with poorly drawn hearts in red ink. It’s humiliating, really.

If you were to look at yourself closely enough in the mirror past the furrowed brows, the tight jaw, the tears threatening to spill at your waterline, you might catch it: the flicker of something embarrassingly soft and big hearts on your sparkling eyes. The kind of expression that doesn’t match the situation at all. Because while you look like you’re on the verge of academic collapse, there’s a part of you that’s entirely captivated by the way Professor McKay loses herself in her subject.

And maybe that’s the problem.

Because in your sleep-deprived, overstimulated, medically saturated brain, admiration doesn’t stay neatly categorized. It mutates. It lingers and it crosses lines. The way she speaks so precisely and controlled like she was built for this, engineered down to the last detail to exist within the medical field… it does something to you. Something inconvenient.

You’d deny it, of course. Publicly. But privately? It’s harder to ignore.

Maybe it’s the way your hands betray you, trembling the moment her attention lands on you. Or how your thoughts short-circuit not just from fear, but from something far less academic with how you clench your thighs shut. Whatever it is, it makes sitting through her class feel less like a lecture and more like a very specific kind of psychological experiment, one where you are both the subject and the unfortunate control group.

That’s why, the moment the first two syllables of your name leave her mouth, impossible to mishear as it carries across the lecture hall—you freeze mid-motion, hands still halfway through shoving your things into your bag like you might outrun it.

You don’t.

Every nerve in your body fires at once, a full-system response, like your autonomic nervous system has decided this is the hill you die on. Your chest tightens, not quite pain, but close enough to make you wonder if this is what a mild cardiac event feels like. Around you, your blockmates offer those slow, pitying glances, the kind usually reserved for patients about to receive unfortunate news. It’s deeply unhelpful.

If anyone were to measure your vitals, they’d probably chart it as acute distress: elevated heart rate, shallow breathing, cognitive impairment. Because really, with the way your brain short-circuits at the sound of her low raspy voice, you might as well have been handed a diagnosis on the spot.

Logically, you know she’s just calling on you.

Physiologically, however, your body reacts like you’ve just been sentenced to something far worse.

You look up and find her already watching you, expression unreadable, posture still, like she’s been waiting long enough. It takes a second, maybe three for your brain to catch up, processing the fact that yes, she is calling you, and no, this is not a hallucination brought on by stress and caffeine.

You inhale for 3 and exhale for 3, a poor attempt at regulating your nervous system, but it’s the best you’ve got as you make your way toward her desk, each step feeling strangely ceremonial like you’re walking toward a crowd and an executioner who just so happens to hold a clipboard instead of a blade.

By the time you reach her, your thoughts have scattered beyond retrieval. Total system failure. If this were a clinical case, you’d confidently label it acute cognitive shutdown under pressure.

“Good morning, Professor,” you manage, voice catching in the most uncooperative way. “Am I in trouble?”

It takes more effort than it should to get the words out, your throat momentarily betraying you, swallowing wrong at the worst possible time. You clear it quietly, hoping she didn’t notice. She did.

She watches you with a kind of detached patience, the sort one might reserve for a particularly petulant child or a subject in an ongoing study. Her lips press together, not quite disapproving, but not exactly reassuring either.

“If you consider me being impressed by your essay on the variations in the branching pattern of the abdominal aorta as ‘trouble,’” she says, voice even, almost clinical in its delivery, “then yes. You’re in very big trouble.”

There’s a pause.

Your brain, already underperforming, struggles to process the statement. Compliment. That was… a compliment? You think.

Heat rushes to your face, equal parts embarrassment and confusion, because she delivers it with the same expression one might use to announce a complication during surgery, flat, and precise entirely devoid of emotional cues. If anything, she looks mildly inconvenienced, as though pulling those few words of praise required extracting them from a part of her that doesn’t get much use.

It shouldn’t affect you this much and yet it does. You don’t know whether to smile, laugh, or fold in on yourself entirely, so you settle for something dangerously close to composed, as if your brain isn’t currently short-circuiting over a single, clinical compliment.

“Thank you, Professor. I’m really glad you liked it. I try my best in your class,” you say, a little too eager, a little too honest.

And then it hits you.

I try my best in your class.

Oh.

“Oh? Is that so?” she replies, the slightest lift of her brow, subtle, but enough to pull more out of you like an involuntary reflex.

And you let it.

“I mean—yes. Because I like the class,” you start, already slipping. “Not because everyone’s scared of you—I mean, I don’t know if they are, I just—well, I am—”

You stop completely. Irreversibly.

If humiliation had a clinical presentation, you’re certain this would qualify. Acute onset, full-body involvement.

She watches you with her arms crossed, posture sharp in a way that makes your unraveling feel painfully obvious. Her sleeves are rolled neatly to her forearms, collar crisp, every detail of her put together with an exactness that borders on obsessive, and somehow only makes her more distracting. The way her button-up is tucked into perfectly tailored trousers, cinched with a belt, is enough to make your thoughts wander in directions that are wildly inappropriate. Her hair, brown with a subtle red sheen under the light, is pulled into a loose braid that falls down her back, strands slipping free just enough to soften her presence, while her bangs frame her face. And then there’s her steady gaze as if she’s dissecting you layer by layer without ever needing to touch you. You, on the other hand, feel like your entire system is misfiring.

“I’m sorry,” you manage, voice quieter now. “This is getting embarrassing. Is there anything you’d like me to do regarding my essay?”

A beat.

“Yes,” she says.

You straighten instinctively.

“I’d like you to join my student research program.”

Your brain lags behind, too busy replaying the way she said it.

“It’s a faculty-mentored track,” she continues, “You’ll be working on anatomical research. Likely expanding on your paper—vascular variations, possibly cadaveric studies, depending on available material. I’ll be supervising directly.”

Directly.

Your pulse stutters.

“If your work meets the standard, you’ll present at inter-university conferences. National level, if it’s exceptional.”

It’s the most she’s ever said to you—maybe to anyone.

“Yes, of course! I’m more than willing to participate. I’m genuinely honored—thank you for giving me this opportunity, Professor,” you say a little too quickly, the enthusiasm slipping past your usual restraint. A minute ago you were barely holding yourself together; now you’re suddenly aware of just how much this placement will matter on paper and, if you’re being completely honest, how much it means that she’s the one offering it.

“Good. Very well. I’ll expect you,” she replies, sliding a printed schedule across the desk. “These are the schedule for your private sessions with the other selected students.”

You take it immediately, fingers brushing the paper like it’s something more significant than it should be, scanning the timetable with a focus that feels almost misplaced. You’re looking for her name again, even though it’s already obvious she’ll be there. That thought alone is enough to make your attention slip for a second too long.

“Thank you, Professor. I’ll get going now,” you say, forcing a polite smile that doesn’t quite hide the lingering excitement in your expression.

She gives a small nod—unreadable as always—but her gaze stays on you just a moment longer than necessary. Not warm, not soft but attentive. Intent. Like she’s still observing you even after the conversation should have ended, as if you’re something worth continuing to study beyond the confines of class.

You turn away before you can overthink it.

And yet, as you walk out, your nervous system refuses to calm down, still humming and alert, still replaying every second of that interaction with a danger that feels less like memory and more like fixation.

•

8:06 AM, you’re waiting outside Room 104.

The hallway is quiet in that early-morning, pre-chaos way—your footsteps echoing just a little too loudly against the tiles, like even the building is aware you’re here too early. You’re thirty minutes ahead of schedule, which you are absolutely aware of, and yet here you are anyway, standing outside like a patient arriving for triage before the clinic even opens.

And because your brain refuses to be normal about anything, you are also aware that you may or may not have overprepared for this moment.

A little extra effort with the blush. Lip gloss you didn’t need. Hair curled in a way that looks accidental if you don’t think about it too hard but unfortunately, you did think about it. For days. With Professor McKay occupying far too much of the planning process.

Your foot taps against the tile, restless, rhythmic, like a poorly regulated heart rate trying to self-correct.

In your hand: a to-go bag with two steaming cups of coffee. You immediately regret it. Why two? Why not four? What if she thinks two is too presumptuous? What if she doesn’t drink coffee at all? What if she only drinks it in some highly specific, intimidatingly intellectual way you are not prepared for—

Your thoughts cut off abruptly.

Footsteps. Measured and confident. Familiar in a way your nervous system recognizes before your brain does.

You close your eyes for half a second. Not now. Not this early. You didn’t plan for contact at the same time as arrival.

Of course she’s punctual. Worse—she might be early too.

When you open your eyes, she’s there.

Professor McKay slows slightly, gaze landing on you with immediate recognition. There’s a brief pause but you swear she looks faintly surprised to see you already waiting outside her door.

Then she approaches anyway.

“Good morning, Professor,” you say, too bright, too quick. She gives a small nod. As always, but something about the corner of her mouth shifts—barely there, almost imperceptible. If you didn’t already study her like a second anatomy syllabus, you’d miss it entirely.

“Good morning,” she replies, unlocking the door. “You’re here very early.”

You barely have time to process that before—

She holds the door open for you.

It shouldn’t feel like anything but it absolutely does and your brain short-circuits on impact.

Professional courtesy, you try to tell yourself, academic behavior, even if your nervous system disagrees entirely.

You walk in ahead of her, suddenly very aware of your posture, your hands, the coffee bag that now feels suspiciously heavy with implication. You choose a seat near her desk, setting your laptop down like it might anchor you to reality.

She moves behind you, placing her things down with precision—keys, bag, materials arranged like a system that cannot tolerate disorder. Watching her is almost worse than talking to her.

Almost.

The silence stretches.

You remember the coffee.

“Oh—” you start, turning slightly too fast. “I got you coffee. I wasn’t sure what you liked, but I was getting one anyway, so I thought—why not, right? I mean—”

You stop yourself, but too late.

She’s looking at the cup now.

For a second, she doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak and then she reaches out.

Her hand closes over yours as she takes them. It lasts a fraction longer than necessary. Just enough to destabilize your entire internal equilibrium and your brain does not handle it well.

“Thank you,” she says finally. “This is very kind of you.”

Her expression is still controlled, still unreadable but there’s something different in it now. Not softness, exactly. Something more restrained than that. Like she wasn’t prepared for the gesture, and is actively recalibrating.

You nod quickly, too aware of everything—your hands, your breathing, the exact temperature of the air between you.

“Yeah, of course,” you manage, forcing your attention onto your laptop like it’s a life-saving device.

She settles across from you.

The quiet resumes, but it’s no longer empty.

It feels… charged.

And against your better judgment, your eyes drift once, briefly to her hands as she arranges her materials with surgical precision. Long fingers and controlled movements. The kind of steadiness that belongs in an operating room, not a classroom.

You look back at your screen. Fast. Carefully.

The room stays quiet.

But somehow, everything in it feels louder than it should.

...

“I’m sorry, is there something you’d like to tell me?”

Surprisingly, Professor McKay was the first to break the silence. The question shattered your equilibrium, leaving your mouth opening and closing like a landed fish. You were at a total loss for words; you never expected her to be this confrontational.

“I—I’m not exactly sure what you mean, Professor. I have no problem with you at all. In fact, I’m just so nervous being this close to you that it’s making me act awkwardly—” You cut yourself off, the words screeching to a halt like brakes before a fatal accident. You could do nothing but stare at her, dazed, until she moved.

Quickly and without hesitation, she fisted her hand into the back of your hair and crashed her lips onto yours, smearing your lip gloss against her skin. She nipped at your lips in a fit of frustration, a silent command for you to open up. The moment you did, her tongue slid home, slick and demanding.

The desperate sounds catching in your throat were driving her crazy—absolutely feral. Her resolve was disintegrating. She knew she was acting on pure impulse, letting days of stifled obsession take the wheel, but it felt too fucking good to stop.

“Professor—” you whimpered, the sound coming out small and needy.

Cassie didn't waste a second. She hiked your leg up, hoisting you onto her desk. Her warm hands roamed from the nape of your neck down the length of your spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps that forced your back to arch. Your own hands sought purchase, anchoring themselves in her ponytail.

“I know, baby. I know,” she gasped. She sounded like she was drowning, suffocating under the weight of it. She inhaled sharply, trying to catch her breath, but all she got was your scent filling her lungs. She moved with a frantic urgency, as if this were the only chance she’d ever have to taste you—and it likely was.

“It feels so good, Professor—fuck—” You gasped as you felt the sharp graze of her teeth against your collarbone. Driven by a frantic need to be seen by her, you yanked your shirt up, baring yourself to her hungry gaze.

Her hot mouth settled instantly onto the swell of your breast, planting saliva-slicked kisses against your heated skin. With a growl of impatient hunger, her fingers hooked into the lace of your bra, dragging the cups down to fully expose you to the cool classroom air before her heat claimed you again.

When her mouth finally swirled over your nipple, you let out a broken sob. Her tongue flattened, exerting a firm, rhythmic pressure that left your nipples aching.

"God, look at you," Cassie rasped, pulling back just an inch, her breath hitching as she watched your chest heave. "I’ve spent every lecture imagining exactly how these would feel in my mouth. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve had to stop myself from reaching across my desk just to touch you? You're so fucking perfect it hurts."

“I thought I was being so obvious,” you murmured, your face heating up as you looked down at her. “I didn't think you'd ever actually... please, don't stop.”

Your back bowed, head snapping back as your eyebrows furrowed in a mask of pure pleasure. You bit your lip—swollen and sensitive from her assault—trying to keep from screaming and alerting the entire hallway. Your entire body felt electrified, your hips canting upward instinctively, seeking the friction of her body.

"You taste like a fucking dream," she groaned, her voice vibrating against your skin as she moved to the other breast, sucking your nipple deep into the heat of her mouth. "Sweat and perfume and need. I want to drink every drop of you. I want to leave my marks so deep that you’ll feel me in your skin for a week."

“Please... do it,” you breathed, your hands tightening in her hair. “I want everyone to see what you did to me. I don’t care if it’s wrong.”

She looked up at you then, her eyes dark with a terrifying, beautiful desperation. "Tell me you want me to ruin you. Tell me you want your professor to make you scream so loud you forget your own name."

“Please, Professor, make me cum—I need it so badly—mffuck. I want you so badly.”

Her mouth traced a burning path from your navel down to your abdomen, her eyes flickering up to catch your shattered expression. The sight almost stopped her heart; in all her twenty years in the medical field where she sees different kinds of revolutionary developments, you were the most fascinating, breathtaking case she had ever studied.

She reached the waistband of your skirt, her hands shaking with a violent, repressed need as she dragged it down to your mid-thighs. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” she rasped, her voice thick and ruined, even as her lips trailed a torturous path just above the hood of your clit. It was agonizing, cruel, and dripping with a yearning that bordered on madness.

You nodded in frantic, mindless confirmation, your fingers fisting in her hair, trying to force her head down into your pussy. “I know... We’d be in big trouble if anyone saw us,” you whimpered, your legs trembling. “But I’ve wanted this since the first day of class. Please, Cassie... I can’t take it anymore.”

“This is so fucking wrong,” she murmured against your inner thigh, her hot breath making you sob. “I’m going to lose everything for this, and I don't even care. One taste of you is worth more than my entire career.” When her lips finally brushed the soaking, swollen wetness of your cunt, she let out a shaky, broken breath. “Look at you. You’re practically dripping for your professor, aren't you? You’ve been sitting in my front row, soaking through your panties while I lectured, haven't you?”

“I couldn’t help it,” you confessed, a tear of pure overstimulation sliding down your cheek. “I’d listen to you talk and just... I had to go home and finish what you started. I've spent so many nights with my fingers inside me, just picturing your face... screaming your name into my pillow. I’ve touched myself so many times thinking about you finally doing this to me.”

All you could manage was a repetitive, breathless, “Yes... please, Cassie, yes.”

Her warm tongue laid flat against you, lapping up the wetness of your pussy as you heard her moan vibrate directly against your sensitive flesh. Suddenly, her hand left your thigh and two fingers plunged into your heat, stretching you open as her tongue flicked against your clit. You shrieked against the back of your hand, biting it as your hips grinds into her mouth as she pumped her fingers deep inside you, mirroring the frantic rhythm of her tongue.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” she growled into your pussy, her fingers curling to hook against your G-spot with every thrust. “You’re clenching so hard around me... you really have been waiting, haven’t you?”

The pressure was too much. You reached down and grabbed her by the shoulders, hauling her up from her knees. You needed to feel her closer. You crashed your lips against hers, the taste of your own slick on her mouth. It was a desperate, messy and all consuming, tongues intertwining and teeth clashing as you both fought for air. She tasted like coffee and you, a combination that made your head spin.

Her fingers never slowed their assault, driving into you with a clinical precision that only she could possess, finding every nerve ending that made you sob into her mouth. You were drowning in her, your legs wrapped tightly around her waist, pulling her as close as humanly possible while she devoured your mouth and destroyed your center.

“You’re so fucking delicious, baby,” she gasped against your lips, her nose grinding against yours. “I want to swallow every drop of you. You’re so beautiful, so fucking ruined for me. I can see your heart beating in your throat.”

You sobbed, your hips bucking uncontrollably. “I’m right here. I’m yours. Just please... give me what I want.”

She didn't hold back, her tongue darting deep inside you again before curling back up to flick relentlessly against your clit as her fingers hit that sweet spot over and over. The sound of her mouth—wet, sloppy, and rhythmic—filled the silence of the room.

You were mewling lewdly, the sounds so raw and pornographic they felt like they were tearing out of your chest. Propped up on your elbows, your muscles quivering, you fought to keep your eyes open. You had to see it. You had to sear this image into your brain: your esteemed, untouchable Professor McKay, down on her knees like a common addict, sweat beading at her temples and a hazy, blown-out look of worship in her eyes as she devoured you.

“I’m cumming, Professor—fuck, I’m gonna—!” You managed to gasp the words out as every nerve ending in your body seized.

“Breathe for me, baby. Just breathe,” she cooed, her voice a low, soothing vibration against your skin. Her fingers shifted, affectionately squeezing the soft flesh of your hips to anchor you as the waves hit.

“Good girl... such a good girl,” she murmured. Your head was thrown back, your eyes rolled into your skull, and your tongue almost lolled out from the sheer, unadulterated pleasure of how she was devouring you. You were a wreck of twitching muscles and desperate whimpers, completely undone by her mouth.

As your hips finally stopped bucking and you began the slow, shaky descent from your climax, Cassie pulled back. She rose from her knees, the haze of lust still heavy in her eyes, and pressed a lingering, tender kiss to your swollen lips. Her hand, steady and warm, reached up to brush the sweat-dampened hair away from your forehead with a softness that made your throat ache.

Your eyes fluttered open just enough to see her looking down at you, a private, triumphant smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Your heart felt like it was bursting, a soft, dazed smile painting your own lips.

“You smiling at me like that... it was almost as good as the orgasm,” you joked weakly, your voice still raspy and breathless. You began to shift, your limbs feeling like lead as you tried to fix your clothes and regain some semblance of dignity.

“Crazy girl,” she whispered, her thumb tracing your lower lip. “We should probably clean up, you know? We have about five minutes before the next round of students arrives.”

She said it with such nonchalance, as if the risk of being caught didn't even register on her radar. Your eyes snapped wide, the realization hitting you like a bucket of ice water.

“Five minutes? Why didn’t you tell me!” You scrambled to straighten your skirt, your heart hammering for a very different reason now. “Jesus, if we get caught... Cassie, this could end everything for both of us. I can’t believe you let us—”

She cut your panicked rambling short, cupping your face and pulling you into a deep, quiet kiss that tasted of salt and devotion. The world outside that room ceased to exist for a heartbeat.

“I couldn’t,” she said, her quiet laugh settling into your chest like a warm weight. “You were feeling too good. I would have been a monster to stop you then.”

She tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear, her gaze softening into something so fiercely protective and tender it made your breath hitch.

“Besides,” she added, her voice dropping to a low, intimate hum as she helped you fix your shirt, “you were far too busy feeling good at being bad. And I think I prefer you that way.”

[augustvandyne]

so i’m sorry for disappearing off the face of the earth for a few months but i am back and im going to start writing again. give me some time to finish this samira fic i promised a long time again and i will get back to my cassie series and other fics trust me!! for now, requests are closed, but when i get caught up i will open them back up

[luvvyouforever]

night out - cassie mckay x reader

synopsis: you're feeling just a bit too drunk and the most recent person you texted was cassie. surely she wouldn't mind picking you up? content: fluff, alcohol, drinking, confessions, kissing, wlw, being drunk, driving, established flirting, cuteness!!!!!! word count: 2.3k author's note: first cassie fic let's gooooo

the last round of shots is what did it. it was the nail in the coffin. the straw that broke the camel's back. the coup de grace of it all. but your friends were so insistent! how could you say no?

at the very least, it went down smooth.

the outside of the bar is chilly, night having fallen over pittsburg long ago now. your phone is blurry, whether that's because there's liquor spilt on it or because your vision is getting worse the longer you sit with the shot, you're not sure.

the search for the uber app is futile, even though you're sure it's likely hidden somewhere in one of your folders. but in your current state, it was a worthless venture to find. but your friends have already found their way home, you have not.

with wobbly fingers unsure of movements, you scroll through your phone in search of something, someone to help you home. the walk is too far and it's too late and the cabs stopped running an hour ago.

in your drunken stupor, you manage to find your messages app and there she is. cassie mckay. last texted at 8:15pm. you stare at the messages, at her contact picture. cassie mckay. cassie mckay.

the hot resident you've spent your first year of your own residency shadowing? the resident who hugged you after a terrible first shift, the resident who has enough empathy to give to the entire world, and the resident who you've been "casually" texting for a few months now.

it's been nothing serious, barely bordering flirtatious, except for nights like these. when you're drunk, or it's late and she can't sleep. the last message sent was her checking in after your shift. you feel better about it now with the liquid courage, but it was the shift from hell today. of course she checked in. of course she was the sweetest person in the whole world.

your thumb hovered over the call button. she really is the sweetest person ever. she wouldn't mind picking you up. right? you hit the button and hold the phone to your ear, shivers and chills running down your skin the longer you stand outside.

it rings for a few seconds, and suddenly you feel the overwhelming urge to hang up and try and get the uber app figured out, but then you hear a muffled "hello" on the other end.

"hi! hi! hi!" you said excitedly, before realizing the hour of the night. "oh my god, i'm so sorry, cassie."

you hear shuffling on her end of the phone. "hey, y/n. hey. what's going on?" she says. her voice is laced with so much sleep, you feel horrible.

"look, i feel so bad for doing this. and you can say no. i swear," you start. "but i'm really drunk at the bar and my friends all left and i need help getting home. fuck, i'm so sorry."

cassie grunts on the other end, like she's standing up from the bed already. "hey, it's okay. thank you for calling me. where are you at?"

you look around, trying to remember what bar you eventually ended your night at. you glance up and finally find the sign. "some bar called logan's. it's downtown somewhere."

you hear the familiar sound of keys jingling on the other end. "i'm on my way, okay? don't worry."

"thank you so much," you said, pouring the maximum amount of sincerity you could into the statement. "i'm so sorry, again. i know you have an early morning shift. i really didn't want to have to call anyone."

next, you hear the beep of her car followed by the sound of the engine coming to life. "y/n, it's okay. i swear. i would come pick you up any time you needed it."

her words settle over you like the shots do. "thank you," you manage to get out despite the butterflies kicking in your stomach.

"of course, sweetheart."

the call ends with that and your cheeks get warm, followed by the tips of your ears. it could be that you're drunk, sure, but the way that the pet name so easily slipped out of her sent excitement coursing through your blood. fuck, you were drunk and your work crush bordering work situationship is coming to pick you up.

from what you know about where cassie lives, she's not far, thankfully. a rough breeze blows by, sending a harsh chill down your spine. you breath hot air into your hands and wiggle against the wall of the bar. a few cars drove by, one stopping to pick up another waiting girl. you feel envious, knowing how warm she probably is now compared to you.

about ten or so minutes pass until you see cassie's car pulling down the street in front of the bar. you push from the wall and head to her car with a little log, waving at her as you approach the window.

she clearly just woke up from sleep, her hair down and still frizzy in the back. she's wearing some kind of tank top and sweatpants. you're positive you may have never seen her look better.

"hey," she says softly as you open up the door and slide into the passenger seat.

suddenly, you felt shy. "hey," you said, looking over at her. she gave you a little smile.

"did you have a good night?" she asked.

you nodded. "a bit too good, i think," you joked, buckling up your seatbelt and getting comfortable in the seat. cassie checked her rearview mirror, looking near sultry in the driver's seat, and pulled away from the curb.

"you know the way home from here?" she asked, glancing over. you looked around at the area, unfamiliar completely.

"uh," you started. "no. but, do you know where the trader joe's is a few blocks from the hospital? on penn ave?"

she thought about it for a moment. "yeah, i do. on penn?"

you nodded. "yeah, it's just around the corner from there. i can show you when we get closer."

"sounds good," she said, looking back at the road. you sat quietly, legs still, eyes on the road, feeling impossibly awkward next to cassie in every way possible. typically, you never felt this way. everything with cassie was natural. but this? a late night pickup call from the bar? you're dressed in your going out clothes, she in pajamas. it was nearly intimate.

"thank you," you decided to stay. "for picking me up. i'm sorry for calling and waking you up. i know you have a shift tomorrow."

she rolled to a stop at a red light and looked over at you. the red made her glow, showing off the shadows in her cheekbones and jawline. sharp, elegant, tough. "don't apologize," she said, her voice low. "i'm glad you called. i know you're safe. not drunk in the back of some sketchy uber. you're here, with me."

the sincereness made you breath out shakily. you nodded, offering her a small smile. "i'm glad i'm here with you," you responded. your words seemed to affect her the same way. god, this was stupid.

eventually, the red on her face turned green and she looked back at the road, continuing to drive until she merged on the highway.

for a moment, you had shifted into a comfortable silence, your arm leaning on the center console where cassie's elbow was positioned. on a particularly sharp curve, you leaned to the right, bumping your bare arm against cassie's. perhaps you were just too intoxicated to care, but you leaned closer, enjoying the way it felt to have her so close to you.

almost, imperceptibly, she leaned closer. you noticed a movement by her hand and then, suddenly, her hand found yours in a comfortable hold. quietly, you held her hand back, glancing up at her slightly to find her looking out onto the road. however, you had been working alongside her too much to not be able to notice when she feels nervous about something.

slowly, you began to feel familiar with your surroundings, and you knew the drive was nearly done. would there ever be a moment like this again? this quiet peace between you and cassie, with all these unsaid things floating in the air, holding hands, the rumble of the car filling in the silence. you bit your lip, thinking about what to do.

you were drunk. it was the middle of the night. it was a bad idea to do anything right now, but you felt a pull in your chest as cassie neared your street. "it's, um, it's this next right up here," you whispered. cassie nodded, moving over into the lane.

your apartment building came into view and you pointed at it once you saw it. cassie slowed down, stopping just outside the entrance on the curb. but neither of you moved. cassie released your hand, placed the car into park, and stared off.

"thank you," you whispered, feeling shy without the sound of the car and road distracting you. when cassie said nothing, you breathed deep and moved to unbuckle your seatbelt. just as the click echoed through the car, her hand stopped yours from moving.

"wait," she said, looking at you. "don't go just yet." she ran a hand through her loose hair, biting her lip. she laughed breathily before speaking. "when i said i was glad you were with me, i meant it. in more ways than just that you're safe."

you nodded, encouraging her to finish.

"i know we've been texting, and talking, and i don't know how you feel, but i know how i feel, and i'm getting tired of keeping it so secret," she said. your heart rate skyrocketed, followed by butterflies filling the pit in your stomach. she looked out at the road, like she was gathering the courage, then turned back. "i really like you. more so than i've felt for people before. more than i think i even felt for chad."

the corners of your lips turned upwards against your own volition.

"we can have a longer, better talk when you're sober," she said, laughing a little. "but, i just needed to get that off my chest. you needed to know."

"cassie," you whispered, looking at her. she was so nervous, you can tell, despite the confident air she tried to speak with. "i like you a lot too."

"seriously?" she asked, her confident facade dropping. "i was so worried."

you laughed. "worried? i text you every day, good morning and good night, i bring you coffee, i stare at you from across the room. i want to ask you out every day, but i've been so scared to."

"what if got dinner tomorrow? after my shift, i'll make sure i do hand-off right at 7:30. maybe a reservation at 8:30?" she asked, biting her lip.

you nodded. "i would love that," you said eagerly. she smiled at you, wide and eyes happy. "look, i know i'm really drunk right now, but can we kiss? i won't be taken advantage of and i'm just really happy right now-"

cassie's lips met your own with a fervor unmatched by any kiss to have ever taken place in the history of time.

you leaned into her, moving your lips together in a soft, but surely passionate kiss. her hand ghosted up your arm until it rested by your jawline, fingers just softly caressing the skin there. eventually, the need to breathe overtook the need to keep attached at the lips and both of you pulled apart.

cassie's lips were red, highlighted by the streetlights outside of your apartment. her chest rose and fell and she had a small smile on her face.

"wow," she said breathily. "do you always kiss that good or is it because of the shots?"

you laughed. "i guess you'll have to test that out tomorrow, yeah?"

she smirked. "i guess i will," she responded. she glanced to the side, looking at your apartment building. "i'll walk you to the door, okay?"

you nodded and leaned over to open up the car door and stepped out. cassie did the same and met you on your side of the car. now, being in front of her, it all felt so much more real. finally, everything that and been building for months, was here in front of you.

she followed you up to your door, where you focused on keeping your balance on the top step. she stood just on the one below you, meeting you at eye level.

"can i kiss you again?" she asked, her eyes flitting down to your lips.

"i would love for you to," you responded, already leaning in to connect with her one more time. this one was softer, sweeter, a more casual kiss that you hoped you'd get plenty more of soon. when you pulled away, you pushed a piece of cassie's loose hair behind her ear. "thank you for this. for driving me home. for...you know."

"i'm glad i answered your call," she said, her lips tilting into a familiar smirk. "i'll see you tomorrow, okay? i'll text you the details about everything. don't worry about it. just get some rest, yeah? you're gonna need it."

you nodded and gave her a big smile. "thank you, doctor," you said, and you laughed at the blush that crept up her neck. "go home, cassie. i'll see you tomorrow." you turned halfway to insert your key into the front door.

"i'll see you tomorrow, doc," she said, leaving the steps to head back to her car. just as she opened her car door, you stepped inside. with a wave from each other, she pulled away and you shut your front door.

immediately, you were greeted with the negative effects of being drunk that seemed to hold off the entire time you were in cassie's presence, and could barely think about anything other than a glass of water, a bed, and a tylenol. but as you found your way in the sheets, you kicked your feet, laughed out loud, and shoved your head into your pillow.

holy shit.

[promotional-dvd]

its the second day of pride month and i STILL havent been fucked freaky style by cassie mckay. is this a joke.

[nicothecowboy]

[santossbaby]

A/N: based off this request i received hehe plz enjoy

pairing: cassie mckay x f!reader

warnings: fluff, lesbian awkwardness (i luv gay people sm), incorrect medical knowledge (guys im not a dr mckay is bwahaha), not proofread srry

When you come to, the first thing you notice is how harsh the lights are. You're closing your eyes right after your open them, groaning at the stinging sensation. There's an annoying throb in your left wrist, the other wrist seemingly numb. You manage to peek, slowly taking in your surroundings. You were in a hospital, the emergency room by the looks of it. The world around you slowly began to fade in, the sounds of machinery and medical jargon drowning out your thoughts. Your head felt like you had been underwater and you blink a few times in an attempt to clear your mind.

You cleared your throat, the action causing a burning sensation. Thankfully, two nurses that were talking to each other nearby seemed to notice you. They smirked at each other before rushing over to you, grins on their faces.

"Well, hello you! How are you feeling?"

You tried flexing both wrists, wincing at the left wrists' dull pain. The other one still had no feeling. The pain was manageable, but what really mattered to you was figuring out how you ended up here. "I'm sorry, I don't really remember anything?"

Another knowing glance between the nurses, which made you a little worried.

The nurse on your left, whose nametag read "Perlah", began to explain that you had been rushed to the ER after you fell off a ladder at work. You had hit your head and hurt both your wrists, the one that was numb being because you had to have surgery. "We'll get you some more pain meds for the other wrist." she promised. Her mouth twitched as if she was holding in a laugh, "We are going to have to give you a lower dose that what you were given upon arrival, though."

The other nurse, Princess, giggled, "Yeah, you were a little out of it earlier."

Your face started to feel warm, your eyes closing as if that could make you invisible. "Oh God, I am so sorry... did I hurt anybody?"

"Oh, of course not ma'am!" Perlah took your numb hand comfortingly. "Sorry, we didn't mean to worry you. It's just-"

"You put the moves on Dr. McKay."

You covered your face with your hands, groaning. The nurses giggled, but you could tell it wasn't out of malice. Princess patted your shoulder and whispered, "Don't worry, I think she might've been into you."

You heard someone clear their throat, and Perlah and Princess froze like two children who had just been caught. Princess mouthed the words "good luck!" before the two of them hurry off to their next patient, leaving you alone with the doctor who had appeared behind them. She gave you a soft smile, one that made your heart skip a beat. She looked a little nervous, her eyes darting over to the computer beside your bed. She started reviewing your chart, "How are you feeling? You were out of it after surgery for a good while-"

"I just want to say I am so, so sorry if I made you uncomfortable." The doctor's hands pause over the keyboard, but you can't stop yourself. "I promise I'm not a creep, I don't just go around hitting on women, certainly not doctors who are just trying to do their job-"

Dr. McKay chuckled, shaking her head. "It's fine, really-"

"No, it's not." You felt horrible. You'd be lying if you were to say you found her unattractive, but you couldn't imagine how uncomfortable it must have been for her to get hit on while trying to help someone. "If you want to transfer my care, I completely understand-"

"Please, it's fine." She insisted. The confusion on your face made her smirk. "I never said I minded the flirting."

You were speechless, your mouth opening only to close in stupidity. You felt like you were on fire. It had been a while since you had been on a date, and you weren't exactly the type to flirt. The only reason you had been courageous enough to flirt with Dr. McKay was because you were medicated, but now you found yourself unable to speak. You mentally cursed yourself for your lack of courage.

"She's off Thursdays!"

Dr. McKay spun around, glaring at the young doctor that was standing in the doorway. She looked like a teenager, donning a purple sweater instead of a lab coat. She looked between you and Dr. McKay, then added, "And sometimes she's off on Saturdays. Hope you feel better!"

The young woman ducked out of the room, causing Dr. McKay to shake her head. You could've sworn you saw a smile on her face, but you didn't allow yourself the satisfaction. You looked down at your hands, wishing the floor would swallow you up. You cleared your throat, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm really sorry-"

Dr. McKay held up a hand to stop you. You gave her a quick glance, noticing that there was a smile on her face. "I'm gonna give you some more pain meds, but the wrist you had surgery on is going to need a sling while it heals." She scooted her chair closer to your side, bringing a small rolling table with her. You remained silent as she began to patch you up, her eyes fixated on your wrist. You managed to sneak a few peeks at her, admiring her as she worked. At one point she caught your peeking, causing her to smirk. "You asked me to see a movie with you tonight." You closed your eyes, exhaling loudly through your nose. She didn't give you a chance to answer, though, adding, "I told you that was sweet, but I'm busy tonight."

You chewed the inside of your cheek, your entire body feeling like it was on fire. Dr. McKay glanced up from her work at you, as if expecting an answer, but all you could do was stare back dumbly. Thankfully, she made fast work of the cast, patting your wrist gently when she was done. "Should be good for a few weeks, then you'll need to come back for a checkup. Head to the pharmacy and you'll be able to leave with your meds. And take this..."

She scribbled something down on the notepad next to her computer, sliding it over to you. You squinted, expecting to see messy doctor's script, but instead you could perfectly make out numbers. It was her phone number.

You looked up at her, the grin on her face making your heart hammer. "But you said-"

"I'm busy tonight, but like Dr. Javadi said, I am off on Thursday. If you want we can go see a movie then?"

"She loves romcoms!"

The young woman from earlier, who you assumed to be Dr. Javadi, had snuck her head into the room. She gave you and Dr. McKay an encouraging smile before sneaking back out of the room.

You could tell Dr. McKay was slightly embarrassed, which settled your nerves a little. Feeling bold, you said, "There's a new romcom with Halle Bailey that just came out, maybe we could see that?"

"Yeah, I'd like that." Dr. McKay replied softly. She stood up, moving towards the door. "I'm going to get a nurse to help discharge you, don't forget to pick up your meds before you leave, though." Before she stepped out, she gave you a wink. "See ya Thursday."

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

*my requests remain open, plz feel free to send in a request!*

[maplemackintosh]

So I may or may not be on my deathbed from being rained on and if I could have a last wish, I would LOVE if you could have my baby Cassie taking care of reader.

As always, you’re amazeballs ❤️

Bodies

A/N: My first one-shot where someone is sick!! I love the sick trope ngl...as someone who gets sick often and loves when people want to take care of them :) Sorry, this took so long @starryparchments, also it's a little short :( But I hope you like it!!

you can find my other works here!!

I would usually put a content warning, but I don't think there's anything that really constitutes one for this one-shot, really! Everything is safe :)

It’s the dead of winter. 

And as a teacher, that means everyone is fighting for their lives, sick or not. 

You had been really careful all week, as you had a date with your girlfriend on Friday that you absolutely weren’t going to miss. Her schedule barely aligns with yours as it is, and the day it’s supposed to happen, you were absolutely NOT getting sick if you could help it. 

You had taken precautions every minute of every day. Sanitizing desks after each child sneezed, wiping down chairs with Lysol wipes whenever the kids were outside or participating in activities that had them away from their tables, you had hand sanitizer at the ready, etc. 

All of that… to eventually end up getting sick anyway. 

That morning, you knew something was wrong because when you swallowed, there was a tickle at the back of your throat. You tried to gargle warm salt water, but that was of no use. You tried the throat numbing spray, but all you managed to numb was your mouth, and so you downed a few cups of DayQuil and said fuck it, and went to work anyway. 

You weren’t going to miss this date. That was that. 

However, throughout the day, you just somehow kept getting worse. Your eyes had begun to water, and the right nostril of your nose was running every five seconds while the left nostril was completely dry, your throat still felt like barbed wire was wrapped around it, etc. 

Everyone kept asking if you were okay, and by the time your third student asked if you were sick, you knew you weren’t fooling anyone.

Your head felt heavy, like it was packed with cotton, and every sound in the classroom landed loudly in your ears, making your head pound. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, drilling straight into your skull. You tried to push through, just one more worksheet, just one more read-aloud, but when you stood up, the room tilted enough that you had to grab the edge of your desk.

  “Okay,” your co-teacher said gently, already halfway across the room. “Nope. You’re done for today.”

  “I’m fine,” you tried, but your voice came out rough, betraying you.

She gave you a look. “You’re not. Go home. I’ve got this.” 

You huffed a faint, humorless laugh, but it dissolved into a cough that made your chest ache.

  “Go home,” she said more gently this time. “You’re not doing yourself, or them, any favors by staying.”

There wasn’t much fight left in you anyway at that point. The drive home was a blur of red lights and sheer willpower. You kicked your shoes off somewhere near the entryway, dropping your bag without care. You made it to your bedroom on pure autopilot before collapsing onto the bed, still in your work clothes. The mattress dipped under you, soft and welcoming, and you let out a long, shaky breath.

Your phone buzzed in your hand as you stared at the ceiling, and it was a struggle to even pick it up. It was like your fingers were stiff to the point of no return. You blinked at the screen for a second before remembering to remembering to open your messages.

You: got sent home sick :( our date isn’t happening :(

The typing bubble appeared almost instantly.

Cassie: What?

Cassie: Are you okay?

Cassie: What happened?

You smiled faintly despite how awful you felt. That was your girlfriend- straight to concern, no hesitation. But she is a doctor after all, and that’s what she’s trained to do. 

You: just feel like crap. dizzy. probably a fever idk

Cassie: Did you take your temperature?

Cassie: Are you home?

Cassie: Do you need anything?

You stared at the messages, thumbs hovering over the keyboard, but suddenly even typing felt like too much effort. Your phone slipped slightly in your grip as you sank deeper into the mattress, and your eyelids grew heavier. You’d answer her in a minute. Just a minute. You just needed to close your eyes for a second. Also, she’s probably working, so she won’t mind if you don’t reply right away…

————

You woke to knocking.

At first, you thought it was part of a dream as everything still felt distant and muffled to you. But then it came again, louder this time, pulling you up from the fog of sickness that you felt surrounded you.

Your head pounded as you sat up. The light in your room was dim now, and the sunlight outside shifted toward late afternoon. You had no idea how long you’d been out. For a moment, you didn’t even know where you were.

The knocking came again.

  “Coming,” you croaked, though it barely made a sound.

You pushed yourself out of bed, immediately regretting it as a wave of dizziness hit you. The room tilted just enough to make your stomach turn. You took a moment to steady yourself before immediately beginning to shake because of the temperature change. You grabbed the blanket off your bed, wrapped it tightly around your shoulders like armor, and shuffled toward the door.

  “I’m coming,” you muttered again. Each step felt heavier than it should, like you were wading through something like invisible molasses. You opened the door, sagging against it a little bit as you looked up at who decided to disturb your sleep. 

Cassie stood there, slightly out of breath, concern written all over her face. “Oh, baby.” 

You stared at her for a long moment, brain struggling to catch up. “…I think I might be dreaming,” you mumbled.

Her expression softened instantly. “I promise you’re not dreaming,” she said gently, stepping closer. Her hand came up to your forehead, brushing your hair back as the back of her hand pressed against your skin. Her brows knit together at the warmth radiating from you. “But you are burning up.”

You let out a weak grunt. “Mm, no. But you’re supposed to be working.”

  “Obviously not,” she said softly, turning around to shut the front door. “Okay, let’s get you back in bed. See if we can get rid of this fever, okay?”

She begins directing you back to your bedroom, but your mind is going blank except for the fact that she’s here with you. “But how did you even- you didn’t have to come- you’re gonna be fired!” you say, turning around in her arms.

She slipped an arm around your waist before you could protest. “I won’t be fired. It’s called making up an excuse so I can take care of my girl. Come on.”

  “I don’t believe you,” you murmured, leaning into her. “But I’m sorry about our date.” 

  “It’s okay, baby. Don’t worry,” she said, not arguing, just guiding you gently inside and kicking the door shut behind her. “We’ll figure out some other time to go, alright?”

Once she got you back in bed, Doctor Cassie had instantly taken over. She moved quietly, so as not to disturb you too much. Shoes off, sleeves pushed up, scanning your body like you were in the trauma bay or something. It would’ve been almost funny if you didn’t feel like death.

  “Do you have a thermometer?” she asked, already opening drawers.

  “…bathroom,” you mumbled.

 She disappeared for all of thirty seconds before returning, crouching beside you. “Open.”

You obeyed without question, too tired to do anything else. You waited in silence, your eyes drooping closed before the thermometer made a noise. She took it out from under your tongue and looked at the number on the digital screen. 

  “102,” she confirmed.

  “I feel it,” you muttered weakly.

That earned a small smile. “Still got some attitude. That’s a good sign.” She stood up from your bedside. “I’m getting you water. And meds. Do you have ibuprofen or acetaminophen?”

  “…kitchen cabinet,” you said, eyes already drifting shut again.

  “Hey, don’t fall asleep yet,” she called lightly as she headed out. “I need you to stay awake long enough to take your medicine.”

You just made a noise in reply. True to her word, however, she was back quickly with a glass of water in one hand and medicine in the other.

  “Sit up for me,” she said, gentler now, helping you lift your head and shoulders.

You leaned heavily into her as she held the glass to your lips. “Slow,” she murmured.

You swallowed the pills, then took a few sips of water, though even that felt like such an effort to do.

  “Good,” she said quietly. “That’s good.” Once you were settled back down, she adjusted your blanket to wrap entirely around you, but soon stopped. “Baby, you’re overheating,” she noted, already pulling the blanket back slightly. “We’re not doing the full cocoon thing right now.” You made a small protesting sound. “I know, I know,” she said softly, brushing your hair away from your face again. “But you’ll feel worse if you trap the heat.”

Her hand lingered at your temple, cool against your skin. You sighed, leaning into the touch without thinking. “Can you keep me warm then? Please? While you still have some time left?” 

  “Of course I can, sweetheart. I’ll do whatever you want.” And she’s instantly crawling into bed with you. 

  “Wait, you probably shouldn’t. You’ll get sick too.” You respond, but it’s too late as she’s already cuddled up against you, arms encircling your body. 

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” She whispers against your temple, and you don’t have any energy left inside you to protest any further, so you just accept it. 

  “I can hear your heartbeat.” You tell her, which makes you smile a little bit. 

  “I can hear yours too,” is all you hear as you fall asleep

———-

At some point between constantly waking up and then drifting back to sleep, you realized she hadn’t left.

  “Cassie,” you mumbled, eyes half-open. “You’re still here”

She glanced down at you from where she was sitting on the edge of your bed, one hand still resting lightly on your arm. “Yes, I am.”

  “But you have work.”

  “I left early.”

Your brow furrowed slightly. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Her expression softened, something warm and unwavering settling in her eyes. “I wanted to,” she said simply.

You didn’t have the energy to argue with that. Cassie brought you a cold cloth and laid it across your forehead, swapping it out when it warmed. She made sure you drank water every so often, even when you groaned about it. She also made sure you kept up with taking medicine every 3 hours. 

You stirred when the bed dipped slightly beside you once more. “Hey,” Cassie said softly. “Can you sit up a little? I made you something.”

You groaned quietly but didn’t argue as she helped you up again. A bowl of soup appeared in your line of vision.

  “You don’t have to eat a lot,” she said. “Just a few bites.”

  “I’m not hungry,” you mumbled.

  “I know,” she said gently. “But your body needs something.”

She waited patiently as you sighed faintly, then opened your mouth just enough for the first spoonful.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

You managed a few more before shaking your head weakly. “Can’t.”

  “That’s okay,” she said immediately. “I’m just glad you ate something.”

———-

You woke again, and the room had gone fully dark; your fever had dulled just enough to make your vision not seem as though you were spinning anymore. 

You shifted slightly under the blanket, your hand brushing against something warm.

Or rather, someone warm. Cassie.

You turned your head, squinting slightly in the low light. She was sitting beside you, one leg tucked under her, her phone resting loosely in her hand, but the second you moved, even slightly, her attention was off the device and on your face. 

  “Hey,” she said quietly. “How you feeling?”

  “…you’re still here?” you murmured.

She gave you a small smile. “Yeah,” she said. “Of course I am.”

  “You didn’t have to stay,” you said, though your voice lacked any real insistence.

She studied you for a moment, then reached out, her fingers brushing lightly along your cheek. They felt so cold against your still burning forehead. 

  “I wanted to,” she said simply. “You’re sick. I’m not leaving you alone like this. Harrison is with Chad, so think of this as our date.”

You swallowed. “…okay.”

A small, reassuring smile touched her lips. “Okay.”

She adjusted the blanket around you again before she shifted slightly closer. “Try to get some more sleep,” she murmured.

You also moved closer, but your hand found hers. Her fingers laced gently with yours, her thumb tracing slow, absent circles against your skin. The motion was a sort of reassuring action, some consistent pattern that has your body relaxing.

Your breathing evened out, and the ache in your head began to dull. The heat under your skin still lingered, but it didn’t feel as overwhelming because Cassie was here. Taking care of you. Staying exactly where she said she would.

Your grip on her hand loosened as sleep pulled you under again, but she didn’t let go. She wouldn’t let go. Not while you needed her.

[augustvandyne]

need that

[xpechorin]

WANT THAT