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iamnotoriginalphil · 3 months ago

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That Italicized Oh Feeling (Olivia Benson x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Once Babs points it out to her, Liv has a hard time denying what's staring her right in the face. Why does she seem to have all the symptoms of a crush around you?

Words: 5.9k

Warnings: Normal SVU cases, swearing, jealousy, alcohol

Olivia wouldn’t have even thought about it if Babs hadn’t said anything. If Elliot hadn’t fed into it. If you hadn’t laughed in that way of yours, your eyes sparkling with mirth at the whole thing. It would have been so easy to continue on and never investigate any of those things about herself. She could have lived in blissful ignorance.

But your existence wouldn’t let her.

Keep mentioning you

“You can just ask her, you know?”

Olivia’s mouth snapped shut.

“Ask who?” she asked.

Your name made her still. Elliot was looking at her with that expectant gaze that made her shift her weight from foot to foot.

“Why would I ask her?” she asked.

“You keep bringing her up,” he replied.

She blinked, mouth snapping shut. Any argument was gone from her lips. She hadn’t thought she was bringing you up that often. It wasn’t even a conscious thought. But maybe she had.

Shaking her head, she turned away from him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, El,” she said.

“You’re usually much more convincing,” he called after her retreating back.

Keep thinking about you

After a long day at work, Olivia knew that sinking down onto her couch with a large glass of wine might not be the cure to her thoughts, but it didn’t hurt. Her head fell back, a long sigh parting her lips before she took a long drink from her wine. Some cases ate at her more than others.

With her eyes closed, the image of you from that day flashed through her mind. The way she saw your heart break right there in front of her. Lips parting, eyebrows drawing together, eyes widening. The soft light hitting the tears gathering along your lower lids.

It was stupid how beautiful you were even when upset.

She took another long drink from her wine before standing up. Food was a good idea if she planned on drinking at the rate she was. Her mind flitted away from the task, wondering what you were eating tonight, if you were eating tonight, if you needed a drink as much as she did.

Placing the order for takeout, she sunk down again, cradling the glass in both hands, forearms resting against her thighs. Staring into the dark red liquid, she swirled it, trying to read what was to come in the future like it was tea leaves.

You’d done so well that day, fighting for the kids she hadn’t be able to be there for. Finding you in the precinct with a group of them, keeping them distracted and entertained as they waited for the parents to come find them, she’d let herself watch you. Even now she could see you. All soft smiles and patience, sweet voice and twinkling eyes. That image was burned in her head.

The knock on the door broke her form the replay of your actions that day. Standing, she opened the door, offering money to the delivery man before taking the food back inside. Sitting, she unpacked it, knowing she’d ordered more than she needed. But clutched in her hands was your favourite and she couldn’t even remember ordering it.

She ate the entire thing, working out why you loved it so much. It was almost like having you there with her. It was a surprisingly comforting thought.

Trying to impress you

Olivia wasn’t one to spend a lot of time in the gym. She’d done enough to always get through the physicals she had to, but it wasn’t her preferred hobby. That was, until she’d found out you liked to go down there when you were especially frustrated with a case to try and work it out of your system.

You were on the treadmill, steady pace as you glared. She could practically hear the gears turning in your head. Doing her best to act as if she wasn’t paying attention to you, she walked past, heading to the weight station.

She was strong. She knew she was. She wanted you to know it too.

Warming up, she glanced over her shoulder to find your head titled as you watched her. She shot you a small smile before she turned away, pretending to focus on her own workout.

She couldn’t understand the burning desire to show off in front of you. But she was willing to indulge it, if only to take the edge off so she could focus on the case too.

Taking her place at the bench press, she lay down. She focused on the weight in her hands, muscles working. It was easy to ignore your presence, even if she wanted to know if you were watching.

“Shouldn’t you have someone spotting you?”

She heaved the bar back onto the stand before sitting up. You were standing by her, sweat slicked skin and bright eyes, staring down at her.

“I’m fine,” she said, wiping the back of her hand over her forehead.

“Really? Because with weights like this you could do some serious damage,” you said, finger running along the bar her fingers has so recently been curled around.

“I can handle it,” she said.

“And as impressive as that is, I’ll just be wracked with guilt if I saw this and did nothing and you had an accident,” you said.

“You think I don’t have this?” she asked, a scoff of a question.

“Maybe.” You shrugged, “or maybe I just wanted an excuse to get a closer seat to the show.”

Heat spread over her skin. She lay back down, not having a smart remark, having gotten essentially what she wanted. You were completely focused on her as she showed off her strength. There was something addictive about doing it under your watchful gaze.

Gazing at you

Your head tipped back, the laugh on your lips light and airy. Your hair caught the morning light, shining like something out of a dream. Your lips were curled up in a delighted smile, all soft edges and sweet curves.

Olivia felt her heart constrict just looking at you, chin resting in the palm of her hand, pen clutched loosely in the other. She’d been watching long enough to know she was procrastinating her paperwork. You were a nice distraction.

You shook your hair back from your face. Leaning over, her eyes caught on the way the neckline of your shirt dipped. Shadows and light played over your skin and she found herself hypnotised. She couldn’t look away.

You were so beautiful.

Someone passed between you and her, breaking her gaze. Shaking her head, she looked back down at her report. It was hardly as captivating as you were.

A movement in her periphery, her eyes darted back up, finding you as you turned towards her. Your gaze landed on her and she watched as your lips pulled up on one side. She should have been embarrassed, being caught watching you. She would have.

But your eyes swept over her and she found herself preening. Leaning back, she offered more of herself to your gaze. She didn’t even think about it. She wanted you looking at her the way she looked at you.

A blaze of heat went through her.

Your smirk only made it worse. Turning away from her, she let the disappointment fade away, eyes lingering on you. There was no reason you should be so captivating, but she was finding it hard to look away.

She always seemed to find it hard to look away from you.

Seeking you out

Olivia was staring at the board, the faces of the victims staring back at her. Arms crossed over her chest, her lips pursed. Elliot was at his desk, watching her with that heavy gaze that always made her skin itch, like he could see more than she wanted him to.

You had taken the morning off. Something about an appointment you couldn’t get out of. Curiosity had been eating away at her all morning. Then, when you’d breezed in, it was with a cheery hello, nothing more. Now, sequestered upstairs, she could feel your presence even if she couldn’t see you.

“What’re you thinking?” Elliot asked.

Something he wouldn’t appreciate hearing.

“Didn’t someone have something on the fingerprints?” she asked.

“Yeah.” His eyes darted up to where she knew you were sitting.

It was all the excuse she needed.

You looked up from the food you were in the middle of consuming, a sub from the bodega down the street. Wiping your mouth on the back of your hand, you grinned. Something in her chest calmed, while butterflies erupted in her stomach.

“What’s up?” you asked, leaning back.

Something in her chest settled seeing you. She straddled the chair across from you, eyes sweeping over you. You let her without question.

“You had the report with the fingerprints, right?” she asked.

“Sure, it’s sitting on my desk,” you replied.

She watched you suck on your fingertip, tongue flicking over it to remove the sauce before you reached for a napkin. With your hollowed cheeks and your pretty eyes watching her, heat skittered over her skin.

“You need help finding it?” you asked.

“Your desk is a mess,” she said, letting herself smile at you.

“Organised chaos,” you shot back, “c’mon Benson. Surely you can find a measly file on your own.”

“Indulge me,” she said.

“I always do.” Your hand lingered on her shoulder as you passed by.

“Subtle,” Elliot said as she walked past, following you back to your desk.

She ignored him, the idiot, refusing to admit to what he was saying. Or implying. Wanting you to join them help put another predator behind bars wasn’t weird. It didn’t have to mean anything.

It didn’t.

Protective

The man shouldn’t have even managed to get into the building. Let alone with a gun. He should have been stopped before he could even enter the building. Someone was going to have their ass handed to them.

But he was practically foaming out the mouth, shouting for someone, his face a splotchy red.

Olivia had been standing with you, grabbing a cup of coffee, chatting about your plans for the weekend. She wouldn’t say she’d been fishing for information but she did keep prodding for answers. She was curious about what you got up to outside of work. There was no way she would admit to thinking about it as often as she did.

At first, she’d ignored the shouting, nudging you to keep talking. With her eyes on you, it was easy to block out the rest of the world. You smiled and she found herself leaning closer.

When the first shot rang out, she couldn’t ignore it anymore.

It was instinct, the way she reached out, forcing you down. Her body covered yours, eyes scanning over the precinct, trying to find where the shots were coming from. Your fingers curled around her forearm, digging in.

She crowded you back against the wall, hidden under the table. A roar punctured the air. She could feel the tremble in your body, keeping herself between you and the danger. She wasn’t about to let anything happen to you.

He crashed through the doors, huge and imposing, lunging forward as he screamed. Your sharp inhalation of breath was loud to her ears, even with the rage. The gun in his hand was being waved around indiscriminately.

It was Elliot who took him down. Of course it was. Testosterone meets testosterone.

She extended a hand to you, helping you to your feet once the man had been disarmed and thrown in lock up. She could feel the tremble in your hand. When your gaze met hers, it was wide eyed, the glisten of tears already receding.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” you said, hand hitting her bicep.

“Do what?” she asked.

“Put yourself in danger,” you said.

She might be able to tell your legs were shaking, but your lips were pressed together and you were fierce. It took her breath away.

“Reflex,” she said with a small shrug.

“I can’t have anything happen to you,” you said, “what would I do if it did?”

Something warm bloomed in her chest.

Butterflies

You laughed, bright and happy, fingers curling around the drink she’d just deposited in front of you. Closing a case always brought out this lighter side in you, like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders and you could breathe again. She slid into the booth beside you.

Your thigh was pressed against hers, shoulder brushing her. You were leaning over the table, uncaring of how sticky it was from spilled beer and drunken antics. Elliot was leaning back, debating you about the joys of living in a dorm at college.

“You’re coming at it from the perspective of a father,” you said.

“Well, I have to,” he said back.

“Consider how much growing your kids will go through. They’ll learn to be adults when they don’t have the crutch of you and Kathy to fall back on,” you said.

“That’s what I’m worried about,” he said.

“Wouldn’t it be nice not to do their laundry?”

He just raised an eyebrow at you.

“Liv, back me up here.”

You turned to her, grinning right in her face. It happened in a moment, the flutter of something exploding in her stomach. She blinked, looking down at you, not sure what to do with the feeling. You were still smiling. Each bump of your shoulder only made it worse.

You turned away, but your hand landed on her thigh as you tried to lean further over the table, using it to steady yourself. It was like a shot went off in her heart. It was making it impossible to follow the conversation.

“None of you are fun,” you said, falling back in your seat, reaching for your drink, letting her leg go.

“Or maybe we all appreciate not living in close quarters with other young people,” Munch said.

“I guess I’m the only one who had any fun in college,” you said.

Your hand landed back on her thigh as you shifted, the butterflies going crazy in her stomach. She lent into it, letting herself feel every flap of their wings. With you, it was a pleasant feeling.

Leaning closer

Sitting together in the car, Olivia was doing her best not to keep glancing over at you. Your gaze was trained out the windshield, staring at the front door of the building the both of you were watching. She’d found herself doing that a lot, stealing glances at you when you weren’t likely to look back.

“Who do I have to screw to get a place like this?” you asked, “sorry, that’s not appropriate. Ignore me. I’m tired.”

“Someone with a lotta money,” she replied.

You turned to look at her, lips already pulling up into a smile. She could see how tired you were, dark circles beneath your eyes. It was the early hours of the morning, still dark enough for the street lamps to be lit. She liked you like this, a little loose, a little less filtered than usual.

She liked seeing the inside of your brain.

“Know where I can find one of them?” you asked.

“If I knew that I wouldn’t be out here. I’d be in there, sleeping easy,” she said.

“No you wouldn’t,” you laughed.

She laughed too, finding herself tipping towards you. You were already leaning towards her, head bent like your conversation was intimate. Her eyes dipped down to your lips then back up. Your fingers brushed over the back of her hand.

“You could never give up this job,” you said, voice quiet, “you’ll never stop fighting for the victims.”

She found herself falling into the well of your gravity. You were looking at her like she was something impressive, something wonderful, and she found herself drawing closer. She wanted to feel the heat of your skin, the heat of your gaze, the heat of your admiration.

“That guy look shifty to you?” you said, breaking her out of her thoughts, your gaze having strayed over her shoulder.

She turned away, only just realising how close she’d grown to you. She hadn’t even noticed how far she’d lent towards you. And yet she had known she wanted to be closer.

It was probably for the best that the suspect decided then to try and sneak out. She didn’t have to investigate her feelings if she was distracted by the job.

At least that’s what she told herself.

Blushing

“Yeah yeah,” Olivia called to whoever was trying to hammer her door down.

She’d just closed a case, returning to her apartment to try and catch up on all the sleep she’d lost from her nights awake hunting the sick bastard who did that stuff to those women. Halfway to sleep, the knocking on her door was unappreciated. She was going to kick the ass of whoever had interrupted.

She pulled open the door, coming up short when it was you on the other side.

“Hey, sorry, I know it’s late,” you said.

It was the early hours of the morning but she wasn’t going to get pedantic with you.

“I just… I didn’t want to be alone tonight and so I came here,” you said, “I can go.”

“No, no.” She held the door open wider for you, “come in.”

You slipped past her into her apartment and she could see the heavy slump in your shoulders. You dropped onto her couch, a long sigh passing over your lips.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. We got the guy so I should be fine but every time I close my eyes I just see…” You passed a hand over your face.

“It happens. Some cases stick with us more than others,” she said, sitting beside you.

You fell towards her, head coming to rest on her shoulder. Your cheek pressed to the bare skin of her shoulder, warm and soft and lovely. The weight of it was comfortable. Her irritation dissipated, enjoying the feel of you there with her.

“You’re so good at this,” you sighed.

“Good at this?” she asked.

“Catching the bad guys, not letting it fuck you up,” you replied, “making me feel okay.”

“You are okay,” she replied, finding her fingers running through your hair.

You sat up, turning to look at her. Drawing your legs up, you rested your chin on your bent knees, your gaze sliding along her bare skin. She let you look your fill, not sure what you were seeing.

“How are you still so gorgeous even when you’re woken up in the middle of the night?” you asked, almost a sigh, a small laugh at the end, “it’s just not fair.”

She laughed, even as her cheeks heated. Shaking her head, she let her hair fall forward, hiding her blush from you. Your fingers ran along her forearm, more of a brush than a touch. Peeking up at you, she found you leaning closer.

“I bet you get told all the time, but you really are beautiful,” you said.

She felt herself blush harder.

“Sorry for coming here and waking you up,” you whispered, “you were the only one that was going to make me feel normal again.”

“You know you’re always welcome,” she said.

“Especially if I keep complimenting you?” you asked, lips pulling up into a small smile.

“Those don’t hurt,” she replied.

“Then I think you should know, this nightgown is making it hard to focus on your face,” you said.

Your fingers brushed the silk of her nightgown, right over the warmth of her thigh. Her face was on fire and your eyes were sparkling.

“It’s very pretty,” you murmured.

“Flatterer,” she scoffed.

You pulled back, curling up enough to rest your head on the back of the couch as you gazed at her.

“You mind if I crash on your couch? I know there’s not exactly a plethora of hours left tonight but… my place is too quiet,” you said.

“Let me get you a blanket.”

When she lay down in her own bed, the light from her living room chasing away the dark, she listened to the sound of you settling, wondering if her proximity gave you any comfort. She hoped it did.

Finding excuses to touch you

Olivia’s fingers were soft as they reached out, gently moving your hair out of your face. It had fallen as you’d lent forward, eyes scanning over the file she’d placed on your desk. You glanced up, lips quirking up into a smile. She snatched her hands away, clutching the edge of your desk as she lent against it.

Her fingers itched from the feeling of your soft skin against her fingertips. She was still close enough to feel your warmth. You weren’t even looking at her and she felt the impulse to reach out again.

You looked up at her again, from under your eyelashes.

“Good catch,” you said, “but look at this pattern.”

Her hand rested on your back as she lent forward, looking at the file with you. You lent into her touch, your cheek coming to rest on her bicep. Her heart stuttered in her chest, but you didn’t seem to even notice.

It was like the long nights when her head would drop onto your shoulder. She wouldn’t even think about it, tired and eyes itching, head heavy, sinking into you. When her defences came down she sought out your warmth, wanting to feel you breathe beneath her.

“Gonna go bring him in?” you asked.

You were gazing up at her, lips curling up in a small smile that had her head swimming. Her fingertips brushed over your cheek, brushing your hair away again. You lent into her touch, just until she snatched her fingers away again.

Something warm bloomed in her chest along with embarrassment.

“Good job,” she said before she swept out of the precinct to pick up the perp.

Feeling hot around you

A wolf-whistle rang out across the precinct. It was late enough that the place wasn’t busy. Olivia’s head snapped up, eyes darting from Elliot to the where his gaze was focused. He was leaning back in his seat, grinning as he turned his head towards her.

You were waving away the whistle, a shy smile on your face. In the floor length dress, clinging in all the right places, you were a thing of beauty. She found her breath tumbling over parted lips. A rush of heat went through her, leaving her reeling.

“I take it you’re not going to chase down our suspect,” Munch said.

“Not unless he happens to show up at the restaurant I’m going to. Or the show,” you said with a small shake of your head.

“Hot date?” Elliot asked.

“You offering?” you shot back.

You paused by Olivia’s chair, hip cocked, hand coming to rest on the back of it. You were close enough she could smell the scent of your perfume clinging to your skin. Her skin was heating just from having you so close dressed like that. Looking like that. Leaning forward just enough to draw her eyes to the shadow of the curve of your breast.

Heat washed over her. She felt sweat gather at the skin on the small of her back, climbing up the back of her neck, spreading across her chest. You weren’t even looking at her, resting against her desk as you talked to the boys. But she was so aware of you there, right in touching distance.

“Right, well, try not to have too much fun without me,” you said.

Your chin dipped down, catching her gaze. The wink you shot her went right through her, warmth spreading in her lower stomach.

“Have fun,” you said, voice lowering just for her.

Elliot was giving her another very knowing look once you’d disappeared into the Manhattan evening.

“What?” she snapped.

“You’re looking a little flushed there. Feeling hot under the collar?” he said, that self satisfied grin on his stupid mug.

“Go chase up the ME report.”

His laughter haunted her, cooling the fire you’d left in her veins.

Craving your attention

“And why would they do that?”

Olivia was watching you from her desk, pen clenched between her teeth. You were sitting on Munch’s desk, feet continually kicking at his chair as you stirred your coffee.

“To keep the masses from realising they hold the power to control their destiny in their hands,” Munch replied, “wake up to the group mind think they force us to live in.”

“Sure but… why?” you asked.

The curl of your lips told her you were teasing him, just feeding into his conspiracy theory riddled mind. Still, she would have liked for you to be playing with her instead. She could be just as fun.

“Mass control of the population lets them test experimental drugs for biowarfare in third world countries,” he replied.

“Right. So why did they kill JFK?” you asked.

You didn’t even look at her.

“He was going to shake things up. Watch the way people responded to him. They loved him. He was going to end the mass control before they could pump chemicals into our drinking water,” he replied.

Why weren’t you looking at her?

“Now I’m being poisoned too? When will the madness end?” You scrunched up your nose at him.

Why weren’t you asking her?

“When we can all see the truth they work so hard to obscure,” he said.

She watched you make eye contact with Fin, a shared eye roll she wasn’t invited to partake in. Why wasn’t she invited? Why were you ignoring her? Had she done something to piss you off?

“Keep making that face but you’ll wish you had your freedom soon,” Munch said.

She wanted you to look at her.

“And when I do, you’ll be my first port of call,” you said, patting him on the shoulder.

She wanted you to touch her.

“Now, I’m going out for lunch. If you need me, no you don’t,” you said.

She wanted to get lunch with you.

You left her disappointed. Sweeping out of the precinct, she felt herself stewing in her want. She felt itchy, a desperation clawing up her throat, choking her with want. She wasn’t used to this feeling, a craving she couldn’t seem to sate. No amount of your attention was ever enough, even when she gorged herself on it.

She wanted to drown in it. To revel in it. To let herself split apart from how much of it she received.

Being denied was a feeling she wasn’t able to reconcile. An ache in her bones, a pang in her gut, a twist in her heart.

She was driving herself mad.

Flirting

Sliding into the chair across from you, Olivia glanced down at the paper you were reading.

“Defenestrate. Three down.”

You glanced up, the smile ready on your face. Her foot nudged yours under the table.

“Smarty pants,” you said, but it was so soft it made her heart squeeze.

A flash of blue had her reaching out, grasping your hand. With a soft brush of her fingertip, she smeared the ink stain on your skin.

“Having fun there?” you asked, a slight prod, teasing her as her finger continued to trace over your skin.

“I can think of something more fun to do with you,” she replied.

Your gaze swept over her as she looked up at you from under her eyelashes. Your eyes were sparkling, badly hidden amusement on your face.

“Did you need something from me, detective?” you asked, voice lowering.

She lent closer, her fingertips finding the pulse in your wrist. She could feel it thrumming, fast enough to let her know you weren’t as cool as you appeared. You pressed your wrist more firmly into her touch.

“Am I making you nervous?” she asked, almost a whisper, forcing you to lean closer to catch her words.

“Beautiful women always make me nervous,” you replied.

You were so much better at this than she was.

Her fingers returned to your hand, threatening to intertwine with yours. Her foot nudged at yours again, a gratified purring in her chest when you let yours rest against hers. You were leaning closer, that small smile on your lips ruining her.

“Must be difficult when you look in the mirror then,” she said.

You laughed, soft and beautiful and fond. Your hand moved forward, linking your fingers through hers. Her heart stuttered in her chest.

“How about you follow me home so you can find out?” you said.

You were definitely better at this than she was.

“Gonna protect me from all the big bad beautiful women?” you asked.

“How about some hands on exposure therapy?” she suggested.

“Careful, Liv, or I’ll think you’re serious,” you said.

You flipped your newspaper over to her as you drew your hand back. Standing, you shot her a wink before making your way down the stairs. She looked down at your half finished crossword.

Maybe she was beginning to be serious.

Getting jealous

The air of celebration was palpable. The sick pervert had been put away for a long time and the team had rolled into the usual bar. You were grinning from ear to ear, your laughter coming easy, shoulders loose and light.

And you were talking to Alex.

Olivia had been keeping half an eye on you through the night, the itch to monopolise your attention back. You were so beautiful when you were full of joy. She wanted to celebrate with you.

Instead, you’d ended up in a shadowy corner, Alex’s lips at your ear as she whispered something to you. Your smile was naughty, and when you laughed it was throaty.

Heat crept over Olivia’s skin and something in her stomach clenched. Her fingers tightened around the glass of her beer. You tipped your head closer to Alex, dragging your eyes up to meet hers as a smirk flirted with the corner of your lips.

Alex’s hand reached out, making contact with yours, sliding up, lingering longer than was appropriate. You shifted your weight, growing closer to her. When you took a sip from your own drink, she watched blue eyes focus on your mouth.

“That’s a sour look for someone who just took another perv off the street.”

It was a struggle to tear her eyes from you, focusing on Elliot again. The look he was giving her was so full of understanding it almost made her hit him. She didn’t like the clawing feeling in her chest. The whole thing was getting ridiculous.

“Mind your own damn business,” she said.

“Bet you wouldn’t be saying that to her,” he said, lifting his drink in your direction.

“You don’t know that,” she said.

You laughed again, stealing her attention and her gaze. Alex tucked your hair behind your ear, unaware of the daggers Olivia was glaring at her. You fluttered your eyelashes at her.

“Good thing looks can’t kill,” Elliot muttered, “although it looks like Alex might need witness projection again.”

“Keep talking like that and you’ll need it,” she snapped.

“Touchy,” he said, hiding his knowing smirk behind the neck of the bottle as he drank.

She drained the last of her beer then slammed the bottle down on the bar. Ignoring his continued prodding, she strode towards you. Your gaze was lazy as it dragged to her, your smirk deepening.

“I need to talk to you,” she said through gritted teeth.

“We’re in the middle of-“ Alex began to say before you cut her off.

“Sure.”

Olivia held Alex’s eye, a sense of triumph filling her. Your hand slipped into hers, tugging until she turned away, leading you somewhere more private. Somewhere you wouldn’t be interrupted. Somewhere she could be alone with you. The back corner of the bar. Away from prying eyes.

“What’s up?” you asked, leaning against the wall, looking up at her.

“You and Alex,” she said.

“What about me and Alex?” you asked.

She gave you a look, unimpressed, not playing games with you. She didn’t have the patience. Not as her heart began to tear itself apart just remembering the way the blonde had touched you.

“Am I not allowed to have other friends?” you asked, “or am I not allowed to flirt with other women?”

“So you were flirting?” she asked.

“I didn’t know I had a reason not to,” you said.

That shut her up pretty quickly.

“Liv.” Your voice softened, “what’s going on?”

She hated the pity, the softness, the uncertainty. It scrapped against the jagged edges of the sharp feeling in her chest. Shoving your shoulders against the wall, she looked down at you, really taking you in. She let herself feel it all, all the things she’d been pushing down for months, all the little things she’d begun to take notice within herself, all the things that led back to you. And all you did was look up at her with your pretty eyes and pretty lips, waiting, waiting so patiently.

So she kissed you.

Luckily for her, you kissed her back, hands sliding around her waist, pulling her closer. You didn’t try to stop her or question her. All she knew was that she’d been wondering what it would be like to kiss you for longer than she’d been able to admit to. And now she was.

You sighed into her mouth, such a nice sound it made her kiss you deeper. You were so soft against her, even as you kissed her with a mouth she hadn’t known you’d possessed. Dirty and hot, making her feel weak and desperate, even as you gave her what she wanted. She wanted more.

You made her greedy for things she couldn’t put into words.

She whimpered when you drew away, wanting more, ever more, from you. You were looking at her like she was something precious, like you were blowing her mind, like you understood her hunger.

“Liv,” you sighed.

“Can’t we just?” She lent forward to kiss you again.

You laughed, your hands on her shoulders keeping her back. The sharp sting of rejection bit at her skin until she saw the way you were gazing at her. Your fingers were soft as you tugged on the ends of her hair, fond and easy.

“I’m afraid I’m going to be annoying and ask you what’s going on again,” you said.

“I…” She didn’t have an easy answer.

“Is it maybe that you don’t want me flirting with anyone who isn’t you?” you prompted.

“No, you’re allowed to flirt with whoever you like,” she said.

“But you’d like it if it was you I wanted to flirt with,” you said, not asking, the confident tilt to your head both frustrating and endearing.

“You’re not making this easy on me,” she said.

“I really like you Liv, but I thought I wasn’t your… type,” you said.

“I’m beginning to think I don’t know what my type is,” she said.

Your fingertips brushed over the apple of her cheek, gentle in a way she wasn’t used to. With men, it wasn’t quite like this. It wasn’t so… soft.

It was hard to believe she’d been living without this for so long.

“All I know is that the way I feel about you can only mean one thing,” she said.

“What’s that?” you asked.

“Babs might have been right about some things.”

She muffled your laughter with her next kiss.

#olivia benson #olivia benson x reader #law and order svu

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