#even if thinking about young benson makes me want to start tearing my hair out and running around and punching walls

[pattydia]

benson and donnie circa 1990

[cazzyf1]

Some of my favourite quotes from David Benson's 'Hunt v Lauda'

'He was nursing a toy yellow-eyed gorilla which made alarming noises and clapped a pair of cymbals attached to its hand.

"Whats with the gorilla?"

James looked tired. "It's called smiler. Alistair and Teddy gave it to me to celebrate my championship."

Teddy smiled benignly: "The gorilla was not very popular in first-class lounge I'm afraid."

"No," said James, "and they wouldn't let me blow my whistle either." He produced a police whistle and blew it.' - p7

"When we boarded the plane, he (James Hunt) insisted on joining mechanics in touring class until the lights were turned down for passengers to sleep." - p8

"Niki had always wanted to marry Mariella but she had refused to do so until he had become world champion." - p21

"The unsuspecting young actress Marlene Knaus was going to endure a trial that few women, even with a tremendously experienced and well-founded background, could have endured." - p21

"I telephoned James Hunt in Johannesburg where he is preparing for the South African Grand Prix. He told me, "I have been in daily contact with Susy and am fully informed about what is going on. I wouldn't stop her getting a divorce. I am trying to help her as much as I can so that she makes the right decisions. Obviously if she wanted to come back to me, I would help her do that." - p40

"I walked out of the dinning-room to an annexe alongside it, and sitting in the corner with a lady I didn't know was Niki Lauda; he smiled and asked a Carol and me to join him for a cup of coffee. He introduced the girl alongside him very simply, "This is my lady," She was, of course, Marlene Knaus, a very beautiful girl, with her hair in a rather severe style, brushed back, and a bun on the top of her head. We had a long chat about seat belts - both were empathetically in favour (that evening the house of commons in the UK were debating on making seatbelts in cars compulsory) - but the important thing was that I established a friendly relationship with Marlene when other people on the racing circuit cold-shouldered her, thinking she was merely some local pick-up. In fact, she and Niki were planning to get married as soon as they flew back from South Africa." - p44

"The main topic of conversation was the break-up of the long relationship between Niki Lauda and Mariella. Helen (Stewart) offered, with the best possible intentions, to get in touch with both Mariella and Niki is necessary to heal the breach. Having seen how close Niki and Marlene were in South Africa, I doubted if this were possible. As it turned out, a day after we had our discussion in Nina's home, Niki went quietly to a register office near Vienna and married Marlene." - p47

"He tried awfully hard not to hurt me." - (Susy about James) - p58

"James was standing right alongside me. Tears welling in his eyes. "It's stupid," he said, "It does not affect the performance of the car or make it any faster. Not even the Ferrari team protested and they were the ones who have the most to win..." - p62

"It was in triumph, therefore, that Hunt, six weeks before his 29th birthday, left for Britain in preparation for the John Player Grand Prix at Brands Hatch. With good humour and in high spirits, he took part in an event before the race and revealed another facet in his talents. It was at the Albert Hall at the Grand Prix Night of the Stars, a concert in aid of the Graham Hill Memorial Fund. The hall was packed with evening-suited celebrities who had paid up to £500 for a private box. Hunt was introduced by astronomer Patrick Moore who had just done a soft-shoe shuffle. Suddenly, Moore reached for a trumpet left behind on the bandstand by Chris Barber, who had done an earlier turn. "You're supposed to be good at blowing your own trumpet," he said, "so try this one." The audience dutifully laughed expecting a knockabout comedy turn. But Hunt took the trumpet, the studio band started to play and Hunt's clear, clean notes echoed through the vast auditorium. It was a memorable moment. When the audience realised that Hunt was playing for real, they roared their approval and then sat in silence as James plaved like a professional. Hunt's brother, Peter told me later: "I had a hell of a job convincing the BBC, who were recording the show, that James really was a good enough trumpet player to perform on TV. He learned to play at about 12 or 13 when he was at Wellington. He was in the school orchestra and the school band and played solo at concerts. Stuart Turner, Public Affairs Director of Ford of Britain, had a box at the Albert Hall. He turned to me after Hunt had finished his solo and said: "Now I have seen everything: James Hunt playing the trumpet at the Albert Hall we'll have Niki Lauda doing a comedy act next." - p73-4

"Niki himself, having almost killed himself in a first-lap accident there in 1974, has always campaigned against the Nurenburgring. He argued that the 1976 German Grand Prix should be switched to the Hockenheim Ring, a purpose-built circuit with outstanding safety facilities installed after the death there of Jim Clark in 1968. But Lauda was reviled by the Germans for his attempt. In practise at Nürburgring spectators displayed a huge poster of Lauda and his car. Across it was written, 'Lauda 20 kilometres per hour. Aus.' Ring bystanders are hard on anyone threatening the thrill of the race." - p80

"Sunday's race day was altogether depressing from the start. The young American driver Brett Lunger had heard the night before that his father had died unexpectedly in the United States and Brett decided to stay and go on with the race before returning home. It was to be a vital decision in the saving of Niki Lauda's life." - p81

"Jackie had a remarkable story to tell that Niki's agents had telephoned him soon after the crash and asked him to appear at a promotion for a new line of jeans which were being marketed in Niki's name. Jackie refused, saying he would only appear with Niki's permission. Niki was telephoned and they were told that he was determined to be there himself." - p86-7

"What would the situation be if Niki was fit to drive and Ferrari still wouldn't come to the track?" I asked Alastair, without hesitation he replied: "We will lend him a car so he and James can fight it out." - p89

"Then Niki arrived in his Jaguar with Marlene and Willi Dungl, his masseur/confidant, the man responsible for building Niki up physically in preparation for the race. There was a last-minute panic when it was discovered that Dungl had left his passport back at the house but he had an identity card and Niki knew that with Ferrari influence we would have no trouble getting Willi into Italy. Niki insisted on carrying out all the check-out procedures himself and we made a beautiful take off from Salzburg Airport." - p95

"At one point I was asked if I wanted to see a priest. So I said: "OK." He came in, and gave me my last rites - crossed my shoulder - and said "Goodbye My friend". I nearly had a heart attack! I wanted someone to help me live in this world, and not pass into the next." - p98

"I was watching his wife Marlene's eyes as she protectively, solicitously, studied her husband. She seemed almost proud of his scarred features." - p101

"A beautiful elegant grey/green-eyed young woman by the name of Marlene Knaus enjoyed life of a promising screen actress and model. A member of one of the most respected families in Austria she fitted easily into the jet set world of show business. She moved easily too in the rarefield world of medicine in which her grandfather was a renowned gynaecologist and in the artistic circles into which she was born as the daughter of a famous painter." - p101

"I used to smoke maybe one or two cigarettes a day, but from the time of the accident I have become a chain smoker. I know that this is not good for my health but it helps me through the crisis." Niki does not smoke and he says that this fact helped him recover from his lung injuries, but he does not reprove Marlene for smoking." - p102

"Marlene is a delightfully warm person. Her handshake is firm. Her eyes are steady and constant. They are the eyes of a woman who could inspire a man to great things, and she likes to touch the person that she is talking to. She looks at her husbands scarred face and gently strokes it." - p103

"Hunt, who had trotted through the driving rain along the length of the pits to salute the supreme courage of his world title rival Niki Lauda." - p104

"I just wish there bad been no accident, no disqualifications, no aggrevation, and Niki and I were fighting it out fair and square on the track. After what Niki has achieved, he deserves that at least. What Ferrari have done is to devalue the world championship and to cloud Niki's brave recovery. His recovery is absolutely amazing and he really is fit again." - p125

"His wife Marlene was happy with his decision. She had said earlier; "When he got into the car and drove away, I wanted to throw myself in front of it and stop him." - p140

"All Hunt knew was that he had to pass everything in sight. It took him two laps to catch and pass Alan Jones in the Surtees. Now he was fourth. Almost on the same bend he came upon Regazzoni in the Ferrari. Would the Swiss Italian let him through or hold him back? Ostentatiously Rega moved over and waved Hunt through ar a point where the Ferrari pit could clearly see his manoeuvre. As Rega passed his pit he gave them the two finger sign to show his disapproval that he had been dropped from the team for 1977." - p142

[tinyboxxtink]

"Words Fail" *Chapter 2*

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

I really wasn't expecting to just go through the play, it just happened to resemble the next song OKAY? Although that might be an idea, going by the songs for each chapter in order.

HMMM.

Anyway, this one is quite a bit lengthier that's what she said so I hope you like it.

Also I'd like to point out Olivia is NOT a villain in this story, whatsoever.

I'm growing. 😂

Tag List:

@agentcable

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

@thatesqcrush

@shittanyy

@mrsrafaelbarba

@word-scribbless

@storiesofsvu

@believinghurts

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

You reached Olivia’s apartment and quietly followed her inside, Rafael right on your heels. You saw a woman in the kitchen working on what looked like homework.

“Hey Lucy, how’d he do tonight?” Olivia asked the young girl.

“Oh he was great Olivia, a little fussy before he went down about an hour ago, but other than that he’s the perfect little two year old,” Lucy smiled as she gathered her things to go. “Who’s this?”

“A friend,” Olivia nodded at you. “And you know Barba,”

“Right,” She nodded at the both of you. “Well you have a good night Ms. Benson, I’ll see you tomorrow,” With that, Lucy walked out the door, leaving the three of you alone again.

“So, wine?” Olivia asked the two of you. It really was a rhetorical question though, as she had already headed to her kitchen to fetch it. You and Rafael shrugged at each other and sat down on the couch, Rafael still had wary eyes on you.

“So, Miss...Vivian,” He began in a condescending tone. “Where did you say you were from again?”

“Oh, didn’t Olivia say?” You tried to remember if either of you had mentioned a birthplace. Should it be New York? Wait, no you said you had moved.

“You said across the state, not very specific,” He said in an accusatory tone.

“Rafa are you on this again?” Olivia scoffed as she joined you on the couch with three wine glasses and a bottle of merlot.

“I’m just trying to get a better sense of Miss Tucker here,”

“Vivian,” You corrected him. “Or Viv,”

“Right…” Rafael raised an eyebrow. “So, ‘Viv’-- are you going to answer the question?”

“Rafael she didn’t come here to answer 50 questions, she came here to tell me about Ed,”

“But--” He started to protest.

“Why don’t you tell me about your favorite memory of him?”

“My favorite memory?” You swished the wine around in your glass as you stared at the floor, trying to make up a story as fast as you could.

“Um, well... there was this one day, back when I was a kid--” You cleared your throat, ready to begin your tall tale. “One summer, on my birthday,”

End of May or early June

This picture-perfect afternoon we share

“My dad promised he’d come home early that day to take me to this carnival outside of the City. It was the very last day, and I had wanted to go all month, but he kept saying we’d wait until my birthday. And so the day came, and I sat on the stoop of our apartment building waiting for him to get home.” You pushed strands of hair behind your hair nervously as you told your story.

“I waited and waited and waited, but he never came. It was starting to get later and later, the carnival was going to close soon. I thought there was no way we’d make it by then, and I just started to cry,” You continued, noticing the faces on both Olivia and Rafael starting to fill with emotion.

“He was always doing stuff like that, making promises he couldn’t keep. I don’t know why I was surprised, but I was devastated. And just as I turned to go inside, I’ll never forget hearing those words:

“Hey kiddo, don’t you know you’re not allowed to be sad on your birthday?” You paused to suck back tears lining your eyes.

“It was my Uncle Tuck, he had shown up even after a super long day at the office. He was carrying balloons and two tickets to the carnival,” You saw Olivia smile briefly, thinking about Tucker carrying balloons and being so soft with you, that’s the Tucker she remembered. The one no one else got to see.

“We went out to the place and of course they were closing, but-- Tucker must have paid off the guy or something, because they stayed open just for us. As a kid, I just thought he was magical like that. He could make anything happen,” You glanced at Rafael who rolled his eyes. Clearly he didn’t have the best relationship with Tucker. Maybe a rivalry?

“We rode everything twice, but my favorite was the Ferris Wheel. When it reached the top, you could see the entire City skyline. It felt like the sky went on for forever,” You closed your eyes and imagined it. Just you and your uncle, sitting at the top of a Ferris wheel eating cotton candy and watching the skyline. Looking up and seeing stars for the first time ever, because they were impossible to see in the City.

All we see is sky for forever. We let the world pass by for forever

Feels like we could go on for forever this way. Two friends on a perfect day.

“...It was the best birthday I ever had,” You finished in the softest voice while looking at the floor once again, unable to speak from the tears choking your throat. When you finally had the courage to look up, Olivia was in tears and Rafael’s face had fallen from suspicious to a soft sad smile. You told yourself that this was fine, because it wasn’t totally a lie.

-----

You did have a thirteenth birthday when your mother had promised to take you to the Carnival outside the city, although it didn’t have such a happy ending, and you weren’t exactly waiting for her to get off ‘work’.

You sat outside your crappy apartment in the Bronx waiting for her to get back from another bender, with another john. You waited and waited until it got dark, and you had to go inside because everyone knew the neighborhood was a whole different kind of scary after the sun went down. When she finally showed up, she had a cupcake and a candle, with a different man than she had left with.

“Hey baby girl,” She had said, still high as a kite. "Happy Birthday,”

“Yeah, thanks,” You had snapped at her, taking the cupcake and shoving it into the wall,”

“You ungrateful little bitch!” This new man had screamed before beating the shit out of you. And your mother had just stood there and watched, peeling the cupcake off the wall and eating it with a smile. Totally oblivious to anyone else but herself.

You liked being able to rewrite that memory, in fact you loved it. You had told it so well even you started to believe it, as the actual events of the day began fading into the corners of your mind.

------

Back in reality, you cleared your throat and tried to pull yourself together from the little show you had put on. You shifted uncomfortably on the couch, waiting for the interrogation from Rafael. But he just kept that sad little smile and put a hand on your knee as if trying to comfort you.

Then Olivia stood up and walked over to where you were sitting so you stood up to meet her. She wrapped her arms around you in a huge hug, pulling you so close into her you almost stopped breathing. No one had ever hugged you this tight, this lovingly. It was weird of course-- but perfect in the most bizarre way.

“Thank you, Vivian,” She whispered into your ear, not letting up on the hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,”

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

“I’m sorry, you did WHAT?”

You were back at your dingy little apartment the next morning, back in the Bronx, sitting across from your best friend Cassie as you told her the events of the day before.

“You weren’t there Cass, okay?” You defended yourself. “She just-- she didn’t give me a chance to object!”

“Oh right, no I’m sure they put a gun to your head and made you impersonate some dead guy’s relative,” She rolled her eyes.

“Look she was so--- so devastated,” You thought back to Olivia’s face when you had first met her. Just the mention of Tucker’s name brought some kind of sadness you had never seen on a person before.

“And how much more devastated do you think she’s gonna be when she realizes you’re NOT the niece of her dead lover?” She practically shrieked.

“I don’t--” You tugged at the sleeves of your sweatshirt. “I don’t know,”

“Oh,” She suddenly had a wave of realization wash across her face. “Oh no, she can’t find out,”

“What?” You looked at her quizzically.

“You lied, to a cop Y/N!” Her eyes were wide with panic as she started to pace the apartment.

“What? I mean, yeah but not--”

“You REALLY lied to a cop,” She interjected loudly. “This wasn’t just a little lie to get out of jail time, you spun this entire web for this woman! AND her little lawyer friend!”

“His name is Rafael,” You mumbled softly.

“...What?” She asked you cautiously.

“Her lawyer friend?” You clarified. “His name is Rafael Barba,”

“....Oh no,” Her tone went from panic to manic. “Oh no no no no NO, Y/N,”

“What?”

“I know that look,” She got in your face. “I know that look of yours and that is absolutely no bueno,”

“What look?” You felt your cheeks turning hot. “There was no look--”

“You’re leaving something out about last night, aren’t you?” She suddenly stopped pacing.

“What?” You tried laughing it off like she was insane. “Why would I--”

“You like him, Y/N,” She gave you a look. “It’s written all over your face! What happened between him practically doing a full on background check to verify your story to this stupid enamored look on your face?”

“Nothing!” You lied.

“You realize you’re a shit liar, right?”

“Obviously not if I’ve gotten into this,” You half laughed.

“You stumbled into this, being basically lead around in your lies. And that story about your birthday, that was basically truth!” She pointed out. “You’re going to fuck this up and we’re both going to go to jail,”

“How are we--”

“Because I’m aiding and abetting, hello!” She thunked your head with her finger.

“You’re not--”

“You need to tell me EVERYTHING that you said last night, to both the cop and this-- Rafael,” She said with a very stern face.

----------

Last Night

After Olivia had finally released you from her death hug, you had made up some excuse about being worn out from the memory of your uncle and the whole day. Of course Olivia understood, she was just so happy to have such a wonderful memory of Tucker to get her through the many days of grieving she had left. So you and Rafael found yourselves back on the New York streets, walking in the cool fall air.

“So,” Rafael cleared his throat, trying to break the awkward silence of your walk.

“So,” You gave him a half smile. “Would you like to know the specifics of my story?”

“What?”

“Maybe the name of the carnival? The exact date and time?”

“No!” He shook his head. “No, I-- I know that must have been hard for you, telling that story,”

“...What?” You blinked in disbelief, pausing your walking in shock. “You’re--You’re just going to believe me now?”

“....Should I not?” He quirked an eyebrow at you.

“No, no of course you should,” You felt your cheeks running hot and were glad you were in the dark of the night sky. “I just-- I don’t know I just thought maybe you wouldn’t buy a sentimental story as proof, that’s all,”

“And why’s that?” He asked.

“Well,” You shrugged. “You just don’t seem like the warm and fuzzy sentimental type,”

“And how do I seem?” He asked even more curiously,

“....Grumpy cat, all about logic and facts,” You gave him a tongue-in-cheek smile.

“Grumpy cat?” He laughed for the first time since you had met him. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever heard. His eyes crinkled when he smiled, the green in them shining like emeralds.

“Actually, I’ll have you know I am a very sentimental man,” He looked at you with a small but serious smile. “I’m just protective of the ones I love,”

“Oh,” You nodded. “So you and Liv are--”

“What?” He started to laugh again. “Oh no, no no no. Olivia is like my sister, we’ve never-- no,”

“Oh,” You felt yourself let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding, and he noted the look of relief on your face.

“I don’t make it a habit to shit where I eat,” He added quickly, as if to remind himself and clarify to you that he didn’t mix business with pleasure. And he wasn’t quite sure which one you were yet.

“Well that’s a very good philosophy,” You agreed, taking the hint. “I’ve found myself eating a shit sandwich a time or two,”

“...Can we maybe move on from the feces talk?” Rafael shuddered at the image you had just painted.

“You started it,” You gave him a playful nudge as you kept walking, soon reaching the subway.

“So where are you staying, while you’re in town?” He asked.

Shit. That’s right, you hadn’t circled back to the living situation.

“I uh,” You bit your lip nervously. “I’m staying with a friend-- in the Bronx,” Well it wasn’t a lie, you just left out you’re staying with her indefinitely. And paying rent. And have all your stuff there.

“The Bronx?” He furrowed his eyebrows. “Are you sure that’s safe?”

“Calm down counselor,” You giggled at the concern on his face. “I’m a big girl, I grew up here remember?” At least that wasn’t a lie.

“Right--” He shook his head. “I guess you are,” He scolded himself for being so overprotective for a girl he just met.

“Well, I guess I’ll...see you when I see you,” You stopped at the corner of a subway station. You really didn’t want to leave him, and that scared the crap out of you.

“Well I’m sure sooner rather than later,” He smiled at you. That smile instantly made you weak in the knees, you were grateful to be holding onto a railing of the stairs.

“Oh?” Your eyes suddenly filled with hope-- he wanted to see you again?

“...Because I’m sure Liv will want you around,” He gave you a look of confusion, trying to ignore the eagerness written all over your face.

“Oh!” You felt your cheeks run hot once again. “Yeah, no of course,”

“Well, good night Vivian,” He gave you a soft half hug; he smelled so good you had to keep yourself from inhaling his musk.

“Good night Mr. Barba,” You quickly pulled away before you did something stupid.

“Rafael,” He corrected you. “Or Rafa,” He added with that beautiful smile.

“....Well good night, Rafa,” You smiled back dreamily, as he continued to walk down the street and you headed down to your train.

-----------

Present Day

“...Shit,” Cassie mumbled after you had finished your story. Your eyes had glazed over into a dreamy smile by the time you were done talking.

“What?” You once again gave her a confused look.

“You can’t fall for him, Y/N,” She warned. “You can’t keep up this fucking lie and fall in love with him, you’re gonna fuck this up and we’re gonna go to PRISON, “

“I’m not 'falling' for him, Cassie,” You rolled your eyes. “I don’t even know him,”

“Good,” Cassie gave you a look. “Then keep it that way,”

“Alright, okay I got it, mom,” You scoffed with another roll of your eyes.

“Hey,” She warned. “Someone had to be,”

“Yeah,” You nodded softly, thinking about your deadbeat mom. “I know,”

“Now get some sleep baby girl, we’re gonna have to figure out a plan tomorrow,” She gave you a pat on the head like a mom. “Promise me you’ll forget about the lawyer, Y/N,”

“...I promise,” You agreed and walked into your bedroom, flopping on the bed and screaming into a pillow.

You really didn’t know if you could keep that promise.

[qvid-pro-qvo]

i can’t hold you now (and god, it kills me)

rafael barba x female!reader. based on “townhouse incident (season 17, episode 10).”

word count: 12,500

rating: mature, for the pain that comes when someone you love is just out of reach (canon-typical mentions of rape, and tw: vivid depictions of assault and rapes in progress, blood, guns, hostage situation. not fun).

-

The call from Liv isn’t exactly unexpected – you’re about halfway across town to pick her up anyway, and you’d shot her a text that had gone unanswered about her preferred coffee order. The day is for the two of you. However, the request is an odd one, or at the very least, inconvenient.

You hadn’t anticipated the invitation, and like a lot of things in SVU, it came last minute. If anything, you’d thought Dodds would’ve gotten the invite, considering that he was her sergeant. But, something about your interest in the technical aspects of the jobs, the medical aspects of the jobs, hell, the lab as a whole, had caught Liv’s eye, and so when these innovations came up, a new way to look at DNA, your name was always on the list. It was an honor, and spending the day with the lieutenant never disappointed.

You answer her call with a smile. “Hey, I’m on my way, I promise. I just needed the caffeine boost for another day of lectures,” you tell her. Your voice is light, and the clock in your car tells you that there’s plenty of time. “Like, ten minutes?”

Your boss’s little chuckle is light, but there’s something strained in it. “Not a big fan of those seats personally, but. We’ve got to make a stop first.”

You reach down for your iced coffee, taking a long gulp. The sweetness on your tongue makes you smile, mainly because you can see Barba wincing at the sugary mess you insist on downing.

Rafael Barba. The A.D.A. for the Special Victims Unit, the transfer from Kings County, Harvard Law graduate, Bronx native… and your boyfriend. Even thinking it makes you smile around your straw.

It’d started off like anything else, you and Rafael. Meeting in the squad room after you’d joined up. Bickering and squabbling, different people with different worldviews in high stress situations. The amount of times Liv’s eyes had rolled at the two of you bickering could’ve broken world records. (Amanda was known for leaving the room with her hands up in the air when the two of you got particularly biting, especially if Carisi was added like a cherry on top.)

But then you’d watched him soften. Watched his way with the victims soften, watched his eyes soften. Watched squabbling and bickering turned into standing side-by-side and making snide comments from the other side of one-way glasses. Energy against turned into energy together, and the two of you became a duo that could convince a defendant of anything in those interrogation rooms.

(“At least they’re being productive,” Fin had snarked to Liv, as the two of them watched the interrogation unfold. “Last time they fought paperwork got held up for a week just to spite him.”)

And then the other shoe dropped, as it always did, with a case.

Squabbling turned into standing over his desk, facing him down over a file. You’d stared at him, eyes narrowed, hands gripping his mahogany desk.

“I will not stand by while people we promised to protect are thrown aside in the name of the law.” Your voice hadn’t even dared to waver, and he had stared right back.

His eyes had scanned you. Up, down. Narrowed, sharp, and you braced yourself for the return volley. And then he’d stared right back.

His hand reached out to cover yours. Squeezed it.

“Trust me. Neither will I.”

(The first kiss didn’t happen, then, but it came pretty soon after.)

Rafael’s a good boyfriend, even though sometimes his work prevents him from being as attentive as you know he wants to be. But there’s a catch, because there’s always a catch – you haven’t exactly told anyone yet.

At first it’d been just because it was easier. Because how can you tell the squad what you are when you don’t even know? But when long nights turned into early mornings, and conversations turned serious, it became the only way. To protect yourself, to protect the team, you needed to keep it separate. These two things could not mix, or else disaster would surely come of it.

(“I don’t even want to think about what Carisi will say,” he’d told you one night, fingers running down your arm, and you’d snorted before rolling over to kiss him, shut him up.)

So the now is like this: the day ends, he’s Rafael, and he teases you and tempts you and kisses you. The day begins anew, and he’s back to Barba, and you have to settle for good enough.

Even though he’s more, all you can be is colleagues in the squad room, in interrogations, during debriefs with Liv. Any affection you want to show has to be bottled up until those precious moments alone. It’s exhausting, but worth it, getting to know Rafael, and getting to really, truly care for him.

You shake your head, forcing your thoughts back to the present. You finish your sip, raise a brow. “What kind of stop?”

“A favor.”

You slowly pull up to a red light. The coffee is down. The phone is in the passenger seat and jolts at little at the stop, so you reach for it, turn the speaker off. When you hold it up to your ear you can catch the little things: the rustle of Olivia’s hair against the microphone, Lucy’s voice behind her, something that sounds a lot like Noah babbling.

“What’s up?” You shift in your seat, suddenly very aware of the gun on your hip.

“Lucy works with another family, asked us to check in one them. Said the mother had bruises around her neck, shooed her away after saying that the kid was sick and the husband yelled at her.” Liv’s voice is tense, and you feel your shoulders rise a little. Your jaw clenches, too. “So, can you pick me up?”

Domestic violence cases always have your anger flaring, the thought of those victims stuck and unable to get out. Your sigh is short, sad. “Yeah. I’ll grab you and we’ll head over.”

“Thanks.” She signs off, and suddenly the sugar in your coffee feels like it’s churning in your gut.

For a moment your hand runs over your phone’s screen. Wakes it up from its brief sleep, ready to text Barba – to text Rafael – the update. Might be a little late. Favor called in. But then the light turns green, and you toss your phone to the side, sighing.

You’ll do it later. After the visit. When all is said and done.

-

Olivia knocks. It’s loud, repetitive, sure to get the attention of whoever’s home. Your hands slide into the pockets of your jacket, your toe tapping on the concrete.

“Did Lucy say anything else?” you ask your boss, but before she can answer the door opens. Slowly, carefully, and you find yourself looking over every detail the woman who peeks out offers.

She looks exhausted, first of all. Her eyes are watery, and you can clearly see the bruising. One hand is holding the door open, the other hidden. You wonder if there’s bruising there, too, and your hands in your pockets clench into fists at the thought of someone hurting her.

“Hi, Lisa.” Your boss greets. Her smile is small, but there’s something urgent in the way she does the same scan. “Olivia Benson.”

“Right, Noah’s mom,” Lisa responds, and she’s quick to tell them that Lucy’s not there.

Liv has perfected the concerned friendliness, and her head tilts a little at the assumption. “Well, actually, I stopped by to speak with you.” With a gesture to you, Liv introduces you as a friend, and you offer your warmest smile.

“Hi, Mrs. Crivello,” you say. “How’re you doing?”

“Well, Luca’s sick, so – so it’s not really a good time,” she stammers out, and you glance towards your lieutenant, who seems unfazed. When you look back, though, you see the injuries add up. The span of the bruises. The little marks on her face.

“You have a little cut, over your eye,” you tell her. Your hand starts moving to your bag for something to dab at it, clean it up.

But Lisa just shakes her head. She looks even more teary, close to letting them fall as she pulls back a little from the door. “I should go…”

Again, Liv just looks at her, and you see her brow furrow for a moment. “Well… how about we come back later? Is that all right?”

Suddenly the two of you hear a voice from behind the mother. It’s quiet, but firm.

“Let them in.”

It’s like a switch is flicked. The uncertainty gives way, and suddenly, Lisa acquiesces. Glances down at her feet for a second before opening the door wide, and the two of you smile at her as you’re let into the apartment. But your eyes see almost nothing before something clocks you in the back of the head, and you hear Liv’s cry as she’s shoved back against the door.

There’s a clatter, but the room doesn’t go black. The hit just grazes you, fortunately and unfortunately, and you stumble forward into arms that are anything less than welcoming. A woman has Lisa, a guy with sweat on his brow has Liv against the door, and a third is the one who’s grabbing you. Your vision is blurry, and your ears are ringing, but you can see Liv lift her hands, see her look both of the captors in the eye.

There’s another girl, you realize. She’s young, a teenager, and when your eyes meet hers you can see her tears. The whole room comes into some kind of focus, and when you take it in your heart starts to sink.

Oh, fuck, what did the two of you get yourselves into?

Instincts start kicking in quick, even in your daze. Your hands test the strength of the guy behind you, which makes his grip turn bruising, and you hear the shouts of the men as they tell the two of you to drop your bags.

“Who the hell is she?!” one of them hisses, and your whole body shivers at the feeling of breath on your neck. “Who are they?!”

“My name is Olivia Benson.” There’s a shake in her voice, the adrenaline, the high, and your eyes blink a few times to focus in on her.

“Liv –“ you call out, but her eyes meet yours suddenly. She glares, and you go quiet, once again feeling those hands tighten on you. It’s as good as an order from her.

“We’re here by chance, okay, but the both of us are New York City police officers.”

The panic on them in clear, and you feel one of the hands holding you start to roam against your waist.

“Fuck, man, this one’s armed,” says the man holding you, and Olivia just sighs, nodding.

“I am, too. Okay? I am, too. I’m telling you now, do you understand?”

“Ralph,” the guy next to Liv says sharply. He’s jittery, and you see a bead of sweat drip down his brow. “Come take this.”

Your guy just stammers out something. “But I’ve got her, Joe.”

There’s no warning, from Ralph or from Joe. One moment, you’re being held to keep from struggling, and the next there’s another hit, this one against your temple. Liv’s voice is the last thing you hear as you crumple, and your mind goes blank, the room going dark.

-

When you stumble to consciousness again, it’s to the sound of sobbing. Your head is slumped forward, and the taste in your mouth is copper.  

“Fuck,” you hiss. Every movement feels like fire, and when you blink your eyes open it’s to see one of the men, Joe, jostling the teenage girl in his arms, they’re moving towards another room. She’s screaming, Liv and Joe are talking, and Roxie is yelling. The cacophony of her voice and everyone else’s makes you wince and groan again.

“Roxie, this is on you. Let me in there,” Olivia all but snarls, and you see her get clocked across the face. Watch her stumble, get shoved on the bed. You’re pinned to the bed, you realize, as you try to reach for your lieutenant. Tied around it, your ass on the hardwood floor.

“Liv,” you whisper, and your voice makes her pause. You’re awake, after all. But the look she shoots you is sharp. She wants you to let her handle it, you realize. Throw herself in the line of fire.

Yeah, you think to yourself, unlikely without your company.

Joe. Ralph. Roxie. The trio that broke in. Ralph is… gone, now, nowhere in sight, and… where’s Lisa? Your eyes blink a few more times, the sounds around you ratcheting up to full volume as you wake.

There’s someone else here, another voice, so painfully young. A memory swims to the surface as your head swivels from side to side – Lucy takes care of their boy.

Liv hasn’t moved since she got hit, hasn’t said a thing, but the screams are raucous. They make your head spin, and Roxie only adds to it when her frustration reaches her limit.

“Can’t you just shut up? God, make him shut up,” Roxie snarls, and you blearily blink so you could turn to look at Liv. Her eyes are like daggers at the woman, who looks frantic at the noises Luca is making, the sound of… his sister…

Begging for his own sister’s life.

God. You feel sick, and combined with the concussion you’re trembling.

“You’re gonna need to untie me to do that, aren’t you?” your boss almost whispers. She’s frustrated, pulling at her restraints as her will battles Roxie’s. “Please, I’m not going to do anything stupid, just let me help the boy.”

When you look back at Roxie, she looks helpless. Even with the gun in her hand. And when she moves to untie Luca and Liv, cutting off her restraints, the sigh of relief you let out is audible, even with Roxie’s whisper threat over your head.

So Liv goes. Goes to Luca, quiets him, and her voice is so gentle. It makes your lower lip tremble, the way she cradles him against her, reaches for his iPad so he can send the world away. He doesn’t deserve this, not even a little, but Liv is there for him anyway.

Leaving you to stare down Roxie.

“You wanted this?” you mutter, and the woman’s attention shoots to you, her gun shaking ever so slightly in her hand. “It’s on you, like she said. All of this, right now.”

“Shut up,” she snaps, and Liv looks up, too, lifting from her spot next to Luca, who is thankfully engrossed in a movie.

“This can’t be the way you wanted things to go down,” she adds, and she’s able to stand to her full height, dwarf the woman who looks nothing more than a girl. Uncertain, even in her arguments.

“You don’t know me,” Roxie snaps back, and you scoff, shaking your head.

“I wouldn’t want to, if you’re fine with your boyfriend raping a sixteen-year-old girl,” you hiss. Her gun shifts between the two of you, Olivia staring her down, you glaring up from your spot on the bed. “Do you even hear that? Do you hear what he’s doing to her, that sick son of a –”

“Well, Joe does Joe, and I do me, so you better sit down.”

“You can save yourself,” Liv tries, but the girl just raises her voice, pulls back. You duck your head to hide the frustration on your features, the clench of your teeth as Liv’s phone chimes.

When Roxie moves to it, you look up at your lieutenant, who spares a glance down at you. You must look a mess, because you can feel the slow throb of your temple, the stickiness of your hair that’s surely from blood. You can smell it, on you, but even after all of it, you offer a smile. A small grimace. And when Liv turns toward Roxie again, her toe taps yours.

“Who’s Lucy?”

Liv freezes. You see her shoulders tense, and for the first time since you’ve woken up another name dances across your mind. Noah. Oh, god. All of this, and Liv has Noah, and your stomach rolls again.

Your boss is quick. Her minds works, and as you blow hair out of your face she’s reaching for the phone.

“She’s my sitter. She’s also Luca’s sitter, and she needs to talk to me. She needs to know about my son’s daycare pickup.”

Wait. Pickup? It’s… it’s what, 11:00 in the morning? Your mind swirls with confusion, but in shock you realize that Roxie is handing her the phone, that Roxie is letting her text back. Your eyes widen, and quickly you duck your head.

It’s almost in prayer, you realize. With your hands tied behind you, with the feel of them going numb against the metal that’s hot from your own body heat.

Please, Lucy. Whatever she tells you. Get it to the right people.

Suddenly, a face swims to mind, and your eyes widen, blinking away the sudden rush of tears. Liv is surely thinking about her son, but all you can think about is Rafael.

Please, Rafael. Please be the right person.

-

The wake-up call in the morning is a text, and Rafael Barba blinks blearily at the message. It’s almost habit that makes his lip curl up in a smile, and when he throws off the sheets it’s with a preparedness for the morning he almost never has.

Perhaps it’s just the expectation of coffee. These huge events usually have a few cups for him to help himself, too, and he knows the sight of him downing them will make your lip curl in disgust. Or maybe it’s the knowledge, knowing that going to this DNA conference will make him a better lawyer, a better advocate for the victims.

Or maybe, it’s just that the text is from you.

You’d been a surprise, when you’d met him. A veritable source of conflict on one hand, with snappy words soothed by smiles. A disregard for the courtroom, in more ways than one. A capable detective, who had a tendency to follow instinct whether it helped or hurt. At least, that’d been the pitch.

Of course, because it was Rafael, the start had been shaky. Bickering and bantering over everything and nothing. More than once Liv had to shut the two of you up with a raised hand and a raised brow, since gut collided with a man who wore suspenders and a belt.

(“If the two of you don’t get it together, I’m throwing both of you out,” she’d threatened one eventful evening, her voice very reminiscent of the tone she took with Noah. An unsteady peace was made through the end of the week.)

But just like the squad, just like Rollins, and Carisi, and Liv, all it took was one case.

One case to turn the tide.

From there, it’d grown. Moments alone, somehow snagged against all odds. Him and you in a side room in the courthouse, talking about deals. Visits to his office to break the monotony, banter and bribe with snack to take a break. You became a friend, first and foremost, and from there it slotted into place.

Didn’t take long for him to realize just how much he’d fallen for you. A kiss sealed the deal, Rafael finally working on instinct. But while the short-term was brilliant, the long-term was more… complex.

The ADA, together with a detective. Complicated to say the least, a disaster waiting to happen at most. But how could he stay away, knowing that you had a smile that was just for him? Eventually, the two of you had agreed – it would be a secret, from the squad, from the office. The only people that needed to know were you and him.

On the outside, you did your best to treat him like everyone else, treat him like before. Banter and bicker and bite. You’d slug him in the arm same as Carisi, and you laugh with him like you do Rollins, and you roll your eyes with him and Fin as the perps incriminate themselves.

But when the two of you were alone… when you knew you were alone…

Of course, that doesn’t mean that he can’t enjoy the thought of spending time with you even at work, can’t enjoy your morning texts in the privacy of his own apartment. Today is the DNA conference, after all, which is why your text isn’t surprising. He expects to see you there, you and Liv. You send him your itinerary, which matches his almost to the letter, and he thinks about you as he thinks about what to wear, thinks about you as he pours himself his coffee, and thinks to stop thinking about you as he pulls up to the conference.

And then… you’re nowhere to be found.

He double-checks the schedule you and Liv have planned out. It’s intricate, but there are overlaps. And in those sessions, he sits, thinks about saving a seat. But there’s no further texts, nothing, and that makes the lectures a bit harder to get through. He’s almost thankful for the text from Carisi, the one that pulls him up and out of his chair and out the door. Because surely this is what’s keeping you.

Got the push-in rapist.

When Rafael makes it to the precinct and immediately grabs a cup of coffee.

“What do we have?” he asks Dodds, who is the first to greet him. Not you. Or Liv. He gets filled in by the new sergeant, and by the time they make it to the one-way glass he’s noticed that the two of you are nowhere to be found. It makes his brow furrow, but soon he’s leaning against the window, watching as the man inside starts fidgeting.

“He was on top of the roof, got trapped. Had the weapon on him, too, tossed aside. It was clean,” the sergeant tells him, and Barba can’t help the lift of his brow.

“We’re sure?” he asks, letting the doubt creep in, and Dodds’ eyes narrow at the ADA.

Fin backs him up, arms crossed over his chest. “It was clean, Barba. We got him.”

There’s a bit of relief, and tension in Rafael’s shoulders drop. Fin joins the two of them in front of the window, and he nods at him. He takes a sip of his coffee, and the steps that stalk towards the squad are distinctly unfamiliar.

“Well, congratulations. You found another innocent black man.” The defense attorney is vaguely familiar, and his eyes scan the three of them with disdain (and some kind of sick glee at his own taunts). “I suppose we should be grateful that you didn’t shoot him.”

“He had a gun on him,” Fin says, no flair, just facts.

“Did he?” is the return, and Rafael looks between the two sides, brow raised. “Who planted it?”

That’s when the ADA decides then he doesn’t have time for this, and he lets his scoff sound over his coffee cup.

“Don’t troll. This is your client’s third rape. We have multiple IDs.” He says it with a confidence that he rarely gets to have, and it feels good to be able to reply with the knowledge that DNA will match, IDs will be made. Dodds again affirms the presence of DNA, forensics, and that’s that.

It could all go horribly wrong, of course, but he still has time to relish just a little in the assurances provided.

“Save it for the judge. May I?” The public defender moves smoothly into the interrogation room, and Barba watches him for a few moments before turning to Dodds again.

“Nice work.” Frank, but honest. And straight to the point. “Where’s Liv and Y/N?” he asks, casually, paired with another sip of coffee. There’s no urgency, even as he hopes that Dodds has some idea why you bailed.

But the sergeant seems unbothered, and Fin pipes up as he stands up straight, hands in his pockets. “They’re both still at the DNA conference.”

Barba stops. Pushing off of the window, stands up straight. Looks at the two officers in front of him. Smirks a little. Not a prank, he guesses. Something else came up, surely. “No, they’re not. I was there all morning. I would’ve seen them.” He doesn’t confirm how he knows he would’ve seen them, the texts from you on the cell in his pocket, but he does know that the two of you were nowhere to be seen.

And… well. That certainly catches the two of them by surprise. Dodds looks at Fin, and Fin looks back at Dodds.

“I’ll text her again,” Dodds decides. “Let’s wrap this case up, get it delivered to her signed, sealed.”

But at that point, there’s still a hesitant peace. A certainty that whatever is wrong will be resolved, wherever Liv is she’s there for a reason. Rafael finds himself hoping the same thing for you, hoping you are not far behind her, that soon enough your voice will be heard down the hall, in the elevator, your laugh pitched high among all else.

And then, the peace shatters.

“Guys, we’ve got a problem here.” Carisi’s voice is sharp, tight. His strides are long, and soon he’s across the precinct, at Fin’s desk. “Liv just texted this to Lucy, and… it’s bad news.”

Rafael’s brows inch up his head. His mind goes to the solution that’s obvious – that Carisi is overreacting. That nothing’s as wrong as the Fordham student says it is. He doesn’t even lift his pen from the paper.

And then Fin reads.

“Stuck at precinct all day. Pick up William at daycare. He has a playdate with Lewis and Y/N today.”

In a moment Barba finds his head spinning. He lifts up, looks around the room at the other men, watching as their own minds piece together the information.

William Lewis. Just the thought of him sets Barba’s teeth on edge, sets his body alight. He has to straighten so he can wrap his mind around the implication.

“William Lewis?” he repeats. Well. Says, out loud. “That’s… that’s not good.” But he remains calm. He has to remain calm. His voice is steady, even as it wants to tremble. “When did you last hear from them? From Liv?”

Barba tries to keep his cool, but he can’t ignore the way his heart is pounding. Can’t ignore the way that he turns to Dodds again. “Have you spoken to them today?” he urges, and the sergeant jaw is clenched as Rafael reaches for the phone Fin has in his hand.

His eyes scan the words. Over and over, just to confirm. He can’t help but hope against hope that Fin read it wrong, but everything is there, in black in white in front of his face. There’s a growing dread in the pit of his stomach.

“I sent Liv a text, let her know we got the push-in rapist,” the sergeant explains. “She responded.”

“Same with Y/N. I texted her, earlier, and I got a reply,” Fin tells Barba, but there’s still something that’s got him on edge.

“But did you talk to them? Hear their voices?” He hopes the others can’t hear the break in his voice, the worry in his tone. “You didn’t actually speak to them?”

The silence is deafening.

For once, he and Carisi are on the same page. Their eyes meet over Fin’s desk. “That sounds like a 10-13 if I’ve ever heard one. It’s gotta be. Lucy said that Liv checked on a neighbor this morning?”

Dodds’ voice cuts through before Rafael’s can. “Where?”

The four men find themselves all turning to the nanny, who stands off to the side. Her worry, that brought her to the precinct in the first place, seems close to crashing over her.

“Go find out.” It’s not an order, not really, but it leaves Barba’s mouth before he can stop it. And without a second to waste, Dodds and Carisi step towards Lucy, while Barba looks down to his own phone.

It’s instinct. One tap, two, three, and there’s your name. His thumb sweeps over the screen before he presses dial, and within an instant his phone is at his ear. He’s dialed your number, what feels like hundreds of times, but the ringing stretches on and on and on. Each time it goes off, he expects the call to connect, for you to tease about calling during work hours. Can’t get enough of me at work, Barba?

When he hears your voice, he starts, wants to feel that relief, but the automated message is the only thing that’s going. His heart climbs into his throat.

One more time. He pulls back, taps a couple of times. Another call, this time to Liv. The same thing. Ringing, ringing, ringing. Message.

Nothing. He tries both numbers again, with all eyes on him, with the same result.

Two of them. Two of their own. Gone without a trace. And all Barba can think about is the name William Lewis, and the sight of it so close to your own.

Nausea rolls, and he tries one more time.

“Barba,” Fin tells him. Reaches out, fingers on his desk. “Barba.”

When he looks down, Fin’s eyes are piercing him. There’s something in them, something that makes the lawyer think the old blood knows more than he ever lets on. That Fin knows exactly what the day looks like now, and what the next case will be.

“Find out,” he manages, and tries not to think about how he’s dialed your number yet again, the sound of your automated message the definition of insanity.

-

Your phone is in Roxie’s hand. It buzzes, over and over again, and then the same thing happens with Liv’s phone on the chair next to her. Your captor watches it, reads the name and then the notifications on your own phone. There’s a back and forth, a pause, and then she looks at the two of you with confusion.

“Barba keeps calling. And this guy, Rafael. Why?”

Your breath catches. Liv is on the bed, her feet planted next to you, and you hear her words, vaguely. Something about work.

Then you realize Roxie is staring at you, raising a brow your direction. You swallow, blink a few times. Clear your head, offer a tight smile.

“Just… probably calling to ask about a case. Let it ring. He’ll get the… the message,” you say, and her eyes narrow at you before setting your phone down.

You feel Liv’s toe tap your leg. When you look up at her, her eyes catch yours, and you feel her gaze sweep over your face before you shake your head.

Not now, Liv.

She taps your leg again, but you refuse to rise to the bait, and that’s when the door bursts open.

Joe says something, but his voice fades away. All you can see is the girl, the way her face is vacant now. The faraway look, in her eyes, and your chest tightens at the sight of her hair, limp around her face.

Your sympathy turns to anger in an instant, as she limps over to the bed. Liv’s voice is soft to the girl, but your mouth twists into a sneer as you look up at Joe, who sneers right back.

“What are you looking at?” he scoffs, and the rage is blinding.

“Untie me and you’ll find out,” you shoot back.

“Playing hero, huh?” Roxie spits, but Joe beats her to it, glancing toward your phone.

“Got someplace you gotta be? Someone at home waiting for a detective who’ll never come back?” His threat isn’t lost on you, and your instinct is gone, replace with the impulse to lash out, kick at his legs.

A third tap, a warning shot, but it’s too late. Joe reaches for your collar, and Liv’s hands reach out to stop him, press against his chest as he lunges.

“You’re okay, Joe, it’s fine,” she urges, and his mouth goes a little agape as he stumbles back.

“What the hell, Roxie? What is she doing untied?”

“She was helping with Luca –” you snap, just as Roxie says that Liv isn’t going anywhere.

“If she does, she’ll never see her son again,” Joe sneers, and he moves to retie Liv just as there’s another phone ring. But it’s not Rafael, and it’s not your squad. It’s the third wheel, it’s Ralph, and you watch as Joe’s anger is stoked again. It’s like watching a train you know is going to crash, your eyes drawn to the disaster as it happens. Joe’s frustration is only peaked by Lisa’s demands, and your admiration for the will of a mother is tempered by the way that Joe’s voice grinds on his last sentence.

“Now get the cash, or they’re dead.”

One thing after another. Your head, still pounding, can barely keep up, your energy gone from the kick. There’s a ring at the doorbell, and Joe’s corralling Tess downstairs. You strain to listen, to hear anything, but the muffled voices aren’t ones you can recognize. When Tess comes back up, she’s shaky, and Joe screaming at her doesn’t help.

“They were cops! What the hell did you say?!”

Cops? you think to yourself, and for a moment images of your team swims across your vision. Oh, god.

“Nothing, I just told him Luca and I were sick!”

Joe’s pacing now, and Liv is standing. She reaches out for them, and her voice is so strong, so calm. You’re still on the bed, attached, but you force yourself to breath in and out, to look up at Joe with Liv and try to talk him down.

“Now is the time for you guys to go,” she whispers.

“You need to stop talking,” Joe hisses, but your voice chimes in before he can think too much.

“This is only the beginning,” you add. It’s what you have to do. Make him think, make them second guess. Your hands pull at your restraints to no avail, and you huff out a breath to move the hair in your eyes. “You guys should get out of here, while you still can.”

“What do you mean?” Roxie asks, but she’s silenced by Joe. Your anger at him only grows at the way he grips her tight, enough to bruise her wrists.

“They are cops – both of them, do you fucking hear me? She is lying to you, and everything that comes from her mouth is a lie.”

“Joe, there is no perimeter,” Liv urges. “Look outside. There’s no one out there. If you sneak out the back, they won’t find out who you are.”

The conversation ends with one last word from Joe. A knife in his hand pointing at all you, even Roxie. “And we’re not going anywhere until we got the money.”

The next hour is ruthless. Your concussions settle in, and you keep having to force your eyes open as Liv moves to sit next to you. The lights and the sirens are relentless, and every so often you can’t help the groan that leaves your lips at the pain.

Liv’s at the bed, too, with Tess and Luca, and a hand reaches out to you. You hear Luca’s voice, soft and gentle. “Is she gonna be alright?” he asks your boss, and before she can answer you look up at them with a shaky smile.

“Hey, buddy. Yeah. I’m – I’m fine. Just. Just got a bit of a headache. Go back to your movie, okay?”

You try to ignore the way that Liv’s hand presses on your shoulder, the way you can feel her urge for calm through the touch. Try to forget that for a few minutes, that’s the only thing grounding you, her fingers on your skin and the knowledge that your friends are out there. Your family.

And Joe? Joe’s on the edge. His fingers keep messing with the blinds, keep pulling them down and shoving them aside when the sight of the cops steadily piling into the street overwhelms him. You watch his hands go to his hair, pull, and drop back down to his sides, watch his sweat drip down his forehead. He looks manic, he looks pissed, and Roxie’s whispered doubts only do that much more to drive him mad.

“Let Richard go,” Liv urges, at one point. “Let the kids go. Keep me – I’m your best asset.”

Oh, no, you don’t, Liv, you think. Not while you’ve got Noah.

“Keep me,” you press. Your hands are still tied, so you push forward with your shoulders. “I’ll do whatever you need to do, but if you let the kids go, if you let Richard go, use me as a bargaining chip.”

“Y/N,” Liv warns, but you pull forward again, the zip-tie digging into your skin.

“They won’t come after you if I’m inside,” you urge. “Liv’ll make sure of that. Keep me, Joe. Keep me, and… and I can get you out of here.”

But before you can push anymore, Joe is shaking his head. Roxie looks frantic, and their voices drown each other out.

“Just shut up!” is the shriek that stops her, but Liv is reaching out to him again.

“Joe. Just let the kids go.”

“Will they stand down?” Joe snaps, suddenly, at Liv. You sigh out a groan, as Liv just shakes her head. “No. Not unless they hear it from you. You’ll call them, tell them to stand down. You’re going to get us out of here.”

“Joe, they’re not going to stand down,” Liv tries, but soon her phone’s in her hand, anyway, and there’s a gun to your head. You wince, tears springing to your eyes as you squeeze them shut. Liv’s voice catches in her throat.

“There’s – there’s no need for that, Joe –“

“But I’m not playing. Call them.”

“Okay. I’m calling my sergeant. Speaker is on.”

When the gun is pulled from your head you realize you’ve been holding your breath. You gasp for air, and when the phone call goes through, Mike’s answer is drowned out by your own breathing.

At the mention of a negotiator, he loses it. There doesn’t seem to be anything that doesn’t set him off, and Roxie can’t calm him.

“No, I want to get out of here,” he snaps, and your voice comes out raw.

“We have to negotiate, Joe.” You’re begging him, begging him to see reason. “We have to, if you want to survive.”

Liv fills in the gaps. “You have a family in here, Joe. You have two police officers in here. They will burst in here if you do not negotiate. That is where we are.”

“So – so who do you trust?” the asshole sneers, and the gun points to Liv, nudges against her shoulder. “At the NYPD.”

“My squad,” she responds immediately. Your heart warms, for a moment, before the chill of Joe’s voice freezes it again.

“Oh, no. Someone with more pull.” You watch Joe lean close to Liv, watch his breath puff in her face. “So I’ll fucking ask again. Does anyone at the NYPD care if you both live, or if you die?”

You look up at her. You can see her thinking – her eyebrow twitches for a moment, her gaze drifting over the scene before her.

“What about that Barba guy?” Roxie asks, pointing her gun between the both of them. “He called both of them, he obviously seems to give a shit –”

Your heart climbs so high in your throat you choke on it. Liv’s eyes widen at the suggestion, and thankfully speaks before you can stammer out an indication in the negative. “No. Ed Tucker. He has pull.”

You try to hide your shock, the way his name twists your lips. There’s history there, more than you know, and Liv looks to you, brow furrowing, a silent plea. Something passes, between the both of you, a mutual understanding. About what it means to be someone that either of you care about.

This is what needs to happen. To get the both of you out. The both of you safe, to those who care about you the most.

“Ed Tucker, Joe. He’ll get you what you want.”

-

The street outside the brownstone looks like a battleground – the armored vehicles and lights flashing on closed windows.

Rafael’s steps are quick through the organized chaos, shouts from other officers as they directed the traffic around the area filling his ears, exhaust from engines rising up into the cool air. But there’s no time to linger, catch his bearings. He can only feel lost among the uniforms and bullet-proof vests. There is only the task at hand, the thought of you pushing him to keep one foot in front of the other.

And if his hands start shaking, well, that’s what pockets are for.

He sees Dodds in the distance, the man standing half a head above any others in the area. He makes quick work of the terrain, weaving through armored bodies, and soon he’s beside the man, who greets him with a tense nod.

“Where are we?”

“Ralph Volkov. Assault, drunk driving. Fired by the Crivellos’ after two failed drug tests.” Dodds is to the point. His steps are quick, and Rafael feels like he has to take two keep up with him. They’re on a fast track to the command center, and Rafael tries to ignore the pit in his stomach.

“A revenge plan?” Rafael hisses. It’s in disbelief, in horror. All of this because of some grudge? Your life over a job as a truck driver? “Do we think he’s in charge?”

“He’s not the ringleader. Through here,” Dodds tells him, but before the sergeant can reach for the door the counselor’s voice stops his hand.  

“Dodds. Where… where are we?” When he asks again, he doesn’t mean for his voice to tremble, but it’s fraught with the emotions he knows he’ll need to put away.

The sergeant takes a moment. Ducks his chin, before giving an answer. One without fluff, or pomp, or poise. Just the truth. “As far as we know, they’re both there, conscious. Okay, as of a few minutes ago,” he murmurs. “But we don’t know what okay means. They’re alive. We caught a glimpse of them, both of them, through a second-story window. Some bruising, bleeding. But… the one with the phone is hopped up on something, and. We can’t get a rapport. Not a real one.”

“But we’ve heard them?”

When Dodds glances back, it’s with a sigh. Rafael tenses. “Just Liv. Her phone is the one they’ve been using. To make the calls. But she’s told us that they’re both okay, and I trust that… she knows what she’s doing.”

Rafael’s eyes widen, just a fraction, but Dodds doesn’t see. He’s already pushing forward, into the armored truck, leaving the lawyer’s thoughts scrambled. Your voicemail message seems to sing in his head. But the spiraling has to stop, and so he forces himself forward, through the door, chin lifted and steps long.

He can see him, at the end. One of the assholes responsible for taking you, for beating you. His shoulders straighten, and that fury is used to stalk close, tilt his chin down and glare. His presence makes the man shrink, and he relishes in that pleasure.

“Hello, Ralph. I’m Assistant District Attorney Rafael Barba. Who’s we?”

He’s pathetic, the man in front of him. Voice a mumbled mess, clothes dirty. His hands are cuffed in front of him, and he can barely look Rafael in the eye. But he answers, slowly, blinking up at the lawyer. “Me and my sister, Roxie. We needed money, for my ma, she. She needs a new hip, she can hardly walk.

Dodds says something. Rafael’s mind is on the name. Roxie. Roxie. Roxie and Ralph, the fucking dynamic duo.

Suddenly Ralph is pushing back. “Yeah, but she didn’t want to hurt anyone either. And Joe came along. All of this was his idea, man, not ours.”

Rafael takes a seat. He’s level with this guy, and it makes him sick to his stomach. “Uh-huh.” His voice is hoarse. Bitter. “Joe’s his real name?”

The man doesn’t respond, seems to shrink back, and Rafael finds his temper flaring, his voice going sharp. His hand reaches out to snap under the man’s nose. He sits down, and the only place he’s looking is at the dumb son of a bitch in front of him. “Ralph. Look at me. Anyone dies in there, you’re on the hook for felony murder.” He doesn’t want to think about you, about your body coming out, not your life. His vision goes a little red, and he leans close with a tight tone. “You help us or you’re gone.”

That seems to get his attention, and Ralph nods, swallowing down his fear. “Joe’s his real name. Joe Utley.”

Fin moves to the laptop quickly, looking at his sergeant. Their glance is exchanged, but Rafael’s mind is fixated on the three names he has. Ralph. Roxie. Joe Utley. All of them responsible for taking you. For taking Liv. He finds himself squeezing his knee under the table, praying for a moment that the crime he prosecutes them for doesn’t have – fuck, doesn’t have murder in the damn headlines.

And then he gets a text from Carisi. His hand goes to Ralph’s phone, next to him, and the latest text shines up. The two kids, huddled together on the bed, Liv to the side, and you… sitting against the bed on the floor, looking up. There’s blood, on your forehead. Some down the side of your neck. Your eyes look glazed, dull, and all the blood drains from his face.

When he holds up the photo, he can barely speak.

“This photo.” His voice is raspy, and his hand is almost shaking. “Is this the last time you had contact with Joe and Roxie?”

Ralph confirms it, and that’s when he has to step away. He just hears a fraction of what Dodds says. It doesn’t matter. It just confirms the filth that has you captive in that fucking building. Has to pull back, take a breath. There’s a fury within him that only builds as Ralph pushes back, refuses to cooperate when you’re inside that damn townhouse –

Fin’s voice cuts through the chaos, goes straight to the point. Tucker and Dodds and Rafael watch on, as the detective leans close, scowls at the perp. “Let me ask you something, man. Do you ever want to see your sister alive again?”

Rafael swallows at that. Looks down at his phone. Can’t watch as Dodds holds up the phone to Ralph, can’t do anything but close his eyes and turn as the hand is dealt.

And then Ralph stammers. There is nothing more useless than a juris doctorate in that moment, watching as the man turns. Admits that he’s caught, that it’s done. Nothing more horrifying than the sound of Joe’s voice on the other end of the line, a furious shout of a curse before the line goes dead. And nothing more nauseating than knowing that whatever happens next, Rafael can’t do a damn thing.

-

“Son of a bitch!” Joe screams, and you can’t help your wince. The noise seems to rattle your brain, and when you open your eyes again the man is leaning on the fireplace.

The four of you – including Liv and the kids – had been moved downstairs as Ralph’s absence stretched longer. And no matter how much you wanted these bastards ended, you couldn’t help your prayer that Joe would just get what he wanted. Anything to keep him sane, to keep him from using one of the kids as a punching bag, or from hurting Liv.

But with Ralph out of the picture, caught by the police… you can’t help but notice the way that your chances get slimmer and slimmer. Your eyes flick toward your lieutenant, the strongest woman you know, and you can’t help but feel the doubt. Doubt that trickles down your cheek with a couple of tears, a mixture of blood and sweat joining it.

And Rafael… your throat closes up at the thought of him, swimming around in the back of your mind. Usually such a comfort, and now the guilt kills you. The knowledge that you’d – fucking hell, that you could’ve seen him for the last…

You have to physically shake your head. Enough that Liv’s hand reaches out for you.

No. You have to see him again. You have to.

Joe and Roxie are yelling now. Back and forth, back and forth, and you want to sink further into your chair but can’t get far enough away. It all bounces in your head, and everything just as you hear Joe’s voice scream into the phone.

“What?”

The silence is deafening. Joe’s ultimatum more so. And then the phone is shoved into your hands, along with a threat for your life, the gun pointed at you.

“Ralph, and the cash, or your pretty little girlfriend dies. Or what about… what about this one? This useless bitch, huh? Not much stopping me from putting a bullet in her head.”

Your energy is used to glare up at the man. You feel Liv freeze beside you as you lift your mouth to the speaker.

“He… he really wants Ralph back in here, Tucker.”

“Yeah. I, uh. Understand that. But that’s not something we can do right now.”

Your head drops. The phone and your hand drop. And Liv’s voice is next to you, soft. “He’s telling you the truth, guys. We’re not allowed to send civilians inside.”

“All right. Then I’m done talking.”

-

There’s a hitch to your breath at the end of Joe’s statement, and Rafael’s hands are limp at his sides. He can picture it so vividly – he knows what Joe looks like. It’s not hard to visualize him lifting a gun and aiming it at you. Barba barely notices he starts to tremble as he anticipates the sound, that one final sound.

Luckily the finality is something that Tucker doesn’t accept. And at the sound of Joe’s request to talk to Ralph.

After all, he knows what that look on Tucker’s face is trying to tell him. He sees the way the man turns to him like he understands. With Liv on the other end, perhaps that’s what he’s hoping to convey. The urgency, the knowledge that he’s doing everything he can.

Little does he know.

There’s yelling, fighting. Tucker tries to talk them down again, but Roxie and Joe on the other end of the line are going off at each other, and then there’s a clatter. The whole room seems to wince at it, and when there’s silence on the line no one can breathe.

“Everybody okay?” Tucker asks. But even when the silence breaks, the tension is still thick. Rafael feels it clawing at his throat. And Liv’s voice on the other end, shaking, makes him lift a hand to his hair.

“Okay. So we know that Ralph’s not coming in here, but do you have his money?”

The trade develops. Slowly. Too slowly, and your name doesn’t come up once. It makes Rafael’s twitch, and by the time the final deal is made, he’s had enough of it. One person. One person, and it’s not you. It’s not you.

The door is opening, and Rafael is gone before he can think. He’s pushing out of the van and starts pacing behind the command center, muttering something to himself. He’s halfway through the recitation when he realizes it’s a prayer, and almost done with it when he sees Carisi just a few feet away, making his way to where Rafael just left.

He doesn’t stop the detective from coming closer. If anything he almost welcomes it. Carisi looks almost as harried as he is, and he can’t help the way his lips twist at the familiarity of Carisi’s “counselor” in his mouth.

“How’s it goin’ in there?” For a first question, Rafael is struck by how little he can bear to answer.

“The… the father’s in bad shape. They’re organizing a trade,” he whispers, and hates the way that his voice cracks. The way he looks up at the row of townhouses and has to swallow his fear so he doesn’t vomit with it.

Suddenly Carisi’s face softens, somehow, even more. He looks at Rafael with pity. And while the counselor wants to bristle at it, he can’t.

“We’ll get them out, counselor,” the blond promises. “We’ll get Liv, and we’ll get them out –”

But when Rafael lifts his hand, it’s to silence him. To just glare, work his jaw, and try not to shatter so completely.

“It’s not just Liv,” he spits, and the admission takes even him by surprise. “It’s not. So. Please, just.”

He doesn’t know what Carisi is seeing when he looks at Rafael in that moment. He doesn’t know what the detective thinks. But no matter all of his words, his teasing, he knows that the man isn’t stupid, and can put the pieces together on a simple puzzle.

Who else is in that fucking room? Who else could the squad lose?

“I can’t lose her.” Carisi’s jaw clenches, his whole body tensing in Rafael’s periphery. But there’s no answer, because the detective isn’t stupid.

Not enough to make empty promises.

-

Mike’s eyes meet yours first when he comes through the door. He reassures Joe that his demands are being met – the money, the car, the goddamn plane – but he can’t stop looking at you. Maybe it’s the blood at your temple, the way your hands are gripping armrests on the chair you’re basically strapped to. Maybe it’s the dazed look in your eye that you’re sure you have, a concussion wreaking havoc on your system. But it doesn’t matter. He can’t help you.

Joe’s orders to strip had made too much sense – forcing them down to the bare essentials to come in and get the father out. But seeing it, seeing how vulnerable Mike it makes your chest hurt, and as he stands before Joe and his fucking assault rifle basically bare, you can’t help your desire to reach out to him.

“Everything is on its way,” Mike tells Joe, meeting his gaze head on – a steady lift of the chin while Joe fidgets.

And then the vests come off, too. And you have to watch Mike leave without any protection, his back so vulnerable, and you have to watch Joe’s eyes follow him, and once he leaves the breath you let out is audible. Audible enough to earn you a glare.

“What?” he snaps, and you just shake your head, offering a smile that feels like

“Nothing, Joe. That was a good thing you just did, letting Richard get the helps he needs,” you tell him.

There’s a beat, and then before you can react he’s lunging forward, his fist and thankfully not the butt of the gun smacking you across the face.

The kids scream, a horrific sound as your head is whipped to the side, eyes closed tight as you groan and try not to look at them.

“I’m – I’m okay…”

“You’re laughing,” he hisses, bending forward. “You’re fucking laughing at me.”

“Joe,” Liv says with a sharp tone. She doesn’t come to you, but her eyes are wide as your body pulls in on itself, barely able to look up and see her through the tears in your eyes.  “Joe, look at me. That was good, getting Richard out of there. The car is… is coming, okay? It is, and… when it’s here we can start working on an exit strategy.”

“I have an exit strategy. For me, and for Roxie,” he snaps. His voice is hoarse from yelling, and then the phone rings again. Joe picks it up, and he’s moving from the hall to the table and back again, the end of the line approaching steadily.

“I’m gonna send someone out to check the car. I want the keys in the ignition, I want the engine running, and I want all those ESU guys gone, y’hear me? I want a clear path!” The phone is tossed away, connection gone, and then Joe’s in front of you again, bending forward, grinning. “About time to make yourself useful.”

“Joe,” Liv murmurs, trying to reach out to him, but the gun is quickly pointing at her.

“Shut up, boss lady!” he snaps. “The both of you are gonna put the vest on Roxie, and then she’s gonna go out there and check the car.”

What else can you do but comply? Joe’s release on your restraints has you stumbling forward, but when Liv goes to get you she’s pushed away by the firearm. You slowly rise to your feet, and there’s blood falling steadily from your nose as you stumble forward.

There’s no affirmation. Joe can only hiss out a curse, and then he’s stumbling away towards the back of the house.

The front of the house feels cold. By the time you make it to Roxie it feels like an eternity, and you and Liv have to get to work buckling her up. You’re so disoriented, the world spinning, that when you realize Liv is talking she’s already halfway there.

“Roxie,” she murmurs. “You can save yourself. You realize that? Right now. your brother is out there, and you don’t have to die. All you have to do is drop to your knees and put your hands up.”

Your hands are finally free. It feels good being able to roll your wrists, but you can barely focus as you realize you’re looking up into Roxie’s eyes. Your brain stumbles through its recollection, and when you do manage to speak it’s small. Soft. So Joe can’t hear.

“Save yourself, and your brother, Roxie, okay?” you whisper. “Get out of here. For him, you understand.”

“Just – just shut up,” she snaps, and Liv buckles her in.

It’s torture watching her leave. Joe’s back now, and the phone is at his hear, while Liv’s at the window, watching. But the light from outside makes your head spin. All you can do is stumble back to a chair, count to ten, and try not to cry.

You wish you had a hand on your back right now. Someone rubbing small circles into your skin. You can hear his voice, Rafael’s, in your ear, low hums as the two of you relax on the couch…

No.

You blink a few times. You can hear Roxie’s voice over the phone. Her sharp gasp, the long pause. You hear Rafael, then, too, urging you onto your feet, urging your mind to come together for just a bit longer…

No. He’s not – he’s not there. He’s outside. He’s not on the phone, he’s not on a couch, he’s outside and waiting and you’re stuck in here. It makes you want to scream, and your fingers lift to curl in your hair.

And then Carisi’s voice filters in over the phone.

“Hey, hold up, she’s surrendering. We got her!”

Something in Joe seems to snap at that moment. His eyes are wild, the assault rifle draped over his body, and when he lifts to gun to direct it between you and Liv.

“We’re almost there,” Liv tries to tell him. But you know she’s telling you, too. You try to nod, but there’s a flash of light as you struggle to stay conscious.

We’re almost there, Rafael whispers in your head, his little smirk so clear.

Okay, Rafa. Okay.

“It’s your terms,” Liv’s saying. “You tell Tucker how to do this… we’re so close to getting out of here.” Even as your head hangs you can’t help your smile. That’s your lieutenant. That’s Olivia fucking Benson. Allying herself. Protecting you. Your everything aches and she knows it and she’s still there.

The phone rings. Tucker’s voice filters over all of you.

“Now I’m gonna need something. The kids, Joe, okay?”

But Joe’s ready. Joe’s fired up, thanks to Liv. She’s there with him, she almost smiles at him, as he ends the negotiations. He’s ready to get out of there, he’s ready to live.

She’s got him, you think. She’s got him, right where she wants him.

“Joe, we kept our side,” Tucker says. “We’ll need at least one kid.”

“Fine,” he snaps. “You get the boy. When I get into the car you get the boy.” And then his smile goes rancid, evil, cruel.

“But I’m keeping my girls.”

-

Rafael’s leg can’t stop bouncing. He’s made his way back inside the command center, and the hustle and bustle never stops. People are in, people are out, and all he can think about is you. All he can hear is your voice is his ear, all he can focus on is getting you out safe.

Which sucks, because he can’t do a damn thing about it.

He shouldn’t even be here. He should be home. He should be home but he hasn’t been able to move since he made it to this chair.

His fingers go to your tie. It’s around his neck, but it’s yours. One you bought for him, the burgundy something you said brought out his eyes. You’d handed it over with a wink, at the end of a day that’d had you both in the office for longer than you strictly should’ve been.

Just for you, you’d said. It was basically calling your name.

God, what’d he give to hear you calling his name.

He doesn’t have an earpiece in his ear. So he doesn’t know why the cops all around him suddenly tense up, he doesn’t know why they file out of the command center and start loading their guns. What he does know is when Dodds peeks in, Carisi’s eyes visible behind him through the doorway.

“Barba,” the sergeant barks out. “They’re coming out. Stay down and stay behind, Joe is coming out –”

Rafael’s throat closes up. “With who?” he asks, but Dodds is already gone. Carisi peeks in.

“All of them, Rafael,” he says. “Liv, the kids, and –”

Rafael doesn’t need to hear your name. He’s already up. He’s led by Carisi to a vest, he’s led by Carisi to a spot behind the line of armed officers, and all he can do is watch as everyone watches the doors.

“They’re coming out by the garden level!” someone yells, and guns are aiming before Rafael can think.

He sees you first. It’s not hard to miss you. Your hair is whipping around your head a little from the wind, and there’s...

“That’s blood,” he whispers to himself. “God, that’s blood.” It’s dripping down your face, or it was – from your nose, all over your face and mouth.

“Barba,” Carisi whispers back, and that’s when he sees the gun.

No! his brain screams. His body is motionless. The gun is against your head, and you’re walking, no, stumbling forward ahead of him.

He sees your lips moving. You’re talking to Joe – Joe, surrounded by you, and Liv, and the kids. Your hands are up.  

Joe starts yelling. “Farther back! Get farther back!”

“Get back,” Carisi says, and he shouts it a little louder for the group. Everyone starts backing up. Everyone does, and Rafael watches as the four of you creep towards the car. Liv is talking now. She’s right in his ear.

And then the kids get let go. He seems a small smile play across your face, as Joe looks back at Liv.

“He’s letting both kids go!” Dodds shouts. Someone rushes up to meet them, carries them away, and Rafael watches as Joe is flanked by you, by Liv. The kids are rushed away, and the breath Rafael can take after that is minimal. It’s minimal and you’ve still got a gun to your head.

There’s talking. There’s more talking. The car is only inches away.

And then your elbow swings.

-

“Joe,” you whisper. “Keep the gun to my head.”

You feel the pressure against the back of your head. Right against the bruise from this morning. “Good, Joe. We’ll keep pushing forward, okay. I’m gonna keep my hands up, and you…”

“Shut up.”

Your mouth closes tightly. The inching forward is tedious, but you creep with every step. And then Liv starts talking.

“You don’t need the kids, Joe,” Liv whispers. “You don’t need them. Let them go, all right? It’s just about you and us, no one else.”

And then they’re gone. The kids. They dart away, and your eyes close tightly, the smile on your face momentary. One step closer. You can almost hear Rafael still. Almost there.

You feel Liv’s foot tap against yours as the group of you come to a halt. And when your eyes meet hers you can’t help what happens next.

There’s a mutual understanding. One that the two of you come to, in that moment, surrounding Joe, protecting him. His voice is still in your ear, but it doesn’t matter, in that moment. In that moment, it’s just you and Liv, and you see her eyes flick to Joe’s head before glancing down to your elbow.

“Get in,” Joe snaps, and you nod.

You know what she’s asking of you. You what she’s begging for. Safety for the kids, for the parents, for the nightmare to end.

“I will, Joe. I’m just gonna tell Tucker the plan.”

And you know that while she thinks of Noah one last time, steeling up her courage as the two of you shuffle towards the car, that you think of Rafael Barba.

“Get in!” he shouts, and you swallow tight.

Three fingertips against your hand give one tap.

“I’m just gonna tell –“

Two fingertips.

“Get in the damn car, you bitch!”

One finger, one more second.

His gun lifts from your head.

One smile staring up at you from his contact photo, one kiss that he gives with his hand tangled into the hairs on the back of your neck –

Go.

You throw an elbow, and Liv throws herself to the side while you drop. You hear the command, the gunshot, and everything stops as it rings in the air.

And then Joe’s body crumples. There’s a thud as it hits the ground. and you wait for the other shoe to drop. Liv’s own body falling, a new radiating pain in your side. But there’s nothing. Fucking nothing. It’s over.

“He’s got a gun,” you murmur, but it’s so quiet it’s just to yourself. You can’t speak up louder, the sound of the shot that killed him ricocheting in your head, rattling around until your eyes cross and you can’t think.

The yelling of the officers around you can’t stir you from your daze. Nothing seems like it can. You’re holding your hands over your ears to try and quiet what you can, your eyes wide as you stare at Joe’s dead body. And then it hits you, all at once. Like a fucking tidal wave.

It’s done. You’re free. And as you turn towards the crowds around you, shaky legs and a migraine making you stumble, one name is on your lips.

“Rafael?”

It starts out small. Low. Quiet. You can hear Liv next to you, calling out for Noah and people start crowding before you can think.

“Rafael?”

Another time. Louder, fiercer. You can’t see him, but you need to. You know he’s here, he has to be. Your throat almost can’t push the sound out, but it goes, fierce and brave.

“Rafael!”

And then you see him. There. You see him, you see the bright purple tie, the way he’s turning any way he can to find out where your voice is coming from. It’s almost comical, and you start laughing, a lot hysterical at the same time tears start coming down your cheeks.  

Laugh. Cry. Same thing. It doesn’t fucking matter. The next thing you know you’re pushing towards him, and it takes one more turn for him to see you, to start moving through the crowd. You throw your arms around him as he does the same to you, and everything inside of you seems to fall apart.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, over and over again. “Lo siento, mi amor, lo siento, estoy aqui.” But his apologies mean nothing more than just hearing the sound of his voice, pressing your lips to his mouth and neck and shoulder as you press as close as you can, hug as tight as you can, hide as much as you fucking can.

“I – I was so sc-scared,” you sob out, and that’s when your legs give out. Rafael has to try and catch you, and almost can’t, the way you go dead weight on him. But there’s nothing left to give, no more strength, and in the end he holds you as the medics rush you.

Liv’s voice fades in behind you. “I’m fine, go to her, I’m fine. Where’s Noah?” Tucker’s voice is trying to assure her that they’re getting him, that he’s coming, but then everything fades out again.

You’re so tired. God, you’re so fucking tired.

Your head hurts so bad.

Shit.

“Rafa,” you whimper out, and his shushes are gentle, one of his hand lifting to shakily push through your hair. There are other bodies around the both of you, and you try not to think about how when his hand pulls away you can see your own blood on it. Blood. Like your nose.

“Cariño,” he murmurs. “What happened?”

“Got… hit. In the head,” you whisper, and that’s when everything goes black.

-

You wake up in the hospital. You wake up, and things are still a little fuzzy, but you wake up at all, and that’s a minor miracle. You could’ve slept for another week, you think, if the way your head is pounding tells you anything.

“Fuck,” you hiss immediately, when everything hits you all at once. The lights, the beeping, the feeling of your body, somehow weightless and heavy as hell at the same time.

“They wouldn’t let me in.”

You have to blink. The lights are still too bright, and the voice almost doesn’t sound like it’s coming from in the room. After all, Rafael’s voice was in your head throughout the last few hours of that damn mess.

Right. The townhouse.

You blink again. Rafael is sitting next to you. His eyes are on you, and he’s leaning forward, his elbows on his knees.

You try not to think about the way his sleeves are rolled up, the way he looks like he hasn’t slept. There’s a bit of stubble on his face, and you want to reach out and touch it – he’s never not clean-shaven.

“What’d you say?” you murmur. Your mouth feels like cotton. 

“They took you away,” he whispers, and reaches out to grab your hand. “They took you away, out there, and… they didn’t let me in because I’m not family.”

Everything slowly comes back in. 

“You’re here now,” you whisper, and he shakes his head. 

“I wasn’t. Not the whole time you were... I wasn’t.” 

“You were... you. You were.” 

You struggle to sit up, but there’s oxygen in your nose and you can’t pull at it. You’re so weak, and everything, everything hurts. But. But the kids, Liv –

“They’re okay.” That’s when you realize that you were talking out loud, and Rafael reaches up to brush your hair back. Leans forward to kiss your forehead. “They’re okay. You’re okay.”

“Rafael.”

“The squad didn’t know. No one knew. So no one could vouch… no one knew, when your name was on there, too, with Liv, with... fuck, William Lewis...”

You’re blinking. You’re blinking a lot. Something is prickling at the corners of your eyes, and you let the tears fall. “Rafael. I’m here. I’m…”

He leans up to kiss your forehead again, and you realize he’s crying, too. You can feel something wet against your skin, and he’s holding you so close.

“You almost weren’t, and. They know now,” he whispers. “I told them. If anything ever happens, I – I need to be in here first.”

You don’t have time to process, and frankly, you don’t want to. Because Rafael is here, in your room, holding you gently, and you hear his voice in your ear just like you did earlier. You hear his little murmured prayers against your head, thanks to God, in Spanish right at your collarbone. 

You didn’t tell anyone because it was safer. You didn’t tell anyone because it was easier. You didn’t tell anyone, and it still ended with you in a hospital bed. 

He told them. And you can’t help but… but feel grateful. 

No more uncertainty. No more secrets. No more, if it means that he gets there just a little bit earlier. If it means you know that he’ll be there. 

“If anything ever happens to you,” you mutter back, “you best believe I’m beating down the doors. Family or not.” 

It’s slurred, your words. Things are getting a little fuzzy, again. You think it’s something about the medicine that’s dripping into your arm. It doesn’t matter. Rafael’s holding you so tight.

“Of that I have no doubt, cariño. Now get some rest for me.”

-

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[demigodreading]

The Boo Crew

SVU FALL BINGO! This covers the Trick or Treat square for @storiesofsvu​‘s bino. Full of Rolivia fluff and another chapter for my Ella Alina Benson Series.

Characters: Olivia Benson, Amanda Rollins, Ellan Alina Benson (Original Character), Noah Benson, Jesse Rollins, Billie Rollins

Relationships: Olivia Benson x Amanda Rollins, Olivia Benson x Daughter! Original Character

Warnings: Fluff!

Summary: Ella is getting older now and is trying to enjoy as much of the “college experience” as she can... but there is one thing that she can’t seem to get out of her mind. Trick or Treating with her family

Word Count: 1886 

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Noah had been begging Olivia all morning to get into his Spiderman costume. No matter how many times Olivia protested telling him trick or treating was still hours away, Noah insisted that he had to put it on right away. Liv knew that by the time they did go out for the evening it would be covered with any arrangement of the arts and crafts they had for the day and the spaghetti she had planned for dinner. But finally, she just couldn’t take it anymore. When the words alright flew out of her mouth Noah was already halfway into his bedroom to get changed. Olivia braced herself against the kitchen counter letting out a large sigh as the baby monitor in Bille’s room started to go off. 

She reached down, gently putting her youngest daughter into her arms. She kissed the top of her forehead welcoming her from her afternoon nap. Just as Billie had settled down Jesse ran into the room. Olivia smiled at her young blonde daughter as she crossed her arms across her chest. She already was beginning to look exactly like Amanda. It always came out the most when she was about to be sassy.  As Jesse cocked her head to the side, Olivia prepared for Mini Amanda to begin talking.

“Momma,” Jesse began.

“Yes, my love.”

“Why does Noah get to put his spiderman suit on? I want to put my princess dress on!” Jesse asked and then curled her lip into a pout.

“You know Jesse that is a great point. Why don’t you go put your dress on and then we can start making all of those cool pumpkin decorations you wanted? Sound like a plan?” Olivia replied conceding that it was easier to let both of them run wild.

Jesse entangled her tiny limbs around Olivia’s legs, “I love you Momma!”

Olivia returned the sentiment as Jesse rushed out of the room as quickly as she entered. As her bedroom door shut, Bille let out a small babble. Olivia looked down at the grinning child, “Hey, I told your mom I would try to keep them out of their costumes. I tried...for exactly two hours. I think I deserve some props.”

Billie merely gave Olivia a small smirk, “You know she could have helped me but she is out with your sister getting a last-minute costume for this big party she is going to. So it is just me and you against the hooligans for the moment.”

Billie smiled at Olivia and reached her hand up towards Liv’s cheek. Olivia took the tiny hand and placed a gentle kiss on it. Once she had changed Billie and got her settled in a ghost Halloween onesie, they walked out into the living room. Noah was kneeled down on one knee in front of Jesse with everything but his mask on for his costume. In Jesse’s right hand she had what she deemed her magical fairy wand. She gently tapped each one of Noah’s shoulders with the wand declaring him the knight to her kingdom. As Olivia watched she couldn’t help but let out a small giggle.

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Ella huffed as they left the third costume store with only two pieces of her costume for the evening in hand. Amanda stifled a laugh as they clambered back into Ella’s Subaru. Ella scrolled through her phone looking for another place they could go to find what she needed after turning her Halloween playlist in the background.

“You know if you had just gone to the store with the rest of us we probably could have found everything that you were looking for,” Amanda told her as Ella finally place her phone in the cupholder.

“I had an exam that day and hockey practice,” Ella reminded her, “Plus Noah would have tried to convince me to be another superhero again with him this year.”

“Oh come on hun you looked great at Storm last year.”

Ella smiled at the memory of holding Noah’s hand walking down the streets of New York knocking on every door with him. Jesse had been attached to Ella’s hip with her large purple jack o lantern candy bucket too young to be walking around on her own. It was one of the many pictures she had hanging up in her dorm room. Olivia and Amanda brought up the rear of the party pushing Jesse’s stroller that was full of all the surplus candy they were collecting. For as long as Ella could remember it was a  tradition for the whole family to go trick or treating together. Except for this year. This year was the year Ella was going to the most popular Halloween party at her university. She was determined to make friends and not be stuck sorting out candy with her younger siblings. 

However the more she thought about it the more guilt started to rise up. She was going to be missing Billie’s first Halloween. All for a party that she wasn’t even sure she wanted to be a part of. As if reading her thoughts Amanda placed her hand gently on top of the one Ella had clutched around the gear shift.

“You know it is okay to want to go out and do your own thing for Halloween? You are almost done with the college experience. Live it up while you can.”

Ella sighed, “I know, Halloween is just my favorite time of year. It is one of the only times that we are all together.”

“Well if you change your mind you are more than welcome to come. You know we would love to have you,” Amanda smiled, “But I will remind you though that your mom is going to throw a fit if you go out in that outfit tonight.”

Ella laughed, “It’s a warmer October than usual! I am almost twenty-one. She will be fine. I’ll make sure I cover up if I go out with y’all”

“If you say so,” Amanda giggled, “I love you Ella.” “I love you too Mom.”

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Over an hour later Ella and Amanda were making their way through the front door with a large bag in hand. As they entered the living room Ella couldn’t help but laugh. The large foldable table Olivia had set up was covered in various colors of glitter and paint. Billie was in her rocker silently watching the show but Noah and Jesse were making their presence in the home known.  They giggled excitedly showing their painted hands to the two newcomers. Their costumes were covered in spots of paint and patches of glitter. Olivia looked up from her craft with a sheepish grin, her Shego costume already on.

“Welcome home my loves,” Olivia said standing from the table, “Would you like a pumpkin to decorate? The kids each left you one.”

“But you have to be in a costume to participate!” Noah pointed out.

“Oh and who made that rule?” Amanda asked, eyeing Olivia skeptically.

“We did!” Jesse smiled, causing Amanda to laugh.

“I tried babe. I really did,” Olivia sighed.

“Oh I know you did. They actually are covered less than I had thought,” Amanda replied, kissing her wife, “I’ll go get change and join the festivities.”

As Amanda disappeared down to her bedroom Noah turned to look at Ella. She smiled as his curls bounced around his face. When he finally calmed down he asked the question she was dreading the most, “Are you coming trick or treating with us?”

“Please sissy!” Jesse chimed in.

The two of them together were a dynamic duo that always seemed to get their way. Before Ella could answer Olivia tried to reason with the two, “Loves, don’t forget that Ella is a lot older. She might not want to go out with us. She could have her own plans with her friends.”

Noah’s lips curled into a pout as he looked at his older sister, “Please Ella. You are gone aaalll the time. We just want to be with you.”

Ella did her best to contain her tears as she looked at the curly-haired boy in front of her, “Of course I can come but only to help you get candy. Then I have to go hang out with some of my friends but I’m sure Mom and Momma will help you both sort it.”

With a loud cheer, both of her siblings launched themselves into Ella’s arms. Olivia merely smiled from her spot at the table trying to contain her excitement. She wanted Ella to get the full college experience but nothing beat all five of them together.

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“I remember this neighborhood from last year,” Amanda told Olivia as she adjusted the shirt on her Kim Possible costume.

Olivia laughed pointing at a large rose bush that was two houses in front of them, “I sure hope you do because you spent five minutes puking in that rose bush. One kid… I think a pirate almost puked on his mother when they walked by us. She was so mad.”

“Hey! In my defense, I was seven months pregnant,” Amanda said shoving Olivia with her shoulder, “But I am talking about the picture we took before that whole incident.”

Olivia knew the picture well. It was still the lock screen of her phone. All of her kids dressed up holding hands. It was her favorite. Well besides the wedding picture that she kept as her home screen photo. She linked hands with Amanda as she looked at a similar scene unfolding in front of her.

“I think we need an updated picture.”

“Think they will notice?” Amanda asked reaching for her phone.

“Nope, just do it before Jesse decides that she has to give us fifteen different photos and Noah hides behind Ella.”

Amanda and Olivia paused momentarily so she could focus the camera. Walking in front of them Ella had Billie tucked against her hip. Billie’s Tigger costume was a stark contrast to the dark angel costume her older sister wore. Large black wings sprung from Ella’s back. Her arms were covered by a light long-sleeved shirt and she wore a long black skirt that dragged slightly on the ground behind her. Attached to her other side was Noah whose Spiderman fingers were entangled in hers. He had decided to forgo the mask claiming that it was too hot so his curls sprung in every direction. Next to him, Jessie was holding his hand letting his Marvel pillowcase hang in the air between them. Her purple dress sparkled under the dimming light and her crown was cocked to the side. In her other hand, she held her Rapunzel pillowcase full of candy and her magical fairy wand. Amanda took a series of pictures and then turned to kiss her wife. 

“Look at our babies.”

Olivia smiled taking the blonde’s hand as they kept walking, “It’s so nice having them all together.” “We did good Liv. We did good.”

Olivia nodded and then looked at Ella again, “That’s not really what she is wearing out tonight is she?”

Amanda let out a large laugh, “Oh god no. She is basically wearing her undergarments to that party.”

Olivia let out a large sigh before shaking her head, “They grow up to fast.”

“I know my love. I know.”

[amanda-glassen]

The Wonder Years

While getting ready for her first school dance, twelve-year-old Olivia starts a path toward discovering who she is truly meant to be.

Twelve-year-old Olivia typically spent her Friday afternoons with Elliot and some of the other boys in their neighborhood, but with her mom home early from work for the first time in weeks, Olivia wanted a mother/daughter day. Serena Benson wasn’t into sports unless her daughter was playing, so they typically watched movies together or played games, but that afternoon Olivia was particularly excited because she didn’t have any homework over the weekend and she’d get to spend her time with her favorite people: watching movies with her mom on Friday, the Spring Fling with Alex on Saturday, and watching baseball with Elliot on Sunday. Olivia thought her weekend was practically perfect until it dawned on her that she had forgotten something…

She shoveled a handful of popcorn in her mouth as she contemplated the right way to put it. Olivia knew her mom would be upset with her either way, so after finishing her popcorn and chugging a small bottle of Gatorade, she knew the longer she waited, the more upset her mom would be. “Mom?”

“Yes?”

Olivia rested her head on her mom’s shoulder and wrapped her arms around her. “Did you know you’re the coolest mom in the world? You’re so beautiful and smart and fun and I’m so lucky to be your daughter.”

Serena kissed her daughter’s temple. “As much as I love hearing that, I know you either want something or you got detention again.”

“I didn’t get detention again,” Olivia said defensively. She took a deep breath and remembered that she had to calm down if she wanted to remain on her mom’s good side after what she was about to tell her. “You know how I’m going to the Spring Fling tomorrow? Well, I kinda sorta don’t have anything to wear.”

“Kinda sorta?”

“Okay, not kinda sorta,” Olivia responded, trying to give her mom her sweetest and most innocent look. “I have nothing to wear tomorrow, but in my defense, I had a lot going on. My basketball season ended and softball began. Then there was March Madness and the Mets pre-season games. Not to mention, all of the pressure that’s put on kids today to succeed at both academics and extracurricular activities. It’s no wonder I forgot to shop for something to wear.”

Serena playfully squeezed her daughter, causing Olivia to giggle. “Olivia Margaret, what am I going to do with you?”

“Take me shopping and then to Starbucks?” Olivia asked hopefully.

With three hours left until the mall closed, Olivia didn’t even get a chance to browse her favorite sporting goods store. Nearly a year had passed since the last time Olivia had worn a dress and she had already grown out of it as well as almost all of the other clothes she had worn during the previous school year. Olivia looked at her mom casually browsing the racks of colorful spring dresses in the juniors department. She admired how sophisticated her mom always looked and how she could pull off any style better than the women in the magazines. Although she’d never admit it to her mom or her friends, Olivia occasionally felt insecure about the way she looked in her clothes. She was now too tall to fit in the kids department, but she hated most of the clothes in the juniors department because it was either too tight or too revealing for her tastes. 

Olivia hesitated to even sift through the racks, so her mom picked out ten dresses for her to try on. The thought of trying on ten dresses was overwhelming for Olivia, but she trusted her mom’s sense of style and figured once this was over, she wouldn’t have to shop again until it was time for back to school shopping in the summer. 

“Mom, this one’s itchy!” Olivia called out while she had on the first dress and she could have sworn she heard her mom laugh from the other side of the fitting room door. 

“Move on to the next one, Ollie.”

“This one is too tight,” Olivia told her mom without even letting her see how the second dress looked on her. “I can’t move comfortably. What if I wanna play kickball or something? I won’t even be able to.”

“Why would you be playing－” Serena stopped herself. “You know what, if you played kickball outside instead of dancing at your first dance, it wouldn’t even surprise me.”

Olivia tried on the next dress, which ended up being more low cut than she had thought it would be. She wanted to take it off and change back into her jeans and hoodie, but her mom wanted to see at least one of the dresses she had tried on, so Olivia reluctantly opened the door. 

“That’s way more skin than I want you showing at twelve-years-old,” Serena told her. “It’s too low on top.”

Olivia crossed her arms over her chest. “Mom, you picked it. Besides, I don’t have the boobs for this dress.”

Serena covered her mouth, hoping to stifle her laughter. “Well, not yet, but you will someday.”

“No way!” Olivia shook her head. “The moment they start to grow, I’m taping them down.”

“Taping them down isn’t going to stop them,” Serena said as she tucked a strand of hair behind her daughter’s ear. 

“Ugh!” Olivia groaned. “Then what is? When is everything going to stop? I don’t like the way I look and I don’t want to wear dresses or makeup or heels. I don’t want anyone to say ‘Olivia is becoming a beautiful young woman’ or anything like that. I don’t wanna be a woman right now. I don’t know what I wanna be.” 

Olivia tried to be tough and hold back her tears, but she could no longer control them. Instead, she decided to cling to her mom because what she needed to feel most was the comfort of being in her mom’s arms. “My Ollie Koalie,” Serena said softly while she held her. “What can I do to help you? I love you so much. No more dresses, okay? No more of anything that doesn’t make you feel like you.”

Once Olivia had changed out of the dress and back into her jeans and hooded sweatshirt, they left the juniors department and went over to the young men’s department. She may have had to sift through several racks before she found something small enough to fit her, but for the first time in her life, Olivia was excited about clothes shopping. Her mom helped her pick out some black slacks and a black vest and all that was left was the crowning jewel－her shirt.

“Mom,” Olivia said nervously.

“Yes, Ollie,” Serena absentmindedly responded. She grabbed some chinos in tan and olive green and draped them over her arm. “These pants looked good on you and I think we should get you some more.”

“Really?” Olivia asked. “But what about all the clothes you bought me for the start of the school year and for winter?”

“The clothes you’re not happy in?” Serena pointed out. “We’ll donate what you don’t want and refresh your wardrobe, but we can focus on that next week. Right now, we need to get you a shirt.”

“About the shirt…” Olivia hesitated. “Elliot bought a light blue shirt because Kathy’s dress is light blue...and some of the other guys are getting shirts to match their date’s dresses. It’s a thing a lot of the guys at school are doing and I was hoping…”

“Are you trying to tell me you have a date?” Serena asked her now blushing daughter.

Olivia knew her mom had rules against her dating before high school, but she knew Alex was worth any amount of trouble she’d get in. “I do have a date. She’s kinda sorta more than my date.”

“Are we back on kinda sorta?” Serena smiled at her.

“Kinda. I mean, no,” Olivia shook her head. “She’s not my date. She’s my girlfriend.”

“My little Ollie has a girlfriend,” Serena teased. “Is this girlfriend of yours the cute little blonde girl whose picture is the new lock screen wallpaper on your phone?”

“Mom!” Olivia’s eyes grew wide. “You looked at my phone?”

“You were sitting next to me and practically drooling over that picture of her,” her mom told her. “...and I figured if you actually replaced the Giants logo on your phone, she must be really special to you.”

 “There’s something else that’s going to make you think she’s even more special,” Olivia hid her face with her hands. “I’m actually gonna get a pink shirt to match Alex’s dress.”

“A pink shirt?” Serena gasped. “This girl just might be my future daughter-in-law.”

“Mom,” Olivia giggled. “So I’m not in trouble?”

“Have you kissed her?”

“What? No!” Olivia narrowed her eyes. “I don’t do anything like that. Alex and I just hold hands and sit together at lunch.”

“I can’t stop you from liking girls at your age or stop girls from liking you,” Serena began. “You’re way too young to kiss a girl, but if all you’re doing is holding hands and spending time together, I’m fine with you having a girlfriend. Just keep in mind that I will never let the two of you be unsupervised and...Ollie?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m here if you ever want to talk about having a girlfriend or talk about anything at all.” 

There were a few other customers nearby, but Olivia didn’t care. She hugged her mom and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I love you, Mommy, and thank you for letting me be me. I think I’m gonna be happier now.”

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Out Tonight (Part 6)

K!nktober 2020 Kink Bingo!: Nipple Play

<- Part 5

Summary: Backstory, Spanish lessons, and finally some sober sex! 🥳 (This chapter is very NSFW/18+)

For @thatesqcrush​​’s Kink Bingo challenge! And with this, I finally finish a row! 

5,420 words

The twenty-minute coffee date Rafael Barba had been dreading somehow turned into hours without him realizing it. The summer morning passed quickly until the sun was at its zenith above the turtle pond, and all of the work-related responsibilities he would have been grinding himself to death on had slipped his mind as he wandered through the park with your hand in his.

It turned out that you did have a few things in common. You both grew up in the Bronx. Though when you told him where, he snorted and joked, “What is an upstanding young lady from Spuyten Duyvil doing with a boy from the projects?”

Your jaw dropped when he told you what neighborhood he grew up in. It was an area you were familiar with mainly as a place to avoid, especially, god forbid, at night. The clean-cut lawyer in a sharp suit did not look anything like what you’d expect from the poverty he came from. You just assumed his family was wealthy.

“That’s incredible,” you said, a new surge of admiration for him stoking the fire of your attraction. You scooted closer on the shaded bench beneath a tall oak you’d stopped to sit on, your bare leg pressing against his slacks. You still hadn’t kissed, everything just barely skirting the romantic. The touch of his hand shot electricity through your skin, just from his fingers brushing yours. Neither of you wanted to push things too far, too fast, considering the guilt still lingering between you. “You must be a genius.”

Instead of boasting with the sly, cocky grin you had learned was among his favorite facial expressions, he grew serious, all but a trace of a smile leaving his lips. “I just worked hard,” he said.

“Really hard,” you said, knowingly, squeezing his hand. “Even people who work hard, who are smart… it’s almost impossible to escape that kind of poverty. The fact that you did it is…”

His inquisitive eyes, matching the foliage behind him, were strained as if deciding whether to share something or not. But he did, quietly. “I still work hard. Every day. It feels like if I make one false step, everything could fall apart. But, I have enough to support my mother.”

“And an impressive collection of ties,” you chimed.

He smirked, lifting your hand to casually press a kiss to the back of your knuckles. “And suspenders.”

Your pulse raced. Looking up and down this flawlessly stylish man, it all made sense. “Dressed to kill,” you muttered. “You wear it like a disguise.”

He frowned, the warmth leaving his eyes. You had touched a nerve. “Would it be a disguise if you wore it, or just because I’ll always be poor deep down?”

“I didn’t mean—OK, I get how that sounded. I just mean… you are exceptionally attractive. Like, really attractive. I mean, why am I telling you? You know that. Look at you.” You continued the obsequious flattery until a sarcastic smile appeared in the corner of his lips. “You know, actually,” you admitted, “I only grew up in a good neighborhood because my dad re-married rich. The weeks I was with my mom… she worked three jobs just to support me and a crummy apartment. I could never actually count on what the step-family would pay for, so sometimes I rode on boats with rich people, and sometimes I lived off canned pasta. It was weird.”

He looked at you appraisingly as he assimilated this new tidbit of information. “It isn’t easy, straddling two worlds.”

“Except you worked your ass off to break into one, and I ran away into the woods and got really into trees. Trees don’t judge you for not fitting in.”

“I’m sorry for judging you,” he whispered, his voice turning surprisingly tender. He lifted a hand and gently brought it to your cheek. You closed your eyes as it made contact, his palm warm against your skin, the pad of his thumb soft as it began stroking your cheek. You leaned forward, and he closed the remaining distance, his lips capturing yours, slow and sweet. It was chaste at first, and careful, but neither of you wanted to break it, and as it continued, his arms wrapped around the small of your back and your shoulder, drawing you in deeper as his heady scent enveloped you, the taste of coffee on his tongue as his lips parted.

“Barba?”

Rafael practically jumped out of your arms as an inquisitive voice called his name, leaving you kissing the air. The voice belonged to a tall brunette woman pushing a toddler along in a stroller.

“Liv!” he practically shrieked in alarm, straightening himself.

You looked between them and the kid, and felt like such an idiot. “Oh my god, you are cheating!”

Liv gave you a look, and burst out laughing. “Sorry, sorry, nothing like that. I’m Sergeant Benson, SVU,” she extended you a firm handshake and explained, “I work with Barba on a lot of cases.” She turned back to Barba with an amused smirk. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your date, I just couldn’t believe my eyes. Counselor, I didn’t realize you had a personal life.”

“It’s a new thing I’m trying. How’s Noah?”

“He’s perfect,” she smiled, cooing at the curly-haired child. “He loves the turtles, so we’re going down to the pond. Beautiful day for a nature walk.”

“She knows every tree,” Barba volunteered, puffing his chest out with the same cockiness he used to talk about himself, tipping his head at you. “Go ahead, test her.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Liv said, bemused. She gave a polite nod and a reminder that she still owed Barba a coffee for some legal thing he had come through on (which only gave you a slight pang of jealousy), and then waved goodbye, walking down the path toward the water.

You sat in silence, recovering. Barba was obviously scandalized to have been caught in a compromising position by a colleague, the tips of his ears turning red. You were glad she wasn’t his wife, but didn’t love having to suddenly confront the fact that he had an entire social life you knew absolutely nothing about. It sort of ruined the intimacy of the moment, tearing the cardboard moon out of your sky too soon.

Barba broke the silence first with a low, drawn-out groan. He turned to you, his eyes soft but flashing with passion, taking your hands in his again. “If we start seeing each other… there is a good chance you will get to know Liv in some capacity.” He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, and on the exhale beseeched, “You cannot tell her how we met.”

The earnestness with which he implored you, holding both your hands, made you burst out laughing. He did a poor job hiding his smile as he watched you double over. When you finally contained yourself, you pecked an innocent kiss to his lips. “We can say we met at a bar. We don’t have to mention all the, uh...” Karaoke. Drunken shenanigans. Dubious consent. Whatever you call we-didn’t-have-penis-in-vagina-sex-but-you-fingered-me-until-we-orgasmed. He grimaced with you as you both recalled all of the things you would not be telling anyone about your meet-cute. Then you started remembering his fingers gliding in and out of you, his hungry lips marking up your skin, and a warm shiver ran down your back. He swallowed, seeing the lustful heaviness creep into your eyes and responding with his own.

He nearly kissed you again, wrapping you in a passionate embrace that would have hastened you to a bedroom, but you pulled back. He said “seeing each other.” You thought this was a fun fling with no strings attached, and the idea that he was already thinking about more made your heart sink with guilt. “I should tell you...”

You never got to finish your thought. Liv had only gotten fifty feet when her phone rang. She was yelling into it frantically, demanding answers. Barba’s phone buzzed with an incoming message. Liv stormed back up the path, waving to him. “There’s been a… development,” she said, censoring the case details in your presence. “They need me at the precinct. You’re probably going to want to come, too.”

“I believe I am already being summoned,” he replied, checking his phone.

“Good. I need to call the sitter. Please let everyone know I’m on my way.” She hurried off, and any hint of flirtation was gone from Barba’s eyes as he stood, fully back in cold lawyer mode as he made a phone call, then another to order a Lyft.

He was already walking with quick, purposeful steps toward the nearest exit of the park when he hung up his last call and turned back to you apologetically. You had been trailing behind him, unsure if he wanted you to follow, and didn’t miss that you were an afterthought. But his regret was sincere. And the truth was, you didn’t mind this serious version of Barba at all—the sober Barba who poured his soul into getting justice and would forget a date he had been enjoying the instant duty called—because you’d seen the drunk version who fell apart, sobbing in your arms when he let down the victims. He had a hard side and a soft side, and so far, there was nothing about him that you didn’t like.

Oh god, you had a crush on him.

“I’m sorry, I have to go. It’s an emergency,” he explained, brow furrowed heavily over yearning green eyes.

Oh god, this was only supposed to be a one-night stand. Maybe a few nights, but a stand nonetheless. How dare he look at you like that?

“It’s alright. It sounds important,” you half smiled.

“Can I call you later?” he asked. His hands were shoved into his pockets, and he had none of the confident swagger usually in his voice. It was a small, hopeful sort of question that told you there were real emotional stakes to your answer.

Oh god, did he have a crush on you, too? Did you have a crush on each other? This was terrible!

Drawn in as if by a magnetic pull, you closed the short distance, threaded your hands between his arms and body, and clasped them together behind his back. His lips quirked as his confidence returned. His hands cupped the sides of your face, then his mouth crashed against yours, fired with all of the passion of desire realized and reciprocated, relief, and longing. It was the type of kiss that would have been drawn out and sensual if it hadn’t been condensed by necessity into a hurried goodbye. You were out of breath and overheated when he broke it, seconds later.

“I’ll be waiting,” you breathed. He gave a hungry growl and a sharp, promising stare that sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core before running to catch his ride.

***

Barba hated intelligent psychopaths. Even after they’d been put away, there was always some new appeal to fight, a new witness to come forward, some clever misdirection to cast their crimes into doubt. He’d been running around since noon working out deals with witnesses, obtaining warrants, and warning Liv’s detectives that they were being played. Now the sun was hanging low in the sky, and he realized he had never heard Carmen’s futile warning for him to go home already because his secretary didn’t work on weekends when he was pulling overtime. It was just him and his headache.

The time. What time was it?

He sat bolt upright in his leather office chair and groped for his phone. There was a notification from you from an hour ago that he vaguely recalled hearing buzz.

“How’s the emergency?”

He cursed and checked the time. It was getting late. Too late to make a reservation at any of the swankier restaurants he could take you. But he called you anyway, and was delighted when you answered.

“Hey. It’s Barba,” he said.

“I know,” said your amused voice on the other end of the line. “Your contact is in my phone, Sexy Karaoke Lawyer.”

He groaned in a way that was secretly a laugh. “Alright, Lorax. Are you free tonight? I’d like to take you to dinner. Actually, I thought I could make dinner. At my place?”

You gasped with mock scandalization. “Is this a booty call, Mr. Barba?”

He choked. “No. I just—” He stopped stammering when you started cackling like a grinning idiot, and his voice dropped low. “What if it is?”

The sudden shift in confidence caught you off guard, and he heard you swallow. “Then I’ll be there.”

***

It had been ages since he’d had time to make his abuelita’s costillas de puerco recipe. Or rather, it had been ages since he’d made time, considering he hardly had the time to do it now. He rushed through the corner deli at lightning pace to pick up what he needed, and rushed through prep, knowing you’d be over in less than an hour.

He had no idea why he felt such a drive to impress you. Why he needed to see you again so soon when you’d spent hours by his side that morning. The entire short time he had known you had been strange, anxiety-inducing, and guilt-ridden, but instead of hating you, he found himself wanting more.

The truth he didn’t want to admit was, every interaction with you, no matter how awkward, had been underscored by a potent sexual chemistry, and at the moment, he was nothing but a horny teenage boy who wanted to get laid.

That was all. This was some mid-forties hormonal resurgence. Madre de dios, it was a midlife crisis.

Or maybe this was what happened when he stopped getting in his own way. He’d spent years nursing a broken heart, years that turned into decades guarding himself against anyone getting too close. He never thought he’d feel this way again for somebody new. It was too late in life to meet someone who would know him as well as his childhood friends from el barrio, and they were all married by now. But he’d opened himself up just an inch, just for a night, by mistake, and let someone see past the hard, cynical facade, and now he wanted you to know him. He wanted to know you. He wanted to see how this ended. Maybe this was a revelation.

His heart jumped in his chest at the buzz of the door intercom.

***

“Hola, Rafael,” you greeted, and he grinned at the way you pronounced his name with the correct accent. “Oh my gosh, what smells amazing?”

He stood aside and nodded you in. The apartment was tiny, as most city apartments are, but tidy and well decorated. You were immediately drawn to the sturdy dining room table made of solid burl, and admired the natural chaotic pattern of the grain.

“It needs fifteen more minutes,” he said, observing with amusement how you completely ignored the good silver he’d broken out and started stroking the wood.

“What ever shall we do to pass the time?” you pouted innocently. Barba growled low in his throat, cupping a hand around your hip to draw you close, and you responded by pressing your hips flush against his, smiling lustily. Well, you had more or less agreed that dinner was a pretense for a booty call—no reason not to get right to it.

You hadn’t changed, but he was wearing a more casual wine-colored cashmere sweater, and you ran your hand up it, relishing the velvet softness under your palm as well as the shape of his chest. His lips met yours hot and searching, but didn’t stop there. They trailed over the side of your mouth, kissing down your jaw. He pressed wet, hungry kisses along your neck, and you moaned as his tongue lapped over the soft underside of your throat, his hands gliding over your hips. He pulled back by an inch. “Are you sure… you want this?” he murmured.

“God yes,” you moaned with your lips in his perfect salt-and-pepper hair, arousal raising your temperature as your body responded to his touch. “You haven’t been drinking this time?”

“Not a drop,” he replied huskily, somehow making it sound lewd as he resumed kissing the crook of your neck, and over your shoulder. You curled your fingers through his hair, and backed you up until your legs hit the edge of the table, and rested your weight against it, enjoying the feeling of being pinned as you angled your pelvis to grind against his growing erection.

“Oh, Rafa...” you moaned. “Can I call you Rafa?” you asked, not sure if the nickname was too personal. With the emotional baggage of your first night together, you hadn’t been sure if being on a first-name basis was respectful enough.

“You can call me anything you want,” he purred, his teeth gently pinching your shoulder.

You made a deep, chesty noise, sinfully considering that. “Don’t give me such broad permission, or you might regret it… papi.”

He groaned, and you felt his cock kicking against your cunt. Bunching up your skirt over your hips, you rocked your hips against him, panting just from feeling the strength of his arousal through his clothes. “Yes,” he hissed softly, holding you firmly against him as he worked his clothed erection against your panties, growing more excited with every mewl and shudder it drew from your lips. “That night was… moronic… but I remember the way I felt… how much I wanted you.” He turned his head and sucked a light bruise into your neck. “Do you still feel that way?”

You dipped your head to coax him back to your mouth, his pink lips wet with saliva as your tongue tasted them. “I wanted you to fuck me so bad,” you groaned, jerking your hips for emphasis on the word fuck. “But your fingers are very skilled… and your mouth...” You kissed him again, and felt his hand reach between your legs to slide your panties off.

His fingers paused halfway down the elastic. “Is this moving too fast?” he panted, suddenly trying to be reasonable. The kind of thing you would worry about if you were building a long-term relationship.

“Shh,” you hushed him gently. “I don’t want to think about too fast or too slow, or how different our lives are, or what’s going to happen after tonight. We’re just two strangers having fun. Can’t it just be that?”

He kissed you so softly, then. So tenderly that he could only have been subliminally trying to convince you of something more. His heart drummed with possessive affection; he already knew he wanted more than just tonight. At least the primitive, reckless part of him that didn’t overthink and over-plan every decision did. The rational part of him and the part that would say anything to please you came to an accord as he nodded, lips moving against your skin, “It can be.”

You grabbed his wrist and helped him slip your underwear the rest of the way off, stepping out of them and kicking them aside. His fingers didn’t immediately plunge themselves into your drenched folds, and his hips didn’t immediately return to grind against your wetness. His intelligent, cocky green eyes gave you a probing stare.

“Y qué quieres hacer esta noche?” he purred, low and seductive, giving you a choice.

“Oh, papi, me encanta cuándo hablas español. I want you to do anything you want to me. Anything,” you moaned, fairly certain that, with one or two exceptions, you really meant it. This man turned you on in ways you’d never experienced. There was nothing you wouldn’t try if he wanted it, and you knew he’d stop the second you asked, which made you feel bolder.

He chuckled. “Don’t give me such broad permission, dulce naturalista.”

The promise of mischief in his voice made you shiver, your cunt dripping. “Anything, papi. I just… want to know that you want me.”

He hummed. “This dress, this flimsy thing,” he hooked his index fingers through the narrow shoulder straps and tugged. “Did you know I’ve been staring at it all day, thinking about doing this?” He pulled the front down, just by a few inches, and freed your nipples. He dipped his head, and you gasped as he took one in his mouth.

“Oh god, it feels so good,” you whined as he began to suck, rolling the other between his thumb and forefinger. It was like he had a direct connection to your clit. He wasn’t even touching you there, but a hot pressure began to build between your legs as he devoured your sensitive nipples.

Then he suddenly released, your hard peak popping out of his mouth with a wet sound, and you whined for him not to stop. “Tu no dominas el español, verdad?” he asked.

“Qué?” you blurted, confused, but answering his question by not understanding it.

“I didn’t think so,” he said, a devilish look in his eyes. “You need practice, so I’ve decided I’ll only give you what you want if you say it in Spanish.”

“Pero… Qué pasa si… yo no sé… how to say it in Spanish?” You did want to learn more dirty talk, but this game didn’t seem fair. You wanted him to keep sucking your tits.

“You said I could do anything I wanted...” he reminded you, bringing his hand back to one of your breasts and kneading it tormentingly slowly. “Si no lo sabes, intenta. Practica, practica, practica.”

You wondered if this was some sort of dominance thing, or if he just liked watching you struggle with his native language. It was a bit exciting, though, you had to admit. Your pulse was racing with a mixture of arousal and embarrassment, because you genuinely had no idea how to say what you wanted. “Mis… pechos? Tu lengua. Por favor.” you pointed from his mouth to your breasts.

“Por favor, chupa mis pezones,” he corrected. “Repite.” You repeated it, and before you’d finished the last syllable, he replied, “Con gusto,” and began stimulating your nipples to the point of torture with his nimble lawyer’s tongue.

“Oh god,” you whimpered, your voice high and pleading, “It feels so good.” You bucked your hips into his and curled your fingers around the back of his head trying to force him to keep going, but he pulled back.

“En español,” he chided.

“En serio?!” you complained, but he simply watched you with his eyebrows quirked, waiting. “Me siento bien?” you tried. He smiled approvingly and lowered his sultry mouth to your skin again, flicking your hardened peak while pinching it between his lips. This time he pushed his hips back against yours so you could feel the heat of his erection on your pussy, and it sent new waves of electricity coursing through your body, which was already heaving just with the attention to your breasts. “Por favor, más... Oh god, yes,” you whimpered.

“Qué sabor muy rica, tu piel,” he murmured, muffled in your skin. “You taste delicious.” The vibrations from his speech tore a choked whimper from your lips, and you bucked your hips against his cock.

You bit down on your lower lip, fighting your rising climax even as you lifted one leg, wrapping it over his hip, to hasten it. “I’m gonna—oh god, you’re going to make me come just from this!”

“Voy a venir,” he coached you in a firm, teacher-like voice that nearly made you double over with arousal. “O puedes decir, ‘Me vas a poner a venir.’”

“M-me pon… ah!” he lightly nipped at your sensitive peak, turning the rest of what you were trying to say into helpless babble. “Please, please fuck me… oh god.” Before he could correct you, you remembered what he’d taught you in the bar right before begging you to leave with him so he could fuck your brains out. “Dámelo duro, papi.”

His whole body shuddered as he took in a shaking breath, but sober Barba never lost control until he decided to surrender it. As much as he wanted to fuck you, he was having too much fun teasing you. “You could also say, ‘Quiero que me coges,’” he explained academically, and you growled with frustration, writhing under him, your cunt seeking purchase against his cock. “If you’re going to speak a language, you’ve got to practice it,” he said, his voice far too calm and even for the circumstance, even with its wicked undertone.

“Dámelo! Por favor! Dáme tu pinga!” you begged frantically, rapid-firing off every way to ask for his cock that you could think of. You reached between your bodies and grasped his engorged sex through his tightened pants and stroked him hard from balls to tip. Your efforts were rewarded with an involuntary whine, Barba’s hips jerking forward.

“Me rindo,” he whimpered in surrender. His breath was ragged and he looked ready to fall apart. You purred with victory, but as you slowed the furious pace of your stroking, he recovered enough of his senses to smirk through his lust. “Pero primero, quiero saborearte.” His voice was thick, and his eyes dark as a tropical storm on a Caribbean island. He lifted the leg you’d wrapped around him up onto the table, and knelt beneath you. “Con tu permiso?”

You nodded, gasping sharply even before his tongue made contact with your soaked pussy just from the obscene expression on his face as he opened his mouth and extended the point of his tongue as he slowly leaned toward you. Your hands braced behind you on the table for support. Then you cried out loud when that tongue did hit you, slightly cold from the air, but quickly warming to match you as his mouth closed over your whole cunt. “Ah, que rica,” he sighed into your pussy, lapping at your slippery arousal with broad, languid strokes of his tongue, unhurried, as if he were aiming for no particular goal but to enjoy your flavor. “So wet for papi. Qué buena estudiante eres. Good students should be rewarded.”

He finally stood back up to his full height in front of you and removed his pants and underwear, letting them fall around his ankles, and his cock sprang free. You gaped down at it in awe. “Oh god, look at that cock,” you practically drooled. You automatically reached down and started stroking it, babbling on about what a thick, beautiful cock it was. He was too lost in the touch of your fingers wrapped around his shaft to even complain that it wasn’t Spanish.

“Ah, condoms!” he interjected before pushing himself inside you like every muscle in his body was screaming to do. “I’ve got some in the bedroom.”

You chewed your lip, not sure if this would come off the wrong way since he wanted to be responsible, but you slowly said, “We don’t need to use one if you don’t want. I’m on the pill, and I don’t have any STDs.”

His stormy eyes pierced into you, clearly tempted, but he couldn’t help remarking cynically, “If you give me a disease, I swear...”

“I’m afraid I don’t have my medical records on me, so I understand if you don’t want to take my word for it. I don’t know why I’m blindly trusting you.” That was a lie. Everything about Rafael Barba screamed precision, caution, and consent, and even after such a short time knowing him, you were absolutely certain he would never put you at risk. In fact, there was no way he’d ever have unprotected sex with a stranger.

Except his very next words were, “Fuck it,” and he hooked his arm under your elevated leg, and began rubbing his thick cock through your folds, coating it with your slick arousal. “You are absolutely sure you want this?” he looked at you with soft, understanding eyes, checking for any doubts.

You let out a needy whine, rolling your hips to rub your pussy against the tip of his fat cock. “Te quiero,” you whimpered, intending to say you wanted it, but his cheeks reddened and his heart flipped as you said something better translated as I love you.

You wouldn’t realize your mistake until much later, thinking back on it, or understand why his face was suddenly frozen between tenderness and panic, and then dawning realization, relief, and a small, barely noticeable wince of disappointment.

He entered you slowly, letting you feel every inch of stretch from his cock. Like the rest of his build, it was not the longest you had ever seen, but it was impressively girthy, and each blissful inch he worked you open brought the slightest fraying edge of pain. He knew his size could be a challenge, and was practiced at preparing, and patience. You were already so dripping wet, you didn’t need extra lube, though he had it on standby, and watched you carefully, pausing to let you rest every time he advanced. As he waited, feeling your walls relax to accept him, he ducked his head to your breasts, savoring the helpless squeals you made when he gave attention to what he learned was one of your most sensitive erogenous zones. Every time he flicked his tongue over your nipple or sucked its hardened peak into his mouth, your cunt twitched around him and your back arched to take more of him. It worked so well, he never stopped teasing your breasts, and your silent cries of, “Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god!” grew in intensity until you were screaming with pleasure, fist clenched in his hair as you held him to your chest, and his balls were pressed tight against your ass.

Panting hard and moaning into your breasts, he began to thrust, slowly at first, but you wrapped your legs around his back and used them as leverage to buck your hips into him, pushing back into each of his thrusts, deepening them and coaxing him to increase his pace. As you angled your hips, he began hitting a deep point inside that made your legs turn to jelly. “Dámelo bien duro,” you tried to say, but it mostly came out as unintelligible gasps and whimpers. His mouth never left your tits and you loved the angle it gave you, being able to watch his face, strained with concentration and clouded with lust, and his tongue working diligently to bring you to a climax that took you off guard with how suddenly it crashed over you. You couldn’t say there was no buildup to it, because you had been in throes since he first pulled down your dress, but he had barely begun to thrust when the heat coiling in your lower back suddenly tightened and snapped, shooting sparks behind your eyelids. “Ah—Rafa!” you wailed, squeezing your fingers in his hair.

He gasped, releasing the globe of your breast from his mouth at the wracking of your body in his arms. Your pussy convulsed, clenching tightly around his cock, coating it in your sweet release, almost too tight for him to thrust through. One more jerk of his hips through your rippling, fluttering muscles and he let out a string of swears, and you felt his abdominal muscles tense up against your belly. He pulled back and thrust into you once more, balls swinging against your ass, and his hot seed flooded you. He panted, trembling, still trying to hold onto you, though halfway sitting on a dining table without knocking off any of the plates was not the most ideal location for post-coital recovery cuddling. He grabbed a few paper napkins from behind you to catch the drippings as he pulled out.

It was over too fast, a testament to how long it had been for him. Both of you, really. But you weren’t disappointed. He made you come almost entirely with that silver tongue of his, and you were still shaking too much to take your weight off the table and put it on your legs.

The timer on the oven rang shrilly, announcing dinner was done.

“After dinner,” he promised, pulling his pants back on. “Quiero más de tu cuerpo.”

You were satisfied, but not yet sated, and looked forward to round two.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

@beccabarba​ / @caked-crusader / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush​ / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy​ / @mrsrafaelbarba​ / @da-po / @madamsnape921 / @charlottegrice / @onerestein

[7-wonders]

Shatter pt. 7

Summary: It’s time for your second interview Langdon, and luckily for you, you’re finally going to get some answers. 

Word Count: 2338

A/N: Hey hey welcome back to another part of Shatter! Hope you guys enjoy; like, reblog or leave a comment if you liked it. My inbox is always open if you want to drop me a message or chat. 

Read Part One HERE | Read Part Two HERE | Read Part Three HERE | Read Part Four HERE | Read Part Five HERE | Read Part Six HERE

There’s a certain phenomena that occurs whenever thunderstorms roll into an area. Of course, there aren’t any thunderstorms anymore, and if there were, the rain is probably acid or something. When there used to be thunderstorms, though, a person could tell almost before the ominous clouds even formed. The electricity that builds and builds in the air reaches a point where it’s a palpable feeling, one that raises the hair on your arms and leaves you feeling nervous towards something that you can’t yet see. You have an odd sense of deja vu right now, but there’s no thunderclouds around.

The adrenaline that came from volunteering to sacrifice yourself still hasn’t worn off, leaving you jittery and restless. Knowing that you have to meet with Langdon in a matter of minutes makes it basically impossible for you to sit still, so you’ve been pacing back and forth down the hallway in front of Langdon’s office for an hour. Thirty minutes into your nervous pacing, the doors had burst open and Mallory ran out of the office, eyes wide and body shaking.

“Mallory, what’s wrong?” You had asked, grabbing your friend by her shoulders as the doors closed behind her.

“I shot fire and Langdon’s a demon!” Mallory stuttered out before stumbling away and leaving. You wanted to ask her more questions, but the wild look in her eyes had you wondering if she was just finally cracking under the pressure.

Even when there was yet another perimeter breach, Venable and the Hand were too preoccupied with whatever had gotten past the gates to worry about chasing residents to their rooms. After eighteen months of absolute monotony, the past two eventful days have left your head slightly spinning. Finally, the large sliding doors open themselves. You’re not sure if it’s because Langdon trusted that you would be here at the appointed time or if he knew you were outside for the past hour, but you enter anyways.

He’s not sitting at the desk like he was yesterday. Instead, Langdon’s standing in front of the fireplace, and you watch momentarily as the shadows of the flames make his face look even more severe than it already is. He doesn’t turn around when you start to approach him, but his posture does change as your shoes click against the floor.

“I am glad to see that you made it here without attempting to save the day again.” Langdon quips, his large rings clacking against each other as he clasps his hands behind his back.

“Yeah, well, couldn’t find anyone in need of saving.” You fire back, standing a few feet away from him. “Thank you, for stepping in earlier.”

He’s silent for a few moments, and you’re not sure if he’s trying to think of something to say or if he just enjoys making you squirm. Probably the latter. Eventually he turns towards you, those cold blue eyes making all of your tensions melt away.

“It was nothing, truly. It seems that Venable has been creating her own rules, and though I am certainly not opposed to people being killed, I would prefer that there be a reason behind said killing.” He says nonchalantly.

“How did Timothy and Emily find out that she was making rules up?” Langdon’s lips twitch in a mixture of amusement and disdain.

“Those two have a penchant for searching through things that do not belong to them.” A smile fights its way onto your face at the knowledge that they must have gone through Langdon’s personal items.

“Can you blame them, though?” Langdon stares at you, and you’re more than surprised at the appreciation in his eyes.

“No, I suppose I cannot.” He extends an arm towards the chairs in the middle of the room, both facing each other. “Have a seat. Can I get you a drink?”

“I already had my rations for the day.” You explain before taking a seat in the armchair.

“Hmm, but I was not offering you your rations.”

Langdon turns around with a smirk, holding two cups of steaming tea. Your eyes widen in delight when the scent of your favorite tea hits your nose. He hands you the cup, your hands warming from the heat transfer. You can’t help but to inhale deeply, closing your eyes and momentarily letting nostalgia take over. The first few weeks after you woke up with no memory, Gallant tried anything to cheer you up and make you feel better. He had wanted you to try a new tea that he picked up and thought you would like. To the shock and surprise of both of you, the smell was extremely familiar. It brought tears to your eyes for the memories that you didn’t have, but the tea was desperately trying to conjure up for you.

“I apologize for the lack of choices, I hope that this is sufficient.” He watches you closely as you take a sip, smiling at the familiar taste.

“This was my favorite tea before the blast.”

“Remind me,” Langdon takes a seat opposite you, placing his own cup to the side before he even takes a sip. “Where had we left off last night?”

The smile falls off of your face as Langdon gets down to business.

“You were telling me that I know who I really am, and I was asking you if you knew who I was before I lost my memory.”

“And have you discovered who you truly are?” He asks.

“No.” You mutter angrily, looking down at the liquid moving in your cup.

“Would you like help?” You sit up straight before leaning forward in your chair, intrigued.

“You can help me? How?”

Langdon holds his hand up, a small vial suddenly appearing within his grasp. It’s filled with some sort of silvery powder, and it sparkles intoxicatingly at you as you study it. The mere sight of it is tantalizing, even though there’s a part of you that scolds you, telling you that there’s no possible way that this powder can help you.

“What is that?” You ask.

“The key to unlocking your memories.” He tosses it from hand to hand, and you’re sure he’s deliberately teasing you. “That is, if you would like to.”

“What kind of a question is that? Of course I want to.” You scoff, rolling your eyes.

Langdon chuckles before falling to his knees in front of you. Enraptured, you watch as he uncaps the vial and pours the powder into the palm of his hand. He draws a foreign symbol into the substance before reaching with his free hand and drawing what you assume is the same symbol on your forehead. He smiles at you, reassuring you when he senses your sudden nerves.

“I’ll be right here, don’t worry. Are you ready?” You nod, gripping his free hand tightly.

“Do it.” With that, Langdon blows the powder into your face.

You gasp as the powder invades your lungs, coughing and hacking in an attempt to remove the foreign substance from your body. Your eyes go wide and your body stiffens as your mind is assaulted with images, before you fall into Langdon’s arms.

The scenes play before your eyes like a movie. Suddenly you can see the faces that have been hidden from you for years, names being matched and relationships being reformed. The white house surrounded by cast iron gates is Ms. Robichaux’s Academy for Exceptional Young Women, otherwise known as your second home. You remember your friends: Madison Montgomery, the so-called ‘bitchy’ former movie star who was actually just in need of love and support. The kind young woman with the honey hair and soulful eyes, also known as Zoe Benson. Queenie and Nan, Misty and Mallory, all of them come back to the forefront of your memory.

With these memories comes the memory of the woman who got you into this predicament in the first place. You can see Cordelia Goode’s patronizing smile as she assured you that she knew best multiple times throughout those tumultuous last few weeks. It was Cordelia who assured you that cutting off all contact with Michael would be for the best of the coven. Cordelia had been the one to tell you that Michael was pure evil, and had been the reason why you were kidnapped in the first place. The rift between you and Michael had been caused by Cordelia, who had then decided that it would be best if you just lost all of your memories too. Her reasoning? So that your bond couldn’t be used for Michael to find you.

Michael.

The man who had haunted your dreams for years turned out to be the love of your life. With the perspective that you’re now gaining, you really don’t blame him for kidnapping you. You would have preferred that he not kill your friends, but that was a conversation for another time. You watch all of your memories with him; the quiet days spent together in his dorm, the spontaneous adventures, the kisses and the cuddles and the pure, unadulterated love that the two of you shared. Your mind, which is working overtime to compensate for the sudden influx of information, connects the dots between two sets of the same icy blue eyes and the two heads of beautiful blond curls that you so vividly remember. Langdon and Michael are one and the same, although the last name is now a dead giveaway for you.

You come back to the present with a loud cry, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. You’re shaking like a leaf from the immense amounts of power suddenly flowing through your veins where you lay, which turns out to be in Langdon--no, Michael’s arms. He’s staring down at you, a disbelieving smile on his face while tears make tracks down his face. You reach your hand up to touch his face, fingers reflexively remembering every inch of his face.

“Did you not think it would work?” You tease, surging up to wrap your arms around his neck.

“A part of me didn’t think it would.” He admits, holding you tightly. “I’ve missed you so much, (Y/N). I never stopped looking for you, even after the bombs dropped. I knew you had made it to one of the Outposts, but I didn’t know which one or if you were still alive after so long.”

“I missed you too, Michael.” He hums happily, rubbing his nose against yours.

“Say my name again.”

“Michael.” You coo while running a hand through his hair. “Michael, Michael, Michael.” His name comes out of your mouth in a sing-song tone, both of you giggling at the sheer ridiculousness of this situation.

“You have no idea how hard it was to keep myself from holding you and never letting you go when I first saw you again.” Michael finally kisses you, and you sigh into the gesture. It’s just as sweet as you now remember, and his skilled lips mold easily against yours.

“You’re such a drama queen!” You laugh, remembering his nighttime visit last night. “You came into my room in the dead of night to give me a dream of one of the times we snuck out to the forest just to make sure I wasn’t lying?”

“I had to see you! Besides, that’s one of my favorite memories of the two of us.” He defends. You roll your eyes jokingly, but let the dramatics slide.

“You let your hair grow out!” You note in appreciation, leaning your forehead against Michael’s.

“Do you like it?” He asks shyly, and you’re suddenly reminded of the unsure boy you first fell in love with.

“I love it.” You grin. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“I’m so sorry for running away from you.”

“I don’t blame you for running away. I shouldn’t have kidnapped you, and I’m sorry about that.”

“Michael, I know you have a vendetta against all the witches, but Mallory wasn’t involved in anything. She was as clueless as I was when it came to Ms. Mead and their plot to take you down.” You explain, eyes silently pleading with him to drop this grudge.

“She won’t be harmed for the actions of your coven, then.” You sigh in relief, kissing him gratefully.

“Thank you.”

“That does lead me to an important question, though: do you know what Cordelia’s planning? It would make sense if she had just erased your memory, but to erase Mallory’s as well? There’s got to be a bigger plan that this ties into.”

You have to think for a moment, wrinkling your nose while you try to figure things out.

“Right before she blew the powder in my face, she had mentioned that mine and Mallory’s powers were too strong and that they would act as a beacon. That’s why we couldn’t be buried in the swamp with the surviving coven members.” Michael’s nose wrinkles in disgust as he nods slowly. “What?”

“Cordelia and her accomplices survived the blast.”

“Which means?” You ask for some clarification.

“They’ll be coming to ‘free’ you and Mallory and give you back your powers. After that, I assume they’ll try to kill me or attempt a spell to reverse the apocalypse.”

“I won’t go back to them, not after what they did to me and you. Mallory won’t, either; they held her down and took her memory against her will, too. I love you, Michael. It’s the two of us now, always.”

“Always.” He repeats, kissing you again.

“Can I stay here with you tonight?” You’re not willing to leave your lover now that you’ve found him. The mere thought of it physically makes your heart hurt.

“Oh, my darling, now that I have you again I’m never letting you leave.” If it was anybody but Michael saying this, they’d sound like a creepy stalker. Instead, it brings you immense comfort, and you giggle when he stands with you in his arms and walks with you towards his bedroom.

Tag List: @sammythankyou @queencocoakimmie @let-me-try-mom@pastel-cloudz @sebastianshoe @nana15774 @lichellaw@ultragibbycentralworld @grim-adventures58 @dandycandy75@trimbooohgodplsnoooo @alexcornerblog @everything-is-awesomesauce @ccodyfern @jimmlangdon @langdonsdemon@langdonslove @kahhlo @omgsuperstarg 

[mrsamaroevans]

GET A ROOM SOON

Pairing: Nick Amaro x Reader.

Other Characters: John Munch, Fin Tutuola, Donald Cragen, Amanda Rollins, Olivia Benson.

Warnings: None.

Words: 1,117.

A/N: I’m sorry for any grammar mistake, English is not my first language. And the gif below is not mine.

|| MY MASTERLIST ||

“I have to admit that when I saw him for the first time I thought ‘Shit! I have to take care of him’”

All the people in the room laugh about it, even John Munch who was standing at your side. You give him a smile and you feel your eyes getting a bit teary. You’ve been in the unit for the past six years and since then, you were assigned to be Sargent’s partner and he became a second father for you. You learned a lot from him, you even think the person you were before meeting him is different from the person you are now.

So when he told you he was going to leave the unit, you couldn’t help but be sad about it.

"I was privileged to be your partner, Munch." You smile and turn your body to where the man is smiling back. “You were a great Sargent and I already told you how grateful I am with you, and how much I’m going to miss you”

John hugs you when everyone in the room applauds and you try to not let your tears fall from your eyes and when you’re about to head to your seat, he grabs your arm.

“Hang on” he says to turn to see all the people there “I have to be honest; I thought the exact same thing you did when I saw you for the first time, I thought you were too young for this job, but then, in our first case together, this lady…” he says pointing at you and then he places his arm on your shoulders “She kicked the ass of a man who was three times bigger than her... it was there when I said that I would never make her angry because she would easily have me picking my teeth a few blocks away...”

You laugh heartily and remember Munch’s surprised face when he saw the suspect lying on the floor with your handcuffs on his wrists. People in the bar also let out a laugh, and you can see on the table that you were sitting, Olivia smiling widely probably remembering that day.

"I don't want to be imprudent but I want to give you an advice, Nick" Munch adds and lets you walk back to your table to seat in between Nick and Amanda "Do everything she says"

“You’re funny,” You say laughing.

“So funny” Nick adds at your side.

“And this reminds me when I first saw Amaro, I realized I’m still the best looking guy in the squad. Am I right, (y/n)?” Munch asks you and you almost choke with your beer.

“Oh yeah, now that I’m not seeing your beautiful face every day, I won’t have a motivation to go to work” you pout making everyone laugh and feeling Amanda hitting you with her elbow.

“Good one,” Nick says leaning to your ear for you to hear above all people’s laughter.

“Thank you” You respond with a grin and turning a bit to him.

“Look at the lovebirds, aren’t they cute?”

You look at Munch again and then to Fin who whistles at what your Sargent said.

“You know, Nick? Last time Zara was in the precinct, she told me she wants a baby sibling” You just laugh again and don’t turn to see Nick’s reaction “You know? Every time I see those two together, I always think ‘I hope they get a room soon’” Munch adds winning a disapproving but funny look from Captain Cragen.

You can feel your cheeks heating up for his last words but you laugh again to distract the people who are looking at you at the moment. It’s not a surprise that kind of comments from Munch because since you and Nick were finally single, he started saying things like that and seeing you two don’t being mad at it, it soon became an inside joke in the unit. You two even flirted with each other in front of them all the time, but what is different now, is that he is not only saying it for the squad.

Nick is hot. Everybody knows that and you’re included. But, all your flirting and teasing were only joking ‘till a couple of months ago when you felt jealous of a witness who was flirting with him. She was all smiles and tossing her hair and throwing hints about how lonely she felt when her husband was away for his job until you cut her off.

Oh yes, you did and Nick wouldn’t let you forget it. He passed all day and even weeks teasing you for that, but karma isn’t fair and eventually, in an undercover mission where you two had to pretend to be married, he got to know it.

“I drive you?” Nick asks you later that day when you both are ready to head home.

“You don’t have something more interesting to do on a Friday night?”

“Other than drive you home? No” He says with a grin and loosening a bit the knot of his tie. He looks so damn perfect at that moment to you, that the only thing you want to do is punch him on the face to wipe that smile off of his face.

You can’t have those feelings for him, you can’t cross the line of professionalism because that could bring you problems with Internal Affairs. You never have done that before and you don’t want to start with him. At least that’s what you say to yourself every time you lay your eyes on him.

“So, how was that date last week?” He asks you when you’re on the way to your apartment.

“No good” you respond at remembering how disastrous it was. And it’s sad because you thought Wyatt was actually a good guy “No good at all”

Nick chuckles “So, he wasn’t the gentleman you were waiting for?”

“I never expected him being a gentleman,” You say shaking your head “Gentlemen don’t exist anymore. The more you expect for one, the more you’ll be disappointed”

“That’s because you’ve never dated me,” he says with a proud smile as he catches a glimpse of you just to look at the road ahead of you again. “You’d be impressed”

“Would I?”

“Absolutely,” he says so sure of himself “I open doors, pull up the chair, I offer my arm, I walk on the driveway side…”

“You’re trying to convince me to go on a date with you?” you look at him smirking, he smiles.

“I don’t know” he shrugs keeping his smile “Is it working?” he asks throwing a look to you and then, both of you laugh about it.

|| MY MASTERLIST ||

Thanks for reading, I hope you liked this one and feel free to write me your ideas for upcoming One Shots. I write most about Amaro (SVU) Ruzek, Mouse (CH PD) Steve (MARVEL), Fred, Harry, Remus, Sirius, Wood (HP) but I can write about any character from those shows/movies. Thank you again! 

[malloryslourd]

Day 197 | Part 1/3

Pairing: Zoe Benson x Reader

Warnings: Some Strong Language

Words: 3,053

—————

No one had seen any sign of Y/N L/N in exactly 197 days. She had went missing without a trace somewheres in California. No note, no signs of her preparing to leave for a long time, nothing.

It was painful for anyone who knew the girl. As far as they knew she was hopelessly in love with Zoe Benson, she had been exploring her powers, and she was happy living with all of her coven sisters in New Orleans. She was the perfect ray of sunshine and it only took one day for that perfect light to be erased from the lives of the ones who were close with the young, happy witch.

It never seemed real to anyone. There was no way she just disappeared and didn't say anything to anyone, not even her girlfriend. Of course Zoe's mind thought of the worse, she went to LA and there someone had killed her for being a witch just like horrible people threatened they would do to all witches and warlocks. It was the only explanation that made sense in her mind. There was absolutely no trace of Y/N anywhere. The only other thing would be that Y/N got abducted by aliens, which would never happen.

Things immediately seemed darker at the academy when she first disappeared. Small things that hit like trucks. An empty seat at the dinner table. No more 'Rise and shine ladies' when Y/N walked into the living room on the weekends. A loss of crazy stories about the places Y/N visited during her summers away from the academy when she was younger. Y/N would never sit at the piano playing Misty's favorite Fleetwood Mac or Stevie Nicks song again. There wouldn't be another game night where Y/N would get too into it and Zoe would have to calm her down and prevent her from catching someone's chair on fire. Y/N would never cuddle behind Zoe in bed at night and talk about everything she wanted in the future. No more silly, stupid things the girls found annoying at the time to brighten their day, or even week. That beacon of hope and happiness had died out the instant they thought something bad happened to Y/N.

The biggest impact was on Zoe and Cordelia of course. Y/N had attended Robichaux's the longest which meant she spent the most time with Cordelia. After Cordelia learned that she had no true family and that she had nowhere's to go except Robichaux's, Y/N became a little sister to Cordelia. They counted on one another for support. Similar but different stories that put them in almost the same exact place.

Then of course Zoe and Y/N fell in love practically the first day they met. Y/N was sent with Myrtle to retrieve Zoe and bring her back the academy, hoping it wouldn't make Zoe freak out too much if someone the same age as her was there. When she arrived at Zoe's home they immediately hit it off. Y/N talked for the entirety of the trip with Zoe, telling her how much she would love Robichaux's and how different her life would be with the new friends and family she would meet by the end of the day. Zoe couldn't do anything but listen to the girl dressed in all black, her gaze never leaving her face.

Y/N had helped Zoe discover her first wonder. Y/N had showed Zoe what her powers could really do, wether this be with a bouquet of flowers she could sprout from some dead leaves or by changing the color of the tulips in the greenhouse to compliment the makeup Zoe was wearing that day so she could stick one in her hair. Y/N had fallen and Zoe might've fallen a little harder if possible. Their first date, first kiss, first 'I love you', every first they ever had together stung Zoe when she thought about it.

Some days she would sit in the greenhouse and just stare at where Y/N once stood, trying to find just the right shade of purple flowers to make paint for the arts and crafts project she roped her girlfriend into hours before. Or where Y/N would sit on top of the table, complaining about her day and how much she just wanted to be hugged and kissed, the roses next to her desk wilting if her days were just a little too tough and she would cry. Her mind might drift back to the one time Y/N finally got that one potion right and she immediately kissed her girlfriend claiming 'It's just a reward for how amazing I am' and turning back to her notebook, pushing her reading glasses up and smiling at the mysterious liquid.

On other days that held a lot more meaning to their relationship, like big anniversaries or Y/N's birthday, Zoe would lay in the bed that they once shared and cry her eyes out, let all of her emotions that were inside of her out onto her pillow. She would sit with one of Y/N's old hoodies and just try and hold onto the idea that somewhere, anywhere, Y/N was okay and one day she would come back and they could finally do all the things Y/N planned tiredly during late nights after stressful school days and hot bubble baths together.

Nothing would ever be okay until Zoe had her Y/N back. Not until she was able to sit with her girlfriend and talk like they did in the greenhouse during their free time between classes. Not until she could hear Y/N make a joke about Cordelia being Zoe's 'not so official sister-in-law' one day. Not until one of them would pop the question that would change their lives forever. Not until one of them had delivered the baby Y/N claimed she would love and spoil like she never was.

Every small detail had some impact on Zoe. Whenever she would see a white tulip or a black rose, Zoe remembered those were Y/N's favorite flowers. She remembered how Y/N tied her shoes in the weirdest way because she had to teach herself at a young age with no assistance and it just stuck with her. Y/N would always complain if someone added sugar to her coffee before the cream because it 'doesn't make the coffee sweeter at all if you do it like that'. All those small things that made Zoe laugh or roll her eyes had now caused so much pain.

It had gotten easier as the days went by. Zoe wouldn't lock her door and shut everyone away anymore. She would finally join the girls for breakfast and sit in her seat and smile and laugh. She finally returned to teaching her classes, relieving Queenie of the extra work. She stopped crying as much as she did. Granted, she would have a few days out of those 197 that were important to her. The anniversary of their first date, Y/N's birthday, and so many more. An honorable mention would be the anniversary of the time Y/N got hurt and was in the hospital after she Zoe's place during a final exam just incase one of the girls fucked up the spell they were learning(in which they most certainly did).

Zoe loved that picture of Y/N after that day. Her laying in bed next to her after they got back to academy and Y/N had gotten everything checked out just incase one of the witches missed an injury. Even if Y/N was in some sort of pain she was smiling like an idiot because Zoe had told her how grateful she was she didn't get seriously hurt.

Zoe never thought life would return to being as hard as it was the first couple of weeks Y/N hadn't been seen. However, she was proven wrong when she was teaching a class about magic in nature. She needed emergency lesson plans so she went into the attic hoping to find some old ones, even if they were a little outdated. She really didn't check what was in the box before starting her class for that day.

Zoe had her back turned to her class as they were practicing something she taught them the day before. She was going through the box when she had saw the all too familiar black notebook squeezed between a few old leather books. She very reluctantly picked up the notebook. The first thing she saw was Y/N's name neatly written on the corner of it. A picture of Y/N and Zoe was slid in the front of it, a picture Zoe remembered almost too well. She never had a copy of it because Y/N said it was too special to share with anyone, even Zoe herself.

Y/N had her arm wrapped lazily around Zoe's shoulders, glitter on both of their cheeks and sunglasses sitting on their noses. Y/N had a black flower crown on top of her head, a matching white one on Zoe's. They stuck their tongues out, stained blue from the snowballs Y/N had gotten for them. You could very faintly see a lipstick mark on Y/N's cheek that Zoe had left just prior to the picture being taken. The small tattoo that read 'When witches don't fight, they burn' could be seen on Y/N's wrist. No matter how much Y/N despised Fiona, she loved that quote and lived by it everyday of her life. That's why she got it on her wrist, so she could always see it and remind herself of what needed to be done.

Zoe took in every detail of the photo of Y/N and her at the music festival she was forced to attend by her girlfriend. Looking back, she felt bad for making such a big deal of not wanting to go, but then loving it by the second performance of the first day. Her eyes swelled with tears as she looked at the caption Y/N had added in her hand writing at the bottom of the photo. 'ME AND MY FUTURE WIFE - VOODOO FESTIVAL'.

Zoe took the notebook into her hands and quickly walked out of the room. She had ran into Cordelia on her way out of the class, soft sobs racking her body. Cordelia looked down at the notebook in Zoe's hands and brought the younger witch into her arms knowing that it was Y/N's old collection of spells she had learned. They might've stood there for five minutes as Zoe cried on Delia's shoulder, gasping for air as she seemed to run out of tears.

All Zoe could think about was Y/N, of course she was always on her mind but the picture did something to her. It brought her back to the night her, Cordelia, Queenie, Madison, Misty, and Nan were sat in the living room desperately trying to get in touch with Y/N after she went to Los Angeles for a meeting with another coven. Zoe remembered just sitting quietly in the armchair, knees pulled against her chest and thinking about all the horrible things that could be happening to her girlfriend at that very second. She remembered losing the light of her life 197 days ago.

Zoe hadn't even heard Cordelia when she said she would take her classes for the rest of the day. She just remembered being led to her room and being sat on her bed, the notebook still being held tight against her chest. Zoe calmed herself, her breathing slowing down to its normal rate and the sobs stopping. She slid the picture out of the notebook's cover. There were a few sticky notes slid into the clear cover that Zoe couldn't stomach to unfold and read, just incase they were tasks Y/N never got to finish or the love letters Y/N would slip to her when they would grade papers together. She managed to grab the photo and held it in her hands as she carefully casted the book aside.

"What happened to you?" Zoe's voice cracked as she stared at the photo. She let out an unstable breath, hands still shaking. "I miss you so much Y/N/N." Zoe laid down on her bed and looked up at the ceiling. Her current state reminded her of one of her favorite memories with Y/N. Zoe had a stressful day and just broke down crying when she saw her girlfriend in her bedroom. Of course Y/N had to pamper her girlfriend with childish sleepover activities and a relaxing bubble bath before cuddling all night long.

—

Y/N stepped out of the bathroom and smiled at Zoe's tired expression. She told Zoe to wait for her on the bed while she blew out all the candles she lit, and took care of the rose and tulip petals she had put in the tub to make her and Zoe's bath even more relaxing. Zoe smiled at her girlfriend as she got into bed next to her. "Feeling better love?" Y/N brought Zoe into her arms, the witch giggling as she rested her head on Y/N's shoulder.

Zoe nodded, taking Y/N's free hand into her own as she looked at the tv, an old show on the Hallmark Channel playing. "A lot better," Zoe whispered. Y/N smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of Zoe's head. "I love you Y/N/N," Zoe cuddled closer into her girlfriend, squeezing her hand slightly.

A little laugh came from Y/N while she looked at Zoe's sleepy figure pressed against her. "I love you too Zo," Y/N watched as Zoe laughed at the nickname. "Let me tell you what I was thinking about today," Y/N lowered down the episode of The Golden Girls and moved to where she was sitting in front of Zoe. Zoe only hummed while she fixed her position so she was sitting up straight and looking directly at Y/N. "I was just thinking about how much I love you, you know... as I do everyday. Anyways! I was just thinking about our future and, like, when we're married and finally have kids just how happy I would want everyone to be no matter what," Y/N rambled on, looking at her nails she had practically forced Zoe to paint before their bubble bath. She only did so because she knew it would make Zoe happy. And she was totally right about it.

Zoe raised an eyebrow at Y/N and grabbed her hands. "Married?" she cut the witch off. "Is this a proposal Ms. L/N?" Zoe gasped dramatically, watching Y/N roll her eyes.

"No way, it's not special enough," Y/N shook her head. Zoe smiled at Y/N's sureness, cheeks becoming red at the thought of them getting married and living their lives out together. A soft smile crept onto Y/N's features as she thought about it too, Zoe finding something so loving about her eyes at the moment. "But, I never really had a family until I came here and I don't want my kids feeling like that have to search for a family. I just want them to have the best home and the best moms, and maybe, just maybe, a few dogs or something? I don't know we'll see!" Y/N smiled at Zoe, pure happiness covering her features.

"Do you really want kids with me?" Zoe's question was barely a whisper. She looked at Y/N and laughed at her shocked face.

"Are you dumb?" Y/N pulled Zoe closer to her. She wrapped her arms around her waist and smiled brightly, the same smile that made Zoe's heart melt the first time she saw it. "I want to spend the entirety of my future with you, and us building a family of little Zoe 'Badass' Benson's running around is like the main part!"

—

Y/N and Zoe had stood up for hours talking about their futures together that night. She still remembered Y/N holding her close and talking about exactly what her dream house would look like, and how she already knew just how she was going to decorate for the holidays through the year. It was almost like it was just last night that they laughed and exchanged sweet kisses with one another as Y/N promised to make Zoe's life the greatest it ever was.

"I'm not crying again," Zoe whispered to herself as she blinked away the tears that were daring to spill. She wiped her eyes and stood up from the bed, deciding the best thing would be to sleep off the emotions. With an exhaled breath she walked over to her closet and grabbed clothes to fall asleep in. She grabbed a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt that used to belong to Y/N, one of her favorites.

After a quick shower she changed into the clothes and walked into the bedroom. Her eyes landed on the picture and she smiled sadly. She grabbed it from her pillow and moved to stand in front of the bulletin board that was full of cute notes and pictures from years past. She smiled as she pinned the picture in the middle of the board, backing away to look at all the old photos and sticky notes. With a small nod she walked away and got into bed. A flick of her hand turned all the lights off and she quickly drifted to sleep, drowning out the outside noise and thoughts.

—

Zoe woke up to her phone going off on the other side of the room. Groaning loudly she got up from the bed and walked over to the vanity her phone was laying on. She picked it up and raised an eyebrow at the screen. The number wasn't saved and it didn't even have a location under it. Zoe very reluctantly picked up the phone and held it to her ear. "Hello?"

"Hey babe, can you talk right now? It's Y/N."

[aseriesofhorribleevents]

Barisi Deserved Better ! - Over You

Hey y’all, I haven’t wrote fanfiction since 2014 One direction era lmaoo but here’s the Barisi goodbye we all needed.

- - - - -

Carisi was sitting at his desk, head in his hands. It was a slower day at the precinct, something he always remembered to not take for granted. A slow day meant that, hopefully, less people were hurt. For Sonny, though, a slow day meant he had time to think, and that hadn’t been the case since he left.

It’s been only a week since Barba left the office, and for the time being, different ADA’s have been rotating throughout SVU. The absence of Raphael hit Carisi harder than it should have. He kept quiet through it all, when all he wanted to do was ask him why?

He lifted his head to a chuckle coming across his desk, meeting Fin’s eyes. Carisi wasn’t sure if the Sargent was the right person to talk to in this situation, but Amanda was off today, either looking after Jessie or texting the man from the bar that they met a few months ago. Sonny wasn’t bitter. Not at all. Rollins deserved someone.

Totally not bitter.

“What’s on your mind, detective?” Fin asked, snapping Sonny out of his thoughts. He rolled his eyes, getting up to sit beside the older man. He slumped down in a chair, running a hand through his own messy hair absentmindedly.

“Who says anything is on my mind?” Sonny snapped, even though a lopsided smile emerged from his lips.

“You’ve been sulking around all week, Carisi. You stay in the office past Liv and I. You haven’t even talked to Rollins. What happened to your annoyingly chipper self, man?”

This caused Sonny to chuckle lightly, a sigh escaping soon after.

“There hasn’t been much to be chipper about, Sargent. Rollins is always occupied with that new guy she always has around - I haven’t been able to see Jessie!”

“Jealous, Carisi?” Fin laughed at Sonny, who rolled his eyes.

“No, not like that, at least I don’t think so. She deserves to be happy, I just didn’t think it’s be this lonely around here”

Fin nodded understandingly. He’s seen this before, when two partners start to live their own lives. It happened with Olivia and Elliot years before. Hell, it even happened to him and Munch, even though he’d never admit it. Your partner becomes your best friend, someone you would take a bullet for. He was about to ask if Carisi felt anything more than friendship for Rollins, because he suspected something like that happened with Liv and Stabler but was cut off by him first.

“And with Barba leaving and all, it’s just been different around here. The man didn’t even have the balls to say goodbye to the rest of us. We had to hear from the Lieutenant. I had to hear from Benson. You would think that he would tell the guy who’s looked up to him for fucking years! Why would he just tell Benson?” Carisi’s voice raised slightly, anger seeping through.

Fin’s eyes widened. This may have just gotten really weird.

“Look man, you know Liv is like, a lot older than you, right? She has Noah to look after and a full time job. If you have any type of feelings for the Lieutena-”

Fin was cut off by a loud howl from Carisi. He almost doubled over in laughter, a confused look settling on the Sargent.

“You really thought.. Oh god no Fin! It’s… It’s not Liv that I...” Sonny’s mouth was dry and his eyes were tinged with wetness.

Oh.

Fin definitely read the situation wrong.

“Barba?” He asked gently, not wanting to push the younger man. He was met with a slight nod and apologetic eyes. Fuck, he thought, this man is full of surprises.

“Should’ve caught on with all the snide comments and you following him like a lost puppy.” Carisi laughed again, this time more genuinely.

“Was it that obvious? Well, it doesn’t matter now, I guess. He didn’t even want to say goodbye.”

Fin, no matter how much he didn’t want to admit it, couldn’t stand to see the young detective look this defeated. He had to make sure Sonny took his chance, otherwise he’d regret it.

“Listen, Carisi. Barba really did like having you around, even if he always seemed a bit standoffish. You gave him a bit more youthfulness, helped him open up. Even if it’s just as a friend, you deserve some sort of closure with him. What do you have to lose?”

Sonny’s eyes met Fin’s, and he could see the sincerity in him. He nodded, standing up.

“You okay for covering?” He asked.

“It’s Wednesday, we’re usually good around here. Go.” Fin said, glad that Carisi was doing this.

“Thank you, Fin. I owe you one” Sonny said, heading towards the elevator, jacket in hand.

Fin watch Sonny’s stature fill with determination and smiled as the elevator closed.

“Anytime, Staten Island. Go get ‘em”

- - - - - - - - - - -

Sonny still had Barba’s address engrained in his memory from the time he went over there the night before the Bar. The older man quizzed him for hours, and he wished that he could’ve spent the night, until he got a call from his sister and left. That night, Sonny felt that he was studying with a friend rather than a boss, with Raphael cracking jokes and encouraging him.

Sonny may never get that feeling again, but he had to know. He had to know why.

The elevator ride to Barba’s apartment seemed longer than last time, but that could have been  due to the anxiety building up inside of Sonny. He walked up to his door, taking a deep breath before knocking.

The sight before his eyes as the door opened took Sonny’s breath away.

Barba opened the door in dark washed jeans and a black t-shirt, his hair slightly disheveled. The look on his eyes was confused, but with hints of delight. Barba hadn’t seen Sonny since the trial, purely because he didn’t know how to face him. He knew that he should’ve said something to him, he really did, but he couldn’t find the words to. He looked up at Sonny, stiff and breathless. His voice was fragile, anger laced throughout.

“Listen, Counselor, I know I have no right to come storming to your apartment to demand an explanation, but I sure as hell think I deserve one. Look, I admire you, okay? Not just as a lawyer, or an ADA, or even a cop. I admire you as a person, how you always maintain your own morals though even the toughest cases. How you find the best in everyone. How you found time in your life to let me shadow you a few years back. I loved spending time with you, Barba. Fuck, you taught me so much. Not just with the law, but in life.” Sonny’s tears started to drip down his face, not even noticing. This was his chance to let it all out, and he wasn’t holding back. Raphael’s eyes widened, taking in how hurt Carisi looked. Did he do that to him?

“You taught me how to speak my mind, and listen to my heart. Raphael, you did that. I don’t know how, but you did. And then you leave, and don’t tell me? I get it, I’m just some young, confused detective you work with, but I thought I may have meant more than that to you. You meant more to me than just my mentor. You meant more to me than just a friend. I guess you didn’t feel the same, but I just wanted to know, Raphael, why?” His tears were flowing freely now, looking down at Barba, mouth slightly open in awe. Barba reached up, slowly, to wipe the tears from Carisi’s face with his thumb, his hand lingering there for longer than it needed to be.

Sonny shivered at the close contact, his eyes softening. He looked at Raphael, seeing regret on his face. The older mans hand rested on Carisi’s cheek, holding him gently.

“You want to know why, Sonny? It’s because I was too damn scared that I would show up at your door, crying and pouring out my feeling for you.” Sonny let out a small gasp that made Barba chuckle.

“I was a coward, Sonny, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. You mean so much to me, and I didn’t want to taint the friendship we had.” Sonny scoffed at that, a smile escaping.

“I think we’re past the point of friendship now, Barba.” He said, taking a step closer to the former ADA.

“Indeed we are, detective, and I’m sorry for not crossing that line earlier. Forgive me?” On a whim, Barba leaned in to meet Carisi’s lips for a few moments, sweet and naive. They both pulled away with a smile, Sonny’s forehead pressed up against Raphael’s.

“Always. Just, never said goodbye to me, okay? I thought I would have to get over you”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Thanks for reading! Should I continue to write?

[alexsprincessparty]

The Little Mermaid: Alex’s Feminist Crisis

I've been waiting for this day to come, because finally I get to watch My Favorite Movie of All Time:

Clearly we are talking about The Little Mermaid. I'm sure this is going to be a rather difficult one to deal with because this is a film that is often criticized for a not-great portrayal of a female; in fact Ariel is considered by many to be the Worst Princess. Yet, by others, she is still beloved by many. See, Ariel is, to me, Marmite Princess. You either love her spunk, her curiosity, her determination, maybe her red hair; or you hate that she fell in love with a man she knew for a minute, gave up everything she knew (and everything that made her special) to be with him, and was kind of a brat to her dad. These are all very valid reasons to like or dislike Ariel! It's a film that warrants about as much praise as it does criticism (again, Snow White, in my opinion, has more issues than most princess films). So this is probably a good time to weigh those pros and cons. Hold on to your dinglehoppers and get your snarfblats, because we're heading out to Atlantica for a spell.

The Little Mermaid is Disney’s adaptation of a Hans Christian Andersen classic about a young mermaid, curious about the world above the sea. In this adaptation, the mermaid is a called Ariel, and she is the youngest (and most rebellious) of seven sisters, who all awkwardly 1. look nothing like her and 2. all have names starting with A. She likes to spend a lot of time going to the surface to show all her weird human stuff (she’s a hoarder with a huuuuge collection of it--she puts most comic book collectors to shame) to her seagull friend, Scuttle. This really displeases her racist anti-human dad, King Triton, who continually forbids her from going to the surface. One night she goes against her father’s wishes and watches a ship above, as they hold a big birthday party for a dashing prince named Eric. Ariel is enamored with Eric. Like, full-on heart eyes. He’s a living Tiger Beat centerfold, John Stamos circa 1989 was shaking (John Stamos circa 2017 just kinda became him). Suddenly a storm arrives, the ship goes down, but Ariel saves Eric. When Ariel returns home, she is hopelessly in love, which leaves daddy curious, but changes his tune when he finds out it’s a human his daughter is in love with. He destroys Ariel’s hoard grotto, leaving her in tears. She is then lured by a pair of eels with a deal--we know someone who can give you what you want. They lead her to Plus Size Icon, Ursula, a caecilian sea witch. She offers to give Ariel legs for three days, in exchange for her flawless singing voice, and if she can kiss the prince before the three days are up, she can keep the legs, but if not, she goes back to Fintown. Ariel obliges, and spends some largely non-verbal time with her prince, him completely unaware that she is the mystery woman who saved his life. When Ariel comes too close to her kiss, Ursula intervenes, disguised as Eric’s mystery savior, and puts him in a trance that leaves Ariel completely hopeless. After her friends intervene and restore her voice, Ursula takes the now-mermaid-again Ariel back to the sea to fight for her father’s freedom, because SURPRISE! she’s got him now, too. With Eric’s help, the evil is defeated, Triton relents, allows Ariel her legs back, and her prince, Happily Ever After, yadda yadda yadda.

WHEW. You can tell I’ve seen this...more than a few times.

The Little Mermaid comes at a pivotal time in the company. Not because it’s the first time Disney has made a Princess film since 1959, but because...well, at this point, things are Not Great at the company. We are coming out of what is called the Dark Age of Disney, where its films are just not going great. The Black Cauldron is a critical and commercial bomb, and The Great Mouse Detective and Oliver and Company didn’t go so great either. Basically, Disney is banking on Ariel to rejuvenate the company. Ultimately, she does, and the Disney Renaissance begins. Because my mom remembers 1989 better than I do (I was born November of the following year), she says that Ariel was kind of like the Elsa of her time. Everyone wanted to be Ariel. In 2018, everyone still wants to be Ariel, as grown-ass women claim to be mermaids. Including myself. Yes, I am calling myself out. But this is just the impact Ariel has had on women of all ages. In fact, Ariel is the most famous portrayal of a mermaid of all time (a fact I mentioned to Jodi Benson herself /humblebrag). For more on this, please watch the Little Mermaid documentary, Treasures Untold. (I can’t remember if this is the one that accompanies the 2006 Platinum Edition release of the film, but it’s eye-opening regardless.)

Let's begin with the pros.

-ERIC WAS NOT THE REASON ARIEL WENT TO THE SURFACE. I REPEAT, ERIC WAS NOT WHY ARIEL WANTED TO BECOME HUMAN. This is a common misconception for anyone who apparently missed the entire "Part of Your World" number. Clearly, Ariel had a fascination with the human world before ever setting sights on Eric, in fact, if she wasn't so keen to explore the surface, she probably would have never even seen him. She needed a motivation to get up there, and to paraphrase another sea-based Princess, the call wasn't out there at all--it was inside her. If anything, Eric was more of a final straw. Also, if Flotsam and Jetsam hadn't intervened, she probably would not have taken such drastic action. Ariel didn't just cry because Triton destroyed her statue of her crush. Keep in mind he destroyed the ENTIRE grotto. All of Ariel's gadgets, gizmos, whosits, whatsits, thingamabobs, dinglehoppers, snarfblats, you name it--all up in smoke. Stuff she probably spent YEARS collecting. I know I'd be pissed if someone wrecked my Sailor Moon collection. (Also it probably meant that Triton would have an even closer eye on her so it was definitely all over for her--I'd cry, too.) 

-In the original Little Mermaid tale, when the mermaid gains her legs, walking is incredibly painful for her. Whenever she walks, she feels the sensation of walking on knives. Ariel, seemingly, does not. I am 100% okay with this. Also, when the mermaid does not get her prince, her sisters cut their hair off and give to the sea witch in exchange for a knife. With the knife, the mermaid is supposed to stab the prince, have his blood pour over her feet, and that will make her a mermaid again. She refuses, because she's not so jealous she would kill over it. Instead, she flings the knife out to sea, throws herself onto the water, and dissolves into seafoam. Whether this is good or bad probably depends on how much of a purist you are for the original, or how much you like despair porn. Personally I don't think the wages of Ariel's (admittedly, crappy) decision should be death, so this is fine by me. Sure, a generic Happy Ending is kind of a cop-out, and it would have been interesting for Disney to play it closer to the original, but Disney won't simply kill off a Princess. Come on, now.

-Animation-wise, this is probably one of Disney's best. This is one of the last of its kind, being 100% hand-drawn. They would revisit this style with The Princess and the Frog and later Winnie the Pooh (2011, not the Many Adventures), but not since Pooh, since I guess CGI is more profitable. Go figure.

-This film also boasts some of Disney's best songs and best score. This is the first film in which Disney worked with the power duo of Alan Menken and Howard Ashman. This tradition would continue until Aladdin (Ashman passed away shortly before the release of Beauty and the Beast, but still had songs featured in Aladdin). The only better Disney songwriting duo, in my opinion, might be Robert Lopez and Kristen Anderson-Lopez (Frozen, Coco). But we do not meet them for a whiiiiile.

-Ariel oozes personality compared to a few of the other princesses we have met so far. She is motivated, knows what she wants, is fearless, and delightfully curious. This also is her biggest downfall, but we'll get into that in a second.

-Ursula, too, is a GREAT example of a villain. Like with Maleficent in Sleeping Beauty, her beef is not with our title princess, but with her father, and she uses our princess as more of a pawn in her plan (so, nothing personal). So the woman vs woman issue in Snow White (and later Tangled) is not present here, though it might look like that on the surface. Also, it's been pointed out that Ursula can shapeshift, but prefers to take the form of a plus-sized caecilian sea witch. Basically, she's fat-positive! See, even the villain is progressive. Well, kinda.

-Vanessa (Ursula’s alter ego) is hot. There, I said it.

Do I really need to go into the cons? ...Ugh, it really pains me to criticize this film so heavily.

-It is troublesome that Ariel gave up everything she had for a dude who she barely knew, admittedly. While I insist that Eric was not her sole intention, still, him being the sort of bait (again, remember Flotsam and Jetsam's role in this) and Ariel taking it are all...dodgy.

-Ariel's greatest strength is also her greatest downfall. Her curiosity leads her to a sunken ship and to the surface, thus defying her father (and the iconic "I'm sixteen, I'm not a child" line) and Sebastian in the process. This, obviously, is...not true. Unless this film takes place in Scotland, where 16 is the age of majority (what up Merida), or one of a few African countries (such as Cameroon and Niger), who define the age of majority as early as 15. Which brings me to...

-WHERE ON EARTH DOES THIS FILM TAKE PLACE? For most Princess films, its location is pretty cut and dry. Snow White seems very German. Cinderella, possibly French? Brave obviously takes place in Scotland, Mulan in China, and Pocahontas and The Princess and the Frog in different areas of the North American continent. But The Little Mermaid is an anomaly. Most people just claim Denmark because of the nationality of Hans Christian Andersen (as well as the iconic Little Mermaid statue in Copenhagen), but by that logic, you could claim the same for Frozen, however, Frozen takes place in a fictional Norwegian kingdom, not in Denmark. The wildly colorful sea life lends itself to a possible Caribbean setting, Denmark still checks out for the human world. But who even knows, really.

-A few racist caricatures in “Under the Sea”: The “fluke, the duke of soul,” the “blackfish” (who sings), and the Carmen Miranda fish that grabs Flounder out of the blue. I’m under the impression that the “blackfish” was supposed to be an homage to Ella Fitzgerald...but it just comes off wrong.

-I wish we could have had more opportunities to see Ariel conversing with her sisters. She has six of them, there's really no excuse, unless she is purposely distancing herself from them? But like, geez, what would be the beef? Did Attina place her crown on Ariel's vanity seat for her to sit on?

-Can Ariel write basic English? Just out of curiosity.

I do have one complaint that The Little Mermaid kind of set this pattern of mermaid movies being kind of samey, where the mermaid has to become human in order to chase after a man or something of that nature (I love Splash, but that’s one of those films). However, if you're looking for some new kind of mermaid flavor, I might recommend The Mermaid by Stephen Chow (if you can find it subtitled, it's in Chinese), or Freeform's Siren series.

Final thoughts: If you love something, you really have to be honest about it. In my case, I know where the issues lie with The Little Mermaid, and I admit them--begrudgingly. As with many Princesses, Ariel is not without her misconceptions, yet also not without valid criticisms. Ariel's message, on the surface, is that men are to be desired and women should chase after them. But in order to really understand Ariel, you have to dive a bit deeper: If you want something, go for it, rather than wishing and wishing.

Rating: 5 out of 5 dinglehoppers

Thanks for joining me for this (admittedly, difficult) party. Join me for my next one where we look into the misconceptions and misogynists of Beauty and the Beast. No, not that one. Dream Big, Princess!

[zoeharmonmarch-blog]

Kit x Zoe

This was not how the spell was supposed to go. Then again, she should have expected something to go wrong. That was just Zoe’s luck, wasn’t it? Cordelia was teaching her how to use a spell that would let her travel back in time one day. The spell itself was experimental, and really should only have been attempted by the supreme herself. Yet Zoe felt the need to prove herself, and wanted to try it out on her own.

But she didn’t end up going back a day.

Zoe ended up in 1962

Except she didn’t realize that right away. At first she had no idea what to do. All she had with her was what was on her body. Her black dress flowed behind her as she walked for what felt like hours. Soon enough the sun set and the air turned chilly. She needed to find a place to rest, or at least figure out where exactly she was. Eventually she came across an old styled gas station.

She walked towards it, peering in through the dusty glass. It didn’t seem like anyone was around, but she might be able to break in if she tried. She stood up on top of a paint can, pressing her hands against the glass as she moved her face forward, trying to see inside more clearly.

“Can I help you, doll?”

The voice with a Boston accent startled her and Zoe stumbled off of the paint can. Before she fell, she felt a pair of strong arms around her. “Woah there, I didn’t mean to scare ya.” The young man in the greaser suit chuckled softly as he helped her stand back up. She stood and straightened out her dress before looking up at him.

“You coming from a funeral or somethin’?” He gave her a funny look

“No, I’m just lost.” Zoe replied, taking a step back from the stranger. His light brown hair seemed to shine in the moonlight, and he wore the same smug grin Kyle made the first night they met at the frat party. His dimples were almost identical to Kyle’s.

“Well, I’m sure I can help.” He flashed another smile in her direction.

“This might sound crazy, but what year is it?”

“It’s 1962,” He answered her, looking at her skeptically. “I’m Kit by the way. Kit Walker.” He introduced himself, though his accent made it sound more like ‘Kit Walka’.

Zoe’s eyes widened in surprise as she realized how far into the past she had gone. The problem? She didn’t know the spell to go forward in time. Meaning, she was stuck in 1962. Everything seemed to come crashing down on her in that moment. Her chest tightened at the thought of never seeing Kyle again. She was mainly concerned about his wellbeing. There were days that it seemed like she was the only one who knew how to take care of him, or more importantly, knew how to calm him down during one of his fits. The last time she died, he killed Madison in a fit of rage. How would he react this time? Well, Zoe would never know.

Noticing the way Zoe seemed to panic, Kit frowned a took a step forward. “Hey, you alright?”

“I’m… fine.” Zoe lied and took a step back from him, though the expression of her face showed that she was clearly panicked.

“You don’t look too fine. Why don’t ya come inside, I’ll get you something to eat.” Kit offered to her

And that’s how it all started, with that invitation inside.

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That invitation inside led to her crashing on his couch, which led to her explaining her story to him, which led to her temporarily moving in with him. Kit didn’t quite believe her when she said she was a witch, however his opinion changed very quickly once she proved it by teleporting around his house.

Kit felt bad for Zoe. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be torn away from your friends and family, and time period for that matter. Kit ended up letting Zoe get a job alongside him at the station. It wasn’t usual for a woman to work that sort of job, but Kit figured a futuristic woman like her could handle changing an oil tank. Plus, he liked to spend time with her.

After a year of living together, her and Kit had grown closer together. He reminded Zoe a lot of Kyle before he died. The Kyle she met at the frat party. They had the same goofy smile and lame flirting techniques. It was until a year of living with him that Zoe realized she was falling for him.

Kit couldn’t deny it either, he was really starting to grow fond of Zoe. Her powers fascinated him, her stubbornness made him laugh, her smile was enough to light up his whole day. It was too late now. Kit Walker was falling for Zoe Benson.

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On April 27th, 1963, Kit Walker asked Zoe Benson out on a real date.

“You know, I’ve been thinking.” Kit began as he wiped oil off his forehead with a rag. “Maybe we could grab a burger after today’s shift.”

Zoe finished taking the tire off a car with her powers, letting it levitate up. “Yeah sure,” She nodded her head. “Who’s turn is it to pay?”

“No, no, I don’t mean like that…” He ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair. “I wanna… I wanna take ya on a date, Zoey.”

The tire crashed onto the floor in surprise. “Oh.” Zoe replied, unsure of what else to say.

“I just… I thought it’d be nice. You’re a real nice girl, Zoe, and pretty as a picture. I really like ya.”

Zoe turned around and stepped over to him, smiling a bit. “Kit, I really like you too, but it’s not gonna work out.”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t tell you about all of my powers, Kit…” Zoe looked down, tucking a piece of stray hair behind her ear. “I can’t… be, with people.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, Zoey.”

“I can’t have sex. I have a killer vagina.”

“ …What?”

“When I found out I was a witch, it was because I accidentally killed my boyfriend. Whenever I have sex with someone, they die.”

“Oh.” Kit said, more surprised than anything. When he thought about what Zoe might say if she rejected him, he never imagined something like this. Then again, she was a witch after all. There were lots of unexpected things with her. He was quiet for a moment before he took a step forward, taking a hold of her hands. “Zoey, I don’t care about that, I care about you. I… I love you.”

Hearing those words made her heart swell up. Kyle was the first person to ever say that to her. She could still remember it. The way he looked at her, the way he struggled to get out the words, the love she felt for him. She was always going to love Kyle… but it was highly unlikely that she was ever going to see him again, nevermind be with him. And Kit… oh, Kit. He was the first friend she made in this time period, the first person to help her. As time passed, she grew closer to him. He reminded her of Kyle, but he was different too. He was funny, and charming, and always wore that stupid smirk. He was kind, and hardworking, and cooked her breakfast every morning. Zoe couldn’t deny the love she had for him anymore.

“Kit…” Zoe looked up at him. “I love you too.”

He didn’t hesitate to move forward and close the space between them, pressing his lips to hers. She instantly closed her eyes and kissed back, her arms snaking around his neck as he pulled her closer to him.

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“Kit!” Zoe shouted as the police all arrived at their house. The two had been together for almost a year, and Kit was even thinking about proposing. Things between them had seemed so perfect. But of course, not everything can stay perfect forever.

“He’s innocent! Kit isn’t a killer!”

Kit was being pulled away in chains as angry people shouted “Murderer!” or “Lady killer!” or “Bloody Face!”. Zoe couldn’t believe this was happening. Kit, her Kit, was not a murderer. This had to be some sort of misunderstanding. She pushed through the crowd, managing to reach Kit before he was thrown inside of the car.

“Zoey get back inside!” Kit looked up at her

“No, I’m not letting them take you!” Zoe shook her head, tears forming in her eyes.

“You have to. It’s okay--I’ll be okay. I promise.” He pressed his lips to hers before the police pulled him away. “I love you!”

Before Zoe could even say it back, the car doors shut and Kit Walker was on his way to Briarcliff.

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Several months later, Zoe sat in their living room with a glass of water. It was hard to live without Kit, but she was managing. Without Kit, Zoe lost her job at the garage. Something about it being ‘wrong’ for a woman to do that type of work.

At some point she considered breaking Kit out of Briarcliff, but knew it was helpless. Even if they got out, where would they go? Instead, she put her focus into finding out who the real Bloody Face was to clear Kit’s name.

Since then she was unemployed, but found money other ways. Her magic proved to be very useful. Some days she could simply ask people to give her money and they would be compelled to do so. She still had money, and she still had a place to live, but she didn’t have Kit. There was no pain worse than loneliness.

Her glass nearly fell out of her hand when there was a knock at the door. She reluctantly got up and walked over, opening it. You can imagine her surprise when she saw Kit standing there. “Kit?”

He moved forward and wrapped his arms around her, swinging her around happily. “They caught ‘im, the real bloody face. It was Dr. Thredson--I’m a free man.”

Zoe hugged onto him tightly, burying her face in the crook of his neck. Tears of joy filled her eyes as she hugged onto him even tighter.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry, Zoe.” Kit brushed her tears away with his thumb. “I’m right here, baby.”

“I was so scared,” She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down.

“I’m here now, everything is gonna be okay.” He pulled back from the hug slightly, soothing her hair back.

“What happened to you in there? I tried to visit, but they wouldn’t me in.”

“I’ll explain everything, but I have to do something first. Zoey, if these past months taught me anything, it’s that I love you. I love you so so much, and I never wanna spend another day without you.” He let go of her and took a step back, reaching into his pocket.

“What are you doing?”

He kneeled down on one knee, taking out a ring that was made out of wire. “I know it’s not much, or anything at all. I made it from a hanger in Briarcliff, but I promise I’ll buy ya a real one.” He said with his usual smug grin. “Zoe Benson, will you marry me?”

“Kit…” Zoe took the grin, chuckling softly as she look at the piece of wire. “I love it.”

“Sooo, is that a yes?”

“Of course it’s a yes!”

Kit instantly stood up and wrapped his arms around Zoe again, spinning her around. She laughed with delight before his lips met hers. They two held onto each other happily, refusing to let each other go. They were separated for far too long, but they were back together now. And they were ready spend the rest of their lives together.

“I love you, Zoe Benson.”

“I love you too, Kit Walker.”

[faithambr]

I Need a Miracle

Chapter 3

(Author’s Note: Please don’t hate me for this chapter and the next. Don’t worry it is going to get better.)

 Over the next few weeks, both Anna and Kristoff were constantly fighting with each other behind close doors. They both couldn’t even agree with everything that was brought to the table. Even Anna couldn’t bring up all of the school functions without Kristoff telling her that they were meaningless and that his job was way more important. Therefore, Anna kept on telling him to stay on the couch until he got his priorities straight and his behavior in check.

“For God’s sakes Anna!” Kristoff snapped, while brushing his teeth. “It’s just a fucking soccer game! There will always be more that Laura would be playing in!”

“Kristoff,” Anna snapped back while braiding her hair into two plaits, “it’s the championship game!”

“So?”

“So,” Anna insisted as she settled into bed, “it’s a very important game.”

“Whatever.” Kristoff rolled his eyes as he finished himself off in the bathroom.”I’m not going anyways.”

Anna then threw a pillow at the back of his head.”Then you can leave!”

“Fine.” he snapped.

“Get out now!”Anna ordered him while pointing to the door.

“I’m going!” Kristoff glared at her as he made his way to the door. “Good night, Anna!”

Anna just snorted as Kristoff slammed the door shut.

Woman! he thought angrily as he made his way to the living room. God dammit!

“Daddy?”a sleepy voice echoed through one of the bedrooms. “Daddy,I wanna be tucked in.”

“No.”Kristoff said coldly as he watched his oldest daughter appear from her room.

“But Daddy!” Laura had whimpered  while rubbing her eyes. “Please I want you to tuck me in!”

“Laura Anne Bjorman,” Kristoff had released out in anger, “you’re a big girl! Now go to bed!”

Laura then began to cry profusely, making his world shatter into a million pieces.

“Laura,” Kristoff began to soften his behavior, “I’m so sor…”

“Mommy!” Laura wailed uncontrollably as she ran to the master bedroom. “Mommy! Mommy!”

“Oh my,” Anna quickly opened the door, “Laura, what’s wrong honey?”

“Daddy won’t tuck me in!” Laura sobbed shaking ferociously in her mother’s arms. “He’s being mean.”

“Oh honey,” Anna soothed her daughter, kissing her tears away, “it’s going to be alright. Why don’t you come and sleep with me tonight?”

“Okay.” Laura shakily agrees as she went straight into the room.

“Anna.” Kristoff began.

“Don’t,” Anna snapped, making Kristoff feel even worse, “you dare say a word.”

“Anna, please.”

“Kristoff, you are being a complete idiot. First you started to get into an argument with me over our daughter’s championship soccer game. Then you have proceeded to get all pissy about me telling you that her game is important.” Anna cried out with her tears starting to form.

“Anna.”

“Let me finished Kristoff!” Anna shouted out in anger while pointing at the door. “Now our daughter is in our room, crying her eyes out, because you yelled at her. You literally took your own anger out at our daughter!”

Kristoff just looked at her with such defeat.”Please, Anna.”

“No,” Anna shouted with her tears flowing, “it’s one thing for you to take out your frustrations and anger at me, but to our daughter. That’s a whole other level!”

“Anna, I’m so sor…” Kristoff had tried to say, before Anna turned around.

“Good night.” Anna cried angrily as she went straight back into their master bedroom.

Kristoff simply sighed in defeat as he quickly made his bed on the couch.

This is going to be a long night. he thought as he laid his head on the couch’s armrest with his pillow.

  “So how are you doing this morning, Mr.Bjorman?” a small stout of a man had asked while scribbling some notes on his pad.

“Wonderful.” Kristoff rolled his tired eyes while sitting across from the old man. “Just wonderful.”

“I see.” the old man kept note of Kristoff’s behavior. “Now how is your wife and family?”

Kristoff’s shoulders had begun to tense up at the thought of them. “They hate me right now.”

“How so?”

“Well long story short,” Kristoff began as he adjusted himself on the small and uncomfortable love seat, “I got into a fight with Anna and took out my anger on our daughter.”

“I see.” the man stated. “Now how do you feel right now about what had happened last night?”

Kristoff slowly leaned forward, hoping that some words of explanation would come out of his mouth. “I feel like the world is crashing down on me. Like no matter what I do, everyone would hate me for it.”

“I see.” the old man noted.”Now, have you even told anyone about your feeling, especially now?”

“At first,” Kristoff looked a bit uneasy, “I told everything to my wife, Anna. I had thought that it would reduce the amount of stress in our marriage, but then I felt like she was always constantly worrying about me while I’m on the job.”

“So you stopped talking to her,” the old man had asked, “because you didn’t want her to worry ?”

“Yes,” Kristoff calmly explained, “it was after my undercover operation. While I was undercover, my new partner was shot and killed right in front of me.”

“Oh,” the old man looked surprised, “I see there. Now have you been feeling different after that undercover operation?”

“I guess so,” Kristoff began to move his fingers through his hair, shakily, “I haven’t been able to fall asleep. It’s like I’m having nightmares and waking up with cold sweats, afterwards.”

“I see.” the old man scribbled down some more notes.

“I feel like that I had let everyone down that day.” Kristoff had finished while taking a look at the clock on the wall. “I could have saved him.”

“But you didn’t.” the old man gave him a soft look. “Look Mr. Bjorman in my thirty years of being a counselor to the NYPD, I’ve come across with all kinds of people.”

Kristoff silently nodded in response.

“Now I’m going to tell you something that either may or may not like.” the old man told Kristoff .

“Oh.”

“But I think that you might be suffering from early PTSD.” the old man handed Kristoff a small piece of paper.

“Oh okay.” Kristoff quirked an eyebrow.

“So with that being said,” the old man looked back at Kristoff, “I would like for you and your wife to come back for more therapy sessions.”

“Alright.” Kristoff got up from his spot and shook the old man’s hand. “See you next week.”

Kristoff couldn’t even believe that his stress and anger could be a part of PTSD. “Wow,” he whispered as he got into his truck, “God I don’t know if I could do this.”

“Yes you can, Kristoff.” a faint whisper went through his ears. “I know you can.”

“Good morning, detectives.” Benson greeted her detectives as she made her way into the squad room.

“Morning, Benson.” Det. Rollins called out from her desk.

“Morning Boss!” Det. Judy smiled as she took a sip from her coffee while walking back from the break room.”Ready to start the day?”

“You know it.” Benson grinned as she glanced around the room. “Hey where’s Kristoff at?”

“Right here.” Kristoff huffed as he quickly made his way to his own desk.”Good morning.”

“Morning, Kristoff.” Benson nodded while she headed straight to her office.

“Hey Benson.” Kristoff got up from his desk.

“Yes, Kristoff?” Benson glanced over at the young detective.

“Thank you.”Kristoff saluted her just before he sat back down at his desk.

Benson just simply grinned at his response.

After everyone had gotten themselves acquainted, they all had begun to do their usual paperwork.

“Say, Kristoff,” Judy commented while viewing her personal paperwork, “how many arrests did you make this past week?”

“About five to eight.” Kristoff recalled while looking through his own files.

“Wow.” his partner looked surprised.”Does Benson know about it?”

“Maybe.” Kristoff leaned back in his chair.

He was right, Benson did notice an increase in his arrest due to the paperwork coming straight to her office.Not only she had noticed an increase in Kristoff’s paperwork, she had noticed a huge change in his behavior. Over the past few weeks, she saw him become guarded and focused on his work. At first she had thought he was doing that because he wanted to impress her, but then she soon realized that he was most likely avoiding going home to his wife and children. Wonder what is going on at home. she thought as she continued on doing her paperwork. She continued on doing her work, until one of her detectives had entered into her office.

“Lt. Benson.” Det. Rollins lightly tapped on the door.

“Yes?” Benson looked at Det. Rollins.

“There’s someone out here that wants to speak to you.” Rollins insisted.

“Alrighty.” Benson got up from her seat and followed her detective out of her office.

It took about ten minutes for Benson to help out the victim and another fifteen to twenty minutes for Kristoff to take down the initial statement.

“He took me from behind.” the victim had shivered in fear. “Forced me into another room. Pulled down my shirt.”

“It’s alright,” Kristoff took notes onto his notepad,”take your time.”

The victim had continued on describing the assault, hoping that someone would actually understand what she was going through.

“Thank you for listening.” the young victim stated as Kristoff had finished taking her statement.

“You’re welcome Ms. …” Kristoff nodded.

“Alice.” the girl finished.

“Alright,” Kristoff got up from his desk, “stay right there. Let me go and talk to my boss,”

The girl smiled while Kristoff made his way to his lieutenant’s office.

While Kristoff was busy taking down a statement from the victim, Lt. Benson was on the phone with Anna, Kristoff’s wife.

“So I was just wondering how are you doing today?” Benson had asked while holding the phone close to her ear.

“Well,” Anna spoke through the other line,”me and Kristoff had gotten into a fight last night. On top of that, he yelled at our daughter. Made her even cry.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that.” Benson felt a bit shocked.

“I know,” Anna sniffled, “but lately he’s been acting different. Almost like he’s there, but not really there.”

“I see.”

“I honestly don’t know what to do.” Anna sniffled again over the phone. “Hell, I don’t even know who he is anymore.”

“I understand.” Benson calmly stated.

“How do you even deal with this?” Anna asked, making Benson look over her own past.

She knew what she had to say, yet she wanted to make sure that she would say it correctly.

“Olivia?” a voice had interrupted her thoughts.

“Ah yes,” Benson snapped back into reality, “can I offer you some advice?”

“Sure.”

“Don’t let your husband’s behavior reflect on your children.” Benson advised. “Also don’t let them change their views on their father. He is a good man, trying to make his place in this world.”

“I know,” Anna sighed, “but could you do me a favor?”

“Yes.”

“Could you please watch over him,” Anna pleaded over the phone, “and make sure that he’s okay.”

“Will do.” Benson reassured her. “Have a good day.”

“You,too.” Anna sighed as she hung up the phone.

After the quick phone call with Anna, Benson had decided to make one of the most toughest decisions for today. She had to tell Kristoff to go home to his family. Therefore, she went ahead and called him into her office.

“Det. Kristoff,” Benson called from her office, “we need to talk.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Kristoff got up from his desk and strolled back to her office.

“So,” Benson sighed as they both had entered into her office, “how was the victim?”

“She told me exactly what had happened her.” Kristoff recalled while folding his arms against his chest. “Almost like it was yesterday.”

“Good.” his lieutenant slowly walked to her desk. “Can I ask you another question?”

“Yes.” Kristoff had cocked an eyebrow.

“How is your wife doing?” Benson calmly asked while keeping an eye on her detective.

Kristoff simply stood stiff at those words. He couldn’t even believe that his lieutenant was asking him that question.

“She’s fine.” he finally stumbled over those words. “Why would you ask that question?”

“Well,” Benson began to explain, “I called her this morning, just to check up on her.”

Kristoff gave her a confused look.

“She told me that you two were fighting and that you have been acting different at home.” Benson gave her detective a worried look.

Kristoff began to feel uncomfortable. “She did, did she?”

“Yes,” Benson looked a bit serious, “now is that one of the reasons why you have been staying here more often than at home?”

Kristoff looked stunned at his lieutenant.

“Now in my own personal experience with this job,” Benson continued, “I have seen some detectives change overtime, due to some traumatic events while on the job.”

Kristoff held his breath, not understanding where the conversation was going to.

“Some were treated,” Benson added, “but most weren’t.”

“Meaning?” Kristoff asked.

“Meaning that they didn’t want to get help.” Benson responded. “So with that being said, I know that you are getting help.”

“Yes.”

“But I think that you need to go and talk to your wife.” Benson kept her face as serious as possible. “She needs you, now. She loves you.”

“I know,” Kristoff had whispered, “but I can’t tell her.”

“You should.” Benson commented. “If you don’t say anything to her, it would ruin your marriage.”

Kristoff remained silent at her words. He still couldn’t tell his wife about what had happened while he was undercover, yet he didn’t want to lose her.

“Now,” Benson motioned her detective out of her office, “at the end of your shift, I want you to go home and spend time with your wife and kids.”

“Yes lieutenant.” Kristoff nodded as he left the office and went back to his desk.

It was about 8:00 p.m. when Kristoff had finished his last bit of his paperwork, when he had felt his phone vibrating in his coat pocket. Kristoff quickly pulled out his cell phone, seeing that his wife was calling.

“Hello,” Kristoff answered the phone, “this is Det. Bjorman.”

“Daddy?” a little boy’s voice echoed in his ears.

“Hey, Charlie.” Kristoff slightly smiled.

“Hi Daddy.” he could hear his son giggle.

“What are you doing?” Kristoff chuckled. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“Yes.”

“Then shouldn’t you be in bed?” Kristoff reminded his son.

“Mommy said that I can talk to you, before bed time.” his son stated.

“I see.” Kristoff leaned over his desk. “So what do you want to talk about?”

“I love you,” his son chanted, making Kristoff’s heart break, “and that I miss you so much!”

“I know buddy,” Kristoff sighed, “say I’ll see you when I get home, okay?”

“Ah,” he could hear his son whine, “why?”

“Cause little boys need their sleep.” Kristoff reminded his son, again.

“Okay Daddy.” Charlie sighed. “Good night, I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Kristoff stated just before he hung up the phone.

Kristoff promptly had left his desk, knowing that he would have to be home. However, he had decided to make a stop at a local cop joint.

The drive took about ten minutes  for Kristoff to reach the local cop bar. He was hoping  that maybe he would be a bit more relaxed once took some more time alone at the cop bar.

“Maybe she would allow me to sleep in the bed for once.” he whispered, once he had reached the bar. Then again, he knew that they would possibly have another ridiculous argument in his eyes, which would be leading him back on the couch.

“Ah, Det. Bjorman,” one of the bartenders had called out once Kristoff had entered into the bar,”how are you? It’s been a while.”

“Fine.” Kristoff nodded as he took a seat at the bar.

“So what’ll it be?” a young brunette woman smiled as she faced him and placed a napkin on the counter.

Kristoff simply gave her a sorrow look. “Some scotch please.”

“Alright.” the female bartender had smiled as she walked back to wear the drinks were.

“Hey, Kristoff,” a familiar voice had echoed throughout the bar, “didn’t even expect you to be here.”

“Oh hey Judy.” Kristoff stated as his partner took a seat right next to him.

“Surprised to see you here.” Judy gave him a surprised look. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” Kristoff replied, while the bartender returned with his scotch, “just trying to get by.”

“I see,” Judy agreed, just before she turned her attention to the bartender, “a ginger and carrot cocktail for me, please.”

“You got it.” the bartender took the order without hesitation.

“You wanna know something?” Kristoff took a gulp from his shot.

“What?” Judy gave him a confused look.

“My wife hates me,” Kristoff began, “only because I haven’t told her what had happened to my undercover partner.”

“Kristoff,” Judy gave him a sympathetic look, “don’t you dare even say that! She loves you like crazy and you know it!”

“Well,” Kristoff looked at her while waving down the bartender for another round, “she’ll hate me even more, if I told her the truth.”

“I don’t think so.” Judy reassured her partner. “She needs to know and that may actually help you, too.”

“Meaning?”Kristoff quirked an eyebrow.

“Meaning,” Judy placed a hand on her partner shoulder, “that you can heal from that situation and move on.”

Kristoff simply shrugged his shoulders and continued on taking his scotch.

“Daddy,” Laura had whispered in her sleep while laying right next to her mother, “Daddy! Daddy!”

Just hearing Laura calling out for her father in her sleep had made Anna feel completely heartbroken. This was the second night where Laura had practically begged Anna to sleep in the master bedroom. For the first night of Laura sleeping in the master bedroom with Anna, Laura was crying out for her father in her fitful sleep.While trying to comfort her daughter that night, Anna kept on praying for a change in her husband. She wanted to see her husband as the way he used to be before he went undercover. She didn’t like the way that her husband had acted towards their oldest child the night before.

“Anna,” a voice had interrupted her thoughts, “are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Anna had gotten up from her spot right next to her daughter. “Thanks for coming by Elsa.”

“You’re welcome.” her sister, Elsa, whispered. “Besides, you needed me to be here.”

“I know.”Anna kept an eye on sleeping Laura. “Say could you do me a huge favor?”

“Yes.”

“Could you please watch over them,” Anna had asked, “while I go and find Kristoff? He hasn’t been home since this morning and I’m worried.”

“I will.” Elsa hugged her sister tightly.

“Thanks.” Anna tried her best to smile as she exited the master bedroom. “I’ll be back shortly.”

Anna soon felt nervous and upset, once she had made her way out of their home. She was hoping that maybe her husband would come to his senses and stop being a complete jerk to his family. She knew that her husband’s job was really tough, but she didn’t even expect it to take a tole on him and his family.

“Please get better Kristoff,” Anna whispered as she entered into her car, “we need you. I need you.”

She was right, Anna did want him more than ever before. She had missed him being in bed with her, holding her, and kissing her effortlessly. Also she had missed him being around their children, giving them love, and raising them all in a happy home. She wanted her husband to come home, spend time with their family, and to make love to her without any interruptions.Now all she had to do was to go out and find her husband.

It took two full hours for Anna to find her husband at a local bar just close by his precinct. The small bar was completely styled as a cop bar, no thanks to the decor that was seen through the glass window. Anna had also noticed that her husband was sitting at the bar, with a drink in his hand.

“No this can’t be true.” Anna sniffled. “He wouldn’t do that to us. He’s too smart to drink his pain away.” She didn’t even expect her husband to drink his own pain away, especially since he had a young family to tend to at home. She continued on sitting in her car, watching her husband drinking his own carelessness and pains away. Her heart was continuously sinking at almost every sip that he took, along with the tears that followed. Her hands went numb at the thought of her husband taking out his anger towards her and their children. To make her thoughts even worse, she couldn’t even fathom at the idea of having her husband get physical during one of their arguments.

“Please don’t let it get that way.” she prayed as she continued on watching her husband from across the street.

Her heart had stopped pounding, once she saw one of her husband’s colleagues place a hand on her shoulder. She couldn’t help herself at the thought of her husband possibly cheating on her with one of his colleagues. She couldn’t even stand the idea of the female bartender giving him some extra flirtatious attention. All she wanted to do right then and there was to go in there and give her husband a kiss full of love and jealousy. However her heart soon became filled with nothing but jealousy and heartache. Therefore, Anna turned her car back on and drove on off with tears streaming down on her cheeks.

Anna soon came home with tears down her cheeks, feeling completely heartbroken. Her body sulked in despair, as she made her way back into the house. She couldn’t even think about her husband and his unruly ways into her marriage. All she wanted to do was to go home, pack up their family, and leave. However, it wouldn’t be an easy decision to make. Therefore, Anna had decided to simply pack up their children and to stay with the in-laws. Maybe he’ll get some help that way. Anna thought as she walked straight into the living room.

“Anna,” Elsa gave her sister a sympathetic look, as she sat on the couch, “are you alright?”

Anna couldn’t help but break down into tears right in front of her sister.

“Oh Anna,” Elsa went straight to her sister’s side, “what happened?”

Slowly,Anna began to tell her sister everything that had happened to Kristoff recently. At first, Elsa was a bit confused about what her sister was talking about,but she soon realized that Kristoff had changed right in front of her, too.

“Anna,” Elsa cooed while wiping her sister’s tears, “what are you going to do?”

“Well,” Anna breathed, “I’m going to stay with his parents for a while, until he gets better.”

“I see.” Elsa held her sister close. “I’ll help you pack then,”

“Thanks.” Anna wiped her own tears. “You’re the best.”

Soon after the sisters had their conversation, they had begun to pack the children’s belongings.

“Anna” Elsa huffed as she pulled out a large suitcase from the hallway closet, “how long are you planning to stay there?”

“Probably a week or so.”Anna whispered as she gently started to wake up the children. “C’mon kids, it’s time to wake up.”

“But it’s not even morning.” Laura had whined as she rubbed the sleep away from her eyes.

“I know,” Anna sighed while Laura had gotten herself out of bed, “but we’re going to Mama Bulda and Papa Cliff’s house.”

“Really?” Laura yawned as she left the bedroom with her mother.

“Yes.” Anna replied as she began to wake up the other children.

“Okay.” Laura whispered.

“Hi Mommy!” Charlie was completely wide awake once Anna had entered into his bedroom.

“Hi baby.”Anna looked surprised at their son.”Why are you up honey?”

“I’m waiting for Daddy, Mommy.” Charlie smiled with his tiredness showing. “You said that I could.”

“I know.” Anna simply rolled her eyes. “Well we’re gonna go and see Mama Bulda and Papa Cliff.”

“Yay!” Charlie yawned while Anna had began to carry him in her arms.

After everything was set and all packed up, Anna had began to feel a bit more relaxed knowing that she’ll be safe out of harm's way.

“You ready?” Elsa had asked her sister, just before Anna had shut the front door.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”Anna sniffled a bit while wiping her tears away, not knowing what the future may hold.

[groundramon]

*eyes light up with anger and passion*

WHERE DO I EVEN START

So I guess the best place to start is that in Jessie, every single one of the characters is an appearance-based stereotype.  Every single one of them.  And almost all of them are racial stereotypes.

The main four characters (minus the titular character, who I’ll get to later) are all racial stereotypes.  All of them.  And two of them are white.  How do you even do that.

- The youngest kid is a black girl named Zuri.  Guess what her personality is.  She’s sassy, rebellious, and mean to those around her.  I’m 99% certain that she says “mmmmhmmm” multiple times in the show.  I know she says it at least once because I can literally hear her saying it in my brain while I’m writing this.

- The second youngest is an asian boy from India named Ravi (was that how it was spelled? do I care?).  Guess what his personality is.  He’s a nerdy, awkward social outcast who gets perfect grades, is cowardly, and is made fun of for his awkward behavior.

- The second eldest is a white boy named Luke, who makes fart jokes, slacks off in school, and makes a lot of bad snarky jokes.  I guess that’s not necessarily a white person stereotype but... //shrugs

- The eldest daughter is a blonde white girl named Emma.  She loves makeup, boys, gossip, being pretty, and is self-centered and disrespectful to everyone around her.  She’s the epitome of the “blonde bitch” villain trope you see in so many school-centric shows, except she’s a protagonist that you’re supposed to sympathize with and care about.  Idk if this is a white girl only issue (i dont think that blonde bitch in Miraculous Ladybug is white [i dont remember her name bc i havent watched the show in like a year, sorry] but I might be wrong) but I’ve literally only ever seen this character with blonde-haired people so I’m counting it as racist.

As for the titular character, she’s from Texas.  She had an overbearing, possibly abusive military father (which is only used for laughs, obviously), she’s helped a cow give birth, she knows how to handle a gun, and im p sure they made fun of her for having an accent (even though its so incredibly neutralized in the actresses’ performance. Debby [her actress] isnt even from texas so like....no wonder)  I mean I dont really have much of a problem with like half those things bc the cow and the gun are just harmless stereotypes.  Nobody’s going to be hurt by those; they just arent funny.  BUT DONT MAKE FUN OF PEOPLE WITH ACCENTS OR PEOPLE WHO HAVE ABUSIVE PARENTS, JESUS FUCK.

And then there’s another, more minor main character whose name I’m too lazy to spell so I’ll just call him Fat Butler Dude and....I think you can guess his personality based on that description.  He’s lazy, he loves food, he complains about his job, ect.  And listen.  Buddy.  Bro.  Dude.  I dont have a problem with fat characters who like food.  I dont have a problem with lazy fat characters.  I’m a fat person, and I’m a lazy person who likes food.  People who “meet” stereotypes exist.  But those are pretty much his only defining traits, and when you do nothing but build your character outside of a stereotype (which is true of all the above characters) then you’re doing it wrong.

And the show in general is just paper-thin and unfunny and not good.  I guess it depends on your style of humor whether you’ll find it funny or not (some people would be too revolted by one episode to analyze it, but I can handle the writing and even laughed at a few jokes while watching it) but the humor is not very intelligent generally.  Also there are like...a lot of innuendos in this show??  In one episode, Zuri says “you should’ve seen what [insert this other young kid bitch] did to Mr. Bearyton! (her stuffed toy bear)  Now he’ll never have children!”  And I’m just...........ok, sure, pretend like anyone who will find that joke funny is watching your show.  I’m sorry but personally I’m of the mindset that if your show isn’t trying to be something mature and appeal to all ages, you shouldn’t use innuendos.  Either make it bland, forgettable, and non-offensive, or try to do something great with your kids show - dont try to sneak in a joke for the adults if your show has no fucking adult audience because the rest of your writing is so abysmal.  Also that joke isn’t even remotely subtle or cute in any way.  I would rather not think of a young child mutilating a bear’s genitalia, thanks

As for the paper-thin part, it tries to sneak in emotional bonding moments between the four children characters (the racial stereotypes) and the babysitter/titular character (Jessie) and even the butler gets to join in sometimes, but honestly? nothing they do is remotely emotional, to no one’s surprise.  If I cant at least say “aw, that’s cute” because the characters are so infuriating, you’re doing it wrong.  Not every emotional moment needs to have people in tears, especially in a sitcom, but for fuck’s sake...

BUT BUNK’D IS WORSE

Take all the paper-thin emotions out of Jessie and replace them with even shittier jokes and even shittier writing.  Take out the three least racist characters (Jessie, the butler, and Luke) and replace them with:

- An overachieving asian girl with overbearing, abusive parents.  Yes, somehow they got TWO stereotypes in for the same goddamn race.  She has intense anxiety over doing things perfectly, takes on way too much for her mental health, and expresses legitimate fear over her mothers’ reaction to her doing anything other than be perfect.

- A fat mexican kid who likes food, is lazy, is dumb, and farts a lot.  I bet he got more racist as the show went on but I dont care enough to go and check.

- A Hot White Boy (TM) who is just eyecandy for Emma.  He plays guitar, he’s good-looking, he has a high-ranking position at the camp....i want to call him a Gary Stu but if there’s one thing Jessie got right, its that they at least gave all their characters discernible flaws (the problem is that they have no personality outside of those flaws :/ how do you even make a character too flawed when they arent a complete evil bastard, like what the fuck, i wish i could fuck up writing that badly)  Also his name is Xander.  I forgot the names of the above two characters but i looked em up but honestly idc enough to write them down

- A white girl named Lou who I had completely forgotten about but she’s like Jessie except on country steroids and 10x more annoying from what I remember.  She’s still the most tolerable character in the show.

- A LITERAL FUCKING STALKER, WHO STALKS XANDER, AND ITS PLAYED FOR LAUGHS, WHAT THE FUCK.  She’s an antagonist clearly BUT STILL WHAT THE FUCK.  She’s also blonde

- There’s also this evil camp councilor that is played by Freddy Benson’s mother.  She’s a stereotype too, probably a suburban white mom stereotype, but she’s still the last racist of all the characters.  She’s still annoying tho.

There are other characters too but I dont ever remember seeing them in the episodes I saw of the show, so whatever.

Basically Bunk’d is a more racist, more paper-thin, more toilet humor/bad humor-filled, more “lol random xd”-filled version of Jessie, which was already all of those things.

Honestly Bunk’d and Jessie are by far two of the most hateful sitcoms I’ve seen, and I’d say they’re a bad influence on kids of today.  The show isn’t...flat out saying its okay to be racist?  But literally I dont even think I can chock this up to ignorance or accidental racism.  Every character of a racial minority, and even white characters, and fat characters, and characters from the country.... just so happens to fall perfectly into a racial stereotype.  If it was one or two characters? maybe I could pass it off as “well television writers are just fucking idiots” (like I do whenever the PPG reboot tries to say it’s making a difference in the world lmao).  But EVERY. SINGLE. CHARACTER. IS A RACIST STEREOTYPE.  And the fact that Jessie ran until 2015ish (and started in 2010ish) and Bunk’d is still running?  If that doesn’t tell you racism is real in hollywood, idk what will.

I never see anyone talk about this either, and ive hardly seen people talk about the show in general, and it makes me rlly mad because ???  I thought you guys cared about this kind of stuff??  I understand most people dont pay attention to sitcoms but still.  You’d think SJWs would be more concerned with LITERAL TRANSPARENT AND UNDENIABLE RACISM in KIDS SHOWS but apparently they arent.  Or just nobody knows.  But that makes me even madder because we should be calling this kind of trash out.  You say that media is important but then ignore one of the biggest genres of children’s programming, which is arguably the most influential television of them all....like idk it just seems hypocritical to me.

 so yeah tldr Jessie is just a bad/eh show in general but its made 100x worse by racial stereotypes, obesity stereotypes, jokes about things that shouldnt be joked about (especially in kids show), and lots of other things - and Bunk’d is even worse in all those regards.

[vintagemichelle91]

A Hard Lesson in Valiance: Chapter 13

Authors’ Note: No new SVU this week to have us reeling, so how about another chapter?? Ready to find out more about this trail Rafael is following? @rauliskafan and I so hope you enjoy this chapter and keep your amazing feedback coming! 

           “Mr. Barba? To what do I owe the pleasure?”

           The DA looked small, almost harmless sitting in his wheelchair with a blanket folded around his legs to keep warm in the wake of the air conditioner whirring at full blast. Ward rolled closer and spied Rollins just over Rafael’s shoulder.

           “What’s this?” Ward continued. “I thought Benson was your guard dog.”

           “Tonight it’s my watch,” Rollins said. “We have some questions for you.”

           “How fun!” he said. “Gets a little dull here sometimes.”

           “Does it?” Rafael inquired.

           With a shrug, Ward sighed heavily and eased the afghan from his thighs, looking at his limbs.

           “When the PT ends, there’s nothing much to do except stare at the walls,” he said. “And hope someday that I might walk again.”

           “I think you’ll be fine,” Rafael muttered, pulling a chair closer. “Like any snake, you can always slither around on your belly.”

           “That’s classy, Rafael,” Ward said. “Kick a man when he’s down.”

           “But still pulling the strings.”

           For a split second, Ward’s eyes grew large, but then he simply leaned back and ran one hands across his face.

           “The angel on my shoulder suggests that I should phone security if you keep up that impudent tone,” Ward threatened.

           “And what does the devil on the other side say?” Rafael countered. The DA’s face darkened, and his eyes narrowed.

           “That you think you’re on to something,” he said. “Knowing you it’s a bad call, but by all means, Rafael. Enlighten me.”

           “No, you’ll do that,” Rafael said. “Tell us why Nevada Ramirez is back in town.”

           “Hadn’t heard that,” Ward said. “Not good.”

           “That’s an understatement.”

“Guessing you two already had a chance to catch up,” Ward said. Rollins barely suppressed a laugh as Rafael hung his head.

           “I talked to him,” he started. “After he assaulted my wife.”

           “Did he now?” Ward carefully asked. “That’s a crying shame, Rafael.”

           “She’s just down the hall right now,” Rafael said, gritting his teeth. “She’s pregnant, and the stress---”

           “Oh?” Ward asked. “But I thought that was an impossibility.”

           “Her doctors were obviously wrong,” Rafael answered. “Naturally Natalia had questions.”

           Ward’s fingers unfurled around his wheels, and Rafael let him roll towards the window, searching his back for any kind of a tell as the DA spoke into the glass, his reflection fuzzy with each word.

           “I can imagine,” he said. “Poor little thing. Perhaps the problem was you.”

           “Come again?” Rafael asked.

           “Well it stands to reason that she could get pregnant once before. And her accident aside… maybe someone was trying to let you down easily. Your wife… haven’t I heard that she swaps recipes with Detective Carisi?”

           Rollins moved forward, seizing his shoulder and turning the wheelchair around.

           “You want to look at me when you say that?” Rollins demanded.

           “Did I hit a nerve?” Ward asked, his tone sickeningly sweet. “Is your brat closer to the so-called Barba baby than you like to let on? What is it with your squad? You’re all a little too friendly.”

           “And you’re out of line,” Rollins said.

           “Am I? Well then, I am so very sorry. But this really doesn’t concern me.”

           Rafael’s hands became fists, and Ward began to cough.

           “I need to rest,” he said. “If you two would be so kind...”

           Stepping aside, Rafael let him draw close to the side of the bed, the DA’s hand just on the railing when he suddenly seized his collar and hoisted him up.

           “Barba!” Rollins yelled. “Wait!”

           “You would do this to a crippled man?” Ward asked.

           “I would do this to you,” Rafael sneered. “Tell me the truth. Did you fix it so Ramirez would think the babies were his?”

           “I don’t know what you’re talking---”

“Like hell you don’t! Maybe you need him near for whatever other sick plan you’re forming while you stare at these walls. And you knew he’d come. That he couldn’t resist the chance to hold it over her.”

           Letting the other man go, he saw Ward seize the railing and watched him plant his feet on the ground. It was a split second, nothing more, but he stood of his own accord. A cripple? Hardly. Rafael tried to rip his hands away from the metal when a young woman with short black hair flew into the room and released a worried cry.

           “Mr. Ward? Are you alright?”

           The DA went limp and seemed to make a show of collapsing into her arms. She glared at Rafael and settled him back into bed.

           And then Rollins grabbed her arm.

           “You,” she said. “You ran the test... and now you’re here? Helping him?”

           The brunette’s face flushed, and she shook he head as Rafael raised his hand.

           “Save it,” Rafael said. “Answer the question and don’t leave anything out.”

           “I… I was just checking on Mr. Ward,” she insisted.

           “Is that a lab tech’s job?” Rollins challenged. “Or is it---?”

           “Detective!” Ward barked. “It is not your place to---”

           “Stop talking,” Rafael ordered as the tech tried to duck out, and Rollins barred the way.

           “You need to tell us---”

           “Detective!” Ward repeated. “You’ll be busted down to manning the evidence room so fast if---”

           “I don’t think so,” Rollins said. “I think you’re the one that has everything to lose.”

           Holding his breath, Rafael watched the tech’s knees buckle. She tried to hide her face in her hands, but Rollins would not give her that comfort as she burst into tears.

           “I’m sorry!” she wailed. “My sister’s facing fraud charges for passing some bad checks. He said he would make it all go away. And all… all I had to do was---”

           “What is it with you?” Rafael demanded, whipping his head around. “Carmen wasn’t enough? Do you have sheets on every family in the five boroughs?”

           Ward stayed silent and pulled the covers close to his chin. But the blankets barely masked his glower.

           “You think you’re so smart, Rafael,” he said. “But what have you really got? A drug dealer’s fantasy stories and this… this desperate orderly. It’s hardly proof.”

           “Maybe. But Ramirez showed your hand.”

Rafael rushed Rollins out of the room, slamming the door….

           …thinking only of Natalia.

           “Do you want to charge her?” Rollins asked. “I mean I… I guess I get the wanting to help out her sister, but…”

           He could say yes and see the tech in a cell. But what good would that do? Another one of Ward’s victims? By way of Ramirez? Sometimes he thought that if Carmen had just come to him, had told him what was happening…

           “No,” he answered. “I only want to know the truth.”

           To that end, they sought out someone else, someone uncompromised. At that hour, there was only a thin man trying to steal a smoke. Who they pulled back from the edge of a stairwell and pressed into service.

           “What are you---?”

           “NYPD,” Rollins said, flashing her badge. “We need you in the lab.”

           The man grunted and led the way, Rafael following as Rollins touched his arm.

           “Good luck,” she said.

           “Don’t go anywhere. Yet.”

           Disappearing into another room, he rolled up his sleeve and gave blood, watching the crimson fill the syringe as the man secured the sample.

           “We can’t get this processed before the AM,” he said.

           “That’s fine. I’m not going anywhere. Just do the job right.”

           The thin man nodded, and Rafael forced his hands back into his pockets to find Rollins still waiting.

           “Barba, I… I’m sorry that I kept you in the dark,” she said. “But Natalia asked me to---”

           “You were trying to help her,” he said. “And the hour’s too late for hard feelings.”

           And now he only wanted to go to his wife’s side, to hold her hand…

           “Hey.”

           Rollins caught him before he could make his escape.

           “You know there’s… there’s still a chance that it’s not going to come out the way you want.”

           “I know,” he said. “And we’ll deal with that.”

           “For what it’s worth, I hope they’re yours.”

           Letting his hand trail down her arm, he took her hand, squeezing it tightly and nodding his head.

           “From you lips… thank you. Amanda.”

           Their hands lingered, locked together, and he took a deep breath as he looked towards Natalia’s room.

           “Maggie has Violetta,” he said. “I should call her. She has to be wondering what---”

           “I’ll do that,” Rollins promised him. “Go to your wife. Tell her you love her. She needs that right now.”

           Smiling softly, he gave her a quick hug. Rafael entered another hospital room to see Natalia curled on her side, Alessia still holding her hand as Trevor hovered.

           “You’re back,” Trevor said.

           “For the night,” he said. “You two should go. Get some rest.”

           Natalia just turned her head over her shoulder and sank back to the pillow. But now she stayed in his eyes as she let her mother go.

           “Natty?”

           “It’s okay, Mommy,” she said. “Thank you for sitting with me.”

           “Always,” Alessia said, kissing her hair and taking Trevor’s arm. She was almost out of the room when she looked to Rafael.

           “She needs to rest,” Alessia said. “Don’t upset her.”

           “Last thing that I would ever want to do.”

           “I know,” Alessia admitted. “But her mind is made up, Rafael.”

           Saying nothing else and simply kissing her goodbye, he closed the door and assumed her abandoned seat. Taking Natalia’s hand lightly, he let his free hand move to her face, savoring the warmth of her skin against his palm.

           “Hermosa…”

           “Where did you go?” she asked. “You said you were going to find out…”

           “You heard that?” he asked. “I thought you were asleep.”

           “I can always hear your voice, Atticus. Even in my dreams.”

           Would that he could step into her imaginings of the most beautiful variety and endlessly thread his fingers through her hair. Let him meet her on the darker terrains and slay any monsters that bared their fangs and tried to cause her harm. Leaving the chair, Rafael slipped into the narrow bed to hold her, staying in her eyes as she sighed.

           “So?” she asked. “What’s going on?”

           Rafael felt her fingers expand, savoring the feeling of her flesh, loving the way her hand fit in his and bringing his head to rest against her shoulder.

           No secrets. And nothing they couldn’t face.

           “I… there might be good news.”

           “Tell me,” she pleaded. “Say sweet things to me.”

           Pulling her closer, he inhaled deeply. If he was wrong… something to deal with come sunrise. For now, while the moon still hung in the sky…

           “Natalia, there’s a chance that this was all Ward,” he said. “He’s the reason Ramirez came back. He wanted the test to come out a certain way.”

           She started to sit up, and Rafael was quick to cradle her in her arms as her lips quivered.

           “Why… no. I know why he would.”

           “Ramirez, of all people, tipped me off.”

           “How…?”

           Swallowing the question, Natalia clung to his neck, her breath wafting into his ear as he rubbed her back, wanting to never let her or his hopes go.

           “Are the babies yours, Rafael?” she whispered. “Please tell me that they…”

           Pulling back and peering into her eyes, he wiped her tears away and kissed her lids shut.

           “We’ll know for sure soon,” he told her. “And I know what you want to do.”

           “Rafael, I---”

           “But I’ll say it again. I will love these babies because they are yours. Everything you touch is precious to me, hermosa.”

           She started to speak but simply slipped into his embrace. Would she sleep again, chase wishful dreams into the morning? Rafael would keep watch, keep her in his arms…

           …and pray for a miracle.