#law and order svu one shot

[detectivesvu]

Flirtatious Fate

Rafael Barba x Fem! Detective! Reader Tags: Near smut. Lots of flirting. Barba and Reader almost get caught. Sonny being a great advice giver. Word Count: 6.5k "And what if we are? Would that be such a bad thing?"

It wasn't at all uncommon for the counselor to work overtime.

Rafael more than likely worked more overtime hours than any of the attorneys in the whole building. He lived for his work, so it was no shock that it was nearly 8:00 o'clock and he was still buried in his work with no intention of going anywhere anytime soon. Most of the building had thinned out. All the people who were much better at maintaining a work-life balance had left hours ago - leaving Rafael as practically the only one left. Not that he minded, he could always work better alone.

But he didn't mind having some company. There were a few faces that he always was always welcome to and would always make time for...especially one in particular.

His attention was stolen away from his work when there was a knock on his open door, obviously indicating that someone was there to see him. Clearly, he wasn't the only one who pulled a lot of overtime hours.

He knew exactly who was at his door just by the specific sound of the knock. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he did - and his heart fluttered at the knowledge of the person at his door.

Their relationship was complicated, although neither of them realized that the way they acted toward one another made things a gray area. They simply believe they were colleagues...friendly colleagues at best. Somehow, neither of them really realized that their dynamic came from a much more personal and emotional place.

Nonetheless, he was happy she was there...even though he didn't realize it.

"Come in, detective." He said, without even giving a glance up from what he was working on.

A genuine smile was on the detective's face at the sound of his invitation. She entered the room with a cup of coffee in each hand, her foot kicking the door closed behind her as she entered. She was alone in her entrance, and the fact that her partner wasn't with her let him know this wasn't a business visit.

“Counselor,” She greeted. “Do you have time for coffee and a chat?”

If there was any single person in the world who could outdrink Rafael Barba when it came to coffee - it was [Y/N]. She could drink coffee at any time of day and could put down at least four cups a day. That was one thing they shared - they worked a lot and ran on nothing much pure passion for their job and heavy amounts of caffeine.

Rafael looked at her then, curious and intrigued. He wondered where her partner was, considering she was still dressed in her work attire, which also let him know she wasn't done working for the day.

"Be my guest," He gestured to the chair opposite his desk, leaning back in his own seat knowing he was about to be distracted completely. "What brings you here?"

She approached him, handing him a hot latte that was fresh and just to his liking. As coffee connoisseurs, they had entertained plenty of coffee conversations in the past. He wasn't really at all shocked that she knew his preference in coffee. He watched her from over the rim of his cup as she sat down with her own drink, clearly very comfortable in his presence.

"Carisi is upstairs talking to someone, so I figured I'd stop by and say hello." She said casually, but the sparkle in her eye let him know she had come by for more than a quick greeting.

A small smirk appeared on his face when he caught that look in her eyes. He knew her too well. She was here for a bigger reason. They were always usually very to the point with each other. They saw no reason to waste time when she was here with a purpose.

"Is that so? You came all this way just to say 'hello' to me?" He asked, a hint of playfulness in his normally dry tone.

She shrugged, a knowing grin appearing on her face as she ran her finger absentmindedly around the lid of her cup.

"Well..." She began. "I might have something interesting to tell you."

Now this made more sense. The coffee, the late visit, the giddiness. She was here to gossip - a habit that she frequently and flat out denied that she ever took part in.

"Okay," He nodded, his smirk now turning more curious. "Don't keep me in suspense."

She set her coffee down on his desk, now sitting up completely straight as she used both her hands to talk. He knew she had something big if she was this focused.

"You know how I'm kind of friends with the secretary on the fifth floor of the precinct?" She asked, jogging his memory. "Remember how I was telling you she had been acting strange?"

Rafael's eyes darted around the room as he racked his brain. mentally sorting through hundreds, if not thousands, of conversations the two of them had shared until he placed it.

"Yeah, you said she was acting secretive or something like that." He remembered, albeit vaguely.

"Right! You know I'm not one to gossip," She said, and Rafael had to fight the urge to roll his eyes at that comment. "But she's pregnant!"

Let the records show, Rafael had never met this said secretary before. The only things he knew about her were things that [Y/N] had disclosed to him, but evidently she had shared just enough with him for him to be all in on this revelation.

"No way," He tilted his head. "How do you know?"

"She told me!" She remarked. "I really couldn't believe it. I knew something was different about her. I had to come tell you when I could because you were the only person who agreed with me that something was up."

His heart fluttered again at that. It was purely just convenience that had brought her to his office that night, but it still made him shudder to think she had reserved a conversation solely for him.

"It seems we were right then," He took another sip, his eyebrows knitting together when he realized something. "Didn't you tell me she was single?"

There was a brief silence as she only shared a certain look with him. Her silence answered his question completely.

"Ah, so that's the crux of it all," He said, figuring he might as well fully emerge himself in this gossip session. "So, I'm guessing you have information on who the father is?"

"No," She shook her head. "I'm still working on that one...but I have a few guesses."

"Let's hear them." He encouraged her.

Normally, it would've been so unusual for Rafael to engage in this kind of talk. He didn't rightly care what a stranger to him had going on in their personal life...but he didn't like them the way he liked the detective sitting pretty in front of him, genuinely enjoying conversing with him on any given day.

"The rumor on the fifth floor is that it's a cop over in narcotics..." She took a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure no one was listening. "But that said cop has been gone for nearly six months. I don’t think the math adds up.”

Rafael considered her statement, nodding in agreement and urging her to continue.

"My other guess is a bit far-fetched, but not unreasonable," She said. "A few weeks ago she went home to Chicago to visit her family, and I remember her mentioning to me that she was thinking about paying an old flame of hers a visit..."

"Oh, that's interesting...and certainly a possibility, I suppose." He replied. "Is that all?"

"Yeah, that's all I got," She shrugged. "I am being unfair. I shouldn't be making a conversation out of her business."

Rafael chuckled, shaking his head.

"Well, we all indulge in a little nosy talk here and there." He said, feeling a pang of disappointment knowing this conversation was coming to an end.

“I know, I know. That’s really all I know," She reached for her coffee cup again. "But enough about me. How are things going here?”

He chuckled when she changed the subject, noticing her eyes lingering on his. He should've known she had something else locked and loaded.

"Things here are…as expected," he said, gesturing to the stacks of files on his desk. "Too many cases, too little time." He picked up his coffee, taking a sip before continuing. "But I always manage, one way or another."

“That you do, counselor.” She grinned. “This case has been a tough one…how are you holding up?”

He leaned back in his chair, a weary smile on his face.

"You know how it is." He said, and that was all he needed to say for her to completely understand.

"That I do," She sighed. "After all these years, I've never quite mastered dealing with everything we see."

"It's not easy, that's for sure," He said. "But I must say, you've handled yourself quite well in difficult situations, detective."

“I try my best,” She shrugged. “Some days I wonder if I should've stuck with my college job."

"Which was...?" He probed.

"Bartending," She confessed. "Also a stressful job, but nothing like doing police work."

This was new information to him. He actually didn't know that about her. He chuckled, imagining her in a bar apron, wiping down tables and listening to drunken rants.

"I could see that." He teased, a playful smile on his face. "But then we would be missing out on your skills as a detective."

She gave a small laugh, but didn't respond just yet. They sat in a comfortable silence, the conversation fizzling out before a new one blossomed.

"Maybe I need a vacation." She said in a way that seemed random, but this was usually how their conversations went. They would start on one topic and then end up somewhere completely different within minutes.

He took the opportunity to tease her, something that was also very common for their interactions.

"From SVU or from me?" He joked, the playful banter coming easy between them.

"Oh, never from you, Rafael." She matched his tone, his first name sliding off her tongue like it was something she said often.

He felt a brief flash of surprise when she used his first name, but he quickly recovered and played along with the banter.

"Careful, detective. That sounds almost affectionate." He teased.

She scoffed at that, an entertained smile on her face.

"We work for the law. We hardly have time to be affectionate in any regard." She said, and it was completely true.

"Yet here we are, two busy people making time for each other." He took a sip of his coffee, then looked at her with a more serious expression. "But you're right, it's not easy to balance work and personal life. Especially in our line of work."

“I can relate. Somehow you and my co-workers are the only people I really talk to,” She spoke, her voice soft. “Not…that I mind talking to you. Who else is going to tell you the neighborhood gossip?”

He smiled, genuinely flattered that she considered him one of her few friends.

"I must admit," he said, a hint of jest in his voice. "I do enjoy hearing your neighborhood gossip. It breaks up the monotony of the legal jargon."

“I imagine it does,” She returned a smile. “Maybe eventually we’ll figure out how to balance work and personal lives. Figure out how to do something other than work.”

Clearly they often toed the line between being professional, being casual, and being flirtatious. This was their norm. Everybody who knew them wouldn't even bat an eye at this conversation between them. But what Rafael said next would've raised a few brows. He wasn't sure what made him say it. Maybe it was the late hour or the moment just felt right, but he made a remark that couldn't have been confused as anything other than personal.

"Maybe we will. It's about time we started making time for ourselves." He paused, then said with a teasing smile. "And each other."

Her gaze fixed on him, her eyes slightly squinted as she smirked at him. She wasn't sure if he was being serious or not. Neither of them had ever crossed this line before. They were both aware that this was a new level of comfort with one another.

“Counselor, are you flirting with me?”

A sly smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he held her gaze.

"And if I was, detective?" He retorted.

“Mark me as surprised,” She said. “But flattered.”

They were both confident people...stubborn at times too. There would be no backing down from this. He chuckled, enjoying the back and forth banter. He leaned a bit closer in his chair, his smile growing wider.

"Is that so? You're not going to accuse me of being unprofessional?"

“That would make me a hypocrite. Me waltzing in here and gossiping about my coworker is unprofessional,” She leaned forward. “I consider this a flirtatious and pleasant conversation.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her words. He leaned closer as well, his voice a little lower now.

"Just a pleasant conversation, hm? You're not going to tell your other coworkers about this little chat?"

This situation was turning and it was turning fast. It had gone from casual to playful, and now they were trodding in a territory they had never ventured to before. This was different, but neither were backing down.

“Not at all, Counselor, if the thought of someone knowing bothers you so much.” She stood from her chair, eyes locked on him.

His smirk grew wider as she stood up, his eyes never leaving hers.

"It doesn't bother me at all." He assured her, rising to his feet as well. He moved around the desk, closing the distance between them. "In fact, I quite enjoy these little chats of ours."

“If we aren’t careful, we might become the precinct gossip.” She looked up at him, eyes sparkling.

He chuckled, finding the idea of being the source of gossip in the precinct strangely amusing. He took a step closer, his voice a low murmur as he spoke.

"And what if we are? Would that be such a bad thing?"

“Well, I would be getting a taste of my own medicine I suppose,” She said, realizing their noses were nearly touching. “Amongst other things.”

He let out a soft exhale, feeling his heart rate quicken at her close proximity. The air between them felt electrified.

"And those other things would be?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Whatever you suggest we do to ‘make time for each other’?” She said smoothly. “What did you have in mind?”

He chuckled, his gaze locked with hers. He reached out with a slow, tentative hand, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The feel of her skin under his fingers sent a shiver down his spine.

"I have plenty of ideas," he said, his voice low and filled with promise, "but we should probably discuss them somewhere more… private."

“Are you thinking private thoughts, Counselor?” She replied.

He leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper.

"What do you think, detective?" His hand moved to her cheek, his thumb tracing a gentle line along her jawline. The proximity was intoxicating, and he couldn’t resist the urge to toy with her a bit more.

“I’m thinking a couple of drinks over dinner,” She said, her voice supple and sultry. “Dessert at my place.”

He chuckled, his eyes darkening with desire at her words. He lifted his other hand, gently cupping her face, his thumbs brushing against her cheeks. He leaned even closer, his lips grazing against her ear as he whispered.

"Sounds like a perfect plan."

“Don’t you want to know what you’ll be having for dessert?” She asked, her control getting close to wobbling.

His lips curled into a sinful smile, the double meaning behind her words and the shiver in her voice were all the invitation he needed. He moved even closer, his breath hot against her ear, his voice huskier than before.

"Show me, detective. I’m absolutely starving."

She smiled an awfully sultry grin, her teeth toying with her bottom lip as she whispered.

“You’re looking at it.”

His eyes darkened with a mixture of restraint and desire, a low growl rumbling in his chest. He was losing control, his hands gripping her face a bit tighter now.

"Careful, detective. If you keep talking like that, I'll have you right now on this desk."

Fire was burning between them. Their minds were racing and hearts were pounding with the knowledge of where this was going. Neither cared to try and figure out how this was happening so fast. Neither of them needed to. They just knew something between them was mutual and it was coming out in full force.

He backed her into the desk, the backs of her thighs pressed against the edge of the desk. Her hands came to start working on getting his tie off, his hands planted high on her thighs underneath her skirt. Her lips brushed against his as her breathing became heavy, the two of them mere milliseconds from going at it when there was a knock on his office door and it creaked open.

Both Rafael and the detective froze, the moment shattered by the intrusion. Rafael took a moment to compose himself, his face flushing with a mix of annoyance and embarrassment as he attempted to conceal the fact that they had been just seconds away from being intimate on his desk.

He cleared his throat and took a few steps back, allowing some space between them. They both were quick to readjust themselves, totally coming back to reality of what just almost happened. Her heart was hammering away in her chest, her cheeks tinted pink as she adjusted her skirt. The intruder was none other than her detective partner, Sonny Carisi, who was blissfully unaware that he was just barely seconds away from walking in on his partner and his squad's counselor going at it.

Sonny stepped into the office, his expression serious. However, he hadn’t yet noticed the tense atmosphere in the room or the telltale signs of intimacy that were still evident on Rafael and the detective’s faces. He approached Rafael, his eyes fixed on the district attorney.

"Counselor...we have an issue with one of the witnesses in the case. Can I have a word?"

She was trying to hold her composure, acting like she wasn’t just about to get down and dirty with the counselor. Rafael took a deep breath, attempting to compose himself. The interruption had cooled the heat between them a bit, but the tension in the room was still palpable. He cleared his throat and addressed Sonny, his voice slightly strained as he tried to keep it together.

"Yeah...w-what's the issue with the witness?"

She could hardly stand to be in the room anymore. She was having a hard time processing how an innocent conversation turned so hot so quickly. Rafael had never expressed that kind of feeling with her. They had never gotten that close before. Sure, they faintly flirted, but never so outright before. She was overwhelmed, and now she felt like she needed some air.

“Sonny, you finish up here,” She said, her voice a bit shaky from the adrenaline. “I’m…I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Sonny's eyes flicked between Barba and the detective, sensing that there was more going on than he was aware of. He was puzzled by her shaky voice, and something about the tension in the room felt odd, but he didn’t have time to question it. As the detective made her way out of the room, Rafael's gaze followed her, a mixture of disappointment and concern etched on his face as she left.

Rafael had never shared that kind of moment with her. To be honest, he wasn’t sure where it had come from. Sure, he liked her and favored her, but he had never made a move on her before. But in all fairness, she had never reciprocated quite like that.

Rafael couldn’t deny that the moment with her had been explosive, a spark igniting between them that he hadn’t expected. He had always liked her, but this was a whole different level of attraction. Her response to him had triggered a deep, intense desire that he couldn’t ignore. As Sonny continued to talk, Rafael struggled to focus on the conversation, his mind going back to the moment they had shared just moments before.

He just wanted to help Sonny and get him out of his office so he could handle this. But of course, Sonny always needed to know everything.

“Is…everything alright between you and her, Counselor?”

Rafael flinched, snapped out of his thoughts by Sonny's question. He blinked a couple of times and cleared his throat, trying to hide his preoccupation.

"Yeah, everything's just fine, Carisi," he said, his tone a little guarded. "Why do you ask?"

“I’ve never seen her run out like that. Especially when you’re around,” Sonny remarked.

Rafael shifted uneasily in his chair as he sat down, the observation not being lost on him. He tried to play it off as nonchalantly as possible.

"I suppose she just had something to take care of. She seemed… in a hurry." He said, his words sounding unconvincing even to him.

Sonny didn’t believe him. He knew his partner, and he could tell when someone was lying. Something had happened in this office before he came in.

Rafael realized that Sonny wasn’t buying his response, and he silently cursed himself for not being more convincing. The air in the room felt heavy, and he knew he had to change the subject or risk further questioning.

"Is there anything else you needed to discuss regarding the case, Detective Carisi?" Rafael asked, trying to sound as impassive as possible.

Sonny caught the way Rafael changed the subject. He wasn’t getting anything from Rafael, so he decided to try his partner, who was downstairs waiting for him.

“No...alright…” Sonny said. “We’ll…we’ll be in touch.”

Rafael nodded, a slight look of relief on his face as Sonny seemed to accept the change in topic. As Sonny turned to leave, Rafael couldn’t help but feel a pang of worry about what might happen once he spoke to the detective.

He took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts, but his mind was still buzzing from the encounter that had just taken place, and the uncertainty of what would happen next gnawed at him. Sonny wasted no time getting to the elevator, taking it to the ground floor. Sure enough, she was standing just outside on the sidewalk, her hand resting over her chest as she took slow deep breaths of the cold New York air.

She let the cold air of New York City fill her lungs, the chill helping to clear her mind. She tried to steady her rapid heartbeat, still shaken by the intensity of the moment she and Rafael had shared. The thought of what might have happened if Sonny hadn’t walked in sent a shudder down her spine. What was she thinking?

She was so distracted by her thoughts that she didn’t notice Sonny approaching until he was standing beside her.

“Sonny.” She nearly gasped, her heart lurching in surprise.

Sonny chuckled at her reaction and raised an eyebrow, a sly smile on his face.

"Whoa, easy there. You almost jumped out of your skin." he teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“I’m sorry, you scared me.” She sighed. “Are you ready to go?” She gestured toward the SVU car they had taken.

Sonny nodded, and as they headed toward the car, he shot her a sideways glance, curious about what had just transpired upstairs.

He wasn’t a detective for nothing, and he could sense that there was more to the story. Something was off, especially given her demeanor and the flushed look on her face.

She slid into the passenger seat, feeling a bit less shaky now that she had a few minutes to calm down. Her mind was still reeling, but she didn’t feel like she was going to pass out anymore.

Sonny walked around the car and got behind the wheel, his gaze flickering to her every now and then. As they started driving, he decided to go for it and ask the question that had been on his mind since he walked in on his partner and the Counselor.

"So, what was that all about? You left his office looking like you’d seen a ghost." He said.

She took a subtle deep breath, trying to center herself for a round of questioning that was no doubt coming.

“It was nothing really,” She responded as coolly as possible. “I’m just tired, I think. I just needed a second to gather myself.”

Sonny gave her a skeptical look, her response only adding to his suspicion. She was obviously trying to brush it off, but he was not convinced.

"Come on. You know I wasn’t born yesterday," he said, his tone laced with mild irritation. "Something happened up there."

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” She said, reaching for her phone that vibrated in her pocket.

As she checked her phone, Sonny gave her a knowing look. He could sense that she was dodging the question, and it only fueled his suspicion further.

"Oh, really? Then why won’t you look me in the eye?" he asked, his voice a bit challenging now. "Who’s sending you text messages, huh? The Counselor?”

Her heart dropped, because despite the fact that Sonny’s question was a joke — he was right. She stared at the text message that had just come in from Rafael.

A sly smile crept onto Sonny's face as he spotted the change in her expression, a clear indication that he hit a sore spot.

"Bingo," he said, his tone dripping with smugness. "That’s what I thought. What did he say?"

Sonny glanced at her, his curiosity piqued. He could tell she was reading a text message, but he couldn’t see what it said.

"So, are you planning to share that text with me, or are you just going to keep me in suspense?" he said, his voice filled with playful annoyance.

She didn't even really mean to, but she read the text out loud for herself and Sonny to hear.

Call me when you can. Please.

Sonny raised an eyebrow, a smirk spreading across his face. He couldn’t help but feel a little amused by the situation.

"‘Please?’" he repeated, a hint of mockery in his voice. "Sounds like the counselor is desperate to talk to you."

Sonny had her cornered, and she knew it. There was no getting anything past Sonny, especially since they worked so closely every single day.

“Sonny..." She whined, knowing he was more on to her than she realized.

Sonny chuckled at her response, thoroughly enjoying the teasing. He knew he had her now.

"Come on," he said, feigning innocence. "Don’t sound so surprised. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other when you think no one’s watching."

“Now I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” She huffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sonny took his eyes off the road for a moment to shoot her a sidelong glance, a knowing smile on his lips.

"Oh, please. You really think you’re discreet?" he said. "The tension between you two is so thick, a blind man could see it."

She rubbed her eyes stressfully, unsure of how to respond to Sonny, and even more unsure of how to proceed with Rafael. Seeing her stressed out, Sonny’s playful tone softened slightly. While he enjoyed teasing her, he could see that the situation was weighing on her.

"Hey, relax," he said, throwing her a gentle smile. "It’s just me, alright? You can talk to me, you know?"

“No, I can’t…” She sighed. “Not about this.”

Sonny’s smile faded slightly at her response. He could tell that whatever had happened in Rafael’s office was more serious than he initially thought. It wasn’t just some harmless flirtation between her and the district attorney. He cleared his throat and spoke with a more serious tone now.

"Why not? Come on. You and I have been friends for a long time, haven’t we? You can trust me."

“I trust you,” She said. “It’s not that, it’s just…complicated.”

Sonny furrowed his brow, his interest piqued even further. The way she said ‘complicated’ made it clear that there was more to this than he initially thought. He knew there was something she was holding back, but he wasn’t going to let it go that easily.

"Complicated, huh? In what way?" he asked, his voice calm but filled with genuine curiosity.

At this point, she knew Sonny wasn’t going to let this go. Sonny could keep a secret better than anyone, so she figured she might as well give it up. She told him the story, leaving out a few graphic details, but she told him enough for him to get the picture.

Sonny listened intently as she spoke, his expression stoic as he absorbed the details of what had transpired between her and Rafael. He didn’t say a word as she recounted the encounter, his gaze steady on the road ahead of them.

When she finished her story, he was silent for a moment, considering everything that had been said. Then, he spoke up, keeping his voice neutral.

"So, let me get this straight. You and the Counselor got hot and heavy in his office, but things got interrupted, and now you don’t know what to do next?"

“That about sums it up,” She sighed again. “If we had gone all the way…I don’t even know. I don’t know where to go from here and I don’t know if I can ever work with him again…”

Sonny exhaled softly, his jaw tensing slightly. He hadn’t been expecting it to be that serious. He could sense the internal struggle she was having and understood her confusion. He knew it wasn’t easy, juggling personal feelings and professional responsibilities.

"Whoa, whoa. Hold on," he said, trying to get a grip on the situation. "First of all, it didn’t go that far. Nothing…happened, right?"

“It was close,” She admitted. “But no. Sonny, Olivia will kill me if she finds out. She would flip if she found out I got cozy with the counselor…”

Sonny nodded slowly, processing her words. The fact that she was worried about Olivia’s reaction spoke volumes about how seriously she was taking this. He respected her devotion to the job, and he knew how highly her superiors thought of her.

"Okay, first of all, Olivia’s not going to ‘kill’ you. Besides, this isn’t exactly the first time a relationship has happened between coworkers."

“Yeah, but it’s different. It’s…me. You know how she is with me. I’m the youngest on the squad,” She took a deep breath. “If she knew Rafael made a move on me…”

Sonny could see the weight of the situation pressing heavily on her. He understood her concerns.

"I get that you don’t want to disappoint her," he said in a reassuring tone. "The thing is, this whole thing with Barba…you didn’t exactly pursue him, right? He’s the one who made a move. And as far as I can tell, it sounds like it was completely out of the blue for you."

“It…wasn’t really out of the blue,” She confessed. “I mean, I didn’t go in there expecting what happened but…like you said we’re pretty…flirtatious. And I didn’t push him away.”

Sonny chuckled slightly at her confirmation that she hadn’t exactly shut down whatever had been going on between her and the Counselor. He knew they’d had a spark.

“So, let me get this straight: you and Barba have been flirty with each other for a while, and eventually, things got heated in his office. Is that about right?”

Sonny nodded when she confirmed it, the situation starting to make more sense to him now.

"And now you don’t know what to do because you’re worried about your job, your relationship with Olivia, and whatever might happen next with Barba?”

“Right,” She replied. “It happened so fast…I don’t know how I got here.”

Sonny chuckled softly as he listened to her concerns.

"You got here, because you and Barba have chemistry," he said bluntly. "The question is, what are you going to do about it?"

“I don’t know what to do about it,” She read the text from Barba again. “How do you even move forward from something like this?”

Sonny shot her a sympathetic glance, understanding her anxiety.

"Hey, it sounds like you’re feeling a bit out of your comfort zone here, and that’s alright." He said reassuringly. "You’re usually more reserved, and this situation’s a bit more intense than you’re used to. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. It could mean that something about Barba really does it for you."

“Yeah, I could’ve told you that. I guess I need to respond,” She stared at her phone. "He wants me to call him later. So he will probably reject me and tell me it was a mistake and it never should’ve happened and then things will be awkward and then I’ll have to leave SVU and then I’m back to making traffic stops-“

Sonny reached over and grabbed her arm firmly, stopping her mid-rant. He chuckled slightly at her panicked ramblings.

"Slow down there," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Take a deep breath. You're getting way ahead of yourself."

“Maybe…” A smile appeared on her face without realizing it. “I’ll just…tell him I’ll call him when I can.”

Sonny chuckled along with her, enjoying the lighter tone of the conversation. He was glad to see that his teasing had lifted her spirits, at least a little bit.

"Hey, you never know," He said with a shrug and a smirk. "Stranger things have happened. Maybe Barba’s completely smitten with you and can’t wait to see you again."

“Alright, alright…” She replied. “One step at a time. Let’s finish this workday.”

Sonny chuckled at her response, sensing her determination to get through the last couple hours of their long workday and not let the situation with Barba consume her. He nodded in agreement.

"You got it," he said, his tone back to business. "I've got your back, no matter what happens next."

___

They returned to the precinct, tying up their loose ends for the day so they could get the day finished. She tried to put Rafael in the back of her mind. She just needed to get through her shift and then go from there. She hoped she would feel better once she and Rafael talked, no matter what the outcome was.

Sonny shot a few glances at her, sensing her attempt to keep her mind off the situation with the Counselor. He knew she was struggling to focus on work when her mind was preoccupied.

As the day came to an end, Sonny casually looked down at his watch and spoke up.

"You know, we're just about done for the day. You…uh…have plans for the rest of the night?"

She gave him a look.

“I’m going to call him as soon as I leave,” She said. “If he’s still at his office, I might swing by.”

Sonny gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, his eyes filled with genuine concern.

"You're gonna handle this, one way or another." he said, his voice firm and steady.

“Okay,” She nodded. “I’ll text you when it’s over.”

Sonny waved her goodbye, and she didn't waste any time getting out of the precinct. She dialed Rafael's number on the way out of the building.

The phone rang a few times before the familiar voice of Rafael Barba answered on the other end.

“Hey.” His tone was calm and composed.

“Counselor.” She greeted as calmly as she could.

There was a hint of surprise and relief in Rafael's voice as he recognized her on the other end of the line. He had been hoping she would call.

"I wasn’t sure if you’d call." He said plainly.

“Of course I did,” She let out a silent sigh. “Are you…still at your office?”

There was a slight pause before Rafael responded, the anticipation heavy in his voice.

"Yes," he replied. "Do you…want to come by?"

Her heart fluttered, there really was no turning back.

“Yeah, I figured I would come by so…we could talk. I can be there in 20 minutes…”

They sorted out the details before the call ended, and she knew this was going to either be a pleasant or brutal talk. She knew she might be losing one of her best friends by the end of the night. She had never felt more unsure, but she couldn't even deny that maybe she was curious to see how this developed...if it developed at all.

Her mind raced as she made her way to Rafael's office. She thought of every possible outcome in this scenario...the best case, the worst case, and everything in between. She felt the knot of anxiety in her stomach getting heavier by the minute. She laid eyes on her destination and knew it was now or ever. She needed to compose herself and pull it together. She wanted to walk out of this situation with him still an important part of her life.

The building was closed down for the night, all the offices dark and closed...except for his. It was now or never. If there was ever a moment where she felt like she was about to seal her fate...it was right now.

She took the elevator to the floor of his office, her brain actively controlling her breathing to be as calm and slow as possible. Her heart was pounding away, and she wasn't sure if it was the nerves or the knowledge of seeing him again after what had happened.

His office door was closed, but a glow of light was shining from behind the closed blinds on his windows and under the door. She gave a light knock on the door, a slow exhale escaping her as she waited for him to answer.

She heard some shuffling from behind the door, knowing he was undoubtedly trying to quickly straighten up his desk before he allowed her inside. A few seconds passed before he opened the door -- his tired eyes meeting hers with the same look of anxiety and curiosity of what was about to happen. There was no turning back now, and they both felt like they were prepared.

But little did they know, their night was about to get far more interesting than they planned for.

—

Part 2 !

[storiesofsvu]

Love You Always

Rafael Barba x reader warnings: language maybe? it's pure fluff y'all. This was a request that I took a little bit of a spin on but the end result is the same and the prompt still fits and works lol Quick reminder: as Barba has over 50 ppl on his taglist and that is tumblr's max, if you do not interact with this/other barba post you will be removed for someone who is on the wait list who actually does want to read and interact.

When you’d made the move from a small town in Pennsylvania out to New York you really had no idea what was in store for you. Getting the opportunity to live in the city was a huge enough thrill on its own, delicious food, incredible night life, easy enough to get around and a plethora of places to meet people. Work was consistent, busy enough to keep you stimulated and making money but never overwhelming, you always had weekends off and were reminded you never had to take work home unless you really wanted to.

The level of freedom you felt was an incredibly good thing, especially considering your boyfriend seemed to never stop working. You were free to swing by on your lunch, making sure he ate something other than chocolate covered espresso beans and would happily be the one to drag him out of the office at the end of a long day. Though you had no complaints about the matter, you loved him no matter what and knew that what he did was important, not to mention incredibly admirable.

The two of you had moved in together a couple of years ago, a nice two bedroom apartment smack in the middle of your commutes. Rafael had turned the second bedroom into a home office but hadn’t completely taken it over, leaving half of it for you to outfit however you’d like. He never wanted it to just be his space, wanted to make sure you always felt welcomed and wanted even if the most you normally did was curl up with a book in the arm chair beside his desk. He utterly adored having you around, the quality time beside another human was more than enough for both of you, you were able to communicate without words by now. There were moments where Rafael wouldn’t even realize he’d been letting his work stress him out until your gentle hands were on his shoulders, massaging out the knots. There were other moments where you were so sucked into your novel you had no idea how much time had gone by until he was pressing a kiss to the top of your head, mentioning you’d both missed dinner.

There had been talks of the future of course, some of them happening before you bought the apartment, making sure you were making the right investment, but there had never really been a talk about marriage. You’d talked about where in the city you wanted to live, decided on kids or no kids, if you wanted to stay in the same career path, what you’d like to do after retiring and while you knew you were in each other’s stories, a ring never came up. You loved your romantic movies and Rafael knew that, often watching them with you, a small smile on his face as you tried to hide your happy tears or blamed your sniffling on allergies. He knew you were a hopeless romantic and did his best on a regular basis to show you how much he loved you, flowers, treats, fancy date nights and the like.

The first time marriage truly came up was when you were out for dinner and witnessed a very public proposal that you immediately turned your nose up at. Rafael raised a brow and you let out a small laugh, explaining that not only were they incredibly tacky, nearly forcing the person answering to say yes, but this one in particular was going to end in a fight once they were home. Never ask a question like that if you don’t know the definite answer. On the other end of the spectrum, the two of you had a fantastic date night and you were certain it ended better than the not so happy couple.

The second time it technically came up Rafael was coming home entirely too late and while you didn’t have particular plans, you had happened to fall asleep on the couch waiting for him. He felt a pang of guilt wash through him when he found you, half full glass of wine on the coffee table with an empty one meant for him. When he woke you up to get you to bed he apologized, promising that it wouldn’t happen again. You let out a soft giggle, still half asleep and mentioned something about it not being a problem, you knew you were his side chick, he was married to his job after all, it was his wife and you were okay with that.

The third time it came up when your cousin’s wedding invitation came in the mail and you asked if he wanted to come with you. He laughed, saying of course he did and pressed a tender kiss to your cheek, he was your plus one forever after all. You returned the laugh, letting him know it was back in Pennsylvania, it would be a minimum of a three day trip out there, you’d have to leave midday Friday and likely return late on Sunday, if not Monday. He simply shrugged, saying he’d make absolutely sure that his schedule was cleared, this was something that was important to you and he didn’t want to miss any of those.

Rafael had been expecting the usual wedding festivities, friends new and old reuniting between a couple of smaller hotels or bars around the town. Some whom had kept in touch, some who hadn’t spoken since graduation. There was plenty of catching up, questions asked and answered about careers, families, kids. He was prepared for all of that, prepared to whisk you away the second anyone started nagging a little too hard about getting married or starting a family of your own. Instead he was met with you laughing, winding your arm in his and saying that the two of you were your own family.

What he definitely wasn’t expecting was to be hit with a brick wall of emotions when the actual wedding started. Everything was so incredibly beautiful, the church lit up perfectly, stunning bridesmaids dresses that correlated with the groomsmen pocket squares, ties and socks. The flower arrangements were gorgeous, the music matched the vibe immaculately, every single detail you could imagine was well thought through and executed amazingly. His hand in yours as the ceremony started, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as the bride stepped into the room and he knew you would be teary eyed in a matter of seconds.

He couldn’t help but watch you throughout the ceremony, a small smile on his face, one that you caught and smiled back to every time you looked over at him. You loved love, and you loved him and that made him feel so incredibly warm inside, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. Your eyes glistened in the sunlight, a glimmering of happy tears in them as the couple began their vows and it became very obvious you weren’t the only hopeless romantic in the room. They told stories of their childhood, how they’d been best friends at such a young age, how through time they had went their different ways but always seemed to find their way back to each other. How they’d gone to different colleges, lived on opposite sides of the country and even when they didn’t stay in touch, life had a way to keep their invisible string intact. How she’d been smitten from the moment they reconnected, how he surprised her on their first anniversary with a plot of land where she’d always dreamed of living, and how he was going to build their dream home. How much they meant to each other, that they wanted to spend the rest of their days and then some together, how much they believed in destiny and how thankful they were that they were brought back together and realized what true love was because it was so often sitting right in front of your nose.

Rafael didn’t think he was a sap, but the misting in his eyes would prove otherwise.

The way your hand was softly squeezing at his thigh whenever something particularly romantic or emotional certainly wasn’t helping either. And the look of complete love, awe, hope and longing reflecting from your eyes was enough to drive him wild. He found his heart beating faster in his chest, butterflies racing in his stomach, he wanted to be the one on the receiving end of that kind of a look. He was utterly lost in his romantic thoughts until the couple kissed, the church erupting in applause and you were tugging him to stand, cheering to celebrate their new union.

He managed to keep his cool throughout dinner, though he got a little misty eyed when the speeches started. Out of pure instinct you were cuddled into his side, the more intimate and loving the stories and speeches got, the closer the two of you got to each other. There was nothing either of you wanted than to be with each other and this celebration of love was solidifying it.

The two of you were up on the dance floor, encouraging your nieces and nephews to burn off all the sugar from the cake dancing around as wildly as they could before having to leave. A slow song started and you thought for a moment you were leaving the dance floor until Rafael grabbed your hand, a sparkle in his eye as he twirled you under his arm and then his other hand slid around your waist, leading you in a slow rhythm around the dance floor. A blooming of happiness started in your chest as your cheek rested next to his, small smile on both of your cheeks as you danced.

“You’ve been quiet,” you murmured, “not having any fun?”

“Quite the opposite.” He chuckled, his lips brushing your cheek.

“Then what’s going on in that brain of yours, hmm?”

“I’ve been thinking.”

“About?” You asked, your head coming to rest on his shoulder.

“You.” He replied, his hand rubbing at the small of your back, “love. This.” You felt his hand come off your back, gesturing to the room, “How beautiful it is. How beautiful you are. How happy I am with you, and that I want that kind of happiness forever. That I want this. With you.”

“Careful Rafael, this is starting to sound like a proposal.” You teased from your spot on his shoulder, feeling his chest rumble as he chuckled.

“Never. That would be incredibly inappropriate, I’m not one to steal someone’s moment.”

“Sure.” You laughed and he playfully rolled your eyes as you lifted your head up. The hand he had holding yours moved to cup your face as you stepped even closer together. His eyes gazed into yours with nothing but absolute adoration.

“But believe me when I say this, I’m going to marry you one day and one day soon.” His thumb brushed over your cheek and you felt a dopey smile take over your lips, “our own special day where I get to tell everyone just how much I love you, how I’ve loved you since the moment I met you, how you deserve the entire world and I got so incredibly lucky because you chose me.”

“And I would a million times over.” Leaning in you pressed your lips to his, a small sigh relaxing both of you into the kiss as you continued to sway. Your cheek came to rest against his once more, his hand briefly cupping the back of your head before moving back to your waist. “Because I love you Rafael, more than anyone in the world. I’m lucky to have you to love.”

“I love you too.”

He pressed a tender kiss to your temple, continuing to guide you around the dance floor until the song came to an end. For the third time today he found a misting of happy tears in his eyes, the same ones reflecting in yours except this time it was because of your own love, your own little secret that no one else in the room knew quite yet. That not only did you have a future together but he was going to be able to call you his wife, and that meant the entire world to him.

____________

@fandom-princess-forevermore @bisexualcrowley @detective-giggles @plaidbooks @averyhotchner @beccabarba @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy @prurientpuddlejumper @letsdisneythings @neely1177 @mrsrafaelbarba @lv7867 @bisexual-dreamer02 @skittle479 @amelia-song-pond @madamsnape921 @altsvu @svulife-rl @caracalwithchips @mysticfalls01 @ssaic-jareau @barbasbodaciousbeard @alwaysachorusgirl @beardedbarba @michael-rooker @rafivadafreddy @darkheart-brightsmile @australiancarisi @tinyboxxtink @ex-uallyactive @lawandorderuswnt @lustvolle-liebe @sia2raw @narvaldetierra @dxtery @lannister-slings-and-arrows @poisonedcrowns @anlin2058 @xoxabs88xox @momlifebehard @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @godard-muse @somethingimaginative17 @alexxavicry @dextur @onmykneesformarvel @kmc1989 @valentinesfrog @silversprings-mp3 @wittygutsy @gamma-rae-bursts @int4n @just-moondust @deanwinchestersgirl87 @bubbleswrld

[olderwomenenthusiast]

EMILY PRENTISS

UNCOVER AFTERMATH

DESCRIPTION: emily reminds you who you belong to after being undercover

GAME OF POWER

DESCRIPTION: emily finally as her way with you & vice versa

DRINKS, KISSES & THE MORNING AFTER

DESCRIPTION: the tension between emily and you finally snaps

PULLING RANK

DESCRIPTION: emily pulls rank on you during and arguement at home

SPENCER REID

SOUTHERN ACCENT

DESCRIPTION: spencer is fascinated, maybe more than by your southern accent

TELL ME IN THE MORNING

DESCRIPTION: you make sure spencer tells you his confession when he's sober

JEALOUSY & CONFESSION

DESCRIPTION: you speak to jj about your jealousy and in return, encourages you

ALEX CABOT

SHE'S IN CONTROL

DESCRIPTION: you were meant to be focusing on the team's meeting but alex made sure you were only focused on her

LESSON IN CONTROL

DESCRIPTION: alex is in complete control over your body

CALEX

THE CHOICES WE MAKE

DESCRIPTION: casey has to choose between her girlfriend, alex or her new job offer

TOO LATE

DESCRIPTION: casey wants alex but she's too late

MORNING BLISS

DESCRIPTION: casey has her way with alex in bed and in the shower

CASEY NOVAK

UNDER PRESSURE

DESCRIPTION: casey arrives at your house insistent on making you pay

MELISSA SCHEMMENTI

THE GAMES WE PLAY

DESCRIPTION: you and melissa play this game where you constantly mess with each until one day you take it too far

FINALLY GETTING HER ATTENTION

DESCRIPTION: you really want melissa to pay attention to you

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Take Me Out to the Ball Game

Casey Novak x autistic fem!reader Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. Graphic sex, oral, fingering, language, homophobia, homophobic slurs. Word count: 2,443 "Onions and relish!?" you observed, watching Casey scoop condiments onto a ballpark hot dog. Your face screwed up. "Gross."

"I've got highbrow taste," Casey retorted, glancing at yours. "And you shouldn't talk. Ketchup and mustard? Are you five?"

"It's a classic," you argued, both pushing your way through the crowded line of Yankees fans waiting for their own ballpark snacks.

You returned to your seats, up in the nosebleeds along with a scattering of other die-hard baseball fans, the humming of a summertime crowd and the buzzing of the lights wrapping around you like a blanket. You heard the crack of a bat, and both you and Casey froze, watching the field.

"Yes!" you yelled, pumping your fist in the air as your team–the Cardinals–drove in another run. "Fuckin' Redbirds!"

Normally, you'd be a lot more self-conscious about drawing attention to yourself in a crowd like this–almost exclusively Yankees fans, including your girlfriend. When the Yankees weren't playing the Cardinals, you wore some of Casey's Yankees gear and cheered them on with her. But the Cardinals? They'd been your family's team for generations. You'd grown up on Pujols and Molina and Wainwright, and you were nothing if not loyal. But in this crowd, you stood out amongst the black-and-white like a red thumb. Casey had looked embarrassed, and you'd worried for a moment that she really was bothered by your vocal support of the away team.

"Am I embarrassing you?" you'd asked.

"Yes."

"In a bad way?"

Casey looked at you and smiled at your serious expression. "No, honey. Like, embarrassing but it's endearing. Does that make sense?"

You thought about it for a moment. "I think so. You would tell me if I was bad embarrassing?"

"I would," she confirmed, patting your hand.

It was one of your favorite things about Casey that she was so patient when you misread or didn't understand social cues. She never made fun of you. She always explained, and she always reassured you when you were afraid you'd done something wrong.

But this time it was definitely Casey who had done something wrong. You watched her shove a bite of hot dog into her mouth, beautifully messy, as always when she wasn't at work.

"Your whole mouth is gonna taste like pickles for the rest of the night," you muttered, taking a bite of your own hot dog.

She looked at you, smirking. "And why are you so concerned about my mouth, huh?"

You blushed. "No reason..."

"Mmhm." She took another bite, smug, then grasped your chin, pulling you to her for a kiss. Her lips were salty with sweat, and she smelled like the ballpark dust and the leather of her glove. She was intoxicating, but then you always felt lightheaded when Casey kissed you. Something about the stadium lights and the summer heat just made you that much more dazed.

"That's fuckin' hot," you heard someone say behind you. You shrank and glanced back, Casey's hand squeezing yours protectively. Two men, unshaven, with beers to go with their beer bellies, leered at you from the row behind.

"Nobody asked you, asshole," Casey shot back, flipping him off. You avoided eye contact with them, trying to make yourself smaller. Having grown up in the south, you'd been in enough unsafe situations because of your sexuality that your go-to defense was to ignore and hide. Casey's was not. She was tall and strong, and she'd grown up with absolute confidence in who and what she was.

Your nostrils flared in disgust as one of the men licked his lips, raking his eyes up and down Casey's body.

"What's a hot piece like you doing with a dyke? You oughta let a real man take you for a spin."

Casey stood and pushed him–hard. The man reeled, sloshing his beer all over his front. "You better shut your fucking mouth or I'll shut it for you," she growled.

The man's arm shot out, grabbing Casey by the back of her head. He dug his fingers into her hair to pull her closer. "That's okay, honey," he said. "I like 'em feisty."

Any fear you had dissipated into white hot anger as you watched, as if in slow motion. You, however, were not stuck in slow motion. Without thinking, you lunged forward, grabbed the man's wrist, and wrenched it back until he squealed. You shoved Casey behind you.

"Get your fucking hands off her!" you spat, puffing yourself up as you stood between him and your girlfriend. Which, considering your diminutive height, probably didn't do a whole lot to deter him.

Your teeth clenched and your whole body buzzed with rage. It took a lot to make you angry, but you were spitting angry now. All you knew was that no one–no one–was going touch Casey on your watch.

The man laughed, knocking your cap off your head with a swipe of his finger. "And what are you gonna do about it, Tiny Tim? Or should I say Tiny Tina?"

Without warning and, for once, without considering the consequences, you slammed your first into his groin as hard as you could which, considering you played softball, was pretty damn hard. It was a perk of your height that you were at the optimal angle to punch someone in the dick.

The man doubled over, coughing, and spilled the rest of his beer. "Fuckin' dykes," he muttered. He motioned to his friend, cupping his balls, and they sidled off. Probably looking for another section to harass women in.

You let out a shaky breath and turned to face Casey, your heart beating rapidly as the adrenaline faded and the nerves returned.

"Are you okay?" you asked, frantically looking her over, placing a gentle hand at the back of her head where the man had grabbed her.

You hardly noticed Casey watching you, biting her lip. You were too concerned with making sure she was safe and unharmed. As you rambled, checking her hands and neck and hair and face for any signs of hurt, Casey stared.

Finally, she interrupted you. "Y/N."

You stopped and made yourself meet her eyes.

"I think we should go." She looked at you pointedly.

You face fell. "Oh, love. I'm so sorry. We can go home if it'll make you feel better."

"No, that's not why."

A look of confusion crossed your face.

"We should go home because we have things to do."

You furrowed your eyebrows. "I don't understand what you're saying, Casey."

She stepped closer, placing your hat back on your head and her arms on your shoulders. Her expression was self-satisfied as she leaned in, so close you could feel her breath, and whispered into your ear.

"Y/N," she breathed. "I need to do things. To you. Now."

"Oh," you said, the realization hitting you. "Oh my god. Okay."

You started gathering your things, then stopped and glanced at her. "From this? Really?"

"Y/N," she said, cheeks already flushed. "Don't make me wait. I'm gonna have a hard enough time making it home."

You tried to hide the mixture of shock and excitement on your face as you left the stadium, walking by the now abandoned concession stands and into the quiet parking lot.

"What's the alternative?" you asked her as you climbed into the driver's seat.

"What?"

"To making it home. You said you were gonna have a hard time making it home. But, like, where else would we–"

You were cut off by Casey's lips on yours, her breath hot and desperate as she grabbed your collar. She slid her tongue into your mouth, her teeth clacking against yours as she surged toward you, pushing for more.

When you separated, you both breathed heavily. Casey's face was flushed with lust. "If it were up to me," she said, leaning back in the seat. "I would've fucked you in the ballpark bathroom. I'd take you right here in the car. But I know that's not your style, so for the love of god..." Her eyes bored into you. "Drive."

Usually a slow driver, you made it back to Casey's apartment in record time. And, true to her word, Casey did have a hard time making it to the apartment, stopping at every chance she got–stoplights, outside the car door, in the elevator, the hallway–to kiss your neck, your mouth, undoing buttons of your Cardinals jersey as you went. Her hands slipped inside your shirt whenever you stopped for so much as a second.

When she finally got you into her bedroom, she was ravenous, tugging your clothes off and tossing them to the side with a singular focus. Her eyes were glazed and her face red as she struggled with your bra clasps.

"Fucking hell," she muttered, her fingers fumbling.

"Jesus, Casey," you said, reaching back to do them for her. "Calm down."

She groaned, letting her eyes rove over your now nude body, pushing you gently but forcefully on your back. She pecked you on the lips, then took your bottom lip between her teeth. You gasped, filled with both pain and pleasure. When she let you go, she was grinning.

"I'm gonna make you feel so..." She kissed your neck. "Fucking." Your collarbone. "Good." She lowered herself over you and pressed her mouth into yours, breathing you in, letting her tongue roam freely.

You moaned, arching your back. "Don't hold back on me now," she growled, leaving bite marks down your neck and across your chest. Usually quiet, you gave yourself permission to make some noise. After all, it drove Casey crazy.

"Fuck, Casey," you whined as she swirled her tongue across your nipples, first one and then the other, her hands pressing just above your hips. You writhed into her, squirming for more, your center already sopping wet.

"Tell me what you want," Casey said, trailing her tongue from your chest down to your stomach.

You struggled against her hands, pressing you into the bed. "Come on," you complained, nearly begging.

"Tell me," Casey said again, more forcefully, her fingers grazing over your clit.

You saw stars. "Fuck me."

Casey chuckled, her low voice vibrating against your already swollen clit. "That's my girl."

You gasped as she sucked your clit between her lips, swishing her tongue back and forth, back and forth. Her arms pinned your thighs in place, holding your writhing body tight. You heaved and moaned as you pushed Casey's head into your center. Her hair was soft and damp with sweat under your fingers, and you felt desperate for her as you chased your high.

She waited until you were nearly bursting, your breath hitching and your back arched against her, then pulled quickly away, wiping her mouth.

You gasped frantically. "What the fuck, Casey!?"

"Shh," she commanded, crawling back up your body and grabbing your chin. She straddled your hips, her own soaked center resting over yours.

"Casey, please," you begged, your eyes fluttering shut, the need of her flooding you.

"Don't close your eyes, honey. Look at me."

You huffed but opened your eyes, staring defiantly into hers, green and hungry and lustful.

She held your face still with one hand, then crept back down your body with the other. You let out a moan, squirming.

"Now arch your back for me," she said, the heel of her palm pressing hard into your clit.

Your body nearly exploded with the sensation, and you thrust into her with everything you had. You grabbed at Casey, pulling her into you, elated to know that she was using you, too, unable to put off her own pleasure any longer.

Your breath came faster and faster, your body jerking into Casey as Casey thrust toward you. You watched each other, both on the brink of losing control. Casey moaned, shutting her eyes briefly before squeezing your chin and staring at you.

"Now," she said.

And that one word was all it took. Your body shook against Casey's, your hips riding into her again and again, desperate for the friction as you moaned. She did the same, her nails digging into the skin at the top of your throat as she rode out her own orgasm. It felt like the two of you were hurtling across space, starbursts and supernovas and whole galaxies flashing inside you as you held onto one another. You quivered against her as the fireworks dissipated, spent and sweaty and heaving.

Casey grinned and planted kisses across your collarbone, counting. "One. Two. Three..."

You laughed and groaned. "Casey," you protested.

She'd discovered early on that, if she timed it right, she could make you come indefinitely. The only thing that stopped her was you getting overstimulated.

"Twenty-two," she finished and, once again, pressed the heel of her hand into your clit, harder and harder until she had you ready again, your hands grasping the bedsheets.

Your orgasm washed over you again, like a wave this time, pouring over you from head to toe.

Casey started in again, this time with her lips at the back of your knees. "One. Two..."

By the fifth round, you were nearly delirious, and Casey was salivating.

"Casey," you groaned, your body still pressing into her hand, almost against your will. "It's too much."

"Come on, sweetheart," she said, kissing you roughly. "Give me one more."

She continued grinding her hand into you, meshing her lips with yours, her tongue roving. Your breath caught and you moaned into her mouth, your orgasm taking you over one final, quaking time.

Casey cradled your head in the crook of her arm as you continued to shake, finally letting you relax.

"Thank you," she whispered, peppering your face with kisses.

You scrunched your nose. "For what? Letting you beat your record?"

"Well, that, too." She chuckled, deep and throaty, then brushed your sweaty bangs out of your face. "For protecting me. From that asshole."

You turned to her and tucked her hair behind her ear, running your thumb across her eyebrow.

"I would die before I let someone hurt you." Your voice was so quiet that, had anyone else been in the room, even they wouldn't have been able to hear. But you did. And Casey did.

She looked at you for a moment, then leaned down and kissed your forehead, hard and purposeful.

"I love you," she said.

"I love you, too."

You lost yourself in her arms for a bit as she ran a hand absentmindedly through your hair.

"We should go to more baseball games," Casey mused after a while.

You laughed. "Only if there's no relish involved."

"Deal."

[undercoverprentiss]

hands on lesson ᯓᡣ𐭩 c.novak

PAIRING: casey novak x pornstar!fem!reader

TEASER: You lean in, licking up the length of her slit before sucking her clit into your mouth, flicking your tongue over the swollen bud. Casey screams, her hands flying to your hair, gripping hard, holding you against her like she never wants you to stop.

Her thighs clamp around your head, her pussy pulsing around your fingers, and you love it—love the way she’s falling apart for you, love the way she can’t control the wrecked little sounds spilling from her lips.

CONTENT WARNINGS: fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving), swearing, both are drinking, face riding

Casey’s apartment is dimly lit, the air thick with whiskey and unspoken tension. The ice in her glass clinks as she takes another slow sip, trying to act casual, but she’s been restless all night—stealing glances at you, shifting in her seat, lips parting like she wants to say something but can’t quite bring herself to do it.

You stretch out on her couch, one leg draped lazily over her lap, watching her struggle. It’s fucking adorable.

"Okay, Novak." You smirk, tilting your glass in her direction. "You’ve been looking at me like I just perjured myself in court. What’s up?"

She lets out a sharp breath, swirling the amber liquid in her glass before finally meeting your gaze. "I have… questions."

Your brow arches. "Questions?"

"About your job."

Oh. Ohhh.

A slow grin spreads across your lips. "Are you telling me you’ve been watching my videos, Counselor?"

She groans, tipping her head back against the couch. "God, don’t say it like that."

"Like what?" You lean in, letting your voice drop lower, sultry, teasing. "Like you’ve been getting off to me? Like you’ve been watching me fuck other people and wondering what it’d be like if it were you?"

Her jaw tightens, but the pink creeping down her throat betrays her.

"I just—" She exhales sharply. "I have been watching. And I don’t understand how you do some of the shit you do."

You chuckle, licking your lips. "You wanna learn?"

She swallows hard. "I—I wouldn’t even know where to start."

Lucky for her, you’re an excellent teacher.

You set your glass down and shift, straddling her lap in one slow, deliberate motion. Casey stiffens, hands hovering near your hips like she doesn’t know if she should grab you or shove you off. But the moment you grind down, just enough to let her feel the heat between your legs, her grip tightens, fingers digging into your waist.

"Lesson one," you murmur, threading your fingers into her hair, tilting her head back just enough to bare her throat. "Kissing."

Her lips part like she wants to argue, but you don’t give her the chance. You kiss her soft, slow, teasing, barely touching, just a whisper of breath and heat. Casey shudders beneath you, then chases your lips, desperate, groaning into your mouth when you finally let her have you.

She tastes like whiskey and something sweet, and fuck, she kisses like she argues—stubborn, passionate, full of fire. You drag your tongue along her bottom lip before sucking it into your mouth, making her whimper.

"Fuck," she breathes when you pull back, lips swollen, her pupils blown wide.

You smirk, rolling your hips against her again. "Yeah, baby. We’re just getting started."

Her head tips back against the couch, eyes half-lidded, already drunk off you. But you’re nowhere near finished.

"Lesson two." You pop open the buttons of her blouse, one by one, teasing your fingertips along the soft, freckled skin you reveal. "Confidence. Taking what you want."

"I want—" Her voice catches as you push her shirt off her shoulders, exposing smooth, warm skin. You trail slow, open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone, biting just enough to make her squirm.

"Tell me," you murmur against her skin, lips ghosting over the swell of her breasts. "Use your words, Counselor."

She shudders, nails pressing into your thighs. "I want you to fuck me."

You grin against her skin. "Good girl."

Sliding down her body, you tug at the zipper of her skirt, yanking it off along with her panties, until she’s completely bare beneath you. Your breath catches in your throat.

Holy fuck.

Casey’s pussy is soaked, slick glistening in the low light, her folds already swollen and flushed a deep pink. Her clit is hard, peeking out from between soft, wet lips, and fuck—you want to ruin her.

"You’re so wet for me, Case," you murmur, dragging your fingers through the mess between her thighs. She whimpers, hips jerking at the lightest touch.

"Shut up," she pants, but her voice is shaky, desperate.

You smirk, circling her clit with your thumb as you slide two fingers through her slick folds, teasing. "Soaked, baby. You must’ve been thinking about this all night."

She gasps as you push one finger inside, then another, stretching her open. She’s tight, hot, so fucking warm, and you groan at how she clenches around your fingers, sucking you in like she was made for this.

"Jesus," she chokes out, thighs trembling around your hand.

"God, you feel good," you groan, curling your fingers inside her, searching—there.

Her entire body jerks, a strangled moan ripping from her throat as you press against that sweet spot, slow and relentless.

"Fuck—fuck—fuck," she gasps, back arching.

You lean in, licking up the length of her slit before sucking her clit into your mouth, flicking your tongue over the swollen bud. Casey screams, her hands flying to your hair, gripping hard, holding you against her like she never wants you to stop.

Her thighs clamp around your head, her pussy pulsing around your fingers, and you love it—love the way she’s falling apart for you, love the way she can’t control the wrecked little sounds spilling from her lips.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?" you murmur, voice muffled against her soaked cunt.

"Yes—fuck—don’t stop—"

You don’t. You curl your fingers harder, fucking into her deep and fast, tongue flicking over her clit, relentless, until—

"Oh my fucking God—"

She shatters.

Her body tenses, then breaks, pussy clenching down around your fingers as she cums hard, her entire body shaking. She sobs your name, bucking against your mouth, riding the waves of her orgasm as you work her through it, dragging it out until she’s a trembling, whimpering mess beneath you.

Finally, when she’s too sensitive to take any more, you ease your fingers out, pressing a final kiss to her clit before sitting back, licking her wetness from your fingers as you watch her struggle to catch her breath.

"Lesson three," you murmur, voice dark and sweet. "Stamina."

Casey’s eyes flicker open, and fuck—there’s something dangerous in them now.

"Oh, you’re so fucked," she growls, yanking you onto your back.

Casey stares down at you, chest rising and falling, her lips still swollen from your kisses, her thighs trembling from the orgasm you just dragged out of her. But there’s something new in her eyes now—determination, a fire that wasn’t there before. She looks like she wants to tear you apart.

"You think you’re in charge here?" she mutters, voice wrecked but still full of that stubborn fire.

You smirk, dragging your fingers up her inner thighs, feeling her shudder at your touch. "I know I am, baby."

Before she can argue, you grab the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head, tossing it aside, leaving yourself bare from the waist up. Casey’s gaze drops to your tits, her lips parting slightly as she takes you in.

"Like what you see?" you tease, reaching for the button of your jeans.

Instead of answering, she grabs your waistband and yanks, helping you shove them down along with your panties, until you're as naked as she is. The second your clothes hit the floor, she’s on you, pressing her body against yours, kissing you hungry and desperate. Her hands are rough, fingers digging into your sides as she grinds against your bare skin, letting you feel just how wrecked she still is from your mouth.

You let her take control for a moment, let her get lost in it, before you pull back, gripping her jaw and tilting her head up to meet your gaze. "You’re not done learning yet, Counselor."

Her breath stutters, but she doesn’t pull away.

You push her back just enough to maneuver yourself onto the chair, reclining against the cushions, spreading your legs, your bare, wet pussy on display for her. Casey’s eyes darken, locked onto you, her hands clenching at her sides like she’s fighting the urge to touch.

"Come here," you command, voice smooth and firm.

She swallows, then obeys, climbing onto the chair with you, straddling your stomach.

"No," you correct, grabbing her hips and shifting her up—higher, higher, until her knees are planted on either side of your head. You tug her forward until her soaked pussy hovers just above your mouth, her scent thick, sweet, making your mouth water.

"Sit," you order, voice husky.

Her breath catches. "I—I don’t wanna smother—"

You laugh, low and sinful, squeezing her thighs. "Baby, I want you to use me." You slide your hands up her body, cupping her breasts, thumbs circling her nipples. "I want you to ride my fucking face."

Casey whimpers, then slowly lowers herself onto your mouth. The moment her slick heat presses against your lips, you groan, dragging your tongue through her folds, savoring the taste of her. She’s so wet, dripping for you, her pussy soft and hot and perfect.

You press your tongue flat against her clit and suck.

"Fuck!" Casey shudders, hands flying to the back of the chair, gripping for balance as she grinds against your mouth, her thighs tightening around your head.

"That’s it," you murmur between flicks of your tongue. "Take what you need."

She does.

She moves hesitantly at first, rolling her hips, rubbing her swollen clit against your tongue, testing. But then she gets bolder, her rhythm growing rougher, more desperate. You let her use you, let her chase the pleasure, drinking down every drop of her slick, tongue fucking into her before dragging back up to her clit, making her sob above you.

You reach up, cupping her tits, rolling her stiff nipples between your fingers. Casey gasps, arching her back, pushing into your hands, her moans turning needy, helpless.

"Oh my God," she whimpers, voice shaking, her hips jerking against your mouth. "I—fuck, I’m gonna—"

You pinch her nipples hard and suck her clit into your mouth at the same time.

Casey screams.

Her entire body locks up, thighs clenching, pussy gushing against your tongue as she cums, grinding through it, riding your face like she can’t stop, like she’s never felt anything this good before. Her breath is ragged, shattered, and you keep your mouth on her, keep teasing her through every wave, until she’s whimpering, twitching, completely wrecked above you.

Finally, she collapses, sliding off your mouth, her body limp and spent.

You lick your lips, grinning. "Now you’re learning, Counsellor."

[naturesapphic]

I’d love an angst/comfort filled Olivia Benson x reader if you’re willing!

Olivia pulls reader into her office after noticing she’s been a little off, distant and disengaged with the rest of the squad. Reader reluctantly opens up on an incident from a couple of days prior, at a school reunion. (Incident being someone made unwanted advancement at reader, groping her and making her touch them.) She tells Olivia nothing more happened because she finally broke free and left. She starts crying from all the overwhelming emotions and Olivia reminds her she did nothing wrong and is there for her.

High School Reunion

Olivia benson x fem!reader

Warnings: groping, little bit of SA, Olivia being a protective sweetheart

Olivia knows you. Too well to be exact. You are her best detective and her partner. She knows you inside and out and knows that something isn’t right. You’ve been distant and quiet from everyone, especially her. She wants to give you your space but ever since you’ve been back from your high school reunion it’s been like you’ve completely changed into a different person. “Y/n? Can you come inside my office for a second please?” She called out for you.

You slowly got up from your desk and walked over to her. She gave you a loving look and helped you inside as she shut the door. She motioned for you to sit on the couch and she followed behind, sitting close to you but not too close since she wants to give you some space. “What’s been going on? You’ve been distracted and barley been focusing. You know you can tell me anything.” She gently asked you and your eyes fill up with tears. You didn’t mean for all this to happen. You were trying to stay normal about it but of course your boss/girlfriend would know something was up.

She’s a captain and before that she was a detective! You couldn’t hide anything from her. Olivia noticed how your eyes filled up with tears and she felt her heart drop. She didn’t understand what happened but she was going to figure out soon. “You know you can tell me anything y/n/n…” she said as she gently grabs your hands in hers and gives you a reassuring look. You take a deep breath in and you start to tell her what happened.

~ flashback ~

Today you were going to your high school reunion. You let liv know about where you were going as she let you get off work since there was no new cases to worry about. You were a bit hesitant to go without her but you knew she had a bunch of paperwork to do so hopefully in the next one she could make it.

Walking into your old high school felt so weird. You couldn’t believe ten years has past by so quickly but at the same time you could. You saw some of your old classmates and friends and went over to them to mingle. After awhile you felt a presence staring at you from afar. You turned around and saw that a boy from your school was eyeing you up and down.

You knew that years ago that he had a big crush on you but he never made any attempts to do anything about it but honestly you were glad he didn’t. You always got a bad feeling from him and you still do now. Feeling uncomfortable, you tell your friends you are going to head to the bathroom right quick. You head inside the ladies room and splash some water on your face.

You hear the bathroom door open and assume it’s one of your friends checking on you but it’s the boy from earlier. You felt your whole body freeze up as he comes closer. You can see him talking but you don’t hear anything besides the beating of your own heart thumping in your ears. He comes up behind you and starts groping your everywhere and make unwanted advances and movements towards you.

You felt so disgusted but yet your body still wouldn’t let you move. You felt his hand grab yours and you look down to where he was going and your eyes widen. You snatched your hand away and turn around to slam your foot against his balls. He screams out and falls to his knees, grabbing his area while you flee out of the bathroom.

You didn’t tell your friends or teachers goodbye as you run out of there as fast as you could. What would the squad think of you? What would Olivia think? Will she leave you? You couldn’t think straight as you ran towards your car and drive home.

~ flashback over ~

“Nothing more happened before I broke free, but that’s what happened…I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner!” You say as you start crying hysterically. Olivia pulls you into her strong comforting arms and holds you close. “Hey hey shhhh…you did nothing wrong babygirl…I’m so proud of you.” Olivia whispers against your ear. “You have nothing to be ashamed about princess…” she spoke again and you nod against her as your cries turn into little sniffles.

You raise your head up and look into her eyes. She flashes you a small but reassuring smile that everything will be alright. Finn opens the door and his eyes widens at the scene of your red teary face and the look of anger in Olivia’s eyes. “Everything alright?” Finn asks as he looks between the two of you. “We’re fine. Just another case we have to do.” Olivia states as she pulls you closer to her side and gives Finn a little nod that he understands and recuperates.

Finn closes the door and Olivia puts her attention and focus back on you. “We are going to find and get this guy I promise my love. No one hurts you and gets away with it.” She says with a hint of sternness in her voice but not directed towards you. Never. You nod and snuggle in closer to her, you knew that y’all have loads of paperwork to do but those will be done later. Right now, Olivia will hold you however long you want. She will always be there for you, every step of the way.

A/n: thank you for this request anon and I hope you like it! And I hope the rest of y’all enjoy it too! Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y’all!

[rqgnarok]

a house upon the hill - nolan price

love you better now (sequel, original work)- leave a light on (prequel part 1) - this work is prequel part 2 but can be read individually!

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

wc: 8,838

warnings: conversations about ptsd and ptsd episodes, aftermath of a traumatic event. canon presence of injuries, blood, violence, weapons, and hospitals. female reader

summary: after being shot and waking up in the hospital, the relief of your survival is short-lived.

ao3 / masterlist / buy me a coffee!

author's note below!

The relief of your survival is short-lived.

You’re tired and in pain, the doctors slowly wear you off the meds and your answers to how are doing? gets shorter and shorter to anyone who asks. Your grip around Nolan’s hand tightens further every time someone comes and goes, and by the time you’re leaving the hospital the bags under your eyes are prominent, your cheeks sharper than they were when you first got there. 

Nolan, the trooper, writes down and listens carefully to all the instructions given to him about your care. He packs your bags with all the things he brought from your appartment and the get-well-soon gifts given by family and friends. He doen’t notice you shifting restlessly as he struggles to manhandle the wheelchair, regarding it with distrust.

“Okay,” he says faux brightly, hands at his hips and looking between you and the wheelchair. “You ready to get out of here?”

Your smile is brittle as you nod. That should be Nolan’s first clue, how you don’t rise to the banter at the first chance of it. “Alright, come here. The nurse will kill me if I let you pop your stitches.”

Your jaw tightens but you go, holding onto Nolan and digging your fingers into his arms when you rise off the bed and your body feels like it’s being lit on fire. You curse under your breath and Nolan catches it, tries to meet your eye while you struggle to conceal how much you’re hurting.

“If you need a second–”

“I’m fine.”

“Honey, you can’t push yourself too hard,” he reminds you as if you don’t know. “This type of thing doesn’t heal overnight. We can take as long as you need.”

“I just want to go home,” you say, and it sounds so much like begging it makes you sick, makes you mad. “Just– can you just help me out here, please?”

“You just gotta–”

Your reply is biting. “I know, Nolan.”

The room is engulfed by silence. His hands tense where they’re holding you but to Nolan’s credit, he doesn’t let go, even if his mouth is now set in an upset, even line.Your guilt rises like waves but your annoyance drowns it out, and there’s no apology made as you finally sit in the wheelchair, exhaling in relief. 

Nolan doesn’t let go until you’re settled in nicely, and even then he remains close; gripping the handles of the chair and standing behind you where you can’t see him.

You’re buried under two sweatshirts and a coat, but the lack of touch leaves you cold nevertheless. 

Your almost-month long stay at the hospital has left your home rotting in neglect. Your furniture lays under a thin layer of dust and the dishes from your last dinner together are still in the dishwasher. The dirty laundry hamper is about to blow.

Nolan appears sheepish when your eyes inevitably go towards the chaos, expression unreadable. He’s got his arm around your waist and his grip is tight as you make your way through the apartment. “I was hoping for time to clean up a little before you came home, but I’ll take care of it, promise.”

“It’s fine,” you say, monotone. Nolan can’t really read into it, unsure if you mean it or not. Halfway to the bedroom, you dig your nails into his shoulder, pulling him to a stop near the couch. “This. Here. Here is fine.”

Nolan frowns disapprovingly. “You should really lay down.”

“I can lay down here,” you say, stubborn as always but through gritted teeth. “I don’t wanna go to bed, okay, just– here is fine.”

Nolan visibly disagrees but relents, his mind still stuck in the way you’d snapped at him back at the hospital. You unclench slightly when he finally stops touching you, body limp on the couch. Nolan tries not to bristle. 

It’s the first of many uncomfortable, tense interactions. You can’t move around the house on your own and stiffen whenever Nolan reaches out to support you. You’re quiet and short when you’re not, trying and failing to keep everything polite.

You drive each other crazy. Nolan works from home as much as he can and you don’t work at all. No matter how much you beg Cragen to send you some files, your day remains sans responsibilities. There are only so many reruns of Seinfeld you can stand before you’re making up a psychological profile for each of the characters just for the hell of it before you realize you’re losing your damn mind. 

“What happened?” he asks one afternoon when you don’t come out for dinner. You’re lying face down on the made bed, curtains drawn shut. When you don’t answer, don’t move, Nolan’s voice turns sharp, calling your name. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” you snap, muffled by the sheets. Your sigh takes over your entire body, pushing yourself up to glare at him. “Nothing. Fucking nothing. Cragen won’t let me back without a therapist’s okay, alright? But other than that, everything’s perfect.”

“Isn’t that standard procedure?” he asks, sitting on the bed with a bowl of pasta on his lap. Your frown deepens like he’s the one who’s keeping you locked inside the house against your will. 

“I’m fine,” you say. “Do you know how many people I’ve seen get shot in this job? I don’t see why this is necessary.”

“It doesn’t have to be a bad thing,” he says, quietly. 

“You know how department’s shrinks are,” he has never heard you speak about psychological aid with such hatred. “But Stabler used to get a pat on the back and he’d be back to work within the hour. Go figure.”

“And look how that worked out for him,” Nolan says, the wrong thing to add, he can tell, for how you settle back into bed and refuse to face him. He sighs and speaks to your back. “What else did the Captain say?”

“‘You want back on the field, come to my office with discharge papers from Dr. Masters office,” you parrot in a poor imitation of Captain Cragen. “Other than that, he’ll be sending some paperwork my way. As if that’s the fucking point.”

Nolan lets the silence stretch, unsure of how to follow up. He flinches when you turn to scream into the pillow, raw and frustrated. You say, venomous. “Motherfucker.”

He leaves your dinner on the bedside table and leaves without a word like a chastised child, feeling like he’s walking away from something bigger than your wirldwind temper. 

—

It gets better before it gets worse. There are days in which you don’t utter a single word and walk through the apartment like you’re haunting it; from bed to the living room to the kitchen, unaware or uncaring of Nolan’s presence. Others, you’re out the door as soon as you’re physically able, disappearing for hours on end, phone off to Nolan’s alarmed dismay.

He calls Liv, Cragen, Munch, anyone who knows you and has the resources to pull a nation wide man hunt until he realizes you always come back and it’s better to welcome you than drive you away by asking questions. Those conversations usually lead to one of you sleeping on the couch and your injuries are still a little too tender for Nolan to let you pass the night on that old thing. 

One night he leaves the bedroom for a glass of water and finds you standing in front of the open window in just your pajamas. The air is chilly and your skin is covered in goosebumps, but it’s the look on your face that scares Nolan the most. 

“Honey,” Nolan, bleary and confused, comes up behind you. You don’t even flinch. It wakes him up quicker than anything else ever has. Saying your name urgently, he wonders, “What are you doing? It’s freezing.”

“It’s fine,” you say, detached, not even there. You blink, staring dazedly into the night. You don’t snap out of it as he leads you back into your room. 

When he asks you about it the following morning you just stare at him, blank-faced, without a single memory of the event. 

To no one’s surprise, Dr. Masters gently refuses to sign your discharge papers after two months of leave and therapy sessions. Cragen takes one look at you and caves, albeit hesitantly, to reinstate you to a desk job as long as you follow the mandated breaks to talk about your feelings in an office that smells too much like lavender and vanilla.

You hate it. Absolutely abhor it. Dr. Masters, just like everyone else, wants you to talk about the shooting and nothing else. It doesn’t matter that your memory betrays you, keeping the event locked away in some faraway corner of your mind. According to her, refusing to acknowledge it is refusing to heal from it.

It leaves you short-fused. Home is a few curt words of polite conversation before you begin to snap, annoyed at Nolan’s placid attitude. Even the squad begins to lose their patience, you find yourself in Cragen’s office more often than not, glowering like a kid sent to the principal.

“Talk to me,” is all he says, not we’ve already been too lenient with you or shouldn’t you be over it by now? because he genuinely cares about you, which warms and enrages you all at once. 

“What,” you say, purposely dense, arms crossed defensively.

“You’re biting heads off out there like you’re a suspect for a crime,” Cragen replies, no-nonsense. “You’re not in trouble here, I just want to know what’s going on.”

“It’s not on me that no one gets shit done around here,” you lean back against the chair, tense shoulders and sweaty hands. “We wouldn’t be so slammed if you all worried about me a little less. I’m fine.”

“Right,” Cragen says, waiting you out. 

“You don’t need to walk on eggshells around me,” you continue, rough. “You can’t hurt me. I’m not gonna break, Cap.”

“Everyone keeps asking what I need– I need everyone to stop looking at me like I’m dead,” you say rushedly. You’ve started now and can’t bring yourself to stop. “I breathe a little funny and they’re on me, wanting to– to make me tea and give me casseroles that won’t fit in my fridge and ask me how I’ve been sleeping, I don’t need that shit–”

Cragen hums knowingly. Then, after a silence:

“How’s Nolan?” 

You huff. “Fine. Fine, he’s always fine. Always looking for something to do. He’s cooked more these past few months than in our entire marriage, you know?”

“He’s only trying to help–”

“I know,” you snap. Cragen only stares as you pull yourself together, filled with everloving patience. It’s why he called you in, not to reprimand or punish but to let you breathe without people accusing you of doing it wrong. 

“I know,” you say again after several exhales, closing your eyes and tilting your head towards the ceiling, avoiding his eye. “Just because he’s trying doesn’t mean it’s working.”

“Have you thought of telling him that?”

“Sure,” you snort. “‘Hey, honey, can you not ask me how my day went? I zoned out for thirty minutes at my desk and picked at my scar until I snapped myself out of it.’”

“There’s help for that, you know,” Cragen says. “I heard they call it therapy, these days.”

“Name it, I’m on it,” you reply, smiling wryly. “Physical, for anxiety, for PTSD. I should get a goddamned discount.”

The Captain doesn’t laugh. Neither had any of your therapists, for that matter. 

“I don’t want to be like this,” you continue after a moment of silence, unsure if you’re allowed, but Cragen only nods. Decades on the job have made him wise beyond his years, sometimes even to his own detriment. “You– I know what you’re all thinking–”

“I’m not sure you do.”

“–but I don’t–” your breath hitches. “If I could be over it already, I would. This isn’t any more fun for me than it is for you.”

“No one thinks badly of you for reacting to something that happened to you,” he tells you, and it’s so close to absolution you could cry right here in front of him with all your coworkers at the other side of the door. You didn’t know it was something you were seeking. 

“I can see how they look at me,” you say, quiet. “I know what they want, who they want. I just can’t give it to them.”

“What do you want?” he uses your first name and it disarms something inside of you. It’s an innocent enough question, but it reaches for your lungs and squeezes mercilessly.

“I want it to stop,” the niceties, people explaining your own PTSD to you. The racing thoughts, the breathlessness, the chest pains you haven’t been able to get rid of even if the doctor says there’s nothing wrong with you anymore. Not physically. 

You sigh and it comes out shaky. Your eyes burn. “I just want everything to stop.”

Two days later, you mistakenly say this to your therapist, who throws the question back to you with interest. “What do you mean by that? What needs to stop?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, infinitely more annoyed than when you’d been talking about this with Cragen. “Everything. Nothing. I don’t know.”

“Well, maybe you do know. And that’s what scares you, what has you lashing out over the simplest innocent things. Think about that.”

“Oh, so I’m supposed to do all of the work here? I thought you said this was a partnership.”

Dr. Masters sighs, keeping careful watch over her exasperation. She writes something down, tries again.

You leave the sessions sans any breakthroughs but with enough recommendations to implement at home in hopes of finding normalcy in your marriage once more. 

Try doing something together, the suggestion has you shifting uncomfortably in your seat. Have a movie night or breakfast together before work, host dinners with friends. Make your home yours again, is what I mean.

You try. It’s not a relaxing endeavor. God knows your work schedules suck even now that you’re both working half time, tempers gone through the shredder more than once. Still, you mention it to Liv and she suggests a double date kind of thing, and suddenly you’ve got a full dining table while a migraine inside your temples builds and builds and builds and–

“How you holdin’ up?” Brian asks casually, cutting off your racing thoughts like a record scratching. Your hands tighten around your fork and knife as you swallow down the urge to scream that washes over you at the question. 

You think about the sleepless nights and the anger that comes out of nowhere, the inexplicable lack of patience directed at Nolan despite loving him more than anything else. You wonder if Brian would understand, having been shot before. If this is a good as any place to let everything out.

The thought fades as soon as it forms.

“Working on it,” you shrug simply. “Everything hurts and therapy’s a bitch. You know what it’s like.”

Brian snorts. “Fuck yeah, I do. Last time I went down I was so restless, Liv was gonna shoot me herself.”

“Hey now,” Liv says, but she’s smiling behind her wine and has a hand on Cassidy’s knee that inches slightly higher as she teases him. “I will say, going to work sounded like a dream just to get out of the house. You’re get better, though.” 

“Hey, anything for the time off, I guess,” you say faux-brightly, a cynical twist of your lips that resembles a smile. “Next time I’ll make sure they shoot me somewhere less tedious, though.”

Brian scoffs and Liv shakes her head, but no one laughs. Nolan clears his throat after an awkward pause, obviously upset. He wipes his mouth with his napkin and leaves it gently on the table as he stands, avoiding your eye. “Excuse me.”

He walks away and closes the bedroom door gently behind him, the living room falling into uneasy silence. You pipe up with dark humor, “You think I’d get more time of if I was stabbed?”

The fight after Liv and Brian leave is a massive, unavoidable bloodbath. 

There’s relief in the heat of it all, in a fucked up way. All the pent up agression you’ve been harboring finally has an opponent, even if Nolan doesn’t know he’s bringing knives to a gunfight.

“I hate when you say things like that and you know it–”

“It was a joke, Nolan, for Christ's sake–”

“Well, it’s not funny. For none of us, Liv was there with you in the ambulance and I–”

“Oh, please, tell me how I ruined your life by almost dying,” you scoff, goading. “Please, honey, the floor is yours.”

“Stop,” he says, firm, but his voice wobbles, and his eyes fill up with tears. You hate the sight of him like this and you hate to be the one who causes it. Still, the part of you aching for chaos, for emotion, can’t help but to press at the bruise. “I’m not doing this, I’m not having this argument with you.”

“You don’t have any arguments with me!” you exclaim in disbelief. Nolan purses his mouth in discontent and look away. “You tell me how to feel, what to do, what this whole thing has been like but the second I try to have an actual conversation it’s like your eyes glaze over and you’re fucking gone–”

“You don’t know what it was like for me,” Nolan snaps, tear stained cheeks glittering against the warm light of the bedroom. He hasn’t stopped crying ever since you came home. You hear him sometimes when he locks himself in his office or in the bathroom in the middle of the night. “Getting Liv’s call, the hospital, watching you like that–”

“This didn’t happen to you, Nolan!” you scream. The world has taken a sharper edge after the shooting, and all you can do is attack it likewise. “I laid in my own blood hoping someone would notice I was gone. I wasted away in the hospital for weeks, I am living a life where not a damn thing is right!”

“I’m drowning here,” your voice breaks, losing all its volume and vehemence. “And all everyone keeps telling me is how they feel about it, how I’m supposed to be getting better. I’m not. I’m not, Nolan. For the love of God, can we make this about me for half a second?”

“You,” Nolan begins, but it gets caught up in his throat, dissolves into nothing before you can hear what it is. Nolan shakes his head, adamant. “I’m not doing this.” He gathers his things all while you desperately call his name. The door closing behind him echoes through the apartment not unlike a gunshot in your ear.

That same week, Nolan goes to therapy.

He doesn’t tell you about it, just like he hasn’t told you about the past couple of months worth of sessions. He doesn’t tell anyone, actually. It starts when a victim’s husband loses it mid trial and lounges at her killer right in front of God, the judge and a panicking Nolan. He’s sure he conceals his feelings well, yet his boss takes one look at him and stops by his office at the end of the day.

“Someone recommended him to me,” he says while Nolan traces the dark blue letters of the contact card he just handed him. “I haven’t been to him in years, but he’s good. If you don’t think he can help you then I’m sure he’ll find you someone who can.”

“I–” Nolan begins and leaves it at that. It’s such a quietly kind thing to do for him that it renders him speechless. 

“It can’t be easy,” he continues when Nolan doesn’t, endlessly patient, oddly personal. “What she went through, what you’re going through. I’m sure you’re both doing the best you can, but if you ever feel like you need more, well. It’s good to have options available.”

Everything that’s been offered the last few months; the casseroles and the rides to work, home, the hospital, a shoulder to cry on– it’s all been about you, for you. Nolan appreciates it but there’s something conditional about the whole thing, like he’s not worthy of help unless it’s somehow related to his wife. 

He loves you. By God, he loves you with everything there’s in him to the point of ruin, but this– this is for him. His boss is offering him a lifeguard he so desperately needs, and it has both everything and nothing to do with you. He gets to be selfish about this one thing, and the thrill of it drowns out the guilt he feels about leaving you in the dark. 

“Thanks,” he says, choked. Nolan clears his throat, hoping it comes out with at least some of the gratitude he’s feeling. “Thank you, sir. Thank you.”

The older man smiles, already at the door and saying his goodbyes. “See you tomorrow, Nolan.”

So Nolan goes to therapy. His first time on Dr. Rhymes’ couch he begins to weep before he can introduce himself. When he resurfaces from his grief, the man is offering him a box of tissues without a hint of judgement in his gaze. 

He gets now why you come back frustrated more times than not after a session. It’s like pulling teeth, no matter how badly he knows he needs it. But it helps more than he hoped it would and the nightmares about your death slowly lose some of its gore. His once rusted instincts coming back to its brilliance in court after a week’s worth of full night’s rest. 

He gets better. Starts to, anyways, but not you. In your dreams, you still bleed and bleed and bleed.

No one comes to get you. Liv misses the alleyway and chases after the perp, Nolan doesn’t call to wonder when you’re coming home, your gut pulsates with pain until there’s nothing but numbness, nothing but darkness, nothing left of you.

You wake up and don't know where you are. Your flail is purely instinctive, and despite the sharp pain that pulls at your chest you do so again, eyesight blurry, panic rising sharp and quick. Your entire body’s on fire but it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter because you don’t know where you are and the perp is getting away, and Liv is still blocks away and, and, and, and–

Bleeding. You’re bleeding, bleeding out and your radio’s too far away and you can see the perp running but can’t hear his steps, there’s only your heartbeat echoing in your ears and the wet taste of death in your mouth as the world fades to black around you–

Sometimes you wake up from nightmares so quietly that Nolan doesn’t notice. Your eyes are closed and then they’re not and that’s all the movement your body can produce even if your heart is hammering against your ribcage. Other nights– nights like this one– you’re drenched in sweat and sprinting to the bathroom before your stomach returns the dinner you ate mere hours ago.

You hear Nolan fussing in the bedroom and picture him as clear as day in your mind; hair rumpled from sleep and eyes bleary, creased pajamas and worry lines on his features like he was supposed to grow into them. And he’s looking for you. Always, always looking for you.

You hate doing this to him but you hate having to go through it alone more. When you feel a cool, protective hand soothe up and down your back where your shirt sticks to your skin, you sob through your gags. 

Nolan only says let it out, honey, I’ve got you, just let it go in different variations until the panic subsides. You focus on the timber of his voice, the roughness of sleep coating his vowels and the tilt of his consonants. 

The bathroom tile is rough against your knees and your mouth tastes like acid, arms shaking with the effort of keeping you upright against the toilet seat. When you’re done, you fall back to the floor and Nolan is there next to you, ready to catch you. 

He cradles you almost like one would a baby and you nestle against his chest, exhausted. 

“I’m sorry,” you croak against his heartbeat. Nolan’s hand finds the sweaty nape of your neck and massages the tension out of it, hairs sticking to his fingers. 

His soothing reply is automatic but no less honest. “It’s alright. It’s just a dream.”

“Not for this,” you correct, panting against his cotton grey shirt and reaching to hold it in a tight, shaky fist. “I mean– yes, for this, but for before. Everything. In the hospital and for fighting, for not… For everything. I’m sorry I’m like this.”

“Don’t be,” he defends, awfully vehement for a man who’s been awake for less than 10 minutes and is sitting on his bathroom floor at 4 in the morning. It’s the most emotion he’s shown since your last fight and you could weep with the relief it brings you. “Never be. You’re in pain. I’m allowed to want to help you when you’re in pain.”

“I’m tired of being in pain.”

Nolan’s chest shudders and you unclench your fist to lay your palm against it, the beat of his heart fluttering despite his calm demeanor. He shifts his hand to brush his thumb against your cheek, calming. “I know, honey. I know.”

He doesn’t say it’s okay or it’ll get better because as much as you know Nolan hopes so, it’s not the kind of thing he can promise. You wouldn’t want him to. 

The sun rises through the horizon. Nolan holds you, holds you, and holds you. 

“It’s stupid,” you say against your hands, hours later in your emergency session with Dr. Masters, wet and high-pitched. “It’s so fucking stupid.”

You don't elaborate. She  gently goads. “What is?”

“It’s so simple,” your voice drips with disbelief, muscles coiled tight. “It’s so– it was one bullet. One second, and I’m– I can’t let it go. Why can’t I let it go?”

No answer, but you don’t need it. You’re already on a roll. “I’m okay. I’m alright, I recovered. I have my job and my husband and my life back then why am I like this? Why–”

Your voice breaks, a sign of weakness you’re done trying to hide. “Do I not want it? To get better, do I not want it enough? What am I doing wrong?”

“You have to understand, this isn’t something you did,” she sighs, leaving her notebook and pen to lean in closer. “Are you listening to me? This is something that happened to you, not because of you. Healing isn’t linear, isn’t that what you always say to the victims you encounter at work–”

You sniff, sharply wiping at your nose. “Yes, but–”

“But it’s different,” she finishes for you, leaning back against her seat. “Why? Because it’s you? Because you know better since you’re a cop? Because you’re not allowed any moment of weakness in the face of adversity?”

You’re rendered quiet, almost but not quite pouting after being called out so thoroughly. Masters continues. “You keep punishing yourself for reacting to trauma in an unpredictable way. Even that in itself is predictable. There’s no rulebook for this.”

“I know,” you say like you’ve done so many times since this whole thing started, but this is different. It’s not angry or sarcastic. It feels like a tipping point.

“This happened to you. You didn’t chose it,” your therapist says. Then, carefully, like she too is aware you’re on the cusp of something that you might be, finally, ready to hear. “But what you do with it– that is up to you.”

“You got handed this ugly, terrible thing,” she continues. “It’s yours now. And you can let it take over your life or you can take it in your hands and mold it into something you can live with.”

“That’s awful,” you say; tired, honest, terrified. Why should it be up to you? Why is it your job to fix what someone else broke? Master smiles. 

“It is. It’s all work,” you say. “At least at first. And then, piece by piece, you make a life with the fragments from before. You get new ones. It’s not gonna be the same, but it’ll be yours. But work. It’s the only way out.” 

It’s all work. 

The session hollows you from the inside out and the day at the office is a blur. You get home much, much later, weary and exhausted. The sun is already deep behind the horizon and your head is filled with statistics and suspect heights, ethnicities, possible sightings…

Your eyes hurt and Nolan is already in bed, bent over his book with his glasses perched low on his nose. A lifetime ago he would’ve joked they made him look old, and you would kiss him senseless until they went askew and tell him he looked distinguished. It’s such an old, nice memory, both distant and right there for the taking. You get a little breathless just thinking about it. 

He looks up to greet you when he hears you come in, tired but genuine. You think mold it into something you can live with and make a decision. 

“Hey,” he welcomes you. “How was work?”

“I…” whatever your apprehension is, you visibly shake it off before focusing on Nolan with a sense of determination he hasn’t seen from you in a very, very long time. “I would like you to come with me. To therapy.”

“You… would?” he hates that he sounds so surprised. He places his book on the bedside table, taking his glasses off. 

You look as uncomfortable as he feels, but aren’t backing down. You lessen the chasm between you, sitting on your side of the bed and laying your palm flat on the sheets. Realization hits Nolan like a slap to the face. 

Here you are, the strange shape that is his wife after hell and back, reaching. 

“I think… there are so many things I want to tell you,” you continue slowly, the way you do when you’ve rehearsed before speaking in court as a witness, presenting the case. “that I don’t know how. And so many things you have to say that I haven’t… wanted to hear.”

“But I’m ready,” you nod, grave. “To put in the work. Or– I want to be. And I’d– I’d like you to be with me, when I am.”

“We can go to Dr. Masters or– or I’m sure there’s some names she can draw up. Couples therapy,” you rush to say when Nolan doesn’t answer, desperate for his support. “Or– I mean, maybe you wouldn’t be comfortable with that, but I was really hoping we could–”

“Okay,” it comes out quiet. His nod, though, is resolute. “Yeah.”

You blink, a little startled and hesitatingly hopeful. “You– Yeah?”

“Yes. Okay. Yes, of course.”

“Okay,” you say, relieved, as if he’d ever say no to you. You laugh a little, deflating, running a hand through your hair. “Jesus, okay. Okay.”

A beat, two. Then you say, fragile as a baby bird, breaking the silence. “I’ve been so unfair to you.”

That finally gets him moving. He says your name, devastated. He opens up his arms, surer than he’s been in months. “Come here.”

You sigh out heavily, shakily. Standing, you move to his side of the bed and fall into his arms, work clothes and all. 

“We’re alright,” he says, fingers threading into your hair. “I love you. I’m coming with you. We’re gonna be okay.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize anyways, crying into his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry, too,” his voice breaks and his arms tighten. There’s a kiss pressed to your hair that only makes you cry harder. “I’m so sorry, honey, for so many things. But we’re gonna be okay.”

It’s all, all work. 

…Mostly.

“The files are on my desk,” Nick nods dutifully as you rattle off instructions, making sure your hair isn’t messed up by your coat. “Fin knows my notes backwards and forwards, if he tries to convince you he doesn’t it’s because he’s lazy, and I already let Cap know–”

Nick laughs, saying your last name knowingly. “It’s okay. Everything’s set, there’s nothing you’ve forgotten. Go have fun for once, will you?”

“Yeah, let us live vicariously through you,” Rollins pipes up as she passes by, an overflowing evidence box in her arms. “I’d kill for a hot date with a hotter lawyer right now.”

“You’d bite his head off before the appetizers came in,” Amaro smirks at her cockily, and you roll your eyes when Rollins predictably rises to the challenge. Behind them, Fin stares at them like he’s regretting all the life choices that led him to work with these people. 

“You know what, Bernardo–” Rollins begins.

“Speaking of the devil,” Much pipes up loudly before Rollins starts humming the notes to the West Side Story score at Nick. You shoot him a grateful look but your attention is soon refocused on Nolan, who looks tall and sharp as he enters the precinct. “Good to see you, kiddo.”

“You too, old man. Hey, everyone,” Nolan smiles as he greets everyone else, though it turns shy when he acknowledges you, suddenly unaware of the rest of the room. “Hi, honey.”

“Hey, handsome,” you can’t help yourself, feeling young and foolish. “You look good.”

“Had to match you, didn’t I?” he gives you a once over, long and interested, and you’re so into it you can’t even hear your coworkers making fun of you. “You ready to go?”

“Born ready,” you wave everyone goodbye and then, as soon as you’re out of ear shot, you admit sheepishly, “I’m actually a little nervous. Is that weird?”

Nolan’s laugh is tender, relieved. “No,” he says, looking more relaxed by the admission with his arm poised while you loop your own around it, keeping him close. “I am, too. I haven’t felt like this since you kissed me for the first time.”

“I’m sorry, I kissed you?” you reply. “I very vividly remember being cut off mid sentence about serious crimes punishable by law because someone couldn’t help himself.”

“Our study sessions always were interesting,” Nolan agrees, grin boyish. “Ivery vividly don’t remember hearing you complain about it.”

“Only that it took you so long to do it,” you quip.

“Well,” he tells you as you go into the empty elevator and the doors close behind you, already drawing you in. “Who am I to keep you waiting now?”

Some other weekend, the day is bright and gorgeous and neither you nor Nolan are able to to stay in. You move your slow weekend routines out of the apartment for once, going out for brunch and bringing reading material that doesn't involve case files or suspects statements for once. 

You walk around the city with a wonder rarely available to you lately and hold each other close. Halfway through the afternoon Nolan disappears across the street in search of your favorite coffee cart, telling you to stay put with a loud kiss to your cheek that leaves you giddy long after he’s gone.

“Hey, sorry,” he says breathlessly when he comes back, carefully keeping both coffees from overflowing. “They had to make a fresh pot just now.”

“‘s alright,” you say after a beat, smiling at him with an unusual shape to your mouth. It makes Nolan pause. 

He asks, endearingly concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s–” you begin and then cut yourself off. You look around, calculating. You shake your head, hoping to drop it. “No. Sorry. I just thought–”

Your breaths come out short despite your best tries to keep the previous atmosphere going. Nolan places the coffees on the sidewalk and stands back up, already reaching. He tries to keep his tone even. Calm. “Honey. Is it okay if I touch you?”

“You– yeah,” you blink, almost surprised to see him. The words rush out of you with relief, like you weren’t sure you still had it in you to be verbal. “Yes, please. Please.”

“Come here,” it’s a relief to him too, both your answer and permission. He draws you in with a protective hand on your back and you shudder into the touch, breathing in and out slowly like Dr. Masters taught you. “Great, you’re doing great. I got you.”

“Sorry,” you says again after a while, back in your body. “I thought it was the street where…” you admit. You’re embarrassed, Nolan doesn’t have to see your face to know it. “For a second, I. I saw the alley and it’s– it was literally just that but I was sure…”

You don’t finish your sentence, drifting off, but Nolan knows you too well. Understanding dawns in and he holds you tighter, protective. The perfectly harmless landscape of the city suddenly shifts before his eyes and he starts to panic. He can’t get you out of here fast enough, but maybe if he tries… an Uber would probably be quicker than walking home…

“Nolan,” you cut off his racing thoughts, oddly comforted by the fact that you’re not alone in your freak out, even if Nolan has been rendered useless by his own agitation. “It’s okay. I was wrong, it’s not the street. I’m good.”

“We can go,” he offers, terribly disappointed that your day is about to be cut short but willing to do that and more for your wellbeing. This? In the grand scheme of things this is nothing. You were gonna spend today in bed anyways. “Or– is there something you need, do you want to call–”

“I want to stay,” you say, sure, cupping his face. Your touch helps him breathe, unclogs his throat and opens up his lungs. “I want to be here with you. I want to keep living my life even with… this. It doesn’t get to win.”

Nolan’s eyes burn, but his grin is too big for his face. He kisses you, long and deep and careless of who’s watching. It’s New York, its streets have seen far worse things than a man knee deep in love with his wife. “It doesn’t get to win,” he affirms, catching his breath. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

You grin, shaky, bright. “You’ve told me so once or twice.”

Hand on hand, you pass by the alley. The day is beautiful.  

One night Nolan gets out of the bathroom to find you already in bed, frowning at your book. He passes a towel through his wet hair as he asks, “Is it any good?”

You only keep frowning. “It’s– I mean, yeah, but I. I don’t know.”

“What?”

“Have I read this before?” you ask him, showing him the cover. 

Nolan squints, mouthing the words, then his expression clears. “Oh, I know. Did Munch give it to you?”

“Yeah,” you sound surprised. You hadn’t told him about John’s offhand gift, a tattered copy of a book he lent to you the other week. “ How’d you know?”

“He was reading it to you,” Nolan begins, then shrugs and seems to hesitate before he continues. “At the hospital.”

You make a face like you just tasted something sour. “Oh.”

“A part of you must’ve heard,” he continues, softer, searching your face for signs to shut the hell up. Other than the initial realization, he finds only pensiveness. “Must remember.”

“I don’t know,” you say, thinking of days so far away and so present still, sometimes laying between you in bed. “It’d be silly, wouldn’t it? That my brain chose to retain bits of a book I heard while unconscious rather than… you know.”

Nolan breathes in deeply, holds it, and lets it out. He tries feeling comfortable in the silence you’ve built as he thinks his words through. His therapist told him once that if he expected a fight to start out of a conversation then he’d start fighting before he realized what he was doing. He’s trying to be better.

“What do you remember?” he dares to ask. You tilt your head towards your lap, fingers running over the edges of the book to ground yourself in the movements. “About the hospital?”

Your smile is brittle and you don’t look at him when you say, “I didn’t even remember what had happened at first.”

“When I first woke up after– after. I still don’t, mostly,” He watches you, patient and encouraging even when you can’t meet his eye. “Like, you know what happened. I got shot and spent weeks in there, but I don’t– It’s pretty much a blur.”

You sigh deeply. “But I woke up and I was afraid anyways. Like my body caught up to the situation before my mind did and I just– I was in pain, and I needed to get out,” you retell. 

There’s barely a memory there; of Nolan’s hand in yours and the sheer relief in his voice, the smell and sounds of a hospital that are too familiar in your line of work. 

“Sometimes,” you begin, and that’s where you cut yourself off, turning to him and smiling, fixing the facade back on. Nolan rushes to stop you before you completely hide from him, cupping your face tenderly.

You meet his eye and you look afraid. Nolan can’t blame you, it hasn’t been long since he stopped physically fleeing the room whenever you even hinted at the shooting. But he stays rooted in his spot, even if just to prove you both wrong. 

“Sometimes?” he goads, braver than he feels. You look at him intensely for what feels a very long time, then begin to relax against his touch.

“Sometimes,” you say, slowly, like you’re still expecting him to make an excuse and leave you to your feelings. “Sometimes I feel like I’m still there,” you admit, lip wobbling. “Just. Lying there. Waiting for someone to find me. To realize something’s not right.”

Nolan’s throat closes off. You’re not talking about the hospital, he realizes as his stomach drops. You’re talking about the alleyway. 

“It’s what I dream about, usually,” you sniff. Talking about the nightmare is better than having it, but it makes you nauseous nevertheless. You breathe in and out, deeply, a couple of times before you find your words again. “I’m lying there and it takes forever for someone to find me. Sometimes no one ever does and I wake up thinking I haven’t left that alley.”

That’s where Nolan’s perspective comes into view. He watches you wake, though only sometimes because there are nights in which you refuse to bother him despite how adamant he’s been about waking him up when you need him. He watches you wake and draws you back from the metaphorical cliff into his arms and your bed. 

You’d never told him about the dreams. This is definitely a first.

He does his best to breathe, to keep eye contact. He meant it, the silent vow he made to himself when you came forward and asked him to go to therapy together. He’s through running away from this. If he keeps leaving you every time you feel like this, what makes him any different than the man who left you in that alley, fighting for your life?

He does his best. “I don’t know if I can help,” he admits shamefully, out loud for the first time but for the thousandth time to himself. “But I’m here.”

You shudder with a sniff. Shifting closer to him, Nolan takes your weight effortlessly, like this is what he was meant for. That, he’s never doubted. 

“We found you,” he continues, a comfort that works for him as he hopes works for you. “We brought you home. I know exactly where you are.”

You lose the fight and bury your face in his shoulder, shaking in Nolan’s arms for a long, long time. Crying, he can tell, but quietly. He doesn’t tell you to be loud about it if you want to. He’s done telling you how to live through your grief.

“I kept thinking of you,” you admit later, much later, into his shirt. Nolan closes his eyes, wrecked. “Of who would call you, or if you… If you’d have to… to come claim a body.”

You feel him tighten his grip around you. 

“You were the first thing I recognized,” you continue, quiet. You’re toying with his shirt, soothing your fingers over the soft, worn fabric. “When I woke up, amidst all that panic, there was you.”

You huff a laugh against him, breath warm. “I don’t know if I’ve thanked you for that lately. Calming me down. You’ve always been good at that.”

“I don’t feel like I’m doing much,” he admits shamefully. 

He feels the way you shake your head, unwavering in your truth. “You do everything. You’re everything.”

“Right back at you, honey,” he says, and you hold each other for a very long time. 

Halfway through getting your life back, almost nine months after the shooting that shattered your life to the ground, the team finds and collars the perp.

The same gun he used on you shows up in CODIS for another recent crime and you get a warning text from Fin less than ten minutes before he walks in with the suspect. Rollins is stone-faced by his side, both of them holding on to him despite his very obvious lack of struggle. 

He barely even looks at you before he’s glancing away, bored. You remain unrecognizable to him but his features spark a flash of awareness deep in your unconscious and you’re excuse yourself to go dry heave in a bathroom while he gets processed. 

Your thumb shakes over the screen of your phone, right on top of Nolan’s contact. You should just call him, you know it. You’ve done it before, and your husband would cross the city during rush hour and bend time to his will just to be by your side and hold you through the panic. 

You know, but you can’t. You’ve been doing so good lately, finally; after the year from hell your lives are finally getting a glimpse of normalcy, and this– this is a Setback. Capital S setback, and after everything you’ve put him through… God, you can’t keep doing this to him.

You won’t do this to him. You call your therapist instead and hate every single second of it, hate even more that it works; forty minutes on the phone with her and you exit the bathroom with bloodshot eyes but with your chin held high and hands steady. 

Amaro is the first to notice you and he catches your stare immediately, but he only nudges a tower of paperwork from his desk to yours and says, “You snooze, you lose, partner.”

“Dick,” you answer, your voice only a bit nasal. You’re so incredibly thankful for him that you could weep again right there and then. 

You sit to get back to work, perp nowhere in sight, and bite the inside of your cheek in thought before you pull your phone back out, sending some rapid-fire texts. 

Hey

I love you

You sigh and leaf through the papers, looking for where to start. Working through an equally ridiculous amount of files in his office across the city, Nolan’s eyebrows lift in curiosity at your  texts.

I love you too

Is everything alright?

The three dots signifying your reply appear and disappear over the course of a few moments. After a while, his phone chimes again. 

Rough day. Just wanted the reminder.

But I’m okay, I promise. 

I’ll tell you all about it at home tonight.

Nolan sighs out slowly, and trusts you. Because of it, he watches you grow into your own skin again. 

Your visits to Dr. Masters get less and less frequent and the damned paper finally gets signed. The nightmares, though not gone, lessen and don’t make you sick to your stomach anymore as you trace Nolan’s features in the dark to soothe yourself back into a slumber. You tell him everything, become more lenient with your resurfacing memories and in return, you hold Nolan as he talks about those days at the hospital and cries until he physically can’t anymore. 

It’s so familiar and so, so new. You’re who you’ve always been and yet Nolan finds himself staring at you sometimes, amazed at the differences– a woman reshaped entirely by trauma and victorious over it nevertheless. Victorious because of it.

When you drag him away from the kitchen sink where dirty dishes sit after dinner, he barely puts up a fight. Nolan eagerly follows you to the couch and sinks into your embrace when you tangle your fingers in his hair, shivering against your welcoming touch.

You’re making out like teenagers– like you used to when you were in college– with no specific purpose until Nolan starts to forget himself. His hands are around your waist, squeezing unconsciously while you, on top of him, swallow his sound of elation and run your tongue along his teeth, wet and dirty. 

Jesus, Nolan thinks unabashedly, and wants, wants, wants–

He nudges his leg between your thighs, pants uncomfortably tight, when you call his name. You’re pulling away suddenly, bringing him back from a daze, a hand tangled in his hair. Your fingers twitch with restraint as you look him over, pensive.

Nolan sighs, leaning his temple against yours and trying to get his breathing back into a less agitated rhythm. All he gets is a whisk of your perfume and the warmth of your skin, his efforts useless. 

“Right,” he murmurs, voice velvet quiet. He’s still trying to preserve the moment even after your new set of boundaries. “Right. I’m sorry.”

You haven’t gone that far since– Since. Nolan can’t recall the details of the last time you were together, one random night the week you were shot. He didn’t think he’d have to, but now he wishes he had committed the night to memory; your skin under his hands, the sounds you made, how you reached bliss together–

“Don’t be,” you say equally as lowly, pupils blown, gaze ardent. “I want…”

You drift off. It’s suddenly urgent, imperative that Nolan knows what you’re asking for, needs to give it to you immediately.

“What?” he murmurs back, thumbing at your bottom lip, bruised and kissed. Your breath is hot against his skin. “What, honey, what do you want? What can I do?”

“Kiss me again,” You say. Then, before he can comply– “Don’t– don’t stop. I don’t want you to stop.”

“You…” Nolan says, shaking his head to pull himself together, attention still hazy around the edges. Your name tastes so sweet when he says it. “You mean…”

“Please,” you whine, and Nolan’s body reacts to the sound all on its own, hips subtly canting up towards you. You press your mouth to his jaw, tongue barely caressing the skin. “Please, Nole, please keep touching me.”

Nolan curses, both at your words and the realization he might not last as long as he’d like if you keep saying these things to him. “Sweetheart. Oh, are you sure?”

Your breath hitches. “God, Nolan, more than anything else.”

“Come on. Come here,” Nolan insists, turning to kiss you so thoroughly he almost forgets the point he’s trying to make. “I’m gonna do this right, okay? We have a perfectly good bed in the other room–”

He scrambles up and takes your hand, taking you with him. You surrender to him and he kisses your hand, the crook of your elbow, your shoulder and neck, in a rush and yet wanting to make this last as long as possible. 

You laugh amidst your urgency, rich and lovely, cupping his face and kissing him soundly, rubbing against him. Nolan is a weak, weak man. 

“I love you,” you say while he buries himself inside you later in bed, sheets pooled around the both of you, and looking up at him like you can’t believe he’s real. Nolan’s on top of you and he’s got your fingers tangled together; your hands pinned against the sides of your face. They’re points of steadiness as the tension inside him threatens to snap with each thrust, however small. “I love you, Nole, I love you so much–”

He’s not ashamed to say he’s crying when he finally comes, and you cup his face in your hands with a wounded sound when you realize. You kiss him as you finally let yourself go and it tastes like victory. Like work; like blood, sweat and tears. It feels like being yourself, added scars and all, Nolan’s warmth a steady, sure thing against your side. 

started this over a year ago and it's finally yours!!! sorry i've been so absent, i've been having the worst writer's block of my life lol but i hope you love this as much as i do! let me know what you think and i hope you see more from me in the next months! thanks for reading <3

[tinkerbellini21]

All Isn't Calm, or Bright

This is my first fic, so please be gentle! I've been writing my own self-indulgent fics for years, but decided to post one to get over my fear. This is set around Christmas and reader and the SVU squad are attending a precinct party. The line "He's not good enough for you" is inspired by Lucas' line to Peyton in One Tree Hill!

Rafael Barba x Reader

Word Count: 1,043

Warnings: Rafael is a jealous dick, heartbreak, drinking, angst

Series Masterlist

____________________________________________________________

You’re leaning against your apartment door frame, fumbling with the key to the door. As the keys slip from your fingers and drop onto the floor, more tears fall down your face. You glance down at the wristlet keychain splayed out on the floor, and it takes all or your willpower to not slide down into a heap on the floor and give up alongside it.

Taking a steadying breath, you pick up the key and work on the lock again. You finally get the key into the hole after a few more attempts, twisting the door before locking it behind you. In your tear filled haze and the few flutes of champagne at the party, you forget to put the deadbolt in place. Instead, your mind is set on getting more alcohol into your system to numb the heartbreak. And a hot bath to warm you up after the three block walk in the below freezing temperature of New York.  

You find a bottle of pink moscato in your fridge and twist it open, thankful that you were still set in your old ways of drinking the cheap moscato on the average night and saving the expensive stuff for special occassions. You couldn’t remember the last time you were in the apartment this week, maybe it had been two weeks. Honestly, it didn’t matter right now- you just needed a place to sleep and some more alcohol. And now that you think of it, you could use a hot bath with the wine. 

Half stumbling through the studio apartment, you land in the bathroom. Setting the bottle on the floor by the tub, you turn the facet on. You let out a small yelp with a quick jerk of your hand as you test the water temperature, adding more cold water. Once satisfied, you lean down to grab the bubble bath from underneath the small sink to pour a large capful in. 

Sober you would have known this was a bad idea, climbing into the tub, late at night, with a bottle of wine and plenty of alcohol already in your bloodstream.

But currently, you need to find a way to relax so you don't sob yourself to death- or end up doing something you regretted. And since there were quite a few things on that said list of possible regrets, maybe it was the best choice for you to make your way to the west side of Manhattan and make questionable decisions in the comfort of your own home. 

***

You can tell who has walked up behind you based on the smell of the citrus, woodsy Terre d’Hermes cologne and the way their hands perfectly hold onto your hips. You insticinvtively lean back against Rafael as he gives a firm squeeze of your curves, the large amount of alcohol in your system inhibting your self-awareness of who may be watching. And you are sure that he has also consumed a good amount of alcohol himself. 

But as good as the moment is, it is ruined by some of the most infuriating words you have ever heard come out of his mouth being whispered into your ears. 

“Te ves hermosa, detective,” there is a pause, a subtle kiss being placed below your ear. His hot breath hits your neck, causing a shiver to roll down your spine. The smell of orange and bourbon invades your senses, a tell tale sign of the Old Fashions he must have been nursing tonight. “Pero el no es lo suficientemente bueno para ti.”

initially you are caught off guard. It takes your mind longer than normal to process the words, but once you put the pieces together, the weight of his body is gone. 

You look beautiful, detective But he’s not good enough for you.

***

With the scene replaying in your head, the barrier breaks and you sob again. You tug on the dress you bought for the special occasion, not caring if you heard any tearing sounds. You wanted to forget about the night and any reminders of it as you tossed it by the trash can in the corner.

 As the water reaches the top and you turn it off,  you sink down into the tub, hitting the water hard as some splashes over the sides. And with a laugh of indifference, you place the bottle up to your lips and give a good few gulps of the liquid. 

“That’s it, pretty girl.”

Your world is going in and out. You are in your bed, but you don’t remember getting out of the tub. Rafael stands in front of you, putting pills up to your lips. You open your mouth and let him put a water bottle up to your lips. 

Your vision flirts over to your nightstand as the water is set down, the light on the dim setting. Two used makeup wipes are in a pile. Your eyes are dry and burn. He is looking down at you, in a t-shirt and sweats. 

“You broke my heart.”

“I know,” he pauses, his fingers pushing a few wet strands of hair off of your face “you scared me falling asleep in the tub.”

Ah, that’s why you can’t remember. You fell asleep and he must have helped you stumble to your bed in a blackout state. Ooopsies.

“Is the wine gone?”

You are met with tight lips, worried eyes, and a nod. With a sigh, you slide down onto the bed. The light goes out and a few blinks, he walks off. You watch in the dark, seeing him with a pillow and blanket in his hands as he makes his way over to the couch. 

“Where are you going, don’t leave me. Please, don’t. I don’t want to feel alone anymore.”

Silence. He freezes in his spot. You take it as a sign that you’ve been rejected for the second time that night, so you roll over to start sobbing into your pillow. But when the bed dips, your tears stop. 

Wordlesly, you are pulled into his side, arm wrapped under your neck. Your fingers wrap around his hand, squeezing tightly. 

“Sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up. We can talk about it when you wake up.”

“Mmmkay," you sleepily mutter, saying words that you won't remember in the morning "I love you.”

[ihaveathingforwomen]

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Characters:

Alex Cabot

Casey Novak

A/N: This content is all 18+! If you are under 18, please be respectful and turn away until you're older. Below the cut are the content warnings for all of the fics included. Each fic will have specific warnings attached as well.

Happy October! This is my first kinktober to participate in ever and I can't wait to share with you guys everything that's coming! The full content warnings (below) will be updated with each fic release, that way you'll have a bit of an idea what you're getting into. I will also update the character list above as more fics get added. Ideally, I'm going to have a total of four fics released this month, though there are many more ideas brewing away.

Given that, this goes without saying, but this is kinktober. So some content is not going to be for everybody. Please only read what you're comfortable with, check in with yourself as needed. Otherwise, have fun!

Content Warnings: pet play, collars & leashes, somnophilia, dub con, stepcest, grooming, age gap, anal, dildos, loss of virginity, CNC themes, free use, public sex, strap ons, dom/sub dynamics.

Feral: Casey is exploring herself secretly, but Alex finds out and takes advantage of their shared secret.

Something New: Casey is overwhelmed by all of the problems in her life, including still being a virgin at 25, and her step-mother, Alexandra Cabot offers to help her resolve one her problems.

Sundress: Alex remembers one of Casey's fantasies and indulges eagerly.

[storiesofsvu]

The View

Alex Cabot x reader Warnings: language, minor teasing, smut eluded to. This was requested, i think on anon, I'm sure it isn't exactly what you wanted/expected but it's what came from the prompt lol. There will be no part two. A little bit over a drabble

Alex awoke to the sound of the shower dial squeaking, the water rushing from the showerhead slowing from a roar to a slow drip before she heard the curtain rings clanking against the rod. She rolled over to face the bathroom, avoiding the ray of sun streaming directly across her eyeline as she stretched out her body with a soft hum. Her legs shifted under the blankets, high count sheets silky against her naked skin, body slowly awakening to the delicious soreness thanks to the previous nights activities. She glanced at the clock, nearly surprised that you hadn’t decided to wake her to join you in the shower, it was later than she normally slept so she guessed she must have needed the sleep.

The curtain fluttered in the morning breeze, a gust of warm air flowing through the room and Alex couldn’t help the corners of her mouth curving up as it brushed against her bare back and she hugged your pillow tighter, rolling onto her stomach. The scent of your perfume drifted into her senses and her eyes fell shut at the memories she associated with the smell. From the other side of the wall she could hear you quietly humming to yourself, a few words slipping out of your lips every so often and she could picture you swaying your hips to the tune as you worked through your skincare routine. Alex felt the gust of warmth, the humidity of the steam bursting through the room when you opened the door to the bathroom, exiting wrapped only in a towel. Her eyes cracked open just a tad to see you, a spark firing through her body as her eyes traced over yours.

Your towel left little to the imagination, barely long enough to cover your ass, the sides creeping open every time you took a step to expose your thigh. Your hair was pulled up off your face, an attempt to keep it dry while you showered, but she could still see a few strands that had managed to escape, dangling in front of your ears, and the baby hairs at the back of your neck, plastered to your damp skin. More than that she could see a few water droplets trailing down your neck, dripping across your collarbone and her lips formed a smirk as two of them collected on the purple mark in that exact spot she’d left the previous night. You were completely oblivious to her peeping as you crossed through the room, pulling open your dresser to flit through bra and underwear choices for the day, still humming the same tune from earlier. She couldn’t quite see what set you chose from the drawer before you slid it shut, rubbing the towel a little more firmly across your skin before you let it drop, tossing it in the direction of the hamper.

Alex’s eyes roamed over your body, her tongue darting out to wet her lips at both memories of the past and the desire building within her, ideas beginning to spark through her brain of what she wanted to do to you. She admired the curve of your ass as you bent over to step into your panties and this time when a breeze came through the window she couldn’t help but shiver, letting out a small noise. She caught your attention and you turned to face her as you pulled the pale blue lace into place, letting the thong snap against your skin before placing your hands on your hips.

“Can I help you counsellor?” You asked with a smirk on your lips while you watched her gaze settle on your bare chest, pupils dilating as she shifted under the sheets.

“Oh don’t mind me, I’m just enjoying the view.” She replied with her own devilish grin and you chuckled softly.

“Well…” you made a point of doing a slow full turn, letting her take in every inch of your exposed skin, “wish I could say I would put on a show for you, but that usually involves taking off my clothes.”

“Believe me, this is just as good.” Alex’s cheeks tinged pink at the admission and she patted down the duvet to make sure she could see you properly, the grin still on your lips as you picked up the bra.

You slid it up your arms, expertly putting it on, giving Alex an extra little shimmy for your tits to settle in the cups, pushed up a little higher than normal. Your hands raised to your hair, removing the clip and letting it cascade over your shoulders as you shook it out, doing another slow turn for your girlfriend. The corner of your lips curved up at the happy hum she made, the noise almost turning into a growl as you turned to face her again, this time prowling toward the bed.

“Did you know that’s my favourite set of yours?” She asked, pushing herself up to sitting on the bed, letting the duvet fall from her body, no doubt in an attempt to distract you.

“I do now.” You smiled softly, dropping onto the bed to straddle her lap, your hands coming to cup her cheeks.

“And now….” Her fingers ghosted up your sides, beginning to toy with the clasp, “you’re going to let me take it off of you, right?”

Leaning in, your lips brushed against hers before you laughed softly, ��absolutely not.”

“Tease.” She murmured back, surging forward for another kiss.

“We’re meeting Liz for lunch in an hour and you still need to shower.” Your lips pressed a kiss just below her ear, “but in the time being you can keep thinking about all the naughty things you want to do to me and how badly you want to rip this lingerie off my body.” You nipped at her earlobe and she groaned.

“Now you’re just being unfair.”

“You’re the one who kept us up too late last night when you knew we had semi early plans.”

“So I have to schedule our morning sex in now?” She asked with a grin, her blue eyes gazing up at you and you laughed, shifting off her lap to stand but not before cupping her chin and kissing her once more.

“I suppose so.” You sauntered back toward the wardrobe, “now are you going to waste more time watching me get dressed or are you going to jump in the shower and make sure we aren’t late?”

Alex dramatically threw herself back onto the bed with a groan before rolling to the edge of it, “I’ll get in the shower… we can’t leave Liz waiting after all.”

She let out a playful shriek when your arm snaked around her waist, pulling her flush to you and you peppered her bare shoulders and neck with kisses, “I’ll make it up to you tonight, promise.”

“Oh I know you will.” With one last grin, her eyes twinkling with a sense of adoration and maybe even more naughtiness, she finally disappeared into the bathroom, leaving you to get fully dressed, continuing to dance along to the melody in your head.

__________________

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[jelestes]

the one where olivia falls in love

casey x olivia — oneshot/headcanon

₊ ⊹

gun to her head, olivia never thought she’d fall in love in her late 50s let alone for someone she secretly knew — at some capacity — was the one in her mid 30s.

once casey was back full time — as their DA this time — she knew she couldn’t ignore the feelings the same way she did the first time they worked together, she tried for the first few months but true to be told she didn’t quite understand that this was what she was doing, olivia has never the best in understanding her own feelings, victims? victims she could read like a book but herself? that was a whole other story.

casey novak’s name was in no way unknown to olivia’s therapist, dr. smith had heard about the red-haired attorney a couple times before, her name came up almost immediately when the doctor asked olivia about her past relationships with women, back when benson first started questioning her sexuality.

the day dr.smith suggested to olivia that she could be picking up fights with casey just to avoid feeling other feelings for her — romantic ones, to be precise — olivia was livid, she left that office promising herself not to come back. it couldn’t be it. she liked women yes, they were past that, but not casey.

casey was a know it all, stubborn, annoying attorney who wasn’t afraid to give olivia hell when she thought she was in the wrong.

she also happened to be smart, funny and kind — not only to the victims — but to olivia as well, even when she was the one giving casey hell, even when it was undeservingly so.

god, she confused the hell out of olivia.

one minute she wanted to rip her a good one the same minute she wanted to rip her clothes off.

and those lips? god, olivia caught herself staring at them more times she was willing to admit. she was furious that she couldn’t kiss them she was equally as furious that casey was always the one questioning her authority, making her question her once steady believes, she hated that casey fierceness moved her, that it made her grow. she hated so much that she…loved it.

is safe to say that olivia returned to dr.smith’s office next thursday, a lot less angry but also a lot more confused.

it’s been a year since that thursday now.

she has a cup of coffee in her hands, a certain red haired DA lying next to her and a smile so huge in her face you’d have to look twice to be sure that’s really olivia benson.

they’re still adjusting to the whole living together thing, working on weekly schedules and dividing chores like who picks noah up from softball practice (his new hobby being a courtesy of the DA) or who makes — ok, in olivia’s case order — dinner.

they still bicker from time to time but mostly about work related stuff specially when they can’t see things eye to eye, but they now have a better solution to get rid of their tension filled arguments besides communication, obviously.

casey is gentle, gentler than olivia could’ve ever expected. she cries at family commercials, she laughs at old cartoons (god only knows how much olivia loves the sound of casey’s laughter), she loves early morning runs, she loves kids but specially olivia’s kid. she teaches him softball, she helps with his non math related — because casey sucks at math — homework and let him help in the kitchen whenever she makes dinner. noah loves casey too, for all of the above but mainly because she makes his mom happy.

olivia never thought she could find that kind of happiness, she’s seen the worst in people for too long, been alone for too long, repressed herself for too long but god once casey’s lips are on hers, when they’re giggling the wine away on their date nights, when casey sings — awfully off key — in her shower, when she holds baby nicky, when she teaches noah something law related, when she’s ripping a perp a good one on the stand, when she’s playing softball, when she’s tracing her skin with soft kisses, when she kisses her goodnight and good morning olivia can’t help but laugh at herself, how on earth could she had ever lived without this before? now all she hopes, no, she prays, is she will never have to live without it again.

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

First Time

Casey Novak x autistic fem!reader Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. Graphic sex, oral, fingering, language. Word count: 3,286

Your heart was practically beating out of your chest by the time the two of you made it through Casey's apartment door. You didn't even have time to look around, barely noticing the stacks of manila folders scattered around the apartment.

Casey let the door slam shut behind you, then pushed you up against it, somehow gentle and rough at the same time. She reached past your waist to lock the door, kissing you deeper than you'd ever been kissed in your life. You felt nearly drunk as Casey's tongue slid into your mouth, her breath hot and desperate. You gasped as her hands slipped under your shirt and trailed up and down the bare skin of your back. You were all too aware of the rapid beating of her heart, the way the buckle at her waist pressed into you.

When she moved from your mouth down to your neck, you felt your legs grow weak. When she sank her teeth into your pulse point, you let out a moan. You felt her grin against your skin, then run her tongue up your neck and back to your mouth. She pulled away and looked at you with a smug expression.

"You want to go to bed?" she asked, drawing circles on your waist with her thumb.

"What?" you exclaimed, a confused look on your face. "No, I don't want to go to bed. I thought we were gonna have sex!?"

Casey laughed and kissed the side of your head, dragging you back to the bedroom. "Go to bed as in have sex, you idiot."

"Oh," you replied, following her eagerly. "Then yes."

Casey's room was spare, but nice. Each piece had been chosen with care, and none of it was cheap. Now that you were here, in her space, in her bedroom, the nerves started to kick in. Casey was already unbuttoning her shirt, throwing it off to reveal a simple black bra and more skin than you'd ever seen. Pants followed. You forgot how to breathe for a moment, but when she moved to lift your own shirt over your head, you found your voice.

"Wait, wait, wait," you said, pulling away.

"You okay?" Casey asked, concerned.

"I, uh... I've never–" You didn't quite know how to say it, afraid it would bring your evening to a screeching halt. "I'm a virgin," you finished, avoiding Casey's eyes.

"Okay," Casey replied, matter-of-factly. When she didn't say anything else, you glanced at her. If anything, she just looked impatient.

"Is that... okay?" you asked, shaking your hands at your sides–an anxious stim.

Casey grabbed one of your hands and pressed it flat between hers, massaging the anxiety out of it. "Mmhm," she confirmed, taking your other hand and repeating the process. "Perfectly fine. More than fine. Let's just lay down some rules first so you feel safe."

"Okay," you agreed, a little less nervous than before.

Casey sat cross-legged on the bed and patted the spot next to her. You joined her, feeling more and more comfortable, like this was a sexy sleepover. Casey's fingers tracing up and down your forearm didn't hurt either.

"Since it's your first time, I'm not gonna get too crazy," she said.

"Thanks, I think?" you replied, your eyebrows scrunched.

"Don't worry. There'll be plenty of time for crazy later." She winked at you. "But I need to know, is there anything you don't want to do or that you don't want me to do?"

You squirmed and avoided her eyes.

"Hey," she said, grabbing your knees and pulling you closer. "I need to know. I won't be upset. I promise I can work with whatever you need. I can even pull references if you want."

You laughed quickly, then blushed and squeezed your eyes shut. "I don't want anything inside me," you confessed, embarrassed.

"Anything at all?"

You shook your head, your hands starting to shake again. Casey took them and held them still in her own.

"Fingers?"

You were beet red as you shook your head.

"Tongue?"

Another shake of the head.

Casey's face was scrunched, like she was concentrating very hard. "Noted."

"Is that gonna mess things up?" you asked quietly.

"God, no," Casey said, smiling at you and trying to get you out of your head. "You know where the clit is, right?"

You coughed and nodded: "Uh-huh."

"Then you should know I won't have any problems."

"You're pretty cocky," you observed, still avoiding her eyes. You were embarrassed by how turned on you already were. You were still embarrassed to be wanting sex at all. Call it a remnant of the church culture you'd grown up in or a product of being slightly on the asexual spectrum, but it felt illicit. And Casey was so... comfortable.

"Don't worry," she bragged. "You'll find out why."

"What about you?" you asked, doing your best to meet her eyes.

"What about me?"

"Is there anything you want me to do?" You desperately hoped she wouldn't ask for something you didn't know about. You were nervous enough as it was.

Casey looked at you intently, a smile creeping at the corner of her mouth. "I want you," she started, her fingers carefully lifting your shirt up and over your head and shimmying you out of your pants, "to do whatever I tell you to do." She unhooked her bra and threw it aside, now clad in nothing but her underwear. "Got it?"

You wiped actual drool off your mouth and nodded vigorously.

"Now lay down," Casey commanded.

You were more than happy to oblige. Casey straddled your lap and leaned down to kiss you deeply, pressing her body against yours. Your heart beat wildly as she swirled her tongue into your mouth, grinding her hips into you. She bit your lip and you let out a noise that was somewhere between a moan and a cry. She smiled as she moved her way down your throat, then across your collarbone, alternating kisses and bite marks in no particular pattern, so that every time her teeth took you by surprise.

Your hands lay limply at your side. You felt like you should touch her, you wanted to touch her, but you didn't know how. It still felt like you'd be caught, like Casey would suddenly decide she didn't want you touching her and you would be ashamed of yourself.

"Hey," Casey said, low against your chest, as if she'd read your mind. "You're allowed to touch me, you know."

"Are you sure?" you asked.

"Y/N," she said, kneading your breasts in her hands, "I'm literally using your tits as a sandwich for my face. Just fucking touch me."

You gingerly rested your hands at the small of her back, taken aback by the feeling of her hips pushing into you again and again.

"Holy shit, Case," you breathed, gasping for air as her tongue circled first one nipple and then the next. She let one go with a pop and looked up at you.

"I'm just getting started," she said, smirking. Casey kissed her way down your body. She took her time at your chest, relishing the way your back arched to meet her. She ended at your inner thighs, planting kisses closer and closer to your center.

You were shaking. You had never felt less in control in your life, and it was both terrifying and exhilarating.

"You ready?" Casey asked, breath hot against your folds.

You nodded, running a hand through her red hair. She looked up at you, and you pushed a loose strand out of her face.

"I need a verbal yes."

"Yes," you nearly begged. "God, yes."

If you'd been having a good time before, you were out of your mind now as Casey licked her way through your folds and pressed the flat of her tongue against your clit.

"Holy shit," you exclaimed, groaning as your hips bucked involuntarily. "Oh my god, Case." She didn't look up, too focused on her work. But she reached out to place a hand on your heaving chest and you grabbed it and didn't let go.

You had masturbated before. You had orgasmed. But it was not like this. The others had been like a sparkler. This was the Fourth of July. Your whole body tingled and heaved and surged toward climax, and you were riding it like a sailboat on the ocean.

You didn't notice your hand on the back of Casey's head, pushing her harder and harder into your throbbing clit. You didn't notice your hips bucking faster and faster, your vulva wet and swollen and shivering. But Casey sure did. She let out a low moan, her voice vibrating against you as she continued to lick.

You felt yourself climbing up and up and up, your breath hitching, your body clenching, preparing for release. You squirmed against Casey, chasing the high you could feel was so, so close.

Casey felt it, too. She wrapped her arms around your legs to hold you steady, pressing harder and faster with her tongue. "That's it sweetheart," she said, vibrating into you. "Come for me."

That was all you needed. Your pleasure washed over you in waves, and you held onto Casey's head and hand for dear life. Your breath came in gasps and left in moans as you rode out your high, Casey's mouth guiding you through it. She lapped and lapped as your orgasm dissipated, making sure she didn't miss one single bit.

When you finally came down, shaky and trembling, you noticed the mess of Casey's hair and the marks your fingernails had left on her hand. You started to apologize, but you were met with Casey's lips against yours, your head held gently in her hands.

"You did so good," she said breathlessly, burying your neck and face in kisses. "Such..." She kissed your eyelids. "A good..." Your forehead. "Girl," she finished, kissing you deeply. You could taste yourself on her tongue and it drove you wild.

"How do you feel?" she asked, laying down beside you and running a hand through your hair.

"So fucking good. God, Casey," you said, turning to face her. "I get the hype now."

She laughed, low and sweet. "Well, I'm honored to show you the ropes."

You looked at her and bit your cheek.

"What?" she asked, propping herself up on her elbow.

"Can there be more ropes tonight?"

Casey's eyes lit up. "There can always be more ropes."

You sat up, brows furrowed, studying Casey.

She chuckled and ran a finger over your eyebrows. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking," you said, leaning over her, "that I want to do you now."

Casey bit her lip and scanned your body. "Oh, fuck."

"Good oh, fuck or bad oh, fuck?"

"Good, so good," Casey said, pulling you down for a kiss.

"I don't know what I'm doing though, so you'll have to tell me what to do."

Casey snapped up and threw a pillow to. the floor. She pointed to it and said, "On your knees."

You rolled out of bed and did as you were told, placing the pillow under your knees and situating yourself on the floor in front of the bed. Casey sidled up to the edge and let her legs hang off so that you were positioned right in between them. She ran a hand through your hair, her face flushed.

"Fuck, you look pretty like that," she said, breathing in sharply.

"Now what?" you asked.

"Just start with what feels right," Casey said, holding your face in her hands. "I'll help."

"Got it," you said, then shrugged and gave her a thumbs up, which made her giggle. You loved her laugh.

You put your hand around the back of her neck and pulled her into a kiss. You kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her nose. You kissed the space under her chin, the place where her neck met her collarbone, the soft rise of her breasts. Your stomach fluttered as Casey continued to run her hands through your hair, making small noises of pleasure as you made your way down her body.

You kissed her hips, her legs, the backs of her knees, and when you made your way to the inside of her thighs, you found her underwear soaked through, her hips already pushing toward you.

You stared at the underwear. You knew what was next, but you were afraid to start, afraid you'd do it wrong. This was foreign territory, an alien landscape. You wished you'd read an instruction manual.

Casey stifled a laugh and you looked up at her. "What?" you said, only a little terse.

She burst out laughing. "You just look like you're trying to solve a puzzle!"

"Well, it kind of is!" you cried defensively.

"It's okay if you're not ready," she said, running her thumb across your jawline.

"No," you replied, frustrated. "I'm emotionally ready, I just... feel like I should've taken a class or something."

She giggled and leaned down to kiss your forehead. "Look, there's no pressure, okay? You don't have to be good at it. I got you off. That's the best part for me. This is all just a really, really nice bonus. It's just for fun."

"Just for fun," you repeated, exhaling. You started your ministrations again, moving your way up and down her body until you were sure she was ready again.

Staring at her underwear, you took a deep breath and pulled them down. Casey groaned and unknowingly pushed your head toward her center. Just for fun, just for fun, just for fun, you repeated before diving in, tongue first.

But once you were in, god, you never wanted to leave. It wasn't so much the taste, thought it was intoxicating to know that you were tasting her. It wasn't the landscape of it, though you did very much enjoy exploring every corner. It was the way that your every move, every breath, elicited a response from Casey. It was knowing that when she pushed her hips into you, you brought her to it. That when she moaned, it was you drawing it out of her.

You were only briefly interrupted in your successful exploration by Casey saying, "I want you inside me."

"What?" you said, emerging from her thighs, brought out of the moment.

"Oh my god, don't stop," she scolded, shoving your head back down.

"Sorry," you mumbled into her.

"Start with one finger," Casey explained. "I'll tell you when I want more."

Now that you'd conquered the scariest part, you had no hesitation with your hands. You carefully inserted a finger, and if you hadn't already been on your knees, you'd have been brought to them. The warmth of her, the rhythm, the pulse–it was like you were a part of her, really a part of her.

You moaned into her, slowly starting to pump your finger in and out. You were no anatomy expert, but you'd heard of the g-spot. At the very least, you knew there was a lot going on in there. Since Casey seemed to be enjoying herself, you decided to look around, so to speak. You used your finger–careful to keep a steady rhythm–to explore Casey. All the topography of her. You felt a particularly squishy spot and reached your finger back to press into it.

Casey nearly exploded, shoving your head into her and taking you by surprise. "Jesus, Y/N!" she cried. "More of that!"

You panicked a little. "More fingers or more of that spot!?"

"Both, both," she said. "Just keep going and don't stop!"

You wasted no time getting back to work, continuing the pattern of your tongue against her clit and matching it to the rhythm of your now two fingers, reaching back, back and curling into that spot that made Casey lose it.

Her breath came faster and faster, and you could tell she was losing control. Her hands grasped your hair desperately and her hips rose to meet your tongue with every single thrust of your fingers. You felt her body clench around you, pulsating wildly, and Casey clenched your hair so hard you thought she'd pull it out.

You felt her come before you heard her, the vibrations of her body sending you into a bliss you hadn't even known existed. Her legs shook around you, and you moved forward to support her so she wouldn't fall. She quivered around you, moaning as she ground her hips into you. You waited until she was completely spent before pulling out of her, kissing her thighs and licking her off your fingers.

She laid back on the bed, still breathing heavily, and looked up at you. "What are you doing? Come up here," she motioned. You stood, wobbly and more than a little wet, and climbed into the bed next to her, your stomach doing somersaults as she tangled her arms with yours and kissed you.

"Did I do okay?" you asked.

"Okay!?" She raised her eyebrows. "Either I'm a really good teacher or you're a really fast learner."

"Probably both," you said, grinning with pride.

"Probably," she agreed.

Casey traced the freckles on your shoulder and you drew circles on the back of her hand. You were quiet for a while, but eventually you looked at the clock and saw that it was past midnight.

You propped yourself up on your elbow and looked at her. "So, uh, what's the protocol here?"

"The protocol?" she repeated. "This isn't a courtroom. There's no post-sex protocol."

"No, but..." You bit your lip.

"Spit it out," Casey said.

"I'm afraid I'll sound stupid."

"You've already sounded stupid at least five times today. What's one more?"

You glared at her briefly, then continued. "Well, I want to take a shower because I feel sweaty and sticky, and I don't like that. No offense or anything. I like it in the moment, just not... after. And I don't know the protocol! Do I take a shower here or at my house? Do you have an extra towel? I didn't bring a towel. Am I supposed to? Am I supposed to have travel soap? Do I sleep here or at home? If I don't go home, will it be awkward in the morning?"

By now, you were just spiraling, but you couldn't stop yourself. "What if you tell me I can stay and then I do because I want to spend more time with you, but really you were just being polite and you're tired of me. And then I do that every time, so you get really, really tired of me and want to break up? Or what if–"

"Jesus, Y/N," Casey said, planting a kiss on your lips to quiet you. "I want you to stay. And I think you know me well enough to know that I don't say things I don't mean."

"Promise?" you asked, twirling your fingers.

"Promise. Now for the other stuff..."

Casey pulled herself out of bed and you immediately missed her body next to yours. She walked to the closet, stark naked, and rummaged around. You hated yourself a little bit for it, but you couldn't keep your eyes off her ass. You were still reeling that she'd let you fuck her. And she'd enjoyed it.

"Are you staring at my ass?" she accused, smirking as she interrupted your reverie.

Your face flushed. "No..." you said, averting your eyes.

Casey threw a clean towel at you and draped another over her shoulder. "Come on. Let's clean you up."

You leapt off the bed and followed. After tonight, you'd follow her anywhere.

[undercoverprentiss]

case closed, legs open ᯓᡣ𐭩 c.novak

PAIRING: casey novak x fem!reader

TEASER: You stride over, but instead of sitting in the chair across from her, you sink to your knees, crawling under the desk like you fucking belong there. The wood is cool against your back as you settle between her legs, pressing your palms to her thighs and sliding them upward.

That gets her attention.

Her head snaps down, hazel eyes widening as she realizes where you are. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she hisses, voice low but laced with warning.

CONTENT WARNINGS: semi-public, oral (f!receiving), swearing, silent orgasm

You don’t bother knocking this time. Casey is too busy drowning in paperwork to kick you out anyway.

She barely glances up when you step inside her office, her jaw tight with frustration. The only light in the room comes from her desk lamp, casting deep shadows over her sharp cheekbones.

“If you need something, make it quick,” she mutters, flipping a page with a sigh.

Oh, you plan to make it quick. But not in the way she expects.

You stride over, but instead of sitting in the chair across from her, you sink to your knees, crawling under the desk like you fucking belong there. The wood is cool against your back as you settle between her legs, pressing your palms to her thighs and sliding them upward.

That gets her attention.

Her head snaps down, hazel eyes widening as she realizes where you are. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she hisses, voice low but laced with warning.

You smirk, fingers bunching up the hem of her skirt. “Making sure you don’t work yourself to death.”

She should push you away. She should close her legs and tell you to get the fuck out.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, she exhales sharply through her nose, legs shifting apart just enough for you to move freely.

That’s all the permission you need.

You shove her skirt up, revealing soft thighs and lace panties already damp at the center. You grin against her skin, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of her thigh.

“Jesus Christ,” she breathes, one hand gripping the desk like she’s already regretting this.

You drag your fingers up the lace, pressing right where she’s wettest, feeling how her heat pulses beneath the fabric. “You wanna pretend you don’t want this?” you murmur, voice dripping with amusement. “Because your cunt is soaking through your panties, Counselor.”

She lets out a quiet, shuddering breath, but she doesn’t deny it.

You don’t waste time. Hooking your fingers into the waistband, you yank the lace down her thighs, letting them drop to the floor. And fuck—she’s a sight. Her pussy is already glistening, folds slick and swollen, her clit standing out, begging for attention.

You grip her thighs and bury your face between them.

There’s no teasing now. No slow, gentle warm-up. You flatten your tongue against her and lick her open from hole to clit, groaning at the taste of her. It’s messy, hot, desperate—the way she gasps and jerks in her chair tells you she wasn’t expecting you to devour her like this.

“God,” she hisses, one hand flying to your hair, nails digging into your scalp like she wants to control the pace.

You don’t let her.

You fuck her with your tongue, slick and deep, before dragging it up to flick over her clit. You suck it into your mouth and roll it between your lips, feeling her body tremble as she fights to stay still.

“F-Fuck—” Her voice is tight, her hips jerking as you push two fingers inside her, curling them up against the spot that makes her whole body tense.

She tastes like heat and salt, her slick dripping down your fingers, coating your hand as you fuck her rougher, your tongue ruthless on her clit. You know she’s close when her thighs try to squeeze around your head, her breaths turning into sharp, shallow gasps.

And then—her office phone rings.

You don’t stop.

She tenses, her whole body stiffening. For a second, she doesn’t move, like she’s trying to decide whether to answer or shove you away.

The phone keeps ringing.

With a strangled breath, she grabs the receiver, voice impressively steady despite the way her cunt is clenching around your fingers. “Novak,” she answers, her free hand still tangled in your hair.

You look up at her from between her thighs, meeting her frantic, hazel-eyed glare as you drive your fingers into her harder, faster. Your mouth seals over her clit, sucking just right, and the sharp breath she lets out is barely muffled.

“Yes,” she manages, her voice tight. “I’ll… I’ll review the case in the morning.”

She’s close. So fucking close. You can feel it in the way her body is coiling, in the way her nails are digging into your scalp like she hates that she’s about to come while she’s on the phone.

You don’t let up.

You fuck her through it, swallowing every bit of her soaked, desperate heat as she snaps.

Her orgasm slams into her, a silent, shuddering wreck of a climax that she tries so hard to keep quiet. Her thighs clamp around your head, her hips jerking helplessly as you keep licking, keep curling your fingers deep inside her, dragging it out.

By the time she hangs up the phone, she’s wrecked and breathless, her head tipped back against her chair, fingers still trembling in your hair.

You pull back slowly, licking your lips, smug as hell.

Her hazel eyes drop to you, sharp and dangerous even as she struggles to catch her breath.

“Get out,” she orders, but her voice is weaker than she probably wants it to be.

You smirk, dragging your fingers through her mess one last time before sucking them into your mouth, humming at the taste.

“You’re welcome, Counsellor.”

Then you stand, straighten your clothes, and saunter out, knowing damn well this won’t be the last time.

[naturesapphic]

A much needed break

Olivia benson x fem!reader

Warnings: smut

Olivia hasn’t come home yet and you were worried. She hasn’t been home in days, saying something about finishing some paperwork she was extremely behind on. Of course you understand how important work is for her, even if she’s just doing paperwork, but a lot of the times, she overworks herself to where she exhausts herself. That’s why you are going to the precinct to check on her and make sure she’s okay.

You walked in holding a container of leftovers for her since she probably only had coffee and junk food from the vending machines. Walking to where her desk is, you see Olivia typing away on her computer. She looks up when she realizes someone was in the same room as her and her face immediately brightens when she sees you. “Sweetheart? What are you doing here?” She questioned as she stood up from her chair and walked over to you, wrapping her arms around your waist. “I wanted to come check on you. I brought you dinner too.” You said and she smiles as she gave you a loving kiss on the top of your head.

“Thank you babygirl.” She said and you leaned up to give her nose a gentle kiss which made her blush. She walked back over to her desk with her arm around you and her dinner in her other hand. She sat back down in her chair and she patted her lap for you which you gladly sat on. She was explaining to you some stuff that happened in the past few cases as she ate her dinner. “I’m sorry I haven’t came home. I know I should have. I’m just super stressed and I know that’s not an excuse. Trust me. I miss you so much sweetheart.” She sighed as she explained. You know how hard for her it is to be so open, but she’s been letting down her walls more and more for you.

“I understand baby. Work is important to you and I get that.” You explained as you ran your fingers through her brown hair that was slowly growing out. “What did I do to deserve you?” She asked with a true loving look in her eyes and you blushed. “I should be asking you the same thing.” You shot back at her with a smirk and she smirked back at you. She leaned up and took your lips in hers in a passionate but loving kiss. You moan softly against her lips and wrapped your legs around her waist until your clit hit her pants buckle and you let out a little moan again. She pulled back slightly and gave you a evil smirk.

“What’s the matter babygirl? Are you needy right now?” She asked against your ear and you whimpered loudly which gave her the answer but she wanted you to say it. “Say it sweetheart.” She demanded and you blushed bright red. “P-please livia…I need you so bad…it’s been a week since you fucked me and I need you so much.” You begged her and you saw her eyes darken with lust which made you even wetter. “As you wish darling.” She stated and she bunched up your sundress so she could see your underwear that was practically ruined in your fluids. “My oh my…look at this pretty pussy…”. She stated in a low voice which made you feel hot all over.

She slowly runs her hands over your body and yanks your dress off over your head. You giggle at her frantic antics and she smiles at the sound. Her eyes rake over your soft and gorgeous body, admiring it. “Come on sweetheart. Rub that pretty pussy on my belt buckle until you cum. You whimpered and started grinding onto her buckle and moaned at the sensation. Olivia’s hands are on your hips guiding you as she watches your pussy. She bites her lips and feels herself drooling at the look of you. “Come on darling…keep using mommy…that’s it…”. She praised you and you felt your legs shaking as you felt yourself already cumming. You let out a loud strung out moan and cummed all over her belt and pants.

She immediately pushed the chair out of the way and got down on her knees and buried her face in your warm, throbbing, wet pussy. You squealed at how fast she attached her lips onto you and you screw your eyes shut at the intense pleasure you are feeling. “F-fuck! Olivia!” You moaned out and she threw one of your legs on her shoulder and entered her warm, long tongue deep into your throbbing hole and your knees buckled almost falling but Olivia didn’t let that happen. “Fuck! Fuck!” You moaned out and soon enough you were cumming again but this time into her waiting mouth.

“You always taste so good. I’m addicted to your pussy sweetheart.” She admitted and you smiled at her. She gently laid you out on her desk and sat back on her chair as she dove back into you again. You whimpered loudly at the sensitivity that was rising but all you could think in this moment was your badass, loving, detective girlfriend eating you out like she was having her last meal on earth. She penetrated her tongue into you again and started rubbing your clit with her thumb. You were arching your back and your legs were shaking as you orgasmed again. She pulled away from your shaking legs and smiled down at you. “You’re so beautiful Angel.” She said sweetly and you gave her a tired smile. She licks her lips and wipes the edge of her mouth with her index finger and thumb.

“Do you think you could give me one more sweetheart?” She asked you as she gives you gentle kisses all over your face as she gently rubs over your body. You smiled and nodded at her but she raises her eyebrow and you know. “Yes liv…I can do one more…I want to be a good girl for you.” You stated and she gave you a soft look. “You are always my good girl sweetheart.” She said softly as she looked at you with such an adoring look. She gave you a long, loving kiss to your lips and reached into her drawer to pull out her harness that was attached with a 7 inch dildo that she loves to use on you. “You ready babygirl?” She asked you. “Yes…please…” you whined out and she chuckled at you.

She rests her hands on either side of your body on her desk as she gently slides in your pussy. She bottoms out and waits for you to say that you are ready before she starts. “G-green livia…” you stated and she gave you a loving smile. Olivia pumps into you a few times and you moaned out at the feeling of being full. “That’s it babygirl…such a good girl for mommy…” she panted out as her pace quickens with every thrust. Both of her hands went up to your bare breast and started pinching your rosy pink nipples to give you extra stimulation. With every thrust, your breast moved against Olivia’s hand and that made her go crazy. She started fucking you faster and faster as she removed her hands and replaced them with her face. “A-ah! Mommy!” You moaned out and held her head with one hand as your other hand was on her back, bunching up her shirt material.

“I-I’m gonna c-cum!” You exclaimed and her eyes went up to your face and she gave you that look which meant don’t you even think about it. You whined and she gently bit your nipple in response as she reached down with her hand to start rubbing your clit with her fingers. After a few moments of her fucking you and you begging her to let you cum, she said one simple word that made you lose it. “Cum.” She demanded and you arched your back off her desk and squirted all over her pants and some on her shirt. She smiled and gently pulled out which made you whine at the feeling of being full. “Hey shhhh babygirl…it’s okay..I got you…” she said softly as she scoops you up into her arms and cradles you against her.

She sits back down in her office chair and carefully helps you get dressed while not putting back on your panties since they are ruined. After getting dressed, you snuggle up on her as she finishes some things on her computer before y’all go home and rest. “You did so well for me sweetheart. I’m so proud of you. When we get home we will do our aftercare and we can do whatever you want princess.” She explained and you looked up at her with an exhausted expression and gave her a gentle nod in response. “I love you sweetheart.” She said. “I love you most Olivia.” You said back to her.

A/n: I know this smut wasn’t good but I was horny and I’m on my period and I needed to get this out sldmdkckdksosk. Remember Christmas/winter requests are still open! Also remember to stay hydrated and rest! I love y’all!

[oneshotnewbie]

Connected Souls

Olivia Benson x Reader

Authors note: It is very short and it has a lot of talk compiled into a marriage vow. More dialogue than action, I'm sorry but it needed to get out of my head

ᕚ---ᕘ

„In the midst of chaos and despair, there existed a connection that transcended the boundaries of ordinary human bonds. It was not the hellish trials we endured that forged the unbreakable link between us, but rather an extraordinary moment of unspoken understanding,“ Olivia Benson began to speak, her voice gentle but full of conviction as she stood across from you in an elegant, tailored suit, beaming from ear to ear.

Her eyes shone with tiny tears, her rough hands holding yours tightly to feel the warmth and familiarity that emanated from that simple touch. Looking into your teary eyes, she continued to talk. „We found ourselves standing on the precipice of darkness multiple times, confronted by a force so malevolent it seemed insurmountable. It was in that harrowing moment that your eyes met mine, ablaze with an inexplicable fervor, a flame of defiance flickering amidst the shadows. In your eyes, I saw not just pure determination, but genuine madness; a madness that dared to challenge the very essence of evil. -Let´s show this fucker fear-, you declared, your voice cutting through the cacophony of fear and despair.“

Her words were punctuated by a laugh of her own as she thought back to the time the two of you were held captive by William Lewis. A gentle applause and shrill laughter from the guests accompanied her before they quieted down once more and were overwhelmed by the beauty of this moment. The love between Olivia and you was felt not just in words, but also in the way you looked at each other - with a deep, unwavering connection that went far beyond mere words.

„Those words, uttered with a convition that sent shivers down my spine, reverberated in the air. In that instant, I understood the depth of your resolve, the unwavering courage that resided within you. It was not just the audacity of your words, it was the unwavering belief, the sheer madness of taking on an unimaginable terror head-on. And in that moment, I knew that I had found a kindred spirit, a companion in the battle against the darkness that threatened to engulf us.“ 

Olivia's bright smile reflected the love that burned in her heart, her gaze fixed on you, full of affection and respect. Your eyes spoke volumes that only you could understand. Although words were unnecessary at that moment because your love was so deep that it existed beyond language, it was still important for the brunette to communicate her love to you.

„The pact that has bound us ever since and accompanied us here, was not made in rationality. It was a silent vow exchanged amidst the chaos, an unspoken agreement that bound our fates together. As we faced down pure embodiment of malevolence, I felt an inexplicable sense of certainty. A profound understanding that we were stronger together than apart.“

By now the golden light of the sun was so low in the horizon that the faces of the guests glowed softly. The scent of fresh flowers and a hint of lavender lingered in the light summer breeze as Olivia stood on the elegant altar arrangement decorated with a fragrant rose gate and ivy, trying to turn the words in her head so that they sounded like normal sentences. She tried to concentrate on the scene to avoid her nervousness, enveloping the natural scenery in its beauty. A gentle stream babbled in the distance.

„In your eyes, I glimpsed the reflection of my own defiance, my own willingness to fight until my last breath. Together, we became more than just allies. We became a force to be reckoned with, a beacon of hope amidst the overwhelming despair,“ she swallowed hard and looked down, your index finger gently stretched under her chin so you could look into her teary but still beautiful eyes. „I realized that I could never turn my back on you, for in your madness, I found my own courage mirrored back at me.“

As the ceremony progressed, the guests embraced the love that was in the air and smiled as Olivia and you finally exchanged vows, her lips gently pressed against yours. The sound of happiness and joy filled the garden as you lost yourself in this unforgettable moment, surrounded by the love of your closest friends and family.

„And so, side by side, we ventured into the heart of darkness, unyielding and unafraid since then. It was not just a battle we fought, it was a testament to the extraordinary power of our love. We stood together as we stand here now. Not because we had to, but because we chose to not be broken by everything life has thrown at us. We will not be broken. Our love will never be a weakness because in our love lies the strength of the world. I love you.“

It was not just a wedding; it was the union of your two souls, meant for each other. And in this garden, under the warm glow of the sun and the scent of flowers, you swore eternal love and loyalty to each other as your hearts beat in unison.

[rqgnarok]

leave a light on - nolan price

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

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

wc: 4,735

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

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

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

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

The first two he’s stuck cross-examining a witness and doesn’t realize she’s trying to reach him until the third time she calls. He can’t answer– Judge MacNamara is lenient but not enough for Nolan to take a call in the middle of the day– but it goes to voicemail and his screen lights up with Liv’s other calls, constant and insistent.

He immediately knows it’s bad. And he immediately knows it’s about you.

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

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

“Nolan,” she says, shaky. 

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

“What happened?” Because something must’ve happened. You have one of the most dangerous jobs out there, life-endangering experiences being the norm and coming home not-dead being a good day. But if Liv is calling– if Liv is calling and you aren’t…

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

He will never be ready for this. 

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

Her voice cracks when she says your name. Nolan grips his briefcase so tightly on the way to the hospital that his hand goes numb, nails digging into the skin of his palm until it’s red and tender. 

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

Nolan finds himself amidst a sea of NYPD blue as soon as he steps into the reception, talking over each other as they watch over one of their injured own. None of them are familiar faces and his vision tunnels, the sound of his heartbeat in his ears drowning out doctors, officers, and detectives. 

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

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

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

His breath stutters. Nolan knows what happened but can’t comprehend it. He’s still holding onto his fucking briefcase and his hands won’t stop shaking. 

Liv only blinks at him, mouth open and no words coming out. “Liv. What happened?”

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

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

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

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

“Where?” Nolan asks tightly.

Liv stares, uncomprehending. Nick answers, “What?”

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

Silence. 

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

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

“They took her straight to surgery,” Amaro continues when Nolan finds no answer to that. “Liv rode with her in the ambulance but there wasn’t– it’s in their hands now. They’re taking care of her, pal, okay?”  He reaches to touch Nolan’s shoulder, shake him a little. “She’s getting help.”

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

God, Nolan thinks, pressing his fingers to his tightly closed lids. When in all your years together could he have seen this coming? The pretty girl in a law course elective that outsmarted half of the senior class still in his life decades later, bleeding out a couple rooms over and threatening to take his heart with her six feet under. 

He remembers running into you after that final exam outside the lecture hall. He’d been catching his breath on a bench when suddenly you were there too, smiling as you crouched against the opposite wall, elbows on your knees. You’d nodded. “How’d you do?”

Nolan had stuttered back, flustered in your presence, “I’m, uh, not flushing out yet, I hope.”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

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

“Would some coffee do the trick?” and Nolan hadn’t known it then, but you’d been nervous too. After all, you’d offered him what would be the first day of the rest of your lives together. No easy feat, but you’d seen something in him that deemed him worthy of you. 

“Coffee can work,” Nolan, young and eager, had said slowly. He couldn’t stop grinning, high with lack of sleep and your attention on him. “You’re buying?”

“It’s only fair,” you’d shrugged, but there was something giddy about your expression that still appears in your features these days, bright and young. “You look like you’re about to drop dead.”

“And I still seem like worthy company?”

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

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

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

Liv and Amaro stand but it takes Nolan a few moments to return to himself. She tells them, gently, that you’re out of surgery. “She lost a lot of blood, but only some of the bullet’s fragments hit her heart. It was touch and go but the doctor was able to extract all of them.”

Nolan’s lungs open up and he breathes his first full breath since Liv called. He must make a sound, because the attention in the room shifts to him, suffocating and inquisitive. His vision blurs for a second, heartbeat pumping in his ears.

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

Nolan closes his eyes in anguish. He presses his closed fists against his forehead, elbows on his knees, back hunched. It’s almost like he’s trying to disappear into himself, but the image of an ambulance opening its doors to his flatlining wife refuses to leave him.  

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

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

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

“Sweetheart,” he says, devastated, walking to your bed. “Oh, honey.”

Despite his eagerness to touch you, Nolan flails when you’re finally within arms reach. You look asleep for one blissful, hopeful moment, but then Nolan blinks and the light settles; the ashiness of your skin, the uncomfortable placing of your body, the blank expression devoid of dreams or nightmares or consciousness. 

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

Liv and Nick linger behind him, talking quietly amongst themselves in sharp whispers. It might or might not be an argument. Nolan would kick them out if he could gather the energy to care. 

Benson eventually takes a few apprehensive steps into the room, seemingly having lost whatever fight she and her partner were having. 

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

She trails off. Nolan doesn’t answer, studies instead the bridge of your nose and the shape of your brows, tries to count your eyelashes and catalog the bruises on your face. Liv sighs defeatedly and reaches for him.  

“Whatever you need,” Liv says firmly with a hand on his arm. Still, her steady presence is undermined by the way she keeps looking at you like you’re already in a coffin. For that, Nolan wants her out, can’t stand her even if she rode with you to the hospital and kept you semi-conscious until the doctors took you off her hands. “We’re here for you, alright? All of us, Nolan. I’m serious.”

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

Her lips tighten in an unpleased line, but she nods and leaves the room with one last pat to his arm. He’s being ungrateful, he knows. Liv’s the one who found you, who held your hand in the ambulance before they drove you off to surgery. Nolan owes Benson his life.

The thought alone makes him so nauseous he has to clench his eyes shut, breathing shallowly. God, what would he have done? What will he do, if something happens to you? You aren’t out of the woods yet and if something goes wrong, if your body decides to cave in, if the wound gets infected, if there’s something they didn’t catch, if, if, if, if–

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

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

You weren’t even supposed to be in today. Cragen had called mere hours after you’d gone to bed and Nolan had done his best to stay up while you got ready to go. You’d kneeled next to his side of the bed and Nolan had leaned in to kiss you without thought, an automatic notion he wishes he’d paid more attention to now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Three hours ago you were bleeding out in some alleyway in Queens, struggling for your radio to call for help. 

Twelve hours ago you were kissing him goodbye, smiling against his mouth despite the dark nature of the case because Nolan kept pulling you in for one more kiss.

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

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

The words don’t come. Nolan chokes, holds your hand in his own. Breathes, breathes, and breathes. 

Days keep piling up. You don’t wake up and Nolan doesn’t cry. God knows why, but he can’t, his body on automatic while he solely focuses on your condition. The nurses know him by name and he makes record time to the apartment and back for showers and quick naps, some food for the little appetite he has. 

He doesn’t even think to be offended when he’s placed on indefinite leave at work. Nolan can’t bring himself to care, he would’ve stacked up every sick day and vacation time available to stay at your side as much as he could anyway. 

The squad offers to stand guard almost daily, which Nolan appreciates, but his object permanence has gone to shit. Whenever he doesn’t have eyes on you his panic rises again like a tidal wave, never quite crashing but dwindling when he sits in that Godawful chair next to your bed. His hand settles your ankle or arm or somewhere he can easily look for your pulse, weak but steady, and it keeps him wearily calm.

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

He talks to you. Liv and Amaro have caught him more than once speaking quietly into the lull of the hospital room, holding your hand and drawing soothing motions with his thumb against your skin.

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

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

Munch says he owes you 20 bucks from the Giants game from two weeks ago? Which is weird, because you haven’t watched a full game since, like, ‘08. Not like you’re missing anything, but still, your accuracy to outsmart Munch in his own line of work is pretty outstanding. 

It helps, though barely. Whenever he ventures over what you’ll do once you’re awake the illusion breaks and so does Nolan’s composure. He trails off, feeling foolish, the weight of his delusion pressing against his chest.    

“It’s not silly,” Munch tells him during one of his visits, the book he’s been reading to you resting on his lap. “You’re talking to your wife. If I’d done more of that back in my day then maybe I’d still be married.”

“Which time?” Nolan asks, his lips tingling with the almost want to smile.

Munch points at him, managing a smirk himself. “Exactly.”

He’s so sure it calms Nolan more than you’d expect. So far he’s the only other person who talks about you like you’re still alive and thus, the only one who doesn’t make an indomable rage wash over Nolan whenever they’re in the same room. 

He’s the one with him when you wake. You do so in a panic, waking Nolan up from his uncomfortable nap next to your bed. It’s a sudden flail after another as your heart rate monitor goes crazy and you don’t answer any call of your name, terrified and in pain.

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

He’s doomed to watch from a glass window, helpless, as you suffer without anyone to reach out to.  

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

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

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

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

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

He repeats those words to himself like a mantra. This is good, this is good, this is good, and doesn’t dare to close his eyes for something other than blinking until you’re conscious. It’s hours later, deep into the night when you open your eyes again, groggy and disoriented, blinking into the dark hospital room. 

“Honey,” he says, quiet and so, so relieved. You don’t appear to hear him and a flash of fear seizes his heart. He presses the button and calls for a nurse, edging closer to the bed. Nolan says your name, filled with trepidation. “Hey, honey, you with me?”

Arduously slowly, you follow the sound of his voice. You blink at him, gulping and saying, dry as the Sahara. “Nole.”

It’s the most glorious thing he’s ever heard. The smile that pulls at his mouth feels odd on his face, like he’s forgotten how to show joy. How to feel it. He goes to touch your face, hands shaky and reverent. “Yeah. Yeah, sweetheart, it’s me.”

He offers you a drink and grips your hand all through the nurse’s examination, which you pass with flying colors. While she’s tinkering with your IV, you ask him, “Bellevue?”

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

“Shot?” you wonder next.

Nolan hesitates. “You don’t remember?”

“Guessin’,” you slur, tired, blinks getting longer each time you close your eyes. 

The nurse pipes up then with the same explanations she’s given Nolan the past few weeks: the bullet to your heart, the long-lasting surgery, the even longer coma. You nod in all the right places but your head rests against the pillow and your expression is vacant, like you’ll forget all about it by the next time you wake up.

“Anyone… else?” you ask.

“No,” Nolan responds, watching some tension fall off your frame when he confirms this. He wishes he felt the same, though a selfish part of him would’ve preferred it to be someone else in this hospital bed instead of you; Liv or Amaro, Rollins or even Fin. It’s true, even if the thought is followed by guilt. “No, everyone’s fine, honey. Working their asses off and worried out of their minds, but okay. It’s just you.”

You hum and then promptly fall back asleep, breaths settling into an even rhythm. It’s then that his eyes water and his tears fall on the scratchy hospital sheets where you lay.  Oh, Nolan thinks, almost surprised by them. So this is what it takes.  

The next time he looks up, hours later, is because you’re reaching to touch his face, tender and shaky. He snaps to attention like a soldier called to the front lines, but there’s no trouble chasing after you, no bad thing happening for once. You’re both okay, safe in your hospital room while nurses and doctors and visitors keep passing by just outside the door.

“You haven’t slept,” you croak out as you drop your hand from where you’d been gently pressing at the bags under Nolan’s eyes, tired from that simple movement. Your chest rises and falls with breaths that are a little too labored, but your eyes are fixed on your husband, worried. “Nole.”

It almost makes him smile: how you worry about other people while you lie with a hole in your heart on a hospital bed. Nolan would laugh if he were sure the sound wouldn’t dwindle into sobbing. There’s nothing funny about this. Nothing.

“‘m alright,” he promises, croaky and wet from previous cries. You’re still a little too out of it, but your face contorts in weak disbelief. You don’t believe him for a moment. He amends: “I will be. And so will you. You’re gonna be okay, honey.”

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

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

<3