Summary: It's been ten years since Lucie LeMarche last set foot in New Orleans. But when she's forced to return to bury the woman who raised her, she finds herself pulled into the midst of rising supernatural tensions in the city. Entangled in a web of intrigue and seeking answers, Lucie must learn to navigate a powder keg of warring factions, family secrets, and old wounds if she hopes to survive.
BLOOD IN THE WINE
Summary: An arranged marriage to a thousand-year-old vampire with a deadly past would seem like a nightmare to any normal woman with common sense. But to Ariadne Covington it's her one chance at freedom from her family and their darker plans for her and her unique gift…
HAUNTED LOVE
Summary: "i fucking hate you!" "i hate you too, love."
PERIPETEIA
Summary: While entangled in a plot to save New Orleans, and more importantly her sister, Georgia Claire finds herself under the careful supervision of a certain Original, Elijah Mikaelson, and while he has larger worries, like his self destructive brother and the protection of Niklaus' unborn child and its mother, he cannot seem to take his eyes off of a young French Quarter witch.
@wholoveseggs : All his works are magnificent.
EROS
Summary: In the year 1999, centuries after he has abandoned hope of meeting his singer, Elijah Mikaelson is passing the time working as a professor at a prestigious college in rural Vermont. His mundane human act is sharply interrupted when freshman Philosophy student Iris walks into his classroom, and their lives become forever entangled in a web of desire, mortality, and complicated morality. (AU)
RAFAEL BARBA:
(Gif)
STARE DECISIS
Summary: When Assistant District Attorney Quinn Brady lateral transfers from the Queens Gangs Unit to Manhattan Special Victims on orders of the District Attorney feathers are ruffled. Preexisting ADA Rafael Barba struggles with introduction of co-counsel after flying solo for years and the SVU detectives enjoy answering to two attorneys much less than they enjoyed answering to one.Follow Manhattan’s elite detective squad as this new addition changes things for the better … or for the worse.
BURN THE SHADOWN
Summary: Gia felt happy and comfortable in her job, despite how gut wrenching it could be. Fighting for victims, saving them, getting them justice made it worthwhile, especially the children. Even with all of the drama that had ensued with Captain Cragen, Gia was content. And then he showed up. A.D.A. Rafael Barba.
OBJETION!
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.
BEAUTIFUL SINNER
Summary: After leaving behind his high-powered law career, Father Rafael has found solace and purpose in his new life as a priest—until a mysterious newcomer disrupts his hard-won peace. Drawn to her quiet strength and wounded past, he finds himself questioning everything he thought he’d left behind. As his feelings deepen, so does the conflict between his vows and his heart, forcing him to confront the limits of faith, desire, and forgiveness. Will Father Rafael stay true to his calling, or risk everything for a chance at love he thought he’d sworn off forever?
REEL TEMPTATION
Summary: It’s the Golden Age of P*rn, circa 1970s. Reader accompanies roommate to a casting call for an adult film. Little does she know that her life is about to change when she meets the male lead.
WHAT WE LEFT BEHIND
Summary: I haven't seen Rafael in 6 years. What happens if he comes back into my life as suddenly as he left it? And what happens if he finds out about my little secret that I've been keeping all this time?
UNLOVE YOU
Summary: A month after Final Call, Rafael Barba is at rock bottom. The thought of losing Olivia’s friendship for good sends him into a downward spiral, one that even his best friend, Rita, can’t pull him out of—no matter how hard she tries. But when Gabriela Ruiz, a sharp, 30-year-old paralegal at Rita's fim, is sent to track him down, he finds an unexpected confidante in her. What starts as shared drinks and mutual understanding turns into something messier, neither of them meant to happen.
SIDEBAR
Summary: Everyone's favorite ADA Rafael Barba gets an unexpected intern.
Reagan Bianchi had worked her whole life for this opportunity. But life had other plans, as usual.
CASTIEL:
THE BEGINNING OF THE END
Summary: They thought the Apocalypse was behind them—until they realized it had only been a warning, a shadow of the true horror yet to come. Then, out of nowhere, a woman appears, claiming to be Bobby’s niece, shattering their fragile sense of safety. She speaks of an approaching Armageddon, but what she isn’t saying is far more dangerous. She hides a secret so devastating, so unimaginable, that even their worst fears pale in comparison.
THREAD OF GRACE
Summary: What happens when Castiel accidentally bonds his grace to the soul of the Winchesters younger sister?
Ancient magic. Unintended consequences. And a connection neither of them can fully understand- let alone break. She was going to die. He couldn't let her.
'When the NYPD fails to act in multiple SA cases, journalist!reader is there to investigate, but when the assaults become murder, (y/n) is faced with a dilemma and her path crosses with the SVU squad and ADA Barba who is less than happy with her involvement'
AN: Three chapters in three days? My keyboard is on fire. That being said, here's chapter seven, I was low key kicking my feet and twirling my hair writing this. TLDR, Rafael is a gentleman, reader is a lover girl, Olivia is their number one shipper. Happy reading! :)
TW: Mentions of r*pe, drugs, alcohol, some heavy petting and allusions to sex
Previous part
Chapter 7
If anyone had asked you to predict how that evening would have played out, you were certain that whatever you could hazard a guess at, would be a far cry from what actually transpired. Everywhere you turned was pandemonium, you were grateful for the stillness of the car, Rafael’s presence, the only thing grounding you to reality. Adrenaline pumped through your body, setting your limbs on fire. Despite the seriousness of the situation happening beyond the interior of the SUV, a small part of you was euphoric; the feeling of chipping away at rock and finding gold. Rafael, who hadn’t said a word to you since his outburst, clucked his tongue.
“I guess I owe you an apology.” He said it without looking at you, surveying the action taking place just beyond the door. You felt bolder then, shooting him a self-satisfied grin.
“I get the feeling you don’t normally apologise for much.” He huffed at you, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip.
“I don’t normally have a reason to.”
“And yet, is this your second or third time with me?” You were only trying to push his buttons a little bit. Judging by the sharp intake of breath, it had worked.
“I can always withdraw my offer.” His voice was stern but the twinkle in his eye told you a different story.
“No, no, I accept… And I want to apologize too.” He turned his head to you then, searching your face, waited for you to continue. “I… This was reckless. This whole thing is just so...?” You waved your hand about aimlessly, at a loss for words.
“If I had a dime for every time one of my detectives, for every time I got too close to a case, well… Noone is judging you for trying to do the right thing.” You let his words sink in. “This time things went well, next time you might not be so lucky, it’s not worth getting yourself hurt, you can’t help anyone if something bad happens to you.” He was looking at you so earnestly it made your heart clench.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were going soft on me counsellor.”
“Would you prefer it if I called you an impulsive dumbass instead?”
“There he is.” He chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling. Then, he reached for your hands, enveloping them in his, the contact warmed you to your core.
“I meant what I said (y/n)” You could feel the familiar pull reinstating itself between you. Less fiery this time though, it was sweeter, more wholesome. The moment was stolen from you as the car door pulled open. You and the ADA jumped apart like guilty teenagers, it was Olivia. You didn’t miss the smug look that crossed her features.
“Sorry, am I interrupting?” You also didn’t miss the way Rafael rolled his eyes either.
“No, what’s the 411?”
“The vic is Alicia Garcia, they’ve took her to Mercy General, Carisi and Rollins are with her now. We couldn’t get anything out of her though, whatever they drugged her with is hardcore, she was completely out of it.”
“And the two kids?”
“Alex Martinez and Cole Mills. They work at the Lucky Cat, a bartender and a runner.” You exhaled sharply; Olivia shot you a look. Your mind was doing hurdles. The bar staff? It made sense, you’d heard of cases in the past of bartenders caught spiking drinks, some sick power play.
“(Y/n)?” She could see the gears spinning.
“If it was the bar staff then how do you explain the spread of attacks over eight venues?” She took a moment to ponder.
“Maybe these guys are job hoppers? It’s not unheard of in the industry.” You shook your head, no, the timeline didn’t make sense for that to be the case.
“What’s your theory?” Rafael asked you.
“If these are the guys… Then either most of the rapes aren’t connected to the ones that happened here, or there’s something else going on, something bigger.” Your heart had dropped into your throat. There was no best-case scenario here.
“We can’t remand them until Monday morning at the earliest, throw them in the tombs and see what you can dig up.” Rafael said, “Call me when you find something.” Olivia nodded.
“I will, CSU is on the way, there’s not much else for us to do here. (Y/n), I’ll drop you home, okay? It’s been an intense night; you need to get some rest.” You pulled the jacket tighter over your frame and nodded. Rest was the last thing you wanted, but you knew she was right, the adrenaline would wear off eventually and you were already running on fumes.
You didn’t remember much of the drive, distracted thoughts about the past three hours playing on loop. Everything had changed, the theories and ideas you’d had for months flipped on their head. Your body was still tingling with energy by the time you pulled up at your apartment building. Olivia offered to walk you up to your door, but Rafael interrupted, volunteering to do it himself.
“Wait here a second.” He said, when you got the front door of the building. He turned on his heel and leant through the window of the car. He and Olivia had a quick, whispered conversation, Rafael nodded and stepped back. You watched in wonder as she started the car and drove off down the street. When he returned to your side, you cocked your head in question.
“If it’s okay with you, I thought I could sit with you for a while, you’ve had a stressful night, I just want to-“
“I’d like that.” You cut him off, relishing the shy smile he shot you.
…
It was a spur of the moment decision, one he knew Liv would rib him for later, but he was only half lying when he said he wanted to make sure (y/n) was okay. The evening had veered further off kilter then any of them could have imagined. He could still feel the dull irritation in the bottom of his chest at her carelessness, but it was overwhelmed by every other emotion that had followed. The horror of what they had almost witnessed, sympathy for the poor woman who probably still had no idea what she’d been saved from, tenderness for the journalist, but also a swell of pride at what she had unwittingly led them to. Things were about to take an interesting turn, that was for sure.
(Y/n) led him up the stairs, it was almost a play for play recap of the previous night. It won’t end like last night he mused to himself. She slid her key in the lock and beckoned him over the threshold. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected her corner of the city to look like, but he was surprised by how small it was. A tiny living area that was met by an even smaller kitchen, a narrow hallway off to the side that he suspected led to her bathroom and bedroom. She must have caught him staring because her cheeks grew pink.
“Sorry, I know it’s not much, but it’s rent controlled, and the neighbours are quiet so…” He shook his head, smiled at her.
“It’s… cute.” She shoved his arm playfully.
“And where do you live? The Ritz?”
“Something like that.” She rolled her eyes, throwing her purse down on the kitchen counter.
“You want something to drink? I have bourbon.”
“I’m more of scotch guy, but I’ll bite.”
“Sorry, I would’ve asked Olivia to stop off at a liquor store if I’d have known you were going to be so picky.” He chuckled smoothly, his back to her. He was studying the room. It was small but had a cheerful, lived in quality. There were several overflowing bookcases, a colourful array of art prints framed along the walls. A plush sofa, boxed in by lamps and house plants. Everywhere smelled like her perfume. He traced the mantle with his fingers, picking up a framed photo of her and another woman who he vaguely recognised from his late-night Instagram scrolling.
“My sister.” She said, making him jump slightly. He placed the photograph back in its spot and turned, to face her. His heart stopped and he had to fight to stop his jaw from dropping open.
(Y/n) had at some point removed the bulky NYPD jacket that Amaro had given her and a small part of him was thankful that she’d been concealed beneath it for the majority of the evening. He willed himself to avert his eyes, to be a gentleman, if his Mami could see him now she’d smack him around the back of the head. But as it turned out, Rafael was a red-blooded man, and she was the most infuriating, beautiful woman he’d ever laid his eyes on. His pants were becoming uncomfortably strained, and a coil of jealousy was tightening inside of him at the thought of her being ogled in that dingey little club, by sad little boys who didn’t deserve the honour.
“Earth to Barba.” (Y/n) chided, waving the glass of bourbon under his nose. He coughed, trying to play off the fact that he had been blatantly gawking at her. He took the glass from her hand, electricity jolting through him at the brief contact her skin made against his. He took a generous swig, trying to think of the least arousing things possible. Rafael Barba was well and truly screwed.
…
There was something delicious about the way he had momentarily lost control, eyeing you like a starved man. Something even better about the mortification that settled over his features, desperately trying to save face. You resisted the urge to mess with him, just about and took a sip of the wine you had poured for yourself, moving to the sofa. You tucked your legs underneath you.
“Make yourself at home.” You said, patting the space beside you. He actually looked nervous, despite his obvious attempts to conceal it. You were flattered, big bad Barba, king of the courtroom, reduced to red faced bashfulness. You couldn’t help the little smirk that twitched at your lips. “Barba… Rafael, is everything okay?” He forced a laugh, took a gulp of his drink and settled down into the cushions.
“Yeah, everything’s fine, long night y’know” His voice was husky, the heat rolling off of his body was tangible. You reached over, placing a hand on his leg, relishing the way his breath hitched.
“Sorry, I guess I kinda blew your Saturday night up.” His eyes were staring intently at your hand, they travelled up your arm, stopping momentarily at your chest, sending a bolt of warmth to your core, before settling on your face.
“A slight hiccup, besides, I wasn’t doing anything exciting.”
“Oh? How was the DA’s finest spending his weekend?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“That’s why I asked.” His eyes glinted mischievously, part of you thought that he probably got off on your little tete-a-tete’s. He drained the last of his bourbon.
“Refill?”
“Please” When you rose, walking to the kitchen, you made sure to add a little extra sway to your hips. It was cruel and you had strayed far beyond the realm of professionalism, but you didn’t care anymore. The adrenaline was making you impulsive, it seemed. Mixed in with weeks of building tension between you and the ADA. That and his close proximity making you realize just how touch starved you had been.
You had your back turned, so you didn’t notice him as he followed you into the kitchen. But the space was narrow, and you could feel his presence behind you. You didn’t react, but your heart was hammering in your chest, a flush working its way up your neck. Rafael reached out from behind you, taking the bottle from your hand, placing it on the counter. He had caged you in between his arms and the worktop. His breath was like fire, setting your skin ablaze. Your thighs clenched desperately.
“We shouldn’t.” His words were like velvet, whispered against the delicate whorl of your ear. “It’s a conflict of interest.”
“It is.”
“Tell me to stop and I will.”
“And if I don’t want you to?” He practically growled as he spun you around to face him, his body pressing into you. You stared at each other, the tension between you was like a wave about to crest. He buried a hand in your hair and paused, like he was waiting for permission. You nodded and then his lips were on yours, the wave finally crashing. His mouth was white hot against yours; you could taste the smokiness of the bourbon and something else, something that was uniquely him. His free hand was on you, desperately pawing at the hem of your top, skimming the exposed skin. You whimpered and he used the opportunity to slip his tongue inside of you. You could feel the hardness of his arousal pressing into you, the intensity was making you light-headed. Rafael broke the kiss.
“No tienes idea de lo que me haces sentir.” He groaned, his fingers, feather light, danced over your swollen lips. You struggled to follow his words, you weren’t fluent. His eyes were blown with lust, looking at him like this had you weak at the knees, body gently trembling. He reached down again, gently grazing your lips with his own, sighing. He pulled away, much to your disappointment. You didn’t know whether to love or hate the neediness you felt in your core.
“Raf-?” You muttered, the question evident in your tone. He took your face in his hands gently.
“I want to… but not like this.”
“I don’t understand.” Your brows knitted together, your stomach swooping uneasily. You could feel tendrils of anxiety pulling at you, had you done something wrong? He kissed the furrow, smiling at you, sincere, pure.
“I don’t want to take advantage of you (y/n), it’s been a tough night, I don’t want to do something you’ll regret in the morning.”
“I’m a big girl; I can make decisions for myself.” You were only half arguing. You were frustrated, of course, you wanted him to bend you over and take you right there, next to the cookbooks and wine rack. But the other part of you, the sensible part was soaring. You couldn’t remember the last time a man had been so noble towards you, if a man had ever respected you like Rafael was in that moment. He kissed you again, chastely. You knew in that moment that you were well and truly in deep. Fuck.
“How about, I order us some takeout, you take a shower, and we can watch TV?” He proposed, rubbing your arms gently.
“Okay, but I’m choosing what we eat and what we watch.” He looked ready to counter but thought better of it.
“Deal.”
…
The next morning, you woke up tucked into your bed, pale yellow sunshine warming your face. You didn’t remember falling asleep in your room. You searched through memories of the night before. You had showered, like Rafael said and changed into one of your nicer pairs of pyjamas, wanting to make a bit of effort. When you re-entered the main room, he was sprawled out on your sofa, a pizza box sitting untouched on the coffee table. You remembered eating with him, eventually curling into his side as you watched trash TV, his fingers combing through your hair. You figured you must have fallen asleep there and he carried you to your bedroom, ever the gentleman. You wondered if he was still in the apartment, but you didn’t need to go searching because the answer lay in a folded-up piece of paper, tucked neatly under a glass of water. His neat handwriting read:
(Y/n) I didn’t want to overstay my welcome, so I’ve headed back home. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to take you for lunch? We have a lot to talk about. Message me, if you’d like to. All my best, Rafael.
You threw yourself back down onto your pillows, unable to fight the grin, splitting your face or the butterflies dancing in your stomach.
Hello everyone! First time writing anything that is not Ash Williams centered, so we'll see how this goes. I've been watching SVU for years now and I absolutely love Rafael Barba. (honestly I love anything Raul Esparza is in) I have the second chapter in the works, but it'll be slow to update due to my work schedule. Enjoy!!
Being in a relationship with Rafael was easy, especially since you worked at the hospital and him as an A.D.A. But what happens when his lover starts to be threatened by a serial stalker? What happens when she keeps this secret until it’s too late? And what happens when Rafael is forced to put his relationship in the spotlight?
word count: 3,346
The 16th precinct was in a lull for once, officers walking around the bullpen going from place to place, keeping up on their duties. Carisi sat at his desk, mulling over paperwork as a young blond man wearing dark green scrubs walks in, a nervous look on his face.
“Excuse me?” The man asked, catching Carisi’s attention. The detective looked up from his work.
“Yeah, how can I help?” The man stepped forward to the detectives desk.
“This is SVU, right? I looked at the plaque but I wanna make sure..” he trailed off as Rollins looked over at him quickly before resuming her work.
“Yeah it is, you got a crime to report?”
“Not yet, but I’m afraid if I don’t do something it can lead to one.” Carisi furrowed his brows before gesturing the man to take a seat next to his desk, gathering up his notepad and pen.
“Tell me what’s going on? And whats your name, kid?” The blond took a seat, raking his fingers through his hair.
“It’s my boss, well more like my friend, but I think she’s in trouble.” He took a pause, “my names Andy, Andy Novak.”
“And what sort of trouble is your friend in?”
“It’s, well it’s a sort of long story. She does shifts in our psych ward three times a week, and this guy was a patient for over a year. He had a real knack for her, only ever wanting to listen to her, giving her compliments and all.” Andy spoke, picking at his fingernails.
“Not to stop you, Andy.” Carisi started, “but I’m not seeing as how this is a sex crime.” Andy took a breath before leveling his gaze.
“I’m getting to it, I told you it’s a long story. Anyways, he got released a few months ago and he keeps showing up at the ER where we work mainly. And again, only ever wanting my friend.” Again, Carisi stopped him.
“This friend of yours have a name?” That’s when Andy stopped talking, biting his lip in contemplation.
“That’s the thing, she doesn’t know I’m here.” Before Carisi could say anything, Andy continued. “I know, I know! I talked to her so many times about this, but she insists that can handle this, that’s it’s nothing but a schizophrenic man with delusions.”
“Listen, all we wanna do is talk to her, get her side of the story and see if she wants to file herself.”
“You have to listen to me, she won’t. This guy, he has pictures of her! He waits outside the hospital and takes photos of her. I’ve seen him follow her home before.”
“And has she had any reservations about this?” Andy sighed, pulling at his hair some.
“She doesn’t see anything bad about this, she just brushes it off and says that it happens with the job and to let it slide.” Carisi stood up from his desk, clearing his throat.
“Listen, we’ll take a look, okay? I understand if your friend isn’t willing about coming forward herself. How about this. You give us her first name and the guys full name, and we’ll look into it.” Andy stood up as well, nodding some, producing a folder from his messenger bag.
“I figured that at best.” He gave a folder to Carisi. “This is the guys information and my friends name and picture. Please..I don’t wanna see her get hurt.” Carisi nodded and took the folder, placing it on his desk.
“I’ll see what we can do, okay?” Andy nodded before taking his leave.
Carisi sat back at his desk, opening the folder and leading through it.
“Hey Rollins, come take a look at this.” Rollins looked up from her computer.
“What you got?”
“Just come take a look.” Rollins suppressed an eye roll before she stood up and made her way to his desk, leaning over his side, scanning her eyes over the papers.
“This man sounds like a nutcase.” Rollins started, “diagnosed with schizophrenia at 13, killed his parents at 15 and was sent to a psychiatric hospital based on his mental state.” She looked over at Carisi. “Is this what that guy was talking to you about?” Carisi gave a nod, leaning back in his chair.
“Not sure what we can do about it though, technically she never made a complaint.”
“Can’t hurt to follow up, make sure everything is okay.” Rollins stood up, making her way back to her desk. “Get clearance from Liv and let her make that call.”
“You got it.” Carisi gathered the files and his notepad, making his way to Olivia’s office.
The ER was busy as ever, the constant flow of people kept (y/n)on her feet with no break in sight. Her back was aching, but that was furthest from her mind as she saw one of the receptionists leading two officers to her. She thought nothing of it and kept monitoring her patients. The clearing of a throat broke her train of concentration.
“(Y/n) Koval?” A man spoke, and she turned around to face the two officers she saw entering.
“Yes? Can I help you two?” The shorter of the two spoke up.
“I’m Detective Amanda Rollins and this is my partner Dominick Carisi.”
“We need to ask you a few questions. You have a minute?” (Y/n) glanced around at the busy ER.
“Not really, but if it’s important I can get another nurse down here.”
“Thank you.” Carisi nodded and stepped back with Rollins as (Y/N) made her way to a phone on the wall and made a call. It took a few moments before she can walking back to the two.
“Is this a private matter.” She asked cautiously.
“I’m afraid it is, is there somewhere more quieter we can talk?” She nodded and led the two to an on call room and shut the door behind them.
“Did something happen?” She took a seat on one of the beds, folding her hands in her lap. Rollins and Carisi took a seat across from her on another bed.
“Do you know someone by the name of Dylan Anderson?” Rollins spoke first.
“I do, yes. He was a patient in our psych ward last year.” She paused. “Is this about him?”
“We have a complaint, on your behalf, that he’s been stalking you for over six months.” Rollins continued. (Y/N) heaved a small sigh, shaking her head some.
“Listen, it’s really not what you think. He has schizophrenia, and sometimes he can get too into his head. He’s no harm at all.”
“Well.” Carisi started, “someone thinks that he is harmful, to you at least.” She sighed, leaning back some.
“I can handle myself, thank you Detectives. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”
“Well maybe you can actually. Are you in a relationship by chance? Anyone you’re close with that this guy can potentially go after?” Rollins asked and (Y/N) held back a small laugh.
“Listen, not that it’s any of your business, but I’m in a committed relationship. And trust me, Dylan won’t go after him, he can take care of himself just fine.”
“Can we have his name?” Carisi asked and she was quick to shake her head.
“He has a higher profile job, he doesn’t want our relationship to affect his work. And I’m completely fine with that.” She stood up. “Are we done here? Not to rush you out, but I have a busy ER and we’re understaffed as it is.”
“We understand, sorry for the inconvenience.” Rollins stood up and motioned Carisi to be quiet as he went to speak. “Take care of yourself.” (Y/N) left the room and the two shared a look.
Rollins and Carisi walked back into the precinct, talking over the conversation they had with (Y/N).
“I just don’t get it”, Rollins started “if she knows about his past, why wouldn’t she at least be more helpful? At least file her own complaint.” Carisi nodded along, stopping at the door.
“Maybe she actually believes he’s of no harm to her. I mean, she didn’t even seem concerned.”
“I still don’t get it, though. And the whole relationship thing? Kind of seems like she was lying there.” Carisi gave her a look.
“What makes you think that?”
“No girl wants to be hidden in the shadows, especially in a committed relationship like she said so. So, she’s either lying or the relationship isn’t as committed as she thinks.” The two made their way back into the bullpen, heading towards Olivia’s office to report their findings. Rollins knocked on the door and let herself in, Carisi right behind her. As they entered, they found A.D.A Rafael Barba sitting across from her at Olivia’s desk.
“Rollins, Carisi.” Olivia greeted, nodding to the two. “Howd everything go at the hospital?”
“Not well.” Rollins started, “(Y/N) the nurse, that Andy was worried about, was of no help. She believes that the guy is of no harm to her and can handle herself.” Olivia gave a sigh.
“Well there’s not much we can do there, then.” She paused before continuing. “Have your reports typed up by the end of the day.”
“That’s it? We aren’t gonna talk to the guy, Dylan Anderson?” Carisi spoke up, concern on his face. Olivia gave him a pointed look.
“If this guy is schizophrenic, then his word may not be good.”
“May I ask what this is about?” Barba spoke up, curiosity piquing.
“This nurse is currently being stalked by a prior psych ward patient for over six months, and she believes that he’s no harm.” Carisi spoke up.
“And,” continued Rollins, “her friend slash coworker filed the report, not herself. He really thinks that she’s in trouble and tie guy is dangerous.” Barba nodded in thought, his brows pinching together.
“Talk to the ex patient, see what his standpoint is.” Before Olivia could intervene, he continued. “And if he sounds competent, bring him in. We could have a case here.”
“Even without her filing a complaint?” Rollins raised a brow, arms crossed. “I know you’re the attorney and all, Barba, but this seems pretty useless to me.”
“Won’t be useless if she winds up dead.” He deadpanned, inclining his head to the side some. He stood up, fixing his suit and left the office.
“Well?” Carisi looked at Olivia, “we good to talk to this guy or what?” Olivia thought for a moment and sighed, nodding her head.
“Go, and if he says anything damming bring him in.” The two detectives took their leave, heading back on the streets.
Based on the reports and prior addressed listing Dylan Anderson, the two detectives found themselves standing in front of a shotty, run down apartment complex on the lower side of New York. Carisi was the first to enter the building, taking note of the broken elevator and the dingy interior. No one sat behind the desk and a small fan was buzzing annoyingly on said desk.
“What apartment does he live in?” Carisi asked, looking up the stairs.
“4d.” Replied Rollins, less than enthusiastically. Carisi heaved a sigh before shaking his head, making his way up the stairs with Rollins trailing close behind him.
“What do you think this guys deal is?” Carisi called out behind him.
“No idea, maybe (Y/N) was the first person to show him compassion or kindness and he took it as something else.” Carisi hummed in thought.
“Maybe. Honestly I don’t really know what to make of it all.”
“Guess we won’t know until we see and talk to this guy.”
A few more flights of rickety stairs the duo arrived at apartment 4d. Carisi knocked on the door firmly three times and waited for an answer. Some shuffling could be heard from inside as the door clicked open and a chubby cheeked young adult peeked through the slightly cracked door.
“Hello? Can I help you?” The man spoke in a soft manner, a slight rasp to his words.
“Hey there, we’re from the NYPD. Got a complaint and just checking off our boxes.” Carisi spoke, a tight lipped smile adorning his features. Rollins stood slightly behind him, gauging the man’s reaction. “You are Dylan Anderson, yeah.”
The man nodded, “yes, I am..” he paused. “What complaints are you talking about? I haven’t done anything to nobody.”
“While that may be true, we just have to check, get your side of the story.” Rollins spoke up and the man’s blue eyes shifted to her quickly, looking her up and down in a way that sent shivers up Rollins back. The man had bright blue eyes, but there was a dullness behind them that made Rollins uneasy.
“We just had a few questions about a woman (Y/N) Koval. She’s a registered nurse over at Mercy.” As Carisi said her name, Dylan’s eyes went slightly wide, a small spark coming to light.
“Oh I know who she is, I know her very well.”
“How well do you know her.” Rollins pressed on, flipping open her notepad and jotting down notes.
“She’s my girlfriend.” He spoke with such a casual tone that it caught the duo off guard.
“You two are together? She didn’t mention that part.” Carisi said, confusion lining his words.
“Well of course she didn’t, technically she’s not supposed to date me because I was a patient under her care.” He continued, opening the door more. Rollins casually looked into his apartment and saw the living space to be very clean with a few scatterings of magazines, books and photo albums lying on the coffee table and floor. “But she couldn’t resist, we’ve been together for two years now.” He sighed wistfully. Carisi glanced at Rollins briefly, not believing this guys story.
“Well if you don’t mind, we’d like to come inside and talk more privately.” Carisi said and Dylan hesitated for a moment before nodding, opening the door more and letting the detectives in. The two walked in and Rollins continued her observation of the small apartment, noticing how there were pictures hung up all over the place of (Y/N), but none of them had the two together. It was only (Y/N).
“What else would you like to know?” Dylan asked, sitting down on the couch and gesturing for the two to take a seat on the two armchairs. Carisi sat down while Rollins declined, instead she kept looking over at the pictures.
“For someone in a two year relationship, you guys don’t have any pictures together, why is that?” She asked, looking over at him. Dylan narrowed his eyes slightly before smiling some.
“She’s very busy, you know? I’ll take whatever pictures I can get of her. With or without me in them.” Dylan said, a bit too smugly for her liking.
“Anyways.” Carisi started, giving Rollins a look. “We’d just like to know why someone would report that you’re stalking Miss. Koval?”
“Well that’s easy; jealously.” Dylan said confidently. “Whoever accused me of that is obviously jealous of our relationship.” He crossed his arms and lent back into the cushions.
“Right.” Carisi stated.
“What? You don’t believe me?” Dylan became defensive, leaning forward now and glaring at Carisi. He held his hands up defensively.
“I’m not saying that, Mr. Anderson. I’m just trying to figure out both sides.” Dylan stood up to his full height, easily towering over Carisi as he also stood up.
“I’d like you two to leave now. I don’t like your questions.” Rollins immediately came over to Carisi’s side, the tone of Dylan’s voice concerning her.
“You’re right, we’re sorry to bother you about this, Mr. Anderson.” Rollins quickly blurted out and left with Carisi, Dylan following after them and slamming the door closed.
“He seemed a little defensive about their ‘relationship’.” Rollins stated as they made their way back down the stairs.
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
“Well let’s head back and let Liv know.” Rollins said, slipping her notepad into her pocket.
Back at the precinct, Rollins and Carisi stood across from Benson in her office.
“So what I’m hearing is that this guy believes he’s in a relationship with Ms. Koval? And has multiple photos of her alone all over the apartment?” Benson said, glasses off, chewing on the end of the arm in thought.
“You should’ve seen him, he became so defensive when we told him that someone believes he’s stalking her.” Rollins said. “Like he couldn’t believe that someone would accuse him of that.”
“And you said that her partner holds a high profile position. Could she be lying to hide the fact that she’s with a prior patient?”
“I don’t know, Liv. The bracelet that (Y/N) had on was an expensive brand, not something that Dylan could afford looking at his housing situation. Not to mention she had a matching necklace.” Rollins continued.
“Maybe Liv is right.” Carisi interrupted, causing Rollins to shoot him an incredulous look.
“Do you hear yourself? There’s no way that type of woman is with that man.”
“Alright let’s settle down.” Benson spoke up, standing up from her desk and putting her glasses back on. “Talk to the friend again, who filed the complaint on her behalf and see what he knows about Ms. Koval’s partner.” At that, Benson dismissed her two detectives and they went back to the hospital to ask questions to Andy Novak.
The end of the day drew nearer than anybody else thought. Rollins and Carisi spent their day asking questions to Mr. Novak and other co workers who knew Ms. Koval on a more personal level and they were no more closer to finding out anything about Ms. Kovals personal life than the initial complaint filed. Rollins sat down at her desk, exhausted at all the questions asked and no viable answer given. She leaned back in her chair, rubbing her face. Carisi was in no better shape, wheeling his chair over to her desk to sit closer.
“What a shit show. How can you work with someone and not know anything about their life?” Carisi said aloud, not expecting Rollins to answer.
“Look at Barba. We’ve been working with him for almost two years and we barely know anything about him.”
“Yeah.” He scoffed. “As if that man actually has a personal life. I swear he lives in that office.” Rollins let out a chuckle at that, her smile contagious to Carisi who smiled back earnestly. Speaking of said man, Barba walked into the precinct, heading towards Bensons office but stopped as he saw the duo at Rollins desk.
“Hey.” He nodded. “Any leads on that guy, Dylan?”
“No, but the woman who he’s supposedly stalking tells no one about her personal life. So we have no idea if he’s telling the truth.” Carisi said, a tired expression on his face.
“Sounds frustrating. Did you try talking with the woman again?”
“(Y/N) Koval?” Rollins raised an eyebrow, giving an eye roll. “She’s not giving us anything, she’s one of the most unhelpful persons I’ve ever questioned.” At the name, Barba tensed slightly. It would’ve been unnoticed by anyone but to the detectives, it didn’t go by unseen.
“Maybe it’s a loss cause.” He said flatly, continuing his way to Bensons office. As soon as he left the bullpen, Rollins turned to Carisi.
“Did you see that?”
“See what?” Rollins rolled her eyes and slapped his arm.
“When I said her name, he had a reaction. Like he knows this girl.”
“Oh come on, Rollins, you’re reading too much into it.”
“I may be, but something is not right with this situation.” On that note, Carisi packed up his things and headed out for the evening, leaving Rollins at her desk and the few officers still there.
'When the NYPD fails to act in multiple SA cases, journalist!reader is there to investigate, but when the assaults become murder, (y/n) is faced with a dilemma and her path crosses with the SVU squad and ADA Barba who is less than happy with her involvement'
AN: Here's chapter 2, be warned it's a long one! As usual, any feedback would be greatly appreciated, happy reading :)
TW: Mentions of r*pe, spiking, smoking, strong language
Previous part
Chapter 2
Rafael Barba had already run out of patience for the day. His cell had been buzzing non-stop with calls and emails, the DA already breathing down his neck about this new case, barely thirty-six hours old. He understood, of course that the reason for this was because of the victim, or rather, the victim’s mother’s connection to the mayor’s office, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. In fact, he found the pressure being put on him and his detectives to be wholly aggravating. He pushed back bitter thoughts about double standards and irony in sex crime prosecutions and tried to focus on the day ahead.
The heels of his polished dress shoes clicked against the sidewalk as he made his way to the 16th precinct. Sweat gathered on his forehead, despite the summer month the sky was overcast, a swell of bruised clouds threatened to spill over with rain. The air was thick and clammy – fitting weather for his mood. As he turned the corner, he recognised two familiar faces. Detective Sonny Carisi, a recent transfer (and a walking stereotype) and Detective Nick Amaro, a hot-headed HR disaster of a person. ‘As if this day could get any worse’ he mused to himself.
“Hey Counsellor!” Carisi called out, his jolly demeaner only serving to make Rafael more despondent. Amaro nodded but said nothing.
“Glad to see you working hard on this case Detectives” he said, his words dripping in sarcasm. Carisi’s smile fell, Amaro scoffed.
“Really Barba? Some of us didn’t get to go home to our fancy appartement for our beauty sleep, okay? So, save it, we’re doing what we can with what we have. Nice of you to finally show up though.” He snapped back. Rafael felt a hot flush creeping up his neck. Now was not the time to start a fight, no matter how sour his mood.
“And what do you have exactly? The DA wants answers ASAP.”
“Well actually, we got something that might be interesting.” Carisi chimed in, Rafael quirked an eyebrow in his direction. “Yeah, Sarge was gonna call you any second. She wants you to sit in.”
“A journalist.” Nick added. ‘Amazing’ Rafael thought to himself. Journalists, one of his least favourite groups of people. Always there, twisting facts into sensationalist stories. Anything to make money. He loathed the swarm of them that would linger on the courthouse steps, waiting like vultures for their next fix.
“A journalist?”
“Yeah, she called last night, said she had information.” Nick replied.
“Right. And what information did she have exactly?”
“Well, that’s just it, we don’t know, whatever it is she wouldn’t say over the phone. She seemed… Reluctant. She’s supposed to be here soon, so I guess we’ll find out then.” He shrugged, looking up and down the street, his gaze stopping suddenly. Rafael and Carisi both turned their heads in the direction he was staring.
“You think that’s her?” Carisi asked.
Over the road, a little up the way, a young woman was stood alone. She looked to be in her late twenties, her hair was loose around her shoulders and her expression looked drawn, nervous almost. On her shoulder was a tote bag which looked full to the brim with files and papers. She took a drag of a cigarette as she stared at the entrance to the 16th precinct. Her face was a warzone of emotions. Whoever she was, she was certainly conflicted about something.
…
You had barely slept. Normally, you could at least salvage three or four hours a night. But sleep had evaded you completely that evening. You felt sick to your stomach, experiencing the full range of human emotion. Guilt, for betraying the victims. Anger, that it was necessary. Sadness, at the suffering of these women. Determination, in finding justice. The list went on. You couldn’t shake the picture of Gemma out of your mind. Your skin prickled in the heat, sweat beading on your skin. You sat up in bed, breathing heavily, wanting to scream or hit something or throw up. Instead, you pulled on a pair of shorts, rifled through your draw until you found what you wanted and headed to the fire escape.
You knew smoking was a terrible habit, something you only indulged in when drunk and partying in college. And then when the partying died down and drinking was something you did at home, alone, something you only indulged in when the stress of life became too much. But you needed to relax. There was no backing down now. You’d given the police officer on the phone your name, they had your number, and you were scheduled to speak to a detective at 10am the next morning.
The metal steps were warm underneath you; smoke swirled around you. ‘This is the right thing to do’ you told yourself over and over, as if hearing it enough times would soothe the tension in your heart. You sat for hours, until the sky brightened from black to an angry purple and then forced yourself to stand, head back inside and prepare yourself.
…
At 9:45am, you had made it to the address Valerie had given to you. You could feel your legs trembling as you stared at the entrance just across the street from you. The air was charged, anxiety was swelling up again, bursting at the seams, your stomach ached violently. You had lit up again, trying desperately to calm yourself and thinking bitterly that the girls would never forgive you for this, that you were victimising them all over again; but justice was never black and white, and the burden of responsibility was a heavy weight to carry. You took a long drag and then, steeling yourself, placed one foot in front of the other until you were at the steps.
“(y/f/n)?” A voice called out to you abruptly. You turned, finding the voices owner, a tall man, well built with deep brown eyes. A police badge was resting on his hip. There was absolutely no turning back now.
“That’s me.” You said, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. He tilted his head slightly as you stared each other down. Two other men stood either side of him. A lanky man with a puppyish expression and severely gelled hair and a shorter man, dressed in a well-tailored three-piece suit. “Do the SVU always have a welcoming party like this, or am I just special?” You blurted out, fighting the shrinking feeling you had as they moved closer to you. Gelled hair snorted at that and reached out a hand, which you took, trying to keep a firm grip.
“I’m detective Carisi, but you can call me Sonny, everyone does-“
“No one calls him Sonny.” The original detective cut in. “I’m Detective Nick Amaro and this is our ADA Rafael Barba.” Three-piece suit gave you a curt nod. “Here, let us show you in.” He gestured up the stairs.
…
You were led into a wide room with multiple desks, all a mess of files and half empty coffee cups. Gemma Belmont’s face stared down on you from a white board, and you felt the anxiety, strangely, melt away. Replaced by the righteous determination that had brought you here in the first place. Detective Amaro followed your gaze and laid a hand gently on your arm.
“Did you know her?” He probed, softly, his face a plain of sympathy. You shook your head slowly. He tilted his head again and you could tell he was trying to size you up. He changed tactics. “I’ll take you to the interview room, so you can get comfortable. Do you drink coffee?”
“I’ll just take a water if that’s okay?” The last thing you needed was the jittery rush of caffeine in your system. He nodded and took you to a smaller room, just off to the side, gesturing to a chair and left to grab your drink. Before he closed the door he turned and said, “I’ll let the Sargent know you’re here, she won’t be long.” You only smiled in response.
…
No more than ten minutes passed, before the door was opening again, you turned from your research, which you had laid out in front of you to see the Detective from the news appeal, Olivia Benson and the ADA you had briefly been introduced to.
“Good morning, thankyou for coming in Miss (y/l/n).” She placed a bottle of water down in front of you and then took a seat across from you, ADA Barba took the seat in between and nodded at you again. “I’m Sargent Olivia Benson and this is ADA Rafael Barba.” She began.
“We’ve already met.” You cut in, she nodded, sizing you up in the way Amara had. ‘Maybe it’s a detective thing’ you mused.
“Let’s cut to the chase.” Barba started, already looking bored. You felt a flicker of displeasure, you were here trying to help, the least he could do was pretend to be interested, right? Detective Benson shot him a look, as if telling him to play nice.
“You told one of our officers that you had information about Gemma Belmont?” She said, eyeing the papers on the table. You sighed, searching for the words.
“Not about Gemma exactly…” ADA Barba rolled his eyes, the frustration radiating off him was palpable, stoking the flicker into a flame. “Look, this was a mistake, clearly you aren’t interested in what I have to say, I’m sorry I wasted your time.” You snapped, glaring at him. You pushed your chair back and made to rise before Detective Benson threw her hands up in surrender.
“Please, we do want to speak with you. I apologise for my colleague; it’s been a very stressful couple of days. Barba, outside please?” They both stood, heading for the door, “We’ll just be a moment, please just hang on.” She pleaded; you folded your arms and looked down at the research in front of you. Why did you think trusting the NYPD was a good idea? Just as you were starting to gather up the files in front of you, Detectives Benson and Amaro re-entered, you paused, looking up at them.
Benson sighed, “I’m really sorry about that.” She smiled apologetically and sat facing you again, “Why don’t we start over?”
…
You sat with them for three hours, explaining in detail what you knew. Eleven victims in total, all assaulted with the same MO. You laid out victim statements, six of them had rape kits done, including the first two which showed no evidence of drugs in their systems, but they swore that they must have been drugged – your working theory was that it was probably something like DMT or perhaps a new drug circulating on the streets. You had made up a timeline of events, mapped out every location in which the assaults happened, nine of which happened in the meat packing district. One bar in particular seemed to be a hotspot you explained, with three of the assaults taking place in a bar called the Lucky Cat.
“Help me understand.” Amaro asked at one point, “Why is a journalist all of a sudden moonlighting as a private investigator?” You met his eyes and sighed.
“First of all, I’m an investigative journalist, freelance. Second, I originally looked into this as a story on NYPD incompetence or ignorance, or both I guess.” Olivia’s eyebrows shot up. “The first two victims, Bailey Teller and Lianne Saft, my source told me how they were turned away. It’s no secret that reporting a rape is an uphill battle, it’s pretty much the only crime were the victim has the burden of proving that it actually happened.” She smiled then and shot her partner a look.
“Well, you’re not wrong about that, but why didn’t you come forward sooner?” You couldn’t meet her eyes, the familiar nausea rearing its ugly head. You felt the warmth reaching your cheeks. “They don’t know that you’re here, do they?” Benson shuffled about with the papers as she stared you down.
“I tried…” You started, “But these girls… What’s worse do you think? The assault or being blamed for it after? They don’t trust the police and I don’t blame them, hell, I’m not even a victim and I don’t trust you. But when I heard about Gemma…” She reached a hand out and placed it on top of your own.
“You’re doing the right thing, thankyou for bringing this to our attention, if you’ll just excuse us for a moment.” Benson and Amaro stood and left the room, you let out a shaky breath.
…
When she came back to the room, the ADA was with her again, his expression was less bored now though. Replaced by something else, which you couldn’t put your finger on. Respect maybe?
“Miss (y/l/n), thankyou for bringing this information to our attention. You have done a valuable service to the city; it’s in the DA’s interest to open an official investigation.” He offered you a stern smile. “We’ll need everything you’ve compiled and the contact information of all the alleged victims.” You nodded, taking the pen and paper, he offered you and began writing. Benson started gathering up all your research. You handed the paper to her and stood.
“So what happens now?” You asked.
“We’ll be in touch if we need anything else.” She replied, offering you another smile but your expression had dropped.
“What? So that’s it?” Your temper was rising. Benson was at a loss for words, Barba on the other hand had turned on you and was frowning.
“Yes? Is there a problem?” You stood up straighter.
“Yes, there’s a problem!” You snapped, “You need to keep me in the loop.” He scoffed at you.
“This is official police business now, we thank you for your work but what did you expect? That you could tag along as part of this investigation? You’re just a journalist.” You folded your arms across your chest protectively. Fucking NYPD.
“These women trust me! You would never have known about this without me, I’ve spent months-“
“Miss (y/l/n), this doesn’t concern you anymore, let us do our job.” You laughed bitterly.
“None of this would’ve happened in the first place if you just ‘did your job’ right in the first place!” You snatched up your tote bag from were it sat on the floor and pushed past him, papers fluttering in your wake. People’s heads shot up as you stormed out of the building, muttering expletives under your breath. ADA Rafael Barba, this was New Yorks finest?
…
“Well, she’s a ray of sunshine.” Rafael tsked, watching you march out of the precinct. Olivia sighed.
“Would it hurt you to not be an asshole for once?” He turned and grinned at her.
“Me? An asshole? You’re too kind.” She rolled her eyes in response.
Rafael glanced over the papers she was organising. He had to admit he was surprised at what you’d brought to them. He watched intermittently as you explained everything. He felt a slight twinge of guilt at passing you off so quickly, for underestimating you. He’d assumed you were just another shark, circling for blood but you had strong empathy for the victims, and you were clearly intelligent. He felt a grudging respect for you and then frustration. You were a bleeding heart, and he had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time he’d face off with you.
'When the NYPD fails to act in multiple SA cases, journalist!reader is there to investigate, but when the assaults become murder, (y/n) is faced with a dilemma and her path crosses with the SVU squad and ADA Barba who is less than happy with her involvement'
AN: I haven't wrote fan fiction or anything really in a long time but this idea has been itching away at me so I thought I'd give it a go. This is part 1 to a multiple part series and it's going to be angsty, slow burn etc. Rafael will get introduced in the next part. If you read I'd love to know what you think!
TW: Mentions of R*pe, Spiking, De*th, Strong language, Alcohol
Chapter 1
In a cramped apartment tucked away in East Harlem, you slept fitfully. The faint glow of the muted tv bathed the room, the AC rattling in a losing battle with the oppressive July heat. Outside, New York was gearing up for another day and it was the loud screech of a store shutter that finally jolted you awake. You exhaled slowly and glancing around. Your work from the night before was scattered across the floor in front of you, along with a half empty bottle of wine and the sour remnants of a Chinese takeout. Pale morning sunlight peaked under the curtains, so you had slept till morning at least.
With exhaustion still clawing at your brain, you rose, and tip toed over the mess to get to the bathroom. You were vaguely aware that you needed to shower, have a coffee, some attempt at normalcy before allowing yourself to surrender once again to the onslaught of your latest project – a journalistic investigation into a series of rapes committed in various nightclubs across the borough, that the NYPD refused to take seriously. A project that was slowly driving you insane.
…
Freshly showered with a steaming mug in your hands, your head shot up as your cell began to ring. You had barely answered when a familiar voice started talking.
“I’ve got something for you. Thought you’d like to know before it hits the news, I’m outside”
“Good morning to you too”
“Sorry, I know it’s early, but this is major. Look, I can’t hang around long, do you want to hear it or not?”
You were already stumbling into a pair of yoga pants and sneakers, “Give me two minutes”
…
Leaning against the wall of your building, a women stood waiting, two to go coffee cups in her hands. Valerie, a petite brunette in her mid-thirties who worked administration for one of the local NYPD precincts. But she had also become a reliable source, in fact, she was the person who had opened this case up to you in the first place. She handed one of the cups to you.
“Walk and talk?” Valerie asked, glancing around.
“Yeah, lead the way”
“How are you doing? You look… tired.” Her eyebrows knitted together in concern as she glanced over at you.
“Never better”
“(y/n) if this case is getting too much… You don’t need to do this” you sighed, tucked your still damp hair behind your ear.
“Someone needs to, being tired is nothing, I’m giving these girls something at least, it’s more than what your lot are doing anyway.” You retorted, feeling the familiar twist in your gut at the thought of the nearly a dozen girls who you’d spoken to, who had experienced possibly the worst night of their lives, only to be revictimized by the ignorance of the police sworn to protect them in the first place. Valerie held up her hands in mock surrender.
“Sorry, I’m just… I never thought this would get so out of hand.”
“ I know you didn’t come all the way to my place for a welfare check” You cut in, “What’s this major development you needed to tell me of at half 7 in the morning?” The pair of you had walked into central park and it was here Valerie stopped, sitting on a bench tucked into a corner. You sat beside her, letting the sunlight kiss your face. She was quiet for a moment, as a dog walker passed by.
“It was bound to happen.” She started weakly; you didn’t interrupt. “If your theory is right, that this isn’t some coincidence… They found a girl this morning, just turned 21.” She paused again and you could feel the bile rising in your throat. “She was spiked and assaulted, but something went wrong, bad reaction to whatever she was drugged with, I think. I don’t know too much, they’ve closed ranks, no information in or out. Apart from this. I heard her mom works in the mayor’s office and that the case is being taken over by SVU, top priority.”
“I don’t understand,” you looked over at her, “why are you telling me this? It’s being investigated, you came to tell me the police are doing their jobs for once?”
“No, I came to ask you to speak to them.” You let out a sharp exhale.
“Excuse me?” You could feel the heat rising in your face.
“These guys are different! They specialise in these cases (y/n), look you and me both know that there is something bigger going on here, whoever this guy is, he’s going to keep doing this until he’s stopped, with all the stuff you’ve found, he could go away for a long time, for the rest of his life!”
You tried to calm your breathing. You knew she was right. When Valerie had first reached out to you there had only been two women, spiked (with an untraceable drug) and then raped. Both had been turned away from the police, who’d assumed that it was morning after regret. Exacerbated by the lack of physical evidence and the girls (understandably) spotty memory. But their statements had been similar, so similar in fact that it was suspicious, to Valerie at least and then to you. So, you reached out, held their hands as they recounted what had happened to them, wiped their tears when it became too much. Two girls became three, then six, then eleven. All failed by their local precincts. At first, you’d thought it might be a coincidence, something to be said about rape culture in general, but over time your theory had changed, with an ever-growing concern that there was potentially a serial rapist working the club scene in Manhattan. Of course, at that point you had wanted to go to the police, they would ignore individual cases but how could they ignore this? But the women were reluctant, they were trying to move on, left to navigate the trauma of being assaulted and then swept to the side. So, you had kept your cards close to your chest, unwilling to break their trust in you.
“You know I can’t do that; it would be a betrayal.” You finally replied, quietly.
“A woman has died (y/n). I can’t imagine the pain they must be going through, but this has gone too far. At least think about it, please? Here” She took out a diary and scribbled down an address and a phone number. “They work out of the 16th precinct, I know the NYPD has a lot to answer for, why do you think I came to you in the first place? If it didn’t mean I’d lose my job, I’d do it myself... Look, I gotta go, see your around (y/n)” You watched her back as she walked away from you, the needling pressure of a headache pressing at your temples.
…
Back at your apartment, later that evening, you settled down on your couch. The room smelled fresh, and a light breeze came in through the window. Valerie has been right about one thing; you were so tired. So, when you returned from your rendezvous you had resolved to put the case out of your mind or at least try to for the day. You had been free falling in the darkness of it all, sleeping poorly, surviving off instant ramen, caffeine and pure willpower.
You had taken the time to organise your research, cleaned away the trash and dirty laundry, filled your sad little fridge with actual fruit and vegetables. Your spirits were slightly raised, even if your earlier conversation with Valerie kept repeating in the back of your mind. You mindlessly channel surfed looking for something to properly distract you when you landed on the news at six. You were about to click away when the screen shifted, and a picture of a young woman appeared on the screen.
“ In other news, a twenty-one-year-old woman was found deceased during the early hours of the morning. The victim who has been named as Gemma Belmont was found near popular nightclub ‘The velvet room’ in the meat packing district, where she was reported to be celebrating her 21st birthday. Her mother, Louise Belmont, an assistant at the mayor’s office is campaigning with Manhattan’s Special Victims Unit for any information the public may have about Gemma and the events leading up to her death. We go now to our special correspondent Jeff Neeley.”
Your stomach dropped, her picture staring back at you. Gemma Belmont. Twenty-One. Killed for the crime of simply being a woman, in the wrong place, at the wrong time. She was smiling brilliantly in the photo, eyes twinkling, all that life snuffed out. Gone. For what? Your heart thundered and you could hear the blood rushing in your ears, the sting of unshed tears in your eyes.
“Good evening. I’m Jeff Neeley and I’m coming to you live from One police plaza, in just a moment we’ll be hearing from the victim’s mother Louise Belmont and Sargeant Olivia Benson of the Manhattan Special Victims Unit, in fact I think it’s starting now.” The camera panned to the stage, an older woman, with grey streaked hair and wretched expression shuffled up to the lectern closely followed by another women, younger with brown shoulder length hair and a badge clipped to her belt. She held a reassuring hand on the shoulder of her senior and began speaking.
“Good evening, everybody, I’m Sargeant Olivia Benson and I’m the lead investigator on this case. As you all know, Gemma Belmont, a bright young woman was unfortunately found deceased in the early hours of the morning. We are treating this death as suspicious and we are appealing to the public, please, if you were in and around the area of ‘the velvet room’ nightclub last night and have any information, to come forward.” At that moment, Mrs Belmont began sobbing hysterically, clinging to the Sargeant for support. You couldn’t watch any longer, frantically reaching for the remote. Your tear-streaked face stared back at you from the now dark screen.
“FUCK” You shouted, throwing the controller across the room. Your eyes travelled to the stack of folders sat on the table in the corner of the room. Perched neatly on top was the scrap of paper that Valerie had passed you earlier that day. You stared at it for a long time before shouting another expletive, picking up you phone and dialling. The phone rung once, twice, three times. You nearly hung up when the line clicked and a mans voice started speaking.
“Hello, this is Manhattan Special Victim’s Unit, how can I help you this evening.”
The courtroom was silent — not with peace, but with pressure. It was the kind of stillness that only came after a verbal chess match between two lawyers who knew how to push each other’s buttons and draw blood without ever stepping out of decorum.
Your heels clicked faintly on the polished floor as you stepped forward from the prosecution’s table, shoulders squared, posture regal, voice smooth as silk. “Respectfully, Your Honour,” you said with a calm laced in steel, “I’d like to remind Mr. Barba that a dramatic pause does not count as an objection.”
There was a slight rustle of papers and suppressed laughter from the gallery, but your eyes were locked on the man across the aisle — Rafael Barba. He sat, legs crossed casually, elbow resting on the arm of his chair, fingers pressed to his lips like a king amused at court.
He lowered his hand, tilted his head just enough to be insufferable, and offered a smirk that could've been patented for charm and irritation. “Only when you’re not interrupting my rhythm, Counsellor.”
“Must be easy to lose rhythm when your argument’s off-beat,” you replied sweetly, eyes narrowing just a fraction.
“Counselors,” Judge Petrovsky interjected with a long-suffering sigh. She leaned forward with that look only seasoned judges had — the one that read, You’re both brilliant, and you’re both exhausting me. “This isn’t a tango, people. Proceed.”
You inclined your head with mock humility, stepping back as if giving Rafael the floor. He gave you a slight nod in return, that unspoken acknowledgment — we’ll pick this up later.
You both had reputations. Barba was the firebrand ADA with a sharp tongue and a sharper mind — the kind who could slice through witness testimony like a scalpel. You were the strategic one, surgical with your words, careful with your emotions. If he was heat, you were control. And in that courtroom, your styles collided with sparks.
The witness fumbled under Barba’s cross, then tried to steady himself under your redirect. The jury shifted in their seats. The gallery whispered. And when closing arguments came around, you both danced that final, devastating duet. He was eloquent. You were brutal. The jury took hours to decide. The tension lingered even after the gavel struck finality.
But it wasn’t courtroom tension anymore.
No.
Something else had taken root.
The early evening air was crisp when you stepped out of the courthouse. You paused at the top of the stairs, feeling the weight of the day finally begin to slip from your shoulders. The sun was low, painting the city in streaks of gold and fire. Horns blared distantly, and the sidewalk bustled with late commuters and lingering court staff. You were reaching for your phone to call a car when a familiar voice floated up from the steps below.
“You owe me a drink.”
You turned, already smiling. Rafael Barba stood a few steps down, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve with practiced ease, the ghost of a smirk curving his lips.
“I believe I earned it, Counsellor,” he added, eyes glinting beneath the fading sunlight.
You walked down the steps to meet him, raising an eyebrow. “Earned is a generous word.”
He feigned offense, hand to his chest. “Objection. That’s slanderous.”
“Overruled,” you said, brushing past him with a playful smirk. “I let you have that one. Consider it an act of mercy.”
He chuckled, the sound deeper than his usual courtroom laugh — unguarded, real. “Mercy. Right. I should thank you then. Preferably with bourbon.”
You glanced over your shoulder at him. “The place on 7th still open?”
“Unless it’s collapsed under the weight of prosecutorial egos,” he said dryly.
You nudged him with your shoulder. “Careful, Counsellor. That almost sounded like flirting.”
He tilted his head, smile widening. “Would that be out of order?”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the grin tugging at your lips. “Come on, Barba. Let’s go before you start quoting case law at me.”
“Oh, I brought case law,” he replied smoothly, falling into step beside you. “But I thought I’d wait until the second drink.”
You snorted. “Charming.”
He gave you a sidelong glance. “So they tell me.”
The bar on 7th was the kind of place that didn’t need to advertise. Nestled between a pawn shop and a closed-down theatre with a flickering marquee, it looked unassuming from the outside. But the moment you stepped through the door, the world shifted. It was dim and warm, the air touched with the scent of old whiskey, polished wood, and the faintest trail of cologne from the man beside you.
Inside, the lighting was low, golden. Vintage sconces cast pools of light along worn brick walls. The booths were high-backed and made of old leather that groaned when you sat, and the bar itself—mahogany, rich and dark—had been polished by time and elbows, the kind of place with history layered into every groove.
Soft jazz drifted from a record player in the corner. Not a playlist. Not a DJ. A record player. Real vinyl. It suited the place. Intimate. Timeless. Quiet enough for conversation but loud enough to hide the sound of hearts picking up speed.
As you stepped inside, Barba didn’t even have to approach the counter. The bartender looked up from rinsing glasses and gave him a familiar nod.
“Regular?” the bartender asked, a dry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“I’ll take two,” Barba said, then turned to glance your way. “Neat, right?”
You nodded once, surprised but a little impressed that he remembered your preference from some office mixer two years ago—one of those tedious events you both spent in the corner dissecting appellate court rulings like it was foreplay.
You slid into a booth tucked in the back, sinking into the cool leather and exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding since you stepped out of the courthouse. With a relieved groan, you kicked off your heels beneath the table, letting your sore feet rest against the polished floor. Your blazer came off next, folded neatly and draped over the edge of the booth, revealing the sleeveless black blouse you’d worn beneath. Practical. Elegant. Tactical.
Barba joined you a moment later, setting your glass down with that same courtroom precision he used when presenting evidence—deliberate, exact. His jacket remained on, but his tie had been loosened and the first button of his shirt undone. Still composed, still sharp, but something in his posture had softened. Like he’d shed the weight of the job—if only a little.
He lifted his glass.
“To mutual respect,” you offered, voice low, the glass cool in your fingers as you tapped it to his.
“To formidable opponents,” he replied, and there it was again—that glint in his eye, a flash of something sharper than amusement. Admiration, maybe. Or interest. Possibly both.
You took a slow sip. Bourbon, rich and smooth, warmed your throat. You tilted your head as you studied him. “You mean to worthy distractions.”
He let out a soft chuckle, the kind that rumbled low in his chest. “Touché.”
The moment stretched, but it didn’t strain. There was no courtroom to impress. No judge watching. Just the two of you and the low thrum of music and the sharp scent of aged oak from the bar.
“You’re not used to being challenged,” you observed, the words falling somewhere between curiosity and flirtation.
Barba didn’t answer right away. He swirled the bourbon in his glass, gaze lingering on the amber liquid before lifting to meet yours. “I enjoy being challenged,” he said, voice slower now, heavier. “Especially when the challenger knows what she’s doing.”
You raised a brow. “Is that respect I hear, Counsellor Barba?”
He smirked—subtle, but unmistakable—as he leaned in, elbows resting on the table, fingers lightly tapping his glass.
“Please. Outside the courtroom,” he said, voice dropping just slightly, “it’s Rafael. Only colleagues call me Barba. Or Counselor.”
You tilted your head, a teasing lilt in your voice. “Oh? And what does that make me, then?”
His eyes gleamed. “Dangerously close to neither.”
You let out a quiet laugh, sipping your drink. “Careful, Rafael. That almost sounded like flirting.”
He grinned, leaning back slowly with that infuriating, self-satisfied ease. “Only almost?”
You blinked, amused. “So Rafael it is, huh?”
“You've earned it,” he replied smoothly.
“I’ll let you have it,” you countered, lips curving in a faint smile. “But if we’re keeping it fair, you can drop the ‘Counselor’ too. Y/N is fine”
He leaned in just a fraction more, head tilted, voice quiet. “Oh, but I like calling you that.”
There was a pause. Not the kind that begged to be filled, but the kind that hung, heavy and electric. You stared at each other across the small distance, and something buzzed at the edges of your skin.
You set your glass down with a quiet clink and met his gaze evenly. “Flattery? So soon?”
“It’s not flattery if it’s true.”
You considered him for a long moment. The Rafael Barba you’d heard about—the biting cross-examiner, the iron spine in court—was all real. But here, under the golden lights, with a whiskey in hand and no one to perform for, you were starting to see the edges of something more. Tired eyes that still sparkled with sharp intellect. Hands that had gestured with precision now resting, relaxed, on the table.
“You know,” he said, voice dipping lower, more intimate now, “next time we’re on opposite sides…I won’t go easy on you.”
You let that sink in. “Good,” you said finally, and your voice was just as soft. “I’d be insulted if you did.”
Barba sat back, watching you with an expression that bordered on admiration. Then, his eyes drifted toward the bar.
“Another drink?”
You tilted your head, giving him a playful look over the rim of your glass. “So tell me, Rafael… is this your strategy now? Get me tipsy and hope I let my guard down?”
He smirked, already rising to his feet with a slow, deliberate stretch. “Only if it works.”
You narrowed your eyes, amused. “Fine. But behave at the bar. No charming the bartender for extra drinks while you’re up there.”
He stood with a slow, deliberate stretch, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt and smoothing his tie with one practiced motion. “No promises, Counselor.”
“I thought we retired that title for the evening.”
“Old habits,” he said, offering you a wink before turning away.
You watched him walk to the bar, taking in the way the light cast across his shoulders, the sharp cut of his suit, the confidence in his stride. He greeted the bartender with a few quiet words, resting one hand casually against the bar as he waited.
He looked back once. Not to check on the drinks. To check on you. And your heart—traitorous, eager—skipped in response. You sat back, running your fingers lightly around the rim of your glass, a soft smile ghosting across your lips.
It started with a knock. Not the kind the plainclothes officer gave when checking in - those knocks were routine, casual, almost apologetic. This one was different. Precise. Deliberate. Two slow raps, a pause, then one softer. Like someone was saying a name they expected you to recognize.
I was still in the bathroom, letting the hot shower bleed away the unease I hadn’t admitted to Rafael, steam curling against the mirror, the rhythm of the water masking everything beyond the door.
But Rafael was in the kitchen. I’d seen him moments before, rinsing out his mug with one hand, his other resting on the counter as he stared out the window, eyes distant in that way he got when the lawyer mind took over, when he was assembling arguments no one would ever hear.
I didn’t hear the knock. Not over the water.
But he did.
Later, I would replay it in my head: the way he stilled, the way the air around him seemed to shift from ordinary to electric. The mug slipped just slightly in his hand. He set it down, reached for his phone, and checked the hallway camera. I found out all of this later: in fragments, in confessions, in the way his voice shook when he told me what happened.
The camera showed nothing. No one. That was the first red flag.
The second was me in the shower, unaware. And Alfi sleeping peacefully down the hall, his cheeks still sticky with syrup from the morning’s pancakes, his tiny limbs sprawled over Rafael’s side of the bed like he’d claimed it in his dreams.
Rafael moved to the door like a shadow. Quiet. Controlled. I imagined his fingers brushing the chain lock, the quick glance through the peephole. And then, the door opened - just a sliver. That’s when the voice came.
— Counselor - just one word. And everything in our world tilted.
Rafael told me later his breath froze in his chest. That every courtroom, every sentence, every piece of legal armor he’d ever wrapped around himself burned away in that second.
Because outside our safehouse door stood Santiago Navarro. Unarmed. Calm. Dressed in black, his coat unbuttoned, hands visible. He didn’t need a weapon. His smile was enough. Cold. Triumphant.
— You should close the door - Navarro murmured — Before the wind disturbs your family.
Rafael’s grip on the door must’ve tightened. I could feel it even now, like I’d lived it. His pulse, staccato and hot. His mind, calculating threats and exits at once.
— You have five seconds - he said, voice quiet but lethal — To disappear before the NYPD tears this block apart.
Navarro’s smile deepened, like someone humoring a child.
— If they were going to stop me, Rafael, they would have done it by now - and still, I didn’t know. Still, I was in the shower. Still, I was vulnerable.
That’s what broke Rafael. Not the threat - the proximity. The fact that Navarro was this close to me. To Alfi. To everything we had dared to call ours.
Rafael stepped out, closing the door behind him with deliberate care. Containment. Isolation.
He told the officer stationed at the end of the hall to stay put - that he would handle it. The man hesitated, clearly uneasy, but obeyed. That was the danger of Rafael Barba. Even when he was unraveling, he wore command like a second skin.
Navarro leaned against the stairwell railing, as if this were a meeting of old friends.
— You look older - he said first.
— You look smaller - Rafael didn’t blink. But That earned a smirk from Navarro.
— Prison does that.
Rafael didn’t engage. He didn’t feed Navarro the satisfaction of a shared memory.
— What do you want?
— I want you to understand something - Navarro said slowly — This isn’t about hurting your child. Not really. I’m not that kind of man.
— You lost the right to say that - Rafael replied, low and sharp — When you trafficked children like they were real estate.
Navarro waved it off, as if human suffering were an inconvenience.
— This isn’t revenge. It’s reckoning. A balance. You got out clean, Rafael. Most of us don’t.
— If you come near my son again… - Rafael's voice was like ice melting against flame.
— I already did - Navarro said casually.
That did it. Rafael stepped forward, fists clenched at his sides.
— What did you say?
— I didn’t touch him - Navarro said, hands up like a peace offering — I didn’t have to. You felt it. That helplessness. That fear. You’re a father now. You finally know what it’s like to have something to lose.
And Rafael told me: this was when he stopped feeling fear. What replaced it wasn’t calm. It was something much more dangerous: clarity.
— You built this family on broken glass. One stone shifts and the whole thing comes down - Navarro kept talking.
— You came here to threaten me?
— No. I came to offer you a deal - Rafael laughed. Cold. Joyless.
— You think I’d bargain with filth like you?
— Take your family. Leave this behind. Don’t pursue me. Don’t testify. Don’t play the hero. And in return? You disappear. No more surveillance. No more threats. Freedom - Rafael stared at him, as if he couldn’t believe the audacity of it.
— You want me to stop fighting?
— Yes - Navarro said, smug - Because deep down, you know men like me always win.
And then Rafael moved. No warning. No hesitation. He slammed Navarro against the hallway wall, his forearm across the man’s throat. There was a sound, a harsh scrape of impact. He held him there, not with brute strength, but with the fury of a man who’d already lost too much to lose again.
— I’m not the boy from twenty years ago - he said, voice low and lethal — I’m not the man who walked away from the woman he loved. And I’m not the father who hides while cowards stalk my child.
Navarro choked slightly, still smiling.
— You may be the monster behind the curtain - Rafael said, pressing harder — But I am the man who sets fire to your world and watches it burn.
— Then we’ll burn together - Navarro gasped, wheezing. Rafael released him with one final shove.
— Next time I see you - he said, straightening - You’ll be in handcuffs. Or a body bag.
Navarro adjusted his coat like nothing had happened.
— We’ll see - and then he vanished down the stairwell.
I came out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around me, still drying my hair. I saw it instantly - the way Rafael stood near the door, his hands shaking, his shoulders too tense.
— Did someone knock? - I asked. He didn’t answer right away. Something inside me turned cold. I crossed the room in two steps and pressed a hand against his chest. His heart was racing — Who was it?
His eyes found mine. And they were hollow. Wrecked.
— Navarro - he said. My stomach dropped.
— What?
— He was here - his voice was barely a whisper, like if he spoke it too loud, it would make it real again.
— Rafael…
— I let him walk away - he said, staring through me — Because I need him to believe he’s still in control.
My fingers curled into his shirt. He was shaking. I’d never seen him shake.
— I can’t lose you - he whispered. I reached up and kissed him: not gently, not sweetly. Desperately. With every ounce of fear and love I had.
— You won’t - I whispered into his lips — Not now. Not ever.
We didn’t talk much after that. There were no more arguments, no more plans. No war room strategies or legal what-ifs. Just two people clinging to each other like driftwood in a storm.
Rafael pulled me into bed like he was afraid I might vanish. His hands trembled at first, skimming my skin with reverence, with guilt. But I didn’t stop him. I didn’t want to.
We made love like people who didn’t know if there’d be a tomorrow. Like people who had run out of chances and were stealing one more anyway.
He kissed every part of me like it mattered. Like it had to. My collarbone. The inside of my wrist. The hollow of my hip. His hands moved over me like he was trying to memorize the way I felt before it could all be taken away.
— Stay with me - I whispered.
— I’m not going anywhere - his voice cracked.
At 2:11 a.m., in another part of the city, Captain Olivia Benson sat up in bed, her phone buzzing sharply beside her. A video. No audio. Just security footage. Grainy. Dark.
It showed Rafael Barba in the hallway. Navarro in front of him. The subject line read: «Tick, tick, Counselor»
Olivia’s face went still. She picked up the phone.
— Get eyes on the safehouse. Now.
Navarro wasn’t just threatening Rafael Barba. He was documenting the fall.
SYNOPSIS! — you disobey elijah’s direct order and nearly get yourself killed. he’s furious, not just because you went behind his back, but because the thought of losing you nearly broke him. now he’s going to make sure you remember who you belong to.
CONTAINS! — ( 1.7k + words of ) explicit sexual content, edging, dominant!elijah, orgasm denial, restraint, possessiveness, blood drinking, biting, dirty talk, lowercase intended!
the door slammed shut behind you with a force that shook the floor. you barely had time to turn around before elijah was on you — a blur of motion, hands gripping your arms, slamming your back against the hallway wall.
“you’re unbelievable,” he snarled, his face only inches from yours. “do you have any idea what you’ve done?” you stared up at him, breathless, caught in the storm of his fury.
“elijah—”
“no.” his grip tightened. “don’t say my name like that. not when you almost got yourself killed tonight.”
you opened your mouth, but he pressed a hand over it — not harsh, just enough to stop you. his eyes were wild, jaw clenched so hard you thought it might snap. he was still in the suit he’d worn to the “meeting” — the one you crashed by following him against his explicit order. you hadn’t known it would be an ambush. you only wanted to help. but help, in elijah’s mind, didn’t come from reckless self-sacrifice.
“i told you to stay home,” he said, voice lower now, more dangerous. “and you disobeyed me. you endangered yourself. you distracted me.”you shivered beneath him, your skin prickling with both fear and arousal.
“i’m sorry,” you whispered when he finally pulled his hand away.
he studied you, and something shifted behind those eyes. that fury didn’t fade… it simply changed shape, became something darker, more possessive, more dangerous.
“you think a simple apology will fix this?” he asked, voice velvet and ice. “no, darling. i don’t think you understand what you’ve done.” he grabbed your wrist and dragged you down the hall. you didn’t resist.
he didn’t take you to the bedroom. no. elijah was far too calculated for that tonight. he pulled you into the library, slammed the doors shut, and pushed you over the antique desk, scattering papers and books like they meant nothing. you gasped as your stomach hit the edge, his body pressing into you from behind.
“i’m going to make you feel exactly how i felt,” he whispered into your ear, hot breath making your spine arch. “helpless. furious. terrified.”
“elijah—”
“strip.”
your hands trembled, but you obeyed, peeling your clothes off slowly, aware of how his eyes raked over every inch of exposed skin. when you were bare, he stepped closer, his suit still perfectly buttoned, except for the way his tie hung loose and his sleeves were rolled to his elbows. you were vulnerable, he was devastating.
“on the desk,” he said coldly. “on your back. legs open.” you obeyed. he didn’t touch you at first, instead, he stood there and stared — eyes roaming every inch of you like a predator deciding how to devour his prey.
then he removed his jacket, slowly, deliberately, folding it over a chair like he wasn’t about to wreck you. his shirt followed, unbuttoned one by one. no rush. he was in total control, and you were aching already. when he finally stepped between your legs, he didn’t kiss you. he reached down and slid two fingers through your folds, humming in satisfaction at how wet you were. “of course,” he murmured. “you disobey me, nearly die — and this is how your body responds?” you whimpered.
he leaned down, biting your lower lip, tugging just enough to sting.
“you’re not cumming tonight until i say,” he said. “you will beg. and i might not even give it to you then.” then he dropped to his knees.
his mouth was on you in an instant — but not with mercy. he licked, sucked, teased with a maddening rhythm that sent your back arching off the desk. but every time you got close, every single time, he stopped, again and again, he brought you right to the edge, then backed away,
by the third time, you were shaking.
by the fifth, you were crying.
“please,” you gasped, voice broken. “elijah—please—”
“you’re not ready to be forgiven,” he growled, standing. his lips were slick with you, his eyes dark with need. you reached for him desperately, but he caught both your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand. the other gripped your thigh, holding you open, exposed, trembling.
“you don’t get to cum just because you want to,” he said, leaning down. “you’ll come when i decide you’ve earned it.” and then — he pushed into you.
hard. deep.
his thrusts were fast, precise, punishing. he kept your wrists pinned, your legs spread wide, his body slamming into yours with unrelenting power. but still, he didn’t let you fall over the edge. every time your moans pitched higher, your muscles tensed, your body ready to let go, he stopped,
pulled out,
left you sobbing.
your skin was flushed. your body was trembling. your core was soaked and throbbing with need, you'd never been so desperate in your life.
“please,” you cried, legs shaking. “please, elijah, i can’t—”
his voice was ragged when he spoke next, the mask of control finally slipping. “you’ll remember this next time i tell you to stay safe.”
he slammed into you again, hitting deeper than before, angle brutal and perfect. your whole body jerked. your hands clawed at his arms. you were falling apart, and he was merciless.
his mouth found your throat. “you are mine. do you understand?”
“yes,” you sobbed. “yes—elijah, please, i’m yours—just let me—”
he bit your neck, drinking from you, and then, after pulling away with a satisfied groan, he finally — finally — let go.
he thrust hard, deep, staying there, letting you feel all of him. “now,” he whispered. “cum.” you shattered. screaming his name as pleasure ripped through your body like lightning, every denied orgasm crashing down at once. your body convulsed, your nails dug into his back, your thighs locked around him.
he groaned against your neck, pumping into you a few more times before he followed, coming hard and deep with a low, primal sound.
you both collapsed. you barely felt him lift you, carry you to the couch. you were still trembling in his arms, dazed, ruined, marked. he wrapped a blanket around you, pressing his forehead to yours as your heart finally began to slow.
“i’m sorry,” you whispered. he held your face, kissed your lips, gentle now. reverent.
“don’t ever make me fear losing you again.”
“i won’t.”
“you’re mine,” he murmured again, brushing his fingers along your throat where his mouth had claimed you. and even though your body still ached, your mind was clearer than it had been in days. because in his fury, elijah had reminded you who you were.
The whirring of chopper blades jar Quinn’s exhausted body far before the rapid winds created by those blades do. The lights shining from the aircraft are blinding but she’s startled enough to hold her pistol up in front of her. SO1 Li’s head is in her lap - she’s not even sure if he’s still alive at this point.
Her hand shakes under the weight of the weapon as she squints to see her next enemy. Then, a helmet that looks much like her damaged one crosses her field of vision. The person standing in front of her is yelling at her.
“I can’t hear you! My ears!” she motions to the trail of dried blood running from both her ears. The man turns to his left and shows her the right sleeve of his shirt showing her the American Flag worn proudly on the uniform. Her savior reaches out to grab her hand, just as they’re about to touch -
"Holy shit." Quinn’s eyes shoot open as the pain meds start to wear off and she wakes up from sedation. The burning sensation crawls down her arm and across her chest like someone had lit a match under her skin.
"Hey doll, when did you join the Secret Service?" Sonny asks. He’s sitting in the chair next to her hospital bed, magazine in his lap. She also can see the tupperware that’s been placed on the table at the end of the bed, she’s sure that’s a Mrs. Carisi special she’s heard legends of.
Quinn raises her right hand to rub her face, sighing loudly; flashes of memories jump through her brain that make the pain feel like it’s intensifying. She pushes the nasal cannula further up her nose to attempt tocounteract the scent of burn pit smoke that she caught. There's a knock at the door, it's the doctor.
"Hi Ms. Brady, you gave everyone quite the scare with your heroics. I'm here to talk about your treatment moving forward."
"Okay. Sonny, give me a few minutes," the he nods and leaves the room. The doctor closes the door behind them and stands closer to her bedside. "Okay so what's up doc?"
The doctor chuckles, "Well, you were unbelievably lucky. The bullet was through and through, damage was generally mild. You'll have some PT, possibly a follow-up surgery. You'll be in a sling for 6 weeks at least. This is going to be a long journey," the doctor is curt, and readministers a new dose of pain meds.
“I can do PT, I’ve done it before,” Quinn admits.
“I know, I wasn’t able to pull any of your medical records but my request was flagged so I got a call from one of your former surgeons in Germany,” the doctor, Dr. Sarah Stein (Quinn finally was able to read her badge) admits. Quinn perks up at the mention of Germany, eyes widening. “Yes, I also spoke to your brother as well. I assured him that you are stable and we expect you to stay stable,” Quinn let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, that means Mac isn’t coming back to New York then.
“Okay, thank you Dr. Stein,” Dr. Stein smiles politely and then leaves.
Sonny walks in the door as Stein makes her way out, but he can already tell that Quinn is getting drowsy from the medications already. She slowly blinks, like her eyes are physically getting heavier and heavier.
"Amaro's down the hall, Amanda and Liv are in there with him," he informs her anyway; considering she wasn’t the only one who got shot.
"How is he?" she asks.
"He'll be okay, long recovery, but fine; same as you," he shrugs, she looks around and notices the largely vacant and sterile room. She’s fighting the effects of the drugs but can still notice that there are no flowers like you would expect to get after being in the hospital, only the bag from the Carisi household.
"No visitors from my office?" Sonny shakes his head and he watches as she basically nods off mid conversation. "You need to get some rest Quinn," he reaches forward to pull her blankets up to her chin, she nods and shimmies down in her bed to get more comfortable. She’s out as soon as she closes her eyes, Sonny quietly slips out of the room.
Rafael rushes up to him as soon as he is outside of the room, gasping slightly. “I’m here, how is she?”
“You just missed her, she got some more meds and passed out. But I think she’s fine. Well, as fine as she could be for getting shot,” Sonny says and pats his mentor on the shoulder.
Sonny could tell that Rafael had been shaken by the shooting, but what he couldn’t tell was that in the three hours since it had happened, Rafael had spent two of those hours in a boiling hot shower, methodically scrubbing any atom of Quinn from his skin. If he had a fireplace in his apartment, he would have burned the suit too.
“Hey, Nick’s mom just got here. I’m going to head home to Noah,” Liv’s voice joins the pair. “Sonny, you should go home too.”
Her eyes fall to Rafael, who stays unmoved, eyes glued to Quinn’s hospital room door. She observes how his brow is furrowed and his hands, which hang at his sides, are trembling just ever so slightly.
As the squad leaves Rafael slips into Quinn’s room and takes the seat Sonny had been sitting in when she woke up.
***
"Sonny, Quinn, come in please," Liv opens the door to her apartment, the squad and its two ADAs are celebrating Noah's official adoption, just a week after the Johnny D. trial spectacle.
"Thank you so much for having me over, I really needed to get out of the house. The DA has me on house arrest," Quinn thanks, adjusting her sling slightly across her chest, Carisi pats her shoulder slightly and leaves her to her own devices.
"Of course, I'm so glad you could make it," Liv smiles sweetly. "Drinks and snacks are in the kitchen, please make yourself at home." Quinn crosses the floor, to stumble upon Mr. Barba who is drinking from a glass of wine.
"Mr. Barba, it’s been a few weeks," she looks up to meet his green eyes,
"Ms. Brady, I’ve been busy picking up your slack,” he grunts but the playful glint in his eyes give him away. Green irises trail from her blue ones to her slinged arm. “Can I get you a drink?”
"That would be great, thank you." Barba pours her a glass of red wine and hands it to her.
"So how have you been? Since you've been out of the office?" He asks, taking in her features since it's been a few weeks. She's thinner somehow, probably from the pain medications and the hospital stay, her freckles are now even more present with her somehow paler skin. The dark circles under her eyes are only lightly apparent under her makeup. Her ginger locks are down, un-styled, due to her temporary incapacitation. And the ginger isn’t as rich, the golden hues it normally held have dulled; probably the weight loss.
"It’s been okay. The DA locked me out of my accounts so I haven't been able to work at all. Sonny's been nice enough to bring a few meals over so I don't starve," she giggles, she also does a brief inventory of her co-counsel, he's the most dressed down she's seen him yet. A polo under a sports coat is Rafael Barba's version of dressed down apparently. She had settled on a daffodil yellow, cap-sleeved dress; so she didn't have much to say about that on that front. Before Rafael can respond Liv walks by with baby Noah on her hip. The smile that is stamped on Quinn's face irradiates her being, almost instantly returning the bright golden sparkle to her red hair.
"Oh my goodness, Noah, it is so nice to finally meet you. Look at those cheeks!" Quinn's tough persona is quick to slip when she makes eye contact with the baby.
"Oh, so you like kids?" Liv asks, honestly in shock at the reaction.
“Yeah, I do,” Quinn moves her wine glass from her right hand to her slung left hand to tap the boy lightly on the nose.
“That’s nice to know at least one of our ADAs does, Barba froze the one time I asked him to hold Noah.”
“How many painkillers did you take this morning?” Barba eyes her skeptically from her side.
“Just the prescribed amount Mr. Babra; I’m not always a heartless bitch.”
Elijah Mikealson would’ve never guessed he’d be in a complete committed relationship with anyone, let alone you.
He hated you when you first met, you were everything he was. Silent, deadly and your presence enough would shut down an entire stadium.
however when you were with him, alone and in the safety of him, you were different, your age showed. You were petty, and possessive, especially when it came to him. So any time Hayley was over with hope or Klaus bought her along just to grind your gears you acted out.
Not in public, no. You’d never embarrass yourself nor Elijah like that but when you got alone that was a different story. You knew about the brief feelings he and Hayley shared, before you two started your relationship and you knew foe a fact Hayley still harbored feelings for the older mikaelson.
that’s why you were sat on the sofa, an old dusty book in your hand that your mother had read to you as an infant and Elijah across the room watching you ignore him.
it was a constant cycle you two went through. He knew you were never upset at him, just upset that his feeling belonged to her first and you still worried for the day he chose her instead.
you just needed a little reassurance “honey can you pass me the-“ “no” you cut him off not even batting an eye in his direction. Elijah sighed already dine with this game “at what point do you become mature”
this caught your attention, you slammed your book shut, dropping it onto the coffee table before you. If I wasn’t mature Hayley marshals neck would’ve been snapped the first time she made a pass at you in front of me” you hissed.
Elijah held back a smirk “this is about Hayley?” He asked, though he already knew. You rolled your eyes “it’s always about Hayley, Elijah.” You turn away from him, folding your arms.
Elijah walked to you, gently grabbing your arm and spinning you to face him, you wore a small pout under your irritation. “You know i feel nothing for Hayley” he reminds you gently.
You avoid his eyes “no i know, but i don't get why she cant take that hint. I feel like I'm constantly in a silent battle with her over you. And the only thing keeping me her alive is that being the mother of your brother who i loves child and the fact i know you care about her-“ “but i don’t love her. I love you only you for however long you allow me to” he days lifting his hand you your face, caressing your cheek. He leaned down placing a gentle kiss to your lips.
I think I wrote and re-wrote this chapter 100 times. It needs to be edited, which I will do in a day or two but I need to just get it out there so I can move on. I know where this story is going, I just fell into a major pot hole.
I hope it is acceptable. 🩷🩷
"Wait...wait...wait. So let me get this straight. Officer McKenna said she saw a gun, she initiated the shooting, she tells you she was hit and somehow YOU are the one they're trying to indict...with a hate crime attached. Do they realize the officer you were trying to protect was ALSO Black?!" The incredulity of the situation had Gia pacing her hallway while on the phone with Nick. Gia was pinching the bridge of her nose. She wasn't surprised that Ed Tucker was throwing Amaro under the bus. That was his normal MO.
"Gee, I know. Officer McKenna isn't cooperating anymore. They're using me as the example for excessive force. I had no idea that it was her own bullet. Calhoun and I went to Strauss for a deal, I was going to turn in my papers..."
"You What?! You're going to retire and do what?" Gia's head was pounding. She was having frequent headaches since she was released from the hospital. The stitches in her head were irritating her. Her wounded arm hurt. She was walking around in a pair of cotton pajama shorts and a hoodie.
"Well he refused to drop the Hate Crime statute so I didn't take it. Listen, you're not going to like what I'm about to tell you..." Nick was trying to avoid the bomb that was about to detonate.
"Well, I haven't been excited about anything in this conversation so go ahead." Nick appreciated her sarcasm in that moment because he knew it was going to slip into outrage in a moment.
"Don't freak out but I'm going to testify at the Grand Jury."
"Don't freak out...DON'T FREAK OUT?? Jesus Christ are you trying to give me a stroke?!" The volume of Gia's voice increased with each word growing high pitched at the end.
"I have to take the chance. He's in there insinuating things that he can't in a trial." Gia's free hand fell to her side, her hand slapping against her thigh.
"Yeah Nick, I know. This is a TERRIBLE idea. The things he can ask you and not having Calhoun in there to have your back? This is a whole new level of insanity. You and I are the same brand of crazy and even I wouldn't do this." Gia had her hand on the top of her head as she continued her loop of the hallway.
"Listen, I know all of that. I'm hoping if they see me, hear from me, that maybe it'll repair some of the damage Strauss is doing. I have to do what I can to not end up in prison." Gia exhaled the breath she didn't know she was holding.
"Nick, please...please don't do this. It's a huge risk." Gia felt completely useless. She wasn't there for him when his house was shot up. She felt sick knowing Zara had been there. He refused to use the spare bedroom she and Rafael had because she was recovering. Instead, he was sleeping on Liv's couch with Cassidy who was investigating him with Tucker.
"Gee, I need you to trust me, okay? I don't need you getting worked up over this. I can literally hear your high blood pressure over the phone. It'll be fine." Gia was silent. She didn't know what else to say.
"I assume there is not a fucking thing I can say to change your mind?" She had to ask before she conceded.
"No, there isn't." Gia squeezed her lips together leaning against the wall.
"Okay." There weren't any other words she could muster. All of the worst case scenarios rolling through her brain.
"Look, you don't need to worry about this right now. I just didn't want you to find out from someone else. You need to rest and recover." By someone else, she knew he meant Rafael. She assumed he gave him the ultimatum to tell Gia or he would.
"Nick, I'm fine. Just...just focus on what you plan to say. Think of every horrible question that asshat can ask you. All of the ways he can twist this and have a solid answer. And keep your temper in check. He's going to try and bait you."
"I will. I'll check in later okay? Get some rest." He hung up before she could respond. She wanted to scream, but she was sure she had disturbed Rafael enough while he was trying to work.
Gia took a couple of slow deep breaths. She decided to go check in on Rafael before she took something for her headache. She was hoping it would dull her emotions enough to calm her anxiety. She knew it was a naive wish by the way her heart was rattling in her chest.
When she made it to Rafael's office, he had left the door open. When she walked in, he wasn't behind his desk and the couch was empty. Her brows knitted together and she walked out in search of him. She stopped short when she made it to the living room.
There was a woman in the living room with him. She was older and she was beautiful. Short dark hair, dark eyes and she was impeccably put together. Then she noticed it, she and Rafael had the same nose. Without him even introducing her, she knew it was Lucille Barba.
Rafael turned and saw Gia stopped in the doorway. She was wide eyed and obviously, but adorably, startled. Part of him was happy that this was how she was meeting his mother, his mother was getting the authentic version of her. Not that he had planned it that way. He just knew that Gia would overthink meeting his mother.
He had told his mother what had happened and she had admired Gia's bravery and was appalled that no one in her family had been back to check on her. She had been pestering Rafael for months about meeting Gia. She finally decided she no longer wanted to wait and showed up after she found out Rafael was working from home to be with Gia. His mother had arrived right before Gia had gotten on the phone with Nick and had heard her colorful melt down over Nick's decision to testify.
"Hi, I would have gotten dressed if I knew we were having company." She gave Rafael a pointed look. Rafael walked over to her and put his arm around her and led her closer to his mother.
"Don't you worry about that. I didnt tell him I was coming." Lucille immediately dismissed her concerns.
"Mom, this is Gianna Monroe. Gia, this is my mother Lucille Barba." Rafael kept a steady and comforting hand on her back.
"Mrs. Barba, it's so nice to meet you." Lucille took her hand and gave her a warm smile.
"You call me Lucille. I'm so glad to finally meet you. All he does is talk about you." She squeezed Gia's hand. Gia saw a slight blush creep over Rafael's face.
Gia felt a wide range of emotions. She was nervous and embarrassed. She hadn't worn makeup in days and her hair was messily on top of her head and she was essentially dressed in pajamas. She was hoping his mother got there after her call with Nick, though she doubted it.
"My mom brought food over so we didn't have to worry about it." Rafael's nodded his head towards the dining room table that had bags on it.
"Well, I wanted to do something for the very brave woman who has captivated my son enough to get him out of the office." Lucille stepped a little bit closer. She cupped Gia's chin to turn her head slightly to look at the bruising and stitches. Normally, Gia would find it intrusive, but it was surprisingly endearing.
"Oh sweetheart, that must hurt. Is my son taking care of you?" It was the first time in her life she felt someone showing her motherly concern. Gia felt the anxiety fleeing her body and she laughed.
"He takes great care of me, and I make it pretty hard for him." Gia winced as she shifted her body. Rafael noticed immediately.
"Sit down." He led her to the couch. Lucille sat down next to Gia and Rafael took a seat in the chair closest to Gia.
"I won't stay. We have plenty of time to get to know each other. I just wanted to stop and meet you. This way if Rafi is stuck and work and you need anything, you'll feel comfortable calling me. It must be hard having your family so far away." Gia blinked a few times to prevent her burning eyes from watering.
"It can be. My mother is in worse shape than I am, she needs them more. I have Rafael, Olivia, Nick and the rest of the squad." Lucia took Gia's hand again in both of hers.
"Well, now you have someone that is outside of the precinct. You call me any time. I'm going to go so you can get some rest." She patted the top of Gia's hand.
"Thank you. I really appreciate that." Rafael stood when his mother did and walked her to the door. He hugged her and kissed her on the cheek before he shut the door behind her. When he turned around, he couldn't help but grin. Gia hid her face in her hands.
"How much of that phone call with Nick did she hear?" Her voice was muffled.
"Ohhh, every colorful word of it." He sat down next to her on the couch. Rafael laughed as she groaned.
"I'm so embarrassed." He put his hand on her upper back and rubbed it.
"You have nothing to be embarrassed about, she's said much worse." Gia turned her head to the side while still resting her face in her hands. The amused look slowly faded from her face.
"Tell me Nick isn't going to prison." She whispered.
"I can't. I hope not, but they are gunning for him." She knew he wouldn't lie to her, but part of her wished he would just to hold onto some sense of false hope.
"I can't lose him too." She whispered. She felt like her world was caving in. She could not take one more literal or metaphorical loss. She didn't think she would survive it.
"Listen to me, this goes to trial, their case is flimsy at best. It's easy to get an indictment, but at trial they have to prove beyond a reasonable doubt. You know this." She nodded her head, but didn't say anything. He sighed and moved closer to her and put his arm around and pulled her close to him. He could almost hear the thoughts racing through her mind. He thought for a moment to think of something to take her mind off of it.
"Do you know the first time I felt a spark of something for you?" He rubbed slow circles on her lower back.
"No, I don't." She placed her hand on his chest, opposite of where her head was. She closed her eyes, listening to the steady strum of his heart.
"We were at a police fundraiser the Mayor put on. One PP had asked you to attend. The department was looking for representatives from some of the major departments to help elicit the wealthiest of New Yorkers to write some checks. They knew that you were the person to represent SVU. It was clear that they made the right choice, you fit into that crowd seamlessly. I remember seeing you from across the room, you had on this simple black silk dress that knotted in the front. I don't even know who you were talking to, but you had this radiant smile, one I had never seen before, mostly because I had never done anything to earn it. I suddenly found myself wanting to be the reason you smile like that. I almost wrote a huge check just to try and get one, but I knew it wouldn't work. I had to really earn it." Gia was quiet for a moment.
"I knew I was going to fall in love with you before we became us, and we became us well before I moved in here. It was shortly after you brought me that coffee as a peace offering. It was after a really bad case, Jacob Henson, the 6 year old that went missing. I was too invested in that case and having to describe what we found, what was done to him...it was horrific. I was the last to testify for the day and I barely held it together on the stand. I remember my voice cracking a few times. I bolted out of that courtroom and I ended up in this little secluded hallway by a window and I fell apart. You found me, said you had been looking for me everywhere. I didn't want to turn and look at you, I was embarrassed and felt so unprofessional. When you asked me to turn around and I refused, you came and stood next to me and put your hand on my back and said 'please look at me.' I have always hated people seeing me cry, but I turned around anyway. You uh, reached into the inner pocket of your suit jacket for something to wipe my tears, when you came up empty, you snatched your pocket square and wiped my tears. I felt bad for ruining it and you folded it neatly and put it in my jacket pocket. Then you put your arm around me and we sat on that window ledge until I was ready. You told me that we didn't have to talk, but that we were going to stay there until I was ready to leave. That you weren't leaving me alone. That was when I knew. I still have that pocket square." He pulled her a little bit closer.
"You are sentimental." He mused. He kissed her forehead before reaching over and tipping her chin up so he could kiss her properly. He pulled away when he felt her wince.
"Sorry, I moved wrong." He pulled her back to him.
"You need to stop apologizing for nothing. Do you need to lay down?" His concern for her wellbeing was endearing. Part of her wanted to close off the rest of the world and stay in the apartment with him indefinitely, though she knew it was unrealistic.
"I can't lay around in that bed anymore. I'm going crazy." She hated that this was the second time in the year that she was injured. She had never been hurt on the job until she was with SVU.
"This is literally your 2nd day home. You barely dodged a bullet, literally. You have rib bruising and you took another blow to the head and while not as serious as the last one, this is your second concussion in less than a year. You're stitched up on your face and arm. I know you think your injuries are minimal and you should 'suck it up', but you still need to heal." She sat up so she could look at him.
"Okay Dr. Barba, I hear you." He shook his head at her, with a faint smile on his face.
"How about you go rest while I finish up some things for the office and I'll come lay with you." She ran her thumb over his cheek. She didn't have it in her to protest going to lay down. She had worried him enough for a lifetime. The dull ache in her head had started becoming more intense.
"Alright Counselor, you win." He looked a little surprised, but took the win. He stood up and helped her to her feet and got her settled before heading back down the hall to finish his work as soon as he could so he could get back to her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Gia wasn't sure what to think. Rafael had to go into the office for an 8th floor meeting and she had planned on spending the day watching bad TV. That was until Captain Cragen had asked her to meet him for coffee. Gia couldn't think of any other time Cragen had asked her to meet him like that before. She wished her default feeling wasn't anxiety, but that was all she felt lately, just different variations of it.
Once she arrived at the coffee shop, she felt the flutter of anxiety increase when she saw Cragen waiting for her. What on Earth Cragen needed to tell her that he didn't want to over the phone? She also wasn't sure why he didn't want her to come into the precinct. Something was definitely up.
"Captain?" She felt suddenly terrified that they had fired Nick and Cragen because of what happened. It was when she saw his warm smile that her fear dissipated.
"Gia, thanks for coming in. I'm sorry for dragging you out. Though you look great for someone bouncing back from another concussion. She genuinely laughed.
"Thank you. So what...what's going on?" Cragen saw the frantic look on her face. "I know something is up. You aren't the 'meet me for a meal or coffee' type." That was one of the many things he appreciated about Gia, she was straight to the point.
"So I see we're going to skip small talk. Don't worry, Nick still has his badge. It's me. I'm leaving, and before you ask, it was my decision." He watched be brows knit together in confusion.
"Wait...you're serious. What the hell is going on?!" Gia could not wrap her mind around what he had just said.
"Listen, I'm almost at mandatory retirement and I have enough time accrued that takes me there. I actually made the decision before everything that happened with Nick. Eileen and I are going on a six month cruise." The fear melted from Gia's face.
"Captain, that's...that's amazing. A six month cruise? Well for one thing, I'm jealous, but I'm so happy for you. I actually recently floated the idea of running away to an island to Rafael. He countered with threatening to wear a speedo every day." Cragen laughed. He would miss her sense of humor and delivery of funny tidbits. She would be lying if she said she didn't feel a little sad that she wouldn't get more time to work with him.
"Thank you. I didn't want to say anything until Amaro's case was over. I didn't want to distract from that. I also wanted to tell you to your face. You'll be happy to know that Liv will be acting CO as Sergeant." Gia wasn't surprised to hear that.
"Well, I couldn't imagine anyone else taking over this unit." Cragen nodded.
"Neither could I. Gia, it has been such a pleasure to see you grow as a Detective. You have such a bright future ahead of you. One PP sees it, you use that to your advantage, and if they won't budge? You call Jack McCoy. I know that Liv has been your mentor and you are loyal to her. She will want you to make the choice that is best for you, always. Even if it means leaving SVU. Liv, she's an SVU lifer, Gia, you're not. I know why you came to SVU and when you find what it is that you've been looking for, get out. I mean it. I want you to know, you can always call me if you need anything."
"Thank you Captain, that means a lot." Gia looked down, everything he had just said hit her deeply. He put his hand on hers to get her attention.
"Gia, don't allow your family and everything that has happened define you. You are so much more than that and you deserve a lot better than you've been given." Gia laughed.
"You know, I've heard that before." Cragen also laughed.
"I'm sure you have. I don't think Amaro or Barba are very good at keeping their opinions to themselves."
"Not even a little bit. Though Rafael is a little more eloquent in his delivery than Nick is, but not much." Gia shook her head. She knew how the both of them felt about her family. She didn't blame them and she didn't disagree. It was just complicated.
"Just promise me you'll take care of yourself and if you can't, you'll let Rafael do it until you can." Gia smiled at himm.
"I promise. Thank you, Captain, for everything. It's been an honor working for you." He put his hand on her shoulder.
"Be happy, Gia. You deserve that most of all."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It had been a strange day. Rafael had planned on working from home again but he had been called into a meeting with Jack McCoy. They were officially handing the Isaac Moreno case over to The Feds. Rafael had felt relieved. Normally, he'd fight for the case. This time, he just wanted to be done with it. He wanted to be able to move forward from it, for Gia to move forward from it. Letting the Feds take on the hunt for Moreno made it that much easier. The more they dug into him, the worse things they found. He actually couldn't wait to tell Gia they were done with it.
Then, she had texted him and asked him to come home as soon as he could. She had never done that. He had asked her what was wrong. She had assured him she was physically okay, but she didn't want to talk about it on the phone and that she really just needed him.
He had been getting ready to leave when Cragen had stopped into his office to tell him about his retirement. He was telling the rest of the squad that evening. He had met Gia and told her and while she had seemed happy for him, he also knew that she had been hit with a lot of changes and he wanted to give Rafael a heads up in case her happiness was for his benefit. Cragen had also noticed how Gia's anxiety had been on the increase. He didn't feel that she was a liability, he just didn't want to be the cause of any more stress on her. He then made Rafael promise to take care of her, even if she fought it. It wasn't even something Cragen had to ask for. Cragen admitted that he had assumed so, but it made him feel better to say it.
Rafael knew that wasn't what had caused her to ask him to come home. It was something else. Once Cragen was gone, he told Carmen he was finishing the rest of the day at home. She had given him a box for Gia. There was this bakery that she loved and Carmen had stopped to pick up some of the things she knew Gia loved. Rafael had asked her once to run over and grab them before they closed and she had never forgotten. Carmen had said she couldn't do anything to help Gia with what she was dealing with, so she wanted to just do something nice for her. It was then that Rafael realized Carmen probably deserved a raise.
As he opened the door to the apartment, Gia was no where to be seen. She must have been in their bedroom. He hung his coat up, set his bag on one of the living room chairs and made his way into their bedroom.
She was sitting in her chair in a pair of sweatpants and her sleeveless Columbia T-Shirt. She had the ice pack wrapped around her arm. She was sitting in a way that was so familiar to him. Both of her legs were hanging over the arm of the chair. She was, however, sitting at more of an angle to hold the large ice pack on her ribs. Her head was rested on the back of the chair, her eyes closed. He wasn't sure if she was asleep or not.
"Gia?" Her eyes fluttered open. There was a sadness etched onto her face. "What's...what happened?" She sighed, she tossed the large ice pack on the table. He set the box from Carmen on the end of their bed. He helped her stand up. She wrapped her arms around him and he held her for a moment. She pulled away after a moment and kissed him softly.
"Sorry, I just needed that first. She winced as she reached for her phone. "It's just easier if you read it."
He took her phone and saw that it was a text message from Grayson. So much for him giving her time to reach out when she was ready. Once he started reading, he understood why.
His firm had offered him a 6 month assignment overseas to set up an international office. He had said yes, he didn't have much time to make the decision. He and Anna needed to get away from New York for a while and this was the perfect opportunity. He had thought that being with their parents for a while was a good option but it wasn't working out, not for Anna. They would get time away and then be back in New York to get Anna set up for Kindergarten. They would be leaving after the new year, but his firm was announcing it later that day, he didn't want her to find out that way. He ended the message with that he loved her and begged her to call him. Rafael set the phone down. He knew that she hadn't even had the chance to process what had happened and now she had this added to it.
He took a moment to take stock of her. As he studied her face, he noticed that her stitches were gone.
"Did you see the doctor today to get those out." She shook her head.
"I was getting ready to go and meet Cragen." Rafael had let her know that he needed a little bit of time when Cragen had walked into his office, so she knew that he knew. "I couldn't find a way to cover the stitches and I didn't want to go out looking like the Bride of Frankenstein, so I took them out. They did the stitches as a precaution, I didn't really need them." His exasperated expression made her feel a little bad.
"You took them out...What....what was the plan if it wasn't healed and you started bleeding?" He shouldn't have been surprised she took them out on her own.
"Butterfly bandages and a visit to my friend Jesse at the ER? I was fine and I was right." He sighed. How could he even argue with that.
"Please tell me you left the ones in your arm." She laughed.
"Yes. That is not a wound I plan on messing with. The ones in my face were driving me crazy. It feels better without them." He shook his head.
"Before we get into Grayson, can I check the ribs?" She nodded and lifted up the side of her shirt. The bruising was still dark, but the purple had lightened slightly and there was a tinge of yellow around the edges. "Do you want to put the ice pack back on?"
"No, I had it on for a while. It needs to go back in the freeezer. This one too." She unstrapped the one on her arm.
"I am going to go out them in the freezer. You get comfortable and then we can talk. That box is from Carmen, she grabbed you some pastries." She nodded and he headed out of the room.
After he put them back in the freezer, he undid his tie and took off his suit jacket. When he walked back into their room, she was sitting up in bed, leaning against the headboard. She had set the box from Carmen on the nightstand. Normally she would already have opened them. That's how he really knew she was upset. He rolled up his sleeves and then climbed into bed next to her and put his arm around her. She rested her head on his shoulder.
"I don't even know why I'm so upset. It's probably the best thing for the both of them right now. I know Grayson is the furthest thing from a perfect brother, but not having him a car ride away, right down the street hasn't happened since grad school. Regardless, he always apologizes. I know I said I was sick of apologies, but for the first time, with what happened with Sienna, I think he's ready to really deal with the things he needs to. And Anna? I can't even think about that."
"I think you just explained why you're so upset. It's also only been a couple of days since everything happened with Sienna. Your body hasn't even healed yet, let alone you having time to emotionally deal with all of it." She sighed and was silent for a moment.
"I think I'm afraid that he's not going to come back. I mean, this is the perfect chance to truly start over. There's no chance a judge is going to make him bring Anna to visit Sienna anytime soon. Not after what she did. That would not be good for her, emotionally. He's setting up the new office, what if they ask him to stay permanently? What if Anna flourishes over there and coming back here would be a mistake?" There it was. That was what was really upsetting her. "I feel like every time I turn around lately I'm loosing someone. I almost just lost Nick. Who's next? You?" That broke his heart just a little bit.
"Baby, I'm not going anywhere. I'm in it for the long haul. And you can't worry about something happening to me. None of us can know if something like that is going to happen." He kissed the top of her head.
"I know Raf. I've just been spiraling since I got that text. Especially after Cragen's retirement announcement. I mean they could have coordinated that better." He laughed.
"I thought you were happy for Cragen?"
"Oh no, I am. He deserves happiness, especially after everything that has happened. Eileen has been his second chance. I'm just going to miss him. He fought for me, he believed in me, instantly. It was just the back to back 'hey I'm leaving' messages." She settled into him more as he started running circles into her scalp.
"I think that you're missing the silver lining you're so used to finding. Grayson being overseas means Grayson will have space from your mother. You've always said that Grayson never realized the damage your mother caused him. I think he has now. Being on the other side of the world may give him a chance to truly heal. Also, you have Grayson living in Timbuktu without WiFi or phone access." Gia laughed. Even through everything, he could still make her laugh.
"No, you're right. Space from my mother is the best thing for him. He also doesn't need to take on her recovery. And I know there is WiFi and video chats and all of that. But not seeing him or Anna whenever I want is going to be an adjustment. But also, maybe him being gone will improve our relationship. Him overseas means the space I need without it being the 'I need to go low contact'. I don't want that with him." Rafael was quiet for a moment.
"It also means that Anna's trauma recovery won't be on you, because it shouldn't. You need to recover from your own. I know you haven't dealt with your feelings on what happened with Sienna. You have to grieve that loss. It's a different kind of loss." He felt her tense slightly.
"That's something I wanted to talk to you about. I promised no more surprise jail house visits. I'm going to see her tomorrow." He started to protest.
"Gia that is a terrible idea." Before he could continue, she slowly pulled herself up so she could look at him.
"Just listen, please. Rita is going with me. Raf, I need closure. I need to move on. To do that, I have questions that I have to ask. I don't want to wait. I want to move past this and I know that I need to let that pain in. There are just things I need to say and hear so I can do that. I'm telling you before I do it. I need this and I need you to support me." She was doing what he had asked. He had no right to tell her no.
"You're right, I'm sorry. I know you hate that I feel this need to protect you. You have to realize though. It's not because I think you're weak, or that you can't handle it yourself. It's because I love you with everything that I have and I just want to spare you as much pain, emotional or physical that I can. That's not going to go away." Instead of responding, she kissed him. It was searing and it took him off guard. When she pulled away, she ran her fingers through his hair and then rested her hand on his cheek.
"I know. I know. I also know that I make it incredibly difficult sometimes and I'm trying to get better. I just know I need this." He pulled her by the waist so she was sitting in his lap facing him. Her hands immediately rested on his shoulders.
"Are you sure you don't want me to go with you? I'll clear my whole damn day." She ran her hand to the nape of his neck, running her nails through the hair on the back of his head.
"She trusts Rita, you set her on edge and I'm pretty sure you need to start doing your actual job again." He laughed.
"True, but I still have a little leeway. My boss happens to be particularly fond of you. Actually, my meeting today was about you a little bit." She scrunched her face a little bit.
"Do tell, don't hold out on me now." He kissed her again before he started talking.
"First and foremost he wanted to make sure you were okay. He also wanted to make sure I was taking care if his, how did he put it? His 'future investment'. You know Jack, he's like you with the jokes. I'm almost terrified at the idea of you working for him." Gia laughed before he continued. "He then wanted to inform me that The Feds wanted the Isaac Moreno case. He wanted to give me the option to fight for it. I said no and to let them take it." She looked genuinely surprised.
"What? Really?" He brushed her hair out of her face.
"Yes, really. Lord knows where he is going to end up for one thing and I want to put this behind us. I want us to move on, move forward. He's dangerous and it truly should be a Federal case." Rafael never gave up a case willingly.
"Raf...thank you. That means a lot."
"It's the truth. I want us looking towards the future."
"And what do you see in the future?" He smiled.
"You, Gia. When I look toward the future, all I see is you." She kissed him again, with more need. "Now, our immediate future is you taking something for your pain and getting some rest while I get some work done. You look exhausted. She nodded.
"I am really tired. Going out to see Cragen took a lot out of me." Rafael slowly slid her off of his lap and settled her back into her spot. He went over to her nightstand and grabbed her some medication and gave her some water.
"You sleep, I'll wake you up in a couple of hours." He pulled the blankets over her and smoothed her hair back.
"Did you really just tuck me in?" She laughed. He leaned downed and kissed her cheek.
"I did. Shut up." She laughed again as he shook and shut the door behind him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Gia felt nauseous as she followed Rita down to see Sienna. She was definitely second guessing this decision. She knew she was going to be exhausted after this. She could tell Rafael was uneasy on his way out the door as he hesitated to leave. She knew he wanted to be the one holding her hand through this, but she had to do this one on her own.
For being in prison, Sienna looked good. Gia had reached out to one of the guards from when her brother was there and asked that they make sure Sienna was okay. So long as Sienna didn't cause trouble, her back would be watched.
It had been almost a week since the incident, Sienna looked different somehow, in her eyes. The look of relief on her face when she saw Gia walk in was incredibly apparent. Rita led Gia in and nodded at the guard to close the cell door.
"Before you say anything, can I go first?" Sienna asked. Gia nodded.
"First of all, I am so sorry. I know those words sound probably incredibly hollow, but it's true. I am so thankful that you are okay. I would not have been able to live with myself if you weren't. I'm not going to be making excuses, I just want you to understand. I was mentally evaluated, almost immediately when they took me into custody after I signed my deal. I was suicidal. I was in a severe state of psychosis. They diagnosed me with a borderline personality disorder." Sienna closed her eyes for a moment. "I held a gun at you while you were holding my daughter. When I look back now at all of the signs and symptoms...I don't have any words to describe the deep and severe shame I feel. I know it means likely nothing, but I will never forgive myself for what I put you through, the trauma I caused my daughter..." she choked back a sob.
"Sienna, you weren't in your right mind. It obviously doesn't make it okay. But I'd rather this than you just being a monster. I couldn't wrap my brain around that. I wish I had seen the symptoms." Before Gia could continue.
"Please, please don't think that you should have been able to prevent this." Gia shook her head.
"I don't. I wasn't your therapist, I just wish I would have pushed you towards therapy instead of trying to not upset you. Hindsight is all. I'm assuming you're medicated."
"Yes, and I see the therapist daily. They may have me institutionalized." Gia sat back and blinked.
"A hospital for your sentence?" Gia didn't know how she felt about it. On one hand, the one that was so angry that a woman was dead and two little girls were traumatized made Gia want to see Sienna rot in prison. On the other hand, if she wasn't in control of herself, like Gia really place all of that blame on her. Her mental instability is likely what drew Isaac Moreno to her.
"I don't know. I just know that they don't think this place is a good fit for me." Gia didn't know what to say. She had come in here built up by anger and had wanted answers. Now? She knew that Sienna wouldn't be able to answer them. She wasn't going to get them at all."
"I hope that regardless of what happens, you get the help that you need and can have a life when you have your freedom back." Gia meant it. All of the anger that she felt was suddenly gone. It was replaced by sympathy.
"Will they ever let me see her again?" Gia knew she meant Anna.
"I...I can't answer that. I honestly don't know. It won't be for a very long time. You should know. Grayson and Annie are going to be over in Europe for about 6 months. He's helping set up a new office. The both of them need space and time to heel." She watched as a tear fell from Sienna's face. Gia almost...almost wanted to hug her.
"That will be really good for the two of them I think. Maybe it'll give Anna the chance to forget about me." Gia didn't know if she was hunting for sympathy or if she really meant it. Either way, she didn't respond.
"I really came here Sienna, to say goodbye." Gia finally said. She didn't know how much longer she could be in this place with her.
"Goodbye?" Sienna hadn't been expecting that. She had truthfully thought that even after everything she'd still have Gia.
"Yes, goodbye. I have been through so much this year, too much. I need to let this go. You, Isaac Moreno, all of it. For the first time, ever, I see a light at the end of the tunnel and it means that I have to cut out as much of the trauma that I can. I am glad that you're still here and I'm glad that you're finally getting the help that you need...but I can't be apart of your life going forward." Gia saw a flash of anger in Sienna's eyes.
"So even though I'm sick, you're walking away from me?"
"Rita, I'm assuming that you and Sienna have some things to discuss. I can get myself back to the city." Gia stood up, signaling for the guard to let her out.
"Gia please, please don't walk away from me." Sienna pleaded. Gia stopped for a moment
"I'm sorry." She said, without turning around and she walked out and heard Sienna's cries lessen the further she made it down the hall.
𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊 | Fem reader, however, some headcanons can be read as Gender Neutral. BTW this is a continuing work(like almost everything I write), so I will be adding more.
He’ll fuck you to the point that your body is spasming at the faintest breeze. You look “so delicately captivating”, he wants you “fragile to his touch”.
He’ll have you cockwarm his cock whenever he desires. While he's reading, journaling, or on the phone. He wants you to sit pretty, your cunt snug with him inside. Or your doe eyes gazing up at him, with your mouth full of his cock.
He likes fucking you standing, your body weightless against his own. And depending on his strength, defenselessly.
He always comes either in or on you, preferably in you. Your cunt seeping with his cum leaves him satisfied.
If you're acting like a brat, he won’t fuck you. And he’ll spend weeks like that too. Once you get pent up, he’ll make you beg him to fuck you. And before he fucks you, he’ll tell you to ride his thigh until you're shaking and sobbing, until he's satisfied.
Sometimes he'll rub his thumb against your clit, casually in slow tantalizing circles. He would do this, keeping his eyes on his book, which is held in his other hand. And your body is tied up in leather belts, shaking and overstimulating yet ready for more.
Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Alessandra Reddington
Warnings: Supernatural violence, family drama, morally grey themes, power struggles
Fandoms: The Blacklist x The Vampire Diaries/The Originals
Alessandra Reddington was born into luxury and secrets.
While other children played outside with scraped knees and stolen moments of freedom, she learned about offshore accounts, financial loopholes, and how to disappear without a trace. She could balance a multi-million-dollar ledger before she could legally drink, all while navigating the dangerous politics of her father’s empire.
But there was one unspoken rule in her world:
"Do not ask questions you don’t want answers to."
Her father, Raymond Reddington, was the most wanted man in the world, and she was his greatest secret. Hidden from enemies, protected by shadows, Alessandra’s life was one of wealth without attachment, power without agency.
There were no social media accounts. No digital footprint. No online shopping sprees or reckless texting. Technology was a liability, a vulnerability, and Red had erased her from the digital world before she even understood what that meant.
"A ghost cannot be caught, my dear," he had told her once.
So, while the world moved forward, she remained untouched by it.
Her friends were criminals in business suits, men who owed her father favors, and high-ranking officials who never spoke her name in public.
Her enemies? She never knew them. Because Red never let them get close enough.
She was his most valuable possession, even if he never said the words.
But even the most well-guarded prisoners dream of escape.
She met Elijah Mikaelson on a night that should have been like any other.
A deal, a briefcase full of laundered money, a room full of dangerous men who thought their power made them untouchable. Alessandra had seen it all before.
And yet, the moment Elijah stepped into the room, she knew something was different.
He moved with an old-world elegance, his midnight-blue suit perfectly tailored, his posture effortlessly commanding. There was something unsettling about him—something beyond human—but it wasn’t until she caught his gaze that she felt it.
Power. Ancient and patient. The kind that does not ask for attention but demands it nonetheless.
He didn’t belong in her father’s world, and yet he stood among criminals and killers as if they were beneath him.
For the first time in her life, she felt small.
"You have a sharp mind," he said after the meeting, his voice smooth like aged bourbon. "And yet, you confine it to these… lesser pursuits."
Her breath hitched. No one had ever challenged her like that before.
"You don’t know anything about me."
Elijah tilted his head, amusement flickering in his dark eyes. "Don’t I?"
And just like that, the first crack appeared in the perfect, controlled life she had built.
At first, she resisted.
Supernatural creatures? Vampires? Witches? It sounded like a bedtime story for foolish children.
But Elijah was patient. He didn’t force her to believe—he simply let the truth reveal itself.
The first time she saw a vampire rip a man apart, she felt nothing but cold, detached horror. Not because of the blood, but because she realized her father already knew.
The second time, she learned that some of Red’s most trusted allies weren’t human at all.
The third time? She helped cover it up.
And with every revelation, every whispered truth, she found herself torn between two worlds.
Her father was a master manipulator, a man who thrived in a world of deception and control. He had spent years shaping her into the perfect asset, keeping her obedient, calculating, untouchable.
But Elijah?
Elijah saw something beyond numbers, beyond crime. He saw her.
"You are capable of so much more than being your father’s shadow," he told her one evening, standing on a New Orleans balcony as the city pulsed below them. "But you have to choose it."
And that was the problem, wasn’t it?
Because she didn’t know if she could.
Her father knew. Of course, he knew.
Raymond Reddington didn’t miss things. He saw everything. Knew everything. And he wasn’t pleased.
"You think he’s different, don’t you?" Red asked one evening, swirling a glass of wine in his hand, his voice deceptively light. "You think this noble, ancient vampire has your best interests at heart?"
Alessandra refused to answer.
Red sighed, setting his drink down with a soft clink. When he spoke again, there was no humor in his voice.
"I have spent your entire life keeping you safe, keeping you hidden. And you would throw that away… for what? A love story?"
"This isn’t about love."
"No," he agreed, eyes darkening. "It’s about power. And my dear, sweet Alessandra—what makes you think you won’t be devoured in the end?"
A warning. A plea. A threat.
But the damage was done.
Because she had already stepped too far into Elijah’s world.
And her father’s reach, no matter how powerful, couldn’t pull her back.
There would come a moment when Alessandra had to choose.
Between the family that had raised her in the shadows of crime and deception…
And the man who offered her something more—power, knowledge, a future beyond the chains of her father’s making.
Between safety and freedom.
Between loyalty and the unknown.
Would she regret it? Would she wonder, in the darkest hours of the night, if she had made a mistake?
Would’ve. Could’ve. Should’ve.
But once a choice is made, there is no going back.
And Alessandra Reddington?
She was done playing by the rules.
Three Months Later
The dim glow of candlelight flickered across the bedroom walls, casting soft golden hues over the sheets as Alessandra tangled her fingers in Elijah’s dark hair. His hands gripped her waist, steady yet firm, as she pressed against him, their breaths mingling in the heated space between them.
It had taken months of stolen glances, whispered conversations, and quiet defiance to reach this moment. And now, here she was—above him, lips brushing over his in slow, deliberate teasing, her body molded to his like she had always belonged there.
Elijah Mikaelson, always composed, always in control, looked anything but restrained beneath her.
His hands slid up the smooth expanse of her back, fingers tracing the delicate curve of her spine. She shivered, exhaling a breathless laugh against his lips.
“You’re teasing me, elskan,” Elijah murmured against her mouth, the old Norse endearment slipping out like a secret.
Alessandra smirked. “And you love it.”
He exhaled sharply, his grip tightening on her hips as he rolled them over, his weight pressing her into the mattress. She barely had time to catch her breath before he kissed her again, slow and intoxicating, like he had all the time in the world to unravel her.
Then—
A loud knock at the door.
Alessandra froze, her pulse spiking. Elijah, ever the strategist, didn’t so much as flinch.
“Elijah?” The voice—soft, hesitant—was unmistakable.
Hayley.
Alessandra’s heart lurched, and she suddenly became hyperaware of the situation: the tangled sheets, Elijah’s body over hers, the unmistakable scent of their intimacy lingering in the air.
Hayley knocked again, more insistent this time. “I know you’re in there. Can we talk?”
Elijah exhaled slowly, closing his eyes as if summoning patience. Alessandra clenched her jaw, shifting beneath him.
“You have got to be kidding me,” she whispered.
A flicker of amusement crossed Elijah’s expression before he reluctantly pulled away. Alessandra rolled onto her side, gripping the sheets to cover herself as he straightened his dress shirt—the very one she had been in the process of unbuttoning moments ago.
With a resigned sigh, Elijah ran a hand through his tousled hair before moving toward the door. Just as he reached for the handle—
The door burst open.
Niklaus Mikaelson stood in the doorway, arms crossed, a smug grin spreading across his face. “Well, well, well.”
Alessandra barely had time to register Klaus’s expression before she caught Hayley behind him, her face unreadable, her gaze flickering between Elijah and the disheveled state of the bed.
Silence hung thick in the air.
Klaus let out a low whistle, rocking back on his heels. “And here I thought you were preoccupied with… other matters, brother.”
Elijah’s jaw ticked. “Niklaus, unless you wish to be promptly thrown out, I suggest you find amusement elsewhere.”
Klaus only grinned wider, glancing at Alessandra with knowing mischief. “Oh, I’m highly amused.”
Hayley, on the other hand, looked anything but entertained. Her eyes darkened, lips pressing into a thin line.
“So, this is what you’ve been so busy with,” she muttered.
Alessandra sat up, barely restraining an eye roll. “Oh, don’t act surprised,” she said smoothly, arching a brow. “Surely you didn’t think Elijah spent all his time brooding in a corner?”
Hayley’s gaze sharpened. “Funny. I thought we had an understanding.”
Elijah’s expression remained unreadable, but Alessandra caught the flicker of something behind his gaze—something unreadable, but distant.
Hayley looked at him expectantly, waiting for an answer.
Niklaus, enjoying every second of the tension, clapped his hands together. “Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting this much entertainment today.”
Elijah pinched the bridge of his nose. “Niklaus, leave.”
Klaus smirked but stepped back. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’ll just be informing dear Rebekah of this latest development.”
With that, he strolled out of the room, far too amused for anyone’s comfort.
Hayley lingered, her gaze locking with Elijah’s for a long moment. Something unspoken passed between them, something Alessandra wasn’t entirely sure she liked.
Then, with a quiet sigh, Hayley shook her head and walked away, leaving behind the weight of her unfinished words.
Alessandra exhaled, throwing herself back onto the pillows. “Well, that was not how I pictured this night going.”
Elijah sat beside her, smoothing a hand over hers. “Nor I.”
She turned her head toward him, a slow smirk forming. “Should we just expect them to barge in every time we get close?”
Elijah sighed dramatically. “Regrettably, it appears so.”
Alessandra hummed, reaching up to trace the sharp line of his jaw. “Then I suppose we’ll just have to be more… discreet.”
Elijah’s lips twitched into a small, knowing smile. “A challenge I am more than willing to accept.”
And just like that, the moment was no longer ruined.
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 door opened, and there she was.
Y/N walked into the courtroom with her shoulders squared, but I could see the tension in her spine. She looked pale under the fluorescent lights—tired, like she hadn’t slept in days. Olivia walked just behind her, solid and steady like always. Protective.
I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. I couldn’t. Not when I knew what was coming. Not when I knew what this would cost her.
She sat, hands folded tightly in her lap. She didn’t look at me. She hadn’t, not since the trial began. I didn’t blame her. Every moment she was up there—every word out of her mouth—was because of me.
Peter rose, calm and measured, thank God. If anyone could walk her through this, it was him.
“Can you state your name for the record?”
“Y/N Carisi.”
Her voice was quiet but clear. Stronger than I expected. My chest tightened at the sound of it. How many nights had I sat at her bedside, watching her breathe, just grateful she’d made it back alive? And now she was in front of a courtroom, telling strangers about the worst days of her life because some deranged man had wanted to make me suffer.
She described that night. The reunion cut short. The way everything changed in an instant.
“I never made it home,” she said.
I swallowed hard, forcing my jaw to stay still. If I moved—if I let myself feel too much—it would all come spilling out.
Peter kept his questions gentle, just enough to guide her without pushing too far. She told him about the sound of waves. Laughter echoing somewhere distant. The way her body had refused to move.
Then came the question.
“Do you know the man accused of kidnapping you—Marco Espinosa?”
She shook her head. “No. I’ve never seen him before in my life.”
I clenched my fists beneath the table. That was the worst part. She hadn’t even known him. She hadn’t done anything. She was just a pawn. A message.
And then the real knife:
“Do you know why he might have targeted you?”
She hesitated, just for a second. Then, “No.”
Because she didn’t know. Because I hadn’t told her. Because Marco thought hurting her would hurt me more than anything else in the world.
Peter brought up the fabricated relationship. I kept my gaze on the table in front of me, afraid that if I looked at her, she’d see too much.
“We weren’t. We’re not,” she said. “He’s… a friend. Someone I trust.”
Friend. The word sat like lead in my stomach. I wanted to be more than that. God, I wanted to tell her everything. But that wasn’t why we were here. I didn’t get to want anything. Not after what she’d been through.
Peter finished, and then it was Rita’s turn.
I braced myself.
“Miss Carisi,” Rita said smoothly, and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise. She circled Y/N like a vulture—soft, calculated, cruel. Picking apart her answers. Twisting them.
“How close would you say you and Mr. Barba are?”
Y/N blinked. “We’re… close. We work together.”
“Close enough that someone might mistake that for something more?”
Peter objected, but Rita didn’t stop. She was laying the foundation. Feeding the jury a story. That Y/N had been taken not at random, but because of me. Because of something that didn’t even exist.
“Would it surprise you to know the accused believed you and Mr. Barba were in a romantic relationship?”
Y/N hesitated, and I could see the confusion behind her eyes.
“Yes,” she said. “That would surprise me.”
I had to look away. My chest felt too tight.
Rita wrapped up quickly after that, but the damage had been done. The seed had been planted. Marco’s delusions had been spoken aloud, and Y/N had been dragged through them like they were real.
She stepped down from the stand slowly, Olivia already moving to guide her toward the door.
I didn’t move.
Couldn’t.
She left without looking at me.
And I sat there in silence, surrounded by whispers and judgment and guilt so loud I could barely think.
…
The courtroom door opened again, and this time, I didn’t need to look up to know who it was.
Marco Espinosa.
Even his footsteps felt calculated—slow, deliberate, like he was walking into a room he believed he owned. He was dressed well. Too well. Charcoal suit, black tie, the picture of composure. But I knew better. Underneath all that polish was rot.
He took the stand like it was a stage.
Peter stayed seated, arms crossed. He wasn’t going to lead him. That was the defense’s job. Rita approached with her signature cool confidence, offering Marco a small nod before launching into her opening questions.
“Mr. Espinosa, can you tell us a bit about your sister, Anya?”
His jaw tightened, and for the first time, I saw something real flicker in his expression. Pain. Or at least something close enough to pass for it.
“She was everything to me,” he said, voice soft. “Smart. Brave. She wanted to make a difference in the world.”
My stomach turned. I forced myself to stay still, even though I wanted to shout at him.
“And what happened to her?” Rita asked gently.
“She met a man through a dating app,” he said, gaze dropping. “He… hurt her. Took something from her she couldn’t get back.”
I felt the courtroom shift around me. Eyes moved. People leaned forward.
“She went to the police. Then to the DA’s office.” He looked up now, and his eyes landed on me. Cold. Controlled. “She met Rafael Barba.”
Rita didn’t interrupt.
“He told her there wasn’t enough to build a case. That going to trial would only hurt her more.” He paused, voice breaking—carefully, I noticed. Like a man well-rehearsed. “She begged him to fight for her. He turned her away. A week later, she was dead.”
I flinched.
“She didn’t kill herself because of me,” I wanted to scream. “She was failed by the system. By all of us. But not like this—not like this.”
“And what did you do next?” Rita prompted.
He leaned back slightly, like this part required less effort.
“I tried to get justice,” Marco said. “Tried to convince Mr. Barba to hold someone accountable. He refused. Said the evidence wouldn’t hold. So I accepted that. I moved on.”
A lie.
Every word.
He hadn’t moved on. He’d buried it. Let it fester. Until he found a way to make someone pay.
“And how did you come to know Ms. Carisi?”
He smiled—smug, practiced.
“I didn’t,” he said. “I only knew her name. Saw her once at a press conference beside Barba. They were close—anyone could see that. The way he looked at her. The way he always stood just a little too close.”
My hands curled into fists.
“She wasn’t the target,” he continued, his tone flattening. “She was a consequence. A symbol.”
“A symbol of what?” Rita asked.
He looked at the jury now, not at me. “Of what happens when men like Barba think they’re untouchable. When they get to decide who deserves justice and who doesn’t.”
Peter objected. “Your Honor—”
“Sustained,” the judge said sharply. “Jury will disregard that last statement.”
But they wouldn’t. We all knew it. It had already burrowed into their minds.
Rita gave a small nod. “No further questions.”
Peter stood slowly. He didn’t rush. He didn’t yell. He just walked to the center of the courtroom and looked Marco in the eye.
“You claim Y/N Carisi was a symbol,” he said. “Not a person.”
“She was a person. That’s what made it effective,” Marco answered smoothly.
“You kidnapped her. Drugged her. Left her for dead under a pier.”
“I left her somewhere safe. Somewhere she’d be found,” Marco said flatly.
My breath caught.
Peter’s voice hardened. “You put her through hell because of a fantasy you built in your head. Because you couldn’t stand that your version of justice wasn’t the one served.”
Marco didn’t respond.
Peter stepped closer. “Did you send Rafael Barba a text message the night Y/N disappeared?”
“I did.”
“What did it say?”
He tilted his head, calm as ever. “‘An eye for an eye.’”
I didn’t realize I’d stood until I felt Olivia’s hand at my elbow, grounding me. Reminding me to stay put. To breathe.
Peter stepped back. “Nothing further.”
Marco leaned back in the witness chair, smug again, like he thought he’d won something.
But I saw what Peter was doing.
He wasn’t just putting Marco on trial.
He was laying the foundation for who the real monster was.
And finally, everyone was starting to see it.
…
The courtroom was still, like the whole room had forgotten how to breathe.
Peter stood from his seat, buttoning his jacket with quiet precision. His calm wasn’t rehearsed—it was armor. He stepped to the center of the floor, glanced once at me, then faced the jury.
“Marco Espinosa wants you to believe this was justice,” Peter began. “That this was about balancing scales that never tipped in his favor. But what he did wasn’t justice. It was cruelty. It was calculated, it was deliberate, and it was personal.”
He walked slowly, letting his words settle.
“He kidnapped an innocent woman. A detective. Someone who devoted her life to protecting others. He drugged her, kept her hidden for days, left her buried under rocks like she was nothing.”
A murmur rolled through the gallery. Peter didn’t flinch.
“He says she was a symbol—but she’s a person. A sister. A friend. A survivor. And she’s not on trial. He is.”
Peter’s voice dropped, low and steady.
“Don’t let him redefine justice. Hold him accountable. For Anya. For Y/N. For every choice he made along the way.”
He paused. “Find him guilty.”
Then he returned to his seat without another word.
Rita Calhoun rose. Her heels clicked sharply on the floor as she walked. She smiled at the jury like she was letting them in on a secret.
“Mr. Stone paints a very emotional picture,” she said. “But emotion doesn’t equal fact. Yes, Mr. Espinosa did terrible things—but why? Because he was pushed there. Rejected again and again by the same system sworn to protect people like his sister.”
She gestured toward me.
“Rafael Barba had a duty. He failed. And if there’s blame to be laid, you can’t ignore the years of negligence that led us here.”
I didn’t move. I couldn’t.
Rita finished with a soft shrug. “My client isn’t a monster. He’s a grieving brother who made a terrible mistake. Don’t let vengeance guide your decision.”
She sat down.
The judge gave the standard instructions to the jury. The gavel hit wood, and they were led out.
And then the silence fell.
…
They say the worst part is the verdict. But they’re wrong.
The worst part is the waiting.
After closing arguments, we were herded like ghosts into the conference room just off the courtroom. It was too bright in there. The overhead lights buzzed faintly, and every surface was sterile—chrome, glass, polished wood. Like it had been designed for lawyers to suffer in quiet.
Olivia stood stiffly by the door, her arms folded like she was holding herself together through sheer force of will. Peter hadn’t sat down at all. He was pacing in a slow loop around the room, lips pressed in a tight line, jaw tense. Sonny leaned back in a chair, legs stretched out in front of him, one hand resting over his face. The other fisted tightly on his knee, white-knuckled.
And Y/N—God, Y/N.
She sat across from me, hands clasped in her lap, her back perfectly straight. Still, composed, but too still. Like she was holding her breath under the weight of everything that had been said about her on the stand. About us. Her eyes flicked up now and then, looking to the door like it might open at any moment, like the jury might come in and say they changed their minds and didn’t need time after all.
I couldn’t stop bouncing my knee. Couldn’t stop replaying everything I’d said on the stand. Everything I hadn’t.
“Why is it taking this long?” Sonny muttered suddenly. His voice cracked like a whip in the silence. “It’s open and shut. What the hell are they even discussing?”
“They’re doing their job,” Olivia said softly, though even she sounded unconvinced.
“Yeah?” Sonny shot back. “Well, maybe they should’ve done it faster when Y/N was missing. Maybe we wouldn’t be sitting here now if someone—”
“That’s enough,” Peter said, turning sharply toward him. “We all did everything we could. Don’t start unraveling now.”
“Unraveling?” Sonny barked, shooting to his feet. “My sister was buried alive because some psycho thought she was in love with a man she works with! I think I’m allowed to be a little unraveled!”
Everyone turned to look at me.
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t.
I just stared down at my hands. They were trembling. I laced my fingers together to make it stop.
Y/N’s voice broke the silence. “It’s not Rafael’s fault, Sonny.”
“Doesn’t change what that bastard believed,” Sonny muttered, then exhaled hard and sat back down. “I just want this over.”
So did I.
The silence settled again, heavier this time. Peter sat. Olivia shifted closer to me but didn’t speak. There was nothing left to say that hadn’t been said a hundred times.
Time dragged. Ten minutes. Then twenty. Then thirty. A clock ticked somewhere behind me, and I hated it. It made everything feel slower.
I thought of Marco’s voice booming over the loudspeaker that night—how it had stopped me cold, how I’d recognized it instantly and still couldn’t believe it. I thought of the text that had arrived on my phone minutes after Y/N vanished, the mockery in it, the promise of revenge. I thought of the case file I had once closed with a shaky hand and an aching heart, never knowing how far the consequences would reach.
I thought of her under those rocks.
I couldn’t sit anymore. I stood and walked to the window. The glass reflected all of us, tired and bruised and waiting for a gavel to decide whether or not any of it had meant something.
A soft voice spoke behind me.
“If they come back with anything less than guilty…” Y/N trailed off.
I turned.
“I’ll appeal,” Peter said quickly. “We’ll fight it.”
She nodded, but I saw the crack in her armor. Her hands trembled once, then steadied.
And that’s when the door opened.
A clerk stood there, breathless.
“They’re back.”
…
When the door finally opened, the court officer didn’t have to say anything. We all stood.
Back in the courtroom, the jury filed in like ghosts—expressionless, unreadable. My heart hammered behind my ribs like it wanted out.
The foreperson stood.
“Has the jury reached a verdict?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
The clerk took the slip of paper, read it silently, then passed it to the judge. He nodded, his voice steady:
“In the case of the People vs. Marco Espinosa, on the charge of kidnapping in the first degree, how do you find the defendant?”
The foreperson looked up. “Guilty.”
A breath escaped me—sharp and fast.
“On the charge of unlawful imprisonment, how do you find the defendant?”
“Guilty.”
“On the charge of attempted murder—”
“Guilty.”
Sonny closed his eyes. Y/N pressed a hand to her mouth, trembling but standing tall. Peter didn’t smile. Olivia reached for my arm, steadying me when my knees threatened to give.
Marco didn’t flinch.
Not even once.
The judge dismissed the jury. Court was adjourned.
But for the first time in weeks, it felt like something had finally ended.
Not the pain. Not the guilt. But the chase.
Justice had come.
And this time, it had stayed.
…
The courthouse doors swung shut behind us with a solid clunk, and for the first time in weeks, I could breathe.
The sun was bright—too bright after hours under flickering fluorescents. It hit my eyes hard, but I didn’t care. It was over. The jury had spoken. Guilty on all counts. Marco would never hurt her—or anyone else—again.
Peter stood off to the side, phone already pressed to his ear, likely calling Jack. Olivia was talking low to Y/N, her hand resting gently on her shoulder. Sonny lingered close by, protective as ever, but less tense now—like he could finally let his guard down without the fear of losing her again.
I shoved my hands into my coat pockets and stared out over the courthouse steps, the city buzzing around us like it didn’t know what had just happened. Or maybe it did and didn’t care. Either way, we were still standing. Still here.
“Hey, look who finally dragged themselves out from behind a desk.” Amanda’s voice cut through the air, familiar and grounding. She came striding toward us in a leather jacket and a grin, Nick and Fin close behind her.
“You mean you finally stopped making excuses not to visit court,” Peter quipped, sliding his phone into his pocket.
“I go where the action is,” she shot back. “And today, the action was justice.”
Nick gave me a nod. “Heard you were the star witness, Barba.”
“I think I aged a decade on the stand,” I said dryly.
“That makes two of us,” Sonny muttered under his breath.
Fin clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You all held it down in there. Seriously. That was tough to watch. Tougher to live through, I’m sure.”
“Still standing,” Olivia said, glancing at Y/N with a soft, proud smile.
Fin rocked back on his heels, looking between us all. “So… we just gonna stand here and let the press catch up? Or are we hitting the bar?”
Sonny’s head jerked up. “Yes. Yes to all of that. Drinks. Many of them.”
“I second that,” Peter said.
Amanda slung an arm over Olivia’s shoulder. “Forlini’s has karaoke tonight, too.”
“Karaoke?” Nick raised a brow. “You trying to get Barba up there to sing Sinatra again?”
I groaned. “That was one time and I was heavily coerced.”
Amanda smirked. “You hit the high note. Don’t think I forgot.”
Y/N laughed—a real, full laugh that turned every head toward her. She shook her head, wiping away the remnants of tears that hadn’t quite dried from earlier. “I vote yes on karaoke,” she said.
Fin spread his arms. “There it is. Majority rules.”
We started down the courthouse steps as a unit, something lighter than victory trailing behind us—something like peace.
I stayed close to her without making it obvious, just a step behind and off to the right. She glanced over her shoulder once, her eyes catching mine, and something unspoken passed between us. Gratitude. Understanding. Something I wouldn’t name yet.
But maybe tonight—maybe after a few drinks and a terrible cover of “My Way”—I’d find the courage to.
SYNOPSIS! — he’s gone. again. but your body still remembers him. you’d give your all for just one more night, even knowing it would hurt all over again. (inspired by the song ‘my all’ by mariah carey)
you’d give anything to forget the feel of his hands, but memory is cruel, and love, when it’s real, never truly leaves.
the bed is cold. it always is without him. you lie on your side, watching the moonlight cast a silver glow across the floor. the silence feels louder than the storm outside, louder than your thoughts, louder than the ache in your chest.
i’d give my all to have just one more night with you...
you still remember how he used to lie here, on his back, eyes on the ceiling like he was lost in some other century. his presence never took up space, but filled it. and now that he’s gone, the emptiness swallows you whole.
your fingers curl into the sheets, desperate for something to hold onto. elijah left without a word, not because he didn’t care, but because he did. and it’s that quiet, torturous kind of caring that ruins people like you.
people who fall too deeply,
too fast,
too completely.
i’d risk my life to feel your body next to mine...
he had said it would be dangerous to stay, that loving him meant watching him choose duty over desire, again and again. but you didn’t care. you would have taken the risk. hell, you still would.
if he knocked on your door right now, you’d let him in. you’d wrap yourself in his arms like a fool and beg him to stay, even knowing how it ends.
you’d give your all.
and as if summoned by your longing, the knock comes. for a moment, you think you imagined it. but then, another. quiet. controlled. him.
you run to the door, not bothering to hide the fact that your hands are shaking, and when you open it, elijah stands there, drenched from the rain, his suit clinging to him like regret.
you can barely breathe. “elijah.” his name is a whisper, a prayer, a wound.
“i shouldn’t have come.”
“but you did.”
his eyes scan your face like he’s afraid he’s forgotten it, and then, his hand lifts to touch your cheek. “i can’t stop thinking about you,” he finally says.
he steps inside before you can say anything. the door closes. the silence hums between you. and then,
you move at the same time.
your mouths crash, collide. fingers fumble. you kiss him like it might undo the nights you spent missing him, and kisses you like he hates himself for coming back. your clothes fall to the floor like promises you never meant to keep. elijah lifts you, carries you to the bed without breaking the kiss. he lays you down carefully, reverently, like you’re something sacred. like he’s scared you’ll vanish if he blinks.
“i tried to stay away,” he breathes, pressing kisses to your neck, your shoulder, your chest.
you arch into him. “then don’t go.”
he stills, forehead resting against yours. “you know i can’t promise that.”
but you don’t care.
not tonight.
tonight, you just want to feel,
and you do.
when he’s inside you, it’s slow, achingly slow. like every movement is stitched with memories and mourning. you wrap your legs around him, trying to pull him deeper, trying to make the moment last. he buries his face in your neck, groaning your name like it hurts to say it. you hold him tighter, fingers in his hair, nails dragging down his back.
it’s not just sex. it never was. it’s everything. every word you never said. every tear you never cried. every goodbye you never gave.
“stay,” you whisper again, voice trembling.
“please.”
he kisses your eyelids. your cheeks. your lips.
“i love you,” he finally says. the words crack open your heart. You almost don’t believe them, but he says them again.
“i love you.”
you fall apart in his arms.
when it’s over, he pulls you into him, both of you still catching your breath. he presses a kiss to your temple and holds you like he’s afraid you’ll fade away.
“i would give anything,” you say into the darkness, “just to have you every night.”
his breath hitches. “i know.”
a long silence.
“will you leave in the morning?” you ask.
“i don’t know,” he says honestly. he never lies, he just breaks your heart with the truth.
you close your eyes and rest your head on his chest. even if it’s just for tonight, he’s yours.
and tonight... that’s all you need.
~
HIII OMG I HAVENT WROTE IN A WHILEE
i hope yall like it ive been trying to get into it again since i just finished exam season <3
