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bananafiction · 8 months ago

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slayyy daddy

Smoke Signals

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Female Reader

Summary: Emily craves normality following the Doyle incident. Based on this anon request.

Genre(s): Smut, hurt/comfort kinda, (strap ons, power dynamics, praise, strap sucking, choking, pet names, injuries, mention of blood, pretty vanilla all things considered), not suitable for minors.

Word Count: 2.4k.

A/N: The ending will only make sense if you have watched cm 7x04.

More works from me here. || Masterlist here. || Kinktober 2024 Masterlist here.

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It was a gnawing absence that had roused you from slumber, the scrambling of your hands against the bedsheets, only to find them cold, void of Emily. The mandatory relocation to Paris had been a complicated adjustment, ripped from familiarity and thrust into discomfort. Emily was different now, a perpetual flicker of fear in her eyes. And though free of Doyle’s physical captivity, he continued to wreak havoc in her mind, despite her valiant efforts to shroud it.

The latent scent of cigarette smoke hung in the air, the softened sloshing of bathwater indicating her whereabouts. You were unsurprised, this routine becoming somewhat of a new obsession for Emily. The scars that Doyle had scattered across her skin had bothered her more than she cared to admit and she would scrub mercilessly over the four-leaf clover in a vehement attempt to remove his imprint.

It was futile, the porcelain rendered raw until crimson beads breached the surface and tinged the water in the palest of pinks. And Emily would stare in bewilderment, as if you had just rescued her from a recurring nightmare, except it was not the figment of her imagination that she had hoped for it to be. It was real.

Cautious footsteps drew you into the bathroom, the ashtray perched upon the corner of the bathtub piled high with orange tips, the skin of her chest glowing in puce. A pang of sadness stabbed into your chest at the sight of her.

“Come on,” you whispered, softly as you coaxed the sponge from her vice-like grasp, “the water’s getting cold, baby, let’s get you dry, hm?”

Emily regarded you with eyes of riotous fury, lurching forward to ignite another cigarette, grey smoke trailing until a thickened haze enveloped the space. She was still, silent, evasive.

“I know how hard this has-”

“Hard?” Emily echoed, the scoff that followed suit thrusting a sudden burst of smoke from her mouth. “Try fucking insufferable,” she flared, anger unhoused, her head shaking wildly. “I should’ve killed that bastard years ago when I had the chance."

The air grew frigid, fraught with emotion on the cusp of eruption. You sank to the ground, relinquishing to the heaviness of the conversation, the tiles like ice as they met your skin.

“It wasn’t your fault, Emily,” you reasoned, your voice faint, cautious, “none of it was.”

A palpitating breath emitted from her, her cigarette left to bleed smoke in the ashtray as she mustered the composure to meet your gaze. Tears pooled, camouflaged slightly by the droplets that sprinkled the entirety of her body, her bottom lip cinched painfully betwixt her teeth in a bid to forestall them. It was this vision of breakage that sent the pad of your thumb to smooth over her cheek, her eyes settling to a close as she leaned into the contact, cherished it.

“I can’t even look at myself,” she admitted, solemnly as she retreated from your touch, troubled. “What he did to me, the scars he has left on my body,” she trailed off, sighing, the fragments of a bitter smile assembling. “You… haven’t touched me in weeks.”

In an instant, you claimed possession of her chin, pinched between your fingers as you studied the pain that cloaked her. And it was visceral, all-encompassing, her irises abyssal as they flickered in aversion, in shame.

“I’ve wanted to,” you reassured, sincerely, the dampness from her forehead painting your lips as you planted a fleeting kiss. “But I wanted you to heal first,” you explained, Emily’s eyes visibly softening. “I think you’re beautiful, I always have.”

The tears that had been safely stashed away earlier sprung from their concealment, salted streams cascading without relent as you cast them away with your fingertips. Emily’s simper was quick to perforate the veil of melancholy, a breathy burst of laughter materialising when she noted the error in her judgement. A realisation that was further substantiated when you had permitted yourself the indulgence of raking your glare over her body, a body that you loved without condition, a body to be revered.

Emily threw you a knowing look, a newfound sparkle in her eye and one that had been missing for so long that you had almost forgotten its appearance. Her palms fixed themselves to your cheeks, dousing you in tepid water, though all that seemed to matter was the welcomed proximities of her lips grazing yours.

“This is the part where you fix it,” she revealed, her smirk scorching into you, though she remained controlled, restrained. “Ask me what it is that I want."

A hum of amusement reverberated from you, a semblance of the person you had momentarily lost gifted back to you, an influx of relief taking hold, a beacon of hope.

“What do you want, baby?”

“I want you to fuck me… tonight,” she specified, staring intently through long, black lashes, assertive in her demand. “Stop worrying about me,” she breathed, an open-mouth kiss sizzling into you, the contact so evanescent that you were robbed of the chance to react. “I want you to take control.”

A brazen smirk blossomed as you retracted from her grip, leaping up to tower over her submerged form. Emily quirked an eyebrow in confusion, her face transported into that of shock as she felt your hand enclosing moderately around her throat. The water splashed noisily as she flailed around, a dizzied beam peering up at you as she recalled the familiarity of your touch, acknowledged your clear-cut acquiescence to her request.

“Is this what you want, baby?” You asked, a strangled whine fleeing from her, an avid nod quick to follow.

“Yes.”

Abruptly, you freed her.

“Then you’d better come to bed, hm?”

The sound of frenzied footfalls pursued closely behind you as you hastily fixed your strap on around your waist. Emily regarded you, lust flooding those beautiful dark eyes as she fell to her knees in submission, impatience, water droplets pooling below her.

“Be a good girl and get this wet for me, hm?”

Emily obliged with a zeal unmatched, not a trace of hesitation passing over her gaze. The appendage soon became encased by her greedy mouth, sheathed in saliva as she sucked with purpose, muffled moans rumbling in the depths of her throat. Her eyes rolled into her skull, her delight depicted in every motion that she undertook, a hand secured around its base, the other clasping tightly at your hip for leverage.

And she was a sight to behold, a discernible glimmer of innocence swirling in her orbs, despite the lewd activity she was engaged in, your fingers winding themselves into her hair only to sink further into her mouth. You yanked the brunette strands until you were certain of the visceral burn they incited, a grunt of pain-pleasure forcing her brows to sew together in union.

“You look so pretty like this, angel,” you commented, quelling the sharpened sting with a series of gentle caresses to her scalp and earning a contended hum from Emily. “Such a good girl for me.”

Emily’s thighs clenched noticeably, and you had wondered if you had underestimated the true extent of her desperation, addicted to the ceaseless sound of her whimpering. Her eyes pleaded with you, wholehearted in her need for you as she fidgeted in place with a prospering restlessness.

The urge to prod at her self-control was overturned the moment you perceived the adorable little smile that lifted her cheeks, so slight that it had almost gone unseen. And even with her mouth occupied, saliva tainting the corners, that simper never strayed, aimed squarely towards you. Warmth radiated, butterflies swooning in your stomach until you fizzed with anticipation, unable to prolong her exacerbation, wanting nothing more than to take care of her, satisfy her.

In that ephemeral instance, Doyle had never existed, had never hurt her, her bruises fading until her bones were wrapped in unblemished white, her expression no longer corrupted by vestiges of terror, despair. Yes, when she smiled like that, the darkened gloom dispersed instantaneously, her light so profound it could rival the sun, hued in gold.

A palpable air of disappointment thickened as you retracted from her, fingers outstretched in a fruitless bid to repossess you. Instead, you widened the space, a mischievous smirk gracing your lips as she stilled, awaiting instruction.

“On the bed for me, angel,” you husked, hands smoothing across the bedsheets she had left cold in her wake earlier, accelerated footsteps edging into existence. “Legs open for me. I want to take a good look at my pretty girl, hm?”

Emily’s obedience was impressively prompt, settling into position with her arousal gleaming below your gaze.

“Fuck,” you mused, a twinkle of delight flickering in your orbs in the knowledge that she was sufficiently needy, abundantly so, the tortured expression she donned enough to call your own self-control into question. “You’re soaking for me, baby.”

A pitiful mewl escaped her, teeth chewing on the inside of her cheek as a means of repressing the noise that threatened to spill. Her toes wriggled, impatience rising as she watched you with unbridled intrigue, your body snake-like in its motion. You slithered against her, dampened skin meeting your own, her nipples rigid as they poked into your chest.

“Touch me,” she urged, her voice a mere whisper, quavering into nonexistence when your lips met her neck, her heartbeat punching rhythmically against your mouth. “I’ve needed this so much,” she admitted, “needed you.”

“I shouldn’t have left it so long,” you hummed, though the message was almost a jibe at yourself, the desire that seeped from her only highlighting your mistake, determined to rectify it. “I’m gonna make it up to you, baby,” you promised, suckling a deep bruise into her that was certain to remain, her breath hitching in response.

“That’ll leave a mark,” Emily noted, her teeth clamping at her lip in glee, a suggestive tone lurking in her voice as her arms grew around you like vines, weaving to anchor you in place, to encourage a suffocating closeness.

“God, I hope so,” you smirked, a chaste kiss pressed to her lips before you drew in, warm breath casting a breeze across her ear. “You belong to me, my pretty girl.”

Gingerly, you lined the strap on with her pussy, the gentlest stroke of your hips causing you to slide into her. A loudened hiss emanated, her brows furrowed as the toy stretched her out. The emergence of fingernails prickled into the delicate skin of your back, your lips soon merging with hers to subdue the fleeting pain that had induced. Undying lust possessed her, breathy moans fading into your mouth as her tongue flickered against yours, heated, mindless.

“Does it feel good, baby?” You asked, pointedly, the answer evident in the way her nails burrowed deeper into you, the shameless moans that bled out into the surrounding quiet. “You’re doing so well, angel,” you praised, the precision of your movement flailing for a moment, the scene below you too much to bear. “Such a good girl for me.”

“Missed you inside of me,” she whimpered, sucking in a sharp inhale as you quickened the pace, a surge of happiness filling you in response to her confession. “I’ve been so desperate, fuck.”

Emily yanked your mouth to hers, the reconnection frenzied, feral, her teeth clashing into you with no heed paid, the world fated to dissolve into nothingness, your focus undivided upon the woman below you. Her irises glittered with darkened passion, the might of your exertions causing a salient sphere of heat to form around you. And it was a perfect reunion, albeit overdue, her velvet skin flush against you, her soft lips keeping you hostage with an enduring avidity.

You wanted to savour the moment, snap a mental image of her beauty, how the desperation tinged her cheeks with the mildest blush. But as soon as Emily noticed your motion become languid, mellow, her head jolted in rebuttal.

“No,” she moaned, breathily, her lips tearing from you to voice her protest, “please, I’ve waited long enough.”

“You want to cum, baby?” You asked, your hand veering between your melded bodies to massage her clit, wetness clinging to your digits as Emily rutted wildly in reaction, her hips jogging sporadically in assistance.

“Yes, fuck,” she rasped, her jaw slackening, lips swollen from the fresh bite marks she had etched into them. “Please, I want to.”

Your hips accelerated to a pace unrivalled, a hand wrapping firmly around her throat and squeezing with intent, the other working proficiently to pacify the ache of her clit. The zeal drained from her gaze, transformed into a thoughtless stare, the pleasure bewildering as it built.

Emily floated away, half-lidded eyes flickering until you pressed a startling kiss to her lips and willed her consciousness into engagement.

“Look at me, angel,” you insisted, softly, your hips slamming with reckless abandon, the cusp of undoing edging into sight. “That’s it, baby, cum for me,” you encouraged, your lips nestled into her neck. “All for me.”

A violent shudder ricocheted, Emily’s head thrown backwards into the pillows, her clit twitching below the pads of your fingers. The sound that ripped from her throat seemed to echo, forceful exhales following suit as she clawed to reclaim her composure. You released her throat from your grasp, a giant smile taking position on her face as she drew you into a comforting hug.

“I’m sorry I made you wait,” you spoke, your voice obstructed slightly by the thick tresses of brunette that were pushed messily against your face. “I guess I was scared of hurting you after everything.”

Emily cleared her throat, a pang of emotion thrumming until it brimmed in her eyes, an audible gulp sounding into the brief epoch of silence.

“I know,” she croaked, a wistful smile prevailing. “I’m still angry about Doyle,” she admitted, a flitting glint of agitation darting in her eyes. “I just wish it hadn’t cost me the team. I miss them.”

You nodded, a fleeting kiss pressed to her temple before you escaped from her hold, a little smile blossoming on your face and piquing her suspicion.

“You’re forgetting something,” you informed, swiping your laptop from its position atop the desk, the morning light peeking in through the crack in the curtains. “Not all is lost.”

Emily narrowed her eyes, positively perplexed as you placed the laptop onto the bed and opened it before her.

“What?” She questioned, half-annoyed by the mystery you had presented, more so by the fact that she was no closer to uncovering it.

“It’s midnight back home,” you reminded, “and I know cheeto breath has been waiting for that rematch you promised.”

Emily could only grin widely in response.

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@ionlylikemarvelforthewomen ♡ @agenderrat ♡ @i-write-sometimes-maybe ♡ @sugaryspiciness ♡ @chiefemilyprentiss ♡

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bananafiction · 8 months ago

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yum

My oil painting of an Uncrustable

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bananafiction · 8 months ago

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Caught

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Summary: Natasha's absence makes you needier than usual.

Genre: Smut, (masturbation, fingering, praise, dom/sub undertones, getting caught, finger sucking, pretty vanilla), not suitable for minors.

Word Count: 1.1k.

This piece is for day 12 of kinktober under the 'masturbation' prompt. This is a repost of a fic I wrote on ao3 in 2022.

More works from me here. || Masterlist here. || Kinktober 2024 Masterlist here.

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Wandering hands slipped beneath the bedsheets, the soft sound of rustling fabric bleeding out into the thickened silence. Natasha’s absence always incited a newfound level of desperation, but you hadn’t quite anticipated the sheer desperation that had claimed you. Initially, you had attempted to thwart the throbbing between your legs with distractions, a movie playing to nobody in the background as you fidgeted upon the mattress. Every extended attempt was obstructed by the wriggling of your fingers, a conscious mind of their own dragging them lower to pacify your urges.

Ordinarily, a punishment would follow such an overt act of disobedience, Natasha intent on being the only person who could induce such a pleasure. But her lack of presence was felt tenfold, a flitting tingle fast transforming into an uncomfortable pressure in the pit of your stomach that begged to be alleviated.

Deft movements saw your underwear yanked down to your ankles until you flicked them to the floor below, momentarily forsaken as your mind whirred with anticipation. Your fingers sought your pussy with avidity, unable to resist the temptation as you dared to trace your arousal with a sole digit, a shameless moan tearing from your throat.

In the pitch darkness of the room, you felt at ease, the only semblance of light originating from the tiny ray that slivered in from the hallway outside. Soft breaths escaped your lips as you laved your clit with your arousal, your nipples hardening as the pleasure took a firm hold of you with no intent of letting go.

Liquid collected in abundance, only exacerbated by the touches that you had allowed yourself to undertake, proficient fingers probing at your entrance. The impulses were too strong to ever deny, a snaking finger daring to sneak inside of yourself as your back arched upwards from the bed, a warmth infiltrating the entirety of your body. Ablaze.

Electricity sparked with vigour, the motion of your finger inside of yourself finally providing some pacification as you basked in the feeling of being filled. You could only wish that Natasha was beside you, her soft coaxing words never too far away as she willed you into oblivion. The image of the redhead remained imprinted in your mind, her voice so familiar that you could almost hear it in its corporeal form as you reeled at the prospect.

“Natasha, oh- fuck,” you hissed, mindlessly.

“Naughty girl,” a voice erupted, startling you in place as you yanked your fingers away from your pussy in haste. “Someone really missed me, hm?”

Immediately, your eyes raised towards the door, a silhouette lurking over the threshold until the ghostly figure sauntered towards you. Even in the dimness, the smirk that Natasha donned could not be denied, practically entwined with her as she tugged the bedsheet away from you. Green orbs studied your indecency, her interest blatantly piqued as she honed in upon the glimmering arousal between your legs.

“So needy,” she remarked, her fingers inching in to trail over your throbbing flesh, a look of amusement claiming her features. “All you need to do is ask.”

Humiliation clouded you with intensity, a darkened blush materialising upon your cheeks and radiating heat. It was the first time that you had been caught in such a compromising position, rendered self-conscious beneath Natasha’s burning gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you uttered, quietly as you began to clamber to a sitting position, quickly occluded by a strong hand that forced you backwards. “I tried to stop, but I couldn’t, I-”

“Ssssshhh,” Natasha hushed, a slender digit pressed rigidly against your lips and painting it with the arousal that Natasha had been priorly inspecting. “How about I finish that for you, my love?”

An uncontrolled groan fell from your lips in the knowledge that Natasha planned to alleviate your neediness as you took her finger into your mouth. Expertly, you coated her digit with saliva, your tongue swirling around until it glistened in wetness.

“Hmmm,” Natasha mused, retracting her finger from your mouth with a sadistic simper. “You’re more desperate than I thought.”

You nodded avidly in agreement, hoping to instil Natasha with a sense of urgency, your heartbeat pulsating agonisingly between your legs.

“Please,” you begged, enlisting the help of your most convincing pleading expression, the one you knew sent Natasha’s self-control spiralling.

Natasha’s jaw flexed instantaneously as you bit back a victorious smile, knowing that your underhand tactics had succeeded. A response from her was unnecessary, her fingers manoeuvring to mirror the actions that you had exerted earlier, a ghosting touch landing upon your pussy. She hummed softly as she brushed against your arousal, two fingers sliding in without warning as she gnawed upon the full flesh of her lips.

“So fucking tight, baby,” she growled, lowly, a carnal sound bursting from your own mouth in response to her remark. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Your hips jogged in accordance with her soft motions, gentle as she basked in the way your walls hugged her fingers so snugly. Desperation surged without respite, intent on pressing Natasha for a faster pace as you bucked aimlessly into her hand.

“Please,” you breathed, whorishly, all traces of embarrassment forsaken as your mind became fixated upon your carnal urge to come undone. “Fuck me harder.”

Natasha acknowledged your plea with a hum, a cocky smile plastered upon her face as she increased the pace. Of course, the woman turned the tables, a brutal force emerging as your breath fought to catch up, Natasha merely chuckling towards your strife. Your body shuddered as the redhead’s fingers jammed into you, methodic whines ripping themselves from you as you stared into her sparkling orbs.

“That’s it, baby,” Natasha coaxed, her voice delicate and in contention with the aggression conveyed in her movements. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it, hm?”

Mindlessness denied any verbal response, your brain lacking coherence as you gazed up, dumbfounded by the pleasure that flooded you. Natasha peered downwards, a knowing simper glued to her lips as her eyes darkened with lust, wholly consumed by you.

“Cum for me, baby,” she demanded, domineeringly, her teeth bared in impatience. “Cum all over my fingers like a good girl.”

A calculated swipe across your clit had your body quaking below her, your pussy cinching Natasha’s digits with intent. You cried aloud, more so when she continued to slam into you, no heed paid towards the unbearable oversensitivity that you were faced with.

“Fuck, baby,” you panted, breathily, your hands outstretched in search of Natasha’s wrist in the hopes of stymying her motions. “Stop, I can’t take it.”

Natasha scoffed in amusement before prying her fingers out of you only to shove them into your gaping mouth. Instinctively, you suckled with zeal, your tongue flurrying as you recalled the familiar taste of yourself commencing its invasion.

“Next time,” Natasha spoke, her face merely inches from yours. “You wait for me. Do you understand?”

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bananafiction · 8 months ago

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The Weight of Silence Part 1

Olivia Benson x Genderless Reader

2k words

The precinct hummed with the low buzz of voices, the rhythmic clicking of keyboards, and the shuffling of files as the Special Victims Unit delved into another case. You leaned back in your chair, stretching your tired arms over your head, stealing a glance at Captain Olivia Benson’s office. The glass walls of her office provided a clear view of her, head bent over a pile of files, her brow furrowed in concentration. Her desk lamp cast a soft glow that framed her in shadows, giving her an aura of authority and elegance.

You had been Olivia’s lieutenant for years now. Together, you’d seen more horrors than you cared to remember, stood in the thick of crimes that shook the city to its core, and brought justice to those who couldn’t fight for themselves. But through it all, you had stood by Olivia’s side. It wasn’t just a professional relationship—it was a bond forged in fire, through trust, respect, and something more, something neither of you dared to acknowledge.

There was an undeniable chemistry between you, something you could feel in every shared glance, every brush of her hand against yours, and every quiet moment spent side by side, piecing together the details of a case. It lingered like a shadow between you, this unspoken tension that crackled in the air, and though you both pretended it wasn’t there, everyone in the precinct knew.

“Lieutenant, we got something.” Fin’s voice broke you from your thoughts.

You turned toward him, grateful for the distraction. He held a tablet out to you, a frown pulling at his lips. “Take a look at this.”

You took the tablet, your eyes narrowing as you read over the autopsy report. The victim, a 16-year-old girl named Lily Sampson, had been found three days earlier in a dilapidated apartment building on the outskirts of Manhattan. Bruises covered her body, and the evidence pointed to a particularly violent sexual assault. The medical examiner had just confirmed that the DNA found at the scene was a match for a known predator—a man by the name of Gavin Ross, who had slipped through the cracks of the justice system more than once. A chill ran down your spine. Ross was bad news, and if he was involved, this case was far from over.

Olivia emerged from her office, her sharp gaze landing on you. She seemed to sense the change in the room, her posture immediately shifting to one of alertness. “What do we have?”

You passed her the tablet. “It’s worse than we thought. DNA came back, and it’s a match for Gavin Ross.”

Her eyes darkened as she skimmed through the report. “Ross… Damn it. I thought we’d locked him up two years ago.”

“We did. He got out on a technicality. Bad evidence collection on a prior case,” you said, your voice laced with frustration. “And now we’ve got a dead teenager on our hands.”

Olivia clenched her jaw, her eyes flashing with anger and determination. “We’re not letting him slip through again. Not this time.”

Her resolve was one of the things you admired most about her. No matter how dark or twisted a case got, she never gave up. But with cases like this, you knew it took a toll. She bore the weight of every victim, carried the burden of every injustice like a cross. You saw it in the way her shoulders tensed at every new revelation, in the tired lines that had begun to crease her face.

“Let’s bring him in,” Olivia said, her voice firm. “Fin, Rollins, see if you can get an address on Ross. He’s slippery, but he’s got a pattern. Check the usual haunts.”

As the team dispersed, you caught up to Olivia. “Do you think we’ll get him this time?”

Her expression softened for just a moment, a fleeting crack in her armor. “We have to.”

Hours passed in a blur of dead ends and frustration. Ross had gone underground. Fin and Rollins had come up empty at every location they searched. You could see the tension building in Olivia’s shoulders, the weight of the case pressing down on her. As the clock ticked closer to midnight, the squad room began to empty out, officers heading home or grabbing a few hours of sleep before the next shift. But you and Olivia remained, as always, locked in the hunt.

You sat across from her at her desk, the two of you going over case notes, when Olivia suddenly slammed a file shut, frustration bubbling over. “We’re missing something,” she muttered, rubbing her temples.

You watched her carefully. “We’ll find him, Liv. We always do.”

She looked up at you, her eyes softening at the sound of your voice. There it was again, that unspoken connection—just beneath the surface, always there, always waiting. “You should go home. Get some rest. We’ll pick this up tomorrow.”

“I’ll go when you go,” you said, your voice gentle but firm.

A small smile tugged at her lips, the first one you’d seen all day. “Stubborn as ever, huh?”

You shrugged, leaning back in your chair. “It’s one of my many talents.”

The brief flicker of amusement in her eyes warmed your chest, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come, replaced by the heavy burden of the case. Olivia’s hand moved to the file in front of her, fingers tracing the edge of a photograph of the victim, her eyes distant. “She was so young,” she whispered, more to herself than to you. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

You stood and moved around her desk, standing beside her. You didn’t say anything—there was nothing to say that would make it better. But you placed a hand on her shoulder, offering silent support. She glanced up at you, and for a moment, something passed between you, something raw and unguarded.

Her gaze flicked to your hand on her shoulder, and you quickly pulled away, clearing your throat. The tension crackled in the air like static electricity, the pull between you undeniable. But, like always, it was left unsaid.

Before either of you could say anything more, Rollins burst through the doors of the squad room, her face flushed with urgency. “We’ve got something. A tip came in—Ross was spotted at a motel down in Hell’s Kitchen. We’ve got units headed there now.”

Olivia shot to her feet, all traces of fatigue gone. “Let’s go.”

You were already moving, adrenaline pumping through your veins as the three of you rushed out of the precinct, sirens blaring as you sped through the darkened streets of Manhattan.

The motel was a run-down, seedy place tucked away in the shadows of Hell’s Kitchen. The kind of place where people disappeared. As you approached, your heart pounded in your chest. This was it—your chance to bring Ross in before he slipped away again.

“Units have the perimeter secured,” Rollins reported, her voice low as the three of you approached the motel doors, weapons drawn. “He’s holed up in room 214.”

Olivia nodded, her face a mask of focus. “Let’s do this.”

You took position beside her, exchanging a quick glance. In that brief second, the rest of the world fell away. It was just you and her, two parts of the same machine, moving together without needing to speak. The trust between you was absolute.

Olivia knocked on the door, her voice authoritative. “NYPD! Gavin Ross, open up!”

Silence.

Your grip tightened on your weapon, your pulse quickening. Every second felt like an eternity. Then, suddenly, the door flew open, and Ross bolted.

“Stop!” Olivia shouted, but Ross didn’t listen.

You sprang into action, chasing him down a narrow alley behind the motel. The sound of your footsteps echoed in the confined space as you closed the distance between you. You could hear Olivia right behind you, her breath labored but determined.

Ross darted around a corner, but you were faster. You lunged forward, tackling him to the ground. He struggled, but you pinned him down, twisting his arm behind his back as you slapped the cuffs on him.

Olivia was beside you in an instant, her eyes blazing with triumph. “You’re done, Ross. You’re not getting away this time.”

Ross spat at her feet, but Olivia didn’t flinch. She stood tall, her presence commanding as always, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride. This was what you did, what you both did—together.

Back at the precinct, the team was abuzz with the victory. Ross was in custody, the case was wrapped, and Lily Sampson’s family would finally have justice. It was a rare moment of celebration in a job that so often ended in heartbreak.

As the adrenaline began to wear off, you found yourself back at Olivia’s office. She was sitting at her desk, her expression thoughtful, but there was a quiet satisfaction in her eyes.

You knocked softly on the doorframe. “Mind if I come in?”

She looked up, a small smile playing on her lips. “Always.”

You stepped inside, closing the door behind you. There was a comfortable silence between you, the weight of the case finally lifting. But just as you began to settle into that brief moment of reprieve, your phone buzzed. The precinct’s alert system flashed across the screen—a new development. Something big.

Olivia’s phone buzzed at the same time. She looked at you, her brow furrowing. “What is it?”

You glanced at your phone. “Ross’s prints came up on another crime scene. It just came in.”

Olivia’s face darkened, the weariness of the day replaced by a sharp edge of concern. “Another crime scene? When?”

You scrolled through the alert. “Two days ago. The body of a woman found in a park in Queens. Her face wasn’t recognizable, but the prints match Ross.”

A heavy silence settled between you. You thought you had him, thought this was finally over, but it seemed Ross had been busy before you caught him. Another victim. Another life lost.

Olivia rubbed her temples, her voice low but full of resolve. “We need to talk to him again. If there’s another victim, we can’t afford to wait.”

You nodded, already standing up. “I’ll grab the case file on the new victim. Let’s go make sure he doesn’t slither out of this one.”

The precinct was quieter now, the late hour thinning out most of the officers and detectives, but as you and Olivia moved with purpose toward the holding cells, it felt like the weight of the world was on your shoulders. Cases like this were never clean, never simple. They stuck to you, left scars that couldn’t be healed.

When you reached the interrogation room, Ross was slouched in his chair, his wrists shackled to the table, his face twisted into a smug smile that made your stomach turn. The guy had no remorse—he never had. He glanced up lazily as you and Olivia entered, his expression daring you to do something.

Olivia didn’t waste any time. “We found your prints at a second crime scene, Gavin. Two days ago. Another woman dead. You think this is over?”

He shrugged. “You got me on one, Benson. But two? You sure about that?”

You exchanged a quick glance with Olivia. This was typical of predators like Ross—never give anything up unless they had to. His cocky demeanor only made the tension between you and Olivia grow thicker, the unspoken frustration of dealing with another monster who thought he could outsmart the system.

Olivia stepped closer, her voice low and dangerous. “We’re sure, Gavin. And so is the DA. This isn’t just about Lily anymore. You’re going down for both, and we’ll make sure you rot in a cell for the rest of your miserable life.”

Ross’s smirk faltered slightly, but he leaned forward, his eyes glittering with something dark and twisted. “You really think you know me, Benson? You think you know everything I’ve done?” He chuckled, a sound that made your blood boil. “There’s more. And you won’t even scratch the surface.”

Olivia’s eyes narrowed, her jaw clenched. You could feel the anger radiating off her in waves, but she didn’t give in to his provocation. Instead, she motioned for you to step outside with her.

Once in the hallway, you could see the tension in her posture, the way her fingers drummed against her side. You knew what she was thinking—this case was spiraling, and the more you learned, the darker it became.

“He’s taunting us,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but her frustration clear.

You nodded, your mind racing. “He’s hiding something. We need to dig deeper—check for other unsolved cases, anything that fits his MO.”

Olivia turned to you, her eyes intense, and for a moment, everything around you seemed to slow. You were standing closer than usual, the small space between you filled with that ever-present tension. Her eyes flicked over your face, lingering for just a moment too long.

You swallowed, feeling the pull, that undeniable chemistry that had been simmering for years. “We’ll get him,” you said, your voice softer than intended.

Olivia held your gaze for a second longer before nodding, her expression softening just a fraction. “We always do.”

The next day passed in a blur of information gathering and connecting dots. You worked tirelessly alongside Olivia, poring over files, cross-referencing old cases, and piecing together Ross’s movements. What you uncovered was chilling.

There were at least three other unsolved cases over the past year that matched Ross’s MO—each victim a young woman, each one lured to an isolated location and murdered brutally. The cases had slipped through the cracks, but now, with Ross in custody, it was clear he had been hunting for far longer than anyone had realized.

You and Olivia sat across from one another at a table covered in photos, maps, and reports. Your shoulders brushed occasionally as you leaned in to point out connections, the closeness sending small shocks through you. It was nothing new—this proximity—but lately, it felt heavier, more charged.

As you pointed to a spot on the map, showing where one of the victims had been found, Olivia’s hand brushed yours. Neither of you pulled away immediately, and your eyes met, lingering just a beat too long. There it was again—that unspoken electricity that had crackled between you for years.

You cleared your throat, pulling your hand back and trying to refocus. “If we push the DA, we might be able to tie Ross to these other cases. Build a stronger profile.”

Olivia nodded, her voice a little quieter than before. “You’re right. Let’s get the detectives on it.”

But even as you both continued to talk strategy, the air between you felt different. Something had shifted in that moment of accidental touch, something that neither of you wanted to fully acknowledge.

It was late again, the precinct emptying out as you and Olivia prepared for one final push. Ross had been formally charged for Lily’s murder and the second victim, but the investigation was far from over. You both knew there were more victims, more pieces to the puzzle that needed to be solved.

You found yourself sitting on the edge of Olivia’s desk as she reviewed the updated case files, the soft light from her desk lamp casting a warm glow over the room. There was a comfortable silence between you, the weight of the day’s work settling into your bones, but there was also something else—something that made your chest tighten every time you looked at her.

Olivia glanced up at you, her lips curving into a small, tired smile. “You’re still here.”

You shrugged, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat at the sound of her voice. “I said I’d go when you go.”

She tilted her head slightly, her gaze holding yours for a moment before she spoke again. “You always have my back, don’t you?”

There was something in her voice—something softer, more vulnerable. It caught you off guard.

“Always,” you replied, your voice equally soft. The word felt heavier than usual, like it carried more than just professional loyalty.

Olivia leaned back in her chair, exhaling slowly. The tension that usually held her so tightly seemed to slip away, and for the first time that night, she looked almost relaxed. “I don’t know what I’d do without you here.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the intensity of her words hanging between you. For a moment, the case, the precinct, the entire world seemed to fade away. All that remained was the two of you, the unspoken bond that had always been there but had never been acknowledged.

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but before the words could come, the sound of your phone buzzing on the desk shattered the moment.

You both blinked, the spell broken. Olivia sat up straighter, her usual mask of composure slipping back into place as she glanced at your phone. “Looks like you’ve got a message.”

You grabbed the phone, glancing down at the screen. It was a notification from Fin—Ross’s lawyer had arrived at the precinct, and they were prepping for another round of questioning in the morning.

Olivia stood, her expression shifting back to business as usual. “Looks like tomorrow’s going to be another long day.”

You nodded, slipping your phone into your pocket. “Yeah. Guess we should call it a night.”

As you both gathered your things, the tension between you returned, heavier than ever. But just like always, it remained unspoken.

As you walked out of the precinct together, the cool night air hitting your skin, you stole one last glance at Olivia. There was something in her eyes, something you couldn’t quite read, but before you could dwell on it, she gave you a small smile.

“Good night,” she said softly.

“Good night, Olivia,” you replied, your heart aching with everything you couldn’t say.

And as you both went your separate ways, the weight of silence followed you, lingering in the air like a promise waiting to be fulfilled.

#law and order svu #svu #law and order fanfiction #olivia benson #mariska hargitay #olivia x reader #olivia benson x reader

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bananafiction · 8 months ago

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Your fanfictions are so very good. Thank you for your hard work.

Is the bath tub emoji (🛁) still available ? If so, would love to be an anonymous :-)

Keep writing! I look forward to your next work

hahahaha you know what, an innovative choice. for some strange reason that i cannot fathom, it is in fact not taken so i guess that’s you now. ♡

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bananafiction · 8 months ago

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I found these HERE

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bananafiction · 8 months ago

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A Love Woven Through Centuries

Agatha x Rio

Warning: Angst, sad ending

2k words

The night sky over Salem was painted in hues of purple and green, clashing in a spectacle of energy and power. Tendrils of magic, one glowing a deep violet and the other a fierce emerald, twisted and writhed against one another. At the center of the storm, Agatha Harkness and Rio faced each other, their eyes locked, their breaths ragged.

Agatha’s hands glowed with dark purple light, her fingers curled into claws as she fought to hold back the onslaught of green energy Rio hurled at her. Her heart was breaking with every surge, every strike, but she knew—knew deep down—there was no stopping it now. The prophecy they had spent centuries trying to outrun was coming true.

But their story had not always been this way. There was a time when the magic they wielded intertwined in harmony, not in combat.

Centuries Ago: The Beginning

The first time Agatha met Rio, the air was filled with the scent of fresh rain and the hum of untapped power. It was the 17th century, and witches roamed cautiously, hiding their magic from the mortals who hunted them. Agatha had been part of a coven—young and ambitious, already showing promise beyond her years.

Rio had wandered into their encampment one night, a lone witch seeking refuge. Her magic was a vibrant green, like the forest after a storm, and Agatha had been captivated by her strength and grace. She had watched from afar, intrigued by this newcomer who moved with a confidence that matched her own.

It wasn’t long before their paths crossed directly. The coven had been wary of Rio, but Agatha’s curiosity drew her in. She saw something in Rio’s eyes—a fire, a determination she recognized as her own. They began to train together, sparring with magic and learning from one another. Their powers, though different, complemented each other perfectly. Where Agatha’s magic was ancient and dark, Rio’s was life-giving and fierce.

One evening, under the silver light of the full moon, their friendship bloomed into something more. Agatha’s heart had pounded in her chest as she leaned closer, feeling the pull of Rio’s magic like a magnetic force. Rio’s hand reached up, fingertips tracing the outline of Agatha’s jaw, and when their lips finally met, the world around them seemed to vanish. It was a kiss that ignited centuries of passion.

For hundreds of years, they traveled together, moving through the shadows of history. They lived and loved in secret, avoiding the eyes of mortals and rival witches. Every time they thought they had found a place to call home, the tide of human suspicion or the whispers of a new magical threat forced them to move again. But no matter how far they wandered or how much the world changed, they always had each other.

But not all things could be conquered by love alone.

The Prophecy

It had begun as a whisper—a prophecy spoken in the dying breath of an oracle they encountered in a small village outside of Vienna. The woman, old and frail, had grasped Agatha’s hand, her eyes clouded and distant.

“Your love is bound in fate’s cruel threads,” she had croaked, her voice a raspy whisper. “One day, it will come to pass—a clash of power, a choice of death. One must kill the other, or the world will fall.”

Rio had laughed it off, dismissing it as the ramblings of a madwoman. But Agatha had felt a shiver run down her spine. She knew the magic that coursed through the veins of oracles—prophecies were not to be taken lightly. And so, the shadow of those words hung over them like a sword, waiting to fall.

Years passed, and the prophecy seemed nothing but a distant threat. They continued their dance through time, their love growing stronger. But Agatha, cautious and wary, began to research ways to counter it. She poured over ancient tomes, scribed spells by moonlight, and sought out other witches for knowledge.

Yet, as decades slipped into centuries, Rio grew impatient with Agatha’s obsession. “We can’t live our lives in fear,” she would say, her hands glowing with that familiar green energy as she gestured passionately. “We’ve faced enemies before, Agatha. We’ve survived. This is no different.”

But Agatha couldn’t shake the feeling that this was different. And as she watched the world shift and change around them, she knew that if the prophecy were true, it would come when they least expected it.

Present Day: The Moment of Truth

The two of them had come to a small, crumbling castle nestled in the woods of Eastern Europe—a place rumored to contain the relic they had been seeking. It was said to be an object of great power, capable of rewriting the threads of destiny itself. Agatha believed it could be the key to undoing the prophecy.

But Rio had grown tired of the chase. “We’ve wasted centuries on this, Agatha,” she had said, her voice a mixture of frustration and sorrow. “What if it’s all for nothing? What if we’re just running from shadows?”

Agatha had tried to explain, tried to make her see the importance, but the argument had spiraled into a fight more intense than any they’d ever had. The pain in Rio’s eyes cut Agatha deeper than any spell ever could.

“Why can’t you just let us be happy?” Rio had shouted. “Why can’t we just live?”

“Because if we ignore it, one of us will die!” Agatha had screamed back, her voice cracking. “And I won’t let that happen. I can’t lose you.”

Rio’s eyes softened for a moment, and she took Agatha’s hand, their fingers intertwining. “I don’t want to lose you either. But I don’t want to live in fear.”

Agatha had pulled her close, pressing her forehead to Rio’s. “I’m doing this for us. So we can be free.”

But when they entered the chamber where the relic was kept, everything went wrong. The room was filled with ancient runes, glowing faintly as the air hummed with magical energy. As Agatha reached for the relic, a green flash of light stopped her hand. She turned, and there was Rio, her magic pulsing, her eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and determination.

“Don’t,” Rio whispered, her voice trembling. “If you take it, everything changes. The balance will be broken.”

“What are you talking about?” Agatha demanded, her heart sinking. “This is our chance to change fate, to escape the prophecy.”

Rio shook her head. “I’ve been hiding something from you. I saw the truth, Agatha—if you take the relic, it won’t save us. It will destroy everything. You’ll become too powerful. You’ll become the threat.”

The words hit Agatha like a physical blow. “You knew?”

“I didn’t want to believe it,” Rio said, tears gathering in her eyes. “But the vision was clear. If I don’t stop you, you’ll destroy us both.”

A chill ran down Agatha’s spine. She had spent centuries trying to avoid this, but here it was—the prophecy unfolding before her eyes. “Rio, please. There has to be another way.”

“There isn’t.” Rio raised her hand, and the green light flared, filling the room. “I love you, Agatha, but I can’t let you do this.”

Agatha’s heart ached. She felt the pull of her own magic surging in response, the purple energy crackling at her fingertips. “Don’t make me do this,” she whispered. “I don’t want to fight you.”

“Then stand down,” Rio pleaded. “Walk away.”

But Agatha knew she couldn’t. If she let Rio stop her, the prophecy would be fulfilled. If she turned her back now, she would die. “I can’t,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. “I’m sorry.”

Their magic collided in a burst of light—green and purple clashing in a violent storm that sent shockwaves through the ancient walls. Agatha gritted her teeth, trying to hold back the full force of her power, but Rio’s magic was relentless, pushing against her with the strength of centuries.

Every blast, every strike tore at Agatha’s heart. She didn’t want this. She had never wanted this. But she could see the determination in Rio’s eyes, the knowledge that if one of them didn’t stop the other, neither would survive.

The battle raged, and the room began to crumble around them. Agatha’s hands glowed brighter, the purple magic enveloping her. She pushed forward, summoning all her strength, her heart breaking as she did so. “I love you, Rio,” she choked out, her voice breaking.

“And I love you,” Rio whispered, her face pale but resolute. “But this is how it must end.”

With one final surge, Agatha unleashed her power. The purple light shot forward, overpowering Rio’s green magic. The force of it sent Rio flying backward, crashing into the stone wall. She crumpled to the ground, her magic flickering and fading.

Agatha’s breath came in ragged sobs as she stumbled forward, collapsing beside Rio’s still form. “No, no, no…” she whispered, gathering Rio into her arms. The emerald glow in Rio’s eyes was fading, replaced by a soft, pained smile.

“You did what you had to,” Rio said, her voice weak. “We always knew… it would come to this.”

Agatha’s tears fell freely as she clutched Rio tighter. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted this.”

Rio’s hand reached up, brushing Agatha’s cheek. “I know. But it was fate.”

As the last light left Rio’s eyes, Agatha felt a part of herself shatter. She held Rio close, her sobs echoing in the empty chamber, her heart breaking under the weight of the choice she had been forced to make.

The room was silent, the magic that had once filled it now gone, leaving only the echoes of a love that had endured centuries, only to be torn apart by fate.

thanks so much for reading! if you have any request for fics, send it my way. i've got no ideas for the moment so lmk!

#agatha all along #aubrey plaza #agatha harkness #agatha x rio #marvel #rio vidal

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