#qvo ships svu

[qvid-pro-qvo]

ya know we really have a thing for making headcanons that are so specific for us, let’s continue that with aaron hotchner x rafael barba, your choice if you wanna add in reader or not

oh… oh, charlie. what a gift. rafael barba x aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader.

he’s finally gotten off the phone and onto unpacking when you start talking. “that lawyer sure knows how to push your buttons.”

aaron glances up from his suitcase to look at you, and can’t help but feel defensive at the smirk on your face. “which lawyer?” he asks, looking back down, disconcerted by the width of your grin.

“the handsome one with the special victims unit,” you tell him, and he hears you walk closer to the bed you plan to share. “mr. rafael barba. certainly had a way with words.”

“handsome.”

“you can’t deny it.”

right. he scoffs as you say it. shaking his head. “a way with words. that’s one way to put it.”

“and another way?”

aaron looks up again, raising a brow at you. you haven’t stopped smiling at him, and while it’s usually a sight for sore eyes, today there’s something behind it that makes him pause. “he’s an assistant district attorney and we’re on his case. he doesn’t trust us. of course he was going to fight back when we came in to take over the investigation.”

“and what did you determine based on that profile?”

“so…” aaron sighs. crossing his arms over his chest. “he’s got a mouth, and he’s using it.”

“a mouth.”

he looks up again, he can’t help it. your tone can only be described as amused, and you sit on the edge of the bed with a smile that drives him crazy.

“yes.”

“you like a mouth.”

“all right,” aaron says, but he can’t help leaning over to kiss your temple. “i’m going to take a shower, and you are going to wipe that smile off your face.”

“absolutely.”

“and we’re going to stop talking about rafael barba,” he says firmly, before moving back toward the hotel bathroom.

“hey, aaron?” you call out to him. he sighs, gently, but turns to you with a smile.

“yeah?”

“i have a mouth. and you like it a lot.”

“yeah.”

“you married me for it.”

“… yeah.”

“he’s very handsome.”

“and i’m going to shower.”

[storiesofsvu]

Storiesofsvuholidaybingo

That’s right!! It’s bingo time again!!

Prompts are all winter/Christmas/holiday related, or songs.

Submissions can be anything, a mood board, a ficlet, headcanons, drabbles, gif sets, one shot, social media au’s, whatever you want!!

Read the rest fo the rules under the cut!!

Song Prompts: pick 2-4 lines of lyrics from the song and use them in your fic (bold them for reference). You can change pronouns to make a song fit a fic better!

Prompts can be any genre, make it super spicy, make it tooth rotting fluff, make it angst as fck, make it an AU, just make sure to include any and all appropriate warnings and tags!! (Preferably at the top of the post, not just in the tags)

Fics can be either a ship, a reader insert, or an OC, mix and match, crossovers from different shows/fandoms, stick with one, try out something new!

Accepted characters:

· SVU

-Olivia Benson

-Odafin Tutuola

-Trevor Langan

-Melinda Warner

-Amanda Rollins

-Sonny Carisi

-Rafael Barba

-Casey Novak

-Alex Cabot

-Nick Amaro

-Peter Stone

-Kathy Stabler

-Sonya Paxton

-Kat Tamin

-Elizabeth Donnelly

-Mike Dodds

-Rita Calhoun

-Pippa Cox

-Angela Wheatley

-Ayanna Bell

· Outside of SVU

-Bryan Kneef

-Ricardo Diaz

-Nevada Ramirez

-Fredrick Chilton

-Abigail Borin

-Anthony DiNozzo

-Ziva David

-Elizabeth Keane

-Carrie Mathison

-Heather Dunbar

-Jackie Sharp

· Other fandoms you can write from

-Ted Lasso

-Goliath

-The Morning Show

-One Chicago

-Mayans MC

-Criminal Minds

-Grey’s Anatomy

-911

-Marvel

-The L Word

- Fate the winx saga

Ships can be any combination of the above characters, crossovers welcomed as well! If there is someone or a fandom not on the list you’d like to write for, just send me a message and I can probably add them!

Rules

· You must tag me

@storiesofsvu

and use the hashtag storiesofsvuholidaybingo on each creation and I’ll put together the masterlist.

· Bingo begins December 1st and runs all the way through to January 10th! (Yes. We be running for more than a month! And that is because Christmas is the INSANELY busy season for me at work and I’ll need more time to get organized and this way we’re not under such a time crunch). You may only submit ONE creation PER DAY. And only one square per creation.

· No underage readers/oc’s.

· Tag all and every warning appropriately at the top of a fic

· Anything over 1000 words must be under a readmore

If you have any questions, feel free to message me!!

_______ tagging some people!!

@lesbianologist @cabensons @teamsladsandgents @thatesqcrush @detective-giggles @tropes-and-tales @itsjustmyfantasyroom @witches-unruly-heart @prurientpuddlejumper @hurricanejjareau @qvid-pro-qvo @wannabe-fic-writer @fighterkimburgess @natasha-danvers @beardsanddetectives @tinyboxxtink @meddisonmilfsupremacy

[writefasttalkevenfaster]

Take My Hand (Part One)

Summary: a secret relationship was enough, being with rafael was enough. and it was. until it wasn’t (one of three parts) 

Pairings: Rafael Barba x Reader, Sonny Carisi x Reader (more in next parts) 

Word Count: 3,417

Song:  I'm begging for you to take my hand / Wreck my plans, that's my man (willow by taylor swift) 

Warnings: T, implied sex, some sexual situations (but just kissing and touching, nothing explicit), fwb relationship essentially, rafael’s commitment issues, 

A/N: thank you to @bucky-of-the-opera​ and @qvid-pro-qvo​ for letting me bounce ideas off and not annoy you (hopefully) with my incessant obsession with this mini-series. 

“Barba, it’s time to go home,” the illustrious A.D.A. didn’t bother to look up from your brief he was revising, the margins bloodied with red ink and edits, as you watched, pressed against his doorframe, “you can tear my work to shreds tomorrow.” 

“Since when did you become my keeper?” he murmurs, his brow wrinkled much like the carpet that lined his floor —- and the rest of his office wasn’t much better — dimmed and dark much like the bags under his eyes, takeout containers from Forlini’s stacked in his trash can, printed briefs and case files stacked like a wall around the perimeter of his desk, some even stacked up on the larger conference table, a few scattered on the floor. 

“Oh it was in the job description,” you step forward, picking up the files that had jumped ship, likely to escape your boss, “assistant district attorney needed to assure SVU’s lead ADA is not found buried in an avalanche of cases that decided to take their revenge.” 

He snorts, still flipping pages through the memo, his tie loosened around his neck, sleeves pushed up to reveal his forearms, “I didn’t know you were a comedian before law school,” 

And for once you’re grateful that he doesn’t bother to look up — it means he  doesn’t notice your eyes lingering on his forearms, “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Barba,” 

And you expect a biting response, a quick retort, but instead you get honest reply, “Well I’d like to, if you’d let me,” you blink a moment, as he glances up for a moment, his look nearly earnest, “you know you do have a habit of keeping people at arm’s length.” 

“This isn’t about me,” and he smiles, looking back down at his work. 

“And the deflection begins,” you huff, scowling at him, though he still paid no mind.  

“Well my office doesn’t look like the aftermath of a legal aid implosion, and I’ve actually been sleeping 6 hours a night, can you say the same?” 

He frowns, lips pursed, “I can take care of myself,” 

“Clearly,” you crossed your arms, straightening the rug with the heel of your shoe, rounding his desk, “this case was impossible today, it will be impossible tomorrow.” 

“Well maybe if I worked a little harder it wouldn’t be so impossible, maybe we’d even get a little justice,” he sighs, lips pressed to the knuckles of his fist. 

You tilt your head, “You know this system is not always getting justice — sometimes it’s just about closure, and that’s all we can do sometimes.” 

“I want to do more— I—” he breaks off, knuckles white against clutching his pen, “I knew the system was full of grays, I know but—” 

“It’s different when it’s SVU, I know, but,” your fingers reach for his tentatively, easing the pen from his fingers, “you can only do what the system lets you — it’s not our job to legislate — it’s our jobs to advocate, to let the people’s voice be heard in court. But you can’t do that if you work yourself right into the ground.” 

“I know, I just—” 

“Barba, you know there’s no point of self-flagellating, no matter how tempting it might be,” 

He lets out a bitter chuckle, “It’s one of my many talents,” before rubbing his hands up and down his face, as if that would erase the exhaustion pressed upon his shoulders. 

“Oh I know,” you say with a sigh, “but you have other talents, don’t you?” and he finally looks up at you — most times you didn’t know what to make of his looks — sometimes it was easy — amusement when the defense counsel tripped up or frustration when the detectives kept pressing him to take the case further when it already sprung a leak — but other times it was a glimmer, a hint at something you could barely grasp onto before it disappeared between your fingers. But now, it lingered, his gaze raked over you until it left your skin blaringly raw under his steady look. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” and now, you barely remember to breathe, the air sucked from the room, instead replaced with a heat — thicker as it settles, but still he sends shivers down your spine, your eyes barely flickering over his lips. 

“I do,” the words falling from your lips, a rushed, thoughtless whisper.

His eyes molten, he leans forward, he mutters your name, barely a whisper — an ask for permission, as his palm dares to rest on your cheek, carefully, as if you would recoil from his touch — but you didn’t. You leaned into his palm, basking in his affection. 

His hand slips down, thumb brushing your lips and then resting on your chin, tilting it downwards, “Are you sure you want to know me this well?” he asks, as you lean forward, your backside pressed against the edge of his desk. 

“I do, if you’ll let me,” his breath warms your lips, “Rafael,” you whisper right before his lips brush yours. 

It’s chaste at first, tentative and gentle, but when your fingers find purchase on the back of his neck, you chase his lips. You taste coffee — bitter and rich, as rich as the passion and urgency of his kisses. Soon he’s standing, and you’re sitting at the edge of the desk, his body between your legs. His hands trail down your body, and his lips follow — pressing fervent kisses to your neck. And your hand grasps at the edge of his to keep yourself steady, the other on his shoulder, digging into his crisp button down. 

“Someone could walk in,” you gasp, hissing as his teeth gently graze your neck, “Raf—” 

He pauses, leaning back, “You’re right,” and you bite your lip, as he steps back, grabbing his jacket, glancing between you and the door, “it’s late, we should—” 

“Right,” your face burns, you round the desk towards the door, fuck, what if he thinks this is a huge mistake? What if he doesn’t— 

He grabs you by the wrist gently, smiling as he brushes past you, holding his office door open for you, “Your place or mine?” 

“You have to make our case, counselors, so what are you going to do about it?” Liv crossed her arms, looking between you and Rafael. 

“We need more evidence Liv, there’s no way around it,” you sigh, “we go in guns ablazing and odds are we don’t get it because a) he destroys it, or b) fruit of the poisonous tree. He’s smart and his lawyers are smart, we need this by the book.” 

“I agree, we need more — have you managed to get into contact with his ex-wife?”  

“Only many unreturned phone calls,” Amanda shakes her head, “I’ll try again, but she retired to Florida—” 

“Do one better, fly down there and talk to her,” Rafael replied, sliding the divorce proceedings across the table, “I think she may be the key to our case, and the warrants we need.” 

Rafael walks them to the elevator, chatting about the case, as you glance at the stacks of motions you needed to get through still. The door clicking shut behind him,  he slides next to you, as you slink down, sighing, “Thanks for backing me up on the case,” 

“Of course,” he replies, “we need more evidence — taking a half baked case against someone like Rita? It’s like begging to be ripped apart in front of an audience.” 

“Well, I know you dabble in masochism,” and he shot you a glare, his thigh pressed against your own, “How long do we have before you think we’ll have a case?” 

“A while — it will take them some time to get down to Florida and get something usable,” he flipped through more packets, before tossing them flippantly onto the coffee table, leaning back, his eyes flickering to the door, and he leans over, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, “which gives us more time to ourselves.” 

“Rafael—” he swallowed your protests with a kiss, and it was enough for your worries to fall away — he was enough to make everything fall away for you, your eyes flickered to the door, “the door—” “I locked it,” the words reverberate against your skin, “I wouldn’t be so careless, counselor,” his use of your title sent a shiver down your spine, “now are you going to let me take you home?”  

It had been a few weeks of this — sneaking kisses in between work, stolen glances across rooms, small smiles that quickly melted away under another's look, and many nights spent in the other's arms — but still you didn't know what this was. 

"Let's go," you smiled, pressing a teasing kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

But you didn't care. 

As the two of you stepped into the elevator, his hand brushed yours, because you didn't want to lose it. 

"Yes sir, I understand. I'll be there," your eyes flicker up to see Rafael standing in the doorway, "okay goodbye." 

"Was that McCoy—" 

"Chewing me out for not attending yet another gala, unfortunately yes, and it looks like I'm being shanghaied into attending," you shake your head, groaning, "doesn't he have better things to do than force me to schmooze with the affluent and influential?" 

"So close to his re-election? No," he sits down, checking his phone, "he needs to have his best and brightest there, and that's why he wants us there." 

"'Us?'" the corner of his lip tilts upwards. 

"You're not the only one who got an irate phone call," he locks his phone, tucking it away, "we should both leave the office early so we can arrive on time," 

You check the time, cursing, "I have to get my outfit dry cleaned, but I have to write a motion—" 

"I can do it— my suit is ready and I told Liv I wouldn't pick her up until closer to the start—" 

You blink, your chest squeezing, "Liv?" 

He frowns, "Yeah I'm taking her tonight — as a favor — there's a case—" 

You waved him off, “You don’t have to explain, it’s fine,” you grab your coat and your bag, “I should go now and drop off my clothes—” 

He says your name, “You know I would want to go with you if we didn’t—” 

If you didn’t work together, if your hypocrite of a boss didn’t have a chip on his shoulder for workplace relationships— “I know,”  you reply, offering a small smile, if this was something more than what you knew it was— “I’ll see you tonight.” 

But it wasn’t. 

This was a nightmare. 

Truly. 

Forced to attend a gala alone with people you didn’t know very well, stuck in the corner by the bar, forced to watch the one person you wanted be with someone else. But you didn’t want to want him — you downed your drink, asking for a refill — the alcohol wasn’t the only thing bitter on your lips. 

“Glad to see you could make it, counselor,” Jack McCoy greeted you with a grin, offering you his hand in a firm handshake, “you look lovely.” 

“Well, my boss didn’t give me much of a choice,” you purse your lips, “something about my future at the District Attorney’s office and if I wished to have his support,” 

He chuckles, ordering his drink from the bartender (“a scotch, neat”), “I sense good things in your future. You have been a great addition to SVU — you challenge the detectives to bring better cases and you’re giving Barba a run for his money.” 

You spotted Rafael out of the corner of your eye, Liv on his arm, and you glanced away, sipping at your drink, tucking away your frustration behind a mask of boredom— “I suppose I am,” —albeit, maybe not fast enough. 

McCoy followed your gaze. He doesn’t say anything, instead offering his hand to you, “May I have this dance?” you raised an eyebrow, leaning against the bar. 

“You’re not trying to make me one of your famous work affairs, are you, Jack?” and he laughs, shaking his head, tilting his head. 

“I think I know better than that, counselor,” your eyes find Rafael again — dancing with Liv, quietly talking, and you take Jack’s hand. 

“I’d love to,” you follow him onto the dance floor, his hands resting respectfully above your waist just a new song began, “I should warn you I’m not the best dancer,” 

“Just follow my lead,” he assured you, a smile playing on his lips,  “and if you step on my feet, well I’ll have a good case for assault.” 

You rolled your eyes, before pursing your lips, “What’s this about, Jack?” 

“What do you mean?” it’s your turn to tilt your head, your arms resting on his shoulders, “I just wanted to say, I’ve been down that road before,” he spares a discreet glance at Rafael, “and it never ends well.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you keep your voice steady and confused, but Jack only raises an eyebrow, “There’s nothing going on—” 

“A whole of lot of nothing is what I’m worried about,” He kept the friendly smile, “I’ve done this enough times to know when nothing is actually nothing — and I know the look you had wasn’t nothing—” 

“Jack—” 

“I’m not speaking to you as your boss, for now,” his words were careful, a sharp edge of warning that slid harmlessly across your cheek, but you knew it wouldn’t again, “but I don’t want to see you hurt.” 

“I don’t want to either, but I know what I’m doing,” and Jack nods. 

“I know you do, and I’m not telling you how to live your life, but-- “ he shakes his head, “you deserve better than someone who hides you — take it from an old man who lost someone they loved when they were too busy hiding them.” 

You frown, “I—” and you felt a tap on your shoulder, Rafael standing between you two. 

“May I cut in?” he offers Jack a smile, who steps back. 

“Remember what I said, counselor,” Jack shakes Rafael’s hand, keeping his eyes on you,  “a bright future.” 

A slow waltz begins to play, and he grins at you, “Are you going to keep me waiting?” 

“What about Liv?” he jerks his head and you see her dancing with that attorney, Trevor Langan. 

“She’s busy, and she’s not the one I want to dance with,” and his smile falters, raising his eyebrows, “unless you don’t want to—” 

You deserve more, Jack’s words echo in your ears, and you wanted more — you wanted him, more than you wanted to admit — more than he wanted you to want him. 

“Of course I do,” you take his hand, a soft smile on his lips, his palm warm against your back, pulling you close. 

“You look so amazing,” he remarks, murmuring in your ear, his dulcet tones sending a shiver down your spine,  “I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.” 

“Really?” his fingers tilt your chin up to meet his gaze. 

“Yes, because I couldn’t stop thinking about what I wanted to take off,” his voice liquid heat, and your breath stuttered in your chest — his hands on your body were no longer enough, “what do you do to me, mi amor?”

“I could say the same to you,” you mutter, as he tugs you a little closer, blurring the line between professional and personal, “Do you think it’s a good idea that we’re dancing this close?” 

“What do you mean?” and you look around, scanning for any sight of Jack. 

“Our jobs — people could talk,” and he just shrugs, emerald eyes shining, as his lips quirk upward, as he dips you, pulling you back up with ease — the same ease he did everything with — the same ease he always put you at. 

“Then let them.” 

And you bite your lip, a small smile on your lips. Maybe this was enough. You knew what you were doing. You glance at Jack, who now stands at the bar, his brow wrinkled. 

Right? 

“Rafael,” you can’t catch your breath with him, his lips insistent and plying, as he presses you into the soft cushions of the mattress, “we have motions in—” you gasp as he sucks your skin above your pulse, “an hour and half.” 

But really you didn’t care about the motions — you didn’t care about being late —- you wanted to talk to him, about you — about the both of you — but he didn’t want to talk. 

“That means we have at least half an hour,” his hands squeezed your hips, and your body responded in kind, head tilting back, exposing your neck for his lips, “that means I can do what i was planning to do more than once.” 

“You’re awfully confident,” you sigh, your fingers knotted in his soft hairs at the base of his neck, and he presses a kiss right between your collarbone, his lips smiling against you. 

“I have an impressive track record, no?” he grins, “I don’t recall you complaining last night,” you rolled your eyes, tugging him higher, so his hair brushed your forehead. 

“You do, so much so that,” and you wonder if he can feel your heart pounding against your chest, “I wanted to talk to you about something.” 

He raises an eyebrow, pressing a kiss to your lips, “What about?” 

“What are we doing, Raf?” the words leave your mouth in a whisper — a single, gentle step onto a frozen lake, waiting for the ice to give way beneath you, “what is this to you?” 

He hesitates — the first crack resonates through the still morning, “I don’t know, what is it to you? What do you want?” 

I want more than just this, I want to be able to take you to galas, to kiss you outside of dark corners and corner booths— “I don’t know either—” 

“Then let’s not waste time by defining it,” his hand cups your cheek — the cracks splintered under your feet, the water erupting from the fissures, “Mi amor, I’ve had relationships before, I’ve seen them fall apart, I’ve watched people who love each other hurt each other, over and over again. I don’t want to do that to you,” he sighs, “I don’t want to lose you.” 

“I don’t want to either, but don’t you want more than this?” He holds your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing the length of your cheeks. 

“I just need you — no more, no less than just this,” Rafael presses a kiss to your palm, “can we keep it this way for a little longer?” 

You deserve more. You want more. You need more. 

He says your name again, and you offer a small smile, as you sink beneath the emerald colored water of his eyes. 

“Of course, Raf.” 

There’s a knock at your office, and you glance over at the call of your name, “Hey, I’m from SVU, I’m looking for Barba,” his lanky figure is standing in your doorframe, his dirty blond hair slicked back, “I’m here to pick up a—” 

“A warrant?” you nod, rifling through your files, “I got it right here for you, Detective…?” 

He offers a hand, “Dominick Carisi, but you can call me Sonny,” you shake his outstretched hand, “You’re Barba’s number two, right? I heard about you from the squad.” 

“Not how I’d like to be remembered, but essentially yes,” you shrug, before handing him the warrant, “just make sure to keep your search restricted to the places in that warrant and catalog everything properly— we don’t need to need to deal any issues—” 

“Chain of custody, yeah I know. I’m actually in law school right now,” he adds, “Fordham.” 

“That’s a great school,” you raise your eyebrows, “I’m sure it’s tough balancing it with your work as a detective — I barely survived my first year and that was without a full time job.”

“Well, what can I say, I’m determined,” he nods, holding up the warrant, “it was nice meeting you, counselor.” 

“You too, Detective Carisi—” 

“I told ya, call me Sonny,” he smiles from the doorway, and you chuckle, a warm smile blooming on your face. 

“Only if you call me by my name too, Sonny.”

[alexandrablake]

i will, can, and already have cried.

apparently, i need to do some research because i don’t know enough words to say how thankful i am for literally every single one of you. i’ve never had more than 50 followers on a platform, and the fact that i barely do anything original on here and you still follow??? as i said, it’s cry-worthy.

please participate, on/off anon i don’t mind! i want to thank every single one of you🥺🥺 i love you and thank you so much!! i promise that as soon as i get some school under control, i will do more posting (writing, gifs, anything really)!

my old pinned post

this will last until i forget about it ! (two weeks! february 11th!)

the following are for everyone!

👸🏼(queen)- give me a ship and i’ll give you a song from my playlist based off their vibes!! (yes, i’ve done this, moving on...)

🤠 (cowboy man)- cast your mutuals as ___

👻 (boo ghost)- this or that! give me two characters, shows, anything, and i will make a gif set/moodboard about the winner

💅🏼 (nail polish)- unpopular opinions! can be anything in cm, svu (i’m up to s10 but i know a lot about later), or anything not in these 2 fandoms!

🍀 (four leaf clover)- if you are a fic writer, i’ll read something of yours and give you feedback/rb it with my praises!

💐 (bouquet)- something you may not know about me!

🌈 (rainbow)- a tiktok from my collection!

🥒 (cucumber)- give me a blog and i’ll shout them out on your behalf and tell you what i think about them!

🥍 (lax stick)- i’ll make a moodboard for you! doesn’t have to be fandom related, could be anything!

the following are for mutuals only!

hi loves! you guys make my day every single day and i love you all so so big!

✍️(pen in hand)- a handwritten love note from me to you!

⚽️ (soccer ball)- a picture from my camera roll and a song from my playlist that i think really fits you!

🛼(roller skates)- now that i look at it, this one is kinda weird. so in this au, we, eva’s mutuals, are the characters that people are making tumblrs for. i’ll tell you who you would be shipped with, what kinda character you would be, whether or not you had the arcs you deserved, all that.

🎨(palette)- i will make a personalized moodboard for you that fits your vibes! if you have anything specific that you want in it, please tell, otherwise i will just go with what’s in my ✨soul✨

🧸(teddy bear)- i have read a whopping 817 works of fanfiction on ff.net. give me a letter and i’ll pick a random one from that one and tell you wth i was doing reading it.

🧼(soap)- help me pick a user. these are urls i have saved. i’m not sure if i even want to change from rbv, so if you like one of them more than others, please help🥺🥺

tagging mutuals (apologies): @greenaway-lewis @crazyshannonigans @sunlightgalaxy @morciaa @morcias @laurenxreynolds @qvid-pro-qvo @hurricanejjareau @elizabethxolsen @ssajelle @scandinavian-punk @goldensatine @ssa-lukealvez @hotchsbabygirl @lavenderbau

(actual image of me trying to figure out how to tag you guys because like 7 of you changed your urls)

[qvid-pro-qvo]

oh and let’s go back to our vault of ships….THE BOYFRIENDS!!! DORISI!!!!

our greatest hits, by me and you. mike dodds x sonny carisi.

“i’m just saying i think i should be the one wearing white.”

mike shakes his head as he holds the phone up to his ear, fighting back a smile as sonny’s eyes meet his from the couch. “i am on the phone,” he tells him, lifting his cell a little before holding it back against his ear.

“you’re on hold,” sonny counters, and he holds up the magazine he was flipping through. “so go ahead and agree that at our wedding i get dibs on the white tuxedo.”

“dom,” mike says, fond exasperation on his face, as usual. “i’m serious.”

“and i’m not? mike, i mean we both agree you can pull off a tux, but since i proposed i think i can claim the color i want. and white’s gonna wash you out, baby. that irish skin’s gonna look fluorescent.”

when mike looks over again, sonny’s sprawled out across the entire length of their couch, making himself more than comfortable. he slowly starts making his way over, making sure the music on the other end is still pleasant and keeping him on hold. “irish skin?”

“you get burned if the light on your desk looks at you funny,” sonny says with a wave of his hand. “how do you feel about blue for one of our colors?”

it’s that moment mike uses to snatch the magazine out of sonny’s hand. moves with the speed of a trained soldier to dance to the other side of the kitchen as sonny shouts out his protest. and uses his extra two inches to lift the magazine high in the air, laughing as he feels sonny swat at his ass as he moves past him again and again.

“i’m gonna kick your ass, dodds!” sonny shouts, laughing so loud that the woman who finally answers on the other end can let out an exasperated sigh.

“aren’t you two getting married?” liv asks, and there’s a smile in her voice that mike matches with his own.

“he said i have irish skin.”

[qvid-pro-qvo]

prompts are open!

i have a weekend on call where i’ll be doing a lot of chores and i miss writing! so to get my brain going after a bad brain week, i’m opening up my inbox!

pairings/throuples or x-reader fics with a situation for the fandoms i write for, loves. if you ask for a reader, just specify gender or gender neutral. i’m nothing if not long-winded!

fandoms:

law and order: svu

criminal minds

the west wing

top gun: maverick

mass effect

dragon age: inquisition

❤️, qvo

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i’ll ship something you’ve never even thought of, just give me twenty minutes and a few viewings of a scene without my glasses on

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barson my babiiieessssss

last one beloveds

let’s talk about noah

because you can’t tell me that after everything rafael doesn’t have such a solid hand in raising this kid

he’s known him since infancy, has watched him grow before his very eyes, has cried with liv and laughed with liv and celebrated with liv through each milestone

frets with liv about noah liking him — going from playing with him for three hours with little race cars and stuffed animals to asking liv “do we think he enjoys spending time with me?”

it always earns him a kiss when he worries in such a classically rafael way

and he so desperately holds onto liv’s hands hoping one day noah will be his, too

it happens over a series of moments, a series of milestones through the ages (from uncle raf to raf, to buying mother’s day cards for liv together, giving rafael his blessing to marry his mom in that brave ten year old way of his)

and in the end noah porter-benson-barba has the longest set of names in the world, but each one he keeps close to his heart, especially the name of the man who fought to be there and watch him grow right alongside his mother

it’s the beginning and an ending to noah’s incredible story, because olivia benson saw a boy without a future and gave him a home, and liv saw a lawyer without a heart and helped him find his soul, and together the three of them make a family and walk through this life side by side

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Ouuu PeterxSonny!?!

i’m thriving rn YEAH i’ll talk about starisi

peter comes to svu floundering — following a beloved ADA who knew svu like the back of his hand — and sonny carisi is the only one who throws a life preserver

it’s dinners after work, it’s wing-manning for each other after long nights, it’s laughter at 2AM as they stumble home and crash on a couch, groggy the next morning from nothing but the fumes of each other they’re high on

it’s not healthy, not really — they’re about twenty years too old — but when he’s with sonny peter feels like he’s 21 and in college again, making out with john dimarco on his couch and praying his roommate doesn’t unlock the door

feels like if he blinks he’ll miss one moment too many or sonny laughing and smiling and biting his lower lip and tossing his head back so his silver hair shines in that one spot the moon hits

so sonny sleeps over at his, sonny accidentally borrows three shirts and never gives them back, sonny’s stumbled into his room as peter changes and blushed a deep red to his toes and they haven’t even kissed

and yet peter knows if he leaned forward and tried sonny would kiss back

but he’s a little afraid to try — because sonny is bright and happy and smiling too much for peter to ruin it the way he always does when someone’s close to him, the way he killed his sister and pushed away his father and hurt so many others

he won’t let sonny be his victim. no. he’ll just… let him wear his shirts

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DORISI OH YES

you mean THE boyfriends 😌

let’s talk about first meetings because, let’s be real, mike is a looker, okay?

sonny is not fooled. first and foremost, he knows he’s daddy’s little helper, a spy for the higher ups, a goody two-shoes, all the shit he can do to get past the bright blue eyes and perfect ass

but besides that……. he’s been with the handsome ones before… the ones who look all spick and span but toss you aside

so sonny carisi meets mike dodds with a handshake and no second glances on either end (sure, sonny, you’re definitely not staring at that profile)

and then… he’s really sweet? he’s eager to learn? he laughs at sonny’s dumb jokes and pays him for the food he brings in for everyone? he smiles a mile wide and touches his hair and the when he’s nervous and…

well, he’s doomed. how can he not fall for that?

(how can mike not fall right back?)

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☕ Bensler

strong opinion incoming!!! people can ship what they want, but for ME, personally…

i don’t like bensler for a variety of reasons: i hate elliot stabler (he’s not a good cop or a good husband which is fine for a story i suppose, yet he is so often lauded for bad decisions), i think if they were going to do bensler it should’ve been done twenty seasons ago (and could’ve been done if svu wasn’t so obsessed with “will they, won’t they” to a point of farce), i think killing off kathy to further the bensler narrative and elliot manpain is frankly unforgivable, and i don’t think it’s needed to fulfill olivia benson (someone who has been established as creating a life for herself that she adores with her son and found family and has plenty of other lessons to learn and conflicts to work through).

tldr: i think people who like bensler are fine. you can ship liv and elliot with who you want. but for me, creative decisions on the show and how i feel about the characters (not the actors) have me firmly anti.

send me a ☕️ and a topic and i’ll give my opinion.

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Bensler anon here. No need for apologies. As much as I like seeing them together, I do agree with you. Also I wish Elliot and Kathy had either split or she had died a few years ago before the reunion. Coz Elliot and Liv becoming canon right after she dies is a disservice to his kids and late wife. So yeah, some of the creative choices are frustrating for me. Who do you ship Liv with? Besides happiness.

yeah, kathy did not have to die at all, and it makes me mad. anyway. bensler is not for meee…

who do i ship liv with — so her best canon relationship was honestly tucker and i’m so disappointed it didn’t work out because it was honestly sweet and they respected each other. i do semi-ship barson, but honestly her wlw ships are my fav: cabenson (alex cabot) and rolivia (amanda). also wlw bensler, her and kathy.

send me tea ☕️ and a topic and i’ll give my opinion.

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IMMA BE SO SPECIFIC TO US - aaron hotchner/rafael barba

babes you’re speaking my language

that three and a half hour train ride is a weekend event for rafael barba — since his job is more or less an 8:00-5:00 when the squad isn’t being ridiculous, he does his best to go down to aaron and jack and see them as often as he can

these weekend visits mean rafael often does collapse on aaron’s couch at 9:00 PM on a friday night, face first and sprawled, jack throwing pieces of popcorn at him until he shifts enough to offer aaron a spot on the couch as well (jack prefers the floor)

switching ties is basically a love language for them — raf marvels at the expensive ones rossi gets aaron for gifts, and aaron likes picking the most elaborate designs rafael gets and wearing them to watch the eyes of the team bug out

they CRUSH dad fashion, as an outing to the zoo or soccer games with jack means polos for the both of them, often of a similar color scheme (though rafael often has a sensible 5” short that frames the ass and aaron wouldn’t dare and gets khakis and jeans that fit the ass), matching sunglasses to boot

(aaron wouldn’t ever pretend he’s stylish however, he wears nice suits and on the weekend has rafael to…….. gently suggest wear that doesn’t suggest secret service agent)

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☕️ barson?

mmmmmmm… kinda yes and no.

so with barson here’s the thing: i like reading fics about them, i think they’re both hot and i love them both dearly, but at the end of the day, from what we see in the show they would NOT have worked out, ultimately.

there are definitely some moments that show us they cared for each other and some moments that hinted at something more (found family, that moment where he gets all tense about liv and tucker sleeping together) BUT, ultimately their chemistry for me was overridden by olivia benson character choices: say, her in community policing, or moments later when he kinda bends to her whim rather than focusing on what the law should push him to do, which he kinda says himself in the finale.

but i do think pre-community policing and like… in theory, and fics, and fun stuff like that, yes.

send me a ☕️ and a topic and i’ll give my opinion.

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in a better world instead of peter waking up confused at fin’s apartment and being accused of r*pe (bad), peter would’ve woken up in SONNY’s apartment bed and the whole plot would’ve been him wondering if he did something with sonny because it’s all fuzzy and the case doesn’t matter but what does matter is the subplot of him realizing his feelings and then he and sonny kiss and they’re boyfriends (extraordinary)

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☕️ what is your opinion on barmaro (Barba x Amaro)

i think barmaro is really fun to think about and i’ve read some really good fics about them. i’ve said this before but i think the show really showed us how similar they were, and i think they could’ve grown close because of their shared background.

i like it a lot, honestly. let barmaro be happy and share book recommendations and put their feet in each other’s laps. while they read in candlelight. five ‘em a dog to take on walks while nick’s knee recovers.