#I adore Rafael’s work so much and I want to support him as much as I can lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

perriewinklenerdie · 3 years

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Affection (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Claire Herondale

Word count: 1,5 k

Summary: OH3 Chapter 14 rewrite. Ethan supports Claire on the day of her Boards exam like a good boyfriend.

Warnings: None

A/N: I don’t know who the imposter in the book is. I don’t know this man. I also haven’t played the chapter yet, so that’s saying a lot. One could say this is what Ethan Ramsey could have been in book 3, but PB is playin.

„Call me as soon as the exam is over.” He muttered while pulling her closer. His lips found her hairline, pressing against it time and time again in short pecks.

“You’ve got it, boss.” She teased, earning herself a pinch to the side. He let her lean away an inch, just enough to let them see each other again.

“Keep that work up and you’re going to be my boss before we know it.” Ethan gave her a smirk, his eyes filling up with pride. It warmed her up from the inside, his belief in her so overwhelming, she almost started crying.

“I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” It was Claire’s turn to smirk, slipping her hands beneath his sweater to feel his skin. A shiver ran through him, betraying his obvious interest in her, in any and every way.

“I’m serious, though.” He tightened his hold, his gaze intensifying. “I’ll be waiting by the phone.”

“Maybe I should torture you by not calling you, then.”

“… Noted.” He nodded his head, shame crossing his face. She smiled softly, a quiet sigh escaping her. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did. Though, I can’t lie, I appreciate you being the better half of me and not making the same mistakes your idiot boyfriend did.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, babe.” Claire laughed, standing on the tips of her toes to brush her nose against his. He moved his arms to surround her shoulders, his lips pressing against her cheek tenderly.

They remained entwined for a long time, gently swaying once in a while. He knew that he’d have to let her go sometime, but he was nowhere near ready to do so. He always missed her the moment she left his side. She wasn’t leaving forever – just a couple of hours until he’d see her again at the party. Claire didn’t even have to ask if he’d be there. He hated parties, but he wouldn’t dream of missing this one.

At last, his hold loosened, allowing her to step out of his embrace. Their eyes met again. Ethan nodded, certainty flooding to his face.

“Give them hell in there.”

His eyes searched the room for her – they always did. It took a while, but he finally found her, dancing with Sienna and Aurora. Her laughter was engraved into his mind so much that he heard it above the music – which was terrible, by the way – and overshadowed everything else. He decided to let her celebrate with her friends before joining them.

“The prodigy boyfriend returns.” He heard Tobias’s voice from behind him. Upon turning around, he felt his hand on his shoulder, slapping it slightly. Ethan hesitated when he heard what Tobias had said, his forehead creasing.

“What did she tell you?”

“She didn’t tell me anything, I just heard her leaving you a voicemail and I connected the dots.” He explained, easing Ethan’s mind a bit. But only a bit. He could see it in Tobias’s eyes, the judgement of his poor actions. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re getting your shit together.”

“Why do I feel like you wanted to say something else?” He tried to fight the grin, but ultimately lost, both men now laughing. Tobias raised his hands in surrender.

“She’s your girlfriend, I’m not saying anything. It’s just good to see you two back together.” He punched Ethan’s shoulder slightly. “Since you’re insufferable without her, and all.”

“How dare you.” Ethan laughed a bit louder, shaking his head. His eyes found Claire again, noticing her now standing off to the side by the table, talking to her friends. He excused himself from Tobias and walked over to her.

She stood with her back turned to him, allowing him to sneak up on her and wrap his arms around her. His lips brushed her cheek.

“How big of a bottle of champagne am I to buy for our celebration?” he muttered against her skin, laughing at the excited sound she made when she realized it was him.

She twirled in his embrace and threw her arms over his shoulders. Ethan kissed her cheek, then pulled her closer, hiding his face in her neck and pressing his lips to her skin again.

“The biggest one there is.” She giggled, brushing his hair back. He straightened his back, stroking her cheek with his thumb. His eyes caught hers, staring into them, silent for a moment.

“I missed you.” he mused, his voice low. Claire smiled softly, closing her eyes and focusing solely on the feeling of him by her side. When she looked at him again, she found an adoring smile lighting up his face.

“I’m here now. What are you going to do about it?”

“For now, I’m going to compliment your clothes. You’re putting everyone to shame, me included.” His hands moved to the small of her back, spreading his fingers to hug her tighter.

“High praise, coming from someone looking the way you do.” she winked, her nails scratching his neck. Ethan shook his head, then brushed his lips against her hairline.

“Ramsey, feel free to take her dancing. She’s been restless after the test, seems to me like she needs to blow some steam off.” Jackie noted, pulling the couple’s attention to the people gathered around the table. Aurora and Sienna nodded in confirmation, while Rafael grinned.

“Dancing or any other form of blowing off steam. Just, please, without details.”

“Or with details, that’s up to you.” Bryce joined in, nudging Ethan with his elbow. Claire blushed, hiding her face in her hands.

“Someone take that drink away from Lahela, he’s had more than enough already.” Ethan smirked, then looped his arm around Claire’s waist. “Now, if you’ll excuse us.”

They made their way to the dancefloor, choosing the very far end of it to gain some privacy. They wrapped their arms around each other, her forehead resting against his chin as they began to sway to the music.

“This is nice.” She commented, closing her eyes to immerse herself in that moment with him. Ethan hummed, changing the angle of his head slightly to press his lips to her skin.

“I agree. I don’t even mind all the commotion of the party.”

“That’s odd. What happened?” she joked, pinching his arm playfully.

“You’re here. I need nothing else.”

“Uh huh.” Claire grinned, leaning back to look at him. She saw hesitation in every move he made towards her. Every brush of his fingers, every look he sent her way, every embrace he engulfed her in – it all felt uncertain. And they both knew why.

Since their conversation in the Opera, he hasn’t kissed her on the lips. Anywhere else was fair game, his favorites being cheeks and forehead – he’s always been affectionate with her, but now, it’s all she’s been experiencing. She’s seen him eyeing her lips, like he used to do back when he still tried to stay away from her, but he hasn’t acted on his desires since that night.

He seemed afraid of pushing her too far. Aware of his errors, he, more than anything else, didn’t want to commit them again.

“Ethan, what’s going on?” she decided to ask, placing her hands on both sides of his face to make their eyes meet. He hesitated, then breathed out heavily.

“I don’t want to take you for granted. I did once, and I almost lost you.”

“You’re not taking me for granted by kissing me.” she argued, leaning up a fraction. Ethan continued, staring into her eyes.

“You’re too important to me, Claire. It’s not that I don’t want to kiss you. I could kiss you every moment of every day for the rest of my life and I’d never need or want anything else, believe me.”

“Then do it.”

“Do what?” he asked, confused. She grinned at his adorableness, then climbed onto the tips of her toes, pulling him down towards her by his neck at the same time.

“Kiss me, Ethan. We’re not going to break.” Her words were barely heard above the music, but just enough to send his brain into overdrive.

He pressed his lips to hers, slowly at first, carefully. Once he realized that she wasn’t leaving, wasn’t disappearing from his side, his embrace tightened, and he kissed her harder. The intensity made him feverish, the sensation stealing his breath. Claire gripped the lapel of his jacket tightly, pulling him to her enthusiastically.

They came up for air, greedily stealing oxygen from their surroundings. Ethan didn’t let her step away even for an inch, both of them still as close together as they were seconds ago. Claire traced the features of his face with her fingers in wonder.

“Yeah, we’re definitely not going to break.”

Notes

I tell myself I don’t have time to write because exams are coming up, and then I proceed to attempt to clean up the mess PB is making out of OH. Oh, to be a hoe with at least some self control.

This fic takes place after my last one - hence the mention of the Opera conversation. I want this man to show growth, not for him to retreat to his starting position like PB is making him do. That ain’t funny and it sure as hell isn’t entertaining.

Thank you for reading! <3

Tagging separately

#open heart #ethan ramsey #playchoices #ethan x mc

114 notes · View notes

writefasttalkevenfaster · 4 years

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Take My Hand (Part Three)

Summary: feelings are hurt, mistakes are made, and someone wakes up in the wrong bed (one of three four ??? parts)

Pairings: Rafael Barba x Reader, Sonny Carisi x Reader

Word Count: 6,992

Song: It wasn't right / The way it all went down / Looks like you know that now (closure by taylor swift)

Warnings: T, spoilers for 19x13 (the undiscovered country) and use of some dialogue from that episode, infant death, some swearing, drinking, drunken behavior, so much angst,

A/N: thank you for @bucky-of-the-opera and @laneygthememequeen for letting me bounce ideas off and being such amazing beta readers. and thank you to @qvid-pro-qvo for the support and enthusiasm as i muddled my way through these scenes. And thank you to all of you for reading :)

“Another,” you slam your glass on the table, “please.”

“Are you sure you want another?” the bartender raised an eyebrow at you, the glasses lined around you.

“I asked for another,” you hiss, your voice raising and falling, the sound making the ache in your head sharp, a knife dragging across your forehead from temple to temple.

The drink lands in front of you, "I'm cutting you off," you click your teeth together, your fingers pressed the cool glass, the only thing grounding you, "hey, hey," she snaps her fingers, "did you drive here?"

You scoff, "Who drives in New York?" The remark doesn't come off as biting as you want, words slurring.

The bartender taps on your phone, lying on the counter amongst the glasses, "call someone to pick you up. We're closing. Don't go home by yourself."

You sip at your drink, your throat numb to any burn alcohol could provide you — the thrill gone, only left the bitter depressant you needed to relieve the pain. But there was no amount that could relieve this pain because one word brought it back — Rafael.

A wound that had scabbed over so times could still bleed, and this pain came with no adrenaline to numb it. But nothing could numb this pain — the one searing in your hollow chest, your heart long forlorn the moment you stepped from that office — no, it was earlier. Was it the moment you chose to love him? No, maybe it was the moment you kissed him, sunk into those eyes made for sinking, and you stood at the helm, unwavering. Because, after all, it was your heart to sink.

You loved him — you loved him even when he was completely unloveable in his behavior — your adoration for toleration. You loved him even when you didn't want to — when you knew he didn't deserve it, when you deserved more. You loved him, but you didn't know why.

And you wished you never did.

The bartender snaps her fingers again, "Hey, please call someone because I don't want you leaving here alone."

But you missed him, you scrolled through your contacts, finding his name so easily — his contact picture was of him in the office, sitting beside you on his couch with a mouthful of dumplings, irritated by something Buchanan had said. The next picture on your camera roll if you remembered was him lunging for your phone, and the third was of him kissing you, the taste of soy sauce on his lips.

Was the last time you kissed him the last time? Would it be the last time you touched him? The last time you slept beside him?

Your finger hovered over the call button — it would be easy to call him, to talk to him, to love him. But, your thumb slides right, going back to your contacts, just because it was easy didn't mean it was right.

Tears slid down your face, as you downed the rest of your drink.

But you needed to call someone — someone you trusted.

Sonny did not expect to spend his Thursday night (or was it Friday morning?) like this — not at Forlini’s, not out at 3 AM, and certainly not picking you up.

You weren't exactly clear about much on the phone — between the slurring and the mumbling he was only able to make out the address and "can you pick me up?"

He hurried down the street, sidestepping several burly men, who jeered at him as he passed by, his nerves shot at this point. He had seen at least eight of the men he's passed in lockup, and here you were in the thick of it.

What were you thinking?

He finds the place with ease, stepping into it, finding the bartender wiping up a table by the front. Irritated, she jerks her head towards the bar, "over there, the last drink hit hard, so you might have some trouble getting home, buddy."

His brow wrinkles, "What do you—"

"Sonny!" your voice is high, throwing up your hands in a to-do, as you stumble off the stool, while Sonny barely moves in time to catch you.

“Whoa, whoa, are you okay, counselor?” you pout, sighing loudly, as you gently take his hands off of you, instead intertwining your fingers with his.

“I told you to call me by my name, Sonny,” he clears his throat, feeling his ears burn as you tugged him closer, peering up at him with a wide grin, “or should I start calling you Detective Carisi?” your voice low and teasing, he leans away.

Okay, he bites his lip, stepping away from you.

What had he gotten himself into?

After several minutes of bargaining, bartering, and bribes, he was able to convince you to leave the bar, much to his (and the bartender’s) relief. But then again, the problems kept coming. He pulls you outside, and you’re shivering, your suit jacket clearly not enough. He pulls off his sweatshirt, handing it to you, you open your mouth to protest, but when another strong wind blows through, and you pull it over your shoulders.

He glances away, but his eyes wander back to you — his ears burning at the sight of you in his clothes.

No, no, this was not the time, he chided himself.

“Come on, let’s get you home, sweetheart,” and you pull away from him.

“I can’t go home,” he crosses his arms, struggling to keep his temper even at 2 in the morning, his patience worn away to nothingness in that bar.

“Sweetheart,” you shake your head — now you were just being stubborn, “the bar is closed, you have to go home.”

“No, I can’t go home,” and he sees the tears in your eyes, streaking down your face, and you’re shaking your head, arms crossed, “I can’t, Sonny. Please.”

And his irritation turns to fear — he’s seen this before, too many times, far too many times, a sinking feeling in his gut, “What happened?”

“Sonny—” your voice breaks, it was a blurred line between anger and fear — and he didn’t know what he felt right now — but he knew he was going to lose his mind if you didn’t tell him what was going on right now.

“Did someone do something to you?” you shake your head, “did they touch you—”

“No, Sonny, no,” you wipe your tears away, sniffing, “I just broke up with the guy I was seeing. The one I told you about. It wasn’t working,” you gave a watery chuckle, “it never worked to begin with.”

He says your name, his anger simmering, “I’m—”

You wave him off, before sighing, “I just can’t deal with him right now. And if I go home,” your voice shakes, “he might show up there and I can’t do that. I can’t.”

Sonny feels his heart thump against his chest, reaching for your hand, squeezing it, “Then we won’t.”

He takes you to his place, it doesn’t take long to get to — it takes longer to get you out of the cab, fully asleep on his shoulder by the time they arrive. His arm around you, supporting you, he takes you inside, “You take the bed, okay? I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you mumble, leaning against him as he unlocks the door, hating how he liked the way you felt against him, and he sighs. No, it feels like he does. You were his friend first — anything he felt was irrelevant. He shut the door behind him.

Until it wasn’t. But it wouldn’t be relevant — not tonight.

“Come on,” he helps you to his bedroom, having you sit at the edge of the bed, kneeling as he takes your shoes off for you. He looks up to find you staring at him, eyes glassy, “What’s wrong?”

“You really care about me, don’t you, Sonny?” and he tilts his head.

“Of course I do,” he frowns, “what do you—”

And you kiss him. It’s brief, but in his mind, it feels like forever — your lips were as soft as he thought they would be. He tastes the alcohol on your tongue, but that’s nothing compared to you.

He had never wanted to feel this way.

When did he first feel it?

When you had comforted him about Coles? No, maybe when you asked him to join you for a drink after shadowing? Or maybe it was the moment he saw you in your office, when you told him to call you by your name — when you called him by his.

He pulls away, and you sit, breath hot against his, whispering so quietly he barely hears it even in the silence, “I wish he cared about me the way you did.”

And he supposed it didn’t matter — helping you lay down — because it didn’t mean anything anyway.

Your first memory is regret, followed by pain — in that order — a sharp pain in your head stirs you into consciousness and into terror because, not only were you surely going to die, but in a stranger’s home. A knife would have been kinder than a hangover — when was the last time you had one? Have you ever had one before?

Your stomach lurched — you didn’t need to think about that right now.

You pushed yourself up, mind swimming and muscles screaming, your eyes surely bench pressing a thousand pounds to stay open, what the fuck happened—

The picture on the bedside table came into focus — was that—

It was Sonny with his niece, both their smiling faces staring back at you — almost mocking the situation you had gotten yourself into.

What had you done last night?

You groan softly, as the memories come back to you, as your hand clutches at your forehead, slowly sliding down, — the fight, the bar, the drinking, calling Sonny to get you and— your fingers brush your lips—

Fuck.

You kissed him — you had kissed Sonny. Flashes of it came back — you rocking forward to kiss him, his lips soft against yours, pulling away from you. Tears burned your eyes — congrats, you had somehow managed to blow up your life in so many ways in one night.

You were the worst — the worst.

Was this rock bottom? You didn’t know you could fall so far — to the point where you didn’t recognize yourself — drinking to forget, hurting the people who cared, and throwing it away for someone who didn’t even care.

No more, you wiped your tears away, reaching for your purse, pulling a pen and notepad from your bag, this needed to end.

You deserved more.

You always did.

You walk into your apartment, stepping inside to the sound of someone walking around, and you tense, your phone clenched in your hand, glancing around — and then you hear his voice.

Breathless, he steps out from the kitchen, and he whispers your name in the silence of the morning. His arms around you in a moment, your arms at your sides“I’ve been calling all morning — I came here and you weren’t here, I thought something had—” he breaks off, seemingly able to breath again, but you couldn’t — you never could with him.

“What are you doing here?” you whisper, breaking away from him, taking several steps back.

“What do you mean? I called you — i couldn’t find you—”

“You don’t need to find me — it’s over,” your voice broke, crossing your arms, “leave.”

And his eyes are drawn to your sweatshirt, hanging low on your body, and his eyes narrow, “Were you with someone else?” You blink, realizing you still had Sonny’s sweatshirt on from last night, “were you cheating on—”

“Cheating?” you bark out a laugh, raising your eyebrows, “cheating on who? On what? We’re nothing to each other, Rafael. It was true last night, and it’s true today.”

“This isn’t nothing — we aren’t nothing,” he shakes his head, “what do you want? Do you want a relationship? Tell me, I’ll do it.”

“I want you to leave,” you swallow thickly, “It’s over, Raf, we can’t do this anymore.”

“I’m telling you I’ll do anything—” he whispers your name in the silence of your heart breaking, he steps forward and you step away — the gap between you a chasm, a lake made of your own tears, “I love you.”

You shake your head, tears slipping down your cheeks, “No, no—”

“I do,” he pleads, “I do, mi amor.”

“You love me until you don’t,” you meet his gaze, emerald eyes shiny with tears, “I can’t do that anymore — I need more, I deserve more.”

He wipes his tears with the back of his hand, “This is it?”

“It is,” he steps forward, and you don’t step away this time, his warm cupping your cheek for the last time, your tears rolling over the knuckles of his fingers.

“Can I kiss you goodbye?” he asks — and you squeeze your eyes shut, nodding. His breath is warm against your lips, his touch comforting and familiar. Your lips meet — he feels like home, his arms around your waist, splayed and lingering as if they never wanted to leave — and you didn’t want them to. Your lips part and meet over and over, until you think he’s stolen the very breath from your lungs. Your fingers fisted in his shirt, and you don’t know if you want to push him away or pull him closer.

You pull away — and it takes everything in you, a sob stuck in your throat — your foreheads brushing, and his hands reach for you as you pull away, but you brush past him, “Please go,” your back to him, you don’t watch him leave, instead hearing his footsteps against the floor, the door creaking open, and a pause.

“I’m sorry, mi amor.”

And the door clicks shut, and you sink to the floor, your back to the bottom of your couch, as you cry silently.

You were too.

Sonny wakes up to the sound of a door closing.

He curses under his breath, throwing off his blanket haphazardly. He nearly trips over himself trying to leave his apartment. But his stumbling was not fast enough to catch you — already long disappeared down the stairs of his apartment. He walks back to his room, finding his bed made with wrinkled sheets — the same ones you had kissed him on — a note in your place:

Sonny,

I’m so sorry. I was in a bad place, I wasn’t myself, but it’s no excuse for how I treated you — making you pick me up, take care of me, and kissing you — and everything in between. It was a mistake. I can’t change what I already did, but I’m sorry for everything — and I won’t burden you again like that — ever.

‘It was a mistake.’

Sonny stares at the note — finger brushing against the wet splotch on the paper. And he couldn’t help but think there was another door that closed last night — and he wondered if there would ever be another chance.

There was a sharp knock at Rafael’s door, and Jack McCoy stuck his head in, “Counselor, do you have a minute?” Rafael barely looks up from his work — his late start and no sleep did him no favors, he was already buried in work and you were in motions hearings all morning on top of it.

Not that he wanted to see you anyway — not after this morning.

All night he had waited for you — he called, he texted, he left voicemails — he did everything but send you a fax. You always teased him that his propensity for sending a fax made his age show — and he always replied to that with a kiss and a grin with a promise to show you that with age came experience.

And now he would never kiss you again.

He looked for you too — he spent hours pacing his apartment until he couldn’t take it anymore — and he started to look. He checked with your friends, he looked in at the office, and he finally checked on your place. You had given him a key before — for emergencies — but usually it was for late nights he would crawl in beside you, his arms curled around your middle. And you would lean into his touch, a sigh on your lips, even as you slept.

And now he would never sleep next to you again.

“Rafael?” McCoy asked, and Rafael snapped from his stupor, rubbing his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t sleep well last night,” he leaned back away from his work, clearing his throat, “what was it that you needed from me, Jack?”

“I just wanted to inform you that your A.D.A. has resigned with a week’s notice,” and he blinked, his heart slowly caving in upon itself, “I allowed as such since I figured with the case flow, we should be fine for a week with a man down, but if you need any help, please let me know and I”ll have another A.D.A. assist you.”

He nods, dumbstruck, as Jack turns to go, “Wait, Jack,” he looks back, “was there a reason given?”

He offers a sad and knowing smile, “Needed a change, new opportunities — a need to grow,” he slips his hands into his pockets, “everyone does, son.”

“Of course, thank you.” and there he knew — he knew that you had outgrew him.

And it was his fault.

It doesn’t take long for the news to spread across SVU — and you’re careful to drop by on a day that Sonny won’t be there, shame still lingering in your chest about that night. You knew that you should face him — you knew you should talk to him, but you knew that it would only make things harder. And you didn’t want to do that to him.

But mostly you didn’t want to do it to yourself.

“We’re going to miss you around here, counselor,” Liv squeezes your shoulder, offering you a warm smile.

“Won’t be the same without you — who else is going to get that stick out of Barba’s ass?” Fin asks, and you chuckle, but his name carves another fresh wound into your skin, lingering just as his touch did, “but seriously, you ever need anything—”

“I’ll take you up on that, Fin,”

“Seriously, anything you need,” Amanda smiles, and you nod, biting your lip.

“Could you actually do something for me?” you hold up a bag, “can you give this to Sonny? He lent it to me the other night at the office.”

Amanda frowns, “Don’t you want to tell him goodbye yourself?”

“I will, but I just want to make sure he gets this back first, before I forget,” you lie — and you hope she can’t see through it, see through you, but it feels like everyone can — skin rubbed raw from the last week, red and exposed and fragile, “please?”

“Of course,” she takes it without another word, but you can still feel her watching you as you leave the precinct for the last time, hands in your pockets.

It’s a large change — new job, new place, and new borough. And it takes some time.

You find another job relatively easily — the alumni network at your alma mater and your experience as a prosecutor makes it simple for you to step into place at a boutique defense firm in the Bronx. It’s as natural as a transition as you can hope for.

Your colleagues are kind, guiding, helpful — and your work is different, but familiar — a different view of the same picture with a distinct goal of making the government uphold its burden and to hold the phrase, “innocent until proven guilty” with conviction — and hopefully without a conviction for your clients.

When the news broke, it didn’t take long for you to hear the whispers and it didn’t take long for the whispers to become an outcry.

“Did you hear about the Manhattan A.D.A. on trial?” a first year associate asked another, and you freeze, your head snapping over, blood running cold.

“What happened?”

~~~

“Jack McCoy,”

“Jack, what the hell is going on?” you hissed in your office, shutters shut and door closed, “I just heard that—”

“That Rafael Barba is on trial for murder? You heard right,” a hint of a sigh in the back of his throat, “I had no choice — my hands were tied.” You knew he didn’t — your anger receding, the office can’t be seen giving him any favor. He needed to be treated like anyone else — but he wasn’t just anyone else, was he?

Not to you.

Your mouth was dry, “What happened?”

Jack explained — everything — the parents, the baby, the hospital. Two parents caught between an impossible decision about their child now deemed to be braindead, and a mother who wanted nothing more than her child to be at rest. But she wasn’t the one who did it. Rafael did, against the father’s wishes. And now he was going to trial for murder.

Even as Jack explained, your words kept echoing in your ears — “you’re too busy saving the rest of the world.”

“Does he have representation yet?” your mind raced with images of him in jail, the ostracization, the media outrage, the shame — fuck.

What the hell were you thinking, Rafael?

“Not to my knowledge, but you can’t—”

“I know I can’t,” you scoff, “but I know someone who can and will,” you scrolled through your contacts, finding the one you were looking for, “Is he okay?” you asked softly.

“As well as he can be,” you could almost see Jack frowning, “I don’t wish to see anything happen to him, but no one is above the law, you know that.”

“I know, but I also know him—” and despite everything — the pain, the heartbreak, the anger — you knew he didn’t deserve this, “and I know I can’t let him go to jail.”

“I know,” he warns, sighing, “I want the same result as you, counselor, just tread lightly.”

“I will,” a shay sigh escapes your chest, and you swallow the lump in your throat, trying not to let your voice break, “will he be okay?”

He gives a bitter chuckle, “After this many years of doing this, you would think I could predict what a jury will do — but I don’t know. Juries surprise you and that cuts both ways. And I hope this time it cuts the way we want it to.”

“Thank you Jack, for everything,”

You can almost see him smile, “Of course, anytime.”

And now there was one more phone call you needed to make — the phone only rang twice before he picked up, “Regretting your wrong choice in workplace already? Only after, what, a few weeks? I think that’s a new record in job changes, counselor.”

You snort. Randy Dworkin never changed, did he? “I told you, Randy — your firm is too much of a boys’ club for my taste.”

“But I know you play rough, and this is more a roughhouse than a boys’ club — you’d dominate them all in a moment, and we’d be nothing but your humble servants.”

“And here I thought you saved the theatrics for the courtroom,” you hear him give a small gasp.

“You wound me, counselor. And another thing, if you’re not calling to tell me you’ve changed your mind, then you must be calling for a favor. And as one of your old mentors, let me remind you of an old adage — you catch more flies with honey than vinegar,” you shake your head.

“It’s not exactly a favor,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, “Let me start over — I need you to represent a former colleague of mine.”

“And this is not a favor, how?”

“Because this is a case you’re going to definitely want your name on.”

“If you don’t want to represent me, that’s fine,” Rafael was beginning to regret taking this meeting — even with half the defense attorneys in the city ducking his calls, maybe he would be better off defending himself pro se--

“I don't wanna represent you, I have to represent you. Cases like this wet my whistle, so to speak,” Dworkin explained, sighing, as Rafael raised an eyebrow, “So, what did the little bastard do to you?”

--And he was becoming more sure with every passing second.

“This was a mistake,” but Dworkin waves him back down.

“Okay, okay,” Dworkin backs off, looking all too pleased with himself, “I’ll skip the self-defense angle,” and Rafael found himself reluctantly sitting back down. Randy Dworkin may be smarmy, he may be endlessly irritating, but he was good at his job, better than good — as much as Rafael hated to admit it — and he needed help.

“I’m sorry I wasted your time, Mr. Dworkin,”

“Randy,” he corrects, “And my point is this whole thing is a sick joke. You killed something that nine out of ten doctors would say wasn't alive.”

“And what about the tenth doctor?” and that was the thought that haunted Rafael the most — he knew the smallest chance may be enough to convince a jury — it was enough to convince him he was guilty. No one was above the law, including him, guilty in his own eyes — in the eyes of the same god his mother had raised him to believe in.

And yet here he sat.

“Look, you wanna prove a point, and I wanna prove a point. It's what my nana would call the perfect shidduch,” Rafael raises an eyebrow, growing more weary of this conversation with every second.

“What point do you wanna prove?”

“That the government's power has grown too damn much. That the bigger the government gets, the smaller it leaves the individual. That once the government takes away our right to die, it takes away our right to live,” he looks self-satisfied, leaning back in his seat, “How am I doing so far?

Rafael’s jaw is set, “Well, for defending a murderer, not bad,” and Dworkin raises an eyebrow, shushing him dramatically.

“Let’s keep that self-sacrificial guilt locked up, okay? Save it for your religious leader of choice,” Dworkin leans in closer, “I know you put in calls for defense attorneys — I know you don’t want to go to jail, and I know other people don’t want to see you take the fall for this.”

“Other people?” he raises an eyebrow, and Dworkin seems to bite his tongue in the moment, a flicker of interest crossing his face, “did someone refer this case to you?”

“It’s not exactly a low profile nobody case, Barba — the story is splashed across half the tabloids and all over the news—”

“But you just—”

“Let’s focus on getting you off first,” Dworkin tilts his head, “or did you forget that you’re on trial for murder?”

Rafael wrinkles his brow, the question still nagging at the back of his head — a question mark at the end of a paragraph that lingered like an unspoken taboo he couldn’t place — but, Dworkin was right — right now, he couldn’t waste time.

Time that he really didn’t have.

“You didn’t tell me when I took this case that I was getting in between some doomed office relationship you conveniently failed to disclose before,” you didn’t realize this lunch Randy had invited you to involve an ambush — but you should have — it was Randy Dworkin.

“I didn’t see how that was pertinent,” you shrug, picking at your food, “and it wasn’t a relationship.”

“Puh-tat-o, puh-tat-toe — it’s still a cow if it moos, no?” he snorts, shaking his head, “it’s only pertinent when I almost let it slip that you were the one that referred the case to my attention.”

That gets your attention, head snapping up, “And you?”

“Masterfully avoided the question — I have excellent evasion skills — the fact that I never had a career in the C.I.A. should be criminal,” he looks up from his food, a shit eating grin on his lips, “It wasn’t hard — he has a lot more on his mind right now.”

“I can only imagine,” you murmur, your brow wrinkled as you stabbed a fry with your fork, appetite woefully gone.

“Your face will freeze like that,” and you scoff.

“And yet I’ll still look better than you,” he laughs at that.

“I always told you that you should have come and worked for me out of law school, instead of going to the D.A.’s office,” he wipes his lips with his napkin, “maybe you wouldn’t have fallen for this schmuck—”

You raise an eyebrow, “He’s not—”

“Still supportive? Even after the way he treated you—” and you gape at him, “you know that rumors get around — the community is small and people talk as much as they listen — it’s an incesteous cesspool of heathens,” and he gestures to you and him, “look no further.”

“Speak for yourself,” you grumble, cheeks burning, “I’m sorry what rumors?”

“You don’t need to know, kid,” he shakes his head, “my question is more focused on the present — why do you still care?”

“Because he doesn’t deserve to go down for this—”

“And he probably wouldn’t either way, but why do you care?”

“I don’t know, okay?” you snap, “I wish I did, but I don’t. But despite everything that happened — I don’t want to see him suffer. I don’t want him to go to jail,” your voice cracks ever so slightly, and Randy frowns at you, expression unreadable, “Call me an idiot, but I care — I can’t help it.”

“Most times that’s an asset, counselor,” he leans forward, elbow on the table, “as long as you don’t let anyone take advantage of it — not again.”

“I won’t,” you say softly, as the waiter comes over to hand over the check, helping to pack up the rest of your food to go, “I never thanked you for taking the case.”

“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” he smiles, handing over the server book, “you’re picking up the check.”

“On the sole count of the indictment, murder in the second degree, we find the defendant, Rafael Barba — not guilty.” the foreman announces, and relief floods Rafael, all the same time that guilt does — the two emotions irrevocably tied — lifting him up and dragging him down — a balloon and an anchor.

Dworkin claps him on the shoulder, “Congratulations, counselor, and you’re welcome. My bill is the mail.”

“Thank you, Randy,” he shakes his hand, “really, I—”

“Spare me the speech, okay? I appreciate it, but I was doing my job, just like you did yours,” he offers him a smile, “and besides there’s someone else you should really be thanking.”

He frowns, “Who?”

Your name leaves his lips, and Rafael blinks, “How the case got referred to me? That’s how,” he hadn’t heard your name in months, and yet the hurt of you leaving still felt fresh — a knife twisted in his gut, even as the flesh around it healed and scarred, the metal still stung the same as the day you left.

Or rather, the day he made you leave.

It was his fault — he knew that now. And maybe that was the point — to drive you away, to push you so far that there was no coming back. Self-destructive — self sacrificial just as Dworkin had called him — except he had sacrificed you instead of him. It should have been him — his fears, his worries, his walls — offered at the alter of your unconditional love.

But he didn’t. He didn’t and he regretted it — but was regret enough?

“Why are you telling me this?” and Dworkin shrugs, grabbing his briefcase with a sigh. When his gaze meets his again, it’s sharp as a jagged rock.

“I don’t know honestly,” he licks his lips, “I still think you’re a schmuck, but I know certain other people don’t think so,” he sticks a hand in his pocket, “and if you do get another chance, don’t screw it up. Otherwise, there won’t be a defense attorney in town who will help you next time you screw up.”

He leaves Rafael standing, dumbstruck.

And what was he to do now — with his future open and empty, what was left and who did he want to share it with?

And there was only one answer to that question.

There was knocking at your door — incessant and irritating that forced you out of bed at 11:00 PM — the one night of week you were able to get to bed early. And part of you only hoped it was a murderer to put you out of your misery — but you knew even the murderers weren’t so polite as to knock. But then again, you could be surprised.

But it wasn’t a murderer — at least in the eyes of a New York jury.

It was someone much worse.

And then it occurred to you — how did he know where you even lived— and then you groan, swearing silently under your breath.

Fuck you, Randy.

You lean back, head leaning back, staring at the ceiling, were you ready for this? Would you ever be ready for this?

You unlock the door, opening it, “What are you doing here?”

“Please, I know I don’t deserve it— I don’t deserve anything from you, but please let me talk,” his voice is soft, and fuck, it hits you in so many ways — his voice, his face, him — it’s overwhelming enough to hear him, but to see him here. It’s too much and not enough all the same — to see him and not touch him.

But he placed this ravine between you, carved it with the shards of your heart, filled it with your tears, and it was his job to scale.

And it wasn’t your job to make it easy.

“You don’t deserve it,” you wanted him to slip on the slippery crags of rock, you wanted him to cut his hands on the sharp edges of your bitterness, “so why should I listen?”

“Because I love you—” and you scoff, “I know I don’t have any right to say that, but please, let me just talk,” and you know he’s not going anywhere, and despite yourself — despite not wanting to give him the chance he had for months and for years — you wanted to know, you wanted him to explain. You grit your teeth, stepping aside, shutting the door behind him, arms crossed.

“You have two minutes,”

He clears his throat, “First, thank you for sending Dworkin my way, I don’t think I would have gotten off—”

“I didn’t let you in to be thanked,” you cut him off, “what do you have to say, Rafael?”

He wavers for a moment, “I love you, mi amor, and I know I don’t get to say that or call you that, but I do, I really do,” his voice breaks, “I know I don’t deserve you — I think I knew that from the start, and maybe that’s why I didn’t treat you right. It’s not an excuse—”

“And yet it sounds like one—”

“I was wrong — I took you for granted, and I will spend the rest of my life making that up to you if you give me the chance,” Rafael steps forward, dropping to one knee and your breath catches in your throat.

No. No. He wasn’t—

“I love you, mi amor — from our first kiss I was lost in you already — so much so that it scared me — afraid if I lost you, I would lose myself too. I know we both put away criminals for a living, but I was never scared of dying — I was scared of losing you.” he shakes his head, “But it doesn’t scare me anymore. It doesn’t scare me because losing you was the worst thing to ever happen to me. And I don’t want to ever lose you again.”

He pulls a ring from his pocket.

Time slows as you stare at it — wondering if you blink that it would disappear from between his fingers. It still somehow glinted in the low light of your dimmers — as shiny as his eyes were as he gazed up at you.

You had dreamed of this moment — far too many times — a time where Rafael would come around, finally see you for who you were, find the worth in you like the way you saw it in him. A sweeping moment where he would be down on one knee, asking for your hand, and it would be simple and perfect — but nothing is ever perfect. And nothing is ever simple.

You cover your mouth, “Wh—”

“Marry me,” he says, whispering your name with the reverence you had always wished he would, “I got the ring from my mom — she already gave us her blessing — she said I was an idiot for letting you in the first place.” he offers a weak smile.

“Raf—”

“Just let me finish, before you make a decision,” he licks his lips, eyes glassy, insistent in his words, as if he was hanging his life on each one, “Come away with me — we can start over, away from politics and baggage — find a place somewhere outside the city. You always said you wanted to open your own practice someday, have a family. We can do that, you and me together,” he builds this perfect life from scratch — and you see it — you saw it before: a house in the suburbs, a picket fence, and a family — you and Rafael, your hands intertwined, together, “We’ll make a home, I’ll find a job without crazy hours, we’ll go on dates, I’ll help you open your own practice. We’ll be together, like before—”

“But we aren’t together, Rafael— we haven’t been for months,”

“I know, I know—”

“No, you don’t,” you step back away from him, scrubbing your hand down your face, “this isn’t a movie, you can’t break my heart and come back months later telling me you made a mistake.”

“Mi amor—”

“No, no ‘mi amor’ — not when you played with my feelings for years, not when you said no at every turn, not when you dropped my heart like it was glass and crushed it beneath the heel of your shoes,” you spit back, “I called Dworkin because I didn’t want you to go to jail — nothing more, nothing less.”

You hear his heart breaking, “I love you—”

“I don’t,” you don’t let him see the tears falling from your eyes, “I can’t do this again. I can’t uproot my life for someone who could change their mind tomorrow. You had your chance. You lost it.”

“Don’t say that,”

“I did,” you wipe away your tears, you’ve cried enough for him, “it’s over. I don’t know what else will make it clearer to you.”

“Look at me, please, look—” and you whirl on him, and you see him on his knees still — “Tell me you don’t love me — say that you don’t. And I’ll leave.”

“I don’t love you anymore, Rafael,” and you wished that your words were truer than they were — that those words didn’t hurt as much to say as they were to hear. But they did and they were. You wanted to hate him, you hated to have no inch of remorse, but feelings were always two fold — and with anger came passion, with sadness came joy, and with hate came love. And the lines blurred until they were no more. And as much as you wanted to hate him — you knew you didn’t.

But you had to say that you did.

Because you couldn’t do this again for him to change his mind again — your heart couldn’t take that. You didn’t deserve to take that.

And there was nothing left to be said.

He slowly rises from his knees, tucking the ring into his pocket, along with the broken pieces of his heart.

You should let him leave without another word, you should let him leave without having to look at your face, you should let him leave — but a part of you doesn’t want to let go, a part of you doesn’t want to believe this will be the last time you see his face or hear his voice.

But still you ask, “Are you leaving New York?”

He nods, “I am — I can’t stay here.”

“Where are you going?” A part of you wonders if he’ll just ignore you, rush out of the door — let you wonder about his plans, wonder about him — but you know you’ll do that anyway.

You find him softly smiling, unable to quite meet your gaze, and he steps towards you, slowly, allowing you the time and space to step away — but you don’t, you can’t — not when this may be the last time you can touch him — but it was your choice to have this be the last time.

“I don’t know,” he replies, leaning forward slowly to press a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering only a moment, his fingers brushing your cheek, “but you don’t need to worry about that. Goodbye… mi amor.”

“Goodbye, Rafael,” you whisper, unable to watch him leave — not again.

#rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba imagines #sonny carisi #sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi imagines #svu #law and order: svu #svu imagines #svu fanfiction

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haaam-guuuurl · 4 years

Text

Jane the Virgin Post-Series HCs

Because I just finished watching it and as much as I really was satisfied with the ending, I've got these characters on the brain and as much as they say that the last scandal was revealed, we all know they still have a lot to deal with. So these are just things that have got to happen after the credits roll

Jane eventually uses the new book money to buy a house for her and Raf and their family - with the white picket fence and everything, all the stability Jane didn't have growing up and all the love Raf didn't have

She wants to buy her Abuela a house too, but Alba refuses, she loves their house, full of memories and happiness. So, instead, Jane buys the place next door so they can expand

Rafael continues on as a real estate agent, likes the whole normal job, normal routine, normal life thing, but he wouldn't be Raf without a little ambition, and she wouldn't be Jane without encouraging him to follow his dreams, so, many years later, after more preparation, planning, and security, he does buy that lot and builds his hotel from scratch

Also, and though he is (finally) okay with his parents, there come the times he wonders about them, or misses the normal childhood he never had. In one of those times, he gets really into baking, and cooking, convinced it must be in the genes. He thinks he's great. He's not. Not at first, at least. But Jane doesn't have the heart to tell him. Eventually, though, he gets better at a few signature dishes. In another of those times, he decides to learn Italian. That one goes better, since at least no kitchens got burnt

Eventually, once the kids start growing up, and he starts missing the cute little early years (also, before he buys the land and gets swamped with a new business), Rafael changes his mind and he and Jane do adopt another child. They finally do the parenting thing together from the beginning, and Mateo is the most excited and tries-to-be-helpful-but-sometimes-makes-a-mess-in-an-adorable-way big brother ever.

Jane keeps writing, though she is largely busy with the massive success of her second book, which does, years later, get turned into a telenovela, which both Jane and Rogelio executive-produce

Xo and Ro live in New York while This Is Mars is filming, and Xiomara goes to school, dealing with the highs and lows of international fame in the superstar central of the world. They come back to Miami for parties, and holidays and vacations, and, eventually, when the series ends, move back for good.

Xo is a nurse, working hard and slowly falling in love with it, eventually studying to be an NP, because she's always looking for new heights and challanges. She doesn't lose her passion for singing and dancing, though, but slows it down, makes it more of a hobby

Rogelio starts taking smaller, but still spotlighted roles, and in a few years, retires to behind the scenes stuff, producing other shows, helping young stars, but, mainly, to spend time with his family

Petra and JR are back together and date, for a few years, just comfortable with each other and dealing with every new crisis one step at a time (including, but not limited to, Petra's crazy mother and long lost triplet). They do get married, and Petra plans the huge celebration down to the last detail, but in reality it's more of a formality, because they've been commited to each other and a family for years now.

Also, Petra does franchise the Marbella, and becomes a bonafide hotel mogul and entrepreneur, building basically an empire the twins will inherit and continue

(And her success does mean that the lifestyle book she and Jane had been writing that was benched is picked up once more, and they get to work together again)

Plus, some minor things:

Jane and Rafael and Michael (and Charlie) keep in touch and are actually in good terms. Finally, with no less drama, and everyone happy with their own families, they can be friends and support each other

Luisa stays clean and moves on from Rose, and becomes the cool/weird lesbian aunt for the kids she was always meant to be

And they all keep on dealing with dramas and complications (like Rose's network and bouquet of doppelgangers, Petra's family, maybe Xo's fragile health, Ro's literal dramas, Jane and Raf's risky, dream-following businesses, new kids and custody twists and turns with adopting ...) like a true telenovela, but they have the love and the heart to make it through it all together, as they always have, as a family.

#jane the virgin #petramos #jafael #petra solano #jane villanueva #rafel solano #jane ramos #xiomara villanueva #rogelio de la vega #alba villanueva #luisa solano #michael cordero jr #mateo solano villanueva #my writing #my posts

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thatesqcrush · 4 years

Text

Voire Dire, Pt. 3

Rafael Barba x Reader. Episode references: 22x4 “Sightless in a Savage Land.” CW: NSFW - smut (oral, male & female; p in v sex).

AN: Here it is, the final chapter. I hope to revisit them in the future.

AN2: For Valentine’s Bingo, using “Love Me Like You Do” by Ellie Goulding & Blue Jeans by Lana del Rey (lyrics denoted in bold).

WC: 4,654

***

When you and Rafael finally made good on that raincheck, two weeks had flown by. You exchanged various text messages - some purely innocent, others downright filthy, and others, more pragmatic - such as the age discrepancy (it was reassuring to Rafael that you really did not have a problem with it), sexual history and what forms of protection you each used. While you loved your job, it did have a high percentage rate of cock-blocking you. Relationships were hard - most partners did not adjust well to your schedule - and the ones that did, did not understand the horrors that you saw and prosecuted. Of course, that was never an issue with Rafael, having been in the seat you were in years prior.

You managed to secure a rare day off and you jumped on the chance for another date with Rafael. The weather that day called for some on and off snow showers, but nothing out of the ordinary. When your buzzer rang, you gave yourself a once over in the mirror in the bedroom. You wore a speckled oatmeal sweater dress which hit your knees and brown knee boots. You made sure your makeup was perfect and then hit the button to allow Rafael in.

The date seemed simple enough: drinks at Huckleberry Bar, known for their craft cocktails and small plates, followed by dinner at Lighthouse, a restaurant offering New American fare as well as a raw bar.

“Rafael, you grew back the beard!” You exclaimed as you let him in.

Rafael let out a chuckle. “Hello Y/N. Long time no see.” He was carrying a bouquet of hot pink double tulips. “For you.”

You smiled and took the flowers, before pressing a kiss to his lips - instantly your mind went to a filthy place as you wondered how that beard would feel in other places. “Thank you.” You murmured. “I’ll go put these in water. Make yourself comfortable.”

You disappeared into the kitchen as Rafael made his way through your apartment. You lived on the second floor of a walk-up in a surprisingly quiet neighborhood lined with trees. The apartment featured wood flooring throughout and a charcoal leather couch which sat across a mounted television. A single window occupied the living room. In wall shelving hosted a variety of books and nick-nacks, which showed off your personality. A framed pennant hung by the television, which showcased your law school. If Rafael had journeyed to your bedroom, he would have found that it overlooked an open courtyard.

“Your place is lovely.” Rafael called out. He heard the sound of a faucet being turned on. He hesitated on taking off his coat - made no sense since you would both be out soon enough.

You came back out, now carrying a vase and you set the flowers on your coffee table. “Thank you again; they’re lovely. What time is the reservation again?”

Rafael checked the time. “Twenty minutes. Why do you ask?”

You approached him and tugged on the collar of his peacoat, drawing him down. “So I can do this.” You pressed your lips against his, kissing him. Rafael wrapped one arm around you, his other hand moving behind your head. He gently tilted your head so that he could deepen the kiss. He pressed his tongue against the seam of your lips and you parted your lips, allowing his tongue to slide in.You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing up against him. You allowed yourself to get swept away in the heat of the moment, wanting nothing to drag him back to your bedroom. Rafael broke the kiss, leaving you gasping, which then turned into a moan as he sucked a mark into a very sensitive spot along the slope of your neck.

Reluctantly, Rafael removed his mouth from your neck and peppered kisses back up your neck, across your cheeks, and then to your lips. “We should get going.” He husked in your ear.

You let out a pathetic whimper, but agreed. As you both exited your building, the cold open air served as a welcome relief. You both walked towards the bar, which was just around the corner. Conversation flowed easily with Rafael. Over a mix of cocktails and a shared plate of antipasto, you discussed the latest happenings - you were second chair on a case with Carisi and Rafael was assisting with post-exoneree legal support with The Innocence Project.

Rafael insisted on paying the tab, much to your protest. “I remember what that early A.D.A salary was like.”

After, you and him walked the five blocks over to the restaurant. During the walk over, snow began to fall. You mentioned to him how you always loved the first snow - how serene it made the city appear. You both agreed that was short-lived and then the great melt takes over - the streets turn into gross black slushie, resulting in playing a mental game if the puddle was shallow or a deep drop.

Dinner was fantastic - you settled for Thai and Rafael had sushi. You were sitting by a window and waiting for a refill on your wine when you noticed how hard the snow was coming down. You must have had a worried look on your face because Rafael called out to you, stirring your attention back to him.

“I’m sorry - just the snow is really coming down.” You replied, looking out the window some more.

“I agree. Let me check what the weather says.” Rafael replied as he reached for his phone. This time he frowned. “It’s going to get a lot worse. I have an idea - if you’re okay with it, of course. How about we take everything to go, and have dinner at your place. We can watch a movie?”

You nodded eagerly. “Perfect.”

The walk back to your place was equally unpleasant, as the wind whipped around, creating a near white-out. Suddenly the short trek seemed as if it was never ending. By the time you both made it back to your apartment, you were both frozen to the bone.

You unlocked the door to your apartment and held the door for Rafael. The lights flickered on and you made a beeline to your thermostat, to turn up the heat. It was times like this that you wished you had a fireplace. The door shut with a click as Rafael made his way in further.

You returned to take his coat. You couldn’t help but find a frozen, red faced Rafael look adorable, especially with some snow lingering on his hair and beard, which garnered a small giggle.

“What?” Rafael asked as a shiver went through him.

You reached up and wiped some snow that hadn’t yet melted off his beard. As you did so, Rafael turned into your palm and kissed your hand. You were still cold, but that small, simple kiss sent a jolt of heat through you.

As Rafael turned to face you, your eyes met his - they were sparkling with desire. You felt your cheeks burn in response; never in your prior relationships (if that), did you ever feel so wanted. You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry as if you had a mouthful of crackers. Of course that then lent to the thought that you wanted a mouthful of something else. Your pulse began to pound and you wondered if Rafael could hear it. “I’ll set the food to reheat.” you manage to croak out. “Kitchen is this way.” You pointed towards the kitchen.

You and Rafael puttered around the kitchen and you pulled a bottle of wine from the fridge. “You will note - it is white wine.” You laughed. “After that last disaster, I couldn’t take the risk.”

You grabbed some wine glasses and set them on the table and finished putting the food in the oven to warm up.

“I wouldn’t call that date entirely a disaster. It was turning up until we were so rudely interrupted by SVU.” Rafael winked.

“Such a shame. Who knows what would have happened.” You replied, approaching him. Between the kiss to your palm and the cranked up heat, you almost felt suffocated in your thick sweater dress. “Maybe later, we can pick up from there?” Your voice was hopeful.

Rafael gave you a lascivious grin in response and you felt your cunt kick. Dinner didn’t seem so important at all.

Dinner did occur, however. You set up your coffee table with the heated food while Rafael brought over the cutlery, glasses and bottle of wine. The movie of choice was 1917, a personal story woven through the backdrop of WW1. It was fast moving, full of action, tension, emotional and bloody.

Your lights began to flicker and the wind howled outside your window. Suddenly the two of you were plunged into darkness. There was a pregnant pause and then Rafael finally spoke.

“Ah fuck -- it’s like the universe is out to--”

“Don’t say it.” You interjected through clenched teeth.

Rafael sighed. “I won’t.” A light shone brightly and he realized you had turned on the flashlight on your phone. You stood and moved the light so it was on him. Rafael raised his arm to block the light on his face.

“Let me turn mine on.” Rafael spoke. “Do you have any candles?”

“In the kitchen, under the sink. The building has a back-up generator so I am not sure what the hell is going on.” It was your turn to sigh.

Rafael followed you into the kitchen. You squatted down to pull out the various scented candles you had hoarded over the years. You were pretty sure the combined scents - ‘rainshower’, ‘moonlight path’, ‘coconut lime verbena’ - to name a few, would be a good mixture, but this was no time for semantics.

“Where do you keep your matches?” Rafael asked as you continued taking out candles.

“Upper cabinet, over the forks and spoons.” You replied.

There was a knock on the door and Rafael opened the door cautiously, with you peering over his shoulder. It was Mr.Hunt, the building supervisor.

“Just came by to let you know I am working on getting the generator up and running. Wind knocked down the line outside the building.” He replied. “Hang tight as best you can - do you guys need anything?”

“No, we’re all set, but thank you.” You replied. “Stay safe.”

After, you and Rafael lit up a few of the candles. The apartment began to come back to life, with the glow of the candles casting a glowing ethereal effect. You gnawed on your lip, looking up at Rafael. “Well, shit at least we tried.”

Rafael laughed. “I’m sorry, but if we don’t laugh about it, we’ll cry.” He enveloped you into a hug, squeezing you tightly. You nuzzled his chest, the scent of his cologne wafted over you and you felt a sense of calm wash over you. Rafael pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Stay the night?” You asked against his chest. “I’ll need some extra warmth.”

A low rumble emanated from Rafael’s chest. “I thought you’d never ask.” he husked.

“Let’s grab the candles. Follow me through the dark.” You replied as you led Rafael towards your bedroom. The candles were set on various furniture - your writing desk, on your tall drawer chest, and on the nightstand.

Standing in front of you, Rafael slipped his hand through your hair. You closed your eyes and tilted your head into the caress.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked. “I'll let you set the pace.” You opened your eyes and smiled.

“Never more sure. Are you?” A rush of breath pushed past your breath.

“God you have no idea.” Rafael rubbed his hands over his face. You licked your lips in eager anticipation.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

Rafael cupped your cheek once more and then with his other hand, pushed some of your hair behind your ear. Your heart was pounding in tandem with the pounding of arousal between your legs. Cupping both sides of your face, Rafael leaned in and slanted his lips against yours.

Instant fire and electricity shot through your body. You placed your hands on his chest and moved them up to his neck, holding onto him. Rafael tilted his face and deepened the kiss, pressing his tongue against your lips and you opened up for him. His tongue sought yours and teased it. You gasped as he trailed his lips along your jawline to your ear. His breath was heavy in sensitive areas of your neck and chills ran through your spine. Rafael pulled you even closer, if that was even possible, moving his arms around you and dug his fingers into your skin.

You pressed your hands to his chest and put the smallest of spaces between you and him. “Let's take this to the bed. I want to see more of you.”

Rafael pressed a kiss to your forehead and began to remove his clothes. You eyed the prominent bulge in his boxers and you smirked, enjoying the feeling you had done that to him. You followed suit, making quick removal of your own clothes until you were standing in front of him, wearing nothing but a strip of black fabric that dared call itself underwear.

You watched as Rafael’s eyes swept over your near nude form. You were exquisite; your nipples were hardened diamonds, thanks to the chill in the air. And tonight, you were his. “You’re beautiful.” He closed the space between you and him and picked you up. You wrapped your arms and legs around him and allowed him to carry you to your bed. Rafael’s cock throbbed even harder being so closer to your pussy.

Now on the bed, you and Rafael were a tangled mess of limbs. Rafael covered your body with his, leaning up slightly so he could lift his hands to your breasts, pressing your flesh together, his fingers teasing your nipples. You let out a soft sigh as he dipped his head down, flickering his tongue over your pebbled flesh. He shifted once more and his hand dropped down between your legs. His fingers ghosted over the fabric and you bucked your hips trying to get his touch.

“Touch me Rafael.” You whimpered as he swirled his tongue over your before sucking on it hard. The feel of his beard on your skin only served to heighten your pleasure. You ran your fingers through his salt and pepper hair.

He pressed kisses along your abdomen as he made his way down to your legs. He hooked his fingers into the thin strips of your underwear and removed them up and over your legs. You rose your hips to help him with the removal and then lifted your ankles into the air. Rafael balled your ruined underwear in his hand and brought it to his face, inhaling deeply.

“Spread your legs for me.” Rafael quietly ordered. You did as he requested, feeling both vulnerable and completely turned on at the same time. Though the light was dim, Rafael could see how wet you were as your pussy glinted with your essence.

Rafael pulled your legs by your calves, so that your legs draped over his shoulders. You propped yourself onto your elbows so you could watch. Rafael alternated placing kisses and love bites along your thighs before nestling in between your legs. His breath was hot on your pussy and he wanted nothing more than to bury his face against your body and taste every ounce of what you would give to him. He inhaled your scent deeply once more, almost reveling in it, before diving into your folds. His tongue was warm and wet; you threw your head back as his tongue performed in ways you didn’t think was humanly possible - he was as silver tongued in the bedroom as he was in the courtroom. You squirmed and Rafael laid a heavy forearm against your hips, stilling you.

“Oh Jesus fuck.” you groaned as you fell back onto the bed. You pulled at his hair, tugging as your hips threatened to undulate against his mouth. Rafael snaked two fingers from under to slip into your warm sheath and you sighed in contentment. You murmured his name repeatedly as if in prayer. You tugged on his hair again, trying to keep him close as you felt your orgasm begin to build. Rafael pressed his thumb to your clit and massaged it in tandem with the finger-fucking he was giving you.

Rafael paused his actions, resting against your thigh, in an attempt to catch his own breath. You whined as his mouth left you. Rafael chuckled low and you could’ve sworn he said that he wasn’t done with you. You were an addiction he never knew he needed until now.

He looked up at you and the sight was his near undoing: your body was quivering, your breath uneven. Rafael dove back in, lapping at your pussy, alternating long swipes with flicks, as he added another finger. The room was silent except for your moans and the wet sounds of Rafael’s oral activity. Your pussy clenched and you tilted your head to the side, closing your eyes. Rafael curled his fingers, finding the spot and used his thumb to rub your clit. You tried so very hard to keep still, but it was futile and you rocked against his hand as your walls clenched around his digits hard. You let out a whine as you were on the edge of paradise.

“That’s it - let go, let go for me.” Rafael commanded.

“Fuck yes, Rafael. Oh fuck, oh my God!” You cried out.

“Let go hermosa. Just let go.” Rafael commanded once more.Your body obeyed his command as the tendrils of orgasm washed over you.

Rafael continued to stroke you, wanting another. The second orgasm built up easily, rolling in from the first. There was a pressure inside of you and it snapped, and your back arched as you came once more. Wetness coated his hand and he inwardly beamed with pride.

You fell back onto the bed, your chest heaving. You rubbed your hands over your face and giggled. “Oh fuck that was good.”

“You’re welcome.” Rafael smirked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Rafael made his way back up to your body, and he kissed you deeply. You could smell and taste yourself on his lips and beard. You pressed your hands up to his chest and pushed gently up, and Rafael took the signal and rolled you so were on top.

“I want to return the favor.” You stated, but did not get a chance to as Rafael moved his hands to your waist, pulling you, your tits, flush against his face. One hand immediately reached for one while his mouth was on the other nipple instantly, suckling and nipping.

You threw your head back as Rafael grazed his teeth along your sensitive flesh, sucking a mark on your skin. His tongue swirled along the bruised skin, soothing it. You push away, encouraging Rafael to lay back down.

“I told you, I want to repay the favor.” You replied as you ran your nails through his chest hair, slightly scraping. Rafael let out a grunt in response. You shimmied down his body until you reached his boxers. You palmed Rafael’s cock through the material, reveling in the feel of how hard he was - for you.

Rafael removed his boxers and his cock sprung at attention, red and weeping. Rafael was thick and veiny. Your mouth filled with saliva at the idea of blowing him. You pumped his cock a few times before you wrapped your lips around the crown of his cock, running your tongue over it. The salty taste of his pre-cum flooded your mouth as your tongue. You flattened your tongue and then took the entire length in your mouth. Your tongue lavished every ridge and vein. Rafael let out a hiss of relief as he buried his hands into your hair. You relaxed your throat, taking his length more and more until he hit the back of your throat.

Rafael watched his cock disappear in your mouth and his eyes rolled back. You hollow your cheeks, and groaned around his cock, which sent vibrations up and through him. “Keep doing that… uhh… don’t stop.”

You look up at his face and Rafael’s eyes meet yours. You bob on his length with more gusto and use your hand in tandem, stroking. You dipped your head, sucking on his balls gently, and licking the seam, before giving him a gentle squeeze.

Rafael weaved his hand into your hair and pulled you up. Your chin was slick with saliva and he ran his thumb across your lips.

“Keep that up and I’ll come in that pretty mouth.” Rafael husks as he pulls you back up onto him. “And I want to come in your sweet pussy.”

You both resume making out, hands touching and exploring everywhere and anywhere. He rolls you so you’re back onto your back and he sits back on his haunches, stroking his cock.

Through the candlelight, Rafael watched as you crooked a finger to him and then pressed your own tits together. You let out a small moan and then snaked your hand to your pussy and began to finger yourself.

“Fuck, watching you play with yourself is hot.” Rafael sighed, as he stroked his cock. He then removed your hand and brought it to his mouth, sucking them clean. Finally, Rafael lowered himself over you and rubbed his cock along your slit, gathering your wetness. You were hot, wet, and ready.

Rafael pushed the head of his cock inside you and then pushed into you agonizingly slowly. Yo whimpered as he finally sank his length into you, bottoming out. Your eyes fluttered close as you adjusted to his size, a mix of pleasure and slight burn as he stretched you. He fit you better than your favorite sweater. You grasped at his back, your nails pressing half-moon marks into his skin. Rafael pulled out again and then thrust back in, harder than before. You let out an obscene moan. “Oh Jesus fuck!”

Rafael picked up the pace, pushing into you over and over. He hooked your leg and pushed it up to your chest, changing the angle of his cock stroked your walls. “You feel so tight around my cock, hermosa.” He grunted.

“Give it to me, give it to me, I need it.” You whined. Rafael reached for your arm and pulled it over your head, gripping it tightly.

The sounds of grunts and moans along with skin on skin, fill the room and you can feel his balls slap against your pussy. The sensation was perverted and made you only want more. Rafael lowered his head down, pressing his forehead against yours. Your bodies are slick with sweat and beads of sweat roll off Rafael onto yours.

Rafael continued fucking you deeply, sliding into you over and over in deep, long strokes. As he felt his own release approach, Rafael moved his lips to your neck and sucked a mark onto your skin. You are chanting his name over and over again, feeling your own orgasm approach. You snake your hand down and begin to rub your clit.

“I’m going to come, oh shit, oh shit, Raf!” You come completely undone, wailing his name.

“Come for Y/N, come for me. I’m going to come too!” Rafael groaned. Feeling your walls flutter around his cock, seeing your wrecked face - it was all too much for Rafael and with a strangled cry of your name, he stiffened and painted your walls with his release.

The two of you come to a still, your breaths both uneven. Neither one of you spoke, and the only sound was rough-breathing and the howls of the storm outside.

Finally Rafael rolled off you and got up from the bed. You frowned. “What are you - where are you?” Dread began to fill your stomach.

“Blowing out the candles. Fire hazard.” Rafael said. “I’m not going anywhere hermosa.”

The room eventually plunged into darkness once more and as Rafael climbed back onto the bed, he brought the duvet over your bodies. You instantly rolled to him, resting your head on his chest, stroking lightly. He wrapped his arm around you tightly and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Best date ever.” You murmured, feeling sleep begin to settle in.

“Can’t wait ‘til we do it again.” Rafael replied, his own eyes drooping. Soon you were both asleep, in each other's arms.

The sun shone brightly in your bedroom and you stirred awake. You were cognizant of a heavy arm over you, pinning you in place. You shifted carefully and turned to face Rafael who was still asleep. Feeling secure, you closed your eyes and drifted back to sleep.

After some time, you stirred awake again. This time Rafael’s body was pressed against your back. And you very much felt his erection pressing against your ass. You wiggled against him and Rafael let out a small moan as his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you tightly.

You felt his beard brush against your shoulder as he pressed kisses along your shoulder and then he tilted your face back so he could kiss. The kiss was tender, soft, but still full of passion.

You hesitantly broke the kiss. “Good morning.” You replied, turning over to face him.

“Good morning.” Rafael’s voice was gravelly, still full of sleep. His eyes went past your shoulder to the blinking clock behind you. “Looks like the power is back on.”

You turned over and checked. “Huh, how about that. I hope this doesn’t mean you’re going to ditch me now that my heat is probably working again.”

Rafael grabbed you and rolled you so that you were on top of him. You let out a squeal as he did so. You pressed your arms down on his chest.

“Ditch you? How very much dare.” Rafael laughed, his eyes crinkling as he did so. “I was hoping we could…” He wiggled his eyebrows.

You bit your bottom lip, feeling lust coursing through you. You rolled your hips languidly, causing him to buck up. You bent down to kiss him, lifting your hips slightly so he could line his cock with your entrance. You let out a sigh as he filled you deeply. His hands were steady on your hips, guiding as you rolled your hips some more.

That day, you and Rafael hardly left your bed, except to rehydrate and order food.

[Two years later]

Rafael walked down the street, tightening his scarf around his neck. It was another wintry evening in Manhattan. He was meeting you for dinner and as he bounded up the steps of One Hogan Place, he still remembered that day you met in December, when he first saw you through the blinds of Carisi’s office, which was now your office - Carisi was prompted and now resided in Barba’s old office. Rafael was scanned and searched for hazards by security. He emptied his pockets, tossing his wallet and keys. The wand beeped and the security guard glared at him. Rafael shot the guard an apologetic look as he fished out the velvet box from his pocket.

The guard nodded and waved him through. He gathered his things and put them all away, including the box. He had arrived at the elevator bank when the door opened to you.

“I thought I was meeting you upstairs?” Rafael questioned as he pressed a kiss to your lips.

“You were, but I finished early. Ready for dinner?” You asked as you slung your work bag over your shoulder.

“As I’ll ever be.” Rafael murmured, taking your hand as you walked out into the snowy mix that began to fall.

FIN

Tag list: @madpanda75 @tropes-and-tales @dreamlover31 @mgarner1227@beardedmccoy @youreverycolor @neely1177 @witches-unruly-heart @mrsrafaelbarba @skittle479 @ottosuricato @sass-and-suspenders @mommakat32 @dreila03 @beccabarba @garturbo @lovebennycolonmiguelgalindo @imjustreallynosy @sweetsummertime99 @whyissvuruiningmylovelife @annabelleb49 @scarletsoldierrr @cesarofangirl78 @redlipstickandplaid @redlipstickandblacktea @zoeykaytesmom @differentshadesofgray @misssirenlove @esparza-army @bananas-pajamas @mishaissocoolike @thefanficfaerie @theenchantedgalleryofstories @catnip987 @choppedgalaxynerd @pieceofshittytitty @ktiz90 @evee87 @itsjustmyfantasyroom @detective-giggles @rampantmuses @jazzyjoi @caked-crusader @rachelxwayne @prurientpuddlejumper @lv7867 @permanentlydizzy @bisexual-dreamer02 @madamsnape921 @averyhotchner @teamsladsandgents @qvid-pro-qvo @alwaysachorusgirl @amelia-song-pond @wanniiieeee

#thatesqcrushvdaybingo #rafael barba smut #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba and reader #rafael barba imagine

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the-hopeless-haze · 4 years

Text

I hope he’ll be a beautiful fool that takes my spot next to you

Pairing: Sonny Carisi/reader, past!Rafael Barba/reader

Warnings: lots of angst (I bring up Undiscovered Country.... soooo...) smut (it’s NSFW people lol)

Word Count: like 5k words? Idk it’s a long one folks but I deliver

Summary: Based on “exile” by Taylor Swift for @thatesqcrush ‘s Valentine’s Day Bingo! Basically the reader used to date Barba until she didn’t and ended up with Sonny. Rafael is less than pleased. This is a cliche pairing (for good reason! It’s so fun to write!) but I like to think I added a fun twist... Sonny is an absolute mess, Rafael is very jealous, reader is a tad bit vindictive. This can be read in conjunction with “Being Alive” but it’s really a detour and a very loose association... there are just references because it’s so hard for me to write for these characters outside of that lens since I’ve been writing it for so long. That being said this can absolutely be read by itself and this only works if Rafael and the reader didn’t progress as characters in BA anyway lol

Murderous rage doesn’t even begin to describe what Rafael feels right now.

Behind the anger, there’s a sadness, cold and hard as stone, but he won’t touch that. It’s so much easier to be angry at Sonny than deal with anything that has to do with you. And that’s fair, isn’t it, anyway? Sonny swooped in the second things turned sour between you and Rafael and didn’t even give the two of you a chance to patch things up.

Or you went to Sonny of your own accord.

Maybe that’s more likely, but that hovers too close to the ache in his chest and he doesn’t allow himself to dwell there. Instead, he lets his ire build up until it consumes him, shooting daggers at the two of you across the bullpen office.

The two of you had always been touchy-feely - you were partners after all, very close, but you’d trained Rafael to swallow his jealousy. Told him you didn’t see Sonny like that. And for the most part, he learned to believe you. So now, he has to wonder how much of that was a lie, how much he didn’t see between the two of you, because there’s no way in hell you’d allow Sonny to touch you like this if it weren’t precedented.

Yes, at work, no less, you and Sonny are sitting at your adjoined desks, but you moved your chair to squeeze as close to him as possible. His arm is slung across your shoulder, a relaxed grip, because he knows there’s nothing Rafael can say or do that would make you leave him. Your head is resting on Sonny’s vested shoulder, and you’re laughing at something he said, no doubt a stupid joke that only you would find the humor in.

Death would be more welcome, Rafael thinks, then curses himself for being overdramatic. Still, when was the last time Rafael had been able to make you laugh?

Olivia had warned him of this new arrangement, but nothing could prepare him for this. Didn’t Rafael matter at all to you?

You lean up to kiss Sonny and Rafael thinks he might puke. —- Maybe Sonny should feel more guilty for kissing your mouth like you’ve been his this whole time, but he doesn’t. Because now he knows without a doubt in his mind this is where you belonged. He can feel the weight of Rafael’s gaze across the room, but he doesn’t mind carrying it, shielding you from it.

He did feel awful the day you came to him, your touch freezing and clammy from the inclement weather that you traveled through to get to his apartment, and then you practically pounced on him, told him you wanted him - and what was Sonny to do? Say no? No, after asking you a million times if you were sure, he gave into a temptation he’d be lying if he said he never thought about before. Of course, Sonny always imagined being between you and Rafael - he loved both of you in different ways, and the two of you seemed like a package deal at the time his original fantasies started to occur - but if you alone were going to come onto him, he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to oblige.

Don’t sleep with your partner was probably the first unwritten rule in becoming a detective, but it’s not like Sonny was going to stay at the precinct, anyway. He’d take Rafael’s place in the courtroom, too.

Still, when you first came onto him, he did feel a twinge of guilt, like he was hurting Rafael and you at the same time, in different ways, but then you explained it all to Sonny. How you always felt insecure around Rafael, that you weren’t sure if he really loved you, that you weren’t sure if you really loved him, that both of you had so much pressure to make this work that it started to fall apart under the weight of all your expectations.

You didn’t have to wait for Sonny to say he loved you, and you didn’t have to doubt it, either. He said it for the first time that same night, and he said it so fervently that you pulled his body back into yours, moaning your own declaration of love back to him. Maybe it was too soon, but he’d spent over a year pining for you (and Barba) in secret, and... well... he wasn’t going to waste what would be his only shot with one of you. He wanted you to know you would be well-cared for in his arms.

If looks could kill, Sonny would be dead on the spot and he knows this. But he also knows that jealousy is a cross Rafael has no right to bear. He had his shot, and he blew it. He should’ve let you know what you meant to him instead of clouding everything in his anxieties, his anger, his burdens from his past he never could let go of. Whatever he did now was too little too late, and even if Sonny had feelings for the lawyer, you always came first, and those said feelings would now never be stated out loud unless he got enough liquor in him and he was feeling sentimental that day.

Sonny used to root for you and Rafael, but he was always an embittered cheerleader, standing on the sidelines wishing someone could love him the way he thought you two loved each other. Appearances meant nothing, though. Now that you’ve let him in, he knows what you had with Rafael was far from the heaven you deserved.

And Sonny is all too keen to give you what you deserved.

As you lean up to kiss him again, he stops you for a moment, smiles down at you in adoration, and you giggle, “What?”

“Nothing,” he grins. “You’re just so beautiful, doll. I love you.”

Rafael’s gaze strengthens in intensity, and you almost turn to look in his direction before Sonny kisses you firmly, a smirk playing against your lips. This has to be killing Rafael, and Sonny isn’t usually that vindictive, but it gave him some sort of sick satisfaction that he was hurting Rafael just like Rafael had hurt you. And, you know, show Rafael what he was missing.

——

Sonny’s kiss is so warm, so comforting, but it doesn’t stop the ice running through your veins - you know Rafael is here despite Sonny’s best efforts to distract you from him. And you meet his eyes across the room for the first time since the night the two of you fought with each other for what would be the last time, the night you found yourself in Sonny’s arms instead. Those eyes add insult to injury, because you still know Rafael, and even if he’s standing across the room you know what he’s feeling. There’s anger there, but deep down you know he’s crushed at having seen you move on so quickly, and with someone he suspected you might leave him for in the first place. And he’s trying to drag you down to his level, get you to sit here in his misery with him.

This could break you if you don’t steel yourself, so you squeeze Sonny’s hand for support.

Sonny’s in tune with your body language, having been your partner for so long, and he stands to full attention, asking you if you’re alright.

“I’m okay,” you tell him, staring down Rafael until he makes his way over to your desk. You swallow thickly. Rafael when he was angry was never pleasant.

“This is cute, hmm?” he says bitterly, nodding sharply at the two of you.

“I like to think so,” you reply coolly, smiling at him.

“Barba, I know you’re waiting for Sarge, but can you please go wait somewhere else? She’ll be out any minute and you’re bothering (y/n),” Sonny asks, forever trying to be the peacemaker.

“She can handle herself,” Rafael says, chuckling sardonically, rolling up his sleeves nonchalantly. “Clearly. She doesn’t need you to fight her battles. But if you’d like to...”

“Mm, please, Rafael, like you’d get your knuckles bloody for me?” you snap. “Grow up. Everybody moved on. It’s time you do too.”

Rafael’s visibly taken aback by your verbal assault but he only lets it faze him momentarily. “Right. Moved on. Only took you five whole minutes to pack us up and leave me with it and you’re out here spreading your legs for someone else,” Rafael hisses, and you can see the moment when he realizes he went too far, the moment the wrath in his green eyes fades into regret.

“Get out,” Sonny says firmly, raising his voice enough to turn Amanda’s and Nick’s heads. “Get the fuck out. I don’t care how hurt you are, get out. You don’t talk to women like that. I’m honestly... I’m disgusted.”

“I... I am sorry—“ Rafael fumbles.

“A bit too late for that. I’m not your problem anymore, Rafael, so who am I offending now?” You ask. You weren’t upset by his statement - you did move fast with Sonny, faster than even you were immediately comfortable with, and you know how it must look to Rafael, how it must feed the flame of his absolute deepest and darkest insecurities.

Rafael glances around the room and realizes he’s caused a scene. Without a word, he leaves out the side door, forgetting his meeting with Olivia. He’s seen this film before, and the ending? It’s not worth sticking around for.

—-

Sonny could spend hours with his face between your legs, and he did. It was almost like the man never stopped talking because he wasn’t nose-deep in pussy - but you kind of chuckled at that thought because he wasn’t quiet even then. He’s always moaning, making obscene sucking sounds on your clit, talking to you, sending delicious vibrations straight to your core.

You come again, moaning and tugging at his hair, and Sonny adds to his total, grinning up at you, his face sinfully wet with your juices running down his chin. “That’s two down. Think you can give me one more before I fuck you?”

“Sonny, fuck,” you whine breathlessly as he runs his tongue over your now swollen and overstimulated clit. “I need a break.”

You love it. You’ve never had anyone this enthusiastic about pleasing you like this before, and you’ve never exactly been a pillow princess either, but Sonny protested if you even moved a muscle when he was going down on you, instead he’d chuckle and tell you to save your energy for when you ride him later. Not that he needed to be in you at all - you swear he could get off just eating you out. You never would’ve pegged giving oral as Sonny’s biggest kink, but you certainly weren’t complaining.

Sonny laughs heartily, crawling up the length of your body to kiss you deeply, the taste of you branded onto his lips and tongue. You moan as he rolls his hips against yours, the cloth from his boxers creating a tantalizing friction and you buck up against him on instinct.

“Ah-ah,” he tsks, moving off you to lay beside you. “I thought you needed a break, doll.”

You sigh, nodding, trying to catch your breath, but how could you, when he was still on the side of you, whispering dirty things in your ear? God, he really did never shut up.

“He ever fuck you like this?” Sonny asks, a devilish glint in his eye. For a second you think he’d take it back, apologize for asking such an intrusive question, but he doesn’t, and you know it’s because he’s just gone down on you for half an hour already and he’s got enough testosterone running through his veins he could kill anyone who glanced at you. Of course he was in competition with Barba, especially when he was this riled up.

“No,” you murmur, and you’re not lying. Sex with Barba was great, obviously, he’s very attractive and he knows what he’s doing. Rafael was a damn tease, but Sonny? Sonny was so much of a sap he couldn’t bear to hold anything back, couldn’t bear to see your lip tremble in want for even a second. And no one had time to fuck the way Sonny wanted to, drawing everything out and making you come so many times with his lips and tongue before he’d finally enter you. It’d always take a few hours, so this was usually saved for Monday mornings when the two of you didn’t go in until 3, or Friday nights when both of you were too wired to sleep anyway. Sure, there were days you were pressed for time and he needed to have you so more often than not he’d settle for making you come quickly on his face before pounding into you, but...

Rafael was a good, thorough lover, and god, you’d probably miss his hands for a long time to come, but Sonny’s tongue was such a good replacement.

“You just saying that, doll?” Sonny asks gruffly.

“No, honey, of course not,” you giggle. “No one’s as generous as you.”

“Generous? Huh. That’s a good one,” he laughs, and it seems like that comment brought out the underlying sap in him. His clear blue eyes soften and he smiles at you. “Nah, doll, I just love you so much, and making you feel good? What better way to show it, you know?”

This was a complete mess, you realized that, but you were blissfully happy in spite of it. How could you not be? It’d been an amazing three months. On nights the two of you didn’t work, you were treated to home-cooked dinners, bottles of wine, heated makeout sessions that always led to something more. If you worked, you’d take long showers together, massaging the knots out of each other’s muscles until you were both too dreary-eyed to stand.

Sonny was clingy, sure. You knew he would be, of course, and you weren’t used to that - sometimes you questioned if Rafael even wanted you in the same room - and it’s with a sudden realization that you come to terms with the fact that none of your relationships worked out because you needed that constant reassurance that Rafael and so many of your exes were reluctant to give.

It’s so easy to paint Rafael as a villain now that it was all over, but he wasn’t. You truly, truly loved him, even if he never took the time to learn your love language or make you dinner or marathon-fuck you. He showed his affection for you in other ways, but they weren’t as overt and it always left you questioning what he really wanted from you.

And anyway, it wasn’t enough to counteract the wrongs he’d done to you. Always making snide comments about how close you were to Sonny, to Amanda, to Nick, even... and it was in those moments you wish he didn’t love you so much, that he’d let you breathe instead of keeping such a constricting hold on you. You knew what he was scared of, he’d been cheated on before... but you hadn’t done anything.

He tried so hard to snare you down without taking into consideration that you already were his. Or, at least you had been.

When he got down on one knee you knew it was over. For him to be that insensitive, after you’d just gone through an accident and were barely coming back to life through damn near mandatory therapy and rehab... you couldn’t take it anymore. Didn’t he see the signs? You gave him so many, but he just never learned to read your mind after all that time.

And you didn’t want to be his, at least not in that regard. He wasn’t asking you for the right reasons. He was making up for lost time.

You never told Sonny that Rafael asked you to marry him, because that would wreck him and make you seem vindictive, but you have a feeling that Sonny knew anyway. Maybe Rafael mentioned it in passing. It doesn’t matter. You’d never be his wife now.

You didn’t intend this to be a long term thing with Sonny, but now you were used to him being in every facet of your life, and you supposed you did love him underneath everything. It was always Sonny who was there on those cold nights equipped with hot chocolate and cannolis, always him making you laugh when you were miserable about a spat you’d gotten in with Rafael, always him damn near reading your mind to give you what you needed.

Maybe it wouldn’t last. Maybe the two of you would go down in flames, too. Maybe he’s only being this amazing because he’s wanted you this long and he wants to show you what you’ve missed the time you wasted with Rafael, and it’ll fade once you’ve stuck around.

But you don’t think so, because you know he’s always loved you like this. The only things that have changed since you let him in is that he fucks you now and he’s practically moved into your apartment. He’s never quite kept his crush for you under wraps. On the off chance this is just a honeymoon phase... you’d still take it. It was bliss for now, and that’s what mattered.

“You ready for round three, doll?” Sonny asks. “Or you wanna sit there and daydream about Barba?”

“W-what?” you stutter, looking at him dumbfounded. “I wasn’t—“

“Don’t play dumb. I know you, (y/n).”

“Are you mad?” You ask, making your voice small.

“No. It’s only natural, right? I probably shouldn’t have brought him up in the first place,” he says, shrugging. “Still...”

“Don’t, Sonny,” you protest. “You’re not his understudy. I love you—“

“I know. That’s not why I’m saying that,” he says, kissing you gently. ——

Sonny would never tell you why he was saying that; why he brought up Barba in the first place. This was a fucked up mess, Sonny knows that, but he can’t help imagining you fucking him like Rafael used to fuck you. You and Rafael both have such dominant personalities, and it makes sense why you’d always be at each other’s throats in hindsight.

One of you had to be more dominant, though, and Sonny gets the sense that more often than not Rafael won your battles. But Sonny won’t even put up a fight against you, and for a woman who was so used to losing... maybe Sonny was doing you more of a favor than he realized. You’re an absolute tease, brutal, really... Sonny doesn’t know where you get the sadism because you’re so kind-hearted outside of the bedroom... but he’s never quite had orgasms like the ones you draw out of him either, so he’s not exactly complaining.

Okay, maybe he whines a little when you don’t let him come.

Or a lot. Whatever.

It’s so worth it, for both of you, even if Sonny can barely take the heat sometimes.

Sonny imagines Rafael doing that to you, too, getting you riled up and soaking wet just to say you can’t come until he said. Or teasing you while you were working (he’d seen that happen a couple of times) just to leave the precinct and leave you rubbing your thighs together in a vain attempt to relieve the ache between them.

Sonny could just never do that to you, lord knows. For one, he can’t stand to see you ache for him while he’s right there, while he can just give you what you need from him. For him he takes pride in the number of orgasms he can draw from you, not how explosive or mind-numbing they can be (although he likes to think he gives both in quantity and quality). Sex is all about giving to Sonny. It always has been. Besides, seeing you fall apart on his tongue? It drives him insane. Maybe most men don’t get as enthusiastic about going down on their girlfriends, but Sonny truly doesn’t think he could ever live without it.

Still... didn’t you take a little bit of your partner with you, even if it was over? In a way, Sonny realizes, he does have both you and Rafael now. Just like he always wanted. Because when you maneuver him where you want him, get bossy in bed, that’s Barba talking. When you drag his bottom lip between your teeth, fiery lust in your eyes, he can just imagine Rafael doing the same to you, you looking up at him with hooded eyes.

His favorite’s got to be when you speak to him in Spanish, whisper “te amo” to him under your breath, because that’s purely Rafael’s influence and nothing else.

Still, you’re mostly you- and that’s fine. Sonny always loved you more, anyway, he’s always been closer to you, always been head over heels for you the second he stepped foot in the precinct and Liv told him you were his new partner.

Sonny didn’t see a point in hiding your relationship from the squad. You were wary at first - everyone knew you just broke up with Barba, and making this public so soon would be a source of gossip. But he convinced you... through questionable means (make a girl come enough times and she’ll do anything you ask). At the end of the day, he doesn’t think anyone truly cared, even if Amanda made a comment; “Guess she’s a hot commodity around here. When’s my turn to date her?”

“I’m never letting her go now that I’ve got her,” Sonny had replied with a grin. “You missed your shot.”

“I was kidding,” she chuckled. “Good for you, though. You’ve been in love with her for a long time, puppy dog eyes and everything.”

Sonny just beamed back at her, but he wonders how obvious he truly was in his affection for you before the two of you started going out. Was it enough to make Barba jealous? Possibly. Maybe that’s why Barba was being so absolutely vile and hostile toward Sonny now, refusing to let him sit in on his closing argument rehearsals and making sure to send more snide remarks his way whenever possible. Sure, Sonny expected that, but if only Rafael knew Sonny loved him too.... Maybe the wound wouldn’t sting as badly as it did. There wasn’t a chance in hell Sonny would say anything now, especially with the way he talked to you the other day (you’d think a lawyer who handles mostly sex crimes would refrain from slut-shaming his ex-girlfriend, but, apparently his anger truly did get the best of him). Still, he’d always love Rafael just like you always would.

Sonny knew there was always a chance that he was just a rebound, that you’d leave him to go back to Rafael, but time goes on and you stay with him and Rafael stays bitter, barely looking at the two of you. Years pass and Sonny tries to extend an olive branch every couple of months, but Rafael would rather eat poison, it seems.

Fair enough. You couldn't say Sonny never tried. ----

Rafael spent a few years feeling like an exile every time he stepped foot into the precinct - and it wasn’t fair in the least. He was A.D.A. before you even got your badge. If anything, you should be feeling like the odd one out now that the two of you were over. This was his city.

But you’re not his homeland anymore. You haven’t been, not for a long time.

It was a new kind of torture every day, watching you and Sonny get closer, closer, closer… Rafael kept searching for reasons to leave New York City that wouldn’t have to do with you.

And then he found one.

Rafael’s standing outside the courthouse, where he just got acquitted for infanticide. It’s bitterly cold, he’s wearing his tan coat that you’d rarely see him out of this time of year. And you come up to talk to him.

It was rare that you did that, anyway, you did your best job to ignore him unless you absolutely needed to speak with him. But now he gets the feeling it’s time for confessions, words you always wanted to say to him all these years now that he was leaving out the side door of your life for good.

It’s a strange kind of sickness, watching you move on more and more, seeing your stomach swollen with Sonny’s child, your finger gleaming with Sonny’s ring, your last name changing to Carisi.

“You’re really leaving?” you ask, pulling your coat across your belly - it wouldn’t stay closed with the buttons anymore. You shiver, sip at your coffee.

“I can’t exactly stay now, can I?” he asks brusquely. “You really shouldn’t be drinking coffee while you’re pregnant.”

You snicker. “It’s not your baby, is it, Barba? Good thing, too. Wouldn’t want her to come out wrong. You might kill her.”

“Oh, fuck off. I don’t need this to be rehashed,” he snaps harshly, bitter tears leaving his eyes. “Did you have anything else to say?”

“It’s decaf coffee, anyway,” you mutter. “I really thought you’d have left a long time ago.”

“Why, because of you?” he asks, laughing bitterly. “Are you really that arrogant?”

“You still look at me like you want to kill me half the time.”

“Just… I still don’t understand what went wrong.”

“If you don’t know by now… I really don’t know what to tell you, Rafael. I gave so many signs. And Sonny… he treats me well. He gives me things you were never ready for, and I… The way things happened… they truly were for the best.”

“For who?” Rafael asks, fighting against his body’s overwhelming desire to break down and sob. Hadn’t he learned by now, though, that there was no amount of crying he could do for you? Still, when you left him, everything went to hell. He tried to pour himself into his work, and this… watching you get and stay happy was salt in the wound.

“I think leaving will be good for you,” you say, ignoring him. “You can move on. Meet someone new. Get a new job. New start. You know?”

“I think I’m too old for new starts,” he scoffs, shaking his head.

“Won’t know unless you try, hm?” you ask, nudging him in the side. “You’ll make it. You always have.”

“Not with you,” he murmurs.

“No. But you didn’t need me. You don’t need anyone.”

“Is that what you tell yourself, to make yourself feel better for what you did to me?” Rafael asks, his voice breaking a little. He was always so desperate not to show vulnerability, especially not around you… but what did it matter now?

“Rafael… we always walked a very thin line. You have to know that we weren’t going to stay together even if we tried to. And why should I have to be miserable just because you are?”

He stays silent because you have a point and he’ll be damned if he lets you know that.

“Sonny loves you, you know,” you say abruptly, and Rafael quirks up an eyebrow. You laugh. “Yeah. He’s very testy about it, but I’ve been with him long enough. I know he does. You should’ve jumped on him before I had the chance. He would’ve taken you. He would’ve taken both of us, but… you and I couldn’t share.”

“You can have him,” Rafael says, rolling his eyes. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“It’s just… you didn’t have to spend all these years hating us, feeling like a foreigner in your own city. We would’ve taken you back. You just didn’t want us.”

“I didn’t want the Carisi package deal. I wanted you. I dated you, not him. I loved you, not him.”

“First of all… I meant as friends. But also… Like you’ve never thought about it,” you tease, grinning at him.

Rafael rolls his eyes. “See, this is why we had problems. That’s not funny. Wandering eyes… that’s a problem.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” you say, shrugging. “Sonny’s surprisingly liberal. But that’s great that you were finally able to admit that your jealousy made me feel like I couldn’t breathe.”

“I’d argue my jealousy was warranted. I find it hard to believe that you didn’t fuck Sonny before you broke up with me,” Rafael scoffs.

“I didn’t!” you protest. “I’m not having this argument with you, because at this point, it doesn’t matter if I did or not, but I was nothing but faithful to you, Rafael.”

“Then how could you just move so fast?"

“It’s not like I just picked him up off the street. We’d been friends before.”

“Right. Friends.”

“Yeah. Friends,” you repeat sarcastically. “You see why we didn’t work out now?”

“Guess so.”

“You know, I do wish the best for you. Honestly. You deserve better than the cards you got dealt here.”

“You can say that again,” Rafael sighs. “I did really love you, you know.”

“Yeah. Sometimes that’s not enough. I loved you too.”

He takes a deep breath. “I wish you the best too. You’ll be a good mother.”

“Thank you, Rafi,” you whisper back, leaning over to hug him softly. There it is again; that cold bitter ache - when’s the last time you referred to him by that nickname? And now it would be the last. “Goodbye and good luck.”

"Yeah, you too," he says, rubbing your shoulder awkwardly, remembering a time when touching you was second nature. He watches you, your eyes make contact with Sonny's, and you turn back one last time to give Rafael a sympathetic smile... and that's the last time he ever sees you.

Taglist (lmk if you wanna be added!): @stormtrooperofficerbrowneyes @thatesqcrush @law-nerd105 @blackeyedangel9805 @moon-river-drifter @dianilaws @xecq @lv7867 @teddybluesclues @averyhotchner @houseofthirst @stardust-fray @lapaquerette @wanniiieeee @altsvu

#thatesqcrushvdaybingo #sonny carisi x reader #rafael barba x reader

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eleanorbloom · 3 years

Text

Marry My Lover (Bryce x Eleanor Proposal Headcanon)

A/N: Well, I thought I wouldn't do it because I was too invested with this fic, but I've been thinking adult life is so fucking hard that maybe I'll never find the time and inspo to finish this fic, so... well, why not realease it to the world as headcanon/very-poorly-written-fic. If later I find the inspo, maybe I'll write it, maybe not, but I think posting this will lift a heavy weight off me.

Please forgive me my grammar mistakes and poor english, I mean, I know it's not poor, but I went really basic here, other way I would've never finished writing this lol

Tagging my WYR readers, in case you're interested in reading this @curiousconch @romereadingshop @utterlyinevitable @lahellacute @chocopeppermintcake

Also this is sumbission for @openheartfanfics Weekly Trope Challenge, week 2: Weddings & Proposals (@openheartheadcanons)

Marry My Lover

Bryce had wanted to propose to Eleanor for a while, considering both spontaneous and prepared ways to do it.

One of the first ideas was proposing on a visit to the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, as it was the place of their first date. But none of their shifts let them assist for a couple of weeks, so he decided to look for something less complicated.

As he saw their annual meeting with the gang was coming, he decided he would propose on that occasion. Surrounded by friends, the people who helped them get together and supported them in the most difficult times both personally and as a couple.

So he would propose at Donahue’s. With a song, no less. Marry Me by Bruno Mars. A cheerful song, Eleanor loved Bruno Mars and simply matched with the tone he wanted to have on the proposal. Happy and spectacular. He wanted to make her feel the luckiest, most loved woman on earth.

So when he decided what he would do, he shared the news with Sienna so she could help him orchestrate the event. He would arrive a bit later than Eleanor, Sienna would keep her distracted, and then whoop, Bryce would appear at the center of the bar singing the song.

On the day of the meeting, Bryce was in the locker room when he received a text from Sienna: “All set, B! We’re waiting for you”. He breathed deeply, excited and a bit nervous at the same time.

They had talked about marriage, about a life together thousands of times, but it was different just taking the step and doing it, of proposing marriage. Marriage. Damn.

But at the same time, it was just a confirmation of the love they had for each other. Their love that had grown exponentially, to unknown highs and depths in the three years they had been together, and he was sure that their love would keep growing and getting stronger with each day.

After getting ready, he texted Keiki: “Hey Keiks, are you there already?” “Oh, yeah, hidden in the parking lot, super spy.” “Awesome, I’m coming out of the locker room I’ll be there in five” “Okay”

Bryce didn’t want her to miss it for the world. Keiki would kill him if he let that happen. Luckily for both Bryce and Keiki, she was studying close to home, more than close. Cambridge. BS in Physics at MIT, so as she was living just a few minutes away from Boston, they saw each other pretty regularly, once a week or once every two weeks depending on how busy the three were.

Keiki was excited about it, but there was just this strange smirk on her. Bryce thought it was just the fact that her brother would propose to Eleanor at last.

Once at the bar, he greeted their friends, Elijah, coming from Chicago, Jackie, from Baltimore, and Sienna coming from New York. Aurora was the only one living in Boston, working at Brigham and Women’s Hospital as attending and part of the new Diagnostic Team there.

Everyone was happy but at the same time with this strange smirk, like they were hiding something.

“And Elle?” he asked.

A few moments after the question was made, a guitar started to play. He looked at the center of the bar, and found Eleanor, on a yellow dress, and matched hatband playing guitar and singing: We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January And this is our place, we make the rules And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years?

Bryce couldn’t believe his eyes. His ears. His skin. How a shiver ran down his spine, making tingle every inch of him; how his stomach fluttered at the sight of her there, beautiful and singing and… Surprising him.

It was Lover by Taylor Swift, because, how not, his girlfriend was a Swiftie since High School, so once a Swiftie, always a Swiftie.

Bryce knew almost every song of the last two albums she had released in the last couple of years because they had blasted the speakers of their home for weeks. Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close? Forever and ever, ah Take me out, and take me home You're my, my, my, my lover

After singing the chorus, Eleanor handed the guitar to Rafael, who continued with the melody, and took the mic in one hand, singing the second verse as she started walking slowly towards him. We could let our friends crash in the living room This is our place, we make the call She took his hand on hers and softly pulled him to the center of the bar

And when Eleanor sang “And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you”, both chuckled knowingly, because they knew how true that was, wherever he goes, he enchants.

I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all

It had been three summers indeed and nor he or she couldn’t imagine a summer without each other.

Eleanor kept singing, every word with meaning, it was like the song was written for them, especially “I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover” Because who else on this planet was a magnetic force but him?

Bryce was beaming the whole song, smiling, laughing, biting his lip, showing how happy, flattered, incredulous and in love he was.

He couldn’t believe his luck. To this day, after more than three years, sometimes he still couldn’t believe he had the chance to love so much and be so loved. So happy, so free, so understood. And he would probably live this luck, this love, forever and ever with her.

When the song ended, Eleanor took out something from the pocket of her yellow dress. A velvet box. When she opened it, a silver ring with a diamond at the center shined under the multicolor lights of the bar. Eleanor took his hand in hers and kissed his knuckles softly before asking: “Bryce Lahela, mi amor, we both know we want to spend the rest of our lives together. In these three years you have made me nothing but happy. The happiest luckiest woman alive. I want that for the rest of our lives. Would you marry me?”

“Yes,” he said, eyes sparkling, shining so bright with emotions, with love, with adoration, with happiness, “Yes, babe, yes! The only thing I want is to spend the rest of my life with you!”

Everyone cheered, Sienna was crying, Kyra too, and even Keiki had shed a tear.

Eleanor put a ring on his finger and both kissed sweetly in the middle of the bar.

After a few moments, Bryce kissed her hand and chuckled, “Well, now it’s my turn.”

Eleanor stared confused at him, and when she heard him shouting “Música maestro!” she understood.

Eleanor couldn't believe it either. When the notes of Marry Me by Bruno Mars started playing, she covered her mouth with her hands just like Cecilia Bolocco when she won Miss Universe in 1986. “No way, love!” she squealed.

After a few verses, Bryce took her hand and turned her to the wall, where a video was playing. Videos of colleagues, nurses, even patients, with thumbs up singing along “Don't say no, no, no, no, no, Just say yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah” Then, her parents showed up in the video, beaming as they sang along too. Even her grandparents from Chile, Ricardo and Ofelia, appeared in the video asking the same.” “Oh my god,” Eleanor couldn't hold it anymore and simply let the tears fall. Tears of joy, of happiness.

Then Bryce started to walk around the bar, singing with a persuasive tone, asking the patrons to join him in his singing, as if he had to convince her to marry him. Friendly patrons would nod and show their thumbs up and sing along for a couple of seconds.

Once the song ended, Bryce bend on one knee and took the velvet box out of the pocket of his pants, where a beautiful rose gold ring was there, with a round diamond at the center and smaller at the sides. “Well, you won me. This was my idea too, but you were faster, or maybe you had friends who took your side and decided to help you instead of me.” Everyone chuckled. “Or maybe she just asked before you did,” Jackie teased. “Either way, I’m honored and flattered, but I couldn’t miss the opportunity to propose to you. I mean, I’ve dreamed about this day practically since I met you.” “Awww, mi amor.” “I want all summers with you and all winters, especially winters so you can keep me warm on snowy nights.” Eleanor giggled, her eyes full of tenderness, “Of course, my love. Summer, fall, winter, spring, all of the seasons and all of the years I have left on this planet.” “Good. And you, Eleanor Andrea Bloom, would you marry me?” “Yes, my love, mi amor, sí, sí, yes!” Bryce put the ring on her finger, and again, people cheered and clapped. Keiki and Jackie whistled.

When Bryce and Eleanor got off the stage, the gang approached them, filling them with congratulations and hugs, and just love for the happy, recently-engaged couple. they disclosed how everything had happened -Eleanor indeed had asked help first, she had been practicing guitar for more than a month with the help of Rafael.

After a while, Bryce took Eleanor’s hand and led her to a quiet place so they could have a moment for themselves. They smiled and laughed without saying anything, still processing what had happened and trying to understand the happiness they were feeling. their hearts were simply overflowing with happiness and love. “You know? I can say people, mostly women, have asked me a lot of things in my life, some of them shocking, some of them rather cute, but never had a woman proposing to me, so this is a first. You're definitely a keeper.” “Oh, that's why you're agreeing to marry me?” she asked, feigning offense. “One of the four hundred million reasons, babe.” Eleanor smiled pensively, earnest, “You deserve everything, my love, everything. And that includes being proposed, because, damn, we’re too far from gender stereotypes and toxic masculinity.” “I agree.” “And because I really wanted you to know that I wanna marry you, and spend the rest of my life with you, just as much as you do.”

Completely spellbound by the sincerity of her love, now and always, Bryce simply bit his lip and leaned to plant a sweet kiss on her lips.

There was nothing else to do but be happy.

____

Ps: Here pics of Bryce and Eleanor engagement rings. I had the idea of a collage, but it would've also taken me a day to finish it, lol sorry

Thank you for reading! ❤

#bryce lahela #bryce lahela x mc #bryce x mc #open heart #playchoices

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khaleesiofalicante · 2 years

Note

Thank you for the new chapter, I was having a shitty day today. But not anymore hehe🤪

I'm just going on record, please rewrite that down that this chapter is by far my favorite one out of one, not to say I don't love the other ones but I adore this one more, angsty more than I anticipated and still love it ( what can I say I'm a masochist who likes to torture myself) so here's me losing my shit over it. (This is gonna be long sorry) .

"It's not a cat," Magnus scoffs and holds up the creature. "It's a kitty." Now this is just mean you make me want to afobt a cat which I will get up tomorrow and do it.

"He doesn’t trust her at all. What if she messes things up for them? Deliberately? What if Magnus doesn’t get the scholarship? What if Magnus has to go back to England? Magnus only has one more year. He can finish it and come back. Of course. But what if he doesn’t want to? A lot can change in one year." Alec my DUDE chill out, why are you planing and things for Magnus go ask him.

“Yes. Of course. But if you start using that as a valid reason to get what you want, it will be hard for you to stop.” “Perhaps you should start there,” his father notes." Wait no, Robert is the voice of reason something is not rightwith universe I can feel it . Please don't make me like him.

"Camille Belcourt" ALEC IDIOT LIGHTWOOD WTF ARE YOU DOING ???? WHAT IS UR DAMN PROBLEM? WERE YOU DROPED ON UR HEAD WHEN YOU WERE A CHILD? Messaging Camille? The personification of the devil himself? Are you serious right now ???? Man if I could bitch slap you right now or break ur legs I would. 🤬

"Rafael has always hated watching Animal Planet." Please go see a therapist asap, it's not normal to not like watching animals documentary.

"He likes plans and routines. He likes consistency. He does not like surprises or sudden changes or spontaneous decision-making." He sound so much like his Dad 🥲

"Anjali would prefer a place with a garden." "They can spend all their time together then." Certified sappy asshole💯 💞

"When he sits down, his stomach hurts worse. It’s always been like this. When he is nervous, his stomach hurts badly." OH Rafael support being strong headed and go get help for ur anxiety.

"He can’t wake up every morning and check if his father is dead or alive." This one hurt. In a very I want to crawl into a hole and never leave it.

“Why did you file for divorce?” Rafael asks. “That night. Why didn’t you talk to me? Or anyone? Why did you do that, dad? I told you not to do it.” This whole conversation between Alec and Rafael is just chef kiss. Him trying to understand why the divorce happened. Alec wanting to keep Magnus safe and trusting Rafael to do so. And oooh now we know why Alec didn't let Magnus go to London, I feel bad for Rafe he is just a child he shouldn't be responsible for taking care of Magnus that should be Alec's things. Over all I love this father son bond. 😍

“Because he had seen his father’s love and strength and success and kindness and all of it and thought ‘this is what I want to be like too’." You just killed me with this line. Yup, you can hear my heart shattering at how pure this is.

"I don’t think estrogen is going to fix your dumbassery,” Catarina points out" words of wisdom from our own queen Catarina Loss everyone 👏👏👏 also Alec and Magnus finally can sit in the same room and work things out is a huge improvement.

"Rafael is hiding his pain from Magnus." He is hiding so many different parts of him." I can't imagine how hard this is must be on Magnus, to have you're child not turning to you in times on need.

“I gave you so much and you just kept taking! Everyone just keeps taking from me! And I am so fucking tired, and I have nothing more to give! I’m done! Leave me alone!” and finally we see Rafael has had enough of everyone, I can kinda understand where he is coming from its not easy to deal with parentswho suffer from depression and suicide through not knowing if they gonna make it till morning, and Magnus had a habit of runing away from his problems. also drinking is not the solution please don't be like ur dad.

Okay, wow yeah, This chapter starts so soft and tender then poof hit me with Camille then goes right back with Rafael pov and finished it with him leaving, I can't imagine what the impact going to be like for Magnus, it's gonna break him knowing his child only stayed with him because Alec asked him to 😭😭 this is hurt worst than Castiel telling Dean he loves him and then dies 💔 I can't wait for the next chapter to further break my heart.

NOT THE SUPERNATURAL THING OMG (i dont even watch that show but damn dick move from the writers oof)

i'm glad you liked this one. this was one of the chapters where i wrote it and i was like 'uhhhh not that great ugh'. So i love it when yall say you like it because i am like 'seeeeee?????? they like it'

thank you ;)

ps - adopt the cat yo

#tlnd

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barbasbodaciousbeard · 4 years

Text

When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.

Summary: From an abusive father to taunts at Harvard, Rafael Barba had worked hard to stop being emotional. Too often, it gave fodder and power to those around him. That’s why when someone truly loved him, he had to hurt them first. That said, ending a life changes you.

Pairings: Rafael Barba x OC

A/N: Just a little thing based on Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen

I did my best. It wasn't much. I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch. I've told the truth. I didn't come to fool you.

“Rafael?”

“Rebecca,” he breathed, and he shouldn’t have been surprised she didn’t step aside to let him in. It was just before Christmas, and he was finally back in the city after the two years in Iowa. The nearly three years since seeing her.

“Why are you here?”

“I needed to see you.”

“You don’t get to come here like this.” Her arms were wrapped around herself, and she was crying now. He hated seeing the way her brow knitted together and her hands fisted the sleeves of her dress. That meant these were hurting tears. There wasn’t any reason for her to be happy to see him though.

“I love you, Becca. I’m so stupid.”

“You don’t get to say that, Rafael. You left me. This is a mean joke.”

“It’s not a joke, mi corazón. I’m not cruel.”

He didn’t like this. He didn’t like the way his voice was cracking, thick, and desperate as he stood on her stoop. Ending a life will make you reevaluate a lot, even if you don’t think you did anything wrong. He’d never appreciated the way Rebecca had always described love to him, considering it as sacred as the crucifix above the door or mass they attended on Sundays. After seeing the love baby Drew’s mother had for him and for her husband, even after everything, he thought he could see it more. Religion was difficult for him; he believed, but he wasn’t sure yet that he believed in a benevolent God. Fifty was awfully late to e coming to that decision. Rafael’s relationship with paternal figures probably played into that. Still, he wore a cross against his heart, and he prayed often. But emotions? They made life messy and painful and complicated, and the hurt they caused him sometimes made him believe in the old testament God that was so full of rage and punishment. Still, he went to mass with mami and then Rebecca.

As a child, he’d fought to tamp them down to save himself from his father. The man was made of rage, and when his son expressed anything but gratitude, the older man would beat him down. In school, the other boys had made fun of him the few times the feelings broke through. If it weren’t for Alex and Eddie, he’d have had his ass kicked more times than he could count. For a little while, he’d been able to tell them how he felt. Los tres mosqueteros de Jerome Avenue gave him a defense and a camaraderie he didn’t have at home. He realized his openness about the situation at home and his feeling for people in their lives was given to the wrong person when he found Yelina in bed with Alex. His friend had known how in love Rafael was, how sure he was that upon graduation from Harvard he’d give Yelina abuelita’s ring. That’s when Rafael realized he couldn’t have feelings around anyone from home but mami and abuelita.

Then there was Harvard. He’d thought that once he left the Bronx, earned the scholarship he’d fought so hard for, he’d get the friendships other people seemed to have. Instead of acting as though the years seeing his father abuse himself and his mother, the torment from other boys, and betrayal from his friend didn’t bother him, there would be other people who fought as hard as he did to get there who he could forge emotional connections with. After Yelina, he found it hard to trust a romantic partner, but he also quickly had his illusions shattered as he realized no one at Harvard felt he belonged. He worked hard to temper the accent he didn’t know he had when a hushed whisper asked if he was even legal because he sounded too Cuban. A couple of times, he expressed his insecurities about his social status and background, but each time it became fodder for whatever the next competition was, so he replaced his jeans and sweatshirts with polo shirts and chinos and was careful to keep his accent as neutral as possible until he returned to the city.

When he did, he found that he’d hidden down the emotional side of him sufficiently, only the smart mouth and snark that masked insecurity left. Rafael was conscious of his decision to ignore the trappings of love. In his experience, only two of the many people he’d loved, whether romantic or platonic, had not hurt him, and both were women related by blood. By the time he reached forty-five and met Rebecca, he’d replaced the love he’d always been desperate for with work and casual encounters with the men and women he met when working from bars.

Not since Yelina had he been so willing to follow someone to the ends of the Earth. He’d always craved love from his father, the friends he tried to make throughout school, and Yelina, the one person he was romantically interested in he ever let himself feel exposed around. Maybe it was because Rebecca was so raw, so unafraid of the way love could hurt. Where he’d carefully constructed a wall, unwilling to show his inner machinations to anyone, she cried openly and freely when they’d watched a documentary on Fred Rogers because she didn’t understand why people thought it was so hard to be kind. She was free like he couldn’t be, loving each stranger she met, even the ones most people found unlovable. It was probably what made her such a great teacher. He’d worked so hard to open himself up, to give her the same vulnerability, but he didn’t know how.

Well, maybe there's a God above, but all I've ever learned from love was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you.

He knew how he could be, and Rafael Barba should have known better that to act off of his first instinct given his history. Outside of the perceived safety of his friendship with Alex and Eddie, he’d only told Yelina about his father and the way rejection from his peers had hurt him. They’d been together that first year at Harvard, with Yelina promising to wait for him. She even knew how he cried when his father left, the realization washing over him he’d never have a happy ending with the man. Yelina had been supportive, but also reminded him he needed to move on and become a successful attorney. Within months, he walked in on her with Alex. When he told Rebecca the same things after a year, she’d held him close and dried the tears he eventually let fall as she peppered kisses to his hair. She thanked him for trusting her, told him how strong he was for talking about how he felt and called Yelina callous for not appreciating he could be so kind.

Feelings don’t make you weak, Rafael. They make you strong.

Rafael was lucky she was as patient as she was. She’d told him with confidence that she loved him three months in. He couldn’t bring himself to say it back to her, a knot weighing his belly down as he explained to her he’d only said it once, and he didn’t want to again until he felt secure she’d stay. It made him feel as stunted as he was; years after Yelina and he’d never met anyone else he loved? Maybe if he’d given someone more than the one night. Then again, if he had he wouldn’t have Rebecca. Once he opened up to her, he slowly mentioned things to the Manhattan SVU squad and forged a friendship with Olivia. Things were going well until Rebecca started talking about Al, another teacher. They were going to lunch together. They were going to chaperone the field trip together. She just adored Al.

The only thing Rafael Barba knew was that the last time he trusted someone, let them know all the scary parts and given them the power to hurt him, they had. It all came to a head in January of 2018. If he’d known how badly he’d need her soon, maybe he’d have been able to temper the fury and hurt that radiated off of him in waves. He wasn’t his father. He didn’t lash out physically or even raise his voice. Instead, as she got excited to tell him about the plans she’d made with Al to prep for the semester, he’d snapped, latent insecurity finally bubbling to the surface. His voice, to his credit, was calm, though his words aimed to hurt her before she inevitably found someone better and hurt him. Someone who wasn’t emotionally stunted and would cry at movies with her and didn’t take a year to say I love you.

Just get a fuckin’ room already.

Raf, he’s my coworker. We’re friends.

You know exactly what he wants from you, and you want it too.

What are you saying? I’m a slut or something? You know you’re it for me.

A spade’s a spade.

The impact her hand made with his cheek stung, but the look on her face made him feel like the villain, which he supposed he was. He had to be for sweet, loving Rebecca to slap him. Her wide hazel eyes always sparkled, but they were suddenly dull and overflowed with tears. He’d never seen her hurt before, and he wanted to crawl into the sewers or walk off the tallest building in the city. Without a word, she’d taken her purse, dropped the glass she’d been holding, and marched out. From his window, he could see her cry as she talked on the phone. Probably Al. He left voicemail after voicemail, and wasn’t surprised when he found a three page letter underneath his door. Instead of a scathing rebuke, as he’d prayed for to make the loss hurt less, it was full of kindness. Promises that she loved him and wasn’t angry, but that she couldn’t do this. Apologies for slapping him because she knew that probably brought up traumatic memories. That if he’d get help learning to handle the swarm of feelings she’d come back to him, if that was an option. Al was just a friend. Hell, Al didn’t like women, but she understood how hard it must have been after Yelina. She knew it probably felt like the same thing was happening. Even after what he’d said, she loved him and knew he’d find happiness when he took care of himself. He couldn’t love anyone else until he loved himself enough to do that.

You say I took the name in vain. I don't even know the name, but if I did, well really, what's it to you?

Rafael Barba had spent so much of his time fighting his feelings, but he’d come to realize that love was sacred. It was the one thing that had the power to hurt and heal him, whether it was said with all the reverence he’d whispered it into Yelina’s hair, the adoration he’d said it to Rebecca, or the brokenness with which he’d just said it as he stood in the snow on her stoop. He didn’t know that before, had bastardized something Rebecca viewed as so holy. She’d always made it apparent that while she thought all of her feelings were blessings, even when they gave someone the power to hurt her, she thought love was what could bring you the closest to God. It was, according to the verses from 1 Corinthians that he’d noticed were exceptionally dogeared in the bible she kept at the desk, patient and kind. It believes, hopes, and endures all things. He hoped she still believed the latter. When he thought back over his life, he realized the love he felt was easily angered and certainly did envy. It kept account of wrongs. All these things were so directly expressed as what love was not.

But ending a life changed you.

Rafael had spent the years he’d been gone working on himself, as her letter had begged him to. Therapy helped, but so did his ruminations on the verse he knew she loved so much. He’d bastardized love, letting his jealousy and hurt tangle with it and pull it further from the holy feeling Rebecca always described and therefore further from the love God felt for his flock. Maybe God was good after all if love could make him feel that way one day, if it wasn’t too late. She felt jealousy, he knew. She wanted to keep scores and would start to want the things others had in their love, but she could step back. She’d write it out or talk it out and go back to being so implicitly loving. In his time rereading the lines he knew she loved, he found another that resonated for him:

When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. 1 Corinthians 13:11

When he was young, he thought repressing his feelings made him a man. He now realized that repression was the childish act. He hadn’t been a man yet, wasn’t ready for a healthy love like the one she offered. Mami had heard him ramble on about it during one of the late night phone calls when he’d had too much whiskey too early in the evening. His therapist had made him acknowledge that he’d lashed out at her. The therapist had also made him remember she wasn’t perfect. Rebecca had her own shortcomings, but he found them beautiful because they were the extreme of what he craved. She cried so easily, and sometimes he was jealous of that. The inability to build any kind of defense, however, meant she was always at the brink of a come apart. Quick to feel the martyr, though he supposed she was. Maybe he could be a man now, put the jealousy away and be there for her, patient and kind.

“It’s been years, Rafael. I tried to call you when I learned what happened. You didn’t answer me.”

“The press and people who consider me a murderer got my number. I had to change it.”

“Still. You had mine. Just because you weren’t well doesn’t mean the responsibility is all mine for us to reunite.”

“I’m on your stoop my first time back in the city, aren’t I?”

“Why?”

“Because I love you.”

“Why am I supposed to believe you?”

“You aren’t, I guess.”

#rafael barba #rafael barba x oc #rafael Barba x reader #svu #law and order special victims unit #writing

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adarafaelbarba · 4 years

Text

A Sentimental Gift

Pairing: Rafael Barba x reader

Fandom: Law and Order SVU

Warning: mention of a family member passing. Angst.

A/N: This covers the secret Santa/ white elephant square of the Holiday Bingo @thatesqcrush created 🎄

What do you get to a guy you don’t really know outside of work? You’d only seen Rafael on a chance a few times outside the office hours. And to be honest, he was a hard book to read. You could give him a bottle of scotch, but those tended to be crazy expensive, at least the brands you knew he liked, and you knew Amanda would kill you if you went over the price limit. Maybe a new tie? God he had a lot of those already and probably didn’t need more of them.

You were almost ready to just say fuck it and buy a bottle of scotch when you came across the picture of Rafael, his mother and his grandmother from a mass you’d all been too. It was by complete chance that you’d bumped into them. Your brother was visiting from out of town with his wife and two year old daughter. His wife wasn’t really religious, not that you really were either, but you decided to tag along, mainly to spend time with him and your niece.

...

When you got to the church, you quickly found a pew to sit down, the little girl sat in your lap. She had been smiling and laughing extra as she sat there facing the pew behind you when you decide to turn and look.

“Counselor? What a pleasant surprise!” You had exclaimed, looking at Rafael. “Detective! Likewise!” He had replied. “Who’s this then?” He added, motioning to the little girl and your brother. “Oh, my brother and my niece. Can you say hi to my friend?” You said, looking at her.

“Hello”, she said shyly. “How adorable”, the older woman, you figured was Rafael’s mother, said, smiling at the two of you.

Turning a little more you looked at the two women sitting on either side of him. “You must be Rafael’s mother and grandmother. He speaks very highly of you both”, you said, offering them your free hand, “I’m (y/n), I work at the precinct he works with”, you added, your smile still wide on your face. “It’s so lovely to meet you dear”, his grandmother said, returning the smile.

You had snapped the picture after you had turned around to ask him for something and had seen him lean his head on his grandmother’s while his mom was leaning on his other side, a hand over his heart. It was too cute not to.

...

Figuring the picture needed an explanation, you wrote him a note, placing it on top of the glass before wrapping the frame up in black wrapping paper and tying it with a brown thread, placing a tiny piece of a tree branch in the thread for decoration.

The day before the exchange however you got cold feet. Maybe the gift would be too creepy? It felt like you had been invading his private life. And it didn’t sit too well with you.

So you decided to say fuck it and buy a bottle of scotch. Maybe you’d give the picture one day, maybe not.

On the actual day of the gift exchange, you watched as everyone opened their gifts in turn. Sonny had gotten you a book by your favorite author, your partner really knew you and it made you smile how spot on he’d been.

Then it came time to you giving the gift to Rafael. He’s been dealing with a really tough case recently, so the scotch would be perfect for him.

“Detective (y/l/n)!! This is too much!! And way over the price limit!” Rafael exclaimed. “Not really! I have a friend who sells them, got wicked discount”, you said, a lie, but you pulled it off cause no one questioned it. “Thank you!” He noted, smiling at you.

He was about to leave when you had a change of mind, grabbing the squared gift from your desk drawer. “Counselor?” You called out as you jogged over to him, “can I talk to you?” He nodded, letting you lead him towards the elevator before stopping when you figured you were private enough.

“Everything okay detective?” He asked, looking at you. “Uh, yeah. I have something for yo though. I was just a bit worried of what you, and the others may think”, you murmured, handing over the gift. Giving you the bottle of scotch in return to hold, he opened the paper. He quickly read the note, confusion on his face, until he lifted the note off, and his eyes glassed over.

Rafael looked back up at you before pulling you in for a hug. “Thank you. This is beautiful. And I needed it”, he murmured, pulling away and looking at you. “I’m glad you did. Are you okay though?” He nodded at that, grabbing the bottle before walking away, leaving you none the wiser at what just happened. But one thing you did know was you were blushing like mad. He had hugged you, like actually hugged you, and you couldn’t stop smiling.

...

Two moths later, when going to Rafael’s office for a warrant you noticed the picture was missing. Figuring he had given it to his grandmother after she moved into the home, you decided to ask him about her. “How’s Catalina? Is she settling into the home alright?” You asked, quickly noticing his change in mood. “She—she didn’t make it. The stress, it was too much for her”, he mumbled, tears in his eyes. “Oh my God! Rafael, I’m so sorry for your loss”, you said, pulling him in for a hug. He stiffened up for a bit before relaxing into the hug.

“Mami really loved the picture, so I gave it to her”, he said, knowing you had noticed it was missing. “I can develop a new one for you Rafael, I still have the picture on my phone”, you reassured him. “Thank you.”

Nodding at him you cupped his cheeks, wiping away the tears flowing down his cheeks. C—can you make it to the funeral? She would have liked you to be there, and mami wants you there too.” He took a deep breath, “I’d like to have you there too.” You nodded your head again, “just give me the time and place, and I’ll be there.” He hugged you once more before you went back to business.

...

You felt kinda out of place in the church filled with Rafael’s family members and friends of the family. You had only met Catalina and Lucia once, so you basically knew no one here.

“Mrs. Barba, I’m so sorry for your loss”, you murmured standing in front of Lucia. “Thank you so much for being here. Mami would have loved to see you here.” She was trying hard not to cry and the only thing you could do was pull her in for a hug.

“Rafael. I got you something”, you murmured, standing in front of him next. He looked at you with tear filled eyes as he took the picture frame, a teary smile broke out. “Thank you (y/n), really.” You nodded at that, braving a small smile before hugging him tightly. “Know that she doesn’t blame you. She knew you only meant well, and you wanted what was best for her”, you whispered in his ear, and he broke out in a sob.

It broke your heart to see him so vulnerable, but you kept holding him, rubbing his back and telling him it’ll all be okay.

“C—can you sit with me? I could use an extra support.” You were shocked he would ask, surely he would have family to sit with, but none the less you agreed and let him lead you to the front pew.

The service was beautiful. Lucia, Rafael and a few of Lucia’s siblings held speeches, making your heart ache. When Rafael sat back down after his, you leant over and pressed a kiss to his cheek, whispering “you did so good.”

He refused to let go of your hand for the rest of the funeral, the tightness of his grip depending on if he was about to break down again or not.

After, just before you were gonna part ways, you pulled Rafael in for the millionth hug. “You’ll get through this Rafael. I know you will, but if you ever need me. You know where you can find me”, you murmured, pulling a little away before cupping his cheeks, brushing the tears away.

He said nothing as he dipped his head, capturing your lips with his in a soft kiss. To say you were surprised was an understatement, even if you had been dreaming of kissing him since the day you met. But none the less you kissed him back, your arms going around his neck as his rested on your hips.

Pulling away, you looked up at him, a small smile gracing both of your lips. “I’ll call you. If I need to talk”, he murmured, pecking your lips again, “or before.” You nodded then, smiling at him, “you know where to find me.”

taglist: @detective-giggles @outlawsassemblerh @itsjustmyfantasyroom @delia26 @dianilaws @meri-dawn @storiesofsvu @permanentlydizzy @welcometothemadxxhouse @cycat4077 @incomplete-coincidence @kriegsverlobte @rafaheadcanons @rafivadafreddy @teamsladsandgents @beccabarba @mrsrafaelbarba @stardust-fray @caked-crusader @infiniteoddball @averyhotchner

#rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba imagine #rafael barba one shot #thatesqcrush holiday bingo #this hurt my heart so much while writing

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