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scaredcacticle · 3 months

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Vice.

Synopsis - Everyone on the team has their vices. It just so happens that yours is sat across the table looking at you.

Pairing - Luke Alvez x Female Reader

Warnings - smut. cursing. luke has a gorgeous filthy mouth.

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 1.6k

Author's Note - my baby my baby my BAAAAAABY!! I have been in love with this man for years and years and I can't believe I haven't written more for him. if you ever have a luke request, please send it to me. love him with my whole heart <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

Vice - a weakness of character or behaviour; a bad habit. "Cigars happen to be my father's vice."

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"Italian food."

The entire team laughs, faces illuminated by the warm yellow lights in Rossi's backyard.

"Yeah, no shit," Tara retorts, looking pointedly at Dave. "Doesn't take a behavioural analyst to figure that one out."

"Look, you asked the question, I answered."

He reclines back in his chair and takes a sip of his wine, looking around the table.

"Okay Tara, you go. What's your vice?"

She chuckles to herself before confessing.

"Super steamy period romances."

Everyone bursts into more laughter.

"Wait, what?"

"What kind?"

She's clutching at her sides as she answers.

"All kinds! Movies, books, TV shows. If it has corsets and sex, I'm in."

Your cheeks are aching from smiling so hard. You're not sure who first raised the initial question, but it's really allowed you to get to know each other a little bit deeper.

"Okay, enough about me. Simmons, what's your vice?"

"I have six kids. I don't have time for a vice."

He sounds serious, but he's grinning as he says it.

"I think the six kids are a result of an old vice."

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, several glasses of wine almost obliterating your verbal filter. Your team howl with laughter.

"No comment," Matt wheezes, wiping tears from his eyes. "Golfing is a safer option now. No risk of unplanned surprises."

"I had to change mine after kids, too," JJ chimes in. "I used to smoke cigarettes after bad cases, but I can't anymore. What kinda mom would I be if I lectured the boys about the dangers of nicotine, and then got caught chain smoking in the backyard?"

"A cool one," you shrug, yelping when she jokingly punches you in the arm.

"What about you, hotshot?" she asks, the whole team turning their attention to you. "What's your vice?"

You desperately avoid any eye contact, trying to play it cool. You just know Luke has that glint in his eye as he looks at you pointedly.

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"Oh, fuck," you groan, fingers threading into the dark curls of his hair.

"Shhh, honey," he murmurs, lifting his head from between your legs to look up at you. "You and I both know how much trouble we'll be in if we get caught."

He dives back in, tongue gliding and flicking all the spots that make you keen. You slap one hand over your mouth, the other grappling to hold onto the leather beneath you.

"Bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?" he taunts, condescension dripping from his tone. "The thrill turns you on, doesn't it, baby? The risk of getting caught only makes you hotter."

You whine against your palm, bucking your hips to urge him to keep going.

"What do you want, princesa? Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you."

He loves this. Loves hearing you beg. Loves having you relinquish complete control and let him take care of you. Loves that he can turn you, the most independent, headstrong woman he knows, into a whining, needy mess.

"Fingers," you croak out. "Make me come, Luke, please."

He grins up at you like the cat who got the cream, self satisfied smirk never leaving his lips.

"Okay, baby," he soothes. "Since you asked so pretty."

He slides two fingers into you with embarrassing ease, crooking them in the way he knows you like.

"Oh, sweet girl, what would the team think? Huh? What do you think they'd say if they saw you like this, letting me finger fuck you in the backseat of my car in the parking garage?"

He's muttering lowly, under his breath, but you hear him clear as day. He loves to patronise you, tease you, get under your skin. In everyday life, he treats you with the utmost respect. In bed, not so much. You love it.

"Couldn't even wait until we got home. Poor baby, just had to take the edge off."

His eyes meet yours, like a magnetic force. His gaze is so dark, it has you squirming in place.

"It was the shirt," you choke out. "Fucking shirt."

"Hmm?" he hums against you, the vibrations pulling you closer to the edge.

"Your shirt," you moan as his thumb finds your clit. "Makes your arms look so, fuck, so big."

Oh, you shouldn't have said that. You can practically see his ego inflating.

"I'll let you wear it tomorrow morning, if you want. If you can still walk by then, that is."

You're right on the precipice, orgasm almost within reach. If he keeps talking to you like this, you'll be at the finish line in no time.

"Oh, I've got a better idea. Why don't I fuck you in it?"

The idea makes your head spin, sending you straight into your climax. Sharp white heat licks up your spine, curling your toes and arching your back. Your grip tightens in his hair and he groans, low and honeyed.

"That's it, baby," he's murmuring. "Ride it out. Good girl."

You finally relax, melting into the leather seats. Luke crawls from his position to lean over you, resting his body onto yours. He kisses you gently at first, then dirtier as you come back to yourself.

"My place or yours?" he whispers against your lips.

"Yours is closer."

"Mine it is."

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"Hello? Earth to Hotshot?"

JJ nudges you playfully, grinning at you from ear to ear.

"What you thinking about?"

"Nothing," you stutter, clearing your throat. "Nothing at all."

You make the mistake of lifting your gaze from your lap. There, staring at you from across the table, is Luke Alvez. You almost wish you could slap that smug smirk off of his face.

"Come on, girl!" Tara hollers.

"Everyone has a vice," Spencer begins. "You have to. Especially in our line of work. We have to have some kind of outlet. Some sort of release."

Release. You almost choke on your wine, patting yourself on the chest.

"Yeah, no. I, uh, I like British reality TV. I guess that's mine."

The team laugh, everyone teasing you relentlessly. You risk a glance at Luke, and regret it immediately. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and chuckles, knowing look in his eye. You're petrified for a moment that he can read your mind.

"Okay then Spence. Your turn," you prompt, desperate to take the attention off yourself.

Spencer starts rambling about quantum physics, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

Relief.

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"Yeah, this is what you needed, isn't it baby?"

You try to respond, but Luke's huge hands wrapped around your throat are making it a little difficult.

"My poor sweet girl, just needed some relief huh? You sick of being in charge all the time? You want me to take care of you?"

His tone is low and melted, the timbre of it settling into your bones. All you can do is whine and nod your head in response.

His hips repeatedly snap into yours, his body melded to you. He's completely smothering you with his weight, but you don't mind. You like the closeness.

You lean up to kiss him, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth. He's swallowing your moans, leaning his head forward to rest against yours.

"Fuck, you sound so pretty," he groans. "You gonna come for me, mama? Give me what I want?"

"Yes," you breathe. "Yes. Please, baby. Please."

"Who am I to deny you when you beg so fucking sweet?"

The hand that's not around your throat snakes between your sweat slicked bodies to rub circles on your clit, throwing you over the edge.

Your back arches, hips writhing on Luke's soft cotton sheets. You're squeezing him so tight he's seeing stars.

"Oh fuck baby, oh fuck."

Luke goes boneless, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. He releases his grip on your throat and wraps both arms around you, pressing you together impossibly closer.

"We get better at this every time," he chuckles.

You smack him jokingly, before bursting into laughter. Soon, the two of you are crying happy tears, revelling in the afterglow.

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"I'm gonna get a refill. Anyone need anything from the kitchen?"

You stand from your seat and make your way inside, taking note of the replies.

"I'll help you," Luke says, rising to join you. Neither of you see the way everyone at the table looks at each other knowingly.

You're barely through the door when you feel him against you, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He presses a kiss onto your shoulder, murmuring in your ear.

"I'm your vice, aren't I?"

You shake your head, breathing out a laugh.

"In your dreams, Alvez."

He nips at your neck before continuing.

"Admit it. I'm your dirty little bad habit that you just can't kick."

You turn in his arms to face him, running your fingers through his hair.

"Talk the talk all you want, Luke. You and I both know this works both ways."

Your quirk your brow at him, and he leans in and kisses you chastely.

"Old habits die hard, huh?" he grins.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," you smirk back.

Outside, the team decide they'll continue to let you both lie to them for a little while longer. It's more fun for everyone that way.

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scaredcacticle · 3 months

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Character! x reader isn’t a suggestion, i want to see character x reader stories. Not a brief appearance by them warrants a ‘x reader’ tag.

why am i seeing Steve Rogers x Reader in the Natasha Romanoff tag?? Spencer reid in the Emily Prentiss tag??? So annoying, tag your fics properly PLEASE.

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scaredcacticle · 3 months

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id love to know why ive been scrolling through the emily prentiss x reader tag and am just seeing spencer reid fics..literally one after another and another…please tag ur fics correctly because WHYYY are you tagging your SPENCER REID fic “emily prentiss x reader” LIKE JUST STOP?!? no shade, learn how to tag, emily making a 2 second appearance in a fic that isnt about her doesnt warrent you to tag “emily x reader” kayy thankss

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scaredcacticle · 3 months

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𝐢 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: george o'malley x reader 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you're george's best friend. after a night of drinking, you two hook-up, then try to pretend it never happened. prompted by @grimeslovebot!! 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬: fem!reader, surgery intern!reader, george isn't married/a cheater, drunk sex, unprotected sex, sort of angsty/cliffhanger ending, pt 2 coming soon 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: ~1.7k

It had been a hard, long week at Seattle Grace Hospital. You had spent most of it in the clinic, which wasn’t very exciting, but it had put you on Bailey’s good side, which was always a good thing.

George, on the other hand, had been given a chance to scrub in on an incredible surgery and the patient, unfortunately, hadn’t made it. It had upset him, losing someone so young, and he had been sulking around the halls the past few days.

“Why don’t we do something fun tonight?” you suggested, sensing that his mood wasn’t going to get better without a gentle nudge. Like all the other surgery interns, the job often took a toll on him, and only another intern was capable of understanding their pain.

“Like what?” he asked, not looking up from the chart he was reading.

“I don’t know…Go to the bar with the other interns?“ you suggested.

George looked up at you with a fond look on his face. “You mean, like we do all the time?”

“I’m just brainstorming!” you defended, but you couldn’t help smiling.

You and George had immediately gotten along at the beginning of your internship, and had been inseparable friends ever since. All it took was a certain expression on his face, or a specific tone of voice for you to know exactly what he was thinking. You were smiling, because you knew that fond look on his face meant, ‘I know you’re trying to cheer me up, and going to a bar with Karev is not the right approach.’

So, you tried again. “Or we could go back to the house, watch a movie, have some drinks and snacks? I think Meredith is on call tonight, anyway, so the house will be quieter than usual.”

He notated something on the chart, giving you a nod. “Sure, that sounds nice. Uh, I have to go run some labs, but I’ll see you at lunch?”

“See you!”

It was a few hours later when George put his tray down next to yours on the cafeteria table, flopping down into his seat with a sigh.

“Drinks tonight is just what I need,” he said.

You gave him a sympathetic smile, patting his arm. “I’ll stop by the liquor store after my shift.”

“You’re the best,” George said, and his tone was so sincere, combined with that fond look in his big, brown eyes, it made your face flush.

The moment was ruined when Meredith came to the table, practically slamming her food down as she began to rant about her drama with McDreamy, and you were grateful for the distraction.

George was your best friend. Surely you weren’t interested in him…like that. George O’Malley, who was shy and awkward, who was into all his nerdy shit, who made you laugh more than anyone else, who knew you better than anyone…

Well, shit. That wasn’t a great revelation to have in the middle of your work day. You were falling for your best friend.

Meredith’s voice faded to the background as you processed it. Relationships within the hospital always seemed to get messy. You were co-workers, roommates, friends. If it went wrong, it would ruin so much. But if it went well...God, if it went well, it would be so perfect.

"Earth to Y/N?" George said, his fingers waving in front of your face.

You startled from your thoughts. "What?"

"Your pager is going off. Didn't you hear it?"

"Shit," you muttered, grabbing for your pager as you rose to your feet, already preparing to sprint.

"See you later!" George called after you as you ran from the cafeteria.

Later that evening, you changed out of your scrubs in the locker room before heading out of the hospital, stopping at the liquor store and picking up a few bottles of assorted drinks, making sure to grab George's favorite, as well as stopping at a gas station for snacks.

By the time you made it back to the house, your arms full of bags, George was there to help you bring the bags inside.

You picked a film while George mixed some drinks, curling up beside each other on the couch.

"Cheers to surviving another week," he said.

You smiled and clinked your glass with his.

The film you chose was supposed to be sci-fi, but there was an unnecessary romance plot thrown in, and the drunker you got, the more frustrated you became.

"If the world was fucking ending, I would be less concerned with getting laid," you quipped, rolling your eyes at the television.

George was also pretty tipsy by that point, and he laughed. "I think it's sweet. I mean, he's clearly been in love with her for a while. If you thought you weren't going to live much longer, wouldn't you want to seize the opportunity?"

You hummed, considering it. “But what if the world doesn’t end? And now you’ve just made things awkward.”

“Or you’ve made things better,” George said. He had a giddy smile on his face, like he was genuinely daydreaming about the concept.

“You thinking about someone specific?” you teased, nudging him in the ribs playfully.

“Shut up,” he replied, his cheeks flushed, not just due to the alcohol.

You broke into a grin, his lie obvious. "Oh, you are! Tell me, tell me," you chanted, words slurred slightly as you nudged him repeatedly, even sneaking your hands out to tickle his side.

He yelped, batting uselessly at your hands. "No! There's nothing to tell!" he insisted, but his giggling didn't make the words sound very convincing.

Somehow, you ended up halfway in his lap, still poking and prodding at him and demanding to know his little secret, too tipsy to care about the close proximity, or about the fact that his answer might not be who you wanted it to be.

Thankfully, his answer was just what you wanted, and it didn't even come verbally. In a last ditch effort to get you to stop assailing him, George had grabbed your face and pulled you in for a clumsy kiss.

The movie wasn't even half-finished, but it was totally forgotten as you and George got to your feet, stumbling through the house and towards his bedroom, each moment where your lips weren't pressed together spent giggling.

There were no words necessary, your mouths too occupied with kissing to bother. George had already grown hard in his pajama pants, the imprint of his well-sized cock clearly visible through the plaid fabric.

You laid down on his bed, fingers fumbling to remove your top, and George pulled his own shirt over his head with a big of a struggle, the heat of the moment combined with the liquor making every movement desperate and uncoordinated.

It wasn't long until you both completely naked, tangled in his bed sheets. He held your face with so much care, thumb stroking your jaw as he kissed you.

"Youhave no idea how long I've wanted this," he breathed, lining his cock up with your entrance. "Since the ice breaker before our internship, I swear..."

"Me too," you replied. "Didn't even realize how bad I needed you, but it's always been there."

You two both moaned as he entered you, your fingernails digging into his back. It felt so good, the stretch of his cock filling you. It was a blessing that no one else was home to hear the way the bed creaked, the way you gasped and how he groaned.

As he fucked you, George used his thumb to rub circles on your clit, bringing you close to orgasm as he approached his own.

"Fuck," you breathed. "I'm gonna—"

"Me too," he said.

It didn't long for you to both be finished, laying spent on his flannel bedsheets. From the alcohol and the rush of adrenaline, you both fell asleep like that, naked and cuddled together.

***

When you awoke the next morning, you immediately felt the headache before your eyes had even opened. Weren't you too old, too mature to be getting hungover like this? And you were on-call today, which was just the cherry on top.

Or, so you thought. The real cherry on top was when you opened your eyes and say none other than your best friend, George O'Malley, laying next to you.

Fuck, you thought. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

You jumped out of the bed, and your head pounded in protest. You ignored it, too occupied with the fact that you were naked, your clothes strewn about George's bedroom floor. You gathered them up hastily and snuck out of his room, dashing into your own.

You took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. Maybe George wouldn't remember! Maybe you could just move on, pretending that it had never happened.

It was wishful thinking, though. Once you had showered, gotten ready for work, and eaten some semblance of breakfast, George emerged from his bedroom, still shirtless, and nearly bumped right into you in the hallway.

"Morning," he said, sounding exhausted. "What the hell did we drink last night?"

"Don't remember," you replied. "I gotta go. See you later!"

You weren't being very subtle. Izzie, Meredith, and Cristina kept questioning why you were acting jumpy, flustered, and hungover.

"Did you go on a date?" Izzie asked.

Meredith chimed in. "Was it someone here?"

"Oh, don't tell me you're screwing an attending, too," Cristina said.

"I just didn't get much sleep," you replied.

Thankfully, your pager beeped and gave you an excuse to leave. You went to the room you were summoned to, expecting to find a patient in need or an attending who wanted you to scrub in.

Instead, you found an empty room with none other than George O'Malley standing in it.

"Hey," he said.

"Hi," you replied, fighting the urge to run right back out of the room.

"So, when I was getting dressed this morning, I noticed the, um...Well, the scratches on my back. I just want to make sure...It was you, right? Like, I didn't do something totally stupid?"

"It was me," you said. "And who says it wasn't stupid? We...We're friends, George, we shouldn't...I mean, I don't want to lose that."

George's face fell slightly, and you focused your gaze on the floor to ignore it.

"Of course," he replied. "Yeah, no, you're right. We were drunk, anyway. It didn't...It didn't have to mean anything."

"Cool. Well, uh...I'll see you later."

You rushed out of the room, refusing to look back at him.

(there will be a part two, don't worry!!)

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scaredcacticle · 3 months

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Headcanons for dating George O'Malley...

He's always thought you were pretty, beautiful actually, but you were friends and nothing more.

Until one day Izzy lets slip that you think George is cute.

"(y/n)? (y/n) thinks I'm cute? They think I'm... Oh god, I'm gonna pass out."

Through Meredith and Izzy's incessant pestering, they keep telling George to ask you out but he's terrified, he's so freaking scared.

"What if she says no?!"

"But George what if she says yes?!"

It takes a few days of convincing but after a drink in Joe's with some liquid confidence, George asks to have a chat with you and tells you in a very George like way.

"We're friends, right? We're actually pretty good friends but Izzy told me something and I keep going over it in my head that maybe we're not just friends... Maybe we could be more. What I'm trying to say, (y/n), is that I like you. A lot. And I want to spend time with you that isn't in the hospital or at Meredith's mom's house. I want to go out like two normal people going on a date. I want to take you on a date."

To his surprise, you agree eagerly and you plan a date for the next night when the two of you should be off work.

He's sweet, god he's so sweet. He's nervous as all hell but it's endearing the way he stumbles over his words as he tries to tell you how beautiful you look as he stands at your front door.

The first date is a little awkward initially but George probably does something a little silly like spilling his water down his shirt which makes the two of you laugh until your stomach hurts and then the ice is broken.

He's always been so damn easy to talk to but in this context where it's the two of you on a date, he's so attentive, listening intently to what you're saying, asking genuinely interested questions. You've never been on a date like it where the other party is so curious about you.

He's so funny. You'd known George a long time, been friends for ages, but you never realised just how funny he was. He had a whole lot of stories about his family, about his wild brothers and his dad that had you in hysterics the whole night over dinner.

He takes you home once again nervous and bumbling and you know why. He wants to kiss you. He just doesn't know how you'll be if he asks. Will it be weird? He doesn't know.

"I had a great time tonight, (y/n)..."

"Me too, George. That's the best date I've had honestly."

"Seriously? I mean, uh, yeah, me too..."

There's an awkward pause but George takes a breath and asks, "Can I kiss you?"

You don't answer but instead clash your lips together in a passionate though short kiss.

From there on your friendship blossoms into a steady relationship.

You sneak away from your busy lives as Doctors to make out in closets where Bailey catches you and gives you the worst cases but it's worth it.

Izzy teases the two of you whenever she sees you cuddled up together on the couch when she comes home from her shift. She loves seeing the two of you happy though.

George gives the best cuddles, it's like everything else disappears when he cuddles you. He's warm and soft and his arms are home to you. If you've had a crappy day at work, he's the only one you want to make you feel better.

Forehead kisses, cheek kisses, neck kisses, knuckle kisses. George loves to kiss you, he kisses you anywhere and everywhere he can.

The sex is always so passionate and tender and he attends to you like no other. He makes sure that you're satisfied no matter how long it takes. He loves to pleasure you. He loves the taste of you, loves the smell, loves the way you react to him. That alone is enough to please him.

It's one night after you've had a bad day at work and you're curled around each other he whispers that he loves you. You're falling asleep but you hear him, "I love you too, George."

He lets you call him Georgie and he surprisingly doesn't mind it. It doesn't annoy him like his brothers when they call him it. He likes it when you call him it.

He has about a million pet names for you. Babe, baby, sweetheart, love; any sort of cutesy name George will call you it along with some silly ones too.

He introduces you to everyone as his girlfriend, even patients, because he is so damn in love with you.

Date nights curled on the couch watching scary movies.

Date mornings having breakfast and coffee before work every morning.

Helping each other study for tests, grabbing coffee for each other every so often during your shifts.

You don't get a lot of free time together but when you do, the two of you make it count.

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scaredcacticle · 3 months

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scaredcacticle · 4 months

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If I shall fall. On that day. I only pray;

Don't fall away from me.

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scaredcacticle · 4 months

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my friend took in a stray and she’s the cutest kitty ever but he named her oil so whenever he sends a picture of her me and my other friends look like we’re roleplaying as the US military

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scaredcacticle · 4 months

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someone: hi

me: did you know the narrative that school shooters in the US are all bullying victims is false and originates from inaccurate coverage of one of the most infamous school shootings, the columbine shooting? in reality the columbine shooters were reactionaries who isolated themselves deliberately and followed an ideology that positioned them "above" the rest. so, a lot of school shooters are actually ideologically motivated rather than revenge motivated. no one knows this and the media paints these murderers as victims. do you want to know what the columbine effect is? also I have a lot to say about "stranger danger" as a conservative fear campaign to promote the isolated nuclear family

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scaredcacticle · 4 months

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my friend took in a stray and she’s the cutest kitty ever but he named her oil so whenever he sends a picture of her me and my other friends look like we’re roleplaying as the US military

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scaredcacticle · 4 months

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I see you all are also whores for Stu…

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scaredcacticle · 4 months

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Love is Never Easy

Pairing: Elliot Stabler x Wife!Reader

Summary: Elliot's temper and anger issues force a wedge between the two of you. You ask for a separation in the hopes that it pushes him to get the help he needs.

Warnings: Separation and talks of divorce. Cursing. Use of pet names. SMUT, unprotected sex (P in V), not super descriptive...this is about love making and connection.

"That tension in your jaw? Your vein pulsing in your forehead? The way you clench your hands into tight fists? It's rage, Elliot. Pure, intense rage."

"How the hell would you know how I'm feeling, huh? Are you psychic now?" he yelled.

"I can read the cues, Elliot. And I know you, better than anyone else. If you keep bottling it up, eventually you're going to explode. God only knows who you'll take with you when you do."

"How many times do I have to tell you I'm fine?!"

"It doesn't matter how many times you say it!" you yelled back. "A blind man can see you're not okay."

"You think because you're a shrink you know everything?"

"When it comes to you, I'm your wife, not a shrink. But I can't turn it off, Elliot. You need help."

"Screw you, (Y/N)."

He started to walk out the door and you felt your heart clench in your chest. You knew if he left, there was a good chance something terrible would happen.

"Just answer one question," you begged, stopping him in his tracks. "How many times have you thought about eating your gun?"

For the first time since the argument had begun, Elliot was speechless. You had never asked him that before and he didn't know how to answer you. He didn't know how to tell you that he thought about it all the time. He didn't know how to tell you that he'd almost made you a widow more times than he could count.

Even when he wasn't thinking about killing himself, he was making decisions that put him in danger...way beyond the typical line of duty scenarios. He put himself in harm's way so often it had almost become second nature. He tried never to think about you getting a knock on the door...his partner and his captain telling you he was gone.

If he thought about those things, then he couldn't be reckless. He couldn't make those poor choices. As it stood, those choices were already killing him inside. He'd pulled away from you long before you'd put the separation on the table. What was the point in hurting you more than he already had?

"Suicide's a sin," he mumbled.

"This isn't about religion. This is about you and the choices you make."

When he turned to look at you, his eyes were haunted--filled with a pain so deep you couldn't begin to comprehend it. You took a step towards him, desperate not to lose him. "Talk to me, Elliot. Just talk to me."

His heart ached hearing you plead like that. It wasn't in your nature to beg, and here you were begging for the second time in less than a minute. "What do you want me to say?"

"The truth," you pleaded.

To your surprise, he turned around, shutting the door behind him. He leaned against the wall and ran his fingers over his face, emotion covering every inch of it. "You don't just wanna leave and get this over with?"

"Is that really what you want me to do? Do you I believe I think so little of our marriage?"

"No," he whispered, almost inaudibly.

"Then for once, Elliot, please. Just be honest with me."

He stared at the floor for several moments before deciding to answer you, eyes never leaving the ground. "I think about it all the time, but I'm more inclined to be reckless than I am to eat my own gun."

You were taken aback by his words. You hadn't really expected him to be honest with you and you certainly hadn't expected him to give you that answer.

"Do you want to fix this?" you asked softly, unsure if you really wanted the answer.

He finally looked up at you. "I don't wanna lose you."

"Then get help."

**********

It had been six long months since you'd begged Elliot to get help. Six months since you'd told him you wanted to separate. Six months since you'd taken the kids and moved in with your sister.

You only saw Elliot on weekends when he came to pick up the kids, and even then it was only briefly. The only news you ever got about him came from Olivia when she would call you to give you an update.

You'd never wanted to split up...never wanted a divorce...never wanted to lose him. But you had to protect yourself and your kids. Plus, you wanted to shock him into getting help. Asking for a separation was the only thing you could think of to push him into finally talking to someone.

You had no idea if he was going to therapy or not. He'd never told you and you didn't ask. For the first time in 15 years, you felt like it wasn't your place to pry. If he wanted to open up to you, then he would do it on his own.

You were sitting at your desk, thinking about the past, remembering things you'd long since forgotten. Most of your memories with Elliot were good, but this wasn't a happy trip down memory lane.

You remembered when you got pregnant with your first child. Elliot had just joined the NYPD and you were settling into your new job with the FBI as a forensic psychiatrist.

When Elliot found out you were pregnant, he was thrilled...but as the days went on, his mood shifted. You started to worry about whether he actually wanted this baby or not, a concern you'd never had before.

One day, you finally gathered the courage to ask him what was going on. "El...do you not want this baby?" you'd whispered.

He'd been shocked. "Of course I do, doll! You know I've always wanted a family, especially with you."

"Then why don't you seem happy?"

He'd grabbed your hand and squeezed it tightly. A look of sadness had crossed over his features and he whispered his biggest fear aloud for only you and God to hear, "What if I'm like my dad?"

You knew his past. You knew how his father had treated him. What was worse was you knew exactly how badly it had damaged him. But you also knew him.

"If I know anything for certain, I know this," you began. You gently lifted his chin so he was looking into your eyes. "You are not your father. You are kind, loving, and gentle...and I know you're going to treat this baby as reverently as you treat me."

The memory almost hurt to think about now. You hadn't been wrong...Elliot was nothing like his father, but he'd carried that hurt with him for almost 40 years. It affected him in ways even he didn't want to admit.

You sighed loudly, trying to will the memory away. You didn't want to think about it anymore.

"Am I interrupting?"

You looked up with a smile. "Never. What's up?"

Your partner and close friend, George Huang, entered your office. "I heard the dramatic sigh. You okay?"

You shrugged. "Taking a trip down memory lane. It's nothing."

He gave you a look that said he wasn't at all convinced, but he didn't pry. "How are the kids?"

"They're all doing really well, considering. The twins keep asking when daddy is coming home."

He nodded his understanding. "And how is Elliot?"

"You'd know better than me. You're the one that sees him all the time."

"Only because you refuse to go to the precinct."

"It would be awkward and you know it."

He sighed. "Do you want my opinion?"

You groaned. "Professional or friend?"

"A little of both."

"Fine--go on."

He sat down in the chair closest to your desk. "He's different, (Y/N/N). Anyone can see that he's trying and the whole squad has noticed it, myself included. As your friend, I really think you should talk to him."

"What if he doesn't wanna talk to me?"

Huang gave you a look that said it all. "If you don't know how much that man loves you, then you're an idiot." He held up his hand to stop your protest. "And I know you're not an idiot. Talk to him, (Y/N/N). He needs you."

He got up and left your office without another word, leaving you to sit there and think about what you were gonna do next.

**********

It took a couple weeks, but you finally decided to take Huang's advice. You'd called Elliot and asked him to meet you for dinner at a little diner near the office.

You arrived about 10 minutes early and to your surprise, Elliot had already gotten a table and was waiting for you. It was very unlike him to be on time...let alone early.

He stood up when he saw you walk in, but when you reached the table, it became evident he didn't know what to do.

"Can I hug you?" he asked softly.

You nodded and offered him a small smile. He pulled you against him tightly and held on, as if he was terrified of letting go.

You pulled away and gestured for him to sit back down. You slid into the booth across from him and began to study him. You knew you shouldn't...but you wanted--needed--to know where his head was.

He actually looked shockingly good, better than he had in a long time. His eyes were clear and bright, and the bags that had once lingered under them were gone. He was clean shaven and his hair had recently been trimmed. All in all, he looked healthy and perhaps even happy.

"You look good," you commented softly.

"So do you."

You knew for a fact you did not look good...but you appreciated the lie. Being apart from him for so long had really taken its toll on you, as had taking care of the kids by yourself. You were tired, mentally, emotionally, and physically.

You looked down at the clothes you were wearing and felt a twinge of embarrassment. Your shirt was more wrinkled than you would have liked and you were pretty sure you'd accidentally gotten bleach on your black pants, as evidenced by the odd reddish stain you hadn't noticed that morning. You'd come straight to the diner from work, so you hadn't had time to change.

"I look like I slept on a park bench last night," you grumbled as you tried to smooth down your shirt.

Elliot chuckled, the sound clear and crisp. "You look as beautiful as the day I met you...cheesy as that may sound."

You blushed. "It ranks up there with cheesiest comments you've ever made."

He smiled. "It's nice to see you, (Y/N)," he said softly. "I mean really see you."

You simply nodded. You weren't quite ready to talk about the separation yet. "How have you been?"

He sighed, noting your subtle avoidance. "It was hard at first--really damn hard--but I'm actually doing pretty well now." He paused. "I, uh--I started seeing a therapist."

Your face lit up in surprise. You hadn't expected him to be honest with you so quickly. "Really? That's great."

"Yeah, it's actually been surprisingly helpful. I feel like I've broken down a lot of those barriers I had up, ya know? It was awful at first, but once I started talking, it was like I couldn't stop. For a while there, I was going twice a week. Now I'm down to biweekly and the doc says I'll probably be able to go to once a month soon."

You felt a little jolt of pride warm your chest. You were proud of him for owning his issues and for working to make himself better. All you ever wanted was for him to start to heal...if he couldn't talk to you, then he might as well talk to someone who could help him.

"George mentioned you'd been going to therapy. He said you were doing really well."

His expression soured slightly. "Huang told you?"

"He is my partner, you know." You sighed. "If it makes you feel better, he only told me a couple weeks ago."

"It's not that I didn't want you to know or anything...I just kinda wanted to be the one to tell you."

"When were you planning on telling me, El?"

"I don't know...I figured I'd just mention it when I picked up or dropped off the kids."

"You've been going to therapy for how long?"

"Almost 7 months."

"I'm proud of you, Elliot, I really am. But I wish you would have told me sooner."

"I'm sorry."

Your eyes widened slightly. "I...I can't remember the last time you apologized to me for something."

He looked down at the table. "I know. It's one of things we've been working on."

"I appreciate your apology," you whispered. "It's just--If I'd known about the therapy, I probably would have arranged this meeting sooner."

"Really?"

He seemed genuinely surprised and it broke your heart a little. "I missed you, El. Every single moment of every day for the last 7 months."

His eyes widened in surprise. "I--I didn't know."

A look of hurt flashed across your face.

"I just figured you wanted to get away from me," he said quickly. "I mean, you're the one who asked for the separation."

You reached across the table and grabbed his hand. "I never intended to hurt you, Elliot. I just wanted you to get the help you needed. I..." you sighed. "I missed the man I love, the man I married, the wonderful loving husband and father...I just wanted him back."

He squeezed your hand. "I didn't even realize how far away I'd gotten from the person I was, but when I did, it was too late. You'd already pulled away and then we had that big fight and that was it...you moved out and I had to try and piece my life back together."

You swallowed thickly. "Something needed to get your attention, Elliot. My words weren't enough. I asked for the separation because I thought it would force you to get help. I never intended to take it any farther than that."

He lifted your hand to his lips and kissed it gently. "I know," he whispered against your skin. "I think it saved me, (Y/N)--I really do."

"I'm glad, El. I really am." I just hope it saves us.

As if he read your mind, he spoke your thought into existence, "I hope it's enough to save us, baby. I still love you more than anything in this life."

Your heart skipped a beat just like it used to when you were young and madly in love with the man sitting across from you. "Nothing's changed for me. I love you more now than I ever have."

"Even after everything I've done? Everything I've said? All those times I let my temper get the best of me?"

"Even after all of that."

"I'm not sure I deserve it."

"You have my love and my forgiveness, Elliot. They're mine to give and I give them to you freely," you said gently. "It may surprise you, but I always knew why your temper was so intense, why you'd fly off the handle at the smallest thing...but you never wanted to open up to me, so I couldn't help you. I did the only thing I could think of to help you help yourself."

"I'll be forever grateful, (Y/N)."

"Me too."

He looked at you quizzically, so you elaborated.

"I'm grateful for your strength, your perseverance...for your willingness to change. And I will always be grateful for your love."

"It means a lot to me, (Y/N/N)."

"I always had faith in you, El."

He smiled, but the expression didn't quite reach his eyes. There was something more...something that was clearly bothering him.

Much to your surprise, you didn't have to prod him for answers. "What about us, (Y/N)?"

"I always hoped the separation would be temporary."

"We were broken long before the separation, doll. As much as I don't want to admit it, it's the truth."

A look of sadness crossed your face. "I know."

"Can we fix it?" he asked so softly you almost didn't hear him.

"I'll never stop trying," you whispered back. "I'm not ready to give up on us, Elliot."

"Neither am I. I never wanna lose you," he admitted. "I'll do whatever it takes to fix this."

"I think this is a good start," you responded softly.

"Forgiveness," he said simply. "Forgive ourselves and each other."

You nodded. "Forgiveness."

The two of you spent several hours at the diner--talking, eating, laughing, even crying. It felt good to be with each other like this...to hash out so many things that needed to be said, deal with all the things that needed to be handled.

Before you knew it, your watch read 10pm. You hadn't even realized you'd been siting there for so long. "Shit, it's 10! The kids will probably already be in bed."

Elliot looked at his watch in surprise. "I didn't even realize it was so late. Stay here--I'll go pay the bill and then I'll walk you out."

A few minutes later, he came back to the table to get you.

"Where'd you park?"

"I took the subway, actually."

"Oh, um...can I at least drive you home? Or if you don't want me to do that, I can call you a cab--"

"I would love if you took me home," you said, cutting him off.

He seemed relieved. He hated the idea of you being out late at night, completely alone. He couldn't guarantee you'd be safe in a cab anymore than the subway. "My car's this way."

He started walking down the sidewalk and you fell in step beside him. It was a chilly evening and you'd been completely unprepared for the drop in temperature. After a few minutes, you started to shiver, the cold cutting right through your thin shirt.

Elliot took notice immediately. "Take my jacket, baby. It's cold." He started to shrug it off and before you could protest, he cut you off. "You're freezing, so take the jacket. No fuss."

You accepted it gratefully, the warmth flooding your body the moment you put it on. "Thank you," you said softly.

"You're welcome."

As you continued to walk, his scent washed over you with every breath you took. His jacket smelled like him and it enveloped you in a warm cocoon of Elliot. His scent was even more intoxicating than you were used to, perhaps because you hadn't smelled it in so long.

You tentatively brushed your hand against his, gauging his reaction to the touch. Unlike you, he didn't hesitate--he intertwined his fingers with yours in such a familiar way, it almost made you cry. You hadn't realized how much you'd missed this...all those little things the two of you stopped doing ages ago. All the little ways you showed love or affection had seemingly died off, but what scared you most was that you hadn't really noticed.

"When did we stop touching each other?" you whispered aloud.

"What?"

You hadn't even realized you'd said anything out loud until he spoke. "Oh--I was umm...I was just wondering when we stopped being affectionate? I--well, I don't remember the last time we held hands."

His eyes darkened with sorrow. "Neither do I. I can't pinpoint an exact moment--all I know is that I missed this. So much."

"I missed you," you whispered. "In all the ways you can miss someone."

You'd just reached his car when you stopped talking. Elliot opened the door for you, but you didn't get in. He'd always been good at reading you, just as you were good at reading him. Years of loving someone will do that to you.

He took a step towards you so his body was mere inches away from yours. You looked up at him and your breath caught in your chest. As you stood there feeling like a love-struck teenager, all you could think was please kiss me.

As if Elliot heard your thoughts, he leaned into you and pressed his lips to yours with a tenderness you'd long since forgotten. Your hands rested on his hips and you pulled him closer to you, desperate to feel his warmth.

The tenderness quickly turned to something darker, something more primal. You needed him--and he needed you--like a drowning man needs oxygen. He was your drug of choice, always had been, and you knew you'd never be able to quit him.

Elliot pressed his body up against yours, leaning you back against the frame of the car. He held onto you, lips parting to deepen the kiss.

You needed to breathe and you suspected he did too, but in that moment, nothing else mattered. It was you and him, locked in a passionate embrace you never wanted to end.

But it had to end eventually--the survival instinct kicked in and you pulled away from each other, completely breathless. You both sucked in air desperately as he leaned his forehead against yours.

"Baby..." he whispered.

"Take me home," you begged.

He pulled away instantly, a look of hurt crossing his handsome face. "I'm sorry, (Y/N/N), I didn't mean to--I shouldn't have--"

You grabbed him and tugged him to you so you could kiss him again. When you let him go, he stared at you in stunned silence. "Take me home, Elliot. Please."

He started to smile as the realization crossed his face. He'd thought you were asking him to take you to your sister's...not home. "You've got it, doll."

You smiled warmly as he helped you into the car before practically running to the driver's side. You chuckled lightly, his haste making you roll your eyes affectionately.

As soon as he was in the car, he was off--speed limit be damned.

"Babe, if you wreck this car, I swear..."

He laughed. "I won't, I promise. I just need to get my girl home, okay? She asked so nicely."

You chuckled again. You couldn't remember the last time you felt this way--like a giddy schoolgirl or a horny teenager. As opposed as you were to breaking traffic laws, you decided to let it slide this time--the need to get home as soon as possible was really all you could think about.

In what had to be record-breaking time, Elliot pulled into the driveway of the home the two of you had shared together for almost 10 years. You hadn't been inside in months, but right now there was only one room you cared to see.

Elliot didn't even make it around the front of the car before you were closing your door and making your way to the house. He chuckled lightly as he ran after you, arms snaking around your waist to you pull you back against his chest.

"What's the rush, baby?"

"I need you, Elliot, and I need you now. Are you really gonna make me wait?"

The dark, seductive tone in your voice nearly brought him to his knees. "No ma'am," he insisted. Then he scooped you up like he did when you were both a lot younger and carried you to the door like you were his brand new blushing bride.

"Elliot!" you yelled, laughter clouding your voice. "Put me down! You're gonna strain your back."

He laughed too, but he didn't put you down. "Don't underestimate my strength, baby. Besides, you're light as a feather."

"You lie, but I love it."

He grinned as he carried you across the threshold. "I would never."

Instead of putting you down once you were inside the house, he continued to carry you towards the stairs. "Absolutely not!"

"I'm not gonna drop you."

"No, but we might fall down the stairs!" You started to squirm to make your point.

"Fine, fine. But only because trying to hold onto you now would probably be a death sentence." He sat you down gently. "Crazy woman," he teased as he leaned in to kiss you.

"Lock the door and meet me upstairs," you said before running up the steps to your bedroom.

He grinned ear to ear, and made sure to lock the front door before racing after you.

When he reached the bedroom you'd shared for almost a decade, his heart skipped a beat at the sight before him. Somehow in the 10 second head start you'd had, you managed to get down to nothing but your bra and panties. You were laying on the bed, chest rising and falling rapidly, a look of heady desire on your face.

"Aren't you gonna come in?"

Elliot smiled and stepped into the room. "I was just admiring the view."

You smirked. "See something you like?"

"I see someone I love."

Your expression softened and you reached out for him. "Come here, baby."

He slipped his shoes off and made his way over to the bed.

"Wait--maybe take off your shirt and pants first."

He raised his eyebrows.

"Unless you want me to rip them off."

He laughed. "As sexy as that might be, I don't want to be vacuuming up buttons for the next month."

You laughed softly and watched as he quickly undressed. "Lose the undershirt too, while you're at it."

"When did you get to be so demanding?" he teased before complying with your request.

"You love it," you teased back.

He climbed onto the bed and hovered over you. His lips grazed your ear, as he whispered, "You know I do."

When he kissed you this time, you felt all the years of love the two of you shared, all the things you'd left unsaid for so long, and all the emotions you had both been holding back.

Love wasn't easy--it was messy and imperfect, but you wouldn't have traded it for anything. Very few people were blessed with true love and those that were knew to hold onto it. You had come so close to losing it--losing him--but you'd never let yourself really feel that loss. His gentle loving touch reminded you of everything you'd come so close to losing and it brought tears to your eyes.

"Hey," he said softly, noticing your tears. He brushed back your hair and he wiped a tear from your cheek. "What's wrong, doll?"

"Nothing, El," you assured him. "Everything is just right."

"You don't usually cry when I kiss you."

You laughed lightly and wiped your eyes. You reached up to touch his face and he leaned into your palm. "Losing you is my biggest fear," you whispered. "I came so close...I never want to feel that way again."

"You won't," he murmured as his eyes turned glossy. "I'm not going anywhere."

You sighed softly. "Make love to me, Elliot Stabler."

"Your wish is my command, (Y/N) Stabler."

Hips lips met yours again in a searing kiss. The way he touched you, held you, kissed you--it was passionate and loving, and you were once again reminded that it had been years since you'd made love like this.

His hands were gentle, but firm, as if he wanted to make sure you knew he wasn't going anywhere. The room was filled with nothing but his gentle whispers of affection and your soft moans of enjoyment.

By the time he was ready to enter you, you were already teetering on the brink, your body vibrating with need. He slid inside of you in one quick thrust, and you gasped his name in his ear.

There was nothing rushed about the way he moved, despite the pent up desire you'd both experienced. He gave you what you needed and accepted what you gave him. The soft sounds you made spurred him on, his need to hear you reach your peak his driving force.

"I love you so much, (Y/N/N)," he whispered.

You kissed him breathlessly. "And I love you."

There were a thousand things he wanted to tell you, a million sweet nothings, but those would have to wait. He had forgotten what it felt like to be so deeply connected to another person--so intimately intertwined. It was a feeling he could never put into words and he'd only ever felt it with you.

"I missed this," he murmured. "I missed you."

"I missed us," you whispered in return.

In truth, he'd missed everything about being with you. He would have sold his soul if it meant he never had to leave you. He imagined you wouldn't be particularly fond of such a thought, but he couldn't help the way he felt. You were his world and he would have done anything to keep you.

"I'm close," you gasped, nails digging into the flesh of his broad back.

"Hang on for a little longer, baby. I want you to cum with me."

"I don't think I can."

"Yes you can, doll. Do it for me."

You nodded and dug your nails in a little deeper, as if the reflex kept you from falling over the edge.

Elliot groaned softly, the pain mixing with the pleasure in just the right way. He knew he was going to have marks on his back tomorrow and he would wear them with pride.

His pace quickened slightly and your moans began to increase in volume. You continued to clutch onto him and your core spasmed around him, pulling him closer to the edge.

"I'm almost there, baby," he murmured.

You whined, unable to verbally beg him to speed up.

He took the hint and changed his pace again, chasing his own high. He knew you couldn't hold on much longer, but he was desperate to feel you reach your climax at the same time as him.

"Need to cum," you begged.

"Almost, baby."

You whined again, but you continued to hold on.

He knew he was seconds away from orgasming, but he waited until the very last moment to whisper in your ear, "Cum for me."

The moment those words left his lips, the cord in your abdomen snapped and you cried out as the wall of pleasure slammed into you. Elliot came at the same moment, a cry of your name ripped from his throat as he filled you with his seed.

You clung to each other as you began to come down from your highs, unwilling or unable to let go. Elliot collapsed on top of you and you held on tightly, enjoying the feeling of his warm body enveloping yours.

Through the haze of pleasure, you were reminded of how incredible sex was when it was with someone who loved and respected you as much as you loved and respected them. There was nothing special about the sex itself...it was missionary position for crying out loud, but the person you were making love with is what made it special.

"You are my heart and soul, Elliot. I could never love anyone the way I love you." You whispered the words into his hair, almost hoping he didn't hear you.

He didn't move for a long moment--so long, in fact, that you thought he may have simply fallen asleep. Then he lifted his head to look at you and the words he said would stick with you for the rest of your life.

"I never knew what love was until I met you--it was just a word, nothing special. I've been madly in love with you for as long as I can remember and I'll never want anything else. You are my everything, (Y/N)...my sun, my moon, my stars, my universe. You are branded on my soul for all of time."

That was, without a doubt, the most romantic thing he'd ever said to you--and he'd said a lot of romantic things in the past 15 years. Your eyes filled with emotion and you tried your hardest not to cry.

He pulled himself up and leaned over you to kiss you gently and sweetly, a kiss you returned gladly. When he pulled away, he laid down beside you and tugged you to him, not quite ready to let go of you.

You nuzzled into his chest with a sigh, perfectly content to stay right there forever.

Elliot kissed the top of your head and squeezed you tightly, making sure you knew he wasn't going to let you go. He knew there was still going to be a lot for the two of you to talk about, but you'd managed to reform a connection that you'd both lost, and he'd be damned if he let it break again.

He wasn't at all surprised when you spoke up as if you'd read his mind. "We still have a lot to talk about, El."

He chuckled softly. "I know, baby, but we'll have plenty of time to talk tomorrow. For now, I just want to fall asleep with you in my arms."

You sighed happily. "I think I can live with that."

It didn't take long for you both to fall asleep, the comfort of each other's arms all you needed to feel safe, protected, and so very loved. Love is never easy, but it is always worth it.

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scaredcacticle · 4 months

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Hating You Never Felt so Good

PAIRING: Elliot stabler/F!Reader

WARNINGS: rough sex, oral sex(F receiving), degradation, spit kink, slight choking, unprotected sex, orgasm delay/denial

SUMMARY: you and Elliot hated each other, and yet you were forced to work together on an undercover assignment. One day when you do something he doesn’t like, you two get into an argument, one thing leads to another and…

WC: 1443

Elliot stabler had the unusual ability to constantly piss you off beyond words. He could be a selfish asshole, a fuking dipshit, or whatever other creative nickname you could come up with at the time. The nature of your work entailed that you had to spend a lot of time with him, meaning you were prone to storming out of the room in a huff of anger almost daily.

The two of you were in the middle of an extensive undercover operation in a boring suburban town, working hard to bust a crime ring operating nearby. You had just come back to your cookie cutter house where Elliot was surely waiting inside, angry. You had taken a leap of faith and done something without talking to him first. Even though you were right, you knew he would be angry with you for not consulting him.

“Elliot, just listen to me,” you screeched, waving your hands frantically. When you got home you found him holed up in his room, barely keeping a calm demeanor.

“No. You put this whole thing at risk,” he was pointing his finger in your face, something that always aggravated you beyond measure.

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scaredcacticle · 4 months

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My favs

Elliot stabler

Love is never easy

The connection