rosecabenson

Latest Posts by rosecabenson

Taglists

So last night I got a request to send a reminder for my next fic update (aaaa ?!?! people like what I’m writing and want to know when they can see more ?? whaaaat ?!)

Anywho it got me thinking. I don’t really have a taglist system for when I post to tumblr, and I’ve also been thinking about branching out into shorter forms like HC’s and A-Z’s as well.

So I guess this is me putting the word out that I’d like to start using taglists for anyone that would be interested?!

More details under the cut!

If people are interested, I would be starting taglists for fic updates, pairings, and specific characters (incl. x reader content) that I commonly write for! Some examples:

Ongoing WIPs:

So Obsessed (Alex Cabot/Rita Calhoun/Casey Novak) You’re My Babygirl (Calvak/Barhoun)

Pairings*:

Alex Cabot x Casey Novak (Calex) Rita Calhoun x Casey Novak (Calvak) Rafael Barba x Rita Calhoun (Barhoun) Alex Cabot x Olivia Benson (Cabenson)**

*I am open to writing other pairings, these are just the most common ones that I write for. If you want to know when I post another pairing (e.g Benovak) I’m open to starting a taglist for those too!

**I don’t post a lot of my Cabenson writing on tumblr as it doesn’t tend to get much engagement. But I would be open to cross posting more/older fics from my ao3 if there’s demand for a Cabenson taglist here

Characters***:

Rafael Barba**** Olivia Benson**** Alex Cabot Rita Calhoun Casey Novak

*** NOTE I'm not currently writing explicit x reader smut

**** I won’t be writing x reader content for these characters at this time, but may be open to this in future. Until then, anyone who requests these will be added to taglists for HC's, or fics where this character is prominently featured (e.g Barhoun taglists for anyone requesting Barba content!)

To be added to any of these lists, please either reply to this, or send me an ask/message!

Thank you all for your support so far! Your replies, messages, reblogs and likes all mean the absolute world and are what keeps me going as a writer, love you all!

Tagging some who might be interested, no pressure to interact, but please feel free to reblog for reach if you can/want to! @valentinesfrog @storiesofsvu @detectivejrdude583 @caseycabotsvu @iwoulddieforher @oliviasgayvibe @daddy-heather-dunbar @littlelemonkey @wittygutsy @serenasoutherlyns @the-13th-reason-why @sillylittlepairofclogs @cassandracabot @twocons @wild-fleurs @rosecabenson @todorokiicefire @commandermonalisa @hoe4almondmilk @spacecowboys15 @archetype-d @novelsandlove

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-

You are my Sunshine | Alex Cabot x Casey Novak

Casey and Alex are married and trying to hold onto a sense of normal. But when Alex begins to withdraw, Casey’s world begins to crack at the edges. What starts as subtle changes spirals into something irreversible: a devastating diagnosis Alex has kept secret for months.

Hurt/ Comfort, angst without a happy ending major character death... 9k wc

AO3 link !

Please take care while reading. Contains themes of love, loss, and terminal illness that may be triggering for some.

The mornings were always the quietest part of their day. Before court filings and legal memos, before the clang of the city found its way through their windows, before the world asked too much of either of them. Casey woke first, as usual, padding barefoot across the kitchen floor in the faded yellow hoodie Alex always threatened to steal. The coffee machine gurgled to life as she pulled two mugs from the cabinet, setting one in its place on the counter without looking. She didn’t need to. Alex always used the dark blue one with the chip in the handle.

Alex appeared a few minutes later, wrapped in her robe, hair damp from the shower. There was a small hitch in her step as she crossed the room, subtle enough that someone else might have missed it. But Casey noticed. She always noticed. 

“You okay?” she asked, pouring coffee into the chipped mug. Alex nodded and smiled, brushing a kiss to Casey’s cheek. 

“Just slept funny,” she said, reaching for the sugar like she always did, three teaspoons even though she swore she liked it black.

It wasn’t the first time Alex had brushed something off lately. Two weeks ago, she’d come home late from arraignment and winced when she bent to take off her heels. Last weekend, she sat through an entire dinner with their friends gripping the edge of her chair like she was in pain. It was subtle at first, missed steps on the stairs, the way she rubbed her knee absently, how she started favoring her right leg when she thought no one was looking. She hadn’t complained, hadn’t said a word about it, but Casey could feel something was off.

Later that morning, as Casey prepped her opening statement for the day’s trial, she heard Alex moving around upstairs. Closet doors opened, drawers shut, footsteps muffled on the carpet. Then, silence. When Casey went to check on her, Alex was sitting on the edge of their bed, fully dressed, staring down at the floor like she’d forgotten what she’d come into the room to do. She looked up, smiled like nothing was wrong, and said she had a meeting uptown. Casey didn’t press her. She never wanted to be the person who pushed too hard.

Days passed, and the pain seemed to worsen. Alex began carrying icy hot packets in her purse and started taking ibuprofen with her coffee in the mornings. Casey offered to call her friend, a sports medicine doctor, just to rule out a nerve issue. Alex brushed her off with a laugh, saying it was probably from sitting too long at the office. “I’m not twenty-five anymore,” she said, trying to make it sound like a joke. Casey just smiled.

Alex started working later, coming home exhausted and quiet. She curled into bed without changing out of her suit. She stopped reading at night and started canceling plans. Casey took over groceries, errands, and the cat’s vet appointments. Small things, but they added up. And when she asked if something was wrong, Alex always gave the same answer. “I’m fine. Just tired. It’s nothing.”

She started coughing. Dry at first, occasional, barely more than a throat clear at night that Alex dismissed as seasonal allergies. The windows were open, and the city air was never kind to her. Casey offered to grab some Claritin from the pharmacy, but Alex said she already had some at work. She smiled when she said it, then turned her head to cough again.

The cough didn’t go away. It deepened, hollow and sharp, like it came from somewhere deeper than her lungs. Then came the night sweats—first once, then twice, then almost every night. Casey would wake to find Alex’s side of the bed soaked through, her body twisted in damp sheets, hair clinging to her temples. The first time it happened, Casey reached for her in a panic, only for Alex to murmur something unintelligible and roll away, too exhausted to care. The second time, Alex got up in the middle of the night and changed into dry clothes without saying anything. She barely opened her eyes. The third time, Casey woke to find Alex sitting on the edge of the bed in silence, wrapped in a towel, staring at nothing. Her hands were shaking. She said she was cold, but her skin was burning.

Alex stopped eating breakfast. Then lunch. Then dinner. Food lost its appeal, she said. She felt bloated, nauseous, just not hungry. But her clothes started hanging differently, and the shadows under her eyes deepened. She took to drinking protein shakes in the morning, which she left half-finished on the counter. Casey noticed, of course, but Alex was always a little forgetful when she was under stress, and stress came with the job. That’s what Casey told herself as she rinsed out another barely touched glass and watched Alex sleep through an entire Saturday afternoon.

The stomach aches came next. Dull, low, always brushed off with a wince and a hand wave. “I ate too fast” became her new catchphrase, even when she hadn’t eaten at all. She started avoiding the stairs when she could. Casey once found her doubled over in the bathroom, her face pale and her arms gripping the tub so hard her knuckles were white. “It’s just a stomach bug,” she’d said breathlessly, swallowing back. She smiled through it like it didn’t feel like her body was turning traitor beneath her skin.

They stopped going out. No more Sunday brunches or wine on the balcony or long walks through Prospect Park. Casey chalked it up to work fatigue. Trials were draining and Alex had never been great about balancing rest with ambition. But it was more than that. Alex was fading, and Casey could feel it like a draft slipping through the walls of their home. She tried to tell herself she was imagining it. She tried to remember that Alex had always been tough, private, a little closed off when things got overwhelming. But some mornings, when Casey rolled over and looked at her wife’s sleeping face, drenched in sweat, hair limp against her forehead, arms curled protectively around herself, she felt an unshakable fear rising in her throat.

Still, Alex smiled. She kissed Casey goodbye in the mornings, still said “I love you” before bed. She still made coffee, even if she didn’t drink it. She still wore lipstick when she went to court, even if her skin was grayer than usual beneath the blush. Whatever was wrong, she wasn’t ready to admit it. 

Not to Casey. Not even to herself.

It was the missed appointment that finally tipped the balance. Insignificant on its own, but jarring in its inconsistency. Alex never missed doctor’s appointments. She kept her calendar obsessively organized, color-coded down to court dates, press briefings, and annual checkups. So when Casey came home early one afternoon to find the reminder card from Alex’s pcp still pinned to the fridge with the old magnet from their London trip untouched, something inside her tightened. The date had already passed.

She didn’t bring it up right away. Instead, she moved quietly, watching. It was easier than she wanted to admit. Alex seemed to live in half-light lately, shadows under her eyes, shoulders always tight. Her suits hung more loosely on her frame than they had just a month before. The tailored lines that once hugged her body now hung limp, and Casey noticed the way she avoided mirrors, changing in the bathroom with the door shut instead of pulling on her pajamas while chatting about her day.

One night, while Alex was in the shower, Casey went looking for toothpaste in the downstairs guest bathroom and found the drawer stuck. When she finally got it open, her eyes caught on a small zippered pouch tucked beneath a pile of travel-size shampoo bottles. Inside were three orange pill bottles. Two for anti-nausea medication, one for painkillers. All were recent. None had been mentioned. All were prescribed under the same reduced initials. A.C.

Casey stood there for a long time, one hand still gripping the edge of the drawer, her breath catching. The sound of the shower running upstairs felt impossibly far away. She closed the drawer slowly, gently, as if being too loud might set something irreversible in motion.

That night, they ate takeout on the couch. Pad Thai and spring rolls. Alex pushed her food around for a while before declaring she wasn’t hungry. Casey leaned in just enough to brush a hand over her arm. 

“You’ve barely touched anything this week,” she said softly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Alex looked at her like she had rehearsed the answer a hundred times. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m fine, Case. Really. Work’s just been… a lot lately. I’m not sleeping well. But I’ll catch up this weekend. Promise.”

She leaned over and kissed Casey’s temple before setting her plate down, untouched. She curled up under the blanket like her bones ached. Casey let it go for the moment. But as she sat in the kitchen rinsing off two mostly full plates of food, she stared down at the sink and felt the kind of quiet that had nothing to do with peace settle around her chest like a weight.

That night, Alex kissed her longer than usual before falling asleep, like she was apologizing for something she hadn’t said yet.

***

They were supposed to meet Olivia and Elliot for brunch downtown, something casual and long overdue. Alex had seemed more alert that morning. Less pale. more herself. She even smiled when Casey handed her coffee, a real one this time, not the protein shake she barely touched anymore. 

“Maybe I’ll even order pancakes,” she giggled, tugging her hair into a low ponytail. Her eyes still looked tired, but her voice had that dry lilt Casey had always loved. For a moment, it was easy to believe they were fine.

They never made it out the door.

Casey had gone to grab her coat from the closet when she heard a crash. It wasn’t loud, just a muffled thud, the sound of something soft hitting wood. She turned on instinct, heart hammering, and sprinted back into the bedroom.

Alex was on the floor, crumpled beside the dresser, one hand braced against the hardwood, the other clutching her side. Her breathing was shallow, rapid. Her face had gone ghostly white, and sweat clung to her forehead.

“Alex—Jesus—Alex.” Casey was on the floor in seconds, hands on her, trying to lift her upright, trying to make sense of what was happening. Alex winced and shook her head, mouthing something Casey couldn’t make out. 

“You’re burning up,” Casey whispered, reaching to touch her cheek, and Alex flinched.

“I’m fine,” Alex murmured hoarsely, barely above a whisper.

“No, you’re not. You’re not fine.” Her voice cracked. “You just collapsed, Alex.”

Alex wouldn’t meet her eyes. She tried to sit up, limbs trembling with the effort, and Casey steadied her, heart pounding. “Let me call an ambulance—please—”

“No,” Alex said, stronger this time. “Not… not yet. Just help me up.”

Casey wanted to fight her. She wanted to scream, to shake her and demand answers right there on the floor. But something about the way Alex gripped her arm like it was the only thing tethering her to the room made her swallow the panic rising in her throat.

She helped Alex to bed and got her water. Turned off the bedroom light even though it was barely noon. Sat on the edge of the mattress while Alex curled in on herself, one arm still cradling her side like something inside her was splintering.

She didn’t go to brunch. She texted Olivia a vague excuse, “Alex’s not feeling well, sorry, next weekend?” and then sat alone in the kitchen with the lights off and her untouched coffee cooling in her hands.

When Alex finally fell asleep, Casey slipped into the home office. She didn’t have a plan. Just a sick feeling that there was more to find.

The file drawer was unlocked. Inside, behind the tax folders and old case summaries, was a manila envelope marked insurance . Casey pulled it out, hands trembling. Inside were medical receipts. Imaging center bills. Oncology appointment summaries. There were names of specialists she didn’t recognize and diagnostic codes she didn’t understand. One word kept repeating: sarcoma .

Beneath it, she found more pill bottles. Stronger ones. Not hidden this time, just filed away like facts in a case she hadn’t been allowed to read. The paperwork wasn’t complete, no diagnosis letter, no treatment plan, but there was enough to shift the ground under her feet.

The paperwork was meticulous, of course. It always was with Alex. Everything labeled, tabbed, arranged by date. If Casey hadn’t been sick with fear, she might’ve found it impressive—might’ve made some dry comment about her wife’s compulsive organization habits. But now, as she sat cross-legged on the floor, documents spread around her like broken glass, it felt like sifting through a stranger’s life. Cold. Distant. Prepared.The receipts blurred together, dates and numbers meaningless against the thudding drumbeat of cancer cancer cancer .

She pulled out another folder—no markings at first glance. Just plain cream paper, thicker than the rest. She almost passed it over. Almost didn’t open it. But something stopped her. Maybe it was the weight of it, heavier than it should’ve been. Or maybe it was instinct.

Her thumb slipped under the flap. Inside, everything was neatly stacked. A manila envelope with Casey written across the front in familiar, looping cursive. Another labeled Mom and Dad . Both were sealed, untouched. Beneath them, clipped between two notarized forms, was a third document, printed, dated, signed.

Her eyes caught the words immediately. Do Not Resuscitate Order. She didn’t need to read the fine print. The name Alexandra Cabot leapt off the page in black ink, sharp and deliberate. The signature dated three weeks ago. Notarized. Witnessed. No room for doubt. No room for hope.

She read it once, then again, slower, her eyes refusing to blink as if keeping them open might stop the floor from disintegrating beneath her. The paper was cold in her hands.

Casey didn’t open the letters. She couldn’t. Her hands were already trembling, her stomach twisting violently, bile rising in her throat. She pressed a palm to her chest, trying to breathe, trying to ground herself in something, anything , other than the fact that Alex had already written her goodbye. Had done it in secret. Had made the choice to die quietly, alone, without giving Casey the chance to fight for her, with her, next to her.

A quiet moan tore itself from her mouth, somewhere between a sob and a gasp, and she folded forward, her arms hugging the envelopes to her chest like she could will them into nonexistence. Her knees drew up instinctively. She was no longer a prosecutor. No longer composed. No longer anything but a wife who had just learned the person she loved most had chosen not to tell her she was dying.

Casey pressed her palm against her mouth, trying to keep the sob down. The air in the room was thin. The shadows felt deeper, heavier. Every detail—the soft hum of the radiator, the smell of old paper, the faint city noise outside the window—taunted her with the knowledge that the world was still turning when hers had just stopped.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to shake Alex awake and demand the truth, force it out of her with trembling hands and all the grief she’d just been handed. But she didn’t. The weight of what she knew was too massive to move with anger alone.

She put everything back exactly as she found it, down to the creased flap and the placement of the folders. Her hands moved on autopilot. If Alex saw any disturbance, she would retreat deeper. And Casey, God , Casey wasn’t ready to confront her. Not yet. She couldn’t face that calm, practiced voice lying to her again. Not when she knew now what it was hiding.

She walked out of the office in silence. The world tilted. The hallway felt longer than usual.

In the bedroom, Alex was still asleep. Her face looked peaceful in a way that felt cruel now. Her hand lay over her stomach, twitching faintly with every shallow breath. Her face was pale, gaunt. Her wedding band glinted faintly in the afternoon light.

Casey stood in the doorway and watched her.

The apartment was still. Alex was propped up in bed with a book on her lap, glasses sliding slightly down the bridge of her nose. She looked up when Casey entered the room, offered a faint smile. “You didn’t have to do the dishes. I was going to—”

“Don’t,” Casey said.

The word came out too quiet. Not angry. Not even sharp. Just… hollow.

Alex blinked. “Case?”

Casey stepped forward slowly, hands at her sides. They were still trembling. She hadn’t stopped shaking since the office. Her pulse was a dull roar in her ears, and her throat burned with something unspeakable.

“You signed a DNR,” she said flatly. “And wrote me a goodbye letter.”

Alex froze.

“I found it. In the office.” Casey took a breath, shallow and uneven. “Were you planning to just die and leave me a goddamn note?” Her voice cracked at the end, high and raw and unforgiving.

Alex stared at her, color draining from her already pale face. She closed the book slowly, set it on the nightstand like she needed a shield. “You weren’t supposed to find that.”

Casey let out a laugh, bitter and sharp. “Well, I did. Between the painkillers you shoved in a drawer and the oncology bills you buried under tax returns, it was really just a matter of time, wasn’t it?”

“I wasn’t hiding it to hurt you—”

“Then what were you doing?” Casey’s voice rose again, sharp and desperate. “What is this, Alex? What the hell is this? You were just going to wither away in silence and leave me with a folded piece of paper and a funeral to plan?”

Alex opened her mouth. Closed it. Her hands twisted in the blanket, knuckles white.

Casey stepped closer, eyes burning, lips trembling. “You’re my wife. You don’t get to shut me out of this—of you —because it’s easier than watching me grieve in real time. You don’t get to take that choice from me.”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“Bullshit.”

The silence that followed was thick and suffocating. Casey could feel her heartbeat in her teeth. Her breath caught again, and when she spoke, her voice cracked open completely.

“Do you know what it felt like? Seeing my name on that envelope? Knowing you sat down and wrote out your last words to me without saying a single one out loud?”

Alex’s eyes were glassy now too, but she didn’t speak. Couldn’t.

Casey shook her head, tears sliding down her cheeks unchecked. “You were planning to die without me, Alex. You were planning to go through this alone like I’m some—some stranger you used to know.”

“I couldn’t let you watch me disappear.” Alex finally spoke. Her voice was fragile, cracking with every syllable. Her face was buried in her hands, and her body shook as though it was fighting a war it couldn’t win. “I’ve seen what this does to people, Casey. How they break watching someone they love fade away. I couldn’t let you... see me wasting away —see me become a ghost.”

Casey stood there, frozen, her breath coming in ragged bursts. She reached for her, instinctively, but stopped herself just short, as if she feared the touch would burn her. And it would. Everything burned.

Alex’s words continued, trembling, barely more than whispers between sobs.

“I wanted you to remember me before. Before all of this…” Her voice broke entirely. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you watching me go, piece by piece, until there was nothing left. You deserve more than that.”

Casey’s chest heaved with each breath, struggling to keep it together. But Alex’s words shattered her composure completely. She let the tears fall now, no more holding them back. Her heart was breaking, cracking open in ways she hadn’t known were possible.

Alex’s body convulsed with the weight of her sobs. It was ugly, desperate crying, the kind that seemed to come from somewhere deep and unreachable, a place where you couldn’t breathe until you let it all out. Alex’s shoulders shook violently, and she curled into herself as if she could disappear into the mattress.

The sight of her so small and broken pulled something loose in Casey. She moved forward in a rush, desperate, grabbing Alex’s shoulders with both hands, her grip tight enough to anchor them both in the storm of grief.

“No,” Casey choked out. “ No. ” Her voice was fierce, raw, almost unrecognizable. “I married you. I chose this, Alex. Don’t take that away from me.”

Alex flinched at the force of Casey’s words, looking up at her with eyes so full of pain, of guilt, of something far too heavy to hold. And then, she collapsed into Casey’s arms, her sobs coming in violent bursts that shook both of them.

Casey held her tightly, her own body trembling with the weight of everything she hadn’t known—everything Alex had kept hidden from her. “You don’t get to choose for me,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I chose you, and I will stand by you. I will fight for you. But you have to let me, Alex. You have to let me in. ”

Alex’s arms wrapped around Casey’s waist, pulling her in closer as if trying to hold on to the last sliver of herself, of them. Her voice was barely a rasp as she spoke, thick with tears. “I didn’t want to make you suffer.”

“I would have suffered with you, Alex. ” Casey’s words were fierce now, desperate in the quiet room. “I would have stayed. Always. I’m not going anywhere.”

The following morning, she marched into the kitchen with purpose. Alex was sitting at the table, her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee, her face pale but still holding the calm, composed mask she wore so well. She didn’t look up when Casey entered. She hadn’t looked at her much since the argument, and Casey felt a knot of frustration tighten in her chest.

“You’re going to every treatment from now on,” Casey said, her voice firm, unyielding. “No more hiding this from me. No more pretending.”

Alex blinked, her gaze flickering up at Casey, but there was no response. Just that same tired look: the one that said she was done, the one that said she didn’t want to argue anymore. The one that said she was already bracing for the inevitable.

“I’m coming with you,” Casey repeated, taking a step closer, her words relentless. 

“Every appointment. Every round of chemo. I’m not staying home pretending this isn’t happening. You don’t get to make that choice for me anymore.”

Alex opened her mouth to protest, but before she could speak, Casey pulled a folder from the counter. The one she had found the night before. Her fingers trembled with a mix of anger and heartbreak, but she didn’t hesitate.

She ripped the paper in half, then in half again, the sound sharp in the quiet room.

The DNR fell to the floor, pieces scattered like the fragile hope she had left. She didn’t look at it. Didn’t need to. Her eyes were fixed on Alex, who had gone completely still, her face frozen in a mixture of shock and helplessness.

Casey’s breath was ragged as she knelt down to gather the torn fragments. She shoved them into a trash can, too forcefully, her hands shaking with rage. “I can’t make you fight this, Alex. But I can be right there beside you while you do. And I won’t let you give up.”

“I signed it because I didn’t want to hurt you,” Alex said, her voice small, quiet. She didn’t raise her eyes, her hands still holding the mug in front of her like some kind of shield.

“You’re not hurting me, Alex,” Casey responded fiercely, her voice breaking at the end, emotion thick in her throat. “You’re making me watch you die while you push me away. You’re making the decision for me before I even have a chance to be there.”

Alex’s eyes closed slowly, and she let out a ragged sigh. “You don’t know what it’s like to—”

“Don’t. Don’t you dare.” Casey’s voice was sharp as she cut Alex off. She moved closer, standing right in front of her now. 

“You’re not doing this alone, no matter how hard you try to push me away. I’m not leaving. I’m not giving up on you. And I’m not going to stand by and watch you make decisions about our life like it’s yours to handle on your own.”

The air between them crackled with tension. For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Alex finally looked up at her, eyes filled with an exhaustion Casey had never seen before. The weight of what was happening pressed down on her, and for the first time, Casey could see the bone-deep weariness in Alex’s expression. The way the fight had slowly drained from her over the past few weeks. The way she was slowly fading.

But Casey refused to look away. She couldn’t.

“I love you,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, but firm with everything that she had. “I choose you. Let me be there for you, Alex. Let me help carry this with you.”

Alex’s shoulders sagged, her head dropping as if the world had suddenly become too much. “I don’t want you to watch me die.”

“I already am, ” Casey said softly. She knelt in front of Alex, cupping her face with both hands, making Alex meet her eyes. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Alex closed her eyes, letting out a breath that trembled. The fight had gone out of her for the moment. The DNR was gone. The decision had been made, even if Casey couldn’t override the legal document. The choice had been taken from her, but she knew one thing for sure: she was not letting Alex go through this alone.

***

Alex’s fall had come out of nowhere. One moment, she was standing in the hallway of their apartment, reaching for a book on the top shelf, the next, she was crumpling to the ground, her body slamming against the floor with an awful crack.

Casey had been in the kitchen when it happened, rushing to Alex’s side the moment she heard the sound of her name gasped through labored breaths. She had rushed her to the hospital, her heart pounding so hard it felt like it might break free from her chest.

But now, a week later, Alex was still in the hospital, her condition only worsening. They had found more complications. The fall had broken her wrist, but the pain in her ribs had grown unbearable as the days wore on. She was coughing more now, and every breath seemed harder than the last. The doctors were working tirelessly to manage her pain and administer the treatments, but the fear that she might not make it through this remained thick in the air.

And Casey? Casey hadn’t left her side. Not for a single moment.

It was late, well past midnight, and the hospital room was quiet, save for the faint beeping of the monitors and the occasional sound of footsteps in the hallway. Alex lay in the hospital bed, her face pale and drawn, eyes closed but clearly awake. Casey sat beside her, her fingers gently tracing the back of Alex’s hand, her thumb brushing over the pulse point in her wrist. The touch was tender, almost reverent. She had learned in these past few weeks how much she took for granted. The little things. The way Alex would make her coffee in the mornings. The way she smiled when she saw Casey walk into the room. The way she would reach for her hand without thinking, just because.

Now, there was only the stillness of the hospital room. Casey’s fingers didn’t leave Alex’s skin. She wouldn’t let them. She couldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” Alex’s voice broke the silence, rough and weak. Her eyes fluttered open, and she turned her head slowly toward Casey, her expression a mix of exhaustion and vulnerability. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Casey squeezed her hand, her heart aching. “You didn’t scare me. You woke me up, Alex.”

Alex’s eyes softened for a moment, but she quickly turned her face away, trying to hide the tears that threatened to spill. Casey noticed everything, every little shift in her posture, the way Alex’s body clenched when the pain hit, the way she struggled to keep it together, as though it was her responsibility to protect Casey from the inevitable.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Alex whispered, her voice cracking as she spoke. “I don’t know how to ask you to stay... through all of this. It’s too much. I’m too much.”

Casey shook her head, brushing the hair from Alex’s face with the gentleness that had become second nature. “You’re not too much, Alex. You never have been.”

“I’m all broken,” Alex continued, her voice almost a whisper now, as though she was afraid the words would be too heavy to say aloud. “You deserve someone whole.”

“No,” Casey said firmly, her voice thick with emotion. “I don’t want anyone else. I want you. I always have. And I’m not leaving you, not through any of this.”

Alex closed her eyes, the tears slipping free now, hot and silent, slipping down her face. Casey reached up, cupping Alex’s face in both hands, lifting her chin gently. Her heart broke with every tear she saw, but she refused to look away.

“I don’t want to leave you,” Alex whispered, barely audible. “I’m scared, Casey. I’m so scared.”

“I know,” Casey replied, her voice soft but steady. “I’m scared too, but I’m right here. Every second. You don’t have to be scared alone. Not anymore.”

For a long time, they stayed like that. The machines beeped softly, the room bathed in the soft glow of the nightlights. Casey didn’t let go of Alex’s hand. She didn’t dare. She stayed there for every painful moment through the quiet nights and the tests and the treatments, through the quiet moments of terror when Alex’s body seemed to fight back against the disease. But Casey stayed, unwavering, her love for Alex only deepening with each passing second.

The improvement in Alex’s condition was marginal at best. The chemo had begun to show a flicker of progress. Her pain was more manageable, her fever finally broke, but her body still seemed fragile. Fighting. The doctors had said it might be a remission, but everyone in the room knew that even the faintest glimmer of hope was just that. Faint.

Casey had been by Alex’s side through it all, and the weight of the endless days in the hospital, the slow march of time where progress came in incremental steps, had begun to take its toll on her. The quiet hours spent in the sterile, monotonous environment had started to wear down her usual tough exterior. She could feel the cracks beginning to form, the mask of calm she wore starting to fracture.

One night, as she watched Alex sleep, her chest rising and falling with each labored breath, her face pale but softened by the faintest hint of relief, Casey felt a wave of exhaustion crash over her. Her shoulders slumped, the burden of everything pressing down on her, and before she could stop it, a sob broke free from her throat, too sharp and raw to be ignored.

She hadn’t realized she was crying until the tears started to fall, hot and uncontrollable. She had kept so much inside. So much fear, helplessness, the desperation to fix things, to make Alex better, to take away the pain. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t do anything. And it was that realization that shattered her. She curled up on the chair beside Alex’s bed, her body trembling. She wasn’t supposed to break like this. Not in front of Alex. She had been the strong one, the one who had promised Alex she wouldn’t leave, that she would be there through every dark moment. But now, in the quiet of the hospital room, Casey found herself utterly undone.

“Casey?” Alex’s voice was soft but filled with concern. She had woken, her eyes blinking open slowly, her hand reaching out to touch Casey’s shoulder. “Casey, what’s wrong?”

Casey shook her head, the tears falling faster now, her face hidden in her hands as if she could somehow stop the flood. 

“I can’t—” Her voice cracked, and she couldn’t finish the sentence. She couldn’t find the words to say what had been pressing on her chest for so long. “I can’t watch you… I can’t watch you die, Alex.”

Alex’s eyes softened, and she slowly shifted in the bed, wincing at the pain, but she pushed through it to sit up, her arms reaching for Casey. “Hey, come here,” she said gently, her voice still hoarse from the illness but steady enough to offer comfort. “Come here, baby.”

Casey hesitated for a moment, the weight of everything keeping her rooted in place, but then she let go of the chair and crawled onto the bed beside Alex. She curled into Alex’s arms like she had so many times before, letting the older woman’s warmth and presence surround her.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. Casey clung to her, her face buried in the crook of Alex’s neck, trying to put herself back together. The air between them was thick with unsaid words and unspoken fears. But there was something about the way Alex held her that made everything feel just a little more bearable.

Alex’s hand ran through Casey’s hair, the motion slow and soothing. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Casey,” she whispered, her voice low and comforting. “I’m right here. I promise.”

Casey’s sobs started to quiet, and she pulled back just enough to look at Alex, her red-rimmed eyes filled with an aching sadness. “How can you say that? How can you promise something like that when—”

Alex silenced her with a soft finger to her lips, the smile that appeared on her face only faint but sincere. “Because I know you, and I know we’re not done yet.” She took a deep breath, her eyes locking with Casey’s. “I know it’s not going to be easy. I know I’m sick. But I’m still here. And I’m still fighting. And I’m not doing it without you.”

Casey’s heart twisted in her chest, the weight of Alex’s words both a relief and a fresh wound. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, trying to steady her breathing.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Alex,” Casey whispered. “I don’t know how to keep watching you go through this.”

Alex’s fingers gently caressed the side of Casey’s face, a tender touch that made Casey’s chest tighten. “You don’t have to do this alone. We’re doing this together.”

And then, in a moment that felt almost surreal, Alex began to sing. Her voice was soft, raspy, but there was a warmth in it that made Casey’s breath catch. It was a lullaby from a different time, something simple, something pure. 

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…” 

Alex’s voice cracked slightly, but she continued, the words slow and steady as she rocked Casey gently in her arms.

Casey closed her eyes, allowing herself to be swept up in the simplicity of the song. The pain didn’t go away, the uncertainty didn’t disappear, but in that moment, all she knew was that they were together.

“You make me happy when skies are gray…” 

Alex continued, her voice a little stronger now, and Casey pressed closer, resting her head against Alex’s chest, letting the warmth of the moment fill her. 

“You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you…”

Casey breathed in the words, letting them settle in her heart. There was so much they didn’t know, so much they couldn’t control, but they had this. They had each other.

“And please don’t take my sunshine away…”

When the song ended, there was a long silence between them, but it was different this time. There were no more tears, no more fear—just love.

“I won’t take your sunshine away,” Casey whispered, finally finding her voice again. “I’ll hold on to it for both of us.”

***

Alex’s condition had plateaued. There were moments of progress where her pain was slightly more manageable, the cough less frequent, but there were also the inevitable dips, the days where the weight of the cancer seemed to crush her all over again. The nights were the worst. The pain would surge at odd hours, and she would be left shivering, drenched in sweat, gasping for air, while the machines beeped in the background, relentless and cold.

But through it all, Casey was there. 

Tonight, as the sterile lights of the hospital room flickered dimly in the distance, Alex found herself unable to sleep. Her body was aching, her limbs heavy, and yet there was something more pressing, something beyond the physical pain that gnawed at her.

Casey had fallen asleep in the chair next to the bed, her head resting against the side of Alex’s. The stillness of the room was punctuated only by the quiet hum of the machines and the soft rise and fall of Casey’s breath. Alex watched her, the woman who had been her rock, her everything. She was so still, her face relaxed in sleep, but Alex could see the dark circles under her eyes, the weight of the constant worry that never left her.

Alex felt a pang in her chest. A deep ache that threatened to consume her. She couldn’t stand the thought of Casey carrying this burden, of watching her break under the weight of everything. Slowly, cautiously, Alex reached out, her fingers brushing against Casey’s hand. The touch was enough to stir Casey, who blinked her eyes open slowly, still half-asleep, her face scrunching as she adjusted to the dim light.

“Hey,” Alex murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Casey’s eyes flickered open completely at the sound of Alex’s voice, and she immediately shifted, her hand finding Alex’s. “Hey, you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

Alex took a moment before answering, unsure how to put it into words. She wasn’t sure if she could explain it, even to herself. There was a weight pressing down on her, an unshakable sense of dread, and yet there was something else that she couldn’t name. She could feel Casey’s presence beside her, and it was the only thing keeping her tethered to reality.

“I’m okay,” Alex finally said, though the words felt hollow in her mouth. She wasn’t okay. She was far from it, but she wasn’t ready to face that just yet.

Casey didn’t press her. Instead, she squeezed Alex’s hand gently and shifted closer, her head now resting on the edge of the bed. The warmth of her body, the closeness of her presence, seemed to calm Alex in a way nothing else could.

“I’m sorry,” Alex whispered suddenly, her voice heavy with the weight of things unsaid. “For making you go through all this. For… for putting you in this position.”

Casey’s hand tightened around hers, a firm reassurance that she was there. “Don’t say that,” she murmured softly. “Don’t apologize for being sick, Alex. You didn’t choose this. But I’m choosing to be here with you. Every step of the way.”

“I never wanted to be a burden,” Alex continued, her voice wavering. “I never wanted you to have to watch me fall apart. I don’t want to be the reason you—”

“Don’t,” Casey interrupted, her voice a little rough, but filled with an unwavering strength. “You’re not a burden. And I’m not going anywhere. Do you hear me? I love you, Alex. And I’m not leaving you. Ever.”

Alex’s chest tightened at the words. She didn’t know how to respond. There was nothing she could say that would make the situation better, that would ease the weight of what they were going through. But Casey had a way of making her feel seen, making her feel like she wasn’t alone in the dark.

Casey sat up slightly, her eyes scanning Alex’s face with a tenderness that made Alex’s heart ache. “You’re my sunshine, you know that? Even on the days when it’s hard to find the light. You’re my sunshine.”

Alex let out a soft laugh, the sound weak but genuine. “You’re not supposed to steal my line.”

Casey smiled, brushing her thumb over Alex’s hand in a slow, soothing motion. “I’m allowed to steal it if it’s for you.”

There was a pause before Alex spoke again, her voice quieter now. “I’m so scared, Casey. I don’t know if I can keep doing this. I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending like everything's okay.”

“You don’t have to pretend,” Casey said, her voice unwavering. “You don’t ever have to pretend with me. It’s okay to be scared. I’m scared too. But I’m not going anywhere.”

Alex’s eyes softened as she looked at Casey, her heart full of gratitude and sorrow all at once. She reached up, brushing the back of her hand against Casey’s cheek, the touch tender, full of emotion.

“Stay with me tonight,” Alex whispered, her voice small, fragile.

Casey’s heart clenched. “Always,” she said, her voice thick with emotion as she climbed into the bed beside Alex. She pulled the covers over them both, holding Alex close, as the two of them lay in the quiet of the night, letting the silence wrap around them like a blanket, offering comfort in its stillness.

The transformation was so sudden, so striking, that neither Alex nor Casey could fully process it at first. One day, Alex had been frail, drained, and sick, her body a shell of what it once was, the weight of her illness taking its toll on her every minute. But the next morning, she woke up feeling different. Stronger. The fog of exhaustion seemed to lift, if only slightly, and with it came a flicker of energy, of hope.

It wasn’t a dramatic shift. There was no miraculous recovery, no sudden return of perfect health. But for the first time in months, Alex could breathe without struggling, could sit up without wincing in pain. The ache in her bones wasn’t gone, but it was less intense. And it was enough.

Casey was the first to notice how Alex seemed to be able to sit up straighter in bed, how her eyes were clearer, less clouded with the constant fatigue. She was still pale, still fragile, but there was a spark in her that had been absent for too long.

“Good morning,” Casey said, her voice soft but full of cautious hope. She leaned down, kissing Alex’s forehead gently. “How do you feel?”

Alex took a moment, feeling the difference in her body. It wasn’t normal, not by any means. But it was better. 

“Better,” she whispered, her voice hushed as though saying it out loud would make it disappear.

Casey’s heart soared at the word, a flutter of hope filling the pit of her stomach. She had been so used to the daily battles, the constant worry, that this sudden shift, albeit small, felt like a gift.

“We’ll take it slow,” Casey said, her voice tender, though she couldn’t completely hide the excitement that was creeping in. “Let’s get you some breakfast. Maybe go outside for a little while. Just a walk, okay?”

Alex nodded slowly, her eyes brightening with something that felt almost like excitement. “I think I can handle that.”

Casey stood up, quickly retrieving a blanket and draping it over Alex’s legs, covering the cold air that still clung to her body. She moved around with a newfound energy as she prepared for what had once seemed like a distant, impossible possibility—a day outside. A day where Alex could feel like herself again, if only for a moment.

It had become a routine in their lives to cling to small joys and moments of light in the midst of the darkness. But today, as Casey wheeled Alex through the park, it felt different. The air was crisp, the sky a pale blue, with the sun shining down just enough to warm their faces. The park was quiet, almost peaceful, with only a few joggers and dog walkers scattered across the walking path.

Alex, who had spent so many days confined to a hospital bed or the apartment they shared, now found herself taking in the world again. The scent of fresh grass, the sound of birds overhead, the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. It was all so alive, so vibrant, and she drank it in as if it was her first taste of life in months. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed the outside world until now.

Casey pushed her wheelchair gently along the winding path, her hands warm on the handles, her gaze occasionally flickering to Alex with a soft smile. It was a smile that Alex had missed, the one that carried warmth and relief instead of worry.

“I missed this,” Alex said softly, her voice barely audible as she looked around at the park, her eyes wide and almost childlike in wonder.

“I missed you like this,” Casey replied, her tone teasing but full of love. “You know, not falling asleep after two bites of food.”

Alex laughed softly, the sound light and true, something that had been absent for far too long. The laughter felt like a promise, a small piece of normalcy returning to their fractured lives. “I don’t think I’ve ever had the energy to complain about breakfast before.”

Casey smiled warmly, leaning down to brush a lock of hair away from Alex’s face. “Well, it’s your turn now. I’m giving you a full breakfast. No more of that hospital food crap.”

Alex rolled her eyes, but there was a glint of amusement in her gaze. “You know, I really missed your over-the-top breakfasts,” she said. “You always made everything feel like a celebration, even when there wasn’t anything to celebrate.”

Casey chuckled softly, pushing the wheelchair until they reached a park bench under the shade of a large oak tree. She stopped and carefully helped Alex out of the chair, guiding her to sit beside her on the bench. Alex was still weak, but the effort of simply being outside seemed to breathe some life back into her. They sat in silence for a moment, just breathing in the tranquility of the park.

Casey unpacked the breakfast she had prepared—a basket full of fresh fruit, scrambled eggs, pancakes, and coffee in a thermos. She handed Alex a plate, watching her closely, her heart in her throat as she waited for Alex’s response.

Alex’s fingers trembled slightly as she took the plate, but she managed a small, contented smile as she looked up at Casey. “I don’t know how you do it,” she whispered. “How you keep holding me up.”

Casey looked at her, her heart swelling with a mixture of love and sorrow. “You don’t have to thank me for this,” she said softly. “You’re worth it. You’ve always been worth it.”

Alex’s eyes softened as she looked at Casey, her heart full in a way she hadn’t felt in so long. “I’ve always loved you,” Alex said, her voice breaking slightly with the weight of the words. “Even when I couldn’t say it, even when I was too afraid to let myself feel it, I always loved you.”

Casey’s breath hitched in her throat. She reached for Alex’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “I know. And I’ve always loved you, Alex. Always.”

The moment was quiet, the soft sounds of the park surrounding them, but it was enough. It was a peace they had both desperately needed—a reminder that, even in the midst of all the pain and the uncertainty, they still had each other.

They sat there for a while, eating their breakfast, the world continuing on around them. It wasn’t a perfect moment. It wasn’t the end of their journey, but for the first time in so long, Casey felt like they were on the right path again. They were together. And in that moment, that was all that mattered.

***

author's note

it's about to get really sad. leave now and pretend they live happily ever after. or don't.

***

Months had passed since Alex had shown any signs of improvement. Despite the brief moments of clarity, the hope that had once surged through both of them faded quietly as Alex’s condition worsened. It was slow at first—just a dip in her energy levels, a few more days spent in bed—but then the decline was unmistakable, relentless. The doctors had said there was nothing more they could do. Alex had chosen to stop the treatments, to spend her last days at home, surrounded by the people who loved her most.

Casey had been there through it all. There was no leaving her side, no matter how hard it got. She had kept the promise she made to Alex to stay with her until the end. And now, as the world grew quieter around them, she sat in the dimly lit room, her hand clasped around the letter Alex had written.

The letter was simple, written in Alex’s neat handwriting, the words familiar but now carrying an unbearable weight. It had been left for Casey in case she wasn’t there when Alex’s body finally gave in. Alex had known. She had always known that this day would come, that her body would give out before they could have everything they’d dreamed of. She had written about Casey’s strength, her love, her resilience, but there was one thing Alex couldn’t write: goodbye .

Casey had been waiting for the end, but it hadn’t been any easier than she’d imagined. When Alex’s body finally gave up, when her last breath left her lips, Casey had held her close, whispering the words she hadn’t had a chance to say. But now, with the letter clutched in her shaking hands, she finally let herself cry.

She read it slowly, over and over again, unable to stop the tears from falling.

Casey,

I know I won’t be able to say this to your face, so I’ll say it here. I’m sorry for all the things I didn’t do. For all the things I didn’t say. But mostly, I’m sorry that I couldn’t be the person you needed me to be when you needed me the most.

I love you with everything I am. You were my home, my safe place. And I don’t want you to carry this pain for the rest of your life. I need you to go on, Casey. Live. Find peace again, even if it seems impossible right now.

I’ll always be with you. But you have to let me go.

Forever yours,Alex

P.S. don’t spoil the cat too much. 1 treat per day.  

The letter slipped from her hands, the words blurring as her tears hit the paper. Casey’s sobs were raw, uncontrollable. She pressed her face into the pillow where Alex had once laid, inhaling the last remnants of Alex’s scent, but it only made the ache in her chest grow.

Her fingers reached for the delicate chain around her neck, the one that held Alex’s wedding ring. She refused to take it off, no matter how many times people told her she needed to move on, to let go. But she couldn’t. Not when Alex had been everything.

Sobbing into the pillow, Casey couldn’t stop the memories from rushing in. The way Alex had laughed at her ridiculous attempts to cook, the way her smile had been everything, the quiet nights when they had held each other, not needing to speak. It was all gone now.

But even in her grief, even as her heart broke with every breath she took, Casey whispered the words Alex had always loved, the words she had promised Alex they would always share.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray..."

Her voice cracked with the weight of the sorrow, but she kept going, softly singing the song that had been theirs since the beginning, the melody laced with love and loss.

"You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away..."

As Casey’s sobs grew louder, the weight of the loss sinking deeper with every note, she held the ring tighter, the one thing she had left of Alex. And for a moment, just a moment, she could feel her—feel Alex in the air, in the space around her.

But when the song ended, Casey’s heart shattered all over again, the silence of the room deafening in its finality.

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-

I forgot I had free will and internet access

Okay well now I just have to see this-

how do we feel abt pwp omegaverse calex should i do it

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.

Oh you were so onto somthing wait-

i think casey once took alex’s thumb in her mouth when they were making out and alex was never the same ever since

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-

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

a face like this is so fun to piss off

Senior Assistant District Attorney Gaysey Novak.

first time posting on tumblr feeling NERVOUS ???

me an' who?

The ONLY men who have my heart (I miss the early seasons of law and order svu) 🫶

Cragen: Would you slap your best friend for a thousand bucks? Fin: I would slap Munch for free. Munch, tearing up: I’m your best friend??

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:

SVY characters when asked to hold a baby:

——-

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

…

Rafael:…Wanna write a pre trial motion?

Olivia in the other room: HES 1!

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

—-

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

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

—-

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

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

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

Happy baby, happy Casey

——-

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

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

Baby: *smile*

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

—-

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

—-

Olivia:awwww! Hi sweetie,

Olivia…Why does it look like Casey-

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

Olivia: YOU ARE THE FATHER-

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

—-

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

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

—-

🫣🫣

INEEDHER INEEDHER INEEDHER I NEED HER INEEDHERSOBAD

after discussing a plan Elliot : Does anyone have any questions? Casey: Is this legal? Elliot : Does anyone have any relevant questions?

Casey, grabbing elliot by the shirt collar: Get me suspended again and I WILL call Kathy-

Elliot: Not helping the gay allegations, Casey- Calling my wife?

Casey: Off topic-and Im not gay, elliot! Dont assu--

Elliot: Casey. Olivia asked you to flush your case down the toilet and plead a girl out and you did it. And you smiled at her after you did it. A man tried to ask you out and I physically saw you cringe.

Casey:...So what the hell is the situation Munch and fin have going on-?! You cannot sit here and tell me that's straight-

Elliot:...Thats a whole other situation we are to afraid to look at- considering fin is VERY knowledgeable about 'Down Lows', AND THEY ARE BOTH VERY DIVORCED-

fin, from across the room, frantic: I JUST KNOW STUFF-!