Law And Order SVU - Blog Posts

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

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

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

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

I have a project that determines if I graduate with honors due in 3(?) days and it isn’t finished but my brain decided to hyper focus on writing self indulgent SVU fanfiction which is funny because I haven’t actually engaged in writing for weeks but yesterday I wrote 5k words about a ship I didn’t even ship until I had a prophetic dream about it

I will not admit what the ship is unless someone asks (it is mlm if that helps or hinders you)

Music To Write Boys To

Chapter 6: High Infidelity

Saturday, November 15, 2014

10:47 pm

You follow them into the ladies' room and drag Nick into a stall so you can listen. Just focus, I can’t afford to get distracted by Nick right now. Nick and the way his arms were on either side of me against the wall. Then, you hear the women talking.

“I heard from Stacy that someone sicced the police on Charlie.” One of the women says.

“Oh my! For what reason?”

“Apparently, he beats Diane.”

“He’s from down south, I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“She always seems so happy and put together. I just don’t know what to make of it.”

“My hubby tells me that Charlie is one of them gun nuts. I don’t trust that kind of people. There are rumors that they argue plenty.”

“Couples argue all the time.”

“The help hears everything and they gossip. They hear him yelling and breaking things.”

You hear the stall door opening, you panic and turn to Nick. Crap I should’ve thought this through. “Kiss me.” You whisper to him, hoping he just goes along with it. He doesn't hesitate. You run your hands through his hair as he presses his body impossibly close to yours. You can taste the champagne on his tongue, you moan as he bites your lip. You start kissing his neck as you reach for his belt buckle.

“Is someone there?” The women ask.

You pull away from each other, flustered. 

You step out of the stall, speechless. Nick stands behind you, attempting to wipe the lipstick stains from his face but essentially making it worse. “I’m so sorry, I uh…” You stumble for an excuse. At least this looks realistic and awkward enough that they won’t ask questions.

“Oh.” They laugh. “Do you remember how it was when you first got engaged Anne? I could barely keep my clothes on.” 

The car ride back to the precinct is silent. “Well, that was a bust.” You announce breaking the tension.

Nick rubs his face, “What do we tell Benson?” You shrug.

“Can we talk about what happened?” Nick asks.

“In the bathroom? I panicked. I’m sorry.”

“Do you regret it?”

“We just doing our job.” Terribly. We really fucked up. Casualty count? One. This partnership.

“And in the ballroom?” 

“We were acting the part.” But if we’re pointing fingers, YOU kissed ME!

“If you had to do it all over, would you do it again?”

You glare at him, “What?”

“It’s a simple question, would you kiss me like that again?”

“When would this ever happen again?”

“But if it did?”

“It wouldn’t.”

“Let’s just pretend it did.” Nick says exasperatedly.

“No.”

He glances over at you, “What about the other night?”

You fiddle with your necklace, “What about it?”

“Were we just ‘doing our job’ then?”

You cross your arms over your chest, “Nothing happened.” Was he checking me out? You drop your arms and sit up, “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Fine.” After a minute he mutters, “I think you would.”

You raise one eyebrow and he continues, “I think you would kiss me again.” You open your mouth to say something but decide against it, instead you stare out the window. 

After briefing Olivia together, Nick drove you home. He said nothing to you the entire time. Your thoughts were preoccupied with wishing this night never happened and wanting to jump out of the car to avoid the tension. You realize you’re still wearing the stupid ring as you enter your apartment. You take it off and slip it into your jacket. Nick’s jacket. Fuck I might as well clear a part of my closet for his clothes. You were so angry. You weren’t entirely sure if you were mad at yourself for being so stupid—or Nick Amaro, for being so stubborn. And for making me love him. UGH, I hate him. You didn’t. You take off your heels and start to walk towards the bathroom when you hear a knock at the door. Maybe he came to his senses and wanted to apologize. You unlock the door to see Chase. “Why do you have a phone if you don’t bother to pick it up?”

“I was working.” You state matter of factly.

“You never make time for me. You’re always too busy to watch me perform. I’m at your beck and call. I thought this time might be different.”

“I know this might be hard for you to grasp but my life doesn’t revolve around you. I’m a cop! I can’t just say, ‘no thanks, no crime for me today’. And what do you mean by ‘this time’?”

“I’m not even a part of your life. Do you want to be with me?”

No. I don’t know. “I just think maybe we’re moving too fast. What do you mean by ‘this time’?” 

He begins to pace,  “I’ve waited for years for you to be ready. When you joined the academy, we lost touch and I moved on. Then, you just texted me out of the blue. I thought maybe you were ready to grow up.”

Ouch. “I didn’t make you come over that night. I didn’t make you date me. I didn’t ask you to ‘wait’ for me. I’m all grown up, you’re the one throwing a fucking tantrum.” You’re so close to crying, tonight had been shitty enough without this bullshit.

“I just hoped you were done acting like a drunk slut. What are you running from?”

You were too stunned to reply so you try justifying yourself instead, “I’m not running from anything.”

“Maybe you’re running from yourself. Do you hate yourself that much?”

“Shut up.”

“Were you with him?” 

“What are you implying?”

He gets close to your face, “I”m gonna ask you this once, are you fucking him?”

“I don’t have to defend myself on something that didn’t happen.” Okay, so I bent the truth a little. You open your front door and tell him to get out. When he’s gone, you grab a bottle of vodka from the back of the cabinet. You turn the bathtub facet on and get in. You hate Chase and you want to hate Amaro. You feel confused and angry but underneath that, you just feel fucking empty. You couldn’t even force yourself to cry after all that happened so instead you take a swig from the bottle. What am I running from?

Music To Watch Boys To

Chapter 5: Salvatore

Monday, November 10, 2014

7 am

You’re completely soaked, lying on the hood of his car. He’s hovering over you, his lips on yours. His tie in one of your hands, you want him as close as possible. The other hand is in his hair. He bites your lower lip and you moan. His left hand is under your dress, your only source of warmth as it rains. His other hand grips your waist. His lips move to your neck, then your breast. He stops slightly, out of breath. He holds your face in his right hand and whispers, “Me haces arder de deseo cariño.”

You jolt awake as the alarm goes off. Yet another dream about how differently that night could’ve ended. You remove Chase’s arm from your stomach. He’s so fucking clingy. Why is he here every day? His place is better than this shoebox. I totally get why couples slept in different bedrooms in the past. You shower and get dressed. Chase has been driving you to and from work. He insisted, “I never get to see you otherwise.” Truthfully, it made avoiding Nick and an awkward conversation easier.

Chase pulls up to the precinct just as Nick crosses the street with two cups in a coffee holder. He smiles at you and says good morning, then his eyes notice Chase. You both get out of the car. “Hey, man. I’m Chase, the boyfriend. You must be one of her coworkers.” Wait, did we discuss labels? You might as well go with it.

“Nick Amaro, her partner. Nice to finally meet you.”

You gape at your watch and loudly say, “Would you look at the time? We’ve got to get in there. I’ll see you later.” Unfortunately, you decide to point a finger gun at your boyfriend while saying this. 

In the elevator, Nick turns to you and remarks, “Jace seems like a great guy. I don’t know if he’s really your type though.”

His name is Chase and Nick knows that. You don’t dignify whatever this was with a response, you just smile. 

Olivia tells the squad there was an anonymous report about domestic abuse in the Upper East Side. “Fin and Rollins, I want you to check it out. Talk to the couple separately, canvass the neighbourhood.” She then turns to you and Nick, “You’re testifying against Michaelis tomorrow. Barba wants to prep you two in court today.”

You return to the squad room after being grilled in court and watching Nick suffer through the same, for almost two hours. Liv, Fin, and Amanda are in Liv’s office discussing something when you and Nick walk in. “Did you have fun?” Amanda teases. 

“So much fun, I didn’t want it to end.” You reply.

Fin fills in the blanks, “We got nowhere with the Hastings. Then, they practically kicked us out. They said they’re busy planning a big charity ball and don’t have time for a ‘witch hunt’.”

“We can try to infiltrate their social circle, maybe find out if they know anything.” Rollins suggests.

“These people don’t turn on each other easily. And even if we could pull any gossip out of them, how do we get near without raising alarms?” You add.

“Why don’t we ask your boyfriend?” Nick interjects while staring at you.

You furrow your brows, “Excuse me?”

“He has connections to these people, right? He could get us invites.”

“Through his parents, maybe.”

“Then it wouldn’t hurt to try.” Liv declares. Damn you Amaro.

Everyone returned to their desks after the discussion was over. You ended your call with Chase, “He’s going to talk to his parents and he’ll let me know.” 

“Rollins and Fin can’t go undercover to the ball because they’d get recognized. That leaves you and me.” Nick observes. “Do you think his parents would recognize you?”

“I’ve never met them.”

“Really? Huh.” He puts his hand under his chin.

“What?”

“It's just, you’ve known him for a long time.”

“Yeah, but we just started dating.” 

“I’m just saying if I liked a girl, I’d want my mother to meet her.”

You tease, “So do you take Cesaria to meet all your dates?”

“You’re not funny.”

You sigh and place a hand over your heart, “You wound me, Nick.”

Saturday, November 15, 2014

9 pm

You and Nick sit in the backseat, watching as guests arrive in their town cars and rented limousines. He’s wearing a three-piece black tuxedo, with a burgundy bow tie. His bow tie matched the colour of your dress, a floor-length, sleeveless dress with a sweetheart neckline.

He pulls out a $1 ring and takes your left hand, “Will you be my fake wife?”

You wipe away an imaginary tear, “I thought you’d never ask.”

While Nick gets you a drink, you are approached by two middle-aged women. “We haven’t seen you here before.” They observe.

“We’re new to Manhattan, just moved from Miami.”

“We?”

You show them your ring briefly, “My fiance and I.”

Before you can watch around for Nick you feel a hand on your lower back, and he whispers in your ears, “Caio, amore.” Oh great, he remembers that I said that. “Here’s your drink babe.”

You introduce him to the women while his hand stays on your back. Your hand hugs his bicep. They leave to continue socializing and you whisper, “We should try to blend in.”

“Do you want to slow dance?” He asks. “So we don’t draw attention to ourselves.”

You feel curious eyes on you as Nick slowly dances you around the room. 

He takes your right hand from his shoulder and holds it in his. He asks, “Are you cold?”

“I still haven’t returned your coat.” You realize.

“I know.” He says as he takes off his tuxedo jacket and helps you into it.

“Why didn’t you ask?”

“I have others. Besides, you look better in my clothes than I do.”

You wish he wouldn’t utter things like that. It makes you stupid and hopeful. You pretend to fix his hair, he leans down to kiss you and you let him. A newly engaged couple kissing, no one is going to suspect anything. We’re just kissing to protect our cover. There is nothing unprofessional about this situation at all.

In your peripheral vision, you notice two women who interacted with everyone including the Hastings, head to the bathroom. “I bet those two chatty-cathys know something juicy that we can probably use.”

“What’s your plan? Follow them to the bathroom and hope for the best?” Nick asks.

“Exactly.” You deadpan, as you take his hand and try to subtly follow. Please don’t get caught.

Music To Watch Boys To

Chapter 4: Born To Die 

Saturday, October 25, 2014 

1:22 am

You were still in the car with Amaro, staking out the abandoned building that Michaelis walked into almost an hour ago. Nick’s phone rings, “It’s Fin.” After he hangs up he says, “Barba managed to wake up a judge, they’re at the hotel with CSU. They’ll let us know if they find anything incriminating.”  You get a text, it’s from Chase so you ignore it. You’re not avoiding him, You’re just working. Your phone rings, and you send it to voicemail. 

“Aren’t you going to get that?” Nick asks.

“It’s not important, I can reply later.” You reply, hoping he gets the hint to drop it. You turn on the radio, One Direction plays in the background.

“So, you don’t like him?”

I guess Nick wants to talk. “What makes you think I don’t?”

“You said the date was fine.” 

“Well, we were interrupted…”, you reply playfully.

“You’ve known him for a while, you never felt anything for him?”

“Well, I don’t know what that would feel like, I never had a serious relationship.” And I've never been in love or had sex with anyone else. I'd never admit that you weren’t sure if it was worse to be a prude or to be a slut.

“Do you feel safe with him? Do you think you could wake up in his arms for the rest of your life and feel like you belong?”

“Nick, it's the first date. I’m not marrying the guy,” you laugh; “besides he makes pretty good coffee.” you add jokingly.

There was a look in his eyes, but it was gone before you could decipher. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.

You sit in silence for eternity. Although the clock shows only ten minutes have passed. Nick’s phone rings. “Fin again.” he observes before answering. “They found the victim’s hair in this room, do you have your gun?”

You pull your firearm out of your purse, “Always.”

You and Amaro had begun searching the building. The first floor was empty. “He’s probably in the basement, upstairs doesn’t offer any coverage.” Nick starts towards the basement. You enter what you reckon is an old locker room, it's dark and you can’t find a light switch.  You turn a corner and see a shadow move. Crap I’m gonna die in a basement because of my stupidity. At least I look hot. You try to back away quietly, then you hear Nick call for you. “I’m over here!” you yell back. Not so famous last words. In a split second the shadow lunges at you but before you can react, Nick slams him into the nearby locker. It’s Dean Michaelis. Nick tells him he’s under arrest and reads him his Miranda Rights as you cuff him. 

Dean starts protesting, “What are you stalking me now? I’m an American, you can’t treat me like a thug!”

Nick remarks, “You might want to exercise your right to shut up.”

You ignore them as you continue in the darkness, you eventually find a light switch; then, an ajar locker. You open it and gasp, it contains blood-filled clothes, broken phones, jewelry, and other accessories. Trophies. “We need CSU over here.”

An hour later, it’s raining and Nick is dropping you to your apartment. You’re exhausted but so happy the case is going to trial. Dean kept requesting to cut a deal, not realizing there was enough evidence to prove he was guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. 

Nick stops the car in front of your building and casually asks, “So are you going to text that guy back?”

Why does he remember that? “Maybe. I just want to sleep right now.” I don’t want to think about anything now.

“You don’t seem sure about him.”

“I don’t have to know right away.”

“Yeah I know, it's just… I want you to be happy. He might…”

 “He might what?”

“He might not be right for you.” 

Saint Nick knows best, who am I to question his infinite wisdom? “You don’t even know him.”

“I know you. I know you don’t think you deserve good things but you shouldn’t settle.” 

I should’ve known my big mouth would come back to bite me in the ass. You want to die of embarrassment yet you try to smile, “This is different, I’m happy I promise.” Liar liar, dress on fire. “I’m just tired.”

“Hmm.” He doesn’t believe me.

“Do you think it’s gonna stop raining soon?”

“You love the rain.”

“Yeah, from the comfort and safety of my bed.”

He starts rifling through the back seat.

“What are you doing?”

“Zara left her umbrella back here a few days ago.”

When he finds the umbrella, he opens his door and the umbrella. Then he comes over to your side and opens the door, “I wouldn’t want you getting wet,” 

Well, I am.

“and catching a cold.”

There was something so hot about a grown man holding a Frozen umbrella.

He walks you up the stairs to your building, while holding the umbrella over the both of you.

I could fuck him hard, right here in the pouring rain. “Thank you.” He turns to face you, your noses would touch if you tiptoed. You want to kiss him. He starts to lean down. He’s going to kiss me! Am I dreaming? Then, you panic. Oh no, he’s going to kiss me. This won’t end well. You wish you could just turn your brain off. I’m just going to say good night and leave before it becomes awkward. You move away from the umbrella and stand under the roof of the entrance. “Ciao.” What the fuck. “Uh, good night.” You walk away, not wanting to look him in the eyes.

You take off your heels in the elevator and check your phone. You see a missed call from Chase and two messages. 

“I’m headed to ur place right now”

“I’m outside, are u ok??”

He’s sitting outside your door with your coat on his lap and as you get closer, you realize he’s asleep. You can feel the guilt churning inside you. He jolts awake and stands up before you reach your apartment.

“Chase, hey I’m so sorry I got so caught up with work.” He pulls you in for a hug and kisses your hair.

He stares at the coat you’re wearing, Nick’s coat but he doesn’t mention it. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Nick saved me from almost getting my ass kicked by a serial predator but I won’t mention that. “We caught the bad guy in the end.”

“That’s good.” he says as he hands you your coat.

“Do you want to come inside?” Please say no, I’m so not in the mood to have sex with you.

“If it's okay with you, it's a long drive back home.” There’s that guilty feeling again. Cool. Cool cool cool.

Music To Watch Boys To

Chapter 3: Brooklyn Baby

Friday, October 24, 2014

6:03 pm

You look at the text from Chase announcing “omw see u in like 20 mins” You tried to make excuses every time he suggested going to dinner in the last few days. Eventually, you just caved and said yes. You’ve known him forever, maybe this would be good for you. You apply red lipstick to your lips and touch up your makeup. You zip up your black dress, it was a simple midi type, with a split and v-neck. Yet, you were worried. Is this considered a first date? Would Nick like this dress? Would Nick even look twice at me, he’s like a real adult. Maybe that’s why he’s so nice, he probably thinks I’m too young. Just a dumb girl who's hopelessly in love with him. Shut up! What was his name? Chase? Would Chase like this dress?

There’s a knock on your door twenty-five minutes later. You slide on your heels and buckle them. The restaurant is uptown, closer to Chase’s place. Yet he drove all this way to pick you up, you note, maybe add that to the pros list. He made a seven o'clock reservation. He peers over at you again, “You are gorgeous.” he comments for maybe the third time. Is he practicing his adjectives? He continues, “So I was thinking that we should start over?” 

The only sound you manage to get across is “huh?” 

“Yeah, we didn’t exactly start on the most romantic note. I want something real this time.” You study at him, really look at him. This is good, I could really be happy with him. I just have to stop thinking.

At the restaurant, he asks “So where are you from?”

You give him a look, then “Right, we’re starting over.” You clear your throat and try not to laugh, “Uh, I was raised in Brooklyn, you?”

“Upper East side, my dad’s a plastic surgeon. I think he’s disappointed I didn’t choose such a noble career. My mom’s a former swimsuit model.”

“My parents divorced when I was 11, so my dad mostly raised me and my brothers. My mom moved to Florida to start another family. Anyway, what do you do?”

“I’m in a band. Your mom leaving must have been hard for you.”

“Honestly, I don’t think it really affected me. They weren’t happy and I just had to adjust.” She feels like a stranger. “So a band? That’s pretty cool.”

You continued the small talk for a while, which was surprisingly not the worst thing. Then your phone beeps, it's Nick. Am I being haunted? Wait no it's probably work, don't be a dramatic bitch. You answer and Nick tells you he’s sorry for disturbing you on a day off but he’s at a new crime scene and you tell him to send the location. You apologize to Chase, “I’m sorry, it’s work. Raincheck?” He tells you he gets it and kisses your cheek. You leave and get into a cab.

In the cab on your way to the crime scene, you realize you left your coat. Crap now I’m gonna be both unprofessional and freezing. You text Chase and tell him to keep your coat for you. He replies, “I’ll bring it to u. Can I see u after you get off work?” You ignore his text.

“So our victim is… was a high school student. She was found in the garbage bin by a restaurant staff. Possibly raped and beaten to death. The autopsy will reveal more” he states. “Wow.” You look up to see him staring. “You look nice,” he says whilst taking off his coat and draping it over your naked shoulders.

“I forgot my coat at the restaurant.” No! Why did you just say that? Okay just don’t make it a big thing.

“Were you on a date?” Why did he look at you like that?

You shrug, this coat smells good. “Just catching up with someone from college.” Not a lie.

“So like an old boyfriend?” What’s with the third degree?

“We never dated.” Also not technically a lie.

“So how was it?”

“Fine, I guess. Um, so walk me through the crime scene.”

Nick explains how the restaurant employee was taking the trash out at the end of his shift when he saw a dead body in the bin. He didn’t notice anyone lingering. Uniformed officers were canvassing the neighbourhood right now.

“It’s got to be Michaelis, how is he still walking freely?’’ you ask, frustrated.

“The school bailed him out, they claim the NYPD has an agenda and no proof.”

You roll your eyes. ‘The NYPD has an agenda’ is every predator’s favourite excuse. “What about the DNA samples?” You wonder if the defense will be arguing: middle-aged creeps are being denied their right to rape!

“The lab’s backed up, it’ll take a few more days.”

You got off the phone with Liv, having updated her on the situation. “We can’t arrest him again without probable cause, but we can keep an eye on him until Barba gets a warrant for his hotel room and car. Maybe we’ll find her DNA.” You and Nick were told the prep was still in his hotel room so you stake out the hotel lobby. You were sitting closely so as to not draw attention, Nick’s left hand on your thigh. You glance down to his hand on your bare thigh to notice he wasn’t wearing his ring. When did that happen? What does this mean? Was he dating again? He notices you staring, “I talked to Maria, we’re getting a divorce.” 

You rub his arms, “Nick, I’m so sorry.” You really were.

“It’s getting easier to accept. Ever since I punched her shrink, I’ve been trying to deal with my anger better.” You remember everything he told you, he thought his wife was cheating and he handled it badly. “I just don’t want to be the kind of man that speaks with his fist.”

You gently stroke his face, “You’re a good man, and Zara is so lucky that you’re her dad.”

You stare at each other for what feels like forever, that you almost don’t see Dean Michaelis as he heads for the door. 

Masterlist

Music To Watch Boys To (WIP)

AN: Set in 2014, canon adjacent. Mostly writing this as a coping mechanism.

Warnings: angst, implied trauma, self criticism, implied alcoholism, slow burn

You Belong with Me

Fuck it I love you

Brooklyn Baby

Born to Die

Salvatore

High Infidelity

Chapter 7

Music To Watch Boys To

Chapter 2: Fuck it I love you

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

5:42 am

You think back to the drink you shared at the bar last night and the way he stared at you. You almost thought he could feel something more for you. Almost. Maybe, it was the vodka and you were just delusional. You glance over to the sleeping man in your bed, self-pity, and vodka so do not mix. You vaguely recall texting Chase “u up?” at 1 am as you left the bar. He was outside your door thirty minutes later wearing sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a smug fucking smile. He annoyed you so much but in moments like this, he made you feel desirable. This is what normal people do, have regrettable drunk sex with questionable men, right? I mean who even needs love and intimacy when you’ve got an awesome job? Who wants a relationship to mess up and children to traumatize?

You walk to work, having placed all your faith on ibuprofen and coffee. He might be a fuck boy but hey, he makes good coffee. You notice that Amaro brought you a cup of coffee, great is this gonna be another thing, who’s even this fucking nice, you think angrily. He looks up from his desk and smiles at you, “Good morning.” You forget the ridiculous reason you were mad, that fucking smile, you wanted to melt but you compose yourself. 

“How’d the interrogation go for Fin and Rollins?” you inquire. 

“He immediately asked for a lawyer, Barba’s in there right now,” he said. “They’re cutting a deal?!” you whisper yelled. 

“If he confesses to all there will be no need for a trial and his victims will have closure.” Nick replies. “What about the school, do you think they covered for him?” you wonder out loud. 

“Maybe he’ll give them up to save his own ass.” Nick replies, then he asks, “Hey, where did you disappear to last night?” 

You look at him and try to lie, “Uhm… I went home and slept early. Y'know, it was just one of those days where all you want to do is crawl into bed.” Apparently with your fuck buddy from college. He puts his hands on his waist, surely buying the bullshit you were selling. 

Before you can dig yourself further into a hole, Barba walks into the bullpen and says exasperatedly, “He insists on having done nothing wrong.”

You reply, “Does he know the DNA matched his?”

“He claims it was consensual, and that she must have gotten mugged.” Barba replies.

Nick chimes in with, “She’s seventeen, she can’t legally consent.”

“He’s betting on the jury believing it's an honest mistake,” you guess, “we need to tie him to those other open cases.”

“I’ll update Liv.” Nick announces, heading for her office.

Thursday, October 16, 2014

3:09 am, Ohio

Today was supposed to be your day off but the sergeant sent you and Amaro to Ohio to retrieve the rape kits and have them tested in New York; while Amanda Rollins, who transferred from Georgia, and Fin were doing the same. You wake up from your nap in the car, you lose count of how long you’ve been on the road. You glance at him, hoping he thinks you’re still asleep. He looks so sad sometimes. He thinks he’s good at hiding it but you saw how the job affected him. He thinks he can save the whole wide world. He shows up for everyone and you just want to be that person for him. In a platonic, professional way. I totally wasn't falling for him. Uh oh, Oh no, oh I’m tot-. “You’re awake! You hungry?” he asks while getting in line at some fast food drive-through.

You get out of the car and head towards the motel to check in, you and Nick had been driving for almost nine hours. Truthfully, it was mostly Nick. “The NYPD put us in the same room, tell me you don’t snore.” you half-teased. After all that time in the car, you desperately needed a shower. You drop your bag and head towards the bathroom, “Dibs.” you call before shutting the door. 

You awake the next morning to find his bed empty, you notice a note on the nightstand that reads, “went to get us bagels and coffee, meet me in the parking lot at 9”. You glance at the clock, it's 8:23.  “Good morning, sleepyhead,” he smiles as you get into the car, “you talk in your sleep by the way.” He looks over, you were too embarrassed to speak so you just shove a bagel in your mouth. You try to ask something but it comes out as gibberish. You swallow and try again, “Should we drop by the Ohio PD before reinterviewing the victims?” 

He replies, trying his best not to laugh at you, “Yeah, we’ve got to check in with them, and get the necessary paperwork sorted.” 

You leave Ohio at about 11 pm that night. Just before you reach New York, you stop at a diner for a bite. You discuss the case, and then Anastasia the movie. You recommended it a while back because it’s been your favourite since you were a kid. 

“I watched it with Zara, she really liked it. I liked the talking bat.”

“Of course she did, I've repeatedly said my taste is superior. What about the music?”

He laughs and declares, “They should be on Broadway.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying! I hate that it's not more popular.” You pout dramatically.

You try your best to remind yourself that this is work, not a date. He was here with you because he had to be, not by choice; but then he’d peer at you with those fucking eyes and you’d forget to breathe. 

Saturday, October 18, 2014

2:20 pm

You’re enjoying a quiet day off, rereading Pride and Prejudice. Your phone pings, a text message from Chase that reads, “Heyy :D)”. You ignore it, not in the mood for whatever it was that he was offering. It pings again, then again. You open it and read two new messages from Chase, 

“What’s up?”

“Do u wanna get dinner later?”

Intrigued, you reply, “Maybe, what are we having?” 

“Well u can have what my mama made :p ;)”

Is it possible to die via cringe? He continues, “jokin lol, I’ll cook. I’m told my pasta is not that bad”

“I’m in :)” you reply, what's the worst that could happen?

“I’ll send a car at 6”

Saturday, October 18, 2014

9:16 pm

You honestly can’t pretend you’re surprised he had you against the dining table, a hand up your dress. You barely touched your wine and for some reason, you just weren’t in the mood. You put your hand on his chest, shirt partially unbuttoned and you pull away from the kiss. You apologized and he said it was okay. You feel so dumb and wish you had stayed home. You decide to watch a movie instead. While he chooses a movie, you sip on your wine.

Sometime before the movie was over you had finished the entire bottle. You begin to drift off to sleep, naked and tangled up with him. You and Chase had been on and off since college, tonight was the first time you questioned if this was going somewhere. Did I want it to? Was this the key to getting over this totally inappropriate work crush? How much longer can I pretend that I didn’t fall for him?

Music To Watch Boys To

Chapter 1: You Belong with Me

Monday, October 13, 2014

11 pm

It’s been three whole months since you stepped into the squad room of Manhattan’s Special Victims Unit, and it's been a wild ride. It's almost unbearable on most days but your team reminded you constantly the reason you did this. Every conviction, every confession, every time the victim spoke up and became a survivor; reinstilled your faith. 

You look up from your desk as Sergeant Olivia Benson leaves her office. “Are you two planning on sleeping here tonight?” she jokingly asks as she walks past you and your partner, Det. Nick Amaro. “Go home, paperwork can wait,” she says, “Good night.” 

You look over at him and almost get lost in his brown eyes, then compose yourself slightly so you don’t seem too obvious. “C’mon, I’ll drive you home.” he says. This has been happening a lot, not that you were complaining. You weren’t purposely trying to be alone with him but you’d be lying if you said you didn't enjoy it.

Your apartment was ten minutes away, but he insisted. Every time you’d talk about random nothings. Sometimes you’d overshare about yourself, your and family and sometimes he’d talk about his life. Then you’d lay awake cringing about what you’d said. Tonight, you thankfully chatted about music. 

You raise the volume and blast Taylor Swift. “I should’ve known you listened to her,” he teases.

“She’s a lyrical genius, what else can I say?” you reply smiling. 

“Yeah? Try listening to You Belong with Me on repeat for weeks, my daughter is obsessed.” 

You laugh and reply, “A lady of taste.” You ramble on, “So she’s releasing a new album named after her birth year which is also my birth year.”

He pulls up to your building, he smiles and you say thanks. When you unlock your door, you head straight to your bathroom since it's late and you have a shift tomorrow. You strip off some of your clothes on your way to the sink. As you’re brushing your teeth, you pause and stare, you feel so pathetic. He’s my coworker and he’s married, not even legally separated. He’s that nice to everyone, I’m nothing special. Stop thinking about him. You want to scream at yourself. You step into the shower and as you lather yourself with soap, you think about him. The way he smells like a man and it makes you want to drown in his scent. The silver ring he still wears on his finger, how you long for its coldness on your skin. His brown eyes, you got lost in them so often. His lips, everywhere on your body. His smile, you bet he’d smile like that whilst gazing up at you. When you get out of the shower you feel dirtier than when you started out.

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

7:45 am

You’re about to snooze the alarm for what feels like the tenth time, and then you open your eyes and glance at the clock. Shit, I’ve got to get dressed. You shower, moisturize, and put on underwear, pants, and a blouse. You apply lip gloss and some light bronzer, blush, and mascara. You are there to work. You remind yourself. Don't look at him unless you have to. 

You thank the universe that New York is so fucking cold because you would’ve been a sweaty mess by the time you reached the precinct.

You chided yourself for being late, already dreading the day and the fact that you’ll have to suffer through the precinct’s generic coffee because you didn’t have time to eat breakfast. You put your bag down and just as you take your coat off, you notice a cup of coffee on your desk from the little cart across the street. “Nick, thank you.” you manage to say before burning your tongue on the bittersweet taste. 

After the briefing on the Stevenson case, you and Amaro were sent to interview the victim and her parents now that she was out of surgery. Margaret Stevenson: a seventeen, white female, was kidnapped by an unknown assailant sometime after she left school, on her way to her home, twenty-five minutes away. She was beaten, raped, wrapped in only a bed sheet, and left for dead on the subway, twelve hours after she was reported missing. The rape kit was still being processed. Her parents had insisted she was a straight-A student and didn’t have time for a boyfriend. Her friends claimed that if she was seeing someone, they had no clue who he was. 

She was awake now and talking to her dads. 

“Hi, Det. Amaro, Special Victims, and this is my partner” Nick gestures to you while mentioning your name, “Can we have a moment with Margaret?” 

After the parents leave, you take a seat on the chair next to her bed while Nick stands. “Margaret, can you tell me the last thing you remember?” you ask. She hesitates. 

Nick notices and says, “Margaret, do you know the person who did this?” 

On the verge of tears, she replies, “I don’t want to get into any trouble.” 

You gently touch her hand, “Honey, you did nothing wrong. We just wanna catch the person who hurt you.” 

She starts crying, “It's the college scout, Dean Michaelis, I’m sorry I didn’t want to ruin my chances of a scholarship.”

“Do you think he’s done this before?” you query as you drive back to the precinct. 

“I think so, maybe we’ll find his M.O. in ViCAP. I think he’s escalating.” When you get back to the precinct, you let Liv know everything the vic told you, along with your theory. 

“He’s definitely escalating.” she says when similar cases were found, “Do you think the school knows?” 

You add, “Possibly, was there any DNA found?” 

Liv replies, “Only Los Angelos, Georgia, and Ohio haven’t even tested the rape kits.”

“The rape kit came back with DNA from under her fingernails and semen, all from the same guy.” Odafin ‘Fin’ Tutuola tells us as he puts the phone down. 

“I’ll call Barba for a warrant for DNA, Fin and Rollins, go pick this bastard up.” Olivia commands as she dials the office phone number for the Assistant District Attorney, Rafael Barba. 

Fan art of Olivia Benson from Law and Order SVU

Really sticking to my first ever fanfic written be my, myself & I atm! I try to update about weekly as everything else is plain unrealistic for me currently; but it feels so good to be back into writing and to create this story for two of my fav fictional characters!

Once again, I find myself thinking about that Cabenson kiss that was filmed, but never saw the light of the day. 

oooh yeah

reblog and put in the tags non-canon ships that you genuinely think should be/should’ve been canon

"Lessons in Love" - my first ever fanfic in the making (Law & Order: SVU)

I actually can't quite believe that I've posted 8 chapers on ff.net so far, but it does feel nice to have this little "side project" and to simply write something that brings me joy, distracts me from my current, difficult personal situation, and maybe even makes another person smile or feel the feelings TM or whatever. Reading fanfiction is just so magical - one can read exactly the type of stories one feels in the mood for, and there are so many crazily talented writers out there that it makes my head spin!

Can't wait to continue my story, hehe :)

Honestly I'm currently only rewatching older Law and Order: SVU seasons but I will very likely never watch the new ones without Amanda Rollins in it! She seriously is one of the best, nuanced, most complex characters of the show and watching her growth and her development really was one of the best parts of the later seasons, so why exactly let such an interesting character go???? I could warm to Amaro and Rollins and even Carisi, but I'm not interested in doing that again and again. It's like Grey's Anatomy, at some point I simply stop caring when they introduce new characters because it's just not the same anymore...

Every time I remember Kelli Giddish is leaving I start seething. Rollisi was just getting to a pivotal moment and I want to scream, Mariska fought for her and who is this new dillweed who thinks Rollins is the one who needs to leave. Rollins is one of the most complex characters on svu and she has had so much growth the last 3 seasons learning to love and be loved, I cannot fathom this reasoning

My first attempt at writing FanFiction myself :)

So I've really been wanting to get back into writing. I've actually started to write poetry again after a years-long break but I'm also trying to do stuff that is somewhat light and more "fun", and after discovering my love for fanfiction, I am now trying to give it a go!

So this is my veery first fanfic and updates will happen - hopefully - probably every couple of days. I know that I'll write only sapphic content so that's probably somewhat niche, especially because with Law and Order: SVU, there doesn't seem too much of a femslash-fandom, but I guess I write mostly for myself anyway so yeah: Rolivia, here we go!

Oh, my story is set in an alternative universe where Rollins is a teacher and Olivia a school principal.

Trigger warning for later mentions of sa and self-destructive behaviors (e.g. alcoholism), PTSD

I guess it will be mostly comfort/hurt, romance, but in a somewhat darker way maybe?

The Very Best Cabenson FanFic there is

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

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

Title of Fic: "Stay"

Author:  elphiemolizbethbau

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

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

Rating: M

Casey Chronicles out of context:

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

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

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

Olivia: Casey. Humor me. Why?

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

Casey:...Oh- right.

Casey: False alarm guys! We're good.

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

Oh my god im SO GLAD THE MUNCH AND FIN ENJOYERS LOVED THE FIC- I feel like a kid that just got a gold star sticker. KICKING MY FEET AND GIGGLING- TWIRLING MY HAIR IF YOU WILL-

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

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

@mister-warmth

@cherishsscene

@theorangejuicecup

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

Chapter 1: The Long Wait

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

Somewhere in Brooklyn, 2:43 a.m.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And yet you eat them every time.”

“‘Cause I’m polite.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Feels like decades.”

“Sometimes it feels like yesterday.”

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

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

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

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

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

“…You know what Reddit is?”

“Don’t dodge the point.”

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

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

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

Fin blinked. “For what?”

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

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

They looked at each other then—really looked.

Then radio crackled, spitting out static and boredom. 

They slipped into silence again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Two: Almost Normal 

Location: SVU Precinct, 9:46 AM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fin grunted. “Can’t wait.”

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

Fin looked up sharply. “I’m fine.”

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

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

They both froze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whatever that was? Buried. Again. For now.

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

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

Chapter Three: The Moment It Breaks 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shots rang out. One. Two.

“MUNCH!”

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

Because Munch was on the ground.

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

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

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

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

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

But Fin didn’t move. Didn’t let go.

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

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

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

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

Just a look. Raw. Real.

And something in Munch’s expression broke open.

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

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

Chapter Three: The Usual Spot

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

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

Also partly because it was always the only one open-

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

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

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

“I haven’t,” Munch lied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She scowled. “Wow. Bitter much?”

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

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

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

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

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

Munch deadpanned, “Must be the company.”

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

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

“What?”

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

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

Fin gave him a look. “You good?”

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

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

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

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

Munch waved him off. “I’m good.”

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

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

She smiled. “You will.”

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

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

Chapter Four: The Interrogation

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

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

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

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

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

Munch startled slightly. “Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t—”

“You do,” both women said in unison.

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

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

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

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

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

“I never said that.”

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

Munch looked down at his hands.

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

Munch’s heart flipped traitorously.

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

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

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

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

Chapter Five: Seeing It Now

 Fin’s POV

 Location: SVU Precinct, Wednesday, 6:32 PM

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

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

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

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

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

“Yo. Amanda.”

She turned, innocent as sin. “Yeah?”

“You know something I don’t?”

Her smile widened. “About what?”

He gave her a look.

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

Fin blinked. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

Fin didn’t know what to say to that.

Because… it was insane. Right?

Except it wasn’t.

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

He didn’t know what to do with that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hate this place.”

“You love this place.”

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

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

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

Chapter Six: Gay Is Not A Dirty Word

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

Fin had never been afraid of much.

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

But this?

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

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

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

But then there was John. Goddamn John.

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

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

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

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

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

Fin swallowed. “Hey, Ken.”

A pause. “Is everything okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

The silence stretched.

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

Fin exhaled, tried to find words.

“I think I’m in love with a man.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fin felt something in his throat tighten.

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

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

Fin’s head snapped up. “Wait, how—?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was in love with John Munch.

And maybe—just maybe—that was worth everything.

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

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

Chapter Seven: Testing The Conspirital Waters

 Location: Squad Room & Coffee Run Territory 

Fin’s POV

 Friday Morning, 9:12 AM

Fin got in early.

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

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

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

It wasn’t.

It sat heavy in his chest. Constant. Present.

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

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

Fin shrugged. “Didn’t sleep.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You eat?” Fin asked suddenly.

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

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

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

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

Fin nodded. “Cool.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fin looked away. Jesus.

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

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

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

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

Munch blinked. “You’re being weird.”

“You’re being ungrateful.”

Munch’s mouth twitched. “Fair point.”

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

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

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

Munch didn’t move away.

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

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

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

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

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

Munch gave him a long look. “Okay.”

Fin didn’t miss the way his voice softened.

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

Benson grinned. “Give it three more chapters.”

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

Everyone wants Casey, and shes hyper aware of that and milks it for all its worth. Like not in a cocky way, but in the sense that in almost every bar scene shes in, she runs away with someone almost every time--And that time that she faked interest in one of Loinal Grangers associates for a case, and he fell right into that trap-

The Squad During the episode "Ghost"

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

Elliot: Pretty much.

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

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

Olivia: Use your imagination.

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

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

(the next day in the courtroom)

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

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

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

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

...

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

olivia: I don't kiss and tell.

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

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

SVU Group Chat:

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

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

Casey: Not you clocking my tea-

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

elliot: Ill get you coffee if you quit complaining-

casey: And suddenly I love you.

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

Munch: h o..w-

Olivia: ?

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

Munch: FUnnY

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

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

Munch: Alex is gonna find me isnt she-

Olivia: yeah she left the room with a vendetta-

Munch: fuck.

Elliot: LANGUAGE.

I love how Fin brought Bruno to Manhatten SVU like a stray puppy- Begging Liv with 20 "Can we keep him?" and "You got to keep yours!" It's hilarious seeing such a no-bullshit guy, find this stray puppy of a man- and take one good look and be like yeah, I'm keeping him. But I won't call him by his name, no no. Money bags. Yep. that's it. (Ignoring the fact that he's not over munc-- *Gunshots*)

SVU Characters in Therapy: Casey Novak:

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Casey: Im fine. Im literally girl-bossing my way through this whole thing. Life is my bitch.

Therapist:...Casey, we went over this in the last session- Its okay to not be okay, and weren't we just talking about charl--

Casey: THAT WAS A MOMENT OF WEAKNESS. THE WORLD IS STILL MY BITCH

Therapist: NOW IT A MOMENT OF DENIAL-

Therapist: We'll bring that up later-

Therapist:...Speaking of denial, let's talk about your situation-ship with oliv--

Casey, getting up out of her chair: I OBJECT- SPECULA- Therapist:...Casey sit back down-

Casey: Nu-uh.

Therapist:...did you just say nuh-uh-

Therapist: Did a 40-year-old woman just tell me nuh-uh-

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Senior Assistant District Attorney Gaysey Novak.

Fin is never beating the Bi allegations in my book.

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

Some of my Munch headcanons^^

- doesn't believe in wearing matching socks.

- has an extensive collection of books about aliens (specifically alien abductions).

- has a huge framed picture of JFK in his bedroom.

- talking about JFK he owns a plate set with his and other democratic politicians faces on them - they are part of his "for special occasions only" dining set.

- claims he had an encounter with the Jersey Devil once in the 70s. (And so what if he was stoned when it happened? He knows what he saw!)

- suffers from a minor kind of light sensitivity.

- he's also very allergic to nickel.

- loves John Waters movies. His favourite is Pink Flamingos ('72), he's seen it about a hundred times and has made Fin watch it with him at least once. (Let's just say Fin was not the biggest fan))

- bi.bi.bi.

Merry Christmas and happy holidays everyone💗 Now here’s fin enjoying the holidays: