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alwaysachorusgirl · 3 years

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Blackout Blues

Pairing: ADA Sonny Carisi x Fem Reader

Word Count: 1,258

Prompt: The One With the Blackout for @thatesqcrush Friends Bingo

TW: none

A/N: So, this is my first time writing for Sonny. It's just a whole lot of fluff with a teensy bit of hurt/comfort. The only thing it really has in common with the episode is that there's a blackout. As always, if anyone wants to be tagged in a future fic post, please let me know!

Tags: @thatesqcrush, @madamsnape921, @itsjustmyfantasyroom, @prurientpuddlejumper, @welcometothemxdhouse, @teamsladsandgents

“Doll, do you really think we’re going to need all that? Come on, sit down, snuggle with me, please?” Sonny gave you his best puppy dog eyes and pouty face. He was already settled on the couch in a t-shirt and pajama pants, a soft fleece blanket draped over his lanky legs. You placed another battery powered lantern and two more flashlights on the coffee table next to all the other ones you had dug out of various drawers and closets. You tested the lantern and flashlights to make sure they worked and looked at your husband. It was Friday night and he had been in court all week. He’d won his case and been home early for dinner, and now you wanted nothing more than to cuddle up in his arms and fall asleep bingeing old episodes of “Beachfront Bargain Hunt.” But you heard the pounding of the rain intensify against the window, followed by a rumble of thunder, and sighed. Mother Nature clearly had other plans.

“They said on the news that this storm might be a bad one, Sonny. They even interviewed that guy from the power grid, and he said to be prepared for possible blackouts. Even the Super called everyone in building to make sure we all had emergency supplies.”

“Hey, I’m not knocking you for being prepared, but you know,” he sat up, taking your hand, and pulling you closer, “you look really good in those pajamas…and you love watching other people buying beautiful, yet ridiculously overpriced waterfront property…”

You giggled at that, cupping his face in your hands, and placing a sweet kiss on his lips.

“Mmm… yes, I do, and I would certainly hope that I look good in these pajamas, you bought them for me.” The pajamas in question had been an impulse buy on a family outing to Target. You had gone in to get bedding for your daughter’s new bed. You had walked out with that, new pajamas for everyone, and a bunch of snacks that you really didn’t need, but Sonny had insisted otherwise.

“Well, I know how much you like soft, comfortable things. Come on, Doll, sit down, relax. You can use me as your pillow, you know I’m your favorite pillow…”

“Oh, I will definitely be doing just that, after I check on Lucy. Then I’m all yours, I promise.”

“Babe, she’s asleep. I read her three stories just to make sure.”

“I know, Sonny, but she’s two, and she’s just as scared of thunderstorms as I was when I was that little. And considering how it’s been since we moved her into a “Big Girl Bed” …”

“Babe, it’s only been a few weeks. She’s had some good nights, and some not-so-good nights. She’ll adjust, just give it time.”

You leaned over and kissed his forehead. “I know, Sonny, I know. How about, you start the show, and I’ll be back in a minute, okay?”

“Okay, love you, Doll”

“Love you, too, Son-shine bear.”

You crept down the hall to the door of your daughter’s room and opened it as quietly as you could. The glow from the nightlight illuminated Lucy’s face and you smiled. She was, indeed, fast asleep, her little arms hugging her favorite Care Bear. Her faithful canine companion, Winnie, was curled up next to her, snoring her adorable Bulldog snore. Satisfied that she was okay, you softly shut the door and went back to the living room.

Sonny grinned mischievously as he saw you approach the couch. You lifted the blanket and made yourself comfortable next to him. Your back was to the TV, but you didn’t care as you placed your head on his chest and yawned. He wrapped his arms around you and placed soft kisses along your face. Your body relaxed and melted into his.

“So, she still asleep?” he asked.

“Mmm hmm, “you murmured. “Like an angel.”

“Good. I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, too, Sonny.” You felt him place a hand on your stomach, and you covered his with yours. “I’m okay, Son-shine Bear, we both are, just tired.”

“I know, Doll, I just worry about you. Any ideas on how we tell Lucy that she’s going to be a big sister?”

You opened your eyes and gazed up into his. “Not yet, let me get through this first trimester. Hopefully, I’ll have some ideas by then.”

Sonny chuckled at that and kissed your forehead. “Okay, Doll.”

There was an obnoxiously loud rumble of thunder and the lights flicked. You sat up like a shot, hand instinctively reaching towards the coffee table. It immediately connected with one of the flashlights, which you grabbed and switched on. You turned on a few more of the emergency lights, just in case.

“Doll, what are you—” Sonny was cut off by a clap of thunder so booming it shook the whole building. The lights flickered again, and this time, the living room went dark.

“MAMA! DADDY!”

“Lucy!” You and Sonny said in unison.

“Hang on, baby girl! We’re coming!” Sonny called back to her. You both jumped off the couch, grabbing as many lights as you could carry, and ran to your daughter’s room.

Sonny got there first. Lucy was sitting up in bed, terrified and bawling her eyes out. Winnie was trying to comfort her little human by licking the tears off her face, to no avail. Sonny dumped his lights on her bedside table and scooped up his daughter into arms while simultaneously plopping down on her bed.

“Daddy! Big boom! No like!” She wailed, holding onto him for dear life.

“I know, sweetie, I know. It’s okay, Mommy and Daddy are here. You’re okay we got you,” he desperately tried to reassure her, gently rocking her back and forth, and rubbing circles into her back.

You sat down next to them and embraced both of them. “We’re right here, baby, everything’s going to be okay. The thunder can’t hurt you; we won’t let it.”

Lucy sniffed and hiccuped. “Paw-mise?”

You smoothed her hair and placed a kiss on her head. “Promise; now, how about you sleep in the big bed with me and Daddy tonight? That sound good?” Lucy nodded, and you kissed her again. “Okay.” You looked down at Winnie, who was resting her head in your lap. “You too, Winnie, everyone in the big bed tonight.”

Winnie didn’t need to be told twice, getting up and jumping down to the floor. You grabbed Lucy’s security blanket and wrapped it around her tiny shoulders, then handed her her Care Bear. Lucy hugged it to her chest as Sonny kissed her forehead and stood up. You grabbed the flashlights and lanterns and led the way to the master bedroom.

You set up the lights around the room and Sonny got Lucy settled in your bed. Winnie made herself comfortable at the foot of the bed.

“Staw-ee Daddy?”

“Sure thing, baby girl.”

Sonny began reciting one of several Sesame Street books that he had committed to memory. You snuggled next to your husband, Lucy between you, hanging on her dad’s every word. As he neared the end she yawned, and her eyes fluttered shut.

“Wuv you, Daddy.”

Sonny kissed her cheek. “Love you, too, Baby Girl.”

“Wuv you, Mama.”

“I love you, too, sweetie.” You kissed her one more time, and then met your husband’s eyes and smiled. “I love you, Son-shine Bear.”

“I love you, too, Doll. Now get some sleep because I’m taking my favorite girls out to breakfast in the morning.”

#thatesqcrushfriends #sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi #svu #law and order svu #sonny carisi imagines #svu fanfiction

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barbasbodaciousbeard · 3 years

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The One with the Engagement Picture

Ayy, using this to try new ones. Another for @thatesqcrush’s FRIENDS challenge.

Peter Stone hadn’t always been as much of a partier as he’d become, and he would certainly reject the term womanizer. Anyone he dated or slept with knew that he just wasn’t ready to settle down anymore. Maybe it was because he’d tried to do that once and ruined it. When he tore his ulnar collateral ligament, he’d accepted he wouldn’t be pitching anymore, and slowly an ocean seemed to settle between himself and his teammates. He was bitter, and they were busy. As the partying stopped for him to heal and return to school, there was one woman he found himself content to spend nights with on the couch with. It was the first time since he’d been an adult that Peter was in a serious, monogamous relationship, and he thought it suited him.

Dahlia had moved to Chicago for graduate school, and she was thoroughly unimpressed with his baseball background. Did she think it was cool? Sure. Was she understanding they’d be going to games? Yes. But, he had to teach her how the game worked and let her know which of his friends even played when she met them. She was more interested in dragging him antique shopping or to old bookshops where he’d have to keep her from falling off of a ladder. While she learned his world, Peter got far more comfortable than he ever expected to with pin curls, vintage compacts, and inspecting dresses for sweat stains or cigarette burns. It made her happy to invest time in it, so if she’d wear his old jersey tucked into her high waisted jeans and go to a game with him, he’d take pictures of his pin up at the rockabilly festival they drove out to.

When he proposed, he was nauseatingly proud to find a mid century ring at the vintage jewelry store she loved. The owner knew him from each time he had followed her through, shopping bags in hand as she purused. That meant he had help from a woman who knew Dahlia’s ring size and which cut she’d like the most; he picked correctly anyway, she’d said. He’d been careful to plan an outing to the park, packing a picnic and red and white checked blanket. He had a friend hiding to capture pictures, and it felt like the timing was perfect. Soon enough, he had a picture of her, hand over her mouth as he asked her to marry him sitting on his desk at home, and one with her showing off the ring as she pressed a kiss to his cheek, his arms slung around her waist, sitting on his office desk.

Things were easier then, when he was working and she was in school. Their schedules still aligned, so they could see each other in the evenings. Then, she finished her MFA and taught night classes in order to make ends meet while she worked on her next novel. They’d met not long before the first was published, and he’d read a preview copy the first weekend he knew her and dug up poetry she’d published in volumes stored at the university. His brain didn’t work like that and he liked that about her. He was more about practicality and comfort. She was creative and artistic, comfort be damned.

The change in schedules made things hard. Peter wasn’t good when things got hard. The transition to not seeing each other much during the week, even though they lived together, quickly coupled with wedding planning stress to create arguments they hadn’t had before. Instead of quiet togetherness, they’d bicker. He got home late, so they didn’t see each other before she left to teach. She had to pick something up after work, so he was asleep when she got home. Dahlia wanted to plan the wedding, and Peter was getting nervous because he hadn’t watched many marriages stay happy. He pushed off decisions, avoided picking a venue. After a while, she got an offer to teach creative writing in New York.

“I could have normal hours, Peter. We could see each other. You know you’d get a job in New York.”

“I’m not going back there, Dahl.”

“It’s a big city. You wouldn’t even have to see him. We wouldn’t even have to tell Ben, would we?”

“No.”

“So we just keep not planning a wedding and not seeing each other? Do you even want to marry me?”

“You know I do.”

“No I don’t!”

“Then maybe you should take the fucking job without me.”

The minute he said it, he regretted it. The way Dahlia’s face fell and tears came made him feel stupid. She’d spent her weekends helping him with physical therapy. She’d taken the shitty adjuncting job to stay in Chicago until he was a little more established. She was patient about maneuvering the strained dynamic between Ben and Peter Stone. Hell, she wasn’t even asking him to go back to New York forever. It was a year and then the university would evaluate if they’d offer her a permanent position. They could be back in Chicago after a year. And now she was crying. He hadn’t made her do that before, not because she was sad.

“Fine,” she managed, jaw shifting as she tried to get the tears to stop. “I’ll go then. I can’t keep doing this. You won’t plan the wedding. We fight all the time. And now you want me to go? Here’s your fucking ring.”

If Peter had been used to having a girlfriend or wanting her to stay, Peter might have developed the skills required to do more than stare as Dahlia shoved her clothes into a suitcase and clutch the ring in his outstretched hand. He might have thought to fly to the city when he realized she’d actually gone ahead and moved and show up at her apartment unemployed and ready to go to the courthouse to prove he needed her there.

Instead, he steeled his jaw over the next few weeks. His arm had healed the first year of law school, so he simply returned to his circle of friends that went out and dated whoever and covered for each other. He always ignored the ones in a vintage dress or with dark curled hair. Those were the ones who could hurt him. Who let him pretend afterwards that it was Dahlia beside him, and they were married and happy.

When he moved out the apartment they’d shared-it was too much there now- he picked a painfully modern place and filled it with sleek modern furniture, The antiques she hadn’t taken were sold, and he finally felt that maybe he’d scrubbed his life of Dahlia, save the engagement pictures he kept in the top drawer of his desk. She had probably responded to the break up like an actual adult and moved on. Had a husband and career. Maybe even a baby. He hated the thought, so when he thought it, he’d pour another drink. And it was fine, because he’d just distanced himself from everything that could make him think of her. And that was fine, really it was. Peter had been a playboy before. He was a partier. He was an ex-baseball player. And he was fine.

Then his father died.

Peter felt the solitude then. There hadn’t been anything new and hard to process since Dahlia left. He wandered New York and wondered if she was still there somewhere or if she’d gotten another teaching job somewhere. When McCoy convinced him to take the ADA position after Baba’s trial, he couldn’t say no, and one of the engagement photos found a new home in the top drawer of his new desk. SVU was harder, and it found its way out more. He’d hold it in his free hand, sipping a drink as he tried to channel the advice she’d have given him.

“Ben liked her,” Jack said softly one day. “He had a copy of that picture until the engagement ended.”

“I was an idiot.”

“Aren’t we all at some point? Learn from it.”

Peter left it out after that. It faced him from the corner, and he remembered feeling grounded. That was what he really missed. Dahlia had given him a place to land. His dad had always felt unstable, and he wasn’t close with his mom. He wasn’t even always at home, staying with his aunt periodically. And then he’d made a happy stable home with Dahlia and ruined it.

When Pamela died, he stopped partying for fun and started using it to numb himself, but one night, he met a woman with dark brown pin curls and fair skin. She’d left when Dahlia’s name fell from his lips. That’s when he knew he had to reach out. He had to know if there was a family or a set of kids or a job in another city. He needed closure.

“Hello?” She sounded confused when she answered, and he suddenly remembered it was nearly midnight. He also remembered she never checked caller ID. Oh God, or she’d deleted his number.

“Dahlia?” Papers stopped shuffling and he could hear her sharp intake of breath. He could almost picture her, perched in an armchair, probably a yellow velvet one, with wide eyes and hair pinned up for the night and tied in a silk scarf as she graded or proofed her own manuscript. Maybe it was a friend’s manuscript.

Oh God, what if it was a husband’s manuscript. Another writer. She’d like that.

The cool metal of the picture he kept at home was pressed into the skin of his palm before he whispered, “Dahl, it’s Peter.”

“I know,” she said softly. “You don’t sound okay.”

“I’m not.”

“What happened?”

“Pamela.”

“What happened to Pamela? I can be on a plane to Chicago if you need someone. Or if you need help in the city, I can arrange things. Check on her.”

“How do you know I don’t have someone?”

“Would you be calling if you did?”

“I’m in New York. Where did you end up?”

“They offered me a permanent position. How long have you been in the city?” He could tell she was trying to mask hurt that he hadn’t called before now. But what was he supposed to say? Dad’s dead so I live here now.

“Since January. Dad died. I prosecuted an ADA. Then I took his job.”

“Ben’s gone?”

“So is Pam.”

“Pam’s gone?” He let out a shaky breath, chest tight. “Send me your address.”

“You don’t have to--”

“Address or I start calling your baseball buddies.”

“I’ll text it.”

“I’m not hanging up until I’m there.”

“Is it creepy I keep the engagement photo on my desk?”

“We’re not touching that right now Peter. You’re drunk and not okay.”

She was true to her word, not hanging up the phone until she arrived at his apartment. When he opened the door, he saw her just as he’d imagined her. Her hair was pinned in the silk scarf and a silk robe was tied over her pajamas. She had thrown it on over the same babydoll top and short sets she’d always been hunting down patterns for so she could make them herself and she’d slid on flats.

The sight of her made him feel tethered again, though he had had enough more to drink between the initial call and her arrival that he had gone from tipsy to unsteady. He went to hug her, and Dahlia carefully kicked the door close, locked it, and maneuvered him to his big leather couch that she looked terribly out of place on.

“Let it out, Peter,” she whispered, and he buried his face into the crook of her neck like she might float away or vanish. The cry wasn’t like anything he’d let her see before. He’d been careful and controlled anytime something hurt, glossing over details that could make it worse to give her a pig picture. But now, he cried like he was alone, heaving sobs with snot and tears and drool as he clutched her.

She settled into the couch enough he was basically curled in her lap. That’s how he woke the next morning too, curled against her torso with his head on her shoulder. She’d fallen asleep with her cheek pressed against the top of his head, and he was both embarrassed and relieved she was still there. Carefully he untangled himself from her, wanting to clean up before he had to face her. Face the fact it was his own fault he’d had to deal with it all alone.

He came out to find her having obviously used the guest bathroom to rinse her face, though she was clad in his boxers and henley now. She was too averse to pants for his sweats. And like the angel she was, Dahlia was cooking. He was, however, mortified to see what she was holding as whatever she’d put in the oven cooked was the engagement photo he’d been clinging to when he called. But he could also see she seemed to be looking at it fondly.

“Your interior design is terrible,” she teased gently, setting the frame aside. “I left you so much of the good stuff.”

“I couldn’t bring it from Chicago.”

“Peter, you forget I brought it from Chicago.”

“When I looked at furniture we found together, it made me miss you, so I got rid of it.”

“I kept mine because it made me remember you.”

“I’m the one that was an absolute moron.”

“It was easier then, huh?” she said softly, picking the picture up again. Their smiles were wider. There were fewer lines on their faces. Ben and Pam were in New York alive, and Dahlia and Peter had forever in front of them. Peter didn’t need to talk to her about something he didn’t want to remember.

“Yeah,” he whispered, leaning against the kitchen counter. “I’m sorry I let you go.”

“I’m sorry I let you. I shouldn’t have left the first time we fought. I knew how you were.”

“You were right to. I went for what I knew would hurt.”

“We can address all of that later. For right now, do you want to start talking or eat and then talk?”

“It’s my fault Pam’s dead.”

“You need to elaborate on that one, Peter. Because I’m sure there is more happening than you’re saying.”

“I didn’t drop a case. A victim tortured her attacker. We didn’t know for sure at first. A cartel was involved and they threatened to hurt Pam if I didn’t drop the case. We had guards, but they massacred Pam’s facility and took her. Diaz killed her in the gunfire. Dahl, she recognized me. She called for me, and he killed her. It’s been months, and I just, I feel so lost.”

“Peter,” she whispered, pulling him close.

He stiffened at first. He’d expected disgust, not sympathy. This was his fault. That’s what he’d been telling himself for weeks, distracting himself with booze and bars and women like he had done when he wanted to pretend his family was fine, that Pam wasn’t sick, that he was close with his dad. This time though, the hurt was bigger.

He was crying into her shoulder again, and he suddenly wished he’d been smart enough to call the minute he’d arrived. That she’d been there at dad’s funeral and for the trial of Rafael Barba. Maybe then he wouldn’t have even taken the job. He’d have recognized something bad was brewing. Instead he’d gotten his sister killed and was clinging to Dahlia in the early morning light of his kitchen.

“It happened in May.”

“Why didn’t you call sooner?”

“I didn’t mean to call now.”

“How have you been coping?” He was quiet, shifting awkwardly. “Baseball methods?”

“Yeah.” He was ashamed to tell her, and she squeezed him gently.

“I went with baseball methods after we split. You’re a single man. I don’t like the thought and it’s not healthy, but it’s better than other things you could’ve done.” They didn’t speak much as they ate. Neither one knew what to say to the other any more, but she didn’t want to leave him alone and he shouldn’t be left alone. When he did speak again, his voice was gentler than it had been in a while.

“Can we go antiquing?”

“You want to go?”

“I want to carry your bags and think about sweat stains.”

“How does that help you?”

“Is it manipulative if I say that’s the last time I was really happy? Because if you say no I won’t be mad. It’s just true.”

“It could be. But I believe you. I think it’s the last time I was really happy too.”

“Really?”

“Depends? Did I pretend to understand baseball between our last antiquing trip and moving?”

“No. You moved in the off season.”

“Then really. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve been fine. I love work. I love writing. I love the city. But I like everything more with you. Even if you’re a jock.”

“I thought I was happy before you. But I wasn’t.”

“You have to take me home first so I can get ready.”

“Deal.” And that’s what found him in her living room while she got dressed. He wasn’t stupid; Dahlia was the same as she’d always been, so he was waiting patiently as she brushed out her set curls and did her make up. She came back out in a pretty shirtdress, one he felt sure he’d found for her a long time ago, and keds, and Peter knew he’d do anything to get this back. The feeling of groundedness, that maybe they could be a team again, awe she was even agreeing to comfort him on any level.

She led him through new vintage shops now. They were in a whole new state after all. He decided that maybe baseball methods didn’t work, and he talked to Dahlia. This time he really talked though. He’d brushed over stories about his father and Pam. He didn’t like the bad ones or the feelings they could bring up. Besides, Ben Stone was a saint, didn’t you know? Peter hadn’t ever been talk about his father, so he kept that habit up with Dahlia the first time. He also told her the truth. He’d panicked over marrying her because she was his first real girlfriend and the prospect of settling down and having her grow to hate him like his mother had his father scared him. That one was a revelation to her.

He’d basically moved in with her a month after their outing to go antiquing. She preferred their old furniture and her vintage collection. Besides, Peter, I have a built in vanity here! The engagement photo in the park was replaced on his desk a year later. It showed them now in a different park in a different city with different lives to the ones so long ago. They also had different methods of communication, meaning they’d weathered fights as they adjusted to things again. The same ring was on display, however, and the same smile was plastered on Peter’s face as Dahlia pressed a kiss to his cheek.

#thatesqcrushFriends #peter stone x reader #peter stone #peter stonex oc #law and order #law and order svu #law and order special victims unit

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thatesqcrush · 3 years

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FRIENDS Writing Challenge

I wasn’t going to do a bingo until the summer, but I sorta got inspired while watching late night re-runs. So I now present the Friends Writing Challenge! Like all others, there will be a prize to someone who participates! (Note it may not be a fic - I haven’t decided). Still have your attention?! Wonderful, lets move along…rules under the cut!

PRIZE: A custom fic of your choosing! TBD

Rules:

1. Start date: 4/5/21. End date: 4/23/21.

2. Pick a prompt or two. Or do all of them. No pressure - this is supposed to be fun!

3. All works of art welcome. One shots, drabbles, moodboards, whatever your fancy. If your story is more than 500 words, you must use a keep reading. One square per fic (note: multi-chapters can use more than one square, but it must be one per chapter). Fics can be smutty; angsty/whump; fluff; whatever your heart desires. Just put appropriate warnings (i.e.: dubcon). The fics should be based on the theme of the episode (”The One with...”) or you must use the quote in the fic somewhere.

4. Here are the actual prompts (I know it doesn’t show on the image):

“We were on a break!”

The One with the Engagement Picture

“Hi, I’m __, I make jokes when I’m uncomfortable.”

“It’s you and me alright? This is it.”

The One Where They’re Up All Night.

“You’re over me? When were you under me?”

“Because I was mad at you. Not because I stopped loving you!”

The One with the Blackout

“Can I interest you in a sarcastic comment?”

The One with the Cop

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”

5. You must tag me in your story. Also you must send me a DM with the links to your stories. You must also use the hashtag: #thatesqcrushFriends

6.Characters allowed (**can be reader insert or OC)**

Rafael Barba

Jackson Neill

Nevada Ramirez

Frederick Chilton

Jonas Nightingale

Bryan Kneef

Sonny Carisi

Mike Dodds

Nick Amaro

Alex Cabot

Casey Novak

Olivia Benson

Amanda Rollins

Rita Calhoun

(If someone isn’t listed and you want to write them, just DM me).

7. No RPF/real-person fanfiction. No underage character (incl. reader/OC).

8. You do not have to participate but a signal boost is always nice!

9. As always, if you have questions - please reach out. And also: have fun!

Tagging people who may be interested: @mgarner1227 @madpanda75 @tropes-and-tales @dreamlover31 @beardedmccoy @youreverycolor @neely1177 @witches-unruly-heart @mrsrafaelbarba @skittle479 @ottosuricato @sass-and-suspenders @mommakat32 @dreila03 @beccabarba @garturbo @lovebennycolonmiguelgalindo @imjustreallynosy @sweetsummertime99 @whyissvuruiningmylovelife @annabelleb49 @scarletsoldierrr @cesarofangirl78 @redlipstickandplaid @redlipstickandblacktea @zoeykaytesmom @differentshadesofgray @misssirenlove @esparza-army @bananas-pajamas @mishaissocoolike @thefanficfaerie @theenchantedgalleryofstories @catnip987 @storiesofsvu @choppedgalaxynerd @pieceofshittytitty @ktiz90 @evee87 @itsjustmyfantasyroom @detective-giggles @rampantmuses @jazzyjoi @i-justreally-like-cats-okay @rachelxwayne @prurientpuddlejumper @lv7867 @permanentlydizzy @bisexual-dreamer02 @madamsnape921 @averyhotchner @teamsladsandgents @qvid-pro-qvo @alwaysachorusgirl @amelia-song-pond @wanniiieeee @tintinxtintin @law-nerd105

#writing challenge #thatesqcrushfriends #friends writing challenge

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itsjustmyfantasyroom · 3 years

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Best Girl Friend

For: @thatesqcrush Friends Bingo.

Prompt: The one with the cop

Pairing: Nick Amaro x reader.

WC: 489

Warnings: flirty and not a nice friends girlfriend

Enjoy x

You were surprised Nick’s green eyed monster never came out to the play with the boys. You were still best friends with your 3 best guy friends from high school. You all caught up regularly even though life had thrown you all in different directions. Miles got into a relationship first with Jane who was like the sister you never had, Glen was next finally getting with Owen who was amazing, you with Nick not long after that, who everyone in the group adored and then there was Tye, your typical play boy that lived his best life with anyone that would let him get a leg over.

Tye had called you 2 weeks ago telling you he had met Sandy, falling for her hard, completely smitten and wanting her to meet you all. It was your monthly catch up and you were all going to a new pub down town. You and Nick were the last to get there both being called in on a Saturday for a case.

The usual welcoming by the group was its usual over the top, with the boys lifting you up off the floor and Jane squealing before she would hug you. Tye had just put you back on the floor and grabbed onto Nick for huge embrace before Tye was back on you his arm resting around your shoulders as Sandy stood there with her arms crossed over her body with a look on her face like she had smelt off cheese. Tye stepped away from you walking to stand next to her, his cheeks blushed and Nick came up to stand next to you grabbing your hand in his,

“Sandy, this is Y/N and her boyfriend Nick”

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Tye talks about you all the time” Sandy looked down her nose at you “You’re the one with the cop”

“Detective actually” you tried to sound as nice as possible “I’ am a detective too”

“So I’ve heard. Wonder how you managed to snatch him up” Sandy nodded towards Nick ‘When all you do is hang out with a bunch of men in your free time” Sandy scoffed and moved to sit back down on her seat at the table.

“She’s a ray of Sunshine” You looked up at Nick and he laughed.

“She’s great once you get to know her” Tye looked sheepishly at you before moving to sit back down next to Sandy.

Nick hooked an arm around your waist pulling you into him your arms wrapping around his neck,

“Play nice baby” Nick grinned at you.

“I’ am great once you get to know me too” you shot back with a smirk.

“You are” Nick peaked your lips “That’s why I love you. But he looks happy, give her a chance”

“Fine” you rolled your eyes “I’ll play nice”

“You’ll get a treat when we get home if you’re a good girl.”

Tags: @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @witches-unruly-heart @permanentlydizzy @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo @amorestevens @alwaysachorusgirl

#thatesqcrushfriends #nick amaro #nick amaro x reader #nick amaro x you #detective nicolas amaro #nicolas amaro #svu x reader #law and order svu #SVU fanfiction #SVU FANDOM #svu fan #nbc svu

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barbasbodaciousbeard · 3 years

Text

Miami

The “It’s you and me alright? This is it.” bit for @thatesqcrush Friends challenge doubling as a little Rafael/Rebecca moment. I'm excited to do these since I haven't seen friends and can kind of just go off titles and quotes.

When I Became a Man, I Put Childish Ways Behind Me Back Before You Lost the One Real Thing You’ve Ever Known Here We Are as in Olden Days Trust Me Abuelitas, Tantrums, and Ropa Vieja Happy Valentine’s Raf Bring Your Daughter to Court Day and Dad Friends Because You Don’t Have to do This Alone (If Rafael Answered the phone?)

“It’s a date night, Becs. Can’t we celebrate a year?”

“We can. I’m just surprised Lucia is letting us out on our own during a visit.”

“Mami and Enrique getting all of the grandkids in their house for a night to make cookies and watch Frozen? You’re right. Her worst nightmare."

“Point taken,” she laughed, smiling at him in the hotel room’s mirror. He’d told her he just thought they could use a night to themselves before the festivities. Unlike Lucia, Enrique had four kids who would be joining their dad for Christmas, and each kid had at least one of their own. That meant eight more adults and what totaled out to ten grandchildren, eleven with Catalina.

In reality, a ring box was weighing down the pocket of his slacks, and texts from his mother had been silenced. Abuelita’s ring had been sized and cleaned, and he planned to ask her at dinner if he could remember how to breathe until then. His head was spinning anytime he thought about it too long, and his chest would burn as he realized he was holding his breath. What if she said no? That was his worst nightmare because he hated the idea he was to finally make himself vulnerable in a new way. He hadn’t opened himself to as much rejection since they settled into a routine. Would this be a repeat of I love you so many years ago? He was different, wasn’t he?

It was probably more appropriate to wait until Christmas morning or New Year’s eve, but he wanted them to be alone, and the twenty adults and children joining their little family was too much. Catalina was spending the evening with grandparents, who themselves had recently eloped, and it would be nice to have Rebecca to himself in the aftermath. It shocked him to think about the fact he didn’t know a year ago about Catalina. He was preparing himself to apologize to Rebecca and pray she’d take him back, and now he was a year into fatherhood and a healthy relationship preparing to ask her to make it permanent.

Watching her do her make-up in the mirror was his favorite part of this hotel room. They’d checked in that morning and been thoroughly lazy. Now, he was taking her to dinner in Little Havanna at a place Enrique swore had live music and fantastic wine and paella. It was almost seventy degrees, even at night, and it felt like a treat to see Rebecca in a fluttering sundress and heels after so long bundled in winter coats. When she was almost ready, he tucked his white button-down into linen slacks, rolling up his sleeves. In the humidity, he’d given up on gelling his hair, so he combed his fingers through his beard before she gave a spin.

“I’m ready.”

“Hermosa como siempre, amor.”

“I like it when ya speak Spanish,” she grinned, waggling her brows. “And when you leave a few buttons undone.”

“Comportarse, chica sucia. Dinner.”

“Gladly, papi.” He put his hand on the small of her back as he led her to the street. Maybe he should do it on the walk. They were going to be early anyway. “There’s the bartender I don’t like.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“She was flirting with you!”

“It’s you and me, alright?” Rafael grinned, kissing her temple. “This is it. You set the bar way too high.”

“I like the sound of that. It’s nice in Florida. We could retire down here.”

“You’ll retire long after me.”

“I can work here a while or you can be retired in the city a while.”

“I’ll be ecstatic to be retired beside you. We both know I’ll have to keep myself busy either way.”

“You’ll work until the bitter end.”

“I don’t know. I think I’ll like being abuelito with you.”

“Sentimental.”

“Can you blame me?” he hummed, arm around her waist. “There’s a park near the restaurant. We’re a little early. Want to find a bench?”

“I’d like that a lot.”

They sat and watched the city, and Rafael could tell he ought to ask now instead of later. He was nervous, despite the fact they’d talked dozens of times about marriage and that they were ready and they wanted it. What if she changed her mind? He’d just have to accept they weren’t getting married yet.

Rafael had arranged a playdate for Catalina so he could overanalyze every moment in the park with Hank, and it was, frankly, a little embarrassing to be a fifty-year-old man being coached by a man barely in his thirties. Hank was as sure as Lucia and Olivia- and probably Rebecca herself- she’d say yes.

“Are you okay, Raf?” She’d caught him staring as the gears whirled in his head. It was no good to self-sabotage on the off chance she’d had a drastic change of heart in the last ten days.

“I’m wonderful,” he said softly, and Rebecca watched the softness of his gaze. Suddenly, he was moving, and her brow furrowed until she realized he was on one knee with a little velvet box in his hand. She gasped, eyes wide as her face split into a broad smile. Rafael was laughing, and despite the beard peppered with gray and lines in his face, he looked boyish and bashful as he took her hand in his. There were people nearby, and he felt himself start to sweat when he heard an abuelita gasp for her company to stop. People were watching, but there was no way she looked so happy and would say no.

“Raf-”

“Rebecca, let me actually ask.” She turned red, leaning forward where she sat so her forehead was almost against his. “Becs, I love you. I messed it up last time, but for whatever reason, you had enough faith in this to give me another chance. Showing up on your doorstep was the smartest thing I ever did. I am so immensely grateful. For you. For our daughter. For the life that we get to live. You’re home. You’re safety and peace and happiness, and I won’t ever do anything to put our family in danger again. You and Catalina make me better. I want this to be official. Rebecca, will you do me the immense honor of marrying me?”

“Por supuesto que sí,” she beamed, and Rafael realized he’d been crying. He did that now when he was overcome with how happy he was. Before he could fully process that she’d answered him in Spanish, something that touched him more than words could express, she was kissing him, her hands cupping his cheeks. When she pulled back, he reached for her left hand, pulling it from his cheek and fumbling as he slid the ring onto her finger.

“It was abuelita’s,” he whispered, brushing her hair back from her face.

“It’s an honor to wear it. And to marry her grandson.” Another kiss.

“I meant to ask at dinner but I was getting too nervous.”

“This was perfect.”

“Hola. Disculpa por interrumpir.” It was a man, phone held awkwardly in his hand. He could see an older woman watching him expectantly. “Mami me hizo filmarlo.”

“Gracias.” He gave his cell number, waving to the pair before turning back to Rebecca and pulling her close. “I’ve had that sized for a week.”

“When did you decide?” she teased, bumping his hip with her own.

“On the details? Or that I was proposing in December?”

“Both?”

“Details, a month ago. December? Probably January.”

“You’re a hopeless romantic now, you know that?”

“And you’re going to be Rebecca Barba.”

“Does Lucia know?”

“I had to mute her. Want me to see how many messages since I last checked?” He scrolled to it, humming. “Twenty new notifications. In an hour. Four are venues. Two are mother of the groom dresses. Is that a thing? Six houses in Miami. Dios mio, mami is having a field day. And Hank sent ‘Get out of your head. She’ll say yes. If you chicken out, I’m sending her a check yes or no note for you.’”

“I like you having dad friends who call you out.”

“Yea, yeah,” he smiled, arm around her. “I have a fiance to take to dinner and dancing.”

“You’ll even go dancing in public?”

“Sólo en Miami con mi prometida.”

#thatesqcrushFriends #rafael barba #rafael barba x reader

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