A/N: Special collab fic with my freend @impossiblewolf. All sparked by my unhinged rant of when Liv is a sub or dom.
Summary: Olivia Benson, captain of the volleyball , a “jock” according to anyone else in sports, and a friend of yours, is someone you believe would never spare a glance in your direction where dating is concerned. Until one night after a big volleyball game, everything changes between you two.
A series of interconnected oneshots of Olivia and Reader during their junior or senior year of high school. Expect plot sometimes, but lots of smut :)
(Thank you to @panerasbox for this beautiful moodboard. I'm highly obsessed with this series already)
Summary: Little arguments turn into a big explosion and suddenly Olivia's whole life has been shattered before her. She pushed you out the door and never looked back. She has learned to cope with this pain until a little hand wraps around hers. With a face that looks exactly like her own, with an attitude to match Olivia realizes that her five year old daughter she never knew about is now intertwined with the most devious and skillful Russian mafia New York has ever seen.
Warnings: Please check each individual chapter for warnings but expect the usual: angst, smut, and a little dash of hope
Pairings: Olivia Benson x Reader, Mom! Olivia Benson x Original Character
In the stars I can see your eyes // All the stars make me feel alive // only place left for you and I
I literally love early law and order SVU because they’re so judgmental of freaky men. They find out that a guy watches porn and they’re like.. this fellow is sus. Perhaps a killer. And they’re right
when you're so in your head with the gay-genda of a fictional woman all the while reading x reader fanfiction that when you genuinely watch the show you're like... who's this man..? and why is he like... talking to her...??
The snow had been falling for hours, thick and relentless, swallowing the streets whole. The city looked softer like this, with blurred headlights, muffled sirens, and the sharp edges of New York dulled beneath a blanket of white. Inside Olivia’s car, the heater hummed low, fighting the cold that clung to your coat and fingertips. You sat in the passenger seat, hands folded in your lap, watching snowflakes melt against the windshield as the wipers struggled to keep up.
“I can’t believe you expected to walk home in this,” Olivia remarked, eyes fixed on the road but her voice gentle, concerned, as she always was. “I would’ve been fine,” You said quickly, maybe too quickly. “I don't live that far,” She nodded, but you caught the way her jaw tightened, the faint hesitation before she turned onto a quieter street. The radio played something soft and old, barely audible beneath the crunch of tyres on snow.
For a while, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, at least not in the way silence usually was. It was heavy instead, full of things unsaid, of moments stretched thin by restraint. You’d spent years working beside Olivia Benson, learning the shape of her presence and the way she carries herself. You knew the lines of exhaustion around her eyes, the steadiness of her voice when everything else was falling apart. The car slowed as she approached an intersection, snow piled high along the curb. She glanced at the GPS briefly, then at the road ahead. “Your place is another ten minutes that way,” she said. “Mine’s… closer. Roads are worse the further east you go,” You turned to look at her then, just for a second. The glow from the streetlights caught the curve of her cheek, the faint crease between her brows.“Oh,” you replied, heart thudding far louder than it had any right to. “Are you suggesting I stay at your place?” Olivia laughed, but it was brief, almost reflexive. “Don’t say it like that,” she said. “I just mean until the snow clears,” You nodded, eyes back on the windshield. The road ahead narrowed, streetlights growing more sporadic, their glow swallowed quickly by the falling snow. You told yourself it was practical. You told yourself it didn’t mean anything. Still, something tightened in your chest as she made the turn toward her neighbourhood.
The car felt smaller now. Too warm. You shrugged out of your coat, folding it carefully over your knees, suddenly aware of every small movement between you. The way her hand rested on the gear shift, the way she leaned forward slightly when the car slid on the ice. You watched how her hands would grip the steering wheel, wondering how her grip would feel on you.“You okay?” Olivia asked, breaking you out of your trance. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just… tired,” You readjust yourself in your seat, brushing your hands over your lap. She hummed in response, “Tired. I see,” She didn't sound convinced.
Her building came into view not long after, lights glowing faintly behind snow-dusted trees. She parked carefully, engine idling for a second longer than necessary. Neither of you moved right away. “The guest bedroom is upstairs,” Olivia turned to face you, scanning you up and down, “You said you’re tired so I figured maybe you’d want to stay?” Your throat went dry. You’d fantasised non-stop about sleeping over at Olivia’s. You’d practically imagined every room in her house in your mind. “You really don't-” Olivia swiftly interjected, “I insist. I have spare pyjamas you could borrow, they might be big for you,” Olivia's words were stern, leaving you no room to object further. “That’d be good. Thank you.”
Her apartment was warm in a way that felt lived-in. Not polished, not staged, just homey. She shrugged out of her coat, hung it neatly, then took yours without asking, fingers brushing yours for half a second too long. Neither of you acknowledged it. “Make yourself comfortable,” she said, disappearing down the hall. You heard drawers opening, the faint rustle of fabric. When she returned, she handed you a folded set of plain, soft pyjamas, clearly worn in. “They might be a little big,” she said. “Sorry.”, “It’s fine, thank you,” you replied. You meant more than just the clothes.
You changed quickly in the bathroom, staring at your reflection longer than necessary, trying to steady the restless knot in your chest. When you came back out, Olivia was on the couch, jacket gone, sleeves rolled up, nursing a mug of something steaming. Olivia turned to look at you, scanning your body from top to bottom. Her eyes felt hot over your skin, like she was able to see right through you. “Glad to see the pyjamas fit nicely,” You wanted the ground to swallow you whole. “Hot chocolate. Figured you’d want something warm,” Olivia handed you the mug of steaming hot cocoa with a smile, you reached out, fingers brushing against hers, and the warmth of her skin sent electricity through your body. “Thank you, Liv,” you smiled. The space between you on the sofa was careful. Deliberate. Enough room to pretend this was nothing more than circumstance. Snow. Practicality. A spare room.
Still, you could feel her there, the warmth of her body bleeding through the cushions, the subtle shift every time she adjusted her posture. You wrapped your hands around the mug, letting the heat ground you. Olivia sat with one arm braced along the back of the couch, the other cradling her drink, eyes fixed somewhere ahead that wasn’t the TV. She looked tired in a way she rarely allowed herself to be. Unguarded.
“You don’t have to stay up,” she said after a moment. Not a suggestion. An out. “I know,” you replied. You didn’t move. The silence returned, thicker now. You’d worked in silence with her for years, in cars, in interrogation rooms, at crime scenes where words only complicated things. This felt different. There was nothing to hide behind. No case. No reports. Just the two of you, stripped of uniforms and excuses. You glanced at her without meaning to. She was already looking at you. Her expression was unreadable, but something in it tightened when your eyes met. The room smelled faintly of clean cotton and something warmer, coffee, maybe, or the soap she used. You realised, with a strange ache, that you’d known this scent for years without ever really placing it. Now it felt intimate in a way that made your chest tighten.
Her eyes flicked down, just briefly to your mouth, and then back up again. You felt it like a jolt, sharp. The realisation settled between you, heavy and terrifying. This wasn’t a passing thing. It hadn’t been for a long time. Olivia exhaled, slowly. “This is a bad idea,” she murmured, almost to herself. You swallowed. “Then why doesn’t it feel like one?” That got her. Her jaw tightened, eyes darkening not with desire exactly, but with restraint stretched too thin. She shuffled closer. You could feel the warmth of her body now, the quiet gravity of her presence pulling you in. “I’ve been trying not to want this,” she said, voice low. Honest. “You,” Your mouth went dry, you scrambled to find the words but couldn't seem to make sense of anything. Her hand came up slowly, giving you time to pull away. You didn’t. Her fingers brushed your cheek, warm and careful, as if she was memorising the feel of you. When she leaned in, it wasn’t rushed, it was hesitant.
The kiss landed softly at first, a question more than a statement. The kiss deepened just enough to make your breath hitch, her thumb resting against your jaw, steadying you both. When she pulled back, her forehead rested briefly against yours. She pulled back to look at you, smoothing the hair from your face, “I’ve wanted this for so long,” Her words came out breathless, “Ever since you walked into the precinct. I knew I wanted you. I also realised that I’m your boss and I shouldn't want these things.” You were still trying to breathe, “Liv,” Your words came out desperately, almost like a whimper, Olivia sighed at the sound of your voice saying her name, begging for her. “Liv,” you whispered again, the sound more desperate than before, and that seemed to snap the last thread of her restraint. Olivia surged forward, closing the distance between you on the couch. Her mouth crashed into yours, this time not hesitant, not questioning. It was claiming. Deep, urgent, full of all the years she’d held back. Her hands framed your face, thumbs stroking along your jaw as she kissed you like she was starving, like she’d been denying herself this for far too long. You melted into it, hands sliding up her arms, feeling the lean muscle beneath her rolled-up sleeves, the steady warmth of her skin. When she broke the kiss to trail her lips down your throat, you gasped, head tipping back against the cushions. “Olivia—” You begged, “Shh,” she murmured against your pulse, voice rough. “I’ve got you.” She shifted, guiding you with gentle but firm hands until you were lying back on the couch, her body hovering over yours. The oversized pyjamas she’d lent you rode up your thighs, and her gaze darkened as she took in the sight, your legs parted slightly, the soft cotton clinging to your curves. She ran a hand up the inside of your thigh, slow, deliberate, stopping just short of where you ached most. “You have no idea how many nights I’ve thought about this,” she confessed, low and raw. “About touching you. Tasting you,” Your breath hitched. “Show me. Please,” You were far too turned on to be embarrassed now, looking up at Liv with desperate eyes. She wasted no time. Olivia hooked her fingers into the waistband of your pants, tugging them down along with your underwear in one swift motion. Cool air kissed your skin for a moment before her mouth came crashing down, hot, wet, reverent.
The first slow drag of her tongue against your clit made your hips buck. She held you down steadily with one hand, pressing down gently on your stomach. She drew slow slick circles around your clit, then deeper, dipping inside, savouring every shudder and soft sound you made. “Liv, fuck!” Your fingers twirled in her dark brown hair, and she groaned against you from the pull, vibrations sending sparks up your spine.
She worked you slowly, drawing out every sound you had inside of you. When your thighs started to tremble, she slid two fingers inside of you, curling them just right, and you cried out loud, back arching against the sofa. She didn’t stop until you shattered, waves crashing through you, her name on your lips like a prayer.
But she wasn’t done. Olivia crawled back up your body, kissing you deeply so you could taste yourself on her tongue. You gripped onto her shoulders, latching on still trying to catch your breath again. You reached for her, desperate to feel her, to pleasure her. “Please,” You breathed. Olivia nodded. You gently pushed her until she was sitting up, legs spread. She watched you with dark, heavy-lidded eyes, as you knelt between her thighs, tugging at the seam of her pants. She was already wet, glistening in the low lamplight, the sight sending an ache between your thighs. You started slow, trailing kisses up and down her inner thigh, offering teasing licks that made her hips jerk into you. When you finally closed your mouth on her clit, she let out a low, broken moan, fingers suddenly finding their way into your hair. “God, fuck! Just like that..” You gave her everything, tongue flicking, fingers curling in and out, deep, in time with your mouth swirling circles around her clit. You kept your mouth on her until her thighs clamped around you, and she came with a shuddering cry, her body tensing and then melting beneath you. Panting, you kissed your way back up her stomach, her chest, until you were face-to-face again.
She pulled you into her lap, straddling her thighs, chests pressed together. “I want more,” she whispered against your lips. “I want to feel you,” You nodded, breathless still. She guided you until you were aligned perfectly, slick heat against slick heat. The first press of your cores together drew twin gasps. Olivia’s hands gripped your hips, steadying you as you both began to move, slow rocks at first, finding the rhythm, the angle where your clits brushed just right with every grind. The friction was electric, intimate, overwhelming. Skin sliding against skin, wet and hot, building fast. You braced your hands on her shoulders, rolling your hips harder, deeper. Olivia’s head fell back against the couch, throat exposed, moans spilling out. “Fuck—yes, right there,” she groaned, nails digging into your hips, urging you on. You leaned down to kiss her, messy and desperate, tongues tangling as your movements grew frantic. The couch creaked beneath you, but neither of you cared. The only thing that mattered was the building pressure, the way your bodies fit together like they’d been waiting years for this. You came first again, hard, sudden, crying out into her mouth as pleasure ripped through you. Olivia followed seconds later, hips stuttering, a low, guttural sound tearing from her throat as she ground up against you through the aftershocks.
For a long moment, you stayed like that, pressed together, breaths mingling, bodies slick with sweat and release. The snow continued to fall outside, silent and relentless, but inside the apartment, everything felt still. Peaceful. Right.
Olivia pressed a soft kiss to your temple, then your cheek, then your lips. “Is this how you usually treat your guests?” You let out a desperate laugh, moving your hair out of your face, Olivia laughed back shoving you lightly, “Only the special ones.”
Summary: In the weeks after the Lewis case, Olivia begins to heal—not alone, but wrapped in the quiet, unwavering love of the woman who’s never once let go.
someone requested this earlier so here it is:)) hope you enjoy <3
———————————————————————
You didn’t hear the front door open.
It was the clink of keys in the bowl and the soft scrape of boots on hardwood that made your head turn. Olivia stood in the entryway, shoulders tight beneath her leather jacket, hair a little flatter than usual, skin a little too pale. She was back from therapy—or at least, she was supposed to be.
You were on the couch, still in your jeans and half-buttoned blouse, a half-eaten sandwich beside you. You dropped it instantly.
“Liv,” you said, voice low. Careful. Not like you were afraid. Just aware.
She looked at you for a long second, like she was trying to decide something. Then she said, “Hi.”
You rose slowly, giving her space even though every part of you ached to pull her in.
“Bad day?”
She gave a half-shrug. “I left early.”
You didn’t ask why. She’d tell you, or she wouldn’t. That was part of it now. You’d stopped needing answers to everything the minute you’d seen her after it all happened, skin purpled and split open, eyes distant even though you were holding her hand.
“Want some tea?” you offered.
She hesitated. And then, finally, she nodded.
You passed close enough to smell her perfume—what little was left of it beneath the sterile therapist’s office scent—and brushed your fingers along her hip on your way to the kitchen. Not claiming, just reminding her you were there.
It was quiet for a while. The kettle clicked. You poured two mugs. Chamomile for her, black tea for yourself. She still hadn’t taken off her jacket.
You brought the mugs back to the couch and set hers on the coffee table. She sat stiffly beside you, not touching, but close enough that your knees bumped. She watched the steam curl upward from the cup like she could read it.
“I know it was a good idea,” Olivia said suddenly, voice raspy. “Going back. Therapy, I mean. I know it’s what I should be doing.”
You waited.
“But sometimes it just… reminds me of all the shit I’ve spent the day trying to forget.”
Your hand found hers. Her fingers were cold.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” you said gently.
“I want to. I just don’t know how.”
You squeezed once. “Then don’t force it. You’re not alone. You’ve got time.”
She looked down at your joined hands. Her thumb brushed the inside of your wrist like she was grounding herself.
“I used to feel like I had control over everything. Over myself. Even in the worst moments.” She swallowed. “But with him… I didn’t.”
Your chest clenched. You didn’t move, didn’t breathe too loud. Just let her speak, let the words fall where they needed to.
“I keep thinking if I’d been smarter, faster, stronger… maybe—”
“Olivia.” Your voice came out firmer than you meant, but she needed it. “Don’t. You survived. You saved yourself. No one else did that. You did.”
Her jaw tightened, but she nodded once, slow and unsure.
The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. You shifted closer, shoulder to shoulder now, the warmth from her seeping in, her head tipping gently until it rested against yours. She exhaled.
“I didn’t think I’d make it out,” she whispered.
You kissed her hair. “But I did. You’re so strong, Liv.”
————————————————————————————
By the time the tea had gone cold, Olivia hadn’t moved more than a few inches.
You didn’t mind. Her body had relaxed, just barely, and her head still rested against yours like she might fall asleep that way. You would’ve stayed like that all night if it meant keeping her still, keeping her safe.
Eventually, she spoke again—quiet, a little hoarse.
“I haven’t eaten since this morning.”
You pulled back enough to look at her, eyebrows lifting. “Do you want me to make something?”
She hesitated. “Would you mind?”
You were already standing. “Not even a little.”
She followed you into the kitchen, slower than usual, like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to. You pretended not to notice when she stopped in the doorway and leaned against the frame, arms folded loosely over her chest.
“Sit down,” you said softly, gesturing to the barstool at the island.
She gave a little smile—worn, but real—and obeyed.
You pulled open the fridge, then rummaged through the pantry. “Grilled cheese? Or eggs?”
“Grilled cheese sounds good.”
You worked quietly, your back to her, but you could feel her eyes on you. It wasn’t heavy, not like the scrutiny of an interrogation room or the haunting self-surveillance she’d fallen into since the attack. It was gentler. A watching that said I need you near me, even if the words never came.
When the butter hissed in the pan, you turned slightly. “Tomato soup, too?”
“You’re spoiling me,” she murmured.
“That’s the plan.”
By the time the smell filled the kitchen, she was leaning forward with her chin in her hand, her expression softer than you’d seen in days. You placed the plate and bowl in front of her, watching her eyes drift toward the sandwich like it was the first real thing she’d seen all day.
You took the seat beside her and poured a little more tea into her cup, even though you knew it had cooled. She still drank it.
Between bites, Olivia said, “I used to be good at this.”
“At what?”
She waved vaguely toward the kitchen. “Letting someone take care of me. Letting my guard down. It’s harder now.”
You laid your hand gently on her thigh beneath the counter. “It doesn’t have to be easy. Just has to be real.”
Her eyes flicked up to meet yours.
“You being here… letting me in like this? That’s enough.”
Her hand slid over yours and squeezed.
“I love you,” she said, quiet and firm like a promise.
“I love you,” you echoed, smiling. “Now eat your sandwich before I make you something even mushier.”
That got a real laugh out of her—small but honest.
When she finished eating, she helped you rinse the dishes and load the dishwasher. She moved closer behind you than usual, her hands brushing yours when you passed her the sponge, her body lingering at your back when she reached over you to grab a towel. She didn’t say anything about it, but the shift was there—tangible, brave in its own small way.
When you turned around, she was already looking at you. Her eyes were tired, but a little clearer.
“I need a shower,” she said. “But I don’t want to be alone.”
You nodded immediately. “Come on.”
⸻
The bathroom steamed up quickly. You set clean towels on the counter, started the water, and grabbed her one of your oversized shirts and pyjama shorts from the bedroom. When you came back, she was already undressing slowly, hesitantly. Her fingers trembled at the buttons of her blouse. You stepped forward.
“Let me?”
She nodded.
You undid each button with care, pausing at the top to press a kiss to her collarbone. Her eyes fluttered shut. You slid the shirt off her shoulders and down her arms, careful not to rush.
Her bra came next. Then the waistband of her jeans. She wasn’t crying. But her breathing was tight, shaky. You stepped back and held out your hand.
“Come on. It’s warm.”
She stepped into the shower with you, slow and quiet, like stepping into something sacred. And in a way, it was.
The water beat gently down on both of you, and you reached for the shampoo first. She leaned into you when you massaged it through her hair, her eyes closed again, her breath hitting your chest.
You rinsed her hair slowly, guiding her under the spray. Her body leaned against yours, full-weight, the kind of trust that didn’t need words.
“Turn around,” you whispered, and she did.
You lathered body wash in your hands and ran it along her arms, over her back, down her sides. You didn’t linger. This wasn’t about that. It was about care. About saying you are safe in a language she could feel in her skin.
When she turned to face you again, she looked at you like she might cry. You just kissed her forehead and pulled her into a soft, wet hug beneath the spray.
“I’ve got you,” you whispered. “I’m right here.”
You helped her into bed once she was dry and dressed. The sheets were warm, fresh from the dryer—something you’d started doing more often lately. Little comforts. Small ways to make home feel like home again.
Olivia slid under the covers without hesitation this time, her back against the headboard, legs drawn up, hair still damp and curling slightly at the ends. You climbed in beside her and turned the bedside lamp to its lowest setting, just a soft golden glow to keep the dark from swallowing the room.
You didn’t speak at first. Didn’t need to. Her breathing was slower now, steadier. You picked up the paperback on your nightstand—some old dog-eared crime novel—and started reading aloud, your voice low and even, just enough to fill the quiet space between you.
She didn’t say anything for the first few pages, just curled into your side with her head on your shoulder.
But then her body shifted—subtle, but you felt it.
Her hand clenched the sheet.
You paused mid-sentence. “Liv?”
Her breath hitched.
You set the book aside immediately. “Hey.” You turned toward her, your hand brushing her cheek. “What’s going on?”
Her eyes were open, staring at something that wasn’t there. Or rather, something that was—but only in her head.
“I—I thought I was okay,” she whispered, voice tight. “I felt okay.”
“You are okay,” you said, gently but firmly. “You’re safe. You’re home.”
She closed her eyes, but her jaw clenched like she was trying to swallow something thick and bitter.
“He was in my head again,” she said. “Just for a second. I was lying here, and I thought… I thought he might be in the house.”
Your chest squeezed. You reached out and cupped the back of her neck, grounding her with your palm.
“He’s not. You’re here with me. Just us.”
She let out a breath that was half-sob, half-sigh.
“I hate this,” she muttered. “I hate that he still gets to live in my mind.”
You guided her down slowly, gently laying her back against the pillows. You curled in beside her, your legs tangling with hers, one hand still cradling her cheek while the other slid around her waist.
“He doesn’t win just because your brain is still healing,” you said softly. “You are allowed to be scared. You’re allowed to need comfort. None of that makes you less strong.”
She was trembling now—barely, but enough that you could feel it through the sheets. You pressed your forehead to hers.
“Listen to me breathe,” you said. “Match it, okay?”
You inhaled, slow and deep. You let it out through your nose. Then again.
Her breath hitched once, then steadied. She matched you, ragged at first but slowly syncing in time.
“You feel that?” you whispered, pressing her hand to your chest. “That’s me. I’m real. I’m right here. You’re safe.”
A few silent tears slipped down her cheeks.
You kissed them away without a word.
“I’m sorry,” she choked out. “I don’t want to be this broken person with you.”
“You’re not broken, Olivia. You’re human. And I want all of you.”
She looked up at you then—really looked. Something in her face softened.
“You really mean that?” she whispered.
“I’ve never meant anything more.”
And then she kissed you.
Not urgent. Not passionate. Just quiet. Honest. Her lips barely moved against yours, but you could feel every ounce of trust it took to give you that.
You kissed her back just as softly.
When she pulled away, she tucked herself under your arm, face buried in your neck, one leg thrown over yours like she needed to anchor herself. You wrapped your arms around her and held her close, one hand rubbing slow circles over her back.
You didn’t speak again for a long time.
Eventually, her breathing slowed. The trembling stopped. Her body melted into yours, boneless, safe.
You stayed awake long after she’d fallen asleep, holding her, listening to the quiet rhythm of her breath.
And when you finally drifted off, it was with the weight of her love warm against your skin—and the knowledge that even in the hardest moments, you would always be her safe place.
The curtains were cracked just enough to let a golden sliver of morning light spill across the sheets. It painted soft shadows across Olivia’s bare shoulder, the one peeking out from under the covers, and the line of her jaw resting against your pillow.
She was still asleep.
You didn’t move.
Her face was turned toward you, relaxed in a way you hadn’t seen in weeks. No tension in her brow. No tight line at her mouth. Just quiet.
You let yourself watch her. For a few minutes. Maybe longer.
Eventually, her lashes fluttered.
She shifted under the covers, a little groggy but not alarmed. That alone was a win. You smiled.
“Good morning,” you whispered, voice still thick with sleep.
Olivia blinked at you, slow. Then she smiled—small, but warm. “Hey.”
“You slept through the night.”
“I did,” she said, like she couldn’t quite believe it herself.
You reached out, brushing a lock of hair from her cheek. “How do you feel?”
She stretched a little, then rolled onto her side to face you fully, pulling the sheets up around her shoulders. “Better than I’ve felt in… a while.”
Her eyes searched yours for a moment, then softened. “Thank you. For last night. For all of it.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” you murmured, fingers tracing her wrist gently. “Loving you isn’t something I do out of obligation, Liv. It’s just who I am now.”
She leaned in and kissed you—slower than last night, and a little surer.
“God,” she said when she pulled away. “I must look a mess.”
“You look like the woman I love.”
She narrowed her eyes at you with mock suspicion. “You’re too charming this early. What’s the catch?”
You grinned. “The catch is that I’m making breakfast and you’re not allowed to move until the smell of bacon forces you out of bed.”
She hummed, amused. “Cruel.”
“Necessary,” you said, already sliding out from under the covers. “You just focus on enjoying a morning without nightmares.”
As you padded to the kitchen in your sleep shirt and socks, you heard her shift under the covers again. But not out of unease—just comfort.
⸻
Fifteen minutes later, the apartment smelled like bacon, toast, and strong coffee.
You stood at the stove flipping eggs when Olivia’s voice floated from the hallway.
“If you ever get tired of being a detective,” she said, “you’d have a solid second career as a short-order cook.”
You turned to find her leaning against the doorframe, wrapped in one of your hoodies, sleeves too long on her hands. She looked impossibly soft.
“Noted,” you said, handing her a mug of coffee. “Retirement plan: feeding you breakfast until you get sick of me.”
“Never gonna happen.” She took a long sip, then leaned in to press a kiss to your temple. “Smells amazing.”
“I should start charging you.”
She gave you a look. “Really?”
“Well, there is one acceptable form of payment.” You tilted your head.
“Oh?”
“Kiss tax.”
She rolled her eyes but smiled, leaned in, and kissed you slow—her hand finding your waist, your free hand slipping around the back of her neck.
It was perfect.
⸻
You ate curled up on the couch, knees touching, plates balanced on your laps. She let her head rest on your shoulder when she was done, and you stroked your fingers through her hair while she closed her eyes for a minute.
You could’ve stayed like that forever.
After a while, Olivia murmured, “Can we just… stay in today? No errands, no phones. Just us?”
Your heart tugged.
“Yeah,” you said, tightening your hold around her. “We can stay in as long as you want.”
“I know I have to go back eventually. To work. To life. But right now, I just want to be here. With you.”
“You don’t owe anyone your timeline, Liv. Healing isn’t linear. And I’m not going anywhere.”
She pulled back slightly and looked at you with that open, almost-glassy gaze again—the one she’d used when you first got together. When she was still learning what it meant to be loved without conditions.
“You always say the right thing.”
You smiled. “Because I mean it.”
And then she said the thing that melted you completely:
“I think last night was the first time I actually believed I might be okay.”
The day passed slowly, but in the best way.
Neither of you got dressed.
You stayed in that quiet, liminal space between healing and normalcy: reading on the couch, napping in each other’s arms, sharing small smiles over leftover toast. Olivia let herself laugh—really laugh—twice that afternoon, and it made your heart ache in the best way.
No panic. No cold sweat. No calls from Cragen or Fin or therapy reminders interrupting the peace. Just the sound of the kettle, the hum of music low in the background, and Olivia’s legs draped over yours while she dozed in your lap.
Evening came with the first flicker of city lights through your windows.
You stood barefoot in the kitchen, refilling her glass of water when a song floated from the living room speaker—something old, familiar, soft.
You recognized the voice instantly: Billie Holiday.
Olivia wandered in behind you. She was still in your hoodie, hood up now, hair slightly frizzy from lying down. Her eyes met yours, soft and warm.
You held out your hand.
She hesitated for a moment, and then… she took it.
You pulled her in gently, her hand in yours, your other resting low on her back. Her breath hitched just a little when you swayed.
“We’re dancing now?” she murmured, barely hiding a smile.
“Yeah,” you said. “We are.”
You moved together slowly, barefoot on hardwood, the music crackling gently beneath your heartbeats. She fit perfectly against you, cheek resting on your shoulder.
“I haven’t danced since—” she started.
“Don’t think about that,” you whispered. “Just feel this. Right now. Just us.”
She nodded against your neck.
For the first time in weeks, her body was weightless against yours. Not heavy with grief or tension—just here. Present.
You let your hand slide up her back, fingers tracing her spine. She sighed against you, eyes fluttering shut.
“I think I was afraid I’d never feel normal again,” she said quietly.
You paused. “And now?”
“I still don’t,” she admitted. “But I feel… loved. Held. And that’s more than I thought I’d have.”
You pulled back just enough to look at her. The golden lamplight caught her lashes, her lips.
“You’re not alone in this, Liv. You never were. You’ve got me—every version of me. For the dark days. For the good ones. For the rebuilding. All of it.”
She didn’t answer right away. Just looked at you like you were something sacred.
Then: “I want you to move in.”
Your breath caught.
“I know it’s sudden,” she said quickly. “And I know we’ve never really talked about it, and maybe it’s just the trauma or the comfort of this moment, but—”
“Olivia.”
She stopped rambling.
“I want that too.”
Her expression cracked open, surprised. Then she smiled. A real one—wide and gorgeous, the kind you’d missed.
“Yeah?” she said softly.
“Yeah,” you said, resting your forehead against hers. “Let’s build a life, Liv. Not just survive one.”
⸻
Later, in bed, with the window cracked and the city humming softly outside, she fell asleep curled around you—calm, quiet, whole.
And this time, you didn’t stay awake to watch over her.
You closed your eyes too.
Because for the first time in what felt like forever, the world felt still. And Olivia Benson, wrapped in your arms, breathing easy in her sleep, felt like home.
Finding Salvation: Chapter 16: Finding A Way To Reconnect
A/N: Loosely based on S4ep5, but like not enough to spoil it. But we are almost to better hair.
Summary: Olivia has been gone for a week for a case that has taken nearly everything from her. Luckily, she gets to come home and find herself in you.
Warnings: All smut, no plot. Cunnilingus. Strapless Dildo. Fingering ( R & Olivia receiving). Minors DNI. WLW Smut. 18+. Multiple orgasms.
2.7k
Previous Chapter - Next Chapter
Masterlist
Olivia sinks onto the couch, hoping that it might eat her alive. This case had gotten out of hand and fast. She had been accused of many things in her life, but murder had never been one. Now she was exhausted and starting to regret how fast and loose her and Elliot played by the rules sometimes. Especially when it meant that for over a week she hadn't been able to see you, smell you, or hold you.
She doesn't wait long before you walk in the door, your arms loaded with work she knows you should have left at the office. You dump it over the counter, not noticing your girlfriend curled against the couch. Olivia watches for a moment, her heart aching at how robotically you move through putting together a pile of work to do before you kick your shoes off. You have become so used to Olivia’s absence in this short time and have created a whole routine to cope with it.
When you finally close your bag, you grab your phone, and Olivia immediately knows what you are doing. Every day this week, you have called Liv as soon as you settle in. She hasn't been able to answer once, but you always leave a voicemail reminding her you love her and miss her. Olivia has been replaying them all week to keep her mind sane. This time, when you dial, you are met with the loud ringing of Olivia’s phone on the coffee table.
You jump, swiveling around when your eyes lock with your girlfriend. “Holy shit!” You yelp, ending the call. “Olivia, you scared the hell out of me.”
“Sorry, baby, I was just admiring the view.”
You roll your eyes, walking to the couch, forgetting all about the pile of work waiting for you. As soon as you are close enough, Olivia grabs your hips, forcing your knees to fall on either side of her. Without hesitation, you sink onto her lap, your hands finding their way to her neck. Her hands roam up and down your back for a couple of moments before slipping underneath your shirt to feel your bare skin.
“I missed you so much,” Olivia murmurs, her face finally easing into something peaceful.
You move to cup her cheek, which only softens her further. “I missed you, too, my love.” You lean forward to kiss her forehead softly. “What do you want to do tonight? I can order takeout, and we can cuddle on the couch. Whatever you want.”
“I want you,” Olivia says, her hand going to the back of your neck to pull you in for a kiss.
It’s the frantic kind where Olivia can't seem to get enough of you. She pulls down on your lip, her hands clawing at your back when you instantly moan into it. Then, when her tongue swipes your bottom lip, your mouth immediately grants her access. It is she who moans at this move. She is desperate to get any piece of you she can, to remind herself she is safe at home and loved.
When she finally breaks the kiss, her breath comes in pants across your cheek as she rubs her nose against hers. It’s a new thing she has started doing when she feels vulnerable. Almost like touching your skin in every way possible is the only way for her to breathe again.
“How do you need me?”
“Inside of me,” Olivia whimpers, her hands digging more crescent moon marks into your skin. “As close as I can get you.”
You hum in agreement, attempting to get up when Olivia lets out a whine of disapproval. You laugh lightly, prying yourself from her grasp before reaching for her hand.
“Let me take you to bed, my love.”
She shoots up at this, and the short trip to bed is filled with a flurry of clothes and panting kisses. You are sure the shirt you were wearing is now ruined as buttons bounce along the floor. Olivia is aggressive, but you can tell she isn't in her usual dominant mood. No, Olivia is desperate to be unraveled by the only person who can bring her back to the real world when it feels like one foot is in the pit of hell.
When she finally falls back against the bed, her legs open for you automatically, and you grin. You don't have it in you to tease, but you know you can't immediately give in to what she wants. Instead, as her legs dangle over the edge of the bed, you sink to your knees. The whimper Olivia lets out at the sight makes your head spin.
You kiss up her legs, alternating between each side until you get to her thigh. Once there, you lose control completely and give her a sharp bite. She yelps, but then moans when you soothe the spot with a lick. You smirk against her skin and repeat the pattern all the way up until your warm breath whispers against her clit. The exhale of breath that follows from the woman above you is dripping with a sin that you would gladly die for.
“Baby,” she whimpers, her hands digging into the sheets as you continue to stare at what waits between her legs. “Can you hurry up, please?”
“Missed me that much?” You ask in what you hope is a teasing tone to hide the true feelings that have been simmering underneath the surface of your skin.
Olivia doesn’t seem to notice a difference as she nods. “I need you inside of me right now.”
Your hands find her hips, pushing her legs further open. “I know my love. I know. I just want to taste what is mine first.”
The protest dies on your girlfriend’s lips as your tongue swipes up and then circles her clit. Her grip tightens on the sheets as she does her best to keep her composure for as long as possible. She knows that she won’t last long, the tension in her body immediately melting as you suck her clit, but she wants to enjoy every single second of you that she can.
Her hand unfurls from the bed as your tongue circles around your clit, and then your fingers quickly slip inside of her. It is partly what she asked for, but not nearly enough. Her hand skims across your hand that holds her hip, and your fingers twirl together. This action is what makes you lose control. You have played long enough; now it is time to get what you came here for. She squeezes your hand hard before arching into your mouth.
Your responding moan vibrates her clit in a way that makes her nails dig into your hand. She is quivering now, her legs pressing against your ears as she grinds into your face. She simultaneously knows this is too much pressure and not nearly enough, all at the same time. Either way, you build her to the edge quickly and then shove her over it with a little nip to her clit.
“Shit… shit… shit!” She yells out, her hand only gripping yours tighter.
She comes crashing down from her high, her back falling to the bed as her legs shake around your head. You know this is only the beginning, that one simply is not enough to make up for the days that you have been separated. So you kiss each of her hipbones before you wander off to the closet searching for the large bag that you keep shoved in the back.
Olivia is still catching her breath when you finally return with two different options in your hand. The one in your right hand is the one that you are sure she will go for; it is what she always goes for. A simple black harness with whatever dildo happens to be clean and ready at the time. The one in your left hand is something that was purchased recently but never used, always just waiting for the right moment. It is a double-ended dildo with a smaller end that could go inside the wearer, allowing for full skin-to-skin contact. You don’t know what initially inspired you to grab it other than the fact that Olivia seemed like she needed you as close as possible tonight, and you would be lying if you didn’t say that you needed it to.
Olivia’s eyes trace over the options before a tentative hand points towards your left hand. A blush crosses her face as she murmurs, “I want to try this one.”
“If that is what my queen wants, that is what she shall get,” you smile, tossing the other option to the side before extending your left hand. “Want to put it inside for me?”
The request is so casual that Olivia’s face darkens even more. You love that you can do this to her. Take the woman who dominated you only weeks ago into a bumbling mess when she is in the right headspace. This relationship isn’t about who is the dom or who is the sub. It is about who needs it, and right now, Olivia is begging for a kind of bliss only you can give her.
She takes the end meant to go inside of you and swipes it between her legs. You moan at the sight of her come dripping off of it before she moves it between your parted legs. It settles inside of you easily, but Olivia is far from done. Her fingers gather more liquid to coat the dildo. You shut your eyes for a moment to calm the beating in your heart. Maybe both of you needed this more than you realized.
When the dildo is glistening in the low light of your apartment, Olivia finally stops. Her eyes flick towards yours. “Now will you get inside of me?”
“So impatient,” you murmur, leaning down to trail your lips along her jaw.
Olivia goes to say something snarky back, but instead, you slip inside of her, causing her to moan. Her hands claw at your shoulders, nails digging as she tries to pull you closer to her. Her legs come up to hook around your hips, not allowing you to move away from her more than a couple of inches, not that you would have. Right now, all you want is Olivia.
Your hands bracket her head as you set a brutal pace. She is unable to keep her eyes open, caught in a space where every nerve ending is on fire. The apartment is noisy now with the sound of her moans on repeat. She is so loud, you know that her voice will be hoarse tomorrow. You don’t stop, just let Olivia meet you thrust for thrust as you both chase something that you are craving.
She is so close to the edge that you know one more push will send her spiraling into oblivion. It is all that she has wanted, but before you give it to her, you know there is one more thing that you need. You lean into the shell of her ear and whisper. “Tell me you love me.”
There is a wobble in your voice that you despise, but you are desperate for it. To hear the words that can fix every part of your soul, even on the darkest of days. You don’t have to wait long to hear it because another thrust of your hips has Olivia screaming as her hands dig into your shoulders.
“I love you. I love you. I love you.”She repeats as a mantra that crashes her over the edge and to a place a satated calm.
When you pull out, she whimpers but only for a moment as her body relaxes against the sheets that are now damp with sweat. You roll off her, removing the dildo that has been holding you on the brink of your own orgasm. Once it falls to the floor, you push yourself up the bed to rest against the headboard so you can take a moment to breathe. You let your eyes close and try to calm the beating in your heart.
Olivia, from her position, looks up towards you with a fond smile on her lips. She is satisfied, and the last of the case has been scrubbed from her. But it only takes a couple of seconds to know that you are in your own head. She reads your body tension and the furrow in your brow like a direct roadmap to the thoughts you keep hidden. She may not know exactly what is bothering you, but she knows that she needs to fix it fast.
She crawls across the bed until she can part your thighs with her fingertips. You finally open your eyes, glancing down at her. Brown eyes sparkle as she smirks up at you, the curves of her body glistening with sweat in the low light.
“Liv,” you murmur, trying to hold onto the last of your resistance. “You don’t have to take care of me. Tonight was about you.”
“I haven’t seen you all week,” Olivia pouts, letting her lip protrude out to distract you from her hands spreading you further apart. “I want to remind the love of my life that there is no one else in this world for me but her.”
The words send your heart racing, and any protest you had dies on your lips. Olivia leans forward, kissing along your jawline until she reaches your lips. She pulls away a couple of inches so that you can see the expression in her eyes.
“I love you, and there is no one else on Earth I could imagine being with,” She whispers, and you don’t know if your heart twists with emotions or desire. “Now, please, let me show you how much.”
You nod softly, and Olivia’s lips are back on you in a flash. She nips and sucks down your neck, finally settling to leave a hickie along your collarbone. You hiss at the pain that is replaced with desire when her hand comes to flick at your nipple. She doesn’t stop at one hickey, either, and instead continues to mark down your chest until you are a roadmap of her love.
When she seems satisfied with your work, she trails open-mouth kisses back up until her breath rushes into your ear. She doesn’t say anything at first to focused on sliding two fingers inside of you so hard that you arch your back into her chest. She finds the perfect spot, immediately like she always does, and attempts to coax you closer to the edge. It is not so much the actions as the words that accompany each thrust that send you flying into a place that must be nirvana.
You are mine. I am yours. I was made for you. There is no one else for me. You are the only one I want. I love you. You are perfect for me. Mine forever and always. I love you. I love you.
You don’t know how many times you drench her fingers, but when you are finally done, your body limp against the headboard, Olivia releases her grip on you. She kisses along your right cheek and up your forehead and down to your left cheek. Finally, she places a soft kiss on your lips.
“Look at me, baby.” She murmurs, pulling away slightly.
Your eyes flicker open to meet her gaze. She smiles, her hand coming to cup your cheek.
“I love you,” she says so adamantly that you feel yourself melt even more. “Even when I'm on a case, or undercover, or ten feet away…the only thing I think of is how much I love you.”
Summary: A rough case forces Olivia to admit that she has made a mistake and is desperate to get you back.
Warnings: None, I believe
A/N: See, we didn't let you sit in the angst for too long. Thank you, @impossiblewolf, for sitting with me during this chapter. It was my personal baby for so long.
Previous Chapter-Next Chapter
Masterlist
3.1k we are back to the beefy chapters
You only last two days in the darkness before you crave the outdoors. It is a dark and gloomy day when you finally emerge, which matches your mood. The wind whipping through the trees is causing even the bravest of animals to burrow away. You, however, are taking advantage of the lack of humans here today to lie on the roof of your home, watching the grey clouds bleed to black. It's the kind of quiet that you have come to crave after having your space trampled in for weeks.
The darkening clouds feel like a representation of how Olivia’s absence makes you feel inside, and the cold bite of the wind is equal to the never-ending ache in your chest. It’s like a pressure in your head that won’t go away and a pit in your stomach that no amount of blood can cure. But you know it’s safer this way.
Especially after the hurt you caused her.
Her thoughts and her words still echo in your mind like a torturous loop. The monster inside of you won’t let you forget. You would have rather starved that day than know you had caused her that pain. You had known from the beginning the hurt she carried, but the monster inside of you hadn’t cared. All it did was get closer to her to deal the deadly blow. It was better that she left, that way you could remember that your heart was dead on the inside.
‘It was for the best,’ you try to remind yourself for the umpteenth time. Something or someone is coming after you, setting you up for crimes you didn't commit, and the further she is away from the blowup, the better. It just meant that you had to deal with your body constantly feeling like a piece of it was missing for however long this bond would last. You had stopped sneaking off to see her after you had read her mind. The regret of feeding off her still put a pit in your stomach.
That didn’t stop you from wanting her, needing her, and craving her. Every time the wind whirled around you, all you could think about was how much you missed her warmth in your arms. When you closed your eyes, all you could see was the way her eyes shone in the light of the fire. You were helpless when it came to her.
The ache in your chest swells at just the mere thought of her. You reach up and press on your sternum as if that will force the pain back into its enclosure when you hear her. She is quieter than most, but it wouldn't have mattered. Not when every cell in your body called out to her, begging for her to come closer.
You sit up to scan for her, and you know instantly something is wrong. There is a darkness to her that turns her normal smile into a grimace and her steps into heavy, uneven stomps. Your protective instincts flare, and you let yourself sneak into her mind. You’re met with the image of a child’s body surrounded by so much blood. More blood than what is normal in a human of that size. And the only thing that Olivia can focus on is a wolf stuffed animal clutched in tiny hands.
“Y/N,” she calls out, her voice cracking as you jump out of the memory.
You don't hesitate to jump down from your spot, landing only inches from her. She melts at the sight of you, like her body knows it’s finally safe and doesn’t have to be strong anymore. Within a step, she is collapsing into your chest. You curl your arms around her automatically, and the ache in your heart immediately grows dull.
You know that you shouldn’t be holding her, not when there is so much hurt that still lingers between you both, but you can’t stand by and see her suffer.
You pull back to press a kiss to the top of her head without thinking about it. It has become so natural to you that you don’t even think about whether she really wants it. All you can think of is trying to erase the memories that are in her head. “Olivia, it’s freezing out here. What are you doing?”
“Needed to see you,” she murmurs, her hand coming to curl in your shirt. “I-I couldn’t handle being away from you anymore,” her voice tremors, a mixture of the cold and emotions to blame. “I-I’m so sorry for what I said. I was an idiot, and I didn’t mean it. Please, I’m so sorry.”
“I can feel you shaking,” you tsk in a poor attempt to ignore the rush of emotion from the pain in her voice. You don’t know how to take the apology; you only know that right now you need to protect her. You pull her closer in a vain attempt to at least block the wind. “Let me get you inside.”
Olivia doesn't protest as you carry her up the stairs. It’s warmer within the walls, but not by much. The fire you put on hours ago has lessened, as well as the warmth it usually radiates. You set her down as close to the fire as you can, silently hoping the rug beneath her will be a helpful insulator in the long run. You rush around to build the fire bigger and collect the small mass of blankets you have to warm her up.
You notice the tears in her eyes when you slide a pillow under her head. They are rolling down her face, staining the fabric underneath. Each one is like a sharp stab to your ribs.
“What's wrong, Liv?”
You see the hesitation in her eyes, like a child peeking around a corner as they watch a stranger move around in their space. As if she isn’t worthy to ask for what she wants. She bites down on her lip hard to stop herself from talking.
The silence is worse than her tears, so you push her again. “You can talk to me, Liv.”
“I want you to hold me,” she says quietly, her eyes turned down as she braces for rejection. “I need you close.”
You feel like an invisible force is clawing away at you as you reach forward to tuck the blankets tighter around her. “I can’t,” you whisper, even though it goes against everything your body is telling you. “My body can’t give you the warmth you need. You will freeze.”
She lets out a choked sob as more tears cascade down her face. Olivia had thought she was ready for the rejection, but the reality of it was so much worse. “Please, I had a really bad day. I just want you to hold me. I need…I need you.”
You realize something at that moment. She feels the bond, too. A duller version of it, but the ache you have been feeling for days has nestled inside of her too. Which means that forcing the separation has only made everything more exhausting for both of you. The guilt that washes over you is instant, and you feel like an idiot for not realizing the bond would go both ways, even though she isn’t a vampire.
“I’m sorry. I was reckless that day, and I put you at risk. I just wanted to catch him so that you could be safe,” she explains between wobbly breaths. “I wanted you to see that you were worthy of being fought for. That you aren’t a monster, but all I did was ruin everything. All I ever do is ruin things.”
You close your eyes to push back your own tears. It’s the apology that you have been craving for days, but there is one problem. You are a monster. The more you keep pretending you aren’t, the more risk you put Olivia in. It doesn’t matter, though, because as she continues to shake with tears, all you can think about is holding her and keeping her safe.
You have her tucked under several layers of blankets to try to keep her warm. You peel away all but one and climb underneath, wrapping your arms around her. The next several breaths she lets out are labored and trembling, filled with emotion and relief at you finally being close. Even with the shivers still gripping her body, she clings to you with a white-knuckled grip and nuzzles her face in your neck.
Your face crumbles, but no tears come as you hug her closer, the ache in your chest replaced with an overwhelming surge of relief. Like someone had lathered a thick, soothing balm on the bond. Your torso curls around her, and you nuzzle your nose against the nape of her neck.
“Wanna talk about it?” You whisper, unsure of what to say.
She shakes her head frantically, and you let out a soft sigh. It doesn't matter that you already read her thoughts; you wanted her to tell you. It felt important to have Olivia open up on her own, but with everything that’s happened, you know both of you have taken massive steps back in terms of trust and openness.
“You shouldn’t have come,” you murmur after a minute of silence. “It’s cold and simply not safe.”
Although you haven’t seen the man from the other night since you lost him in the dense woods, you don’t believe he has entirely left. There is still a chance that he is lurking around watching you even now.
“I can take care of myself.” She says stubbornly, and you can’t help but roll your eyes.
“Right, how could I forget?” you respond curtly, attempting to pull away from her grasp.
“Shit, wait,” Olivia says, her fingers curling tighter in your shirt. “I…I want to tell you. I’m just scared. The stuff I see every day isn’t something that most people want to talk about.”
“Seeing dead children never is,” you murmur before you realize what you just revealed.
Olivia pulls back just enough to look at you with her eyebrows knitted in confusion. “How did you…have you been reading my mind? Can you read my mind?”
You grimace, bracing yourself for her anger when you reply. “Not all the time. I have become skilled at blocking out thoughts of others. Yours are just particularly…loud.”
There is a long silence that follows your statement until you finally force yourself to look at her. You expect to find anger in her brown eyes, but instead, you find curiosity. You know this look on her face all too well. Olivia is attempting to figure out a puzzle in her head, but you know that you are the one keeping the last piece.
“Is there a reason that I am louder than everyone else?” She finally asks. “Ever since you fed on me, I’ve felt…different. There is a piece of me that is always wondering where you are. When we were separated, it was torture, like something deeper than longing or desire.”
The reminder of the bite makes the pit in your stomach grow, but you know that you can’t keep this secret anymore. Olivia deserves the right to know about the bond. If she leaves after that, well then…then maybe living a life full of loneliness is what you deserve.
“After I fed on you, a bond was formed. Bonds are very rare. They only happen between soulmates and link them together in every way that you can think of. Their mind, heart, and body become intertwined, so separation is close to torture. A bonded pair is never away from each other for long; it makes them physically ill. I never thought that my feeding off you would form the bond. I didn’t even realize that I could bond with a human. I’m so sorry. Feeding off you was a mistake; I never should have done it.”
Olivia's eyes widen at your choice of words, and she stops your explanation with a gasp. “You were there that night.”
“What night?”
“The night that I said I wished you never fed off me,” she murmurs a red tint coming to her cheeks.
The words spoken out loud hit you like a hammer to the chest, and you instinctively flinch. A panic settles into Olivia as she tries to explain. “I didn’t mean it. You have to believe me. I don’t regret you feeding off me. I want the mark. I want this bond. I want to be yours. I’m so sorry. I was angry and not thinking right.”
“Olivia,” you whisper, “maybe you were right. This bond is a curse.”
“No!” Olivia responds louder than she originally meant. “This bond is not a curse. You mentioned that the bond forms between soulmates. That means we are supposed to be together. I want to be with you. I want to learn what it means to be loved by you.” She pauses for a moment, adding in a whisper. “I want to know what it is like to stay when things get hard instead of running.”
You look at her trying to find any lie in her eyes, but there is only desperation. Olivia wants this more than you realized. “It’s not easy, but you’ll do it if you care about someone enough.”
“And I care about you,” Olivia whispers, her hand coming to gently cup your cheek. “I care about you more than you know.”
You press into her palm. “And I care about you.”
“So does that mean we can try?” She asks nervously.
You hesitate for a moment before murmuring, “We can try.” Olivia's face broadens into a grin, and you can’t bring yourself to regret your choice. Not when this is the brightest she has looked in days. “The most important thing is that we do this together. One day at a time.”
“One day at a time,” Olivia nods. “I promise I won’t let you down this time.”
You shake your head, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “You didn’t fail me, Olivia. We just need to figure out how all of this works.”
Olivia smiles, and you take that moment to wipe away the last of her tears. Your hands linger on her neck, where you can feel her pulse below your fingers. The thought of the blood beneath you makes you realize that her veins are straining towards you, begging you to put your fangs in them.
Your fingers gently push down the collar of her shirt to expose the teeth marks she keeps hidden. They are faint now, almost completely unnoticeable. Your thumb flicks out to trace it gently and Liv lets out a wobbly breath at the sensation.
“It’s fading,” she points out quietly, and you immediately know what she is asking for.
“Liv, I'm not feeding on you when it's this cold.”
You know that she has taken back her words, but you still can’t get them out of your head. You won’t take advantage of her in this cold, emotionally heightened state. When you feed off Olivia again, you want her to be sure.
“Please,” she begs, pulling you from your thoughts. “I missed you. I miss looking in the mirror and remembering who I belong to.”
The plea only makes the guilt from earlier swell in your chest again. You bury your head into her hair, inhaling deeply while also trying to force back your fangs. The bond is partly to blame for your fangs protruding. A newly bonded pair often finds it borderline impossible to be away from each other, let alone keep their hands off one another. A lot of feeding usually happens, too. So although the ache of separation has been soothed, the intense craving to feed has taken its place.
You kiss along Olivia’s neck, trying to soothe the ache in your fangs by gently nipping at the skin. Olivia’s hand curls into your shirt, and you can feel the way her entire body aches to have you close again. With each press of your lips, all you can think is: I have to wait, we have to wait.
You don’t realize that you have begun to say these thoughts out loud until Olivia responds. “I don’t want to wait. Please. I need something to remove this ache in my chest.”
“I know, Liv,” you whisper, kissing her neck one final time. “I promise, as long as you want me around, we won't be separated like that again,” you reassure her, “but I can’t feed from you right now. You need all of your blood to help stay warm.”
You can tell she is still pouting but your reassurance seems to have soothed her a little. “Of course I want you around. There is nowhere else I want to be.” You smile without realizing it, and Olivia asks nervously. “You’ll feed off of me soon, though?”
“Yes. Soon, I will mark you as mine again,” you say, gently massaging her scalp.
You don’t realize how that sounds until the words are out there and you tense for a moment, glancing down to gauge her reaction. She pulls back a little to look up at you to presumably do the same, and you find yourself wanting to chuckle at the synchronicity of the two of you trying to navigate each other.
“Does that mean…?”
She doesn’t have to finish for you to know what she’s implying. Perhaps she isn’t as confused as you initially believe, but you’re still going to play it safe.
“I just called you mine. Are those not the same thing?”
“You really…you really still want to after everything that happened?” She asks nervously.
“We still will take it one day at a time…and there is a lot of building that we need to do,” you say thoughtfully, moving to lightly run your thumb along her cheek. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I want you to be mine.”
There is a grin on her face even as she rolls her eyes. “Say it again.”
“Olivia Benson, you are my girlfriend,” you murmur before grabbing her chin gently. “And I will do my best to prove I am worthy of being yours.”
You feel the way her energy shifts at the comment. The day seems to be slipping away from her thoughts, finally. Eventually, she stops shaking entirely. You think she has fallen asleep until you feel a soft kiss on your neck.
“You are worthy exactly the way you are,” she whispers.
Her words strike deep like a bolt of lightning being shot into the endless darkness you had been stuck in for days. In its path is that warmth of hers that you had missed so much. You pull her closer and close your eyes, letting yourself bask in it as you sense her gradually drift off to sleep.
Summary: Sometimes Olivia needs the reminder that she can live a good life too.
Warnings: Angst
A/N: I tried to post this 3 different times and now I'm just angry. 😡 (I think that the world is telling me I should have made it angstier) Collab fic with @impossiblewolf
Previous Chapter-Next Chapter
Masterlist
1.6k
Oliva’s anger burns bright on the first day that she is away from you. You acted irrationally and ultimately prevented her from doing her job. The second day, the flames start to dampen when she has more time to think about what had happened. She ran out with no plans, no idea what she was doing, and risked more than just her own life in that moment. The words you spat at her still sting when she thinks of them, but they weren’t wrong. Olivia had been reckless since the day Elliot left, working the job like it was some sort of end plan instead of a career that she had pieced together over tears and sleepless nights.
These realizations don’t necessarily help her figure out how to work past this crack that has formed in your relationship. Instead, they fill her with a doubt that makes her nervous, anxious, and just a tad bit bitter.
It is this bitterness that you smell as you watch her from a hidden spot across the street from her apartment. You have posted yourself here every night just to make sure that she makes it home safe. It hurts to watch her come back from work exhausted, her shoulders curled into submission, and her feet dragging along the sidewalk. You wish that you could scoop her up in your arms and kiss away all that pulls her under, but you know that you can’t. Especially not when you hear a phrase come across the bond.
I never should have never let Y/N feed off of me.
The thought is loud and laced with such sincerity, sadness, and anger that you recoil, your face crumbling in silent anguish. You don’t wait to see if she makes it up to her apartment safely after that. You merely turn away and walk into the darkness, letting it consume you until you feel nothing.
If you had stayed, you might have heard Olivia immediately regret her own thoughts. You might have discovered that she had been repeating that phrase all day in hopes of easing the ache that had settled in her heart. It is like a sharp pain that she can’t shake, and it only gets worse the more she is separated from you.
Olivia knows that all of this could be settled if she went back to talk to you, but she can’t bring herself to do it. Instead, it is up to Melinda to give Olivia a push in the right direction and extinguish the embers that have settled.
Olivia comes into the morgue, her heels clacking against the linoleum, but that is not what distracts Melinda. Melinda is used to the anger that has replaced the soft detective that she once knew, but this type of anger seems different. It laces not only in the way that she talks but in the way that she smells. Melinda sniffs again as she turns her back to Olivia to grab a file to make sure that she is smelling correctly, when it hits her.
It’s a smell that has never once laced Olivia’s blood, but Melinda knows well. Another vampire.
“Are you even listening to me, Melinda?” Olivia asks, annoyed.
“I’m sorry, I just…are you using a new perfume?” Melinda responds.
“No...I mean, I haven’t been able to get back home and shower,” Olivia murmurs, suddenly self-conscious. “Do I smell bad?
“Not at all,” Melinda replies, realizing that Olivia knows nothing of the bond, which only makes her more confused. “It’s a good smell actually. Earthy.”
That is when she sees it. Olivia involuntarily rubs at her neck as if the word sparked something, and it reveals just a sliver of the bite mark. Melinda can tell that it is days away from fading, which is more concerning than anything else. A newly bonded pair can’t keep their hands off each other, let alone stop from feeding off the human one. Well, at least that’s how it worked when she had found her bond.
Melinda still remembers the way that her wife drank from her every day after their bond first formed. No matter how much Melinda’s wife had tried to stop, she couldn’t get enough. Melinda had loved every second of it. But Olivia? Olivia looked miserable. Which is the exact opposite of how she should look after a bond has been formed.
“Olivia, are you okay?”
Melinda expects Olivia’s normal answer, a curt I’m fine, when she is anything but. This time, though, Olivia’s face falls, and she shakes her head. The mask around her begins to crumble, and the strain of the bond separation is clear.
“No…no I’m not.”
Melinda takes Olivia to her office, where they sit down and talk about what has finally cracked Olivia’s outer shell. Olivia speaks of you highly, and Melinda can tell that she cares about you. She never once mentions to Melinda that you are a vampire, but it isn’t necessary. Melinda already knows. Not because of the bite still lingering on Olivia’s neck or the bond in her blood, but because Melinda knows you.
You haven't been a vampire nearly as long as Melinda but she still knows of you. She makes a habit of knowing new vampires that come around her usual stomping grounds. You happen to be one of her favorites. Your interactions have been minimal, but she knows that you are one of the good ones. You are the kind of vampire who makes her remember that not everyone she meets is a monster.
She doesn’t tell Olivia this, though. Instead, she listens to her friend admit for the first time that maybe she pushes everyone away before they can leave her.
“You haven’t given her a chance,” Melinda points out finally. “You automatically assume she is going to leave as Elliot did.”
“This isn’t about Elliot,” Olivia says defensively, which only makes Melinda shake her head.
“Isn’t it, though? Ever since he left, you’ve been different. I understand that he meant a lot to you, but Liv…you’re letting him taint everything else in your life.” Melinda pauses a moment to let the words sink in. “You’re somehow blaming yourself for him leaving when it was a choice he made all by himself. You deserve good things. You do realize this, right?”
There is a silence that fills the room. Olivia turns her head away from Melinda to control the emotions that try to break free from their normal boxes. Olivia knows somewhere deep inside of her that she is worthy of good things. She just doesn’t know what those good things are or if they will ever come to pass. It has become harder to imagine what those things might be, especially when an emptiness has settled in her chest that she can’t seem to shake. An emptiness that had only lessened when she was around you but has only seemed to dig its claws further into her over the past couple of days.
“Liv.”
Olivia puts up her hand to silence Melinda. “I get what you are trying to say, just give me a minute.” Melinda waits until Olivia takes a deep breath and turns back to her friend. “I don’t know how to fix this.”
“Talk to her,” Melinda emphasizes quietly, her gaze so gentle that part of Olivia doesn’t feel like she deserves it as some of her words to you echo in the back of her mind. “Words got you into this, but they’ll get you out too. Solidify your words with action. Keep showing up for her like you have been. You’ll never know what is possible if you don’t try."
“Actions speak louder than words,” Olivia acknowledges.
Melinda nods, “You know that better than anyone. But words matter too.”
So with an exasperated sigh, Olivia leans back in the chair and tries to figure out how she’s going to start the process of earning your forgiveness. She’s not expecting it to be easy considering what she’s said and how guarded you’ve been since she first met you, but she doesn’t want to abandon you. And more than anything, she wants this ache in her chest to go away.
As she sits with the comfort of a friend discussing her biggest regrets, you lie on the floor of your cabin, deciding what to do. The windows are shut tight, not even letting in the smallest glimpse of light. The fireplace is out and has been for days because there is no point in keeping the house warm when there is no one to keep warm anymore. So you sit in the dark and wait for the pain to ebb into something more manageable.
Yet every time you get close to moving forward, Olivia’s thought come rushing back to you. I never should have never let Y/N feed off of me. It’s a heartbreaking contrast to the pleading, sincere words she had said about caring about you too much to let you die. The sting of the words never fades, even after you repeat them over and over.
There is a tiny voice in the back of your mind that you can’t seem to shake. It is that same voice that was in the back of your mind the day that she came back. That voice that was buried so far under your pit of hunger that you had chosen to ignore it. That shitty little voice had been right all along. You never should have fed off her. You should have fought harder against her pleas. You should have let yourself wither into nothing so you could finally be released from this hell that has trapped you in a lonely existence. It was the only rightful end for a monster as cruel as you. Instead, you’ve succumb into a whole different kind of painful prison, where the bond between you and Olivia will ache, throb, and yearn for eternity.
Summary: Olivia's ability to care about her own safety has never been her strength, and now it costs her more than she realizes
Warnings: Angst
A/N: @impossiblewolf wants you to grab the tissues. I say welcome back to the monsters in my mind ;)
Previous Chapter-Next Chapter
Masterlist
2k
The very thing Olivia never wanted to happen happens the next night.
It hasn't been long since she showed up at your doorstep again, your mark barely covered under her shirt. It has been half an hour, maybe longer, when a noise outside catches your attention. You try to be subtle about it so she’ll continue telling you about Fin, the man who you saw waiting for her the other night. Apparently, her years of being a detective have helped her to even read creatures like you.
“What’s wrong?” She asks, a small furrow in her brow.
“Uh, nothing,” you reply, briefly waving a dismissive hand. “Just thought I heard something outside.”
You sense through your newly formed bond that she doesn’t entirely believe you — her eyes give it away too — but it seems plausible enough that she continues telling you about Fin. From the way she talks about him, you can tell they’re good friends. You’re glad she has someone like him in her corner. You know from a couple of fleeting thoughts that Olivia often feels like she has no one. You wish that you could tell her that you will be that someone for her, but you know right now, even with the bond, Olivia doesn’t believe that to be true. She is constantly waiting for the other foot to drop and for the fragile relationship you have built to completely shatter around her.
A couple of minutes pass by before you hear another noise, this one louder and closer than the last. This noise seems to catch Olivia’s attention, too. Both of you stand, but you’re quicker, crossing the room in a matter of a couple of strides to look out the window. The moon is small in the sky, so despite the lack of clouds, it’s still pretty dark out by human standards.
But you can still see him.
Standing a couple of hundred yards away is a human with a flashlight clutched in his hand by his side. He looks tall, close to six feet. He appears thin, but clearly has the strength to carry dead human bodies.
“What is it, Y/N?” Olivia asks, standing close enough to you that your skin tingles at her warm breath fluttering across your skin.
“Someone’s here,” you reply, your voice serious as you step away from the window and pull her with you.
Olivia’s eyes widen with alarm, and she pulls away from you. “I have to go catch him. He could be the killer.”
“Absolutely not,” you say quickly, harsher than you intended.
“It’s my job,” she snaps back.
You see her flinch for the first time when you put yourself between her and the door before she can blink. “I’m not letting you go out there. You don’t know these woods like I do.”
“Then come with me! This guy has killed ten people now, Y/N. I need to get him off the streets,” she argues, gathering her things. “The quicker we catch him, the quicker your life can return to normal.”
“You can’t be certain it’s the killer. It could be someone lost in the woods. It happens occasionally, believe it or not.”
Olivia scoffs. “Come on, you know that’s not true. The only person who could be here at this particular location is the killer. He could be looking for where to dump his next victim. Or worse, he could be figuring out how to hurt you.”
She tries to step around you to reach for the doorknob despite knowing she won’t succeed. You merely grab her wrist and lead her away from the door. The simple action causes her scent to change to overwhelmingly bitter, enough to make your nose crinkle. You had smelled her frustration before, but this is something worse than anger. This is a flicker of hatred from being stopped from doing something she deemed important.
“You’re interfering with an investigation and my promise to you, Y/N,” she says, her voice low with warning. “Don’t make me restrain you.”
You let out a dry laugh, which only makes her more upset. “There’s nothing here to restrain me with except the cuffs on your waist, and I would break those before you even fully had them on me.”
“Then let me do my job,” she growls, yanking her wrist from your grasp and storming toward the door.
You let her go this time, mainly to let her blow off a little steam. Before she’s at the bottom of the stairs, you’re already in the doorway. You want to give her space, but you aren’t stupid. She isn’t thinking clearly enough to do this all alone.
“Don’t you care about your safety?” You ask as she pulls her gun from its holster and her flashlight from her pocket.
“The badge on my hip has an oath attached to it, and part of that oath is to protect and serve.”
“This feels a little like that saying you humans have about calling the kettle black,” you admit as you walk down the stairs.
You’re not looking at her but instead at the woods in front of you. The man is still standing there, watching the two of you interact. You can only pray Olivia can’t see him.
“Forgive me for actually caring about you, too,” you say. “For wanting to protect you from things that you have no business getting involved in alone.”
“That’s rich coming from the person who didn’t want me to come around anymore,” she snaps.
“For this very reason,” you say as you grab her by the biceps this time, forcing her to look at you despite her not being able to see you. “Plus, I thought we were past that. I was wrong to send you away then, but I’m not wrong when I say that you have no idea what you are doing and can’t do this alone.”
You won’t say it, but you wonder if her visits here have inadvertently led the killer to come into the woods this deep. You won’t put that kind of blame on her, despite how plausible it sounds. You can’t even bring yourself to be mad at her reckless behavior. You wanted her here even before the bond formed, and now that it is locked into place, you can’t regret seeing her.
“And if you go after him now, you could still risk exposing me, which goes against your promise to keep me safe.”
You see the words hit her like a slap across the face, and you’re hopeful that you might have finally talked her off the ledge. Until you hear the crunch of snow and see the faint evidence of a flashlight across the snow in your peripheral vision. Olivia’s reaction is immediate.
“NYPD!” She yells, her head whipping in the direction of the light.
Again, she pulls out of your gentle grasp and takes off running in the direction of the mysterious figure. You have no choice but to follow after her since you know the layout far better than her and potentially even better than the killer. But the killer is wise enough to head in a particular direction that you know leads to denser woods.
You quickly abandon traveling on foot in favor of jumping between the trees while keeping track of where Olivia is and where the killer is. It’s useless, though, because after a few minutes of chasing, the killer manages to disappear as suddenly as he appeared, as if he may know of a shortcut or secret underground system of sorts that you haven’t found quite yet.
You jump to the ground and sniff around for him. You look for his footprints, a blood trail, anything to show where he went, but there’s nothing.
“Detective?” You yell, looking over your shoulder.
“I’m here,” Olivia pants.
“He’s gone.”
“Son of a bitch, how’d you lose him?” She questions, bewildered.
You roll your eyes, feeling a renewed anger ignite in your belly. “These woods are dense, in case you haven’t noticed. It affects my speed.”
“If you had let me go after him the second you heard him, I might’ve gotten him.”
“Or maybe it would’ve ended the same way, or maybe you would’ve gotten hurt, and then what, detective? You can’t keep your promise to me and do your job if you get hurt. How would you explain to your squad that you were out here alone again, even after Fin told you to stop coming here?”
“Since when did we go back to you calling me detective?” She asks, her frown evident in her voice as she ignores the rest of your statement.
“Since you gave me no choice but to follow you in a police chase.”
“I was just trying to protect you, can’t you see that?” Olivia snips in defiance.
“I said no,” you bark out. Olivia stares back at you defiantly. “I’m not worth all of this danger and hassle, Olivia. I don’t matter. You aren't risking your life for me.”
“Yes, you do, Y/N. You matter. You matter to me. Isn’t that enough?” Olivia asks, and for the first time, you hear a wobble in her voice. It’s not that which breaks you, but her devastating thought after:
Aren’t I enough?
The thought is born with such a sad and broken tone of voice that you subtly recoil like the July summer sun just touched your skin. Of course, she’s enough, and that’s the problem. It’s making connections like this that have forced you to pick secluded areas to live for centuries. You wonder for a moment if your desire for close contact has caused you to lose your edge in remaining so well hidden.
“You are enough, Olivia. You mean more to me than anyone I have ever met in my entire miserable life, and it is killing me to see you act like your life doesn’t matter. You call it your job and doing your duty, but you are being reckless. I can’t be there to rescue you every damn minute of the day.”
You regret your words the second you see how they hurt Olivia. In her mind, you see the image of a man clear as day yelling a similar phrase at her. Your non-beating heart still manages to sink as she visibly recoils and a hardness comes to her features, worse than tears. You could handle the tears, but no, this was a complete removal of feelings.
Hurting her again wasn’t your intention. You’ve sensed from the beginning the hurt she carries, and you don’t want to be added to the invisible list of people who have caused her grief. Now you went and have done exactly that, except this time you think you may have done it worse than all those who have come before you.
“Well, don’t worry. You won’t have to ever come to my rescue again. I’m done,” she says with a calm finality before she turns away and disappears into the woods.
You collapse onto the porch after following the bond’s urge to make sure she gets in her car safely. You think about running back out to her, but what is the point when you know that it will only make things worse. Despite what she said yesterday about caring about you, you knew that the end of your relationship was inevitable. You knew she would eventually see the monster that lives inside and would wise up and leave, and, after what you foolishly said to her, her walking away is what you deserve.
pixelskylines
izzy806
gamechangershow
dailybridgerton
amandla
