notklosswift

[notklosswift]

alex cabot is a calico critters gf while casey novak is a lego gf.

[notklosswift]

Duty & Desires

Chapter 13

Pairings: Alexandra Cabot x Detective Reader

Warnings: Explicit Language, Medical Jargon, Mentions of blood, Fluff if you squint

Summary: Y/n is out of surgery and a fuming Alex arrives.

Chapter 11 Chapter 12

Read on Ao3

The fluorescent lights buzzed quietly in the high-ceilinged waiting room of Mount Sinai Hospital. Olivia sat slumped in one of the rigid chairs, her hands still sticky with Y/N’s blood, a distant look in her eyes. Around her, the rest of the squad—Fin, Elliot, Rollins, and Munch—occupied the surrounding seats, a tense silence hanging between them.

Y/N was in surgery.

They had rushed her to the operating room immediately upon arrival. The bullet had lodged deep in her shoulder. There was concern about vascular damage and the extent of head concussion from the fall, which prompted the hospital to pull in their best. Dr. Shepherd and Dr. Altman—two of the finest neuro and cardiothoracic surgeons in the country—were currently inside the OR, working with precision and urgency. Assisting them was the formidable Dr. Bailey, the general surgeon on-call. If anyone could keep Y/N alive and whole, it was them.

The nurses had stopped Olivia at the double doors leading to the OR wing. “I’m sorry, ma’am. You’ll have to wait here,” they had said gently.

Now she sat in the cold lobby, her knee bouncing furiously. She couldn’t sit still. The image of Y/N collapsing on the basement floor haunted her every blink.

“Goddammit,” she muttered, standing up and pacing again. “I should’ve known. I should’ve known she’d jump the gun like that. I should’ve kept her behind my back.”

Rollins stood up and gently grabbed her arm, halting her. “Liv. Sit. You’re making me dizzy.”

Olivia hesitated, then dropped back into the chair.

“She’s in the best hands,” Rollins continued. “And she’s tough as nails.”

Fin leaned back with a groan. “She better be. Because if Cabot walks in here and Y/N isn’t awake yet? I don’t wanna be in the blast radius.”

“Cabot will burn this place to the ground,” Munch added matter-of-factly, “and then sue the ashes.”

Elliot frowned. “Wait, who spoke to Alex?”

“I did,” Olivia muttered. “Y/N’s phone started ringing the second she hit the ground. It was Alex. She wasn't able to answer before it stopped. Then my phone rang. I picked up. Told her��” she swallowed hard, “told her Y/N had been shot. Then I dropped the call. I had to use both hands to stop the bleeding.”

There was a pause.

“When was she supposed to come back again?” Elliot asked.

“D.A.'s conference ends tomorrow. Her flight wasn’t until the day after.”

Rollins sighed. “So, she’s stuck in L.A. for another 36 hours.”

“No,” Olivia said. “She’s not.”

Everyone turned.

“I haven’t heard from her since I dropped that call, but... if I know Alex,” Olivia said, “she’s already on the red-eye. She’s probably flying over Nebraska right now.”

Just then, the elevator dinged. Captain Don Cragen stepped out, his coat slung over his arm, his face a mask of concern and fatigue.

They all stood up—except Olivia, who looked like she couldn’t move if she tried.

“Any updates?” Cragen asked.

“Still in surgery,” Elliot answered. “They won’t let us back there.”

Cragen nodded grimly and turned to Olivia, who was staring blankly ahead. “Liv. You okay?”

“No,” she said honestly, her voice cracked and hoarse.

Cragen walked closer and sat beside her. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“She trusted me,” Olivia whispered. “Alex. She trusted me to keep Y/N safe.”

Cragen gave her a look that was firm, but not unkind. “Liv, we didn’t know he was armed. None of the prior victims mentioned a weapon. There were no ballistics on file, no history of firearm use. You couldn’t have anticipated this.”

“I still should’ve kept her behind me.”

“You are not responsible for Y/N’s actions. She made a choice—to protect a child. And that’s why she’s one of the best detectives we’ve got. She’s got heart. It’s frustrating, sure, but it’s also what makes her great.” He softened. “I'm sure Alex doesn't blame you for this.”

Olivia looked up, her eyes brimming. “She called you?”

Cragen nodded. “Right after you dropped the call. She was screaming. Said I needed to confirm what you told her because you cut out. Then came the shouting and the swearing. She ended the call saying she’d be here within hours.”

“She took the red-eye?” Elliot guessed.

Cragen nodded. “She lands in less than an hour.”

Before anyone could speak, the double doors down the hall swung open. A nurse pushed through first, followed closely by two doctors still in their scrubs—Dr. Altman and Dr. Shepherd.

Everyone jumped to their feet.

“Detective Grey is out of surgery,” Dr. Altman began.

The collective breath that had been held finally exhaled.

“She’s going to be okay,” Altman confirmed. “The bullet didn’t hit any major arteries or vital structures, but it was lodged deep into the deltoid muscle. We removed it cleanly, but there was some damage to the surrounding tissue.”

“She’s going to need physical therapy for a few weeks,” Dr. Altman added. “To regain full use of her shoulder and arm, but there should be no long-term complications.”

“She took a direct impact to the left parietal region when she hit the ground,” Dr. Shepherd began, gesturing to the side of her own head. “The CT showed a contusion with some surrounding edema, but no midline shift or acute intracranial hemorrhage. Her GCS on arrival was 13, which dropped briefly before stabilizing. We’re classifying this as a moderate concussion.”

Olivia swallowed hard. “Does that mean she’ll—?”

“She’ll be sore,” Dr. Shepherd said, her expression softening slightly. “Headaches, light sensitivity, possible nausea when she wakes. But neurologically, her MRI came back clean. Both her hippocampal formation and frontal lobes are intact, which means we’re not expecting any deficits in either short-term or long-term memory consolidation.”

She paused, then offered a small, reassuring smile.

“She hit her head harder than we’d like, but structurally, there’s no sign of cognitive impairment. Once the swelling subsides and she gets rest, she should be completely coherent."

Everyone muttered grateful thank-yous. Olivia looked like she was about to collapse in relief.

“She’s in recovery now,” Dr. Bailey said, stepping up beside them. “Room 419. One at a time, please. But she’s sleeping. Let her rest.”

“Can we see her?” Fin asked.

Dr. Altman nodded. “Quietly.”

The group exchanged glances.

But Olivia didn’t move. She sat back down, hand to her chest, finally able to breathe.

“She’s okay,” she whispered.

But in the back of her mind, one thought lingered loudest—

Alex is going to be here any minute now.

_____________________________________________________

The soft beeping of the hospital monitors was the first thing Y/N became aware of as her consciousness floated back. Her arm ached, dull and heavy, but she could breathe. She was alive.

She blinked against the light, and before she could fully sit up, Olivia was already at her side.

“Hey,” Olivia whispered, relief painting her voice. “Easy, don’t move too fast.”

Y/N blinked up at her, squinting slightly. Then she frowned. “Who are you?”

Olivia froze.

Her mouth parted slightly, eyes widening as the blood drained from her face. “I—What?”

Y/N glanced around the room, gaze blank. “Where… am I? Who are all of you?”

The squad fell dead silent.

Amanda’s mouth dropped open. Fin muttered something that sounded an awful lot like a prayer. Munch stared at her, as if already writing her eulogy in his head.

“Oh my god,” Rollins whispered. “She hit her head too hard. I'll call Dr. Shepherd." Amanda said as she stood up and walked to the door.

“Shit,” Fin breathed.

But just as Olivia stepped closer, visibly panicking, Y/N’s lips twitched—and then she burst into laughter.

“Oh my god, you should’ve seen the look on your faces!” she wheezed. “Oh God I wish I had a camera. Olivia, you looked like you were about to pass out!"

The squad exhaled in unison, every pair of shoulders dropping.

Munch rubbed his temples. “I was already imagining how Cabot will prosecute me dead in the witness stand.”

Olivia narrowed her eyes, then smacked her—firmly, but carefully—on her uninjured arm. “You are the worst. That wasn’t funny. At all.”

“I respectfully disagree,” Y/N said between laughs. “I’ve never seen you that pale in my life.”

“Oh yeah?” Olivia snapped, folding her arms. “Let’s see if you’re still laughing when your girlfriend walks in here and beats the shit out of your stubborn ass so hard you're gonna wish you really had amnesia.”

Y/N froze.

The grin vanished from her face like someone had flipped a switch. “…Oh shit, you're right. Somebody sedate me!"

Munch sipped his coffee, deadpan. “We’re all about to witness a homicide, aren’t we?”

Fin leaned against the wall. “Nope. Just a very legal, very emotionally charged murder.”

Y/N sank back into her pillows with a groan. “Tell my mom I died doing something stupid.”

“We’ll let Alex write the statement," Amanda smirked. "You okay?"

Y/N gave a weak smile, her eyes slowly adjusting to the sterile white room.

“I will be,” Y/N said. “My head hurts like hell and it feels like someone parked a truck on my shoulder, though."

They all chuckled, the atmosphere easing slightly. It was a soft reunion—light-hearted, but underscored by the kind of emotion that only comes after a brush with death.

Y/N scanned the room, then frowned. “Where’s Alex by the way? Has anyone told her already?”

Olivia hesitated, then nodded. “She knows. She took the first flight out after she spoke to Don. She should be here anytime now.”

Y/N’s heart clenched. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” Fin said, his tone teasing. “And you better prepare yourself. She might try and burn the hospital down when she arrives, but…”

Before Y/N could say anything else, the door swung open with a sharp click.

There was a small foyer at the room separated by a low partition wall, and although Y/N couldn’t see the door from her bed, the sharp clack of designer heels against linoleum was unmistakable.

She winced, whispering, “Too late to pretend I’m still unconscious?”

Silence followed—thick and electric. The kind of silence that only comes when a storm’s about to hit. Alex didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. Her presence was enough to quiet the entire room.

And then, slowly, the squad started backing away. Y/n watched them with wide eyes as they moved one by one to exit the room.

Olivia gave Y/N’s hand a quick squeeze. “I’ll give you two some privacy.”

“What? You too?” Y/N asked, looking mildly betrayed.

Liv smiled apologetically. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

Alex acknowledged her silently with a tight nod as Olivia brushed past, her hand offering a silent greeting to Alex's shoulder.

The door clicked shut.

Alex looked like she wasn’t planning on speaking anytime soon so Y/n decided to cut the deafening silence.

Y/N let out a slow breath. “Hi, my love. I missed you. I thought your conference didn’t end until tomorrow?”

Alex didn’t answer. But the glare she gave Y/n spoke volumes.

She approached slowly, heels still echoing against the tile. Her expression was unreadable. Controlled. Terrifyingly calm. Her jaw was tight, her eyes burning with fury and something deeper—something raw.

Y/N shrank into the pillows slightly, keeping her head down.

Alex began pacing—short, sharp steps across the foot of the bed. One hand tangled in her hair, the other clenched into a fist against her hip. She was muttering something under her breath. Y/N couldn’t catch all of it, but she was sure they were some sort of creative curses.

Finally, Alex stopped and turned to her.

“You are going to age me ten times faster than a normal person would in this life,” she snapped, voice low and furious. “And I’m already six years older than you. Are you actually insane?”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but Alex cut her off.

“You think I flew across the country for a conference because I just wanted distance? I didn’t even make it through the third panel! Then Olivia tells me—” Her voice cracked, and she quickly wiped at her eyes, though the tears hadn’t yet fallen. “She tells me you got shot and then the call just drops. That’s it. No details. Just… that.”

Y/N stayed quiet, letting her speak.

“I was across the damn country, Y/N. Do you have any idea what that did to me? All I could think about was you lying in a pool of your own blood and me not being there. Not knowing if you were going to make it.”

She began pacing again.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Alex hissed. “How the fuck did you think confronting an armed man was a good idea? You could’ve died, Y/n! One wrong move, one wrong aim, and that bastard could’ve killed you!”

Her voice cracked again.

“God I thought you were supposed to be smarter than this. Did you even think about what would happen if you died? Where would that leave your mom? Your sister? Me?” Her hand flew to her chest. “Was I supposed to just… move on with my life without you? Right now I'm starting to think you don't care about me at all because you keep doing reckless things like this!"

Y/N’s heart ached at that but she takes it all, thinking she deserves it. Her heart breaks a little when Alex was starting to doubt her care for her.

Alex was trembling now, though she still refused to let the tears fall.

“You texted me ‘I love you, I miss you’ like it was just another day. Really? That was the plan? 'Oh, let me just send my girlfriend a sweet text message before I run headfirst into a fucking bullet!'”

Y/N opened her mouth to speak, but Alex raised a hand.

“I told you to be careful. I told you to stay out of reckless missions. But you don’t listen. Because you’re the ‘noble detective’—the hero who always puts herself last. I would’ve buried you not even knowing if you even got to read my last text. I would've come home to a cold bed and your blood-stained badge, and I—” her voice caught in her throat, and she closed her eyes for a moment to compose herself.

“For the last time, Y/N, I can’t lose you. Not like this. Not to some creep who strangles people with a belt. Not to some low-life who slashes women with a knife. And to hell with some coward with a gun in a basement. You can’t do this to me.“

Her voice broke then, and the tears slipped silently down her face.

Y/N finally spoke. “My love… please come here.”

Alex hesitated, then stepped forward, brushing a piece of hair from Y/N’s face, her touch trembling.

“You are everything to me,” Alex whispered. “And yes, I’m overprotective—maybe even suffocating sometimes—but goddammit, Y/N, you’re my entire life. You wear my name around your neck, and every time I see it, I remember just how easily I could lose you.”

Y/N lowered her gaze. “He was about to shoot the kid, Alex. I couldn’t just stand there and let that happen.”

“I don’t give a fuck what he was doing,” Alex snapped. “Your life matters more to me. Don’t you get that?”

Y/N sighed. “You know I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if anything had happened to the kid. Did I ever tell you her name was Lexie? Short for Alexandra. Maybe that’s why this case got to me more than usual.”

Alex blinked, stunned.

Y/N continued, eyes still lowered. “At one point, when he aimed the gun at her… I imagined she was our kid. My mind just went there and I don’t know why. She reminded me of you and it just hit me like that. I know it was stupid, and reckless, but in that moment… I didn’t care.”

Alex’s breath caught, her eyes filling again with tears.

She reached out, cupping the side of Y/N’s face, gently tilting her chin up. But her eyes stayed glued to her lap.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

Finally, Y/N met her eyes, smirking faintly. “You’ve been screaming since the moment you got here and you’re hot when you’re mad. I didn’t want to interrupt the show.”

Alex glared again, but her lip twitched. “I’m serious, Y/N. You can’t do shit like that and expect me to be okay with it."

“I know. And I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to be okay with what I did. In fact, the whole time we were in that basement, I kept thinking how you were going to kill me yourself if I survived. And I sent that text because I wanted you to have that instead of some smug smartass reply I sent you a day ago with the dinosaur emoji.”

Alex let out a choked laugh. “Stop making me laugh, I’m trying to be mad at you.”

They both smiled.

Then Alex leaned in, pressing a long kiss to her forehead, and then to her nose, then the softest, most gentle kiss on her lips. Her hand found Y/N’s and squeezed it tight.

“God I was so furious with you that I still hadn’t asked you how you are. Are you okay, my love?” Alex asks.

“Perfect, now that you’re here. My head's been pounding like hell ever since I woke up, though. Olivia said the surgeons explained that the surgery went well and they got the bullet clean. Doc says I’ll have to go through physical therapy sessions first though before I can fully regain my arm strength back." Y/n explains.

“Good. You’re staying with me permanently so I can watch you 24/7.” Alex decides.

Y/n chuckles, “Is this your way of asking me to officially move-in with you?”

“Yeah, I mean if that’s okay with you. I mean you’re already staying in mine almost everyday anyways so I figured y—“

Y/n cuts her off with a quick peck on the cheek. “I’d love to officially move in with you, Alex.”

Alex beams at that. “I swear,” she whispered, “if you ever scare me like that again, I will propose to you out of pure spite just so you’re not allowed to die before I do.”

Y/N grinned, eyes soft. “Is that supposed to be a threat or a promise?”

Alex kissed the back of her hand.

“Both.”

And for the first time in hours, Alex finally let herself breathe.

[notklosswift]

Duty & Desires

Chapter 12

Pairings: Alexandra Cabot x Detective Reader

Warnings: Blood, Sexual Assault Case, Child Sexual Assault (Implied), Gun Violence / Shooting, Character Injury, Mild Language

Chapter 10 Chapter 11

The morning light barely filtered into the precinct when Y/N stepped in, iced coffee in hand, heart still lingering on the FaceTime call with Alex from the night before. Captain Cragen had called an early squad meeting, urgency etched into the lines of his face.

“A couple came in this morning—Elizabeth and Charles Danvers. Their daughter, Lexie, eight years old, didn’t come home after school yesterday,” Cragen started, dropping a thin file onto the table. “Lexie’s the fourth missing child in two weeks. Same borough. All girls. All under ten.”

Y/N felt her stomach tighten.

Olivia opened the file, flipping through notes, photos. “We need to move fast. This fits the pattern. If we’re lucky, we’re not too late.”

Fin added, “Last girl was found in a vacant lot. Clothes ripped. She survived. Barely.”

The squad launched into motion.

Later that day, the survivor—a brave nine-year-old named Mia—identified the suspect from a lineup. His name was Peter Hensley, mid-forties, previously charged but never convicted on a technicality. He lived off the grid, moved from town to town, using false names.

“Known drifter. No fixed address,” Fin muttered, scrolling through files.

“Lexie’s time is running out,” Olivia said grimly.

Hours passed in furious investigation. Finally, a break: a local had spotted Hensley squatting in an abandoned property near the old docks. The squad geared up.

The car ride was quiet, the hum of the road beneath them the only sound for a moment. Olivia was in the passenger seat, Fin and Elliot followed in another car, trailing them. Y/n gripped the wheel tightly, her jaw tense, eyes locked on the road ahead as the GPS blinked a red pin at a near-discreet, off-the-grid address on Staten Island.

“This one’s really getting to you,” Olivia said gently.

Y/n hesitated. Then she exhaled slowly. “I'm fine, it's just… I hate these ones. They all get to me, Liv, you know that. But the kids—” She broke off, her voice thick. “The kids hit differently. Makes me feel like I’m never doing enough. Like we’re all always two steps too late.”

Olivia studied her, then reached out and placed a hand over Y/n’s shoulder briefly. “You care more than most people on this job ever will. Don’t ever think you’re not enough. You know, Alex would hate seeing you like this."

Y/N smiled sadly. “She would. I just—I understand why she worries. I texted her earlier before we left.”

Y/N: 'Miss you, baby. I love you. We’re heading out now—got a lead on our perp. Don’t worry, I’m being careful. You’ll be proud. Always yours.'

Olivia squeezed her shoulder. “She’d move heaven and earth for you."

Y/N nodded. “I know, and she's crazy for that. I think… being with Alex, it's made me feel these cases even more, you know? Like I want a family someday. Kids. So these kinds of cases, it just guts me."

There was a lull, and Olivia watched her carefully. “You told her that?”

"Yeah, it came up one time I slipped and was a rambling mess." They both chuckle. "I was surprised at her reaction, though. I never expected that she's also been thinking about it, said that she didn't want kids until she caught herself daydreaming about mini me's running around the house."

Olivia softened at that. "She loves you, Y/n. I've never seen her like this. Before you, she was… cold. Calculated and sharp. Never letting anyone in. Now she's still sharp but she's soft with you. You changed her."

"Yeah, I mean it gets annoying sometimes, her protectiveness. But l would never blame her for that after all she's been through. God, I love her so much it's overwhelming. I never knew you could love someone so fiercely." Y/n stated, her voice cracking.

Olivia smiled, nodded in understanding. "She'll be a great mom, that woman of yours. Terrifying, but great."

Y/n chuckled. "Yeah, I told her she'll have our kids reading the Constitution as bedtime stories and will be spewing out 'objections' randomly at the breakfast table."

Olivia barked out a laugh, "Oh, definitely. My godchildren are gonna be impossible to handle."

As they pulled into the rundown block, the neighborhood around them seemed abandoned. Faded fences, boarded-up windows, the smell of mildew and garbage lingering thick in the air. The second SUV parked behind them.

Olivia signaled to Fin and Elliot. They moved in pairs, finding the perp.

As they go through the house, Y/n stopped dead on her tracks. A soft, muffled sound—crying.

“Basement,” Y/N whispered, heart hammering.

They found the hidden latch and descended carefully into the dim underground space. “Move!” Fin shouted, shoving the door open.

At the far corner, they spotted him—Hensley, pants unbuckled, standing over Lexie.

Y/N surged forward but Olivia yanked and pulled her behind her instantly, shielding her.

“Put your hands in the air!” Olivia shouted.

Hensley spun around, startled. “Don’t move! Hands where we can see them” Fin added, gun raised.

Hensley didn't comply. In one swift motion, he pulled a gun behind his back, aiming it to Lexie.

Y/n anticipated this. She pushed past Olivia and was quick to move to where Lexie was, grabbing her gently and shielding her.

"Don't shoot or I'll kill the kid! I'll shoot them both!" Hensley shouted, now aiming the gun to both of them.

Lexie was trembling. “It’s okay,” Y/N whispered to Lexie. “You’re safe now. Stay behind me.”

“Listen to me,” Y/n said, her voice low, steady, calm. “Put the gun down. You don’t want to do this. You’re scared—I get that. But this doesn’t have to get worse.”

“Shut up!” he barked. “You don’t know anything! They all deserved it!”

Olivia shifted slightly, her aim precise. “You’re surrounded. We can end this without blood. Let them go.”

Hensley seemed to consider. His arm slowly began to lower.

Then—

Sirens outside. The distant wail echoed down the walls of the basement.

Panic flickered across Hensley's face. “No—NO!”

He raised the gun again, aiming toward Y/n and Lexie.

Elliot lunged, slamming into his arm. The gun fired—once.

A scream.

Y/n fell backwards. Lexie was safe. Blood soaked the arm of Y/n’s jacket.

“NO!” Olivia dropped to her knees beside her, catching her. “Y/n, stay with me! You’re okay—you hear me?”

Y/n blinked slowly, dazed. “It’s… just my shoulder.”

Her phone began to buzz in her pocket.

Alex. On cue, like she knows what was happening. Like she knows Y/n was now on the ground, lying on a pool of her own blood.

The phone ringing stopped after it rang for too long. Then it started again, but this time, it was Olivia's. She snatched it up, voice ragged. "Alex you need to come home. Y/n's been shot."

She hung up before Alex could respond, needing both hands to put pressure on the wound.

“Sweetie,” Olivia whispered, pressing gauze down hard, “stay with me, okay? Help’s on the way. You’re going to be fine. Stay awake for me, please."

Y/n groaned faintly, her hand clutched around something.

The necklace.

Alex’s initials.

Olivia blinked back tears, realizing what it was. “Stay awake for Alex. Please. You promised her, remember?”

Y/n’s lips barely moved. “Alex…”

“Where is that goddamn bus!” Olivia shouted to no one.

And then, finally—sirens blared outside the house again. Footsteps thundered down. EMTs stormed in along with Fin and Elliot.

And Olivia didn’t move from Y/n’s side until the gurney rolled her out.

______________________________________________________

A/N: Sooooo... who else doesn't wanna be here when Alex arrives?

[notklosswift]

Duty & Desires

Chapter 11

Pairings: Alexandra Cabot x Detective Reader

Warnings: Assault Case, Fluff & fluff

Summary: Distance between them brings a quiet ache. Back in New York, a new case tests Y/n’s strength.

Chapter 9 Chapter 10

Alex adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder as she stepped out of LAX’s bustling terminal, her heels clicking neatly against the concrete. The sun in Los Angeles was warmer, softer — hazy in a way New York never quite managed. A suited driver stood waiting for her curbside, holding a sign that read A.Cabot, which she acknowledged with a polite nod and a tight smile. He helped her with her luggage and opened the car door for her.

She slid into the back seat of the black sedan, exhaling deeply as the door shut behind her. The city buzzed around her but inside the car, it was quiet. Calm.

The car began to pull away from the curb and as she leaned her head back, her phone buzzed with signal. The moment it did, several notifications popped up.

Her heart jumped slightly when she saw it — Y/n.

The first text was simple:

Y/n Landed safe yet?

Then, the one she hadn’t seen during the flight. The longer one.

Alex opened it and read.

Guess what baby, our song played randomly on the radio and I am missing you more than ever. I know you can’t read this right now but anyway, I hope you’re having a comfortable flight. I love you, my Caroline.

Her breath caught softly at the words. A smile tugged at her lips — a quiet, intimate kind of joy curling in her chest.

She blinked at the screen, rereading the line again. Her brow furrowed in the most endearing way, whispering to herself, “Wait… which song?”

There were so many between them. Playlists built over countless late nights, long drives, morning coffees, and quiet bathtub wine nights.

My Caroline.

Then it clicked. She didn’t even need to finish the rest of the text again. She knew.

The memory of that lazy Sunday morning in her apartment — pancake batter everywhere, Y/n holding a spatula like a microphone, those lyrics echoing through her speakers — came rushing back.

"You’re such a dork," Alex had told her that morning, right before she'd kissed the flour off her cheek.

She exhaled a soft laugh, touched her fingers lightly to her collarbone, where her own skin had still felt warm from Y/n's kiss at the airport earlier that day. The necklace gleaming around Y/n’s throat had nearly undone her completely.

And God — that moment, when she’d pulled out the velvet box and Y/n blurted:

“Baby don’t tell me you’re about to propose to me in the middle of a random-ass airport—”

Alex blushed just remembering it, her mind suddenly flooding with images of Y/n wearing a ring. Of a quiet and intimate proposal at a cabin. Or in Paris. Or maybe in Iceland, on a late walk with snow in their hair as she gets down on one knee while the sky above them painted the breathtaking northern lights. That stunned look on Y/n’s face before it melted into that big, breath-stealing smile…

She pressed the heel of her palm against her temple with a groan and a laugh. “Jesus, control yourself,” she muttered, more to her heart than anything else. “You have time to plan that. Time, Alexandra. Calm down.” She scolded herself softly and shook her head with an amused sigh.

Then, instead of typing out a reply, she hit the call button.

The phone rang twice.

“Hi, baby!” Y/n answered, voice already warm and smiling.

Alex melted at the sound. “Hi, my love. I just landed. On my way to the hotel now.”

“Oh good,” Y/n exhaled, audibly relieved. “I was just thinking about you… again.”

Alex’s voice dropped a little, playful. “Again? You sure you’re not becoming obsessed?”

“Becoming?” Y/n teased. “Baby, it’s been that way since month one.”

Alex laughed, leaning into the headrest as the city zipped past the car window. “How was your drive home?”

“Lonely. You weren’t sitting next to me being bossy about my driving.”

“I’m not bossy—”

“You tell me where to turn like Google Maps with a law degree.”

Alex snorted, biting her lip. “Okay. Fair.”

They both fell into quiet laughter, a lull between words that held just as much love.

Y/n's voice returned, softer. “Did you get my text?”

Alex smiled, voice just above a whisper. “I loved it. The second I saw ‘my Caroline,’ I knew.”

“Oh? Took you that long?” Y/n teased.

“I had to remember which of our dozen songs you were referring to, smartass.”

“I swear, I was being sentimental. But you’re welcome for the reminder,” Y/n replied. “You remember that day?”

“Are you kidding?” Alex murmured. “You with a spatula in your hand, singing off-key and dancing barefoot in my kitchen like you owned the place, wearing nothing but my shirt. Of course I remember.”

Y/n giggled. “That was such a good day.”

Alex’s voice dropped low again, sweet and a little hoarse. “I miss you already.”

“Me too,” Y/n said, quietly. “Wish I was there.”

Alex went silent for a beat. Her throat tightened unexpectedly. “Hey, what’s your plan tonight?”

Y/n hummed. “Might have dinner with Liv and the squad if we don’t get a new case dumped on us. But I’ll call you after?”

“Please do.”

Another quiet moment. Just breath and affection.

Then Alex’s voice, full of teasing warmth: “By the way…”

“Oh god, what?”

“I found something in my suitcase,” Alex continued, ignoring her. “Something I did not pack.”

There was a pause. Y/N blinked, suddenly alert. “Wait—what?”

“Mmhm,” Alex hummed. “A very suspicious NYU hoodie that smells like vanilla sandalwood and you. Care to explain?”

Y/N smirked, settling back into her couch. “Oh, that’s so strange. I must've accidentally left it near your stuff.”

Alex chuckled. “So you’re telling me you didn’t sneak it in there like some desperate woman in love?”

“Fine, give it to the flight attendant then or burn it or something."

Alex let the silence stretch for just a beat before murmuring, “Too late. I’m wearing it now.”

“I knew you love it.”

Alex exhaled, voice suddenly fond and low. “Yeah. Smells like you. It's pathetic how much I needed that.”

Y/n chuckles and sighed softly. “Alright, go settle into your fancy-ass hotel. Call me later, yeah?”

“Promise.”

“Love you, baby.”

Alex closed her eyes and felt the world slow. “I love you more.”

The call ended, Alex clutching her phone against her chest for a moment longer than necessary.

____________________________________________________

It had only been a few hours since Y/n ended the call with Alex and went straight to the precinct, but her day had quickly gone sideways.

The squad room had been in a lull when she arrived that morning—quiet chatter, lukewarm coffee, Fin teasing Amanda about her crossword addiction, and Olivia reading over reports—but that quiet was shattered when Cragen stepped out of his office with a grim expression.

“We just got a new case,” he said, voice low and tight. “Young girl. Ten years old. Same M.O. as the Kensington case last month. Looks like we’ve got a pattern.”

Y/n stiffened. Olivia immediately stood. “Details?”

Cragen nodded toward the board as he began laying out the initial report. “Name’s Victoria Clayton. Found wandering outside a deli at 6 a.m., disoriented. Pants inside out, torn shirt. Said she was looking for her mom.” Cragen swallowed hard. “She said a ‘man with gloves’ picked him up outside his school, drove him somewhere dark. Said she woke up in pain and doesn’t remember much else.”

Y/n’s jaw clenched.

“Same age range, same vague memory. We need to confirm if it’s connected to the other victims,” Olivia muttered.

“The third kid in six months,” Fin added grimly. “Same zip code too.”

Y/n grabbed her notepad, her protective instincts fully awake. “Where is the kid now?”

“Bellevue. Liv, Y/n—go talk to the mother. Fin, get any nearby school camera footage. I want every detail.”

—

The day blurred.

Y/n spent most of it combing through school records, pulling previous victim case files, and trying not to let her rage cloud her judgment. It wasn’t easy—especially with Alex gone. She was used to debriefing with her every night, getting her legal perspective, and letting her voice soothe her into believing that the world could still be fair.

By 8 p.m., the squad had gathered more similarities: the victims had all been grabbed near their schools, all mentioned the same “man with gloves,” and all reported missing time. The bastard was smart—no DNA, no cameras, no slips.

Whoever this was, he’d done it before. He knew how to hide.

Y/n barely remembered the drive back to Alex’s penthouse. She was exhausted, the weight of the case sitting heavy on her chest like a stone. The city lights blurred past as she pulled into the carpark and took the elevator up.

Everything in the penthouse smelled expensive, smelled exactly like Alex—wood sage, leather, and lavender. Y/n closed her eyes as she stepped into the bedroom. She needed the comfort, needed something to ground her.

She padded barefoot through the suite, rinsed off in a quick shower, and tugged on one of Alex’s oversized cotton shirts, sleeves too long, hem brushing slightly below her hips. It smelled like lavender and dry-cleaning and something distinctly, comfortingly Alex.

Collapsing onto the bed, she pulled the thick duvet over her and reached for her phone and hovered her thumb over the FaceTime button.

The call rang once… twice… then connected.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Alex’s voice came through, warm and clear from the screen. She looked a little tired, her blonde hair pulled into a sleek ponytail, blazer off but still dressed in her sharp conference clothes. “I was just about to text you. I—” She paused. Blinked. “Wait… is that my shirt?”

Y/n grinned sleepily. “Maybe.”

Alex squinted, amused. “That’s the one from Paris. The soft white one with—Y/n, that’s dry clean only.”

Y/n laughed and burrowed deeper into the sheets. “Sue me. I missed your scent. And please, like you're any better. I give it five minutes before you're curled up in my hoodie pretending it’s not on purpose, so we're even, Counselor."

Alex tilted her head, her voice softening. “Fine, you're lucky you look way too sexy in it.”

They talked like that for a while. Y/n gave her a clipped but honest rundown of the case, sparing the worst details, though Alex caught the tension in her eyes anyway. Alex told her about the panels she had to sit through, the assistant who pronounced “jurisdictional” wrong three times, and the bland hotel room she couldn’t wait to leave.

“I miss you,” Alex said finally, her voice a little raw around the edges.

“I miss you too,” Y/n whispered.

There was a pause as they just looked at each other through the screen, the distance between them felt but momentarily forgotten.

Then Alex tilted her head again, this time with a fond smile. “You’re falling asleep.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Your eyes are literally at half-closed.”

“Still awake enough to hear you say something romantic,” Y/n smirked.

Alex laughed softly. “Go to sleep, baby. I’ll call you in the morning.”

Y/n smiled, her fingers brushing the necklace resting on her chest.

“Okay. I love you, Lexie. Good night." Y/n muttered, already half-asleep.

Alex stilled, breath catching just slightly at the sound of it.

She always pretended to scoff at that nickname — claimed it was too cutesy and off-brand for her. But it was in moments like this, when Y/N was too tired to realize and filter herself, too soft to hide how much she loved her, that Alex realized how much she actually loved and cherished hearing it.

It felt like being known. Completely.

She swallowed, voice barely above a whisper. “Only you get to call me that.”

Y/N was already drifting, a content sigh falling from her lips.

Alex watched her for a long, quiet moment, then added even softer, “I love you. Sleep well, my heart.”

The screen dimmed as the call ended. Y/n finally let sleep take her, wrapped in warmth, in memory, in the soft echo of Alex’s voice still ringing in her ears. It was peaceful, the kind of quiet that usually signals for a catastrophic storm.

[notklosswift]

Duty & Desires

Chapter 1

Pairings: Alexandra Cabot x Detective Reader

Warnings: Chapter based slightly off of the Cain trial. Assault, Strangulation, Eventual Smut, Angst, Fluff, Possessive and Jealous Alex, Centered on F reader.

Summary: Detective Y/n risks everything to provoke a killer’s confession, nearly getting hurt in the process. ADA Alexandra Cabot, shaken and furious, confronts her in private—leading to a passionate clash of fear, love, and possession.

A/N: Hi ya’ll! Excited to share with you my first fic ever. I’m planning this to have multiple chapters so hit me up if you want to read it on AO3 and I can arrange that. This first chapter was inspired by Barba’s episode with the belt on his neck and also that part in @storiesofsvu ‘s Second Chair Spark. Go check it out if you haven’t! Anyway, please enjoy and your comments, hearts, and reblogs will be much appreciated! 💛

The 16th Precinct SVU squadroom had its own rhythm—a constant current of ringing phones, shuffling case files, and the low murmur of trauma survivors and hardened detectives alike. But even on the loudest days, the squad moved as one. They argued, laughed, clashed—but they had each other's backs. Always.

Detective Y/n Grey had been with SVU for nearly three years. Smart, relentless, calm under pressure. She’d earned her place in that squadroom—and in their lives. Olivia trusted her with open cases, Fin with closed doors, and Elliot with the ones that hit too close. Munch, well… he trusted no one, but he didn’t question her instincts anymore. That said everything.

Then there was Alexandra Cabot.

The ADA had been reassigned to SVU six months ago. Ice in her tone, fire in her work ethic. Most people only saw the former. Y/n had come to recognize both. Especially at 2 a.m. when Alex was still at her desk, heels kicked off, legal pads covered in sharp notes and red ink.

At first, it was purely professional. They worked late. Debriefed after court. Argued about language in motions, strategy, ethics. But somewhere between war room meetings and witness interviews, something shifted. A lingering look. A hand that brushed too close. The silence that sometimes stretched too long when they were alone in Alex’s office.

Still, they kept it contained. Professional. Barely.

Until the Adam Cain case hit the squad like a storm. Two victims. Both women. Both found in their apartments, strangled with belts, bodies posed in disturbing symmetry. Cain had been charming at first. Cooperative. Too cooperative. When he was brought in, he gave them just enough—details he shouldn’t know, just shy of a confession. A sick game.

Alex had thrown herself into the prep. Every night, she and Y/n pored over reports, autopsy photos, psych evaluations. And every night, the space between them got smaller. The tension louder.

But what mattered most: they had him. They knew he did it.

Now they just needed him to say it.

——————————————————————

Late afternoon. The fluorescent lights hum above. A camera blinks red in the corner. Behind the one-way mirror, Olivia, Fin, Elliot, and Munch watch silently. Alexandra Cabot stands near the door, arms crossed, composed but wired with tension. At the table: Adam Cain — smug, cuffed, unbothered. Y/n, lead detective on the case, prepares to start the interrogation.

Alex’s heels click once as she turns slightly to watch Y/n step inside the interrogation room, confidence radiating beneath her blazer. The entire case had led to this moment — and this room, this man.

Adam Cain grinned as Y/n sat across from him, a man who believed he had already won. His victims? Two women strangled with belts, found with deliberate, theatrical staging. He had confessed — sort of. Enough to taunt, not enough to convict. Now they needed him to crack on camera. Fully. Y/n had a plan.

She reached into a brown paper bag and slowly pulled out a leather belt.

Alex tensed. Of rage? Confusion? Or maybe, something else.

Behind the mirror, Olivia’s brows furrowed. Elliot leaned forward. Fin cursed under his breath. Munch went silent.

Y/n didn’t say a word at first. She simply stood and walked slowly around the table. The belt dangled from her fingers.

Adam Cain’s eyes followed her. His grin twitched.

“You recognize this?” Y/n asked coolly.

Cain rolled his eyes. “I recognize that you’re playing dress-up.”

Y/n turned toward the mirror — toward Alex, noticing the fire in her eyes — then back to Cain.

“Mr. Cain, you strangled your victims with belts, isn’t that correct?” Y/n asked.

He shook his head and turned to look at the glass, knowing it was a two-way mirror. “I’m not demonstrating anything for you puppets.”

Her voice dipped low. “Then perhaps you can at least explain how you did it?”

And then, without hesitation, she looped the belt around her own neck. Loose, but clear. Her breath stayed steady. Her eyes locked onto his. Cain’s face twisted—anger, disgust, confusion.

Alex’s stomach dropped.

Y/n’s voice was ice. “Show me how it felt, Adam.”

Alex, jaw clenched, turned to Olivia. “Liv, did you know about this?”

“No, I wouldn’t have approved of this if I had known. What the hell is she doing!” Olivia whispered. No one answered.

“You strangled them with belts. Like this?” Y/n’s voice didn’t shake. Adam’s grin cracked. “That’s cute.”

“Then show me,” Y/n said. “Demonstrate it. Or are you afraid?”

His eyes flared. “You’re baiting me.”

“Am I?” Y/n leaned forward, belt still around her neck. “Or am I giving you exactly what you want?”

Something dark flashed in Cain’s face. He lunged forward. The cuffed chain around his wrists gave just enough slack for him to grab the end of the belt. He yanked, hard.

Alex, with fire in her eyes, pounded the mirror, almost screaming to Elliot, “Get in there!”

But Y/n twisted just in time — the belt whipped from her neck and looped around her forearm instead. The room erupted as Olivia and Elliot burst through the door. Fin pulled Cain off her.

“You think this is a joke?!” Cain screamed. “They begged! They begged me to do it!”

Y/n, gasping, wincing in slight pain in her forearms, stepped back, holding the belt now taut between her wrists.

Alex was through the door in seconds, grabbing Y/n’s shoulders, checking her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Y/n rasped.

Alex’s jaw clenched. She had expected a strong interrogation—but this? This theatrical provocation risked the entire case, risked her life. Did Y/n consider that? Did she care?

Instead, Alex watched, feeling the urge to grab Cain’s neck across the table and strangle him herself, as Fin and Elliot dragged Cain out of the room.

The camera still rolled. Cain’s rant had been filmed. The confession—raw, unfiltered—was everything they needed.

Alex, directing her gaze at Y/n, felt a sudden frisson—an electrifying spark seeing Y/n put it all on the line.

________________________________________________________

Read Chapter 2 here: Duty & Desires Chapter 2

[notklosswift]

Duty & Desires

Chapter 10

Pairings: Alexandra Cabot x Detective Reader

Warnings: Extreme Fluff

Summary: Y/n drives Alex to the airport. A song, a gift, goodbyes, love, and everything in between—just three days apart, but it feels like the whole world shifts.

A/N: Slightly long but cute chapter ahead. Also, go listen to the song mentioned here for extra feels, I promise it's hella cute <3 Enjoy!

Chapter 8 Chapter 9

The sky was still tinged with sleepy gray as the car cruised through early morning traffic, the sun barely peeking over the East River. Manhattan was just beginning to stir, but inside Y/n’s car, it was warm, quiet, and filled with that rare kind of peace that only came from being with someone you loved enough to not need words.

Y/n’s left hand rested on the wheel, her right intertwined with Alex’s across the console. Alex’s hand was cool, soft, unmoving—except for the occasional light squeeze every few blocks, like she needed to make sure Y/n was really there.

“I still think you should’ve let me take the train,” Alex murmured.

Y/n glanced over, amused. “You’re leaving me for three days. You don’t get to decide how clingy I get this morning.”

Alex smiled softly and turned her head to the side, watching Y/n with a quiet admiration that made her chest feel too tight for words. “You’re right,” she whispered. “I don’t want to miss a second.”

They hit a red light.

Y/n looked over, studying her girlfriend's face, elegant even at sunrise. Hair let down naturally, not a single strand out of place, no makeup, sea-glass eyes steady in the soft light—Alex looked heartbreakingly beautiful. It hit her all over again just how much she loved her.

“You nervous?” Y/n asked.

“About the conference? No. Just... I haven’t been this far away from you since we got together.”

“I know,” Y/n whispered. “Me too.”

Alex’s eyes dropped to their linked hands. “Promise me you’ll be safe while I’m gone.”

“I promise.”

“No unnecessary undercover missions. No impulsive decisions. No throwing yourself in front of suspects like a damn human shield.”

Y/n smirked. “Okay, now you’re just listing things I’m known for."

Alex gave her a look.

“Alright, alright,” Y/n relented. “I swear on your collection of expensive tailored pant suits, I’ll behave.”

Alex rolled her eyes but laughed. “Good. Don’t think I didn’t talk to Liv.”

Y/n groaned. “You recruited Olivia to babysit me?”

“She volunteered,” Alex said smugly.

“I’m throwing her cappuccino out the window.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Alex said, brushing her thumb over Y/n’s hand. “And you’ll thank her when I get back and you haven’t been arrested or hospitalized.”

Y/n squeezed her hand, smirking. “Noted.”

They pulled into the drop-off area of the airport, the low hum of planes overhead mingling with the screech of rolling luggage and departing taxis. Y/n parked and turned to get Alex’s suitcase from the back.

She popped the trunk, and Alex stepped around to help—only to pause mid-step.

Y/n had thrown on a simple fitted white tee and low-waist trousers that hugged her hips like they were made just for her. A pair of dark sunglasses sat perched on her cap, shielding her eyes from the morning sun.

Alex blinked, shamelessly eyeing Y/n from head to toe. “You wore that on purpose. I honestly don’t get how you could look so effortlessly hot with just jeans and a t-shirt.”

“What, this?" Y/n asked, and then smirked. "Is it working?” Her voice dropped an octave at that.

“Cruel,” Alex murmured. “You want me to miss my flight, don’t you?”

“Uhh, I plead the fifth?”

Alex chuckled, rolling her eyes. "You're such a dork, do you know that?"

"Sue me, but I'm your dork." Y/n tried, her voice flirty.

Alex stared at her with a light smile for a second longer, heart aching with the kind of ache that only came when you were about to leave the person you wanted most to stay with. She let herself stare a second longer. Then another. Then they walked toward security.

Just before they reached the barrier, Alex paused, fumbling with her coat pocket. “Wait—I almost forgot.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow.

Alex pulled out a tiny velvet box.

Y/n’s eyes widened, half-joking, half-alarmed. “Babe. Don’t tell me you’re about to propose to me in the middle of a random-ass airport with people shouting and running for their gates—”

Alex barked a laugh. “You wish, you dramatic smartass. But no. I’m not proposing to you here.”

“Thank god.”

Alex narrowed her eyes playfully. “Also, I’m kind of offended you thought I would do such thing here. Do you even know me at all?”

“Touché.”

Alex opened the box. Inside was a delicate gold necklace—thin chain, a small rectangular pendant, engraved with initials in tiny script:

A.C.C.

Alexandra Caroline Cabot.

Y/n’s breath caught. “Alex…”

“I wanted you to have something of mine while I’m gone,” Alex said quietly. “Something no one else sees. Something that stays on you.”

“It’s beautiful,” Y/n whispered. “Help me put it on?”

Alex stepped behind her, brushing Y/n’s hair to the side as she clasped it gently around her neck. Her fingers grazed Y/n’s skin, and she felt the little shiver that ran through her.

Y/n turned, her fingertips brushing the pendant. “Your name looks good on me, my love.”

Alex stared at her like she was memorizing her face. “It really does.”

Y/n stepped in, wrapped her arms around Alex’s waist, and pressed her forehead against hers. “Come back to me.”

“Always.”

They kissed—slow, warm, like the world would pause if they asked it to.

When they pulled apart, Alex smiled shakily. “Go before I cancel this flight.”

Y/n laughed and stepped back, adjusting her cap. “Text me when you land, okay? I love you, my Alexandra.”

“I will. I love you too, my love. So much.”

“And send me pictures of that hotel tub. If it’s big enough, maybe I’ll forgive you for leaving.”

Alex smirked. “I’ll make sure it is.”

She gave Y/n one last kiss—brief, tender.

“Be safe, baby.”

“You too.”

And with that, Alex turned and disappeared through the terminal doors.

__________________________________________________________

Y/n stayed by the curb for a while, heart full, pendant warm against her skin. When she was sure Alex was already inside the airport, she finally walked back to the car with a slow, quiet ache sitting heavy in her chest. Her shoes tapped rhythmically on the pavement, echoing her reluctant steps away from the terminal that had just swallowed her heart whole.

She slid into the driver’s seat, adjusted the rearview mirror, and let out a sigh as she started the engine. The city murmured around her, people rushing to live out their own little stories, but her world felt still for a moment — missing something.

Missing someone.

The phone on the passenger seat buzzed.

Alex Boarding now. Don’t let Liv talk you into any ridiculous schemes. Also, don’t forget to feed the orchid. Drive safe, my love. I love you.

Y/n smiled, her chest warming immediately.

She texted back quickly at a red light:

Y/n I miss you already. Be safe up there, baby. I love you too — and fine, I’ll feed the damn orchid. 💋

She laughed softly as she put the car in drive again. Her playlist was already on shuffle, a comfortable background hum to her thoughts, but the next song made her glance toward the stereo, her lips parting.

Oh Caroline by The 1975.

Her grip on the steering wheel softened.

And suddenly, she wasn’t in the car anymore.

Flashback, Two Months Ago:

She was in Alex’s kitchen, the sun pouring through the oversized windows of her Upper East Side apartment. The counters were cluttered with pancake ingredients, flour dusted across the marble like snow. Y/n stood barefoot in shorts that were barely visible due to Alex's oversized shirt, flipping pancakes with a spatula in hand, humming along to the music playing from Alex’s centralized home audio system.

"Oh, Caroline…"

Y/n turned on her heel and pointed the spatula at Alex, who was leaning against the counter in, with a cup of coffee in hand, looking every bit as elegant and amused as always. But there was a softness in her eyes. A fondness.

"I wanna get it right this time, 'cause you're always on my mind, oh, Caroline…"

Y/n danced toward her, ridiculous and charming, mouthing the lyrics like she was on stage. Alex laughed, trying and failing to hide the way her lips curled and her eyes shimmered with affection. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You love it,” Y/n teased, twirling dramatically before pulling Alex into a spin.

Alex rolled her eyes, but let herself be twirled. “This is absurd.”

“Admit it,” Y/n grinned, pulling her close, “this is the highlight of your day.”

“You’re such a dork,” Alex said with a fond scoff, but then leaned in and kissed her, deep and lingering. Pancake batter forgotten. Y/n melted into it, humming against her lips.

When they pulled away, Y/n whispered with that soft sincerity only Alex ever got to see, “I swear, The 1975 wrote this song for you. Alexandra Caroline Cabot.”

Alex looked at her like she’d just ruined her entire carefully guarded life, and rebuilt it into something better. “You are so—”

“Irresistible? Iconic? A menace?”

Alex kissed her again instead of answering.

Back in the present, Y/n laughed to herself, the memory so vivid she could still feel the warmth of the kitchen, the bassy hum of the speakers, the lingering taste of coffee, syrup, and Alex.

The song kept playing, and the ache returned — not painful, but deep. Missing Alex was like missing the warmth of the sun on your skin in winter — a quiet craving, an absence you didn’t always realize until it was gone.

She reached over at the next light, grabbing her phone and quickly typing out a message, even knowing Alex couldn’t read it yet.

Y/n Guess what baby, our song played randomly on the radio and I am missing you more than ever. I know you can’t read this right now but anyway, I hope you’re having a comfortable flight. I love you, my Caroline.

She hit send and exhaled, then muttered under her breath, “Oh, my Caroline… what would I do without you?”

The light turned green.

Her fingers reached instinctively for the necklace around her neck, thumb brushing over the delicate metal — the engraved initials A.C.C., warm from her skin and impossibly comforting. Her hand stayed there for a long moment, clutching it like a lifeline.

One hand on the wheel. The other on her heart. Driving home to a city that suddenly felt too big without Alex beside her.

But loving someone like Alex Cabot meant you never truly felt alone. She was there — in the song, in the pendant, in the promise of three days passing too slowly.

And when she came back, Y/n would be waiting...

Or not.

_______________________________________________________

Read Chapter 11 Here

A/N: Did you know Stephanie's middle name is Caroline? Ok cool. Bye.

[notklosswift]

Duty & Desires

Chapter 9

Pairings: Alexandra Cabot x Detective Reader

Warnings: Possessive Alex. Again. ;)

Summary: A quiet morning at the precinct turns chaotic when Detective Roth flirts with Y/n—again. Alex handles it in a true Cabot fashion.

Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

The precinct was unusually quiet that morning. No ringing phones, no urgent arrests, no long interrogations bleeding into the afternoon. Just the hum of overhead lights and the occasional clack of a keyboard or laughter from Fin’s desk as he scrolled through something on his phone. A rare lull—everyone felt it.

Y/n leaned back in her chair, sipping a lukewarm coffee, letting the peaceful silence settle. Olivia sat across from her, reviewing paperwork with a slight frown that dissolved once she noticed Y/n watching her.

“Long week,” Olivia muttered.

“You’d think after the verdict yesterday we’d be knee-deep in chaos,” Y/n said, glancing around. “But it’s actually… peaceful.”

Olivia smirked. “Don’t jinx it.”

There was a beat of silence, then Y/n looked at her, expression shifting into something softer. “Hey, Liv… can I ask you something?”

Olivia sat up slightly. “Shoot.”

Y/n hesitated, then leaned forward. “Alex and I… we have been talking. About the cases, the undercover. She’s still really upset about the risk I took. We talked it through, mostly. But… I might’ve accidentally told her I’ve been thinking about a life with her. A real future. Kids and all.”

Olivia blinked, caught off guard. Then her face softened. “You? Kids? No wait, Alex? Kids?”

Y/n laughed, cheeks flushing. “Yeah, I know.” She fiddled with her pen, voice quieter now. “I guess when someone loves you that fiercely, it makes you want to dream a little.”

Olivia nodded slowly. “She does love you that fiercely. I’ve known Alex a long time. Before you… she was cold. Hell, she was known here as the Ice Queen. Unflinching. All courtroom and caution. People thought she didn’t feel anything. Married to the job.”

Y/n’s smile dimmed slightly. “I’ve heard the nickname.”

Olivia chuckled. “Then you should know how rare it is to see her like this. Soft. Protective. Open. You brought that out of her.”

“I get why she’s scared,” Y/n said. “Every time I go undercover or get caught up in some dangerous case, she panics. I know she doesn’t want to lose me.”

“And you don’t want to lose her,” Olivia said simply.

Y/n nodded. “More than anything.”

Before Olivia could respond, the sharp, rhythmic sound of heels clicking across linoleum echoed through the squad room.

“Speak of the devil,” Olivia murmured with a grin, just as Alexandra Cabot walked in— looking ever so godly in a designer pantsuit, hair let down, layers of it falling into place like dominoes, eyes sharp, holding a sleek black folder of warrants in one hand and a leather bag in the other.

“Hi, my love,” Alex greeted warmly, stopping by Y/n’s desk with a soft smile.

Y/n lit up. “Hey, gorgeous.”

Alex handed Olivia the folder. “Warrants for the Petrov case. Also, I’m here to steal your detective for lunch.”

Olivia glanced at Y/n with an amused brow. “That right?”

Y/n nodded with a sheepish smile.

But Alex narrowed her eyes playfully, gaze flicking toward Olivia. “Wait, what do you mean, ‘speak of’? Were you two just talking about me?”

Y/n raised both eyebrows. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Alex gave her a faux-warning glance, lips twitching at the corners. “Give me 15 minutes, baby. I need to check in with Olivia real quick.”

“Alright,” Y/n said with a teasing salute, gathering her things and wandering off in the bullpen.

As she left, Alex turned to Olivia. “I need a minute.”

They stepped inside the small conference room. Alex lowered her voice. “I’ll be gone for three days next week. D.A.’s office is sending me to a conference in L.A. Push back the arraignment for the Montgomery case until I’m back?”

“Got it,” Olivia said, glancing at the squad room. “We’ll hold things down while you’re away.”

Alex paused. “Are there any undercover operations being planned for the next week?”

Olivia’s lips curled knowingly. “You mean: is Y/n going undercover while you’re away?”

Alex didn’t answer, but her silence was answer enough.

“No plans yet,” Olivia reassured her. “But if something comes up, I’ll keep an eye on her. She’s like the baby of the squad, you know?”

Alex raised a brow.

“Not because she’s the youngest,” Olivia clarified. “She’s the bravest, toughest one here, probably. But she’s important. To all of us. Especially to me. I’ll look after her.”

Alex let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Thank you, Liv. Really.”

Then, after a second, she leaned in and hugged her friend. “Take care of my girl while I’m gone, will you please?”

Olivia chuckled. “Of course. Wouldn’t want anyone to deal with the wrath of Alexandra Cabot if anything happens.”

Alex smiled. “Exactly.”

As they turned to leave, both women paused at the sight through the glass doors.

Detective Roth. Again.

There he was, standing far too close to Y/n by the coffee station, laughing at something she said—eyes clearly appreciating more than just the humor. Y/n, ever sweet and oblivious, was being her usual kind and disarming self.

Olivia tilted her head. “Speaking of wrath…”

Alex didn’t move at first. She just watched. Studied the scene with that same icy calm. But then… she opened the door and strode forward with her signature poise.

The squad went quiet as they noticed the shift. Fin let out a low whistle. Munch deadpanned, “Roth really just has no survival instinct has he?

Alex reached Y/n just as she was turning to return to her desk. Without missing a beat, she wrapped a firm arm around Y/n’s waist and kissed her cheek. “Hey, my love. You ready to go, baby?”

Y/n blinked, surprised by the public display and the overuse of pet names, but smiled and nodded. “Yeah, just need to grab my coat.”

"Okay." Alex responds with a genuine smile, then turned to kiss her quickly on the cheek.

As Y/n walked off, her face clearly flushed having the faint idea of what was going on, Alex turned to Roth. He stood up straighter, suddenly aware of the unrelenting force standing before him.

Alex just stared at him, shooting daggers through her eyes. Her smirk subtle but evident. "Can I help you with something, Detective?"

Roth cleared his throat, trying — and failing — to look unfazed. “Just chatting. Didn’t realize casual conversation was off-limits now.”

Alex’s smile didn’t waver. “Of course not. Casual conversation is encouraged. As long as it stays casual.”

He tried to chuckle. “You’re reading too much into it.”

“Am I?” she said lightly, eyes cool as polished glass. “Because from where I was standing, it looked less like a conversation and more like an audition for something wildly out of your league.”

Roth’s smile faltered. “Look, I wasn’t—”

Alex raised a hand, quieting him with composed authority. “I’m sure your intentions were harmless. But let me be clear. Again. Detective Grey is not available and I’d prefer not to repeat myself a third time.”

There was no venom in her tone, just steel wrapped in silk.

Roth opened his mouth. Closed it again.

Alex tilted her head, still wearing that composed smile. “That’s what I thought.”

Y/n returned, eyeing the interaction with mild amusement. “All good?”

“Perfect,” Alex said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

As they walked off, Roth stood frozen, thoroughly humiliated and still trying to figure out what just happened.

Munch muttered, “That wasn’t even a rejection. That was a professionally delivered obituary.”

Fin snorted. “Guy just got Cabot’d twice now”

Olivia shook her head, chuckling. “You’d think after the first warning, he’d grow a brain. Or at least a survival instinct.”

Munch added, “That's what I said. We should start a betting pool. ‘Number of days Roth goes without getting vaporized by Cabot.’”

“Negative numbers allowed?” Fin grinned.

Y/n grabbed Alex’s hand, intertwining their fingers as they stepped in. The doors slid shut.

Inside the elevator, Y/n raised a brow. “Baby… you can unclench now. Come on, give Roth a break. Even if he’s trying—and failing miserably—he’s nothing to me. You know I’m yours.”

Alex let out a sigh, her stance softening. “I know. It’s just—”

“Possessive streak flaring again?”

Y/n sighed and tilted her head at Alex, a teasing smirk playing at her lips. “You know… you’re not exactly easy to be with either on that department. You think I don’t feel the same way? You think I don’t grit my teeth or bite the insides of my cheek every time some smug, hotshot lawyer lays eyes on you like you’re up for grabs?”

Alex blinked, visibly caught off guard.

“I mean,” Y/n continued with a playful shrug, “you’re the lawyer fantasy, Cabot. I don’t blame them. But I’m just trying to keep what’s mine.”

Alex’s lips curved slowly, darkened with amusement and something far more dangerous. She tried to bark back something snarky, but it left her mouth hanging open. For the first time, Alexandra Cabot, the A.D.A. who puts bad men behind bars for a living with a sky high conviction rate, was found speechless.

They both laughed softly, the tension melting into something warm and familiar just as the elevator dinged.

Alex leaned in and kissed Y/n’s knuckles gently, her voice low. “Come on, Detective. Let me feed you before I mark you in ways not suitable for public viewing.”

Y/n flushed and bit her lip. “You say that like I wouldn’t let you.”

Alex smirked, eyes flickering with possession. “I know you would.”

———————————————————————————

Read Chapter 10 Here

[notklosswift]

Duty & Desires

Chapter 8

Pairings: Alexandra Cabot x Detective Reader

Warnings: Court Proceedings, Possessive Alex, Minor Fluff

Summary: Y/N goes undercover to bait predator Paul Lorman — barely making it out. In court, she takes the stand while Alex leads the charge, cool and fierce.

Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

The courtroom buzzed faintly as the jury filed in, papers rustled, and the bailiff called everyone to order. A chill from the A/C swept past the bench as the judge nodded toward Alexandra Cabot. Even after everything, after the late-night talk, the promises you made, the way Alex had held you like she'd never let go — you still went undercover, but complying with Alex's strict directions, Alex reiterating that it was either her way or nothing. You offered yourself up to lure Paul Lorman out, wired and unarmed, and it nearly cost you. Now, bruised but standing, you were about to take the stand. And Alex was the one calling you forward.

“The People may call their next witness.” Judge Linda Maskin announced.

Alex’s heels echoed across the floor, each step purposeful as she made her way to the center of the room.

“The People call Detective Y/N Grey to the stand.”

You stood from the front bench where Olivia gave you a reassuring squeeze on the arm. Your eyes flickered to the gallery — the squad behind you, Fin’s unreadable stare, Munch chewing on his pen, Elliot watching with quiet intensity. Cragen nodded once. And just off-center, sitting with a stoic mask, was Paul Lorman, the man who nearly took your life.

You walked with steady steps toward the stand, shoulders square, spine tall. Even now, with the scent of courtroom wood polish and the faint creak of the jury box surrounding you, the memory of that warehouse — his hand on your throat — made your palms sweat.

The oath was administered. You sat.

Alex approached slowly, and for a moment, the entire room disappeared.

Just her.

Just you.

And the truth.

“Detective Grey,” she began, her voice steady, her tone clinical but gentle — almost reverent. “Can you walk us through what happened on the evening of June 2nd?”

You swallowed once, finding your voice.

“We had received intel that the suspect might attempt to meet with a potential buyer of trafficked victims at a warehouse in Brooklyn. I volunteered to go in wired.”

Alex nodded. “Were you armed?”

“No. It was a condition of the meet. I wore a hidden camera and a wire, nothing more.”

Her jaw ticked slightly, but her tone remained even. “And what happened when you arrived?”

“He was already there. Alone. He tried to keep it casual at first. He offered me a drink. I declined. He got... suspicious. Started circling me.”

You shifted slightly in the chair, pressing your hands together to stop them from trembling.

Alex’s eyes darkened for a brief moment. “Did he touch you?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“He... he grabbed my face. My jaw. Just like he did to the other victims. He wrapped his hand around my throat and said—” You cut yourself off. Alex took a step closer, voice softer.

“It’s alright. Go on.”

“He said... ‘let’s see if you’re as easy to break as the others.’”

The courtroom was dead silent. Even the judge Maskin had stopped flipping through his notes.

Alex’s nostrils flared slightly. But her tone, her voice — calm. Like ice across glass.

“Did you attempt to de-escalate?”

“I tried. But he pulled a belt from his waistband. Same kind the other victims described. He was about to—” Your breath hitched. “About to strangle me with it.”

“And what happened next?”

“I used his momentum against him. Slipped the belt and disarmed him. NYPD entered within thirty seconds.”

Alex paused, letting the weight of the words settle.

“No further questions, Your Honor.”

The judge nodded. “Defense, your witness.”

The defense attorney stood — greasy-haired and full of himself. “Detective, would you agree you chose to put yourself in danger?”

Alex’s jaw clenched from her table.

“I was doing my job.”

“Right, but it wasn’t required, was it? You volunteered.”

“Objection,” Alex stood. “Argumentative.”

“Sustained.”

He continued anyway. “You seem... reckless, Detective. Perhaps even overly invested."

"Objection, is there a question there, your honor?" Alex stated while remaining in her seat.

"Sustained." Judge Maskin stated, sounding annoyed, directing to the defense.

"Did you really think the suspect would incriminate himself in front of you?” Defense continued.

“I believed it was worth the risk to prevent another victim.”

“Uh-huh. And how are we to know you didn’t provoke him? That you didn’t invite the confrontation?”

There was a low gasp from the gallery. Olivia muttered “prick” under her breath. Fin sat forward, knuckles cracking.

You straightened. “I was playing the role of his ideal victim. The one he wanted to dominate. I acted afraid because that’s what he responded to.”

“And you’re an actress now?” the defense mocked. “Is this an SVU tactic, Detective? Or are you just the department’s sacrificial lamb?”

Alex quickly rose from her seat again, echoes of her chair screeching against the floor rang around the courtroom. "Objection! Your Honor?" Alex yelled looking bewildered, her voice sharper this time.

"Sustained," Judge Maskin said slowly, venom clearly in her voice. "This is a warning, counselor."

"Withdrawn. Nothing further."

That was when Alex stood again. Her steps back to the center of the room were cold and calculated. Her posture flawless. A woman who wielded power like a sword and knew how to cut with it.

“The People now call the defendant, Paul Lorman, to the stand.”

He strutted up like he owned the courtroom, but the moment he locked eyes with Alex — that unwavering stare — something shifted.

“Mr. Lorman,” she began. “You heard Detective Grey’s testimony. Did you, in fact, bring a belt with you that evening?”

“I always wear belts. Is that a crime now?”

“Did you threaten to strangle her?”

“I didn’t say that. She’s twisting it.”

Alex leaned in ever so slightly, voice like velvet over razors. “So you didn’t say, ‘let’s see if you’re as easy to break as the others?’”

“I—she’s lying. She—she set me up!”

Alex kept her tone clinical, almost amused. “Is that why the belt was found with your fingerprints and her skin cells on it?”

“She—she’s a manipulative bitch!”

The courtroom flinched. The judge slammed the gavel. “Order!”

Alex didn’t blink. “You’re angry now. Why?”

“She tricked me! Just like the others! They wanted it. They liked it until they didn’t. Then they blamed me!”

A breathless silence.

“You just said ‘the others,’ Mr. Lorman. Would you care to clarify?”

The man turned red, fists clenching. “They deserved it. All of them. That bitch too.”

The judge raised an eyebrow. “Let the record show the defendant just admitted—”

“I HAVE NOTHING TO BE SORRY FOR!” Lorman screamed.

The judge banged the gavel again. “Enough! Jury will disregard the outburst. But I will allow it to stand for the record.”

Alex didn’t smile. But you saw the fire burning behind her cold gaze.

She turned, walked back to her seat like a general after victory.

You exhaled, barely realizing you’d been holding your breath.

_____________________________________________________

The silence in the courtroom was suffocating. The air was thick with anticipation, every eye on the jury foreperson as they unfolded the slip of paper with trembling fingers. Y/n sat stiffly in the gallery, heart hammering in her chest. Alex stood beside the prosecution table, every inch of her composed, poised exterior belying the storm inside her.

The foreperson stood. “In the matter of The People vs. Paul Lorman, on the count of aggravated sexual assault, we find the defendant—guilty. On the count of attempted murder, guilty. On all remaining counts… guilty.”

A beat of silence. Then—

Relief cracked like thunder.

Y/n felt her chest loosen for the first time in days. Olivia gripped Fin’s shoulder, Elliot let out a heavy breath, and Munch muttered a stunned, “Holy shit.” Alex blinked slowly, grounding herself in the moment, before she finally allowed the smallest of smiles to bloom on her lips. Controlled, dignified—but proud. So proud.

Paul Lorman slammed his fists against the table as the court officers closed in, cuffing him as he screamed, “You bitches set me up! You planned this!”

The judge banged the gavel. “Order! Remove the defendant.”

Alex turned to Y/n briefly, giving her a silent nod that said you did it. But beneath the pride, her eyes betrayed a glint of something deeper—something protective. The image of Y/n bound in a backroom, bruised and drugged, still haunted her.

The courtroom emptied slowly, and soon they all reconvened just outside in the hallway.

“You nailed him to the floor, Cabot,” Fin said, clapping her shoulder.

“I just provided the nails,” Alex replied, eyes briefly flicking to Y/n, who stood talking to Olivia.

Y/n turned toward Alex, beaming, but there was something tired in her smile—something worn. Alex noticed it instantly. She crossed the hallway and, without caring who was watching, brushed a strand of hair behind Y/n’s ear and whispered, “Are you okay?”

“I am now,” Y/n murmured.

“You sure?”

“Alex,” she said gently, “he’s going away for life. You did that.”

“No. We did that.” Alex’s voice dipped, warm and raw.

Before Y/n could respond, Olivia chimed in, “You two coming to Sullivan’s? Fin’s buying the first round.”

Fin scoffed. “You’re buying, Sergeant.”

Y/n laughed, but looked to Alex for an answer.

Alex hesitated. She wasn’t exactly in the mood to be surrounded by noise and strangers. But she also knew what this meant to Y/n—to all of them. “I’ll come for one drink,” she said. “Then I’m stealing her for the rest of the night.”

“Possessive,” Fin teased.

“Always,” Alex replied smoothly, without missing a beat. ____________________________________________________

Later that night in Alex's apartment after their drinks with the team, the door shut behind them with a quiet click. The city lights spilled in through the windows, casting long shadows across the floor. Alex set her purse down and turned to face Y/n, who was standing quietly in the middle of the room.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Y/n broke the silence. “That was... a lot today.”

Alex moved to her, wrapping her arms around Y/n’s waist, forehead resting against hers. “You terrified me again.”

“I know.”

“I almost lost it in court. When I heard your voice during that testimony... how steady you were, how brave—and then having to question you like that knowing exactly what you went through...”

“You did what had to be done.”

“I keep wondering when this stops being something I fear. Seeing you undercover. Watching someone put their hands on you. Sitting still while you risk everything.” Alex’s voice broke slightly.

Y/n cupped her cheek, eyes searching. “I told you earlier—I imagine a life with you. With kids. A home. You know why I do this job the way I do, Alex?”

“Uhh, because you’re stubborn?” Alex teased, softly.

“Because people like Paul Lorman don’t stop unless someone gets them first. And I know I can. Especially with you beside me. That’s what keeps me going. You.”

Alex blinked, then leaned in and kissed her—slow, lingering. “You have me. In every way that counts.”

Y/n smiled against her lips. “Then I’m staying. Forever. I can't promise no more taking stupid risks but I'll try my best for you.”

“You’re allowed to be brave,” Alex whispered. “Just... don’t be brave alone.”

“Deal.”

They stood like that for a long while. Holding. Breathing. Healing.

Until finally, Alex pulled back with a small smirk. “But for the record... our kids are going to know what ‘obfuscate’ means by the time they can walk.”

Y/n burst out laughing. “I’ll bet you fifty bucks their first word is ‘objection.’”

Alex’s face lit up in pure, unfiltered joy. “God help us.”

They sank into the couch together, legs tangled, fingers entwined, the glow of the city lights painting a quiet world around them. The trial was over. The case was closed. But for Alex and Y/n—this was only the beginning.

———————————————————————————

Read Chapter 9 Here

[notklosswift]

Duty & Desires

Chapter 7

Pairings: Alexandra Cabot x Detective Reader

Warnings: Minor Assault Case Details , Protective Alex, Fluff & Fluff

Summary: A new case shakes the squad, and Alex is done watching Y/n risk everything. Tension builds, hearts spill, and somewhere between bruises and whispered promises, they admit what they really want.

Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

The precinct buzzed with quiet urgency the next morning, a weight pressing down on the entire squad as Captain Cragen pulled up the new case file.

Three victims.

All women. All within the last two months.

And all eerily similar — dark clubs, late hours, and the same specific pattern of control and dominance used during the assaults.

You sat at the conference table, notepad open, jaw tight. Olivia sat beside you, occasionally glancing your way, likely noticing the faint bruising near your collarbone that Alex had left behind last night — nothing visible unless you were looking for it.

Cragen cleared his throat and gestured to the board. “This guy’s escalating. We think he’s selecting targets based on behavioral patterns — strong women, women in law enforcement, women who challenge him. It’s not random.”

Fin whistled low. “Guy’s got a death wish.”

Alex walked in at that moment, heels clicking with authority, blazer perfectly pressed, but there was a softness in her expression that hadn’t been there before. You caught it instantly. It was just for you.

Cragen nodded in her direction. “Alex. Thanks for coming — we’re bringing you in early on this one. If this guy’s evolving his pattern, we’re going to need warrants ready the moment we get movement.”

Alex gave a crisp nod. “I'll have them ready once I get back to my office.”

You were focused on the board, scribbling details — bar names, time windows, overlapping witness descriptions — when Olivia nudged you. “Hey,” she said under her breath. “You okay?”

You nodded once. “Yeah.”

But Alex’s eyes were still on you.

Because she knew you weren’t.

Because she wasn’t either.

Later that afternoon, the squad huddled around desks as Olivia, Fin, and Elliot broke off to interview one of the victim’s roommates. You stayed behind with Cragen, combing through files when the suspect’s name finally lit up across a traffic cam alert.

Paul Lorman.

You and Olivia had run into him once before — he’d wriggled out on a technicality, back when there wasn’t enough to tie him to the first assault. But now, with three cases and a pattern...

“He’s our guy,” you said, eyes locked on the image.

Cragen nodded. “Good. We’re pulling him in. Liv, Elliot — bring him in clean.”

Alex arrived just in time to overhear. “If we have him in custody,” she said, voice steady, “I want you nowhere near him without supervision.”

You blinked, turning to her. “Alex—”

“No.” She stood in front of you now, tone still composed, but lower. Fiercer. “Not alone. You don’t talk to him unless one of us is right there.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the look in her eyes stopped you.

This wasn’t just the ADA talking.

It was your Alex. And she was scared.

You gave a small nod. “Okay.”

“Promise me,” she added, voice softer now. “I don’t care what fire you think you’re walking through. I can’t… I can’t watch you burn.”

Your heart twisted.

“I promise.”

Hours later, Paul Lorman was in interrogation. Olivia and Elliot took first pass. You watched through the glass with Alex at your side, the two of you standing shoulder to shoulder. Lorman was smug, arrogant, and calculating.

“He knows he’s being watched,” you murmured.

Alex didn't respond at first, eyes narrowed as she studied the man who had stolen power from too many women. Then, quietly: “He’s enjoying it.”

“Then let’s give him a reason not to.”

Alex looked at you sharply. “Y/n…”

But you were already pushing away from the glass. “Just observation, Alex. Nothing else.”

She watched you go, and it took every ounce of restraint in her body not to follow.

Back at her office that night, the door closed behind you as the quiet settled between you both.

The room still smelled faintly of coffee and old paper, but everything felt tighter. Tense.

Alex stood behind her desk, watching you like you might vanish again if she blinked. You broke the silence first.

“I didn’t push the interrogation. I just watched.”

“I know,” Alex said. Then, after a beat: “But you’re still thinking about going under again.”

You didn’t deny it.

She stepped around the desk, standing in front of you now. “Let me be very clear,” she said, voice soft but shaking with the force of her emotion. “I will never ask you to stop doing your job. But if you go under again, if you put yourself in that position again…” She swallowed hard. “You are not expendable to me. You're not just evidence in court.”

Your throat burned at that.

She cupped your cheek, eyes shimmering but never breaking eye contact.

“You’re not just a detective, Y/n. You’re my person. And if anything happened to you…”

You grabbed her waist and pulled her in, resting your forehead against hers.

“Hey. I’m right here.”

Alex closed her eyes.

“I know. But what if next time, you’re not?”

_____________________________________________________

Both the courthouse and the precinct had gone quiet hours ago.

But in Alexandra Cabot’s dimly lit bedroom, tucked away from the weight of the world, it was anything but silent.

You were curled into her side, both of you freshly showered and warm under the covers. Your hair was still slightly damp, her fingers combing through it in lazy motions, grounding herself in the simplicity of your presence — and probably calming the storm she hadn’t yet put into words.

You turned to face her, your brow furrowed, voice hushed. “You’re still mad at me.”

“I’m not mad,” Alex said, though her jaw clenched slightly. “I’m scared.”

You swallowed thickly. “Alex…”

“You promised.”

“And I kept it,” you countered gently. “I didn’t go near him. I stayed behind the glass. You were right. But—”

“You’re always one decision away from throwing yourself back in,” Alex interrupted, still gentle, but edged in that steady, lawyer-sharp steel. “One flash of anger. One flicker of guilt. And you’re gone again.”

You let out a slow breath. “Because I care. I care too damn much.”

Alex looked over at you, confused. You sat up, expression shifting from defensive to vulnerable, the words tumbling before you could stop them.

“I do think about what it does to you. Every time. When I go under, when I get hurt, when I’m late coming home and you can’t sleep until I walk through the door. You think I don’t notice, but I do. I always do.”

You paused, heart pounding now.

“I care about you so much, Alex… I imagine a whole life with you. Not just this. Not just crime scenes and courtroom glances and takeout on the couch between disasters. I picture us — a future.”

Alex’s eyes softened, but you weren’t done.

“I picture a home with you. I picture kids. Our kids. Running around in those ridiculously oversized t-shirts you always sleep in. I picture Sunday pancakes and scraped knees and late-night arguments about bedtime. I imagine you reading them those long-winded court transcripts just to make them fall asleep—”

Alex stared at you, lips parted in the quiet shock.

You stopped abruptly, realizing you just poured out all of that to her.

Your eyes widened. “Oh my God. I just—” You brought your hands to your face. “I just blurted out that I want to have kids with you.”

A beat of silence.

You rushed to backtrack, words spilling all over again. “Not that you have to! I know we’ve never talked about it, and I know your career’s always been your top priority, and I get it if it’s not what you want—God, I shouldn’t have said that out loud—”

Alex reached up and gently touched your cheek. “Baby,” she murmured, “breathe for me. You’re rambling.”

You let out a weak laugh, your shoulders slumping.

Alex sat up now too, the sheets slipping to her waist as she faced you fully. Her expression was unreadable at first, but her eyes shimmered faintly in the low light.

“I didn’t think I wanted kids,” she began quietly. “Not when I was younger. Not even a few years ago. My life was... complicated. Dangerous. I thought it would be selfish to bring a child into it. I built walls around that part of me. Around all of me.”

Her hand found yours, fingertips brushing against your knuckles.

“But then you walked into my office. In that beige suit that fit you too perfectly for your own good,” she smiled faintly, “and this fire in your eyes like you were ready to set the world on fire for justice. You tore down every wall I’d spent years building. Just… casually.”

Your breath caught.

“I didn’t even know I was imagining it,” she whispered. “But on my most stressful days, I catch myself daydreaming of mini-Y/n’s running around the house. Loud, impossible, brilliant. Stubborn as hell. Like you.”

That made you laugh. A bright, real thing that filled the quiet between you.

“Please,” you grinned, “you’re gonna be their mom. I wouldn’t be surprised if our kids start saying things like obfuscate and subpoena at two years old and actually know what it means.”

Alex laughed — a deep, genuine sound that cracked open something in both of you.

“Oh God,” she smirked, but her face revealed horror. “You’re right. One of them will be correcting my legal briefs before kindergarten.”

“Or cross-examining you at the breakfast table.” Y/n added.

You both stilled at the image.

The moment softened — fragile and breathtaking.

Alex reached up, cupped your jaw again with both hands now, thumbs grazing your cheeks.

“Yeah,” she whispered, eyes now glassy, heart wide open. “I want that. I want all of it. With you.”

Your throat tightened.

“So…” she continued softly, “will you please, for my sake, and for the sake of our future, terrifyingly articulate children, stop being impulsive and risking your life on every mission and case that lands on your desk?”

You stared at her, stunned, before breaking into a breathless laugh.

“You really went full circle on that argument.”

“I’m a prosecutor. It’s what I do.”

You leaned in, pressing your forehead to hers. “Well, then. Consider me… swayed.”

“No take backs?”

“I want it all too, Alexandra. Every part. Even the legalese-speaking toddlers.”

Alex chuckled, pulling you fully into her arms.

“No more full-risk undercover without backup,” you whispered against her shoulder. “And maybe more conversations about baby names.”

“Deal.”

The two of you stayed like that, tangled limbs and tangled futures, hearts steady, finally beating in tandem again.

Because a love like this?

Was worth building a world around.

——————————————————————————

Read Chapter 8 Here

[notklosswift]

Duty & Desires

Chapter 6

Pairings: Alexandra Cabot x Detective Reader

Warnings: Assault Case, Blood, Assault Weapon, Courtroom Antics

Summary: Y/n goes undercover to catch a perp targeting women online. The sting turns violent, but she survives. Alex prosecutes the case with fierce precision, fighting for justice—and for Y/n.

Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Undercover Operation Begins

The squad had moved fast. After identifying a pattern in the victims’ online behavior, you and Fin built a fake profile: minimalist bio, curated photos, a digital trail mimicking the previous victims. Within hours, a message came through.

Username: PhantomVoice.

Fin traced it. Scrambled IP, but the location pinged Gowanus — same as the last two victims.

You answered carefully. He bit. His tone was clinical, detached, unnervingly calm.

“You’ve been chosen,” he wrote.

Your stomach twisted.

The meet was arranged. Fast. Too fast. But there was no time to hesitate.

Later that evening, you stood outside a deserted bar in Brooklyn, dressed like your fake persona. The squad was in place. Surveillance van nearby. Wire checked. Cragen inside. Olivia and Elliot waiting close. And in your earpiece — her voice.

“Y/n?” Alex’s whisper cut through static.

“I’m here,” you murmured.

A pause. Then: “Be careful. And if he so much as looks at you wrong—say the word.”

You breathed steady. “I’ll be fine.”

A beat. Then softer:

“I love you.”

You smiled faintly. “I love you too.”

Then you stepped inside.

The bar was empty. Cold. Just dust, broken stools, and silence. He appeared from the shadows.

Clean. Polished. Unremarkable — and that made him more dangerous.

“You came,” he said.

“Curiosity,” you replied.

He stepped forward. “You’re prettier in person. I knew you’d come. They always do.”

You kept your voice flat. “And then what?”

He pulled a small white card from his coat pocket.

“Then I remind you why you were chosen.”

The signal was sent.

Olivia and Elliot burst in, shouting commands—but the suspect reacted fast. He lunged. You tried to dodge, but the blade grazed your shoulder. You hit the ground, breath knocked out of you. Chaos. Olivia tackled him, Elliot cuffed him with brute force.

And then—heels on concrete.

Alex.

She dropped to her knees beside you, rain-soaked and furious.

“You’re bleeding,” she whispered.

“It’s shallow,” you managed, panting. “No stitches.”

Her hand trembled on your cheek. “You said you’d be safe.”

You leaned into her. “We got him. He’s done.”

She pulled you into her arms. “Don’t ever do this to me again.”

______________________________________________________

Two Days Later – Supreme Court

The courtroom was tense. Silent. Electric.

The evidence was overwhelming. The surveillance footage. The knife. The card. The testimony. Cragen pushed for an emergency arraignment and trial, and with the DA’s office already prepped, Alex Cabot didn’t wait.

You sat on the witness stand, your left arm in a sling from the shoulder wound, a small bruise near your temple. The burn of last week still lingered under your skin, but you held your head high. You were calm, collected — until you looked at the prosecution’s table.

Alex sat poised behind it.

Blonde hair smooth and pulled back. Silk low-cut blouse tucked neatly under her tailored charcoal blazer. Her expression unreadable to everyone else. But to you? It was fire. Control. And beneath it, something softer, something that had been breaking inside her ever since she saw you bleeding in the street.

She didn’t show it — not now, not in this courtroom. But it fueled her. She wasn’t just prosecuting this man. She was defending you.

The judge gave her a nod.

Alex rose slowly and stepped forward. “The People call Detective Y/n Grey to the stand.”

Alex's voice was crisp, but beneath it, you felt it — that controlled fire, born of fear and fury and love.

“Detective,” Alex began, voice cool but edged with something steel, “how long have you worked in the Special Victims Unit?”

You cleared your throat. “Three years, Your Honor.”

“During that time, have you conducted undercover operations before?”

“Yes.”

“And the evening of July 2nd — you went undercover again. Can you tell us why?”

“Because the suspect, Camden Rye, was targeting women he met online. We created a profile designed to mimic the traits of his previous victims to lure him in and gather enough evidence to convict him.”

“And did he take the bait?”

“Yes.”

“Can you walk us through what happened the night you met him?”

You did. Calmly, clinically. You laid out every detail: the fake name, the bar, the conversation, the card he handed you — You Were Chosen — and then how he lunged with the knife. You kept your voice steady even when your fingers trembled.

Alex didn’t interrupt. Not once. She let you speak.

Only when you paused did she step closer.

“Detective… when the defendant pulled a weapon on you, what did he say?”

You hesitated. The memory flickered. You could still feel the blade grazing your skin.

“He said… ‘I knew you'd come. They always do.’ And then he smiled. Like he had done it before. Like he planned to do it again.”

Alex’s jaw ticked slightly. “Thank you, Detective.”

She turned to the judge. “The People rest on direct.”

Defense attorney John Buchanan approached next.

“Detective Grey,” he said, adjusting his cuffs, “you went in undercover. Alone. Knowing full well there was a possibility of violence. Wouldn’t you say you put yourself in unnecessary danger?”

“That's the nature of undercover work,” you answered evenly.

“Were you told to say certain things to incite the suspect?”

“I was trained to follow the conversation and extract confessions when possible.”

Buchanan smirked. “But you never got a confession, did you?”

“I got a knife to the ribs. That was enough.”

Murmurs.

The judge called for order. You watched Buchanan shuffle papers.

“Is it not true that your team only arrived after you were attacked?”

You didn’t blink. “They were already inside the building.”

“So you were never actually kidnapped.”

“Not legally. But he had a weapon. I wasn’t free to leave.”

Buchanan nodded, pacing in front of the jury.

“And yet, you kept talking to him. You kept pretending to be interested. Are we to believe you feared for your life when you willingly stayed?”

Alex stood. “Objection. Argumentative.”

The judge nodded. “Sustained.”

Buchanan turned, sighed like the court was wasting his time, and waved it off. “No further questions.”

Alex stood again, already walking toward the bench.

“Redirect, Your Honor.”

“Proceed,” the judge said.

Alex’s voice was calm — too calm. It was the calm of a storm forming.

“Detective, why didn’t you leave the moment the defendant revealed who he was?”

“Because leaving could have blown the operation and cost us the chance to stop him permanently.”

“Was the weapon drawn before or after the verbal threats began?”

“After. But he was escalating before that.”

“And were you armed?”

“No.”

“Did you ask for backup before he attacked?”

“I sent the code phrase. I stalled. I tried to survive.”

Alex’s blue eyes locked on yours, the entire courtroom gone still.

“No further questions.”

The Defendant was now called to the stand. Camden Rye sat in the witness chair like he belonged there, suit poorly fitted, expression smug.

“I didn’t intend to hurt her,” he began. “She was pretending to be someone else. I was lured. I felt… threatened.”

“Threatened? By a woman half your size, with no weapon, who never laid a hand on you?”

He blinked. “She manipulated me.”

“Into what? Confessing? Attacking? Trying to murder her?”

“That wasn’t the intent,” he snapped.

“But you did pull a weapon, didn't you?.”

“I panicked.”

Alex’s tone sharpened, still professional, but every word sliced like glass.

“You panicked. Like when you ‘panicked’ with Marissa Hart? Like when you ‘panicked’ with Jenna Mills? They were panicked too, Mr. Rye. But they’re dead.”

Alex Cabot didn’t let him breathe.

He stiffened. “That wasn’t the same.”

“Why? Because they didn’t fight back?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt them—”

“But you did. Repeatedly. Each time, a pattern. A routine. You told them they were chosen. You carved it into the skin of your second victim. And you were planning to do it again. Weren’t you?”

He stood suddenly, eyes wild. “You don’t get it! They wanted it! They acted like they were better than me! Every damn one of them!”

Gasp from the courtroom.

Alex didn’t flinch.

“You heard it, ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” she said, turning to the jury. “The defendant believes murder is justified when he feels rejected.”

The judge banged the gavel. “ORDER!”

Camden’s lawyer tried to calm him, but it was too late.

You felt your heartbeat in your throat.

Alex stepped back behind the table, scanning the room from where you now sat, eyes momentarily locked into yours, offering some kind of relief and comfort. The judge called a brief recess, to provide time for the jury's decision. Not an hour later, Alex and the rest of the team found themselves back in court, waiting for the foreperson to announce the verdict.

“On all charges… we, the jury, find the defendant… guilty.”

You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

The judge spoke, "The state of New York thanks you for your service. You are dismissed."

Alex remained composed. She simply turned to you, her hand discreetly slipping into yours below the rail.

It was done.

You were safe.

But the fire in her eyes hadn’t dimmed.

———————————————————————————

Duty & Desires Chapter 7

[notklosswift]

Duty & Desires

Chapter 5

Pairings: Alexandra Cabot x Detective Reader

Warnings: Sexual Assault Cases, Protective Alex, Fluff if you squint

Summary: The squad takes on a new serial case, while Y/n and Alex navigate the tension between duty and love. As the danger grows, so does their need to protect each other—at any cost.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

The air in the squad room was unusually light that morning.

Elliot leaned back in his chair, nursing his third cup of coffee, Olivia was thumbing through last-minute witness notes, and Y/n sat at her desk, sorting case files while her phone buzzed with texts from Alex.

Alexandra Cabot—now officially her girlfriend—was halfway through a long morning at the D.A.’s office. Her messages were as composed as ever, but Y/n could practically feel the tension behind her elegant punctuation:

Alex:

Don't forget lunch. Try not to disappear on me again.

You didn’t wear your safety vest last week. Don’t make me show up and put it on you myself.

Y/n smiled faintly at the last one, fingers hovering over the keyboard to reply when Cragen’s voice cut through the relative calm.

“Everyone, up. We’ve got a case.”

The chatter died instantly. Olivia was on her feet first, Elliot tossing his cup as Fin swiped the incoming file Cragen handed over.

“Female victim, early twenties,” Cragen said grimly. “Pulled out of the East River this morning. No ID on her, no purse, just bruises, and…” He paused. “A carved ‘M’ on her shoulder.”

Y/n felt her stomach twist.

“M?” Olivia asked.

Cragen nodded. “Same mark left on a Jane Doe from six months ago. That case never closed. We thought it was isolated.”

Fin glanced at the crime scene photo and swore under his breath. “Looks like we were wrong.”

Y/n stepped forward. “Was there a sexual assault?”

“Signs of it. Forensics is running the kit now.”

Olivia’s jaw tensed. “So we’re looking at a repeat offender.”

“Possibly a serial,” Cragen said. “And if he’s back, we’re already two steps behind.”

The mood shifted—focus replacing the earlier ease. The squad broke off into their usual roles. Olivia and Elliot headed to the ME's office, Fin and Munch to canvass the docks. Y/n was about to grab her gear when her phone vibrated again.

Alex: Lunch is at 1. You better not stand me up this time.

…unless it’s something that’ll get someone locked up.

Y/n smiled for a moment—then sobered as she pocketed the phone and grabbed her badge.

Later that day – A.D.A. Cabot's Office

Alex was at her desk, going over another file when her door opened—without a knock.

“I’m busy,” she said, not looking up.

“That’s new,” Y/n said casually. “You don’t usually ignore your girlfriend.”

Alex’s head snapped up, but softened. “Oh, where were you? I thought I'd texted you lunch at 1pm?”

Y/n set a folder down in front of her. “We’ve got a new case. Body pulled from the East River. Carved ‘M’ on her shoulder. Second victim with the same mark.”

Alex’s brow furrowed instantly. “You’re telling me we’ve got a pattern and a victim with no ID?”

“Sexual assault kit is in progress,” Y/n said. “And Captain thinks it’s escalating.”

There was a pause before Alex stood up, reaching for the file. “I want in.”

Y/n blinked. “You’re already in. It’s your case.”

“No,” Alex said. “I want in. As in—I’ll be with you on this. From day one. You’re not going into this one alone.”

Y/n softened. “I never am.”

Alex walked around her desk and stopped in front of her. Her voice dropped. “You forget how you looked last time something like this happened. And I didn’t know you were walking into hell until you were already in it.”

“I didn’t either.”

Alex shook her head. “Still.”

Y/n reached for her hand and squeezed. “We’ll get this guy. Together.”

Alex studied her—eyes stormy with something that felt like worry stitched to obsession. She let out a breath and gave a small nod.

Then, just as Y/n turned to leave, Alex said quietly, “Y/n?”

She turned back. “Yeah?”

Alex’s expression was unreadable. “Wear your goddamn safety vest.”

__________________________________________________________

The Next Day, SVU Squad Room – 16th Precinct

You sipped your lukewarm coffee as Olivia slid into her chair across from you, already scanning the folder in front of her.

“Morning, sunshine,” she muttered, barely glancing up.

“Please don’t call me that until this coffee becomes remotely drinkable.”

She smirked but before she could reply, Captain Cragen’s voice echoed across the bullpen.

“Detectives, conference room. Now.”

You shared a glance with Olivia, both knowing that tone meant only one thing: this wasn’t going to be a typical case.

SVU Conference Room

Photos lined the board—blurry surveillance shots, autopsy stills, handwritten victim statements. All women. All found in public places—subway stations, stairwells, alleyways. Same MO: ligature marks around the neck, wrists bound, and each with a distinct cut across the left cheek.

Fin leaned back in his chair, chewing on a toothpick. “That’s three in the last ten days. This guy’s escalating.”

Cragen crossed his arms. “And he’s precise. No DNA, no prints. All three victims were left with a card placed in their pocket.”

He stepped forward, revealing a photo of the calling card: a simple white square. Embossed in silver were the words: "You Were Chosen."

Your blood ran cold.

“The press hasn’t caught wind yet,” Cragen continued, “but they will. We need a break in this pattern before a fourth woman is found.”

You sat up straighter. “What’s the connection between them?”

“Nothing obvious. Different ages, backgrounds, boroughs. We’re working on it,” Olivia said. “But there’s something ritualistic here.”

Cragen nodded. “Y/n, Olivia—you’ll take lead. Fin, Elliot, canvas every location again. There’s something we missed.”

Just as Cragen wrapped the meeting, the door opened.

Alex walks in.

She was all heels and grace, tailored pantsuit sharp, her blonde hair tucked behind one ear. Poised as ever—but her eyes softened the moment they met yours.

“I heard,” she said simply. “Cragen gave me the early summary.”

You tried not to smile in front of your colleagues but failed miserably. Olivia arched a brow at you with a smirk.

Cragen cleared his throat. “We’ll need a tight partnership with the D.A.’s office on this one. If this guy gets caught, we need to make sure he stays in a cell.”

Alex nodded. “I’ll assign myself as lead. I want all case files sent to my office. And—” she looked directly at you, her voice gentle “—Y/n, I’d like you to stop by later. We’ll go over the victim statements and theory of the case.”

It was subtle, but everyone in the room caught the warmth behind her otherwise professional tone.

Elliot leaned toward Olivia. “She’s softened.”

Olivia smirked. “But still terrifying.”

Later that Day – Alex’s Office

You arrived with the files in hand, still in your detective blues, inner collar slightly loosened, top buttons undone. Alex stood by the window, looking out over the city, arms folded across her chest.

“She was twenty-one,” she said quietly, nodding to the most recent victim. “A film student. She had no family here. Alone.”

You stepped closer, placing the files down. “I know.”

Alex turned, her expression composed but her eyes betrayed something else—an ache, a familiar fire.

“I want to rip this man apart,” she whispered. “But I can’t do that. So I’m going to win. In court. But not if you’re…” She hesitated.

You blinked. “If I’m what?”

She looked at you intently. “If you’re the next woman with that card in your pocket.”

A long silence passed between you. The air tightened.

You stepped toward her, your voice low. “Alex, I’m a detective. I do this job. And you know I’m careful—”

“I know,” she interrupted. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not scared.”

Your chest tightened. You had seen Alex furious. Confident. Stern. But rarely this vulnerable.

You reached for her hand and she let you. “I’ll be safe. I promise.”

She exhaled slowly, then leaned in, resting her forehead against yours. “If anything ever happened to you…”

You whispered, “I’m not going anywhere.”

A beat passed. And then Alex pressed a kiss to your temple—soft, reverent, but possessive.

Back at the 16th Precinct

The new case was already taking its toll. The squad was scattered across boards and files, and Olivia gave you a knowing glance as you returned.

“She okay?” she asked quietly.

“She’s trying to be. This case—it’s bringing up a lot for everyone.”

“She loves you, you know.”

You smiled faintly. “Yeah. I do.”

Olivia placed a hand on your shoulder, patting it lightly. You muttered out a quick thanks, rounding back to your work desk, settling to lock in.

You stared at the white card on your desk — a replica Cragen had allowed you to hold. “You Were Chosen.”

The words lingered like a breath on your neck.

You tapped the file beside you. The pattern was becoming clear: each victim had followed a similar routine. Late-night commute. Minimal digital footprint. And all had received a text two days before their death — from a number that pinged cell towers across different boroughs.

“We think he’s choosing them online,” Fin explained from behind you. “Chat forums. Possibly dating apps. Real low-key. He builds trust, lures them to a safe location, then… strikes.”

Elliot crossed his arms beside the murder board. “Guy’s precise. Cold. But he wants attention.”

Olivia glanced at you, then toward your phone. “Still nothing?”

You shook your head. “No texts. No card. Yet.”

She didn’t look relieved.

_____________________________________________________

The Next Morning - A.D.A.'s Office

Alex stood beside the whiteboard in her office, hair in an elegant twist, glasses perched low on her nose. She was reading victim logs aloud, but her attention flicked to you every few minutes as you took notes at her table.

“You’re distracted,” she finally said, voice smooth but sharp.

“I’m thinking.”

“About the case?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

You nodded. “And about you.”

Alex removed her glasses. “Y/n—”

“I know,” you cut her off gently, “you don’t want me near this guy. But I need to get close to him. If he’s selecting women through apps or forums, I might be able to bait him.”

Alex stiffened.

“No,” she said, quiet but forceful. “Absolutely not.”

You leaned forward. “I won’t do anything reckless. You’ll be looped into everything. Hell, I’ll CC you on every move if you want.”

She sighed, stepping closer. “This isn’t about protocol.”

“Then what is it about?”

Her voice cracked. “It’s about you. It’s about the idea of walking into a courtroom to prosecute a man who might’ve already… touched you.”

You were silent for a beat, staring up at her.

Alex rarely revealed her emotions, and when she did, it gutted you.

You reached for her hand. “I promise I’ll be safe. I’ll always come back to you.”

She leaned down slowly, lips brushing yours in a soft kiss. But when she pulled back, her blue eyes were darker, more protective.

“If you’re doing this… I’m assigning myself to every legal motion. And you’ll wear a wire. And—” her voice dipped— “you’ll answer every call I make, even if it’s just to tell me you’re breathing.”

You smiled. “Yes, Counselor.”

———————————————————————————

Duty & Desires Chapter 6

[notklosswift]

Duty & Desires

Chapter 4

Pairings: Alexandra Cabot x Detective Reader

Warnings: Smut & smut, Fluff, Possessive and Jealous Alex, Marking, Claiming, Face Riding

Summary: Y/n learns exactly what it means to belong to Alexandra Cabot.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

The door slammed shut behind them, not out of violence—but urgency. Controlled, restrained, dangerously calm urgency. Y/n barely had time to take off her coat before Alex was behind her, hands sliding up her arms with practiced precision, lips brushing against the shell of her ear.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” Alex murmured, voice low and velvety with want. “Do you?”

Y/n leaned back against her, breath already catching. “Alex, I told you, I didn’t even notice—”

“I don’t care about him,” Alex interrupted, turning Y/n by the waist to face her. “I care that you stood there, gorgeous as ever, letting someone else think they had the right to look at you like that. Talk to you like that. Like they could touch you.”

Alex’s hands gripped Y/n’s hips now, hard enough to leave bruises. Her eyes were dark, molten, and just a shade away from feral. The silk blouse she wore clung to her curves like second skin, heels still on, lipstick still perfect. And when she leaned in to kiss Y/n, it wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet.

It was a promise. A claim.

Teeth clashed. Tongues tangled. Alex kissed her like she wanted to devour her—like the only way to erase the memory of anyone else was to press herself so deep into Y/n’s skin that she’d never forget who she belonged to.

By the time they made it to the bedroom, clothes trailed behind them like breadcrumbs. Alex pressed Y/n against the edge of the bed, eyes hooded, hands already tugging off the last piece of fabric keeping her from what was hers.

“You’re mine,” she whispered, dropping to her knees with a reverence that contrasted the ferocity in her gaze.

Y/n gasped as Alex kissed the inside of her thighs, her breath warm against heated skin. “You always are,” Alex added, almost to herself, as she marked her way upward—leaving bruises, little purple reminders that Y/n was spoken for.

When Alex finally stood, she towered with elegant dominance. Her blouse was half-unbuttoned now, revealing the curve of her chest, and she slowly undid the rest while holding Y/n’s gaze.

“Get on the bed,” she commanded.

Y/n obeyed without a word.

Alex straddled her, one hand pressing Y/n’s wrists above her head, the other trailing slowly down her ribs, stomach, hips. “Tell me,” Alex demanded, “has anyone ever touched you like I do?”

“No,” Y/n breathed, writhing under her. “No one ever.”

Alex kissed her hard. “Good. I want you to remember that.”

She kissed down Y/n’s chest, her mouth leaving both fire and promise behind. “I want you aching for me whenever someone else so much as smiles at you. I want them to see it in your eyes—that you’re taken.”

Alex’s mouth found its way lower, and when she finally gave Y/n what she’d been aching for, it was slow… intentional… consuming.

Y/n cried out her name, over and over, as Alex drove her to the edge again and again, never letting her fall until she said so.

And when she finally let Y/n come apart, her name on Y/n’s lips like a desperate prayer, Alex kissed her way back up her body, wrapped her arms around her possessively, and whispered into her ear:

“You are mine, Y/n. And I don’t share.” Y/n still laying on her back with Alex on top of her, suddenly found the fire inside her to shut Alex up, bit back. "I know that, baby. Why don't I show you just how much I know who I belong to?" She grips Alex's waist, firm but gentle. "Come on, up." Alex, flustered and confused, "What?" Y/n, still holding her waist, slowly maneuvered Alex upwards. Alex paused. "Baby, are you sur—" "Ride my face, Counselor. That's an order" Y/n directed. Alex didn't need to be told twice. She crawled her way up Y/n's body until she was up against the headboard. “God, you’re dripping,” Y/n guided her hips down her mouth and started pushing her tongue in and out of Alex's center, showing no mercy, devouring her like it was her last meal. "Fuck, Y/n. You feel so good," Alex moaned, eyes shut tight, her left hand gripping the top of the headboard like her life depended on it, and the other clutching and pulling on Y/n's hair. Y/n continued with her mouth shifting to suck on her clit, her right arm reaching for Alex's back and started pumping her finger inside Alex, her pace never relenting. The room filled with a string of curses and moans from Alex, almost breathless. "Just like that Y/n, don't stop. I'm close." With her free hand, Y/n reached up for Alex's neck, squeezing it lightly. She continued her assault with her fingers, her mouth pausing for a second to catch her breath. She looked up to see Alex a whimpering mess, "Look at me, Alex.”

Alex looked down, connected her eyes with Y/n.

“Come for me baby. I’m yours.”

And that did it. Alex was gone for. She moved her hips with Y/n’s tongue and fingers to ease through her earth-shattering orgasm, a series of fucks, holy shits, tied together with Y/n’s name.

They both stopped moving, desperately catching their breaths. Alex fell limp against the headboard, trying to anchor herself while her legs shake from aftershocks.

Y/n grabbed her waist softly, one hand offering support on Alex’s back as she helped her lay on top of her.

Alex lay her head on Y/n’s chest, the sound of both of their heartbeats overwhelming her with love and affection.

“Jesus Christ, Y/n. Where the hell did that come from? That was… mind-blowing.” Alex finally speaks up, still catching her breath.

Y/n chuckles, wrapping her arms around Alex’s waist. “If only you knew the things I wanna do to you every time I watch you gaslight and girl boss your way in court.”

Alex laughed, “Why am I not surprised that me in court turns you on?” amusement evident in her eyes.

“Oh big time. You have no idea. You look so hot in court with your lavish tailored suits with a pair of fuck-me heels it’s hard to understand whatever’s happening during your cross.” Y/n admits with a smirk.

Alex’s face went red, flustered, trying to hide her face on Y/n’s neck. “You’re impossible,” she mutters with a light chuckle. She lifted her head again to meet Y/n’s eyes and gazed at her with such tenderness and something else.

Y/n smiles as they lock their eyes. “What?”

Before Alex can stop herself, “I love you.” She admits. Her eyes revealing passion, sincerity, and nothing but genuine love.

Y/n, surprised at the sudden confession, felt her eyes fill with tears. She smiles, cups Alex’s face with her hands and gently tilts it forward to kiss her forehead.

“I love you more, Alexandra.”

____________________________________________________

Duty & Desires Chapter 5

[notklosswift]

Duty & Desires

Chapter 3

Pairings: Alexandra Cabot x Detective Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Possessive and Jealous Alex, Centered on F reader.

Summary: A very jealous and possessive A.D.A Cabot ;)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

The squad room was unusually loud that morning, laughter and coffee-fueled chatter filling the air. You walked in with your collar slightly crooked, your wrist still faintly red from the belt incident.

“Detective Danger,” Fin greeted, smirking over his coffee mug. “Didn’t think we’d see you back so soon after nearly getting strangled here.”

You rolled your eyes. “We got a confession and perp got life without parole. Worth it.”

“Still, next time try not to give Cabot a heart attack,” Olivia chimed in, raising her brows. “She looked two seconds away from smashing the two-way glass.”

You opened your mouth to respond—but froze when the elevator dinged.

Alex stepped out, briefcase in hand, looking as flawlessly composed as ever in her expensive navy tailored pantsuit. But you noticed it: the slight tension in her jaw, the quick glance in your direction. Last night lingered in her eyes.

She walked toward you slowly, professional mask firmly in place, and handed you a folder.

“Next deposition’s at 2. Be ready,” she said, tone flat.

You met her gaze, just long enough for the heat to return to your stomach. “Yes, ma’am.”

That earned a subtle smirk.

Olivia watched the exchange, her eyes narrowing as Alex walked away. “You two good?”

“Peachy,” you replied, too quickly.

“Mmhm.”

You sat down at your desk, trying to will your blush away, only to feel a message buzz on your phone. You glanced down.

Alex: I meant what I said. You’re mine now. And I don't share. Close your door at lunch.

You looked up slowly to find her watching you from the hallway. She didn’t smile, didn’t wink. Just raised one brow.

Your stomach twisted.

The squad had no idea what they were in for.

______________________________________________

It was nearly noon when Captain Cragen gathered the squad in the bullpen for a brief announcement before lunch. Olivia, Fin, and Munch stood near their desks, while you sat perched on the edge of yours, sipping your iced coffee.

Cragen cleared his throat. “Alright, everyone, I want to introduce the newest addition to the unit, Detective Daniel Roth. Transferred in from Vice, excellent arrest record, strong references.”

The man that stepped forward was tall, dark-haired, and annoyingly good-looking. He extended a hand to Olivia first, flashing a charming smile. “Detective Roth. Dan’s fine.”

Olivia gave him a polite shake. “Olivia Benson.”

“Fin Tutuola,” said Fin, giving him a once-over. “Vice, huh? Welcome to the real circus.”

You hopped down from your desk and extended your hand with a friendly grin. “Detective Y/n Grey. Nice to meet you.”

Dan looked like he’d been hit by Cupid’s bat. He took your hand, and instead of just shaking it, he held it a moment too long. “I’ve, uh, actually read a few of your testimonies. Sharp work.”

“Oh,” you blinked, genuinely surprised. “Thanks. That’s… cool of you.”

You didn’t notice the way Olivia arched an eyebrow. Or how Munch leaned in close to Fin and muttered, “Dead man walking.”

Fin smirked. “You think he knows?”

“Nope. And it’s always the pretty ones who don’t.”

Back in the bullpen, Dan was laying it on thick, trying not to sound like he was flirting but utterly failing. “So… you got lunch plans, Detective Grey?”

“Yeah, actually—” you began, but the sound of the elevator dinging interrupted you.

Everyone's head turned.

Alexandra Cabot stepped out, still in her sharp navy suit and silk inner top, heels clicking authoritatively. She was elegance, control, and danger wrapped in luxury linen and steel.

Olivia under her breath, “Uh oh.”

Fin, whispering back, “The storm has arrived.”

Alex stopped just past the glass doors and gave a tight smile. “Liv? I have those warrants.”

“I’m right here,” Olivia said, already moving to intercept, handing Alex the file on the latest case. “Everything’s in motion. Roth just got here, by the way.”

“Roth? Who's he? And where's Y/n?” Alex asked flatly.

The squad collectively turned and pointed in unison.

She turns to look over to where they pointed, eyes flicking over to where you stood — laughing at something Dan had said.

Her gaze locked onto the scene: your back partially turned to her, standing too close to a man she didn’t recognize. Dan had a smug smile on his face that made her jaw tighten. You, as always, looked beautiful. Innocent. Completely oblivious to the fact that someone was trying to flirt with you. And completely unaware of the fire that now burned in Alex’s chest.

You spotted her just then.

Your eyes lit up, and you waved with a sweetness that always managed to disarm her. “Alex!” you called. “Hi!”

Dan turned, then blinked as you excused yourself politely and walked over.

You smiled as you reached her, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “I didn’t know you were coming back.”

“I thought I’d surprise you,” Alex said, her tone lighter as she tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Ready for lunch?”

“Yeah. Just talking with Detective Roth. He’s new. Seems nice.”

Alex’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m sure he is. Why don’t you wait for me downstairs? I’ll just update Olivia on a few things, then we’ll head out.”

You nodded and leaned in again. “Don’t take too long.”

As you walked toward the elevator, Alex’s expression sharpened.

Dan, ever clueless, approached with a smile. “Hi. You must be Alexandra Cabot. Y/n mentioned you.”

Alex turned slowly. “That’s A.D.A. Cabot to you.”

He blinked. “Oh. Right. Sorry. Just wanted to introduce myself. Detective Dan Roth.”

Alex gave him a once-over, her tone saccharine and dangerous. “I’m aware. I understand you’re new here, Detective Roth.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She stepped forward, invading his space by an inch. “Then let me offer you some advice. Y/n is off-limits. Unfortunately, for you at least, I don’t share.”

Dan straightened, confused. “I—uh—didn’t mean anything by it, I was just—”

“I’m sure you didn’t.” She gave a tight, cold smile. “But if you did… you wouldn’t last long.”

The squad tried — and failed — to look busy nearby.

Munch mumbled to Fin, “I give him 72 hours.”

“Generous,” Fin muttered back. “She didn’t even raise her voice.”

“She doesn’t have to. That was bloodcurdling in silk.”

Alex turned without another word, walked to Olivia, handed over the last file, and gave Dan one last withering glance before leaving the squad room.

Munch chuckled. “Poor bastard.”

——————————————————————————

The restaurant Alex had picked was a cozy little French bistro tucked away in a quiet side street, far enough from the precinct that it felt like a different world. Candlelight flickered gently in sconces even in the daytime, and smooth jazz floated through the air like smoke.

Y/n sat across from Alex, sipping from a tall glass of iced tea and smiling, completely unaware of the fire that was still simmering behind those icy blue eyes. Her hands were folded neatly on the table, her badge tucked away for now, letting herself lean into the warmth of her girlfriend’s presence. But Alex? Alex wasn’t quite ready to lean into anything soft—not yet.

Alex had said nothing about the little scene earlier at the precinct. She had been perfectly composed, her greeting affectionate, her goodbye to the new detective laced with veiled threats and a razor-blade smile. But inside? That was another story.

And now, sitting here, watching Y/n casually twirl her straw and flash that obliviously sweet smile, Alex's jaw twitched.

"So," Y/n chirped, biting into a warm piece of baguette. "You were right. This place is amazing. Do you come here often?"

Alex hummed, her fingers delicately tracing the rim of her wine glass. “Only on days I need reminding that I can still feel civilized,” she said, voice smooth as the Pinot swirling in her hand.

Y/n giggled, but then paused, frowning slightly. "Are you okay?"

Alex tilted her head. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You’re being kind of... sharp. Not that I mind. You’re hot when you’re intense," Y/n said with a grin. "But you’ve barely touched your food."

Alex leaned forward then, forearms on the table, voice dropping to something low and edged with silk. “I watched a man stare at you like he didn’t care who I was. I watched him lean in like you were his to take. And I watched you smile at him.”

Y/n blinked. “Wait—what? You mean Ron? The new guy?”

Alex’s eyes darkened just slightly but slightly amused that Y/n couldn’t remember his name correctly. “Is that his name? Ron?”

“Yeah, I think. Captain Cragen introduced him, I wasn’t really paying attention—he just started talking about his dog and I didn’t wanna be rude,” Y/n explained quickly, the pieces finally connecting in her head. “Oh. You thought—Alex, I wasn’t flirting. I didn’t even notice.”

“I know you weren’t,” Alex said tightly. “But he was. And that matters.”

There was a heavy pause.

“You’re mine, Y/n,” Alex continued, her voice now a whisper, deadly calm and devastatingly sexy. “And I don’t like being reminded that other people might forget that.”

Y/n stared at her for a moment, her breath caught somewhere between her lungs and her lips.

“Alex,” she said, just barely audible, her cheeks flushed. “You know he doesn’t stand a chance. You’re really getting jealous over this?”

Alex’s smirk curled like smoke. “Jealous? No. Possessive of what’s mine? Absolutely.”

Y/n bit her lip.

The tension simmered under the table like a slow boil. Alex finally picked up her fork and sliced into the seared salmon with the same elegance she used when cutting down defense attorneys in court.

“So,” she said calmly, as if nothing had happened, “I hope you cleared your afternoon.”

Y/n swallowed. “Why?”

Alex didn’t look up from her plate. “Because when we get back to my place, I intend to fuck the memory of that man’s gaze off your skin.”

Y/n choked on her tea.

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Problem?”

Y/n shook her head quickly, suddenly breathless. “No. No problem at all.”

_____________________________________________________

Duty & Desires - Chapter 4

[notklosswift]

Duty & Desires

Chapter 2

Pairings: Alexandra Cabot x Detective Reader

Warnings: Chapter based slightly off of the Cain trial. Assault, Strangulation, Eventual Smut, Angst, Fluff, Possessive and Jealous Alex, Centered on F reader.

Summary: After a risky interrogation secures a confession, Alex delivers a searing prosecution in court. In the aftermath, fear and passion collide as Alex confronts Y/n for risking her life.

Read Chapter 1 here: Duty & Desires Chapter 1

The courtroom was packed. The air thick with tension. Reporters and the whole SVU squad lined the benches. Family members of the victims sat braced in silence. At the prosecution table, Alexandra Cabot rose with her signature composure—hair brushed, not a single strand out of place, voice calm—but her eyes were molten steel.

The interrogation room footage played in full. Cain’s outburst. His graphic rant. The belt around Y/n’s neck. The jury flinched as they watched Cain snap. Then came the moment Alex took the floor. She called Adam Cain to the stand. Most thought it was a risk, but Alex didn’t blink. She paced slowly in front of the jury box, the signature sound of her footsteps with heels clacking, never raising her voice, never losing control.

“Mr. Cain,” she began, “you claimed earlier you were ‘coerced’ into speaking during your interrogation. Yet in this footage, you volunteered details that were never released to the press—down to the bruising pattern and the way each body was staged. Can you explain how you knew that?” Cain sneered. “I read between the lines.” Alex cocked her head, stepping closer. “Between the lines? Or between your fantasies?” He shifted. “You’re twisting my words.” “I don’t need to twist anything,” Alex said, voice cool and sharp. “You did that yourself when you wrapped a belt around my detective’s arm and yelled, ‘They begged me to do it.’”

She didn't even realize the use of that possessive pronoun she let slip.

Cain blanched. Alex pressed forward. “Let’s be honest, Mr. Cain. You weren’t coerced. You were excited. You wanted someone to understand what it felt like to take control—to hurt, humiliate, dominate. And when Detective Grey gave you that opening, you couldn’t help yourself.”

He exploded. “She provoked me!” Alex didn’t move. “Just like your victims did?” That landed like a bomb. Silence echoed. Cain’s rage choked in his throat. The jury stared. Alex turned to the jury, voice steady. “This isn’t about provocation. It’s about a man who thinks women are objects, who took two lives and enjoyed it. Don’t let his courtroom performance distract you from the truth you saw with your own eyes.” She walked back to her chair and sat. No dramatic flourish. No raised voice. Just the slow burn of absolute control.

______________________________________________________

After less than two hours of deliberation, the jury returned. Everyone stood. The foreperson cleared their throat. “On the charge of murder in the first degree, we find the defendant guilty.” A pause. “On the charge of murder in the second degree, we find the defendant guilty.” “On the charge of attempted coercion of an officer, guilty.” “On all counts—guilty.” Judge Reynolds nodded solemnly. “Adam Cain, you are hereby sentenced to life imprisonment without parole. You will never walk free again. As for the jury, the state of New York thanks you for your service. You are dismissed."

Cheers did not erupt. There were no dramatic sobs. Just the heavy weight of justice finally settling. From the bench, Alex exhaled softly. Her eyes drifted across the room—landing on Y/n in the gallery. Their gazes locked. No smiles. No celebration. Just deep, burning relief and a silent promise shared between them: Never again. Not on her watch.

Outside the courtroom, Y/n, Olivia, Elliot, Fin, and Munch stood waiting for Alex to congratulate her with the case. As the doors opened, Alex steps out, walking directly to the squad, already bursting into celebration in the hallway — high-fives, hugs, tears. Olivia hugged Y/n slightly; Elliot clapped Alex on the back. But Alex's expression remained guarded, her eyes filled with something Y/n couldn't quite place, focused on her.

As the squad bid off their good byes, each half-promising to go out for celebratory drinks, Alex discreetly took Y/n's arm. "Come with me," she said softly but with a slight edge on her tone. She led her down the hallway, into her private office. Then she closed the door, locked it. No applause this time. Silence.

Alex, fueled by every single thing she felt since the interrogation up to when they got the jury's verdict, paced restlessly. Y/n watched her, still flushed from adrenaline.

“You could’ve gotten yourself killed,” Alex snapped, pacing. Her voice was sharp, too controlled to be calm. Y/n stood near her desk, arms folded. “I knew what I was doing.” “You put a goddamn belt around your neck, Y/n!" Alex’s voice was now forceful, her tone and volume increasing. “You knew what he was capable of. You’ve seen what he did to them.” “Well it worked anyway, right? We won the case. You won the case,” Y/n bit back, her voice sounding arrogant and defensive, confused as to where all of this is coming from.

Alex stalked toward her, fury cutting the air: “And if it hadn’t? We did win, But you—” Y/n stayed silent. “I was behind the glass. I saw him pull,” Alex said, each word shaking. Her voice broke with longing, suppressed want. “I saw him reach for you like you were just another girl to kill.” Y/n stepped forward, gentler now. “But I’m not. Alex, I'm fine, really." Alex grabbed Y/n, pressed her into the wall, finger on her chin. "Look at me. Look at me. Are you actually hearing yourself right now? Are you insane?"

Y/n's breath trembled but found it in herself to bite back. "I needed him to break. To snap. It worked. And goddammit I'll do it all over again for a thousand times if it means the victims get the justice they deser— Alex didn’t give her the chance to finish that statement. She grabbed Y/n by the back of her neck and crushed their lips down. Hard. Y/n gasped, wrapping her arms around Alex's waist. The kiss wasn’t soft. It wasn’t slow. It was possessive. Angry. Frantic. All her fury and fear came out through the press of her lips and the way her fingers curled into Y/n’s blazer. Y/n melted into her, hands sliding into Alex’s hair. Clothes were peeled away with quiet desperation — their bodies tangling in the dim office light. Alex kissed her with unrestrained hunger, letting all her fury, fear, possessiveness explode. She pushed Y/n against the desk. “Mine,” she whispered against her neck, just exactly where the belt had been wrapped around a few days ago, trailing kisses down her chest. “Only mine.” Y/n moaned, her head falling back as Alex devoured her — punishing and worshipping all at once.

"You have no idea what you do to me." Alex whispered against Y/n's skin, a faint growl evident in her voice. "Alex, please." "Please what, baby?" Alex asks. Y/n grunts, gasping for air, desperate for friction. "Tell me what you want."

"I want your mouth, fuck, Alex. I need you." Alex clicks her tongue, slightly wanting to prolong Y/n's agony. "Hmm. After that dangerous little stunt you pulled in the interrogation room? I don't think you deserve to come."

"Oh for fuck's sake Alex, if you don't touch me right now I swear to Go—" Whatever Y/n was about to say drowned in a series of moans and whimpers as Alex drops down to her knees, mercilessly licking her folds as she pumps two fingers inside.

"Fuck, counsellor, I won't last long," Alex almost stopped for half a second, hearing how she addressed her. It ignited a fire in her and continued, her pace shifting faster. "Let go for me, baby."

Y/n came crashing down hard, panting and screaming some unholy versions of Alex's name. Alex eased her through it as Y/n's body shakes uncontrollably. She kissed her way up, forehead touching with Y/n's, breathless.

"Jesus Christ, Alex," Alex chuckled, kissing Y/n with passion. Y/n's hands began to travel down Alex's stomach, but Alex caught it gently. Y/n gazed at her confused, but Alex kissed the side of her mouth instead. "You'll have plenty of time for that later, trust me."

_______________________________________________________

The late afternoon sun cast amber streaks across the blinds of Alexandra Cabot’s office. The room was still, save for the lazy spin of papers on the floor and the hum of the city outside.

Alex lay reclined on the small couch, one arm lazily thrown over the backrest, her long legs tangled with Y/n’s. Y/n, lying beside her in a post-coital haze, nuzzled into Alex’s shoulder, occasionally dragging the tip of her finger across the soft skin of Alex’s stomach.

“Not bad for an ADA,” Y/n teased, voice drowsy, lips brushing against Alex’s collarbone.

Alex scoffed, smirking. “Not bad? You nearly gave the entire precinct a collective stroke due to your little stunt and I’m the one who’s ‘not bad’?”

Y/n laughed, hand playfully trailing up Alex’s side. “Okay, fine. You’re incredible. Satisfied?” Alex leaned in, brushing a kiss to the top of her head. “Getting there.”

Y/n giggled again and made a playful swat toward Alex’s arm. But before her hand landed, Alex caught her wrist mid-air with practiced ease.

Only, something shifted in her gaze.

She froze. Her thumb gently pressed against the inside of Y/n’s wrist—and there it was. Faint but unmistakable. Red starting to deepen into purple. Bruising. From the belt.

From him.

The air between them went suddenly quiet.

Alex sat up a little straighter, her grip loosening but her gaze fixed on the darkening mark. “Is this what I think it is?” Her voice dropped, soft but sharp.

Y/n blinked, confused, then followed Alex’s gaze.

She opened her mouth to reply with something light—but stopped when she saw the look on Alex’s face.

That cool, composed ADA mask cracked. The fire behind her eyes dimmed, and something raw and scared peeked out.

“You think I’m letting you do that again?” Alex whispered. Her voice wasn’t angry. It was wrecked.

Y/n softened. “Alex…”

“No.” Alex reached up, brushing her thumb over the forming bruise. “That’s it. That was the last time. I don’t care how brilliant the strategy was. I don’t care how effective. I can’t—” she choked on her words and had to look away.

Y/n sat up beside her, hand resting lightly on Alex’s thigh. “Hey, I’m fine. I slipped the belt off. You saw that.”

Alex looked at her, eyes wet. “And if you hadn’t?”

Y/n had no response.

Alex leaned forward, hand now cupping Y/n’s cheek, fingers trembling. “Do you know what it did to me—to watch you stand there, with that belt around your neck, knowing what he’s done to women just like you? And then to see him snap—to see him pull?”

Her voice broke.

“I nearly lost my mind, Y/n.”

A long pause. Alex took a shaky breath. “You’re reckless. Brilliant. Brave. Stupidly brave. But this—this can’t happen again. Because if anything ever happened to you...”

She leaned in until their foreheads touched.

“I wouldn't survive it.”

Y/n’s breath hitched.

Alex’s voice dropped to a broken whisper. “I just got you. You think I’m letting you go now? You think I’m letting anything hurt you again?” A tear slipped down her cheek.

Y/n’s hand cradled the back of her neck. “I’m right here. You didn’t lose me.”

“I almost did,” Alex said softly, eyes squeezed shut.

“I’m sorry,” Y/n whispered, leaning in to kiss her gently. “I didn’t think. I just wanted to win.”

Alex nodded faintly. “We did win. But not like that. Not at that cost. Next time you want to make a statement, use your words.”

Y/n chuckled. “You mean like how you dragged me in here and used your tongue?”

Alex opened her eyes and gave a small, tearful laugh. “That was me making a different kind of statement.”

Y/n grinned and kissed her again, this time slower. “Message received, Counsellor.”

They fell into a quiet hug, bodies tangled, warmth pressing between them. Alex ran her fingers over the mark again, softer this time—like she could undo it.

Y/n whispered, “You’re really not letting me do that again, huh?”

Alex pulled back just enough to meet her eyes.

“No,” she said, firm. “Next time someone’s got a belt around your throat, it’s gonna be me. And it’ll be in my bed.”

Y/n’s face went red instantly. “Jesus, Alex.”

Alex smirked and pulled her close again. “You started it, Detective.”

———————————————————————————

Duty & Desires Chapter 3

[notklosswift]

Duty & Desires

Chapter 1

Pairings: Alexandra Cabot x Detective Reader

Warnings: Chapter based slightly off of the Cain trial. Assault, Strangulation, Eventual Smut, Angst, Fluff, Possessive and Jealous Alex, Centered on F reader.

Read on Ao3

Summary: Detective Y/n risks everything to provoke a killer’s confession, nearly getting hurt in the process. ADA Alexandra Cabot, shaken and furious, confronts her in private—leading to a passionate clash of fear, love, and possession.

A/N: Hi ya’ll! Excited to share with you my first fic ever. I’m planning this to have multiple chapters so hit me up if you want to read it on AO3 and I can arrange that. This first chapter was inspired by Barba’s episode with the belt on his neck and also that part in @storiesofsvu ‘s Second Chair Spark. Go check it out if you haven’t! Anyway, please enjoy and your comments, hearts, and reblogs will be much appreciated! 💛

The 16th Precinct SVU squadroom had its own rhythm—a constant current of ringing phones, shuffling case files, and the low murmur of trauma survivors and hardened detectives alike. But even on the loudest days, the squad moved as one. They argued, laughed, clashed—but they had each other's backs. Always.

Detective Y/n Grey had been with SVU for nearly three years. Smart, relentless, calm under pressure. She’d earned her place in that squadroom—and in their lives. Olivia trusted her with open cases, Fin with closed doors, and Elliot with the ones that hit too close. Munch, well… he trusted no one, but he didn’t question her instincts anymore. That said everything.

Then there was Alexandra Cabot.

The ADA had been reassigned to SVU six months ago. Ice in her tone, fire in her work ethic. Most people only saw the former. Y/n had come to recognize both. Especially at 2 a.m. when Alex was still at her desk, heels kicked off, legal pads covered in sharp notes and red ink.

At first, it was purely professional. They worked late. Debriefed after court. Argued about language in motions, strategy, ethics. But somewhere between war room meetings and witness interviews, something shifted. A lingering look. A hand that brushed too close. The silence that sometimes stretched too long when they were alone in Alex’s office.

Still, they kept it contained. Professional. Barely.

Until the Adam Cain case hit the squad like a storm. Two victims. Both women. Both found in their apartments, strangled with belts, bodies posed in disturbing symmetry. Cain had been charming at first. Cooperative. Too cooperative. When he was brought in, he gave them just enough—details he shouldn’t know, just shy of a confession. A sick game.

Alex had thrown herself into the prep. Every night, she and Y/n pored over reports, autopsy photos, psych evaluations. And every night, the space between them got smaller. The tension louder.

But what mattered most: they had him. They knew he did it.

Now they just needed him to say it.

——————————————————————

Late afternoon. The fluorescent lights hum above. A camera blinks red in the corner. Behind the two-way mirror, Olivia, Fin, Elliot, and Munch watch silently. Alexandra Cabot stands near the door, arms crossed, composed but wired with tension. At the table: Adam Cain — smug, cuffed, unbothered. Y/n, lead detective on the case, prepares to start the interrogation.

Alex’s heels click once as she turns slightly to watch Y/n step inside the interrogation room, confidence radiating beneath her blazer. The entire case had led to this moment — and this room, this man.

Adam Cain grinned as Y/n sat across from him, a man who believed he had already won. His victims? Two women strangled with belts, found with deliberate, theatrical staging. He had confessed — sort of. Enough to taunt, not enough to convict. Now they needed him to crack on camera. Fully. Y/n had a plan.

She reached into a brown paper bag and slowly pulled out a leather belt.

Alex tensed. Of rage? Confusion? Or maybe, something else.

Behind the mirror, Olivia’s brows furrowed. Elliot leaned forward. Fin cursed under his breath. Munch went silent.

Y/n didn’t say a word at first. She simply stood and walked slowly around the table. The belt dangled from her fingers.

Adam Cain’s eyes followed her. His grin twitched.

“You recognize this?” Y/n asked coolly.

Cain rolled his eyes. “I recognize that you’re playing dress-up.”

Y/n turned toward the mirror — toward Alex, noticing the fire in her eyes — then back to Cain.

“Mr. Cain, you strangled your victims with belts, isn’t that correct?” Y/n asked.

He shook his head and turned to look at the glass, knowing it was a two-way mirror. “I’m not demonstrating anything for you puppets.”

Her voice dipped low. “Then perhaps you can at least explain how you did it?”

And then, without hesitation, she looped the belt around her own neck. Loose, but clear. Her breath stayed steady. Her eyes locked onto his. Cain’s face twisted—anger, disgust, confusion.

Alex’s stomach dropped.

Y/n’s voice was ice. “Show me how it felt, Adam.”

Alex, jaw clenched, turned to Olivia. “Liv, did you know about this?”

“No, I wouldn’t have approved of this if I had known. What the hell is she doing!” Olivia whispered. No one answered.

“You strangled them with belts. Like this?” Y/n’s voice didn’t shake. Adam’s grin cracked. “That’s cute.”

“Then show me,” Y/n said. “Demonstrate it. Or are you afraid?”

His eyes flared. “You’re baiting me.”

“Am I?” Y/n leaned forward, belt still around her neck. “Or am I giving you exactly what you want?”

Something dark flashed in Cain’s face. He lunged forward. The cuffed chain around his wrists gave just enough slack for him to grab the end of the belt. He yanked, hard.

Alex, with fire in her eyes, pounded the mirror, almost screaming to Elliot, “Get in there!”

But Y/n twisted just in time — the belt whipped from her neck and looped around her forearm instead. The room erupted as Olivia and Elliot burst through the door. Fin pulled Cain off her.

“You think this is a joke?!” Cain screamed. “They begged! They begged me to do it!”

Y/n, gasping, wincing in slight pain in her forearms, stepped back, holding the belt now taut between her wrists.

Alex was through the door in seconds, grabbing Y/n’s shoulders, checking her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Y/n rasped.

Alex’s jaw clenched. She had expected a strong interrogation—but this? This theatrical provocation risked the entire case, risked her life. Did Y/n consider that? Did she care?

Instead, Alex watched, feeling the urge to grab Cain’s neck across the table and strangle him herself, as Fin and Elliot dragged Cain out of the room.

The camera still rolled. Cain’s rant had been filmed. The confession—raw, unfiltered—was everything they needed.

Alex, directing her gaze at Y/n, felt a sudden frisson—an electrifying spark seeing Y/n put it all on the line.

________________________________________________________

Read Chapter 2 here: Duty & Desires Chapter 2

[notklosswift]

how is this woman real 😳

[notklosswift]

no thoughts just alex at her desk with her sexy as fuck name plate 😮‍💨