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badstoriesaboutgoodpeople · 4 years

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Hands Off

Word Count: 1926

Warnings: some swearing, some smut, all the good stuff basically

AN: Hey, long time no see! I finally wrote something wow look at me go. This is for my 🥭 anon who requested some possessive PLD smut. I’m sorry it took me so long, I hope you enjoy it! I haven’t written in a while so it might be garbage and if it is I sincerely apologize. If I missed any typos feel free to make fun of me for it, I probably deserve it.

You’d finally had a night off from work and had decided to spend it watching Pierre play, a rare treat for the both of you. It was a good game too, a hard fought win against the Oilers. You’d texted Pierre after the game and told him to meet you at your favourite hole in the wall bar. It was small enough that the two of you wouldn’t garner much attention and would be able to enjoy your evening together. You agreed that you’d go early and grab one of the small booths in the back of the bar while Pierre did post game media and whatever else he needed to. You made the journey on foot having taken an Uber to the arena and soon enough you were walking into the bar, its warm lighting and exposed brick walls creating a welcoming and homey environment. You tossed your jacket into one of the booths, the bar close enough that you’d be able to keep an eye on it while you waited for your drink. You had ordered your moscow mule and a mojito for Luc when you saw movement out of the corner of your eye. Thinking it was Luc you looked up but it was a few of the Oilers who’d clearly also hoped the small bar would grant them some level of anonymity. You recognized a few faces but probably couldn’t have named any of them when asked. The group made their way to the big booth in the corner, but one of them drew back and came to sit next to you. You gave him a small smile before turning back to watch the bartender making drinks. You felt a gentle tap on your shoulder and against your better judgement you turned to face him.

“Hey, can I buy you a drink?” he asked, revealing the slightest hint of an accent when he spoke.

“Oh I already have one on the way, thanks though,” you said, not wanting to be rude but trying to demonstrate your lack of interest.

“Oh come on, I can’t even buy you a shot or anything?” he asked before waiving the bartender over and ordering two shots of tequila. You tried to shake your head but soon enough there was a shot glass and a wedge of lime sitting in front of you. He looked at you expectantly and you picked the shot glass up.

“Cheers…” he said, looking at you to fill your name in.

“Y/N, and you are?” you asked.

“Leon. Cheers, Y/N” said Leon, clinking your glasses together before throwing the shot back. You followed suit, biting into the lime after to try to distract from the burning in your chest. By this point the bartender had placed the two drinks you’d ordered in front of you. You gave Leon a small smile before picking them up and taking them to your booth. He watched you go then returned to his team mates. You could hear them talking from where you were seated, and after some teasing and some less than kind chirps he was standing next to you at your seat.

“Waiting for a friend?”

“Something like that,” you said, sipping your drink and looking at your phone.

“Can I at least keep you company while you wait?” he asked, not waiting for your answer before slipping into the seat across from you. You gave him a small but tight smile before looking down at your phone once again. You opened your text thread with Luc and began typing out a message.

Y/N- You almost here? Some Oiler named Leon is flirting with me and I can’t get rid of him

Luc- Draisaitl?? Fuck, I’m on my way now. I’ll be there soon

“That your friend?” asked Leon and you nodded, trying to broadcast your disinterest loud and clear. Leon was just about to ask you something else when you heard the door open and saw Luc nearly sprint over to where you were sitting.

“Hey baby, sorry I’m late,” he said before leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. You saw Leon’s face fall as he realized who the “friend” you had been waiting for was.

“Can I help you?” asked Luc, squaring his shoulders and turning to face Leon.

“Nah man I was just keeping her company. Bit rude to keep her waiting don’t you think?” asked Leon, sliding out of the booth with a smirk on his face. Leon brushed past him, sticking his elbow out just enough to shove him a bit before sinking into the booth. Leon walked off without further incident and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

“Hey, thanks for getting here so quick,” you said, taking a big gulp of your drink.

“Of course,” he said, picking up his mojito and downing it in one go.

“Thirsty?” you asked, chuckling slightly as he slammed his glass down.

“No, just don’t like the way he was looking at you. The whole booth is looking at us right now and I just want to get over here before I punch somebody,” said Luc, tapping his fingers on the tabletop anxiously.

“Well let’s go then hm? Don’t need you following in Sonny’s footsteps,” you said, grabbing your jacket and your bag and shuffling out of the booth. Luc was behind you in an instant to help you with your coat, and he led you out of the bar with a hand on your lower back the whole way. You made it to the car and couldn’t help but notice the way Luc was white knuckling the steering wheel and speeding home a little faster than he usually would. As soon as you were in the house with the door locked behind you Luc had you shoved up against it, mouth captured in a heated kiss. You managed to pull away to breathe for a second only to have Luc dive back in, kissing along your jawline and sucking a mark into your neck.

“Woah hey, can I at least take my jacket off?” you teased, watching Pierre pull away, pupils wide and mouth open slightly. You took your time taking your jacket off and hanging it in the hall closet, taking off your shoes and placing them neatly by the door. Luc, on the other hand had tossed his jacket on the couch and kicked his shoes off haphazardly, one having ended up down the hallway by the kitchen in his effort to get them off. Pierre didn’t even wait for you to follow, he’d already begun unbuttoning his shirt and was working on his belt as he climbed the stairs. You found yourself chuckling as you followed him, slipping your own shirt over your head as you went. Once you made it to the bedroom you ignored Luc who was already naked save for his boxers on the bed and walked over to the closet. You hung your shirt off and shimmied out of your jeans, tossing them onto the pile of laundry Pierre had left at the foot of the bed. You made your way to the ensuite and took off your makeup and brushed your teeth, knowing you’d likely be too lazy to do it later. You could hear Luc grumbling in the bedroom, whining about how long you were taking, and when you finally exited the bathroom he was sitting his back against the headboard, thighs spread slightly; when he saw you he patted his lap and you didn’t waste time wandering over to sit in it. His hands were behind your back almost immediately, undoing your bra and pushing the light blue fabric off your body. He captured your mouth in another kiss as he brought a hand up to toy with your nipple, taking advantage of the small gasp you let out to deepen the kiss. You began rocking your hips without even really noticing, the small groan Luc let out was the first thing that made you realize you were doing it.

“Stop teasing, I just want to fuck you already. Have to remind you who you belong to. Not Draisaitl, not any of them, nobody else, nobody but me. Isn’t that right?” you opened your mouth to respond but the only sound that came out was a whimper as Luc’s hands drifted down to your ass, giving it a light smack before his hands found the waistband of your underwear and started tugging. You ended up having to climb out of his lap completely to rid yourself of them, and Luc took the opportunity to shove his boxers down to mid thigh, not even bothering to kick them off. You moved to straddle him again, and you placed your hands on his broad shoulders to steady yourself, feeling one of Luc’s hands move to your hip to guide you as you sunk down slowly. You didn’t stop until you were fully seated, letting out a small moan while Pierre’s grip on your hips tightened. You gave yourself a minute to adjust, rocking your hips back and forth gently, letting out a startled noise when Luc’s hips bucked, his thighs trembling from the effort it took to stay (mostly) still. You decided enough was enough and lifted yourself up before slowly sinking back down. The two of you groaned in unison, Lucs fingers digging into your hips, your nails digging into his shoulders. You started slow but that lasted approximately three minutes before Pierre started thrusting his hips up to meet yours, his big hands guiding you to move faster.

“Fuck you look so good like this, all mine. My girl, I’m so fucking lucky to have you. Nobody else gets to see just how good you look like this. All for me, fuck!” said Luc, trailing off into a moan when your knees slipped out from under you a bit and your hips slammed together.

“All yours,” you said, leaning in to press kisses along his jawline, burying your face in his neck to muffle a particularly loud moan. When you sat up again Luc immediately moved to bite at your collarbone, leaving marks on the tender skin there. One on each side, two in the middle, and one down lower near the tops of your breasts. You could feel your thighs beginning to tremble but you could also feel your orgasm building.

“Luc, fuck, I’m so close, please-” you siad, but were cut off by a moan when you felt Pierre’s hand move down to rub at your clit.

“Come on my pretty girl, show me how good you look when you come,” said Luc and you were unable to do anything but what he told you to. You came with a loud moan, your legs giving out from under you. You draped yourself across Luc’s chest as you felt his hips speed up and eventually stutter and stop as he came, letting out a low groan bordering on a growl. You stayed that way for a minute, catching your breath together, until Luc finally spoke.

“Did Draisaitl give you his number?”

“No, why?”

“Was gonna send him a picture of all those hickies and show him what he’s missing.” You gave Luc a smack on the shoulder but there was no hiding the way the thought made you clench around him. Luc raised an eyebrow at you before giving you a mischievous grin.

“I’ll ask around the room, I’m sure somebody has it.”

#pierre luc dubois #pierre luc dubois smut #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl smut #nhl writing #🥭 anon #ill rb this tmrw morning i just wanna post it #i wrote the sonny line and immediately was sad #working title was "writing? what's that who's he?'#i crack myself up

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leescoresbies · 4 years

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Top 5 fav things you have written

you’re making me compliment myself and i don’t like it. everything i’ve ever written immediately flew out of my head.

the sam & oliver sections in superstition (which include the episodes in season 1, and the weird interlude episode in s2 that was secretly about sam seeing a black dog in his old age)

this scene about eli & sonny, where eli is pretending to be an actor pretending to be hamlet

my two favorite episodes of superstition (other than s/o stuff) which are 1x01 and 1x10. intentionally meant to mirror each other. i still love this line: “People say that the past is never really in the past until you’re dead. Maybe not even then. Because if there’s anything I’ve learned since I crossed the state line into Arizona is that just because something’s dead doesn’t mean it’s gone for good.”

the holmes/watson i wrote recently! because i feel like i really captured them and their relationship over time, AND it was funny and sweet and sad all at once.

the jack/parse awful endgame story to rule them all...

#ask meme #my writing #imo the michael / alex road trip fic is after this #i'm very proud of it #then honestly that lie low at lupins monstrosity from years ago #cptlovelace

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adrianna-m-scovill · 5 years

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Washing Up (Barisi fic)

For the “barisi and the washing machine” challenge. On AO3.

3500 words. Rated M.

“Come on, Raf, I said I’d do it,” Carisi said, making a grab for the shirt.

Barba knocked his hand aside and reached past him to drop the shirt into the washer. “I don’t want all of my underwear to be pink,” he said.

“That was one mistake, I said I was sorry. Besides, almost everything here is mine.”

“I’m aware,” Barba answered, shooting him a dirty look as he tossed a pair of boxers into the machine.

“So. There won’t be any red socks. Don’t be cranky.”

“Cranky? I’m not cranky,” Barba said, throwing several socks into the washer with an angry flick of his wrist. “Why would I be? I leave for three days and you break my washing machine—”

“I didn’t break it.”

“—and refuse to let maintenance repair the washing machine—”

“It’s only a belt! I told you I’d fix it, I just haven’t had time.”

“—thus allowing me to come home to a hamper full of dirty clothes. So now we’re in a laundromat. Why would that make me cranky? Because I pay for a washing machine so I don’t have to do my laundry in public places?” Carisi muttered something unintelligible, and Barba paused in the middle of transferring a t-shirt into the washer. “Pardon me?” he asked.

“I said, hardly anything of yours is washable, anyway. We didn’t have to come here, the clothes could’ve waited until I replace the belt.”

“If you want to live in squalor, you’re welcome to go back to your old apartment,” Barba said.

Carisi tried unsuccessfully to hide his wince, and muttered, “Sorry.”

Barba sighed and threw the shirt into the machine. “I didn’t mean that,” he said. “You know that’s not what I want.” He ran a hand over his face. “I’m just tired.”

“We could’ve stayed home and relaxed,” Carisi mumbled, frowning into the washer. “You just got back.”

“Don’t sulk.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. You know I’ll feel better when this is finished, and we can go home and—”

“Go to bed?”

Barba snorted, grabbing a pair of sweatpants from the bag. He threw them at Carisi’s face, but the detective caught them and dropped them into the washer. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” Barba told him, shaking his head—his lips twitching in amusement—when Carisi grinned.

“I missed you,” the detective said. He reached out and touched a finger to the collar of Barba’s shirt. “Come on, Rafi, I know you missed me, too.”

“Against my better judgement,” Barba answered, his smile taking any possible sting out of the words.

“So, let me do this. Just go sit down and relax. I’ll get the laundry done, we can go home, I’ll make dinner and we can watch some TV—”

“Suck up,” Barba accused.

Carisi laughed. He glanced around; there were only a few other people in the laundromat, and they were spread out through the place. “You know I’ll do that, too,” he said, meeting Barba’s gaze. Carisi’s eyes were bright, his cheeks rosy, his hair messy. He smiled, because he knew he’d won. All traces of annoyance were gone from Barba’s expression.

“It doesn’t sound like the worst idea you’ve ever had,” Barba allowed with a small smile of his own. He reached into the canvas bag and grabbed another shirt. “But we can order in.” There was a thud as something tumbled out of the shirt onto the closed lid of the washer beside Barba’s laundry bag, and it rolled toward the edge of the machine.

“Shit,” Carisi said, snatching it up and trying unsuccessfully to shove it into his pocket. It was too large, and his jeans were too tight. He glanced around again, his cheeks darkening. No one was paying any attention, but he did his best to keep his hand out of sight between his leg and the washing machine. He looked at Barba, pressing his lips together.

Barba regarded him in silence for a moment. His voice was low, barely audible, when he asked slowly: “Why is there an anal plug in the laundry?”

“I forgot. Shit. I didn’t…I thought I’d have the washer fixed before you got home but then we had a call and I forgot…” He trailed off, fidgeting under Barba’s heavy gaze.

“I was only gone for three days,” Barba finally said.

“I missed you,” Carisi repeated, trying not to whine.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Did you dirty the sheets? Because I’m not going to come back here—”

“No. I didn’t do—” He dropped his voice into little more than a whisper. “I haven’t come since you left,” he muttered, holding Barba’s stare. “And I wasn’t going to, I swear. I just…” He licked his lips nervously and bent his head closer to the other man. “I was just gonna…uh…sit on the washer…”

Barba’s eyes widened in surprise, and then narrowed. He couldn’t hide the dilation of his pupils, though, and Carisi caught his breath when Barba stepped closer. Looking up at the detective, the ADA said: “I’m gone for a few days and you’re ready to resort to sitting on a washing machine with a plug in your ass?” He tipped his head. “Am I so easily replaced?”

“No!” Carisi exclaimed, reaching for Barba’s arm.

“And you broke my machine before you could even try out this little idea of yours.”

Carisi didn’t bother to further defend himself about the washer.

“Stop swallowing.”

Carisi blinked. “Huh?”

Barba raised his eyebrows. “You’d better start working up some spit, unless I’m about to find lube in this bag, too.”

Carisi started to shake his head—there was no lubrication in the laundry bag—but paused, his forehead creased. Barba gestured toward the bathrooms with a tip of his chin, and Carisi’s eyes widened as realization dawned. He immediately started to harden, and he looked around the room, chewing on his lip. “Raf—”

“I’m curious,” Barba said. He glanced down. “You should’ve worn looser pants.”

“You like me in these,” Carisi managed.

“Now, now, Sonny,” Barba admonished softly. “You know better than that.” Their eyes locked and held. “I like you in anything.”

* * *

Barba was flipping through a six-year-old copy of Newsweek, barely seeing the pages, when Carisi emerged from the bathroom after a few minutes. Barba was sitting in the middle of a line of chairs that faced the machine he’d finished loading. He’d paused the cycle so Carisi wouldn’t miss anything.

At the sight of the detective crossing toward him—slight bulge straining at the tight fly of his jeans, tiniest hint of a hitch in his step, shine of lust in his eyes—Barba felt himself hardening, too. He set the magazine in the next seat as Carisi walked over to stand in front of him. The detective was fidgeting, seeming unsure of what to do with his hands.

Barba looked at Carisi’s crotch before dragging his gaze up to the other man’s, and he smirked at the small sound Carisi made. “Well? Have any trouble?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Carisi answered quietly.

Barba smiled up at him. “Hop on.” He chuckled at Carisi’s grimace. When the detective started toward the machine, Barba said, “Sonny.” When Carisi looked back, Barba tossed him the Newsweek and cast a pointed look toward his crotch. “You’ll need this.”

Carisi caught the magazine to his chest and grimaced, looking around. “You know there’s security cameras in here.”

“They probably don’t work, and anyway, there’s no sign saying sitting on the machines is prohibited.” Barba watched as Carisi set down the magazine and turned his back to the washer. He put his palms on the edge of the machine and levered himself up, hopping easily onto the lid. Barba waited until Carisi wiggled himself into a comfortable position and opened the magazine, and then he sent the detective a text, smiling as Carisi had to lift a hip to fish his cell out of his pocket.

Carisi set the magazine over his lap and frowned down at the phone before raising his gaze to Barba’s without lifting his head. After a moment, he reached behind himself and pushed the button to restart the washer.

How’s it feel? Barba texted after a few moments.

Ask me when the spin cycle starts, Carisi wrote back, and Barba chuckled. It’s not bad. It’s not you.

No?

Nothing fills me up like you do, Carisi texted, and it was his turn to laugh when Barba shifted in his seat.

Maybe you’ll think twice about trying to replace me next time, Barba answered, giving Carisi a pointed look. The detective sent back a sad face emoji, and Barba rolled his eyes. Read your magazine or something.

What are you gonna do?

Sudoku, Barba answered, grinning at Carisi’s frown.

After a few seconds, Carisi set his phone on the next machine, beside the laundry bag, and opened the magazine, propping it on his upper thighs. One of his feet was swinging idly in front of the washer as he tried to focus on the world events of six years earlier.

Barba’s phone had less than half of his attention; he couldn’t keep his eyes off Carisi for more than a few seconds—especially when the agitator started, and the detective squirmed on top of the machine, briefly closing his eyes. Barba couldn’t keep his own body from responding to Carisi’s arousal, but Carisi was showing remarkable self-restraint as he stared at the magazine, pretending that the vibration of the washing machine wasn’t stimulating him past his ability to actually read. Barba knew how tight Carisi’s jeans were, how constricting; he also knew that Carisi was prone to producing a lot of precum during prostate stimulation, and there was no way that Barba was going to be able to finish a Sudoku puzzle with that image in his head.

Barba watched the detective through his lashes, barely noticing the minutes ticking by on the counter at the top of the puzzle.

Carisi’s foot was rocking back and forth, and he couldn’t stop fidgeting: tugging at his jeans, crinkling the magazine—the pages of which he’d forgotten to turn—as he repeatedly adjusted it on his thighs, shifting his weight. His forehead was creased, his cheeks were flushed, and when the spin cycle started, Barba couldn’t pretend to ignore him any longer. He sent a text, and Carisi reached over to eagerly snatch up his phone.

How you doing?

How many hours has it been?

Barba laughed quietly, and their eyes met. Carisi shifted his weight from one hip to the other. Barba looked down and wrote: Just a few more minutes. You going to make it?

Sure

That machine’s really shaking, now.

I haven’t leaked through my jeans yet, Carisi answered, and Barba made a low sound that was half laugh and half groan. How you doing on that puzzle?

My average is shot to hell, Barba texted, and they grinned at each other.

The machine stopped abruptly, and Carisi let out a breath of relief. He raised his eyebrows at Barba, silently asking for permission to dismount. Barba got slowly to his feet and crossed over to him.

“Need a hand?” Barba asked softly. “Or can you get off by yourself?”

Carisi pressed his lips together to keep any embarrassing sounds from escaping, and he slid carefully down to his feet. He held the magazine in one hand and shoved his phone into his pocket before lifting the lid of the washing machine. “By the time we get home, I won’t need anything more than a look,” he muttered, and Barba laughed.

“Did you break the dryer, too?”

“No.”

“Then let’s throw the wet clothes in the bag, we can dry them at home.”

Carisi smiled. “You anxious to get outta here?” he asked, glancing down at the front of Barba’s pants. The dark slacks and tight underwear made his arousal less noticeable, but Carisi knew exactly what condition Barba was in.

“I just don’t want you to embarrass yourself in public.”

“We could go in the bathroom and lock the door—”

“Don’t be crude,” Barba admonished, and Carisi laughed. Barba looked him over and cleared his throat. “God, you look good right now,” he muttered, and Carisi’s cheeks darkened in pleasure at the compliment. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Okay,” Carisi said, turning toward the machine, tossing the magazine onto one of the others. He reached inside and started transferring the wet clothes into the canvas bag. He paused when Barba stepped up close beside him and put a hand on his wrist. Barba reached past him and quickly grabbed the last of the clothing, stuffing it into the bag.

“You want to walk, or sit in the back of a car?”

Carisi considered, shifting his weight. It was only a few blocks.

Barba searched his face. “If it’s too much—” he started, but Carisi cut him off.

“No, it’s fine,” he said. “Car, though, okay?”

“Let’s get a cab, it’ll be quicker.”

Carisi snatched up the heavy bag and held it in front of himself.

Barba smirked as they started toward the exit. “You’re walking like John Wayne,” he said under his breath.

Carisi shot him a worried look. “I’m not. Am I? I can’t help it, these pants are too tight.”

“You’re going to wear these jeans any time we go anywhere from now on,” Barba returned. He put a hand on Carisi’s back. “Relax, no one knows or cares. Come on.”

They hailed a cab, and Carisi dropped the bag into the backseat before crawling in after it with a small, involuntary sound as he sat. Barba got in beside him and pulled the door shut. He gave the driver his home address, ignoring the man’s obvious annoyance at the small fare.

“Try to miss the bumps,” Barba said, and Carisi smiled at him. Barba settled a hand onto the detective’s thigh, giving his leg an encouraging squeeze.

* * *

“Look at this,” Barba murmured, tugging open Carisi’s fly. “You leaked all over yourself. Do I need to take you back to the laundromat?” He shook his head, pinching gently at the wet cotton of Carisi’s briefs. “Such a mess.”

Carisi groaned at the contact, and Barba looked up at his face. “Let me suck you. I’ll get you ready.”

“Ready?” Barba repeated, cocking an eyebrow. He took hold of Carisi’s wrist and brought the hand to his crotch. “I’m ready,” he laughed. “Unlike you, I haven’t made a mess of myself, though. Yet.”

Carisi palmed him eagerly, and said, “Please, Raf.”

“Get undressed.”

Carisi quickly pulled his shirt up and over his head, tossing it to the floor before shoving his jeans and underwear down with a wince. He kicked off his shoes and stepped out of the jeans, kicking them aside. He stood before Barba, naked, his chest and neck flushed, his erection glistening.

“You’re dripping on the floor,” Barba said, and Carisi looked down at himself. Barba laughed and gestured with his chin. “Bend over.”

Carisi turned and bent, putting his hands on the edge of the bed and spreading his feet on the floor. He looked over his shoulder as Barba stepped up behind him. Barba ran a finger over the base of the plug, and Carisi gasped, dropping his head forward.

“So sensitive,” Barba murmured. He tucked a finger under the base, applying gentle pressure, and Carisi grunted. “You’re all red.”

“I’m—ah,” Carisi said, tightening reflexively when Barba pulled on the base of the plug.

“You don’t want to give it up?” Barba asked, sounding amused. He put a hand on Carisi’s ass, spreading him open with his thumb and forefinger. “Do you want to come with this inside you?”

“No,” Carisi said.

“Relax, then,” Barba said softly, readjusting his grip on the base. He pulled the plug slowly, and Carisi moaned as it finally slipped free of his ass.

“God, you’re gonna make me shampoo the carpet, huh?” he muttered.

Barba laughed. “Still leaking?” he teased, running a finger over Carisi’s opening. Carisi sucked in a quick breath at the contact. “Alright. You’ve done very well, Sonny. Come on, up on the bed, I’ll make you feel better.”

“No, I want you to fuck me. Like this. Please, Raf.”

Barba hesitated. He used his thumbs to pull Carisi’s cheeks apart. “You must be sore,” he said. “There’s time for that—”

“Please,” Carisi repeated, looking back at him.

Barba ran a hand over the other man’s hip. “If you’re sure,” he said, and Carisi nodded, his hair flopping on his forehead. “Alright. I’ll be right back.”

Carisi shifted onto his elbows on the bed, hanging his head. Barba didn’t leave him waiting for long, and had stripped out of his clothes when he stepped up behind Carisi with the bottle of lube.

Barba spread lubrication over and around Carisi’s hole before slipping a finger inside him. Carisi pushed back against the intrusion, drawing him deeper. “Alright,” Barba repeated quietly. He withdrew his finger and quickly applied a generous helping of lubricant to his own erection before tossing the bottle onto the bed. He took himself in his hand, pushing gently against Carisi’s opening. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

“Never,” Carisi said, reaching a hand back to grab at Barba’s hip. “Come on, Raf.” Barba flexed his hips, filling Carisi with one smooth movement, and Carisi gasped: “Oh my God.”

“Okay?”

“Yes. Please.”

Holding both of Carisi’s hips, Barba said, “Take me how you want me, Sonny.”

Carisi rocked forward and shoved himself back, making a sound close to a whimper. He repeated the movement several times while Barba gripped his hips with white-knuckled hands, before finally saying, “I can’t—please, you do it.”

Barba couldn’t deny such a direct plea, and he held Carisi in place as he started a slow and steady rhythm.

“Harder, please. Oh God, can I come, Raf?”

“Of course,” Barba breathed, “you’ve waited long enough.”

Carisi dropped his head onto the bed and clutched desperately at Barba’s hip as his orgasm rocked through him; his knees bent, but Barba held him up. “Come inside me,” Carisi mumbled against the comforter.

A moment later, Barba did, his hips stuttering to a halt as he spilled himself inside the younger man. “Christ, Sonny,” he breathed as Carisi tightened around him, wringing him dry. Barba put a shaky hand on the other man’s back. “Easy, honey,” he said, carefully withdrawing with a sigh.

Carisi put a knee on the bed and pushed himself up and forward before flopping over onto his back. “Sorry I made a mess on the comforter,” he said. “Give me a minute and I’ll clean up,” he added, gesturing vaguely toward the floor with a weak swipe of his arm.

Barba walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand over his face. “Leave it,” he said. “It can wait until morning.”

Carisi reached out and slid a hand down Barba’s back. “I know you like things to be neat—”

“Tell that to Carmen, who keeps threatening to organize my desk,” Barba said, looking back at Carisi with a smile. He searched the detective’s face for a moment. “Are you alright?”

“This is your apartment, Rafael. I’ll try—”

“For Christ’s sake, Sonny, you know better than to listen to me when I’m tired and hungry. This is our apartment. I don’t care about the washer or the laundry or your cum drying on the edge of our bedspread. I just...really missed you, too.”

Carisi smiled and pushed himself up to meet Barba’s kiss. “Raf, I hate to tell ya, but your cum’s on the bed, now, too.”

Barba sighed against the other man’s mouth. “I knew I should’ve put that plug back in you,” he said, and Carisi laughed, dropping back onto the bed again.

“Sorry I made you do all the work. Lost my legs for a minute, there.”

Laughing, Barba said, “That’s two-thirds of your body.”

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“Yeah, you’ll make it up to me. You’ll make it up to me in the shower.”

“Thought you didn’t care about the mess.”

“I lied,” Barba said with a smile. He reached back and put a hand on Carisi’s thigh. “Anyway, the hot water will make you feel better.”

“Can we take a bath?” Carisi asked hopefully.

“You want us to squeeze into that fucking tub together so we can stew in our mutual filth?” Barba returned with an arched brow.

“Yeah.”

Barba laughed. “Three days, Sonny. What the hell would you’ve done if I’d been gone a week?”

“Come looking for you,” Carisi answered with a grin.

Barba laughed again, shaking his head. “Guess I’ll have to take you with me next time,” he murmured.

“Or you can just stay here with me,” Carisi countered.

“Hmm,” Barba answered, regarding him. “Not the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

Carisi bumped Barba’s hip with a leg. “I know you like me, Raf, you can’t fool me.”

“Against my better judgement,” Barba said with a smile, “I actually fucking love you. Come on, let’s go get cleaned up.”

#barisi #rafael barba #sonny carisi #svu fanfiction #barisi and the washing machine #washing up #smut

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hawkland · 7 years

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The Best Gift (Rollisi fic)

So, I actually wrote the following fic for the Rare Pair Exchange a few weeks ago. But author reveals just happened today, so I decided to share it here for Amanda Rollins week, in @svucharacterappreciation

It’s my first time writing Rollisi and I had a lot of fun doing so! (Maybe I’ll do it again?) G-rated, about 1700 words. Crossposted from my AO3 account (where you can find the rest of my SVU fic.)

“You don’t have to stay and help, Carisi.”

“It’s no problem,” Sonny assured Amanda, as he picked up another errant plastic cup and tossed it in the trash. “See, in my house, growing up? My mom always used to throw these huge birthday parties for us kids. Everyone in the family would be there, all the cousins and aunts and uncles. Seemed like half the kids on Staten Island, too. She’d be up all night before the party cooking and baking, and then she wouldn’t go to bed after the party until every room was pristine clean again. The rugs had to be vacuumed, the kitchen floor swept, every dish washed and hand-dried.” He paused, bending over to retrieve a streamer that had somehow gotten wrapped around the dining room table leg. “But she wouldn’t let anyone help her, either, because she had her way of doing things—the only right way. It was just how she was.”

Amanda snorted and kicked a chair back in place, her hands full of gift bags to be sorted through tomorrow. “Well, as you should be able to tell by now, I’m not nearly so fastidious.”

“No one was—short of my mother’s mother, my nonna Marie. But I always felt bad seeing my mom exhausted by all that work. So trust me, you don’t need to do everything here yourself.”

“You’re right about that. And I definitely won’t refuse help offered willingly,” Amanda said with a smile, one that Sonny beamed right back at her.

All the other guests who’d shown up for Jesse’s first birthday party had left some time ago. Fin had dragged Munch off the premises first, the two of them arguing about current political events—as usual. Olivia had said goodnight when Noah started getting cranky and restless, perhaps not pleased that he wasn’t the center of all the adults’ attention for once. Melinda and her husband had stayed a while longer, happy for the relaxing evening out with friends—and sharing stories of how nice it was once the kids had grown up enough to leave the house for college.

“It’ll be a lot of years until I know how that feels,” Amanda had said, “but I’m in no hurry to rush through these early years.”

“Don’t be,” Melinda had assured her. “You’ll be reminiscing about them from the day she starts talking back at you.”

Amanda had also invited a few other young moms from the prenatal yoga class she had attended before Jesse’s birth. They’d stayed in touch because it was nice to have other mothers—most of them single moms themselves—to talk to, vent at, and lean on as necessary. And Amanda had been happy to see how their little ones were growing so fast...much like Jesse herself.

Jesse, who surely had no idea why so many people had been in their home, making all this noise and fuss over her. She was now fast asleep in her crib, and Amanda was getting close to the point where she’d love to simply crawl into her own bed, too.

But she didn’t mind Sonny lingering behind. She wasn’t a neat freak, but it could be depressing to wake up the morning after a big party and have nothing but a huge mess to clean up.

Wake up by herself, to the quietude of an otherwise empty apartment, save her dog and the baby she hadn’t planned for, nor expected.

“I’ll take these out to the trash chute,” Sonny said, hefting three plastic bags up over his shoulder as if he were Santa Claus.

“Thanks,” she replied distractedly as he headed for the door, throwing the deadbolt so it wouldn’t lock behind him. Sonny knew where the trash room was; he’d come over to make and share dinner enough evenings. In fact it had almost started to become routine, once every few weeks when they had the time. Dinner, catching up on the latest reality shows piled up on her DVR, talk about their various ongoing family dramas...

Talk about anything other than work.

Or the possibilities that were right there in front of them both.

It was nice. Sonny was nice, she thought as she settled down on her sofa with a wistful, tired sigh. She’d been seriously skeptical about him at first, but he’d grown a lot since he’d first landed at Manhattan SVU. Or maybe...maybe with time she had become more able, and willing, to see who he had been from the start.

Because Sonny was always there for her, in ways that few other men ever had been. And that’s why she was determined not to do anything to fuck that up.

She’d made more than her share of mistakes with men in the past, including—on more than one occasion, she had to admit—men she had to work with. At least her “mistake” with Declan had ended up giving her Jesse, who was now the best part of her life...but.

Still.

Sonny.

Sonny was a man who would stick around, unlike Declan. She knew that. And Sonny wasn’t carrying tons of baggage with a separated wife and multiple kids, like Nick had been.

Damn it, Amanda. A good guy—maybe the right guy—finally comes along and now you’re gun-shy. Don’t want to be the girl who ends up sleeping with every available man at the office. And yet, with Sonny she had the feeling it would be about a lot more than just sex. They’d had all this time to get to know each other, to become friends first. That would make things different, and better, right?

“Amanda, did you hear me?”

“I’m sorry, what?” she said, jumping as he startled her out of those thoughts. Sonny had returned from trash duty and was now standing before her, looking concerned.

“I asked if you wanted to save what was left of the meatballs and sausage in the crockpot? I just need a container for it.”

“Uh, yeah, sure. There should be some clean tupperware in the cabinet above the sink.”

“OK, will do. There’s easily enough for two lunches yet in there.”

“You can take it home if you want.”

“I won’t say no to that.” He turned to head to the kitchen, but then paused to ask, “You okay?”

“Me? Of course! I mean...why?”

“You...you looked kind of sad when I came back in.”

She shook her head. “It’s nothing. Just the post-party blahs, I suppose.”

“Being ‘on’ and entertaining for hours. I get that. It can be pretty draining.” He sat down next to her. “You sure that’s it, though?”

She bit her lip. Did she really want to have this conversation?

Right now?

Ever?

Or was she being stubborn and unfair to both of them, to keep denying what was there between them? “Sonny, you ever think about...I mean if I am projecting and off-base here please tell me to shut up and that’s fine and forget I ever even asked, but...”

“About us?” he interrupted.

“Uh...yeah. I mean...we hang out after work, you’ve tried giving me cooking lessons, you like being here with Jesse...”

“And Frannie!” he put in with enthusiasm, causing Amanda to laugh. The poor pup had gone into hiding from all the noise and activity and was still sulking in her dog bed in the bedroom.

“Yeah, and of course Frannie, how could I forget my first baby-girl. I guess I can’t help but wonder, why you do all that instead of, I dunno...getting out there and trying to find someone to share time with who you don’t have to see every day at work already. Someone who isn’t all tangled up in this line of work and all the stress we have to deal with.”

“I could do that,” he agreed, nodding his head. “But...maybe I’m more interested in spending time with someone who knows what this job is all about, who can help me deal with it better myself. And because...well, I like you, Amanda. I like you a lot.”

“I like you too, Sonny,” she admitted, and it was true. Her attraction to him had been far from immediate. Yet as she’d come to appreciate his kindness and heart, she’d felt her own heart opening up to deeper feelings for him.

“But I know you’ve been through a lot and I didn’t want—I don’t want—to rush you into anything you aren’t sure about.”

“I appreciate that,” she said, allowing herself a small smile—one that grew as she saw Sonny flush a little and look away, endearing in his moment of shyness and vulnerability. And so when he looked back to meet her gaze, she took a chance on leaning in for a light kiss on his lips.

It was sweet, and tender...and cautious. Like Sonny. She pulled back and they sat quietly, awkwardly, for a few moments, sharing shy glances and a few nervous laughs. Then he looked to her with a serious expression, his eyes focused as one hand cupped her cheek, and drew her to him for a much more sensual kiss.

Oh, she could fall hard, and fast, if there were more kisses to be shared like this one. What other surprises might Sonny have for her, she wondered?

Before she could contemplate such things for very long he pulled away, giving her a dreamy if regret-tinged smile. “It’s getting on pretty late, I should head home.”

“You could...stay...if you want.”

“I could,” he agreed, reaching up to stroke her hair with a light touch. “But, I meant it about taking things slow. I don’t want to mess this up. You know?”

“Yeah, I do.”

He stood with a sigh, and so did Amanda, following him to the door. He lingered there for a moment, in the open doorway, and then suggested, “If nothin’ comes up this weekend, I can give you a call, we could do something together? I mean, something more than cooking dinner and watching Below Deck or Dancing with the Stars.”

“I’d like that. Good night, Sonny.”

“Good night, Amanda.” He seemed to be considering one last kiss, but then perhaps he knew if he went for it, he wouldn’t be going anywhere tonight. So instead he smiled and headed down the hall to the elevator, casting one last smile and wave in her direction as he did.

She returned both, then closed the door, locking it behind her. Still grinning, she looked at all those gifts for Jesse from her friends, and appreciated having them in her life.

But Sonny had given her the best gift of all tonight.

The gift of hope, and maybe one more chance at love.

#rollisi #svucharacterappreciation #amanda rollins #sonny carisi #my fic #svu fic

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elizabethrobertajones · 7 years

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4x03

Too tired to gif anything lengthy (or work out how to do these ones nicely and in 1 part) but when Mary and Samuel go to the farm to investigate, they have this little exchange:

MARY And I'm here because?

SAMUEL Family business, Mary... family.

SAMUEL What? You'd rather be waving pom-poms at a bunch of dumb jocks?

(The giffed smile is after he says that last line)

Anyway it just makes me really sad that this is the offered glimpse of Mary's life specifically between her and Samuel and what we have to go off on how this works between the two of them aside from him laughing at John and calling him naive etc. This has John parenting Dean all over it, with the family business line as always harking back to the line indelibly connected to Dean's speech in 1x02 because of how many episode openings it was pasted over, and I feel like it's Dean especially, rather than Sam who DID openly want to rebel and live a normal life (and would relate a lot to this as well, of course) because it feels more like pre-knowing them stuff, the kind of thing that John telling Dean to take care of the car or he wouldn't have given it to him in 1x20 for example feels like. The snide comments that police how they should feel about it and how Mary responds by snarking at him about going to do the job and putting on a smile and going to flirt information out of a boy at the farm. We don't see comments like this really between John and Dean aside from the car one because in every respect in season 1 John has bought Dean's loyalty fully already and since the very start that has been obvious - if little tells in 1x01 didn't give it away, Dean's behaviour in 1x02 standing up for the family business to Sam did.

I also have spent some time somewhere or other paralleling Mary & John to Dean & Lisa (I think the first post in this post-season 12 watch actually, where I wrote like 100 miles about Mary...) in the sense that she clawed her way to suburbia and went into a sort of denial - visually represented in 12x22 if you want to imagine she was doing the same thing the entire time she was playing housewife for real (and because she never learned to cook I find it particularly telling and distressing that it reads to me like she was in denial/depression about it rather than throwing herself wholeheartedly into learning an entire new life and genuinely trying to fit in with housewife culture of doing all the cooking etc... She still sneaked out to hunt and I still kinda feel like that was lashing out or rebellion against her own life, dissatisfaction being caught between two worlds, even self-sabotage to make John wonder if she was cheating, or just to indulge her secret other life or... you know, SOMETHING reckless and stupid when she had a baby at home to care for... Mary is NOT a stable person and I love her because she's a hot mess :P). (The Dean & Lisa vs Mary & John parallel isn't perfect but I'm talking specifically about mindsets and the djinn dream comparison Dean had to being with Lisa, and the deep deep place Mary went to in her head that reeks to me of similar minds.)

To me overall the Dean and Mary comparison is much stronger to me so though this makes a lot of sense as a Sam parallel (or, well, when it's parents etc we just talk about inherited traits with a semi-mystical power to channel personality directly to us whether we knew our ancestors personally or not...) I do read this exact more strongly as the sort of control John exerted over Dean potentially, which SUCCESSFULLY worked to make him grow to adulthood disdaining normal life and feeling like they didn't fit in and were outsiders and freaks who were not a part of regular life. I think Mary is young and headstrong and still in that stage where like Sam she can rebel and choose another life but in this specific moment we're having demonstrated the hunting life vs normal life that in season 1 we saw better explained by Dean calling himself a freak (or in season 2 Jo calling herself a freak with a knife collection when she tried to go to college, while Sam had the knife collection but was HAPPILY fitting in and in denial, we know Mary DIDN'T fit in and DID sneak off to go hunting, like Jo did). Samuel emphasises the exact annoying Strong Female Character trait of "i'm not like the other girls" but he's forcing it on Mary, which makes her want to BE like the other girls, even if like Jo or Dean she would struggle to fit in and keep it far more than Sam did with Jess or Amelia, where he could cut it off completely. Mary KNOWS she isn't "like the other girls" because Samuel made her that way, and so she goes to do the job with a forced smile on her face and to spite Samuel.

I wonder how things would have gone with her and John if Dean had never shown up and Azazel had never caught wind of her, and she had been able to carve her own path with nothing more than Samuel's influence on her life. How much was she screwed up by being raised a hunter to make her act as she did and how much was the deal a part of it? Azazel promised her suburbia and peace, the same terms of what Dean got with Lisa, and he managed to stick to it until other things intervened, although as 12x10 suggests and like Dean investigating the possible hunt, immediately after being poisoned, in the abandoned hotel, neither of them would ignore when their help was needed even if they were supposedly civilian now. Sam manages to cut himself off completely and in 8x01 he says he looked in the newspapers and saw potential cases and knew it wasn't his problem because he wasn't capable of hunting right then/wanted and had honestly more than earned his peace (given the circumstances of Dean and Cas's disappearance, and, as Sam was doing, ignoring the issue of Kevin).

I'm not saying Sam is less heroic but I think this specific sort of "You can never be like everyone else so do the job" brainwashing from Samuel and presumably John given what we know of how he raised them (Sam himself complains about that a lot in 1x01 but from the safe place of having rejected it at that specific point, again, having completely cut himself off and thinking he'd made a choice for his entire adult life), creates the complex where they HAVE to save people, and Sam got himself out before it got all the way into him; I think Mary is shown here at the crux of it and ironically maybe if she hadn't made the deal, she would have got out but having MADE the deal even with Azazel's promise of her suburbia paradise and nothing Supernatural ever bothering her again (as long as she didn't bother him in the nursery >.>) had a tie to keep her in the life, even as an unresolved *itch* of having that hanging over WHY she got such a peace that never let her truly settle or cut herself off in the way Sam could.

... Also it's making me think of Dean in the high school episode coming up later in the season, deliberately acting out and self-sabotaging his own life there right when he seemed to be getting popular or cool, or getting anything NICE out of the experience, and the contrast they made with Sonny's where away from John's influence he was allowed to flourish and do things like join the wrestling team. (Sam played football and did extra curricular stuff like theatre, or, you know, his homework, and John and Dean both also complicate it by having varying reasons for trying to preserve some normality for Sam on top of being raised as a hunter - John because who knows what he learned about Sam early on in his investigation and Dean just because he wanted to protect Sam wholeheartedly.) If Samuel was poisoning Mary all this time to hate the idea of being a cheerleader, it sounds a lot to me like, since they have this apparently more stable life she probably went to one school all her life, and could have been offered cheerleader but she's been encouraged to keep away from socialising and doing fun things and Samuel doesn't support her doing anything that cuts into her hunting time and emotional investment. If she likes cheerleading she might start craving a normal life, you know? At least in this respect John always being on the road got to yank Sam and Dean away from ever starting to feel too normal and comfortable anywhere until it WAS their normal, while Mary probably took a LOT of emotional punishment for being the weird kid at school who'd probably break someone's nose for teasing her about it but through all the things her father stopped her from doing, presumably had few friends and never got to do anything fun so was always feeling excluded. It's possible she was even homeschooled/had left school early and so that hypothetical from Samuel is about a life she's left entirely behind.

Anyway seeing the pain in her plastering on this smile to her father after a comment like this... it's the most Dean she looks the whole flashbacks we see Amy portraying her and she looks a LOT like Dean in a LOT of scenes because wtf this show's casting :P

#4x03 #mary f winchester #or Mary Campbell aka what Toni said she stripped her down to #daddy's little hunter that he wanted her to be all along #sorry for the massive paragraphs I didn't type this on tumblr and i'm too tired to make it coherent and short :P #lizbob gifs #my stuff #spn rewatches #weird rewatching #parallels #queue

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poipoi1912 · 7 years

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Carisi-centric thoughts on Ep 18x18

The last fifteen minutes really ruined what was, until then, a perfectly serviceable episode. It really flew by, up until that point, and I kinda liked it. It was dumb but fun :D

I even liked the hypnotism angle, but I must say, I think the problem persists; yet again, the episode had an interesting premise, but it failed to take advantage of it. Why not go into the practicalities of hypnosis? Where was Huang to get on that stand and explain it in detail? Speaking of, wouldn’t Barba talk to an “expert” during the trial? Why not make a show if it and demonstrate hypnosis? Wouldn’t that be fun to watch?

Warning

OK, guys, I’m going to be honest. I’m of two minds, when it comes to this episode. Sonny-wise, the episode was fantastic (and let’s be honest, that’s always my main concern lol), the premise was fun, we got Barba working with the entire team, not just Liv, and the case itself (the investigation of it, at least) was twisty enough to remain enjoyable.

BUT.

From a legal standpoint, this episode was laughably bad. It honestly left me baffled. Who wrote this? The last fifteen minutes were ridiculous. No way would Barba ever get a conviction based on what we saw. I’ll expand on that in a minute (in EXTENSIVE detail), but first let’s start with the good.

Sonny and Continuity

A lot of great stuff in this episode! Sonny pulled a classic Sonny, and looked into the case thoroughly, going above and beyond and finding information about out a crime which was committed out of state. He even dug up a civil suit. That’s absolutely consistent with the Sonny we know. It’s what he’s always done. He never gives up, he finds smart ways to work around the obstacles and solve the case.

I also appreciated that Sonny showed real empathy when he heard the first victim had died. Peter played that little moment so well. Both the surprise and the sadness. What I loved most about it, was that it didn’t feel like he was thinking “oh shoot, there goes our witness.” It felt like the old Sonny, the one who used to cross himself when he found a dead body. The Sonny who’d take the time to grieve, just for a moment, when confronted with the death of a stranger as opposed to last week’s Sonny, who dismissed actual death threats like he didn’t give a shit lol.

And I do always love it when Sonny cracks a case with his research. Even though he didn’t actually crack it, because what the fuck? But, again, more on that later.

Sonny’s Love Life

Wait, Sonny has a legit girlfriend that’s been mentioned more than once? Can we meet her, please? I’ve always wanted to see him happy and in love :D and making out with someone lol. I just wish we knew more about her. A name, even. Wouldn’t Amanda know her name? She and Carisi are obviously buddies. So far, the info we got on her is a) her bra size (classy, SVU writers) and b) that she’s into that raw food trend. I like that, actually. It fits Sonny. He seems like he’d totally be up for trying new experiences food-wise and otherwise, and this could be their thing, going around random restaurants and trying to convince each other to eat weird dishes, lol.

I love it when our characters are shown to have lives outside the “show”, but can we actually see it? Can we see Sonny all flirty and cute? If they don’t want to cast anyone new (because they seem averse to creating new characters), can’t we at least see, like, Sonny smiling as he talks on the phone, or as he reads a text, with Fin teasing him about it? Or something? Please? :D

Barba Thoughts

I was surprised Barba was the one to suggest hypnotism. Way to think outside the box! I’m not sure he was the best person to do that (he seems like a total skeptic who’d shoot that theory down immediately), but I bought the excuse of him having come across it before. Plus, I loved that he was the one who got to solve the case, for a change. And I also liked how the entire team, Barba included, spent several scenes brainstorming together. I had missed that. Barba in the precinct, with the entire squad.

Aaaaand that’s where the fun ends, and the pedantic/annoyed part of my post begins, lol.

Why on Earth would Barba take legal advice from Liv? Why would he ever play that tape for the jury? If that’s not reasonable doubt, I don’t know what is. Why would he follow Liv’s actual instructions? She’s not a lawyer! She directly affected the case, in a way that could have been detrimental, even though Barba seemed like he knew better (since he tried to talk her out of it, before folding as always), and the way the episode chose to resolve that was by having Liv and Barba drinkin’ it up at a bar.

Liv’s mistake was never identified as such, and it took Sonny “deus ex machina” Carisi and his random discovery to save the day.

Even though it shouldn’t have. Which brings me to:

The Law

Me for the first like 45 minutes: OK BUT WHERE IS RITA???

Me when Rita appeared: YASSSSSS QUEEN

Me at the end of the episode: NOOOOO QUEEN

Where do I begin?

Why was Barba acting like hypnosis was sure to be accepted as 100% real and effective by a court of law, let alone a jury in its entirety? Why did he seem to “suddenly” realize he had no case (which, d’oh) at the halfway mark, only for Liv to wrongly convince him otherwise? And, even if Barba did manage to stumble upon a group of jurors who all believe in hypnosis, why didn’t he bother actually proving anything?

To get a conviction, Barba would have to prove that:

hypnosis is real,

hypnosis can be powerful enough to make a woman consent to sex against her will,

Trask has the skill to hypnotize people,

Trask actually hypnotized this specific victim, and

Trask raped this specific victim.

None of that was ever proven. None. Like I said, no expert was shown explaining just what hypnotism entails. No proof was given that Trask even knew how to do that (so what if his mentor taught him, does that mean he now knows how to do it perfectly?). There was an actual tape with the victim’s ‘consent’ that was played but not actually debunked.

And oh Lord. That old case Sonny dug up. WHERE. DO. I. BEGIN.

What defense attorney, hell, what judge would allow a totally random arrest from over 20 years ago to be brought up into a totally unrelated criminal trial? Not to mention, no one even bothered to point out that the defendant was a drug addict at the time (22. YEARS. AGO), and he had since “changed.”

To be fair, the writers tried to make it work, with Barba asking Trask if he had ever been arrested, to “open the door” to bringing up the previous arrest (and also to get Trask to lie on the stand). Problem is, Trask only lied about the arrest itself, not about the specifics of it. With that in mind, Barba would only be able to mention the arrest itself, to contradict Trask’s testimony and present him as a liar. But he’d never be able to introduce the actual details of the arrest, the actual facts of that old case.

Barba would need to ask something specific to open that door. Something like, “Have you ever been accused of anything like this before? A man in your position, wealthy and surrounding himself with drugs and beautiful women,” blah blah. If Trask had lied about that, then Barba would have been able to bring up a similar case from the past (even the case of the dead woman mentioned previously).

Unfortunately, there was nothing similar about the case Sonny found. No relevance, no probative value. A drug addict, ill and scared, letting someone die? Over 20 years ago? An expunged arrest, no conviction? That was prejudicial as fuck. Rita would have it thrown out in 3 seconds. Many times, prosecutors can’t even mention actual (and relevant) convictions, because it would be prejudicial, unless the specific convictions have a significant probative value relating to the case on hand.

Same goes for that half-assed “confession” to Trask’s mentor-slash-friend. Trask never mentioned this specific victim. That was circumstantial as fuck. I'm embarrassed on Rita's behalf for losing this mess of a case. The old Rita would never.

Legally speaking, this was a total circus. Barba proved nothing. No way would the jury find Trask guilty. No way would Rita Fucking Calhoun let any of that fly. This is Dana Lewis levels of character assassination, in my book.

Stray Thoughts

Is Liv working reception now? Didn’t she used to have an office? Where her subordinates could reach her, if a victim wanted to speak to “someone in charge”? You’re a Lieutenant, sis! Let someone else man the doors!

Declan? 👀

Amanda didn’t judge a victim, for once, and the case involved drugs! Progress!

Fin listening to that lady for like 5 minutes? YES. His face was the highlight of the episode. Fin himself was the highlight of the episode, actually. So many great lines, and Ice-T was clearly having fun.

Speaking of, we got Fin joking! And Carisi joking! And Amanda laughing! Who are these people? I don’t recognize them :D

Seriously though, I really appreciated the attempt for a more ‘lighthearted’ episode, but the writers should have stopped themselves riiiiiight before giving Rollins the line, ‘look deep into my eyes, you’re under arrest.’ Because no.

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