#svu reader insert

[mlmxreader]

Guard | Elliot Stabler x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ "You don't need to guard me." "I do. I said nothing would hurt you again."With Elliot stabler please? ❞

: ̗̀➛ Elliot uses his holiday leave to stay with you when you get attacked by someone and no one does anything about it.

trigger warnings: ̗̀➛ swearing, violence, minor injury

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Nobody was happy about it.

When it came out that you had been attacked in the streets by someone you had used to know and love, nobody was happy about it; they had to fight tooth and nail for something, anything, to be done to keep you safe but nothing ever came of it.

At least, until Elliot managed to find some time off and get himself to go on holiday leave; still, he wasn't happy that it had to get to that for something to be done.

When he spoke to your friends, they swore at him and cursed him, and he couldn't find it in himself to blame them; so he stood there, stiff as a soldier, and took it. His jaw clenched a bit here and there, some of the words cutting deep and long, but he couldn't blame them at all. It should never have gotten to that point. 

Never. 

After all, you were one of their own... kind of. Sort of. Your nephew went to the same school as one of Elliot's kids and they became friends after sitting next to each other during a few classes, and you had met there a few times thanks to various events and parents' evenings before beginning a long and deep friendship.

It was only natural that Elliot would feel so protective over you, and would despise the very thought of someone ever even considering hurting you. 

Still, he managed to make it to your place without causing any disruption; it felt like he was home already, dumping his coat on the back of the kitchen chair and fixing himself a drink.

He came to sit beside you on the sofa, taking note of the bruises on your face and the bandages on your arms; he clenched his jaw tightly, trying to keep his temper under wraps long enough to growl out the question.

"How you feelin'?"

You sighed, shaking your head as you tilted your head back for a moment, closing your eyes and trying your best to keep your voice even and steady. An audible gulp coming from the back of your throat. "Not fucking great, El, can't lie... been fucked around the bush a lot."

He nodded slowly, daring to reach out and, with great caution, place his hand on your knee as he licked his lips and did his best to think of something better to say. "For what it's worth, you won't be anymore."

You shook your head again, although it wasn't in disbelief or disappointment, it was almost... regret? Guilt?

"It isn't your place, though - you don't need to guard me."

"I do. I said nothing would hurt you again." He pointed out, his tone even but stern. Authoritative but not quite commanding. "The first... do you remember the first time something like this happened?"

You nodded slowly. "You didn't leave me for days."

"I made a promise," Elliot pointed out. "I promised you that nothing, no one would do that again..."

"But it did," you whispered, sniffling and running a hand down your face in hopes that it would prevent the tears from falling. "It did, El, and it isn't your fault, but maybe I would've been better off if they'd have finished the job."

He moved, getting as close to you as he could so that he could gently put his arm around your shoulders, keeping you close as he frowned and let out a harsh, deep sigh. "Don't talk like that. It wasn't your fault, and it wouldn't have been better if they finished the job. I need you, your friends need you... I- we want you around."

You didn't respond, just sighing heavily and doing your best to regulate your breathing for a moment as you chewed at the inside of your lip. "Thank you..."

Elliot didn't want to say it, he couldn't. He was never good at emotions, but there had always been some part of his heart that was tied to you, and it was breaking his heart to think that you were silently blaming yourself for being... for thinking of yourself as an inconvenience. He hated that.

It cut deeper than anything else he had thought of.

"Listen," he pulled away, clearing his throat. "Why don't I get us a pizza? Half and half?"

You nodded slowly. "You sure?"

"My treat," Elliot told you with a shrug. "I know a good place that does delivery. You find something to watch - just not that thing Olivia told you about."

You smiled weakly at his little teasing comment, sniffling loudly and grumbling. "Sorry if I got snot on you..."

He shook his head, waving his hand briefly. "I've had worse... and, erm, don't worry - I'll take the sofa."

You shook your head, almost desperate as you glared at him with pleading eyes. "No, please... no..."

"Hey," without even hesitating, he dropped to his knees in front of you, taking your wrists in his hands. "It's fine. It's whatever you want, okay?"

You nodded, clearing your throat. "Can you sleep in my bed? With me?"

"Sure," he agreed. "Anything. Anything you want."

You smiled weakly again, swallowing thickly. "Thank you... really, Elliot, thank you."

He gave your wrists a small squeeze, just a little reassurance. "I said I'm always here, didn't I?"

You sniffled, your head stinging as you did your best not to start crying again. "I owe you..."

He shook his head, daring to smile a little bit. "If you wanna pay me, you can let me call your work tomorrow - I'll explain everything, don't worry."

"You'd do that?"

"Sure," he shrugged, hesitating for a split second. "We're friends."

You dared to lean forward, gently kissing his forehead. "I love you."

Fuck. He wished it meant something else. Pulling away as he cleared his throat and offered a faux smile, convincing enough to make sure that you relaxed as he made his way over to the phone. His hands were shaking. Shit.

It was going to be a long few days, he knew that much.

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

good evening! thanks so much for reading, but while I have your attention: Huda & Sara are two 12 y/o children from Gaza who are in urgent need of funds rn so that they can seek refuge as well as medical care. if you have anything to spare, even if it's just £1, please consider giving to them. they do genuinely, honestly, need all the help that they can get.

[kryptonitejelly]

nick amaro x reader // law and order SVU

yes, we are going there - what have i done 😭 no plot, really. just a moment.

-

The last thing Nick had expected to find when walking back into the SVU bullpen was you; and yet, here he was, eyes fixed on you as his strides quickened. He notices Fin’s smirk that finds itself aimed his way as he weaves his way between Amanda and Liv to get to you, but he ignores it.

He lets his gaze drag itself over your form, head down on his desk, the lamp on his desk casting a soft glow around your features; the extra suit jacket he leaves hanging on the back of his chair draped over your shoulders. You have a laptop open in front of you, a case file and note pad within reach, all topped off by an uncapped pen lying caged between your curled fingers. He sees the pair of heels which you had shed, one standing, one lying on its side peeking out from under his desk. A dip of his gaze reveals the deep green of the dress which you had on, one of his favourite dresses on you - one that he knew you had worn in to work today in anticipation of Friday having supposed to be date night.

Nick slows his pace as he approaches you, content in the few seconds to allow himself to watch the gentle rise and fall of your shoulders. The sight stirs a mix of emotions in his chest - the swell of emotion that came rushing in whenever he set his eyes on you, and a heavy tinge of guilt. Guilt that he had to cancel the first date night you both had managed to plan after weeks of clashing schedules, guilt that you taken it so well, and guilt that you had somehow found your way here, to the SVU bullpen so that you could both head home together.

Nick drops to a knee, bringing himself to eye level with your face. He raises his hand to cup the side of your face gently. His touch on your skin is light, soft, but it makes you stir immediately.

“Hey,” Nick’s voice grounds you as you let your mind grind to a start, your surroundings shifting into focus. “What are you doing here?”

“Thought we could go home together,” your lips furl up into a gentle smile, voice soft, your eyes, still hazy with sleep, locked onto Nick’s. You forget your bearings for a moment until you hear a cough from behind Nick as various footsteps shuffle into the bullpen. You straighten up slowly, blinking the sleep from your eyes, legs stretching out beneath you as you offer a wave to the rest of the team trudging in.

“An ADA slumming it at Amaro’s desk?” Fin muses, voice joking and light.

“What would Barba say,” Munch follows, expression deadpan.

“Unbecoming isn’t it?” Liv continues with a quirk of one end of her lip.

“What can I say,” you play along, “not all of us have Barba’s flair.”

“Clearly,” Amanda states, looking pointedly at Nick which earns a series of chuckles from the rest of the team and yourself.

“Yeah, yeah,” Nick waves a hand in the air dismissively, but his gaze doesn’t leave you. You tilt your body downward slightly, hands reaching for your discarded heels. Nick notices and he is back on a knee in one fluid motion.

“Nick,” you protest as he places a hand along your calf, his other propping your heel up, helping you back into your heels. You hazard a glance behind your boyfriend, only to find the rest of the team, tactfully busying themselves with their desks. “I’m not Cinderalla,” you state, but with no real protest as you let him guide your other heel back on.

“I’m not your Prince Charming?” He teases, not caring who else heard, giving your calf a gentle squeeze before winking at you and straightening back into a stand.

“I’ll get back to you on that,” you pull a face as you turn to gather your belongings, making quick work of shoving them into your bag with Nick’s help.

“Way to hurt a man,” he places a hand on his chest as you shrug his spare jacket off your shoulders; Nick takes it from you, hanging it back on his chair.

“She could hurt you more” Fin cuts in again with a sing-song voice. It makes you chuckle, as you catch a wink Amanda throws in your direction.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be Detective Tutuola,” Nick asks all while shrugging off the jacket on his shoulders to place it over yours, letting it hang off your frame. He flicks off the light switch on his desk and picks your bag up.

“If I say no, will you let me tag along?”

Your yes comes at the same time as Nick’s absolutely not, and it earns you another series of chuckles around the room.

“Don’t call me till Monday,” Nick calls out, while threading his fingers through yours as he starts to guide you towards the lift. You barely manage to call out a goodbye, before the lift doors shut on you both.

“I didn’t-” your protest is cut short by Nick’s lips on yours, his free hand circling your waist, going over the fabric of his jacket on your shoulders. You let yourself sink into the kiss, hand sliding up his shoulder and behind his neck as the lift descends to the parking garage.

“I’m sorry I had to cancel today,” he says, forehead resting against yours as he breaks the kiss. His eyes are closed, but you flicker yours open as you run your hand from the back of his neck to cup the side of his jaw.

“You have nothing to apologise for Detective Amaro,” you end with the professional term of address in attempt to diffuse some of the guilt you see in his eyes. “Work,” you continue with a light shrug - Nick was a victim of you cancelling on him as well, and you understood.

“I was really looking forward to tonight,” he says, still apologetic as he finally opens his eyes while leaning his face into your palm.

“I can think of a few ways you can spend the rest of the weekend making it up to me,” you say, dropping your voice to a lower, almost sultry tone as you lean into him, pressing the front of your body into his. Nick responds by pulling you in closer, his hand dipping down the hem of his jacket on your shoulders to slide down onto the curve of your ass.

“Take me home Detective Amaro,” you say as the lift door dings open.

“Your wish is my command,” Nick says in response, taking the opportunity to sear another quick kiss onto your lips before tugging you out of the lift.

[rqgnarok]

leave a light on - nolan price

prequel for love you better now, but can be read individually

fandom: law & order, law & order special victims unit

wc: 4,735

warnings: canon presence of injuries, blood, violence, weapons, and hospitals. female reader.

summary: nolan's wife gets shot. he tries and fails to deal with that.

author's note below! masterlist / ko-fi / ao3

Nolan misses Liv’s call thrice before he calls for a recess.

The first two he’s stuck cross-examining the DA’s witness and he doesn’t realize how many times Liv has tried to get him on the phone until the third time she calls. He can’t answer, obviously– Judge MacNamara is lenient but not enough for Nolan to take a call in the middle of the day– but the call goes to voicemail and his screen lights up with Liv’s other attempts to reach him.

He immediately knows it’s bad. And he immediately knows it’s about his wife.

His chest constricts with his panic, breath catching and refusing to enter his lungs as his brain tries to catch up to the situation. The courtroom is suddenly too small and suffocating, his tie a noose around his neck.

It takes McNamara calling his name several times and the DA snidely wondering if the defense needs a minute for Nolan to somewhat snap out of it, pressing on Liv’s contact before the judge finishes adjourning for the day.

“Nolan,” she says, shaky. 

Not Price, which is what he’d expect from his wife’s coworker. They’re all friends, sure, but during work hours they fall into the habit of keeping everyone at arm’s length. Not right now, for some reason, and Nolan is tiptoeing the line between fine and about to crumble on the courthouse steps from a knock-out panic attack. 

“What happened?” Because something must’ve happened. His wife has one of the most dangerous jobs out there, life-endangering experiences being the norm and coming home not-dead being a good day. But if Liv is calling– if Liv is calling and (Y/N) isn’t…

Nolan has been psyching himself up for this day since (Y/N) first told him about joining the police academy. He’s still somehow not ready. 

He will never be ready for this. 

Olivia hesitates for a second too long and Nolan’s fear gets the best of him. “Olivia. What happened?”

Her voice cracks at (Y/N)’s name. Nolan grips his briefcase so tightly on the way to the hospital that his hand goes numb, nails digging into the skin of his palm until it’s red and tender. 

The knot of anxiety in his belly doesn’t unclench despite the quick, easy ride to the hospital. New York traffic seems to be doing him a favor, but it isn’t the physical distance he’s worried about. That one at least he’s able to cross. There’s nothing he can do if his wife is… if she…

Nolan finds a sea of cops and NYPD blue as soon as he crosses the threshold into Bellevue, worried and talking over each other as they watch over one of their injured own. None of them are familiar faces and his panic increases tenfold, the sound of his heartbeat in his ears drowning out doctors, officers, and detectives. 

Suddenly, the sea of people parts for her, and Olivia is in his line of sight, giving Nolan’s brain something to focus on other than the never-ending possibilities of what he might be facing here. She looks disheveled, shirt askew and vest still halfway on; her hair out of place, and her expression haunted, but no blood. There’s no blood on her and it's an important distinction for Nolan to make when she seizes his free hand in hers.

“Nolan,” she says, and her voice sounds like static, just like it did on the phone. It isn’t the line but Nolan’s brain filled with noise, like cotton in his ears and mouth and eyes stopping him from receiving the world clearly. “Nolan, are you okay?”

“What happened?” he asks again. Liv hadn’t explained, not really. She only told him that (Y/N) was hurt and they were taking her to Bellevue. You should come too, she’d said, and should had sounded more like need, which did nothing to soothe Nolan’s raising hackles.

Nolan’s breath stutters. He knows what happened, but he can’t comprehend it. The hand holding his briefcase is shaking. He asks once more when Liv only blinks at him, mouth open and no words coming out. “What happened?”

“We were chasing a suspect via foot,” and Nick’s there, too, by Liv’s side, like an apparition Nolan might’ve conjured. His brows are furrowed, jaw tense. “We caught him mid-rape and separated to cover more ground. No one had mentioned a gun during their disclosures, he wasn’t supposed to be armed.”

“(Y/N) caught up to him first,” Liv continues, voice dry, shaking her head. “He– Shots went off but we didn’t know– he must’ve known we were onto him. Got his hands on a gun after the first wave of assaults.”

Nolan bites the inside of his cheek. He tastes blood and thinks of his wife, and stops.  

“She was alone for two minutes tops,” Nolan wonders if Liv thinks she’s being reassuring. “She’d been shot, we called a bus right away.”

“Where?” Nolan asks tightly.

Liv blinks. Nick answers, “What?”

“Where, where in her body was she shot, how–” he struggles for a full breath and only comes out half successful. “How bad is it?”

Silence. 

“Did you– did you not see her?” he wonders, biting. Nolan turns back and forth between his wife’s coworkers, losing his patience. “Were you there, was she– Jesus, Liv, how bad is it?”

“The bullet hit her chest,” Nolan loses all fiery, defensive passion right then and there. His own heart stops for a second, or at least that’s what it feels like when his chest is engulfed by a pressing ache that numbs him all over. 

“They took her straight into surgery,” Nick continues when Nolan doesn’t say anything to that, unable to leave his partner to the wolves. “Liv rode with her in the ambulance but there wasn’t– it’s in their hands now. They’re taking care of her, pal, okay? She’s getting help.”

Where was the help when she was alone chasing after a fucking criminal, where the hell were you, huh he wants to say; wants to shout and curse and point and make a scene, but the words get stuck in his throat and in the next blink he finds himself seated in the waiting room, still surrounded by cops.

God, Nolan thinks, pressing his fingers to his tightly closed lids. When, in their fifteen years of knowing each other, could he have seen this coming? The bright-eyed, furiously righteous kid halfway through law school and the pretty girl who took one of his classes as an elective, only to completely destroy one of his classmates during a debate that made up half their grade.

Nolan had watched, mouth barely open in amazement as quiet, back-of-the-class (Y/N) didn’t flinch while delivering the final blow and bringing her team to victory. She snuck out before he could talk to her– do something stupid like congratulate her with stars in his eyes and an invitation for coffee on his tongue, but it didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter because the next weekend his roommate dragged him to a party and she was there, she was everywhere now that Nolan was unconsciously looking out for her. He ran into her in the hallways from one class to another, in the library, at parties and restaurants. It was like the world was screaming at him here! Here, look this way! Here it is, the rest of your life waiting for you! All you gotta do is look! 

He’d been there for hours already, bored and annoyed out of his mind when he saw her across the room. After nursing the same red cup of warm beer and looking at his watch every couple of minutes, calculating the appropriate time to bail he saw her. She’d been leaning against a wall, her expression changing from concealed humor to disbelief to a laugh that had her hiding behind her hand, entertained by whoever she’d been speaking to.

Who it was, Nolan doesn’t remember. He doesn’t even think about the cliche of it all, how the world faded when their eyes locked across the room and (Y/N) gave him a smile, shy, shrugging and turning back to her conversation. 

The funny pressure on his chest didn’t dissipate when he finally got a chance to exchange words with her. After the final exam, Nolan left the lecture hall and sat heavily on a bench by the door, catching his breath from the adrenaline of a month worth of study finally being over. 

(Y/N) was there, too, smiling sheepishly up at him as she crouched against the wall, elbows on her knees. Her expression brims with shy recognition as she nods. “How’d you do?”

She was talking about the exam. Nolan’s embarrassed to this day by the time it took for him to catch up. His cheeks were flushed when he answered. “I’m, uh, not flushing out yet, I hope.”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

“Ask me after I’ve slept some 12 hours,” he sighed, messing nervously with his hair. “Things usually seem less dire by then.”

“Would some coffee do the trick?” and Nolan didn’t know it then, but (Y/N) was nervous, bravery swelling inside her chest as she asked him for the first day of the rest of their lives. In the end, she’d been the one to catch up to all the signs, all the serendipitous opportunities to finally end up where they were supposed to. 

“Coffee can work,” Nolan, young and eager, said slowly. He couldn’t stop grinning, high with lack of sleep and the attention of a pretty girl. “You’re buying?”

“It’s only fair,” she shrugged, but there was something giddy about her expression that he still sees in her face to this day sometimes, bright and young. “You look like you’re about to drop dead.”

“And I still seem like worthy company?”

“I think we can pull a few good hours out of you yet,” a few hours, a few years; Nolan will be as sleepless as he was then on his wedding day out of pure excitement. They’ll have spent the night before the ceremony talking on the phone while they slept in separate rooms because their friends are sentimental little fucks like that and wouldn’t let him even kiss her goodbye before the big day. 

He’d described the few hours apart as agony in his vows, had made the crowd laugh and (Y/N) cry with the sentiment, and he wishes he hadn’t now. He shouldn’t have said a damned thing, shouldn’t have manifested any sort of agony into their lives because now the illusion cuts off sharply, and then he’s back in the waiting room, a nurse calling (Y/N)’s name while he plays with his wedding ring and bites the inside of his cheek, staring blankly into the hallway. 

Liv’s still there for some reason, as are some other officers and Amaro, while the others hunt down the man who landed their friend in the hospital. Munch had snapped at the Captain when he told him he couldn’t stay. Fin had to lead Amanda out of the hospital by the shoulders, too stricken to do it herself. 

Liv and Amaro stand when they hear the nurse but it takes Nolan a few moments to gather himself back together enough to pay attention. She tells them, gently, “She’s out of surgery. She lost a lot of blood, but only some of the bullet’s fragments hit her heart. It was touch and go but the doctor was able to extract all of them.”

Nolan’s lungs open up and he gets the first full breath washing over his body since Liv called. He must make a sound, because the attention in the room shifts to him, suffocating and inquisitive. His vision blurs for a second, not because of tears but adrenaline, his heartbeat pumping in his ears.

“She’s extremely lucky,” she continues, and she’s looking right at Nolan when she says this, like it's supposed to help. Like that’s what luck means, almost-but-not-quite bleeding out while your heart is stitched up back together. “Most people with injuries like this don’t even make it past the ambulance.”

Nolan closes his eyes in anguish. He presses his closed fists against his forehead, elbows on his knees, back hunched. It’s almost like he’s trying to disappear into himself, away from the image of an ambulance opening its doors when arriving at the hospital only to be met with his flatlining wife, the sound echoing through his brain and overriding every other of his senses.  

“There’s still a long way to go,” she continues, softer, realizing she’s hit a nerve. She turns to Liv and Nick, who are paying rapt attention even as Nick walks close to him to put a hand on Nolan’s shoulder, tight and steady. “She won’t wake up anytime soon. Her body needs rest and to recuperate from the most acute of her injuries. And the doctor would like to talk about next steps once she does.”

Next steps, Nolan thinks. Next steps, the only next steps he’s aware of are those that lead to his wife, the nurse walking him to her room. Olivia and Amaro trail behind him like a couple of guard dogs, standing alert for any sign of Nolan backing out or collapsing into his grief.

He just might. He feels queasy, nauseous with exhaustion and worry. But then he sees his wife, and, really, nothing else matters. 

“Sweetheart,” he says, devastated, walking to her bed across the hospital room. “Oh, honey.”

Despite his eagerness to touch her, Nolan flails when (Y/N)’s finally within arms reach. She looks asleep for one blissful, hopeful moment, but then Nolan blinks and the light settles; the ashiness of her skin, the uncomfortable placing of her body, the blank expression devoid of dreams or nightmares or consciousness. 

He’d usually be embarrassed to have a witness to such a personal display of affection, but not even Liv and Nick standing tall at the door can stop Nolan from eventually cupping (Y/N)’s face in his hands and kissing the apple of her cheek, lingering and gentle. He’s afraid of touching the rest of her, of jostling her too badly, but the steady noise of the heart rate monitor is a constant, loud reminder that (Y/N) won’t fall apart that easily.

Liv and Nick linger behind him, talking quietly amongst themselves in sharp whispers. It might or might not be an argument, and in Nolan’s mind it feels like both an eternity and a couple of seconds. He would kick them out if he could gather the energy to care about it. Eventually, Benson takes a few apprehensive steps into the room, seemingly having lost whatever fight she and her partner were having. 

“We’re on our way out,” she murmurs. “There’s a lead on our guy, the Captain’s calling us all back to the precinct. But if there’s anything…”

She trails off. Nolan doesn’t answer, studies instead the bridge of (Y/N)’s nose and the shape of her eyebrows, tries to count her eyelashes and catalog the bruises on her face. Liv sighs defeatedly and reaches for him.  

“Whatever you need,” Liv says firmly with a hand on his arm. Still, her steady presence is undermined by the way she keeps looking at (Y/N) like she’s already attending a funeral. Nolan suddenly can’t stand her, even if she rode the ambulance with (Y/N) to the hospital and kept her semi-conscious until the doctors took her off her hands. “We’re here for you, alright? All of us, Nolan. I’m serious.”

“Thanks,” he says, voice rough and cracked from swallowing down his panic and tears. He clears his throat but it does little to clear up his words. “Thank you, Liv. For everything.”

Her lips tighten in an unpleased line, but she nods and leaves the room with one last squeeze to his shoulder. He’s being ungrateful, the fact doesn’t escape him. Liv’s the one who found her, who held her hand in the ambulance before they drove her off to surgery. Nolan owes Benson his life.

The thought alone makes him so nauseous he has to clench his eyes shut, jaw tight, entire body trembling. God, what would he have done? What will he do, if something happens to (Y/N)? She isn’t out of the woods yet and if something goes wrong, if her body decides to cave in, if the wound gets infected, if there’s something they didn’t catch, if, if, if, if–

He lifts his head and catches his wife’s face, lax and motionless. Once again, the panic settles. He hasn’t gotten the chance to let it unfold the way it needs to. 

“I finally got you on your own,” Nolan says, soft, careful not to disturb the semblance of peace in the room. (Y/N) doesn’t answer, no matter how badly Nolan wants her to. “You’re very popular. A tough one to find these days, you know.”

She wasn’t even supposed to be in today. Cragen had called mere hours after they’d gone to bed– at the same time for the first time in weeks– and Nolan had done his best to stay up after the phone rang and (Y/N) began quickly getting ready. She’d kneeled next to his side of the bed and Nolan had leaned in to kiss her without thought, an automatic notion he wishes he’d paid more attention to now. 

I’ll call you when I can, she nudged her nose against his temple before pressing a kiss there. Nolan had already been half asleep at that point. Love you.

Love you back, Nolan mumbled, jutting his chin forward blindly. One more. 

He continues as if (Y/N) had spoken. “You’ve got half of the NYPD out there waiting on you. The nurses are rioting, but I don’t think anyone’ll leave until you wake up.”

Nolan’s voice loses the battle, it breaks right at the end of his sentence and so does his composure, eyes burning with tears that for some goddamned reason just won’t fall.

“Please,” he begs to the sky, to God, to no one. “Please, please, please. Wake up.”

He presses his forehead to his wife’s limp hand maybe a little too harshly. Even if the skin is cold and her grip is nonexistent, the relief the touch brings Nolan has him sobbing.

An hour ago she was in surgery, out of reach and sight even if she was already getting help.

Three hours ago she was bleeding out in some alleyway in Queens, struggling for her radio to call for help. Seven hours ago she was kissing him goodbye, smiling against his mouth despite the dark nature of the sudden case because Nolan kept pulling her in for one more kiss.

One more, one more, one more, his pleads begs now. Wake up and give me one more, sweetheart, come on now.

“Please, honey,” he whispers, wet and nasal with emotion. “I’m not ready for this. I’m not ready yet, I didn’t– I don’t–”

The words don’t come. Nolan chokes, holds (Y/N)’s hand in his own, and breathes, breathes, and breathes. 

—

Life moves on. 

Nolan doesn’t cry. God knows why, but he can’t, his body on automatic while his mind solely focuses on (Y/N)’s condition. The nurses know him by name and he makes record time to the apartment and back to the hospital for showers and quick naps, some food for the little appetite he has. 

He doesn’t even think to be offended when his boss places him on indefinite leave. Nolan can’t bring himself to care, he would’ve stacked up every sick day and vacation time available to stay at (Y/N)’s side as much as he could anyway. 

The squad offers to stand guard almost daily, which Nolan appreciates, but his object permanence has gone to shit. Whenever he doesn’t have eyes on (Y/N) his panic rises again like a tidal wave, never quite crashing but dwindling whenever he sits next to her at the hospital, hand on her ankle or arm or somewhere he can easily look for her pulse, weak but steady. 

It’s desperate, he knows, and more than a little pathetic, but Nolan feels like he’s allowed. Until (Y/N) wakes up to tell him he’s been worrying over nothing he will do as he pleases.

He talks to her. It’s another coping method that borders on delusion but no one has called him out of it yet. Not even Liv and Amaro, who have caught him more than once speaking quietly into the lull of the hospital room, holding his wife’s hand and drawing soothing motions with his thumb against her skin.

Mom drove into the steps again. The ones in the driveway? They were already loose from last time and now she has Dad driving through every Home Depot in North Carolina to find the right match. 

Jill sends her best. Last time I saw her she was talking my ear off about her kid’s college fund. Apparently her husband lost half of it during Tuesday night with the boys, whatever that means.

Munch says he owes you 20 bucks from the Giants game from two weeks ago? Which is weird, because you haven’t watched a full game since, like, ‘02. Not like you’re missing anything, but still, your accuracy to outsmart Munch in his own line of work is pretty outstanding. 

It helps. Or it helps enough; whenever he ventures over what they’ll do once she’s awake and at home together the illusion breaks and so does Nolan’s voice. He trails off, feeling foolish, the weight of his delusion pressing on his chest.    

“It’s not silly,” Munch tells him during one of his visits, the book he’s been reading to (Y/N) resting on his lap. “It’s helpful and it doesn’t hurt anyone. You’re talking to your wife. If I’d done more of that back in my day then maybe I’d still be married.”

“To which one?” Nolan asks, his lips tingling with the want to almost smile.

Munch points at him as if saying yahtzee. “Exactly.”

He’s so sure it calms Nolan more than you’d expect. So far Munch is the only other person who talks about (Y/N) like she’s still alive and thus, the only one who doesn’t make inexplicable helpless rage wash over Nolan whenever they’re in the same room. 

He’s the one with him when (Y/N) wakes. She does so in a panic, waking Nolan up from his uncomfortable sleep in the chair next to her bed. It’s a sudden flail after another as her heart rate monitor goes crazy and she doesn’t answer any call of her name, terrified and in pain.

It’s awful. Nolan doesn’t think he’ll ever forget how she almost tears at her stitches mid her panic while doctors and nurses gather around her and kick Nolan out with quick accuracy. There’s nothing he can do to help and he knows it, but he’s never supposed to be in a position in which he can’t help her.

He’s doomed to watch from a glass window, helpless, as his wife suffers without anyone to reach out to.  

She woke up but had to be sedated, a nurse tells him after, it’s normal for patients to be unaware of their surroundings after waking up from long periods of unconsciousness. We still haven’t been able to determine neurological damage, so we’ll have to wait until it wears off. 

“Kid, kid, hey,” Munch says, oddly alarmed after coming back from the cafeteria with two coffees and finding Nolan sitting outside (Y/N)’s room, crying into his knees. “What’s wrong, what happened? I was gone for fifteen minutes–”

Nolan tries to explain but the words get caught up in his throat, his grief taking over his sense of logic. She woke up, he meant to say. She woke up and she didn’t know where she was and I stood by like an idiot to watch her suffer. 

After he’s talked down from a panic attack he says, voice a mere croak. “She woke up. They don’t know– but she woke up.”

Munch sighs, visibly relieved as he squats next to Nolan, squeezing his shoulder in support. “Good. That’s good, hey– Nolan. That’s good, okay? That’s one step closer to getting her back. This is good.”

He repeats those words to himself like a mantra. This is good, this is good, this is good, and doesn’t dare to close his eyes for something other than blinking until (Y/N)’s conscious. It’s hours later, deep into the night when she opens her eyes again, groggy and disoriented, blinking into the dark hospital room. 

“Honey,” he says, quiet and so, so relieved. (Y/N) doesn’t appear to hear him and a flash of fear seizes his heart. He presses the button and calls for a nurse, edging closer to the bed. “(Y/N/N). Hey, honey, you with me?”

Arduously slowly, (Y/N) follows the sound of his voice. She blinks at him, gulping and saying, dry as the Sahara. “Nole.”

It’s the most glorious thing he’s ever heard. The smile that pulls at his mouth is unconscious, ripped from him almost against his will. He goes to touch her face, hands shaky and reverent. “Yeah. Yeah, sweetheart, it’s me.”

He offers her a drink and grips her hand all through the nurse’s examination, which she passes with flying colors. While she’s tinkering with her IV, (Y/N) asks him, “Bellevue?”

“Yeah,” he says grimly, thumb rubbing soothing motions against her skin, trying to infuse some warmth. 

“Shot?” she wonders next.

Nolan hesitates. “You don’t remember?”

“Guessin’,” she slurs, tired, blinks getting longer each time she closes her eyes. 

The nurse pipes up then with the same explanations she’s given Nolan the past few weeks: the bullet to her heart, the long-lasting surgery, and the even longer coma. (Y/N) nods in all the right places but her head rests against the pillow and her expression remains blank, like she’s not retaining any information.

“Anyone… else?” she asks.

“No,” Nolan responds, watching how tension falls off her frame when he confirms this fact. He wishes he felt the same, a selfish part of him wishes it had been someone else; Liv or Amaro or Fin here in this hospital bed instead of his wife. It’s true, even if the thought is followed by guilt. “No, everyone’s fine, honey. Working their asses off and worried out of their minds, but okay. It’s just you.”

(Y/N) hums and then promptly falls back asleep, breaths settling into an even rhythm. It’s then that his eyes water and his tears fall on the scratchy hospital sheets where (Y/N) lays.  Oh, Nolan thinks, almost surprised by them. So this is what it takes.  

Nolan bows his head and lets himself cry in silence. His breath keeps hitching, and the nauseating feeling of panic he’s been nursing for weeks finally explodes. He can’t feel his hands and feet, body numb all over. 

The next time he looks up, hours later, is because (Y/N)’s reaching to touch his face, tender and shaky. He snaps to attention like a soldier called to his battalion, but there’s no trouble chasing after them, no bad thing happening for once. They’re okay, alone and safe in her hospital room while nurses and doctors and visitors keep passing by just outside the door.

“You haven’t slept,” (Y/N) croaks out as she drops her hand from where she’d been gently pressing at the bags under Nolan’s eyes, tired from that simple movement. Her chest rises and falls with breaths that are a little too labored, but her eyes are fixed on her husband, worried. “Nole.”

It almost makes him smile: (Y/N) worrying about other people while she lies with a hole in her heart on a hospital bed. Nolan would laugh if he were sure it wouldn’t immediately turn into crying again, but there’s nothing funny about this. Nothing.

“‘m alright,” he promises, weak and croaky and wet from previous cries. (Y/N) looks a little too out of it, but also like she doesn’t believe him for a moment. He amends: “I will be. And so will you. You’re gonna be okay, honey.”

happy new year!!! i wanted to start the year giving you a little something after being so absent the last couple of months and i've had this piece in my drafts for ages! it was originally waaay longer but i thought i'd end it on a happy note and maybe make a part two if anyone's interested?

anyway! i hope you guys enjoy what has become one of my favorite pairings to write and i hope you had a good time last night and a great 2024! thank you for reading!

<3

[idontplaytrack]

Sick

Olivia Benson x college student daughter! reader

Warnings: implied sexual assault, coarse language. your typical SVU case discussion scenes.

Reader becomes an SVU case. Olivia gets the shock of her life seeing you walk into the precinct, teary eyed and bruised all over.

It was two a.m., the smell of the precinct’s cheap coffee hung around the air as the squad was in a heated discussion of their leads for a current case. Everybody was a little annoyed due to the lack of sleep, Liv included. Especially Liv— she was in charge. Fighting the sleep and taking another gulp of the black coffee, her ears perked up when she heard footsteps approaching herself and her squad. Her eyes briefly out of focus due to tiredness but quickly came into focus. She squints, her heart sank to the floor when she realised who it was. It was you. In tears, bruised jaw, bleeding cheek. She rushes over to you, asking you what happened.

She knew you weren’t supposed to be home from college until the day after. So you must’ve came back early. You disclosed the attack to your Mother, who then accompanied you to the hospital for an examination. She sat by your side as you laid on the exam table, feeling more vulnerable and in pain than ever as the doctor began asking you questions, swabbing, poking and prodding you. Each action sent a knife through Liv’s heart— she lets you squeeze her hand to divert away the inescapable pain, your cries made her want to double over and burst into tears, but she stayed strong for you. After a few hours, you were finally back home— the sun was rising, signalling the start of a new day but the adrenaline…it was wearing off and you were hit with exhaustion like a ton of bricks. The squad — Kat and Fin wanted to talk to you but Olivia refused to let them, wanting you to get some sleep first.

Olivia pulled the blinds down then sat in your bed with you, “You wanna get some sleep, honey?”

“Will you stay with me?” You asked meekly.

“Of course, sweet girl. I’ll be right here. Okay? Lay down, close your eyes.” And so you did, snuggling under the covers with Olivia sat in the spot beside you holding your hand.

At noon, Fin came by the apartment with Kat. They needed to talk to you, you knew you needed to tell them everything you know, but you were still feeling like a mess. Your heart still felt like it was racing, you constantly felt like someone was watching you...

They were patient with you, maybe more so than they would any other victim, but you appreciated it nonetheless. You recounted your night, letting them know where you were, who you were with and what you were doing. What you saw, what you heard and even smelt were just as crucial.Your Mom left the room hearing you talk about all that went down, and that was when you spotted a blonde in the doorway consoling her- Rollins.

When they were done with their questions, the promptly left you alone knowing you needed the space and peace. They went back to the precinct and your Mom walks back in with Rollins who came by to see you.

————

"This happened late at night the guy followed her from a bar to the subway. She tried to lose him but he kept following her. She was on her way to the precinct anyway because she knew Liv was working late and wanted to keep her company." Fin began, "Rape kit came back positive for fluids with a match to two cases in other SVUs."

"What bar was she at?" Carisi asks, looking through the file.

"A gay bar."

"Just like in these two cases. The perp did the exact same thing, only this time- they left us DNA.”

Carisi squints, taking a closer look at the information, “Our perp is a woman.”

That evening, Olivia returned to work after you persuaded her to. “We know who it is. The victims on the first two cases refused to testify.”

“One of them responded to us— she wants to testify now. And her case is still within the statute of limitations.” Carisi informs.

“Good, let’s nail this sick bitch.” Olivia declared, “y/n told me she’d testify too if that’s what it takes.”

“Hell yes. Attagirl.” Fin nodded, “We’ll get her, Liv. I promise.”

Olivia scoffs, “Fin- I appreciate it, but don’t speak too soon.”

“We will.”

[art-by-jas]

𝑈𝑛𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 (AO3)

𝘋𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘚𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘺 𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘪 𝘑𝘳 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Word Count: 5k

Rating: M

Summary: As the new addition to the Manhattan SVU, Detective Sonny Carisi found it challenging to fit in without causing a stir. He had a chance encounter with you while doing laundry late one night in the new apartment he moved into. The following day, after a long shift working a case, he happens to run into you again at the coffee shop where you work.

As the clock strikes midnight, the old laundry room in the apartment building is illuminated by the dim, flickering overhead lights. The air is thick with the scent of damp fabric and the rhythmic hum of the aging washing machines. 

 The sound of rain pounding against the glass can be heard through the small, grimy window. There is a sense of calm doing laundry at this hour.

 The door to the room creaks open, the sound barely registering in your consciousness as you sit hunched over your phone, thumb mindlessly scrolling through an endless feed. 

 “Hey, Ummm… I’m sorry to bother you, but do you have a few quarters? The machine decided to munch on mine! I just need a few for the dryer." A cheerful voice interrupted your dissociated episode of staring at your phone screen.

As you lift your gaze from the flickering screen, the unexpected sight of another person in the dimly lit room greets you.

"Yeah, sure," you say, reluctantly setting down your phone to retrieve a few quarters from your pocket. "Here you go," you say, passing the coins to the newcomer. "I have had that happen before; it is annoying as hell."

With a chuckle, the man reaches out his hand and accepts the quarters. "Thank you so much," he says, his warm smile brightening his face. An easy grace and a playful glint in his eyes gave him an endearing quality.

 He glances at the whirring machines, watching the damp clothes spin inside. "Doing laundry at this hour? Couldn't sleep?" He opens the washer, transfers the wet clothes to the dryer, and feeds quarters into the slot. His strong, steady fingers move with precision, confidently guiding the process.

"Yeah," you reply. "Insomnia's been keeping me company lately. You?"

The man echoes, "Same here," as he closes the panel on the machine and presses the start button. The machine instantly springs back to life, its hum resuming with renewed vigor. 

Turning back to you, the man's warm smile remains. "It’s my first day at a new location for my job soon," he explains, leaning against the machine.

"Sometimes I have late nights at the office, so my sleep schedule's all over the place."

"I noticed the room across from mine was being cleared out. Did you just move in? You don’t look familiar," you ask.

The man's soft, low chuckle sends a strange flutter through your chest. "Yeah, you caught me," he admits, smiling at you. "I just moved in last week, and I'm still unpacking, trying to figure out where to put everything." He pauses, meeting your gaze. "I'm Sonny, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Sonny. Welcome to the building. I know it's not much, but it's a nice little spot to call home." You introduce yourself to him as you move to shake his outstretched hand.

Sonny tips his head in acknowledgment, his gaze holding yours for a moment. "Thanks; I appreciate it," he replies, his voice low and soft. "I've lived in worse places, so this is a definite upgrade." Sonny runs his hand through his silvery hair. He glances at the machines, then turns to you with a casual curiosity. "So, I take it you've been here for a while?" he asks.

You nod, "Yeah, a few years now." The realization you’ve lived here long enough to be considered a "long-term resident" is faintly disturbing. You run a hand through your hair, feeling slightly disheveled. "It's a fairly quiet building, for the most part."

Sonny’s voice took on a thoughtful tone. "That's good. I've lived in places where the noise was constant. You could never get a moment's peace. It was maddening, to say the least." He turns his gaze toward the window, his eyes taking in the faint glow of streetlights filtering through the rain.

"If you don't mind me asking, where did you live previously?" You inquire.

"I used to live in Queens," he replies, "but it didn't work out, and my job ended up transferring me here instead," Sonny speaks, his fingers tracing an idle pattern on the cool metal surface of the washing machines. "But it's not all bad," he adds, a hint of optimism resurfacing in his voice. "New places can be good. Fresh starts, you know? Sometimes we need those."

A moment of silent understanding passes between the both of you before he speaks again, a half-smile playing at the corners of his lips. "And hey, at least I’ve got neighbors like you to keep the company."

You manage a small chuckle, the compliment sending a subtle flush of warmth through you. 

Sonny's smile widens, his eyes holding yours for a moment. The silence returns, but it feels different this time—more comfortable, less isolating. The rhythmic hum of the machines continued to fill the room, like a shared heartbeat between two strangers in the night. The rain continues pattering softly against the window, creating an intimate atmosphere in the old laundry room.

The washing machine beeped, signaling that your laundry was finished and ready to be transferred to the dryer. He observes, watching as you transfer your wet clothes to the dryer. As you make small talk, time idles by while you wait for your clothes to finish.

"So," he finally says, "what do you do when you're not doing laundry at ungodly hours?"

The unexpected question momentarily catches you off guard, prompting you to pause and carefully formulate a response. "Well," you begin, a faint smile tugging at your lips. "When I'm not tackling the laundry, I'd like to think of myself as a fairly interesting person. I'm an avid reader, enjoy experimenting in the kitchen, and may or may not have been known to binge-watch an inordinate number of TV shows."

Sonny's smile reveals his rapt attention as he casually studies you, his eyes brimming with curiosity. "An avid reader, a connoisseur of the kitchen, and a TV aficionado," he muses, his voice laced with amused approval. "Quite the impressive trifecta you've assembled there."

Leaning in slightly, his eyes alight with curiosity, he asks, "So, what shows do you binge-watch? Because the answer will either make us friends for life or enemies for eternity.”

The playful challenge in his tone was unmistakable, and you can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement. "Hmm," you think about, pretending to ponder the question. "Well, I enjoy science fiction, thrillers, and the occasional drama. But if you must know..." You lean in. "My guilty pleasure is baking competition shows. There's something about the dough, sprinkled with the tears of defeated contestants, that really appeals to me."

Sonny's rich, hearty laughter echoed through the room. "Baking competition shows, huh? I enjoy those myself, but 'Cake Boss' is a bit much. I appreciate the artistry, but those cakes are just towering, frosting-laden monstrosities that make my teeth hurt. I'd much rather stick to perfecting my nonna's classic cannoli recipe."

You both exchange a knowing glance. "Ah, cannoli," I reply, my mouth nearly watering. "A classic Italian dessert. Do you come from a large, close-knit family that gathers for lively Sunday dinners?”

Sonny's broad, guilty smile confirms my suspicion. "I come from an Italian family, full of the loud, opinionated, and emotional dynamics you'd expect," he confesses. "And yes, our Sunday dinners are quite the spectacle—a lively blend of mouthwatering food, family gossip, and heated debates on everything from politics to the proper way to season a ragu."

Seeing Sonny's smile, you couldn't help but mirror it, the warmth and vibrancy of his family gatherings stirring a touch of envy within me. 

"It sounds like a lot of fun," you say. "I'm a bit envious. My family is more... subdued, I suppose—less colorful." You chuckle as you watch him, for it’s his turn to retrieve his clothes and begin folding them. A few minutes pass, and you follow his movements of folding your own.

"Shall we head back upstairs then?"

Sonny agrees with a nod. "Yeah, we should probably call it a night—or morning, rather." 

He passes your neatly folded clothes over to you, and his fingertips graze yours, sending a subtle shiver through you.

Your conversation flows effortlessly as you make your way back to your apartment. The dimly lit hallway cast a faint yellow glow, broken only by the soft patter of our footsteps and the occasional creak of the building's aged floorboards. Reaching your doors, you both pause. The silence between you grew comfortable, a lingering sense of familiarity and connection palpable. Sonny's gaze met yours, his eyes conveying a mix of reluctance and resignation.

“It was nice meeting you, Sonny,” you say with a smile.

Sonny's boyish smile returns, his warm gaze stirring an unexpected flutter in your chest. "Likewise," he replies, his pleasant, rumbling voice lingering in the air. "I'll catch ya around, alright? Have a good night."

“Night.”

He vanishes inside, the soft click of the door closing behind him echoing in the otherwise silent corridor.

------------✧♡✧------👮🧺💓🧑-----✧♡✧-------------

Rushing to the precinct, Sonny carries a coffee and takeout bag in one hand and his gym bag in the other, determined to be on time. Realizing the sergeant was not present, he saw no need to rush once he made it inside the bullpen. With a few minutes of free time, he decides to explore and familiarize himself with the layout. Several other detectives sit at their desks, filing paperwork as he looks around.

Two women's voices filtered into the bullpen. The first had dark hair flowing freely, slightly older than the other. The second woman's blonde hair was tied back, with a few stray bangs falling across her face.

As Sonny interrupts their conversation, he exclaims, "They shot at cops right outside the police station? So, they want us to know they're crazy."

"You must be my new detective," the brunette says.

Dominick Carisi, Jr. ” He introduces himself, "Call me Sonny. I brought Zeppoli," as he shakes their hand.

"I asked for an experienced, empathic detective, and they sent you," she says.

"I'm way experienced. Sensitive and moody, too, and I can do that whole empathy thing," he assures.

"Where are you from?" the blonde woman asks.

"Staten Island SVU for two months, Brooklyn for almost a month, and then Queens last week," he rattles on.

“So, they love you wherever you go, Carisi?" The brunette says he later finds out that this is his new boss, Sergeant Benson.

"Call me Sonny. I know I was supposed to start tomorrow, but I heard about the shooting over my scanner, so I came in. What's our read?"

Benson and the blonde, who introduced herself as Detective Amanda Rollins, brought him up to speed on the current case, explaining how it connected to a previous case from a few months ago involving Ellie Porter. Ellie had been the victim of human trafficking and gang-raped before being set on fire—a horrible crime. 

Sonny also learned that the young woman they arrested that morning while 'serving’ a john appears to be associated with the same crew. Benson teams up with Sonny to go pick up the girl and instructs Sonny to follow her lead, warning that failure to do so would result in him being sent to the SVU in the Bronx.

Sonny nods, his expression conveying understanding. "Understood, boss," he replies firmly and resolutely. "You have my word. I'll follow your lead."

Benson drives Sonny and herself to Luna Garcia's house. The peaceful journey was accompanied by a pleasant, cloudless day. Sonny savors the warm sunshine and gentle breeze as they drive. His mind wanders briefly, but he refocuses when Benson speaks up.

"So," Benson begins, "you've worked with the Special Victims Unit before; how was that?"

Sonny gazes out at the passing cityscape. As Benson inquires about his past SVU background, he shifts his attention to her, offering a faint smile. "It was intense, no doubt," he replies. "But also immensely rewarding. Dealing with victims of such heinous crimes is grueling work, yet being able to provide even a small measure of comfort and justice makes it all worthwhile."

His expression softens, his eyes reflecting a glimmer of empathy and understanding. The memory of those past experiences still weighs heavily on him. "It can take a toll, though. The trauma those victims endure... it stays with you, you know?"

A brief sigh crosses Sonny's face, the weight of his memories momentarily visible. After a contemplative pause, his gaze returns to Benson, his tone shifting to a more conversational manner. "My time with the SVU has taught me a lot," he remarks. "How to handle sensitive cases, how to approach victims and witnesses, you know the drill."

Benson's gaze flickers to Sonny before returning to the road. “You seem to have the right mindset and approach,” she observes, 'but I need to ensure you play by the rules,” she says, offering him a kind smile. The drive to the girl's house was filled with pleasant conversation as they got to know each other better.

After bringing Luna back to the precinct, the detectives interview her, showing her a photo of Ellie. At first, Luna was uncooperative, insisting she would rather go to jail than provide any information. Benson tried coaxing her with a gentle tone, but this approach went nowhere fast. 

Sonny then intervened, speaking to Luna in a manner he thought might appeal to her, before switching tactics and offering to help her obtain T-Nonimmigrant Status, but only if she helped and gave them a statement.

After Garcia's sudden change of heart, Serg pulled him to the side, outside of the interrogation room, and told him that what he had just done in there was not how they do things here in Manhattan. Sonny apologized and continued working Luna over.

As the day progresses, Sonny is introduced to his new colleagues, Odafin Tutola, and beat cop Nick Amaro, who originally was in the SVU but due to recent events was demoted. 

Together, they planned for Nick to go undercover as a dirty cop looking for a handout with the information he has and a raid for later that evening. Sonny rubs his tired eyes, surprised by the eventful nature of his first day on the job. He stops at a nearby coffee shop to refuel before the eventful night, while Nick prepares to pull over Joaquin Menendez and warn him of the impending raid, a gesture of good faith to maintain their cover.

˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖

Sonny's fatigued senses were beckoned by the rich aroma of the corner coffee shop as he walked in the door. As he waits, his mind drifts—a mix of energizing adrenaline and overwhelming exhaustion swirls inside him.

Sonny's eyes widen in surprise as he recognizes you standing behind the counter.

“Hello, thanks for stopping by. What can I help- Sonny?” 

Surprise flickers across his face, his blue eyes widening as they meet yours. "Hey," he says, a smile spreading across his face. "I didn't expect to see you here." Joy stirs in his eyes, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. He steps up to the counter, leaning against it lazily. A hint of weariness still clung to his features, but the sight of you brightened his mood considerably.

With a grin, you say, "What can I get for you? It's on the house."

Sonny's eyes widen in disbelief as he protests, "You can't be serious." A grin tugs at the corners of his lips as he shakes his head. "I can't let you do that. Let me pay."

Chuckling at the memory, you reply, "Nonsense, it's not every day you bond over doing laundry at midnight."

He laughs, Alright, alright," he concedes, "if you insist."

Sonny's eyes scan the menu, weighing his options. "I'll have a strong espresso," he declares. "Caffeine is all I've had today."

You frown. "That's it? Sonny, let me get you something from the bake rack. You can't survive on just coffee."

He chuckles faintly at your concern. "Alright," he surrenders again, a sheepish grin on his face. There's something about squabbling with you that feels oddly familiar, comfortable even. "Surprise me, then."

 Sonny waits for his drink and glances around the cozy coffee shop. The walls are adorned with eclectic artwork, and soft music plays in the background, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere. Leaning against the counter, Sonny's gaze occasionally flits to you moving efficiently behind the bar. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the lingering scent of sugar and pastries filled the air. After a few minutes, you place a steaming espresso and a blueberry muffin on the counter. 

Sonny smiles appreciatively as he sips the rich, robust espresso, then bites into the warm, fluffy blueberry muffin. He moans. "This is exactly what I needed," he says, savoring the perfect balance of bitterness from the dark roast and sweetness from the muffin. He settles into a chair near the counter, continuing to sip and nibble on his delightful breakfast.

The espresso's caffeine gradually revives Sonny as he leans back. Every so often, you'd enter the lobby with a rag to clean the tables and restock the napkins, making sure to chat with him whenever you could between helping other customers. As he watches you navigate the coffee shop, skillfully attending to other customers, Sonny couldn't help but admire the seamless way you worked. 

However, he also noticed the subtle signs of tiredness in your eyes; he could empathize. Despite your exhaustion, you continue serving customers with a genuine smile. Sonny's admiration for you grew, not just because of your coffee-making skills but also for your resilience and warm personality.

Sonny gathers his belongings; his thoughts linger on his enjoyable coffee break. He makes his way to the counter.

"Hey," he begins, his voice slightly rough from the potent espresso. "I have to get back, but I just wanted to thank you again for the coffee and muffin. You didn't have to do that."

You dismiss his concern with a casual wave of your hand. "It's no big deal," you say with a warm smile. "I know you've had a long day, and I'm not letting you leave without something in your stomach besides caffeine."

Sonny chuckles softly, knowing that arguing with you is futile. He rubs the back of his neck, still marveling at your kindness. “I owe you one, you know?"

"I'll keep that in mind," you reply with a mischievous grin. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

During a nighttime raid, the SVU team discovers several undocumented girls as well as a 14-year-old named Missy Brooks. They also apprehend Joaquin, but Detective Tutola allows him to leave after he mentions Amaro's name, to make him think the whole Amaro undercover story was real.

At the precinct, Rollins notices Missy's cell phone background is a photo of an infant. She tells Missy that the police raided a house in May and found children inside. Rollins then asks Missy where her baby is. 

Meanwhile, the TARU team examines the phones of the trafficked girls and discovers they all have the QuickRide app installed. However, Missy remains tight-lipped and refuses to provide any information.

As dawn approaches, Sergeant Benson instructs Sonny to go home and rest for the night, assuring him that the team has the situation under control. She promises to call Sonny once they gather more information and leads.

Sonny nods, visibly tired after a long day and an intense raid. Although he wanted to stay and help the case along, he knew Benson was right. He needed rest if he was going to be of any use.

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Sonny trudges into his small apartment, shuts the door behind him, and leans against it for a moment, letting out a long, weary sigh. The quiet embrace of his apartment envelopes him, and the realization that he was finally alone after such a hectic day washes over him with a sense of relief.

The apartment fell into a peaceful hush, save for the whisper of Sonny's gentle breaths. Occasional murmurs from the air conditioner and distant city noises punctuated the silence. Sonny finally surrenders to a well-deserved sleep.

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

When it rains, it bleeds. In Attica, Little Tino was viciously stabbed by three fellow prisoners and required emergency surgery, narrowly escaping death. 

Meanwhile, in the Bellevue prison ward, someone fatally injects a lethal dose into Diego's neck. 

Across town in Queens, Missy and a client are discovered shot to death inside a car. 

Concerned for her son Noah's safety, Detective Benson calls his nanny Lucy, only to learn she has taken him to the DeWitt Clinton Playground. Suddenly, Benson hears the chilling sound of gunfire over the phone. Racing to the playground, she finds that, mercifully, no one has been harmed. 

At the precinct, the squad regroups, and Sonny is introduced to Rafael Barba, an eccentric Assistant District Attorney. Benson then proposes a plan for Nick to meet with Joaquin again, leading to the arrest of both Nick and Menendez.

Time ticks by, and the squad tirelessly works to piece together the complex puzzle. Sonny can feel the exhaustion of the relentless investigation gnawing at his mind. He glances at the clock on the wall, surprised to realize hours had passed. Rising from his chair, he stretches his limbs, his muscles protesting the prolonged sitting.

Benson and Fin visited a now conscious Tino at the hospital, where they ran into his mother, who told them so information to further the investigation to arrange a meeting with a woman named Carmen on Craigslist to locate Selena.

In the seedy hotel room, Sonny prepares to play his part, pretending to be a disgruntled "John" seeking a rougher, more aggressive sex worker. As the knock on the door signals her arrival, Sonny puts on his creepy charm, complimenting the woman and touching her hair, though he feels conflicted about the situation. When she offers only a massage, Sonny becomes aggressive, prompting the woman to flee to the bathroom and call Selena. Moments later, Selena and her driver arrive and confront Sonny at gunpoint. However, Detectives Fin and Rollins intervene and apprehend Selena and her driver.

After escorting the group back to the precinct, the two detectives left Sonny to take a few minutes for himself. Needing time to refocus and regain his composure, Sonny stepped outside the motel and sat down, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. Knowing a visit to his favorite coffee shop would lift his spirits, Sonny soon headed that way, eager for the comfort of a familiar routine.

The familiar and comforting scent of freshly brewed coffee fills his senses. He notices you behind the counter, your smile effortlessly radiant as you greet him.

Taking a deep breath, he approaches the counter, his nerves and the events of the day already making him tense.

He returns your smile, attempting to appear composed despite the nervous energy coursing through him. "Hey," he began, his voice slightly strained. Sonny made his way into the shop, the familiar and comforting scent of freshly brewed coffee filling his senses. He notices you behind the counter; your smile is effortlessly radiant as you greet him.

"Hey there, can I get a repeat of yesterday?" Sonny steps closer.

"Of course, coming right up," you say with a grin.

Sonny leans against the counter, his eyes on you as you pour the black coffee into the cup. 

You place the cup and this time a banana muffin in front of him. Sonny couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort. "Thanks," he says, his voice slightly rough. "You don't know how much I needed this today."

He accepts the cup and muffin, his fingers subtly touching yours for a brief moment, sending a jolt through him. The contact felt natural but also electrifying as if his body was hyper-aware of your touch.

He glances up from his cup and muffin, his eyes flickering over to the counter and you. The thought of asking for your number comes to him. He goes to the same chair next to the counter and begins to eat and sip.

After cashing out a customer, he notices you approaching him and takes a seat on the opposite side of his table. 

"Hey," Sonny replies, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He studies you, noticing the little details he hadn't observed before—the subtle sparkle in your eyes.

"I hope I'm not interrupting your lunch," you say, your voice casually light. "But I wanted to check in on how you're doing. You look tired."

Sonny chuckles softly, surprised by your observation. "I am tired," he admits. "It's been a long day." The weariness has settled into his eyes, and his slumped shoulders probably betray his exhaustion. He takes another sip of his coffee. "But I appreciate you checking on me," he adds, his eyes meeting yours.

"How did your first day go? You mentioned in the laundry room that it was coming up soon." You ask.

"It was..." Sonny starts. Where to even begin summing up the events of the two days he’s had? It had been a whirlwind of chaos and danger. He takes a moment to collect his thoughts, then replies. "It was intense, to say the least. Long hours, lots of work,” Sonny smiled slightly, touched that you remembered their brief conversation from a few days ago. 

You let out a lighthearted laugh as you remarked, "Well, that's not at all mysterious and cryptic."

Sonny chuckles at your remark, feeling the tension in his shoulders lighten a little. "Can't give away all the secrets," he replies, his voice just slightly teasing.

Sonny appreciated that you didn't pry further, even if he could see the curiosity and maybe a bit of concern in your gaze. It was refreshing to be with someone who respected his boundaries and understood not to press for details. He takes another sip of his coffee, the conversation settling into a comfortable rhythm between you two.

"How was your day?" he asks, genuinely interested to hear about your life and experiences. Alone with you in the quiet coffee shop, he hoped to continue the conversation, savoring the chance to linger in your company.

“A customer ordered a drink with sparkling water. I handed it to her, but she immediately frowned and asked if it contained sparkling water. I reminded her that the menu clearly listed the ingredients. Ugh, it frustrates me when people don't read.” Your cheeks redden as you realize you are ranting. "Sorry," you say.

Sonny's exhaustion was momentarily forgotten as a soft smile tugged at his lips. Listening to your little story, he finds himself amused by your rant. He could see the frustration in your expression and the way your cheeks flushed just a bit. It was endearing.

"No apologies necessary," he says, his voice gentle. "I get it. Some people just can't be bothered to pay attention, even when it's spelled out right in front of them." He chuckles softly, enjoying the glimpse into your world. He wonders how many other little annoyances you deal with on a daily basis. He finds himself wanting to know more about your life—the things that made you laugh, the things that made you angry. And he couldn't help but realize that he found your rants quite charming.

"Besides the sparkling water incident," he teases, "was the rest of your day uneventful?" He leans back in his chair, his eyes fixed on you, enjoying the lighthearted moment amidst the day's chaos.

"Yeah, it's pretty dead today, which I'm thankful for; last week we were so swamped."

"Well, here's to a quiet day then," Sonny replies, his tone earnest. He takes another sip of his coffee, his eyes still lingering on you. He was grateful for the brief reprieve the calm atmosphere of the coffee shop provided—a chance to reset before diving back into the chaos of his day.

He glances at his watch, realizing he should probably get back to the precinct soon. But the thought of leaving the quiet comfort of the coffee shop and the easy conversation with you made him hesitate for a moment. He wants more time to talk to you and to know more about you. Taking a deep breath, he pushed his chair back, signaling he was getting ready to leave.

"Hey, Sonny..." You begin calling out to him before he leaves. "Can I have your number?"

Sonny stops in his tracks, his heart skipping a beat at your unexpected question. He turns back to you, surprised but pleasantly so.

"Uh...yeah, sure. I'd like that," he replies, a genuine smile spreading across his face. He quickly grabs a nearby napkin from the counter and fishes a pen out of his pocket. Writing his number onto the napkin, he can't help but feel a mix of nervousness and excitement. Handing the napkin over to you, he watches you closely.

"I'll text you later; you go save the city." You giggle as you hold onto the napkin.

Sonny can't help but smile at your words. There's something about the way you say it—so casual yet sincere—that makes his heart skip a beat. Your carefree attitude is a refreshing contrast to the seriousness of his job.

"And you save me a coffee for tomorrow," he replies with a wink before heading out the door.

He can't help but feel a little lighter than he did before—a subtle boost of energy and anticipation. He knows he has an exhausting day ahead of him, but the knowledge that he'll see you and talk to you again soon makes the idea of returning to work much more bearable. 

Sonny enters the precinct, and the familiar sights and sounds immediately bring him back to reality. He put on his game face. He makes his way towards the squad room; a small smile still lingering on his lips, evidence that the thought of you had brought a glimmer of joy to his day.

Chapter 2

[uncpanda]

Found Out

AN: The Law and Order SVU and Batman crossover no one, absolutely no one asked for, but I still wrote. Cause I can ;)

Warnings: Mentions of serial killers. Nothing graphic.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

For being some of the smartest, most intelligent, detectives in the world, the superheros in your life are fairly oblivious. And on some level you’re really thankful for that. It allows you the freedom to do your job without their henpecking. 

On the opposite side of the spectrum, the people you work with, your second family, are some of the kindest, most intelligent, and hardworking detectives you’ve ever met, but they’re also oblivious to the fact that you’re married to a billionaire. 

You had never really meant to keep the worlds separate. It had started off innocent enough, you’d joined NYPD as a beat cop while Bruce was out studying to become the Bat. And when he got home you’d spent every spare minute helping him. Between that and the company he’d been too exhausted to ask anything other than a few questions about your job. He knew you worked for a large organization in NYC and that was it. He trusted you. And the boys were just as oblivious as their father. The only person who knew was Alfred. He’d been the once to come to your graduation from the academy while Bruce was still away. 

On the flip side, your SVU family knew very little about your home life. They knew you were married, they knew you had kids, but they didn’t know how many. After all, you’d only had the two pregnancies; Terry and Matt had both been big but welcome surprises. Then again ALL of your boys were surprises. And you had perfected your technique of avoiding the paparazzi for both SVU and Gotham High Society. 

Honestly, in your mind, there was no reason at all for your two worlds to meld. When you were at home, you took care of your family; when you were at work you tried really hard not to think of them, because despite crime fighting, you didn’t want them anywhere near these types of crimes. 

Of course, nothing lasts forever, but you figure twenty years is a good run, especially when Bruce is driving Dick away for his desire to be a cop. You watch them go back and forth for hours, before you finally step in. There are groans from the other boys about stopping the fight while Cass just grins, and you ignore all of them. 

“You’re going to stop this right now Bruce Wayne.” 

His eyes are hard, his jaw is set, “You don’t understand Y/N.” 

Out of the corner of your eye you watch Alfred roll his eyes in exasperation, “I understand better than anyone here.” 

His hands go to his hips, and you know he’s about to dig a very deep hole for himself, “Sweetheart, I love you, and I know you work the computers from time to time, but this is different. There are guns involved and he’d have to work inside the system.” 

“So?” 

“You can’t do both; there’s too much to hide.” 

You smile sweetly at him, “I don’t know, I’ve been doing both for the past twenty years. Then again, I suppose it might be different for me since I just worked the computers for a while.” 

He blinks at you, and you know he’s connecting the dots. You ignore him, and turn to your oldest, his eyes wide, “While I understand you wanting to do Bludhaven, if you want to do NYPD, we can drive into the city together. Let me know, I have more than a few favors I can call in.” 

Tim is the first to voice the statement, “You’re a cop?” 

You shrug, “First grade detective, but I’m taking the sergeants exam in a few weeks.” 

Jason stares at you, “Seriously? Are you joking right now?” 

“I joined when I was twenty. I’d finished college early thanks to AP classes, went in as a beat cop, and after five years I became a detective. I’ve been working at SVU for the past fifteen years. They’re like my family away from home.”  

You can tell there are more questions, but no one seems brave enough to ask them. You start to head out of the room, when Bruce asks, “Why did you hide it?” 

You pause and turn to him, “I didn’t. You just never asked.” 

As you leave you hear Alfred ask, “Would you like a shovel for the hole you’re digging sir, or should I just make up the couch for you?” 

You go  wait in your room, and lie down on the bed. A few minutes later Bruce comes in, and you look at each other. His brow is furrowed, eventually he asks, “Why didn’t you tell me? How could I not have known?” 

You smile at him, “I didn’t want you to know Bruce. I was on my own path, and I knew you would worry. At the start I told myself I would tell you eventually, but. . . you were so involved with Batman and you were doing so much good . . . I didn’t want to add to your stress. You were barely sleeping three hours a night at that point. 

“Then we Dick, and I considered telling you but he needed us to focus on him, and after a while it became easier to excuse it. It became my secret identity. Are you mad?” 

He lets out a laugh, “I dress up as a bat, and fight crime as a vigilante. I don’t think I can be mad. I think I’m worried.”

“About?” 

“Us drifting apart, not knowing you?” 

You shrug, “I’m me Bruce. I just also happen to be a cop. I see a lot of bad stuff, everyday. The last thing I want when I come home is to talk about it. Same as you guys. When I’m home I want to be happy, but if you want to know I’ll tell you on one condition.” 

He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, after a moment he asks, “What’s the condition?” 

“You can’t involve Batman. NYPD is not Gotham PD.” 

He nods after a minute. The two of you spend the night talking, you tell him about some close calls, you tell him about the one life you’d been forced to take, you tell him about your frustration. You tell him about Liv and Elliot, and how Elliot leaving crushed Liv, but she rose from the ashes to become a lieutenant. You tell him about Munch and Cragen, both of whom have retired. You tell him about Finn, Rollins, Amaro, Carisi, Dodds and Barba. It’s nearly six in the morning by the time you’re finished. 

“And that’s the majority of it.” 

You’re both lying on the bed staring at each other. Bruce has been largely silent, he’d skipped patrol, and only asked a few questions. A part of you wonders when his anger will hit; it doesn’t. Instead he says, “I am so freaking proud of you,” and then he kisses you. And you can’t help but think, that in a normal marriage, a normal family, this would have been a big deal, it would have broken them. In your family though? It’s another day. 

You call out of work that day to catch up on sleep and spend the day with your family. The boys come up with a bunch of reasons as to why they should have realized you were a cop. 

“You work really weird hours.” 

“You never wore heels to work.” 

“You never wore dresses either, come to think of it?” 

“Is this why we own a penthouse in NYC?” 

Jason is the one who asks, “Where do you keep your gun? I thought those weren’t allowed in the house?”

“You don’t need to worry about it. It’s locked up.” Logically, you know each of your boys knows how to use a gun, mainly for the purpose of knowing how to disarm someone holding a gun. You still don’t want them anywhere near it. For that reason, it’s kept in a DNA safe in Alfred’s room. 

When you go back to work the next day, you have your gun and badge on your hip. All of the men in your life focus on it. Bruce corners you in the kitchen as you’re pouring coffee into a travel mug and whispers, “You look sexy as hell with the badge.” 

You laugh, and then you kiss him. You’re the one who drops Cass, Tim, Damian, Terry, and Matt off at school. Jason is in college, and he drives himself. Dick is still contemplating his options. 

The fact that your family knows makes things a lot easier a few weeks later when Carl Rudnick and Greggory Yates escape from prison. You can hear the worry in Bruce’s voice, when he begs you to be safe and not do anything risky. You snort at that and he chuckles, “I know, I’m a hypocrite, but I’m your hypocrite.” You roll your eyes, because the big doofus, is in fact, yours. You also know he’s keeping a close watch on the man hunt. 

Three days later Rudnick is back in custody, but Yates is still on the run, back to Chicago you’re pretty sure. You’ve gotten maybe five hours of sleep total in those days? You’re exhausted, but you have reports to fill out, and Chief Dodds, the commissioner and a whole bunch of brass are hanging around. 

You’re in hour three of doing paperwork, when you hear whispers. Your eyes flicker up to find your husband smiling at  you from across the room. He’s holding a doggy bag full of food, he’s dressed in a suit that costs thousands of dollars, and you know that people recognize him. 

Finn leans forward, “What the hell is Bruce Wayne doing here?” 

You hear Carisi whisper, “Maybe he’s dating Leiu?” 

You can’t help it, you burst out laughing, because you sometimes forget it’s not common knowledge that Bruce is married, despite the ring on his finger. You avoid galas with the best of them after all. You call it the Batman tax; Bruce can fight crime and you don’t have to show up to stuffy dinner parties.  

Bruce smiles at the laughter, before approaching your desk, he settles into the chair next to your desk. “Really? No pictures of me or the kids?” 

You scoff, “Work stays at work, home stays at home.” 

He frowns, “I’m getting you pictures.” 

You don’t argue with him, “What are you doing here?” 

“I brought you food. Alfred and I figured you hadn’t eaten.” 

“I haven’t had anything outside of vending machine junk in days.” 

He scoffs, “What happened to taking care of ourselves?” 

You shrug, “I’ve been hunting serial killers.” 

His face goes serious, “But you’re okay?” 

“As okay as I can be. They got a few more people, our sergeant took a bullet to the shoulder, Rudnick is back in prison, but Yates is headed only God knows where.” 

His fingers twitch, and you know he’s itching to do something, but he can’t. He can’t get involved in this too. He has all of Gotham to worry about and thanks to the league, sometimes he has to worry about the world. 

He lets out a breath, “Can I join you while you eat?” 

“Yes. You can catch me up on the goings at home.” You lead him past your shocked colleagues, and a room full of shocked officials in Liv’s office and to the breakroom. While you eat, Bruce assures you that the boys are fine, but Damian apparently butchered the hedges again. Clark was apparently being a pain in his ass too. The man of steel wanted your family to come to Kansas for Thanksgiving. 

“I’ll probably have to work, use that as an excuse.” 

Bruce grins, “This job has perks.” 

You lean forward and peck his lips, “Lots of them.” 

When you’re finished you stand up to leave and there is a room watching the two of you. You sigh, and Bruce mutters, “It’s good to know the vultures remain consistent.” 

Chief Dodds is about to step forward and ask a question when you step towards Olivia, “Bruce this Liv. She’s saved my ass more than once over the years. Liv, this is my husband Bruce, remember I talked about him?” 

She grins, “Yes, but you failed to mention he was Bruce Wayne.” 

You feign nonchalance, “Did I? Hmmm.” 

Bruce smiles, it’s the one that has everyone jumping to meet his every need, the one that says he’s as innocent as a choir boy, and he would be your best friend if you let him. You smirk at him while he shakes Liv’s hand, “Thanks for watching her back. The boys and I appreciate it.” 

That’s when Finn steps forward, “That right, you guys have a huge family, right?” 

Bruce’s brow furrows in fake concentration, “We have Dick who is twenty, Jason is eighteen, Cass is Fifteen, Tim is fourteen, Damian is ten, Terry is six, and Matt is four.” He looks at you, “How’d I do?” 

“Perfect score.” 

“We have a full house, but it’s nice.” 

You nod, “Let me walk you out.” 

You make sure Bruce gets to his car, you kiss him, and promise you’ll be home by morning. Once he’s gone you head back up to find everyone waiting on you, it’s Finn who declares, “You have some explaining to do.” 

You sigh, life was easier when no one knew anything. 

[motherofdogs1010]

Laurel Sickness I (Sonny Carisi x Reader)

Summary: Laurel Sickness was a case of extreme, obsessive love that has been used to describe the new phenomenon that is sweeping the globe with no explanation. Individual are becoming just as mad as Apollo once was when he first set his godly eyes on the virgin nymph, Daphne.

Warnings: 18+ only, dark!fic, toxic behavior, gaslighting, dystopian society, dark!Sonny Carisi, stalking, stalker!Sonny Carisi, the world's messed up in this story, age gap relationship, forced relationship, eventual non-con/dub-con, Stockholm Syndrome

Dividers by @firefly-graphics Banner by @vase-of-lilies

Sometimes, in the late night when she was holding herself up in her dorm, Y/N would lay there in her bed and contemplate what exactly she had done to gain the attention of her friend's uncle.

She remembered meeting Maddie Carisi at freshman orientation, the two girls having been in the same major (nursing to be exact) and having instantly clicked. She had known Maddie for exactly three years before she was invited over to the Carisi Easter Sunday Dinner, her own parents were back in her home state and unfortunately, Y/N couldn't afford to go back home at the time, but now... now, she wishes she had taken up her parents' offer of letting them buy her a ticket to visit them.

She remembers the way the whole family had been welcoming, a loud joking bunch of people who were still in the Sunday bests; Y/N having made sure to dress in a floral, pastel colored dress that was off the shoulder yet she made sure to put a cardigan on top as to not show too much cleavage since Maddie had told her that her grandmother was quite the conservative Catholic. Y/N had been enjoying herself, enjoying the conversation and activities the Carisi family had set up for the kids and cousins to do when she had bumped in Maddie's uncle.

"I'm so sorry", Y/N had said with a apologetic look on her face. "I didn't see you there."

She didn't think of anything when their eyes met, E/C meeting blue and seeing the appearance of his pupils dilate when they met. She didn't think the surge reports on the news could happen to her, how naive she had been.

"It's alright, no harm done", he had said with a tight smile.

"Uncle Sonny!" Maddie had cheerfully said, "you're here!"

"Well, luckily, I was able to take the afternoon off", he said, his accent thick. "I see you brought a friend along."

He was a handsome man, Y/N could recall; he had his hair gelled back, he had quite a bit of grey in his hair yet it had only added to how attractive she had thought he was. He was much older than them, Y/N figured he was in his late thirties or early forties and he seemed to be accompanied by a blonde haired woman who always looked like she was permanently scowling.

"Oh! This is Y/N!" Maddie said, introducing her. "Remember, I told you my friend and I both wanted to get our Masters to become NPs? This is her."

"Ah, Maddie talks a lot about you", he said, "big plans you two have, huh?"

Big plans, that's what she had. So many big plans and dreams before Sonny Carisi crossed paths with her...

"My Uncle rarely comes nowadays", Maddie had told her later. "He's the new ADA in Manhattan for the sex crimes unit."

Amanda had been mad as of late, a cunt if Sonny was being honest because of his lack of wanting to have sex with her anymore. But how could Sonny betray his little doll face like that? How could he forsake the instant connection he had felt by having sex with another woman?

The minute their eyes had met at his family's get-together, he knew it was instantaneous, they were meant to be. Sonny didn't exactly understand at first the thoughts that were in his mind about the younger woman, the intense and sexual dreams about her until he was watching the news.

The dreams he had were not always sexual, no, sometimes he saw his life with her; her cooking at the stove with five or six little Carisis ran around their legs, she would laugh as they pestered her before she'd look back at him with a grin.

"Dominick, you're home", she'd said as the bundle of children ran towards him.

Another case of that new phenomenon, Laurel Sickness was in the news; a woman arrested after killing the boyfriend of the woman she had grown to become enamored with. Laurel Sickness was something that some were saying was global hysteria, people falling in love with a uninterested third party, chasing down their loves until they were able to obtain them.

"Our eyes met and I knew we were meant to be!" the afflicted woman sobbed as she was arrested. "She showed me our future together!"

Sonny's eyes had widen as he could hear Amanda calling him from the other room.

Damn all the time he had put into the relationship with Amanda, the arguments they had over making their relationship public or how attached her daughters were to him.

Sonny looked at the photo Maddie had posted to her instagram, a photo of her and... Y/N, oh, how did just thinking her name make his stomach clench and heat spread through him. The two girls were outside at a coffee shop, it was obvious they had been studying by the notebooks and textbooks, even their laptops around them on the table.

Y/N had her hair pulled away from her face, a happy but tired smile on her face.

"Sonny, we really need to talk about this", Amanda nagged from the other room.

Yeah, they were going to talk.

He just knew it was one that Amanda wasn't going to be happy about.

[thirtysomethingloser92]

Cover-Up

A 5000 word Peter Stone/Reader for anonymous requester.

It was the small kisses that traced up your shoulder and up the side of your neck, the large hand on your opposite arm that brought you out of your own thoughts; the familiar and comforting smell of expensive cologne and plain soap, the warmth of the bare chested body behind you as you pulled your shoes on over your foot.

“You’ve had that look on your face all night,”

The voice rumbled in your ear, sending goosebumps up your body, but still you continued to finish getting dressed, standing up and staring at the blue eyed man who was now leaning on his arm and looking up at you. “You know why. I’m sick of having to constantly sneak around like teenagers. I feel like you’re ashamed of me-“ You began before you were abruptly cut off. “No. I’m not ashamed of you, and you damn well know that. If we declare our relationship then everything is under scrutiny. Every case, every interaction; it’s something we need to really think about before doing this,” The man stated simply, now sitting at the edge of the bed with the blanket pooling around his waist; “Give it a few more weeks, and we can do it. Okay. Just a few more weeks to get some things in order,”   You could feel the frustration in your chest, “Yeah I know, it’s what you said last night as well. And the week before that, and the week before that. You can kinda see why I’m a bit hesitant to believe you this time around,” A look of defeat suddenly crossed his face and he let out a small sigh, “Yeah I get it,” He placed his face in his hands and looked down. Your jaw cracked a few times before letting out a small sigh, “Peter,” You took a deep breath in and swallowed deeply, your heart pounding in your chest, “I love you, and I’m sorry that I keep bringing this us but I don’t want to be your secret anymore. If you don’t feel the same back that’s absolutely more then fine, we can go back to being colleagues and that’s that; but I can’t keep doing this anymore if you have zero intention of letting this go any further,” You picked up your backpack by his bedroom door. “Are you going straight home?” He asked, looking over at you, his shoulders deflating somewhat. You shook your head, “Liv called me in, a john and stabbed a sex worker so Finn and I are going to head to the crime scene,” A moment of silence fell between you both, “Stay safe,” He stated simply, looking back down at his hands. “Yep,” A small, simple, easy reply. Detatching yourself before he made you detatch from him. You could see it in the way he suddenly withdrew from you. You knew what was happening before he even had to say it. You were pushing the idea of declaring your relationship to his boss and he was shutting it down. You told him you loved him and he once again was shutting down.

As you stepped out of Peter's apartment, a wave of emotions crashed over you. Love, frustration, and a sense of defeat battled within, leaving you feeling sick with anxiety. The cool night air did little to soothe your  thoughts as you made your way to meet Finn and Olivia.

<><>

The drive to the crime scene was silent, the tension palpable between you and Finn. He shot you a concerned glance every now and then, but you brushed it off with a forced smile, not wanting to burden him with your personal struggles. He had been your partner since day one, becoming both your mentor and a close friend. The care you had for the older man was like that of a daughter to a father, a person who you could always talk to when you needed them, but tonight you couldn’t bring yourself to truly talk to him. How were you even meant to begin with talking about your relationship issues when you couldn’t even tell him you were in a relationship?

Arriving at the scene, you and Finn began your investigation, focusing on gathering evidence and interviewing witnesses. Despite your best efforts to keep your mind on the case, thoughts of Peter kept creeping back, clouding your judgment.

As the night wore on, you found yourself growing more distant, lost in a whirlwind of emotions. Finn, sensing your distraction, gently nudged you, concern etched on his face.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked softly, his voice pulling you out of your reverie.

You managed a weak smile, nodding. "Yeah, just... got a lot on my mind."

Finn studied you for a moment before nodding understandingly. "Well, you know I'm here if you need to talk, right?"

You nodded gratefully, grateful for his support. "Thanks, Finn. I appreciate it."

Finn nodded before adding, “You know, if it’s about a guy, I can do that too? I worry about you sometimes kid,” You chuckled softly at Finn's comment, grateful for his attempt to lighten the mood. "Thanks, Finn. It means a lot to me."

He gave you a knowing look, his expression softening with understanding. "I may not always understand what's going on in that head of yours, but I know when something's bothering you."

You sighed, feeling the weight of your secret relationship pressing down on you. "It's... complicated, Finn. Really complicated."

Finn nodded, his eyes filled with empathy. "Love usually is. But you don't have to go through it alone, you know. Whatever it is, I'm here for you."

His words touched your heart, and you felt a lump form in your throat. "Thank you, Finn. I mean it."

He reached over and gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Anytime, kid. Anytime."

The night took an unexpected turn when you and Finn received a call about a suspect spotted in a nearby alley. Rushing to the scene, adrenaline pumped through your veins as you prepared to confront the potential threat.

As you and Finn approached the alley, you saw the silhouette of a man lurking in the shadows. Without hesitation, you called out for him to freeze, but before you could react, he lunged at you with surprising speed and ferocity.

Pain exploded through your body as his fists connected with your face and chest, sending you crashing to the ground. He straddled your waist as you lay on the ground, a sharp, blinding white pain seared throughout your entire body, blooming from your stomach. Through the haze of agony, you heard Finn shouting for backup as one, two, three gunshots echoed through the ally, but you were too focused on trying to breathe through the pain. Suddenly, a loud groan left your throat as the heaviest weight you’ve ever felt sat on top of your wound. You knew it was Finn putting pressure on it but you also knew it was the most painful feeling you’ve ever had. His voice was a steady anchor amidst the chaos, reassuring you that help was on the way and that you would be okay.

As paramedics rushed to your side, you felt a sense of relief wash over you, knowing that you were no longer alone in your pain. Finn stayed by your side throughout the ordeal, offering words of encouragement and support as you were loaded into the ambulance and whisked away to the hospital. <><> Peter Stone sat at his desk, poring over case files with a furrowed brow. The dim light of his office cast long shadows across the room, matching the weight of his thoughts. His mind was consumed with the recent conversation he'd had with you, the woman he loved, yet couldn't fully claim. Was he shocked when you said those three simple words to him? Of course he was. He never really knew what it was like to love a woman and he wasn’t even sure if what he felt towards you was actually love. But when you said it, the way you said it, the way is stomach twisted and turned, the way his heart skipped a beat and almost froze completely. He knew he loved you just as much. The earlier argument was one you had both had so many times over the time you had been together, it was one that he kept promising to rectify but every time he went to do something about it something in the back of his head made him freeze. He was scared. He was scared not just of declaring your relationship, but of loving you. Had be been with women before? Of course he had. Had he been in relationship before?

Yes. But there was nothing like this. No one had ever made him feel safe and calm after a long day the way you did. Nothing made him smile more then when you would knock on his door in the same clothes he had seen you in the precinct wearing earlier, knowing you had come straight there to him after work. The way you would sit on his couch with your feet on his coffee table, the smell of your body wash in his shower; every little thing you did either annoyed him or made him adore you; And he loved you so much.

Just as he was lost in thought, his phone rang, jolting him back to reality. The time said it was just past 11:30pm, he had made his way back to the office just after you left. His brain no longer allowing him the pleasure of sleep he usually got when you had been with him. With a gnawing sense of unease, he picked up the receiver, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Stone," he answered, his voice betraying none of the turmoil within.

"Peter, it's Liv," came Olivia Benson's voice on the other end. "We've had an incident. It's [Y/N]. She's been seriously injured."

The world seemed to tilt on its axis as Peter processed Olivia's words. His mind raced, a thousand scenarios playing out in his head, each one more terrifying than the last.  His brain finally settling on the one that terrified him the most. That you weren’t going to be okay.

"What happened?" he demanded, his voice taut with worry.

"She was attacked while on duty," Olivia explained, her voice steady despite the gravity of the situation. "She's in surgery now, but it's bad, Peter. Shes lost a lot of blood. We're doing everything we can."

Peter's chest tightened with fear, his thoughts immediately turning to you and the danger you faced every day in the line of duty. And as Olivia continued to speak, outlining the extent of your injuries and the uncertainty of your condition, Peter felt a surge of guilt wash over him.

Guilt for keeping your relationship a secret, for not being there to protect you when you needed him most. Guilt for letting his own fears and insecurities stand in the way of declaring his love for you openly.

As he listened to Olivia's words, Peter made a silent vow to himself. If you pulled through this, he would no longer hide his feelings for you. He would shout them from the rooftops if he had to, damn the consequences.

Because in that moment, with the possibility of losing you looming large in his mind, Peter knew one thing for certain: he couldn't bear to live in a world where you weren't by his side. And if it took a brush with death to make him realize it, then so be it.

With a determined nod, Peter thanked Olivia for the update before hanging up the phone. Rising from his desk, he made his way out of the office, his thoughts consumed by one thing and one thing only: you.

<><> Peter’s footsteps echoed through the sterile halls of the hospital as he made his way to the waiting area where Olivia and Finn were already seated, their faces etched with worry. As he approached, their eyes met his, filled with a mixture of concern and anticipation. His stomach was in knots the entire was there, every red light, every corner seemed to add what felt like hours to his drive. His brain swirled in dangerous thoughts. What if you died before he got there? What if he never got to see you again? He felt sick with anticipation on the way there and seeing your colleagues faces and Finn’s severely blood stained shirt only made it worse.

"Peter," Olivia said, rising from her seat to greet him. "Any news?"

Peter shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not yet. She's still in surgery according to the nurse I asked on the way in."

Finn stood up, his expression grave. "Damn. Any idea how she's doing?"

Peter swallowed hard, the lump in his throat growing larger with each passing moment. "Not yet. The doctors haven't said anything."

Silence hung heavy in the air as they all took their seats, the tension thick between them. Peter could feel the weight of their worry pressing down on him, suffocating him with its intensity.

Minutes stretched into hours as they waited anxiously for any word on your condition. Cheap coffee only seemed to make the bile in his throat rise higher, almost forcing him to vomit while his stomach twist and turned while the clock ticked ominously in the background. His eyes watched Olivia pace briefly as she made calls to your Chief and who he assumed were your family members. Every now and again he felt Finn’s eyes on him, as if he was watching him carefully, curiously. Wondering why the ADA would be so concerned with you being here. Peter could almost sense the moment that Finn finally figured it out. The other man sat back in his chair, placed a hand on his back and said simply, “She’s going to be fine. She’s done more stupid things then this,”. The hospital bustled around them, a flurry of activity and noise that seemed to fade into the background as they focused on the one thing that mattered most: you.

Finally, a doctor emerged from the operating room, his expression somber as he approached them. Peter's heart leaped into his throat, his pulse racing with anticipation; the look on the doctors face made his heart expect the worst. It felt like it was about to beat straight out of his chest.

"Are you here for [Y/N]?" the doctor asked, his voice gentle yet tinged with sadness.

Peter nodded, his voice barely a whisper. "Yes. How is she?"

The doctor sighed, his gaze sympathetic. "She's stable, but it was touch and go for a while there. She suffered multiple injuries, including severe internal bleeding and a punctured lung. We were able to stabilize her, but she's not out of the woods yet."

Relief washed over Peter in a wave as he absorbed the doctor's words. You were alive.  You were going to make it. As the doctor explained the extent of your injuries and the treatment you would require, Peter felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning, he saw Olivia standing beside him, her eyes filled with concern.

"Peter, can I talk to you for a moment?" she asked softly, gesturing for him to follow her.

Nodding, Peter followed Olivia to a quiet corner of the waiting area, away from prying eyes and ears. Once they were alone, Olivia fixed him with a searching gaze.

"Peter, I need to ask you something," she began, her voice serious. "Is there something going on between you and [Y/N]? I’ve been wanting to ask this for a few weeks now, but I couldn’t be sure. But now…"

Peter's heart skipped a beat at her question, his mind racing as he tried to formulate a response. He couldn't lie to Olivia, not about something like this.

"Yes," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "We're... involved." It felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Telling someone felt like a brick from the wall that was stopping your relationship from moving forward had been moved. He almost wanted to laugh, of course you would be right about that.

Olivia's eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly regained her composure. "I had a feeling. The way you two interact, the tension between you..."

Peter nodded, guilt gnawing at his insides. "We've been trying to keep it under wraps, especially with everything going on at work. But tonight... we had a fight. I pushed her away, and now..."

Olivia placed a comforting hand on Peter's arm, her expression sympathetic. "Peter, you can't blame yourself for what happened. You didn't know this was going to happen."

Peter shook his head, his voice choked with emotion. "She was pissed with me when she left tonight, I know she was,”

Olivia squeezed his arm reassuringly. "You'll have plenty of time to make it up to her once she's out of surgery. Right now, we need to focus on supporting her and making sure she pulls through this."

Peter nodded, a sense of determination settling over him. "You're right. I won't let her down again."

<><> “Peter, Peter wake up,” His eyes shot open upon hearing Olivia’s voice. For a brief moment he wasn’t sitting in the most uncomfortable chair he’s ever sat in his entire life trying to get even an hours worth of sleep. The brunette woman gave him a gentle smile, “The doctor said that she’s stable enough that you can go see her now. I thought it would be best if you go sit with her, just make sure you keep us updated okay?” She gave his thigh a squeeze as she stood up to her full height, Peter following soon after. He rubbed a hand over his face, waking himself up a bit more; “Wha-what room is she in?” “ICU 7,” Olivia gave him a somber look, “I’ll bring her some stuff that you can give to her from her apartment,” Peter waited for a moment as Olivia walked past him before calling out her name. Waiting until she turned around he gave her the first small smile he could muster, “Thank you,” “You both deserve happiness. And if I can give you even a small bit of that, I will. I’ll be back in a few hours,” Olivia nodded before turning around and walking back down the corridor. Leaving Peter with  shaking hands, unsure of what he was about to face. ICU 7’s door was plain. There was absolutely nothing significant at all about it. Peter would almost say it was too clean. His hand couldn’t bring himself to open the door, he wanted to. He needed to see her but his was almost scared to see what was on the other side. With a heavy heart, Peter Stone entered the hospital room where you lay unconscious, hooked up to various monitors and IV lines. The tube down your throat with the machine on the right breathing for you gave him a solid reminder that you were just that close to losing your life. Almost 12 hours ago you were under him, your lips pressed to his as your nails scratched down his back, and now you looked just a shell of yourself. You were pale, almost white. It made him almost want to cry, this wasn’t you. There was no sparkle there. It was almost like he was waiting for you to suddenly open your eyes to make a comment about him being over dramatic.  The steady beep of the machines provided a somber backdrop to the scene, punctuating the silence that filled the room. He took in a deep breath, the smell of antiseptic assaulting his nostrils.

Pulling up a chair beside your bed, Peter took a moment to gather his thoughts, his gaze fixed on your still form. You looked so fragile lying there, a stark contrast to the strong and vibrant person he knew you to be.

"Hey," he whispered, reaching out to take your hand in his. "It's me, Peter. I'm here."

He was waiting, almost anticipating a response. But your hand just remained limp and the machine continued to pump air into your lungs. Peter felt a pang of guilt twist in his chest. He should have been there for you, to prevent this from happening. Maybe if you didn’t argue there could have been a chance he could have convinced you to play hooky like he was planning, But instead, he had let his fears and insecurities get in the way, pushing you away when you needed him most.

"I'm so sorry, [Y/N]," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I should have told you how I feel. I should have fought for us, instead of letting my own doubts hold me back."

Taking a deep breath, Peter continued, his words tumbling out in a rush of emotion. "I love you, [Y/N]. I've loved you from the moment I met you, and I've been an idiot for not saying it sooner. You mean everything to me, and I can't bear the thought of losing you."

Tears welled in Peter's eyes as he spoke, his heart laid bare before you in the quiet of the hospital room. He knew you couldn't hear him, couldn't respond to his confession, but he needed to say the words out loud, if only to ease the burden of his guilt.

"I promise, when you wake up, I'll be here," he vowed, his voice barely a whisper. "I'll be here for you, [Y/N], for as long as you'll have me. And I'll do whatever it takes to make things right between us."

With a heavy heart, Peter leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment longer. Then, with a sigh, he settled back into his chair, his hand still clasped tightly in yours. <><>

Days had passed since Peter's confession at your bedside. Each moment felt like an eternity as he waited anxiously for any sign of improvement in your condition. The hospital staff worked tirelessly to stabilize you, but the road to recovery was slow and uncertain. They allowed him to shower there, his laptop constantly by his side as he tried tiredlessly to catch up on the ever-building unanswered emails. It was a nice distraction to the heartbreaking scene in front of him. His phone would ring occasionally from the team at SVU asking for updates- Olivia passing them on to your family who were unable to catch a flight to get to you.

Then, finally, a glimmer of hope emerged as you began to show signs of improvement. The doctor discussed removing the tube from your mouth and throat, explaining that it was a procedure he wouldn’t want to be around to watch. It was an internal battle he was fighting before a friendly nurse, one who had been bringing him late night snacks from the nurses station, placed a hand on his arm and reassured him that you’ll be in good hands and it’s nothing they haven’t done a hundred times before. She was giving him a chance to go freshen up before seeing you. It felt like hours, the drive to his apartment, the shower, the re dressing, getting your favourite food from the takeaway place down the road, before making his way back to the hospital. One part of him wanted to bring you back flowers, but the other part of him heard you mocking him for being over-romantic and reminded him that you didn’t always like romance.

Yet, Peter was there, as he had promised, seated beside your bed with a laptop open in front of him, but his attention was wholly focused on you. When he noticed the subtle change in your demeanor, his heart skipped a beat, and he set aside his work, all his attention now on you.

"Hey there," he said softly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Welcome back."

Your vision was blurry, your mind still foggy from the effects of the medication, but his voice was a lifeline in the darkness. Slowly, you blinked away the haze, trying to focus on his face.

"Peter?" you murmured, your voice raspy from disuse. You winced slightly, every bone and muscle crying out in pain as you slightly moved.

"Yeah, it's me," he replied, reaching out to take your hand in his. "How are you feeling?" You tried to speak, but the rawness of your throat made you grimace in pain. It felt like you had tonsilitis all over again.

"It's okay," he reassured you, his voice calm and soothing. "You're in the hospital, but you're going to be okay. The doctors had to intubate you to help you breathe, but you're getting better. Do you need anything? I have food, water, what do you need,” You pointed to the water bottle sitting on the table next to him, something which he grabbed and unlidded quickly. It was like you hadn’t drank anything in years, the whole bottle was almost finished before you pulled it away. Peter watched with bated breath as you took small sips of water, relief flooding through him as you finally seemed to find some comfort. He couldn't help but marvel at the resilience you displayed, even in the face of such adversity.

"Better?" he asked softly, his eyes filled with concern as he watched you carefully.

You nodded weakly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you."

Peter smiled, a warm, genuine expression that reached his eyes. "Of course. Anything for you."

As you settled back against the pillows, Peter reached for the container of food he had brought, offering it to you with a gentle hand. "I got your favorite," he said, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "I hope you're hungry. The doctor said you need to take it easy but I know you’d probably be hungry,”

You managed a small smile, gratitude shining in your eyes as you accepted the offering. "Thank you, Peter. You didn't have to do all this."

He shook his head, his expression earnest. "I wanted to. I wanted to make sure you had everything you needed when you woke up."

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence as you ate, the only sound filling the room the quiet hum of the machines monitoring your vitals. It was a small moment of normalcy in the midst of chaos, a reminder of the bond you shared and the love that bound you together.

As you finished your meal, Peter reached for your hand once more, his touch gentle and reassuring. "I'm so glad you're awake, [Y/N]," he said softly, his voice filled with emotion. "I've missed you."

“I’ve been here,” You pointed out, a small, weak smile crossing your face. Peter paused eating, a shadow crossing his face, “It’s not the same. It wasn’t the same. I’ve had a gun pointed at me and I was less scared then what I was when I got that phone call from Liv,” You looked down, your appetite suddenly gone and the air in the hospital room becoming thick, “I didn’t go out intending to be stabbed,” “We had an argument that night about the same thing we always do. And that was all I could think about. Was that you weren’t going to make it and you thought that I didn’t love you,” You pulled shrugged a shoulder, “And do you?” Peter's heart clenched at your question, the weight of it hanging heavy in the air between you. He took a deep breath, his gaze searching yours as he gathered his thoughts. The idea of him waking up to you every morning, being able to hold your hand in public, to kiss you. The idea of being able to tell you that he loved you every day and every night meant more to him then you would ever fully be able to comprehend.

"Yes," he replied, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging within him. "I love you. More than I can put into words."

You met his gaze, uncertainty flickering in your eyes. "But why didn't you say anything before? Why keep it a secret?"

Peter sighed, his shoulders sagging with the weight of his guilt. "I was scared. Scared of what it would mean for us, for our jobs. Scared of losing you if things didn't work out." You opened your mouth to retaliate but he held up a hand to cut you off.

"But that's no excuse," he continued, his voice tinged with regret. "I should have been brave enough to tell you how I feel, to fight for us instead of letting my fears hold me back. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that I let my own insecurities get in the way of our happiness"

Tears welled in your eyes as you listened to Peter's confession, his words echoing the doubts and fears that had plagued you both in the weeks leading up to your hospitalization. But beneath the pain and regret, there was a glimmer of hope, a flicker of possibility that maybe, just maybe, you could find a way to move forward together.

Reaching out, you took Peter's hand in yours, the warmth of his touch grounding you in the present moment. "I forgive you, Peter," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "We've both made mistakes, but that doesn't change how I feel about you."

Peter's gaze softened, his heart swelling with love and gratitude. "I don't deserve you."

You shook your head, a small smile gracing your lips. "We’re idiots but we deserve each other, Peter. And whatever happens next, we'll face it together."

In that moment, as you sat together in the quiet of the hospital room, surrounded by the steady beep of the monitors and the hum of the machines, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as you had each other, you could weather any storm. And with a renewed sense of hope and determination, you leaned in to press a gentle kiss to Peter's lips, sealing your love and commitment to each other once and for all.

[gatefleet]

Go To

Law & Order: SVU: Jose 'Joe' Velasco

Word Count: 556

(T)W: Trafficking, Human vs Automobile Collision

Request: No

A/N: I'm really just trying to get out of my writing slump.

GIF Credit to the original owner/poster if you know who it is pls lmk.

“You really have an issue with allowing me to sleep, don’t you?” you stated as you walked up to Joe in the new precinct. He looks up from the floor and gives you a sheepish look. He was about to respond when you both heard Benson and Fin speaking with the Captain of the Vice Squad. You both looked up and you gave Joe a slightly panicked ‘I swear I didn’t say anything’ look. It became more apparent that Captain Kubiak had been the one to awaken Captain Benson and gotten her and Fin down to the station.

Once everything was cleared up and you had explained to Benson and Fin what you knew (which admittedly wasn’t much) you all worked a plan with Vice to find the girls that had gone missing from Joe’s hometown. You made sure to quietly and subtly reprimand him for being so stupid and getting himself arrested and for waking you up, he shrugged semi-apologetically at you.

You worked the info side of the investigation while Joe and the others worked the streets. They went to a café to speak with someone who was believed to have information on the missing girls and came back with pastries (which you were more than happy to try). Joe began to look more worried and more miserable the longer the case went on. You moved to sit in the chair next to Joe’s desk, he looked up, exhaustion and frustration evident in his eyes. Those sea-green eyes that captivated you for a second before you snapped back to what you intended to do. You comforted Joe and assured him that the team was going to do everything in their power to ensure the safe return of the girls, no matter what it takes.

You looked up when you were called into Benson’s office. She asked you to accompany Detective Chavez to a hotel to speak with a potential victim whom Joe and Chavez had met earlier that day. You agreed and when you met with Chavez she spoke with the girl in Spanish, but although your Spanish was rusty, you could understand them.

Chavez had contacted the teams to let them know that the waitress was willing to talk to them and you both escorted the waitress, Lucia, to Café Senorita’s. Chavez walked in front, the witness followed, and you came up the rear. None of you seen the black SUV coming. None of you anticipated it not attempting to slow down. The world was in slow motion. The car. The sound of Chavez impact. The sound of her body hitting the ground. The fear in Lucia’s eyes as she got up and ran in the other direction. Everyone focused on Chavez, you followed Lucia. She had been hit too and ran in the opposite direction. You followed her on instinct.

You couldn’t take calls from the team. You were too busy trying to keep the trust of Lucia. You went with her to the clinic to get her arm checked out. You hadn’t expected to run into Velasco there. When Lucia saw him, she immediately began to panic and attempted to use you as a barrier between Velasco and herself. You managed to calm Joe and Lucia down and you were able to work out a plan between the three of you.

Tag List Open

[snapeysister]

Just so happened to slip into a new fandom, and now I need non-romantic Reader insert fics of Law & Order SVU - Olivia Benson's sister/cousin, Newt Scamander's daughter and Snape's daughter

I'll never be able to write all this as I only know how to imagine it on the go 😭

@lawandordersvuconfessions-b-blog @lawandordersvu-fan @lawandordersvuimagine @newtscamanderimagines @charlotterhea @scamanderishredmayniac

[hannya-writes]

Masterlist II

Harry Potter Universe

Something Wicked this way comes (Percival Graves x reader)

Something Wicked this Way Comes (Part II) (Percival Graves x reader)

Deleramentum (Sirius Black x reader)

Chapter I

Chapter II

• • •

Once Upon a Time

Your home Is Were I am (Jefferson x Reader)

Almost Magical. (Jefferson x Reader)

Jefferson’s Happy Ending (Jefferson x Reader)

• • •

Star Wars

Obi Wan Kenobi

Only you

A White Demon Love Song

The Promise

Why would you ask that?

Melting Waltz

By Her Side

I’ve Always known

Before Our Masters Found us

Is this a Dream?

You are my friend, right?

Even in Death...

Forget

Offspring

• • •

Supernatural

It’s Our Daughter, Cas (Castiel x Reader)

Gone Angel (Dean Winchester x Reader)

Summon the Father (Dean Winchester x Reader)

• • •

Teen Wolf

Your Kind (Part I) (Derek Hale x reader)

I like you the way you are (Derek Hale x Reader)

• • •

Law and Order SVU/Marvel Multiverse

Wanna see a trick?

Don´t Tell Anyone (Requested) (Carisi x Reader)

Supernatural/The Walking Dead

Stop coming by (Negan x Reader)

Genshin Impact

The Broken Contract (Morax x Reader)

Sandbearer (Morax x Reader)

Continue to Masterlist I

[mickey-gomez]

Gentle

Chapter 8 of Fade Into You

Warnings/tags: Fluff, soft smut, 

Pairing: Rita/Reader

A/N: Picks up right after Chapter 7, click through for a refresher, because it’s been a year a while since I’ve updated. Covers the “Oh fuck. Do that again.” square of @prentiss-theorem​’s bingo. It’s a rush job, partially because I wanted to at least attempt to participate in bingo, and partially because I’m sick of this story and not updating. 

Brief summary of why I haven’t updated. 

Where last night had been frantic, fast and rough, and so very desperate. The dawn that this morning brought was a stark contrast, soft and gentle, both of you finally allowing yourselves to show your vulnerability, without hesitation. Your eyes were glued to the others’ as you watched the swirls of pleasure darken them, soft words fanning your necks as your pupils dilated, and lips parted. 

It was so very different from the night prior, where your eyes had been scrunched so tightly shut, or looking away, focusing on something else, out of some innate need to protect yourself. 

It was as if Rita could read your mind, that last night she knew exactly what you wanted, what you needed, without you even having to hint at it, you hadn’t needed to speak or contort your bodies, she just knew. This morning was no different, as your guard lowered to allow her to see you fully like this, soft kisses and intense gazes as you chased your peaks together. 

Afterwards as you both laid there, the tips of her fingers travelled up and down your back, no clear path or pattern to the movements, and when they traced over your neck and into the nape where your hair met, you moaned softly and shivered against her. 

She leaned in, as her hand wrapped itself in your hair, softly tugging against the roots as she started kissing and sucking against the skin below your ear, every so often delivering a bite before soothing over the mark with her tongue. 

And later when she laid her knees next to your head, arching her back as your nails ran down her toned stomach, you’d never thought you’d seen anything so beautiful. The sun rose above the curtains and the windows, through the clouds and buildings, casting a luminous orange glow over the room, and the two of you. 

The light pierced through the windows as she came undone, on top of you, and that’s when you knew, for certain, you’d never seen anything so beautiful. The glow from the sun spread across her chest as her hands gripped your head tighter and her mouth formed the perfect ‘O’, as she shook above you. 

You both let out low laughs when she came down, and rolled over next to you, swollen lips meeting for kisses as your eyelids leisurely closed, soft breaths as you fell asleep once more.

When you finally roused that morning, you did so with a lopsided grin on your face, the images of the night gone, and the early morning just been, flashing through your mind. A shiver travelled up your spine as your body remembered what she had done to it. The feeling of her tongue and hands as they memorised the length of you. 

You rolled over, expecting to find her asleep beside you, instead finding the sheets pulled back and no sign of her. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, sitting up, and craning your neck towards the door, listening for any sounds of life on the other side. You stretched out, raising your arms and rolling your neck. That’s when you spotted the note on the bedside table, ‘Gone to get breakfast. Be back soon x’. You smiled and breathed a short sigh of relief that she hadn’t panicked and left you here. You laughed silently to yourself and shook your head, of course she hadn’t fled and left you in her own apartment.  

You walked into the ensuite and as the bright overhead lights clicked on, and you were met with your reflection in the mirror, you gasped at the sight of the purple hues of bruising that were so vivid on your chest and neck. You traced your fingers over them, feeling where teeth and lips had met skin. 

You took a moment to comb your fingers through your hair, settling it, sweeping it to one side and over one shoulder. You turned your head ever so slightly, as the light bounced off the mark she’d left on your neck, you circled it delicately with the tip of your finger, remembering the feeling of it, and how you desperately wanted her to leave more. 

After freshening up, you reached for the first piece of clothing you saw, Rita’s oxford button down that laid neatly across the armchair in the corner. Slipping it on and buttoning the bottom buttons up until they stopped at your sternum. 

When you walked out and down the hallway, you almost jumped out of your skin when you saw her seated at the kitchen island, demitasse cup in one hand, newspaper in the other. 

“You’re awake” she smiled softly as she set aside the paper and cup, leaning forward and resting her head in her hand as she looked over at you. 

“Well I was cold, and lonely.” you yawned “Why’d you let me sleep so long?” 

“Seemed like you needed it.” She shrugged, then she drank you in, noting the tiredness under your eyes and the third yawn that escaped you as you stood there, leaning against the counter. “You get used to the long hours, don’t worry.”

“Thanks” You reached over to the sink, grabbing your glass from the night prior, rinsing it before filling it from the tap, trying not to gulp down the water. “Somehow I don’t think the reason I’m tired is because of work.” If you weren’t paying attention, you would have missed the quick flash of her lips that turned into a smirk, and the way her eyes flashed fleetingly with something that resembled a frantic mix of excitement and smug pride. 

“Lonely huh?” she raked her eyes over you. The tension between the two of you was building again, like it had done last night, and for years prior, like a bubble waiting to burst. “Do you want coffee?” you heard her ask it, but it was faint, your mind elsewhere, you took a breath and blinked, shaking your head lightly, and when you met her eyes again, you simply smiled quickly and nodded. 

You turned your head, looking for the pot, and your eyes widened when you saw that she had an actual espresso machine, and not a drip one like you were used to. “I don’t know how to use that” you pointed and she laughed. 

Rounding the island, coming to stand behind you, her arms wrapped around your waist as she leant in and kissed your neck, and then the spot just below your ear. “I’ll show you” she whispered and you broke out with goosebumps when her breath hit your neck, and her words lingered on your skin. 

She put her hands on your hips, gently moving you out of the way, and you could hardly focus, your stomach doing somersaults every time she touched you. You tugged on the bottom of your shirt, pulling it down to cover the tops of your thighs before hopping up onto the island, crossing your legs as you watched her. The marble was cold under the bare skin of your thighs, and sobered you momentarily, like plunging into the ice. 

“Milk?” she hummed out in question as she flitted around, pulling out the beans and turning on the machine. 

“Please” you answered before the whirring sounds of the machine and grinder filled the room. You took her in, your eyes tracing all the way up her frame, glued to the sway of her hips, the perfect curves she possessed, and her long hair that cascaded down her back. She stole a quick glance over her shoulder and she simpered, looking pleased with herself, much like she always did.

“Are you paying attention?” 

“Hmm?” you ran the pad of your thumb over your lips and when you looked up to find her looking intently at you, a perfect smirk plastered on her face, you blushed and ducked your head down. 

You uncrossed your legs when she turned, mug in her hand, wrist outstretched as she presented it to you. You took it from her, your fingers running over hers when you gripped the handle. She looked down at your thighs, and then back up at you, taking a few steps until you uncrossed your legs and she was standing in between them. Your breath hitched in your throat when she ran her palms over the bare skin. 

“Nice shirt” She ran her hands further up your thighs, gripped down, as you sipped from your mug, she stopped abruptly when she reached the crease where they ended and your hips began. Realisation on her face when her fingers felt what was missing, “You’re not wearing…” she trailed off, and you placed the mug down on the counter, biting your lip as you felt the tension begin to bubble over, and when she swept her eyes up to meet yours, you gave her a coy smile, and that was all it took. She surged up, forcefully claiming your lips with hers. 

Your legs wrapped around her waist, reeling her in closer as tongues battled, and lips rolled together. She unbuttoned the shirt and swept the seams off your chest, pulling back, she reached her fingers out, ghosting them over your nipple, watching the way it stiffened as it bloomed, before pinching it. Not hard enough for it to sting or burn underneath her fingertips, just enough for her to amuse herself at the way your body reacted, at the soft moan that escaped your lips, and the way your eyes changed colours as they slowly rolled back. 

She trailed her fingers down your chest and stomach, watching the way you reacted, your skin pricking as goosebumps formed. You both let out moans when her fingers entered you, breaths swirling together as they danced between lips and mouths. Your hips rolled in time with the movements of her wrist, and when she pulled them forward deep inside of you, you almost came undone. 

“Oh fuck. Do that again.” you sobbed through airy gasps and breaths, and you knew she was smirking, without even having to look at her, the arrogance radiated off her. 

“Can you take another?” she husked and you couldn’t speak, a strangled sob leaving your throat as you nodded furiously. “Good girl” she bit your earlobe and in that same moment, flicked her thumb up to your clit. You swore you could have come right in that moment, and as embarrassing as that was, you probably would have, if it wasn’t for her pulling her fingers out, a huff of laughter on your neck as she took in your reaction. “You like it when I call you that, don’t you?” and when you didn’t answer she bit into your neck, into a bruise she’d left the night before. “I asked you a question.” 

“Yes.. yes..” you closed your eyes, and bit down on your bottom lip, almost hard enough that it drew blood. 

“Open your eyes, I want to watch you when you come.” you moaned involuntarily at that, but kept your eyes firmly closed. She pinched your thigh, forcing your eyes to come flying open, a wicked smile gracing her lips. She eased back into you with three fingers and your mouth flew open, breath hitching in your throat, at the stretch and how amazing it felt, this delicate swirl of pleasure and pain. She stared intently into your eyes and then dropped down to your lips, watching the way they arched as she fucked you. 

When she pressed her thumb to your clit, rubbing intently, your eyes rolled back into your skull, screaming out as your entire body convulsed and shook, your hips almost levitating off the counter. You wanted to cry, scream, and even laugh. How was she so good at that?

She pulled her fingers out before you could continue to ruminate on it, drawing your attention back to her standing in front of you. You gripped her wrist, looking at her through hooded lids, raising her hand to your mouth as you cleaned off her fingers, one at a time. 

“What am I going to do now?” she murmured, as she watched you take her fingers into your mouth, your tongue swirling around them.  

“Hmm?” you were only fractionally listening to her, too consumed on the taste in your mouth and the look on her face as she watched you.

“I still want a taste” she purred, and you simpered as you laid back, blissed out. Wondering if it would always be like this, that every time she touched you, would leave you this breathless, this bone-weary. 

“So, dirty talk huh?” she ran the palm of her hand over your stomach, and you could hear the infliction of laughter as she spoke. 

“Shut up” you giggled, swatting her hand away. As you laid there, you heard her moving around and then the sound of something being put on the floor in front of you. You sat up, and laughed when you saw it was a stool. She raised her eyebrows at you, smirking as she pulled it forward and sat down, gripping onto your calves as she pulled you forward, and rested them on her shoulders. 

“You can try, but I won’t be able to come again so soon.” You murmured softly as you gently wove your hands through her hair. Scratching at her scalp and tugging on her tresses as she kissed up your thighs. 

“Yes you can.” she gazed up at you, a smug smile firmly in place as she spoke directly and frankly, even somewhat delicately when she kissed the inside of your thigh, resting her head where she had just kissed, gazing up at you, as if she was asking permission to continue. 

“Knock yourself out” you shrugged in disbelief, being polite and not wanting to damage her ego, you expected her to tire herself out after half an hour or just there after, but instead you were shocked, and almost excited, when less than ten minutes later, you were crying out once more, shuddering as you gripped her hands, spilling into her mouth and once more onto her tongue, another wave washing over you.

“So last night was a lot” she spoke softly from her position across from you, leaning against the counter, her eyes not yet meeting yours, staring into the distance as she raised her mug to her lips.

“Pent up sexual frustration, Rita.” you rolled your eyes, and she laughed for a moment before her tone changed, becoming softer and quieter as she looked at you. 

“It wasn’t too much was it?” she hesitated “I mean, I should have probably…” 

“What?” 

“Asked you before I-” Oh, so that’s what she meant. She was skirting around saying it fully aloud, maybe out of some form of prudishness or out of some innate need to protect you, or maybe it was because despite her brash outward demeanour and facade, this was who she truly was at the core of her being, tender and gentle, and maybe just a little demure underneath it all. 

“-Strapped me?” you brashly interrupted her, shrugging as you reached for your mug, and she started choking on her own breath, much to your amusement. “You did ask” 

“I should have been slower… more gentle… checked in with you more.” she fiddled with the handle of the mug in her hands, and you could recognise the seeds of doubt she was planting in her own head.

“Rita” you said her name gently, coaxing her attention back to you. “If I had wanted that, I would have stopped you, and we would have had a conversation.” you watched as she exhaled and her features softened, some of the tension she was carrying beginning to ease. 

“Is that what you really wanted last night? Something more akin to earlier this morning?” you searched her eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of the truth, and when she didn’t give you anything, you spoke once more, with more assertion this time. “You told me… well showed me. You showed me what you wanted, it was hot.” she smiled then, and the light in her eyes changed. 

“So do you want pancakes?” she asked as she put the now empty mug down, and pushed off the counter to stand in between your legs. 

“You made breakfast?” you looked at her perplexingly, she wasn’t, by her own admission, the greatest cook. You winced a little internally at the thought of having to feign interest in whatever she had prepared, or attempted to prepare. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” she laughed “I put an order in at Bubby’s.” and with that admission your stomach settled and you let out a quiet sigh of relief. “Okay, you don’t have to look so relieved.” she huffed, partially annoyed and partially amused. 

“Come here” you tugged on her shirt “Thank you for not making breakfast.” you whispered teasingly as you kissed her.

The two of you never managed to leave her apartment over the weekend, seemingly losing track of time. When you weren’t in bed, you both snacked, and ate where you could, take out dropped at the door, pizza consumed on the living room floor. 

The nights were spent drinking red wine and listening to her record collection, talking and debating, much like you had done for years, except this time, you couldn’t control yourselves, and neither of you wanted to. You both yearned to learn every part of one another. You’d make it maybe halfway through an album, or a conversation, if you were lucky, before your eyes would consume one another, and your lips would devour the others’. 

@storiesofsvu @imlike-so-gay-dude @wannabe-fic-reader @alexusonfire @momlifebehard @annegilletteslostwh0r3 @drduckthief @giftedchildturns40 @holycrapraewth @when-wolves-howl @ladysc @itwasrealtome @fanfictionfangirl04 @upsidedowndanvers @jetaimedarling  @red1culous

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Fic Masterpost💌

— request guidelines here!

ROSA DIAZ MASTERLIST

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PRENTISS-THEOREM BINGO!!

Hi friends!! I decided to host a little writing bingo for August and September! <3

Anyone can join in! The submissions can be any genre, pairing and fandom! The prompts include some fluff, smut and angst but the interpretation is fully up to you! There are some general as well as dialogue and song prompts, it can be a reader insert, character/character, character/OC, literally anything you'd like to write.

The submissions can be anything, one-shots, HCs, blurbs, parts of a series, incorrect quotes. If you're not a writer and still wish to participate it can be all sorts of mood boards and GIF sets, literally ANYTHING you wish to create (I know the # says writing bingo but we move, anything is welcome!).

Some example fandoms: Criminal Minds, Abbott Elementary, Law and Order SVU but anyone from any fandom can join in!

The bingo starts on 15th of August and lasts until the 30th of September.

General Rules:

Tag me @prentiss-theorem and use the tag #raeswritingbingo in your submissions.

List all warnings on top of your posts. Please make sure to list ALL appropriate warnings in your fics.

The bingo lasts from 15th of August until 30th of September, if you wish to participate make sure to be in this time frame.

One creation should only contain one bingo square.

Please do not include minors in ANY sort of romantic situations and relationships with the characters. This applies to inserts/OCs/characters.

The longer fics should be posted under the 'read more' cut.

If you're a minor and wish to participate, do not under any circumstances submit any NSFW content. Please and thank you.

I will happily answer any questions you may have. You can also request specific bingo squares with the characters for me to write <3 When the bingo concludes all the submissions will be put together in a masterlist. Please share to reach more people who could be interested in participating!

After the bingo has ended all submissions will be collected into a masterlist, all authors will be tagged <3

Tagging some of my writing friends who could be interested in joining in <3

@nightmarish-fae @storiesofsvu @gaelic-symphony @neuroprincess @swimmingstudentchaos891 @iamnotoriginalphil @imagining-in-the-margins @rustyzebra @whiteberryx @strongsassysexysloane @baubeautyandthegeek @mickey-gomez @demonicbaby666 @virescent-v @foxy-eva

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Blood is Thicker than Water: Chapter 20

AN: Not going to lie. I STRUGGLE writing wedding scenes. However, I really love how this chapter turned out. Instead of dragging it out, we get snippets. I love that about this. Please leave feedback.

Warnings: None that I can think of.

Master List

Guest List: 

“Four hundred and thirty-six people.” 

Rafa stares at you. He’s been sipping from that cup of coffee for over two minutes now. You lean forward and say it again, “Four hundred and thirty-six people.” 

He finally puts the cup down, “I really don’t see the problem.” 

You scream in frustration and stomp right out of the apartment. 

The moment the door closes Rafael looks at Benny and asks, “She realizes I have a big family right?” 

Wedding Party: 

“So that gives me Rita as my best woman, and Ed and Eddie as groomsmen.” 

“And I have Liv as my maid of honor.” 

Rafa stares at you, “That means the sides are uneven.” 

“So?” 

“They can’t be uneven.” 

You raise an eyebrow, “Why not?” 

“It won’t look right.” 

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you.” 

Your fiance sighs, “What about your friends from college?” 

“Most of them are already married and have kids. Plus they live in different states. That’s not fair to ask them.” 

“Friends from childhood?” 

“I hung out with Elliot’s kids. I haven’t talked to them in years, andI don’t really have a desire to do so now.” 

“So this is just how it is.” 

“Unless you want me to ask your mother?” 

“Nope. We’re good.” 

The Venue: 

“What do you think?” 

You look around at the garden. It is perfect for a springtime wedding. Even without the flowers in bloom, it’s gorgeous. 

You look over at Rafa, his smile is stretched across his face. He’s done good. Amazing really. There’s just one problem. 

“It’s not going to fit four hundred thirty-six people.” 

Your fiance scowls, “We can figure it out. Some people can stand.” 

You cross your arms, and lean forward, “That’s against the fire code counselor.” you point towards the plaque that reads a max of 300. 

He throws his hands up in frustration, and finally says the words you’ve been waiting to hear, “Fine! I’ll make cuts.” 

Ring Bearer: 

“He needs a part in the wedding!” 

“I’m not disagreeing with you.” 

“You said no.” 

“I said no, because I already told my sister Noah could do it, and he’s our nephew.” 

“Well of course Noah is a ring bearer, I’m just saying Benny could be one too!” 

  “There’s also the fact that your grandmother might pass out if she sees a dog in the processional. We’re already not getting married in the neighborhood church. She nearly cried when we told her that.” 

“She loves Benny!” 

“I know, that’s why he can come to the reception and take pictures with us. I already talked to the venue and our dog walker.” 

“Oh. Well, okay then.” 

Shopping: 

“So how did you manage to convince mama Barba and Abuelita and the rest of his relatives not to come today?” 

You take a sip of the champagne in your hand, “I told them the truth. This is a you and me thing. No one else allowed.” 

Liv smiles, “Well, it means a lot that it’s just us.”

“What do you think of these?” 

You and Liv turn together and watch as Ed and Noah come out together. They’re dressed in matching tuxes. You and Liv melt. Noah is absolutely adorable, and Ed actually cleans up pretty good. While Rita is Rafa’s best woman, Ed and Eddie are his groomsmen, and Noah is the ring bearer. 

After you’re all done cooing at Noah, Rafael finally steps out of the dressing room. He looks drop dead handsome in his tux. You feel your eyes go wide, and then he gets a little smirk on his face. You know you’re not living this moment down. 

Music: 

You stare at Rafa. He’s trying not to laugh. You can’t blame him. “She’s going to kill us.” 

You smile, “This song comes from the first movie we ever watched together.” 

“We’ve already found a way to work quotes into the wedding. If you walk down the aisle to this song, your sister might just kill us.” 

You shake your head, a serious look coming over your face, “No she won’t. She knows why I love this movie, why I love the book.” 

Rafa looks serious now too, “I think it’s perfect.” 

Dress shopping: 

“No,no, no, no, no! What did I tell you about off the rack? I said absolutely not! Where is your manager? I helped him evade a racketeering charge, he owes me!” 

You sip on champagne and look at your sister. She has that look on her face, “At least it wasn’t a murder or rape charge.” 

She nods in agreement before asking, “How did Rita end up on this chopping trip again?” 

“This is apparently the best wedding dress shop around. She knows the owner . . . apparently rather well. She’s trying to help.” 

A second later a terrified manager and a ranting Rita pass you by.

You both watch them go. You’re happy to say you don’t find your dress in that store. 

Dress Shopping Part 2: 

The day you find your wedding dress, you’re not expecting it. You’re less than five months away from the wedding, and you’re panicking a little bit. You KNOW it takes time to order a dress. Rita’s told you about it five million times. 

You’re walking Benny when you see it. A small bridal shop, with a pretty dress in the window. You stare at it for several seconds before you call your sister. She answers on the first ring, “This better be an emergency. I’m in the middle of a case.” 

“I think I might have found my wedding dress.” 

There’s a moment of silence, “What’s the address, I’ll be there ASAP.” 

You rattle it out just as an employee sticks her head out, “Hi there. Would you like to come in?” 

You look down at Benny and she smiles, “He’s welcome to come in too. I love dogs!” You go in.

By the time Liv arrives, Benny is on his back getting belly scratches from the staff while you’re in the dressing room being fitted into your dream dress. 

Liv stares at your goofy, three legged dog for a second before she calls out your name. You step out a second later. 

You watch her eyes go wide, as she studies you for a second, “That’s it.” 

You nod, “Yeah.” There are no tears. It’s just a comfortable feeling. This is your wedding dress. 

The Night Before: 

The night before your wedding is spent at Liv’s apartment. Ed and Noah head over to your place to spend time with Rafa and Eddie. It’s just the two of you. You put on face masks, paint your nails, and watch Disney movies. It reminds you of one of the best parts of your childhood.

It’s as you’re sitting on the couch that Liv says, “I’m so happy for you. You know that right?” 

You smile, “I know.” 

“He’s a good man.” 

“The best in my opinion, though Ed gives him a run for his money.” 

She smiles at that, “I truly think, you’re going to be really happy together.” 

“I know so.” 

With that, she pulls you in for a hug. 

Right Before the Wedding: 

You don’t actually feel nervous until about half an hour before the wedding. Your makeup and hair is done. You probably should have been in your dress by now, but you’re still in your getting ready outfit. Things are a bit behind schedule. Noah had a melt down, your sister has cried no less than three times, and Abuelita and Lucia have been bickering with each other. You haven’t seen Rafa. You’re not sure why you’re sticking to this stupid tradition, but you are. 

You’re watching the chaos with an observant eye when someone taps you on the shoulder. You spin around to see your sister standing there. She tosses her head to the side and you follow her outside. The sun is shining and the March air is only a little chilly. You close your eyes and allow yourself a minute. When you open your eyes, you see Liv smiling at you. 

“What?” 

“It’s just crazy. How Lewis,” 

“May he rot in hell,” 

“Lead to all of this. You moving back and meeting Rafael. Me and Ed connecting, getting married, and having Noah. We’re getting those happy endings we dreamed of as kids.” 

You hug yourself and look at the ground for a little bit before you look up, “Did I ever say thank you?” 

“For what?” 

“For raising me and loving me when you didn’t have to?” 

Your sister hugs you, “You never have to thank me for that. You are one of the best joys of my life.” You smile at that. 

Walking Down the Aisle: 

You’re nervous, but you’re allowed to be. You’re in your dress, your veil is attached, and everyone has walked down the aisle except you and Liv. You look at your sister. She’s dressed in a black dress. She has once again avoided color. 

She holds out her arm to you, and you take it. You close your eyes, and you count to three. The music starts: the instrumental Dawn from Pride and Prejudice; the first movie you and Rafa watched together. The movie you two still watch together.

You start to walk. It’s slow, and thanks to the three hundred and twenty three people (Rafa was able to cut it down) you can’t see Rafael yet. You do, however, see Uncle Don, and Finn, and Munch. You smile at them. 

And then you turn the corner of people, and you see him. Rafael is standing there. He’s dressed in his tux. His hair is perfectly styled. His eyes are focused solely on you as though you’re the only thing he sees. You feel yourself start to speed up, but your sister grounds you like she always does. 

When you finally reach him, you feel your breath leave your chest. And as you take his hand, everything else fades away. It’s just you and him. Just like it’s supposed to be. 

[motherofdogs1010]

Laurel Sickness II (Dark!Sonny Carisi x Reader)

Summary: It's been a few months since Sonny Carisi decided that she was his new objection of desire and it seems more apparent that she'll never be rid of him, no matter how hard she tries.

Warnings: dark!fic, 18+ only, NSFW, yandere behavior, vulgar language, yandere!Sonny, dark!Sonny, stalking, attempted blackmail, eventual kidnapping, eventual NONCON

Dividers @firefly-graphics Banner @vase-of-lilies

Y/N felt fear and anxiety each time she opened her dorm apartment door, each day she found new 'gifts' from Maddie's uncle that she always felt terrified over.

Flowers one day, a poem another, but now they were reaching into the level of lingerie and other items that she was horrified at. And for her credit, Maddie had been horrified to find it was her uncle sending such things, having even confronted the man on her behalf but to no avail, Y/N still received gifts.

She still found him following her, calling her, texting, etc. It had been months of this and Y/N was terrified to go to the police, who would believe her if she said that the assistant ADA was stalking her? She would be laughed at!

Nevertheless, Maddie had insisted on keeping the cards and screenshots as evidence.

And that brings her to today as Y/N rubbed her temples as she could feel the older man's gaze on her as she grocery shopped, her hands gripping the cart as she tried to not make it obvious.

She carried pepper spray, those loud ass alarms and even a taser now because of the obsessed older man. It terrified her just how far he was pushing to get near her and Y/N wondered just where Maddie had wandered off to.

Y/N could practically feel the man's breath down her neck as she quickened her pace, trying to remember everything that they taught in self-defense class when a hand grabbed the cart and her eyes widen.

"You're in such a rush, doll", Sonny said with a crazed look. "I just wanna talk."

"Get away from me", she spat, "I've told you 'no', you sick fuck."

"Now, now that not a nice thing to say", he said, "I just wanna talk to you, maybe take you out."

"I said 'no'", she hissed, using the cart to hit his shins.

He stumbled back just as Maddie rounded the corner and her friend rushed over to her.

"Uncle Sonny, get away from her", Maddie hissed, pushing the man away.

"Oh Maddie", Sonny said, "I haven't seen you in awhile,"

"Something going on here, ladies?" a large security guard walked up and Y/N felt relief at the man's bulky appearance. "This man bothering you?"

"I really think we should report him", Maddie said with a sympathetic look in her eyes. "It's going too far."

They were back home now, a few days had now passed and Y/N felt conflicted as she sat in the living room on their couch. Her legs curled up under her as she tried to focus on the Netflix documentary playing in front of her, but it wasn't working as Y/N practically chewed on her bottom lip.

"He's your uncle", Y/N said, "I don't want to cause problems for you with your family."

Maddie shook her head, "even my parents are saying he's crazy! We're going down first thing tomorrow."

🚓

Olivia Benson had seen a lot in her line of work over the last nearly thirty or so years. She had seen just about everything and yet she still got shaken up by a case or two.

She wasn't exactly sure what she expected to happen that day when she clocked in for the day, but it certainly wasn't this.

"Hello Lt. Benson, my name is Maddie Carisi and this is my friend, F/N. We're here to report my uncle Sonny for stalking and harassment."

Yeah, she certainly wasn't expecting this.