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anteroom-of-death · 2 years

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NSFW Alphabet: Ricardo Morales

This is my world, you're all just living in it...

A= Aftercare (what they’re like after the act)

Old fashioned, he tends to help you clean up and you both to wind down. Towels are near the bed. Just enough to get you both to a point to just sleep and cuddle.

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

As a cop and a lawyer. He knows to look at people in the eyes. Body language is everything. This translates to his bed-partners too. He loves to look into your eyes to help communicate what he can do better. In his opinion, it trumps words.

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it)

Pretty traditional and not anything to avant-garde. Just down your throat or in your cunt. Nothing major or groundbreaking...

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory)

Being called baby or anything cheesy. He will claim he hates it, but it makes him burn in tje cheeks...

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing)

He has a child. Self explanatory. He's rusty but definitely has put in the hours in years previous.

F= Favorite position

Pretty fond of tabletop sex and doggy. Loves any position that allows eye contact but he loves the feel of going from behind. He can really work his stress out with a fistful of your hair and can get every inch in that way. It's an eternal Internal debate...

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

Pretty dead serious, but has his funny, lighthearted moments. Only when he gets a chance to unclench. Which can be rare.

H= Hair (grooming habits)

Meticulous. Everywhere. Not for vanity, just for appearances sake.

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)

Fond of rough love making and tender fucking. There's a difference and it depends on the mood and how much time have between cases. You never know when a body will surface...

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

Once in a while. Just as stress relief.

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

Lightly into DDLG and bondage. Easily falls into and relishes into a protective role.

L= Location (where they like to get it on)

Bed or kitchen table. Sometimes shower. Mostly bed. It's comfortable for both of you.

M= Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons)

Work stress and anger at the situation can flow greatly into him pounding the shit out of a partner. Not so much of a motivation but loves those little flowers skirts and dresses that are so common in LA's heat. You wear that? He's hard and ready for you.

N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)

Anything too unusual or unsafe.

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

Giving and receiving. This man eats pussy like a champ.

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed)

Loves hard and slow the most. Lasts about 10-20 minutes on a good day. 5 minutes on a really stressful day. Just needs to go fast and blow before he can collapse after stress.

Q= Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard)

Like I said. Slow and hard is the most.

R= Risk (do they like to try new things)

On occasion. After a discussion that involves both parties being happy with it.

S= Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts)

He's not as young as he once was...one or two rounds before he needs to sleep.

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers)

Eh, not really. Old fashioned habits and mindsets about machismo can die hard.

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves)

Master at thru the day teasing thru texts. Just enough to torture the partner.

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)

Not overtly loud. But he definitely makes filthy noises and encourages you to. Not too much of a talker in the sack either. The groans he makes is enough to kick your libido into high gear.

W= Wild card (random sincannon of any sort)

Occasionally will paddle your behind just for fun to remind you of him.

X= X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants)

Decently hung. Above average. Big nuts tho.

Y= Yearning (sexdrive level)

Just above normal for a man of his age. He needs the release more than anything.

Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

Yes. Mostly. It's the perfect after dinner winddown activity. A good fuck, a shower, then TV and a good 8 hours? His perfect evening...

#personal #alfred molina #ricardo morales #law and order la #ricardo morales x reader #abc lemon #yeee #i am very sad and lonely #i am very sexy and i am unstoppable #i contain multitudes #i wrote this

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maddieeab2 · 2 years

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this took me too long - A young ricardo morales

#alfred molina #doc ock #doc ock x reader #otto octavius #ricardo morales #l&o: svu #alfred molina x reader

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chrism02 · 1 year

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Tag list: @purplelupins @eroticaplush @unitedfandomsoftheworld

@reuripotte @overlookedfile @randomfandomtrash28 @littlethief78

@belladonnaaura @wolfe171 @movieexpert1978 @yesalwayswelles

@jembug28 @iobsessoverfictionalmen @benedicttcumberbabe

@whateverthecostner @redlektor

@imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @writingkitten

#Alfred Molina #ricardo morales #ricardo morales x reader #law and order la #multifandom #zodiac au

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scorsesedepalmafan · 2 years

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Hi! Can I request a Detective Ricardo Morales x transman reader multi-chapter fic? The reader is Ricardo's new partner, and is reluctant to open up to Ricardo fully/trust him? After a lot of bonding, they start falling for each other? (smut or not is up to you)

You most certainly can! :D I love this idea so it's definitely worth doing a multi-chapter for <3. \it's actually quite similar to what I was thinking for him already! So we're on the same wavelength XD

And if I insert any smut, I'll do them as "side" chapters and post them on my nsfw blog (this blog is not open yet but will be soon). I just prefer to keep things mostly lime here.

Tysm for the request :') really

#requests #request #ricardo morales #alfred molina #law and order l.a.#trans male reader #requests open #so glad to be getting trans reader requests!#also this one is gonna require a biiit of research so do be patient

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chrism02 · 1 year

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Hello there, Chris. It's a kind of boring request, but I'd love to read about one of Alfredo's characters discovering he's a sub. Preferably Ricardo or Maxim. Let's say there's a life threatening situation and reader has to take care of one of the characters. And then it happens. Thank you!!!!!

Tag list: @purplelupins @eroticaplush @unitedfandomsoftheworld

@reuripotte @overlookedfile @randomfandomtrash28 @littlethief78

@belladonnaaura @wolfe171 @movieexpert1978 @yesalwayswelles

@jembug28 @iobsessoverfictionalmen @benedicttcumberbabe

@whateverthecostner @redlektor

@imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky

#alfred molina #ricardo morales #ricardo morales x reader #law and order la

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writingkitten · 1 year

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Ricardo Morales x Reader: A Boy Afraid of the Dark

Warnings: PTSD, war injuries, somewhat graphic suicide, self-harm, angst.

———

Ricardo suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder. It started when he enlisted in the Marine Corps, 18 years old and more naive to the ways of the world. He went through basic training, completed to crucible, and went from recruit to Marine.

After that, Ricardo went on to become a rifleman, serving on the ground during the early days of the Iraq war. He was in for eight years, and planned to serve until he hit the retirement age. That was until his battalion crossed paths with an IED. It went off, the men he’d served with — men he considered brothers — tossed by the blast like rag dolls.

Only two survived, Ricardo and his best friend, a short scrappy guy named Jack. The two had been stuck together since they sat next to each other on the bus to basic training. They’d gone through the same schools, were deployed on the same tours, and shared experiences that no one should ever have to live through.

On the outside, Ricardo and Jack hadn’t been hurt too bad. Ricky had some scars that were mostly hidden by his clothing, and his nose was slightly crooked. The bone in his left shoulder was only held together by metal now, and it ached whenever a storm was coming or when his PTSD was worse than usual.

Jack also wasn’t too badly injured, compared to the others. He, too, had PTSD from the event, along with scars and a prominent limp. He walked around with a cane, sometimes using a wheelchair when there was a flare up or he had to walk farther than usual. There were many times you, Ricardo, and Jack had gone hiking, and Ricardo always pushed him up the trails.

And then you got the call.

You were at work. It was around lunchtime when an unknown number called you. You didn’t answer, but as soon as it stopped ringing the number called again. This time you picked up. You heard a woman’s voice on the other end.

“Ms. L/n?” the voice said, her tone sending a cold nausea to the pit of your stomach.

“Yes?”

“You’re listed as Detective Ricardo Morales’ emergency contact. We need your help.”

Ten minutes later and several red lights run, you were in a familiar neighborhood. Jack’s neighborhood.

A few police cars were parked outside of Jack’s house, a place you’d visited nearly every Thursday night for dinner with Ricardo. You barely came to a stop before parking the car and jumping out. The woman you spoke to on the phone let you past the crime scene tape and into the home.

At first, everything seemed normal. There was no one around, nothing out of place. The only strange thing was a constant thudding. You followed the sound down the hallway, reaching Jack’s home office.

You stepped in, and immediately had to cover your mouth to stifle a sob. Jack was on the ground, wearing his dress blues, and part of his skull cracked open with a bullet. It was pretty clear that this was self-inflicted.

The thudding caught your attention again, and you turned towards the sound. In the corner behind you was Ricardo. He was on his knees, tucked as far into the corner as he could get. His face was hidden from your line of sight, but you did see where the thuds were coming from. Ricardo was exhaustedly hitting his fist against the wall. He knuckles were bruised, swollen, and bloody. There was a dent and a red stain where his fist had hit it with much more force earlier.

“Ricardo?”

You barely spoke above a whisper, trying to calmly approach him. You’d seen him go through moments like this before, although never this bad.

Kneeling down behind him, you put your hand on his shoulder gently.

“Ricky?” you whispered again.

Ricardo still didn’t acknowledge you, continuing to weakly pound his fist against the wall. Your hand slid from his shoulder up his neck and to his chin. With a light pull, you brought Ricardo’s eyes to meet yours. His eyes were glossy with tears, yet also had this almost empty look. There was a bruised and bloody spot in the center of his forehead, and another dent in the wall that matched the one made by his fist. Blood trailed from the wound down Ricardo’s nose, lips, and chin.

Your heart broke when you saw your boyfriend. Ricardo, the strong man that rarely seemed to back down from any fight, looked like a scared little boy.

“Y/n?” Ricardo whispered. His voice cracked with sorrow, the tears in his eyes beginning to roll down his face.

“Yeah baby, it’s me. I’m here.”

You stroked his cheek, wiping the tears the trailed down. He began trembling, leaning into your touch as if it was grounding him. Ricardo tried to speak for a moment, but nothing would come out.

Instead, he just wrapped his arms around your waist and fell back against the wall, pulling you in his lap. Ricardo held you tightly as he buried his face in your neck, choked sobs beginning to fall from his lips.

“Y/n… Jack…”

“I’ve got you, Ricky,” you said softly, one hand rubbing his back while the other stroked his hair. You felt tears soaking your shirt, and your own began to fall.

Ricardo held you like that for awhile. You don’t know how long, and no one dared to come in and bother you two. You’d never been held so tight before, as if Ricardo thought you’d leave him, too, if he let go.

Eventually Ricky’s sobs fell silent and he just sat there, wrapped around you like a boy afraid of the dark.

“Ricardo?” you said quietly.

He hesitated a moment before lifting his head, meeting your gaze. The pain in his eyes was like a knife twisting in your heart. Instead of saying anything, you took the sleeve of your shirt and started wiping Ricky’s face. It became stained with his tear-soaked blood, but you didn’t care. Getting him as cleaned up as possible was more important.

Once you had gotten as much of the blood as you could off of him, you undid his tie and wrapped it around his head, using it as a blindfold.

“I’ll lead you out of here, Ricky. Come on, let’s go to the car.”

Another moment of hesitation, but Ricardo stood up with you, holding your hand as you guided him out of Jack’s house. Once outside you took off the tie. You still had to lead him to the car, his mind still dazed as he just listened and followed.

He got into the car, and you started driving home. You didn’t play any music during the ride, and you never let go of his hand.

———

Tag list: @tsukiakarinobara @sgt-petter @yesalwayswelles @eroticaplush

#ricardo morales #ricardo morales x reader #law and order los angeles #molina-verse #fics

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writingkitten · 2 years

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Ricardo Morales x Reader: Helping Karina

What did I do instead of sleeping? I wrote this fucking thing!

Warnings: teenager in dangerous situation, implied underage drinking, implied (kinda) drug use, rich guys who think they can get away with anything, righteous violence, a little bit of blood

------

You and Ricardo had moved in together a few months back. It was something he’d wanted for awhile — after the first date, he laid in bed trying to think of “totally-not-weird” ways to bring it up to you. By sunrise all he had to show for his racing thoughts were dark circles under his eyes and the conclusion that he should probably wait. He held out for a year, but couldn’t take it anymore after that. He’d asked you on your one anniversary. Ricardo had taken you to a spot that overlooked all of Los Angeles, music playing softly from the car radio as you both sat on the hood, eating takeout and drinking cheap wine straight from the bottle. Just the slightest bit buzzed, he handed you the key to his house, and asked you to make it his home.

Now, there you both were, cleaning up after having dinner, that same wine having been sipped from glasses out of his kitchen cabinet. Your kitchen cabinet. You’re washing off the dishes, handing them off to Ricardo for him to dry and put away. He had his back to you, still wearing his work clothes, minus the jacket and the sleeves rolled up. He purposefully kept his leather holsters on, knowing how much they turned you on. He was in the teasing mood.

You and Ricardo spoke quietly to each other, talking about whatever came to mind, just wanting to hear each other’s voices. At the end of a long day, hearing Ricardo speak had the same effect on you as taking a muscle relaxer. You could feel the tension in your body slowly unwind with each syllable that passed through his beautiful lips. Your voice had the same effect on him. He hasn’t told you yet, but he keeps all of the voicemails you’ve left him, even the most mundane ones, just so he could play one and listen to it when particularly stressed at work.

Ricardo was sorting the silverware, putting them away in the correct drawer when your phone started buzzing next to you. The name “Karina” illuminated the screen.

You had met Karina a little less than a month into your relationship with Ricardo. His little girl — 16 years old, but nonetheless — was the most important person in his life, and he wanted you — the woman who had quickly become equally as important — to meet her. It was almost like taking you to meet his parents, if he were still a teenager; he wanted Karina’s approval.

He didn’t get it. When she saw you, a woman significantly younger than her father, not even ten years older than herself, she was outraged. She could never pinpoint exactly why; surely part of it was the stereotype of young women taking advantage of older men, as well as the slight creepiness of her father dating someone so much younger than him (a feeling ingrained in her by societal standards, and amplified by her mother’s reaction to the news). The night you two met, she had texted a friend to come pick her up from the restaurant and made up an excuse about having to study for an exam. You and Ricardo both saw through the lie, but let her go anyways.

That night was the only time you’d seen Ricardo cry, him leaning against the bathroom sink in his white undershirt and boxers, head hung low. You didn’t want to directly bring it up to him, knowing he’d try to say he was fine, so instead you forced yourself into being the big spoon, much to Ricardo’s confusion but also happiness.

Since then, you’d seen Karina a handful of times, each encounter with her being curt and tense. You never held any hard feelings towards her, though. How could you? She was Ricardo’s daughter, a part of him and his life that you were more than willing to accept. But no matter how hard you tried to befriend Karina and show her how much you truly loved her father, she never believed you.

Needless to say, the fact that she was calling you now was a little more than surprising.

The phone only rang buzzed twice before you answered.

“Hey,” you said cheerfully, holding the phone to your ear with your shoulder as you rinsed the soap off of your hands. Ricardo glanced over his shoulder at you, but didn’t pay much mind.

A broken sob cracked through the phone, “Y/n, I-I need you to come pick me up.”

Your stomach immediately sank to the floor as your heard the desperation in Karina’s voice. You looked back at Ricardo, who was still busy putting away dishes, unaware of who was on the phone or the state that she was in.

“What’s wrong? What’s going on?” you asked quickly, stepping out of the kitchen. Those words, along with the clear concern in your voice, caught Ricardo’s attention, and he kept an eye on you as he finished cleaning up.

“I… I drank some alcohol, a-and these guys keep trying to touch me-“

“Where are you?” you ask, pacing the living room.

“I’m at a party… it’s at this abandoned house, in West Adams- please don’t tell my dad! He’d kill me if he knew I was here and I tried to call my mom but she isn’t answering and all my friends are either h-here or not answering their texts or too scared to come-“

“What’s the address?”

Ricardo comes up to you, drying off his hands with a dish towel, his brows furrowed. Your eyes meet his, and he sees slight panic in his eyes, along with something else he doesn’t quite recognize.

“I-I don’t know,” Karina stutters. You hear loud banging on the other end of the call, and Karina yelps, “Y/n, please, I need your help!”

You push past Ricardo, grabbing your keys off of the table by your front door. Ricardo follows quickly on your heels.

“Okay, get somewhere safe, away from those guys.”

“I’ve locked myself in the bathroom, but they’re right outside the door,” more loud bangs are heard, “Please hurry! I don’t know how long this lock will hold…”

“Listen to me, okay? Sit down on the ground and lean all your weight against the door. If there’s another way to secure it, do that, too. I’m on my way, just hold tight.”

“Okay… I don’t have much battery left…”

“That’s okay, just hang up, and if your phone gets to one percent and I’m still not there yet, use the last of that last little bit to call the police. I’d rather you be…” you quickly glance at Ricardo before continuing, “…arrested than hurt.”

“O-okay, Y/n,” another set of loud bangs, accompanied by a cracking sound and shouts, cause Karina to sob even harder, “Hurry!”

With that, the call ends. As soon as you pull the phone away from your ear, Ricardo is practically interrogating you.

“What’s happening? Who was that?”

You look in his eyes and see the fierce, protective warrior in him on the precipice of breaking free.

“Trinity, my friend, she went to this party and it’s a little too sketchy. She needs a ride home.”

“Where is she? Why would she get arrested? Did she take drugs or something-“

“Rick, I need to go,” you say, opening the front door.

He goes to grab his jacket that hangs by the front door, “I’m coming with you.”

“No,” you practically shout, your firm tone catching Ricardo off guard, “I love you, and I know you’re trying to help, but bringing my detective boyfriend would just escalate everything.”

“Y/n-“

“I’m leaving, you’re staying,” you say with a finality that leaves him glued to the spot as you walk out the door.

The crisp night air is pleasant against your skin, which burns with adrenaline. You get in your car, backing out of the driveway and speeding off down the road. You spare a glance at your home as you go, and spot Ricardo watching you from one of the front windows. Even from a distant, his worry is clear.

You make your way across town, running red lights where you could, accepting the fact that you’ll probably get a few traffic tickets in the mail. You don’t turn on the radio, but instead of silence your ears are filled with the rushing of blood. Turning onto the highway, you realize that, despite the situation, you feel no fear. Not for yourself, anyways. You fear for Karina, and, by extension, Ricardo. If anything were to happen to her… God, you don’t even want to think about that. Devastation is a puny, pathetic little worm of a word compared to what he’d feel.

You can’t let him get hurt. You can’t let them get hurt.

The focused scowl on your face is only broken by a tear running down your cheek as you realize that your feelings aren’t just about Ricardo. No, you’d never had a good relationship with Karina, but your heart would break if she was harmed.

‘Oh God,’ you think, ‘Is this my motherly instinct kicking in?’

“Y/n, you don’t want kids. You don’t. Want. Kids.”

You’re going over 100mph on the highway, passing cars left and right. Some drivers honk at you or flip you off. You grind your teeth, wanting to scream at them to fuck off, to say that the last thing you need — or care about — is their ire.

You get off the highway and start navigating through the outer streets of West Adams. The streetlights grow scarce and the homes become far more dilapidated the deeper you go. A speech comes to mind, one you’ve heard from Ricardo more times than you can count. You can practically hear his voice raging about the socioeconomic impact against minorities, how racial prejudice and the lack of proper public education, amongst so many other things, were the reasons areas like this existed. You always admired the outrage evident in the clench of his jaw and tightening of his fists. You huff in bitter amusement thinking about it.

‘My woke king.’

As you get into the heart of West Adams, you begin to hear a dull thudding sound. For a moment, you think your ears are playing tricks on you, but you roll down the window just enough for the sound to become clearer. Somewhere nearby, loud music blasts through cheap speakers.

You follow the sound, each beat getting louder as you get closer. At this point, it seems like the area around you is completely abandoned, save for the rhythm that vibrates through the air. You turn down a cracked and worn road, and bright pulsing lights radiates from a house at the end of the cul-de-sac. The place is clearly packed, if the overflow of people on the front lawn is anything to go by. You pull up on the grass, forcing partygoers out of the way as you get as close to the front door as possible. You quickly get out of your car, ignoring the people drunkenly yelling at you.

When you enter the house, the heavy reek of weed hits you, making you feel as if you’d already gotten a contact high from such a brief breath. You squeeze through the crowd, dozens of sweaty bodies shoved together in the small living room — or what you think is a living room. The inner walls of the house are crumbling, holes are scattered throughout the ceiling (and you’re sure you can hear even more people in the attic… who will probably fall through to the ground floor at any moment). Mold grows in every corner of the room, and when you see it, you realize that part of the darkness you smell comes from that.

‘Shitty place for a party…’

You make your way to the entrance of a small hallway, where the crowd somewhat thins out, though not by much. You see a group of four guys, all clean cut and freshly shaven, smoking cigarettes as they stalk around a closed door. They scream ‘Daddy’s money’, and you know that Karina is behind that door.

Shoving past the people in your way, you get to the bathroom, your eyes raging as you make eye contact with each of the guys.

“A little old for a party, aren’t you?” one of them huffs out, the smell of menthol and nicotine rolling off his tongue.

‘I’m 24, you fuck,’ you think, but don’t say anything. You push past him, nearly pressing your face into the door.

“K, it’s me,” you shout over the music, using her first initial just in case these rich scumbags don’t know her name. You’ll be damned if you give them any information that could help them track Karina down.

“Y/n?” she barely croaks out.

“Yeah, sweetie, I’m here. It’s okay to come out.”

“You her mom?” a different scumbag asks, blowing a thick cloud of smoke directly into your face.

You ignore him as the door barely opens. Karina peaks out from the crack. She looks rough, with mascara running down her face, her eyes swollen and puffy, and hair completely disheveled. When Karina sees it really is you, she opens the door just enough for you to reach your arm in. You wrap it around her shoulders, clinging tightly to her and pulling her out of the bathroom. She stumbles a bit, clearly having more alcohol than she had let on.

“Come on, we’re leaving,” you say, a threatening edge to your voice.

“Oh c’mon, baby girl, you don’t have to take her away so soon!”

You wince at the name he just used. That was a name you only let Ricardo use. Not even any of your previous lovers were allowed to call you that, but the way Ricardo said it made you swoon. Hearing it from one of those disgusting pigs felt like a knife twisting in your stomach. The ice was thin. If even a feather landed on it, the whole thing would crack.

Pulling Karina with you, you force your way back into the living room and out the door. The fresh air, though still somewhat thick with weed, was a relief on your lungs, and you quickly realized that you were, in fact, the slightest bit buzzed. No doubt Karina was, too.

You quickly threw her in the passenger seat, not in anger at her but to prevent anyone having any access to her longer than necessary. When you turn, however, you’re face-to-face four rich guys. They stare at you predatorily, disgustingly smug grins wiped across their mouths.

“You’re too young to be her mom,” the guy who first spoke to you says.

‘Really? Too old for a party, too young to be the mom?’

“Unless…” his grin turns into a toothy smile, “…you got an early start. Why don’t you open those pretty legs for us and we’ll-“

A jaw-cracking punch knocks the guy to the ground, blood quickly running from his open mouth. You shake your hand, knowing your knuckles will be bruised by dawn.

The other three guys quickly turn to help their friend back up, and you take the opportunity to sprint to the driver’s side. You throw the car in reverse, and are racing out of the cul-de-sac before they get him on his feet.

The first couple minutes are silent, save for the deep breaths both you and Karina take. Whereas you were steady before, now you have to keep both hands clutched to the wheel to stop them from shaking. Karina is less capable of hiding her trembles.

As the moments pass, you suddenly realize something.

“Um, where… where do you want me to take you?” you ask quietly.

Karina looks over at you, and from the quick glance you take, you see her eyes are red and glassy.

“You… you can take me to my mom’s place.”

“…Is she home?”

Karina pauses, then shakes her head.

You sigh, “Look, Karina, I’ll be totally honest with you. Even if your mom was home, I wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving you there.”

“Where else am I gonna go?”

“Home, with me.”

Karina’s eyes widen, “No, I can’t! My dad will know something’s up, I can’t let him find out about this!”

“Hey, chill,” you say reassuringly, “We’ll come up with a lie to tell him, okay? I don’t like lying to your dad… but I’ll make an exception.”

“It better be a pretty good lie. You know how he is…”

There’s a lull in the conversation. The blood rushing in your ears has subsided, and the quiet hum of the engine calms your frantic heart.

“…Thank you.”

Karina speaks so quietly, you almost think you imagined it. You come to a stop light, and look over at her. Her eyes dart from you to her feet.

“Karina, I’ve got your back. You can always count on me, alright?”

She nods, rubbing the sleeve of her shirt against her eyes. The mascara smears even more, making her look somewhat like a raccoon.

The light turns green, and you drive a few blocks before stopping at a fast food place. You park the car and start digging through the glovebox. The distinct noise of crumpling plastic is heard as you pull out a pack of wipes.

“Look at me,” you say gently.

Karina turns to face you, and you carefully wipe the wet cloth across her cheeks.

“I don’t wear makeup, so I don’t tend to keep makeup wipes around,” you say with a slight laugh, “but this should get most of it off.”

Karina stares at you wide-eyed as your clean the messy makeup off her face. When it’s all removed, you pull back to take her face in. Without the mascara and foundation, she looks more like the girl you see Ricardo looking at in his wallet. Innocent, sweet, naive to all the harsh realities of life. Your heart clenches when you think that she was in a place as dangerous as that party. God knows, you wouldn’t be surprised if Ricardo ended up having to investigate an overdose or something out there.

You put the wipes away and lean back in your seat, taking a moment to close your eyes and clear your head. You have to come up with a cover story, an explanation for why you went to save your friend and returned with a tipsy, weed-scented Karina.

“Listen,” you start slowly, “I’m gonna go through drive-thru and order you some tea.”

You look over at her, and smile softly, “We’ll go over the story on the way home. Sound good?”

Karina gives you the smallest smile, and nods.

“Good. Now,” you say, throwing the car into reverse, “how do you take your tea?”

***

You walk through the front door of your home, Karina right behind you. Once the door is shut and locked, you feel the night catch up with you, a pounding headache hitting you like a ton of bricks.

Ricardo is sitting on the couch, still in his work clothes. When he sees you two come in, his face lights up in happiness, which quickly twists into confusion.

“Karina,” he says, standing up and coming to you both, “what’re you doing here?”

Karina opens her mouth to speak, but quickly stops when she sees Ricardo sniff the air. He leans closer to her, sniffing again, then straightens. A thick eyebrow is raised as his eyes take on a very serious glare.

“Why do you smell like pot?”

“She and her friends went out to grab a bite,” you say, and Ricardo’s eyes go to yours, “There were some weird guys smoking weed near them. After I picked Trinity up, we stopped by the same restaurant to get her some water, and I bumped into Karina. She was kinda uncomfortable because of the guys, but didn’t want to flake out on her friends. So, I said I was there to pick her up.”

Ricardo hums, looking back at Karina, “You’re supposed to be staying with your mother. Why didn’t you go back there?”

Karina looks nervously at the ground, and shrugs, “You know how mom is. And after being around those… guys… I just felt safer coming her.”

Ricardo’s gaze softens, and he pulls his daughter into a tight hug.

“You always have a safe place here, Karina,” he says, kissing the top of her head as he squeezes her tightly.

When he lets go, Ricardo glances over at you. His eyes quickly go over your body, pausing briefly at your bruised and swollen knuckles.

“Come on,” he says, turning back to Karina, “go get a shower. Wash the stench off and then go get some sleep. I’ll make your favorite breakfast in the morning.”

Karina smiles brightly at him, then flashes the same look at you. Your taken aback when you see genuine appreciation and, dare you say, a hint of admiration in her eyes. Karina quickly disappears down the hall, going into the bathroom. She shuts the door, and you sigh in relief as it clicks in place not out of fear, but out of privacy.

“So,” Ricardo starts, and you turn to him. Your breath catches in your throat when you sees his serious glare has returned, the full force of it now directed at you. “You must’ve been at the restaurant awhile. You also reek of weed.”

You shrug, “The shit clings to you.”

Ricardo takes a step forward, closing the gap between you two. Your chests and stomachs touch in such close proximity, and one of his large hands comes up to gently run through your hair. In an instant you feel yourself being sent into sub-space, and, at the moment, that is very dangerous territory.

“I know the truth,” he says softly, “I followed you to West Adams.”

You look down, your eyes starting to sting as your vision blurs.

“Ricardo, I am so sorry…” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He gently tugs the hair at the back of your head, forcing you to look him in the eyes, “Why did you lie to me?”

Your lips tremble, “Karina was already so scared… I just… I needed to help her…”

“We could’ve helped her. Together.”

You close your eyes, “I know. She just really didn’t want you to know where she was. Ricardo, she’s gone through enough tonight. She learned her lesson-“

His lips interrupt you, kissing with such a soft tenderness that you feel butterflies in your stomach. You barely move, only allowing your lips to dance with his as you relinquish control to him. Only when his lungs ache for air does he pull away, and despite your own chest burning for oxygen, you chase his lips for more. He grips your hair tighter, stopping you from moving forward.

When you open your eyes again, you see the kindest love in his eyes, and a gratefulness that you’ve only seen victims give him after a criminal has been arrested or convicted. You’ve never seen that same depth of gratitude expressed by your detective.

“This… this is why it didn’t work out between Karina’s mother and I,” he says, petting the back of your head, “She wasn’t willing to risk her own safety for that of Karina’s. And yet here you are, throwing yourself in harms way.”

“Rick…”

“It was stupid,” he says firmly, “and if something like this happens again, I want you to tell me the truth. Alright?”

You nod, “As long… as long as you don’t beat a dead horse, and get mad at Karina when the experience was bad enough.”

Ricardo leans forward and kisses you again, this time more ardently.

“You’re gonna make a wonderful mom,” he says, his lips brushing against yours as he speaks.

#ricardo morales #law and order los angeles #Alfred Molina #Ricardo morales x reader

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