#barba had livs back since they first met

[storiesofsvu]

Second Chair Spark Ch 4

Warnings: Language, talk of assault, domestic violence mentioned. **Also note that for the sake of this story, Casey has the big fancy office with the fcking fireplace that Barba/Stone had, while Y/N has a smaller one like Casey had on the show.

**

Bobby D’amico’s arraignment had wrapped up the next morning, you were in your office buried in paperwork for the case while Novak took care of things at the courthouse. You heard a knock on the door, calling out for the person to come in, looking up from your work, finding Casey entering the room.

“How was arraignment?”

“Donnelly denied him bail.”

“Good. Prick deserves it.” You turned your gaze back down, moving through a pile of papers in front of you.

“She also said you were off the case…” Dropping your pen you groaned, 

“You can’t be serious? After what I went through?!” You were frustrated, this prick deserved to be torn apart and destroyed, since the news of his arrest and assault had spread through the media, multiple other girls had come forward with the same allegations. 

“That’s exactly why you can’t work D’amico’s case. If the defence calls the second chair to the stand, the entire thing will get thrown out and you know it.” Casey may have been right but it simply frustrated you further, and worried her. Once you’d gotten to the hospital you’d shoved her away from you, saying you were fine, Fin taking your statement (despite the camera footage) before driving you home. There’d been no contact between you, she’d only found out you were discharged when Fin made it back to the precinct. 

“Do you need me to take the stand?” You leaned back in your hair, arms crossed around your body.

“If Donnelly throws out the video, yes.” 

Sighing, your gaze cast downward, gaining up the thought of having to testify, you didn’t notice Casey move towards you until her hand was on your chin, soft pads of her fingers tilting your head gently to examine the darkening bruise on your cheekbone. Jolting at her electric touch, you pulled away, a confused look on your face as you looked up at her.

“You sure you’re okay?” Her voice was softer, eyes pouring into yours.

“I’m fine Novak.” You snapped, pushing your chair back into your desk, attempting to continue working, Casey took that as her cue to move back around in front of your desk. She was genuinely concerned about you, you’d been practically trembling on the way to the hospital, to dive right back into sex crimes work the next morning seemed a little extreme.

“You seemed pretty shaken up last night, I just want to make sure. I’m sure McCoy would let you take a few days.” Groaning you dropped your pen again, running your hands over your face, wincing slightly as you pressed a little too hard on your bruising cheek.

“I don’t need a few days! I was so shaken up last night because that was…the first time a man has ever done anything like that to me…” Casey gave you a confused look, starting to process this new information. “I don’t sleep with men, I don’t date men….on a good day I find them tolerable at best.” 

“…You’re gay…” She slowly and gently spoke, a hint of question still in her voice. You met her eyes, nodding slightly.

“Yeah…kind of a double whammy on your dignity when you get assaulted by a creep of a man…” The air between the two of you took a shift with the knew knowledge opened up.

“I’m sorry I pried, I didn’t mean to—“

“Don’t worry about it.” You waved her off, 

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Aside from being kicked off the case, trust me, I’m fine.” Casey sighed, truth be told if she was in the same situation she’d want to dive right back into work too.

“Liv just called, they caught a DV case, head down there, take it on your own.” You gave her a curt smile, gathering up the paperwork into its file.

“Thank you.” You moved to pass the information you’d been organizing for the D’amico case to her, another jolt as her hand brushed yours when she took it. You shook it off, pulling on your coat as you made your way out into the streets.

***

Domestic violence cases were your least favourite to prosecute, more often than not the victims were unwilling to testify or even press charges, blinded by what they thought was love or too terrified to get out and get the help they needed. ACS usually had to get called in if kids were involved and that was always a messy scene, judging by the little boy Fin had in the meeting room, this was going to be one of those cases.

“What’ve got?” You approached Olivia and Elliot at the board.

“You takin’ this one solo?” Elliot questioned, 

“Well I’m officially kicked off the D’amico case, so yeah.”

“You okay?” Liv spoke up, you nodded, giving her a ‘let’s move it along’ look, she turned back to the board, taking the lead explaining the case.“Andrea Taylor, currently at Mercy with a cracked skull, three broken ribs, sprained wrist, multiple bruises and contusions.”

“Jesus…” You took in the photos of the battered woman, “Rape kit?” 

“Fluids present, vaginal and anal tearing.”

“Neighbours call it in?”

“No..” Elliot cut in, gesturing towards the meeting room, “Their 7 year old son Jackson did, crying for them to help his Mom while begging his Dad to stop hurting her.”

“Is he injured?” A shake of the head, “Have you guys ever dealt with them before?” 

“First time.” You sighed, nearly rolling your eyes, “Do you guys even have the boyfriend in custody?”

“He’s in the wind.” That did grant an eye roll,

“I’ll talk to the kid, call me when Andrea’s conscious or you have someone in cuffs.”

The next 30 minutes you chatted with Jackson, warming him up before delving into his home life. He didn’t make any complaints about abuse, though he mentioned that his Dad yelled a lot, and had hurt his Mom before, but never this bad. You hoped that would be enough to scare her into pressing charges. 

***

When you got back to your office you realized you still had a few files that Novak would need for the D’amico case. Bringing them along with SVU’s reports on the Taylor case on the off chance that she’d need you to go over anything, you settled into the large table, pulling up the Taylor’s history and social media accounts you started to piece together the case.

An hour or so later your phone pinged, Casey watched as you checked a message quickly before dropping your head directly onto the table in front of you letting out a groan.

“Fuuuuckk…”

“Everything alright?” She cocked a brow as you rolled your head to look over at her.

“My rape and assault case just turned into a rape one, murder two case, if the Judge throws out the 9-1-1 call I’ll have to put a seven year old on the stand against his own Dad, who SVU has not managed to find yet.” She rolled her eyes heavily, she certainly understood that, the detectives were quick to call the A.D.A. when they had absolutely nothing worth using, and constantly flushed her cases down the toilet by screwing things up. “Not to mention this Plan B is making me really fucking nauseas, I highly recommend you plan ahead so you never have to take it.”

“Well luckily that won’t ever be an issue for me.” You scrunched up your face, still lying against your pile of paperwork, realizing what she meant when she gave you a knowing look and a smirk. How the fuck had you missed that? She started digging through one of her desk drawers, pulling out a pill bottle, tossing it over to the table, nearly hitting you square in the face.

“Jesus Casey…” You shot back, realizing she’d thrown you Gravol. 

“Sorry Y/N…” There was a ghost of a laugh on her lips, was that a smile? An actual real smile, not accompanied by a snarky remark, but a soft one, a glint in her eye. Something changed in that moment, you became human to each other, not just another sass filled A.D.A. rushing through the halls at Hogan Place. Sure you’d still bicker and butt heads all the time, you certainly weren’t friends, the air was still thick, but a little less foggy.

[tropes-and-tales-archives]

Perfectly Imperfect, Chapter Nine

Word Count:  2220

TW:  Angst; two idiots in love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How are you?” you asked.

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

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

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

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

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

“How can I help?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think so?”

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

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

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

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

“Advertisements on the subway.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t work too late,” you said.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

[impossible3girl]

Olivia Benson in the SVU season 23 finale

"... and he [Elliot] always had my back."

Yeh sure apart from the 10 years were he did not once talk to you. The 10 years were you got kidnapped, your son got kidnapped and god knows what else happened to you. It's probably easier to list the things that did not happen.

But you know who had your back since you know him?

Right! Rafael Barba the guy who loves you unconditionally. He even stayed in contact after he left and was making sure you were alright like after what happened with Tucker.

And yeh maybe it was not right defending Weathley (haven't seen any of the episodes yet so I don't know the whole situation but I am also not avoiding spoilers) but I know Rafa loves you unconditionally and he would never hurt you and do something like that, that probably also conflicts with his morals if there was not a higher reason like the alternative being even worse for you. All that man wants to do is protect you.

From what I can tell based on the last scene he loves you so much he would give up a future with you so you can be with Elliot if it means that you are happy. That's why he told you about your feelings for Elliot even though he loves you. That is, having your back. Not what Elliot did these ten years and from what I have seen since he is back. He is so self-centred.

And don't get me wrong back in the days I shipped Bensler but I think Elliot had his chance and missed it and your relationship has become way too toxic for you to be happy especially compared to Barson.

[demigodreading]

Saving Mini Benson Pt:1

Request: From @youngjusticeimaginesus​:  Hi, I was wondering If maybe you'd be willing to do a oneshot where Olivia's daughter gets kidnapped by Lewis instead of Olivia?

Summary: That’s right my favorite peoples... This is going to be a two part mini series because there was no way everything that I needed to say could be done in a one-shot! I won’t go into much because I don’t want to give it away but please note THIS PART IS A DOOZY! The next one may be worse but still this arc made me cry in the show and I cried writing this

Characters: Olivia Benson, Fin Tutuola, Amanda Rollins, Nick Amaro, William Lewis, Donald Cragen, Reader

Relationships: Olivia Benson x Daughter! Reader

Warnings: MAJOR Violence, Guns, Cigarette Burns, Episode Spoilers, Alcohol, Smoking Weed, Mentions of Shootings, Death, William Lewis, Mentions of torture... (I Think that covers it but if it doesn’t please let me know)

Word Count: 2320 (Like I said.. there was no way this was gonna be just a oneshot.)

And with that all being said: Let’s jump into it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Olivia and her daughter rarely fought but when they did neither one wanted to admit the other one was right. Olivia loved and hated her daughter for being so similar to her. Even now as she watched the miniature version of herself stalk the interview room the exact same way she would send her heart racing. Usually the similarities would result in a smile but not today. Today Olivia’s vision was a deep red as she confronted her daughter.

“Y/N you were caught smoking weed underneath the bleachers during class! So not only did you break one rule you broke two!” Olivia shouted, folding her arms.

“Wow glad that you know how to count,” Y/N mumbled looking out the window.

“What did you just say to me?”

“Look mom I just don’t get what the big deal is? It was one joint. One class!” Y/N retorted, throwing her hands up, “I am a straight A student who has a full ride scholarship to Harvard.”

“Yes, because Barba stuck his neck out on the line for you and put in a glowing recommendation,” Olivia spat, “What you did was careless. You could have ruined everything that was given to you.”

“You know for once in your life could you ever be fucking proud of me! I do everything that I can do to make you proud and yet at the end of the day I am never fucking good enough for you.”

“That’s not…” Olivia went to argue but was interrupted by Cragen opening the door.

“Olivia we got a problem. I need you right now,” He said, then shut the door without waiting for an answer.

“Just go save another poor unfortunate soul mom. Don’t worry about your daughter.  I’ll pick up my own pieces like I always do,” Y/N said, wiping tears from her face as she grabbed her coat.

Y/N stormed from the room before Olivia could stop her. She made her way through the precinct eyes trained to the floor as her mother’s voice rang out, “You better head straight home Y/N!  We are not done having this conversation and you are grounded!”

Choosing not to say anything, Y/N merely raised her hand in the air flipping her mother off before the doors shut with a loud slam behind her. Tears made dark spots on the concrete as Y/N made her way back to their apartment. Even the noises of the constant car honks and people screaming couldn’t drown out the voices in her head today. Failure. Waste of space. Stupid. No one. Unwanted. Unloved. 

It was the repeated song that kept her feet moving forward until she finally placed her key in the lock. She threw her bag by the kitchen island and threw her keys on the counter. She was about to turn on the living room light when a noise caught her attention. 

“Hello? Hello?”

As she turned the corner her vision was filled with the sight of a gun pointed right at her temple. A smirk crossed William Lewis’ face as he looked at Y/N, “Ah welcome home Little Benson. I was hoping that it would be your mother who was walking through the door but I guess you will have to do.”

Y/N went to scream but instead Lewis jammed the gun against her throat, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. One small slip of my finger and your mom will be left with a new kind of art all over her walls.”

Y/N let a single tear roll down her face before Lewis’ gun made contact with her skull and the whole world went black.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Olivia had already tried to call Y/N twice but it kept going straight to voicemail. The last known location had been their apartment so at least she had the sense to head straight home. The guilt in Olivia’s stomach was insurmountable. Watching her daughter explain that she never felt like she lived up to her standards. Olivia had promised herself when she had Y/N she would never end up like her mother. Yet there she was shaming her child for one mistake. Y/N was more than just a good kid, she was excellent. She was smart, beautiful, humorous, kind, and so much more. She was everything Olivia could have ever hoped for. Knowing that her daughter thought she wasn’t proud was the worst pain she could have.

After the third call Olivia finally decided to leave a voicemail, “Y/N I know you are mad but I need you to know something. I am proud of you and will always be proud of you. You are the best daughter and the most amazing human. I was rough on you early. Please let’s talk through this. I’ll be home soon with your favorite Chinese. Just don’t do anything stupid? I love you.”

When she hung up the phone she placed her head in her hands and let out a large sigh. Fin placed a reassuring hand on her back, “Liv, it is going to be okay. She is just being a teenager.”

“No Fin, you should have seen her. It was like I was physically taking her heart out and ripping it in front of her. I should have never said those things. I didn’t mean any of them… I was just upset.”

“She knows, they always know.”

Olivia merely shook her head and began to gather her things to head home. She walked out of the precinct without a goodbye and headed down the street to Y/N’s favorite Chinese place. They knew what she was going to order as soon as she walked in the door asking where Y/N was. Liv pushed off their question and scrolled through her phone as she waited for the food. Y/N’s phone was still off giving Olivia an eerie feeling as she finished the walk to the apartment. 

Once inside she noticed Y/N’s bag on the floor and her keys on the counter. There was a sudden rush of cold air that made her notice the window that was open to the fire escape. She shut it quickly and then moved to Y/N’s room. The door was still open with everything the way she had left it that morning. Once her calls were unanswered Olivia opened the window again crawling onto the fire escape. Sometimes Y/N would go to the roof to watch the sun slowly crawl behind the buildings.When she reached the top however she was met with an unsettling emptiness. 

Olivia reached for her phone to call the only person who was able to calm her anxiety lately, “Amaro, Y/N isn’t here. I can’t find her. What if something happened to her?”

“She probably just went to a friend’s house to get away,” Amaro replied stirring the contents of his drink, “She will be back in the morning just to relax. Sleep off the anger and come back with a clear head tomorrow.”

Liv pondered this suggestion over and over deciding what she should do. When the silence became too long Amaro interjected again, “Liv, I’m serious. You two had the biggest blow out that I have seen in awhile. Give her time to be mad at you and think. If you smother her she might only push further away from you.” She thanked her partner for the advice and then shoved her phone back in her pocket taking a sweep of the roof once again. Finally she slowly made her way back to the apartment shutting the window with a slam before locking it. Olivia wandered over to the kitchen moving the cereal that covered the top of the fridge to get to her secret cupboard. From the opening she pulled a large bottle of her favorite red wine. She popped the cork and decided to forgo a cup taking a long swig directly from the green glass. A large sigh escaped her lips as she plopped down on the couch going over the events of the day in her head.

As the contents of the bottle slowly drained till there was nothing else Olivia realized her fears were all coming true. She was becoming her mother. A woman she never once wanted to be. Three empty bottles later she finally curled under Y/N’s sheets crying into her pillow until she finally was able to fall asleep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning when Y/N did not return and her phone was still shut down all bets were off. Olivia was furious but more importantly she was terrified. Something was horribly wrong. Her morning was spent talking to Y/N’s two best friends and searching their houses for her. When that search was unsuccessful Olivia went to the school hoping Y/N had gone there. However, she had been absent all day and there hadn’t even been a call to excuse her from the day. 

When the morning bled into the afternoon Olivia was running around the city to all of Y/N’s usual hangout spots. The search of the library told her that Y/N hadn’t been there in over a week. The local bakery hadn’t seen her in three days. The coffee shop where Y/N always bought Olivia’s coffee when she came to see her at work had seen her two mornings ago but nothing since then. Even the old lady that had Y/N over twice a week to help her with errands and chores around the house hadn’t seen her. 

It was dark by the time that Olivia fell into her desk chair at the precinct. With her head in her hands she let the tears fall. A whole day was gone and there was still no sign of her daughter. If she had been kidnapped they were running out of time and losing it quickly. The longer she was out there the longer the person had to get away with whatever they wanted.

The squad huddled around in Cragen’s office looking at Olivia curled over her desk. Rollins was the first one to speak, “I bet you Lewis has something to do with this.”

“And what makes you think that?” Amaro asked, “There are plenty of people who could have a vendetta against Liv.”

“It’s just a feeling.”

“Yeah well have you ever considered the idea that maybe Y/N just ran away,” Amaro retorted.

Fin, Cragen, and Amanda all turned towards Amaro, shocked. Cragen was the first one to speak, “I know you haven’t been here long Amaro but this isn’t Y/N. Something is horribly wrong and we are going to figure out what is going on. Fin and Amanda go check out Lewis’ usual hiding spots. I’ll take Liv through her apartment once again to see if we missed anything.”

“And me cap?”

“Amaro… you stay here and set up a tip line,” Cragen responded curtly and then they all disappeared to find where Y/N had disappeared to.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N woke with a jolt as she felt cold water splash her face. She was met with Lewis staring only a couple inches away from her face. He grinned and grabbed Y/N’s chin as she tried to look away, “Well well there. Looks like someone is finally awake. Feeling thirsty?”

Y/N nodded her head yes waiting to scream as he curled his fingers around the edge of the duct tape. As he was about to pull it away he jammed a gun against Y/N’s throat, “Make any noise and I will shove this gun straight down your throat.”

Finally when he pulled the tape away Y/N spit right in his face, “Just shoot me already if you are going to threaten me with it.”

“And miss out on all of our fun Mini Benson. I think not. There is plenty that I want to do to you before then.”

Y/N began to panic as Lewis lit another cigarette. She remembered the way the others had burned against her chest and sides. She had lost count after twenty perfect circle burns and after the second pistol whip to the face she had passed out a second time, She couldn’t go through all of that again.

“My mom knows I am missing and she will be out looking for me. Just let me go and she will never have to know that you did it. Please,” YN begged.

“What is she going to think about that bruise on your face? Or the marks on your skin? I can’t let you go… plus I know that you both fought before you came home. I bet you that she thinks you just ran away and are leaving her,” Lewis chuckled.

“How.. how did you know that we fought?

“This lovely voicemail your mother left you,” Lewis said, placing your phone against your ear.

Tears began to run down Y/N’s face as she heard the apology her mother had sent her. Damnit! Why did I have to fight with her? We could have avoided all of this. Is the mantra that ran through her head as Lewis slammed the phone against her head and threw it at the wall.

“She isn’t coming for you,” Lewis snickered.

“Please… just let me go. I will do anything.”

Lewis pulled his gun and placed it against Y/N’s scalp, “You are still bargaining with me? Really. We are way past that baby.”

“I am the daughter of an NYPD detective. A decorated well known detective. My mother, her partner, her squad, the entire department will hunt you down. You think that you’ve put people through hell. It will rain back down on you.”

“You know what… let it rain,” Lewis said and then hit Y/N once again making her world go black for a third time. 

[navalcriminalimagines]

Pairings: Rafael Barba x Reader, Sonny Carisi x Reader

Warnings: none?

Words: 4,511

Prompt: Rafael spent years keeping his feelings for you hiding.

Missed shot

When Rafael Barba started to work with Manhattan’s SVU, you’d been a detective there for almost two years. You joined the squad shortly before Stabler left. You saw Nick Amaro and Amanda Rollins joining in too. At first, Cragen partnered you with Amanda, and Olivia with Nick, but considering it wasn’t working between Liv and Nick, changes were made, and Nick became your partner.

You two quickly became close, like a brother-sister relationship. He told you about his issues with Maria, you were the first (and only one) to know when him and Amanda became a thing. So, obviously, you told him your secret.

“This is Tomas,” you told Nick, as you were showing him a picture of an 8-year-old boy. “My son,” you added. “Don’t bother counting, I did give birth to him when I was 17.”

“He’s cute. Looks a lot like you,” Nick smiled at you. “Nobody in the squad know?” he asked.

“Cragen does. But he’s our Captain and it’s in my file. But the rest, nope,”

“Why not?”

You told him more about your debut in the police. At first, you did hide the fact that you were a mom. But you quickly realized that your coworkers and others were judging you. People took you as immature, non-serious, and some guy actually pictured you as an easy girl. You hated every second of your debut. So, when you joined the bomb squad, you decided to make your son a secret. It’s much better this way.

Olivia learned about your son when she took Cragen’s place. A part of her was surprised, but another wasn’t. She saw you with kids, you do have that mother instinct. And of course, she promised that nobody would know about Tom.

Working with the SVU squad wasn’t an evidence for Rafael Barba. Nick gave him hard time for no apparent reasons, Amanda wasn’t a fan of him. Fin didn’t care much. But luckily, Olivia welcomed him nicely and then there was you. You were sweet to him, kind. You asked him if you whether call him “Rafael” or “Barba” – “Your choice,” he answered. You ask him how he’s doing every time you see him. You usually bring him a coffee when you stopped by his office.

You’re nice, gorgeous, young, smart, badass… it didn’t take long for Rafael to get interested in you. More than just as coworker. But this couldn’t be happening, so he started to stay away from you as much as possible. At first, it was easy since Rafael only sees you as a detective. He doesn’t know anything about you outside of the office, only that you have Swedish origins from your father. He doesn’t want to know more. He doesn’t need to.

But despite himself, he overheard conversations between you and Nick every now and then. When the name “Tom” came back multiple times, Rafael assumed you had a boyfriend. Good. This should make things easier.

For two years working together, you and Rafael had a normal work relationship. He kept his crush under-wrap, seeing people every now and then, when the thought of you was too much. Sometimes it was one-night stands, sometimes a bit more. But he never kept seeing the same person for more than two months. That’s when people want to make things more permanent. Rafael doesn’t want that.

Keeping you at arm’s length was perfect for him. He couldn’t let you in. He wasn’t open for a serious relationship, and he felt like you could turn his world upside down if he let you in.

He almost did when Nick got shot. You were very worried for your partner, Rafael almost hugged you when you started to cry in front of him. But Liv called at the same point, so he didn’t. And then Nick left SVU, and New York. His departure hurt you a lot, for a moment, Rafael thought you two had some kind of an intimate relationship. But he remembered a conversation you two had.

“Hey Barba, we’re going out for drinks. Wanna join?” you casually asked.

“What’s the occasion?”

“Okay, first, do you need an occasion to go out for drinks? And second, it’s just that Nick needs to get his mind off the breakup,”

“So, it’s definitely over between him and his wife?”

“Yeah, she’s moving to DC with Zara. He’s not doing great,”

“But he can always count on his other partner,” Rafael said, without thinking.

You chuckled, “What does that mean?”

“You two are—close,” Hopefully, it didn’t sound like jealousy. Which it actually was.

“Amanda is the one he slept with, not me. I’d rather sleep with you,” you left right after.

This was months ago, but Rafael still couldn’t believe you said that. He tried not to overthink about it, but he couldn’t. Was this just a joke? Were you just trying to prove a point? Or did you see him as more than just a coworker? He considered trying to explore this, but before he found the courage to do something about it, Sonny Carisi joined the squad and became your partner.

You missed Nick a lot, but you welcomed Sonny with open arms, unlike the others at first. He will forever be thankful about that. It didn’t take long for Rafael to see that you had a bond with Sonny, just like the bond you had with Nick. Maybe more. Liv told him a few times that being partners when you’re a cop is very special. He understands that, but it doesn’t he likes it when it comes to you.

Few months after Sonny join in, Rafael heard the name Tom again. You must have to Sonny about your boyfriend. Since he didn’t hear that name for months, he assumed that you two had broken up. But apparently not. Meaning that there’s nothing romantic with Carisi, but you still have a boyfriend. So, Rafael tried to forget what you told him and kept trying to convince himself that what he’s feeling for you isn’t love.

More months went by. It was obvious for Rafael that Carisi had a thing for you. He didn’t like it, but there’s nothing he can do. But he kept turning down all of your offers when the squad met up for drinks. He didn’t need that. He didn’t want to know the you outside work.

One day, he showed up to the precinct. No one was nowhere to be find. He spotted a gift wrapped on your desk. Curious, he took a closer look. There was a card. He looked around, still no one. So, he tried to take a look at the card.

“That’s very noisy of you, counselor,” he heard for behind. You. He jumped from the surprise, let go of the card.

“A box on a detective’s desk. Had to be sure it wasn’t a bomb,” he said, trying to keep a straight face. You laughed at his excuse.

“Would love to see your reaction if you saw a bomb,” you said, with a smile on your face. Apparently, you aren’t mad, so that’s good.

“I’d rather not,” he shyly smiled at you. “What would your reaction be?”

“Considering that I’ve been there before, I would keep my calm and do my best to defuse it,” you said before walking to the coffee area. Rafael analyzed your words for a moment before joining you.

“Come again?”

“Spent two years with the bomb squad before joining SVU,” you casually said, handing him the cup of coffee you just poured.

In four years, this was the first personal information you gave him. He almost couldn’t believe it.

“I—I didn’t know,”

“Well, yeah. We never talked about anything else than our cases,”

“True,” he took a sip. “And why would that be? In your opinion,”

“Because you don’t like me,”

You had poured another cup for yourself and walked up straight to your desk after those words. You sat, grabbed the gift to put it aside and started to look at something on your computer. Rafael was stunned for a moment but joined you again. He closed your laptop, and leaned against your desk, right next to you. He had never been this physically close to you before.

“Why in the world would you think that?” He asked.

“We’ve been working together for four years, Barba. Not once, did you show some kind of interest in me. You’re best friends with Liv, you tolerate Amanda, you’re courteous with Fin. Hell, you gave hard time to Sonny for the first year but now you agreed for him to shadow you. But me? I feel like you wish I wasn’t here,”

Rafael stayed silent for a moment, analyzing your words. Indeed, he tried to keep his distance with you, but he never thought it made you feel that way. He felt very bad about himself.

“But hey, no problem, okay? We’ve been able to make it work that way for years, there’s no reasons we can’t keep going,”

“You’re very wrong—about everything, Y/N.”

“Then what is it?” You locked your sweet blue eyes into his. For a moment, he was afraid you may see all the love he has for you in his eyes. What reasonable excuse could he tell you? His mind raced. But thankfully, the rest of the squad came back at that moment.

“Barba, Y/N. Are you interrupting?” Rollins smiled.

“Nope,” Rafael stood up right and followed Liv into her office. You watched him leave. No answer. Again.

The gift was actually from Sonny, but it wasn’t for you. It’s for Tomas, who’s now 13 years old. The father left when you told him you were pregnant (he was a bit older) and never saw him again. You raised Tom by yourself, with the full support of your parents, luckily. Your son showed up his interest in makeup and esthetic about a year ago. You completely support him in his passion, brought him whatever he needed/wanted.

Sonny went shopping with his 16 years old niece Mia during the weekend and she wanted to go to the Sephora. He asked her what he could offer to Tomas.

“Uncle Sonny. Are you trying to seduce the mother by being so nice to the son?” Mia asked with a smirk on her face.

“Okay, first, I wouldn’t need to do that. And second, it’s just that—it’s not easy to be different. I just want him to know that he can count on me,”

“Like you wished you could count on someone when you realized you were bisexual?”

Sonny looked at his niece with wide eyes. He still isn’t out to his family. How could she know? “Last year, I figured that this Sam you talked about wasn’t a she but a he. And--I’m bi, too, Uncle Sonny.”

That’s a lot to process in two minutes, while he is standing in the middle of a makeup store.

“There’s nothing wrong with that…right?” Mia added.

“Oh, of course not, sweetheart!” He immediately answered. “When did you know?”

“I was sure when I fell in love with a girl, a few months ago,” she confessed.

Sonny hugged his niece and kissed her hair. “What’s her name? I’d love to meet her,”

“Joy. And that would be nice. I’m so happy I finally told you,”

“I’ll never judge you. And I’ll always be there for you,”

In the squad, you were the only one Sonny came out to. Which makes the two of you even closer.

After the gift “incident”, you and Rafael didn’t talk again for weeks. To be fair, he was trying to avoid you. He almost confessed his feelings for you and that can’t be happening. After this, Rafael decided to call back a woman he used to see. She’s beautiful, smart, nice and wants the same things he does. Exactly what he needs.

He never wanted to talk about his personal life at work, but one day, you showed up in his office. Rafael was on the phone, his back to the door. He didn’t hear you come in, so he kept making plans with Judith. You listened, and felt your chest tightened.

Before he hung up, Rafael heard the door of his office closing. He turned around; nobody was there but he saw you walking out through the blinds. You had heard and walked away.

When Rafael told you, you were wrong about your assumptions, you thought that maybe he was feeling the same way you did. Turns out, you were wrong.

It was Tom’s 14th birthday. You helped him planned an afternoon party. He told you he invited about 10 friends.

But no one showed up. Your son didn’t feel ashamed about his passion - thanks to you and Sonny, mostly - but apparently, his “friends” didn’t like it.

“Baby, why didn’t you tell me they were bullying you? On Monday I’ll go see your principal,”

“Exactly for this. If you do this, it’s gonna be worse. Maybe I should stop,”

“Stop what? Doing something you like? Not under my watch, T. Those kids are just the reflections of their close-minded parents,”

“Yeah, but at least people show up to their birthday parties,”

It broke your heart to see your son like this. You needed to fix this. You need to see your son happy. All day, every day. You went to the bathroom and called Sonny.

“Sonny, I need you,” you said when he answered. “Short things first, those stupid kids didn’t show up to T’s party. There’s no one here. Can you come? With Mia? And Joy? I’m gonna call Liv, see if she can come with Noah,”

“I’m with Mike right now so he’ll be with me. Call Fin too, we’ll stop by Amanda’s to pick her and Jesse,”

“Okay, that’s great, thanks Sonny,”

“Of course. Tom will remember his 14th birthday I promise. Why don’t you call Barba too?”

“Why in the world would I do that?”

“It would be rude not to. Don’t you think?”

“I guess. I’ll see. Can you be there in about an hour?”

You call Liv and she agreed, same for Fin. But Sonny was right, you had to call Rafael.

“Barba,” he answered.

“Hey, it’s Y/N. Sorry to bother you on Saturday afternoon. Um—if you aren’t busy, what do you think about stopping by my son’s birthday? It’s kinda unfair, but stupid kids didn’t show up. I call everyone, they’re all coming. But hey, don’t feel obligated. You don’t have to if you don’t—“

“Okay,” he answered before you could finish your monologue.

“Okay?” You repeated.

“Yeah. When should I be there? And how old is he?”

“I said an hour to everyone. And if you’re asking his age to buy him a gift, don’t bother. Right now, all he needs is people to be there to celebrate,”

“Y/N, don’t make me argue please. How old is your son?”

“14.”

“Okay, thanks. See you in an hour then. Text me the address, please,”

“See you, Rafael,”

Rafael tried to stay calm and natural in front of Judith, but there were some many things in his head right now. Since he went to the bedroom to answer your call, he lied to the woman he was with, pretending a work emergency to leave.

You have a kid. A teenage kid, actually. A quick count made him realized you gave birth when you were 17. Many things made sense now. He needs confirmation but it seems clear that, this Tom he heard about, is actually your son, and not your boyfriend like he assumed.

How could he not know about this? You’ve been working together for almost five years now. He really kept his distance with you. But somehow, he still fell hard for you.

“Hey Liv, I got a call from Y/N. I’d like to buy a little something for her son, do you have any idea?”

“Well, do you know anything about makeup?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Liv laughed. “Where are you? I can pick you up and we stop by a store to buy him something,”

“Okay, I trust you on that.”

An hour later, everybody was there. You welcomed them as they arrived. “If he doesn’t like it, that’s on Liv,” Rafael joked as he handed you the gift he had for your son.

“Nope. That’s on that sells woman that was clearly hitting on you,” Liv interjected.

“She wasn’t— okay, she was. But not my type,”

“Yeah, and Judith probably wouldn’t like it,”

“I don’t know about that. And she doesn’t need to know anyway,” he smiled.

Tom’s mood improved when he saw Mia and Joy. You and Sonny introduced them months ago and Tomas is crazy about them.

“What happened to your face?” Mia asked and Tom frowned. “No makeup, seriously T?” She added, before taking him by the hand.

“Wait—“ you stopped them before they reached the bedroom. “Tomas, meet Mike and Rafael, first. They are the only ones you haven’t met yet,”

It made sense that Tom hadn’t met Mike yet, since he joined SVU a couple of months ago. But yeah, it stings to Rafael. Five years. And he didn’t know.

“You look like a cop,” he said Mike, “but you don’t,” he then said to Rafael.

“Cause I’m not. I’m an ADA, Assistant Dis—“

“I know what it is,” he cut him. “Thank you for coming,”

“Can we do his makeup now?” Mia called out and the three of them — adding Jesse who wanted to go too — disappeared in the bedroom for a moment.

“Thanks, guys, for showing up this quick. It’s a mess,” you sadly said. “T told me that he’s being bullied at school because he loves makeup, lets his hair grow. Apparently, they are calling him a sissy,” your jaw clenched. Rafael saw the mama bear in you. “He doesn’t want me to interfere. But maybe I should anyway,”

“You’re here for him. We all are, that’s what he needs,” Sonny said, wrapping his arm around your shoulders to bring you comfort. Rafael tried to avoid the jealousy in his belly.

Opening gifts arrived fast. Everyone brought him something, mostly makeup stuff. Sonny actually got him an appointment in a famous hair salon in Manhattan. Now that his hair is long enough, Tom mentioned wanting to get a real haircut. Mike listened to Sonny’s advices for his gift.

“This is from Nick,” Liv said as she gave Tom a gift. “He wants you to call later,”

“Mom!! That’s two tickets for California!” Tomas exclaimed before reading the note. “And he’s offering me surfing lessons! When are we going? Before—“

“Soon, my love.” You said before he could finish his sentence.

Then came Rafael’s gift. “You can return it if you don’t like,” he said. But Tom’s face lit up when he saw what it was.

“Mom!!!” He showed you the gift, with a huge grin on his face.

“Wow! You finally got it,” you returned his smile and moved a little to stand by Rafael’s side.

“Thank you so much, Rafael!” Tom stood up and hugged the ADA. Some affection Rafael didn’t expect.

“He’s been bugging me for this palette for weeks. I told him to wait because it’s damn expensive,” you whispered to Rafael.

“It’s okay. I’m glad he likes it,” he just answered.

Tomas was thrilled with all of his gifts. It feels good that with those people, he doesn’t have to hide himself, who he is and what he loves. Later, you noticed that Rafael setback from the others. You stood next to him.

“You’re not mad about the gift, are you?” He asked, before you could say anything.

“A little, to be honest,”

“I can pay for that,”

“I know. I see your clothes every day. But that’s not the point,”

“Then what is the point?”

“For the first five years of his life, I couldn’t buy him things. All the toys he had were gifts from my parents— when I made better money, I spoiled him. For years. And now, he’s a very smart teenage boy but he doesn’t necessarily have the value of money. Which I’m trying to teach him. And you showed up with this hella expensive palette, Nick got him plane tickets and surfing lessons. Even the appointment Sonny got him is expensive. That’s not helping,”

“Great,” he smiled, and you shot him a glare, “you’re not actually mad at me, but more at yourself,”

“Don’t do this. You’re not a parent, Rafael,”

“Indeed,” he took a deep breath, “And how come did I do not know you were one?”

“This will just bring us back to our convo from February, don’t you think? And we both know how it ended,”

“We were interrupted,”

“And you’ve been avoiding me ever since,”

So, you noticed that. You always noticed things. He hates that about you. He intensely looked at you, not knowing what to say exactly.

“But don’t worry, Barba, you won’t have to use force for that anymore,” you gently patted his shoulder and joined the others. “My love, do you mind if I steal your thunder for a moment?” You asked your son.

“Nope. Are you going to tell them?”

You looked at Liv for approval and signed Rafael to come closer, which he did. Everybody waited for you to talk. “I—I’m leaving SVU,” you said. There were gasps, widen eyes and Sonny choked on his beer. “Don’t die yet, Sonny. I haven’t finished,” you paused. “It’s no secret that my father was born in Sweden and move here after he fell in love with my mum,”

That, Rafael did know. You talked about your Swedish origins. “After my mum died, my father moved back there. And he’s been bugging us to come with him and considering I’ve always promised this one,” you said, playing with Austin’s hair, “that we would try to live there for a while, I’m actually taking a sabbatical. And next month, we’re flying to Sweden. But we’ll stop by California first, apparently,”

Only Liv knew. So, it came as a shock to everyone else.

The mood changed after that. They were all happy but also sad to see you and Tom leave. Mostly Sonny. It was very rare to witness a silent Sonny Carisi, but this was it. One by one, people started to leave the party. Mia and Joy took your son to the bowling alley. Rafael wanted to be the last so he could have a talk with you, but apparently, Sonny had the same thing in mind.

Rafael was helping you cleaning up the apartment when you noticed Sonny, on your small balcony. “How long has he been there?” You asked Rafael, who just raised his shoulders, clearly annoyed. You joined Sonny, not knowing that Rafael could hear everything you two were talking about.

“You okay there, Sonshine?” Sonny chuckled.

“A bit stunned, I guess.” He said, not looking at you.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I—I was afraid to tell you,”

“Why?”

“Because of what happened a few months ago. Because I’m scared to leave you. Because—I was afraid to change my mind after I told you,”

He finally looked at you. “I’ll never hold you back, Y/N. You know that? You talk so much about Sweden, so does Tom. I’m not completely surprised,”

“Under different circumstances—“ you said, letting the silence says the rest. Sonny turned to his side, so he was facing you.

“I was okay with being your second choice, Y/N, as long as you chose me. But you’re also leaving to be away from him, aren’t you?”

You nodded. “I don’t want to promise you anything, Sonny. But maybe—after that year away—“

He knew what you meant. Sonny put his hand on your cheek, softly caressing your skin with his thumb. Before he could lean in to kiss you, you both heard the balcony window opening. Rafael was standing there. “Who’s your first choice, Y/N?” He just asked. Sonny loudly sighed and turned his back to the lawyer.

“Not important, Rafael.”

“Por favor— answer me.”

“You, idiot,” Sonny muttered, still looking over Manhattan.

“Can—can you come inside for a moment, please?” Rafael asked.

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” Sonny said, and turned around to kiss your forehead, “Don’t make anything stupid. Call me,” he kissed your forehead again and walked past Rafael to leave.

“Great timing, Barba,” you sighed.

“I—I don’t understand,” he struggled to say.

“You may be a smart-ass lawyer but when it comes to relationships, you’re very dumb,”

“How long have you—?”

“Been in love with you? About three years. Somehow, the more you pushed me away, the more it made me fall,”

“I pushed you away only because I was scared. Scared of the things I feel for you,”

“You can’t—you can’t confess your love to me as I’m leaving the States, Rafael. That’s not fair,”

“If I don’t do it now, when am I supposed to do it? Over the phone while you’re in Sweden? Or when you come back and choose Carisi?” He paused. “Did you guys sleep together or something?”

“Definitely none of your business,” you said. “And you had five years. Five fucking years, during which all you did was making me feel like a burden for you,”

“I—I never meant to do that. I’m sorry,”

“It’s too late, Rafael. I’m leaving anyway,”

“I’ll wait for you if you ask me to,”

“I’m not. Just like I won’t ask that to Sonny,”

“Then—what? What do we do?”

“Nothing. I’m leaving with my boy in a few weeks, maybe I’ll come back next year, or maybe I won’t. And everybody goes on with their life,”

“Are you saying that I missed my shot with you?”

“Probably,”

This will be hard to swallow. Rafael probably never will, to be honest. But one thing is sure, he couldn’t miss his last chance to kiss you. He closed the gap between your bodies, and slowly put his hands on each side of your face. Since you weren’t pushing him away, he took it as a permission and leaned in to kiss you. He softly put his lips on yours. Right here, right now, on your balcony, nothing else mattered but you and him.

Things escalated quickly. The kiss got more intense, and you used force to make him step back into your apartment. Still kissing each other, Rafael slid his hands on your butt and your legs, gently squeezing to signal you to jump in his arms, which you did. He pulled away briefly, just to ask you which one was your bedroom.

He laid you down on the bed, clothes quickly fly across the room. This probably wouldn’t change a thing, but Rafael made love to you as if his life depends on it.

Indeed, it didn’t change a thing. Two weeks later, you and Tomas flew to California, spent two weeks there with Nick, before flying to Sweden.

Part two, anyone?

[uncpanda]

Blood is Thicker than Water: Part 1

Summary: You'd grown up around the SVU squad room. The members of your sister's squad had been your family and helped Liv raise you. You left them and your sister behind ten years ago for school and just never returned. When you get a call saying she's been kidnapped by William Lewis, you rush back without a thought. What you find is a very different squad, a broken sister, and a snarky ADA. When you decide to stay things begin to change, and maybe, just maybe you and your sister each find your own happy endings. ( Just a warning that there is a rape warning, for the usual mentions of it in the storyline. There will be no graphic descriptions here.)

Quick thing: Live is younger in this, mainly to make the timeline with the sibling relationship work. So yeahhhh….

Master List 

You almost do a double take when you run into the building, it’s so vastly different from the station you remember as a child. You push those memories to the side and basically storm the building. The first person you run into is a familiar face, “Finn.” 

There’s a hint of happiness behind the panic in his eyes. “Have you found her? Please tell me you found her.”

Finn stares at you for a second and you call his name, “Finn.” 

“Sorry kid. Lost in a memory. You’re all grown up.” 

It’s been ten years since you’ve seen him, ten years since you’ve left New York. You soften at the look of fondness in his eyes, and you throw your arms around him. He crushes you in a bear hug. 

He leads you into the bullpen and gives you the details, “His name is William Lewis, and he’s a bad dude. I don’t want to scare you with the details.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat, and allow Finn to escort you to Liv’s death. You sit down hesitantly, and he explains, “Everyone else is out looking for her. The Captain had me stay behind to be here to catch you up on everything.” 

You run your hands over your face and into your hair, “I swear my heart stopped when he called. The moment I heard his voice I just went still. Do you guys have any leads?” 

“We’ve followed a few. We’re getting close.” 

“Do you think she’s . . . ?” 

“Liv’s a fighter. She’ll get through this.” 

Your mind flashes back to your mother; her drunken tirades, the slaps, Liv stepping in. Liv had raised you from the time you were ten. Liv was around seventeen years old when you had been born. You’d been the result of a drunken one night stand. Your father had been less than stellar, and your mother even less so. Liv had been your true parent. And now, she was being held by a sadistic rapist. 

You stay in the precinct with Finn. He tries to distract you, he forces you to talk about what you’ve been up to. You tell him about school, your full ride. You tell him about your job, you’re a website designer, and you go into detail about your photography hobby. You talk about anything and everything, in order to keep your mind off of Liv. 

Despite leaving New York ten years ago, you’ve seen Liv at least three times a year since you’ve left. She’s come to you, and you’ve met in other random places for vacations. On top of that you talk several times a week and video chat. 

Eventually, Finn gets called out and you’re left to your own devices. You focus on the bullpen. It’s no longer dark, it’s more colorful, and much more modern. If you focus hard enough you can imagine Munch sharing conspiracy theories, or Finn threatening to hurt your newest crush if they hurt you, you can hear Cragen teaching you how to throw a baseball, and you can see Elliot helping you with your homework. 

“Excuse me.” You’re drawn out of your thoughts, and you turn to face a new face. You don’t recognize him, “Can I help you?” 

You study him for a second. He’s handsome, well dressed, older than you, but still really cute. The thoughts leave you when you remember why you’re there. You hold out your hand, “Y/N Benson.” 

He takes it, his brow scrunching as he does so, “Rafael Barba. Are you . . .?” 

“Liv is my older sister. You’re the ADA, right? She’s talked about you.” 

“I’m sorry, she hasn’t said anything . . .” 

You cross your arms against your chest, “She wouldn’t. She claims it keeps me safe.” 

He looks away from you for a minute, before he approaches again. He gestures with his arm, and you follow him into a conference room. He closes the door behind him, “I wish I could tell you that she’s going to be okay.”

You shake your head, “This isn’t the first time something bad has happened on the job. She’s come back with bruises so many times I lost count. When I was in college she went no contact because she was undercover with the FBI. It’s all part of the job. I grew up with it. I understand.” 

“Doesn’t mean the panic isn’t there. The intrusive thoughts.” 

You nod. You’d done your best to keep those away, but one finally breaks through, “What if I lose her Mr. Barba? She’s the only family I have left. She basically raised me.” 

He sits down next to you, and in a move that says discomfort he takes your hand, “She’ll get through this. She’ll come home, and when she does you’re going to need to give me some embarrassing stories that I can tease her with.” 

He says it with a small smile, and he succeeds in making you laugh, but you can see the worry in his eyes. The two of you settle in, and as you sit there staring at him, your sister’s words come back to you. She’d talked about this man like a brother. She’d recounted his antics in court starting with the belt, and moved on from there. And then one day, she had declared him the best DA that Svu had ever had. It had shocked you. You’d known Alex and Casey. Hell, Alex had gone prom dress shopping with you and Liv. 

At some point both Munch and Cassidy come in. You give the former a hug and glare at Cassidy. He had never been your favorite person. When you brush him off you swear you see Barba grin. You don’t meet any of the other new people. 

It takes another day before you get the news that your sister has been found. You stay at the station the entire time, and Rafael Barba stays with you for the majority of the time. He goes with you to the scene. 

You pass by a smiling Munch and Cragen and run to Liv when you see her. She’s broken, and bloody, but that doesn’t stop her from hugging you. It doesn’t stop her from clinging to you. The next few days are hell. They’re spent in the hospital, and it all passes in a blur. 

“I need to go back.” 

You plop down on the hotel bed beside her, “No. You really don’t.” 

“It’s our home. I raised you there.” 

“It's a crime scene. It compromised. I say we burn it to the ground.” 

Liv rolls her eyes, “Really? I got that place on a uni’s salary in order to take guardianship of you.” 

You nod, “It was the first place I felt safe, and it made mom somewhat get her shit together, but it’s not home.” you nudge her, “You’re my home.” 

She pulls you into a hug. Despite your feelings on the matter, you help her clean the apartment. The two of you talk about your old memories, and you give the place the going away it deserves. The only things you take with you are sentimental items. The rest can be replaced. 

You spend a week finding an apartment. And when you find a nice one with two bedrooms, and a lot of sunlight, you can almost see her exhale in relief. You stay in New York until Liv is ready to go back to work. Together, the two of you go to Serena’s grave. 

You had never made peace with your mother, not like Liv had. You resented her in a lot of ways, and you’re eternally grateful to Liv for raising you. 

You leave New York the same day Liv goes back to work. You hug for a solid ten minutes outside her new apartment building. You tell each other how much you love each other, you offer to stay, and she refuses. Cassidy is the one who takes you to the airport. 

“Still hate me?” 

You’re honest with him, “I think my sister deserves better.” 

“Like Stabler?” 

You shake your head, “Nope. She deserves someone who is going to love her. In the meantime you’ll do.” 

He rolls his eyes, “Thanks.” 

You turn to face him, “Are you seriously telling me that you’re willing to marry her? Maybe have a kid? Give her all the things she’s ever wanted?” 

He goes quiet, and you leave the car without a word. On the plane you realize you never met any of the new members of the squad. Maybe it’s better that way. The memories you have in SVU are precious, do you really want to muddy the waters? Your mind flashes to Rafael Barba, and you grin when the answer is yes. 

You’re home for three days when you get a call from Liv. Her voice is quiet, “How you doing kid?” 

You shrug even though you know she can’t see it, “Frustrated. I’m building a site for an impossible person. What about you?” 

“I’m . . .” not okay, you finish the sentence in your head. 

“Do you need me to come back. I’m more than happy to. I can work from anywhere.” 

Her voice is hoarse, “I know. I was counting on that.” You stiffen at that, you’d never expected her to actually take you up on it. “I was wondering if you’d like to come home . . . for good?” 

No, you don’t. You like your little suburb city where you don’t have to worry about someone grabbing you off the street, and where the sounds of the cabs don’t keep you up all night. But this is Liv. This is your sister, your family. 

You lean back in your chair, “You think Barba can get me out of my lease? It’s not up for another few months, and I’ll be damned if I’m letting these guys take anymore money from me.” 

She laughs, an honest to God laugh, and you know you’ve made the right decision. “Barba’s the best. If he can’t do it, no one can.” 

And with that reassurance the two of you start plotting your return. 

[rahleeyah]

Did somebody ask for Nick Amaro punching Elliot Stabler in the face?

It's nice to be back in New York. He wishes it was under different circumstances - Christ does he wish - but he missed the city. LA isn't the same. Zara's there, and Gil's in San Diego, and they have both grown so much in the last five years and he wouldn't have missed that for anything, but he does wish, sometimes, that they could have stayed at home. In New York. 

He's come to bury his mother and clean out her apartment. Before that gets started, though, he's got some faces he wants to see. He doesn't know for sure if they'll still be there, doesn't know what he'll find, but he knows he has to look, and in his heart he believes that as long as Liv is still alive and in possession of two good legs, she'll be at SVU. That place, it's more than just a job, to her. It's a calling. She's a goddamn crusader. 

For a minute he stands looking up at the station, weighing whether or not he wants to go in. Whether or not he wants to know what's happened to Barba, and Carisi, and Fin, and Rollins. Shit. Rollins. No way is she still there, he thinks. 

He could have called. Should have called. Friends for life, he and Liv had promised each other, and they are, and they will be, but not the kind of friends who call each other and gab on the phone on Saturday afternoons. The kind of friends who'll take a bullet for each other, who'll drop everything and fly to the other side of the country after five years of no contact, if that's what they need. But not Facebook friends. It's just not in their DNA. They're bound by blood now; they don't need a phone call. 

So he takes a deep breath and walks into the station, gets on the elevator behind some asshole in a flashy suit like the kind Barba used to wear, and the guy is talking on his phone but he's pressed the button for SVU so Nick can't escape him, just has to stand there and listen. 

"I'm not asking, I'm telling," the guy says. "why? 'Cause I'm your father, that's why." 

The guy's tone and the words coming out of his mouth remind Nick forcefully of his own father, and that makes him hate this man he doesn't even know. The door slides open and Nick goes to step out but the guy must not have registered he's there; the guy almost steps on him on his way out of the elevator and doesn't even apologize, just hangs up his phone and goes heading towards SVU and Nick is once again following him. His knee never healed right and Nick isn't as quick as he used to be, and the guy gets further and further ahead of him. 

"She here?" The guy calls to a young female detective sitting at one of the desks. The squad room looks completely different, now, and for a second Nick feels like all the breath has just been knocked out of him. The girl says yeah, go on back, and the suit heads for Liv's office. Must be the ADA, Nick thinks. And shit, this is weird. It's like walking into his childhood home and seeing another family living there. It's like finding out there's no such thing as home, really. Like whatever home is, one day you stop belonging there. 

"Help you?" The girl calls to him. 

"Yeah," he says. It's too late to pretend he's not here. There's no sign of Rollins, or Fin, or Liv, but he's gonna do what he came here to do. 

"Is Benson around?"

The girl gives him an appraising look.

"Who's asking?"

Before he can answer, a voice is calling out behind him. 

"Nick?"

He turns, and there she is. Amanda Rollins. Still blonde, still beautiful, and shit, Carisi is standing right beside her. 

"Amanda," he says, and in the next second she's running at him, flinging her arms around him. They hit so hard he could have picked her clean up and spun her around, if it weren't for his bad knee. As it is he nearly goes flying, but he catches himself, and holds on to her tight. He's missed her, more than he wants to admit. 

"Oh, my God," she says as she pulls back. "It's so good to see you. You look good."

"Yeah," he says. "So do you." 

And she does, and he wishes that didn't hurt. 

"Carisi," he says next, and holds his hand out for a shake. Carisi’s hair has gone grey, and his suit is too flash for a cop, but he’s still Carisi, and he bats Nick’s hand away, and pulls him in for a hug.

“If we’d known you were coming we’d have gotten a cake or something,” Carisi says as they part.

“I wasn’t sure you guys would even still be here,” Nick tells them. “Kinda wanted it to be a surprise. Is Liv around?” 

As if in answer to his question the door to the Captain’s office opens behind them, and she comes walking out, with the suit hot on her heels. 

She stops dead in her tracks when she sees him, and shit, he just about stops breathing. That woman; she’s like a sister to him. Better than a sister; he trusts her more than his own blood. A thousand memories flash through his mind. The angry Liv he’d first met, calling him Serpico and looking at him like she was certain he wouldn’t last a week. Remember when you asked me about my father, and I told you it was a long story? It’s not that long. Standing beside her on the porch at the beach house, her clothes ripped and burned, her body bruised, her eyes wild. Liv’s eyes in the rearview mirror, Lewis’s blood sprayed across her face. Liv’s hands on him, while the EMTs wheeled him away after Johnny D shot him. Friends for life, Nick Amaro. 

Her hair is longer, and her face is more lined, but she’s still so goddamn gorgeous. She covers her heart with her hand, and he grins, and they both start to move, then, not running, but walking straight towards each other, determined, no one else in the world but them, in that moment, and the next thing he knows he’s got his arms wrapped around her, and she’s holding him so tight it almost hurts.

“Nick,” she whispers his name shakily, and he laughs, because he can tell she’s about to cry and shit he is, too. 

“Good to see ya, Liv,” he manages to choke out, and when he pulls back she reaches up and touches his face, her dark eyes searching his. She doesn’t have to say it; he knows she’s wondering if he’s ok, and he hopes she finds the answer in his face. Truth is, he’s doing better now than he was five years ago. Better than ten years ago. He’s settled. He’s happy. He hopes she is, too. 

“You gonna introduce me to your friend?”

This from the suit. The sound of his voice shatters the moment, and Liv pulls away, and Nick is thinking he really, really hates this guy. This guy with his easy arrogance, this guy whose voice, whose posture, whose belligerent expression reveals a possessiveness towards Liv that Nick doesn’t like, not one bit. Liv laughs and steps back from him but Nick keeps his hand resting at the small of her back. There’s a petulant part of his heart that wants this guy, whoever he is, to see Nick touching her. To know that he’s allowed to, that she’ll let him, that whatever problem the suit may have Liv cares about Nick. 

“Yeah,” Liv says, and a little bit of Nick’s anger fades, because she sounds happy. 

“This is Nick Amaro, my old partner.” He can hear the grin in her voice. “Nick, this is Elliot Stabler.”

It’s not something he can control. It comes over him so suddenly, so viciously; he always thought that when people talking about seeing red they were just exaggerating. He always thought people had more control over themselves than that. But Liv says that name, and damn if he doesn’t see red.

“Elliot Stabler?” he says. 

“Yeah,” Stabler answers, taking a step forward, and maybe he’s about to ask Nick if he’s got a problem with that, but he never gets the chance.

Stabler. The one who left her. The one who was the reason she was so standoffish, with Nick. The reason she was so angry all the damn time, walking around nursing a broken heart and letting it get her into trouble. The one with the anger issues and the dinged up service record that nearly derailed her whole career. The one with the wife at home, while Liv was half in love with him - Nick isn’t supposed to know that part, but he does. And anybody who could do that to Liv, who could hurt her so bad, treat her like she was second class, disposable, anybody who could stand there and act like he had a right to be by her side after all the shit he put her through, anybody like that, they’re gonna get what’s coming to them, courtesy of Nick Amaro. It’s been ten years since Stabler walked out on her, but however he came back, whatever the reason is for him standing here right now, Nick doesn’t give a single shit. He knows Liv and he knows she would never tell this guy just how bad he hurt her, just how much she lost when he left, knows she’s got a good heart and she’ll forgive the people she loves. She won’t hold this asshole accountable.

Nick, on the other hand, has no qualms about it. 

“Ok,” Nick says, and then before anyone can so much as take a breath, he hauls off and punches that smug son of a bitch right in the mouth, as hard as he can. And shit, but it feels good. 

[objection-argumentative]

Ruined Sunday

Axel- 3

Mateo- Is due soon

Gabriel- Is due soon

Isla- N/A

It was a perfect family day out. Your son Axel wanted to learn how to ride his bike, and your husband Rafael Barba was determined to teach him. It was a surprise to see the shark of the courtroom be a family man, but nothing brought Rafael more joy than his family. He knew that his son had him wrapped around his little finger as soon as he clapped eyes on him three years ago in the delivery suite.

The three of you had set up space on the grass with a blanket near the pavement in central park. As soon as you were settled, Rafael and axel grabbed the bike with his helmet and moved onto the pavement. You dug out your book from your purse and laid back.

"Mommy, Mommy, look, I'm riding my bike", a little boy cheered in the distance. You looked up from your book to see your son riding his bike around a patch of grass and Rafael chasing after him making sure he doesn't fall off. "Good job, buddy", you encouraged your son as he peddled around the green. You lay back down on the grass with your book in hand. Just as you could feel your eyes start to get heavy, you feel a kiss being planted on your neck from behind.

"Hey, baby, Axel is having lunch next to you. How are you feeling?" Rafael purred into your ear. "Huge Rafi, I'm eight and half months pregnant with twin boys, They need to get out of me", your husband of 6 years chuckled at you and placed his hands on your stomach. "Ay, Carino, It will all be worth it soon. Then, finally, we will have two little boys to welcome into our family."  You swear you can see tears in his eyes. "Yeah, your right Rafi. When Mateo and Gabriel get here, it will be another blessing. I feel like I've eaten a watermelon whole, that's all." you sulked to your husband. "Maybe our first blessing would like a sleepover at his Abuela's house, Because I know some quick-fire ways to kick start labour, and it involves us being naked," he smirked at you cockly.

"Mommy sleepover?" Axel bounces over to you full of excitement and glee "I will call Abuela and ask for you baby," you rubbed your son back as he cuddled into you and Rafael. You spend a couple of more hours in the park playing catch with Axel and Rafael. You start to pack up your stuff when your phone starts ringing. Both your son and your husband give you sad puppy dog eyes. You hate that your phone disturbed your family time. You didn't know what was worse, that you would have to go to work on a late Sunday afternoon, or the fact you have to pretend that you and your husband were just colleagues and nothing more.

Seven years ago, You were a very young homicide detective when you and Rafi met at the courthouse. You exchanged numbers when he worked a case with you. The late nights of trial prep and early mornings of trying to crack a case led to the pair of you dating in secret, only telling close family, IAB and Jack Mccoy. it was a whirlwind romance, You met when you were 19, and he was 34, the age gap didn't bother you nor him. After six months of dating,  the pair of you had a city break away to vegas and got married in an intimate ceremony. Both families weren't happy about the wedding, but you and Rafael couldn't be happier. You then were loaned out to Manhattan SVU for one case as it was a perp from one of your cases that got away with murder, had escalated to rape and murder. After the case, you went back to homicide for a few years until two years ago when you transferred over. Rafael moved from Brooklyn SVU to Manhattan SVU two weeks after you joining SVU, and you have been a secret ever since.

"Y/L/N, Yes, Liv, I will drop Axel off at his babysitter's. I don't mind calling Barba and telling him. He can give me a ride anyway. We will both be there ASAP. Yeah, see you soon. Bye, Liv." You turn to Rafael, but he is already on the phone with his mother arranging childcare for your son.

Rafael scooped up Axel in one arm and his bike in the other while you carried the backpack with the blanket and remaining food into the car. "I told Mami we'd been called into work. She is more than happy to babysit Axel. So I said we would pick her up on the way home, and he can stay in his own bed tonight." "Thank you, Rafi. I told Liv we would meet her up at Green Haven." he looked at you, confused. "What's at Green Haven?" "Yates and Rudnick have escaped and are on the run together. We need to question the staff and the inmates in Green Haven." Suddenly Rafael demeanour changed. He went from a happy, carefree family man to an uptight lawyer. When Rafael pulled up at his mothers, she was waiting for him outside with her suitcase packed. Rafael got out of the SUV, greeted his mother and put her luggage in the car's trunk.

"Abuela guess what? I rode my bike in the park today. daddy helped me, and we went really fast." Axel shouted happily to Lucia. "Good job, amigo", she laughed at her grandson, getting excited. Soon you pulled outside of your apartment building. You grabbed your son out of the car, and Rafael grabbed everything else. Lucia opened the doors for you and Rafael. Lucia sorted out the bags, and Axel as the pair of you got changed into your work outfits.

When you and Rafael came out of your shared bedroom, you were both in suits, and you had your gun badge attached to your hip. You looked over to the dining room table. Your son was colouring in with crayons, and Lucia was cooking in the kitchen with some music on low. You kneel in front of Axel, and he faces you, " Me and daddy are going to work now, Baby. We will see you tomorrow," your son cuddles you, and you kiss him on the cheek when he pulls away. As you get up, Rafael kneels down to say his goodbye.  You gather your things as Rafael puts his shoes on at the door. You say your goodbyes to Lucia. As you leave, you hear Axel shout, "I love you".  Both you and your husband call back, "I Love you too, be good for Abuela, "  as you shut your apartment door.

You both get back into the car and head towards the freeway, "I Love you Y/N" Rafael grabbed your hand as he drove and kissed the back of it, not taking his eyes off the road. " I love you too, Rafi," you smile back at him.

[tinyboxxtink]

"Not My Yacht" *Chapter 1?*

So this is interesting:

So "Not My Yacht" was my very first fic. Like, I'm talking VERY VERY first.

So when I started asking around about ideas for a new series, a few of my lovelies went through my one shots and this story and "Doodling" got some good votes.

So, I decided to include the one shot and just added to it for a POTENTIAL new series. We'll see how this chapter goes over.

Also I'll be including Rita Calhoun in this for the FIRST time ever, so I may need assistance from @storiesofsvu to get her voice right. I did my best here. I'll be honest I've never really watched her, just that one where that guy blackmailed her or something.

Also Also, if it wasn't obvious enough this is obviously the beginning of the SVU episode "Her Negations".

I don't want to give anything away because I haven't even really thought that far, but I'm 95% sure this is going to turn in a William Lewis situation fic. So...pretty dark. I'm just warning you NOW.

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

And yes, the results are in. There is a part 2!

You breathed in the salty air of the sea of the sunny South Hampton shore; It was a beautiful day for a yacht party.

You walked along the pier as you got closer to your boss’s boat: The Crime Wave. Her husband’s idea of a funny name she claimed as she had invited people from the office to this soiree. You were lucky to even get an invite, just being the assistant to the owner of the law firm. “Who else is going to help me dodge boring conversations with men who just wanted a "free ride” on the bosses boat?“ She had teased you; or at least you hoped she was kidding.

You really wanted to just relax and mingle among the elite lawyers of NYC, seeing as you wanted to be one of them someday.

You saw your boss, Rita Calhoun waving you down as you reached the dock space.

"Ah! There you are, for a minute I thought I’d have to mix my own drinks!” She laughed with a wink. You laugh nervously, unable to discern if she was kidding.

“Calm down sweetie, I’m a big girl. Besides, I like to make them myself, strong,” she laughed again, patting your shoulder. Crap had your face looked that panicked? Keep it cool!

“Go ahead, enjoy yourself. I’ll be here, making sure none of those damn punks tries to sneak on here for free booze,” she scoffed, nodding to a group of highly dressed teens playing chicken on the shoreline.

You nodded with a half laugh, stepping onto the yacht. It was a decent size, a second level deck and a very spacious main level. Not a lot of people had arrived yet, so you decided to pick a spot on the yachts back bench area before all the seating was taken. You began removing your over clothes revealing your swimming wear when you hear Rita greet someone else.

“Ah, Barba. You know we have flare guns on board,”

You turn to see the ADA of New York, Rafael Barba. He’s dressed in a windbreaker and what could be either a dark red or salmon polo. You realize Mrs. Calhoun is referring to the almost neon yellow color of the windbreaker, and you can’t help but giggle. It must have been way too loud because they both turn to you which caused you to immediately shut up and go back to undressing and laying out your towel, but ever so slightly still honed in on the conversation.

“You can never be too careful Rita, who knows how many enemies I’ve made in this town; someone might throw me over,” he smirked.

“And anyone here could make it look like a very convincing accident….even my aspiring protege over there,” Rita nods over to you, knowing full well what you were doing.

Barba turned and looked at you, your body frozen in mid towel thrust. You didn’t know whether to throw it over yourself or just run off the boat right there.

“I know it’s an awful jacket dear, you don’t have to keep staring at him.” She called over to you. God why did she have to be so….her.

“Jesus Rita give the girl a break, or did you invite her just to torture her on unbillable hours?” Barba scoffed with a half smile, walking over to you.

“Is it really worth the minimum wage to put up with her?” He asked.

“Mmm…it’s more for the experience, honestly.” You replied surprisingly smoothly.

“Oh….well I mean I could give you the experience without–” He started but was interrupted by your boss’s loud exclaiming.

“Yeah I’ll BET you’d give her experience Barba! Stop hitting on my intern and mingle with the adults.”

If you could dig a hole straight through the boat into the ocean you would do it right then and there.

“…..Without THAT.” He rolled his eyes, lightly flipping her the bird behind his back. You see her respond with a laugh then turns her attention back to the guests boarding.

“She’s probably been drinking since she got on the boat, yeah?” He asked you.

“I…I don’t know I just got here….” You managed to squeak out as your towel strayed from your hands. Barba grabbed it and helped you reposition it on the bench.

“Kinda windy for a yacht party, but Rita will take any chance to celebrate anything remotely resembling a boost to her ego. Am I right?” He chuckled, before sitting down on your towel.

“Just to keep it from blowing away, do you mind?” He asked, gesturing for you to join him. You nodded a boisterous “NO”, plopping next to him on the bench.

“I’m Rafael Barba,” he extended his hand to you, which you took and shook gently, praying to God he didn’t notice you were literally shaking. You had probably had the biggest crush on him since you started working with Mrs. Calhoun, he was constantly in her office challenging her with warrants and favors.

“Oh yeah I know,” you blurted out, mentally facepalming immediately.

“I see….” He raised an eyebrow. “And you are….?”

You were about to answer when his phone went off. He answered it putting one finger up and mouthing the words “one second.”

“Barba. Yeah….what? Seriously, Olivia? On a Sunday?!” He groaned into his phone with an exaggerated eye roll. He raised his hand and ran it over his face begrudgingly as he talked.

“Yeah….alright, fine. Yeah I’ll be there, give me an hour. I’m in the Hamptons. Because it’s my day off, Liv! Do you think I lock myself in my office over the weekends like a vampire in a coffin? Yeah…I’m sorry, I just…” He glanced at you.

“I was enjoying my Sunday.” He gave you a small sad smile.

“Yeah. Ok. See you soon.” He hung up the phone with an exasperated sigh.

“I’m sorry, I gotta go back to the city. Don’t let Rita push you around too much, okay?” He chuckled, rubbing the top of your head like a puppy. You felt your face scrunch up in annoyance, seriously? He thought of you as a kid?!

He obviously noticed, and quickly held out his hand again very sternly.

“Sorry, future counselor.” He said in an overly serious tone, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling. Again. Like an idiot.

Relieved he had fixed his faux paux, he gave you one last beautiful Barba grin as he jogged over to Rita and told her something before nodding to you once again, then walked off the boat and disappearing down the pier.

Your boss sauntered over to you, a shit eating grin across her face.

“Well Cinderella, you sure kept that cool.” She gestured for your phone beside you.

“Be sure to tell him your name this time,” she winked, handing it back to you. You glanced down at it as she walked away; she had added a number to your contacts.

“BHole Barba.” You laughed out loud. Nice. Maybe she wasn’t such a horrible boss after all….

--------------

By Monday you still hadn’t had the balls to text Rafael Barba. You had just stared at the number in your phone, imagining all the possibilities contacting him would lead to. You may have gotten so far as planning your summer wedding in the Hamptons, but nobody needed to know that.

But you had chickened out and left it alone, and now you were sitting at your desk typing up a memo for Rita when you saw him come waltzing through the door.

“Ah, Cinderella!” He smiled at you.

“Hey…” Your mind went blank, you couldn’t think of words. Wait, had he already given you a nickname?

“Cinderella?” You blinked in confusion.

“Well I never caught your name-- But I guess I shouldn’t even push it, you’ve clearly moved on and I must seem like a creep,” His train of thought proceeded out loud as he realized you hadn’t taken his number and here he was still flirting with you. Rita had given it to you, he had seen her type it in your phone. Obviously you weren’t interested, why was he pushing this?

“What? NO!” You said a little louder than you intended, actually a lot louder than you intended. You slapped your hand over your mouth after your little outburst, but to you relief he was still smiling.

“Oh? Well I suppose that’s good…” He was obviously fishing for your excuse as to why you had waited until he popped back in your face to talk to him.

“No, I um--” You racked your brain for an excuse that wasn’t “I was busy planning our lives together”.

“I….couldn’t think of something interesting to say,” You finally admitted with a pitiful sigh. You were not a good liar, and under pressure, forget about it.

Again, he still smiled-- but this time he laughed along with it.

“I mean, ‘Hello’ is always an option,” He chuckled. “Or...your name?”

“Oh!” Idiot. You hadn’t even given him your name, how was he supposed to fall madly in love with you without a name?

“Y/N,” You stuck your hand out awkwardly, Was this a ‘shake hands’ moment? Hadn’t you already met before? You stared at your hand as you moved it slightly back and forth, arguing with yourself whether or not this was necessary. Luckily, Rafael settled the argument by taking your hand and shaking it firmly.

His hands were so soft, his long fingers enveloped yours in them. You lost yourself in the moment, and before you knew it he was making an uncomfortable cough, snapping you back to reality. You dropped his hand and snapped yours back into your body like a zip cord, your face in a horrified stare.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry, that was so weird. I’m weird. I’m--”

“Well I don’t know what you were so worried about Cinderella, you’re clearly a chatterbox,” He gave you a tongued smile, referring to the word vomit you just couldn’t help spill all over him.

“Oh yeah, I’m a total word machine,” You laughed nervously. A word machine? What the fuck was that?

“...Word machine. Right,” He nodded in amusement. “Well word machine, would you mind shooting some words to my phone, or do you just enjoy this face to face thing?”

“With that face? Definitely the latter. But you can have my number anyway,” You typed a quick message and sent it to his number. Damn that was smooth! How did you do that?

Rafael made an impressed face with your line, but when he opened his phone his brows furrowed.

“Hit?” He gave you a curious look as he read the text out loud.

“Fuck it was supposed to be ‘hi’-- stupid autocorrect,” You muttered angrily. Yeah, that was more like you.

“Oh yes, the dreaded autocorrect,” He nodded while saving your number. “Turning fucks into ducks since 2011,”

“Oh I didn’t have a phone in 7th grade but I’ll take your word for it,” You laughed, but stopped when his face twisted into a mix of horror and discomfort when he realized how young you actually were.

Dammit. Why...why would you do this?

“....Right, is Rita in?” He quickly shoved his phone back in his pocket and headed into Rita’s office before you could answer.

“...Idiot!” You yelled at yourself as your hands went over your face and your face planted into your desk.

Well, that was nice while it lasted. All 2.5 seconds of it.

-----------------

“Well Barba, about time,” Rita smirked as Rafael abruptly burst into her office trying to get away from you. “Done flirting with the intern are we?”

“Shut up,” He rolled his eyes, though his face was a deep shade of red.

“Oh no, what happened? Did your dentures fall out in front of her?” She smirked.

“I’m younger than you!!” He scoffed.

“Yeah but I’m not the one trying to boff a 25 year old,” She smirked harder, making Rafael angrier.

“Can I just get the warrant I came here for, Rita?” He huffed.

“Oooh, struck a nerve there, did I?” Rita chuckled as she grabbed some papers from her desk and started to hand them to him. “Barba, for the record I’m really not judging you. If I were 20 years younger, I’d hit it too,”

“Excuse me?”

“I had a lot of ‘cats’ in college,” She winked.

“Wow,” Rafael held up his hands. “Rita, we really don’t need to be that personal.”

“Fine, but all I’m saying is if you like the girl, don’t let a stupid thing like age deter you. Don’t tell her I said this, but she’s actually very competent and organized. I would almost prefer her not to graduate, unless she'd come work for me. She’s going to be a hell of a lawyer,” She gestured outside to your desk.

Rafael looked at the ground as he mulled over what she was saying, a small smile crawled across his lips as she complimented your potential.

“I’ll take that under advisement, Mrs. Calhoun,” He nodded as he walked towards the door with the papers in his hand, a huge smile across his face now.

He walked out to find you cursing at yourself and whimpering in embarrassment at your desk. When you heard the door shut you snapped to attention and stared at him, shocked he hadn't sprinted out of the office like Usain Bolt. Even more shocking was that Cheshire cat grin now upon his face.

“I-I’m sorry, I totally meant I was--” You tried doing math trying to make yourself reasonably older.

“It’s fine,” He chuckled as he put a hand over your counting fingers. You blushed at the touch of his skin on yours again, but quickly shoved your hands under the desk nervously as you tried not to look him square in the eye. His eyes were so gorgeous you were positive staring straight into them would actually get you pregnant.

“So does Rita ever unchain you from this desk?” He smirked as he was now very aware and very amused at how nervous he made you. He may be old, but clearly he’s still got it.

“Oh yeah, if I ask very nicely she let’s me--” You tried to think of something witty, but it wasn’t coming with him staring at you with those eyes. “....Yes,” You wanted to put your hands over your face but you didn’t want it to be a ‘thing’.

“Well, maybe if you’re an extra good girl she’ll let you off your leash early tonight,” He winked.

“....Am I a dog or a toddler in that situation?” You were genuinely asking, but Rafael clearly realized how insulting that must have seemed.

“Oh no no no, I just, shit,” He tried to backtrack but if he was being totally honest, you made him nervous. Maybe he didn’t have ‘it’ as much as he thought.

You noticed he was the one blushing now, oh my god were you making him nervous? QUICK, BE SMOOTH. BE SMOOTHER THAN YOU’VE EVER BEEN IN YOUR LIFE.

“Are you asking me out, counselor?” You did your best “sultry “voice with a bat of your eyes. Were you batting them too much? What was too much? Oh god you’ve done it for too long now. STOP BATTING.

“...I don’t know, guess you’ll have to wait for me to text you, future counselor,” He was impressed by the line, and decided to bow out before either of you made idiots of yourselves again. He gave you a wink and sauntered out of the office.

Great. Now he’ll probably make you wait two days for a--

*BEEP*

Your phone went off in your desk. You pulled it out to see a text message:

BHOLE BARBA: Dinner? Tonight?

You really needed to change his contact name. But that wasn’t the point right now. He just asked you out. Rafael Barba just asked you out. You stared at in your hands, unsure of what to do. Then you realized you couldn’t do this again, you couldn’t just sit there and imagine things, this required an immediate response.

You nervously typed a reply and hit SEND:

Sire ;)

“DAMMIT!!!” You cursed your autocorrect. You instantly sent another text.

Sure***

Before you could lecture yourself again, your phone beeped again:

BHOLE BARBA: Play

Play? What did that--

BHOLE: Okay** ;)

You typed the word ‘okay’ into your text reply bubble, ‘play’ came up in the autocorrect word list.

He was joking with you. He was flirting with you. RAFAEL BARBA WAS FLIRTING WITH YOU.

This work day could not end fast enough.

[itsjustmyfantasyroom]

Unlikely Lovers Chapter Two

It was been so much fun writing this series with @beccabarba​ . Thank you for putting up with my bad grammar and horrible spelling mistakes just to be thirsty with me over this amazing man.

Master List

Warnings: Slightly cranky Nick, Smut: Male receiving.

WC:  2713

Enjoy x

Neither of you were back at work until Monday morning, and you made the most of not working the weekend. Not much sleep was had on Saturday night, as you explored each other’s bodies, revelled in the sweet relief of finally acknowledging how you felt about each other. Nick eventually left your place on Sunday afternoon, with lingering kisses on the doorstep. Both of you were well aware that this wasn’t just a friends-with-benefits hook up, although neither of you were quite ready to admit to any deeper emotions yet. But you ended up messaging most of the evening too.

All of which made seeing him on Monday morning, in the bullpen of the 16th precinct, where you’d seen him so many times before, seem very surreal. He was already there when you arrived, getting his typical early start. He was standing at his desk, in a burgundy shirt and dark suit pants, his thumbs hooked in his belt as he teased Amanda about her taste in movies.

“I can’t help it if y’all are cowards,” Amanda was saying, as you approached. She leaned back in her chair and grinned at you. “Morning, Y/N, Nick was just telling me you couldn’t make it through the movie.” She shook her head good naturedly. “Cops who can deal with a crime scene but not a few zombies…”

You narrowed your eyes at her. “Next time, I’ll pick the movie,” you retorted, looking at her but refusing to meet Nick’s eyes. You didn’t trust yourself to look at him, especially while your movie night was the topic of conversation.

“What’s it gonna be, Dirty Dancing or something?” Amanda smirked.

“Maybe. I haven’t decided yet,” you retorted, going to sit at your desk. If Amanda had noticed that you’d not so much as greeted Nick, she didn’t say anything.

After you’d checked your emails, you watched Amanda get up from her desk to make a call on her personal phone, rolling her eyes as she walked towards the exit. You glanced across at Nick, but he was reading a paper file on his desk and didn’t look up. Probably just as well, since you had no idea how to talk to him in this setting, everything had changed. It was exciting, but it was unnerving too. A pang of nerves hit you in the gut: what if being around you at work made him change his mind? What if the reality of this was too much for him – or for you? What if he wasn’t sure, and just looking for comfort? He’d not dated much since his divorce, after all, and you were an unlikely pairing. Was that why he wasn’t acknowledging you now?

To calm your nerves, and take the edge off your tiredness, you got up to make a cup of coffee. There was a fresh pot ready and waiting. You were just pouring it into your cup when you felt – with your detective’s instincts – someone close behind you. Just before you turned, you felt his hands slide onto your hips, his fingers slipping just under the waistband of your pants. He was very close behind you, but not quite touching.

“Want a coffee, Detective Amaro?” you said, hearing the edge of nerves in your voice.

He leaned forwards, so his quiet words were close to your ear. “I had an amazing time on Saturday night,” he said, his voice warm. All the tension in you melted away at his words, his touch. “What’re you doing after work?”

You put your coffee down and turned on the spot, finding yourself face to face with him, his eyes meeting yours, his desire for you very apparent. “I don’t have any plans…” you told him.

“Would you like some?”

You smirked, your face growing hot. “What kind of plans?”

His mouth twitched into a cheeky smile. “I know what sort of plans you’re thinking about,” he teased. “But join me for a drink first? Maybe dinner?”

“Like a date?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, exactly like a date,” he nodded. He looked so handsome you just wanted to kiss him.

“And after the date…?” you asked.

“We can do whatever it is that’s currently going through your mind,” he winked and turned away before you could reply, heading back to his desk. He stood behind his chair, one hand on his hip, looking back at you. You shook your head, grabbed your coffee and started in his direction.

“Ah good, Y/L/N, Amaro, you’re both here. I need you to go out to Riker’s…” Liv walked through the bullpen, stopping near Nick.

You took a gulp of your coffee and put it on your desk. “Sure thing, Sergeant,” you said, glancing at Nick. “What for?”

“Barba needs you to revisit the confession you got yesterday. Make sure the details still check out. He wants to take it to a Grand Jury, but he’s worried it sounds too good to be true, like he was coached by someone on the inside.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “So Barba doesn’t trust us?”

Liv looked at him, “he just wants to make sure, Nick. It’s not about trust.” Nick nodded, though he was still frowning.

“We’ll get going now,” you said. “Come on Nick, I’ll let you drive…” You saw his face change when he realised he got to spend some time with you this morning, away from prying eyes. He grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair and slipped it on, following you towards the doors. You passed Amanda on her way back into the building.

“Where’s the fire?” she demanded, looking at you.

“Liv wants us at Riker’s,” you told her. “Checking the confession.”

Amanda rolled her eyes. “Barba’s being thorough on this one? I suppose it’s fair enough.” She paused. “Hey, are you guys free tonight? My family have finally decided to leave me be – we could catch up since we missed Saturday. Get a beer or something?”

“Oh, er…” you managed.

“Afraid I can’t. I’ve said I’ll go see my mom,” Nick said. Amanda turned to you.

“I’m really sorry,” you added, thinking quickly, “can we make plans for later in the week? I said I’d helped my cousin with his biology homework tonight, I can’t let him down.”

Amanda looked from you to Nick and shook her head. “Sure, guys, just me and my horror movies, I guess. I forget you both have families you actually want to see… See ya when you get back from Riker’s.” She turned and disappeared into the bullpen, as you and Nick hurried to the elevator.

It was usually only a half hour’s drive to Riker’s, but Nick took the Williamsburg Bridge and you hit traffic near Greenpoint that added another thirty minutes to the journey. By the time you arrived, Nick’s jaw had set impatiently. What had been flirty conversation for the first part of the journey had become professional preparations for your visit to Riker’s and then a settled silence as you reached the island. Visits to Riker’s always felt bleak; even hardened detectives weren’t immune to disgust at the conditions of the inmates there, many of them for minor crimes, or remanded awaiting trial.

As luck would have it, you were kept waiting, for reasons the corrections officers didn’t really explain. Nick, already frustrated, only got even more wound up, pacing the floor of the small room you were given to wait in. You already knew well enough that it was better to just leave him be when he was like this, so you sipped a Coke from the vending machine and just watched him walk back and forth, unable to help running your eyes up and down his form, enjoying just how well his clothes fit around that body you now knew intimately.

When you finally got to interview your suspect, he was resentful and much less in the mood for talking than he had been the day before. You let Nick take the lead; interrogation being one of his specialist skills, and one you’d had much less experience in during your time working Cold Case. Even without your attraction to him, you had a lot of admiration for Nick as a detective, one of the most intuitive and hardworking you’d ever met. His gut was usually right; today was no different and he found the holes in the supposed confession that could’ve made Barba’s whole case come tumbling down.

You were just ready to leave when deafening alarms sounded and two corrections officers hurried into the secure interview room. One grabbed your suspect and hauled him off towards the depths of the jail, the other came to talk to you and Nick, a sense of urgency in his words. “We’re going into lockdown, can I ask you both to come with me? I’m afraid you can’t leave the island until we’ve resolved the issue.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Nick protested.

“Afraid not, Detective,” the officer said, showing you into the small waiting room you’d been in before. Nick signed and slumped into a plastic chair, taking out his phone to call Liv with an update. You could see how tense his shoulders were, his brow settled into a frown as his call ended. You were frustrated too, but more because you were worried this would lessen his enthusiasm for tonight’s date. You did manage to lure him into conversation, as the time ticked by, but he would keep pacing the room, not happy with the enforced captivity.

Several hours later, it was already dusk as you finally got back in the car, heading back towards Manhattan, Nick muttering something about taking the Robert F Kennedy Bridge and the FDR as you set off. Although he was glad to be leaving, Nick was clearly still on edge. You watched him, driving, looking at his hands on the wheel, remembering what those fingers felt like on your body. Eventually he glanced over at you.

“What’re you looking at?” he said, a tiny smile curling his lips.

“You,” you replied.

“Why?” he asked “See something you like?”

“I think you know the answer to that” you purred reaching over resting your hand on his thigh.

Nick looked over at you for a moment taking his eyes off the road. He reached down grabbing your hand bringing it to his lips kissing the back of it and then moving to thread his fingers into yours, bringing both your hands down to rest on his thigh.

“I do know” he smirked. The car fell silent, the music filling the inside and you both looking out the window at the darkening sky and bright moon. Nick broke the silence first “Sorry about tonight, I was hoping we would have been back in the city way before now. I was looking forward to taking you out,” Nick sighed giving your hand a squeeze.

“It’s ok,” you squeezed his hand back. “But the night isn’t completely lost” you grinned “Around the next bend pull over.”

You saw the big grin pull to Nick’s face and he licked his lips. Nick drove around the bend and signaled to pull over on a small dirt clearing. He let go of your hand throwing the car into park, turning off the engine, and you both unclipped your seatbelts. Nick adjusted himself in his seat spreading his legs wider. You moved in your seat onto your side to face him, your hand resting back on his thigh running it up to his crotch.

Nick’s breathing hitched and he hooked his arm around your neck pulling you into him is lips landing on yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth twisting with yours. You swallowed his groans as your hand came up to cup him through his slacks, his cock instantly hardening at your touch.

Nick pulled back from your kiss and started to kiss along your jaw, down your neck in big wet open mouth kisses, nipping and sucking ever so lightly as he made quick work of undoing a couple of your shirt buttons, your red lace bra on full display. You reached up with both hands undoing Nick’s belt buckle, pants buttons and zipper sliding your hand down into his boxers and your hand wrapped around his long thick cock, pulling it out, his pre-cum covered tip glistening in the moonlight.

You turned your head, your lips ghosting his, Nick’s hot breath fanning your face and his right hand ran around to run up and down your back,

“I told you the night wasn’t completely lost,” you ran your lips against his while your hand lazily jerked him off.

“You’re such a good girl for me. You know how to make things better,” Nick said through hooded eyes, proving he’d remembered how you enjoyed his praise. You felt a hot throb of pleasure.

“Tell me why you were frustrated today Nick,” you purred into his lips as you twisted your wrist, making your way back up from his base.

“I told you,” he moaned bucking his hips up into your hand “I wanted to take you out.”

“And?”

“And-” Nick groaned loud, his head falling back into the seat, biting his bottom lip. “I have wanted you so bad all day”

“Is that so?” Nick nodded, his eyes closing and his mouth going slack. “I have wanted this amazing cock in my mouth all day.”

You pecked Nick’s lips, nipping his bottom lip before leaning down to take his tip into your mouth, your tongue flat, licking around him and taking him fully into your mouth relaxing your throat to take him as deep as you could and then making your way back up to his tip again. He reached over with one hand, pulling out your hair tie letting your hair flow down over your back and shoulders.

Nick rested his hand in the hair on the back of your head, threading his fingers into it, guiding your head up and down on him with no pressure, while his other hand worked its way down your shirt. His big warm hand running along your skin and slipping into your bra, massaging your flesh and toying with your nipple between his fingers,

“Y/N, you take my cock so well- that’s it, baby, just like that,” Nick moaned and groaned, his mouth open and eyes closed.

Nick started to roll his hips up into your mouth when he hit the back of your throat, his hand balling into a fist in your hair and he squeezed your tit, when you reached up cradling his balls, squeezing him lightly. You could feel your panties damping, your body on fire from Nick groping you and the feel of his cock on your tongue.

Nick pulled his hand out of your bra, both his hands going to the back of your head pushing you down on him, his thick curled hair tickling your nose while the car windows completely fogged up from his heavy breathing. Nick guided your head back up to his tip and then pushed you back down, your name, god and Spanish you didn’t understand spilling from his mouth, when his hot salty cum filled your mouth, running down your throat. You sucked him clean and pulled off him with a pop, using your pointer finger to wipe the corner of your mouth dry before sucking the tip of your finger.

You heard a growl rattle through Nick’s chest as he watched you and you gave him a wink. Nick’s hand went to the back of your neck pulling you down to him, pulling your lips onto his, the kiss deepening straight away and Nick groaned into your mouth when he tasted himself on your tongue. You broke the kiss and Nick tucked your hair behind your ear, his thumb brushing over your cheek,

“Let’s go back to mine so I can get a change of clothes and then I’ll take you home.”

“You’re inviting yourself for a sleep over?” you raised an eyebrow at him with a grin and he chuckled back at you.

“I don’t know how much sleeping we will be doing, but I can promise you baby, I will return the favour, hopefully more than once.”

  Tags:  @wanniiieeee​ @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo​ @randofando-spoonie​  @alwaysachorusgirl​  @amorestevens​  @harryssxnflwr​​ @teamsladsandgents​ @thatesqcrush​ @storiesofsvu​ @skittle479 @bisexual-dreamer02​ @glimmerglittergirl​ @witches-unruly-heart​​ @berniesilvas​

[writefasttalkevenfaster]

Take My Hand (Part Six)

Summary: rafael returns and things only get more complicated as the Davis case begins

Pairings: Sonny Carisi x Reader, Rafael Barba x Reader

Word Count: 8,240

Song: There's an ache in you put there by the ache in me / But if it's all the same to you / It's the same to me (coney island by taylor swift)

Warnings: T, swearing, the angst is back, lot of soft parts, but a lot of difficult emotions to detangle, “sightless in a savage land” (22x04) is used as background (but i also f*cked with the timeline to make things easier for me), also the v*rus doesn’t exist b/c i don’t want to live in reality.

A/N: ok, things are happening, and i want to saw those of you who spot all the little parallels w/i the fic i love you. thank you to those who have stuck with the series and have reblogged and commented!! as always, thank you to @laneygthememequeen​ and @bucky-of-the-opera​ for being the best beta readers!! 

You would be lying if you said you didn’t imagine this moment. 

The moment you saw Rafael again. It was a thought that haunted the recesses of your mind — stuffed away with all memories of him — one that wriggled to the forefront when your thoughts had quelled in the silence and stillness. And you wondered what he would say. And what you would say. 

And now you didn’t have to wonder. 

"What are you—" the question deflates on your lips — stupid question —  so you ask another, "when did you get back?" 

"A few days ago," Rafael jerks his head to pull you aside, an easy smile on his lips, too easy. It wasn't easy when you both started dating. It wasn't easy when you left. It wasn't easy when he proposed. And it wasn't easy to say no.  Nothing was easy when it came to this. But there he was, "my mother is moving down to Florida." 

You raise your eyebrows, "Finally retiring? Did you have to pry the keys of her charter school out of her fingers?" 

He gives a wry smile, "No, but helping her find a replacement and helping her pick out a place down there made it easier. That and promising to help her move." 

"You're a good son," he was good — a good son, a good friend, a good prosecutor— 

But he wasn’t good for you. 

"Well I am a man of many talents," he crosses his arms, “with a few notable exceptions.” 

And you know where this is going — to a place you don’t want it to. 

He opens his mouth to speak again, but you cut him off, “Are you representing Davis?” 

The words stuck in his throat, his mouth opening and closing, before he swallows them, “I am,” 

“I didn’t know you did defense work,” 

He tilts his head, “Well, there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there? I assume you’re here because Noble-Gordon wants the case?” 

You raise an eyebrow, “Keeping tabs on me?” 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” the teasing is so routine — the banter clicks into place — picking up right where you both left off, smoothing over broken hearts and hurt feelings. Hiding behind quick witted barbs because it was easier than untangling ensnared feelings. 

“Rafael—” 

“I met with Jack,” he admits, holding his hands up, “I asked about you. Can you blame me for being curious?” 

No. No, you couldn’t — not when you had asked Jack about him. 

“I can try,” you want to bite the inside of your cheek when he smirks, “why do you want this case?” 

“Off the record? Liv and Fin,” he slides his hands inside his pocket, “I suspect they didn’t know your firm would want the case for themselves, but,” he adds, “there’s a way this could work for both of us.” 

“How?” 

“How about a partnership?” 

“A partnership?” 

“Your firm gets their name on the case, and I need financial support,” and you furrow your brow, “but I have some terms.” 

“Of course you would,” you sigh, “what are they?” 

“One, I do the actual defense work in court, two, your firm’s involvement is limited to only a few employees — I don’t want your partners’ politics to be running the case — and three, you’re on the case with me,” and you raise your eyebrows, “before you say no—” 

“Before I say no?” you repeat, “Rafael with everything that happened—” 

“Before anything happened, we worked cases together, and even after everything happened, we did,” he shifts from foot to foot, “we know how the other works, we know our strengths and weaknesses, and I need someone I trust to work this case on — so I can walk into that courtroom for the first time since—” he sighs, biting his lip before speaking again, softer, “I want your help, and I know I have no right to ask for it, but I am. And that term is negotiable, but I’m pretty sure your firm will agree. You’re the best person to work this case.” 

“But—” 

“And before you ask,” he says, gaze soft, “this isn’t a ploy to win you back.” 

You blink,  “I know,” 

Did you? You wished you could tell your heart because now it’s thumping against your ribcage, “I know I missed my chance, and I don’t want to cross any boundaries,” he reassures you, “this will be professional.” 

“‘Professional,’” you repeat, the taste of the word disconcerting with just how unprofessional this felt, “Rafael—” 

“Just think about it,” he tilts his head, “meet with Davis — trust me, he needs our help,” and then he pauses, “and you know that we’ll be facing—” 

“I know Sonny is the A.D.A. on the case,” and he’s also my boyfriend. The words want to leave your tongue, but the sheer awkwardness is as disconcerting as working with Rafael — “Look—” 

“Don’t give me an answer yet, just talk to your firm,” he checks his watch, “I have to go, but I’ll email you.” 

“And where’d you get my email?” he shrugs. 

“You can blame your firm for that one — firm’s website lists you,” and he begins to walk past you before pausing to look back, “it was nice to see you...counselor.” 

How was it that he walked into your life as easily as you had left his? How was it that you wanted to hate him, but it was so easy to like him? How was it that everything was so easy — when it was him? 

“It was nice to see you too,” and you spared one last glance at his retreating back, as the guard buzzed you in. 

And that wouldn’t be the last time you’d see him. 

Sonny was beginning to doubt any of this would ever get easier. Checking his watch, it was well past 3:00 PM and he hadn’t even eaten yet — typical. He spares a glance at the whiteboard —  littered with schedules, case numbers, and statuses of cases. 

But there was still so much to do. 

He checks his phone — you had texted him, the messages bunched together, but his eyes fall back to the files stacked on the conference table. He begins placing them in a case box. It would have to wait.

“Carisi?” and he pauses at a voice — a voice he hadn’t heard in quite a while. He’s grizzled — different from the clean cut A.D.A. he once was, but he’s also lighter — again, different from the broken man who left his city with his reputation in shambles. 

His words, not Sonny’s.

But now Sonny knows, knows that he wasn’t only broken because of the case, of having to leave his city, but because of you — the you that Barba had been with for years, the you whose heart he broke, the you who said no when he proposed. 

And now you were dating Sonny. 

Him, not Barba.

He stands in his doorway, “How’s the eighth floor treating you?” 

But this was the same man that was his mentor, his friend — so he smiles. 

“No differently than any other junior A.D.A.,” and Rafael gives a knowing smile, as Sonny continues to put away the files. 

“They want you to cover their ass all the time? Never lose a case?” he knew it well — because he had lived it. 

“Pretty much,” Barba crosses his arms, as Sonny grabs the box and brushes past him, “it’s good to see you, Barba. If you came to taunt me, I got all day.” 

And it was good to see him — why wouldn’t it be? He would be lying if he didn’t wish before that Rafael was his boss instead — it would have been easier if nothing else. But not now. 

“Huh, they gave you an office,” Barba remarks, glancing around his shoebox of an office, peering out his window to look at the paralegals at their desks, “nice view.” 

Sonny places the box down, snorting, “I had to move the xerox machine and four filing cabinets just to get the desk in,” and then move them back. It wasn’t much — but it took him this long to get it — glorified closet or not, it was his. 

“So you caught the Mickey Davis case?” He’s standing by the window, and Sonny sighs — the case had been all over the news, the media were having a field day, and so were his bosses upstairs. These were different times — and this was a dangerous case — vigilantism wasn’t something to be taken lightly. But it wasn’t something that was simple — not in this case. 

“Oh, yeah,” Sonny sighs, leaning against his desk, “horror story.” 

“What are you charging?”

Sonny almost scoffs, “The guy brought a gun to court, he followed the vic to transport, and shot him at point-blank range. What do you think?” 

“I think the guy's got a Purple Heart, titanium leg, and PTS,” Sonny blinks — what was this?

“That doesn’t change what he did,” Sonny says slowly — Barba knew that — killing is still killing, no matter how justified it may seem. 

He said it himself best — otherwise we might as well let the blood flow in the streets. 

“He was betrayed by the V.A. and A.C.S., even the eighth floor has to know this is a dog,” Barba says, stepping forward, a ghost of a chuckle on his lips. 

“Maybe,” Sonny admits, “but they still want him to do time.” 

“That has to be negotiable,” and that’s when it clicks. 

Sonny pauses, his mouth parted, as Barba meets his gaze, “Hold on,” he says slowly, “before we continue—” 

“Mm-hmm,” 

“Are you representing Mickey Davis?” And it’s Barba’s turn to pause, and he’s searching Sonny’s gaze — and he doesn’t know for what. 

“I am,” 

Sonny scoffs — that would have been nice to know from the start, “Okay,” Sonny gets to his feet, shutting his door and rounding the table to sit behind his desk — time to get down to business, “What kind of deal are you looking for?” 

“No way you want to put this guy on trial,” 

“Three and half years? No, but thank you,” Barba sits across from him, and Sonny knows he’s playing hard ball — he always played hard ball, but this time, they weren’t on the same team. 

“Barba, we both know this wasn’t heat of the moment,” 

“Maybe to you, not to Mr. Davis,” 

Sonny raises an eyebrow, there was defending your client and then there was plain hubris,“There's security cam video. There's multiple eyewitnesses. Mickey broke the law—” 

“A jury might see that as defending his daughter when no one else did,” Sonny narrows his eyes — jury nullification — did he get that strategy from Calhoun or Buchanan? 

“Get the jury to ignore the law?” Sonny knew he wouldn’t make easy on him  “That's a slippery slope, Rafael.” 

He smiles, he’s almost proud, “You really have become a lawyer,” 

Sonny wrinkles his brow, “What does that mean?” 

“Mickey Davis is a human being. So are the jurors,” Rafael rises to his feet, as Sonny calls after him. 

“You going for insanity?” He half-expects him not to answer — that would be the smart thing to do — but Rafael’s pride always trumped any strategy. 

“I'm going for straight-up not guilty,” Rafael opens the door, turning, “and my co-counsel may be in touch as well.” 

“Co-counsel?” Sonny leans back in his seat — he didn’t know Barba needed a second chair, “who’s that?” 

And your name leaves his lips, “Excuse me?” 

“Looks like you’ll be facing both of your mentors, Carisi,” and he knew that Rafael hadn’t seen the picture of you on his desk — “I’ll make sure to relay the offer as well. See you at arraignment.” 

Sonny stares at the closed door, before his phone vibrates again, and he glances to see another text message from you: Hey, checking in on you. Can I drop by? 

And Sonny knows, he knows you would never cheat. He knew this doesn’t change the year you had spent together, he knew it doesn’t change that you loved him, he knew it didn’t change anything, but — another text comes through: I miss you — it was complicated. 

Not right now. Busy. 

And he sighs, but it also didn’t change how he felt about you. 

I miss you too. 

The lights in the D.A.’s office had long ago dimmed — the barely lit fluorescents flickering as you passed the empty line of desks before finally reaching it. You knock at his office door, leaning against the doorframe, watching him work, his brow furrowed in thought, pen flicking as he scribbled notes. 

“You forget about me?” Sonny barely looks up from his work, tight lipped, and your smile begins to slide off your lips, “Sonny?” 

“Sorry, got caught up in work,” he leans back in his chair, just as you step forward, “what time is it?” 

“Way past dinner,” you round his desk, leaning against it as you tilt your head, “you okay?” 

You reach for him, but he moves away, crossing his arms, “Barba dropped by,” and his eyes fall on you — and you wonder if this was what it felt like to be interrogated — the pages of the book snapped shut, his cards resting against the table, and his face blank, “He wanted to discuss the Davis case—” 

Your heart drops, “Sonny—” 

“—and apparently you’re his co-counsel?” he shakes his head, sighing, his eyes falling to his desk, “When were you going to tell me that you met with Barba?”

You frown, “I wanted to tell you, I was going to tell you before I went to meet him — but I couldn’t reach you. You know my partners wanted to score some points—” 

“Because of the Thompson case, I know—” but his brow is still furrowed, “but how did you end up calling point on the case?” 

“I had to meet with Davis to discuss the details of the case,” you explain how your partners were too busy to go down and handle it nor did they trust any of the associates to do it, “we need this case — it’s a high profile case involving a vet? We had to jump on it, but when I got to Rikers, it turned out someone else got the jump on it first.” 

He scoffs, “Barba,” 

“He had already met with Davis, he offered to work in partnership with my firm, granted I handle the case and he gets to be in the courtroom,” and Sonny raises his eyebrows. 

“He asked for you specifically to work the case with him?” 

“Because he knows how I work,” your hand reaches for him slowly, “nothing more than that. Sonny, please don’t be mad — it was a coincidence.” 

“I’m not mad,” he sighs, eyes finally meeting yours, his fingers intertwining with yours, “Would have been nice to know you two decided to work the case together,” 

“I was going to tell you — I was just about to—” 

“I know,” and he’s pulling you into his lap, “Just don’t let me find out you’re working with your ex from your ex,” 

“I won’t,” you whisper, pressing your lips to him softly, “I promise. I didn’t mean for this—” 

“I know,” he kisses you again, his arms wrapping around your middle, “what about us?” 

Your lips purse, “What about us?” 

“Our relationship — will we have to disclose?” it hadn’t been a problem since the cases you handled fell out of Sonny’s jurisdiction most times and when it didn’t, you delegated the work to someone else, “it seems like professional responsibility 101,” 

“Well, I already told Mr. Davis, I got his written consent in writing when I met with him, just in case I end up handling the case,” you bite your lip, “as for the judge, it shouldn’t be a problem as long as we have the consent of my client.” 

Your hand runs over his cheek, and he turns his head to press a kiss to your palm, “Are you going to work the case?” 

“I have to talk to my firm, see what everyone wants to do,” your fingers run over his face, “but if they do want me to handle the case, are you okay with that?” 

“You know I can’t make that call for you,” his hand rests on the small of your back, “it’s yours to make, sweetheart.” 

“But I don’t want to make it without knowing you’re okay with me working with him—” you lean down to press a kiss to his temple, “are you okay with it?” 

“I am,” he says softly, “are you?” 

“The firm needs the case — and this could be my shot at making partner,” his lips press butterfly kisses to your neck, and you sigh, “I don’t know what to do.” 

“Sleep on it?” he murmurs against his skin, “always how the best decisions are made.” 

“Says who?” 

“Me,” he replies. 

And you chuckle, noses brushing, as you lean closer, “As long it’s from a reliable source,” and your lips meet again, he pulls away, but you give chase, until you’re pressing him into the seat, fingers sliding along his shoulders, your hand finding the back of his neck, swallowing his moan with ease. 

“Doll,” his lips are kiss ruined, eyes fluttering, and you trail kisses along his jaw, “you’ll be the end of me,” 

And the double meaning isn’t lost on you —  “I would be happy to end with you,” 

He smiles, and it’s enough. For now. You rest your forehead against his for a moment in the relative silence, only broken by the hum of the fluorescents and the quiet sound of your breathing. 

Until his stomach growls. 

And you blink, a grin breaking across your lips, “Hungry?”

“It depends,” and you slide off his lap, offering your hand to him, and he cocks his head, “did you cook?” 

You huff at him, “You’ll be glad to know I ordered takeout right before I got here,” and he gets to his feet, taking your hand, “but just for that, I’m cooking for the next week.” 

“Oh, we’ll see about that,” he wraps his arm around you, grabbing his bag, before flicking off the light. 

And after you got back to the apartment, eating dinner, and slipping into bed, you lied awake, his quiet snores filling your ears, and you turned to look at him — barely illuminated in the moonlight that peeked through the parted shutters. His eyes shut, his breathing steady, his freshly washed hair falling against his forehead. 

You turn away, reaching for your phone — finding the email from Rafael, disclosing the details of the case — a question ending the email: Are you in? 

And you glance back at Sonny — only you didn’t know the answer. 

He was okay with you taking the case, right? You scoot a little closer, nestling yourself beside him a moment, he said he was okay with it. 

You shut your eyes. He was okay, and you would be okay. 

Right?

“Wow, this is a nice upgrade from your office at the D.A.’s,” Rafael remarks at your office door, taking a moment to examine the room.

You barely look up from your work — a dozen cases, associates’ work to check, and several arraignments to do, “That’s because someone took the only nice office, and stuck me in a closet off of yours,” 

“Bureaucracy at work,” he replies, shutting your door and taking stock, “how’s defense work treating you?” 

“The same way it has been I left the D.A.’s office,” you spare a small smile, “wonderfully.” 

“Found your calling?” you shrug. 

“You could say that,” you sigh, placing your pen down, “what about you?” 

“What about me?” he raises an eyebrow, and you roll your eyes. Always had to work for it when it came to Rafael Barba. 

“What have you been up to?” 

“Looking something I lost a few years ago,” and you furrow your brow, and he smiles, “don’t flatter yourself, counselor — I meant a calling,” 

Your cheeks burn, “You came to talk arraignment? Thought you could handle that yourself, Mr. Innocence Project,” 

“I wanted to talk deal,” Rafael crossed his arms, “there was one thing I didn’t disclose to you in that email and that’s my meeting with Carisi,” and you blink, only you knew about that already, “I met with him yesterday — he offered man 2.” 

Sonny didn’t mention that, but then again it was better that he didn’t, “But you don’t want to take it?” 

“I don’t,” he slides into a chair, pulling a legal pad out, leg folded over his knee, “I think we can do better — I think we can get not guilty.” 

You raise your brow, “Do you want to—” 

“I want to go for jury nullification,” he crosses his arms, shrugging, “we have a strong case for it.”

“And we have a man who literally shot another point blank on security footage, and who brought a gun with him to court,” you shake your head, “we have to at least consider it,” 

“What’s there to consider? Mr. Davis doesn’t want to take the deal,” and you pause, and Rafael nearly wavers, adding, “I may have discussed it with him—” 

“Before asking me about it?” 

“You only told me this morning you were on board,” Rafael holds up his hands, “I had a duty to relay it to him,” 

“And what did he say?” 

“He said he didn’t want to deal — he wanted his day in court,” he tilts his head. 

“Did he? Or did you?” 

“What are you implying?” 

“Did he come to this conclusion on his own or did you help him along?” and he pauses — all the answer you needed, “Rafael, this is our client, we have to be realistic—” 

“He’s a vet with—” 

“Awards and a prosthetic leg I know, but he also could go to jail for murder — and never see his daughter again,” and he opens his mouth to speak, “so I’m asking you, are you taking this to trial for him or for you?” 

His lips are a thin line, “First of all, this is for him — I wouldn’t take this trial if I didn’t think there wasn’t a good chance of winning and if I knew this wasn’t what he wanted,” and he sits up, “and what about you?” 

“What about me?” 

“Your firm probably wants this to go to trial — need the publicity of a trial for this to work — for you to get the break you need, isn’t it?” Rafael argues the same way he does in court — his words pointed and true, aimed for the chinks in someone’s armor, “sounds like we’re on the same page.” 

You glare at him, “Don’t question my motives,” 

“Then don’t question mine,” the words are terse, a period at the end of a paragraph that is still left hanging, until he chooses to start a new one, “Is this about the case? Or is this about us?” 

You scoff, “So much for keeping it professional,” 

Your name leaves his mouth soft, but firm, and your eyes meet his, “Is it going to be like this?” he asks, crossing his arms, “throughout the entire trial?” 

“Like what?” 

And he sighs, running a hand over his bristled chin, “I know I’ve made mistakes, I know, you know, but I can’t change what I’ve done,” his voice grows soft, “and I’m sorry, I wish I could — I wish I didn’t hurt you, but I did, and I take responsibility for that,” your gaze falls and he continues, “but if this is too hard, if you don’t want to do this, if you’re still angry, like you have every right to be—” 

“I do,” the words leave your lips, “I do want to work with this case with you — it’s just—” you break off. You had meticulously tucked away any feelings for Rafael Barba away along with any reminder of him, including the man himself. It was easy, it was clearcut, but this wasn’t easy — because now your feelings were leaking, slipping from your careful control, and where there was a leak, there was a flood. And you were bound to get hurt. 

“It’s hard,” he swallows, and you blink. 

“It’s hard for you?” the words leave your lips harshly, and he flinches, “I didn’t mean—” 

“No,” he gives a rueful smile, “I deserved that, after everything I put you through,” he shrugs, pressing his lips together, “I did love you, I did, I was just afraid.” 

“What were you so afraid of?” 

And he shakes his head, “I saw so many relationships fall apart around me — my own, my parents, our cases—” he breaks off, “I didn’t want us to hate each other, I didn’t want to regret you,” a bitter chuckle leaves his lips, “but you ended up regretting me.” 

You frown, “I don’t regret you,” and his brow furrows, “You’re surprised by that?” 

“If I were you...I’d regret me,” and you sigh, hands wringing under your desk. 

“Rafael, I loved you, even though it hurt, I can’t regret that. Do I wish things turned out differently? Maybe, but,” your voice softens, glancing at the picture of Sonny on your desk, and you gesture around you, shrugging, “it also got me to where I am.” 

And you know you should tell him — you should tell him that you’ve moved on, you should tell him that you’re with Sonny, but the words are lodged in the back of your throat, and you can’t bring yourself to say them before he’s already speaking. 

“Well,” he clears his throat, licking his lips, before smiling, “I’m glad, for that much at least,” and he sits back again, “So—” 

��So?” 

“Are we taking this to trial?” and you bite your lip — jury nullification was a risky move — for both the policy ramifications and the risk involved — but, that wasn’t your responsibility anymore, your duty and your only duty is to your client. 

“Are you sure this is what Mr. Davis wants?” and Rafael nods. 

“I would give you his exact words, but there are some obscenities,” and you snort, shaking your head. 

“And you’re sure about putting him on the stand?” 

“Not at all,” he scoffs, “he’s questionable at best, and a loose cannon at worst.” 

You rub your temples, “That’s going to play well during cross,” 

“We’ll prep him well — let’s just get through arraignment,” he sighs, flipping to a fresh page, “Carisi is going to ask for remand, how should we play it?” 

“We ask for R.O.R. — he’s a father of a young girl who was just raped and impregnated, he’s a decorated veteran who needs physical therapy, and he’s not a flight risk.” 

Rafael chuckles, “And when we don’t get it?” 

“Honestly, I’ll take anything over remand,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, “we should schedule a psych eval, start on gathering information on his tours, interview character witnesses and especially those who can testify to what he saw—” your words fall short when you see Rafael is smiling, “what?” 

“Nothing,” he waves you off, pressing the tip of his pen to his lips, “Go on.” 

And you blink, before going on — not noticing the way his smile returned when your eyes fell away. 

Running late from the office — be there soon. Your text comes in just as Sonny’s food arrives at the table, and he’s about to order for you when a voice draws his attention away. 

“Mr. Carisi,” Sonny’s head snaps up his phone to find Jack McCoy smiling at him, “am I interrupting?” 

His mouth is dry, and he shakes his head, “No, not at all,” he gestures for him to join him, and Jack does, not bothering to look at a menu, “so I suppose this isn’t a social call?” 

“I wanted to ask your progress on the Davis case,” he crosses his arms. 

And he blinks, wondering why he hadn’t bothered to ask whether you had told his boss if a) you two were dating, and b) if he knew you were on this case, “Discovery is ongoing — I’ve handed my materials over per the new discovery rules within 15 days, and now I’m waiting on the defense to turn over their evidence.” 

Jack shakes his head, “New York law catching up with the modern days — a damn fine day for defense attorneys — before we could sandbag the day before, not that I ever did that,” he gives a wry smile, before his eyes fall to Sonny’s phone, vibrating, “you need to get that?” 

“No, sir,” Sonny waves it off, “What’s your interest in the Davis case?” 

“Well, I am your boss, I’m interested in all your cases,” he replies, before smiling, “I did hear who the defense attorneys for the case are.”

And Sonny picks at his food, “Oh?” 

“I am just curious how prepared you are to tackle a case against both of your old mentors,” Jack says, as Sonny chooses then to sip at his drink, “and your partner for that matter.” 

He chokes, “Who—” 

“It was obvious — at least to me,” Jack shrugs, “don’t pretend you haven’t heard the rumors about me,” he adds, furrowing his brow, “one piece of advice, son—” 

“We are planning on disclosing to the judge—” 

“Not that,” he says sharply, “you’ve been good together — the two of you. But it’s easy to let a case get between you,” 

“Is this about Diana Hawthorne?” 

And Jack raises an eyebrow, “Did—” 

“Rumor mill isn’t just about me, sir,” he shrugs, “I heard it a while ago, that case was tough,” 

“Made tougher by our relationship,” he sighs, “I think sometimes if we hadn’t been together, maybe things—” he cuts off, “my point is, you two have done a good job of keeping professional and personal from mixing so far, but when you both start bringing this case home—” 

“We won’t,” Sonny says, and Jack raises an eyebrow, “we won’t.” 

And Jack relaxes, before shoving his hands in his pockets, “How long have you two been—”  

“Over a year now,” Jack smiles softly. 

“Are you both happy?” 

And is he happy? When he’s with you, he feels at peace for once — the world and its horrors slipping away, until he feels nothing but you in his arms. You challenge him to grow — even when he doesn’t want to. And he would do anything for you — he would give you the life you wanted, give the family you want, give you his best — if only he could give you the same peace you give him. 

“We are,” Sonny smiles softly, hand slipping into his pocket, thumbing the ring box in his pocket, “in fact—” 

“Hey,” you arrive, glancing between him and Jack, furrowing your brow — and he knows you hadn’t told Jack, “Jack, Sonny — what a—” 

“Cat’s out of the bag, sweetheart,” Sonny slips his arm around your waist, and you tilt your head, before realization washes over you, relaxing into his touch, “care to join us?” 

“You’ll be joining him,” Jack slips from the booth, “like I said, this wasn’t a social call,” he smiles between the two of you, “we should set up a lunch.” 

“Will do,” you nod, “I’ll call you." 

With a nod, he leaves, and you slip into the booth beside him, "Hi," you kiss him, "menu?" 

"I would have ordered for you, but I got interrupted,” and you bump his shoulder. 

You snort, “I wouldn’t have ordered if my boss was grilling me about my relationship,” 

“You didn’t tell him?

“Should I have?” he’s frowning, and you’re shaking your head, “it’s not that I didn’t want to,” you bite your lip, “sorry, I’m not explaining this well,” you sigh, placing the menu down, “it’s just Jack had me and Rafael figured out from the second we…” 

Sonny is shaking his head, sipping at his drink, “Yeah, well looks like not much has changed,” 

“Well, he didn’t exactly approve of me and Rafael, which is why I was worried what he’d say to you,” you purse your lips, shifting in your seat, “did he say anything?” 

Sonny pauses, “No I don’t think so,” and Sonny’s biting back a smile, remembering Jack’s words — he approved. 

And now you’re bumping his shoulder, “Why so smug, counselor?” 

“No reason,” and you’re stealing one of his fries, “I’m just glad I’m not on his bad side.” 

“No one would want to be,” you say as the waiter comes order, taking your order, as well as the menu from your hand. 

“Did you tell him?” 

“Jack? I just told—”  

“No, I mean,” he licks his lips, “did you tell Rafael that we were dating?” 

And he was hoping he wouldn’t see your brow knit together like that, see your fingers wringing in your lap, “I didn’t,” 

His mouth is dry, and he’s turning his body to face you, “Why?” 

“I didn’t know how to bring it up — to just say, ‘by the way, I’m dating Sonny, just thought you should know,’” and doubt begins to creep in, “we were trying to keep things professional—” 

“I understand,” and your lips are twisting and he knows you don’t believe him — hell, he doesn’t believe him. 

“Do you want me to tell him?” and he doesn’t know what to say — he wants him to know, but why does he want him to know? You weren’t his property — he didn’t own you, he knew you wouldn’t do anything. He trusted you. 

Didn’t he? 

“I’ll tell him, Sonny,” and Sonny’s gaze snaps to you, “he’s picking up files from me at the office, and I’ll let him know—” Sonny opens his mouth, but you cut him off with his lips, “we have to disclose to the judge on Monday anyway before jury selection, it’s necessary.” 

“I don’t want to make you—” 

“I know,” you silence him with another kiss, soft, comforting, and his guilt settles, instead peace seeps in, “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” his heart warms, as the waitress brings over your meal, and Sonny’s check, and he checks his watch, “and I gotta go. See you tonight?” and you shake your head. 

“I got to work late tonight and I have arraignments early in the morning — but I get off early tomorrow and I’ll be waiting to make it up to you,” you kiss him again, before pressing chaste kisses along his jaw. 

“Looking forward to that,” and he wants to ask — ask why you won’t consider moving in, why you brush it off, and the question burns on his lips, until the words are seared into his tongue — but he doesn’t, “call me?” 

“I will,” and he kisses you one last time, before slipping from the booth.

And he wonders, fingers finding the velvet box in his pocket — if you won’t move in with him, will you even marry him?

Can you do me a favor? Rafael’s text comes in as soon as you’re leaving from court, and you’re sighing at your phone screen. 

And another: Please? 

He really must be desperate. What’s up? 

Can you drop the files off somewhere for me? I can’t make it to your office today — something came up. 

Is something wrong? 

Only with my mother’s cable service — they were supposed to be by today to disconnect the service. 

You snort, Then sue them. 

Civil is not my area of expertise, and then he adds, but I may be willing to learn if they take any longer. Can you please drop the files off? 

You raise an eyebrow — ‘please’ — he really must be desperate. 

You bite your lip — you wanted to get home early, but you also needed to tell Rafael about you and Sonny. You glance at the time, sighing, before replying to him. 

I’ll drop by with the files — text me the address now. 

A tax ride later — you had arrived at a place you thought you would never be again. You couldn’t but stare at the door of Lucia’s place. You had been here five years ago — first and last time you had met his mother. And it was the first time you had realized you had to break up with Rafael. 

It was over the moment you left here — even though neither of you wanted to admit it. His kisses could no longer patch your heart because it was no longer cracked — it was broken. 

But it didn’t make it any easier to leave him. 

You shake yourself from your thoughts, knocking on the door — but you had. 

And so did he. 

You hear his voice from within the apartment — a muffled coming — and some stumbling, until finally you hear the telltale sounds of the chain, bolt, and locks. 

He opens the door, wiping his face with a towel — and he’s clean shaven. And you blink — he smiles at you, the very same smile he always gave you, “You shaved,” 

“And you’re observant,” and he finds you staring at him, “Does it look bad?” 

“No, no,” he steps aside, letting you inside the apartment, before shutting the door and locking it, “you look good.” 

And his lips are curving in a grin now, “I look good?” 

Your cheeks burn — always a dog with a bone, “Don’t push your luck, Barba,” 

“Ouch,” he snorts, “you used to be much more accommodating to my self-esteem.” 

“That was when I worked with you,” you cross your arms, taking a survey of the apartment — more boxes than apartment at this point, you could barely take a step before tripping, “men work better with their ego stroked,” You find your way to the kitchen table — his makeshift office from the looks of it — complete with two cups of coffee, “Old habits die hard, huh?” 

“They often do,” he sips at the coffee, holding it by the rim with the tips of his fingers, “everyone is allowed to have their vices.” 

“And here is your other one—” you pull the files from your bag, “I brought everything you asked for — you should be well prepped for jury selection.” 

He nods, flipping through the materials, “You’ll be there right?” 

“Of course,” you blink, “any reason you ask?” 

“I may run a little late on Monday, but it shouldn’t be an issue—” Rafael waves it off, before setting it down, “can I make you a cup of coffee to thank you?” 

You offer a small smile, “No, I probably should get home, but I’ll see you on Monday,” and you swallow your nerves, squeezing the handle of your bag, “but there is something I wanted to tell you—” 

And that’s when you hear the lock clicking, “Rafi, how many times have I told you to just leave the door unlocked?” heels clicking against the hardwood, arms full of bags. Rafael slips from his chair, rounding the kitchen table. 

“And how many times have I told you that’s not safe?” he replies, taking the bags from her arms, and then she spots you, blinking, “Mami, you remember—” 

“Oh!” she walks over, pulling you into a tight hug, “it’s so wonderful to see you again, dear,” 

“Lucia, it’s great to see you too,” you smile, awkwardness smoothed over the warmth of her smile, as her hands found yours, squeezing, “it’s been far too long.” 

“I’ll say,” she shoots a glare at her son, before her eyes find yours and soften again, “I had warned him not to let you get away, and did he listen?” 

Rafael is rubbing his temple, “Mami, please—” 

“Oh,” she looks between the two of you, raising a brow, “if you’re here does that mean—” 

“No,” he clears his throat, the tips of his ears red now, “I told you we’re on this case together. I needed some files dropped off—” 

“You must join us for lunch,” and both you and Rafael open your mouths, “I insist, please. This will be the last time for a while I will be up north for a bit. Let me impose.” 

And your eyes flicker between Rafael and his mother, before Rafael speaks, “We can’t impose on any plans—” 

“I’ll stay,” and his eyes fall on you, as your phone feels heavier in your pocket with guilt — knowing you would be late, “it’s fine, how can I say no?” 

Lucia squeezes your hand. And how could you say no to this? 

After lunch, you’re helping Lucia clean up, when Rafael is in the bathroom, washing the dishes while she dried,  “Are you looking forward to moving down to Florida?” 

“I am, even though I’ll miss my work and my students,” she sighs, her shoulders much lighter, “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life living the same — I want to have time for myself, I want to experience new things, not like my mother,” her voice grows smaller, the plates clinking in the dish rack, “I don’t know how much Rafael told you about her—” 

“I knew that she had passed, while Rafael and I were together,” he had been a mess — he wasn’t sleeping, he was barely eating, you had to ply him to get him away from the office —- when he wasn’t working, he was drinking. He had blamed himself for his grandmother’s death for so long — and even now you wondered if he had ever stopped, “she was a wonderful woman.” 

“I wish you could have met her,” she sniffs, “she would have loved you,” and you nod, silent, and you feel her eyeing you, “what happened with you and Rafi anyway?” 

“It just didn’t work out,” you knew she wasn’t going to let it go that easily. 

“You two loved each other,” Lucia replies, “that just doesn’t go away.” 

And you did — you had loved him, you would have married him, you would have started a family with him — but he didn’t want that. And you did. 

“It doesn’t,” you wanted to brush it off, you wanted to tell her you were with someone else, you wanted to say something to make her stop pushing, but you couldn’t, “I did love your son, Lucia. I really did, but it wasn’t the right time for us.” 

“You made him happy—happier than I’ve ever seen him, even now,” and you meet her gaze, “you can’t tell me you don’t feel something for him now? Can you?” 

And you waver, no words coming to mind, “Lucia, I—” 

But then the bathroom door is creaking open, and you jolt, continuing to wash dishes, tongue tied and cheeks burning in shame — why didn’t you mention Sonny? Why didn’t you just tell her you loved someone else? But another question nagged at you, as the object of the question appeared before you — and you turned at the sound of your name to find him smiling at you. 

Why couldn’t you say that you didn’t have feelings for Rafael? 

“Ma, we should probably let your hostage go now,” he tilts his head, hands in his pockets, “I’m sorry if we stepped on your plans—” 

You clear your throat, “No, no, it’s fine—” And you move to grab your coat and bag, “but I really should get going.” 

Lucia holds out her arms, wrapping you in a hug, “It was wonderful to see you dear,” 

“You too,” you smiled, despite the interrogation that rivaled your son’s, “if I don’t see you again, please have a safe trip to Florida,” 

“Thank you, and good luck on your case,” she presses a kiss to your cheek, as Rafael stands by, arms crossed. 

“I’ll walk you out,” he nods at his mom, before slipping out of the apartment with you, as the door clicks behind you, and he walks you to the elevator, “I’m sorry my mom shanghaied you—” 

“It’s fine,” you wave him off, as you press the call button, “I enjoy being shanghaied when it involves your mom’s cooking,” 

“But still, I don’t want you to think that was my intention—” 

“Rafael?” you cut him off, “it’s fine.” 

And the elevator dings, the doors sliding open, “Are you sure?” 

You smile at him, sighing, stepping in, “If it’s not, I’ll just sue you,” and he scoffs, “I’ll see you Monday, Raf.” 

The nickname slips out before you can help it, and the doors close shut, as you step back, back of your head leaning against the wall. 

What the fuck were you doing? 

~~~

Rafael slips back inside, shutting the door behind him, “So what was that stunt you pulled to get—” 

“How much of our conversation did you hear?” Lucia replies, wiping her hands off, and crossing her arms. His gaze softens, “you still have a chance, mijo.” 

“Mami—”

She finds her way over to her son, “Do you miss—” 

He sighs, “You know I do,” but he shakes his head, turning away from her, “but it’s over, I can’t cross that line again—” 

“Can’t or won’t?” she places her hands on her hips, “you heard us — couldn’t deny having feelings for you still, and you — I’ve seen you since you’ve been working the case, you’re happier.” 

And he doesn’t want to admit it — it hurt to see you again, after you had rejected him, but more because of the way he had treated you. You were a reminder of yet another way he had failed, but also a reminder that he wanted to be so much better. And he did, and he was. 

He wasn’t the same person — he had grown, and so had you. 

And maybe, for once the timing was right — your mouth wrapped around his nickname, the way it used to be, still ringing in his ears. 

He turns to face his mother, “Now I’ll ask one more time, did you hear our conversation?” 

And he smiles, “I heard everything.” 

And he knew what he had to do. 

“Where is your co-counsel?” Judge Harper asks sharply, and you stand twisting your fingers, “Counselor—” 

“I apologize, Your Honor,” you are texting Rafael for the sixth time, asking him where he is, “Mr. Barba is not responding to my attempts to get into contact with him. He had told me he may be a little late—” not twenty minutes late, but— “if you could give us a few more minutes—” 

“The People have no objection,” Sonny adds, sparing you a sympathetic look. 

“Even so, this is wasting the jurors’ time,” Judge Harper sighs, “Can you proceed without him?” 

Fuck — you still needed to disclose to Judge Harper.

Proceeding without disclosure would be a violation of your duties, and your eyes slide to Sonny who purses his lips, not to mention Sonny’s. Well no time like the present, “Yes, but I would like to enter chambers before then,” 

Judge Harper blinks, but agrees, rising to enter her chambers, and just as you round the defense table, Rafael arrives through the double doors, harried and rushing, “I apologize, Your Honor, I—” 

And he's glancing at all of you on your feet, halfway across the courtroom floor, and Judge Harper speaks first, "You're just in time to join us in chambers, counselor,” 

Rafael’s eyes flicker between you and Sonny, a questioning brow raised, but he follows, and your heart sinks. 

Fuck. 

He needed to know — you just didn’t want him to find out this way. You had opportunities — you had your chance, and you had lost it. 

Just like he lost his — with you. 

The doors close behind you, as Judge Harper settles behind her desk for a moment, “Now, what is this about?” 

The uncomfortable feeling of everyone’s gaze settles over you, and Rafael’s gaze feels sharper than the others. 

But why did it feel sharper? 

It had been years since you had been together, years since you had ever— and why would he care if you were dating Carisi? Why did it feel like his gaze was carving into your mind and he could see the truth written across your forehead? But you still didn’t know — you didn’t know why you cared. 

Why did you care? 

Your throat was tight, and you still couldn’t think of an answer to your own question. 

“I wanted to disclose something — something that’s already been disclosed to my client with his consent in writing from the very start,” you swallow the lump in your throat, unable to meet Rafael’s eyes, 

“We wanted to disclose,” Sonny cuts in, “We were waiting for the trial to start, since we didn’t find any need to disclose to the arraignment judge, since Mr. Barba and I handled that.” 

“Disclose what?” And you still can’t bring yourself to look at Rafael. 

You hand her the paperwork, glancing at Sonny, “I’m currently in a relationship with A.D.A. Carisi.”

[tropes-and-tales-archives]

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

Word Count:  3939

TW:  Angst; serious injury from gunshot wound.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For a while, anyway.

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks,” you rasped.

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

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

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

----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What other thing?”

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

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

He looked aghast.  “Seriously?”

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s okay – “

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

“Sorry?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Absolutely.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[thatesqcrush]

Neighbors, Pt. 6 (Conclusion)

Rafael Barba x Reader. CW: smut (vaginal fingering), language, tiniest smidge of angst and then all the fluff. Like sugar rotting. Slight mention of Chicago PD and medical talk. Also filling the square holiday movie for my naughty & nice holiday bingo.

WC: 1491

--

Eventually you were healthy enough to be discharged home. You were grateful that the apartment building had an elevator. You bemoaned how you would need to reorganize the apartment in the cab ride home.  

“We all took care of that for you.” Rafael explained, looking over at you. You furrowed your brows as you looked at him.

“Who’s we?”

“The squad. Me. Turns out Carisi broke his leg playing hockey in high school and was quite the expert on how to make your apartment more comfortable since you’ll be home for awhile.”

You let out a sigh of annoyance. “Don’t remind me.”

The corridors of your apartment were cleared, and furniture was moved to leave plenty of space to maneuver. Doors were kept open with wedges, your bathroom was fitted with a handicap bar and a stool was installed into your shower. Your bedroom looked a if a pillow factory exploded so you could sit up comfortably. Rafael insisted that he stay a few nights to help you acclimate and with him living across the way, it made total sense. Rafael sent your laundry to be cleaned, ordered dinner out, and essentially made sure everything ran like a tight ship. Flowers and get well packages inundated your apartment and your fridge.  

When Rafael arrived at your apartment that night, he heard the shower running. He set the brown paper bag of takeout on the counter. A muffled sound came from the bathroom. “Y/N? Do you need help?”

You came out of the shower in a tank top and sweat shorts, your hair tied up in a bun You were holding onto your crutches. Your eyes were puffy. “I almost slipped – I caught myself.”

“I could look into someone coming by to help.” Rafael suggested.

“I don’t need help!” You snapped, pushing past him on your crutches.

“I brought dinner. Your favorite – beef with broccoli and egg rolls. Extra hot mustard.”

You mumbled a thanks as you made your way back to the living room and to the couch. You hadn’t mastered sitting gracefully with crutches so you still kind of threw yourself onto the couch. You grimaced once more.

You heard the fridge open and the sound of beer bottles opening. Rafael came over with a bottle and you took it from him, a look of remorse on your face.

“Sorry for earlier. I… I am just going stir crazy. I thought I’d make more progress by now. I have long road ahead of me.” You replied, stifling a yawn.

“Don’t worry about it. One day at a time. No need to rush things. There’s plenty of time.” Rafael continued. “Everyone will understand. Your work will always be there. Liv isn’t going to permanently replace you.”

Rafael called out as he busied himself with serving dinner. “I thought we could watch a movie.”

“Yeah, that would be nice.” You replied before taking a bite out of your egg roll. “Umm ‘Remember the Night.

Rafael inserted the DVD and pressed play. You leaned over, resting your head on his shoulder.

“What’s this about?” Rafael asked.

“It is a romantic comedy about a shoplifter who gets arrested right before Christmas and Fred MacMurray is the D.A. who saves her.”

Rafael cocked his brow looking over at you. “Sending me a message?”

“Actually…” You began, slowly, unsure of what exactly you were going to say. So instead, you wrapped your hand around his neck and brought his lips to yours. Rafael groaned, and opened his mouth, returning your kiss. His hands ran up and down your sides before moving to the front of your chest, squeezing a breast as you hungrily kissed each other. His tongue danced with yours and you could taste a combination of his beer and mint and something that was uniquely him. Rafael lowered his mouth to your neck, placing feverish kisses down to your collarbone, where he sucked gently, causing you to let out a soft moan.

Rafael broke the kiss and the two of you faced each other, out of breath. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

It was your turn to shake your head. “You could never.”

“Never is a strong word Y/N.” Rafael replied.

“When I was laying in the middle of the woods… certain I was facing imminent death… you were all I thought about. I was so upset with how we left things. You have always been more than just a neighbor.”

“What about Adam?” Rafael asked, his eyes narrowing.

You dropped your head. “What Adam and I had – that was the past. He is not my future. He was … comfort. I was hurting. He was easy – predictable. I knew he would not reject me.”

“I didn’t really reject you.” Rafael began and you rolled your eyes.

“I know. But… but in that moment, it felt like you had.”

“Never.” Rafael whispered. “I love you. From the moment I met you. And I was so scared that I lost you – at first to Adam and then forever.” Rafael’s green eyes were brimming with unshed tears.

You look at him earnestly, your eyes also wet. “I love you too.”

At your returned declaration, Rafael kissed you once more. Dinner was long forgotten by the two of you. You felt all tingly, arousal shooting to your core. You hated that you were immobile when all you wanted to do was more – and it involved a lot less clothes. Rafael must have read your mind. “Let me take care of you.” He rumbled. His hand moved to the waistband of your sweat-shorts and it is to his delight that you’re not wearing underwear.

“Y/N, what do we have here?” Rafael husked.  

“Just easier to go without.” You explained. Your breath hitched as his fingers encircle your clit, teasing and then move to stroke your folds. You’re already so wet, so needy. His long fingers slid in easily and he stroked you from the inside out. You let out soft, breathy moans as you close your eyes letting yourself give into the sensations.  Rafael captured your mouth once more, swallowing your moans. You used your good arm to grip him, as his fingers stroked in tempo with his thumb over your swollen bud. Rafael feels your walls start to flutter and he knows you’re so close. Finally, he strokes that one spot – the one spot you’re unable to reach on your own and you come hard, crying out Rafael’s name.

“Oh cariño, that’s it… come for me… come for me.” Rafael rumbles. You shudder as your climax ends and you come back to reality. You watch him with heavy lidded eyes as he withdraws his fingers and licks them, causing you to shudder once more.

“Tan dulce.” Rafael comments. You kiss him softly and then snuggle on his chest. Rafael wraps his strong arms around you.

“What about you?” You question, eyeing the hard bulge between his legs. Rafael shakes his head.

“I’m fine – don’t worry about it. When you’re all healed up.” Rafael replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

**

One Year Later

**

“So what does this mean?” Amanda asked you, as you both walked into the courthouse.

“It means, officially, we own the two apartments. There is a wall that actually divides our apartments – we’re going to knock it down and it’ll become a four-bedroom apartment. We’re going to keep Rafael’s original doorway. A lot of renovation needs to be done, with removing my kitchen and turning that –”

“Rollins! Y/N!”

Rafael called out, walking towards you both. Rafael waved off the colleague he was originally with and when he approached you, pressed a kiss on lips. “I thought I was meeting you at the precinct for dinner.”

You nodded your head towards Amanda. “She needs a warrant.”

Rafael chuckled. “Of course.” He reached for your abdomen and rubbed, smiling when he felt the baby kick. “How’s my girl?”

“Hungry. So this warrant better not take too long.” You teasingly warned.  After Amanda got her warrant, you left the courthouse hand in hand.

“So where to mi amor? What should we do for dinner?” Rafael asked as you both waited at the corner for the light to change.

You looked at him and smiled. “Lindsey sent us a few deep dishes to congratulate us on the apartment. I figured we could recreate that first night.”

Rafael let out a laugh as the memory replayed in his mind. You scrunched your nose and clicked your tongue with your teeth. “You know, I am suddenly not hungry for pizza anymore.”

Rafael grabbed your hand as you both crossed the street. “We shouldn’t – we’re neighbors.” He teased.

“Quid pro quo.” You teased back.

At the other side of the street, Rafael pulled you into a deep kiss. Snow began to flutter.

Rafael broke the kiss and ran a gloved finger along your temple to your jaw line. “Pretty sure that’s quid pro hoe.”

FIN.

Tags: @madpanda75 @tropes-and-tales @delia26 @mgarner1227 @beardedmccoy @youreverycolor @neely1177 @the-baby-bookworm @mrsrafaelbarba @skittle479 @ottosuricato @sass-and-suspenders @mommakat32 @dreila03 @beccabarba @garturbo @lovebennycolon @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

[navalcriminalimagines]

i’m entering @thatesqcrush Valentine’s Bingo!! It’s my first time and I hope this is good! It covers the “Oral sex” square! Enjoy!

Rafael Barba x Reader

Prompt: a very much needed drunk night turns into a hookup

Warnings: smut, drunk sex, oral sex (female and male receiving), p in v, fingering

Words: 4,223

sorry for the typos...

Drunk in love

Shutting you down and pushing you away was Rafael Barba’s new activity. Not that he wants to but he has to. He doesn’t know why or how he had let himself fall for you, especially since one of the first things he noticed on you was your wedding band. He never saw your husband but Elias - or whatever his name is - seems pretty real, and according to Mike Dodds, he’s “twice our size”. 

But god you’re so beautiful. And young, clever, nice, funny. You have everything a man can dream in someone, but somehow, you’re still very insecure about yourself. He sees it when you look at him or Liv for approval when you have a break in a case, or how you sometimes belittle yourself when the guys tease you. He knew how insecure you are when you blushed after he complimented you. He didn’t attend to at first, but when he saw you in the little green dress that showed off your curves so perfectly, he couldn’t help but to say, ”who’s that gorgeous woman and what have you done with my detective?”

Rafael still curses himself for saying so. You have been acting differently since then, you’re less talkative, more shutdown. You probably know now about his crush on you and you’re just keeping your distance. Just like he tried at first. 

But you’re one very stubborn woman. He could snap at you one day and you’d greet him the next one with a smile, like nothing happened. He hates you for it. You’re pulling up with him and he doesn’t know why. Why would you? He’s the worst. And you’re fucking married. 

Rafael hates to admit it, but he’s a little jealous of Mike Dodds and Sonny Carisi. Especially Mike. He knows partners have a very special relationship, that you have to trust each other with your lives. But he gets to hug you, spend so much time with you, to go out to bars or restaurants with you. He knows there’s nothing romantic in that relationship, but sometimes he wishes he’s the one you hug, out of nowhere. But he’s not. He’s just the weird and annoying ADA.

To stop thinking about you, Rafael Barba went back on tracks and met with a few people. Both men and women, it usually ends in a one night stand. And in the morning, he hates himself a little more because your face is the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes. One night, a woman stopped him mid-sex, “My name’s Jane, not Y/N,” she exclaimed. Then she dressed back up and left. 

There’s this woman he keeps seeing though. It’s mostly just sex, and he can’t complain about her talents in bed. Maybe he should take her on a date? Try to make this serious? Well, as serious as he can be, knowing that his world stops spinning every time he lays his eyes on you. He hates you. 

*****

“Could you cover for me tonight and perhaps tomorrow morning?” you asked Mike, as you two were on a stakeout. Technically, Mike is your superior, but he’s also your partner and you can trust him, with everything.

“Only if you tell him why,” he answered.

“Elias told me he has a work thing out of town. I need to check,” 

Mike already knows your doubts on your husband’s fidelity. It’s been building up for months now. Mike advised you to talk to him but you refused. You’re scared about what he may tell you.

“You’re finally following your doubts! Don’t you think talking to him would be better?”

“If I’m wrong, I’m gonna make a fool of myself,” you sighed, “And if I’m right-- I really don’t know how I’m gonna react, I can’t be facing him at that moment,” 

“Fine,” the sergeant isn’t convinced it’s the right thing to do, but he knows better than to fight with you on that. “Do you want me to come with you?” he offered.

“Thanks, but no,” you kissed his cheek and focused back on your job. 

*****

Your doubts and your fears become reality. Elias is cheating on you, with some gorgeous brunette, a little bit older than you. She looks like a model compared to you. And you can feel your heart breaking when he leans to kiss her passionately. It’s fucking real. You had doubts, but a part of you kept refusing to believe it. Elias was the man of your dreams, he’s your first love, your husband. You loved him with all your heart and he’s just-- a fucking asshole. 

You drove all night long, without any destination. You showed up late at work - Mike had covered for you - and you went on with your life.

You lied to Mike, telling him that you were wrong and Elias was really away for work. To Elias? You didn’t say anything. You didn’t want to face it for now. You didn’t want to hear some lame excuses, or blaming. You didn’t want him to break your heart a little more. So everyday, for weeks, you went home, slept beside him, answered when he was talking to you, barely returned his kisses. There was no sex though. Lack of sex had been the starting point of your doubts. You did get tested however. You didn’t know if he’s using protections with her, or if there are other women, or whatever, so you had to be sure you had no STD. Luckily you didn’t.

*****

Rafael is tired of how cold you’re with him. He doesn’t know if you’re the same way with the rest of the squad, but you’re with him and it’s pissing him off. If it’s because of his crush on you, he wished you’d say so, he’d lie by telling you he’s seeing someone and that whatever he felt for you, it’s gone. And the ‘relationship’ could go back to normal. 

Liv texted him to say you’re coming to get the warrant. He stopped working after he read the text. How can he bring it up to you? How can he throw the subject? Why is he that nervous anyway? Why does he care? You’re just a young detective he met a year prior. You don’t matter to him. You’re good at what you do, but in a few years, both of you will move on with your lives. And you won’t remember him. Ever. Why does he care?

“Hi Barba,” you entered his office after he told you to come in. He hates when you call him ‘Barba’. You usually go with his first name. Why did it change?

“Morning detective,” he answered, coldly, not looking up from his notepad. “Carmen should be back in five minutes with the warrant,” 

“K. Can I get a coffee?” 

He finally puts his pen down and looks up to you. You’re standing right across his desk, your hair is tied in a ponytail, you have those dark cargo pants that fit your curves so perfectly, and a blue NYPD sweater. “Can you wear that whenever you want?” he asked, pointing at your sweater. 

“My shirt is in the trash with the biggest coffee stain on it. I stole this from Mike,” 

It’s indeed a little loose for you. Your hands are mostly hidden in the sleeves and he can’t distinguish your breasts - not that he looks for it…

You move to the coffee pot and pour yourself a cup. You look over your shoulder, “Want some?” he nods and extends his empty cup to you. 

“I can wait outside if you want,” you said, after you drank the coffee faster than he ever did. 

“Take the couch, Y/N,” 

Once you sat on his couch, Rafael sighed, stood up and sat next to you. “Is there a problem?” he asked.

You looked at him, confused. “About?” 

“Me?” he offered. “I don’t know. Have I done something to upset you?”

You shyly smiled at that and Rafael’s heart melted. “It’s nothing to do with you, Rafael. I promise,” you briefly squeezed his hand and let it go. He wanted to grab it and never let it go.

“Then what is it? Something’s wrong with you,” 

“If someone told me you’d be the first to notice, I would have laughed,” you giggled.

“Hmm… should I be offended by that?” he raised an eyebrow. 

“You’re the outsider, you know. But we love you for that,” 

“I don’t know who’s “we”, but it’s certainly not the SVU squad,” he kept going before you answered, “What’s wrong, Y/N?” 

You took you a very long moment to say it. A moment during which Rafael forgot how to breath. He was expecting many things, but not this. After that, it all happened so fast. You cried and leaned to your side until your face hit his chest. Unsure at first, he finally wrapped his arms around your shoulders and hugged you. His nose got buried in your hair and he knew it was the scent he wanted to smell for the rest of his life. He felt your hand on his pectoral, turning into a fist on his shirt. “I hate him,” you cried. “But I’m scared,” 

“Scared of?” he softly kissed your hair.

“Being alone? Doing it all over again? Never meeting someone else?” you took a deep breath, “But I’m the most scared of why he did it,” 

“There are no excuses, Y/N. I know what it feels like, I know you’re blaming yourself, thinking that it’s your fault, but it’s not,” he softly pulled you away to grab your face in his hands. He ran his thumbs on your cheeks to take the tears away and forced you to look at him. “He doesn’t deserve you, he doesn’t deserve your tears,” 

You nodded at that and tried to regain control as you both heard Carmen’s heels. 

“Can I take you out for drinks tonight?” he offered before you left.

“Thank you, but I don’t want to be around people,”

“Ok, my place then?”

You nodded again, kissed his cheek and left with a shy “see you tonight”. 

*****

After leaving the precinct, you quickly stopped at your shared apartment to change clothes. Elias was there, drinking a beer and making dinner, as if everything was okay. You barely greeted him and walked to the bathroom. You took a quick shower, changed into high-waisted ripped jeans, dark crop top and a flannel shirt. You redid your makeup, and let your long hair drop on your shoulders. 

“Where are you going?” Elias asked, as you were putting your doc martens on. 

“Out,” you answered coldly. 

“I can see that. Work?”

“Nope,” you grabbed your keys. 

“Should I wait for you?”

“No, don’t,”

And you were gone.

Rafael is stressed. He doesn’t know what to expect from that night. Probably nothing, you’re broken-hearted, you just need a night to relax and either talk about it and completely forget. He will give you that. He will be a good listener, you’ll have his shoulder to cry on if needed. He turned down the woman he’s seeing to spend the night with you. He didn’t give explanations, just said he has to work. She just answered “K.”, maybe she’s upset but he doesn’t care much. 

When he opens his door, he forgets how to breath. You’re gorgeous in a very natural way. He lets you in his apartment, you’ve been there once, when you were his protection detail after he received death threats. You stayed up all night long to make sure he was okay and he felt so cared for, it warmed his heart in an unfamiliar way. 

“Beer?” he offered.

“No, scotch. I need something strong tonight,” 

You sit on his couch, tug your legs under your butt, just making comfortable. He comes back with two glasses of scotch, and offers you one. “I didn’t have time to cook but I ordered italian,” 

“Thanks but you shouldn’t have. I’m not hungry,” 

“If you don’t eat, you don’t drink. Your choice,” he smiled and you nodded. 

Rafael is doing his best to stay friendly and not flirty, but after his fourth glass, he doesn’t control himself as much. There are empty containers on the coffee table, the bottle of scotch is getting empty. You’re laying against him, your body is so close to his, he can feel your body heat and smell your scent. “Your husband is such a dumbass,” he said and you turned to face him. “I mean-- that guy is married to--you. And he’s cheating on you? How stupid does it make him?” 

“I’m not special,” you shrugged. 

“I’m talking to Y/N Y/L/N, right? Cause that woman is special,” 

“How so?” 

“This. You don’t even realize how amazing you are. You blush when you get a compliment, you’re a badass when you’re with a perp, but you’re always looking for approval when you have an idea. You’re so smart and nice, and beautiful, and sweet, and--”

Rafael stopped when he heard you giggle. He laughed too, because your laugh always does that to him. “How drunk are you, Rafael?” 

“Enough to tell you so, but no enough to lie about it,” 

“Maybe I should forgive him,”

“Wait, what? No!” Rafael exclaimed and sat straight. “He doesn’t deserve your forgiveness! Why would you do that?” he didn’t expect his voice to be this high pitched. 

“Because-- I won’t find someone else to put up with me,”

You sounded so dramatic, it made Rafael laugh. “You’re twenty seven, Y/N! You have so much time ahead,” 

“Maybe but-- I’m not easy to live with, Rafa. I’m annoying, I work all the time, I don’t cook, I’m not good in bed, I--”

“Wow,” he exclaimed again to make you stop talking. “Is this how he made you feel?” 

“No--yes. Maybe, I don’t know-- sex is… simple with him,” you paused, “But you probably don’t want to hear about my sex life,” you took a sip of your drink.

“I do. I mean-- it’s not about being good in bed. It’s about the connection, what two people are looking for,” 

“What are you looking for in sex?” 

“Depends. When it’s a one night stand, it’s mostly relief. Do I care about my partner’s pleasure? Yeah, sure but not as much as if I’m in love,” 

“I wonder what it feels like one night with Rafael Barba,” you had a grin on your face, teasing him. You were drunk, but so was he. 

“I can show you,”

Rafael didn’t expect you to react with a kiss, but you did. You awkwardly press your lips against his and Rafael froze for a second. But he deepened the kiss, cupping your face in his hand. He felt your tongue asking for access and he happily obliged. He laid down on the couch and you sat on his lap, never breaking the kiss. You feel like heaven. His hand settled on your bare skin between your jeans and your top before sliding under the crop top. Your hands did the same on his torso, sending shivers in his entire body. 

He noticed when you arrived but now he has the confirmation; you aren’t wearing any bra and you have your nipples pierced. He groaned loudly when he felt your breasts in his palms, which made you smile against his mouth. “Does it hurt?” he asked when he started to play with your nipples. 

“God no, I love it,” you sighed in pleasure. “Ever been with someone who has their nipples pierced?” 

“No,” he growled, “Can I?” he asked before sucking on your nipple. You nodded and he almost assaulted your breasts. Nipples pierced is fucking amazing. Especially yours. 

“I want to feel your skin,” you shyly requested and Rafael obliged. He let you take his tee-shirt off, tossing it on the floor. Your hands touched his body like he was a greek god. You kissed, sucked and bit his neck from a moment while he was softly thrusting his erection against your clothes center. 

Rafael doesn’t control himself or his pleasure when he’s drunk. He’s scared that he may come so fast you won’t enjoy this moment with him. He held you against him and took you to the bedroom. You both undressed each other before laying down on the bed. Rafael drunk you in. You, completely naked on his bed. It was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. He briefly kissed you before making his own down to your core. He gently bite your inner thigh before burying his tongue into you. You let out such a beautiful sound, it almost made him come on the spot. “You’re fucking delicious,” he growled. 

“You--oh, you don’t have to do this, Rafael,” you said. But he was pleasuring you so good.

“Why wouldn’t I? This pussy is calling for my mouth,” his hot breath against your clit made you shiver, “You’re so wet, baby,” he returned to his oral ministrations. 

Rafael ate you like a starved man. He gave everything he had to make you come on his face. He felt you tensed against him, your thigh held him in place. You cried his name, your nails on his scalp. He swallowed everything you had to give him. 

“Wow-- fucking wow,” you chuckled as you tried to catch your breath. 

“I know, I get that a lot,” he chuckled too, kissing you softly. 

“Shut up, and fuck me now,” 

“Hmm… someone’s desperate for my cock?”

“I’ve never been this turned on, Rafael. What did you do to me?” 

“Ever had an orgasm from someone’s mouth?”

“Nah-- and I don’t want to talk about it. Just get inside me, please,” 

He kissed you passionately again, and got on top of you. You felt his hard cock against your stomach, before he lined himself with you. “Do you want it?” he wanted you to beg. “How much do you want my cock, hermosa?” 

“So much!” you tried to make his cock slide into you but Rafael held you still, “Please, Rafael. I want you-- I want you inside me,” 

He didn’t need more. He slid into you in one slow motion. You both gasped at the feeling. His size hurt a little at first but you’re used to keep a straight face during sex. But somehow, Rafael felt it. “Are you okay?” He asked, not moving. 

“Just getting used to your size,” you giggled. 

“Lo siento, I got carried away. Let me—“ 

He tried to pull out off you but your hands held onto his ass, “don’t you dare go away, Barba,” he giggled and stayed deep inside you. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered before kissing you. 

When you gave him permission to move, he started slow. He needed to control his pleasure. It was deep and slow, and every sound you made was music to his ear. He intertwined his fingers with yours and pinned your hand above your head, kissing you roughly. “Do you want to switch positions?” You asked, out of nowhere. 

“Fuck no. I wanna see your face while I make you come,” 

For a moment, he was self conscious of what was going on. Whatever sex was with your husband, it was mostly to pleasure that bastard. He probably didn’t care much about you during sex, about what pleased you, about your kinks if you have some. This might be his only night with you, and he wants you to know what real sex and pleasure are. 

When he felt you were close to your orgasm, he quickly pulled out and buried two fingers into your pussy. You didn’t have time to react about the sudden changes, you cum - for the second time - hard on his fingers. 

“Why the hell did you pull out?” You asked, confused, as you tried to catch your breath. 

“I’m not done with you yet,” he said with a malicious smile. He kissed you again, taking his time - to be fair, he’s mostly trying to calm himself down - to plant kisses all over you, worshipping your perfect body. 

“Rafael, what the—“ you gasped. His face was between your legs again. His tongue found its way easily to your most sensitive spot. You were worn down, but so sensitive a third orgasm wasn’t far away. But you pulled his hair to make him stop. You saw something in his eyes. “Someone likes to get his hair pulled,” you giggled. 

“I didn’t know actually, but yeah,” he licked his lips, “However, if you pull my face away from your pussy again, I’ll have to punish you,” 

His words, the way he talks to you sends something into you. Something you ever felt before. Maybe you’re into punishment. And dirty talk. Maybe you aren’t bad in bed, you just weren’t with the right person. 

Rafael was about to go back at it again, but your voice stopped him. “I want to go down on you,” 

“You will, babygirl. For now, it’s about you,” 

He did pull a third orgasm out of you. He’s so fucking talented with his tongue and fingers. He knows what to do, when to do it. “You’ll be the death of me,” you said, trying again to catch your breath, tiredly playing with his chest hair. 

“Sounds good,” he buried his face in your neck and marked you. He didn’t care about tomorrow, about what your husband might say when he sees it. Tonight, you’re his and no one else’s. “Do you really want to suck my cock or do you feel like you have to?” He asked, his eyes locked into yours. 

“I want to,” you eagerly answered, regaining some strength suddenly. 

You sat up while Rafael laid down on his back. You took his cock in your hand, his hips jerking at the feeling. He probably won’t last long. But he can still recover and do it all over again. “You okay?” He asked, as you were taking a long moment just looking and stroking his length. 

“Yeah,” you shyly smiled, “Just promise me something, please?” 

He would promise you the fucking universe. “Tell me?” 

“If—if I’m not good, just make me stop, okay? Don’t blame me after,” 

Rafael saw tears in your eyes. He immediately grabbed you and pulled you next to him. His erection can wait. He softly kissed your cheeks and lips. “I’m not...him,” he said, “Like I said earlier, it’s about the connection between two persons. I feel connected to you, do you feel the same?” 

You nodded, trying to stop your tears. “That’s all that matters. You could break my penis, sending me to the ER, I’d thank you for it,” 

He felt proud when you laughed, he kissed you. He could  never get enough of your lips. “I trust you, Y/N. Only thing I don’t want is you going down on me just because you feel like you have to,” 

“I want to suck you off, Rafael,” you purred in his ear after a moment. 

His cock softened during that talk, but it reacted to that. You kissed his body, trailing  your way down to his penis. You licked the tip, tasting some pre-cum. You looked at him to catch his reactions, but you saw nothing but desire and pleasure. When he was painfully hard, you took him in your mouth. Rafael almost came right here and there, it took everything he had not to. You slowly suck his cock, until you quicken the rhythm. “You’re so—good, baby. You know how to use that mouth,” he praised you. When he saw you smiling against his length, he made a mental note about you loving to be praised. 

You cupped his balls in your hand, and took him all the way down your throat, “I’m gonna—amor, fuck! I’m gonna cum,” he expected you to pull away but instead, you kept the pace until Rafael came hard in your month, chanting your name. He didn’t know he could be this loud. You made a show of swallowing every drop of him. “Mierda,” he muttered, drying his sweating forehead with the back of his hand. 

“Can men fake orgasm? Cause you were fucking loud,” you giggled before kissing him. 

“Shut up, that was—amazing,” he looked deep inside your eyes. “You are amazing, Y/N,” 

He didn’t have time to fuck you again, you both quickly fell asleep after. 

Much to Rafael’s surprise, he woke up to the warmth of your mouth around his cock. He had a wide smile when he saw your eyes full of desire, while your mouth was perfectly sucking on his cock. He lazily grabbed your hair, giving a few thrusts. But he didn’t know how you’d feel about facefuck so he let you lead. It didn’t take long until he came down your throat  again, still as loud as a few hours prior. “You will be the death of me,” 

He invited you in the shower so he could finally fuck you properly. When you came on his cock, your walls clenching around his length, it was the most beautiful feeling in the world. 

This couldn’t be a one night stand. There’s a connection, either of you can deny. He will spend weeks, months, even years to show you he’s worth an Elias or any other man. 

[qvid-pro-qvo]

hello :) would you mind writing something for barba x reader where she's part of svu and get's hurt on the job and he's with her during it and afterwards in the hospital? wishing you a lovely day! xx

rafael barba x female!reader.

word count: 1907

rating: mature, for the moments that are spent doing nothing but praying for a miracle (tw: canon-typical violence, guns, blood, hospital, food. hurt/comfort).

-

There were a lot of things that Rafael Barba was thankful for, and one of them was you.

Not… directly for you. No matter what Rollins tried to tell him, tried to convince him of, it wasn’t you. It was your skill on that stand that endeared you to him. You were always prepped, and you were always ready to blow the jurors’ minds. You didn’t have a temper like Rollins, stubbornness of Fin, or Carisi’s… existence. You were you, and you held yourself to a brilliant standard. If he could have you on the stand, you were always your first choice.

This case was a shitshow, and as always, you held yourself to a higher standard. You were brilliant, you were incredible, you probably singlehandedly saved the case. But he wasn’t going to tell you that. No. He met you outside the courthouse, he shook your hand, and thanked you for your work.

“You did well” was his only remark. He shook your hand. A little too long. For some reason Rollins appeared in his head, and he shook her off. He didn’t have feelings for you. He appreciated you.

“Thanks. I got directed well,” you countered, and he smiled, a little quirk of his lips. You gave him something brilliant, a grin, and an elbow. It made him swallow, tightly.

Right. No feelings.

Suddenly your eyes closed, and you sighed. When you opened them again, there was something solemn, somber in them. “Barba, it’s only gonna get worse.”

He had tried to look away, ignore the feeling that your smile settled in him, but found himself glancing at you anyway. In this light, the heat of the summer, your face shined in the sun. You looked up at the sky before looking back at him, quirking your lips. He couldn’t help the way he noticed your coordination – his handkerchief, his tie, the color of your lips. A pretty deep pink. Impossible to pull his eyes away from.

He didn’t have a thing for you. But he was grateful for you. For you looking him in the eyes, and telling him again. “It’s going to get worse. The people who hurt our victims… they’re not gonna stop until every single one of them are behind bars.”

“We got one,” he countered. The two of you paused on the steps in front of the courthouse, a press conference a few feet away discussing the very case the two of you just ended. “It’s a start.”

“I know.” You turned to face him, and you gave him a smile. “I know, just. Just thinking.”

There was a sudden rush of movement. Rafael didn’t see much, didn’t feel much. But he heard. Heard you shout his name. Heard the scuffle on the stone steps of the courthouse, heard you announce yourself.

“NYPD, stop!”

And he heard the shot. He heard the shot, and he heard the gunfire, and all he saw, all he could do, he… he watched you fall.

Fall in front of him.

Because you took the shot. The one meant for him.

There was a commotion. A tackle to the ground. The screaming man was shouting at Rafael, for putting away the bastard he just put away, and you… you were on the ground.

You were fucking bleeding on the ground, god –

“We – we need a medic!” he shouted out. His voice was too hoarse, so he shouted it again, and again, until he couldn’t breathe. “Someone, please!”

“Barb – Barba.” You were choking on something, something a lot like blood, and that face that was shining was so damn pale. You lips were still that perfect pink, and Rafael’s hands were red, reaching out to press his own jacket to the wound. He had flashbacks to a courtroom scene, his hands tending to the wound in the judge’s side, but he blinked and they vanished. You weren’t a judge. You weren’t Rafael. The bullet missed, and the bullet hit you.

“Stay with me,” he begged you. “They’re calling an ambulance.”

“Are you h-hit?” you asked him, and his laughter was shocked out of him. It took him too long to answer, with a shake of his head. No hit. The only blood on his hands, on him, was yours.

You smiled, and there was red dripping from the corner of your lips. “Good.”

And then your eyes fluttered shut.

There were more things that happened. Liv showed, pulled Rafael back as the medics swarmed the scene. She looked to Rafael, scanned him. Asked him, more than once, if he was hit. But he’d already answered you, hadn’t he? It wasn’t him who’d gotten the bullet, even though he was the one who had been the target. The bastard had screamed his name.

“No,” he finally told the lieutenant, watching your body get taken away. He could only watch after all, because they were treating you. They were treating you, and you’d be fine, wouldn’t you?

Wouldn’t you?

“Rafa…”

His sharp look could’ve killed a weaker person. He turned the full force of his anger to Liv because there was nowhere else to put it. No other option. “No, but I should’ve been! God, I – I should’ve been.”

But Liv wasn’t weak. Not like Rafael. No, Rafael crumbled as soon as he spoke, and Liv stood beside him, held him up with her presence as the sirens faded away.

-

The beeping was incessant. Unending. Infuriating. Your heart, reduced to a monitor on a machine. He supposed he was grateful for it, knowing that you were alive, but if anything it just reminded him how lucky you were. That that steady rhythmic beeping didn’t stop.

It’d been three days since you got shot. Three days. The first day was spent in limbo, waiting in a room reserved for others in just as much pain as Rafael. That’s where the whole team waited, where Liv sat with Rafael when a case didn’t take her away. Waiting for news, waiting for the doctor, waiting for something. Anything.

When the news came, it was filled with platitudes. With good, good things. But all Rafael could think about was the cardiac surgeon who walked in along with the trauma specialist, the fact that a whole team was gathered around your body and fighting to keep you alive.

“The bullet shattered a few ribs, and nicked some of the arteries surrounding the heart and lungs,” the doctor told him, her smile tight. Her mask was around her neck, and her hair was contained under her hair net, but the lines remained – the place where her coverings had sat for hours while they stitched and poked and prodded. “It was a close call, but.”

“Will she make it?” Rafael asked, before he could stop himself.

The other doctor twisted his lips, too. “She’s a fighter. But it’s still a fight. It’ll be a few more hours before she’s truly stabilized, but. At this point the prognosis is positive.”

They discussed the details. A prolonged ICU stay. Sedation, while your body healed. A couple of calls, to the father, to the brother. Next of kin, after all.

When Rafael returned to the waiting room, a couple more of the squad had camped out there. A call from Liv had brought them.

“What’s the word?” Rollins asked, brow furrowing.

Rafael just blinked, realizing that her question was directed at him. Not Liv. Not anyone else. Him.

“Uh, she’s – she’s still in surgery,” he told her. “But the prognosis… positive.”

The nod from her was small, and Carisi reached out to hand him what was in his grip. A warm cup of coffee.

“Liv told us you’d been here, and, uh. Wanted to make sure your caffeine addiction didn’t get left behind.” It was a weak joke, but Rafael huffed anyway, shaking his head as he took the Styrofoam with the plastic lid.

“I’m sure my headache thanks you,” he returned.

The second day was the transfer. The move from the operating room to the ICU, the transition from waiting room to bedside. Rafael was the sole sentinel, sitting while Liv and Carisi and Rollins and Tutuola kept saving lives, kept fighting outside while you fought inside. Every so often, Barba was doze, only to startle awake to something he thought was you.

The second day was the realization. The feeling that overwhelmed him as he sat there, reaching for your hand. The moment when he made the call to Liv, asking for a change of clothes, a collection of files.

“Don’t you think you should take a break?” his friend asked him. Meaning well, a tentative reach. “I can only imagine what your back will be saying after sitting in those chairs.”

But it wasn’t a question. As long as you were here, asleep, he would be watching over you. “The clothes are in the closet in my office. The files are on my desk. Carmen can help you organize them.”

The hours passed. Liv brought clothes, like he asked, brought files, like he asked. Brought food, and water, and more coffee.

You slept.  

The third day was the guilt.

The third day was the day he spent on his figurative knees. Files around him, stacked and gathered and scribbled on. Three legal pads of various states of decay in his vicinity. And all he could think about was you, still so still on the bed.

He watched you for a while. Alternated watching you and working.

And in the end, he prayed. Prayers he didn’t remember learning, platitudes and pleas to God from his soul.

He gripped your hand and he prayed for strength. For you, for him. He crossed his heart and prayed for forgiveness. It was him after all. His fault. His fault, his fault, his fault, his fault –

“Barba.”

An answer to prayer. Your skin, sallow, your eyes glazed over, but your mouth quirked up. The vision of you there in the bed collided with the memory of what you looked like on the courthouse steps. The bandages, the bruising, all combining to create the sight of you.

But your eyes were open. And that’s what mattered.

His guilt could wait.

He was sure he looked just as much of a mess. Bags under his eyes pronounced. His suit broken down, until even his tie was tossed across the beside table.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked, and the question seemed silly. After all, his voice was hoarse, with the hours spent repeating prayers in English and Spanish. But you managed a smile, a groan, and he scooted closer.

You hadn’t let go of his hand.

“Like I got shot,” you hissed. “But. You’re okay, right?”

“Me?” Astonishment. How could you… how could you think about him? “I.”

Another squeeze, from you. It felt strong, felt like you. You smiled again.

“I’ve been here,” he finally admitted. The realization settling into every bone. The sight of your smile bringing it full circle. Rollins would say that she told him so, and Carisi would probably laugh at him. And Liv would just shake her head, but.

In the end there’d be you. He’d make sure of it.

“Boring, I’m sure,” you whispered. Your eyes met his, and when you blinked there was something you seemed to be pushing away. “But, uh. I’m good, now. If you need to leave.”

“I think I’ll stay a little bit longer,” he assured. “If you’ll have me.”

[rahleeyah]

After watching the episode, what are your thoughts on Barba’s choice to defend Wheatley and how things were left between him and Olivia? I can appreciate that even he himself is unclear by his decision, as evidenced by the scene in her office, but am confused by how stunned he looked when Olivia said she felt betrayed. She flat out had asked him not to do it from the beginning.

I also keep going back to him starting to say “Stabler coming back has made things more complicated.” There are SO many ways to interpret this (and try as I might I can’t help but wonder about WL’s implications).

I want to be clear this all comes from a place of me shipping EO and loving the Barba/Olivia friendship as well. I’m just…really curious by the choices made and how they intend to play it all out, and always love your take!

so here's the thing, right, is that i do think there's an argument to be made that barba's decision makes sense. i don't think it's the best argument they could have given him, but it's there.

rafael's thing was initially sort of. "fuck your feelings the law's the law lmao" and yes there's the whole "olivia softened him up and now he understands nuance" thing, but what this does is kinda marries the two? in that he fully believes that the law must be applied justly, across the board, and that the means to the end do matter. he looks at this case, and he knows wheatley is a criminal, but this case - not the raketeering case, not the other murders he's been accused of, just kathy's murder - stinks. there is sufficient evidence to make it appear that he has been railroaded, by a police force that rafael believes must be held accountable for its violence and it's attacks on the public. wheatley is a dick, but he is, as rafael points out, a great test case. even an unabashed criminal is entitled a good defense and due process; that is the foundation of the system, that everyone is entitled to those things. so rafael choosing to take this case makes sense in terms of his morals.

and he knows it's going to upset liv but i got the impression that he was taken aback by the vehemence of her response, and that he maybe didn't fully understand it. we have been talking, so much, about the person liv had to become without elliot, and how no one really got the full picture of her without him there, and this is the consequences of that. rafael just met 1.0 liv for the first time. the full olivia. the one who defends stabler, instead of joining rafael in admonishing him. rafa's liv wouldn't do that for anyone else, and so he doesn't expect her to do so now, and maybe doesn't quite know what to do with that.

and the stabler coming back has made things more complicated thing felt sort of out of place to me bc like. what the fuck does rafa know about it lmao like are people talking to him about it? does he know how this has impacted liv? has he noticed a change in her since elliot came back? absent those details it feels like a comment he doesn't actually have the knowledge to make, you know? and if he and liv have been communicating about this i wanna know what that looked like.

i would love to see them bring rafa back, and have him reconcile with the totality of olivia - and to have olivia reconcile with it herself, instead of sort of having each foot planted in two worlds, caught between the two. i wouldn't be surprised if they do eventually do that, just to mend that fissure.