slipped my mind- maximoffwitch
come home- maximoffwitch
blurb-you trying to get dana to quit smoking- maximoffwitch
look after you- maximoffwitch
project cupid- maximoffwitch
held together- pagetsfishpurse
your landing- augustvandyne
sweet and sour- lanawinterscigarettes
under wraps- baisemains
three weeks- alliewrights
just right- alliewrights
smoke breaks with wife Dana blurb- returnofeternity
natural, dana evans- catssluvr
angst/hurt, (with and without comfort)
i love you im sorry- kikovrs
i love you im sorry (extended version)- kikovrs
carpark, after- tiredbisexualwithadhd
the age thing- tiredbisexualwithadhd
the middle thing between nurse and coworker- csoorin
smut
guilty hands- danagasm
desperate housewife- danagasm
shower smut with dana- cupidchaes
short fuse- sapphicswph
good girl- dirtyb1rdy
headcannons
why do you smell so good?- itwasrealtome
stalker dana- danagasm
situationship with dana evans- catssluvr
headcanons-oh they're definitely a thing- itwasrealtome
dana's kinks headcanons- necromantixs
dirty headcanons- dirtyb1rdy
the favourite times you've kissed Dana- tiredbisexualwithadhd
a-z of Dana Evans- tiredbisexualwithadhd
ten rules for dating a cop- tiredbisexualwithadhd
series
the golden hour- itwasrealtome
the intern- tiredbisexualwithadhd
dana evans is your neighbour 18+, age gap, dry humping, pussy eating <3
you'd never lived in an apartment that held 'get to know your neighbours' night. strange concept, you were perfectly fine knowing just one other person in the building, not by name but politely smiling whilst you gathered your mail. you had enough friends, not a lot, but enough and work was tiring so if you could avoid small talk in the corridor then you were happy to.
then fliers appeared on the lobby notice board.
people have too much time on their hands, you exhaled as you read, also wondering how much buy in this would actually get. your night would be spent the same as any other single woman in their late 20s, finish work, take-out and real housewives, NOT mingling in the hall with strangers.
unfortunately for you, there was a lot of buy in. crowds of people flooded the communal space, all cradling beer bottles and plastic cups like it was some kind of frat party. you had no intention of staying, of chatting or getting involved in any measure but fighting your way through the stairwell, unnoticed with a bag of ramen, proved quite difficult.
"hey! you're 64b right? i'm 68, just above you" a sweet bubbly girl beamed at you, intercepting your path. she was most likely the organiser of this event, like she'd made it her mission to get to first name basis of every single resident in the building.
"oh, yeah. hi.." you weren't rude, you were tired. and you didn't need this adult-friend-making-speed-dating shit. "nice to meet you, i'm just gonna-" trying to slip past.
"you HAVE to meet your neighbours" she ignored your attempt to politely excuse yourself, ushering you back into the crowd of people so close to your front door.
the introductions were tedious, she pointed out the couple to your left, the old man directly beneath you. you stood half smiling, giving your name out and trying to find any morsel of energy to even give a shit. you just wanted to go inside, eat your ramen and go the fuck to sleep. but the conversation left no gaps for your escape, not that you didn't try. you knew politeness would be your downfall one day.
then—
"think you're all keeping this nice gal from her dinner" a petite blonde in grey-blue scrubs broke up the circle you were standing in, eyeing your ramen as she pulled a key from her bag. "and stacey, keep it down out here yeah? need some shut eye" she walked to the door opposite yours, turning the key and giving you a subtle wink as she let herself in.
"sure dana, don't worry we'll keep it-" the girl, whom you now know as stacey, called out as the door slammed "-down"
you smiled, finally finding your own queue to leave.
she found her way into your mind that night, the blonde in scrubs. you weren't sure how you hadn't noticed her before, being in such close proximity and all. not when collecting mail or leaving for work, maybe your schedules were polar to each other but you knew you'd have remembered her. and that wink, nice lady.
⋆˚࿔
after your brief encounter, you found yourself looking out for your neighbour a little more. she clearly kept to herself which just made you more curious. the scrubs suggested some kind of doctor or nurse, the one bed apartment told you she probably lived alone and you hadn't stopped thinking about her no nonsense approach to stacey. she was quite a bit older than you, you could tell that from her voice - a little deep, accent thick.
the day she walked past you she smelt like cigarette smoke and rich perfume, her ears were double pierced and she chewed gum with an open mouth.
the next time you caught her was brief. early morning, pre-7am, in the same clothes as last time. you were taking advantage of the mild air, heading out for a quick run before work and she was clearly starting her day.
you exchanged 'mornings' and then she was gone.
⋆˚࿔
summer brought a heat wave and unfortunately for your building, a strain on the air con.
it was early evening when you heard raised voices in the hall. you stepped closer to your front door, slick sheen across your chest from the growing heat inside your apartment, listening to the other side.
"no you need to come and fix this fuckin thing now. not tomorrow, now. it's 100° in here for christ sake"
you only heard one voice, like she was on the phone.
"jesus-" then silence.
you opened your door to see her stood in a tank and lounge pants, hair stuck to the back of her neck with the rest pulled into a claw clip.
she turned to face you at the sound of the door click, holding up her phone "building manager, piece of shit"
you laughed under your breath. "your AC out too?"
she nodded, shaking her head down at the phone with a raised brow, then shoving it into her pocket.
"spent my day off sucking on ice and trying not to pass the fuck out" her smile travelled from her eyes to her lips, skin creasing at the edges. she looked at you for a second, titling her head slightly. "we haven't met"
you opened your door more, stepping out into the hall. "we kinda did" you meant that first day she saved you from the crowd.
"mm not properly, doll" she folded her arms, face softening "i'm dana"
you told her your name and she smiled, like it fit you. "you new here? not really seen you around much" you asked her, curious to find any detail, big or small.
"i work a lot and never really been one for stairwell small talk"
"oh yeah, of course- sorry i just-"
"not you kid, the ole neighbourhood watch crew and their building parties" she clearly had the same view of 'meet your neighbour' as you did. your shoulders relaxed. after a second, "you want some ice tea? just made a jug" she gestured her hand towards her apartment.
"won't say no to that" you mumbled, smiling.
her apartment was nice, it mirrored yours just the opposite. you were right to assume she lived alone, there was just one of everything. no manly shoes in the entrance or photos of anyone other than what you assumed were her grown children.
she dabbed her forehead with the back of her hand as you both sipped and made the small talk you claimed to hate.
"so you a doctor or something?" you asked.
"close. nurse. down at pittsburgh general, have been for 32 years"
that confirmed the age gap you already knew was there. it shocked you, how she'd been in a job longer than you were alive and you didn't have to say it for her to know you were thinking it.
"let me guess, you were still in diapers when i was in college?"
"close. i was born about 5 years after you graduated i think" you didn't know why you said it, feeling rude after it came out but she just laughed, shaking her head as she sipped her tea.
"jesus. even my tattoos are older than you"
you weren't sure why you felt that in your stomach. you huffed a laugh to try conceal it, blaming the spreading burn on your neck on the stifling heat.
then her phone rang, you could vaguely hear the building manager say he couldn't come til tomorrow. she was an animated woman, hands flying around, voice raised. you wouldn't want to get on her bad side, you thought. you finished the last sip of your tea, setting the empty glass down and mouthing thank you before excusing yourself while she dealt with the dick on the other end of the line.
⋆˚࿔
you started seeing more of dana. passing in the hall, starting your day, taking out the trash. your conversations became longer and more than just greetings. sometimes you'd forget you were going to work and spend 15 minutes in the hall just chatting.
you got to know her more. she worked day shifts, had 3 daughters, she liked white wine (you saw her bringing a bottle home one night) and she loved her job.
she got to know you more too. where you went to college, how you were allergic to cats and loved to read on the door step when the sun was out.
your grocery hauls were complete opposites. hers were that of an adult with fruit and veg, bottled water, essentials. she made a joke at how your bags clinked like you were hiding the entire liquor store in there and she asked if you knew pop tarts were not a substantial breakfast.
since then, she'd be at your door a couple of times a week with filled tupperware. sometimes it was a full meal, other times fruit salads and home baked biscuits. you returned the favour by bringing a jug of margaritas to her doorstep on a saturday night.
"jesus h christ, did you blend these at all?" dana half laughed, almost choking on your lethal dose of tequila and lime.
you sat on giant cushions in the open window of the fire escape in dana's apartment, the half filled jug between you.
"it's saturday night. we're getting lit"
she rolled her eyes at your lingo.
"it's saturday night and you're getting drunk with your elderly neighbour" she corrected.
"it's my community service, helping out a senior citizen-" she swatted you, spilling some cocktail on your lap as your head fell back in laughter.
"fucker"
"i'm kidding you know" you said after a second. "you're literally like my closest friend right now"
you weren't sure if you were supposed to feel like this about friends. or what it even was you were feeling. you just knew you liked her company, perhaps more than you should. you liked getting to know her, wanting to know everything about her. you knew that you liked women but obviously, you assumed she didn't.
dana sparked up a cigarette, inhaling deeply as the smoke curled above the pair of you. she handed you the tab, exhaling and you took it between two fingers. your gaze didn't break from one another.
"quite fond of you too, doll" that smile again, the one that narrowed her eyes and showed the top of her teeth. fuck.
⋆˚࿔
it'd been a few months since you first met dana and your friendship had grown into something you both treasured dearly.
you'd end up at one another's place at least once a week. the nights when she wasn't too tired from her shift or you hadn't been pulled away by your other friends. you'd much rather spend your time with her, not that you'd admit it.
it was all nice and neighbourly. knocking on each others door with take-out or a bottle of wine. somewhere along the line you'd swapped numbers. that was originally for the purpose of dana taking in your parcels when you weren't home, keeping each other updated for anything in the building but it soon became a text chain between friends.
use the back entrance, stacey's on the rampage
got some of your mail, let me know when you're home and i'll come drop it
hey, is your power out?
don't suppose you fancy a glass of vino 🍷
one evening you'd managed to get yourself roped into going to the bar with some work friends. the cocktails fell down your throat far too easily and by 9pm you were more than tipsy.
you weren't quiet coming home. stumbling up the stairwell, talking to yourself, an oop when you missed the top step, dropping your purse. a door next to you clicked open.
"someone's had a good night" dana picked up your purse and you beamed up at her, pulling yourself up by the hand rail.
"daaaaana, hey"
"you smell like a brewery" she laughed, lightly holding onto your upper arm to guide you to your front door.
"just had a few drinkypoos" you hiccuped. "you wanna come in for one?" your words weren't slurrred but it was no secret you were drunk.
"i think you've had enough" she pulled your key from your hands as you struggled with the lock, turning the key in one smooth movement for you to enter.
you walked through your apartment to the sofa, falling onto it as dana dropped your purse next to you, headed to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water.
she returned and you couldnt help but notice the glow on her face, the softness in her eyes. you took the glass and just held it. "drink" she urged, stern but not unkind.
sipping from the glass, you held her gaze. there was something between you, something that felt different in that moment. her finger came up to tip the glass further, pouring more liquid down your throat, until she was content you'd had enough.
"good girl" she took the glass away from you and despite your thirst being quenched, your mouth suddenly felt dry.
she saw you swallow thickly. her lips parted slightly. the skirt you were wearing had ridden up to your thighs with how you were sat.
"now get some rest"
you were still sat in the same position when you heard your front door click behind her. what you didn't see was dana stood in the hall for a second, breathless like she'd just ran the length of your apartment. you didn't know she thought about turning round, coming back in. not knowing what she'd say but considering it all the same. she pondered for a moment, one hand on her hip, the other tousled in her hair.
"fuck" she thought about how you'd looked at her just moments ago. how you reacted. her chest tightened, unknown feelings creeping their way into her conscience.
she didn't turn round. she fought the urge, heading into her own apartment.
you managed to sober up relatively quickly. downing more water, a couple advil and a luke warm shower to cool the heat between your legs. good girl, it replayed in your mind over and over as the stream poured onto your skin. what the fuck? your neighbour, your friend, a woman almost twice your age, a woman who you had no confirmation had any interest in women whatsoever, a woman you couldn't have.
it was hard to get dana out of your mind as you lay in bed, not that you really tried. the room was dark with the exception of a bedside lamp, quiet. it was then you decided to pick up your phone.
you: you awake?
you didn't expect her to be with the time. but then the bubble appeared.
dana: yeah, everything ok?
you hesitated for a second.
you: just wanted to say thank you for earlier
you: not sure i'd have made into my apartment without you
that's not really what you wanted to say.
dana: just doing my community service, helping out the drunk and disorderly...
you laughed at her using your own words against you.
dana: assume you're feeling better?
you: much
you: followed the nurses orders with water and two advil
it felt a little loaded to send but you did anyway. then the bubble appeared and disappeared enough times to cause you panic. you almost sent another message, something flat and obviously platonic, maybe even just a 'anyway, good night' to kill the conversation.
then—
dana: good girl
you didn't even know you were clenching your thighs til you felt the flutter between them.
in 64a, dana's mouth went dry as she pressed send. it was a lot for her, being bold like this. she didn't know what she was doing or what her intentions were but for once in her life, she ran with it. ran with the knot in her stomach, the throbbing sensation between her legs.
she waited for you. nervous at your reply. hoping she wasn't mistaken by this, whatever the fuck this was.
you: dana
fuck it.
you: can you come back over here
this could go one of two ways, the way you want or the way in which you've read this so incredibly wrong.
it was the longest five minutes of your life, between sending that message and hearing the knock on your door.
when you opened it, she was facing away. turning when she heard you. you could see her breathing heavy, the rise and fall of her chest. you stepped back slightly and she stepped in. then it was just the two of you, stood silent in your hall. your oversized tee had wet patches on the back from your damp hair, you saw dana's eyes glance once over you, suddenly aware you're naked on the bottom half beside underwear.
she was in similar loungewear you saw her in one of the first times. she wore a gold cross on her neck, something you'd noticed before but not really paid attention to.
"i-" you started. she stopped you.
"i don't know what i'm doing" her eyes wide, voice low. "this isn't- i've never-"
you extended your hand to hold hers.
"dana-"
"i don't know why i feel like this" there was an undertone of panic and vulnerability. "about you"
you could feel your heart in your ears, in your chest, in your stomach.
"i'm twice your age, i shouldn't feel like this about you" she spoke quietly, as if being loud would make something real.
"but you do"
a moment. your thumb brushed over her hand.
"i do"
before you could stop yourself, your lips were on hers. she stilled for a second, and then she let herself feel. she kissed you back, hands tentatively finding the base of your neck as yours found her waist.
then it got messy and heated and the two of you were stumbling from the hall to your bedroom one door down.
she was panting into your mouth as you led her backwards, calves hitting the bed.
"fuck dana, wanted this f'so long" you breathed between her lips. "tell me you want this"
dana moaned, it slipped out before she could stop it, pulling back from you. "want this. please"
you were soaked. you had been since you were full of booze and she'd touched your arm in the hall. but now her tongue was in your mouth and your hands were slipping under the hem of her tank, feeling skin you'd never felt.
"can i?" you tugged at the material and she nodded. she was naked under that, her hands came up on instinct to cover her bare tits, you replaced them with your own, pulling away slowly.
"wanna see you" she let you, your mouth watered at the sight. they were incredible, nipples hard from your fingertips ghosting over the skin. she exhaled deeply, breath hitching when your lips skimmed the flesh of her neck.
your fingers trailed from her chest, grazing skin down her sternum to the waistband of her trousers. you felt her move against you the closer you got. you flattened your palm against her stomach, sliding it beneath the elastic and finding her without panties, hot and needy, her bare cunt dripping and begging for you.
dipping your index and middle finger through her wetness, dana whimpered, mouth parting.
"mmm, fuck-"
you swiped your fingers a couple of times, spreading her wetness and then you pulled away. fingers glistening in the dim light. the noise she made when you sucked her off your middle finger made your pussy twitch.
"taste so good dana" you kissed her, light and loving. "so fucking good"
you pushed her softly onto the bed, standing above her as you pulled your t shirt over your head, leaving you almost equal in your clothing. her eyes wandered all over you and you watched her take it in. when you pulled her trousers down her legs, you couldn't believe the sight. her laid back, naked and yours.
when you crawled onto the bed, she moved herself back on her elbows to make space for you. you nudged her legs open by the knees, they fell apart with ease and she shuddered at the cool air against her bare cunt.
she was nervous. not because she was inexperienced - this may be her first time with a woman but she was no stranger to sex. in fact dana would have always considered herself a sexual person, in touch with her own desires however it'd been so long. so long since her divorce, since she'd slept beside someone, felt that kind of intimacy. then seeing your body and youth almost intimidated her. but the way you looked at her soon seemed to negate all of that.
when you were between her legs, lowering yourself to become face to face with the slick mess, she felt sexy. and wanted. you wanted her.
"oh my god- mmph" the first swipe of your tongue had her head thrown back. she lay flat on the bed as you worked her up, holding both thighs steady, licking up to her swollen clit.
you moaned into her, nails digging into skin as she started to roll her hips against your face. god it was hot. she whimpered and moaned and muttered your name over and over. "oh fuck, yes- there, that's-" her own cry cut her off as you curled two fingers deep. they slipped in with ease, her own arousal and your saliva dripping from your fingers as you pumped in and out.
you came up for air, resting your cheek on the inner of her thigh as you started fucking her, hard. the noises were obscene, slick and squelching with every move.
"doing so good baby oh my god i wish you could see what i can" you kissed her thigh, she moaned your name. "so fucking good"
"fuck you're gonna make- make me cum" her accent sounded thicker as she moaned, unbelievably sexy. you could tell she was close the way her cunt started to clench around your fingers. "don't stop"
like hell you would. hands squeezing her thigh, you worked your hand hard inside her and brought your lips to suck softly on her clit. the dual sensation had dana's back arching from the bed, handed fisted in the sheets and her toes curled against your back.
"yes yes yes ye-" with one final fuck of your fingers and pop of your tongue, she fell silent and rigid. then a looooong groan drew from the back of her throat, hoarse and deep. you worked her through it, until she was breathless and shaking, lifting your head up away from her.
"m gonna need a minute, hon"
you smiled. she was glowing, sweaty and messy. hair had fallen into her face, cheeks rosy and chest flushed.
"that was so fucking good dana" you kissed up her body, bringing your leg to straddle one of hers. your mouth landed between her tits, softly sucking the skin there, her hand found your back, stroking lazily across your shoulder blade.
"you're telling me" she laughed under her breath, still trying to regain some composure.
you were so turned on. seeing her cum like that, how bad she wanted you and you her. you hadn't even noticed your hips rolling against her thigh.
she had.
her hands snaked down your back, finding your ass. she squeezed over your panties, smirking at the wetness she could feel against her leg.
"did that turn you on huh?" she tensed her leg a little, giving you more to work against. "seein me cum like that?"
"shit" you moved harder against her, voice all whiny and strained.
"you wanted this for a while didn't you" her hands helped you, digging into your ass, pulling you into her. "wanted me, naked and wet for you"
you'd drenched your panties by now, dripping onto her skin. the wet material slick against your pussy felt so fucking good, your movements became more erratic, chasing your pleasure, needing to cum so bad. and her words only made it worse.
"good girl, just like that, gonna cum for me?"
fuck. there she goes praising you like that, knowing what it does, knowing that's what got you both here in the first place.
"fuck dana 'm gonna- mmm"
you fucked her leg whilst whining her name, brows knit, eyes screwed shut until—
"look at me. look at me when you cum baby"
your mouth fell open and everything building in the pit of your stomach grew hot and tight. you came all over her leg, a flood of wetness drenching you both, a guttural cry unleashed.
it shocked you both. how hard you came undone just from that. when you fell on the bed next to her, you both lay in silence, just the sound of hot breath and quiet traffic outside.
"stay tonight?" you managed, eventually.
when you turned your head, hopeful she'd agree, dana met your gaze with a glint in her eye.
"if you'll have me"
you kissed her. you didn't stop kissing her for a while.
"If you love someone, you tell them. Even if you're scared that it's not the right thing. Even if you're scared that it'll cause problems. Even if you're scared that it will burn your life to the ground, you say it, and you say it loud and you go from there." — Mark Sloan
pairing: baran al-hashimi x plastic surgeon!reader
summary: you're a plastic surgeon. she's the new ED attending. you're a notorious flirt, and she's just trying to run her department. the two of you are seemingly complete opposites, but maybe you have more in common than you think.
✶:: taste of you ๋ ࣭ ⭑ emily prentiss w/ an oral fixation
constantly kissing you without even realising she’s doing it. absentminded kisses against your jaw while she cooks. slow kisses pressed to your knuckles during movie nights. mouth dragging lazily across your shoulder whenever she passes behind you. she’s obsessed with having her lips on your skin somewhere at all times because it calms her down more than she’ll ever admit.
stress from work makes her oral fixation so much worse. after rough cases she comes home restless and touch starved, immediately dragging you into her lap just so she can shove her tongue into your mouth and kiss you until she forgets about dead bodies and paperwork for a while.
sucking your fingers into her mouth after making you cum. slow eye contact while she licks your slick from them one by one, tongue curling around your fingers while spit coats her lips. she knows the visual ruins you too which only makes her drag it out longer.
always having something pressed against her mouth. cigarettes between her lips on bad nights. whiskey glasses tilted slowly while she watches you from across the room. biting softly at pen caps while profiling suspects. eventually replacing all of it with your skin, your thighs, your nipples, your pussy.
kissing like she’s starving for it. messy open mouthed kisses that leave both of you breathless and swollen lipped afterward. she loves hearing the little moans you accidentally make into her mouth and intentionally kisses you harder every time she hears one.
absolutely addicted to eating your pussy. genuinely obsessed with the taste of you. she’ll spread your thighs open for hours if you let her, tongue dragging slowly through your soaked folds while she watches your pussy twitch every time she sucks your clit into her mouth.
loves when you sit on her face because she enjoys the weight of you. strong hands gripping your ass while she pulls you down harder against her mouth, groaning directly into your pussy every time your thighs start shaking around her head.
kissing every inch of your body before she even properly touches your pussy. stomach. hips. inner thighs. boobs. slow wet kisses mixed with bite marks while she deliberately avoids where you actually need her until you’re whining beneath her.
obsessed with hearing herself talk against your pussy while she eats you out. “taste so fucking good.” “look at this pretty pussy.” “so wet for me already.” all mumbled directly against your clit while her tongue keeps pushing you closer and closer to orgasm.
lipstick constantly smeared everywhere afterward. across your inner thighs. your neck. your boobs. swollen kiss marks scattered all over your skin because she physically cannot stop kissing and biting you once she gets worked up enough.
loves receiving oral too but gets embarrassingly needy about it fast. one hand tangled tightly in your hair while she tries and fails to stay composed above you. her thighs shake every time your tongue presses properly against her clit and she absolutely whimpers when she’s close.
addicted to making out after orgasms. doesn’t matter how overstimulated either of you are either. she’ll still drag you back into slow sloppy kisses while your pussy still twitches from cumming on her tongue five seconds earlier.
definitely obsessed with spit. spit slicking her fingers before she pushes them deep into your pussy. spit dripping slowly from her mouth onto your clit while she watches your reaction carefully. she thinks the wet messy visual of it is insanely intimate.
loves pulling away from your pussy just long enough to watch slick drip from her lips while you whine desperately beneath her. she knows exactly how pretty you look when you’re frustrated and needy for her mouth again.
holds your thighs open firmly when she eats you out because she hates when you try squirming away from her. she’d rather overstimulate you until your pussy is twitching helplessly against her tongue while you beg her to slow down.
obsessed with the way your pussy clenches when she moans directly against it. she intentionally groans into your clit sometimes just to feel your thighs jerk around her head immediately.
gently holding your jaw after making you cum and kissing you slow while you’re still shaking, swallowing every broken whimper and shaky breath like she wants to keep every sound you make trapped inside her mouth forever.
hi, everyone. i'm so sorry for asking for another help. i need to buy meds (for my PMOS and GERD; as well as for my two cats with mouth ulcers) and pay some bills which cost around $310. i only got paid 6k php (roughly $97) for the past two weeks because i missed a couple of days of work when my girlfriend had blood transfusion.
i am not expecting to get the full amount as i know everybody's struggling too. even a little would actually help me out a lot. reblogs and shares are welcome.
ko-fi / paypal
i would also like to thank everyone who helped me in the past, whether by donating and/or reblogging/sharing, i appreciate it a lot. i hope life would be better to you for helping a friend or a stranger on the internet. ❤️
no thoughts today except that mean!cassie would 100% bully you for every desperate face and pathetic noise you make while she’s balls-deep inside you.
꒰ྀི mean!cassie who watches your face like it’s her favourite show. who slows her hips to a lazy grind right when you’re about to cum, just to watch your eyes go glassy and your mouth fall open in a broken whimper. thumb shoved deep in your mouth, stretching your lips while she tilts your head back and coos, “look at you… getting fucked stupid and you can’t even hide it. so fucking embarrassing.” ꒱
꒰ྀི mean!cassie who hears every single wet sound—every choked gasp, every slutty little whine you try to bite back, every time your cunt squelches loudly around her cock when she thrusts hard. the second she catches you getting shy about it, she gets crueler. she leans in close, mocking your noises right against your ear in that breathy, mocking voice: “ah—! fuck—! that’s really what you sound like when i’m splitting you open? jesus christ, you’re pathetic.” ꒱
꒰ྀི mean!cassie who keeps her hand wrapped tight around your jaw, fingers digging in so you can’t look away. who laughs softly every time your eyes try to roll back anyway. “no, no, baby. don’t you dare. keep those pretty eyes on me while i fuck that greedy cunt. i wanna see the exact moment you lose it.” ꒱
꒰ྀི and the worst part is she never sounds actually angry. she sounds so entertained, almost sweet, like she’s genuinely obsessed with how easily you fall apart. like she’s addicted to the way your pussy flutters and drips around her every time she mocks you, the way your thighs shake and your face twists up in that desperate, cock-drunk expression no matter how hard you try to stay quiet. she could fuck you for hours just to keep pulling those noises and faces out of you. ꒱
synopsis ∶ nothing could have prepared you for this moment: the signature, the ending, and the person standing quietly beside. Olivia Benson. telling herself she can live with the guilt. what she doesn’t expect is the captivated pull towards you… or how impossible it becomes to ignore.
you don’t expect any of it either. not how easily understanding grows through cracks you thought were sealed, where resentment should have taken root.
warnings ∶ angst, emotional infidelity, divorce, guilt, complicated relationships, mutual pining, slow burn, comfort, friends to lovers, mentions of canon-typcal trauma. suggestive dialogue and flirting. no use of y/n. edited.
ᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠ ᅟ₊ 𓅓 ᅠMASTERLIST
chapters ∶
* ⸻ᅠᅠ001 . . . unbreakable.ᅟᅟᅟ﹙ intro ﹚
⸻ english is not my first language, but I hope you enjoyed it. constructive feedback is always welcomed! let me know if you want to be tagged in the following chapters or future fanfics. thanks for reading! 💜
I’m accepting requests! if you enjoy my writing and want to read a story about a specific character, I’ll do my best to make it happen!
synopsis ∶ years after leaving New York behind, a celebrated pediatric ᐟ neonatal surgeon collides with the one person she never stopped loving. Addison Montgomery was never supposed to be part of the plan again, but some wounds don’t heal just because you walk away.
you don’t outrun love. you just put oceans, time zones, and operating rooms between yourself and its echo. some loves don’t end. they hibernate. and when they wake up, they might heal just as much as they hurt.
warnings ∶ angst, slow burn, mutual pining, unresolved romantic tension, emotional hurt ᐟ comfort, friends to lovers, domestic abuse ﹠ abortion ﹙referenced﹚canon character reinterpretation, suggestive dialogue and flirting. no use of y/n. edited in the slightest.
author’s note ∶ please mind the warnings. some difficult topics are referenced, including past abuse and infidelity, though nothing graphic is depicted. this is a slow, emotionally heavy burn, and feelings are very much the point. that said, there is tenderness here. soft moments. hands held in hospital corridors. love spoken too late, and maybe not late at all.
Used to be so easy
To give my heart away
But I found out the hard way
There's a price you have to pay
I found out that love
Was no friend of mine
I should have known
Time after time
So long, it was so long ago
But I've still got the blues for you
Leaving New York was one of the easiest decisions.
The most difficult part was leaving without anyone to look back on at the airport. Embarking on a new professional opportunity, a chance you had always dreamed of and precisely why you had studied for most of your life. Finally, the sleepless nights, the headaches, and the years working in hospitals and private practices; it all came down to that moment.
As I was saying, you were on your own. Your best friend, the woman you ended up in love with during your residency and first certification... Addison Montgomery... Shepherd was trying by all means to resuscitate a marriage that was a slow-motion death spiral waiting to happen. The evenings you spent together, whether at her house or your apartment, were put on hold with the excuse that Derek had decided to go home early, and to his wife’s misfortune, he never kept his promise. So both of you, alone, drifted out of touch.
There was no going back once your ultimate choice was made.
On the same night your plane left New York, the pouring rain carried in each drop a plea, a tear of sorrow, and a pair of angry hands that pushed the woman’s tender body up against the windowpane. Blood, insults, and the departure of the man who was in himself the failure of more than a decade of affection. Derek walked outside the room without hesitation, leaving behind a woman who was emotionally, physically, and mentally traumatized. This only strengthened the sense of abandonment she already felt.
Addison’s first reaction wasn’t to go after her husband or her cheating lover. It was to call you. Her trembling fingers dialed a number that no longer had a signal. She eventually found out in the worst way that she was all by herself. The beeps were redirected to voicemail. The dark night featured dew, rain pounded the roof, and the hum of a house that no longer represented a story.
She hurried to your apartment in the rain and desperately knocked on the door, screaming your name like a merciless prayer. That’s when your neighbor, a woman in her late sixties, stepped out into the hallway and embraced Addison’s silhouette, smaller than she had ever seen her before. The elder entered her own apartment, taking a deep breath as she pulled out a towel and a sweater for Addie, surprising her by the sudden embrace she provided.
The woman’s husky voice sounded like a plea. “Where is she, Dolores?”
She hadn’t noticed how much she cherished being with you, how you truly made her feel alive, even if only for a few hours together or between surgeries, you were always there with her.
Until you weren’t there anymore.
When you agreed to fly back to the United States, new job possibilities came to light: one in Seattle, another in New York, and one in Los Angeles.
As a result of your successful work with children in Africa, with additional teams to provide palliative care for the sickest and improve the quality of life for the tribes. It wasn’t predominantly about medicine, and certainly, the healthcare professionals who stayed wouldn’t let your work die. Given the magnitude of your worldwide reputation, your expertise would be in circulation and tremendously appreciated anywhere; you were well aware of that.
Yet all the places highlighted seemed to relate to a story.
New York held the weight of an ambiguous love, a friendship that dissolved into something platonic, and a thunderstorm of feelings you understood you would probably never forget, and as for Seattle... Well, you were definitely not one for the cold rain. Although the proposition of working with one of your former professors seemed like a promising alternative and a trip to the small roots you still had in the country. What was remaining for you was Los Angeles.
The bright fluorescent lights of the medical facility were indeed an element that discomforted your vision. After two years in a hot environment, where the sun was practically burning hot and the moon reflected warm shadows, that artificial light still made your optic nerves dry for a brief second, but it was something you would deal with head-on.
On your way to the nurses’ station, you exhibited high-heeled boots, black jeans that, for God’s sake, hugged your sleek leg muscles like a thin layer of skin, and finally, the creamy silk blouse that emphasized your eyes and the rich shade of your natural long locks. One of the female attendees who was chatting quickly gazed into your eyes; apparently, the perfume you had chosen to apply this morning got there seconds before your presence was acknowledged.
Armed with an almost sinful smile and a persuasiveness that was potentially just a breath away, your accent sounded a notch deeper than usual. “Good morning, ladies. Could you tell me where I can find Dr... Charlotte King?”
Soon after taking over as head of pediatrics and neonatology, your work at the hospital only taught you even more brilliance in the medical field. The residents and interns consistently expressed their desire to work under your name, and as a result, an increasing number of patients were referred to your care.
Despite your professional life taking off like a rocket, the beach house where you had been sleeping seemed to lack life. It was a furnished house with two bedrooms and a large balcony. Adorned for quiet sunny days, but it still seemed uninhabited, even after two years of residing in that place.
You had few friends; they were always cheerful and looking out for you in any circumstance you could anticipate, even though you only saw them when they were performing surgery at the hospital or when Charlotte insisted you go to her private practice for dinner and then give her a ride back to her house.
Positioned toward the cafeteria table, a cup of chamomile tea with warm milk and a word search magazine occupied your concentration. It was Friday night, and you were seeking the perfect opportunity to cool off and still stimulate your cognitive abilities. However, Charlotte appeared to have other intentions when she collapsed in the chair next to you and removed the Care Bears customized pen from your fingertips.
“Do you even realize what day of the week it is?” she arched her raised eyebrows in a mocking gesture. She noted that your intense engagement with work had prevented you from dictating space-time.
“Do I truly need to know?” the smile on her face emphasized that the next words would be like walking on broken glass with no shoes, so naturally, Charlotte established something you couldn’t argue against, even if you wanted to.
“Look, you never exit this hospital. When you’re not here, you’re in the lab working or in some operating room, changing the course of neonatal surgery. Your house is a cold place. In Los Angeles! You need to jazz up your personal life, dear.” her hand was covering yours, an act of concern and reassurance. “What do you think about dinner with the girls and then going to karaoke at that gay bar downtown?”
You let out a deep sigh, closed your eyes, and let your body loosen up for a second, then immediately broke into fits of giggles. “You should have started off with ‘gay bar’ instead of insulting me for being a workaholic.”
The moment Naomi hugged you, a signature aroma filled your memories. It was a fragrance you were sure you had been devoted to; it was completely distinct from the woody smell Naomi traditionally adopted; it was sweet, and you could feel that warmth in the bottom of your abdomen again, one that had left you in tears in the New York airport. Breathing deeply, just the four of you in the restaurant, it was almost impossible to get your thoughts out of that bittersweet aroma, and considering how Violet constantly appeared to be ready to vomit all night, it would be common to assume that both of them were withholding some information.
“What made you switch your perfume, Nai?” finally, the question that had been burning in your throat took its proper form. Everyone praised your art of analyzing behavior and, even better, persuading your prey to communicate precisely what you were trying to find out, not simply what you would probably want to hear.
“I... Didn’t.” she was cautious, which made her raise the glass to her mouth, where she took a mouthful of wine and glanced away at Charlotte. “Actually, Charlotte gave me a refill of the same perfume I bought for my birthday; something must have changed in the formula.”
Your jaw set, brain processing far quicker than gears. “Maybe... It’s charming; it reminded me of that old friend.” this made the two brunettes in front of you exchange a nervous stare. They agreed that they couldn’t keep the information to themselves for long.
“Actually, maybe this perfume belongs to the person you’re thinking of.” Violet let the cat out of the bag; it was now or never... well, not “never,” but a big change and possibly one of the most challenging parts since the beginning.
The three women learned about your chapter of the story with Addison Montgomery; everyone there had a previous relationship with her, but they were equally estranged when her marriage to Shepherd claimed over half of her social life. Despite being a feminist, Addison still maintained faith in marrying a man whose individuality was a walking red flag. This left her somewhat more alone than she was ever supposed to be.
“Thank goodness I’m not coming to the clinic soon. I don’t picture how I’d respond to looking at her again after so long…” you expressed. It was unexpected to think that even after four years absent from contact, that woman who was your best friend and first platonic romantic partner still influenced your mental picture of time, or potentially it was the dizziness that caused this downward spiral of mental chatter.
At that point, Charlotte had chosen to ask for the bill, paying for the weekly dinner as they had all agreed over time. The two doctors decided to go home while you and your best friend drove down to the bar. Charlotte was definitely more excited to go than you had previously been.
Upon arriving, you both marched directly to one of the tables most distanced from the crowd.
“Tonight we’re going to drink to get wasted and probably fuck. You, my boo, need to get laid.” the blonde tossed her cards on the table, waving to one of the waiters passing by, ordering two cocktails.
“We definitely shouldn’t talk about my sexual activities.”
Eight glasses of tequila and maybe two cocktails later, you found yourselves dancing to the loud music. The dance floor was overflowing, bodies sweating with heat and desire or just the euphoria of knowing they were in a welcoming space. As the night grew darker, Charlotte had successfully kissed two women and a polyamorous married couple and would very likely go home with them. As for you... Just glances, tangible flirtation for a while until a lock of red hair magnetized your attention. She was tall, with shapely legs and a generous cleavage, the devil walking on earth. Your mouth was watering, and for a brief period, so did the woman standing in front of you. When did she get so close?
“Adeline. Nice to meet you.” she extended her hand to greet you, and you responded to the invitation, taking her warm hand and bringing it to your lips, leaving a harmless peck on her knuckles.
After introducing yourself, she went directly to the point, setting her hand somewhere between your neck and loose hair, caressing the nape of your scalp, and scraping her sharp nails against your skin. Her lips were soft and salty, and yet she grew too smooth through the lipstick. Your rough fingers caressed the gentle curves of her hips, moving up until they brought her body between your legs, letting themselves be guided by touch, by imagination... Unfortunately, for your senses, all you saw was the ghost of Christmas past.
Even when you landed in a bed that wasn’t yours, in a room that would certainly not be yours, when between your legs was a glorious woman devouring you as if her life depended on it, your moans were real, of course they were, uninhibited, unfiltered, seductive like a promise to your own brain. Through all the whining, your heart screamed her name. “Addie, Addie please…” inevitably, you reached the peak, with her sweet smell in your head and the image of her red hair resting on your legs. The illusion, once again, in its purest form.
Later the following morning, you leave the apartment with barely a trace, your clothes still retaining the scent of the previous night. Looking down the street, you realized Charlotte had all your belongings, and by the late morning, she was almost certainly at the clinic.
You slipped your phone out of your jeans pocket and called the emergency number, leaving a short message on the voicemail. “Hey, Charlie. Uh... I’m about ten minutes from the clinic. I’m going to pick up my car, okay? Bye, see you in a minute.” your voice was harsher than expected, maybe even dryer. That’s how you ended up at the clinic with a large cup of coffee and shades, probably stolen from a stack in a very crowded store since they still held the price tag on the temple.
Perhaps it was the alcohol entirely vanishing from your body or the sunglasses blurring your perspective, but less than five steps away, Addison Adrianne Forbes Montgomery lowered her frame on the reception desk, arms loosening as she exchanged words with Dell.
At that exact point, the world immediately began to slow down, your cardiac rhythm pounding in your ears, a sudden fever sending chills down your cervical spine. Equivalent to a ricocheting bullet, a wave of emotional states that had long ago been bottled away and buried seven feet under the surface. That’s when the receptionist’s attention was drawn straight to your frozen silhouette. He called out your name in a cheerful announcement but quickly tracked the change in the atmosphere; during that moment, the redhead realized who that unconventional last name belonged to.
It was like seeing an angel, she remembered. For how much time had she been waiting for that comeback? All the forces of the universe were always playing comically against her: first the end of her marriage with Derek, then the love affair with Mark that eventually ended in an unborn child, and then the three-way romance that concluded with one of the interns in Seattle being heavily driven along by her ex-husband.
She needed a fresh start in Los Angeles, and what a twist of fate, this was the perfect place to reunite with an old flame... A burning spark that in Addison’s heart probably would have never been extinguished, for your joyful laughter was forever written in her soul. Even though your groundbreaking achievements in medicine were honored across the globe, the redhead in question had never thought your paths would cross again.
Addison was at a loss for words while entering the apartment after that rainy night. The decor was untouched, and your fragrance soaked through each room. However, the apartment became lifeless due to your absence. Not just from the residence, that neighborhood, or the country, you left her life. It happened so carefully that, amidst the waves of tears on the soft couch, wrapped in your sheets, with your perfume enchanting all her sensibilities, she watched as practically nothing could make sense anymore without you. Friday nights, rosé wine bottles, and even the hospital were no longer interesting.
Used to be so easy
To fall in love again
But I found out the hard way
It's a road that leads to pain
I found out that love
Was more than just a game
You're playing to win
But you'll lose just the same
The leaves danced like poetry in the collision of glances that undoubtedly carried hundreds of emotions, including relief and doubt; time did seem to fade away, resembling a scene from an Old West duel. Addison was the first to take the very first stride towards that wave of uncertainty, her heart also humming as if she had just completed a marathon in high heels. You could never adequately express how much you treasured those glowing eyes, so breathtaking even after so much time.
The expressions on both of your faces were exceptionally hard to read; Addison maintained her posture even though her eyes said the exact opposite. With a painful lump loosening in her throat, she muttered in a silent breath, “You're alive.”
A chuckle escaped your lips. You could deny any geographical separation; at that moment it was obvious that nothing had truly changed.
She was the same Addison you had fallen in passionate love with, and you were the charismatic and outspoken woman she had let into her heart and soul. Your eyes were basically the same, calm and comforting. Hair remained perfect and even more voluminous, and the sideways smile appeared, something Montgomery dreamed of witnessing again. She could say with all her tenderness that it was a dream; even so, you commented, “No need to sound so disappointed.”
“There you are!” your best friend Charlotte’s voice cracked, pulling both of you out of the mental space cultivated by nostalgia. The blonde came striding in with her hurried aura, meeting you. She smiled openly, a hint of mischief shining through simply because she knew how well your night had been spent. “Here’s your car key. It’s parked in my spot. Your purse is there, too.” she said, handing you the keychain that holds your house keys, your car key, and a red pom-pom along with a pendant of your personalized initials.
Addison examined that exchange of information with a furrowing eyebrow before clearing her throat and captivating the blonde's attention, who continued with a smile on her face and pretty much an infallible plan to fulfill a theoretical assumption she had in mind, due to your background with the clinic’s newest employee.
After greeting Montgomery, Charlotte immediately turned her attention to you, “Can you pick me up when my shift at the hospital is over?”
Your hands were sweaty, your face flushed from Charlotte's lack of filter. “Of course. Let me know when you’re finished.” you managed to reply, pondering the presence of your past right in front of you.
“You're a sweetheart! See you later, darling.” Charlotte said, standing on tiptoe and sealing her lips to your cheek. Before you could realize it, she was gone, and Addison was staring at your face with even more hesitation.
A deep breath, a masked relief, was all you needed to summon the courage to finally proceed along Addison’s steps, guiding her by the arm until you reached the empty office. Just when the redhead was standing in the middle of the room, she could hear the door lock and your stride to the leather couch, where you sat quietly and extended your arms for her to do the same as you.
“So... It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other.” she began, tucking a piece of her red hair behind her ear.
“You cut your hair.” you pointed out, studying how that cut emphasized her authoritative yet charming facial features.
Addison couldn’t hide her bright smile, remembering one of the times you had inspired her to cut her hair, but she never had the courage to, mainly because Derek thought she would look older. “And you let yours grow... It looks stunning.”
So long, it was so long ago
But I've still got the blues for you
At that moment, the conversation descended into a collection of past emotional memories about how Addison felt distant in so many specific instances, but also in relation to how she lost your friendship so unexpectedly, leaving a wound in her heart. On the other hand, you failed to mention your burning love for her, only emphasizing how much you missed the friendship you two had founded and how, over time, the strings that held together that attachment had lost their way or essentially headed down different paths, as was to be expected. You talked about your two years of service in Africa, about the sleepless nights caring for children and mothers so young they barely could comprehend what was to come in their lives. She told you about the love affairs that adjusted her standpoint on life, directing her to Los Angeles. To you.
All this exchange was abruptly interrupted by both of your cell phones ringing, announcing a hospital emergency. Immediately, heading to the parking lot, you offered her a ride, and together, you went to St. Ambrose. In a very quick change of clothes into surgical scrubs, your chief resident detailed the case that was being transported by ambulance, and with your instructions, the team was ready to handle it. Addison was watching your conduct, waiting to do her part.
That case moved along like a smooth breeze, both doctors operating together as if they had been doing it for years, observing and anticipating each other’s precise movements so that the patient would finally become stable along with the baby, who would be born prematurely if the women weren’t so good at their respective specialties.
“Good work there.” Addison emphasized, catching your eye as you scrubbed your hands after the surgery.
You grinned, cheerful; you had always fantasized about that instant. “Thank you... Likewise, you haven’t lost your abilities with your hands.” a tender phrase of flirtation escaped your lips. From where? You had no idea, but whenever she was around, your filters dissolved like an uninhibited waterfall.
She giggled, feeling her cheeks heat up with the blush that observation induced. After that surgery, nothing would ever be the same, and you could feel the change in the surroundings as soon as you stumbled out of that operating room.
That week prior to their first mutual reconciliation talk, things at the hospital soon started to collapse completely. As more potentially fatal cases arrived at their door, schedules became chaotic, day could turn into night, and shifts could no longer be twenty-four hours but rather further extended. There was definitely no time for naps between surgeries; just a coffee and a muffin would be enough for that wave of babies, children, and mothers with health complications. Amidst all that chaos, your thoughts traveled straight to Addison, who was taking on the night shifts so she could also be in attendance at medical appointments at the private clinic. The purple scrubs stood out; only neonatal attendants wore them, and as opposed to you, Addison was looking like a glowing goddess in them, which made your heart race when she smiled at you, her eyes exhausted from a week without a break from work.
Your attire was anything but traditional, and Addison considered it your distinctive style. Working with children and their mothers, your scrubs had small handmade stars, and for a few days she swore she saw some embroidered designs there too, on the hem of the shirt and pants—maybe a Care Bear or a Disney character. When she approached you, you didn’t pull back from a tight hug, keeping your face snug against her neck as if that would take away any tiredness from your body. She felt exactly the same. Your perfume activated her senses, causing her to cling even more tightly to you.
So many years
Since I've seen your face
But here in my heart
There's an empty space
You used to be
“Are you doing okay?” you asked, whispering in her ear and attaching one hand to the nape of her neck, caressing it as if the entire world had simply stopped in that empty hallway, where nurses were shifting from one side to the other, checking on patients.
She breathed in, slowly detaching you from the tight embrace, and when she caught your eye, her throbbing exhaustion made her guide you to the first on-call room in the corridor.
“I need a rest, and so do you, so come here and let’s rest.” she demanded, lying down on the bed and pressing her back against the wall, leaving enough space for you to lie down next to her.
It wasn’t something you were completely used to, but another thing you missed those nights in New York where you both shared a bed or a couch. When you lay down next to Addison, her arms found your waist, and she buried her face in your neck. Your arms worked their way around her body, wrapping her in a warm and cozy embrace. Your heart pounded in your chest, that hidden passion coming back like a high-speed train, overpowering your senses and driving hot tears to well up in your eyes.
A pout escaped your lips; you had waited so many years for this moment, however platonic it might be. “I love you, Addison Montgomery.” you blurted out, holding low your voice.
She wasn’t asleep.
Both bodies lingered affectionately in that small bed, intertwined, maintaining the warm feeling of comfort and the full attraction of two hearts that had been bruised on their way back to each other. Addison was seeking a fresh start, oblivious that coming back to the past would only heal all the fears and frustrations she had built up from toxic relationships with her former best friends. It was this moment that she understood that the problem wasn’t her and her misconceptions about falling in love with friends; no, the problem was that none of those friends were you.
You were the one who was holding her hand through questionable choices without question, the one who also embraced her when things didn’t go as originally planned. Addison vividly remembered the wedding day; even knowing you weren’t one of the bridesmaids, you were beside her and muttered in her ear that everything would be alright, that it was a mutual decision, and that getting married had always been her dream. She knew, deep down, that the union was for status and ego. Even so, you were there, in a crimson dress so exquisite that she wondered twice about the need to go down on your body and devour you completely, even knowing there were only minutes remaining before she had to walk towards the Shepherd family name.
Archer took her, and she looked so beautiful in her wedding dress... You felt that still-growing passion tighten, grow to the point where tears of pride faded and eventually turned into tears of sorrow, because witnessing the love of your life marrying a man who didn’t deserve even a fraction of the woman she is was genuinely torturous. After the “I do.” Montgomery’s bright eyes searched for your figure somewhere among the family members. Unfortunately, she couldn’t find you.
For the first time that late afternoon, she felt half her heart tighten. Because she had affection for Derek, and she also felt that you were holding back the most tender and joyful aspects of her.
In the following years, you were constantly present, and you were frequently at game nights, playing doubles with Mark Sloan. She was jealous of that, of the close relationship you two shared. For a long time, Mark had a particular aspect of you that she wished belonged to her. It wasn’t a sexual affair; you were always very open about your sexuality, something she respected given she was a coward in admitting that potentially her happy ending wasn’t with the current husband at the time. You and Mark talked about women openly and even had a little battle to find out who could collect more numbers on the nights you both went out. Even if Addison was jealous, she noticed that you respected her marriage and would never bring up that kind of subject with her, a friendship about intimate and lustful matters without judgment.
In your arms, Addison could leave her heart open to be taken care of, broken, or rescued from an anguish she had experienced her whole life. After four years without you, she came to figure out that time would never be her true friend, that you might have grown so much that you would certainly never let her come back into your life.
Then again, you were intertwined in that moment, and even though she was ready to ask more about the conversation she witnessed between you and Charlotte, she also knew that you would never lay down with another woman if you were in a committed romantic relationship with the doctor.
“Please, Addison. Stop thinking. I haven’t slept in two weeks, so please... Let me have this break.” you positioned yourself more comfortably in bed, consequently bringing your faces one millimeter away from the woman in your arms. Your breaths became one, and at this crucial moment, Addison couldn’t rest.
Her hand reached up to meet your face, emerald eyes tracing every delicate feature before she could touch, index finger memorizing the curve of your nose, the small freckles on your rosy cheek. You opened your eyes, conscious of what was happening. When your impulses became louder than the indecision in your subconscious, you moved inches closer, brushing your nose against hers in an affectionate caress. Addison felt her skin tingle, closing her eyes to feel that exchange of affection more intensely. She felt your hand travel down the fabric of her scrub top and move inside, finally touching the skin of her back, caressing it with delicate fingers, drawing her body closer. She wrapped one leg tight around your waist, lying down with half her body pressed against yours.
“I missed you so much…” she said, swallowing hard.
So long, it was so long ago
But I've still got the blues for you
You should get up and move on, abandoning any thoughts that held you in this position and never gazing at the past that way all over again. You called all three of your friends on the night you left for Africa, but your cell phone vibrated once. Somehow, Derek showed up, wishing you a good flight and letting you know he was going home early to surprise his wife. That night, Addison and Mark didn’t answer the phone. With your chest cramping from anticipating what had been happening, the first few minutes of the trip felt suffocating. Heavy breathing, hot tears, and irreparable anguish. You fell asleep halfway to your destination, as your body was weakened. Over time, you acquired the ability to be free of the anchors that surrounded your heart, allowing you to radiate happiness beyond the need for societal restrictions. You learned to smile openly, to dance in the rain, and to see life from a completely different point of view.
That’s why you refused to leave. This time, without marital partners or lovers involved. No forcing yourself to pretend that your heart wasn’t holding out for hers. You stayed simply because love doesn’t just vanish overnight; respect, affection, pride, and the feeling of friendship—all of that was the culmination of the reasons why. From the minute you fell in love to the moment your senses had to pause to breathe, break down the situation, mature, and eventually, be able to surrender.
“Now you’re the one thinking out loud.” Addison chuckled, looking up and resting her head on her hand.
You carefully approached the door, unlocked it, and waited for the redhead. "Let's go home, Addie." both smiled brightly, which was just what you needed. Home.
Though the days come and go
There is one thing I know: I've still got the blues for you
⸻ english is not my first language, but I hope you enjoyed it. constructive feedback is always welcomed! let me know if you want to be tagged in future fanfics. thanks for reading! 💞
I’m accepting requests! if you enjoy my writing and want to read a story about a specific character, I’ll do my best to make it happen!
a special kiss to Lai, who encouraged me every step of the way in writing this story. I love you forever, baby. 💋
synopsis ∶ with sharp suits and keener instincts at work, gothic rituals, and emotional armor at home, a brilliant detective maintained a carefully curated distance from the major crimes and the LAPD. she is effective, unreadable, and silently essential. Adam has watched her from the edges for years; what starts with small gestures becomes something harder to ignore.
warnings ∶ slow burn romance, friends to lovers, emotional vulnerability, bisexual female character, gothic and emo aesthetic ﹙mentioned﹚, workplace setting ᐟ romance, found family, touch-starved characters, alcohol use, romantic tension, protective Adam Karadec, soft but intense intimacy. no use of y/n. edited in the slightest.
When I was younger, I saw
My daddy cry, and curse at the wind
He broke his own heart and I watched
As he tried to reassemble it
And my momma swore that she would
Never let herself forget
And that was the day that I promised
I'd never sing of love if it does not exist
Los Angeles was particularly peaceful at that time of year, which even has a funny taste in the mouth when considering that the City of Angels never goes quiet or gives a breather.
This was one of the reasons why you and the major crimes team were commanded by the lieutenant to share some beers and old stories, probably already heard and very fondly remembered that night. The thing is, since your first day, none of your fellow employees really knew your style, not that you didn’t explicitly demonstrate your preference for dark clothes and a variety of accessories... Between the practical clothes of the team and the colorful wardrobe of the recently hired consultant, your clothes seemed a little more customized besides the corporate goth style.
All that and the tattoo that ornamented your spine. Identity is about who you are and how you choose to show yourself to the world, both privately and publicly, outside of what the LAPD considers to be one of the top agents in the last five years. Would it really be a good decision to portray yourself in this way? To choose once and for all to show your teammates who you authentically are?
In an attempt to brighten your psychological state, you decided to put on some CDs, emo songs that surrounded the apartment like a mantra. The upbeat melody swirled through your senses until your hair was styled, parted, and pinned in the middle; the dagger-shaped hair clip added an essential charm, highlighting the freshly touched-up color. Makeup was the key point; what else to expect on a Friday night?
Digging through drawers of endless products, your skin would be what you normally used: foundation, concealer, and natural contouring, while blush and highlighter added more definition. For your eyes, the chosen eyeshadow brought a special enhancement to the color of your irises, along with black eyeliner and pencil shading.
You only needed a few makeup adjustments when the doorbell rang. At first, it seemed like just part of the song, but even so, you got up, heading to the kitchen to get a glass of water while singing.
Then, the knocks on the door startled you, stepping behind the refined wood and looking through the peephole to check who it was before sliding open the door.
“Karadec.” your voice came out surprised, and he greeted you with a nod while making efforts not to take his eyes off yours.
Truth be told, Adam had been quietly determined to get to know you better for years.
Beyond the cordiality and friendliness at work, he knew that somewhere you were hiding something that no one would be able to contain. Even so, he agreed that some people enjoyed, or simply required, separating work and personal life. Disappointed with some attempts to make small talk, he kept it in the spectrum of mere mutual respect, even though you occasionally went out to get lunch or for ice cream together after a case. It was always a moment of meditation and understanding. So, he ended up gathering a mental list of everything you had mentioned or seemed to like, which would help him at least put some of the pieces of the puzzle together. “I... I presumed we were going to meet at the bar. What are you doing here?” fair question. He didn’t even know either. Providing him space to enter, you were so wrapped up in your own atmosphere that you forgot you were only wearing a cropped top and lace panties.
Adam had noticed this, which made him stop in his tracks at the door and stare at the floor. He respected your space, and it wouldn’t be any different just because you were outside the police office.
“Um... I remembered you telling me your car was in the repair shop, and since you didn’t pick up my calls nor receive my messages, I decided to come check if you were okay and if you could use a ride.”
The information made sense in your head for the moment, considering that what was driving some insecurity was the fact that Karadec had always stared you in the eyes, from the very first instance. Why would that have changed now? Was it the music or the makeup? With a sigh, you walked back to him, holding one of his hands.
“You came here to check on me, and you can’t look me in the face?” he glanced to the side, searching for paintings on the walls or any cracks in the dark ceiling.
What he found was an apartment designed to house a gothic queen, he thought. A vampire. A countess, someone whose beauty transcended her pure essence. “As long as I truly appreciate that you feel comfortable with me, I don’t know if you’ve noticed... You’re close to being naked. That’s all.”
Your thin eyebrows furrowed and cheeks flushed with realization, which made you run to the bedroom to finally change clothes. Adam chuckled, taking half-steps to where the music was coming from, lowering the volume of the player a little before sitting on the sofa and waiting for you. It was almost comical how some pieces fit together; the endless CDs and books on the shelves surrounding the room were a reflection of your intellectual personality, yet a little cheeky and reserved.
Some artificial plants formed illuminated silhouettes by the dim lights and candles; the detective let his curiosity guide him as the portraits on the wall revealed some people from your past, some he even recognized from photos posted on social media, and finally, the smile you kept in a locket, your mother’s smile.
“Okay, I believe I’m ready. What do you think?” you said, stopping at the door to finish putting on your bat earrings, twirling around to show off the outfit you’d chosen at the last minute.
The detective’s eyes fixed on the chosen color palette, on how everything seemed to resonate with your smile, even the shine of the silver accessories. “You’re definitely going to turn heads with this look. I love it,” he declared, smiling as he offered you his arm. “Shall we, madam?”
“We shall.”
But darling, you are the only exception
On Monday, you felt the need to dress up even more for work. This was partly due to the fact that everyone on the team seemed to love and approve of your style, but also because you knew Adam had been staring at you all night, becoming more clingy, always guiding you by the waist or arm, being receptive to your conversations, or ordering another drink before yours was even finished. Morgan's observation that Adam had a particular fondness for fictional vampires may have seemed absurd to you; however, upon an in-depth examination of your wardrobe, it was amusing to deduce that you may also have a fondness for grumpy, gentlemanly detectives.
Your last experience wasn’t something you were proud of. You fell in love with an older woman who worked as a teacher at the police academy and started dating her before you realized you had just destroyed a home. However, the general put you in a tough spot and threatened to kill you if you didn’t transfer to a different precinct. The disapproval you received from your brother at the time was something you thought about a lot; besides, he was the only person you still had left. No matter how complicated life got, he was always there. Through fights, disagreements, disgust or pride, joy, and moments of despair and relief. It was a relationship where lessons were key.
On the way to the police station, you went to the central café, picking up two orders before finally parking at the station and marching towards the table of the particular person you had been hoping to see since Saturday morning, when you woke up hungover and he called to check if everything was fine. Just as you reached your destination, Daphne and Morgan caught your attention with whistles and a round of applause; your outfit had really stood out that morning.
“There’s our beautiful lady vampire!” the consultant flattered you with a positive comment and a broad smile.
Adam stood resting on the edge of his desk, canvassing the scene before him. The three smiling women suggested that it would probably be a good day, as everyone seemed to be in a good mood. As for you... Literally took all the oxygen he had and held it back, along with that shimmer in your eyes, as you walked towards him. Karadec was surprised when one of the packages was handed to him. You didn’t pay much attention to his reaction as you sat in his chair and took a sip of coffee, leaning back and pulling up your feet to rest them on the table, next to the thigh of the man who watched you with a huge question mark on his forehead.
With a slight nod, Karadec decided to simply accept his fate and opened the package, finding an espresso and the containers of his favorite dessert: apple fritters. He wasn’t the only one keeping notes. “How are you today?”
You simply shrug, laughing a little. “Please, don't make me think about my life.” he appeared to laugh too but didn’t buy that weak smile of yours.
That moment was cut short when Selina drew the attention of all the agents to a new case; another week was getting started, and this time, everything would be quite different.
From that moment on, you seemed more open to bonding. It wasn’t just Adam you were generous enough to bring small gifts to. You may have occasionally babysat little Chloe when Morgan and Adam went out to work their brilliant minds’ abilities. Your job was to examine evidence and data, and you were outstanding at it, even if it was just an excuse to avoid going out so much. Oz and Daphne presented themselves as an elderly married couple of nearly one hundred years; it was funny to see them walking on glass when in reality they were committed to the same passion.
It was comforting to have the sensation of something so lovely surrounding that structure, which did appear to be laden with prejudice and cruelty.
When the two work-partners showed up at your office door, Chloe was lying down in your warm embrace while you read something on the computer. The toddler girl’s face was on your chest like a koala, a fluffy cloth preventing her drool from touching your silky shirt. The blonde prevented Karadec from entering completely, gesturing for him to be silent while your perceptions hadn’t yet detected them. Morgan scanned Adam’s face as he watched the unfolding scene; you’d obviously been in that position for a while and would kill every person who tried to take the little one from your lap, even if she were awake.
“You should propose to her before I do.” the baby’s mother whispered, jokingly, but tempted to cry at the thought that for once in her life she wouldn’t really have to feel concerned about Chloe’s safety or whether her children would be loved by people she considered family. Her friends, who would be more family than those who left her behind, something she had in common with you. She could easily identify that pattern of protection and loving attention from several miles away.
Your focus was shifted to the two individuals waiting in the doorway, and you simply pointed out that they might enter. “I helped prevent a murder today!” you told them, setting a couple of papers in the middle of the table to sign before the workday ended.
“Really? How exactly do you do that?” Adam observed, sitting down in one of the leather chairs while Morgan positioned herself at your desk and stretched out her arms, ready to take Chloe from you.
“Self-control. Oz had attempted to steal this lovely, petite creature from me.” Morgan hesitated to do what she had previously intended, but you only maintained a serious expression for a few seconds before laughing and handing the baby to the blonde.
Karadec couldn’t contain a broad grin at seeing you so open to the possible outcomes of friendship such as this; his chest vibrated, and he barely caught sight when Morgan said goodbye to him, leaving the two of you alone in the room where you were doing your investigative alchemy. Your fingers snapped in front of him.
“Hey. You seemed lost there for a minute, huh?” your eyes searched his, focused on something you couldn’t quite put your finger on yet.
He ran a gentle stroke through his beard, closing his eyes for a moment. “Long day... And it’s refreshing to come here and see you being so affectionate and protective with a child.” he confessed, not believing what he had indicated.
Your eyebrows lifted, still digesting his words. “What does that mean?” you picked yourself up, crossing the room and standing behind the chair where Adam was reclining, gently pressing your hands on his shoulders, offering a still, calm, exploratory massage with your fingertips. Clearly, he was tired and needed to allow his mind to rest. “You can talk to me, Karadec.”
The man remained so still throughout the massage that he turned out to be purring beneath the skillful fingers that somehow reassured him that he could feel calm again. When his eyes popped open, he held your hand and placed a kiss on your palm, searching for your face and smiling with genuine gratitude.
“You made me realize something. Thank you for that,” he confessed, and you sat beside him, still holding his gaze as if breaking it would shatter a spell. “Oh, and you’d definitely stay away from Morgan; she threatened to put a ring on your finger when we came in here.”
You chuckled and shook your head. “She can try. Despite the fact that I also enjoy women, my personality type is entirely different from Gillory's.” with your admission, Karadec understood your frustrations and anxieties, which had previously caused you to distance yourself from other peopl⁹e's opinions.
“Must be the baby.” he thought aloud, standing up and bidding you farewell with a kiss on the top of your head.
Maybe I know somewhere
Deep in my soul, that love never lasts
And we've got to find other ways
To make it alone or keep a straight face
And I've always lived like this
Keeping a comfortable distance
And up until now, I had sworn to myself
That I'm content with loneliness
Because none of it was ever worth the risk
Morgan observed an unusual occurrence the morning you and Karadec failed to exchange greetings. Karadec was preoccupied with his work and did not use his lunch break as an opportunity to observe your smile, as he always did. In contrast, you elected to assume responsibility for a case with Oz that necessitated spending the entire day conducting investigations, recording alibis, and locating suspects. At the end of the workday, Morgan got on the elevator last, so you and Adam got in at the same time.
His smile didn’t even reach his eyes; your stomach tightened at that. It was as if, from one particular moment to the next, your sense that everything could possibly ever be in harmony had been distorted by something you probably did. Since there was still one floor of the parking garage to go, you decided to talk.
“Hey, I—I know you’re not the homophobic type, so I am confident that my bisexuality did not cause you to abruptly distance yourself from me today. So please, tell me what you need or what I did wrong, so I can fix it or listen to you.” Adam realized your words sounded heavier, more emotional than usual, and certainly replete with uncertainty. He didn't have time to speak before you practically ran towards your car.
Your apartment was freezing; the moment you locked the door, your senses were triggered by the icy airflow from the window you had not remembered to close that morning. Taking off your shoes, pants, and jacket, you tied your hair back and walked towards the kitchen to start making dinner. The soundtrack for the evening was going to be something extremely dramatic by the band Paramore, and your voice made everything more enjoyable.
Now was your moment to disconnect and let go of any feelings that had left you forgotten. Perhaps returning to being a “lonely vampire,” as Daphne described it? Take on another unit to work in and avoid Karadec and his friends altogether? This was a challenging concept, particularly in light of the previous days' exchanges and affection, which were intended to foster enduring friendships.
What you didn’t know was that Adam was on his way to your house with an apology and answers with your favorite flowers. His brain had short-circuited the previous night; aware he would never have that with anyone else.
Even when he tried to marry the supposed love of his life, he would never find someone like you. Someone he had always admired, whose every step he paid attention to since the first glance. Your smile always made him because it wasn’t like any others. Despite the quiet spirit, you were similar to an avalanche, inebriating and bringing even more chuckles. You brightened practically every place you passed by, and for five years, Karadec had been trying to name the feeling that was growing slowly in his chest.
Watching you expose yourself to have friendships, letting him enter your life equally, all that time was worth the wait. Because witnessing you in that room, working and holding with such care a child you have no responsibility for, made him understand.
Not focusing on belonging to someone, but about setting aside his own personal preferences to please others... You proved to him that affection is linked to letting the other person spring up in your presence and on their own. It's understanding that sometimes what one might need is a moment of calm and someone to be there watching you blossom, not cutting off the roots of a beautiful flower.
Well, you are the only exception
The notes, ice cream, coffee, the silence, the comforting partnership... All of that led to the confirmation he needed, and inevitably, he remembered the night you two showed up at the bar together, well, just a few minutes before that.
Adam wasn’t blind; he often caught himself admiring your body from across the room. Considering the more formal clothes you wore, the dark colors sculpted your figure sensually to his eyes, accepting that you might not even notice. So, seeing you come through the door in just panties and a thin blouse made him lose his mind; his heart raced violently. A crush of many years in that situation would certainly shatter his heart, and it didn’t stop there.
He took you to the bar and made sure not to leave your side, paying attention to your words, laughing at your jokes, and guiding you tenderly through the night, then making sure you got home safely.
Your fragrant scent hung around in his car, something noticed the very next morning; that perfume smelled of red flowers yet still had a distinctive impact. His lunch order was similar to yours, and in the mornings, he started ordering two coffees while you brought the donuts and apple fritters. You had become essential in his life, and for these reasons, the night before, Adam dreamed of something that his respect and moral code didn’t align with, given its utter hypocrisy.
He could say and guarantee that the other night he didn’t look directly at your body, not even at the low-cut blouse you chose to wear, and yet, his brain made him dream of an entirely libidinous situation with you. Where your bodies danced in perfect rhythm, where your eyes darkened with passion and your chest tightened, melting into love. Adam woke up sweating, frustrated that something like that had crossed his mind, because it was you, because of his respect, because he had enjoyed it so much, and because he had craved it so profoundly. Karadec wasn’t sure if you wanted the same, if you felt the same affection for him as you did for Lev, or not.
Somehow, he was searching for answers, too.
As soon as he rang the doorbell, his hands sweated with anticipation; diverse feelings raced through his head, including the notion that he didn’t want to lose you and he would let that passion fade if that meant he got to keep you in his life. All of that melted away when you appeared. Clean face, loose hair, and low light made your features even more captivating.
I've got a tight grip on reality
But I can't let go of what's in front of me here
I know you're leaving in the morning when you wake up
Leave me with some kind of proof it's not a dream, oh
“May I come in?” he handed you the flowers and waited for you to let him in. As soon as he entered your apartment, his nervous hands found the pants pocket. You placed the bouquet in one of the empty vases next to the front door, observing that the flowers weren't cut. It was something you truly cherished about the detective: how he always listened to everything and always paid attention, and you didn't need to say anything twice for him to understand. “I had a dream we fucked,” he admitted.
Your facial response was one of surprise before you burst into laughter, having to sit on the sofa to catch your breath. Adam sat down beside you. “You know that flowers are usually for before or after romantic activities, right?” your words were pure teasing, although you found the underlying purpose of apologizing charming. Adam seemed unusually nervous. “Relax, Adam... It was just a dream.”
He scratched the back of his neck, taking a deep breath. “Huh. Yeah... I wouldn’t fuck you.” definitely not the first time he could possibly sleep with you. Adam Karadec was a lover at heart; he would cherish every part of your body, from the gentle curve of your ear to the hollow of your foot, if he could. He noticed a certain hesitation in your eyes. As if two cautious wolves were on the hunt.
You are the only exception
“You wouldn't?” it was your turn to finally make a point about something you both have been thinking about for a long time. That's when you moved toward the older man and raised your hand to his freshly shaved beard, caressing it while focusing into his eyes in a way Adam swore he had never witnessed before—a look filled with hunger and desire.
“I mean, unless you want to—” he began, but you were already a step ahead, pressing your lips to his in a steamy kiss. Adam smiled mid-kiss; it was everything he had ever wanted, everything he had hoped for, and everything you could never have imagined experiencing with just one kiss. Your limits were removed, your walls completely destroyed, and finally, Miss Vampire would no longer sleep alone in that eternity.
And I'm on my way to believing
Oh, and I'm on my way to believing
⸻ english is not my first language, but I hope you enjoyed it. constructive feedback is always welcomed! let me know if you want to be tagged in future fanfics. thanks for reading! 💞
I’m accepting requests! if you enjoy my writing and want to read a story about a specific character, I’ll do my best to make it happen!
every morning before sunrise, you find yourself in the same half-empty hospital café beside yolanda garcia, sharing burnt coffee and exhausted silence while the city outside still sleeps.
The hospital café at five in the morning barely felt real. It existed in that strange liminal space between night and day where everything looked softer around the edges, washed in pale fluorescent light and heavy exhaustion.
The overhead fixtures hummed quietly above rows of mostly empty tables while rain tapped lazily against the tall windows facing the parking garage outside, turning the glass blurry with streaks of silver and gold from distant streetlights.
Somewhere deeper in the hospital, muffled announcements crackled over intercoms every few minutes, followed by the faint squeal of stretcher wheels against polished floors and the occasional burst of laughter from overtired nurses stumbling off shift with their jackets half on and coffee cups clutched like lifelines.
The café itself smelled permanently of burnt espresso, industrial cleaning supplies, cinnamon syrup, and whatever stale pastries had been sitting untouched inside the display case since midnight. The coffee machines hissed steadily behind the counter like exhausted sighs, steam curling into the air while some half-awake barista moved through the motions with the dead-eyed precision of somebody functioning entirely on caffeine and spite.
There was always music playing quietly overhead too, soft jazz drifting through the speakers in a way that almost felt ironic considering most people inside looked one inconvenience away from a breakdown.
At that hour, the city outside remained dark and slick with rain, traffic lights blinking uselessly over mostly empty streets while the sky sat heavy in shades of deep navy and charcoal.
It made the café feel strangely suspended from the rest of the world, like time slowed down for a little while before the chaos upstairs swallowed everyone whole again. Like for one tiny pocket of the morning, the hospital forgot how to be cruel.
And every single morning, without fail, Yolanda Garcia sat at the same table beside the windows.
The first time you noticed her properly, she had been sitting alone with one ankle crossed neatly over the other, reading through hospital reports on a tablet while a paper coffee cup rested untouched beside her hand. Even at five in the morning, after what had clearly been an impossibly long shift, she looked composed in a way that almost felt unfair.
Her dark hair fell perfectly over one shoulder despite the humidity lingering in the air from the rain outside, and the sleeves of her navy scrubs had been rolled carefully to her forearms, exposing a silver watch glinting softly beneath the café lights every time she moved. She wore exhaustion differently than everyone else in the hospital did.
Most people dragged it behind them visibly, shoulders slumped and eyes hollowed out by the end of the night, but Yolanda carried it with this controlled restraint that somehow made her seem even more intimidating.
Her expression remained sharp even when she looked tired, brows faintly furrowed while she scanned lines of text on the screen in front of her with the kind of focus that made it obvious she was used to people relying on her.
There was something almost magnetic about her presence, something that pulled attention without demanding it. The kind of woman people naturally moved around in hallways without even realizing they were doing it.
You remembered standing near the sugar station longer than necessary just because you couldn’t stop watching the way she absentmindedly tapped her fingers against the coffee cup while reading.
She looked elegant even in exhaustion, expensive somehow despite sitting inside a nearly empty hospital café that smelled vaguely like overcooked bagels and cheap espresso.
And when she finally glanced up briefly from her tablet and your eyes met for the first time, the look she gave you was calm and knowing enough to make heat crawl unexpectedly up the back of your neck.
At first, you genuinely thought seeing her there every morning had to be coincidence.
Then it kept happening.
Every single morning after your shift ended, you would walk downstairs feeling half dead on your feet only to find Yolanda already sitting there beside the windows with her black coffee and stack of paperwork, always occupying the same seat, always arriving at nearly the exact same time.
Gradually, the familiarity settled into something comforting before you even realized it was happening. You started noticing tiny details about her without meaning to. The way she preferred black coffee with exactly one sugar packet but never stirred it properly enough for it to dissolve completely.
The way she rubbed lightly at the bridge of her nose whenever she was frustrated with something she was reading. The way her expression softened almost imperceptibly whenever exhausted nurses waved goodbye to her on their way out the door.
Even the rhythm of her mornings became familiar to you eventually. She would arrive first, set her coat carefully over the back of the chair beside her, skim through emails for twenty minutes, then stare out the window for exactly thirty seconds before taking her first sip of coffee.
You hated how quickly you started looking for her without thinking. Some mornings, catching sight of her sitting there somehow became the only thing convincing you to drag yourself downstairs instead of collapsing in your car immediately after shift.
And on the rare mornings where you arrived first, you found yourself glancing toward the café doors every few seconds waiting for her in a way that felt embarrassingly close to longing.
You realized she had started noticing you too the morning she looked up before you’d even reached the counter.
The café had been quieter than usual that day, the rain outside coming down hard enough to blur the entire skyline into soft grey smudges beyond the glass. Your body ached with the deep exhaustion that only came after twelve straight hours on your feet, and your scrub top still smelled faintly like antiseptic and stale hospital air.
You barely had enough energy left to function properly, mumbling your coffee order while digging through your bag for your wallet with slow clumsy movements. Before you could even reach for your card, the cashier nodded toward the other side of the room.
“It’s already been paid for.”
You blinked once in confusion before following her gaze directly toward Yolanda.
She didn’t even look embarrassed about it.
Sitting there beside the windows with steam curling from her coffee cup, she simply lifted one shoulder in a tiny shrug before returning calmly to whatever report sat open in front of her like buying your coffee had been the most natural thing in the world. Warmth spread embarrassingly fast through your chest despite your exhaustion.
You carried the drink toward her table feeling suddenly hyperaware of everything, the soft scrape of your shoes against the tiled floor, the low hum of the refrigerators behind the counter, the smell of espresso thick in the air around you. When you finally sat down across from her, she glanced up briefly over the rim of her cup.
“You looked like you were about to fall asleep standing up,” she said simply.
Her voice was lower than you expected. Smooth. Calm. Still roughened faintly by exhaustion.
You stared at her for a second before letting out the quietest laugh. “So your solution was caffeine.”
“My solution,” Yolanda corrected without missing a beat, “was preventing a potential workplace injury.”
“Wow. And here I was thinking you secretly liked me.”
That finally made her pause.
Only for a second.
But you noticed it.
Her eyes lifted properly toward yours then, dark and steady beneath the low café lighting while the faintest hint of amusement pulled at the corners of her mouth. Steam curled lazily between the two of you from fresh coffee cups, carrying the scent of espresso and vanilla through the quiet space around you.
“I can multitask,” she replied smoothly.
Your stomach flipped so hard it was genuinely annoying.
After that, mornings slowly became something shared between you instead of merely coincidental.
The conversations started small at first. Quiet observations exchanged over coffee while the sky outside gradually shifted from black to deep blue beyond the rain-streaked windows. Complaints about impossible shifts turned into teasing remarks and lingering conversations that stretched longer every morning without either of you acknowledging it directly.
Yolanda started saving the seat beside her instead of across from her. Sometimes you would arrive downstairs to find your coffee already waiting there too, prepared exactly the way you liked it without her ever having asked. The first time you noticed, you picked up the cup slowly before turning toward her with narrowed eyes while she continued typing something on her tablet.
“That’s either thoughtful or deeply unsettling.”
Yolanda didn’t even glance up immediately. “You order the same thing every morning.”
“That still means you were paying attention.”
This time she did look at you then.
Those dark eyes lifted slowly from the screen toward your face, steady and unreadable in a way that always made your chest tighten slightly under her attention.
The café lights reflected softly against the gold flecks hidden inside her irises while steam drifted lazily upward between the two of you from fresh coffee cups.
Outside, dawn had only just begun creeping weakly over the city skyline, pale blue light stretching slowly across wet streets below.
“I pay attention to important things,” she said quietly.
The sentence settled heavily somewhere beneath your ribs.
And the worst part was she didn’t even seem to realize what she was doing to you when she said things like that.
Some mornings, Yolanda vented softly about hospital politics while the café slowly filled with tired overnight staff filtering in and out around you. You learned quickly that she hated board meetings with genuine passion.
The sound of her voice dropping lower with irritation while she complained quietly about budget cuts or staffing shortages became strangely endearing to you over time.
One morning, after a particularly brutal shift, you found her leaning back in her chair with visible exhaustion etched across her face for the first time since you’d met her.
Her coat hung open loosely over wrinkled scrubs, dark circles shadowed the skin beneath her eyes, and her untouched coffee sat cooling beside her while rain battered against the windows hard enough to drown out the soft jazz overhead.
“I had three attendings arguing in my office for almost an hour,” she murmured tiredly while rubbing lightly at her temple. “One resident cried. Someone apparently vomited on an MRI machine. And I’m fairly certain Dr. McKay threatened a surgeon.”
You snorted tiredly into your coffee. “Only fairly certain?”
That finally broke her composure.
The laugh that escaped her was quiet and low and real, softer than you had ever heard from her before. It loosened something in her entire posture instantly, tension easing from her shoulders while she shook her head faintly under her breath.
God, she looked beautiful when she laughed. Not polished or intimidating or impossibly composed like everyone else saw her. Just tired and human and warm in the soft glow of the café lights at five in the morning while rain painted the windows silver behind her.
“You’re staring,” Yolanda murmured after a moment, voice softer now.
You blinked once before lifting your coffee toward your mouth to hide the smile threatening to form there. “Can you blame me?”
One of her brows lifted slowly.
“That sounds dangerously close to flirting.”
“Maybe it is.”
For a second neither of you looked away.
The noise of the café faded strangely into the background after that. The hiss of espresso machines, the quiet chatter from nurses near the counter, even the rain hammering softly against the windows all blurred together beneath the weight of her gaze resting steadily on yours. Something warmer settled between you then, something quieter and infinitely more dangerous than casual conversation over coffee before sunrise.
You didn’t realize how close you’d drifted toward her until your shoulders brushed lightly together.
Neither of you moved away.
The contact stayed there quietly between you while the city slowly woke outside the windows.
And when Yolanda finally tilted her head slightly toward yours, close enough now that you could smell the faint mix of expensive perfume, coffee, and hospital soap lingering against her skin, her voice dropped into something softer than you had ever heard before.
“You know,” she murmured quietly, “you’ve become my favourite part of the morning.”
Your entire chest tightened painfully around the words.
Outside, dawn finally began spilling gold across the skyline.
⊱ synopsis ˖ ࣪ ⊹
one too many drinks leaves baran softer than usual, trailing after you all night with flushed cheeks and needy little kisses she refuses to explain later.
baran is usually so controlled. even tipsy, she still sits with perfect posture and that calm voice that makes everyone else straighten up without thinking. but the second her hand settles on your thigh under the table and stays there a little too long, you know she’s gone softer around the edges. her thumb keeps brushing absentminded circles into your skin while she listens to you talk like she’s completely hypnotized by you.
she gets clingy in tiny, subtle ways. following you from room to room at the house party. standing close enough that her chest brushes your shoulder whenever someone else tries to pull your attention away. mumbling “there you are” every single time she finds you again like she’d been looking the whole time.
drunk baran absolutely kisses like she’s starving for it. one second she’s lecturing you for stealing her drink, the next she’s backing you into the kitchen counter with one hand gripping your waist so tightly it almost hurts while she kisses you deep and messy just to shut you up.
she’d get weirdly honest after a couple glasses of wine. forehead pressed against yours while the city lights blur behind her apartment windows. quietly admitting things she’d never say sober. “you make me stupid,” she murmurs against your mouth before kissing you again like she regrets admitting it but can’t stop herself.
you teasing her because her lipstick is smeared all over her mouth after making out with you in the back of a cab. baran just stares at you with dark, heavy eyes before wiping her thumb across your lips and going, “look at yourself before you start criticizing me.”
she’s normally the composed one in public, but drunk baran absolutely loses the ability to care. kissing you in elevators. outside the hospital gala. against the passenger door before she even unlocks the car. slow, reckless kisses that leave you both breathless while people walk past pretending not to stare.
baran holding your face so gently after a night out, brushing your hair behind your ear before kissing you all soft and lingering like you’re something precious. the kind of kiss that makes your stomach ache because she looks at you like she’s completely in love and forgot she’s supposed to hide it.
the first time she gets drunk enough to kiss you in front of dana and cassie. cassie nearly choking on her drink while dana looks unbearably smug because she’s apparently been waiting for this to happen for months.
she’s the type to get handsy without realizing it. your waist. the back of your neck. fingers hooked into your belt loops while she talks to someone else. then the second you lean in and whisper “you’re clingy when you’re drunk,” she just gives you this sleepy little smile and kisses you again instead of denying it.
drunk baran kissing you mid argument. both of you tipsy, frustrated, talking over each other until she suddenly grabs your jaw and kisses you hard enough to completely derail the conversation. when she pulls back she just breathes, “you’re exhausting,” before kissing you again.
there’s something almost unfair about how affectionate she gets afterward. curled up beside you at 2am with loosened hair and flushed cheeks, pressing lazy kisses to your shoulder and jaw while half asleep. murmuring your name against your skin like it’s become her favorite thing to say.
baran being obsessed with kissing you after you’ve had alcohol too. tasting the wine or whiskey on your tongue. smiling against your lips when you giggle into the kiss. “cute,” she mumbles before pulling you right back in because apparently one kiss was never enough for her.
drunk baran loses every last shred of that careful control the moment the door closes. she pushes you against it, mouth already on yours, hands shoving under your shirt while she grinds her soaked pussy against your thigh. her breath is hot and wine-sweet as she whispers “bedroom. now.” in that low, wrecked voice, already dripping down her inner thighs.
she gets greedy with her mouth. once she has you naked she doesn’t just kiss. she sucks dark marks into your throat, your chest, the sensitive skin right above your pussy. every bruise is deliberate, every bite followed by a slow, soothing lick while her fingers slide through your slick folds.
baran on top of you, hair loose and messy, riding your thick strap deep with that same focused intensity. her soaked pussy clenches tight around the silicone, slick sounds filling the room as she bounces. her eyes are glassy, lips parted, moaning shamelessly every time she sinks down until it’s buried to the hilt inside her.
she talks filthier when she’s drunk. normally composed baran gone, replaced by the woman who pins your wrists above your head and murmurs against your ear, “my pussy’s been dripping for your strap since dinner. i’m going to ride you until i cum so hard i forget my own name.”
after a few too many drinks she gets desperate to taste you. barely makes it to the couch before she’s on her knees, shoving your legs apart and burying her face in your wet pussy. she licks and sucks like she’s addicted, moaning loudly into your cunt while her own arousal drips down her thighs.
baran loves when you fuck her from behind. she arches that perfect back and pushes her dripping pussy back against your strap, drunk giggles turning into loud gasps when you slam into her. “harder,” she demands, voice hoarse, reaching back to spread herself wider so you can bury the strap even deeper.
she gets possessive when tipsy. straddling your lap, sinking her tight, soaked cunt down onto your strap inch by inch while she holds your face and forces you to look at her. “mine,” she breathes between messy kisses, rolling her hips in filthy circles that make her clit grind against you. “say it. tell me you’re mine while i cum all over your strap.”
drunk baran discovers she likes being watched. she’ll ride your strap on the couch right in front of the uncovered windows, her slick pussy stretched around the thick silicone, tits bouncing as she fucks herself on it. every time lights flash across her body she clenches harder and moans louder.
she gets incredibly vocal when she’s close. normally quiet baran cursing under her breath, whimpering your name while her dripping pussy flutters and squeezes around your strap. when she cums she buries her face in your neck and sobs it out, thighs shaking, arousal gushing down the strap.
afterward she’s all soft and clingy, but still greedy. curled up against you, leg thrown over your hip, lazily stroking the slick strap while pressing wet kisses along your jaw. “again,” she murmurs, already guiding it back into her soaked pussy. “want you to fuck me again until i cum.”
she’ll wake you up in the middle of the night still drunk and needy, sliding her dripping cunt onto your strap before you’re even fully awake. slow, lazy fucking with her slick walls pulsing around the silicone and her sleepy, satisfied moans filling the dark room.
baran gets obsessed with making you cum with her mouth when she’s had wine. she spends ages between your thighs, drunk and sloppy, sucking on your clit and tongue-fucking your pussy until your legs won’t stop shaking. when you finally cum she looks up at you with flushed cheeks and shiny lips, smiling like she just won. “good girl,” she whispers, pressing one last filthy kiss to your throbbing clit before crawling up to kiss you deep so you can taste your own cum on her tongue.
Dana who is a full-on Mommy Domme, pinning you down with her strong body after a long shift and spreading your pretty pussy open with her fingers while she coos, “Look at Mommy’s needy little girl, already dripping for me.” She loves fingering your tight cunt deep and steady, curling against your g-spot until your walls flutter and cream around her, then rubbing your swollen clit until you’re sobbing and squirting.
Dana who loves feeling how soaked and puffy your pussy gets, it drives her crazy — her own cunt throbs and gets slick under her scrubs as she forces orgasm after orgasm out of you, getting off on how your legs shake and your slick runs down her wrist while she praises you for being such a good, messy baby for Mommy.
Dana who bends you over the counter the second she gets home, yanks your pants down and spanks your ass red before dropping to her knees to devour your dripping pussy from behind. She tongues your hole and sucks on your clit until you’re grinding back against her face, then fucks you hard with her thick strap while your scrubs are bunched around your thighs. She gets ridiculously wet hearing the wet sounds of your cunt taking her cock and the way you clench and gush around it, moaning filthy praise like “that’s my good little slut, creaming all over Mommy’s cock” as the sight of your pussy stretched and leaking makes her own clit throb with need.
Dana who pulls you into her lap on the couch, lets you suck on her tits while she slowly fingers your oversensitive pussy, working you through gentle overstimulation until you’re whimpering and soaking her thighs. She stays soaked the entire time, her own cunt aching as she feels your walls pulse and flutter around her fingers, loving how helpless and needy you get for her. Nothing turns her on more than watching her sweet girl fall apart, all sloppy and dripping just for Mommy.
Dana who comes home after a brutal shift and immediately needs to reclaim you. She pins you against the wall, yanks your scrubs down, and spanks your ass hard until it’s glowing red. “Mommy’s had a long day, baby. Now you’re going to be a good girl and help her relax.” She shoves two fingers deep into your soaked cunt, curling them roughly against your g-spot while her palm smacks your clit with every thrust. When you’re shaking and dripping, she drags you to the bedroom, straps your wrists to the headboard, and rides your face until she cums hard all over your tongue, grinding her slick pussy against your mouth while praising you for being her perfect stress toy.
Dana who loves intense sensory play and overstimulation. She blindfolds you, ties your thighs wide open with soft ropes, and spends hours teasing your exposed pussy. Ice cubes on your clit, followed by the sharp buzz of a Hitachi wand pressed mercilessly against it. She edges you until you’re crying and begging, then forces orgasm after orgasm out of you with the vibrator while fingering your dripping hole. “Look at Mommy’s messy baby, squirting all over the sheets like a little slut,” she coos, her own cunt throbbing and leaking as she watches you break so beautifully for her.
Dana who makes you worship her after she’s done ruining you. After wrecking your pussy with her thick strap and a vibrating plug in your ass, she’ll straddle your face and slowly ride your tongue. “Clean Mommy up, sweetheart. That’s it… be a good girl and lick every drop.” She grinds her soaked cunt against your mouth, smothering you with her wetness while she plays with your oversensitive clit. The more desperately you please her, the sweeter and filthier her praise gets, and she often cums twice like this before she’s satisfied.
Dana who turns punishment into something deliciously cruel. When you’ve been bratty, she bends you over her lap, spanks you until your ass is purple and you’re sobbing, then locks a remote vibrator inside your dripping cunt on a low setting for the rest of the evening. She’ll make you sit at her feet or do chores while it buzzes inside you, edging you mercilessly without letting you cum. Only when you’re crying and begging on your knees does she finally fuck you hard with her strap, pounding you into the mattress while reminding you who this pussy belongs to.
Dana who adores using you for her own pleasure while keeping you desperate. She’ll sit on the couch with her legs spread, wearing nothing but her white coat, and make you kneel between her thighs for long stretches of time. You’re expected to worship her cunt with your mouth and fingers until she’s satisfied, sometimes while she’s reviewing charts or on a work call. Every time you do a good job she rewards you by pressing the wand against your clit, but only long enough to keep you dripping and aching. The power of having you so eager to please Mommy makes her incredibly wet.
Dana who gets especially intense during breeding sessions. She ties you in a mating press, ankles by your ears, and fucks you deep and brutal with her biggest strap while a bullet vibrator is taped directly to your clit. “Mommy’s going to fill this pretty cunt up, baby. You’re going to take every inch and thank me for it.” She pounds you relentlessly, slapping your tits and rubbing your swollen clit until you’re squirting and sobbing. She only stops when you’re a shaking, leaking, cock-drunk mess, then pulls you into her arms and fingers you gently through the aftershocks while whispering how perfect you are for her.
Warnings: semi-public sex, fingering, bratty!reader, brat tamer!Olivia, provocative clothing, mommy kink, no underwear in public, possessive!Olivia, degradation, praise, edging, pussy slapping, lowkey just deviance
𝓣thinking of older! Olivia Benson fucking you dumb in a bathroom stall because she just couldn't wait any longer..
"you need to fucking learn how to behave" she growls in your ear, roughly shoving her hand into your panties, you knew what you were doing teasing her stupid, wearing a short skirt that couldn't help but ride up your ass as you walked, a shirt with a deep v neckline to show off the fact that you were wearing her favourite black lace bra just to drive her crazy, and the way you'd spoken to her since you'd entered the mall, "Please mommy," you'd begged in one shop as your eyes fixated on a sheer night gown, "Sorry mommy," you apologised when you accidentally bumped into her shoulder in a particularly crowded store. You saw the flash in her eyes every time, the one that told you it was taking every inch of her self control not to fuck you senseless then and there.
but when you pushed her hand underneath the tight fabric of that little black skirt in the restaurant she lost control entirely. Eyes turning black with last as she felt your wetness on the inside of your thighs and the barely there lace of your tiny panties. She all but slammed the cash on the table, dragging you up by your arm and into the nearest bathrooms.
"you think this is clever?" She continued, "such a fucking brat." She dragged her middle and ring ringer through your puffy folds that were already slick with arousal, punctuating her sentence with a pinch to your throbbing clit. You gasped out a shaky moan, "Please mommy.. need you."
She thrust her two fingers inside of you, scissoring them against your spongy walls, holding you so your back is againt her chest, giving her easy access to your mouth so she can easily clamp a hand over it to muffle your cries.
she felt your back arch against her as her thumb drew her name across your sensitive bud in a subtle display of ownership, "walking around like a fucking whore all day.. you're mine. Only mine." She hissed in your ear, trapping you tighter against her as her fingers worked rough thrusts inside of your aching heat.
"please mommy-" your voice was muffled against her palm but the desire carried through, you were close.
"do you really think that you deserve to cum?" Olivia asked condescendingly, her fingers never slowing from their animalistic pace, the sound of her other palm against your soaking cunt echoed through the empty bathroom, but as you opened your mouth to reply her thumb pressed down against your tongue, in an attempt to show how obedient you could be you look it fully into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and making a display of how good you could be for her as you continued to fuck yourself on her fingers.
"Go on baby," Olivia would encourage, curling her fingers and hitting spots inside you you had no idea existed, but as the coil in your stomach got ready to snap she yanked her hand away, watching with an almost sadistic smirk as your hips bucked against nothing in the air, your slick still dripping down her wrist. she lay a harsh slap to your cunt. "Oh wait.. brats don't get to cum." She said simply, adjusting your skirt for you and sucking your juices off of her fingers.
You whimpered at the loss of contact, begging her to let you finish but her hand simply left your mouth, finding its usual spot on the small of you back ,guiding you out of the cramped bathroom stall. "Be a good girl until we get home and I might let you finish." She said lowly, forcing the heat to rebuild in your stomach almost instantly.
summary: when baran sees you suturing your own face, she is immediately intrigued.
word count: 1.1k
tags: female reader; plastic surgeon reader; no use of y/n; inspired by mark sloan stitching his own face; robby slander (only if you rly squint); you’re telling me baran wouldn’t have a competency kink? okay…
You hated the emergency department—or “the pitt” as it was so fondly called by said department and trauma surgeons alike. It always amazed you how Walsh and Garcia so frequently made the trip down to the basement. You did your best to avoid emergency consults, often sending your residents down when you could, but being one of the best plastic surgeons, you couldn’t avoid the pitt forever—as much as you would’ve liked to.
It wasn’t that you were against emergency medicine or that you had some vendetta against the people who worked downstairs, but the chaos and frenzy of it all simply unnerved you. During your rotation at MassGen’s trauma center, you’d seen your fair share of MCIs and drunken accidents, too many for your liking actually. You also knew about the rising trends of violence in the ED, something you wanted to do your best to avoid.
Though, it would be just your luck that your first ED consult in months resulted in a laceration across the cheek, thanks to an unhappy—and misogynistic—patient, whose blood alcohol was definitely above the legal limit.
“Shit,” you hissed as one of the residents rolled a sodium-chloride-soaked cotton swab over your wound. “See, this is why I avoid it down here.”
“You got the right idea,” McKay huffed, and you could tell she’d already had a rough day. It was only ten, but that’s what emergency medicine did do to you.
As she draped a cloth over your shoulder, coming back with a needle holder in one hand and pair of forceps in the other, you frowned. “What are you doing?”
“You need stitches,” Cassie stated.
“I know,” you replied. You were the best plastic surgeon east of the Mississippi. Hell would have to have frozen over for you to let some resident do your stitches. “Hold the mirror.”
You lifted the hand-held mirror up for her to take. She gave you an incredulous look but nonetheless swapped her suture supplies for the mirror and held it up for you so you could stitch up your own face.
Across the floor, Baran walked out of a trauma room and approached the nurses’ station. Taking a quick scan of the department, her eyes landed on an attractive woman in Central 2 doing sutures on her own face. She watched as the doctor’s, the dark blue scrubs being a dead give away, hands moved expertly and swiftly, and she couldn’t stop the warmth from flooding her abdomen.
“Why is there a woman doing her own sutures in our emergency department?” Baran asked Dana, her gaze remaining on you.
The charge nurse bit back a smile at the single word choice, implying a shared responsibility, something Dana had come to admire—even like—about the new attending. Baran understood her rank and responsibility but never shouldered the burden alone.
“I doubt she’d let anyone else do ‘em,” Dana snorted as she quickly glanced up to see where Baran looking before returning to her tablet.
“Who is she?”
Dana told her your name. “Plastics surgeon,” she said with a certain tone as if to explain your actions.
Baran seemed to pick up what Dana was suggesting because she raised her eyebrows and nodded.
“Hey, hotshot,” Dana yelled over to you.
“Yeah?” You called back, still focused on your task at hand.
“When you’re done showing off, I got someone here I want you to meet.”
You chuckled lightly, careful not to disrupt your work. Baran watched as you smoothly tied up your sutures, exchanged a few words with McKay, a smug yet easy-going smirk on playing on your lips, and exited the trauma bay.
As you approached the central station, your eyes widened slightly at the unfamiliar woman who was leaning against the counter, her curly hair pulled back halfway so as to not get in her face. While you didn’t make frequent trips down to the pitt, you knew most, if not all, of the doctors and nurses—mainly through Emery and Garcia’s rants but that was a moot point—and you were sure you would remember a woman as striking as her.
“Barbie, this is Dr. Baran Al-Hashimi,” Dana said, motioning her hand between you and the other attending. “She’s here while Robby’s on sabbatical.”
You rolled your eyes at the nickname the charge nurse had coined for you after you’d so generously fixed her broken nose, the first time.
Holding out your hand, you introduced your real name. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.” Baran shook your hand with a faint smirk, and you tried to ignore the way your insides fluttered at the feeling of her skin against yours.
“Impressive work,” she hummed, eyeing your sutures. She could see they were neat and precise. You’d be left with only a ghost of a scar.
“You should see what else I can do,” you replied with the arrogance of a surgeon, lowering your voice suggestively.
Baran raised her brow, struck by your forwardness.
“No flirting in front of me,” Dana snarked, shooting you a knowing look over the bridge of her glasses. You felt your cheeks warm, but your smirk widened.
“There’s plenty of me to go around, Evans,” you teased as you leaned forward against the station. She gave you a deadpan stare, used to your flirtatious remarks, and you snickered.
“Ignore her.” Dana turned to Baran, not giving you the satisfaction of a retort. “She’s not down here often anyways.”
As if on cue, your pager beeped against your hip. Briefly, you skimmed the message before looking back up at the new attending.
“Well, maybe now I have a reason to visit more often.”
You let your eyes linger in hers, momentarily getting lost in the warmth of her chocolate orbs, before pushing yourself off the station.
“Duty calls.” You held up your pager, which was buzzing again. “It’s been a pleasure, ladies.”
You glanced back at Dana, bowing your head slightly, and she simply dismissed you with a wave of her hand, but you could see a glint of affection in her eye.
“It was nice to meet you, Dr. Al-Hashimi.”
“Baran,” she corrected quickly, surprising even herself.
“Baran,” you echoed, a small and sincere smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.
If she wasn’t enamored by you before, the way her name naturally rolled off your tongue surely did it in for her.
“Well, Baran, I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” she said your name, and you decided you’d never hear it the same way again.
Turning on your heels, you headed back towards the elevator, the stinging in your cheek replaced by the tingling feeling of Baran’s gaze on your retreating figure. As you pressed the button for your floor, you caught one last glimpse of her and nodded with a faint smirk before the elevator doors shut.
You couldn’t wait for your next emergency consult.
synopsis ∶ nothing could have prepared you for this moment: the signature, the ending, and the person standing quietly beside. Olivia Benson. telling herself she can live with the guilt. what she doesn’t expect is the captivated pull towards you… or how impossible it becomes to ignore.
you don’t expect any of it either. not how easily understanding grows through cracks you thought were sealed, where resentment should have taken root.
warnings ∶ angst, emotional infidelity, divorce, guilt, complicated relationships, mutual pining, slow burn, comfort, friends to lovers, mentions of canon-typcal trauma. suggestive dialogue and flirting. no use of y/n. edited.
ᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠ ᅟ₊ 𓅓 ᅠMASTERLIST
chapters ∶
* ⸻ᅠᅠ001 . . . unbreakable.ᅟᅟᅟ﹙ intro ﹚
⸻ english is not my first language, but I hope you enjoyed it. constructive feedback is always welcomed! let me know if you want to be tagged in the following chapters or future fanfics. thanks for reading! 💜
I’m accepting requests! if you enjoy my writing and want to read a story about a specific character, I’ll do my best to make it happen!
