Sorry!! I didn’t know that you didn’t write smut! Then...hot cocoa Rita/Sonny fluff?
Sonny couldn’t remember the last time he’d been allowed to sleep in. Even on his days off, there was always a need to get up early and set out to do all the things he hadn’t had time to do while at work. But finally, his brain seemed to have taken the hint that they were properly on holiday now. Two complete weeks of uninterrupted peace, just him and the woman he loves in a cabin in the woods, removed from everyone and everything else.
Bliss.
The bed dipped beside him and he groaned as he stretched, smile working its way onto his face as he blinked the sleep from his eyes and turned to face Rita.
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” she said softly, smoothing his unruly hair back from his forehead.
Sonny grunted in response, allowing his eyes to flutter closed again as he leaned into the touch. “Holidays,” he mumbled.
Rita laughed in response. “I made you hot cocoa. You don’t even have to leave the bed.”
Sonny grinned and pushed himself up so he was sitting beside her, resting against the cushioned headboard, and she handed him one of the mugs sitting on the nightstand, just short of too-hot to the touch. There were two marshmallows sitting in the top, steadily melting into the liquid, and he sighed contentedly before taking a sip.
“Don’t tell my ma, but you make the best cocoa.”
“I know,” she said with a laugh, settling against his side with her own mug.
He wrapped his arm around her, heart fluttering as she rested her head against his shoulder. After all this time, she still made him feel like it was the first time every time she was soft with him, and he never grew tired of it.
“I love you, you know.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head before resting his cheek there, breathing her in.
“I know,” she shot back, and he could picture the teasing glint in her eyes even though he couldn’t see it. “I love you, too.”
61. “I hope someday you get a taste of your own medicine.” - Carhoun
“Please, you’re like a lost puppy the way you follow me around. I don’t need you, nor do I want you.”
Rita knew she’d said the wrong thing even as the words were leaving her mouth, before Sonny’s face twisted in pain as he tried to push down the emotion that was likely bubbling inside of him.
“You don’t mean that.” His voice was soft. Unbearably soft. There was a tenderness there that she knew she didn’t deserve, and it made her feel sick.
In lieu of a response, and in an attempt to calm her erratic heart, she turned away from him, downing the contents of her wine glass before pulling her robe around her a little tighter, as though it would help protect her further.
Sonny followed her to the kitchen, watched her pour the remainder of the bottle into her glass, and the longer he stayed the harder it became to not fall back into his arms.
But it had gone on for too long. She knew that, and it was about time he did too. It would hurt for now, but it was better in the long run. For the both of them.
“Rita, please. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Rita snorted, moving around Sonny to take her place in her beloved armchair once more. She longed to fold herself into it, knees to her chest, but instead she sat straight and tall and proud, legs crossed over, allowing a look of boredom to cross her face.
“We had fun,” she said with a lazy shrug, reaching for the book she had been reading the previous night. “And now I’ve grown bored of you.”
She could feel Sonny’s eyes on her as she stared at the book in her hands, brain not comprehending the words in front of her. Her heart was screaming at her to stop, to apologize, to tell him she was wrong, that she knew she was wrong, that she would likely always choose distance and cruelty over accepting love that she knew she didn’t deserve, but that it didn’t mean she loved him any less.
But she said none of that.
Instead, she glanced up from her book with a sigh, ignoring the way her chest tightened at the wetness in Sonny’s eyes, his hands balled into fists inside his pockets as he stared at her, heartbreak and disbelief evident.
“I hope someday you get a taste of your own medicine,” he spat with a bitterness that almost made her flinch.
Almost.
As the slam of her apartment door rang through the silent space around her, Rita sank back into her armchair, pulling her knees to her chest as she clutched her wine glass tight in her hands.
I'm noticing a surge of anon fic left in people's asks. Not sure if it's the same person or multiple people but whoever it is, hope they read this blog. I've been enjoying the work ... What I've seen so far feels like it's something the recipient in particular would enjoy, which makes it extra special. I'm wondering if I've seen all of it or if more people have received it than I've noticed. Is this the kind of thing you guys would consider compiling? Or too much/difficult?
Hi Anon,
Though we are not willing to advise who has been leaving anon drabbles we can tell you that there are plenty that have not been published at this stage.
This was orchestrated by several members of the Barisi, Bangan & Carhoun shipper communities to spread some ship love. They have seen this anon and appreciate your kind words and the fact everyone is enjoying their works.
At this stage we will not be collecting the drabbles. However, if you investigate further you may be able to locate the original perpetrators, and they may be more than willing to do so.
118. "Forget the douche. He’s a dick. He’s a dickdouche." Carhoun
It took a lot to rattle Rita Calhoun. She’d cultivated an armour that had become who she was, cold, hard, clever. To succeed in a man’s world she had no other option.
But that didn’t mean she didn’t feel things. That didn’t mean that seeing her boyfriend of two years eating a much younger woman’s face off at the NYPD charity ball didn’t shatter her heart and wound her ego all in one go.
She resisted the urge to reach out and slap them both. She kept her arms folded, expression firm despite the lump rising in her throat. She was sure everything around them had gone silent, all eyes on her, and she could feel her face burning against her will. The humiliation somehow hurt the most.
“Rita…I…you weren’t…I didn’t…” he stuttered, eyes wide, darting between the girl he’d been kissing and Rita.
“Save it,” she hissed. “If you come home tonight, or ever again, you’ll regret it.”
With that, she turned on her heel and walked right back the way she came, out the door and onto the street. She walked half a block before she found a suitable bar to get drunk in.
Four rather quick drinks in and the weight in her chest seemed no less heavy.
“Mind if I sit?” Came a familiar Staten Island drawl from behind her.
“Be my guest,” she rolled her eyes, gesturing to the stool beside her.
When she turned to look at him, she felt her heart stutter just a bit. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were shining and his lips were the pinkest she’d ever seen them. She watched as his tongue darted out to wet them before shaking her head and looking away again.
“What are you drinking?”
“I don’t need your pity,” she spat, shame welling up inside her once more with the realization that he’d just come from the charity ball and had more than likely seen everything.
“I’m not pitying you. I’m buying you a drink.” When she turned to look at him again he was grinning, and she couldn’t help the small smile that flitted across her face.
“Gin and tonic.”
He laughed, shaking his head as he flagged down the bartender. “Of course you drink gin and tonic.”
They drank in silence for a bit before Sonny leaned into her space, hand resting on the back of her chair. “You know–”
“Save it,” she muttered, slapping his hand away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I’m just sayin’,” he said with a shrug.
“Well don’t say,” she narrowed her eyes, but she could already feel the lump re-forming in her throat.
She’d wasted two years on this man, and he wasn’t just any man. Rita didn’t open her heart up to just anyone. She’d honestly thought she was going to marry him. For the first time in her life, she could picture being married. Wasn’t that sad?
Sonny’s smile softened, as though he could read her thoughts, and she felt rage and grief well up inside her at once, her eyes burning with tears she would never let fall, not if she could help it.
She downed the rest of her drink and grabbed her purse, sliding off the stool with as much grace as she could muster before strutting outside, away from kind blue eyes, away from someone she was sure could force her defences down if he wanted to.
“Forget the douche!” She heard called behind her. She didn’t stop walking, but she slowed, allowing Sonny to catch up with her. “He’s a dick. He’s…a dickdouche.”
“You’re drunk,” she muttered, rolling her eyes, but she broke out in a smile nonetheless.
“Doesn’t make me wrong.”
“No,” she conceded, voice softer now. “It doesn’t.”
She paused for a brief moment as his hand took hold of hers, but then she threaded their fingers together, giving his hand a small squeeze. It felt nice, and maybe it was the alcohol talking, but it felt right, too.
“Wow,” he said with a laugh, squeezing her hand back. “Rita Calhoun admitting I’m right.”
“I’ll take it back,” she warned, though her voice had taken on a teasing edge as the weight in her chest lifted somewhat.
“Too late,” he whispered against her ear, before pressing a kiss into her hair. “No take backs.”
I can’t believe the SVU fandom is so childish that they have to send anon hate over shipping different ships. Come on, guys. We’re (mostly) all adults. We can have different interests.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Hey y’all! A group of SVU Small Shippers got together and decided to run a fun little event where we anonymously assigned a small SVU ship based on writers’ preferences, and then all wrote a fic based on the same prompt, and posted them anonymously. The prompt was:
“I love you.”
“You want me, there’s a difference.”
Not all of the results are in yet, but we’ve got some great fics listed already that you should check out, and feel free to guess who wrote which! The authors will be made public next week!
If you’d be interested in participating in a second round, shoot me a message and let me know!
Why do you write for crack ships? What makes you ship them? I've noticed Carmisi, Bangan and now Carhoun coming from you, but it seems like it came out of nowhere?
Haha, um, well… It’s kinda complicated. Overall, I’ve been discussing these characters and these ships in depth with some really awesome people, and I’ve had so much fun doing so. It’s the most fun I’ve had in this fandom probably since the current season started. As ship wars get more intense, I’ve kinda wanted to withdraw a bit because I don’t get it. But no one really cares about these ships, and they’re new, and the characters aren’t all fully fleshed out in canon, and it’s been so much fun to discuss them, and come up with headcanons, and even write fanfiction for them. I feel like I’m being more creative now, and not only that, but I’m having so much more fun with it. For the first time, I don’t actually care what anyone thinks about what I write. It’s for me and my friends, and if other people enjoy it, that’s amazing, but if they don’t, I don’t feel disheartened by that.
Individually???? Under the read more. Because this got long.
Carmisi started in my mind when there was speculation over who Miss 34B was for Sonny. There are a lot of characters I thought it could be (and who I would have loved it to be), but Carmen kinda stuck around in my mind a little. Mostly because she’s a mystery. She’s hardly ever on screen and she’s spoken about two sentences total? Every time I write even the smallest Carmisi interaction in another fic, I imagine them flirting like crazy, even when I’m literally writing Carisi with someone else *cough* Barba *cough*. But it never would have become what it has if certain people didn’t start prompting me with asks. Carmen’s a fully developed character in my head now, with her own insecurities, faults, complexities, etc. And I’ve literally been made to think about their entire life together as a couple. And I love it. I love the dynamic I’ve created for them. I normally lean towards angst, but everything with Carmisi is fluff. It’s a big change for me, but I’m loving it.
Bangan all started with @me-ladie encouraging me to read fic and look at fanart. And I gotta say, I fell into it pretty quick. But, again, it didn’t become that much of a thing before we all started discussing it. Trevor Langan is another character that doesn’t have a lot of depth canonically, despite how frequently he used to show up. But one thing I know for sure is he’s an absolute softie. He’s such a sweetheart. I think a lot of that is probably Peter Hermann bleeding through (HE GETS THIS SOFT LOOK IN HIS EYE THAT JUST MAKES ME MELT???), but he’s a good egg, considering he’s a defense attorney. Most of his clients aren’t total scumbags, and he’s defended Liv, and he’s Noah’s attorney too. I just imagine he’s a big friendly giant. And I think that kind of personality meshes really well with a personality like Rafael’s. They compliment each other perfectly. It’s a similar dynamic to Barisi, really, except that Trevor’s older, and more comfortable in his own skin, and perhaps a little easier to portray as flawed.
Carhoun is honestly… I don’t ship it quite so much as the other two, probably because I haven’t been writing a million detailed headcanons about their lives together. But I think it’s such an interesting dynamic to explore. I think, again, it’s a little like the Barisi dynamic. Except I see their relationship as a little more one-sided and a little more sex-based. But, as you saw with my gift fic to @astronautmike-dexter, I can see them being fluffy as hell, too (which, honestly, surprised me. It wasn’t supposed to end like that. It got away from me). But just THINK about it. Rita would love someone fawning over her, asking her legal questions, telling her how great she is. And Sonny would love to be that person. And I think Rita would indulge him. She’d answer his questions in depth, and they’d have some really interesting legal conversations, and he could learn a lot from her.
