#liv passing her exams

[bobbie-robron]

Sorry, Brenda, but we fancy a cold one. No offense.

22-Aug-2019, episode 1

[realhotgirlshitah]

Interview with Jack and Liv

Jack Champion x black! fem oc

(warning: attempt of humour and fluff)

In which these two idiots can't even answer one question seriously in an interview.

"Ready Champion?"

"Whenever you are Thompson,"

"Right, let's get started,"

If you could have any superpower, what would it be?

"Mind control would easily be my first choice," I immediately answered.

" You answered that a little too quickly, Liv, pretty scary if you ask me,"

"Lemme guess, your choice would be the ability to fly?"

A long pause.

"No it wouldn't," he glared at me, obviously mad that I'd figured it out immediately.

"Don't even try lying Jack, it's old and borderline basic, just like you,"

"Okay first of all rude, second of all, I wouldn't choose that first I'd actually choose-

"Super strength?" I cocked an eyebrow at him in amusement.

Another long pause.

"Next question please,"

What were your first impressions of each other?

"I thought she was really intimidating to be honest," Jack admitted.

"You're joking," I laughed.

"No, I remember we were working on the movie and for the first two weeks, you were really serious, like I never saw you smiling,"

"I was in the middle of preparing for my exams back home!"

"I didn't know it at the time! I genuinely believed you didn't like me at all,"

"Looks like I'm not the only over thinker here," i grinned.

"Leave me alone,"

"Well at first I thought that J was really arrogant, loud, boisterous, immature and annoying,"

Pause.

"But?"

"There isn't a but, that's it. My feelings have not changed in any way whatsoever,"

"Oh fuck off,"

What's Olivia's best quality and feature?

"Well along with being crazy smart, Liv's hands down the most hilarious person I've ever met, I'm never not laughing when she's around, as for her best feature, she has really nice eyes,"

"That's a bit of a basic one," I complained.

"But it's true, you have really nice eyes, they're super dark and mysterious with an alluring aura radiating off of them,"

"Did you read that in a book and decided to finally use it in an interview to sound smart?"

"Ding ding ding, you caught me," he put his hands up in defeat before giving me a cheeky smile, I meant what I said though,"

"Of course you did Champion," I deadpanned with an eye roll.

What's Jack's best quality and feature?

"He can be quite thoughtful, a year ago, we were drinking a salted caramel iced coffee which I mentioned ONCE that I loved and for my birthday two months ago, he got me five boxes full of the syrup they used,"

"Oh that was fun,"

"In regards to best features, I'd say your lips, they're quite nice,"

He smirked smugly and tilted his head to the side before responding.

"You know, they're not just aethestically pleasing, there's a lot of girls who rave about how good of a kisser I am,"

"If you carry on talking, I will kick you in the balls so hard you'll want to die,"

What's your favourite thing to do together?

Me and Jack looked at each other trying to think of an answer.

"We haven't really got a specific activity that we do consistently together, do we?" he asked.

"No, we don't, but my favourite thing to do with you is listen in on your French work when getting ready for an exam or something, your pronunciation is atrocious, Jack"

"It's not that bad! I'm an A plus student!" He replied indignantly.

"That's because to pass languages all you have to do is not be complete dog shit and just wing an answer, I can guarantee if you came over to the UK and took A Level French, you’d despise it,"

"My favourite thing to watch you do is study for a theory test for your licence, you suck at it and you suck at driving too,"

"How would you know?"

"I've seen the look on your instructor's face after a lesson, Olivia, I hope you pay for his therapy afterwards,"

"Oh suck it sideways,"

What is the most annoying thing about Olivia?

"Ooo this'll be a fun one," Jack rubbed his hands together in anticipation before letting out an almighty yell when I thumped him in the arm. "I haven't even said anything yet!"

"The look on your face said it all,"

"Apart from her tendency to go straight to violence, her ability to speak five different languages is excruciatingly annoying, I can't do my French work around her at all,"

"There's no switching to German, Mandarin, Spanish or Japanese either," I winked at the camera.

What's the most annoying thing about Jack?

"Where do I even start?"

"Hey! Keep it short and mean," he crossed his arms at me in annoyance.

"It's always girls following him everywhere we go, I dragged him to go shopping with me just last week so he could carry my bags and as soon as we arrived, a group of girls just materialised out of nowhere???"

"What can I say? I have a very magnetic aura that people tend to gravitate to,"

"You are a literal joke,"

What's Jack's type?

"Me," I mouthed to the camera earning a very dirty look from Jack. "What? Fucking hell tough crowd,"

"You're a nightmare, Thompson, answer the question properly,"

"Jack likes girls that are funny, intelligent, match his sarcasm, loyal and sweet,"

"You didn't quite make that cut at that last part did you, Liv?"

"Ah so you admit that I'm funny, intelligent and loyal," I grinned at him devilishly

"Next question please!"

What's Olivia's type?"

"Oh gosh," I covered my face in embarrassment.

"Intelligent, Liv loves smart guys,"

"Who doesn't love a good nerd?"

"Funny, matches her energy, loyal, charming, sharp, good hair, a good listener, and kind,"

"Very specific, Jackson,"

Well all I had to do was describe mysel- WAIT LIV, COME BACK,"

Olivia's celebrity crush?

"Do you want just one, or do you want me to list the 50 she comes up with every day?"

"You're such a bum,"

"Well apart from me, Pedro Pascal, President Fitzgerald Grant the third, Megan Thee Stalliom, Kehlani, Daniel Kaluuya-

"Okay Jack-

"Ooooo Letitia Wright-

"THAT'S ENOUGH JACK, FUCKING HELL,"

Jack’s celebrity crush?

"Me, I'm his celebrity crush,"

"Yes Olivia, I'm hopelessly in love with you,"

"There's also SZA, Angela Basset, Margot Robbie, Bella Hadid, Serena Williams, Lizzo, Naomi Campbell- she was his first one, Beyoncé-

"Okay I think that's enough," Jack scratched the back of his neck bashfully.

"Ooo Coco Jones, also Megan Thee Stallion, Duckie Thot, Marsai Martin, Anok Yai, Ice Spice, Madelyn Cline-

"OLIVIA!"

"What? TRUST I was gonna get my lick back,"

What’s your party trick?

“Well apart from showing off my gorgeous muscles, I’m a pretty good dancer,” Jack smirked.

“Show them your moves mama,” I mirrored his smile knowing exactly what was coming.

The entire studio watched in amusement as Jack got up from his chair and started to do the dougie. Was it predictable? Maybe. Was he fucking that shit up? Oh absolutely.

“Ouuuuu go on, don’t hurt em now white boy,”

“Liv also taught me how to throw it around in a circle but we’ll save that for next time,” the brunette panted while getting back into his chair.

“You know you not that bitch or nothing but you still ate that lil one thing,” I quoted with a grin.

“I know that’s right!”

“Y’all will never guess who taught him that,”

“This gal!” Jack pointed at me enthusiastically.

“You’re so corny,” I laughed adoringly at him.

Olivia what’s your party trick?

“Knowing every Megan thee Stallion song bar for bar, word for word, the woman does no wrong in my eyes,”

“Can confirm, we put it to the test while filming, it’s very impressive,” Jack nodded.

“I can also take my box braids down REALLY quickly when I’m focused,”

“The problem is she struggles to focus when undoing her hair, so I help her take it out,”

“You like taking it out and detangling it though,” I pointed out.

“Very true, I think it’s incredibly therapeutic,”

If you could switch lives with anyone for a day, who would it be?

"Hmmm, that's a tough one," I said, tapping my chin. "I think I'd switch lives with Jeff Bezos and donate a bunch of his money to charity,"

"Wow, you're such a saint," Jack said sarcastically. "I think I'd switch lives with Elon Musk and take his Tesla for a joyride,"

"You do realize that's technically stealing, right?"

"Yours is technically embezzlement," he shrugged.

I shook my head. “That’s not fair, I’m giving it to people who need it more!”

“Tell that to the judge, Thompson,”

You're impossible,"

"That's why you love me," he replied with a smirk.

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corner of my lips. Despite his borderline obnoxious personality, I couldn't deny that Jack was one of my closest friends and I enjoyed his company more often than not.

“Is there one last thing you guys would like to say before we cut?”

“Olivia Tinashe Thompson is the best person I’ve ever met and worked with, I really hit the jackpot when this one decided to become my friend and I honestly hope this isn’t our last time working together, even if I can be a pain,”

I was taken aback by his earnest confession and glanced at him to find out he was already staring at me with what one could only call adoration and love.

“You really have a way with words don’t you?” I smiled softly.

“What can I say? You bring it out in me,”

Finally the interview was over and we said our goodbyes to the crew and staff before making our way out to exit the building.

“When we get home, could you help me take these braids out? I have a hair appointment tomorrow,” I smiled sweetly at him as he held the door open for me.

“I’ll do you one better and wash you hair for you when we’re done,”

“Are you just saying that to get in the shower with me?” I narrowed my eyes at him suspiciously.

“My girlfriend knows me so well,” Jack grinned at me before wrapping his arm around my waist as we left the building. I couldn't help but feel grateful for the unexpected friendship (and poorly kept secret of a relationship) that had blossomed between me and Jack. Maybe we were both idiots, but at least we were idiots together.

My first one shot, pls be nice y’all i promise i’ll get better lol.

[multitrackdrifting]

some writing notes on my ishigami video

it's nice that akasaka aka points out that kaguya is very different to when she was the "ice queen" (hayasaka says this early on), and one of the first serious chapters with her that isn't about shirogane is helping ishigami study

she knows he's not lazy or disinterested because he's stupid and incapable of learning, but because his foundational learning was disrupted by his absence from middle school due to being unable to write an apology

she recognises that his games and stuff are a distraction to his studies, which is like, yeah, she is right about that since he has treated them as a crutch to bide his time.

she sticks up for ishigami to girls gossiping about him and tries to beat him into shape by helping him study every single day so he passes and recognises how the rumours, the distractions & his ethic that result from that stop him from doing well - while he doesn't magically get straight As, it's apparent that with the right support he could start to study better and while that seems like "well why does he have to? people have different strengths"

ishigami used to be athletic (being the fastest runner in his year), and while he wasn't a top ranked student or anything like that, his traumatic experience in middle school and the rumours that resulted from it definitely drive his disinterest with studies to be far worse than that. which is why having kaguya in his corner for numerous exams is so nice cause while she cares about defeating shirogane in exams, she doesnt place that desire above the real possibility that ishigami could fail to graduate and while he doesn't need a job or even money because of his dad, it also means he would be even more isolated and unable to connect with people his age. everyone is talking about their futures, their grades, their exams, and ishigami is more or less absent from that kind of idle banter

studying is a pretty social activity for some people, they make study groups for exams, chill at study hall and whatnot and idk, ishigami is barely involved in student life in the beginning so going from studying to avoid failing, to joining a club, to actually trying to enjoy his days as a kid since he's still only 15 (16 by the time the seniors graduate), he starts to appreciate it at the perfect time

when it comes to ethic and stuff like that i think people are quick to call others lazy and stuff cause of our preconceptions about them, but ishigami would still be worth helping even if he had no trauma or history that made it difficult to learn i think.

i think that the way that things are structured arent suited to the needs of people who struggle to learn, and the ways that they can catch up aren't even like actual failsafes built into schools and universities either. that you can't really catch up and succeed in school if you miss any classes and get someone's notes or something means that if you sit outside of the social structure of it, you are just doomed to fail if you miss anything at all and have nobody to ask and your professor is unhelpful about it

idk, that arc was really nice and im glad it expands to ishigami gradually becoming more motivated to study, not just to impress his crush, but because kaguya believed that there was hope for him in his academics where he had more or less all but given up for three years.

you dont have to have good grades to have self-worth but its more about integrating back into school life that's really hard for him - you don't really have to reconcile it with your beliefs about school as an institution for getting a job cause that's not really relevant to his personal circumstances. ishigami is rich, he don't need a job, he just wants to overcome his inferiority complex and trauma to just, have a normal school life. its not about what comes next per se, but making sure that the life that he lives now is one where he is not afraid to do things. whether he comes to regret what he does, it's much worse to live a life where you never take risks and just resign yourself to the box people shoved you into

he talks badly of normies and people with success in romance, clubs and academics because part of him wants to have the courage to do the same but its just easier to call yourself human trash and joke about killing yourself a lot for him.

when he talks about miko during the elections, he expresses how much he hates it when people talk shit about people who do their best like passion is something you can laugh at, and internally, he recognises this is hypocritical when he joins the cheer club that he dismisses their passion as bullshit so he puts himself in uncomfortable situations to start walking the path to becoming the fucking goat

most things that will help you grow are excruciating, long-winded habit building exercises that will help you endure in the long run and that's why it's so fucking cathartic to see him continually take steps to better his life as things go on

he doesn't magically get rewarded for making his life one that he feels proud of, but in doing so, he experiences the rewards of coming out of his shell and moving from self-deprecating introvert gag guy to someone with better emotional expression and ability to connect with others, someone who actually knows he doesn't deserve to live life in isolation, without antyhing to be proud of. he doesn't just get handed unearned Ws, he has plenty of fumbles and awkward experiences, but to be able to endure that and keep living with his head held high surrounded by people he confidently calls his friends is just pure kino

[stephleb]

Open Your Future: How to Get Your CNA Certification in Virginia

**Title: ⁢Unlock Your Future: How to Get Your‍ CNA Certification in Virginia**

**Introduction:** If you have a passion for ⁣helping others and want ​to pursue a rewarding career in healthcare, becoming a Certified Nursing Assistant⁤ (CNA) could be the perfect ​path for you.⁤ In Virginia, CNA certification is ‌a crucial step towards entering this ⁢field and providing essential care to patients in various healthcare settings. In this article, we will‍ guide you through the process of obtaining your CNA certification in‌ Virginia, from eligibility requirements to ​exam preparation. Let’s unlock your future together!

**Benefits of⁤ Becoming a CNA in Virginia:** Before‌ we⁢ dive into the ⁢details of ‍how to get your CNA certification in Virginia, let’s take a look at some of the benefits of ⁣pursuing this career ⁢path:

– High demand: The demand for CNAs in Virginia is ⁤on the rise, and ⁤there are plenty of job opportunities available in hospitals, nursing homes, and assisted living facilities. – Fulfilling work: As ‍a CNA, you will have the opportunity to make⁤ a meaningful impact ‌on ‍the lives of patients by providing essential care and support. – Career advancement: CNA certification can serve as a stepping stone towards ‍furthering your career in healthcare, ​such as becoming ⁣a Licensed Practical Nurse (LPN) or⁢ Registered Nurse (RN).

**How to Get Your CNA‍ Certification in Virginia:** To ‌become a CNA in Virginia, you must follow these steps:

1. Meet eligibility‌ requirements: To be eligible for CNA certification in Virginia, you must be at least 18 years old, have a high school diploma or GED, and complete a state-approved ​CNA training program.

2. Complete a CNA training program: Enroll in a Virginia⁤ Board of Nursing-approved ​CNA training program, which typically consists of classroom instruction and hands-on⁢ clinical training. The ​program will prepare ⁣you for the CNA⁢ certification exam.

3. Pass the CNA certification exam: Once ‍you have completed your training program, you must pass the National Nurse Aide Assessment Program ⁢(NNAAP) exam to become a certified​ CNA in Virginia. The exam consists of‍ a⁤ written or oral ‌knowledge test and a skills evaluation.

4. Apply ⁢for certification: ⁢After passing the exam, you can apply for ‍CNA ‍certification‍ through the ‌Virginia ⁢Board of Nursing. You will need to submit proof of completing a training program and passing the‌ exam to receive your‌ certification.

**Practical Tips for Success:** – Study regularly: Allocate ​time each day to review your study materials⁣ and practice essential skills to prepare for the exam. – ​Take practice tests: Use online practice tests ⁣to familiarize yourself with ​the format of the exam and identify areas where you may need additional⁤ study. – Seek support: Reach out to your instructors, classmates, or‌ healthcare professionals ‍for ⁣guidance and ⁤support throughout your CNA ⁣training.

**Case Study: Sarah’s Journey ‌to Becoming a ​CNA** Sarah, a Virginia resident, decided to pursue a career as a CNA after witnessing the compassionate care provided by the CNAs at her grandmother’s nursing home. She enrolled in a CNA training program and‍ dedicated herself to studying and preparing for ⁤the‌ certification exam. With‌ hard work and determination, Sarah passed the exam⁤ on her first attempt and ⁣is‍ now a certified CNA working in a local hospital, making a difference in the lives of patients every day.

**Conclusion:** Obtaining your CNA certification in Virginia is a significant accomplishment that can open doors to a ⁤fulfilling career in healthcare. By meeting the eligibility requirements, completing a training program, passing the certification exam, and applying ‌for certification, you can unlock‌ your future as a certified nursing assistant. Take the‌ first step towards your dream career today and embark‌ on a journey of‌ caring for others and making a difference in the lives of‌ patients. Good luck on your path to becoming a ‍CNA in Virginia!

https://cnatrainingcentral.com/open-your-future-how-to-get-your-cna-certification-in-virginia/

[sapphoherselz]

LMAOOOOOO I wouldn't be laughing if I were Andrew AND he can pause the song cause the moment Robin pulls a Neil and passes off someone he IS going to protect her...just saying......

Okay SO this is the aftg x six of crows au!!!

and THIS is global examination:

(if you're interested in reading this or any other novel hit me up I'm like the drugdealer of links and epubs)

BEGGING you for the next socmed au part

- @you-know-i-get-itt

18.

Robin pookie!!! I did it!!! Again!!! The princess that was promised. 👸🏾

don’t worry, Matt took her on a midnight drive for emergency rice crispies. if Andrew’s lot don’t watch out he’s gonna be favorite uncle soon…

[noellawrites]

Nose Candy - Yandere!Nick Amaro x reader

summary: you and Nick do drugs together, but nothing ever goes as planned.

warnings: drug usage (cocaine), yelling, physical abuse

After a long day at work, you and Nick were back in your shared apartment.

“You talked to Liv about taking the Sergeant’s exam, right? I think you have a good shot at—“ you began, but Nick cut you off.

“Yeah, I talked to her. Tucker told her they’d never promote me. I got nothing goin’ for me, (y/n),” he sighed.

You narrowed your eyes and shook your head.

“I’m sorry, babe. Is there anything I can do?” you offered, walking over to where your husband stood.

You ran your hand up and down his arm in an attempt to comfort him.

“You, uh, you got any snow?” Nick asked, smiling at you as he loosened his tie.

“Nick, are you sure?” you asked, biting the inside of your lip.

“Of course I’m sure, baby. Zara won’t be here to visit until next week. Let’s do it together, c’mon!” he urged, putting his hands out and bringing you into a hug.

“Okay, let me go and get it.”

You grabbed your small tin box from inside your underwear drawer. You always kept it hidden just in case Zara was over to visit Nick. You shut your drawer and went back into the living room.

You sat down on the couch next to Nick, hands trembling as you opened the tin.

You passed the razor blade and the small baggie of powder to Nick, who had a small mirror sitting on the table in front of him.

You rolled up the dollar bill and watched him cut the cocaine into a few thin lines.

Deep down, you knew how toxic this relationship was. You and Nick both had addictive personalities and a hard time saying no to anything when you were together.

You handed Nick the rolled-up bill and watched as he bent his head down to the mirror.

When it was your turn, Nick moved the mirror toward you and you bent down, using the dollar to snort the powder right up your nostril.

You cringed in pain as you felt your throat burning. It was only temporary, and Nick was rubbing your back gently as you began to feel the drug kicking in.

You moved so your head rested in Nick’s lap and your legs rested on the couch. Nick smiled down at you as he played with your hair.

“I feel sick,” you mumbled as the contents of your stomach groaned and made noise. You wriggled around to find a position of comfort.

“Get up, baby! We should have sex!” Nick laughed, moving you off of his lap and jumping up.

"C'mon, it'll be so much fun like this," he urged, grabbing your hands and attempting to yank you up.

"Nick, stop it, not right now," you groaned. A shiver ran up your spine, which made you feel anxious and jittery.

"You never want to fuck me, baby. Why is that? Am I just too ugly for you, after all the times I've been shot and punched and injured? Do I repulse you? Huh?" Nick yelled. He grabbed your arms and pulled hard, causing you to tumble off the couch with a groan.

"Get up! We're not done here!" he pointed at your trembling figure and snarled.

You shook your head. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes and you attempted to take a deep breath when Nick grabbed your neck, cutting off your air supply and forcing you into a standing position.

He stared at you in horror, letting go and allowing you to cough and sputter in an attempt to get more oxygen. He took a step toward you and you stepped back, shaking. You were terrified.

"I-I'm so sorry baby, I didn't—oh no," Nick gasped, staring down at his own hands in disbelief. Your neck now sported a red handprint, courtesy of him.

You watched as Nick's lips curled into a sob. A tear rolled down his cheek and he screwed his eyes shut, no longer able to look at you or his hands.

"Nick, it's okay. I'm not hurt, I promise," you assured your husband, gently putting your arm on his back and guiding him to the couch.

"I'm so sorry, babe. I never meant to— I don't want to be like my father. I'll never do it again, I promise," he vowed, looking deep into your eyes and taking your hands gently in his.

You wanted so badly to believe him, but you weren't sure just yet.

[tropes-and-tales-archives]

Perfectly Imperfect, Chapter Nine

Word Count:  2220

TW:  Angst; two idiots in love.

AN:  Part of a series.  The series masterlist here.

Over the course of his relationship with you, there had been a point where Barba told you that he wanted to be your friend, even if he couldn’t be more.  That had been the tipping point, the moment where a choice had been made.  The choice – that kiss in the courthouse at night.  The two of you had moved forward with a romantic relationship, and Barba had eventually messed it up.  Another choice on his part, and one of the biggest regrets of his life.  

Sometimes he wondered if it would have been better to have just stayed friends all those months.  Maybe he should have pursued nothing more than that.  Would he feel tortured now, wondering what could have been?

Because he definitely felt tortured now, as things stood.  He missed having you in his bed, but he missed having you as a friend more.  He missed the casual coffee dates and joking around.  He missed helping you with your school work; he missed being the first person you ran to see when you got an A on a paper or exam.

He still got to see you a lot, which was better than nothing.  Murphy had you run point with the D.A.’s office while you were still on desk duty, so you were always carrying files to Barba and taking messages back to SVU.  Back and forth, back and forth, for weeks.  When you turned up in his office doorway, it made his heart ache.  When you left, it ached even more.  

And then, about a month after you came back from leave, you were gone.  

Barba let it go for a few days.  He assumed you were on vacation, or maybe some out-of-town work on a new case, but when he looked closer he noticed all the signs:  your name was off the SVU scheduling whiteboard and your desk was cleaned out.

He asked Liv point-blank.  “She got reassigned,” she said, then pulled a face.  “To IAB.”

It took another few days for him to swallow his pride and ask Rollins, who smirked but gave him more details.

“She kept failing her firearm recertification,” Rollins told him.  “Couldn’t come off desk duty, but couldn’t return to SVU without passing.”

“How could she fail?” Barba asked.  He remembered the time he swiped a copy of your jacket and read through your impressive list of accomplishments.  He thought he remembered seeing accolades for marksmanship.  He could only imagine the blow it gave you, to actually fail at something when you were used to getting perfect marks.

Rollins shrugged.  “She can’t shoot with her left hand, and her right hand is still messed up.  So she’s riding the desk at IAB until she passes again.”

“Oh.”  He didn’t bother to hide how crestfallen he felt.  He hardly ever interacted with IAB, and when he did, it was with Ed Tucker.  It was like Barba had lost you all over again, this time to the grinding inner workings of NYPD.

Rollin’s mouth twisted into that smirk she always had when you or the subject of you was around.  “Too bad there’s no way to get ahold of her,” she said, sardonic.  “If only there was some communication device, some way to speak with her…”

“Thank you, detective,” he replied stiffly, but Rollins only laughed at him.

“You should call her,” she added, more seriously, and Barba could only repeat his thanks and try to hustle her out of his office before she said anything else.

-----

He thought about calling you many times.  There were even some nights where he pulled up your contact information and let his index finger hover over the call button, but he always chickened out in the end.  He knew you didn’t suffer fools:  your lack of relationships before him proved as much.  Since he had blundered so badly with you, he had to assume that you lumped him in with every other disappointing or idiotic man you’d met.

It was a few months, well into spring, when he saw you again, and it was when you knocked on his office door.

It was early evening.  Almost everyone had left for the day, and the sun had set already.  Barba wasn’t working on any specific case – it was just the usual avalanche of paperwork that he could never get ahead of.

One moment, he was sighing and loosening his tie, and the next, he was looking up, startled by the knock on his door.  And then started again by the sight of you, standing there.

You looked like a vision, and Barba felt that familiar flip-flop in his stomach whenever he saw you.  You were in grey pants and a short-sleeved sweater, and you had a trench coat slung over your arm.  You were out of your sling, apparently healed, but you still seemed to be favoring your left hand.  It held your briefcase while your right hand tapped against your thigh in apparent nervousness.

“Hey,” Barba said, and the joy in his voice was obvious.  You nodded back at him, but you looked serious.  Barba’s stomach dropped – maybe you were finally ready to read him the riot act about his bad behavior, now half a year in the past.  Still, getting yelled at by you?  Miles better than not seeing you at all.

“Hey,” you replied.  “Do you have a moment?  Am I interrupting?”

“No.”  He stood up and gestured for you to sit in the chair across from him.  “I mean, no, you’re not interrupting.  Yes, I have a moment.”

At this, you gifted him a small smile as you sat down and placed your coat and briefcase in the chair beside you.  There was a beat of silence while Barba sat back down, and he kept his hands (shaking, and rapidly starting to sweat) in his lap so that you wouldn’t know how nervous he was.

“How are you?” you asked.

Barba shrugged and nodded at the pile of paperwork on his desk.  “Same as always.  How are you?  How’s the new job?”

“I’m fine.”  A pause.  “I’m actually here about my job.”

Barba felt oddly disappointed that you weren’t there to give him hell about how things ended between you.  It felt like a broken bone that had healed wrong, two jagged ends fused incorrectly and constantly aching as a result.  He didn’t have the courage to break it so that it could be set to heal right.  He was hoping you might do it instead.

He sat back and listened as you told him about your work in IAB.  Boring, you told him.  You handled audits on search warrants, and precincts hated to see you walk through their doors.  Not like they hated to see Ed Tucker, because he was the harbinger of bad news.  You were just the bringer of arbitrary paperwork, of busywork, of lost time and bureaucracy.  

“I hate it,” you told Barba, and he noticed that you didn’t do that blank-look mask that you’d done when you first broke up.  You just looked at him like normal, albeit more reserved that you had been in the past.  You were moving on, it seemed.  “But I’m still struggling with passing my gun cert.”  You held up your right hand, but Barba couldn’t see anything obviously wrong with it.  He still nodded like he understood though.

“How can I help?” he asked.

You took a deep breath through your nose that you exhaled through your mouth.  “Look,” you started.  You glanced at him and then looked away.  “I know things ended badly between us – “

“That’s my fault,” he broke in, and you gave a rueful smile at that.

“Agreed.”  Another glance, and you looked away again.  “But I…still value your opinion on things.  If that’s okay.  If it doesn’t cross any lines, I mean.”

“Of course it’s okay.”  He felt the same flush of buzzy happiness he had when you’d approached him all those months ago, when you needed help studying for your class.

“Do you know anything about the positions that the city is creating for the district attorney’s offices across the five boroughs?” you asked.  He shook his head, and you continued.

“I overheard them talking about it at 1PP.  I guess they piloted some program in the Bronx, and now they’re rolling it out citywide.”

Barba’s interest was sufficiently piqued.  He leaned forward.  “What positions?”

You sketched out what you’d overheard:  the district attorneys across the city were overworked, and apparently there’d been some studies about how they were spending their time.  A state consultant had set up the pilot program, and it resulted in the recommendation to create positions to support the various ADAs.  Not paralegals, exactly, but people who could run point between the prosecutors and various police groups.

“Apparently there’s an alarming amount of burnout,” you said, and you looked him over pointedly.  “Prosecutors quitting without notice, nervous breakdowns.  Taking stupid risks and getting disbarred.”

“Getting tangled with a multi-agency prostitution ring,” Barba added, remembering the situation in the Manhattan district attorney’s office before he transferred in.

“Exactly.”  You gifted him another small smile.  “Anyway, I can’t stay at IAB but I can’t go back into the field any time soon.  I was thinking I might apply for one of those positions when they are posted.”  You bit your lip.  “Do you think it’s a bad idea?”

His heart knew the answer immediately:  anything that brought you back into his life was a good thing, as far as it was concerned.  But he didn’t voice that.  Instead, his voiced his brain – infinitely cooler and more logical.

“I think it’s a good idea,” he offered.  “You have some legal education, and you have your experience at SVU and your training program with the FBI.  You’d be a natural at it.”

“You think so?”

“However,” he held up a warning hand.  “I seem to recall you scoffing at the idea of ever being a lawyer.  This feels like the beginning of a slippery slope.  How long before you’re sitting for the bar and pushing me out of a job?”

At this, you gave him a proper grin, your eyes crinkling at the corners.  He couldn’t help but smile back – he hadn’t seen you smile like that in ages.  

“If I ever sit for the bar and pass, I’d be an ambulance chaser,” you informed him.  

“You could have those late-night commercials about slip-and-fall accidents,” he added.

“Advertisements on the subway.”

“Exactly.”  He watched you as you smiled at him, and then he watched as your smile fell a bit.  You seemed to remember again that he was your ex, and he felt you slip a wall between the two of you.  So he hurried to add more, to talk more before you stood up and left.

“I think you’d be great at it,” he said seriously.  “You’re smart and you have good legal instincts.  SVU is hurting without you, you know.”

You shook your head.  “They miss Nick more, probably.  I never really found a home there, in the end.  Amanda told me that the new guy is okay though.”

Barba rolled his eyes as he thought about the over-eager new detective.  “He’s fine.  He doesn’t send me emojis though.”

“Ha,” you replied without mirth.  “Anyway, I appreciate the talk.”  You hesitated, bit that lip again in the way that still drove him crazy.  “I do value your insight, so thank you.”

“Of course.”  He stood up and watched you as you stood too.  You gathered up your coat and briefcase, and he stepped around his desk to see you out.  His mind scrambled to find any reason to keep you there (dinner?  Drinks?  Gossip about SVU?  Fall to his knees and beg you to forgive him?), but you made it to the door unaccosted.  You turned for a moment and looked at him.  

“Don’t work too late,” you said.  

He glanced back at his desk buried in paperwork.  “I won’t.”  He turned back to smile at you.  “It sounds like help may be on the way anyway.”

You nodded.  “Look to my coming on the first light of the fifth day,” you intoned.  “At dawn, look to the east.”  At his confused expression, you gave a light laugh.  “Gandalf?  ’Lord of the Rings’?  The Two Towers’?”  

“Ah.”  He read the book a million years ago in middle school, in a futile attempt to impress a girl, and he didn’t remember any of it to impress the girl standing in front of him now.

You sighed and stepped out into the hallway.  “And also, Barba.  Emojis are out.  Gifs are in.  Make sure to tell the new detective.”

Then you were gone.  Physically gone, at least, on your way back to your apartment in Brooklyn probably, but the ghost of your visit stayed behind.  Barba returned to his desk and plopped into his seat, and he replayed every tiny moment – every word you said, every smile, and especially the wide grin you’d shot him.  The fact that you’d visited him at all made him feel better than he had in months.  Maybe you didn’t love him anymore, and possibly you didn’t even like him, but you valued his opinion.  

It was slight, but it was something.  It was enough for him to work with.

[carewyncromwell]

Back to School Challenge // hosted by @cursebreakerfarrier​​

🍻𝟕𝐭𝐡 𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑: 𝑭𝑹𝑬𝑬 𝑷𝑬𝑹𝑰𝑶𝑫!🍻

“Singing Radiohead at the top of our lungs With the boombox blaring as we're falling in love... I got a bottle of whatever, but it's gettin' us drunk, Singing, ‘Here's to never growing up!’ We'll be running down the street, yelling ‘Kiss my ass!’ I'm like, ‘Yeah, whatever, we're still living like that...’ When the sun's going down, we'll be raising our cups, Singing, ‘Here's to never growing up!’” ~“Here’s to Never Growing Up” by Avril Lavigne

x~x~x~x

Content warning: underage drinking and more than a few swears 💙

x~x~x~x

The end of OWL season was a relief to all of the fifth years in the spring of 1980. The exams had been incredibly stressful for just about everyone -- meaning everyone except Jacob Cromwell, who was almost maddeningly cheerful during most of the proceedings. Quite a few of his classmates -- including his boy best friend Duncan -- had wanted to club him over the back of the head for it. At one point, even Olivia had had to put a hand down on top of Jacob’s head and mutter very lowly in his ear -- 

“Jacob...the examiners won’t mark you down for doing your work in silence. Please, tone it down.”

Fortunately once exams were over, both Olivia and Duncan could breathe easier -- and so when Jacob came to them with yet another mad-brilliant idea he’d come up with out of nowhere, they were much more open to it.

“So I was over in the kitchens talking to Pitts -- you know, asking about his old owner’s work with dragons, for Gringotts -- and I got to thinking, the house elves sometimes have to brew their own butterbeer, when they've used all the barrels shipped in from the Three Broomsticks. And Rosmerta even now keeps adjusting her recipe, to appeal to different customers’ taste buds -- I remember she said one bloke asked her for a slightly more bitter brew, so she mixed in some rum and cloves. So I thought -- what if we tried it? Take a whole bunch of drinks -- some butterbeer, some pumpkin juice, a couple types of pop -- maybe even some firewhiskey, and just...mix ‘em up! Pour in some maple syrup or lemonade or chocolate drizzle and mix it in, and just see how they turn out!”

Duncan raised an eyebrow. “So what -- basically play ‘Mad Potionsmaster,’ but with drinks?”

“Yeah!” said Jacob brightly. 

Olivia considered this with a smile. “It does sound like it could be fun. You two are both really good at Potions...and Jacob, you’re not bad when it comes to food, either. Even Rosmerta liked that one idea you had to mix in almond milk with her usual butterbeer draft....”

Duncan brought a hand up to his mouth thoughtfully. “...I guess so...”

He smirked. “...Okay -- let’s do it.”

Jacob threw his arms around both of his friend’s shoulders, grinning from ear to ear in delight and excitement. 

“All right! So the first thing to do is to get ourselves some proper drinks to mix. Butterbeer’s a given, of course, but if we’re gonna get anything a bit more exciting, we’ll probably need access to the Hog’s Head...the bartender’s a swell chap, I’m sure he’d be willing to look the other way if I do him a favor or two, just like whenever we’ve smuggled stuff back before...”

“We’ll have to hash out how we’ll smuggle in more than just firewhiskey back, though,” Olivia pointed out lightly. “And how we plan to avoid Filch -- there are no more Hogsmeade weekends coming up, so we’d be going on a non-school-sanctioned trip.”

“We have the passage behind the mirror on the fourth floor!” Jacob suggested eagerly. “That one’ll drop us off right outside the Hog’s Head, and that way we won’t pass by Filch at all on the way back!”

“We’d also need a place to do this little ‘experiment’ where we’re not going to get caught,” Duncan added much more dryly. “Unless you plan to have me sneak into your dormroom.”

“Why not?” said Jacob with a mischievous grin. “There are no protections on the boys’ dorm, so Liv can pop over whenever. And you’re more than clever enough to solve a little riddle, aren’t you, Ashe?”

Duncan purposefully ignored the dark flush that rose in his face and scoffed. “Your commonroom really has the shoddiest security measures...”

Olivia’s face suddenly grew more thoughtful. 

“I feel like your point might be a bit double-edged, Jacob,” she said with a slight frown. “If I can pop over whenever...well, couldn’t anyone? There would be nothing to hinder other students from coming across us.”

Jacob frowned too, his eyes drifting up toward the ceiling in thought. “...Hm, right. I don’t care if anyone else runs off to snitch on us...but a teacher stepping in could put an end to the fun before it really gets started...”

Duncan’s eyes lit up at that moment. His mouth spread into a very broad, mischievous smirk. 

“Change of plans,” he said, and his face seemed to glint with an oddly devilish expression. “We’re hosting this little get-together in my dorm -- and we’re doing it next Friday.”

That next Friday was Horace Slughorn’s very last “Slug Club” party of the term, meant to “say goodbye” to those club members who would be graduating that year. Jacob had actually received an invitation to the event by Slughorn, though he’d promptly forgotten about it almost immediately, since he was so disinterested in going to parties. Duncan, however, realized that quite a few Slytherins would be at Slughorn’s party, including all of the boys he shared a dormroom with, and even if anyone did spot Jacob and Olivia in the Slytherin dorm, the Slug Club’s party would go well into the morning, so no one would be able to report them to Slughorn until the next day, at which point Olivia and Jacob would be long gone back to Ravenclaw Tower. 

“To play it extra safe, though,’ Duncan said with a smirk, “I’ll let off a Dungbomb at the base of the stairs after us, to deter anyone from coming upstairs...and there’s this charm I learned from an older student to deaden sound through the walls, so that it’ll be less likely that we’re overheard. We should be completely undisturbed until morning.”

And so the mad plan went into effect. Before the Slug Club’s party, Jacob, Duncan, and Olivia met in the hall by the mirror on the fourth floor, dressed in plain clothes with their Hogwarts robes over them. Then, in the passage, they shed their robes and took the passage underground toward Hogsmeade village, popping up in a shed just outside the Hog’s Head. Then, blending in with the other patrons, they headed into the Hog’s Head, where Jacob haggled with the bartender, Aberforth, for a good assortment of drinks. Eventually they left the bar with a bottle each of butterbeer, firewhiskey, Waldorf’s Welsh Green Rum, Vappa’s Classic Vodka, Otter’s Fizzy Orange Juice, and lemon-lime pop. When they got back to the passage, Olivia used a Sticking Charm to attach two bottles each to the sides of her, Jacob’s, and Duncan’s legs, so that when they put their robes back on, the bottles were obscured under the billowing black folds. By the time they climbed out of the passage and headed down to the Slytherin commonroom, Slughorn’s party was already getting underway, which gave Jacob, Olivia, and Duncan the perfect opportunity to stop by the Hogwarts kitchens, pick up another bottle each of Gillywater and pumpkin juice and a small container each of strawberry jam, sugar cubes, and maple and chocolate syrup, and sneak into the Slytherin commonroom. 

“So this is your pad!’ said Jacob delightedly, upon seeing Duncan’s dormroom for the first time. 

He immediately darted over to the window through which one could see the murky Black Lake so he could plaster his hands on the glass and peek into the dark water. 

“It’s a lot darker than the Ravenclaw commonroom,” Olivia said thoughtfully, as Jacob’s nose pressed comically against the glass. “It must be kind of hard to read in here...”

“Not if you light some candles,” Duncan said dryly. “Or if you read by the fireplace -- that’s a good place to study.”

He shot Jacob a rather dull look. “Jacob, take your face off the glass -- I don’t need anyone wondering who made out with my window.”

Jacob peeled his face away from the window at last, shooting Duncan a rather wry grin. “Hey, what can I say? The Black Lake’s pretty gorgeous. D’you know if it’s single?”

“Single? Ha,” Duncan said very coolly. “As if you were in its league.”

“How many leagues would it be, I wonder?” teased Jacob. “I think leagues are supposed to be something akin to miles, except at sea...do you reckon the Black Lake would even be a mile deep?”

“I don’t know, but I’d say we’ll be in deep water ourselves, if you don’t put up those precautions, Duncan,” Olivia said lightly. 

Duncan’s face grew more serious. “Right.”

He removed the bottles of vodka and rum from his legs and put them down on the rug in front of his bed.

“I’ll be right back -- don’t blow anything up until I get back.”

Jacob laughed. “Awwww! But I thought we could try to make our own variation on Exploding Lemonade, Ashe!”

“Do it after I come back, then,” Duncan shot back over his shoulder with a smirk of his own before he headed out to put up the proper wards and chuck a Dungbomb down the stairs.

About a half hour later, the three students were mixing up drinks like mad scientists and daring each other to drink them. A good chunk of them turned out disgusting -- the vodka/Gillywater/Fizzy Orange Juice/chocolate sauce variant made all three of them nauseous -- but on the other hand, more than a few turned out kind of good! Olivia’s Fizzy Orange spiked with vodka and pumpkin juice wasn’t bad, and Duncan ended up mixing and chugging a whole glass of his combination of butterbeer mixed with firewhiskey and maple syrup. Jacob even came up with a brand new drink of his own -- a fusion of Waldorf’s Welsh Green Rum, lemon-lime pop, and a shot of Vappa’s Classic Vodka -- which he, Olivia, and Duncan all passed around several times.

“Hey -- I got a -- got a name for it!” Jacob said with a way too big, dorky grin. His voice was slightly higher pitched and rocked up and down in volume and pitch as if he were on a see-saw. “Here it is, here it is -- a Vodka Kedavra. Get it? Get it? ‘Cause it’s green...”

“Nice one, Jacob,” sniggered Duncan.

The Slytherin seemed to be a lot less critical of Jacob, when he was drunk. And also more “touchy” -- he’d played with Olivia’s hair a few times, and he kept resting his head on Jacob’s shoulder, even while talking more loudly in his ear.

“Like its namesake, this drink will fuck all of us over in the end,” said Olivia, toasting the two of them with a very broad, but thoroughly cynical smile. “Once we leave school...”

She had, oddly enough, seemed to dip into a lot of dark humor and swearing, under all of the alcohol’s influence -- she’d even reached for the guitar she’d brought with her and started writing random, swear-filled tunes about nothing at several points, including this one.

“Avada Kedavra -- Avada Kedavra --

The delight of all fuck-ups and screw-ups and dicks --

Avada Kedavra -- a Vodka Kedavra

Is what I will need to get through all of this!”

“Bravo!” said Duncan loudly, as he and Jacob clapped. “Bravo! Encore!”

“Shut the fuck up,” laughed Olivia.

“Just saying, though -- I’m not going down without a real fight!” Jacob said brightly, as he started mixing the butterbeer, firewhiskey, rum, and vodka all together.“If old Moldy Shorts wants at me, I’ll take him on!”

“Of course you would,” said Olivia with another cynical smile. “And you’d probably be teasing him over his lack of a nose the whole time, you absolute wanker...”

“I love watching you duel, Jacob,” Duncan said as Jacob drank from the glass he’d just mixed together and pulled a face. Duncan clumsily brought an arm around Jacob’s waist and pulled him closer to him. “You’re always so witty when you duel...”

“And you’re so nice when you’re drunk, Ashe!” said Jacob, passing him the drink he’d mixed together with another dorky grin. “You should drink all the time!”

Duncan took a long swig that made him see stars, once he’d lowered the glass. “Only with my bbbbest friends...”

He got right up in Olivia’s face as he tried to loop an arm around her too. Olivia, though, snatched the glass Jacob had given Duncan and wiggled out of his reach.

“Fuck off, your breath smells like shit,” she said good-naturedly. She took a sip too, and she gave a loud choke. “JACOB! That’s absolute...RUB-bish...!”

Jacob laughed.

“Now we all smell like shit!” he said very brightly and way too loudly.

“I think wwwwe smell brilliant!” said Duncan. “You’re bbboth brilliant! I love youuu guys...”

Not long later, all three students had passed out on the floor around Duncan’s four poster, Olivia resting her head on Duncan’s shoulder, Jacob half-sitting in Duncan’s lap, and Duncan wrapping his arms around both of them.

When they were woken up very early the next morning by the rest of Duncan’s dormmates finally getting in from Slughorn’s party and reacting loudly to the Dungbomb smell on the stairs, all three students had such a killer headache that they couldn’t summon up any kind of genius plan to avoid getting caught. So in the end, Duncan did what any child trying to hide something from the adults would do -- he hid all the bottles and rubbish under his bed. As for Olivia and Jacob, Duncan pulled the curtains around his four poster bed, so as to hide all three of them inside until later that morning.

“FFFFFudge, my head hurts,” growled Duncan.

“Mine too,” Olivia moaned very softly.

“It was that bloody Vodka Kedavra of yours, Jacob,” Duncan said irritably. “I must’ve downed at least five of those...”

Jacob buried his face in Duncan’s pillow with a groan. “I am not using that name again -- it’s so beyond not funny...”

“They say misery...” Olivia turned her head toward the far wall away from Jacob and swallowed back the urge to vomit, “...is the root of all humor, Jacob.”

“S’not funny,” Jacob moaned again into Duncan’s pillow.

Duncan fumbled around for his wand on his nightstand through the curtains. Once he’d found it, he used Muffliato to deaden the sound both inside and outside his curtains, before falling back onto the pillows on the other side of Jacob.

“No classes tomorrow morning,” he said groggily. “I’m gonna need to brew us a couple dozen Wiggenweld Potions, once I’m halfway alive...”

Jacob’s voice came out muffled through the pillow.

“What?” said Duncan.

“Water,” Jacob shifted his head and repeated in just as dizzy and nauseous-sounding voice as the other two. “We need to flush out the ethanol in our bloodstream, and the best way to do that is drink lots of water. We’ll also want to boost our glucose levels with carbs and sugars, to help fight off the subsequent fatigue.”

Duncan goggled at Jacob. “Did you seriously research hangover cures, before we did this?”

Jacob gave him a weak smile that ended up more like a grimace. “Hey...I was curious.”

Olivia smiled slightly as she rested her head beside Jacob’s on the pillow and closed her eyes. “Well, thank Merlin for your curiosity, Jacob. For now, though...let’s try to get some sleep.”

Jacob took the advice without any argument, woozily settling back onto Duncan’s pillow in such a way that he unknowingly ended up with his face in the crook of Duncan’s neck.

With a flush, Duncan watched Jacob sleep for a moment, his dark eyes flitting over to Olivia as well before returning to Jacob. Then, very slowly, Duncan eased himself down too, bringing an arm up and over his pillow so that it rested over both of his friend’s heads, and lay his head on top of Jacob’s as he closed his eyes.

Honey. Jacob’s shampoo smelled like honey.

Sadly the three did end up getting caught by Slughorn, when Duncan tried and failed to smuggle his friends back out of the Slytherin dormroom that morning when he thought all of the other students had left. The three received detention for an entire week for breaking commonroom rules, but fortunately no one ever found out about their wild night of underage drinking. And honestly, a week’s worth of detentions wasn’t the worst thing ever -- just another memory the three thought they’d be able to laugh about, in hindsight.

Little did Jacob, Duncan, and Olivia know that this fun little bit of teenage misbehavior would be the last happy memory they’d share for a very long time.

[bishopsbelova]

So I just rewatched 21x01 and I’m already in a spiraling mood. Thought that may be because I’ve had more than half a bottle of wine. 

But we’re gonna start with the obvious here and that’s Amanda’s face when she walks in the precinct and sees Carisi packing up his desk. And teases him about doing it at night when no one’s there. Like sir do you not remember a couple of seasons ago when Amanda gave Fin shit for not telling them he passed the Sergeants exam and was gonna be leaving? 

Also just her major heart eyes and her “one last drink before you leave me?” Like ma’am you couldn’t be any more in love if you tried. 

At this point, I think it’s pretty obvious that the squad enlisted Rollins to be the one to make sure Carisi got to that bar. because they all know they’re in love and Carisi would go with her. 

LIKE THIS WOMAN IS IN LOVE. There is no doubt in my mind that season 21 was when she was finding it harder and harder to fight the feelings she obvious felt for this man. She’s not even trying to hide the heart eyes anymore. And b@risi’s have the AUDACITY to say she doesn’t care for him or support him. Bitch please. 

And something else I noticed in this rewatch is that her blouse shows just the tiniest bit of her lower stomach. Like I see you ma’am. How many times do y’all think Amanda changed her clothes before that celebration party? I guarantee you, her room was a disaster zone of tops and blouses thrown everywhere and possibly overthinking everything she put on. 

And then at the end, right before Sir Toby’s arraignment, Amanda and Liv just show up in the elevator. 

Carisi’s all like “What are you doing here?” and Amanda’s “It’s your first arraignment, we wouldn’t miss it.” Like you know DAMN WELL, Amanda was not gonna miss her hubby’s partner’s first arraignment. Like come hell or high water her ass was gonna be there to support her man. 

Also off topic and out of context, but I love how in this screencap I took, it looks like Liv is so done with them and Amanda’s heart eyes.

[bobbie-robron]

You’re a waste of time lately, son. Knocking about with that… tart.

The first of two very telling episodes today that shaped Robert to who he slowly became. It’s the big day of the GCSE results and Donna did splendid but Robert, well, he did rubbish (even if we did see him regularly at the books - Liv and him similar here). Andy skives off getting his results to be with Katie (Robert gets and looks at them). Robert wants to celebrate passing (barely) his exams but Nicola, in the end, brushes him off with a lousy excuse (washing, really?). Syd offers to help Nicola get Robert off her (‘it’s like having a puppy following you home’ 🤬). Jack is not happy with Robert’s results, he definitely could have done better both there and with Nicola. Robert’s headed for a fall. Gifs will be posted separately.

22-Aug-2002

[ask-team-clst]

Olivia Octavia x Aunt May in "College Daze"

All May Reilly wanted was to pass her next physics exam. But, considering her tutor, Liv Octavius just triggered a gay awakening in her, that might be easier said than done.

[fadedseas]

lessons.

nick amaro x fem!reader

summary: you get held hostage during a confrontation with a serial rapist - feelings ensue

tw: guns, violence, mentions of rape, cursing

(gif not mine but good lord, that expression...)

you knew there was an intrinsic reason you hated school. you knew it was a mistake to ever return to a classroom again. you knew this notion was affirmed as a serial rapist pressed his gun deeper into your skull so hard that you could feel the metal ring of the barrel.

there was something about the stuffiness of a classroom, the monotonous drone of an underpaid and overworked public school teacher (or that of an overpaid and underworked tenured professor) and the unrelenting stiffness of academia that made your skin crawl and your muscles twitch. it was probably why you had tried to get out as soon as possible. college as a scholarship kid with the four years passing quickly in a blur of all-nighters, coffee hangovers and then sweet relief during graduation. you had signed up for the police academy before the ink on your degree was even dry. and now you’re here. 

“now let’s just stay calm,” you closed your eyes at nick’s voice, trying to allow the deep tenor of his voice permeate your bones and calm your trembling. you hadn’t allowed yourself to make eye contact with him ever since the perp had grabbed you right when you had walked in. 

“i know you don’t want to do this.” nick moved slow, his muscles deceptively relaxed under his white button down as he moved slowly towards you and the professor. 

it was supposed to be a cut and dry case. a student from hudson university had walked into a squad room on a wednesday morning reporting a rape, her arms around her middle as if she were holding herself together. you and nick had pounded the pavement, interviewing classmates, boyfriends, administration officials that seemed less than pleased to have the nypd scaring off prospective students and donors. and one name kept appearing time and time again. professor daniel hershaw. english literature. tenured for the past fifteen years. 

“you really think it might be him? he’s the image of a family man. mentor. i mean the guy makes model planes for godssake - he’s a walking cliche.” you mused 

“one thing you learn on this job - most of the time, we’re not pulling rapists off the street. they hunt where they’re trusted.” nick said as he handed you a coffee from the coffee cart with his lips curved into a sad smile. your heart jumped as your fingers brushed. and oh. yes. that was another thing that was happening.

liv had assigned you and nick as partners given that you were the newest recruit and he was one of the senior members of the team. it was late nights, terrible coffee, greasy chinese food and floods of case notes that turned stagnant work chatter into deeper, more revealing conversations. you learned about his tendency to dance to the cuban music station on the radio (”we can work on your moves rookie”), his secret love for musicals, his divorce that had ended a year ago with an aggressive custody battle and long negotiations for weekends and holidays with his daughter, zara. you had learned more about his family, about zara’s obsession with anything disney, about his mother and her fretting, about his father and his tendency to communicate with his fists that made nick’s rage swell whenever your team handled a case involving women with black eyes and voices weak from sobs. 

and he learned of you. of your love for terrible reality tv shows and home cooking blogs that made you way too optimistic of your own cooking skills (”damn rookie, you burned water? i’ll have to teach you how to cook some ropa vieja someday - we’ll work up to it”); of your nightmares about each victim you’ve seen from your years in homicide and how their last expressions have been etched into your memory; of your parents and their incessant pushing for college and their disappointment when you joined the force. 

and you learned about the strong curve of his arms as he held you in his arms the first time you had shot and killed a perp who was raising a gun at you. the smell of his cologne and old spice filling your lungs as you tried to steady your breath. the flutter of his lips against your ear as he whispered that it was going to be ok. you learned about the roughness of his voice when he called you, late at night after drinking away his sorrows of his previous marriage at the bar and you learned about how he nursed his his hangovers the subsequent day when you curled up with him on his couch, not quite touching, after you had come over the night before to make sure he had gotten home safe and didn’t choke on his own vomit. you learned about the unfamiliar pressure of your chest as you realized that somehow, somewhere down the line of cold morning rides around the city, warm coffee, inside jokes, and progressively lingering stares across the squad room - you were in love. 

and now you were learning about his hostage negotiation skills.

it was a mistake to have spoken to the professor’s wife before you arrived at the classroom. she seemed entirely too calm about the matter, methodically pouring you and nick tea as she answered your question in short, snipped sentences. you made sure to note the gun cabinet as you left through the front door. you didn’t note the cell phone in her hand as she closed the door behind you. 

“stay back or i swear i’ll shoot her.” professor hershaw’s hand trembled as he kept pressing the metal into your head. 

“ok! ok! i’m staying back.” nick stopped his progress towards you. you could see the slight shake of his legs from the tension. 

“put your weapon down!” the professor barks behind you. 

 nick lifts his hands and your breath caught in your throat as he slowly kneels places his gun on the floor. he wasn’t wearing a bulletproof vest. you hadn’t expected a confrontation like this. he was completely open and exposed to a man with a gun.

since you had worked closely with the dead prior to this position, you had often thought about how you would die. you knew it was possible you could die in the line of duty. hundreds did every day. but you didn’t think it would be here. in front of nick. in front of the man you’ve been in love with for the past year. you didn’t think it would be before he taught you how to dance or cook or whether he would ever fix the radiator in his car. before you ever felt his lips against your and whether that would feel as slow and passionate as you had often fantasized it would. before you even had the chance to tell him how you felt. so many plot lines unfulfilled. so many questions left unanswered. but at the moment, all you could think about was how you wanted to look into his eyes once more before you died.

“you’re a good man. you got kids - good ones. i’ve met them -” nick’s tone was placating, slow.

“don’t talk about my children!” the professor jerked his gun, knocking your head a bit to the side, “i know they’re good. i raised them. better than the whores that walk through these halls. in these classrooms.”

“yea. yea i understand professor. it’s unfair - all of them just get to walk around like they own the place. like there’s no consequences for them -”

“exactly,” you could feel his spittle on the back of your head, “i showed them the lesson they deserved.” 

nick’s eyes moved from the perp to meet yours. and a shudder of warmth flowed through you as you saw fear, anger, determination - and something else that as more than you could process at the moment. but you did catch his slight nod. “that’s right. you punished them. rightfully so. because - it’s like you wrote about right? ‘Vengeance comes from the individual and punishment from God.’“

"you - you read victor hugo?” the professor stuttered, his arm slacked slightly in shock and there it was. you immediately ripped yourself from his arms as he staggered back in surprise. you dived for the floor as you heard the professor’s shout echo on the walls of the lecture hall and a gunshot. and then silence. 

you scrambled up, drawing your weapon quickly, your heart in your chest, terrified at what you might see. 

“call a bus!” you felt your entire body relax as you saw nick towering over the professor with his gun drawn and a bullet wound in the professor’s shoulder. 

later, much later, after you had been subject to medical exams by ems (albeit quite reluctantly) with nick hovering behind the paramedic’s shoulder like an unfriendly poltergeist that radiated anxiety, after liv had ordered you to take a few days, after you had returned to the squad room to fill out some paperwork in nick’s car as the both of you sat in heavy silence with too many things left unsaid between you two. you finally had a moment alone with your partner. 

most of the team had left with liv retiring to her office to have a quick call with the babysitter and say goodnight to noah. fin had clapped you on the shoulder and amanda had stopped by with coffee and an offer to let her know if you needed anything before she left to take care of the kids. the night shift had transferred in and you were finishing up the last words of the report when you sensed a presence and looked up. nick was standing by your desk, his lips in a firm line and brow furrowed. 

“can we talk?” he gestured towards the bunks. your heart flipped as you nodded, scribbling your signature onto the paperwork and shutting the file.

nick closed the door behind you. and you waited until the silence between you became unbearable.

“thank you for everything today nick. i mean - you saved my life. i could have died today and -”

“i know.” his voice seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet room. nick paced the floor, his hands gripping at his thick, dark hair. “i know you could’ve died. and i can’t stop seeing it. there’s just - i can’t describe how i felt watching him touch you. seeing how afraid you were. and how f**king helpless i was when all i wanted to do was just take your place - and when i finally got him away from you - i just wanted to -” he collapsed on a bunk and covered his eyes with his palms. 

you moved towards him, placing your hands on his shoulders, feeling the crisp fabric of his shirt crinkle under the heat of your hands. 

“you just wanted to what?”

nick lifted his head to meet your gaze, “you know you’re my partner. and there’s nothing i wouldn’t do to protect you. you’ve been there through everything this past year and i kept telling myself that i didn’t deserve everything you’ve been doing for me - didn’t deserve you.”  

you inhaled sharply, “nick - “

“i love you. there, i said it. and that was all i could think about today. losing someone else in my life that i love.” he sighed, rubbing his hand across his face, “i’ve been in love with you since that christmas party when you walked in with discount boy george - “

“kevin,” you automatically corrected the name of your old friend from college that you had brought as a date. 

“and you were just so beautiful. and i know that i don’t deserve you. but i just couldn’t stop wanting you. hoping for you. and it’s so selfish -”

he never got to finish his sentence. because by that point you had fully processed his words. you framed his face in your hands, bent down and pressed your lips against his. 

and suddenly all you could think, feel or taste was nick and his mouth moving against yours - warm, firm, steady - just like him. you were pushed back as nick got up from the bunk, his hands gripping your waist. you separated for a moment, drawing back to look into his eyes. beautiful brown. just like you never thought you would ever see again. 

and then nick pushed his body against yours, pressing you against the wall of the bunk room, his lips sweeping the corners of your mouth before exploring down your neck. 

“f**k - i thought i was going to lose you.” he growled, puncturing each word with a kiss and a nip at your neck. you gasped, your fingers diving deep into his hair. 

“never - you’ll never lose me nick. i never want to be apart from you.” 

nick dragged his face up to your, pulling you into a ferocious kiss, dominating you as his tongue swept through your mouth. his hands, large and seemingly burning, explored your back, and you shivered his his fingers played with the hem of your shirt. 

“everything about you,” his lips were everywhere, your hair, forehead, cheeks, “i cannot lose - do you understand me mi alma.” he closed his eyes, muttering in spanish as he held you close.  

you nodded, feeling intoxicated in his presence, his smell, the feeling of his body against yours. your hands gripped his shirt pulling him to you, anchoring yourself in the storm of his affection, “i got you. i love you too nick. i’m ok. i’m going to be ok.” you repeated the last sentence as nick’s body slowly went lax. 

he pressed his forehead to yours, and your breath caught at the vulnerability in his expression. “i know you’re going to be ok. it’ll just take a while before i get the image of you held at gunpoint out of my head every second of the day.” 

you smiled, pressing your hand against his cheek, “then i’ll be right beside you. reminding you that i’m right here.” his lips twitched as he grasped one of your hands from his chest, sweeping kisses across his knuckles.

“i know quierida.” 

you both stood in silence for a moment, basking in the presence of each other and the feelings you had just released. your heart felt lighter than it had in a very long time, and the butterflies in your stomach settled as nick’s body heat calmed you. 

“i’m tired, and i want to go home. come with me?” your request was bold but you trusted nick more than anyone to keep you safe. and you weren’t looking forward to the nightmares you knew would be resurfacing.

“i wouldn’t be anywhere else.” nick pressed kisses across your hairline. 

you both exited the bunks, and tried to suppress the red that bloomed across your faces. liv was exiting her office with her coat on and her bag slung on her shoulder. she raised an eyebrow as you both approached her.

“well i expect not you see you here for a few days,” she reiterated to you, “good night guys - try not to stay too late.” she turned and then paused, “and i expect the paperwork about your relationship on my desk by the time you get back from leave.” without another word, olivia exited to the elevators.

“oh god.” you placed your head in your hands, unable to stop the burning in your face and neck. nick strolled over to your desk, chuckling. 

“well she’s captain for a reason. you really can’t get anything past liv.” 

you rolled your eyes, “great, more paperwork to do then.” 

nick smiled as he swooped down for another quick kiss when no one was watching, “it’s all for a good cause. c’mon, let’s grab your bag and go. it’s late.” 

you laughed and nodded. grabbing your coat off the back of your chair and putting it on. as you and nick walked out of the station, hand-in-hand, a thought occurred to you - 

“when did you read victor hugo?”

[teamhappyme]

to care for you

rafael barba x female!reader

referenced cases from S17E04 and S17E16

word count: 4k

a/n: this is my first fic that I’m letting the world see and I’m... terrified. i hope whoever reads this gets some joy out of it. shoutout to @qvid-pro-qvo and @hurricanejjareau , y’all got me roped into loving the SVU boys, and this would not have been created if I hadn’t found your blogs. big inspiration over here. alright, here we go friends.

****

“Well you’re going, right?” 

“I haven’t decided.” “Haven’t decided? It’s Liv and Noah, Barba. A christening for the cutest little boy and the most deserving mother. They’ve been through hell this year, they deserve our support. Besides, you’re a devout Catholic, you should be all in for this.”

“First of all, he’s getting christened in a Unitarian church. Second, I wouldn’t exactly use the term devout. The last time I went to church was with you and Carisi after that trafficking case last year.” He said while grabbing another slice of pizza. In your three years since joining the SVU this was the first time you saw Rafael Barba eat a slice of pizza. 

“Careful. You might get some grease on that thousand dollar suit, Counselor.” He glared at you before taking a bite. “If you’re worried about the priest smelling your absence out, Carisi and I have enough devotion to pass on to you.”

“I don’t want any of Carisi’s Catholic guilt.” “You need me to take your confession?” You asked with a smirk. 

There weren’t many people that could get away with pushing Barba’s buttons without getting chewed out by the ADA in his next breath. And when you first started out with the squad, there were many occasions where you and Barba had some heated arguments.

Getting transferred to SVU was an overwhelming experience. You were thrown into the understaffed department right along with Carisi, so the two of you had to step up pretty quick for the unit. There was no adjustment period, trust wasn’t built, it was forced upon the squad. It took about two months for you to really trust the other detectives, but once you did, the unit got into a groove. Cases were being solved left and right and you started to understand the routine of the SVU. 

Until you had to testify. It was six months in, and it was your first testimony with the unit. It was also the first rape case you worked with minor victims. There were four fifteen year old girls accusing their history teacher of rape, two of which disclosed to you. 

You prepped with Barba for an hour the night before, making sure you knew the case inside and out. You felt confident in your answers, and were ready to take the stand. Until the following morning. On your walk down to the courtroom with him, you rushed into the ladies room to vomit up your coffee and your anxiety. Public speaking was never one of your strong suits, and Barba had cautioned you to be prepared for Buchanon’s toxic cross examination.

As you washed your hands and cleared your face, Rafael stayed outside the door, even deterring a woman from coming in. Once you exited, he was waiting at the side, pulling a granola bar and stick of gum out of his blazer pocket. You took the food, as he gave you a nod and waited for your okay to continue the walk down to the courtroom. A slight nod of your own and weak smile got his feet moving again. 

That trial was the first olive branch extended between you and Rafael. He wasn’t one to offer warm greetings, and since you were often glued to Carisi’s hip, it was hard for him to separate you from the enthusiastic detective. There were passive aggressive comments relayed back and forth while trying to indict a perp, and long nights spent deliberating probable cause at the round table. But it wasn’t until you accompanied Liv to One Hogan Place, in a particularly bad mood when you sassed the ADA back after he made a comment about your witnesses being incredibly unreliable, not having time for the shenanigans. 

After that moment, Rafael knew that he could trust you. The passive aggressive comments yielded, but the sass continued. The repertoire the two of you were slowly building drew quite the audience, Carisi and Rollins almost always feeding the fire with more topics to discuss. 

About a year into your tenure here, you started to check in on Barba. The first time you stopped by was originally a business call. Liv needed a warrant asap, already staking out the apartment of a suspect. You rushed over to the courthouse, trying to find any ADA’s secretary when you saw Barba still in his office at midnight. According to Carmen, he rarely went home before 9:00. After that night, you made it a habit to check in on him at least once a week. The DA’s office was a cutthroat environment, and Barba’s office was an even lonelier place. 

Thursday nights were penciled in for your unofficial drop ins, almost through the week but still burning the midnight oil. You would show up around 10:00 with pizza for you, and sushi for his expensive taste every time, knowing neither one of you had time to eat dinner yet. Most of the time, the two of you would work on your respective cases, sometimes sharing notes if the work overlapped. But if it was a slow week, sometimes the two of you would just, talk. It was nice to be able to talk to someone who understood the demanding nature of the job. Your family in particular couldn’t understand why you loved this career so much, but your squad could. It was reassuring to have their support.

“Alright, enough with the holier than thou attitude, Detective. I actually wanted to talk to you about the case.” Sitting up a little straighter in your chair, you wiped your hands on a napkin as he pulled out a manila folder. “I’ve been encouraged by the D.A. to drop the charges against Bobby D’Amico and Noel Panko.”

“What?” “And I have a motions hearing scheduled for Friday morning to dismiss the charges.”

After everything the squad had done for this case, what you saw Amanda put herself through. It was all for nothing.

“Barba, you can’t be serious. We have three victims, two willing to testify. We have footage of them attempting to rape Rollins for crying out loud.”

“Kristi Cryer has changed her story too many times. She was raped, then it was consensual, it was Panko, it was Panko and D’Amico. A jury will never believe her story.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “The jury won’t believe her or you won’t?”

“Hey, you know this isn’t about what I think. This isn’t a case we can win. We have to look at the optics.”

“The optics,” you muttered as you stood up from your seat. “Multiple women were raped by two well-known men in New York society, and the D.A. doesn’t want to make any enemies, right?” 

“You’re taking this worse than Liv did.” You scoffed. “Am I? Good. Because for the rest of their lives, those girls will have to live with the fact that their rapists are still out there. Not to mention their reputations will be ruined. People are going to call them liars, and whores. Their lives are never going to be the same. All because you won’t stand up to the D.A. and do what’s right?” 

Rafael stood up now, his loosened tie swinging from the sudden movement. “If this goes to trial, it will not go our way.”

“What about when you went after DCFS? You went after Musio, Grayson, Sheridan,”

“That was different,” “Why because it was Liv?”

“Because the department was a mess, and there were months worth of evidence of neglect and backdating reports. You were there, and if I remember correctly you were fighting alongside Liv to get me to prosecute.”

You ran your fingers through your hair, not willing to accept that this case was over. “These girls deserve justice, Barba. You were there when Panko went off at Dodds, he knows he’s done.”

“I want these guys just as bad as you do, Y/n. But we do not have the evidence. It’s a he said she said case, with one other accusation from a year ago without a rape kit. Not to mention Rollins went undercover without notifying a superior, tainting the whole investigation. We will make a fool out of ourselves and lose this case in court.”

“And it’s all about winning for the D.A.’s office, isn’t it. Can’t do anything out of the kindness of your hearts, can you?” You knew you crossed the line as you saw Rafael’s shoulder’s drop the slightest bit, his jaw clenched in place. 

“Maybe if you passed the Bar instead of failing three times you could understand why we can’t pursue this. We can’t bring a case to trial based on our emotions. This isn’t your tissue loaded desks, this is a courthouse.” 

You broke the tense eye contact you were holding after his statement. Insulting your academic failures and empathetic tendencies in one foul swoop. That was a low blow, even for the counselor.

Rafael knew his words pierced you. He pushed his chair back and let out a breath, getting ready to back track. But you beat him to the punch. 

“You know, my capability of empathizing with victims is the reason why you’ve put so many rapists away. If they had to speak to you, there would be no cases for you to even prosecute.”

This wasn’t a normal spout between the two of you. Things rarely got personal, and if they did, they were never this spiteful. 

“Then I guess there’s a reason I’m prosecuting in front of the judge and jury and you’re dealing with the victims.”

You scoffed at his final statement. You knew he was cocky, but you didn’t think he would use your insecurities or shortcomings against you. Especially not the fact that you failed the Bar Exam three times, which was only disclosed to him once Carisi opened his big mouth.

Covering your head with your beanie, you made your way to the door before either one of you could do more damage. You fought the urge to apologize, knowing you would need space before you could think of a response.

“Have a good night, Counselor.”

****

“Oh my goodness, Benjamin! Look at that tower you made with Maura! Did you show Luke?” “No. Mama saw it!” You smiled at the two year old through the phone, his own grin lighting up the room even over facetime. “Benjamin, is mama there? Y/n/n wants to talk to her for a minute.”

“I can bring you to her!” Maura took the phone out of the toddler’s hands, but you quickly protested so you could say goodbye to your godson. “Bye Benny, I love you buddy.” He blew you a kiss and you caught it as your little cousin brought you across the room. 

“Auntie Leah! Y/n/n wants to talk to you.” She handed the phone over while settling in next to her aunt. You saw your older cousin’s calming face, and couldn’t help the tears in your eyes.

“I haven’t even said anything and you're already crying,” You let out a laugh and took a sip of water. “Sorry. It’s been a long day.” 

“Y/n, are you at the precinct? It’s 8:00 your time on thanksgiving, what are you doing there?”

“There was some work I needed to get done. If I can’t be with you guys, I can at least get a head start so I can come home for Christmas.” The squadroom was empty now, but it had only been filled by the desk sergeant and a couple uni’s until five. You’d been here since noon, not succeeding in spending the holiday alone in your apartment. “Besides, I’ve been able to ignore all of my mother’s phone calls with the ‘I’m working’ excuse. Has she called you guys yet?”

“Just mom once. You know she doesn’t mean it to hurt you, she just wishes you could spend time with family for the holidays.” “I know.”

Your family meant the world to you, and having missed the last two years of holidays was hard on you. Sure, you saw them eventually, but Christmas and Thanksgiving weren’t the same alone.

“Since I’ve already started Christmas shopping, is there anything Benjamin needs or wants from his godmother?” “He has requested, and I quote, ‘y/n/n’s nummy cookies’.” The smile that spread across your face was so big it almost hurt. That baby boy was probably your favorite person on the planet, besides your own nieces and nephews. “Alright well hopefully he can help Y/n/n make those nummy cookies in a few weeks. If not, I’ll send a box out, along with an amazing present.”

“What about me?” Maura asked, and you just shook your head. “Hey, I’m not made out of money here girlfriend.” She laughed at that.

“Have you at least eaten anything today?” Leah asked, trying to steer the conversation into a more meaningful direction. She could read you so easily. “Yes, I have. I’m not going to be here much longer, so I’ll grab something for dinner on my way home.”

“Y/n/n,” The eight year old interrupted again, and you couldn’t help the smile that etched across your face as you rolled your eyes at the silly nickname. 

“Yes, Maura.” 

“There’s a fancy man walking towards you.” 

You turned your head and saw Barba walking through the squadroom. “I gotta go, Leah.” 

“Is everything okay?”

He pulled over Carisi’s chair, raising a brow to make sure it was okay. You nodded.

“It’s okay. Just a colleague. I’ll talk to you later.” “Okay. We love you and miss you.” Tears pooled in your eyes again as Maura hopped on. “Love you Y/n/n!” A tear fell from your eye as you let out a laugh. “Love you too guys. Bye.”

You ended the call, quickly wiping your eyes now that you had an audience. It was only last night that you had your rather animated argument, and neither of you had reached out. Being stubborn was one of many traits the two of you shared.

“Can I help you, counselor?” 

He held up a brown bag with a receipt stapled to the fold. “It’s thursday night. It’s usually you making trips to the office, but I figured I could take the field trip tonight.” 

He opened up the bag, pulling out cartons of Chinese food. Your hand immediately reached for the fortune cookies, ripping the plastic wrapper off. 

There was a lingering tension in the air, unresolved conflict, and hurt feelings, but it still felt okay. Mainly because the two of you knew you were both to blame. 

“How did you know I was here?” You asked while grabbing the carton of lo mein. “I called Carisi. He said you were supposed to be in Minneapolis for the holiday, but got wrapped up in the case. Said he offered his family to you, but after hearing the commotion over the phone, I understand why you declined.”

“I didn’t decline because of their raucous personalities. I just wanted to get some work done.” 

He digressed, retreating into his carton of fried rice. “What about you? Why aren’t you eating pie and decorating for Christmas with your lovely mother?”

“She volunteered this year. Since Abuelita died, she hasn’t been a big fan of holidays.” You nodded, knowing how hard it was for Rafael to grieve his abuelita last year. 

“How has she been doing?”

He shrugged. “She has good days and bad days. She blames herself most of the time, but she has her school, and her kids to keep her upright.” “And you.” His eyes met yours for a brief second, the corners of his mouth turning up the slightest. He always wanted to do more for his family. 

“Was that who you were on the phone with? Your family from Minneapolis?” 

“Yeah. I was supposed to go out there for thanksgiving, but when we caught Kristi’s case, I cancelled. I thought,” You stopped, knowing any mention of the case would bring up last night’s conversation.  

“We were going to trial.” He finished the sentence and you nodded.

If everything had gone according to plan, Panko and D’Amico would’ve been indicted this week and the trial would’ve begun the following week. You’d already started prepping Kristi with Rollins, making sure she knew her story backwards and forwards. But it was all for nothing it seems.

“Y/n, what I said last night,” You shook your head. “We both said things we didn’t mean. I started it, and was completely out of line.” 

“You weren’t. You were fighting for Kristi, and your case. I just, I didn’t want to hear it.” He ran a hand through his hair, not perfectly quaffed like usual. “I shouldn’t have brought up the Bar. It was low, extremely low, and you didn’t deserve it. You and Carisi could take me out in court in a day. And if you ever tell him that, I’ll deny it until I die.” You laughed while taking an egg roll, crossing your finger over your heart. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

You let the apology sink in for a minute before starting your own. “I know you would’ve brought this to trial if we had enough evidence. I know that you care about the victims just as much as we do. I’m sorry that I said you didn’t.”

Poking around the container, he let out a scoff. “You weren’t that far off. I’m the D.A.’s puppet, letting him decide which cases I prosecute or not. We don’t have a lot of room for an emotional influence. I know how cold I can be with vics and witnesses.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t care.” 

“Tell that to Kristi Cryer. She posted a vlog today, ripped me a new one for not believing her. Called the D.A.’s office, and I quote, ‘a bunch of spineless jellyfish.’ She’s not wrong. I mean,” He let out a humorless laugh. “I went to law school so I could help people. At least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself the last twenty years. But in reality, I’ve been climbing the bureaucratic totem pole, pushing myself further and further away from that kid in the Bronx.”

“You don’t seriously believe what Cryer said do you?” He shrugged, not meeting my eyes. You sighed, placing the carton on your desk, leaning over to rest your hand on his arm. “You are the Assistant District Attorney for the Sex Crimes division. People do not last here if they don’t care about the victims. I’ve seen you in court, in testimony prep, hell even in interrogation. You care about every single person that needs our help. Does it suck that the law is not the most accommodating to rapists and pedophiles? Yeah, it’s really shitty. But you didn’t write the law books, as much as you like to believe you did.” A smile crept onto his face. “You care about your mom, your abuelita, everyone that helped you in the Bronx. I know you care about us, even Carisi, although you’d never admit it. You are not a spineless jellyfish, no matter how fun it is to say.”

“You really believe that?” He still couldn’t meet your eyes. It always amazed you how easily the most put together people could fall victim to their insecurities. 

“Rafael, I would not be spending every Thursday night for the past two years with you if I didn’t believe that you were one of the most kind-hearted people I’ve ever met. I care about you.”

His green eyes finally met yours as he moved to gently hold your hand that was previously resting on his forearm. He gave it a soft squeeze as you smiled, trying to ignore the butterflies that started blooming in your stomach. The same butterflies that rested there every time your hands brushed when you were walking down the hallway, or when his hand rested at the small of your back to escort you into the courtroom. And after tonight, and the way he was looking back at you, you knew he felt them too.

You spent the next ten minutes finishing off the takeout, sitting in a comfortable silence, not needing to fill the moment with anything else. The two of you kept sneaking glances at one another, breaking out into a sheepish grin if you were caught. 

Once you were done eating, Rafael cleaned up the food as you got all your belongings together for the long weekend. It wasn’t until that moment you realized he wasn’t wearing an expensive suit; he had on a navy blue quarter zip, black jeans, and some loafers. A smile crept up on your face knowing that you got to see him in casual clothes.

“Ready?” He asked as you slipped on your gloves and pushed your chair in behind you. “Ready.” 

You lived close enough to the precinct that it was only a ten minute walk. Rafael lived in the other direction, but still insisted on walking you back to your apartment. An Uber could pick him up from there, he said, because that man would not be caught dead walking across the city in his loafers.

He called for a ride as you approached your block, not wanting him to wait in the cold too long. As you approached the brick walk up, you started to fidget with the keys resting in your pocket. 

“Thank you for dinner. And a double thank you for not making me eat your sushi.” He smiled. “You’re welcome. Thank you for being such good company.”

“Anytime.” A sharp gust of wind hit you, causing you to duck your head into your coat for a few seconds. When you looked back up, Rafael’s cheeks were rosy red and wind burnt, and absolutely adorable. “I’ll see you next week for a warrant, I’m sure.”

“I’m sure. Make sure to get me a coffee on the way, listening to you list the legal reasons why you need the warrant always makes me sleepy.” 

You smiled.“Deal. Goodnight, Raf.”

“‘Night, Y/n.” 

Despite the farewell statements, neither one of you moved. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away from his warm eyes, and it wasn’t until you felt his fingers brush against yours that you moved closer. 

His eyes flickered to your lips for a second, before looking back at you. You took another step towards him, waiting for him to close the gap between you. When he did, all you could feel was the warmth of his lips on yours, and the cold tip of his nose resting against your cheek. 

It was short, the two of you pulling away after a few seconds. But one smile from you had him leaning back in, resting a hand on your cheek as he kissed you again. It was slow and careful, but full of adoration. You couldn’t help but smile into him, bringing your hand up to rest against his own. After a few more seconds, his own smile made it impossible to stay connected. 

This time when you pulled away, you rubbed your thumb across his red, wind burnt cheek, not even trying to suppress the stupid smile on your face. And you were happy to see him grinning the same way.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” He said, shifting his head just enough to press a kiss to the palm of your hand. Neither one of you is willing to ruin this moment with any talks about what this means. “Okay. Get home safe.” “I will.”

One more look at his rosy red cheeks, and you let out a laugh before you let yourself pull away.

“What?” He asked, completely dumbfounded by his affect on you. You shook your head in response. “Nothing.”

He returned your laughter before lightly kissing your lips one last time. You could get used to this. 

“Goodnight, counselor.” You said once you pulled away, lightly shoving him toward the ride that just pulled up. 

“Goodnight, detective.”

****

[altsvu]

unusual reunion

pairing: sonny carisi x female reader

wc: 1296

tw: mentions of COVID-19, rape, a bit of violence and blood, swearing, shameless flirting

a/n: this oneshot is based on law and order svu 22x06!! this was something that i thought of out of the blue, and this is for @sweetcannolicarisi ‘s “Candy Hearts” soul mate bingo square! i wrote this to have a set portion of it to be real life because of the hospital setting. the italics are flashbacks/reader thoughts. there are also some lyrics from streets by doja cat which are bolded and italicized!

taglist: @detective-giggles, @lapaquerette (idk if you wanted to be tagged, but i did it just in case!)

You were just getting off your break after finishing half of your 12 hour shift at Mercy Hospital, when your phone rang. You were completely drained from calling doctors and nursing staff all morning and you couldn’t bear to pick up the phone once again. That is, until you saw who was calling.

Liv.

She only really called you during work hours when something was wrong.

“Hey Liv.” you said when you picked up the phone.

“Y/N. Hi. Are you working a shift right now?”

“Yeah, I actually just got off break.”

You could hear the worry in Liv’s voice. “Okay, um, Sonny’s hurt. Do you think you could do a check up on him?”

You froze when you heard his name on the phone. This was the first time you heard of him since he became an ADA. When he was a detective, you would see him all the time in the hospital when he had to interview female victims that were raped and had injuries following the assault, interview doctors involved in a case, talk to children of abandoned families and abuse, and ask doctors and nurses for results on a patient. He even talked to you from time to time, seeing as you worked in the department that dealt with women and kids, and every time he did, you noticed more and more things you liked about him. It got to the point where he asked you to share a drink or two with him after your shift one day. The two of you weren’t really in any relationship, you just became close friends. You helped him study for his bar exam and celebrated with a few drinks when he passed. You had a schedule for talking on the phone, first every Friday night at 11:30pm, then talking on every break you had. All was well between you two. Until he stopped calling and showing up.

“Yes, of course I can. I can set up a room for him.”

Liv sighed of relief. “Thank you so much. I owe you one.”

•••

“Hey, Y/N, there’s someone for you.” one of your colleagues said.

“Okay thanks.” you said, getting up, adjusting your stethoscope and mask and going out to the waiting area. When you saw Sonny, you were horrified. What the hell happened to his face?

On the other hand, when Sonny saw you, his eyes lit up.

“Y/N, thank you so much for doing this.”

“My pleasure. I love helping out my friends.” you paused, your eyes drifting to Sonny’s face. Snapping your attention back to Liv, you asked her if she had to step back to work, in which she said yes. You reassured her that Sonny would be safe in your hands and when she left, you smiled with your eyes and led him to the room you set up for him.

“Sonny, what happened?” you asked softly as you washed your hands.

“I was talking with the powerful judge and their defense and... well things got out of hand.”

“Gallagher? The one running for attorney general?”

“How-“

You let out a slight chuckle. “I saw his half assed excuses on the news the other day.” Bringing over some of the tools and supplies needed, you continued. “So, lemme guess, he threatened to fight and you went for it.

“He called me a dago. And called my suit cheap.”

You were about to apply some alcohol to the gash on the side of his head when you stopped. “He called you that? That’s not okay. He disgusts me. And... your suit is nowhere near cheap. It’s quite beautiful and expensive looking if you ask me.”

“You really think so?”

“Of course I do.”

“Something tells me it’s more than just the suit.” you proceeded to take his mask off so you could clean some of the blood under it when his hands found his way to yours.

“What are you talking about?” you faltered.

Sonny gently pushed your hands away and took off his mask, setting it aside. “We’ve known each other for how long now?”

“About 5 years.”

“Remember when I took you out that one night after your shift?”

A smile crept up on your face under your mask.

“Yeah... I wanted to change out of my scrubs and you waited for me outside of my apartment. When I came out you were breathless.”

When you opened the door, Sonny looked astonished. “Jesus, Y/N. You look amazing.” You felt so confident in your blouse and skirt combo and Sonny liked it. “Thank you, I’m glad you were willing to wait for me.”

“It was a really good night. Probably one of the best nights I’ve ever had after a shift.” you concluded.

“Yeah me too.” Sonny said looking into your eyes. After a pause, he whispered, “Y/N, what the actual fuck are we doing?”

You reached for the alcohol pads and started cleaning off the blood from his face. “I don’t know Sonny. There must have been a reason for the silence.”

Sonny winced from the cool alcohol touching his open wound. He liked how gentle you were with him even though you and him talked less and less during quarantine. He actually thought you hated him. “This is about when I finally became an ADA. Y/N, don’t get me wrong, I thought of you every day. I wanted to surprise you, show you how much I missed you and then COVID-19 hit. Quarantine made me miss you even more, and you were working tirelessly so I knew I couldn’t bother you.”

You finished cleaning off all the blood, trying to process everything Sonny was saying. He missed you? He thought of you everyday? Did it actually mean something?

“I really am sorry.” he whispered. After washing your hands again and setting up the tools to give him stitches, you looked back in his eyes. Here he was, spilling his heart out to you, expressing his love for you, and you couldn’t even do anything about it.

“Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. Quarantine really fucked me over and I should’ve went to you for help. And I should’ve been there when you started out as an ADA. I’m the one who’s truly sorry.”

“Hey. You’re one of the biggest reasons why I was able to become the person I am today.”

You bit your lip. “You really think that?” Sonny nodded in response. You slipped on a pair of gloves and proceeded to give Sonny his stitches. “Can I tell you something that I’ve been meaning to tell you?”

“Anything.” you replied.

“Well, in my head, we belong. And I can’t be without you.” Sonny admitted. “I think you’re my soul mate, we were meant to be. It justifies the amount of times we ran into each other.”

“Well can I tell you something back?” you said, finishing up the last of the stitches.

“Anything- fuck.” he whispered as he felt some of the stitching.

You let out a soft giggle as you finished the last stitch. You cleaned up the area, washing your hands as well, and stood in front of him. “Sonny, I’ve been thinking about you a lot as well. I didn’t know how to approach you, even before the pandemic when we were spending so much time together. I found it hard to find someone like you, after everything, all signs pointed back to... you.”

“I’m here right now with you. Why don’t we make things official?” Sonny whispered. He reached over to your face and pulled off your mask.

“Why not?” you whispered back, letting Sonny pull you closer into a deep passionate kiss.

That had to be the most amazing kiss you’ve ever received.

[tropes-and-tales-archives]

Rafael Barba:  You Can’t Die Now (Happy Ending, Version 2)

Word Count:  3939

TW:  Angst; serious injury from gunshot wound.

You had been trying to transfer into Manhattan’s SVU for a while, so when they had an opening for a sergeant, you got your name on the list of applicants.  This time, the stars aligned, and you found yourself moving your box of meager personal belongings from Homicide to the 16th precinct.  

It was an awkward start, as these things could be sometimes, but Lieutenant Benson trusted you.  You got to work.  SVU was shockingly understaffed, and at times, it felt like the wild west.  Little by little, you imposed order, and SVU was better off for it.  You made sure that therapy was available to everyone, and you nudged certain stubborn detectives (Rollins, Amaro) towards talk therapy for their various issues.  

You set the standard by going yourself:  you were of the opinion that talk therapy was the best thing since sliced bread, since everyone needed an impartial third-party to bounce ideas off of.  Rollins probably talked about her pitiful childhood; Amaro probably talked about his divorce.

You?  You talked about all sorts of things:  your parents’ sloppy divorce when you were a kid, your shaky relationships with your step- and half-siblings.  Your tougher cases.  And your failed engagement.  You and Matthew had gone way back, all the way to the academy – friends first, then lovers, then you were engaged.  You had come up through the ranks together in a friendly, loving sort of rivalry.

Or so you’d thought.  You took the sergeant’s exam the same time he did, but he failed while you passed.  Despite the charming diamond ring on your finger, that stupid exam revealed deep cracks in the foundation of your relationship.  Matthew grew distant, you grew resentful that he resented your success, and before you knew it, he was packing his bags and moving in with a college student ten years his junior.

“Never again,” you vowed to yourself over the requisite pints of ice cream and tears.  You’d never date a coworker ever again.

Then, because God loves to laugh when a human makes a plan or an ultimatum, you met Rafael Barba.

It was ridiculous.  When you met him, it was like a gut-punch:  he was ridiculously handsome, ridiculously smart.  Well-dressed, which was ridiculous because well-tailored menswear was practically a kink for you.  Sometimes, late at night when you were working together, he would shed his suit jacket and roll up his sleeves.  You had to move so that he was out of your line of sight – ridiculous that a bit of well-shaped forearm and his sculpted hands could nearly send you into a paroxysm of lust.

Never, you vowed.  Never, ever, ever date a coworker, even if he was a gorgeous snark-lord with green eyes that felt like they were staring into your soul and reading your innermost thoughts.

You wondered sometimes if Barba felt the same way about you.  You weren’t completely clueless, and you noted how his eyes seemed to seek you out in the courtroom during trials.  He seemed genuinely happy when you walked through his door, and whenever he and the squad went out for drinks, he almost always settled into the seat beside yours.  And, inevitably, he’d brush up against you at least a few times.  It was probably accidental when he did, but it never failed to fuel certain imagined couplings when you were alone at night in your apartment.

Still, he never made a move, which was ultimately for the best.  Because you’d never date a coworker again.

-----

If there was one downside to being a sergeant, it was the stupid political dinners you had to go to.  You tried to dodge them, but you could only use “blinding migraine” as an excuse so many times before Liv started to doubt you.

It was one of those dinners:  the D.A.’s office was putting it on, and it was the usual crush of old white dudes glad-handing and slapping each other’s’ backs and bragging about golf scores and their alma mater’s sailing teams or whatever old white dudes talked about.

You were perfectly happy staying a sergeant forever if it meant never picking up a golf club for the rest of your life.

At least Barba was there, and he was usually good for a laugh.  He was an outsider too, a first-generation American, and as a woman and an outsider as well, the two of you sometimes huddled in a corner and did running commentary on the political socializing going on around you.  Barba could do a convincing upper-crusty WASP-y accent that always made you smile.

Not tonight though:  the ADA sat across from you at the dinner table, and he was slamming back drink after drink.  You frowned as you watched him.  Maybe he was having a bad day.  He still looked criminally handsome in his tuxedo, but he only caught your glance from time to time and would take another deep swallow of scotch.

The evening crawled by, and you decided to duck out an hour after dinner.  First, you broke away to use the restroom, and even though you were heading home, you touched up your makeup just a bit.  You smoothed an errant piece of hair back and then exited the restroom.

Barba was standing in the hallway, leaned against the cool marble of the wall with his eyes shut.  He heard the click of your heels, though, and he snapped his eyes open and stared at you as you approached.  He looked strange, so you gave him a small smile and asked if he was okay.

His response, strictly speaking, couldn’t be called English.  Or Spanish.  His words were a deluge of slurred Spanish, and the moment you started to grasp what he was saying, he’d throw in an English word.  It didn’t help that his Spanish was the nasally accented Cuban version, or that his English was halfway towards a Bronx drawl.  You had no idea what he was saying.

“I don’t understand,” you said, and you shook your head as he mumbled something (necesito? He needed something?) and then leaned against you, hard.  You stumbled backwards but caught yourself, and his face was dangerously close to yours.  You could see the little dark hazel flecks in his green eyes, and his mouth…

You ducked away.  He wasn’t trying to kiss you, obviously.  He was just drunk and confused and rambling about needing something in his one-of-a-kind Barba patois that no one on earth could understand.

“C’mon,” you said quietly, and you took his elbow and led him to a side door, away from the main crowd.  It’d do nothing for his political aspirations to be seen so intoxicated, so you flagged down a taxi and got him loaded in safely.

You barely slept that night, replaying that moment in the hallway over and over.  He hadn’t been trying to kiss you, had he?  He was staggeringly wasted, after all.  There was no way he’d meant to kiss you.  

But when you had put him in his taxi, he had looked so forlorn and despondent, you had to wonder all the same.

When you saw him the following Monday, though, he was curt.  Downright icy, in fact.  You clearly had been right initially:  he hadn’t been trying to kiss you, and if you thought otherwise, it was your own sad, pointless infatuation, not his.

-----

It was a rough case.  A weird one.  A trendy, New Age group had formed years ago, but there had been accusations made against the leader.  

You had pushed the case forward.  You had a hunch, and that hunch had snowballed into an entire litany of charges until Barba was prosecuting an actual cult leader with rape, kidnapping, and extortion.  

“I’ve never prosecuted an actual deity,” Barba joked dryly during a recess.  “So thanks for this case, sergeant.”  In court, there had been an outburst from the gallery where several of the accused’s followers yelled that he was their god, so the judge had called for a recess until things could be brought under control.

You stuck near the ADA despite the new distance between the two of you.  Barba never really stopped being curt with you after that dinner a month ago, but you were still a cop.  The accused had a bevy of unhinged acolytes, and they always pressed too close in the courthouse hallways.  You knew you were a target, as the chief investigator, but Barba was the one dragging their leader (their god) through a painful trial.

You stayed near his side in the hallway, and you were each jostled in the crush of people.  You, a trained professional with eagle-eyes, saw the gun before anyone else did.

You didn’t even think about it; you weren’t trained to think.  You were trained to act, and you did – you lunged in front of Barba and shoved him, and you caught his startled “hey!” as you both fell.  You heard the shot like a crack of thunder, but you didn’t feel anything.  Not at first, anyway.

“Jesus!” Barba shouted.  Was he mad at you for shoving him?  You opened your eyes and he was inexplicably above you, hovering like a worried Cuban angel, his handsome face tense with worry.  You had both fallen – why was he above you?

“It’s okay,” he said.  His voice, so cold to you lately, sounded shaky now with fear.  You felt his hands – those shapely hands that you had fantasized about in the darkness of your bedroom – as he fumbled with your suit jacket.  “It’s okay,” he repeated, but you weren’t sure if he was saying it for your benefit or his own.

You wanted to say something comforting – seeing him scared made you scared.  His green eyes were brilliant with tears, and he was biting his bottom lip so hard that you were sure he’d draw blood.  You felt his hands on your chest, and it wasn’t nearly as sexy as you had imagined it.  You had imagined it a bit more sensual instead of him putting all of his weight onto you to staunch the flow of blood.

When he turned and yelled over his shoulder for someone to call for a fucking bus, you couldn’t help but smile.  The man almost never swore.

He caught your smile, but he didn’t return it.  Instead, you saw a lone tear spill over and down the side of his nose, and you reached up with a shaky hand to brush it away before you dropped your hand and started to drift off.

“Hey,” he said, his voice hoarse.  “C’mon, stay with me.”

You tried to hold your eyes open, but your eyelids felt like they were weighted with lead.  Barba was fully crying now, tears dripping off his chin onto you.

“C’mon.  Please,” he said.  “Please, you can’t die now.”

You wanted to reply.  You felt so tired, but you wished you could tell him how you’d been wrong, that you should have asked him out that first day you met, because life is short and one terrible, failed engagement didn’t mean that you should stop living.  But you didn’t say any of that.  Maybe you could later.  Right now, you just wanted to shut your eyes and sleep.  So you did.

The last thing you heard was Barba crying and the distant wail of sirens, and then you were gone.

For a while, anyway.

-----

When you woke up, you thought you were in your bedroom in your apartment.  It wasn’t until you tried to move and felt a tearing, burning pain in your chest that you remembered – the shooting at the courthouse.  You’d been shot.  You were in the hospital, not your bedroom.

You had no sense of time.  How long had it been?  Days?  Weeks?  You tried to call out, but your throat was parched and sore.

There was someone curled up in the chair in the corner of the room, and when you tried to speak, they shot to their feet.  Amaro?  Your dad?  No, it was Barba.  You could just make out his face in the low light of the room as he hurried to your bedside.

Barba was a handsome man, but he looked like fresh hell right now.  He was in an oversized NYPD t-shirt and his suit pants from the day of the shooting, and you realized that he had probably been covered in your blood.  His face was lined with worry, and his hair was wild, like he’d been running his hands through it.

“You’re awake,” he whispered.  “Gracias a dios.”  

You tried to respond, but your voice came out as a froggy croak.  Barba poured you a cup of water from your bedside table and held the straw for you as you drank.

“Thanks,” you rasped.

“I’ll get a nurse,” he replied, but you shook your head and winced at the effort.  

“Stay.  Please.”  You has just woken up, you had no idea how long you’d slept, but you already felt exhausted.  You could feel your eyes growing heavy.

“Let me get someone,” he murmured, and you felt his hand brush back a piece of hair from your forehead as you nodded off.  “I’ll come back,” he promised.  “I’m not going anywhere.”

----

Barba hadn’t lied:  he came back.  He didn’t go anywhere.  

You were in the ICU for a few more days, then you were shifted to a regular room.  Your parents came out to visit, one at a time as acrimonious divorcees do, but the one constant presence was Barba.  He was always there:  lying his way into the ICU, then charming the nurses into letting him stay off-visiting hours when you were in the regular ward.  Most times, you fell asleep with him there and woke up to him there, and you weren’t clear when he went home or worked.  You’d find out later that he had tapped into his untouched vacation days, a fact that made you tear up inexplicably.

The bullet had taken a one in a million path, glancing off the thick bit of your breastbone and missing your arteries.  Still, you had a punctured lung and had lost a lot of blood.  There were external stitches, internal stitches, and the threat of infection.  It would be a long recovery.

When you were discharged, you worried about handling your own recovery without much help, but you needn’t have been concerned:  Barba was there for that too.  

If he had been icy before, he was anything but now.  The man was a capable nurse, and he handled your recovery with a warm efficiency you hadn’t expected.  He kept your refrigerator stocked, and you found new magazines and books stacked on your coffee table.  He filled your pain prescriptions and counted the pills to make sure you weren’t overdoing it.  He snagged your spare key and let himself in like he lived there; more than once, you woke up on the couch to him covering you with a blanket or drawing the blinds to keep the sun off of you.

He drove you to appointments, and if he couldn’t make it, he had an entire community of people lined up to help.  

Once, his own mother drove you to a checkup, and you had been brutally embarrassed (you had, after all, masturbated more than once to the thought of her son).  But Lucia Barba was perfectly lovely, chatting about how much her Rafi talked about you.  She never had to know about your own nocturnal, solitary activities involving her Rafi.

You wondered why he took such an interest in you all of a sudden.  Maybe he just felt guilty.  You had taken a bullet for him, and while it was your job, he probably blamed himself for your injury.  

You loved having him so engrained in your life, but you were also about a month away from being able to return to work.  Once you were fully healed, he’d probably fade away, and the thought made you sad.  Your brush with death had convinced you that your stubborn refusal to not date coworkers was silly.  Life was short and uncertain.  You had to grab at any happiness with both hands while you could.

Barba was in your kitchen, his suit jacket hung over a chair as he unpacked the takeout he’d brought.  He pulled out plates and glasses, utterly at home in your apartment, and he set your table and urged you to sit.  He doled out the food and gestured at you to eat, and he sat down across from you with his own plate.

You were comfortable with each other now, and you chatted amicably about work, the weather, all the courthouse gossip.  It felt charmingly domestic, and you smiled before it fell from your face.  It would all be ending soon, and you could only hope that Barba didn’t go back to being cold with you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, catching your expression as your smile disappeared.  “You want something else to eat?”

You shook your head and stared down at your uneaten food.  Then you cleared your throat.

“I want to thank you for all your help,” you said, not quite looking at him.  “I can’t repay you for everything you’ve done.”  A pause, and you gifted him with a small smile.  “At best, I can replace the suit I bled all over.”

He did not return the smile, wincing instead.  “You never have to repay me.  It’s the least I can do.  And don’t worry about the suit.”

“It was a nice suit,” you said mournfully.  “It was, like, my third favorite.”

That made him smile.  “You rank my suits?  Which one is the worst?”

“Oh, the tan one,” you said without hesitating.  “It’s too close to your skin tone, so it looks like a weird skin suit.”

Barba laughed, throwing back his head at your sudden candor.  “I kinda like you on pain pills,” he admitted.  “You’re shockingly honest.”

You scoffed at him.  “I’m always honest.”

“Yeah?”  His smile faded a bit.  “Can I ask you a question then?”  You nodded, and he continued.

“That night at the D.A.’s dinner…” He trailed off for a moment.  “Did I make you uncomfortable?”

You cocked your head at him.  “Not at all.  You just had a lot to drink.”

He made an impatient noise in the back of his throat, like you hadn’t understood him.  “No, with the other thing.”

“What other thing?”

There was a long stretch of silence as he looked at you, and it went so long that you squirmed a little under the intensity of his gaze.  “The thing I said to you in the hallway that night,” he finally clarified.  

You only shook you head and took a bite of teriyaki chicken.  You chewed and tried to remember what he had said to you that night.  You swallowed and told him so.  “You weren’t really understandable, Barba.  I am not fluent in drunk Cuban-American, sadly.”

He looked aghast.  “Seriously?”

You nodded.  Any other time, you’d leave it at that, but your tongue was loosened a bit by the pain medication.  So you added, “I thought maybe you had confessed your undying love for me, but then you were….standoffish afterwards.”

Barba didn’t reply to that at all, but he looked utterly horrified and you realized that your gut instinct that night had been right:  he had been leaning in to kiss you.  The thing he had been slurring about needing – it was you.

You sat your chopsticks down and looked at your plate.  “Huh.  So you did like me.”  You glanced up at him and smiled.  “You still feel that way, Rafael?”

He nodded glumly, but you didn’t miss the glimmer of hope that shone in his eyes when you called him by his first name.

“I don’t date coworkers anymore,” you said.  “It’s a rule I have.  Too much drama.”

“That’s okay – “

You talked over him.  “But you aren’t really a coworker, are you?”

“Sorry?”

You clucked at him in mock disappointment.  “You’re a lawyer, Rafael.  You’re used to finding loopholes.”

You watched the realization come across him in degrees, like the sun rising.  “Well, I suppose….you work for the NYPD.  I work for the D.A.’s office.  Separate agencies.  We’re technically more associates than coworkers.”

You couldn’t help but smile at him.  “That checks out.”

He returned your smile, and for the first time in a long time, there was a fluttering in your chest that wasn’t related to your healing wound.  He started to stand up, hesitated, then did stand.  He came around to your side of the table and stood over you.  He didn’t have the excuse of being on pain medicine, so it had to be just his own initiative that made him reach out and lay a gentle hand on the back of your head.  Then he leaned down and kissed you.  It was feather-light and infinitely gentle, but it still sent a bolt of desire through you, even through the fog of opiates.

When he broke away, you gazed up at him.  “I’ve been…hurt in the past,” you said haltingly.  “Can we go slow?”

“Absolutely.”

The evening had taken such a sudden turn, you could scarcely believe it.  Barba was still standing over you, and his hand was still cradling the back of your head.  Even though you said you wanted to take it slow, you also wanted to jump over the edge with him as quickly as possible.

“Slow is good, but to be fair,” he said, reading your thoughts.  “You took a bullet for me.  Seems silly to go all the way back to first dates and small talk.”

You laughed.  “You have bought me about a hundred dinners in the past few months.”

He smirked down at you and ran his fingers through your hair.  “And I’ve seen you in your pajamas.”

You pretended to be mentally calculating it.  “Pajamas.  That’s what…third date?  Second?”

“Second date?” he asked, mock-scandalized.  “And you even met my mother.”

“I did,” you said, turning serious.  “She was really nice.”

“She’s tough and a pain in the ass,” he corrected you.  “But she liked you a lot.”

You felt a warm flush wash through you.  Your ex’s mother had not liked you at all; it had been a source of friction in your relationship.  “My parents liked you too,” you told him with a shy smile, suddenly feeling the seriousness of this change between you and Barba.  What if, once you were out of this weird little bubble of healing from your injury, it all fell apart?  What if the real world came between the two of you?  What if this was all just a pipe-dream?

He could obviously read your concern, because he ran his hands through your hair, stroked your head in a comforting, intimate sort of way.  “So we’ve already done all the hardest bits,” he murmured.  “Did the awkward small talk, met the parents.”  He paused and added with a smirk, “insulted my favorite tan suit, recovered from said insult.”

“You survived it and are stronger for it,” you joked back, and he answered by kissing you again.  He was gentle about it, minding your healing, but you could sense the tension that he was holding back.  If he had confessed his feelings at that dinner months ago, then he had been harboring feelings before that.  The man had probably been on a low simmer just as you had been.  The thought made you squirm in that torturous, wonderful anticipation.  

You couldn’t wait until you were well enough to really kiss him.

[i-mybrunettelady]

the 'who do they hate the most' questions for nyra, el and ren?

Okay anon, that is a really good question :eyes:

🧡 Who is your OC’s favourite person? Why is this person the top of their list and have they actually met them (an idol or rolemodel or celeb can be someone’s favourite after all!).

Who does your OC absolutely hate, the one person who they’d sell to Satan for one corn chip? Why do they loathe this person so?

Nyra

- As far as her fave person, there is a small list - DW, Aurene & Trahearne. Her parents and siblings go on that list as well. She doesn't rank them because that's highly redundant for her - she loves them all equally but in different ways.

As to who she'd sell to Satan for a fraction of a corn chip, that title is shared between Balthazar, Smodur, Mordremoth and Bangar, for various reasons. They have either caused her great pain, been racist assholes who fight against what she stands for, have tried to kill her or let her down big time.

El

- He has only two fave people - Trahearne and Liv. I guess the Pale Tree is in there somewhere as well? But Hearne and Liv are his closest people so he naturally adores them.

And who he hates? Well, a lot of people, chief amongst them Mordremoth, Nyra for a while too, Adryn, Cadeyrn, Vorpp... He has very vivid hateful feelings. Add Joko in there because he barely passed the Joko exam in the magical history section of his degree.

Ren

- Three people - Tybalt, Akila and Doern count as favourite people, but she has a lot of people she likes, just doesn't idealise them. Doern is more of a role model variety favourite, whereas Tybs and Akila are personal.

Likewise, she rarely hates individual people, only institutions and wider societal forces that drive them. But she reserves a special spot in hell for the judge that sentenced Vera to death and in fact, sent him there herself