SVU - Blog Posts

So, this may just be me but looking at Ian Bohen and Raul Esparza, they look like they could be related in some way. Like, as cousins probably.

I mean, look at these boys, ahem, I mean men,

I don't know, maybe it's just me projecting that these are two hot men. Gosh, I need to find guys that are my age but then again, they are dicks most of the time.

Anyway, I wouldn't mind watching a TV series with these in it. Boy, that would be too hot for me to handle 😂

Guys I’m really enjoying getting back into fanfiction but if I keep seeing fics that are unbelievably canon compliant and painstakingly follow plot timelines down to the episode WITH THE ONLY FANON THING BEING A SHIP and it’s tagged as an AU I am going to start cyber bullying

"Thin Frames" - a Cabenson Fanfic full of suspense, sexiness and sweet moments!

Title of Fic: "Thin Frames"

Author: DAxilla (rest in peace <3 Your works of (fan)fiction have touched so many hearts and continue to do so!)

Fandom/Pairing: "Law and Order: Special Victims Unit", Olivia Benson/Alexandra Cabot

Synopsis: Not an alternative universe here - in this story, Olivia is working as the dedicated detective she is while Alex is exactly the passionate and ambitious ADA we've all come to love on the show! However, DAxilla gives us just what our hearts need: a beautiful, very well written, emotional love story between these two beauties. She manages to convey their thoughts and feelings with depth and never strays Out of Character, but at the same time, the fic is not your typical slow burn - however, there are still some major bump in the road to domestic bliss and hapiness because Alex is scared of letting Olivia in while Olivia has a hard time figuring the younger woman out. All of this is settled into the crime plot of the fic that really would make a great SVU episode! While the Cabenson moments in this fic are priceless (and the main reason we've all read it, c'mon!), the storyline based around the brutal mutilation and murder of upper-class business woman Samantha Wainscott, who also happens to be the daughter of Judge Wainscott, is such a creative one and composed with so much care, knowledge and detail that it left me awestruck more than once!

It's not as slow-paced as your typical slow-burn but at 31 chapters long, I can guarantee you that it makes for an compelling story that will have you go through aaaalll kinds of emotions.

I can't even express my gratitude that such brilliant pieces of FanFiction exist - and this fic is also the one that truly makes me yearn for a show that openly portrays the relationship between a strong, caring, badass detective and her beautiful, intelligent, sophisticated, no-nonsense blonde ADA girlfriend!

Rating: M

The Very Best Cabenson FanFic there is

So I found this Fanfiction somehow when going down the rabbit hole of shipping Alex Cabot and Olivia Benson from "Law and Order: SVU" once again - and for me, it is THE Cabenson Fanfic. Nah, that's an understatement. It is such a beautifully written, touching, heartmelting story that I found myself reading it again and again. It's almost cathartic. The characters are just so well written and I love how their development both as individuals and as a couple is described in such a relatable, healthy way. This author really knows their stuff, folks!

Trigger warning for mentions of (past) sa, (internalized) homophobia and trauma/PTSD.

Title of Fic: "Stay"

Author:  elphiemolizbethbau

Fandom/Pairing: "Law and Order: SVU", Alex Cabot/Olivia Benson

Synopsis: Young, professionally scuessful ADA Alexandra Cabot feels herself drawn to Detective Olivia Benson. In a bad state, she one day surprisingly appears at Olivia's door and the two women slowly form a bond, their romantic feelings for each other growing stronger each day. But when they finally give in to their feelings, Liv soon finds Alex' erratic behavior quite puzzling and tries to get the younger woman to confide in her. Only when Alex reveals the horrific trauma she had to endure in her childhood and youth, the two women can truly start working at their relationship, with all the highs and lows, setbacks and challenges this involves.

Rating: M

Casey Chronicles out of context:

Casey: My life is over. Im done. Tell Judge Taft and Dani Beck I hope they burn in hell-

Olivia:...Can I ask what happened-? Alex, rubbing her forehead: You don't want to know.

Casey: MY LIFE IS OVER IS WHAT HAPPENED. I think I'm pregnant. olivia:..

Olivia: Casey. Humor me. Why?

Casey: Im late! I just cried over a dog commercial! EVERYTHING LOOKS EDIBLE-- Alex: Thats just because you're an emotional person and adorably food-motivated, Casey. AND ITS 3 DAYS NOT 3 WEEKS LATE- Casey: I CAN NOT RAISE A CHILD—I CANNOT EVEN REMEMBER TO FEED MYSELF! I NEED MY BOURBON TO SURVIVE WORKING IN THIS UNIT! Olivia: Casey you're LITERALLY A LESBIAN. You PHYSICALLY CANNOT HAVE A SCARE.

Casey:...Oh- right.

Casey: False alarm guys! We're good.

Alex, deadpan: Unfortunately this is who im in love with. This has to be a form of insanity- I deserve financial compensation. Casey: You're the father. Alex, on the verge of homicidal ideation: Oh. MY GOD-

Okay! This isn't my usual stuff (mainly because I can never sit still long enough to write anything-) But over the past week, I had sat down and randomly decided that Munch and Fin are my new endgame because im gonna be old and gray by the time bensler GET THEIR ACT TOGETHER- But anyway, I just wanted an exuse to add more munch and fin fics--because there bearly are any!! And I wanted to test the waters. So take a...Join..?? Like John and Fin..? Munola..? munch and tutuola?? Do they have a ship name?? can someone check that out for me?? Anyway, take a John and Munch fanfiction :) That will burn, oh so slow--because we all need that kinda tension in our lives.

And some John Munch Enjoyers that ill be tagging, that I think might enjoy this :) :

@mister-warmth

@cherishsscene

@theorangejuicecup

These are the first 7 chapters! Let me know what I should name this fic, and if I should keep it going :) ---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 1: The Long Wait

(Seriously, its been years. Get these GILFS together already, damn-) 

Somewhere in Brooklyn, 2:43 a.m.

“You ever think about how this is probably just a decoy apartment?” Munch muttered, squinting through the foggy windshield.

Fin didn’t look up from his cup of burnt gas station coffee. “You ever not think about that?”

Munch sighed dramatically, settling deeper into his seat. “Fair. But come on, three hours of this surveillance and not even a twitch. I’ve had more exciting evenings clipping my toenails.”

“You’re nasty,” Fin said, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “You bring the snacks?”

Munch wordlessly reached into his coat and pulled out a crinkled bag of off-brand cheese puffs, tossing it over.

“Man,” Fin said, grinning. “You always bring the worst snacks.”

“And yet you eat them every time.”

“‘Cause I’m polite.”

“Polite, huh. That why you nearly broke the vending machine last week tryin’ to get the last Snickers?”

Fin shot him a look, playful and exasperated. “You holdin’ grudges now?”

“I’m a Jew from Brooklyn. Holding grudges is our national pastime.”

The silence stretched comfortably. The heater buzzed softly. Streetlights flickered on the snow-dusted sidewalk, casting shadows that moved like ghosts.

Munch glanced sideways, more subtle than usual. Fin was staring ahead, one hand on the wheel, his profile calm and unreadable.

“You ever think about how long we’ve been partners?” Munch asked suddenly.

Fin didn’t flinch, but the stillness around him deepened. “Yeah. Sometimes.”

“Feels like decades.”

“Sometimes it feels like yesterday.”

Munch chuckled under his breath. “You always get poetic when you’re tired?”

Fin glanced at him then, a flash of something—something not quite teasing, not quite vulnerable. “You always get nostalgic when you’re lonely?”

Munch didn’t respond right away. His fingers tapped a soft rhythm on his knee.

“I’m never lonely,” he said, almost too fast. “I have… people.”

“You got conspiracy theorists in a Reddit group chat. Doesn’t count.”

“…You know what Reddit is?”

“Don’t dodge the point.”

That got a laugh out of Munch. Quiet, but real.

And then it was quiet again—this time heavier. Like the air was aware of something they hadn’t said out loud.

“You think we missed the window?” Munch asked finally, voice low.

Fin blinked. “For what?”

Munch tilted his head slightly. “I dunno. Something else. Something… different.”

Fin’s jaw tensed for a second, then loosened. “I don’t think we missed anything. I think some people just take longer to figure out what’s right in front of them.”

They looked at each other then—really looked.

Then radio crackled, spitting out static and boredom. 

They slipped into silence again.

Fin slouched in the driver’s seat, tapping a beat on the steering wheel with fingers half-numb from the cold. Munch, in the passenger seat, held a lukewarm coffee cup like it was a lifeline.

“Another thrilling Friday night on the force,” Munch muttered, voice thick with sarcasm. “Remind me again why we didn’t go into something more exciting, like accounting.”

Fin snorted. “Yeah, but then who’d babysit Manhattan’s worst creeps? You? Behind a desk? Please.”

They lapsed into silence again, not the comfortable kind, but not quite awkward either. They'd done a hundred of these stakeouts together—hours of stale air, greasy takeout, and waiting for nothing. But something about tonight felt… different. Maybe it was the way Munch kept sneaking glances at Fin when he thought he wasn’t looking. Or maybe it was the way Fin wasn’t pretending not to notice.

“You ever think about quitting?” Munch asked after a long pause, voice lower than usual. “Not like retiring. Just… walking away.”

Fin shrugged, eyes on the building across the street. “Sometimes. But what else would I do? This job’s all I’ve known for twenty years.”

“Exactly.” Munch turned slightly, facing him. “You ever think that’s… the problem?”

Fin finally looked at him. Really looked. And there was something there—tiredness, yeah. But also something softer. Warmer. Something that had nothing to do with the job.

“You good, man?” he asked, not unkindly. “You sound like you’re trying to tell me something.”

Munch laughed under his breath. “Nah. I just think about it sometimes. All the stuff we never did. The people we never got to be.”

The silence returned, but now it was loaded. Electric. Fin didn’t say anything for a long time, then quietly muttered, “Yeah. Me too.”

Outside, the suspect never showed. But inside that car, something cracked open. Just a little.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Two: Almost Normal 

Location: SVU Precinct, 9:46 AM

Fin walked into the precinct wearing the same clothes from last night and a fresh layer of “don’t ask.” The only difference? The faintest shift in his usual chill exterior. Not enough for anyone else to clock it. But Munch… Munch would know.

And of course, Munch was already there. Sitting at his desk, reading the paper, pretending like he hadn’t been up all night sitting next to Fin in a parked car where feelings definitely almost happened.

Their eyes met for a split second. Just long enough. Too long.

“You look like hell,” Munch said, not looking up from his paper.

“Good morning to you too,” Fin replied, tossing his jacket over the back of his chair. “Coffee?”

“Already had three. But go ahead and try to catch up.”

Fin walked off toward the break room, mumbling something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “smartass.” His fingers twitched around the coffee pot. He hated this feeling—the one that made him second-guess every glance, every breath between them last night.

When he came back, Munch was already standing, tossing a manila folder onto Fin’s desk.

“Cragen wants us on that Bronx case,” Munch said. “Couple of pervs luring girls online. Real feel-good story.”

Fin grunted. “Can’t wait.”

“You sure you’re up for it?” Munch asked, and it sounded way too casual. “Didn’t get much sleep.”

Fin looked up sharply. “I’m fine.”

Munch raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t say you weren’t.”

Olivia chose that exact moment to walk by, holding her phone and looking suspiciously amused. “You two fighting or flirting? Hard to tell before ten a.m.”

They both froze.

Munch recovered first, snapping the paper open again like a shield. “Please. Flirting implies interest. I’m just too tired to insult him properly.”

“Right,” Liv said, smirking as she walked off. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Fin watched her go, then glanced at Munch. “You always been this bad at hiding your crap?”

Munch didn’t look at him. “You always been this bad at recognizing it?”

Their eyes locked again—just a moment. But it felt heavier than it should’ve.

Then, as if on cue, Cragen’s door opened. “Munch. Fin. Let’s go.”

Whatever that was? Buried. Again. For now.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Three: The Moment It Breaks 

Location: Abandoned warehouse, Queens. 11:06 PM.

“Units in position,” Fin said into the radio, his voice steady despite the cold wind cutting through his jacket. “On your word, Cap.”

“Copy that,” Benson’s voice crackled through. “Go.”

They moved fast. Olivia and Rollins through the front. Fin and Munch circling the back. Standard entry. Easy sweep. Except it wasn’t.

The second they stepped inside, a figure bolted from the shadows.

“Hey—!” Munch barely got the word out before the guy shoved him hard—then pulled a gun.

Shots rang out. One. Two.

“MUNCH!”

Fin was on him in seconds, but it felt like forever. The suspect was tackled by ESU, but Fin didn’t care.

Because Munch was on the ground.

“Hey, hey—look at me,” Fin said, breath ragged. He dropped to his knees, hands checking for blood, for a bullet wound, anything.

Munch groaned, blinking up at him. “Didn’t know you cared this much,” he rasped, and even half-conscious, the sarcasm was still there.

Fin’s jaw clenched. “Don’t joke. You could’ve—” His voice cracked. “You could’ve died, man.”

Munch stared at him like he was seeing something he wasn’t ready to look at yet.

“I’m fine,” he whispered, softer this time. “I’m fine.”

But Fin didn’t move. Didn’t let go.

By the time the EMTs arrived, Fin’s hand was still curled around Munch’s wrist, checking his pulse like he didn’t believe it was really there.

No one said anything in the moment. But later— In the hospital. In the waiting room. After Benson had gently told him to go home and rest—

Munch turned to him and said, “Why do you care that much?”

And for the first time in twenty years, Fin didn’t have a comeback.

Just a look. Raw. Real.

And something in Munch’s expression broke open.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Three: The Usual Spot

 Location: O’Malley’s Bar, Friday night, 10:42 PM

The bar was loud enough to ignore your own thoughts and dim enough that you didn’t have to look at them if you tried. SVU had unofficially claimed a booth in the back corner—half-shadowed, half-propped up with duct tape and denial. It was tradition.

Also partly because it was always the only one open-

Munch nursed a whiskey, watching the condensation on the glass more intently than the conversation swirling around him. Fin sat across the booth, laughing at something Rollins had said, relaxed in a way he only ever was off duty.

That laugh. Goddamn. It had no right being that contagious.

“You okay?” Benson asked, sliding into the booth beside him, tone suspiciously casual. “You’ve been staring holes into Fin’s skull for ten minutes.”

“I haven’t,” Munch lied.

Benson gave him a look that screamed do not test me.

“I’m just wondering how someone that oblivious made it this far in law enforcement,” Munch muttered, sipping his drink.

As if on cue, a tall woman in a tight red dress leaned against the side of their booth, clearly already halfway through her third cosmo. “Hey,” she purred, eyes locked on Fin. “You a cop?”

Fin blinked up at her. “Uh. Yeah. Why?”

She smiled, leaning closer. “I always feel safe around strong men in uniforms.” Her hand rested on his arm, trailing down like she’d done this move a hundred times before.

Fin chuckled, clueless. “Thanks. But, uh, I’m not wearing a uniform.”

The woman giggled. “Doesn’t matter. You still look like you could arrest me any day.”

Across the booth, Munch’s eye twitched. He took a very long sip of whiskey.

Rollins bit her lip to keep from laughing. Benson didn’t bother. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

Fin, ever the socially graceful tank, just smiled politely and said, “So, uh… you from around here?”

Munch set his glass down—firmly. “You know, there’s a line between flirty and thirsty, and I think we passed it about five sentences ago.”

The woman blinked at him, then looked him up and down with a slow, unimpressed sweep. “And you are?”

“The guy who was enjoying a peaceful drink before you turned this into a rerun of Sex and the City.”

She scowled. “Wow. Bitter much?”

“Only on Tuesdays,” Munch shot back, cool as ice. “And nights when someone hits on my…” he caught himself. “…partner. Poor taste, that.”

The woman’s lips twisted. “Whatever. Your loss, honey.” She flounced off, leaving a cloud of perfume and wounded pride behind her.

Fin turned to Munch, eyebrows raised. “Damn, man. You didn’t have to roast her like that.”

“She was interrupting our night,” Munch said, focusing very deliberately on the table. “Also, she had the personality of a dishrag.”

Rollins leaned in. “Mmm. Someone’s testy tonight.”

Munch deadpanned, “Must be the company.”

Fin just shook his head, sipping his beer. “I don’t get why she came over anyway. I was just sitting here.”

“You’re an idiot,” Benson said sweetly.

“What?”

“You look like a cop. You act like a cop. You sit in a dark booth brooding over a drink and you’re built like a fridge. It’s like moth to a flame.”

Munch scoffed. “If the flame was completely oblivious and had no idea it was on fire.”

Fin gave him a look. “You good?”

“Fine,” Munch replied quickly, too quickly. “Just ready to get back to real work.”

“Right,” Fin said, still squinting at him, trying to decode the sharp edge in his voice.

But before he could push, Cragen called from the other end of the bar, holding up a round of drinks. “One more for the team before we all go back to our depressing lives!”

Fin grinned and stood. “You want your usual?”

Munch waved him off. “I’m good.”

As Fin disappeared into the crowd, Rollins leaned across the table and said lowly, “You know, for a guy who sees every conspiracy in the world, you suck at hiding the one going on in your own chest.”

Munch stared at her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She smiled. “You will.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Four: The Interrogation

 Location: SVU Squad Room, Tuesday, 11:03 AM

It was a quiet morning at the 16th—no new cases (yet), no victims waiting (yet), and the coffee machine actually worked (a miracle). The squad was taking full advantage of the rare lull.

Munch sat at his desk with a manila folder, pretending to read. He’d been on the same page for fifteen minutes. Every few seconds, his eyes flicked toward Fin, who was leaning against the file cabinets, talking to Carisi and laughing over something dumb.

He looked too good when he laughed. Which was unfair. And uncalled for.

“You keep looking at him like that and I’m gonna have to call HR,” Benson said, dropping into the chair beside him without warning.

Munch startled slightly. “Excuse me?”

Rollins plopped down on his other side. “Don’t play dumb, Munch. We were at the bar. We saw your face when Red Dress Barbie tried to climb Fin like a jungle gym.”

Benson grinned. “It was somewhere between ‘disgusted’ and ‘one restraining order away from snapping.’”

“I was annoyed,” Munch muttered, “because she was loud and disrespectful and had the subtlety of a freight train.”

Rollins raised an eyebrow. “And because she had her hand all over your partner.”

Munch blinked at her. “He’s not— He’s my— We’re partners, yes. Professionally.”

“Uh-huh,” Benson said, sipping her coffee like it was tea. “Professionally. You wanna try that again with a straight face?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to either of you,” Munch replied, voice clipped.

“No, but you do have to explain why you nearly bit her head off like a jealous boyfriend,” Rollins said sweetly.

Benson leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “You like him, don’t you?”

Munch stared at her. “This feels like entrapment.”

“It is,” Rollins chirped. “And it’s also obvious. I mean, c’mon, Munch. You watch Fin like he’s a limited edition vinyl and someone’s about to scratch it.”

“I don’t—”

“You do,” both women said in unison.

Munch dropped the folder on his desk with a sigh. “Even if I did, it’s irrelevant. He’s not— He wouldn’t…” He waved a hand vaguely. “You’ve met him. He’s Fin. Cool. Straight. Confident. Not exactly the type to fall for an old conspiracy theorist with two failed marriages and a bunker full of paranoia.”

Benson softened. “He’s also loyal. Smart. And not as clueless as you think.”

Rollins scoffed. “He’s exactly as clueless as we think. But that doesn’t mean he’d shut you down.”

Munch rubbed his eyes. “This is why I don’t talk to people.”

Benson patted his shoulder. “You do like him.”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to,” Rollins said, standing. “Your face says it every time he smiles at you.”

Munch looked down at his hands.

From across the room, Fin glanced up from whatever Carisi was saying and caught Munch’s eye. He gave a half-smile, easy and warm, like it was only for him.

Munch’s heart flipped traitorously.

Rollins leaned in close and whispered, “Just tell him before someone else does.”

Then she and Benson walked away, smug and victorious, leaving Munch alone at his desk—emotionally compromised and very much aware of it.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Five: Seeing It Now

 Fin’s POV

 Location: SVU Precinct, Wednesday, 6:32 PM

Fin wasn’t dumb. People thought he was sometimes—usually the ones who underestimated him because he played it cool. But he saw things. Read people. That was half the job.

Which is why it was starting to bug the hell out of him that he couldn’t read Munch lately.

The guy had always been a little grumpy, a little intense, but he was different now. Fidgety. Quiet in a way that felt loaded. Weirdly protective all of a sudden. And last night at the bar? He damn near snapped at that woman for touching Fin’s arm.

Fin had brushed it off at the time, but now? Now it was itching at him. Something was off. And Munch wouldn’t say a word about it.

So when Rollins passed by his desk with a smirk and said, “Mornin’, hot stuff,” in that way, he didn’t let her get far.

“Yo. Amanda.”

She turned, innocent as sin. “Yeah?”

“You know something I don’t?”

Her smile widened. “About what?”

He gave her a look.

“Oh,” she said, pretending to think. “You mean about Munch being all weird around you lately? Like a high schooler with a crush?”

Fin blinked. “What?”

“Oh, I didn’t say it,” she said quickly, hands raised. “Liv said it. I just agreed. And watched it happen.”

“You’re serious?” Fin asked, arms crossing. “You think… Munch is into me?”

Rollins tilted her head. “I know Munch is into you. The man looked like he was gonna stab that woman with a cocktail straw when she flirted with you.”

Fin ran a hand over his face. “He’s never said anything.”

“Of course not,” Rollins said. “Because he’s Munch. He’d rather fake his own death than admit he has feelings.”

Fin didn’t know what to say to that.

Because… it was insane. Right?

Except it wasn’t.

Except now he was seeing it everywhere. The way Munch always paid attention to where he was. The way he relaxed a little when they were alone. The way he’d look at Fin like—hell, like he mattered in some way Fin couldn’t name.

He didn’t know what to do with that.

“You okay?” Rollins asked, suddenly a little softer.

Fin shrugged. “I don’t know. I never thought about it like that.”

“Maybe you should,” she said, voice gentler now. “Just ‘cause it never crossed your mind doesn’t mean it isn’t real.”

He glanced over toward Munch’s desk. The guy wasn’t there—probably in the records room, dodging everyone. Classic.

But the idea wouldn’t leave his head now. Munch. Munch. Looking at him like that. Being into him. Maybe for a while now.

Fin shook his head. “I swear, if y’all been running bets on this—”

“Oh, Carisi’s got a whole bracket,” Rollins grinned.

“I hate this place.”

“You love this place.”

“…Yeah,” he said quietly, eyes drifting toward the hall where Munch had gone. “I guess I do.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Six: Gay Is Not A Dirty Word

 Location: Fin’s Apartment, Thursday Night, 10:01 PM

Fin had never been afraid of much.

Not gangs. Not guns. Not perps twice his size or ten years younger. Not even walking into rooms where the air was still hot with violence and the echo of screams.

But this?

This had him pacing his living room like a man about to jump out of his own skin.

He’d been avoiding it. The thoughts. The memories. The way Munch looked at him like he meant something—and the way it made Fin feel like he wanted to.

He’d buried the feelings under banter and bad jokes and years of no, not me. Because it wasn’t supposed to be him. He wasn’t that guy. He’d told himself that for decades.

But then there was John. Goddamn John.

Smart-ass, paranoid, grumpy-as-hell John Munch who always had his back, who knew how to make him laugh when he shouldn’t, who looked at him like he saw him. And for the first time, Fin realized it wasn’t just affection or comfort or some late-night stakeout bond—

It was love. The kind that crept in quietly and took root somewhere deep, deep down before he ever had the language for it. And now it was blooming all at once, and it hurt.

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t even know who he was with this truth in his chest.

And so—God help him—he called the only person he could think of.

The phone rang twice before a surprised voice answered: “Dad?”

Fin swallowed. “Hey, Ken.”

A pause. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Fin said, pacing again. “Just… I know it’s late. I needed to ask you something. Talk to you. Whatever.”

Ken sounded wary but not unkind. “Alright. What’s up?”

Fin sat on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees. “This is gonna sound weird. And maybe messed up. But… you’re the only gay guy I know.”

Ken let out a breath that might’ve been part laugh. “Okay…”

“And I’m not saying that to be funny,” Fin said quickly. “I just… I don’t know how to say this out loud to anyone else. And we’re still figuring things out, you and me, but—hell, you’re still my kid. And I trust you.”

The silence stretched.

“Alright,” Ken said gently. “I’m listening.”

Fin exhaled, tried to find words.

“I think I’m in love with a man.”

He said it. And it felt like the ground shifted.

Ken was quiet for a moment. Then, softly: “Okay.”

“I mean, I don’t know when it started. It’s been years, maybe. I just kept telling myself it wasn’t real. I’ve never even thought about a guy like that before, you know? Not like this. But I can’t stop thinking about him. And now I’m wondering if I’ve been lying to myself this whole time.”

Ken’s voice stayed steady. “Are you scared?”

“Yeah,” Fin admitted. “A lot. Of what it means. Of how I missed it. Of what people’ll think. I spent my whole life thinking I was one thing. But now…”

“Now it doesn’t fit anymore,” Ken said. “I know what that’s like.”

Fin felt something in his throat tighten.

“I don’t want this to be a phase,” he said. “I don’t want it to be a fluke. I don’t want it to be something I run from like a coward.”

Ken’s voice was warm now. “It’s not cowardly to be scared, Dad. Especially when you’ve been taught your whole life not to even look at this kind of love. But it is real. And if it’s Munch—”

Fin’s head snapped up. “Wait, how—?”

“Rollins texted me three weeks ago and said ‘your dad is helplessly in love with his weird coworker.’ I assumed she meant Munch.”

Fin groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “Jesus.”

“I think it’s kinda sweet,” Ken said, teasing now. “Two old dudes finally figuring it out.”

Fin chuckled despite himself. “We’re not that old.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Ken said. Then he sobered. “But seriously… if you love him, you should tell him. Or at least let yourself feel it. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Least of all to yourself.”

Fin nodded slowly. “I’m trying, kid. I really am.”

Ken smiled through the line. “You’re doing better than you think.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that night, Fin sat in the dark, phone still in his hand, heart a little lighter. Still scared. Still unsure.

But for the first time in maybe ever, he wasn’t denying it.

He was in love with John Munch.

And maybe—just maybe—that was worth everything.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Seven: Testing The Conspirital Waters

 Location: Squad Room & Coffee Run Territory 

Fin’s POV

 Friday Morning, 9:12 AM

Fin got in early.

Not on purpose. At least, that’s what he told himself. But he’d barely slept, and showing up before the squad meant he didn’t have to answer any questions about the very real, very big realization that had wrecked his sleep like a brick through a window.

He was in love with John Munch. And now that the words had formed in his mind, they wouldn’t go away.

He thought maybe it’d be like other feelings—things he could push down, drink away, laugh off.

It wasn’t.

It sat heavy in his chest. Constant. Present.

And it had him glancing up way too fast when the elevator doors opened and Munch walked in, coat flapping, coffee in hand.

“Morning,” Munch said, blinking at him. “You here before nine? Did I time-travel?”

Fin shrugged. “Didn’t sleep.”

Munch’s eyes softened, just a fraction. “Something wrong?”

Fin almost said everything, but instead he said, “Nah. Just thinking too much.”

Munch nodded and sat down at his desk, groaning a little. Fin watched him lower himself into the chair like his bones were made of antique furniture. God, he was such a grump. And Fin adored him for it.

He hated how easy it was to get used to the way Munch looked when he wasn’t performing—quiet and real and worn-in.

He also hated that now he wanted to be near him all the damn time.

“You eat?” Fin asked suddenly.

Munch looked up, surprised. “No. Why?”

“Gonna walk down to get a bagel. You want one?”

There was a pause. Not long. Just enough to tell Fin that Munch had noticed the change. He almost never offered.

“…Everything. Toasted. Cream cheese,” Munch said slowly, watching him like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Fin nodded. “Cool.”

He walked out like it was no big deal. But his heart was hammering.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They ate at their desks. The rest of the squad trickled in around them—Benson with her “Captain face” on, Rollins smirking knowingly, Carisi complaining about the vending machine eating his dollar.

But Fin barely noticed. He was too busy watching Munch eat like he hadn’t had a real meal in three days.

“Didn’t realize you were this easy to please,” Fin said, tone light.

“You should’ve figured that out by now,” Munch replied, licking cream cheese off his thumb in a way that should not have short-circuited Fin’s brain but absolutely did.

Fin looked away. Jesus.

He felt like he was fourteen again, noticing his friend’s hands and then hating himself for it.

Only now, he wasn’t a kid. He knew what this was.

Munch stood to throw away his napkin. “Coffee machine’s broken again,” he muttered, like this was personally offensive.

Fin stood too. “Come on. I’ll get you a real one.”

Munch blinked. “You’re being weird.”

“You’re being ungrateful.”

Munch’s mouth twitched. “Fair point.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They walked to the corner bodega together. It wasn’t far, maybe three minutes. But it felt like a lifetime.

Fin caught himself brushing against Munch’s arm once. He didn’t apologize.

Munch didn’t move away.

They didn’t talk much, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that felt like something. Not tension, exactly—but weight.

On the way back, Munch asked, “So… what’s really going on with you?”

Fin sipped his coffee. “Why you think something’s up?”

“Because I know you,” Munch said. “And you keep looking at me like you’re gonna say something and then don’t.”

Fin hesitated. “Maybe I will. Just… not yet.”

Munch gave him a long look. “Okay.”

Fin didn’t miss the way his voice softened.

Back at the precinct, Rollins leaned over her desk and whispered to Benson, “He brought him a bagel and coffee. That’s basically a proposal.”

Benson grinned. “Give it three more chapters.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Squad During the episode "Ghost"

Fin: So, life update. Alex is back, we have an assassin in custody, and Casey..is being Casey.

Elliot: Pretty much.

Munch: Speaking of- where are Alex and Casey? Olivia: They have been 'prepping for trial' for the past 6 hours.

Fin: Why do you say that with air quotes...

Olivia: Use your imagination.

Olivia: Who preps for trial with the door locked when no one bothers to go in anyway? People who are absolutely not planning for trial-

Fin: You are being so dramatic, Liv. They are not getting it on—they are two responsible ADAs.

(the next day in the courtroom)

Fin:...never mind liv you were right. Thats the first time I've seen Alex wear a turtle neck.

Olivia: See? I told you. Now hand me my 5 bucks-

Munch, sing-songy: Friends don't look at friends that wayyyy-

Fin, smacking him in the back of the head: It's bad enough I lost 5 dollars to her- I don't need your boney ass singing too-

...

Fin:...Wait olivia how the hell did you know that--

olivia: I don't kiss and tell.

Fin: SO YOU ADMIT IT???? NOVAK AND CABOT?? REALLY LIV?

Munch: Who's surprised? The leading cause of ADA retirement is falling in love with Liv.

SVU Group Chat:

Casey: You guy's ever have a mental breakdown, then catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and realise you look atrocious and that singlehandedly makes you pull it together and get off the floor? Alex: All the time--also are you okay casey-? Casey: Im great actually, I have Chinese takout.

Elliot: Shes bullshitting you. I bought her that because she was having the mental breakdown. Casey I can see you right now- your literally crying into your fried rice.

Casey: Not you clocking my tea-

Olivia: never say that again. Casey: You guys are so mean to me omg-

elliot: Ill get you coffee if you quit complaining-

casey: And suddenly I love you.

Fin: Has anyone seen munch? Olivia: You finally admit your in love with munch? Fin: NOT WHAT I SAID.

Munch: h o..w-

Olivia: ?

Munch: do ! wo rk - T-..his PHONE???? Alex: JKUDFHIUEBKJENOIE OLD MANNNN Munch: NOt

Munch: FUnnY

*MunchTheMan has removed AlexTheDisapearingActs from 'The Squad' GC* Casey: SO YOU CAN'T TYPE BUT YOU CAN BLOCK PEOPLE???

Munch: Rage is a ve-- ry.. g0od tutor-

Munch: Alex is gonna find me isnt she-

Olivia: yeah she left the room with a vendetta-

Munch: fuck.

Elliot: LANGUAGE.

Senior Assistant District Attorney Gaysey Novak.

Fin is never beating the Bi allegations in my book.

Missing munch, that scene with lake and him getting mistaken for a couple—I can go on—

SVY characters when asked to hold a baby:

——-

Rafael, awkward stance, holding it like it’s dangerous:….If you sit still, I sit still—I hate this just as much as you do-

…

Rafael:…Wanna write a pre trial motion?

Olivia in the other room: HES 1!

Rafael: I DONT KNOW- WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH HIM!

—-

Alex: Hi!! Oh you’re just the cutest thing!

Also Alex:…Also this suit is Prada so I have a strict no drooling poli—NO NO NO CASEY COME BACK- CASEY- CASEY PLEASE HAVE MERCY—

—-

Casey: Alex calm down! Jeeze- They are so uptight—Your just chillin- a chill guy.

Casey: See! I like you, you’re not overly huggy like kids, and annoying like adults, we can chill.

Casey: us gingers have to stick together—these people are either bald or basic- and MEAN-

Happy baby, happy Casey

——-

Eliot: Oh hell no- I TOLD KATHY NO MORE- SERIOUSLY WOMAN WHAT KIND OF SYSTEM DO YOU HAVE!?

Eliot:…Wait- Little man, what are your thoughts on ED Tucker?

Baby: *smile*

Elliot:Nope- nada- NOPE-definitely not my kid- FALSE ALARM- Casey take your twin ba—

—-

Fin, baby talking, 100% grandpa energy: Your the cutest kid, huh? Rafael is just an uptight lawyer— your amazing with uncle fin, huh?

—-

Olivia:awwww! Hi sweetie,

Olivia…Why does it look like Casey-

Casey: JUST BECAUSE ITS A REDHEAD DOSENT MEAN ITS MINE!

Olivia: YOU ARE THE FATHER-

Casey: FATHER??? WHAT GENDER ROLES ARE WE PUSHING HERE?!

—-

Munch: They aren’t teaching the youth about our government anymore, so back in the day after the JFK assassination—-

Casey: OH HELLLL NO- GIVE ME MINI CASEY BACK-

—-

🫣🫣

Bensler has taken decades- I’m over this- munch and fin are my new endgame-

Why are there no Fin Fics??? Like they don't exist?? I've resorted to writing them myself because IT'S RADIO SILENCE- He's one of my top favorites, but he's criminally underrated. He's always been there for Liv and the whole squad (he set Elliot straight a few times), and he's just a good, loyal guy. We need more Fin appreciation-

I'll get off my soapbox now

Missing DA Arther Branch, my criminally underrated boy

I feel for the IAB officer that had to look at the absolutely diabolical shit Elliot stabler did- love him but OH. MY. GOD.

That officer just wants to see his family- BUT HE CANT BECAUSE ELLIOT THREW A SUSPECT (probably not even the actual perpetrators) OUT A WINDOW OR INTO A WALL- OR DROVE THEM INTO A PSYCHOTIC BREAK-

I can just imagine Cragen pulling his nonexistent hair out every time it happens-

Cragen:…Novak you do it-

Novak: why me-?! He’s your detective! I just got here! I walked in here 30 minutes ago and I’m already positive I need to watch my back now! Something about Alex Cabot- cabenson- somth-

Cragen, absolutely done with his unruly children : ELLIOT GET YOUR ASS IN MY OFFICE-

Day 2!

Casey x Elliot

(This is platonic, these two are besties)

——-

*this takes place after Casey made her comeback after her Brady violation, that episode^^

Casey, hitting the ball so hard the damn thing almost broke: I can’t believe that happened…

Elliot, catching, and pitching back: I know, but you did everything you could, Cass, don’t beat yourself up about it.

Casey: I know..It’s just..It’s nothing.

Elliot: If it’s bothering you, it’s not nothing, Cass. Put the bat down let’s talk, I got you.

Casey, tossing the bat onto the field, sitting down against the fence with Elliot:…Alright alright.

—

Elliot threw away the bat, and turned to Casey. “so what’s beating you up? Because I know you when you loose…Your upset but your never..dull.” He said, uncharacteristically gentle. He would never dare admit it out loud, but he cared about Casey. A lot. He only grew up with brothers, so Casey was the only thing he had close enough to an annoying little sister. Casey fussed with the ball, fingers running along it. “…I just don’t think I have it anymore, Elliot…The defense attorney was right, my reputation took the worlds biggest nose dive, my first case back was a disaster, I lost my touch, and my confidence…” she sighed, waving her hand in the air. He had never seen Casey so bummed out before, usually she was a sassy, sarcastic, ball of confidence. That sent his worry through the stratosphere.

“Cassandra Novak I’m not gonna listen to you trash talk yourself like that. The only person we drag is munch. Listen.”

Casey’s attention was grabbed at her full name comming out of Elliot’s mouth. No one called her Cassandra, not even herself. Casey was much more fitting, Cassandra just…wasn’t her. But that certainly didn’t stop her old school catholic mother from using it, deeming the name ‘Casey’ to boyish, that she was a lady and needed to behave as such.

No error, no anger, no mess, and no rough edges.

Elliot knew that side all too well.

And weirdly enough, Cassandra sounded right coming from him. Maybe it was what he was gonna say next.

“Casey. You’re a great prosecutor period. Your success rate is almost 30% higher then the standard, you graduated from Harvard law, you worked sex crimes straight out of white collar and saved a little girl on your first day. You.are.phenomenal. And I won’t hear you belittle yourself over a liar, a mistake, an attorney, and a god forsaken case.” Elliot was sure he hadn’t spoken so passionately in months, but for Casey he was willing to break that trend.

“…”

“…”

“you son of a bitch if you make me cry in this field I’ll have your ass a swear-“

Elliot laughed, there she was. He wrapped a brotherly arm around her shoulders, “Crybaby. A very talented crybaby.” He teased, messing up her hair, laughing when she swatted it away.

“It won’t last forever, Casey. It’s just a slump, you’ll be back..and I’ll be waiting for you, promise..I care about you, as long as I’m here you’re not alone in this confidence slump.” His eyes never leaving hers, he meant it. There want a single shred of insecurity in his promise.

And Casey could tell.

“…Thank you, Elliot..Seriously..I needed that..” She said. The two held each other accountable, she talked him down with softball before he went insane over a case, and he was always there to pull her out of a slump or be her partner in crime whenever making a questionable decision that would get them in trouble with Cragen.

“…”

“your hair looks ridiculous-“ Elliot laughed, even if he was the one who messed it up, he always took the opportunity to mess with her.

“says the one who bearly has any! Your hairline is running away from you as we speak!” She shot right back, before they broke out into hysterical laughter.

“is not! You’re the ginger!” Elliot managed, smoothing over his hair while Casey fixed hers, “You—“ she tried, but only more giggles fell out.

“We look like lunatics-“

“Don’t we always?”

“…Fair point, councilor-“ Elliot chuckled, tossing the soft ball bats back in the trunk, before turning to Casey after a bout of comfortable silence.

“Novak?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

A genuine smile graced Casey’s face, probably the most genuine one all day.

“I love you too, stabler.”

…

“..You’re still a ginger though.”

“Oh for fucks sake-“

Olivia: how was it like to date the smallest man who ever lived?

Casey:…Olivia put the Taylor swift and my ex down- it’s 4am- plea—

Olivia:…A MESSAGE TO THE SMALLEST MAN WHO EVER LI—

*Decked in the face with a file*

I’m starting a random daily ship post, because why not?

Day 1: Benovak (my beloved)

—

Olivia, busting into Casey’s office: CASSANDRA NOVAK-

Casey, who was burried in a pile of Chinese take out up until now: I swear to you, I have no idea how Taft felt down his stairs and broke his shins-

*dead silence*

Olivia:…I’m sorry, WHAT HAPPENED TO TAFT???

Casey: WAIT THATS NOT WHY YOUR MAD??

Olivia: No! Babe, I was a BIT MAD WHEN I FOUND OUT YOU STAINED OUR SHOWER WITH THE PURPLE SHAMPOO- WHAT DID YOU DO TO TAFT???

Casey:…Oh that I did do, the shampoo, sorry honey I’m still getting used to the blonde-

Olivia: IS HE ALIVE-?!

Casey, grabbing her briefcase: SUDDENLY I HEAR THE GLORIOUS VOICE OF DONALLEY-

Olivia: CASSANDRA NOVAK SHES BEEN ON VACATION- WHAT DID YOU DO-?!

Meanwhile in the squad room:

Elliot:…

Melinda:…

Huang: They are my Roman Empire.

Elliot: I failed history what does that mean-?

Melinda:…Your a man and it shows, Elliot-

Elliot: RUDE???

The Squad playing ‘pass the phone’

Casey: I’m passing the phone to someone who dated a walking red flag with a receding hairline line on and off since season 1.

Olivia:…OKAY CAS—

Olivia: I’m passing the phone to someone who has IAB fighting for their lives.

Eliot:…I’m not that bad! That’s an exaggeration- anyway, I’m passing the phone to someone who KEEPS DISAPPEARING FOR SOME STRANGE ASS REASON-

Alex: I HAD A REASON! MOST OF THE TIME- Anyway, I’m passing the phone to the bodyguard of the squad, love you fin!

Fin: I’ll take that, anyways I’m passing the phone to the bony ass that refuses to retire-

Munch:…First of all-

Munch: what ever, You know back in the day in the—

(John say the line!!)

Munch: fine! I’m passing the phone to someone whose hair has been left at an AA meeting for the past 30 years-

Cragen: Okay so fuck you-

Cragen: I’m passing the phone to the man who started the sassy man apocalypse-

Rafael: And I stand on business- I’m passing the phone to the person who’s family genuinely needs psychiatric intervention-

Amanda:…OKAY-

Amanda: I’m passing the phone to someone who we can all agree makes the meanest pasta-

Sonny: Period- anyways, I’m passing the phone to someone who almost went gray dealing with Casey Novak trying to charge the military with murder-

Branch: She’s gonna kill me one day- I’m passing the phone to someone who is in desperate need of a vacation-

Olivia: me again- okay, I’m passing the phone to someone who we all randomly hated for months until we randomly stopped, kinda- one day-

(Then I accidentally fell inlove with her)

Casey: I’m still telling my therapist about that- anyways, I’m passing the phone BACK TO THE WOMAN WHO CANT GET OVER ELLIOT-

Olivia: AND IM PASSING THE PHONE TO SOMEONE WHOS HAD MORE HAIR COLORS THAN I CAN COUNT-

Casey: IM PASSING THE PHONE TO SOMEONE WHO CANT KEEP A HAIR STYLE FOR ONE SEASON-

Olivia: IM PASSING THE PHONE TO SOMEONE WHO IS IN SO MUCH DENAIL IT SETS OFF EVERY GAYDAR IN THE AREA-

Casey: HEY THA—

Olivia: I’m passing the phone to someone who defends and is STILL NOT OVER HER EX -

Casey: THATS DIABOLICAL.

I actually want to fight the entire SVU for how they treated Casey, it was so uncalled for

Literally not a single thought behind those eyes, I fear

She just likes staring at Olivia and that's okay

alex has such a reputation for being icy and unmoving but her eyes are so expressive like just because shes not crying doesnt mean shes not falling apart

what the squad would do waiting for their shift to start

(im waiting for my class to start)

munch- read about conspiracy theories online/ take buzzfeed quizzes and then scare himself thinking big brother is watching when the answer is accurate

fin- sing to himself in the car and treat it like an american idol audition (i bet he thinks ice t is really good🤔🤔)

elliot- squats (his ass is so round and .. i have to go.)

alex- review the case and actually do her job (she never stops working because she cant be alone with her thoughts)

casey- puzzle games on her phone until she gets too pissed off losing and just goes in early

cragen- he never leaves he actually lives there

— CALEX as Paths by NIKI

so much chemistry, very little time😞🥹

old information but whatever

WLW smut is so much more comforting than lesbian porn. WLW smut is real and raw... lesbian porn is repulsive cuz male gaze.... I'm genuinely so thankful I found a wlw space on here. It makes me more comfortable with the sapphic aspect of my pansexuality. As someone with a bad case of internalized homophobia due to their sexuality being fetishized for years... I thank you for posting this. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

Reap What You Sow ~Post-S21!Daddy!Olivia Benson xFem Sub!Reader

Summary— Set in post season 21, where Liv is Captain. Reader decides to tease Olivia throughout the day and smutty punishment ensues later that night when Liv can finally do something about it…

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, smut, fingering, semi-public smut, spanking, daddy kink, degradation, praise, implied orgasm denial, degradation kink, praise kink, impact play, teasing, implied future smut, etc.

Enjoy (;

Your head hung low, over your shoulders and over the woman’s knees. It was after hours and you were bent over Olivia’s lap in her office. With another sharp crack to your barren ass, you jolted up slightly and let out a desperate mewl.

“Six—teen Daddy!!” You cried out.

You expect to feel another sharp smack to your ass, but instead you felt the woman’s hand gently rubbing your pink flesh.

“That’s it, such a good girl for Daddy.” Olivia cooed.

Pretty soon, her fingers trailed in between your legs and past your panties. She found your slick core, drenched in arousal, so wet it made you dizzy.

“Ooh Baby you’re soaked…” Liv purred, “Did Daddy make you this way…?”

You nodded vigorously, as one of her digits swiped through your folds.

“Yes yes all for Daddy, so wet for Daddy…!” You mewled.

After bringing her arousal coated digit up to her mouth and licking your juices clean off, the brunette gently caressed and squeezed your supple skin. Your body was left burning for more.

“Have you learned your lesson, sweetie…?” Liv condescendingly cooed.

You nodded vigorously.

“Yes Daddy yes yes please…!” You pled, “I’m sorry mm sorry—!”

“Sorry for what, baby…?”

“Mmm sorry for dressing up…! Sorry for distracting you!”

“You mean, you’re sorry for dressing like a slut, right…?? Daddy’s girl can’t just show up to work dressed to whore herself out… no matter whether Daddy will see her or not…” Liv spat.

You bit your lip and tensed up, as her digits dug into your left ass check possessively as she spoke. You let out a desperate mewl and nodded swiftly.

“Yes Daddy, I’m sorry please…!! I’m sorry I’m such a slut, can’t help it Daddy!” You babbled.

Your ass was smacked with a swift Crack!! again. This one went all to your core, as you felt your juices start to leak down your thighs.

“Oooooh Seventeen D-daddy!!” You cowled.

“Beg Daddy to give you mercy.” Liv demanded.

“P-please please Daddy— I… I need you Daddy!! I need your cock or your fingers or your mouth or anything Daddy please… I’ll be good I promise, Mmm so sorry Daddy pleaseee…!!” You begged.

In one fluid motion, two of Olivia’s fingers snaked back in between your legs and slid inside your gushing cunt. They pumped and curled inside you, making your toes curl and your mouth foam. You wanted to scream in pleasure, but you bit your tongue.

“Such a good girl for Daddy…” Liv cooed lustfully.

~~~

Olivia Benson Masterlist

She’s coming back!!!!!! 

Objection! Part 11

Rafael Barba x fem!Carisi!reader

2.7k word count

Summary All you wanted was to be a lawyer like your big brother Sonny. So what happens when you get a job working under the famous ADA Rafael Barba

slow-burn, colleague to friends to lovers

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

The first night home should have been a comfort. The familiar scent of fresh laundry in my sheets, the quiet hum of the city outside my window, the distant sound of Sonny laughing at something on the TV in the living room. It should have felt safe. It should have felt like home.

But as I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, my body refused to relax. My muscles were coiled tight, every nerve on edge, like I was bracing for something to happen. Something I couldn’t name, something I couldn’t see—but I could feel it, waiting in the darkness, just beyond my reach.

Every time I closed my eyes, I felt it all over again. Hands grabbing me from behind. An arm locking around my waist. The press of rough fabric against my face. Then nothing. Just darkness swallowing me whole, dragging me under like deep water, stealing my breath, my thoughts, my sense of time. I’d wake with a start, heart hammering in my chest, breath shallow and ragged. My sheets tangled around me like restraints. My skin damp with sweat.

It happened again. And again.

I turned onto my side, curling in on myself, forcing my eyes shut. But the second I drifted too close to sleep, I was right back there. The fear hit me like a wave, cold and sudden, leaving me gasping for air as my eyes flew open.

The first time, I told myself it was nothing. Just a bad night.

The second time, I sat up and turned on the lamp, bathing the room in soft, warm light. Maybe that would help. Maybe I just needed to see my surroundings, to remind myself I was safe.

The third time, I pulled the blankets tighter around me, trying to convince myself that exhaustion would eventually win, that sleep would come whether I wanted it to or not.

The fourth time, Sonny cracked the door open. “You okay?” His voice was quiet, careful.

“Yeah,” I lied.

He didn’t look convinced, but he nodded and let the door close again.

The fifth time, he came all the way inside. Sat on the edge of my bed, running a hand over his face. “You wanna talk about it?”

I shook my head.

He sighed. “All right. Try to get some rest.”

The sixth time, I didn’t even bother trying to sleep again. I just sat there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the steady tick of my bedside clock, the muffled city sounds outside my window. I felt like a ghost in my own body, like a piece of me was still trapped in that moment—caught between the before and the after, unable to move forward.

Then, Sonny came back. Again. This time, he didn’t ask if I was okay. He didn’t try to get me to talk. He just disappeared for a moment and came back with a pillow and a blanket.

“You’re not sleeping alone tonight,” he said simply, dropping the pillow onto the floor beside my bed. He stretched out on his back, arms resting behind his head like it was the most natural thing in the world. “If you need me, I’m right here.”

I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell him I was fine. That I didn’t need him hovering over me, treating me like I was about to break.

But the words stuck in my throat.

Instead, I let out a slow, shaky breath and turned onto my side, staring at the wall. Sonny being there didn’t erase the memories. It didn’t stop the fear from curling tight in my chest. But it was something. A small anchor keeping me tethered to the present, keeping me from drifting too far into the past.

Eventually, exhaustion won, and I fell asleep.

…

The next morning, my head was pounding, my limbs heavy as if my body had given up on trying to function properly. Sleep had come in short, restless bursts, each one stolen away by nightmares that left my heart racing and my throat dry. I felt like I had barely rested at all, but there was no time to dwell on it. There was a statement to give, and I needed to pull myself together.

A strong cup of coffee helped—not enough to erase the exhaustion clinging to my bones, but enough to give me a temporary jolt of energy. Sonny had been quiet all morning, watching me carefully, like he was waiting for me to break. His usual easygoing nature was buried beneath a thick layer of tension, his movements more deliberate, his shoulders tight. He wasn’t just my brother today. He was a cop. And he was worried.

The ride to the DA’s office was silent, the weight of everything sitting heavy between us. I kept my eyes on the city streets as they passed by, familiar yet distant, as if the world had moved on while I had been trapped in the darkness.

When we finally walked into Rafael’s office, he was already there, looking as polished as ever. Crisp suit, perfectly knotted tie, not a single wrinkle or strand of hair out of place. But the empty coffee cup on his desk told a different story. He had been here for a while. He was running on fumes, just like me.

Across from him sat a man I didn’t recognize.

He looked young, maybe around my age, though the seriousness in his expression made him seem older. Tall and athletic, dressed in a sharp but simple suit. His brunette hair was neatly styled, not a strand out of place, and his green eyes were sharp, studying me with quiet assessment as I entered the room. There was something steady about him, the kind of confidence that came from years of experience. He wasn’t intimidating, but he wasn’t exactly warm either.

Rafael stood, motioning between us. “Y/N, this is Peter Stone, the Assistant District Attorney handling the case.”

Peter stood as well, offering a polite but firm handshake. “It’s good to meet you, Y/N. I wish it were under better circumstances.”

His voice was smooth, professional, but there was a hint of something softer beneath it—understanding, maybe. He had probably dealt with enough victims to know how to handle this conversation.

I gave a small nod. “Yeah. Me too.”

Peter gestured to the chairs in front of Rafaels desk. “Take a seat.”

I swallowed hard, moving to sit down. Sonny remained standing beside me, arms crossed, his presence a silent reassurance. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Peter sat back down, his hands folded neatly on the desk. “Y/N, I know this isn’t easy. But I need you to walk me through what you remember. Anything you can tell me will help.”

I inhaled slowly, bracing myself. “I don’t remember much. Just…someone grabbing me. Then nothing. Next thing I knew, I was waking up in the hospital.”

Peter nodded, like he had expected that answer. “No memory of anything in between? No voices, sounds, flashes of anything?”

I shook my head. “No. Just…blackness.”

“All right.” He glanced at Rafael and Sonny. “I’ll need to speak with Y/N alone.”

Rafael frowned. “That’s not necessary—”

“It is,” Peter interrupted smoothly. His tone was firm but not unkind. “I need to get her statement without any outside influence, no matter how well-intentioned.” He met Rafael’s eyes for a long moment before turning to Sonny. “I understand wanting to be here for her. But this needs to be a private conversation.”

Sonny looked down at me, searching my face like he was trying to gauge whether I was okay with this.

I gave him a small nod. “It’s fine.”

His jaw tightened, but he nodded back. Rafael looked just as reluctant, but after a beat, he exhaled sharply and stood.

“We’ll be right outside,” he said, his voice low.

I nodded again, and they both stepped out of the room, the door clicking shut behind them.

Peter leaned forward slightly, his gaze focused. “Let’s start from the beginning.”

Peter studied me for a moment, his green eyes sharp but not unkind. He wasn’t treating me like a victim, at least not in the way most people had been since I woke up in the hospital. There was no pity in his gaze, just an unspoken expectation—he needed answers, and he was hoping I could give them to him.

"Let’s start from the beginning,” he said, his tone even. “You said the last thing you remember is someone grabbing you. Was that by Dominick’s car?”

I swallowed, forcing myself to think back. "I-I think so. Sonny was taking me to get a drink of water I think”

Peter nodded, jotting something down in his notebook. "And this was after the tunnels? Do you remember anything about them?"

I frowned, shaking my head. "I remember solving the clue. I remember heading into the tunnels with Nick but after that it’s all fragments”

His jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t look surprised. “There were no cameras in the tunnels, no traffic cams in the area where you were taken. Marco knew exactly what he was doing. He planned this.”

The weight of his words settled over me, making it harder to breathe. I clenched my hands together in my lap, trying to push away the creeping panic. “But why?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “Why would he go through all this trouble for me?”

Peter leaned back slightly. “That’s what we need to figure out. Do you know Marco?”

“No.” I shook my head firmly. “I’ve never met him. I didn’t even know his name until I woke up and Sonny told me what happened.”

Peter studied me carefully, like he was looking for any hesitation, any sign that I wasn’t being completely truthful. When he found none, he exhaled and tapped his pen against the desk. “Marco has a history with Rafael. You know that much, right?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t explain why he targeted me.”

Peter tilted his head slightly. “Maybe not. But Rafael has a theory.”

I swallowed hard. “Which is?”

Peter hesitated, then leaned forward. “Marco doesn’t just go after people for the fun of it. He picks his targets carefully. When he hurts someone, it’s calculated. Intentional. And Rafael seems to think that Marco believes you…” He trailed off, choosing his words carefully. “…that you matter to him. That you and Rafael might be more than just colleagues. Enough that Marco saw you as leverage.”

My stomach twisted. “More than colleagues? Rafael and I? Why would he think that?”

Peter sighed. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

I stared at him, my mind spinning.

“Is there anything else you remember?” Peter asked, pulling me from my thoughts. “Even something small? A smell, a sound—anything?”

I opened my mouth, then hesitated. There was something. It wasn’t a memory, not exactly, but a feeling. The rough press of fabric against my face.

“There was something over my mouth,” I said slowly, trying to piece it together. “Like cloth. It smelled… chemical. Strong.”

Peter’s expression sharpened. “Chloroform?”

I nodded. “Maybe. I don’t know for sure, but it makes sense. I barely had time to react before everything went black.”

Peter jotted something down, then looked back up at me. “I’m going to make sure he pays for what he did to you.”

His words were meant to be reassuring, but all I felt was cold.

…

Rafael’s P.O.V

I straightened in my chair as Peter folded his hands on the desk. “Tell me about Marco.”

I exhaled sharply, rubbing my temple before answering. “I didn’t know him personally before all this.”

Peter studied me carefully. “But you knew his sister.”

My throat tightened. I leaned forward, my hands clasped together on the desk. “She was one of the first victims passed across my desk,” I said, my voice quieter now. “Smart, kind, and full of life. She met a man on one of those random dating apps and he took advantage of her.” I swallowed, forcing myself to continue. “She begged for months for me to put him away, but there just wasn’t enough evidence. I didn’t want to prosecute a case I knew I couldn’t win. So I turned her away.”

Peter remained silent, his expression unreadable.

“A week later, she jumped in front of a train in the subway.” My voice was hoarse now, raw. “Her brother, Marco, came begging me to charge the man who attacked Anya with her death as well, but again, it was a case I knew I couldn’t win. So I said no.”

Peter tapped his pen against the desk, thoughtful. “And Marco never forgot that.”

“No,” I said bitterly. “And he sure as hell never forgave it.”

Peter let out a slow breath. “So in his mind, this isn’t just about revenge—it’s about justice. His kind of justice.”

I gave a hollow laugh. “If you can call it that.”

Peter flipped to another page in his notes. “Let’s talk about the search for Y/N.”

I nodded, straightening. “It started the second we knew she was missing. We didn’t waste time—Olivia pulled in every resource she could. We had officers combing the last place she was seen, talking to witnesses, checking security footage.”

Peter’s brow furrowed. “And Marco? He left clues, didn’t he?”

My jaw tightened. “Yeah. He wanted us to play his game. Left us breadcrumbs, cryptic messages—like he was toying with us.” My hands clenched briefly before I forced myself to relax. “Every clue led us deeper, twisting the search into a maze.”

Peter leaned forward. “And you found her at Coney Island.”

I nodded. “Under the pier. He buried her in a pile of rocks, hidden just out of sight. If we’d been a few hours later, she might not have made it.”

Peter’s expression darkened. “She was unconscious?”

I swallowed. “Barely breathing.” My voice wavered for a split second before I steadied it. “She’d been out there for hours. The tide was coming in.”

Peter sat back, exhaling slowly. “You spoke to a lot of people during the search.” He slid a list across the desk. “These are the ones I need to follow up with.”

I glanced at it before pushing it back. “Olivia and Sonny are already on it.”

A tense silence settled over the room before I spoke again. “There’s something else.” My voice was quieter now, careful.

Peter set his pen down, giving me his full attention. “Go on.”

My hands folded together on the desk. “Do my feelings for Y/N have to come up in court?”

Peter didn’t look surprised. “It’s relevant, Rafael. It goes to motive.”

I looked down, jaw tightening. “Does she have to know?”

Peter hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “She won’t be in the courtroom when you take the stand. But yes, it’s going to come up. I’ve already asked her she was aware that Marco took her because he thought there was something between you”

“And how did she react?” I asked tensing up.

“Honestly, she was confused as to why he would think that. If I was you Rafael I would consider being honest with her before it comes out at trail and she hears it from someone other than you”

I closed my eyes briefly before exhaling. “Do I need to tell Jack?”

Peter leaned back in his chair, considering. “It’s your call. But if I were you, I’d get ahead of it.”

…

Later that evening, I stood in Jack McCoy’s office, his hands resting on the edge of his desk. Jack regarded me with his usual measured expression, waiting.

I took a breath. “It’s about Y/N.”

Jack didn’t react. “Go on.”

“There’s a chance my feelings for her are going to come up in court.” I said bluntly.

Jack studied me carefully. “And are those feelings something I need to be concerned about?”

I shook my head. “No. I would never pursue anything with her. She’s worked too hard to get where she is. I won’t risk her career over this.”

Jack nodded slowly. “Then it’s none of my business.”

Relief washed over me, but it was fleeting. This wasn’t just about the case. It wasn’t just about my career or hers. It was about the way my heart had clenched when I saw her in that hospital bed. About the way I had cleaned her room, taking care with every little detail, as if that could undo the damage that had been done.

It was about the realization that I had been in love with her for a long time.

And that there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

@geeksareunique @pinkladydevotee @pumpkindwight @chriskevinevans @svzwriting29

Objection! Part 10

Rafael Barba x fem!Carisi!reader

4.7k word count

Summary All you wanted was to be a lawyer like your big brother Sonny. So what happens when you get a job working under the famous ADA Rafael Barba

slow-burn, colleague to friends to lovers

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound in the dim hospital room. I sat still, my fingers laced together, resting on my lap. The chair was stiff and uncomfortable, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t leaving. Not now. Not until she woke up.

Y/N looked so small in the hospital bed, her face pale against the stark white sheets. I had braced myself for bruises, for some visible proof of the nightmare she had been through, but there was nothing—just the eerie stillness that came from the drugs still lingering in her system. The doctors had assured us she would wake up soon, but every passing minute felt like an eternity.

Sonny had been the one asking the doctors all the right questions, demanding more when vague reassurances weren’t enough. I had stayed quiet, letting him take the lead. It wasn’t my place to interfere. I had no right to claim any authority over her—not in Sonny’s eyes, not even in my own. It was enough that he had let me stay.

Olivia had come and gone, updating us on Marco’s arrest. He was locked away in Attica with no bail. That should have given me some peace, but then she mentioned Jack McCoy bringing in Peter Stone to handle the case. Anger had flared in my chest at the thought of being sidelined, but Olivia had shut it down quickly. You’re too close to this, Rafael. You were his main target, he used her to get to you. And deep down, I knew she was right.

Now, the room was silent again. Visiting hours had passed, and Sonny had reluctantly gone home to shower and eat. He had promised to be back soon, but I barely registered his departure.

Alone with Y/N, I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the edge of her bed. My eyes traced every familiar feature—the curve of her lips, the way her eyelashes cast soft shadows on her cheeks, the steady rise and fall of her chest.

I swallowed hard, gripping the blanket as I exhaled shakily. “You scared the hell out of me,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

She didn’t stir.

A humourless chuckle escaped me as I ran a tired hand down my face. “I should have told you,” I said, my voice rough with exhaustion. “I should have told you a long time ago. But I was a coward. I told myself it was better this way—that you deserved something simple, someone who wouldn’t complicate your life. Dios soy un idiota” (God I’m an idiot)

I shook my head, my jaw tightening. “But I love you.” The words felt heavy, like they had been waiting too long to be spoken. “I have for a long time. And I will protect you, from this day forward, even if you never hear me say this.”

Hesitantly, I reached out, letting my fingers brush over the back of her hand. She was warm. Alive. And that was the only thing that mattered.

I stayed like that, my hand resting over hers, as the hours stretched on.

Sonny was so quiet when he came back that his voice startled me, making me jerk back from Y/N’s bedside like a guilty teenager caught sneaking out. My heart pounded as I turned toward him, but there was no anger on his face, no judgment. Just quiet understanding.

He sighed, settling back into the chair across from me. “Relax, Barba. I’m not gonna yell at you.”

I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to unclench my fists. After a brief hesitation, I reached for Y/N’s hand again, letting my fingers curl around hers. Sonny watched but didn’t say anything at first, just resting his elbows on his knees as he studied me.

Then, after a long pause, he asked, “When did you realize it?”

I frowned. “Realize what?”

“That you love her.”

The question caught me off guard. I opened my mouth, then closed it again, trying to gather my thoughts. When had I realized it? Had it been all at once, some grand revelation? Or had it crept up on me over time, settling into my bones before I even understood it was there?

Sonny must have seen the conflict on my face because he kept going. “Why her? And why the hell didn’t you tell her?”

I let out a heavy breath, running a hand over my face. “Because I was afraid,” I admitted. “Because she deserves better than someone like me—someone who lives in a courtroom, who puts work before everything, who ruins every relationship he’s ever had.”

Sonny scoffed. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

I shot him a look, but he only leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “Look, I get it. You think you’re protecting her. But you’re wrong. You think Y/N doesn’t know who you are? That she hasn’t already decided you’re worth it?”

His words settled deep, but before I could respond, he smirked. “You know, we had a bet going. Well Finn, Amanda and Nick did I wanted no part of it.”

I blinked. “A bet?”

Sonny chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah. Back in the squad room, her second day working with you. Finn, Amanda, and Amaro—they all bet on how long it would take before you two figured it out.”

My stomach twisted. “Figured what out?”

“That you were in love with each other.”

The air felt too thick in my lungs. “You’re joking.”

Sonny grinned. “Wish I was. Amaro said a month. Amanda gave it three. Finn? He was the only one who said it’d take over a year. He figured you’d be stubborn about it.” He paused, tilting his head. “Looks like he was right.”

I let out a quiet laugh, though it was more disbelief than amusement. “And Y/N?” I asked cautiously. “What did she say about all this?”

Sonny’s smirk softened. “She never denied it, Barba. Never. If anything, she just got flustered whenever we brought it up.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “She loves you, man. I know it. Even if I don’t want to believe it.”

I swallowed hard, my grip tightening around Y/N’s hand.

I wanted to believe him. God, I needed to believe him. But right now, all that mattered was her waking up.

And when she did, I had no intention of letting another second slip by.

Sonny asked me again, his voice quieter this time. “When did you realize it?”

I exhaled slowly, staring down at Y/N’s hand in mine. The steady rhythm of the heart monitor filled the silence between us, a reminder that she was still here, still fighting her way back to us.

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “It wasn’t some grand moment of clarity. It wasn’t like the movies where everything suddenly clicks into place. It just… built up over time.”

Sonny didn’t interrupt, just watched me, waiting.

“I think—” I hesitated, struggling to put the weight of my feelings into words. “I think I was already in love with her before I even realized it. It wasn’t one thing. It was a hundred little things. The way she argued with me but always listened. The way she laughed when she thought no one was paying attention. How she never backed down, even when she was scared.”

I let out a quiet, bitter chuckle. “By the time I understood what I was feeling, it was too late. I was already gone.”

Sonny nodded slowly, as if he’d expected that answer. “So what are you gonna do about it?”

I looked at Y/N’s face—still, peaceful, but too pale under the harsh hospital lighting.

“I’m going to tell her,” I said firmly. “As soon as she wakes up, I’m telling her everything.”

Sonny huffed a laugh. “About damn time. But I’m telling you now. You hurt her, you put her in harms away again I will make sure you pay.”

…

Sonny and I must have dozed off at some point, exhaustion finally catching up to us despite the uncomfortable hospital chairs. The steady beeping of the monitors and the low hum of the hospital had lulled us into a restless sleep.

Then, a soft whimper broke through the quiet.

My eyes snapped open, my body jolting upright as I turned toward the bed. Y/N shifted slightly, her face contorted in distress. Sonny was already moving, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as we both surged to our feet, leaning over her.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” I said quickly, my voice thick with sleep but urgent with reassurance.

“Y/N, it’s me,” Sonny added, his hand resting gently on her arm. “You’re safe. We got you.”

Her glassy eyes darted between us, blinking rapidly as if trying to piece together where she was, what had happened. Then, as realization hit, her entire face crumpled.

A choked sob escaped her lips, and before I could say anything else, she broke down completely.

Tears spilled over her cheeks as she clutched at the thin hospital blanket, her body shaking with the force of her emotions. Sonny immediately reached for her hand, murmuring reassurances, while I felt frozen in place, my chest tightening at the sight of her like this.

She was here. She was alive. But she was hurting.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to push past the lump in my throat. I reached out hesitantly, brushing a stray tear from her cheek. “You’re safe now,” I whispered. “I swear.”

She didn’t say anything, just squeezed both our hands so tightly it was as if she was grounding herself in our presence. And in that moment, nothing else mattered.

…

Y/N's P.O.V

When I finally felt steady enough to breathe without sobbing, I forced myself to look up. My eyes flickered between Sonny and Rafael, both of them hovering over me, their faces drawn with worry. My heart was still racing, my body trembling, but their hands in mine were real, solid. I wasn’t alone.

I swallowed hard, my throat raw. “What… what did Marco do to me?” My voice cracked, and I hated how small I sounded.

Sonny and Rafael exchanged a glance—one of those silent conversations that spoke volumes. It made my stomach twist.

“Y/N,” Rafael started gently, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “He drugged you. Knocked you out before you could fight back.”

I sucked in a shaky breath. That explained the fog in my head, the exhaustion weighing me down like an anchor.

“He hid you beneath the docks at Coney Island,” Sonny added, his voice tight, like he was still holding back his anger. “Left you there to drown when the tide came in.”

My stomach turned violently, nausea clawing its way up my throat. The idea of being trapped, helpless, slowly swallowed by the ocean—God.

“But he didn’t—” My voice broke, and I forced myself to meet their eyes. “He didn’t hurt me? In any other way?”

Rafael’s grip on my hand tightened. “No,” he said firmly.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, my body sagging against the pillows. My hands were still shaking, but at least now, I knew. I wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse.

A beat of silence passed before I whispered, “I was so scared.”

Sonny let out a shaky breath and reached up, smoothing my hair back like he used to when we were kids. “I know,” he murmured. “But you don’t have to be anymore.”

I turned my gaze to Rafael. His jaw was clenched, his eyes dark with something I couldn’t quite name. Guilt? Regret? Maybe both.

“You saved me,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“We weren’t going to let anything happen to you,” Rafael said, his voice thick with emotion.

I squeezed their hands again, grounding myself in their presence. I was safe. I took a shaky breath, letting their words settle, but one more question burned at the back of my mind. My fingers tightened around Rafael’s hand as I turned my gaze between them. “Where is he?” My voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

They didn’t have to ask who I meant.

“Locked up,” Sonny said immediately, his voice firm and sure. “Attica. No bail. He’s not getting out, Y/N.”

I let that sink in. Marco was gone. He couldn’t hurt me anymore. The fear still sat heavy in my chest, but it wasn’t as suffocating as before.

Sonny must have noticed the exhaustion weighing on me because he gave me a small, reassuring smile and leaned down, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Get some rest, okay? We’ll be back in the morning.”

I frowned slightly, not wanting them to go just yet. But before I could say anything, Sonny smirked and added, “Not like we’ll have much of a choice. No doubt the whole squad will be here first thing.”

Despite everything, I let out a small, tired laugh. “And Ma?”

“Oh, don’t even get me started,” Sonny groaned. “I basically had to threaten to drive to Staten Island and take Ma’s car keys to keep her from driving up here tonight. And I’m sure by now she’s called our sisters and probably Dad, too.”

I sighed, a small smile tugging at my lips. “So, basically, I should expect an invasion first thing in the morning.”

Sonny grinned. “Oh yeah. Prepare yourself.”

Rafael squeezed my hand gently. “Get some sleep, querida. We’ll be back soon.”

I nodded, the weight of everything finally settling into my bones. As I let my eyes slip shut, I felt their presence beside me, steady and unwavering.

…

By the time breakfast arrived, I was feeling a little more like myself. The woman who brought in the tray of food gave me a warm smile, setting it down gently, and not long after, a nurse came in to check my vitals and draw some blood, to make sure the drugs where clearing my system she said. She assured me everything was looking good and that I just needed to rest.

Once she left, I sighed, settling back against the pillows. The food wasn’t great, but I forced myself to eat it, knowing I needed the energy. I had just pushed the tray aside when the scent hit me.

Cannoli.

Fresh, homemade cannoli.

I barely had time to brace myself before the door burst open, the sound of hurried footsteps and overlapping voices filling the room. Sonny strode in first, his expression tense but relieved, followed closely by Ma, our sisters, and Mia, who was practically bouncing with excitement. The second Ma laid eyes on me, she let out a dramatic gasp, her hands flying up as if she’d just seen a ghost.

"Oh, tesoro mio!"she cried, rushing forward like a woman on a mission.

I barely had time to react before she was on me, cupping my face between her warm hands, her sharp eyes scanning me up and down like she was expecting to find some horrible injury the doctors had somehow missed. She turned my head left, then right, then smoothed my hair down as if that would somehow fix everything.

Then, with a dramatic shake of her head, she declared, "This—this is why you shouldn’t be doing a man’s job!"

I groaned internally. Here we go.

"Ma—" I started, but she wasn’t finished.

"I told you, didn’t I? I told you!" She threw her hands in the air, as if pleading with the heavens. "You should be a nurse! Or a teacher! Something safe! Or better yet, find a nice, wealthy man to take care of you!"

Sonny groaned, rubbing his temples like this was a conversation they’d had one too many times before. "Ma, not now."

But she wasn’t listening to him. She never listened when she was on a roll.

"You look pale! You need to eat!" she announced, already rummaging through the oversized purse slung over her shoulder. Within seconds, she pulled out a foil-wrapped container, peeling back the layers with the precision of someone who had done this a thousand times before. The rich, sweet scent of fresh cannoli filled the air, and before I knew it, she was shoving one toward my face.

"Here. Eat, eat!" she insisted, her voice leaving no room for argument.

I huffed a laugh despite myself, shaking my head. "Ma, I—"

"No arguing!" she interrupted, eyes narrowing in warning. "You need to keep your strength up, poverina!"

Mia, who had climbed up onto the edge of my hospital bed with all the grace of an energetic seventeen-year-old, giggled at the scene unfolding before her. "You might as well just take it," she said with a knowing grin. "Nonna’s not gonna let up until you do."

I shot Sonny a desperate look, silently pleading for help, but he just smirked and shrugged like I was on my own. Traitor.

Defeated, I took the cannoli from Ma’s expectant hands and bit into it. The crispy shell cracked slightly under the pressure, giving way to the creamy ricotta filling, rich with hints of vanilla and citrus, and the perfect touch of chocolate. It was heaven.

I sighed, closing my eyes for a brief moment, savoring the familiar taste of home. When I looked back up, Ma was beaming like she had just personally saved my life.

"See? Much better!" she declared, crossing her arms in satisfaction.

I rolled my eyes, but deep down, I couldn’t help the warmth that spread through my chest. The chaos, the fussing, the smothering concern—it was all so familiar, so them. No matter what had happened, no matter how close I had come to losing everything, I knew this much was true.

I was safe. I was loved.

Shortly after, the door swung open again, and in came Olivia, Amanda, Finn, Amaro, and Rafael, all armed with balloons and flowers. The room was already crowded with my family, but somehow, they all managed to squeeze in.

"You guys didn’t have to come," I said, shaking my head. "As soon as the doctors confirm the drugs are out of my system, I’ll be on my way home anyway."

The room was already a whirlwind of noise and movement, but in the middle of it all, I caught a flicker of something on Rafael’s face—concern, hesitation, like there was something on his mind he wasn’t saying. But before I could dwell on it, a strangled noise cut through the chatter.

Amanda.

Her face scrunched up in clear discomfort, her nose wrinkling as she fought off what looked like a serious wave of nausea.

I glanced at her, then down at the half-eaten cannoli in my hand. My mind connected the dots in an instant, and my eyes widened as realization hit me like a freight train.

"Amanda," I said slowly, my lips already curling into a knowing grin. "Are you pregnant?"

She hesitated just for a second, her expression unreadable, before a smirk—one I knew all too well—spread across her face. Then, she nodded.

Chaos. Absolute, immediate chaos.

Olivia gasped, her eyes lighting up. Finn clapped Amanda on the back with a proud laugh, while Amaro’s face split into a grin, giving her one of those quiet, brotherly nods of approval.

Sonny, standing just beside me, froze.

For the briefest moment, barely a heartbeat, I saw something flicker across his face. A look of heartbreak—raw, aching, there and gone in an instant.

Then, just as quickly, it was buried. He pulled himself together, pasted on a grin, and jumped straight into interrogation mode. "Does the baby’s father know yet?" he asked, folding his arms like he was about to personally hunt the guy down if the answer was anything less than satisfactory.

Meanwhile, Ma had her hands over her heart, already launching into a passionate speech about the joys and struggles of motherhood, rattling off old family sayings and promising Amanda she would never sleep the same again.

I just sat there, watching the chaos unfold with a wide grin as Amanda rolled her eyes at all the attention.

"That explains the face you made when you smelled the cannoli," I teased, nudging her playfully.

She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Don’t even talk about it. Just the thought makes me want to hurl."

I laughed, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep in my chest, warm and unburdened.

For the first time since everything had happened—since the fear, the uncertainty, the pain—I felt it.

A moment of pure, simple joy.

And after everything, that was exactly what I needed.

…

Rafael’s P.O.V

As the celebration continued, I pulled Sonny aside, lowering my voice so the others wouldn’t hear.

"Give me your keys," I said.

Sonny frowned. "Why?"

"I want to clean up Y/N’s room if you haven’t already," I admitted. "After everything, she should come home to something… normal."

Sonny let out a short laugh, shaking his head as he fished the keys from his pocket. "Just stay out of her underwear drawer, Barba," he teased, handing them over.

I rolled my eyes but took the keys without another word.

The drive to Sonny’s place was quiet, giving me too much time alone with my thoughts. When I finally arrived, I let myself in and made my way to Y/N’s room. The mess was worse than I remembered—clothes scattered, books out of place, the bed unmade from the last time she slept in it. We had torn through everything, desperate for any clue that could’ve led us to her.

I sighed, rolling up my sleeves, and got to work.

I made her bed, smoothing out the sheets with deliberate care. The fabric was slightly rumpled from where we’d torn through the room in our desperate search for answers, but I pulled the blankets tight, tucking them in. I fluffed her pillows, setting them neatly at the head of the bed, making sure everything looked just right—just hoping it was how she liked it.

It struck me then, standing there in the quiet, how little I actually knew about the details of her life. I knew her wit, her fire, the way she held her own in an argument, how she carried herself with an unshakable confidence even when the odds were stacked against her. But this—this space, the things she surrounded herself with—felt like a different kind of intimacy. One I had never really considered before.

My eyes landed on a small, worn plush toy resting on the floor near the nightstand. A chinchilla—of all things. Its fur was faded in places, one ear slightly bent in a way that suggested it had been held tightly, repeatedly, over the years. I crouched down, picking it up carefully. It was soft, delicate, clearly a childhood favorite. I wondered if it had been a gift, or if she had picked it out herself as a kid. Did she still reach for it when she had nightmares? When the weight of the job got too heavy?

I brushed off a bit of dust before placing it gently on her bed, tucking it against her pillow. It felt like putting a piece of her back where it belonged.

Turning my focused on the clothes strewn across the room—crumpled on the floor, draped over the chair by her desk, kicked halfway under the bed. I gathered them up, sorting them into piles: shirts, pants, underthings. I hesitated over a worn Backstreet Boys sweatshirt before folding it carefully. Had she been a fan? I didn’t even know what music she liked, who her faviroute artist was. That realization sat uncomfortably in my chest.

I bundled the laundry into a basket and carried it down to the building’s laundry room, starting a wash cycle before leaning against the machine. The rhythmic hum filled the silence, but it didn’t quiet my thoughts.

When I returned to her room, my gaze fell on her bookshelves—four of them, floor-to-ceiling, overflowing with books that had been thrown into disarray. Some were lying sideways, others stacked hastily, their usual order ruined. I had seen her collection at the office, had watched her run a finger along the spines as she searched for a title, but I had never really looked at them.

I ran my fingers over the covers as I picked them up, flipping them over to scan the summaries. Classic literature. True crime. Philosophy. A few well-worn romance novels that looked like they had been read and reread a dozen times. That caught me off guard. Did she believe in love stories? I had never thought to ask.

I placed each book back in its rightful place, aligning them carefully. I had assumed she organized them alphabetically because that was how she did it at work, but now I wasn’t so sure. Maybe it wasn’t about efficiency. Maybe it was about control. About having something in her life that stayed exactly the way she put it.

Her desk drew my attention, torn apart by Sonny. Papers scattered across the surface, notes scribbled in the margins of case files. A half-finished crossword puzzle. Pens rolling near the edge. A mug—long since emptied—sitting precariously close to toppling over. I reached for it, turning it in my hands. The logo was faded, the words barely visible. A souvenir from a vacation? A gift?I set it back down, wiping the desk clean.

I had spent years working beside her, but in this moment, surrounded by the details of her life, I realized how little I actually knew her. Not just the Y/N I argued next to in court, not the ADA who fought tooth and nail for justice, but the woman who curled up with old paperbacks, who kept a childhood stuffed animal on her bed, who left crossword puzzles unfinished.

By the time I retrieved her laundry and started folding, the room looked untouched, like the chaos of the last few days had never happened. But in my chest, something had shifted.

And that was when the front door opened.

I froze. Footsteps echoed across the living room, and before I could react, Y/N stepped into the room.

She stopped short, her eyes scanning the room before landing on me. Confusion flickered across her face before realization set in.

I swallowed, guilt washing over me.

"I—" I hesitated, then exhaled. "I’m sorry. We tore your room apart looking for clues during Marco’s sick scavenger hunt. I just… I wanted to fix it."

Y/N looked at me for a long moment before stepping fully into the room. She didn’t say anything right away, just glanced around, taking in every carefully placed item, every straightened surface.

Then, finally, she met my eyes.

"Thank you," she said softly.

Y/N sighed, leaning against the doorframe as she watched me fold the last of her laundry. "Before I left the hospital, Stone stopped by," she said, her voice quieter than before. "He wanted to check in… and let me know he’d need a victim statement from me."

She said the word like it didn’t quite belong to her, like it tasted wrong in her mouth. I saw the way her fingers curled into her sleeves, the tension in her shoulders.

I set the folded shirt down and straightened, meeting her eyes. "I know," I said gently. "He spoke to me too. He wants my statement tomorrow."

Her brow furrowed slightly. "Why?"

"Because I’m a victim too," I admitted. "Not in the same way as you, but Marco dragged me into this just as much as he did you. He already got Liv’s statement, along with Finn, Amanda and Amaro. It’s just you, me, and Sonny left."

She let out a slow breath, nodding. "Right."

I hesitated before taking a step closer. "Y/N… you don’t have to do this alone. If you want, I can be there when you talk to Stone."

She studied me for a moment, and I wasn’t sure if she would accept or push me away. But then, her lips quirked just slightly, a ghost of a smile.

"Thanks, Rafael," she murmured. "I might take you up on that."

@geeksareunique @pinkladydevotee @pumpkindwight @chriskevinevans @svzwriting29