#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.

[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

[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!

[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."

[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

[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.

[oneshotnewbie]

what about an Alt oneshot where the reader really struggles with Elliot leaving? Because Elliot was like a father to her so when she finds out hes gone she breaks down crying in Liv's arms. Liv has to have her in therapy because she struggles with feelings of abandonment and being unwanted like she becomes depressed?

ᕚ---ᕘ

The sound of dripping water echoed in the bathroom. Darkness surrounded you and only a single, lonely candle stood on the edge of the bathtub. Its flame flickered in the gentle breeze that rushed through the tilted window, throwing dark, scurrying shadows on the bare white tires.

You had not been this low to the ground in ages but it was only a matter of time before your family broke. Things have not been going well for weeks between Olivia and her partner, who was like a father figure to you.

Quarrels with unrequited feelings and hurtful situation mixed with the incident at the precinct, where he shot a young woman, was the last straw. Elliot was gone. Swallowed up by the earth without saying goodbye. He had simply quit his job and disappeared.

With an idefinable gaze, you looked into the puny candle flame. You drew your knees up and laid your head on them. Sitting there, your arms wrapped tightly around your body. Lonely, lost and abandoned.

Everyone who ever loved you was gone. Only your mother was still here. But she, too, had her own life. Olivia had her new team, her important job and everything started to seem worthless around you. Just a girl who was only almost grown.

You swallowed hard and put your hand on your chest. Firmly, you pressed against your chest and ran your cold fingers over your sternum. Gasping for air, your nails clawed at thin skin, feeling the pain that wrapped itself around your heart and slowly covered it with black spots.

A single tear fell onto your bare knee and slowly ran down your lower leg, disappearing into the sea of water that encased you. Slowly, you lowered yourself into the bathwater until your body and head were completely submerged in the cool wet. The world around you obliberating and dwindling in waves, you lingered further on your thoughts.

This heart. Bruised and a witness to terribly painful losses. If only you could close this heart off, protect it from further pain, then you would finally be free. You would finally be the girl without ballast, finally be able to be able to love again without fear of abandonment.

You felt awful, started hating yourself even though it was the people you should hate for giving you love and stealing it again. For all the broken pieced they left your heart in.

"Y/n!" the matching face suddenly appeared to the muffled voice entering your ears, the expression bearing a worried and anxious grimace. Olivia quickly pushed her hands through the wall of water, grabbing your shoulders before pulling you up with a mighty jerk. "What the hell are you doing?"

You gasped, took a few deep breaths, and refilled your lungs with the oxygen it needed. The darknes had seduced you and made you forget that your body was already screaming for air while you were lost in your mind. "I-I am sorry"

Feeling the cold gradually sifting through your bones, crushing you and eating you from the inside out, you were thankful that your mother immediately grabbed a towel and wrapped it around your shoulders, gently stroking your upper arms.

There was no sound. Even the drops of water that fell from your damp hair seemed afraid to move. The silence between both of you was so stifling, that Olivia held her breath for several secounds before taking a cautious step towards you, sitting on the floor next to the bathtub before leaning against the wall.

"Y/n?" she breathed, listened strenously into the darkness and looking into your pale face, whose color once had a beautiful beige hue. The sight of her daughter was far more painful than she had ever thought possible and she had to restrain herself from letting tears flow.

A thousand small but sharp needles pierced her heart. The woman knew it had something to do with Elliot´s departure, shortly after telling you that you would probably never come back, you had completely changed character and turned distant. Yes, almost depressed. "I want you to see a therapist," she whispered in a trembling voice and reached out a hand that stroked a stray strand of hair from your face.

Your eyes instantly watered as you began to sniffle. "Was I not worth anything to him? Not even a goodbye?" you whimpered softly, ignoring the sentence that just left your mothers mouth. A single tear trickled down your cheeks, mixing with the pearls of bath water that dripped down your chin in unison.

"Why did he leave us?" you sobbed and she leaned forward, dropping her head onto yours. Your voice cracked, fading until your body shook with silent tears in her embrace. "I thought we were family. H-he was like a father to me!"

Olivia´s hand found yours and intertwined with your fingers gently, as if you would break if she made a wrong move. She understood the pain you endured, knew exactly what such an exit without warning could do to a soul. Especially one as young as yours.

That Elliot chose to escape his emotional problems by disappearing was typical for him. Still, she missed her partner. The warmth that surrounded his body. The perfume that gradually faded and was forgotten. The woman missed the stubborn guy with aggression problems. The man who was a friend to her, if not a lot more.

He was the first guy to show her that there could be a relationship between friendship and family. Strong and unique like she had never felt before in her life. They had solved the most diverse and dangerous cases and defeated the worst people.

Elliot was one of the most important people her daughter´s life, along with her and Amanda but now he was gone. Now she had to sweep up the shards he had left behind and glue them together.

She was willing to stand by you and follow in his footsteps to represent both sides of being a parent. It would be difficult, especially at first, but she knew you could both do it together.

Tears rolled freely down her cheeks as she broke out of her painful thoughts while standing up and slowly pulling your petrified and blunted body out of the bathtub. While she dried you off and dressed you, gently combin your wet hair and blow-drying it, you were completely absent to reality, staring blankly at the cold tiles decorating the sink. 

Shivering and surrounded by inner coldness, you felt like freezing to death. It was too painful to fight it back. Cold was the pain you felt since he was gone, and you did not know if it would ever fade away.

[detectivesvu]

Sharing Secrets

Mike Dodds x Fem! Reader Tags: Brief mentions of child abuse. Word Count: 3.6k "I just...hope I haven't completely messed things up."

The air of the SVU victim interview room was completely still.

It wasn’t uncomfortable per se, but it was definitely quiet and not much conversation to fill the air. After all your years at SVU, talking to victims and hearing their stories still stung just as much as your very first day on the squad.

Of course, as time went on and you had more experience under your belt, you were more confident and comfortable talking to victims. You knew that in some cases, you were the only person in their corner. You were the only person who understood what they were feeling and what they were going through. Work experience helped, but it didn’t put even a dent in the way it still made your stomach turn to hear such traumatic events day in and day out.

And certainly, adults were one thing…kids were entirely another.

Too often, SVU was handed cases of kids being assaulted and abused…traumatized and scarred for life. With the adults, you always managed to move on, but kids? Kids’ cases stuck with you forever. Hearing small, meek children tell you that they had been touched or beaten…almost always by someone they knew and trusted. It was impossible to get used to hearing and seeing that every day…it was inconceivable to believe that anyone could lay their hands on a child.

Today was no exception.

He hadn’t hardly said a word since he sat down. He was practically trembling with anxiety as he did everything he could to avoid looking at you and your detective partner sitting directly across from him. If he did sneak a glance, his eyes tended to go to Detective Dodds, who only returned a quick soft smile each time he locked eyes with the 5-year-old.

His eyes were trained on the numerous pieces of paper strewn in front of him, a variety of different colored crayons scattered there as well. He was doodling away with the different crayons, silently dreaming up and sketching multiple pictures as a way of entertaining himself…and distracting himself from the two of you attempting to speak with him.

You and Dodds had been trying to get through to him for nearly half an hour. Each question you asked only earned a meek response and an uncomfortable body movement.

He was scared to death no doubt. Confused as to why two police officers were asking him so many questions that he didn’t want to answer…and even more confused about the situation that landed him here in the first place.

“That’s a really nice picture,” Your voice — soft and full of warmth — spoke to the young boy sitting across from you. “Do you like to draw?”

He said nothing. His eyes — full of fear and yet still so full of innocence — only flickered to you for a moment as a physical show that he had indeed heard your question. His left eye was swollen and a grisly shade of black and blue…evidence of what he had endured that landed him at SVU. His head barely nodded up and down as he set the crayon in use down, his cheeks tinting pink under your gaze.

Mike studied the picture that the child was currently working on. It was no Picasso masterpiece by any means…but even Mike could put together what it was supposed to be.

“Are these your favorite foods?” Mike asked, noting that he could spot a variety of foods that were universally kid friendly.

The child gave another small nod. Eyes now focused on his hands fiddling in his lap. This boy had been through hell and back, so it was no surprise he wasn’t interested in chatting about what foods he liked with two adult strangers. If that boy knew anything for sure, it was that the adults that were supposed to love you could hurt you beyond comprehension…so trusting an adult he didn’t know was not an option unless they gave him a reason to.

It was odd though. The boy had been much more talkative when Sonny picked him up and brought him into the precinct. He hadn’t been a chatterbox by any means, but according to Sonny — the kid wasn’t so clammed up like he was now. Something was making him uneasy.

“Pizza, ice cream, sandwiches…all really good stuff. I like all of that too,” Mike said, trying to establish some kind of common ground with the kid. Mike pointed to one particular image on his picture, a rectangular shape with a symbol on it that he identified to be a certain type of fruit. “Is this a juice box?”

The boy nodded once more, shrinking down into his seat as Mike continued.

“If you want, we can get you a juice box. We have some around here.”

For the briefest moment, the boy perked up. His eyes glimmered just long enough for you and Mike to catch it and know that you were making some progress.

He cowered and shrank into himself again when he locked eyes with you, and that’s when it clicked for Mike.

“Detective,” Mike turned to you, a small, reassuring smile on his face. “Would you get my friend here an apple juice?”

Mike had a look on his face, a look that let you know he had something in mind. You and Mike — a dynamic duo as work partners — understood one another. Your thoughts often flowed together smoothly and with ease. In many ways, your bond went well outside of work. The two of you didn’t just blend together as partners…but as people. If Mike needed you to leave, then you trusted him.

“Sure thing,” You retreated from your chair. “I’ll be right back.”

Mike kept his eyes on the kid, who allowed his own eyes to follow you as you exited the room and disappeared behind the wall. He released a long breath once you were gone, unbeknownst to him that you would be watching from the other side once his promised juice box was retrieved. Mike let the silence simmer for a few minutes, not wanting to immediately start asking more questions.

It wasn’t until the boy snuck another glance at Mike that he decided to try and press further.

“So…let me ask you something. Does Detective [L/N] make you nervous?”

The boy’s wide brown eyes locked with Mike’s for only another moment as he nodded, fiddling with his small hands.

“Can you tell me why she makes you nervous? You didn’t seem to like her being here," Mike asked. "I'm your friend. You can tell me."

The boy was clearly wrestling with himself. Not wanting to give in to Mike’s question…but deep down knowing that he wasn’t here to do anything other than help him. The boy then spoke for the first time in half an hour. The tiniest bit of comfort filled his senses as he finally began to answer Mike’s questions.

“She’s pretty…” He gave the tiniest, shyest grin with a small voice.

Mike couldn’t help himself. His laugh was light and surprised, but genuine. This was the first time he had said anything, and he chose to say that.

You yourself gave a small laugh, cradling the beloved apple juice in your hand to be delivered once Mike made some decent headway in this conversation.

“He’s getting through to him.” Olivia, who was standing to your immediate right, said aloud. “Even if it’s at your expense.”

You shook your head and shrugged, completely unbothered.

“I don’t mind,” You answered. “Mike knows what he’s doing.”

Mike could tell the kid was warming up. He didn’t want to lose momentum now while he was on a roll.

“Is that why you didn’t want to talk with her in the room?”

The boy nodded and surprised Mike by posing a question of his own.

“Do you think she’s pretty too?”

Suddenly, the questioning at your expense was getting a bit personal. Mike shifted in his seat a bit -- he wasn't going to lie to this boy, but he also knew you were listening. Right now, this kid was his priority.

“Yeah, bud. I do.”

The boy brightened up, clearly interested in this ordeal. Mike didn't mind. If it distracted him from what he had been through, then he was more than willing to dish out his personal business.

“Are you boyfriend-girlfriend?” The boy straightened up, now having no trouble keeping eye contact with Mike.

“No, we’re not boyfriend-girlfriend.” Mike chuckled again at the phrasing of the youngster's question.

“Why not?” He tilted his head slightly with curiosity.

Mike's eyes widened at that question, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He wasn't expecting that question, and it caught him off guard. Mike was too far down the road of this conversation to turn back now. If he lost this kid's trust, they might never really know what was happening to him. He turned his attention back to the child, a soft sigh escaping his lips.

"It's a bit more complicated than that," Mike admitted, trying to maintain his composure. "We're partners...but not the kind that dates."

It seemed that suddenly the boy was very invested in your and Mike’s relationship because he continued to press on like he needed to know for his own personal reasons.

“But if you think she’s pretty, why don’t you date?” He asked. “You like her don’t you?”

Mike chuckled again, amused by the boy's curiosity and keen eye for detail. He leaned back in his chair, contemplating his answer for a moment before speaking.

"Well...you're right. I do like her," he admitted, a smile on his face. "But it's not always that simple. We work together every day...and sometimes," Mike said, hesitating for a moment, "Work can get in the way of things."

“Oh…” The boy said quietly, thinking for only a moment before continuing. “So you don’t like her more than a friend?”

Mike pondered on the question. It really was a difficult one to answer. Because the feelings he had for you weren't just that of friendship. They were stronger, deeper, but he didn't know how to articulate it to a 5-year-old child. He leaned closer to the boy, his voice serious but still friendly.

"I do like her more than just a friend. A lot more," He confessed, his smile still on his face. "But it's a bit tricky when we work together. Does that make sense?"

The boy picked up on Mike’s quiet tone, and he matched his whisper when he spoke next.

“Yeah but…why don’t you tell her you like her?”

Mike was caught off guard again by the boy's insightful question. He shifted in his chair, feeling a pang of guilt and regret in his chest. The simple truth was, he had thought about expressing his feelings to you more times than he could count. But there was always a reason not to.

He sighed, his voice low and conflicted.

"It's not that easy. If I tell her how I feel...it could mess up our friendship."

Mike realized he was probably oversharing with him. In no way was his feelings for you the child's responsibility...but the boy didn't seem burdened in the slightest -- this was the most interested he had been in talking all day. A slight smile appeared on the boy’s face as he leaned over the table, whispering even quieter to Mike.

“I think she likes you too.” He grinned.

Mike kept his expression unchanged, but his heartbeat was beginning to quicken in his chest. He knew there was no turning back from this now. He leaned in toward the boy, mirroring his whispering tone.

"What makes you think that?" He asked in a hushed voice.

The boy shrugged, but his eyes were completely lit up at this conversation.

“I don’t know…” He giggled. “I can just tell.”

Mike knew this conversation was getting way off track. The purpose of this interview was to get this boy to tell him about what he had endured at his daycare center, and how he ended up bruised and beaten — but at this point, Mike figured it was valuable to finish it out.

“You’re a smart kid,” He said. “You can tell me. How can you tell?"

Mike was impressed at how observant and perceptive this kid was. At such a young age, he had an astute sense of things that many adults didn’t even pick up on in their own relationships. The boy scrunched his eyebrows, thinking hard. Mike chuckled at the sight and waited patiently for his answer.

"Well," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "She smiles at you a lot. And she listens when you talk. Like...she really listens."

Mike was speechless. He could tell this kid was observant, but this was beyond impressive. It seemed that this five-year-old was beyond smarter than he was.

“But I won’t tell her if you don’t want her to know you like her,” The boy said. “I promise."

Mike knew that it wasn't a secret anymore, given that you were probably watching from the other side and had heard this entire conversation. Still, Mike admired the kid's loyalty. He leaned forward, a conspiratorial smile on his face.

“Thanks, kid. Let’s keep it just between us for now, okay?”

Mike knew you had to have been watching and listening this entire time. His stomach was in knots knowing that you had just heard him spill his liking for you to a child. He hoped and hoped that this kid was right, and that your friendship and partnership wasn’t over.

As if on cue, the door to the room opened — revealing you with two small boxes of the promised apple juice. The boy shrank into his seat slightly when you entered, but shared a knowing glance with Mike.

Mike's eyes darted from the boy back to you, trying to keep a casual demeanor despite the wave of nerves that washed over him. He could sense the boy's slightly timid behavior as you entered the room, and the knowing glance the boy shared with him was both reassuring and foreboding. He tried his best to act natural, standing up to take the juice box from you and set it on the table in front of the boy.

"Perfect timing, thanks." Mike said, his voice betraying a hint of tension underneath.

She knew Mike was going to try and continue the conversation with the boy now — and get the full story of the abuse he had endured. She wouldn’t be sticking around - just long enough to give him his juice.

“I brought you a second one…just in case you were extra thirsty.” she smiled at the boy, her heart pounding at the new knowledge of Mike liking her so much more than she ever realized. “If you want anything else, let Mike know, okay?”

The boy took one of the juice boxes, unwrapped the straw and punched it into the hole.

“Okay,” He gave her a shy smile. “Thanks.”

The thought of you potentially knowing Mike's feelings for you — the fact that he may have given away his secret to you via a 5-year-old — was almost overwhelming. But he pushed it aside, needing to focus on the task at hand.

As you excused yourself to leave the room, he shot you a quick nod, a silent thank you for the juice and giving him and the kid some privacy.

“Okay, buddy…” Mike said calmly, trying to shift gears. “Can you tell me about your daycare teacher?”

For the next hour or so, Mike and the boy talked back and forth. The boy told Mike all the details of how his daycare teacher abused him and other kids in his class — and gave SVU enough reason to question and potentially arrest her.

Through the boy's detailed and sometimes-heartbreaking account of the abuse he and others had suffered, Mike listened intently, his heart breaking a bit more with every new piece of information. He jotted down notes as the boy spoke, making sure to capture as much information as possible for the investigation. The more Mike learned about the daycare teacher's treatment of the children, the more determined he was to bring her to justice.

When the boy was out of things to say and SVU had enough information, Mike stood from the table and held his hand out to the boy.

“You’ve been very brave and helpful to us,” He said, smiling once more when the boy walked around the table and took his hand. “Thank you for helping us.”

The boy nodded, walking out of the room hand-in-hand with Mike — entering Olivia’s office where you, Olivia, and Carisi were waiting. Olivia wore an expression of curiosity, Carisi looked as if he was about to explode to go tell the entire squad room what just happened, and you were looking at Mike...purely in awe as he stood in front of you.

Mike squatted to meet the boy’s height, gesturing toward Carisi with a grin.

“I need to get back to work now. Detective Carisi is going to take you now, okay?”

The boy nodded again, leaning in to whisper one more thing to Mike before going with Carisi.

“I won’t forget our secret.” He said, and Mike patted his shoulder affectionately.

Carisi took the boy with him, leaving Mike alone with her and Olivia. As Carisi led the boy out of the office -- no doubt going to tell Fin and Rollins about this -- Mike stood up and stood stoically, now facing you and Olivia, his nerves mounting. He avoided your gaze, focusing instead on straightening out the notes he had taken during the interview. The silence in the room was deafening, and Mike's heart was hammering in his chest.

"I'm going to call Barba," Olivia said, which was Olivia's way of saying she was leaving the room. “I'll send Fin and Rollins down to that daycare center."

Mike nodded in acknowledgement as Olivia relayed the news about the teacher, his heart racing even faster at the impending prospect of being alone with you. He swallowed hard, bracing himself for the conversation that was to come. Olivia swiftly left the room, closing the door behind her.

Mike stood frozen for a moment, mustering up the courage to finally look over at you. He took a deep breath, his gaze meeting yours. It wasn't like Mike to be so nervous. Mike was always confident...super focused on work. But right now, he was terrified that your partnership and friendship was ruined.

He could tell you weren’t angry with him or anything of that nature. If anything you looked…relieved.

“So…” You couldn’t help but flash a small grin, his chest fluttering at the sight. “You think I’m pretty?”

Mike let out a nervous laugh, a mix of relief and anxiety coursing through him. Seeing your small grin made his heart skip a beat. He couldn't deny it now - he was about to see the outcome of his confession.

"Guilty as charged," he admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "That kid wasn't wrong."

He paused for a moment, the weight of his feelings for you heavy in his chest.

"I just...hope I haven't completely messed things up."

“Come on, Mike…” You took a step closer. “You know it would take way more than that to mess things up between us.”

Relief washed over him as you took a step closer. The distance between you guys was shrinking, and he could feel the tension in the room growing. He studied your face, searching your eyes for any hint of rejection.

"I was worried that you'd think this completely changed everything." He said, his voice quiet but firm.

"Well…it certainly does change things…in a good way." You smiled.

Mike's head was spinning. This was certainly not how he expected his day to go...and for the first time ever, he was distracted from the current case at hand.

He took a cautious step forward, closing the distance between you guys even further. His eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of doubt. He saw nothing but genuine hope.

"The kid was right after all," You said. "But this is a conversation we can have when we get this case figured out. We need to get him taken care of."

He gave a slow nod, his gaze locked on yours. As much as he wanted to blurt out everything he was feeling, he knew you were right — there was work to be done first.

"You're right," he said, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "We need to focus on the case. But when this is all over…"

"When this is all over..." You finished his sentence for him. "We will see where we go from here."

The promise of "what's to come" overwhelmed him like no other. It had been so long since he had something other than work to focus on. He took another step forward, the urge to be closer to you nearly overwhelming him. But he stopped himself, knowing that until the case was closed, he couldn't act on any impulses.

"Right," He agreed. "How about dinner at my place?"

Your smile grew, and a slight heat rushed your cheeks.

"It's a date."

The matter was put to rest for now. They had work to do and a case to solve. But neither of you could deny that it sat in the back of your minds for the rest of the day. The day had taken an unexpected turn after all, and a most welcome one at that.

Mike was patient, and he knew with a little more time you would be able to see where this would lead.

Although, you both already had a pretty good idea of what that would be.

[storiesofsvu]

Cocoa

Amanda Rollins x reader warnings: none? brief mention of pet abandonment. all cutesy fluff. Man. I rarely ever get requests for Amanda, and every time I do I am reminded of HOW MUCH I LOVE HER. More justice and love for Ms Rollins please. I need to think of more ideas for her. Love Amanda? Sign up for the taglist here! Got an idea for a story? Send it on in here!

1.4k

Even though you missed the jingling of Amanda’s keys in the hallway you knew she was a few steps from the front door at the way Frannie’s head popped up, looking over the back of the couch at the incoming noise. After a couple of sniffs she seemed satisfied, plopping her head back down beside you, continuing to chew on her bone. You gave her a little scratch behind the ears and let out a breath, your pulse quickening at the sound of Amanda’s keys in the lock.

She opened the door to find you on the couch, television turned on to Bluey as you were (presumably) cooing to Frannie.

“Oh, that’s it.” You laughed softly, “such a good girl. Okay, ohhkkay, ssssh.” Your hand reached out to pet her as she let out a low whine. “I know, I know. She’s home now, okay.”

“Awee.” Amanda let out a chuckle, “did someone miss me?” She whistled quietly, “c’mere girl.”

Frannie popped up on the opposite end of the couch from where you were facing, quickly jumping down and trotting over to her mom to say hello. At first, distracted, Amanda didn’t notice, cooing at her dog as she gave her a very welcoming pet and big scratch. Her ears picked up another whine that definitely wasn’t human and her head titled back up to catch you with a sheepish look on your face.

“So… if Frannie is over here…”

“That was… my stomach?” You offered with a wince and Amanda let out a small scoff of a laugh. She straightened up, letting out a small sigh as whatever you were hiding on the other side of the couch let out a yip.

“Sounds like you haven’t eaten all day.” Her hands fell to her hips, “what’d you do?”

“I… did not do anything.” You made a little kissing noise and the other dog finally popped up into Amanda’s sight line over the back of the couch. It looked like a chocolate lab, big enough to look like a fully grown dog but small enough Amanda knew it was likely still just a big puppy. You cupped its head in your hands, making more kissing noises as it sniffed at your face as your voice slipped into puppy dog mode. “But some big meanie left this gorgeous angel in the alley way.” You turned to look at her, “I told you I heard something crying last night. Bastard left her outside in the storm all night tied to the damn dumpster. I saw her when I went out this morning.”

“Are you absolutely sure someone wasn’t coming back for her?” Amanda asked, slowly approaching the back of the couch as you went back to playing with the dog.

“Yes.” You nodded, nodding the dog’s head in your hands as you did so, “yes, I am.” You looked back to your girlfriend, “I went back down with some food and water right away, she was super friendly and just wanted some love. I left her all afternoon just in case, it was already getting dark and the poor thing starting crying again. Frannie and I just couldn’t bare listening to it anymore.” Your lips formed a pout and Amanda could almost see the glistening of tears starting in your eyes, “when I went back down she was just so happy to see us! Instant friends with this one, I tell ya.” Your hand reached out to give Frannie a little scratch. “Then I found the note on her collar…”

“Someone really just left her?” It was her turn to pout, finally reaching out, letting the dog sniff the back of her hand, giving it a few licks before she scratched her behind the ears.

“Yeah. Note said she was a Christmas present for the kids, but the kids weren’t ‘doing their chores’ of taking care of her and the family didn’t want her anymore.” You said the last part in just over a whisper as you covered the dogs ears, “she’s house trained, no issues and is up to date on all her shots and stuff. Though I did make an appointment with the vet for tomorrow just in case.”

“Baby…” Amanda’s head tilted and you let out a sigh at what you knew must be coming. “We can’t keep her.”

“Why not?!” You whined and Amanda nearly laughed as both the new dog and Frannie let out whines in practically the same pitch as all three of you stared up at her.

“We… already have Frannie.” She gestured, “and I work late hours. I feel guilty enough leaving one dog cooped up in a one bedroom apartment all day.”

“I work from home like, eighty percent of the time, you wouldn’t have to worry about us. Besides, another big dog means another level of protection.” You countered, “you always say you wish I was safer out at night, or when you’re working overnights. Can’t get much safer than this.” You gestured to your lap which was slowly being taken over by both dogs, Frannie nuzzling at ear while the other one licked your cheek.

“She does really seem to like you.” The blonde replied, chewing on her lip.

“They get along perfectly too!” You bartered, gesturing to the dogs as you picked up a toy, swinging it between them before tossing it down the hall and they both ran off, instantly starting to play with each other like they’d grown up together. “See? Instant best friends. You can’t deny Frannie that.”

“Oh my god.” Amanda laughed, running a hand over her face. “What happens when you’re out for a walk and the kids see their dog and come crying wanting it back?”

“Note said they live in Staten Island, left her here so that wouldn’t happen.”

“They seriously drove all that way to dump her in the garbage? When there’s plenty of shelters all around the city?” She wasn’t just frustrated, she was pissed now, a feeling the dog could sense as it jogged down the hallway and went right up to Amanda, nudging at her legs until it was getting pets, “oh you poor thing.”

You knew it, a smile creeping up on your lips as Amanda crouched down to actually greet the dog and her face instantly melted. The look of love and adoration immediately taking over her eyes as she cooed at the dog who nuzzled as deep into her as it could.

“Oh, you’re a good girl.” She cooed, “such a sweet girl. What’s your name, hmm?”

“Cocoa.” You replied, and the dog let out a quiet bark.

Amanda stood back up with a small sigh, glancing between the two dogs who immediately started playing together again before looking over at you.

“Puh-leeeeaaase.” You pulled an overdramatic pout and faked crying.

“You are worse than a child, you know that?”

“At least I have my own source of income to support Cocoa and now we’ll each have one to walk when we take them out. I mean, Manda… look at them. They’re so happy, she’s so much happier not being tied to a dumpster in the rain… you’re not going to ruin that, are you?”

“Wow.” She laughed, rounding around the couch to drop down beside you.

“Well?” You batted your eyelashes, “yes?”

“Fine.” She finally agreed with a small smile and you let out a shriek, launching toward her to pepper her face with kisses.

The noise alone was enough to pull both of the dog’s attention, barks echoing through the apartment as they jumped back up onto the couch, jumping on the both of you, cold noses and wet kisses getting everywhere they could.

“Okay, okay.” Amanda laughed, gently pushing Frannie down onto her lap, “you win, you win.” She booped her nose, “you got a new sister, happy?” Frannie agreed with a small woof, rubbing her head into Amanda’s hands.

“You hear that?” You cooed to Cocoa, scratching underneath her chin, “you get to stay! Welcome home Cocoa.”

You looked back to Amanda with such love and happiness in your eyes that she knew there was never a way in a million years she would have actually said no to the whole thing. She loved you too much, loved seeing you happy too much and this way Frannie would have someone to play with when no one was home.

It was a win win for everyone.

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[naturesapphic]

Needy

Olivia benson x fem!reader

Warnings: smut and y/n drooling over Olivia

The front door slammed shut while you were in the living room reading your book. You pushed your glasses up on your nose so you can see and you see your girlfriend olivia. “Hey sweetheart.” She smiled at you, showing off her perfect smile as she was walking over to you. “Hi.” You shyly said at her and she smiled even bigger. “We’ve been dating for a while. Shouldn’t you stop being so nervous around me sweetie?” She asked with a cocky and firm tone that made you weak in the knees.

“I can’t help it liv. You always make me so flustered. Even when you just breath near me I wanna faint.” You explained to her as you got up from the couch to head to the kitchen and she started following you. She let out a hard laugh which made you smile. “I do darling?” She said smirking and looking at you intensely as she got closer to you and you were backing up until you hit the kitchen counter with your back. She smirked and got close enough to your face that you can feel her breath against your lips. “Y-yes…” you whispered out and bit your lip at how she was looking at you. Olivia’s arms went around your waist and pulled you against her so yall were touching.

You looked up at her and was met with her brown eyes staring intensely in yours. Then, olivia captured your lips in hers and you recuperated back as you wrap your arms around her neck. She suddenly picks you up in her strong arms which makes you squeal and started laughing. She smiled up at you and carried you up the stairs to y’all’s room. She kicked the door open gently with her foot and went to the edge of the bed and put you on it. You got up on your knees to where she was standing up and bite you lip as you admired her. “I fucking love how short your hair is…it makes me wet every time I see you…you give off daddy vibes.” You giggled at the end and she chuckled at you.

“I’m glad you think I look so good with my hair babygirl. I wasn’t too sure about it but now I am.” She said smirking at you as she flexes her arms as she’s pushing her hair back making you whine out. “Babyyyyyy…stop teasing me…and fuck me.” You said as you were unbuttoning her blue button up shirt. She chuckled down at you and watches you as her eyes grow with lust. “Slow down sweetheart…I’m not going anywhere.” She said with a low voice that make you more weak in the knees. You finally got her shirt undone and pulled it down her strong, muscular arms. You smiled up at her as you run your hands up and down her chest. “Your turn sweetheart.” She said as she goes to the bottom of your shirt and pulls it over your head. You reveal to her that you didn’t have anything on underneath it and her eyes immediately go to your breast.

“You are so gorgeous babygirl. All mine…” she says with a low tone which she knows drives you up the wall as she moves her hands from your stomach up to your breast. “So pretty…” she says gently as she softly massages your breast in her hands. You moan softly at the contact and you gasp when her fingers start pulling on your rosy pink nipples. “A-ahh…l-livia fuck…” you breath out and she smirks down at you, she loves seeing you so breathless and whiny and she hasn’t even fucked you yet. “Lay down for me princess.” She softly demanded you and you laid down in the middle of the bed on your back. “Such a good girl.” She praised you and you smile at her in response. Olivia took off her sports bra, along with her pants and underwear. You laid there, admiring her as she took off each piece of clothing off her strong body. You felt something wet on your mouth and you realized that was actual drool coming out of your mouth. You quickly wiped it away, embarrassed as fuck but Olivia noticed. “I saw that sweetheart. I never knew someone could literally drool over me.” She chuckled out as she gets on the bed with her hands and knees and crawls over to you.

Until she stops at your legs, she then pulls you closer to her and you both giggle at the action. She pulls down your shorts along with your pink underwear and she throws your shorts on the floor but keeps your underwear. She sees that they are wet and she smirks at you “you already this wet babygirl? Tsk tsk and I haven’t even really touched you yet…what a little slut.” She said as you bit your lip and looked at her intensely. “I’m your little slut daddy.” You said innocently and you visibly saw her eyes darken with lust. “Damn right I am.” She responded with a low voice as she leans down and smashes her lips with yours. The both of you moan into each others mouths at the feeling of y’all’s lips together. Your bodies were pushed up against the other and hands were exploring. You felt her tongue trying to push through your lips and you granted her by opening your mouth. Her tongue slipping in yours and was feeling every inch of your mouth. As her tongue was exploring your mouth, one of your hands were in her short hair, slightly pulling on it, and the other was on her back. She pulled away gently as a string of y’all’s salvia was present and she licked her lips at you.

“I need to taste that puffy pussy of yours…” she demanded and she laid down on the bed. “Sit on my face princess.” She instructed you and you crawled over her body and hovered your dripping pussy over her face. “Gosh…I love this pussy right here…I could eat you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner…” she rasped out and you blushed bright red. You then lowered yourself on her face and was rewarded by her tongue pushing through your folds, suckling on you. You moaned out her name loudly and reached down to grab onto her hair. Olivia’s tongue swirled around your clit and sucked hard on it which made you thrust your hips up. “F-fuck!” You gasped out as pleasure was going through your whole body. She kissed your clit softly as pulled away from it and started leaving open mouthed kisses all over your pussy. “Love. this. fucking. pussy. Mine.” She breathed each word after every kiss she made on you. Her tongue suddenly dipped into your pulsating hole and she started to tongue fuck you. “O-Olivia!” You moaned out loudly and started riding her face.

Your legs started to shake and you begged her to let you cum. “P-please livia…need to c-cum…” you pleaded and she gently tapped your thigh twice to let you know that it’s okay. You felt the orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks and soon enough you were cumming in her mouth as you were pulling her short hair. You panted as you fell on the side of the bed beside her, trying to catch your breath. “Fuck…I love your mouth.” You said breathlessly and she laughed. “I’m glad you do sweetheart. Can I try something?” She asked you. “Of course. I trust you baby.” You reassured her and she carefully got on top of you as she aligned y’all’s pussys on top of each other. Making direct contact the both of you moaned and Olivia started rubbing her clit onto yours. Olivia’s breast hovered over your mouth and with each movement, they moved back and forth and you were so tempted. You leaned up and attached your lips to her pink nipple and started suckling. Olivia moaned louder at the extra stimulation and started praising you since praising makes you even hornier. “That’s a good girl. Go on sweetheart…keep sucking on them darling…such a good girl. My perfect baby.” She praised you and you blushed red from them and from her fucking you. Soon enough, both of you were cumming on each other and moans were spread in the house. Olivia collapsed on top of you and was breathing hard. You run your fingers through your girlfriends hair and start rubbing her back soothingly.

“I love you Olivia benson..” you whispered to her and gave her a loving kiss on the top of her head. “And I love you most y/f/n (your full name).” She whispered back and leaned up to give you a soft kiss on your plump lips. You smiled in the kiss as did she and Olivia rested her head back on your chest. Y’all then went to sleep in each others arms that night and had an amazing sleep. You sure did love Olivia’s short hair and now she definitely knows it.

A/n: 1545 words damn lmao when I first started this I was on my period and I was extremely horny for Olivia’s short hair so that’s how I came up with this lmao Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y’all :)

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Panic! At the DA's Office

Casey Novak x fem!reader Warnings: suicidal ideation, mental health struggle, anxiety/depression, panic attack, established relationship, fluff forever, some explicit language Word count: 2k

Summary: You're supposed to be meeting your girlfriend, Casey, for lunch, but prepping for the bar exam has you in an anxious spiral. You try to hide it, but it's hard to pretend you're okay when you're with Casey.

You stood on the subway platform, greasy Shake Shack takeout bags tucked under your arm. You'd told Casey you'd bring her lunch, and you were a woman of your word. Even though the bar exam was two weeks away. Even though you'd written so many practice essays you'd had to get a wrist splint for the cramps. Even though you were practically drowning in information about constitutional law, civil procedure, torts, contracts. You were exhausted from studying, and it felt like it was all for nothing. The more you studied, the more things seemed to get jumbled up in your mind. The more you'd stare at the page and the words would stare back, shifting and writhing until they meant nothing.

With each practice test, you felt less confident. As the day of the exam got closer and closer, your anxiety grew and grew. And you were so good at hiding it. You had to be good at it, or else how would you go on? How would the world keep on spinning, and you with it? Sometimes you wished it wouldn't. Not forever, not for always. You just wished that, for a little while, everything would stop. That just for a little while, no one would need or expect anything from you and you could just be. Or not be, maybe.

As you stood on the platform, waiting for the subway that would take you to the DA's office and your girlfriend you thought, briefly–as you sometimes did at your lowest–how easy it would be to jump. It would be so easy, so fast. But you had the warm food in your hands. You had Casey's milkshake. She loved milkshakes. And she would be so sad. It was always the thought of Casey's heartbreak that stopped you. Or imagining your dad crying. Imagining your parents having to tell your siblings what had happened.

You felt the rush of the subway as it sped past you and exhaled deeply. The moment was over. At least for now. You took a seat and did your best to steel yourself to see Casey. She was excellent at reading you, and you needed to be unreadable today. The last thing you wanted to do was worry her.

You walked the last bit of your journey in the freezing cold, appreciating the way the wind stung your eyes. It brought you out of yourself.

You saw Casey through the window before she saw you, and your heart surged. Just seeing her made you feel better. Not all the way better, but at least a little better. You knocked at her open door, and the look on her face when she saw you made your heart soar.

"Y/N!" she called, waving you in and shutting a notebook.

You were quiet. You didn't trust yourself to speak, afraid you might start crying. The downside of feeling so safe with Casey was that your usual ability to wall up your emotions was significantly impaired with her. You leaned down to kiss her quickly, and she wrapped her arms around your waist, burying her face in your chest.

"This case is killing me," she said as you pulled up a chair, divvying up the food. "I mean, the evidence they've given me is absolute shit. It's always fucking Stabler jumping the gun, and now I have to clean it up. Typical white man. So I think I'm gonna try..."

You let Casey ramble, grateful to hear her voice, to hear about her day, to have the excuse of food in your mouth to simply nod absentmindedly. But you couldn't manage to eat much, mostly pushing ketchup around with your fries and trying to white-knuckle through the panic rising in your chest. Your heart pumped faster and faster, and you were trying so hard to breathe normally, even though you felt like you were suffocating.

"Y/N?" Casey said, snapping you out of it.

"What?" Your voice was shaky, and you avoided her eyes. If she saw your eyes, she'd know.

"I just asked how bar prep was going..." She looked you over, furrowing her eyebrows. "Are you okay?"

You needed to breathe before you could speak, but when you opened your mouth to try, your breath hitched, hiccuping and separating into hyperventilation.

"Y– yes," you replied, clearly not okay, as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and your breath came in short gasps. It was as if all the anxiety of the last few days, all you'd bottled up and kept at bay, had come flooding in all at once, knocking the air out of you.

"Okay, well, that's obviously a lie," Casey observed, standing quickly to close the blinds and lock the door. She sighed as she sat back down, mentally beating herself up for not noticing that something was off when you came in.

"Come here, honey." She pulled your chair toward her, grabbing your clenched fists in her hands and forcing them flat.

You were rocking and hyperventilating at this point. Your heartbeat was so fast and loud it was almost all you could hear. If you hadn't had panic attacks before, you would have thought you were dying. You knew better: you were dying, but only on the inside.

Casey pressed her forehead to yours and breathed slowly, in and out, in and out.

"Breathe with me, sweetheart, come on," she said softly.

"I– I c-can't."

"Yes, you can, honey. Come on."

You took a big, shaky breath and let it out, coughing.

"That's it, baby, that's it. Just keep going. Just breathe."

After what felt like an eternity, your heartbeat started to slow. You paired your breathing with Casey's, shaking slightly. She ran her thumbs over your knuckles in rhythm with your breath, and you felt an icy calm settle over you, the same calm that comes after an adrenaline rush, all that hot terror seeping away.

You exhaled and lifted your head a bit, avoiding Casey's eyes.

"Sorry."

She shook her head, fixing your hair and wiping away that tears that lingered on the bottoms of your eyelids.

"Don't be sorry."

But you were. You were so sorry. Your panic attack might have subsided, but the sense of being a burden had only increased. You wanted to sit on Casey's lap. You wanted her arms around you. You wanted her to tell you that she loved you, that she needed you, that you weren't too much for her. But all of that felt like too much to ask for, so you just sat, arms wrapped around yourself.

"Will you tell me what's going on?" Casey asked gently.

You felt more tears coming and dashed them away.

"It's just everything," you said, the words spilling out in a flood. "I'm doing terrible on the practice exams, Casey. Terrible. I'm gonna fail the fucking bar exam, and then what!? What was it all even for? I just can't do it! I can't! Every time I sit down to study I feel like I'm gonna die, and I can't start because I'm too anxious, but then I don't study and I just get more anxious. I'm just– I'm not good enough!"

Your voice broke, and Casey's heart broke with it.

"I'm not good enough for you, and I– I don't want to do this. It's not worth it, I'm not worth it." You grasped your hair and groaned. "Sometimes I wish I wasn't even here. Today I even thought about jumping in front of the fucking subway. I'd never do it," you added, noticing Casey's alarm. "But it just... feels like it'd be easier for everyone, including me, if I wasn't around."

Your head was in your hands. You couldn't see it, but Casey looked devastated, her heart surging for you. She grabbed you up and pulled your body into hers until you were on her lap, her arms wrapped tightly around you.

"Oh, honey," she breathed, pressing her face into yours. "Please don't say things like that. Do you know how empty life would be if you weren't here?"

You shrugged your shoulders, sniffling

"Who would bring me milkshakes?"

You giggled.

"Who would sing loud with me in the car, huh? Who would make laugh so hard I snort?"

You smiled, moments with Casey flashing through your mind, some of the happiest moments of your life.

"Who would make me feel loved and safe and proud, if you weren't here?"

"Somebody would," you argued.

She cupped your face and looked you hard in the eyes. "No. Not like you do."

"You're just saying that."

"I'm not. I don't just say things, you know that," Casey reprimanded you. She placed small, warm kisses on your cheek, your forehead, your eyelids, the corner of your mouth, until you were laughing and squinting.

"You," she continued, "are generous and brave and kind and funny and sweet and so, so beautiful. And the world would be a lot darker without you in it."

Your chest buzzed with warmth, like stepping outside on an unexpectedly sunny day or coming downstairs on Christmas morning.

"I don't know about that," you protested, but Casey had successfully beaten back your blues. And she could tell.

"Well, my world would be anyway," she chuckled.

You placed a kiss on the corner of her mouth before returning to your seat, reaching for a french fry.

"Now you're hungry," Casey said, rolling her eyes.

You glanced at the clock. "I thought you had a meeting?"

"I do."

You froze, but Casey was quick to reassure you.

"It's okay! Not a big deal for me to be a few minutes late, I promise."

You relaxed, taking a sip of Casey's milkshake. She snatched the cup back.

"I thought I told you to get your own milkshake."

"Well, I just wanted a little bit!" you whined.

"That's what you always say, and you always drink half of mine."

You flashed her your most charming smile, and she sighed, handing you the cup. You tried not to look too smug as you sipped.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" you said, dripping with sarcasm. "Probably can't take a milkshake to your fancy lawyer meeting."

"I do have somewhere to be, but I need you to do something for me before I go."

"Oh." You sat up a little straighter. "Okay. What?"

"I need you to call your therapist," she stated, staring at you pointedly.

"Case, I'm fi–"

"No, you're not," she cut you off. "If you're having thoughts like you said you were, you need to talk to her."

You sighed and nodded. "Okay. I'll call."

Casey didn't budge.

"Casey," you needled. "You can go. I will call."

She shrugged her shoulders and leaned back in her chair, stance wide, looking like a hot Wall Street businessman in her work suit. She could make you do anything when she looked like that, and she knew it.

"Fine." You picked up your phone, scrolled through the contacts, and found your therapist, flipping the screen around to show Casey the contact info before pressing the call button.

"Speaker," Casey commanded.

"You're fucking bossy, you know that?"

Your therapist didn't pick up–probably in a session–but you left a message.

"Hey, Carla, this is Y/N. Just kind of having a rough day... slash week slash time in general, and I was wondering if you could squeeze me in maybe earlier than my session next week? Like maybe..."

"TODAY," Casey whispered aggressively.

"...even today or tomorrow if you've got anything open. Thanks, bye."

You rolled your eyes. "Happy now?"

"Mmhm." Casey stood, picked up her briefcase, and bent to kiss you on the head. "I gotta run, but let me know what your therapist says, okay?"

"Okay," you agreed, suddenly feeling embarrassed again.

"Hey," she said, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at her. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

She planted a firm kiss on your lips before opening the door.

"You can stay in here and work if you want. When I come back, we can work together."

"Okay," you said, already feeling better about an afternoon of studying. If Casey was there, it couldn't be too bad.

"I love you so much I'll even let you have the rest of my milkshake," she called back as she walked down the hallway.

You shook your head and took a sip, feeling better than you had in weeks.

[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

[saiilorstars]

The A-Team

Fandom: SVU; Sonny Carisi x OFC

Emilia’s Masterlist

Summary: Sonny is nervous about his first solo trial and so his girlfriend tries her best to help him out.

taglist: @ocappreciationtag​ @arrthurpendragon​​​​​​ @anotherunreadblog​​​​​​ @maaaaarveeeeel​​​​​ ​​ @stareyedplanet​​​​​​ ​​​​​@averyhotchner​​ ​​​​ @foxesandmagic @kmc1989 @caplanbuckybarnes​​​​​​​

Warnings: Due to the nature of the series’ plots, I do have to rate this as ‘mature’ for constant mentions of rape

Emilia was nose deep in her laptop when Sonny walked in through the door. Her eyes flickered up from the screen and watched him drop his things on the couch. He didn't need to say a word — Emilia could tell whatever work he had going on had been terrible.

"Should I get that wine bottle now?" She asked him. "Or we could go the other route and relax?"

Sonny gave her half of a smile but shook his head. He wanted to calm down before he ended taking out his stress on her. Emilia didn't deserve any of the crap he dealt with at work.

Emilia was intuitive, however, and so she continued the conversation. "It's bad, isn't it? What's the case?"

"I don't" — Sonny shook his head —"want to ruin our good streak."

Emilia snorted and chuckled. "Good streak?"

"You know — we had a good Christmas and New Years. We had good holidays…"

"And now we're both back at work," Emilia said slowly, giving him a rather 'duh!' kind of look. "That's why it's a vacation. It's like an escape from reality and unfortunately we are all done with that, so…" She closed her laptop and motioned him to take a seat with her at the table, "Why don't you tell me what the case is?"

Sonny still hesitated. With a sigh, Emilia rose from her seat and walked over to him. She was gentle when she helped him out of his jacket.

"What are you working on?" Sonny asked her instead. He gave her a soft 'thanks' as she folded his jacket and left it on the couch for him.

"Me?" Emilia mused. "Oh, you know, vacation's done and so online school started again. I'm just finishing up my first lecture of the semester. But c'mon, don't change the subject." She took his hand and walked him to the table to sit down. "What's the case?" She left him to go to the fridge.

"It's this woman — she left a big billboard message on the streets for everyone to see." Sonny eyed the books left on the table and felt even worse knowing he was interrupting Emilia's studies.

"Billboard?" Emilia closed the fridge door with a leftover bowl in her hands. They had made pesto pasta yesterday. "Ooooh, I saw that! We all did! Alice showed it to me at work a few days ago. You're taking up the case?"

"I guess I am," Sonny said, sounding like he was only just realizing the implications. Luckily, Emilia was quick to understand too.

"That'll make it your first case in the courtroom — on your own…" She popped the leftover inside the microwave and turned to look at Sonny. "That's the nerves, isn't it?"

Sonny nodded at her. "Monica — the girl behind the billboard — she's not making the case easy at all."

"Monica Russo? Yeah, we saw the whole thing online as well," Emilia crossed her arms. It had been a whirlwind of a mess concerning the girl making public accusations about a celebrity and then getting arrested herself. "God, Sonny, why didn't you tell me that was your case? It's been days since all that stuff came out!"

The microwave beeped three times before turning off.

"I didn't want to burden you, alright?" Sonny leaned back in his chair, taking the moment to actually start de-stressing from the day. "The things I see…"

"That's the thing, Sonny, you see them…" Emilia walked over to the table and set the pasta in front of him, "I just hear about them from you. It's very different. Sorry about the leftovers tonight…I was a bit stressed myself."

"You're heaven sent," Sonny assured her, reaching for one of her hands. He laced his fingers with hers and kissed the back of her hand. "Never forget that." Emilia smiled at him and handed him a fork. "What were you stressed about?"

"Ah, no, you don't get to change the subject on me," Emilia chuckled and returned to her seat. She opened her laptop and picked up her pen on the side. "I'm listening. Keep going."

"It's the usual stuff, Em. You hit the mark earlier — it'll be my first case in trial on my own. I guess it's just getting to me a bit more than I expected."

"Well, that's natural," Emilia said, taking down some notes in her notebook. "It's like my first day of teaching. Well" — she scrunched her nose — "except for the fact that I was nervous about handling 25 five year olds on my own and you're talking about rapists so…I guess it's not the same at all."

Sonny smiled at her despite her futile comparison. "I bet you were still very nervous."

Emilia hummed. "That I was. You'll be fine, Sonny. Eat, unwind, and then we'll go to sleep."

The only reason Sonny didn't protest was because of hunger. The pasta smelled delicious and he was truly eager to just forget it all until it was absolutely necessary to start thinking about it again.

~0~

Emilia knew something was wrong when she didn't hear from Sonny at all. The morning of his first trial, she had sent a few texts wishing him good luck — even a voicemail where she wished him all the luck in the world and reassured him that he would be fine — but he never responded. He was gone before her that day and she was back before him. With a quick call to Olivia Benson, she learned what happened. Emilia drove down to the D.A.'s office to find her boyfriend cooped up in his office. The door wasn't properly closed so she gave a light tap with her fingers and stepped inside.

"Hey there," she approached him with slow steps. The room was barely lit — it was a wonder how Sonny was managing to write on his notepad. "I was waiting for you to come home tonight…"

"Sorry, I was a bit busy…" Sonny mumbled, his pen working furiously on the notepad. Emilia eyed two crumpled balls of paper on the desk and wondered what he was working so hard on.

"I spoke to Olivia — she said the trial didn't go so well…"

"More like I got slaughtered out there," Sonny spat. He stopped writing and finally looked up at Emilia. "I'm writing my resignation letter."

Emilia's first reaction was to laugh. "You are not…!" The way Sonny was looking at her, though, made her stop altogether. "Stop — Dominick Carisi, you are not writing your resignation letter."

"Em, I'm gonna lose this case. Ms. Hadid already knows! She has her spies in the courtroom! I'm done!"

"No you are not," Emilia plopped down in an empty chair and leaned her arms on his desk. "You had a bad first day. It happens!"

"Yeah, but…Em, what if I'm not cut out for this?" The devastation in Sonny's eyes just imagining that he made the wrong career choice was heartbreaking. Up until now, he had always been so animated about his new job. It was what he wanted to do from day 1.

"Okay, Dominick, listen to me," Emilia reached for his hands and gripped them tight in hers. "Remember my silly little comparison before about my first day at my job? Well, I'm gonna use it again but just bear with me. There's a point." She scooted closer to the desk. "My first day on the job, I had 25 kindergarteners in my care. I was responsible for them — I had to make sure that they survived the day!"

"And you did it beautifully," Sonny said, prompting Emilia to snort.

"I wish! My circle time was a disaster! I had four of them draw on the tables while I was doing an art lesson! I miscalculated how much time they would actually pay attention and so they got bored and started drawing on the tables, others started painting on themselves because that's another thing — I didn't plan on how to give them the supplies. And then that same first day, one of my kids had an accident on the playground. It was horrible. I had to call the parents and…agh, it was just awful. A really awful first day."

Emilia let go of one of Sonny's hands to then take his other hand in both of hers, urging him to listen to her words.

"But do you know what I did? I went home and I came back the next day with a new lesson plan. I came up with a new art project, a better system to watch the kids outside — I learned and I kept going. And now here I am, trying to go for a new credential."

"And I am very proud of you for doing that," Sonny said, smiling fondly at her. She adored her students every day, even when some of those days weren't all that great.

"The point is you can't quit. If you did, you'd end up regretting it," Emilia said sternly, yet softly.

"It's hard knowing that I failed, Emilia…"

"I know it is, baby, but you can't stop now. You can still get up and try again. Do it better."

Sonny squeezed her hand, loving her more in that moment. "What would I do without you?"

"You'll never have to find out. So then, what time is court tomorrow?" Emilia let go of his hands and leaned back in her chair. "No school tomorrow."

"You do not have to come," Sonny said. As much as Emilia loved her job, she also loved sleeping in. She took advantage of her days off to the fullest and that meant getting up past noon.

"I want to see the bitch lawyer who's making your life miserable and, I don't know, trip her or something."

"Emilia—"

"On accident of course."

Sonny playfully rolled his eyes at her. He still laughed, though, which just gave Emilia more fuel to keep her story going.

Emilia soon rose from her chair and moved around the desk until she was standing behind Sonny's chair. She planted her hands on his shoulders and gave him a light massage. "I'm taking that resignation letter, by the way."

Sonny chuckled. "Sure. You can take it and go home to rest. I'll probably be in here all night."

Emilia shook her head. "I'll stay here, give you all of my support."

Sonny closed his eyes as she pressed a kiss on his temple. "I'd like nothing more than that but I know you're as tired as I am. Besides…" He opened his eyes and reached back for Emilia, tugging her around his seat while he scooted his chair back at the same time. He brought her down on his lap and pushed some of her long hair behind her shoulder. "I know you'll be there tomorrow and that means the world to me. And on your day off…"

"On my day off," Emilia agreed, "So are you sure I can't trip the bitch or something?"

Sonny rolled his eyes at her. "No, you can't."

"Damn. Fine, I'll settle for seeing you kick hers and her rapist client's ass."

"That I can try to do."

Emilia gazed at him fondly. "You'll be great tomorrow, I know it." Her confidence was unwavering and Sonny took it to heart.

He leaned forward and kissed her. However bad his day had been, one kiss from hers was enough to change it around.

~ 0 ~

Like promised, Emilia had been there for the next trial. She sat in the rows and watched Sonny handle the victim and the rapist in one go. She had never really been in a courtroom and truthfully she did not like the tension in the room. She couldn't imagine doing this 24/7. Sonny was right to only ever tell her bits and pieces about his cases, even as a detective it had always been somewhat of an unspoken rule.

But today Emilia was amazed by her boyfriend. He who was absolutely distraught with how the previous day had gone was now a very different, more confident, man throwing questions at the culprit. She was proud.

After the jury was sent out, Emilia stepped out of the courthouse to make a few calls and to give Sonny whatever time he needed with his colleagues. When she returned, she was a little lost. The courtroom was empty of course save for a few lingering reporters. She ventured the hallway until she came across the squad.

"At the risk of looking like a bigger idiot for just wandering around, could somebody please tell me where I might find my boyfriend?" she chuckled nervously.

"Might want to try the restroom," Fin said, "Or wait outside…"

Emilia raised an eyebrow at him, the idea donning on her in a few seconds. "Oh, that man and his weak stomach…"

The others chuckled.

"Where's the men's restroom?" she ultimately asked.

They were kind enough to show her the way. She got lucky as Sonny was just coming out of the restroom when she arrived.

"Hey," she hurried to meet him, "There you are! Are you okay?"

"Not really, no…" Sonny didn't hesitate to say, "Jury's been out for days."

Emilia smiled sympathetically. "Babe, it's only been 3 hours…give or take." Sonny actually stopped and checked the time on his watch. Emilia felt even worse for him. "Were you throwing up in there?"

"No…yeah…" Sonny sighed, "Waiting for the verdict, it's-it's different when it's your case."

Emilia laughed softly and offered him some gum. Sonny couldn't take it any quicker

"Oh, hun…" She stepped closer to him and touched his face. "If it's consolation, I think you did great back there. You definitely got that guy to show his real self."

"Thanks for being here," Sonny said, lowering his forehead against hers. Her mere presence had been enough to boost his confidence.

"Anytime," Emilia said, kissing his cheeks. "You want to take a walk or something?" But not a moment later, Sonny got the news that the jury had finally come back.

Their walk led them back to the courtroom. Once gathered together, they learned that the jury had found the defendant guilty. Relief washed over the right side of the courtroom as the defendant was taken into custody. Sonny looked back at the squad and more precisely his beautiful grinning girlfriend.

~ 0 ~

Later in the evening, Emilia walked out of the bathroom after a much needed shower and immediately smelled the delicious scent of her boyfriend's cooking. She practically floated to the kitchen.

"Okay, I thought we agreed on some take-out?" She laughed seeing Sonny busy in the kitchen. "My shower wasn't that long, was it?"

Sonny shook his head at her and lowered the flame of the stove. "I wanted to treat you right tonight."

"Me?" Emilia's eyebrows raised together, another laugh slipping through her lips. "You're the one who did amazing today. The take-out was my treat."

"I wasn't all that great with my moods," Sonny said, leaving the stove for a moment and walking up to her. He could smell her freshly wet hair's lavender scent. "And I just want to say thanks for sticking it out with me."

"You say it like I wasn't supposed to," Emilia said, taking his hands in hers. "Like I was supposed to let you wallow on your own. Never gonna happen."

"Oh, I know," Sonny said with a long sigh. He wrapped his arms around her and brought her body flush against his.

"We're like a team...except that I don't know the first thing about lawyering and I'm sure you'd lose your head trying to entertain 25 five year-olds." Sonny looked down at her then, making her laugh. "Yeah, who am I kidding? You're great with kids. You could probably do my job with your eyes closed. Not that you should because that would make you a horrible teacher."

Sonny couldn't help his chuckle. He was the lawyer but Emilia always seemed to know exactly what to say to make things alright. "Dinner?" He pecked her lips.

"Yes, please!" Emilia made to go around him but he caught her head and turned her back for another kiss, this one longer.

When they broke apart, Sonny mumbled a soft 'thank you' and tugged a pleasantly dazed Emilia into the kitchen with him.

[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.

[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.

[stefanmikaleson1864]

I’m here for you

Joe Velasco X Reader 

A/N: I hope everyone enjoys this !! If you like my work please comment like and reblog it means a lot to see interactions on my work. 

Y/N POV 

Me and Joe had this will they wont they thing going on for a while now. You felt like the vibes were there but it was hard because he was a quiet guy. 

You also were a little reserved so no one had the guts to talk to each other. But slowly by surely the two of you opened up to each other. Talking and texting every chance you got.

It had only been a couple of months and you were head over heels in love.  

Lately thought he had gone through a rough patch and you were trying to be there for him without stepping on toes.

 Olivia our captain was against me even talking to him. Which i personally didn’t understand. 

I Mean I know what he was accused of but i think we all deserve the benefit of the doubt.

 I mean just become someone decided to secretly record an interview we should all turn on him. I feel like he deserved to tell his side of the story. 

I let everyone in the unit how I was feeling about the situation which was causing a lot of heat in the unit. 

“Y/N what did I tell you about staying away” Captain Benson asked. 

“All i did was text him to make sure he was doing that’s all” I said 

“You disobeyed my orders i told you flat out no communication” She said 

“I didn’t ask about the case or anything he’s my friend I ‘m not going to turn my back on him especially when he needs people now” I said in a defensive manner. 

Cap just looked at me and I could tell she was trying to find the right next words to say to me. 

“Listen to me I am saying this because you are a great detective and you have a great career ahead of you and you need to stay focused okay” She told me 

The words she said to me kind of irritated me a little bit but i kept my composer and bit my tongue. I didn’t want to start a fight and cause more tension. 

“I understand cap” was all you could muster out at the moment. 

“Your dismissed the days over just go home and get some rest and think about what I said.” She said. 

“Yes Ma’am thank you” I said 

She put her glasses on and started pulling some papers out of her giant stack she had and started focusing on them. 

Finn and Amanda both looked at me with worried look on their faces. I think when I walked out I looked a little mad and upset. 

“You know she’s right you just gotta focus on you at the moment” Amanda said 

Something in you broke a little and what ever you had been pushing down had worked it way up.

Because you looked over at them sitting in their desk and then spoke out 

“I find that a bit ironic considering your history of dating you and Nick Aamaro and then getting pregnant by Lt Murphy who you were under by the way. Me and Velscao are friends and im finding it pretty messed up that were just supposed to turn our back on a friend” You snapped. 

Finn looked surprised as hell and Amanda was taken back and not sure on what to say next. Which you didn’t even bother giving her the chance.

You quickly gathered your stuff and then headed out. In the background you heard Finn say 

“Just let go and let’s go home” He said 

You walked out the squad room and headed downstairs. You were to worked up to even wait for the elevator. 

You ran down the stairs and then headed out the front door. The fresh air hitting you in the face made you instantly feel a little better. You just headed to the car and threw your stuff in. 

You didn’t even think about going home you just began driving. You tried to clear your head to make you feel a little better. ]

Your stomach started growling and you decided to stop for some dinner. There was a local diner that Joe introduced you to. 

You pulled up and got out and walked in . It was pretty quiet and you were thankful for not having to deal with people. 

You sat in the booth you and Joe always sat in. You were looking at the menu but not really even paying attention. 

You tried to push back frustration tears from everything going on. Suddenly a man wearing a hoodie sat across from you which scared the crap out of you

“Omg what the hell” You asked 

You heard a familiar laugh and then calmed down immediately when you realized who it was. 

“Joe what the hell are you doing here” You asked 

You looked up at him he gave you a sad look. 

“I guess i just wanted to see you”  He said 

“Yeah me to but how did you know I was here” You asked 

“Because I know you I figured you were just getting off of work and was probably hungry so you came here and sat in our booth” Joe said 

You blushed and smiled at him knowing you so well. Or were you that predictable you thought 

“How are you with everything” You asked 

“It’s been hard you know having to turn on Chilli and not also you know” Joe said

“ you know what” You asked 

“Not being able to talk to you. You have no idea how long I have been wanting to talk to you and see you it killed me” Joe said

“It’s not fair that Cap thinks she can just dictate our personal lives you know I missed you to a lot I have been wanting to see you It killed me too not beng able to see you” You told him. 

“I don’t want to bring you down with me” Joe said 

“You wouldn’t do that I’m here for everything the good and the bad” You said grabbing his hand. 

He took your hand and looked up at you and smiled and gave your hand a squeeze. 

“I’m here for you always” you said to him 

“I know and that’s the problem he said

Your face kind of dropped and it was hard not to feel hurt. 

Joe noticed your face and took his other hand and grabbed your free one and squeezed both of them together. 

“It’s not like that i don’t wanna drag you down with me I love you to much” He said 

You gave him a surprised look followed by a smile 

“You love me” You questioned 

He laughed a little bit.

“I’m being serious” you said pouting 

“I know me to I’m trying to tell you I love you. Like more than friends you know and I don’t wanna be the reason your career goes up in flames” He said 

“Listen here Joe Velscao” you said 

“Oh my whole government name it’s serious” Joe said smiling 

“Shut the hell up and listen I love you so much and you are the best part of me and I am a better person and detective because of you know and I know it’s only been a couple of month but when you know you know and I just know” You said rambling towards the end. 

Joe leaped towards you and kissed you hard. You kissed him back and you were both smiling in each other’s faces. 

The kiss broke and he sat down. 

“Listen Y/N i love you so much and like you said when you know you know and I do feel that way about you which is why I wanna protect you” Joe said 

“I’m here i’m a big girl we are going to figure this out together but you gotta tell me the truth that stuff you said in the tapes was it true” You asked 

“Yeah it is but to a point i’m clean I never touched drugs ever but with the dad and son Chilli covered my ass and I owe that to him to help and try and cover his” Joe said 

“I know you feel like that but you also know what ever is going on in the past you gotta close the wound and it should be on your time not anyones else’s okay but you know what the right thing to do is” You said 

“I know I know your right and i know what i gotta do i just don’t the accusations and the rush to judgement” Joe said 

“I get that and I agree that’s not fair to you and you shouldn’t have to prove who you are after all the hard work you been doing. But this is where we are so you need to go and sit down and talk to Oliva and be honest with everything and let the cards fall where they do” You said 

“Yeah you're probably right and I know it’s just hard actually doing it” Joe said 

“I will go in with you tomorrow okay i got you. You won’t go in there alone.” You said 

“Thank you” Joe said squeezing my hand

“Now let’s eat I’m hungry that’s the whole reason why i’m here” You said laughing 

“Yes Ma’am” Joe said 

The waitress came back over and the two of you ordered. Of course she knew what you were getting because it was the same old thing. 

“So uh after this little confession is this considered a date” You asked 

Joe’s face lit up red and he looked up at you and smiled. 

“Nah trust me you deserve a much better place than this for our first official date” He said 

“Oh you don’t know what you just walked yourself into. Because i am going to take you to the most expensive restaurant i can in New York” You said laughing 

“Oh you the person who orders the most basic food ever you wouldn’t even eat the nice food so good luck with that” Joe said laughing 

“Don’t worry about me” You said smirking. 

You both couldn’t contain your laughter of that. Joe really loosened up and relaxed and you both dropped the work conversation after that. T

alking about everything from your favorite shows you would watch together. 

The food came out just a little bit later and you both shoved your faces with food. It was either really good or you were really hungry.

The rest of the night you both laughed and talked. You also couldn’t help but wonder how Liv was going to take you defying her orders but that didn’t matter right now. 

Because there is no one else you would rather be with than Joe. Nothing could keep the two of you apart from each other. 

No matter what happed the two of you would always be there for each other