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wandasaura · 6 days ago

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RIDE LIKE THE WIND, BULLSEYE

summary — olivia had given up hope of ever getting stabler back in the squad, but then you showed up, and you’re not quite him, but you’re all the best parts

warning(s) — mention of undercover operations, blood and injury, past child sexual exploitation, reference to s10 e2 ‘confessions’, therapy, canon mental health struggles, bipolar depression mentioned, history of anxiety and depression, mention of canon character death, previous injury, shooting, alludes to past mutual romantic feelings between elliot and olivia, slight marital disputes/problems, hostage situation/negotiations, child endangerment, minor character death, gunshot wounds, stitches, mentions of domestic violence, ongoing domestic violence/sexual assault case, canon adjacent content, girl dad!elliot stabler, basically cool aunt olivia benson, angst but…not really angst

authors note — i was compelled to write stabler in some capacity and we ended up with this… very glad to have gotten this out of my system

In October of ninety-nine, a man had exploited you for the very first time in your life. You don’t know his name, or all of the details really, but you remember that your father had come home in a haste of emotional frustration and anger. He punched the wall. You remember how loud it sounded, how you’d cowered into Elizabeth and held your ears, afraid of his rampage. He hadn’t known you were listening. It was late. Elizabeth was only awake because you knocked on her door asking for chocolate milk, explaining through yawns that Kathleen had put the Nesquik powder on the highest shelf in the cupboards because she was mad at you — typical older sister retaliation throughout your childhood. If he’d known that your little ears were around, he wouldn’t have told your mother so bluntly with his back pressed against the counter and his head in his hands that some pedophile had blasted your third grade picture on his website for others to… you think the word he’d specifically used was ogle, but it hadn’t been in your vocabulary then, so in the years that it sat on your mind, you’d summarized it in other ways.

As you’d grown up, spending more and more afternoons at the 16th precinct because once you turned eleven you were allowed to walk home from school alone so long as you remembered to text your mother precisely when you stepped out of the middle school and when you once again stepped into the house and locked the door, the vague description of what happened sickened you.

You stopped by to see your Dad every day between those two events, usually with your water bottle pulled out of your backpack and uncapped. He filled it for you, and sometimes you could squeeze ten or fifteen minutes out of him before he turned you away, but those short few minutes every week opened your eyes to the reality of his world at work, to the world of Manhattan outside of your bubble of sunshine and rainbows. It only made you sicker over the potential of your picture situation.

When you were thirteen, you couldn’t take it anymore. One of your friends at school had come barging into the cafeteria saying that her sister’s best friend's cousin who lived in Minnesota — that had been a mouthful at the time and still was now — had her nudes leaked to myspace by her ex boyfriends. That brought it all back up. The sound of your father punching the wall, he’d kept you so far removed from violence before that point somehow. The way your mother had gasped at the news; laid her head down on his chest and wept. You know it couldn’t have been good, but you also couldn’t conceptualize what was so horrible about your school picture. Either way, the mental turmoil had rendered you nauseous and sickly by ninth period, and Olivia had come to save you when your mother relayed back to your father that she was stuck in traffic and wouldn’t be able to get you, so he’d sent her.

You’d cracked before she’d had the chance to ask you what was wrong, asking her through tears about the case from ‘99 that got your parents all rattled up. She told you, because Olivia never lied to you, and you’d told her that you were going to be sick after she explained why your school picture was so inviting to a pedophile. Your pigtails, pink bows to match your pink Ariel t-shirt, a purple skirt because it was a compromise made by your father who insisted you couldn’t actually wear your swimming pool tail to school even if the dress code was slightly elevated for pictures. He’d told you that it would perfectly match the color of her shells, and that everyone out know in their heads you were a real mermaid too. You’d picked into a bag they kept in the glove box of the squad car, and Olivia had shed a tear at a stop sign when she thought you weren’t looking.

That single moment had led you down a path nobody had anticipated — therapy, psychiatrists.

In ‘08, your sister had more or less spun out after getting into drugs and battling an undiagnosed mental illness. She’d tainted your family's reputation even if your father tried to pretend like she didn’t. You were in high school then, older, going to your own therapy appointments, taking your own steps to bettering your mental health. Her resistance had been like a bullet in the gut. She’d yelled insane things, pushed wild narratives and damaging accusations at Doctors just trying to help. It had taken a long time to forgive her for that, but it still lives all around you, even now, years later.

You creep down the hallways in the 16th precinct in Manhattan. They’re familiar, smaller than you remember them being as a kid coming to see your father and Mr. Munch, but familiar. They haven’t changed much at all, but then you step into the Sex Crimes hub, and it’s hard to imagine how it ever used to be laid out. Munch always yelled at you for hanging out on the stairs, but he knew he could always find you there, and when he did try to wrangle you into conversation with you and you weren’t in your designated spot, he panicked.

A pang of grief shoots through you. Munch. Mr. Munch, as you referred to him as a child. You hadn’t seen him much in the years that came after your fathers leave from SVU. You stopped by on your walks home from school for the first couple of weeks. Olivia waited with water for you instead. But then you stopped, and nobody could really blame you, and thankfully you’d found no reason to return as you grew up.

“You must be the new transfer. I’m Amanda Rollins.” A blonde intercepts your path. She’s perky, cheerful, radiant in a way that's impressive given the nature of her workload. Your father had never been any good at maintaining his attitude in this life, but you remember strikingly how Olivia had never held a candle to his impatience. She was impeccably reserved, though just as sharp and venous, perhaps more, because once she had unraveled, you’d reached a point of no return.

You utter your name, thinking nothing of your last, but then it dawns on you that she’s shared hers, and the southern twang in her speech is captivating. She’s not from here, and while you don’t assume that everyone will know who you are or have a connection to your father, it’s a very safe assumption that she genuinely has not heard of you once. “Stabler.”

A look of recognition dawns on Amanda’s face, but not anything significant to worry you. A few of the unís walking out to patrol had gawked at you like they couldn’t believe you’d show your face here, like the stories of your sisters epic crash out still lived out even with your fathers sacrifices and heroics to dissuade them. It doesn’t bother you like it had as a teenager, but rather at the fact that it’s years later and people still don’t recognize the validity of mental illness or have any kind of empathy for those struggling.

You hadn’t expected your first day on the job at Sex Crimes to be so emotionally provoking, but it’s been a while since you’ve been here, and nostalgia is a wonderful thing when you’re not face to face with active reminders.

“Stabler.” It’s a voice you’d know anywhere, and a radiant smile decorates your face as you turn to find Olivia, your new Captain. “Where the hell have you been, kid?” She asked with a breathy laugh, stalking near and going in for a hug, seemingly unphased by the box of your belongings that jabs her in what you can assume is her tit. You wince sympathetically, but still smile, because Olivia’s always had that effect on you. It’s been years since you’ve seen her, but she hasn’t changed a bit. You think if you get under her skin enough, she’ll even revert back to calling you that dreaded nickname she’d coined back in ‘07. Her familiarity and consistency is appreciated.

“High School, College, the Academy.” You prattle on, trying not to sound like your accomplishments were prideful, but you did find some level of pride in yourself when you’d thought about how much it had taken out of you to overcome what you had and get here. “ I did a year with Manhattan narcotics. The last six months I’ve been undercover.”

“That’s amazing.” Olivia gushes, her eyes reflecting her honesty. “Does Elliot know you’re here?” She asks, and you can’t decide if she sounds hopeful at the proposition of crossing paths with him, or just generally curious. After all, this job had done a number on your father.

“Um, not exactly.” You grinned sheepishly, and you’d been told often that you had his mischief. Olivia must still think that, because she scoffs knowingly. “I’ve been undercover, I think he’s undercover. There’s just not a lot of time for catching up. Mom knows though. She says that you’re welcome for dinner any time and you’re an idiot because you know that and still haven’t come out once in ten years. She says sorry for not coming out though.” You laugh, because the hypocrisy in your mothers rampage was comical, and she knew it. Benson laughs too, but it’s pained, and delusions from your childhood come rushing back.

You’ve always known that your father and your mother love each other. That wasn’t ever a question. The question was whether they were in love with each other. You know they’re not. Not fully at least. It’s never phased you. They don’t make it seem like it's a burden to be tied together by five kids and multiple decades of history and balance, and they definitely don’t seem to hate each other in the slightest considering they still sleep in the same room when your father actually stumbles home. But, you know that there’s very little keeping them connected the way they try to pretend like they are. You’d wondered for years what would’ve been of Olivia and your father if they’d ever really had a chance, not just been cursed to be passing ships in the night, best friends and nothing more. You’ll never know, or at least, you won’t anytime soon.

“Yeah, well.” Olivia brushes off your mothers apology because really she does understand. Life gets busy when there's nothing giving you a reason to stay in touch, and there hadn’t been any reason for her and Kathy Stabler to keep communication lines open when their common denominator was Elliot and he’d just up and left her. “I wasn’t aware that you were the new transfer. I can assume that was your doing?” She changes the subject and you’re grateful. It’s not that you don’t have anything to say to Olivia. Truthfully, you’re excited to finally have her opinions and her advice back in your life now that you can make better use of them as an adult, but this is work, you’ve never worked with somebody this woven into the make up of your being.

“Guilty.” Your tongue sweeps across your lip, a trait that your mother thinks you absorbed through osmosis from your father. Olivia can only think the same as she takes in your easy confidence, though it’s so much different than Elliot’s ever was, she sees him so clearly in you right now. It takes her back to the start, to nineteen-ninety-nine, Captain Cragen, and flip phones. It’s nostalgia that hurts, but she doesn’t want to go away. “Couldn’t risk it getting back to Pops.” You explain, and Olivia doesn’t question whether that’s the truth or not. She knows that within the first instance of Elliot finding out you’re working Sex Crimes, one of you is going to be getting a phone call and a fuming father already spinning out.

“Why’s he not want you on the job?” Amanda questioned, because to her, every father wanted their kids to follow in their footsteps, especially the ones in law enforcement; especially the ones who’d made a name for themselves and had earned titles and medals of honor since the start of their career.

“Because he’s an uptight, emotionally unregulated, asshole with a bleeding heart for most women and children.” You waved your hand, because as much as you adored your father and still thought the world of his accomplishments and ambition, you’d told him as much to his face once you hadn’t been so blinded by childhood innocence to see his imperfections. Your father was a doting, loving man, who was not afraid to put on a plastic crown and get on the floor with you after a day at work, but he was an emotional rollercoaster with broken lap bars. He pulled you along with him. When he was happy, the house was practically in harmony, and Kathleen didn’t hide things from you nearly as often, but when it rained it poured and it felt like a battlefield just sharing a shower let alone a single microwave. “My father loved this job, but this job ripped him apart until he damn near lost his mind regardless of his passion. He turned on Fin once, and then it was a toxic testosterone battle for a couple of months. I’m pretty sure he thinks being here is going to eat me alive.”

“Bastard did.” Fin huffed, remembering the small moment that had once seemed like an entire earthquake. It hadn’t crossed his mind in a while. He’d reconciled with Elliot because they were a family in this department, and that had been the end of it, but being so suddenly reminded of their rough patch had his eyes rolling and Amanda smirking. Olivia was trying not to laugh, because while she’d always been very kind in Fin’s regard about that entire situation, a toxic testosterone battle is exactly what she would’ve called it had she not been pinned in the middle of protecting professional peace. “Filed a transfer application and everything. Wait a minute, how’d you even know ‘bout that?”

A mischievous glint sparks your eyes, but before you can respond, there’s somebody yelling, and you only have enough time to register ‘shots fired downtown’ before Benson is cursing beneath her breath, yelling at you to go with Rollins while she and Fin go their separate ways. You know that the other members of the squad had trailed after you, trickling out of different rooms in the precinct at the announcement, but you hadn’t put names to faces nor even asked for names at all to put together who was who.

Your belongings were left on Amanda’s desk. You know it’s hers because she’d told you as much when she instructed you to ‘drop that there’. It didn’t phase you all that much to leave them behind on whim. The only thing in that box worth caring about is a picture of your father, Olivia, and yourself inside the precinct back in the early two-thousands. You can’t recall specifically what school year it's from anymore, maybe Kindergarten, maybe first, but you’re dressed up in the miniature versions of your fathers professional attire, one of his ties even hung around your neck to complete the look. You do remember that it had been career day, and you’d been adamant about attending as your father. You’d swung by after school with your mother to see him, and Olivia had fawned over your tiny plastic handcuffs and chocolate frosted donut hair clips that held the flyaways back from your eyes. That small detail had been your mothers creative touch, and it had your father in stitches for about ten minutes — it was a good day in your house that career day, you remember because you had pizza for dinner and Dickie practically broke his bedroom door down in excitement when Elliot shouted from the living room that he was home with the pies. You wish it would’ve been like that more often.

The cruiser with Amanda was comfortable. She took the driver's seat, as you anticipated given there seemed to be a personal connection to the supposed suspect if Olivia’s look of defeat was any indication after you’d gotten the announcement.

“So, you know who fired the shots?” You asked after a moment, not bothered by the silence, but wanting to prepare yourself for whatever you were about to step into.

Amanda sighed, “Well,” She droned, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel impatiently when even the lights and sirens on top of the squad car didn’t get traffic pulling out of the way. “About three weeks ago we got a case. Jennifer Moore, 27, reported a rape and ongoing domestic abuse. Her case went to mistrial last week. Benson’s been keeping an eye on her while the ADA prepares to refile charges, but she went dark two days ago. The address is the laundry mat they own.”

“So, she finally snapped.” You hummed, and Amanda made a sound of confirmation in her throat, aggressively swerving around a stubborn taxi who just wouldn’t budge enough to let you through the light. “You above yelling in Manhattan?” You asked on a whim, your head snapping to Amanda whilst your fingers toyed with the control panel on the door.

There’s a spark of amusement in Amanda’s eyes when she finally gathers what you mean. It becomes a full on smile when your head shoots out the window, half of your torso balanced against the door for support as you waved your arm. “Move it, before you’re my next stop!” It might’ve lacked the bite you packed in Brooklyn, but it was efficient, the taxi driver shook his head at you in something similar to disbelief as he slowly inched up and turned off a side street.

“I take it you’ve used that one a lot.” Amanda laughed, finally finding it possible to absorb the light energy of your mood.

“My old partner in Brooklyn. He was a real pill.” You rolled your eyes, and Amanda got the hint that while he might’ve been a solid mentor throughout your first year free from the academy, he was not an overall great guy. Nobody you’d be hoping to get coffee with at least. “He was a bit more colorful with it too.”

“You always know you wanted to work Sex Crimes?” She asks, taking a sharp right. Your body sways with the movement of the car just slightly, your core engaging to keep you from sliding. This is a practiced dance now, one that’s basically written in blood on your wrists.

“Yeah.” You tell her, not mentioning that you’d been tethered to this job, this field, this title since you were a child not even double digits. You can’t get the words off your tongue, but it doesn’t stop all the thoughts from popping up in your head — how many people had seen the picture when it was first posted, how many men had gotten off to your pigtails and Ariel t-shirt, how many still had a copy of it on a flash drive that they hide from their wives and their own daughters with Ariel t-shirts and drawers full of bows. No amount of years in therapy would ever cleanse you of the hypotheticals, and the unknown truthers hidden within those hypotheticals. You’ll never know the reach that man and his website had. You’ll never know what scenarios a pedaphile can construect in sixteen hours — that’s how long your picture had been up on the website before Cragen had demanded it be taken down. Your therapist had told you that all you can do now is move on, that you have all the tricks and tools to do so on your own, but it feels impossible to do that when there’s an inkling in the back of your head that every man you meet has seen that website, that picture, the article that laid the details of the case out clearly for anyone to see if they knew the perfect keywords to look up on Firefox. “Sex Crimes was always the goal.” You say instead.

“Narcotics your runner up?” Amanda asks, and at this point you’re almost certain she’s just trying to fill the quiet, consumed with guilt for letting this case go to mistrial to begin with. “When I was in the Academy back in Georgia, I had two plans, Sex Crimes or Organized Crime.“

”No, actually. It was a random selection excluding Sex Crimes. I told myself that I had to make it out of the Academy for an entire year before I could put in my papers to transfer. I’ve known Fin and Olivia my entire life. I don’t think they’d treat me differently because of that, but it was the mental gymnastics of combatting that and the lecture I know I’m going to get from my father that got me all twisted. So I worked the beat for three months, worked Narcotics for another three before they sent me under. When I came back I finished up my NDIT, practically threw myself into it actually, there wasn’t much I could do with a concussion and a stab wound to the gut. Let me tell you, six months undercover was probably the best test I could’ve put myself through. There wasn’t a day I didn’t want to pull myself out, it was hell, but I loved those girls that I was working with, and I wanted them out before I got to go back to my perfect little life. We got the sting, though. And well, now I’m here.”

It had only just dawned on Amanda how young you are. She’d gathered as much, but hearing that you’d taken your NDIT and passed after only a year out of the Academy was awakening so to speak. It took most patrol officers at least three years to meet the necessary qualifications to advance toward a promotion.

“My first day was a lot like this, you know. I came in with my box of stuff, ready to introduce myself, and SVU got called the scene. I met Cragen in the elevator, handed my box to some random rookie and had to throw myself into the case. It was… interesting. If you need anything, I’m here.” Amanda offered, and you smiled at her sincerity, watching her grip the wheel between white knuckles, the GPS telling you that you’re minutes away from the laundry mat. You’d probably be there already if people learned to have a little efficiency.

“Do you have kids?” You asked suddenly, because it was weighing on your mind. Her every little motion was so indicative of the fact that she’d learned what it felt like to have something to lose. Her hands held the wheel with practiced leisure, but enough precision to guarantee that she’d be able to take control if something spun out. She doted on you with warmth that was beyond kindness, twinged with something that felt like hope; hope that one day somebody would see her kids on their first day of work, and they’d take them under their wing because this world is hard and cruel enough on its own without unnecessary struggle.

Amanda’s lips quirk, and that’s all you need to know, but she opens her mouth, ready to tell you anything you want to know it seems, a radiant glow taking hold of her features as she thinks about the baby, or babies, she has at home. “Two girls.” She smiles, “Jesse and Billie.”

Your face contorts despite your will, but a tale of two sisters has always pulled at your heart strings, The Parent Trap the first instance of this happening when you were six and thoroughly obsessed with Hallie and Annie — enough to convince Kathleen to pierce your ears with a sewing needle and an apple. She was definitely only enough to say no, to redirect you to your parents and take every needle out of your sewing kit, but instead she’d laid you down on the couch and seen the plan through until you were sobbing, bleeding, and screeching for Elliot who was conveniently stumbling home from work at the same time.

“How’d you know?” Amanda cocks a curious eyebrow, muttering under her breath when you get stuck at another red light, a white mini van with its hazards on letting out three teenage boys with basketballs and backpacks. You couldn’t yell at that, because with one scan of your eyes you determined you were in fact in a drop off zone, and making her move would endanger the kids already on the street, and the ones potentially preparing to climb out of the car. Amanda seemed to relax too when she noticed what was unfolding, and you’re sure it’s an added relief that you can both see Olivia and Fin climbing out of their own squad car, approaching the laundry mat where a good number of unis and patrol officers gather. A knot forms in your belly. You already know this situation is more than you’ve been informed of.

“I double majored in college before I went into the academy. Forensics Science and Behavioral Studies with a minor in fine arts. My sister Kathleen hates when I analyze her, but it’s empowering to finally have a way to make her skin crawl after all these years.”

“Little sisters.” Amanda huffs and shakes her head like she knows this never ending dance. You’re both adults now. Kathleen has her own children, you have a career you’re happily married to. You don’t see each other very often, Christmas is the only guaranteed visit throughout the year, but you’ve never once lost your spark of sisterly mischief and competition.

“Anything else I should know about the vic?” You ask, and you don’t think for a second to call her — Jennifer — the perp, because until you know the full story, until you can see her with your own two eyes, this is just another instance of the legal system failing its people.

“Uh, got a real bleeding heart for kids. She was a school teacher, high school. Quit last year after she fell down the stairs and shattered her hip.” Amanda rolled her eyes toward you, finally inching up toward the laundry mat where it dawned on you that this wasn’t just an open shooting, but a hostage situation as cowering faces and heads bobbed behind the windows.

“Damn it!” You cursed, swinging the door open. The second your boots hit the pavement, you were in Detective mode, and Amanda observed the quiet shift in your demeanor with unease. It was slightly robotic, undeniably a learned skill through your stint undercover, but you’d been cleared time and time again by not only therapists and psychiatrists employed by 1PP and the state of New York, but also personal therapists. Amanda knows the drill, even if she’d never served so long under cover and couldn’t even stomach the thought of leaving her girls for that long.

“What do we got, Loo?” You called out, because in the two minutes that you’d been stopped at the light behind the minivan, Fin had walked around the corner on the phone and every uni on the block had cleared pedestrian traffic with a hand on their weapon cautiously.

“Eight hostages inside. One of the vics has a smart watch, Officer Jones over there is on the phone with dispatch. She’s texting 9-1-1 until we get hostage negotiation down here to tap the line. All cell phones were taken by the husband, not Jennifer, but she’s the one with the gun. There’s a little boy in the bathroom. Jennifer doesn’t know he’s there, and we don’t know if that’ll escalate the situation once she finds out, so we need to work quick before everyone in there dies.” Benson broke it down for you and Amanda, and your eyes flickered to Officer Jones, who was easily identifiable as he stood on the corner, just out of sight from the laundry mat, before they found Olivia again.

“I just finished a second round of crisis negotiation training with Narcotics.” You tell Olivia, because you don’t need to say anything else for her to know where you’re going with this. Even if you don’t have a direct line of communication to the hostages, you have one to Jennifer through the laundromat’s landline, if she picks it up.

“We can’t do anything until hostage negotiation gets here.” Olivia shook her head just as another gunshot went off, the sound of shrieking from inside the laundromat sparking your immediate attention. Olivia looks too, and you know she wants to send you in there, but she can’t, she won’t. Not only because you're Elliot’s daughter and you know she feels an immense responsibility to protect you if she can, but because you’re one of her men now, her Detectives to protect. She’s not willing to risk your life when the hostage negotiation team is minutes out.

They’re not even minutes out it seems, because as you turn away from Olivia, wanting to at least get a read on the situation through the windows, two white vans pull up, and men start jumping out. You can see the bigger vans starting to line the streets too. The black ones. The ones that carry sniper rifles and enough ammunition to take out an entire Rockefeller Plaza audience.

They get you on the phone with Jennifer just as another gunshot goes off, and you can hear indistinguishable shouting through the thin panes of glass before the line connects and the laundromat goes silent outside from the pants and hyperventilating of the hostages.

“Jennifer, this is Detective Stabler. Can you tell me what’s going on in there?” You asked softly, unassumingly. Jennifer takes a shaky breath, you can hear the safety slick on the gun, you assume she lowers it.

Somehow you end up inside the laundromat, Olivia holding your gun, Amanda holding your handcuffs because you’d taken them off in a haste, like you had experience with them leading to bad things in a hostage situation. You’d gone in with your hands raised, your face a mask of neutrality. Jennifer pulled you in with a cold grip on your wrist, and she held the barrel of her gun directly against your abdomen. A chill of fear ran through you, but you’d been in this situation a handful of times in the last six months, so long as everyone outside does their job, which right now is absolutely nothing, then you can do yours.

It’s a slow dance getting her to agree to let the other hostages out, but when you know that you have her in the palm of your hand, your fathers coaching coming back to you even if his motivator had been club softball and yours was life or death. He’d been preparing you for this all of your life, even if you didn’t know it. Because maybe you were just defusing arguments between eight year olds when he’d sat you down and told you that you never show your opponent anger or frustration unless you're prepared to be in the fight for the long haul.

You don’t let Jennifer feel your unnerved breathing against her chest as you tell her that there’s an eight year old boy in the bathroom, and that he really wants to make it to school next week because they’re having a class party to celebrate the end of state testing. It’s a total lie, but Kathleen’s kids have state testing this week in Queens, so you hope and pray that Manhattan isn’t any different, or that Jennifer won’t know if it is. She falters, and when you drive home that you know she would’ve never done this if she knew a kid was here, she crumbles just enough to have them all scrambling out into Amanda and Olivia’s waiting arms.

But then it’s just you, Jennifer, and her husband. You hadn’t seen her face when she pulled you into the laundromat. Her motions had been too quick, the change from bright daylight to dingy yellow lighting blinding you, but she steps just an inch to the left, and you see her reflection in the security mirror in the corner. Her eye is black and blue, swollen and leaking fluid. Her lip is split, her cheeks either speckled with red or dusted with green and yellow. There are marks around her neck, not handprints, but what you think is rope, or some kind of course material, perhaps a wool scarf not yet put away from the winter. This was a provoked event, even if it’s not a rational response, it was provoked, and you know that every nerve in Jennifer’s body is telling her to do it, to finish it, to finally free herself, because nothing else matters anymore.

You try to reach her, you almost do, but then her jackass of a husband who legally isn’t even her ex yet shouts a dumb remark, egging her on, like he can’t see that his life is so fragilely in the balance of seizing to exist in a single moment. Jennifer raises the gun. She shoots at him. Her arm drops right back down to where it was, the barrel pressed into your abdomen. In your head you know that this placement misses any major organs, but it doesn’t calm you down any.

Her husband doesn’t flinch, like he finds her frustration and simultaneous desperation amusing, but then there’s a look of horror on his face, a sharp sound piercing the laundromat. There’s shattered glass. Another gunshot. Jennifer’s dead. Her body slumps to the ground, a single hole in the center of her forehead — a clear exit wound. There was a second shot though, it registers when you stumble back, against a filing cabinet. You sink to the floor, your knees are weak, you can’t keep yourself upright. That second shot came from Jennifer's gun. The barrel smokes as it clatters to the ground beside her.

Her husband goes to rush for it, but Amanda and Olivia have already rushed in. Amanda takes him by the elbow, jerking him around without remorse until his hands are cuffed. She reads him his rights begrudgingly— because she’d already read them to him, that should’ve been the end of it, and Jennifer should still be alive and getting to tell people she found the strength to report her abuser and she survived.

Olivia checks that Jennifers dead, and then she yells for a uni to call the ME. She comes to check on you next, happy to see that your bullet proof vest hasn’t shifted out of position, unable to see the blood that leaks from just beneath where the vest ends, where there’s now a hole in your abdomen with no exit wound. There’s a bullet somewhere in your belly.

“I… I think she shot me.” You croak, because you’re not sure anymore, the world is fading in and out, Olivia’s voice is ebbing loud and soft. Her hands put pressure on your belly and you groan, your head thrown back. You cry out in pain when she eases you into a different position, one that opens up the wound area to her touch.

“You’re gonna be okay, honey.” She coos, her hands soaked in blood. “No, stay with me. Stay with me. Stabler!” The call of your name is an order, but you can’t register it as your eyes close and your consciousness slips.

When you wake, there’s a dull ache in your belly accompanied by the familiar tightness of stitches. You barely have time to come to terms with being awake when there are so many heavy drugs being pumped through your body when a large hand cups your cheek, warm and rough, calloused from years of holding weapons and wielding plastic lightsaber fights.

“Hey, partner.” A familiar voice coos, and tears prick your eyes in an instant as you recognize your fathers voice and his hand. You try to sit up, but he keeps you down, slowly standing up until he’s hovering over you on the bed, a hand messing with the hair on your cheeks that hasn’t been tied up.

As a kid, he always carried around extra hair ties. You have three older sisters, by the time you came around, he knew what to expect from long hair and windy days. He always corralled you into him, bear hands on your shoulders, his movement jerky even though he knew these steps easily. You remember how you used to bat him away as you got older, embarrassed by his willingness to be a doting father in public when you were approaching twelve, thirteen, even fourteen years old. You weren’t his last baby. No, baby Eli had to come around and steal all of your youngest of five attention when you were seven, but you were his last baby girl. You’re a grown woman, but you’re still just his baby girl. That’s something Eli never had going for him growing up.

Partner. Ever since that first career day when you, him, and Olivia had posed all cheekily near Cragen’s office, he’d taken to calling you partner. Olivia had always pretended to hate it, teasing you about stealing her spot, but you know she called you that behind your back. She saw you the most out of your siblings, none of them found an interest in your fathers career path the way you did, and when there was time for her to dwell on the more intimate connections of their relationship, you know partner was always how she brought you up. Elliot had told you that, finding it hysterical.

“Now what did I tell you?” He asks, and you knew it was coming, but there’s not even a trace of anger in his tone as he looks at you with damp eyes.

“You knew I wouldn’t be able to stay away.” You argue weakly, and all Stabler can do is laugh as he swipes his thumbs across your cheeks, collecting the tears that have spilled since you regained consciousness. “I’m sorry.” You croak, because even if you have nothing to apologize for, you still walked yourself right into the very situation he’d warned you about. Maybe it could’ve happened anywhere, but it happened at SVU of all places, and that felt like a horrible coincidence to carry on your shoulders.

“No, none of that.” He shakes his head, tells you that apologies are futile, you’ve already taken the steps to where you are, and there’s nothing that can ever take this moment back, so all you can do is accept it and move on. It reminds you of your therapist. You know he doesn’t even recognize it, but it dawns on you now how much he’s absorbed over the years trying to help you, to keep you from the path Kathleen paved with permanent marker and an excavator.

When Olivia came inside, looking like an emotional wreck if the swollen and discolored skin beneath her eyes was any indication of emotional state, your father suddenly thought to get you a snack from the vending machine — vanilla wafers because they’d always been your after surgery choice.

His palm swipes across Olivia’s bicep as he passes her, and she smiles over her shoulder until the door closes. Your hopped up on about three different pain medications and an antibiotic, mixed with adrenaline and exhaustion, you stand no chance of filtering your thoughts as you lay drowsily in the hospital bed, so when Olivia stalks close enough to sit down on the edge of your bed like she’d done when you were nine and had your appendix out on the day of your dance recital, you found yourself speaking without thinking. “Do you have a crush on my Dad?”

Olivia looks shocked for a minute, before a look of absolute amusement crosses her features and she shakes her head. “You’re feeling good on that morphine, huh?” She redirects easily and you hardly notice, bobbing your head as your eyes glance at the IV pole near your bedside.

“Can’t believe I got shot on my first day.” You grumble and Olivia laughs, because that seems like the only valid reaction after the day you’ve had.

“I’d say it makes perfect sense considering you’re a Stabler.” Olivia chuckles, and you have to agree, because your father was definitely not a man with a clear injury record on the job. “You did good today, partner.” She pauses for a moment, considers whether she’s going to say it or not, but the second she does your lips split into a wide grin, and there’s the slightest flicker of light in your eyes.

“I knew you didn’t hate it!” You bellowed, before you coughed, wincing in desperate need of a drink. Olivia rolled her eyes, wondering how somebody could be so eerily similar to Elliot Stabler, but so drastically different.

#olivia benson #elliot stabler #amanda rollins #odafin tutuola #olivia benson x reader #elliot stabler x reader #amanda rollins x reader #olivia benson x you #amanda rollins x you #elliot stabler x you #olivia benson angst #amanda rollins angst #elliot stabler angst #olivia benson fic #amanda rollins fic #elliot stabler fic #law and order: svu #bensler

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rosecabenson · 2 months ago

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The Squad During the episode "Ghost"

Fin: So, life update. Alex is back, we have an assassin in custody, and Casey..is being Casey.

Elliot: Pretty much.

Munch: Speaking of- where are Alex and Casey? Olivia: They have been 'prepping for trial' for the past 6 hours.

Fin: Why do you say that with air quotes...

Olivia: Use your imagination.

Olivia: Who preps for trial with the door locked when no one bothers to go in anyway? People who are absolutely not planning for trial-

Fin: You are being so dramatic, Liv. They are not getting it on—they are two responsible ADAs.

(the next day in the courtroom)

Fin:...never mind liv you were right. Thats the first time I've seen Alex wear a turtle neck.

Olivia: See? I told you. Now hand me my 5 bucks-

Munch, sing-songy: Friends don't look at friends that wayyyy-

Fin, smacking him in the back of the head: It's bad enough I lost 5 dollars to her- I don't need your boney ass singing too-

...

Fin:...Wait olivia how the hell did you know that--

olivia: I don't kiss and tell.

Fin: SO YOU ADMIT IT???? NOVAK AND CABOT?? REALLY LIV?

Munch: Who's surprised? The leading cause of ADA retirement is falling in love with Liv.

#law and order svu #casey novak #alex cabot #olivia benson #svu #elliot stabler #john munch #odafin tutuola

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mister-warmth · 4 months ago

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#applies to either one in either order #my blorbos and their swagged out suits great suits 10/10 suits #munchfin #john munch #odafin tutuola

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theartofcollapse · 3 months ago

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a/n: I'm back guys, exams all done! thanks for being patient with me. feel free to send as many requests as you would like. summary: y/n gets extremely bored while Alex is working from home and she desperately needs attention. pairing: Alex Cabot x female reader warnings: none word count: 2.5K

masterlist

Bored - Alex Cabot

It was a quiet Saturday afternoon, and Alex was - unsurprisingly - working. Y/N had long since given up trying to convince her girlfriend that weekends were meant for relaxation. If anything, Alex seemed to take weekends as a personal challenge to be even more productive.

Currently, she was perched at the dining table, glasses low on her nose, typing furiously on her laptop. A neat stack of legal briefs sat beside her, color-coded sticky notes peeking out from the pages like tiny flags of impending doom.

Y/N, on the other hand, was bored to death.

At first, she tried to entertain herself. She scrolled through her phone, watched a few episodes of a show she didn’t really care about, played fetch with their dog (who promptly lost interest after five throws), and even considered cleaning—considered. But it had been hours, and she was dying.

Finally, she decided she’d had enough. With a dramatic sigh, she stood up, walked over to where Alex was working, and leaned down until her chin rested on Alex’s shoulder.

“You wanna get your ass beaten in Uno?” Y/N asked, her voice dripping with challenge.

Alex didn’t even look up. “Mmm. No.”

“Wow. You didn’t even think about it.”

“I did. And I decided no,” Alex replied, typing something that sounded very official and very boring.

Y/N straightened up and narrowed her eyes. “So you’re just gonna work all day while I wither away from lack of attention?”

“You could read a book,” Alex suggested.

“I could also eat glass, but you don’t see me doing that either.”

Alex sighed, finally sparing her a glance. “Give me another hour.”

“Another hour?!” Y/N threw her hands up. “Alexandra, I am a woman on the edge. Either you play Uno with me, or I start acting feral.”

That made Alex smirk. “Feral, huh?”

“Yes. Full chaos mode. No rules. No laws. Do you really want that?”

Alex gave her a look, the kind that said ‘I deal with hardened criminals daily. You do not scare me.’

Y/N huffed. “Fine. You leave me no choice.”

She stalked away, leaving Alex to shake her head and go back to work.

Y/N started small. She “accidentally” dropped things near Alex. A pen here. A book there. At one point, she spilled an entire bag of Skittles onto the floor, each one making an unnecessarily loud plinking noise.

Alex exhaled sharply through her nose. “Are you five?”

“I’m bored,” Y/N groaned, dramatically flopping onto the couch.

“You should’ve thought about that before dating a lawyer.”

“Okay, then I have no choice but to escalate.”

Alex shook her head, already resigning herself to whatever nonsense Y/N was about to pull.

She tried snuggling up to Alex, draping herself over her shoulders like a human scarf.

Alex gently pushed her off.

Then tried poking her arm repeatedly.

Alex ignored it.

Y/N started dramatically sighing at random intervals.

Alex turned to her with the patience of a saint. “Is there a reason you’re being extra annoying today?”

“Yes,” Y/N pouted. “You’re not paying attention to me. If I wanted to be neglected, I’d text my landlord about fixing the leak in our sink.”

Alex finally closed her laptop. “Okay. One game. Then I go back to work.”

“One game?” Y/N scoffed. “You’re adorable. It’s never one game.”

Alex rolled her eyes but indulged her anyway, setting her laptop aside as Y/N ran to grab the Uno deck.

They sat across from each other, the cards dealt, the battlefield set. Y/N cracked her knuckles like she was preparing for war.

Alex raised an unimpressed brow. “You’re very dramatic.”

“And you’re about to lose.”

The game started off simple, both of them playing civilly. But then, Y/N played a Draw Four on Alex.

Alex narrowed her eyes. “I see how it is.”

Y/N grinned innocently. “I don’t make the rules.”

Alex drew her four cards, her lawyer brain already calculating revenge.

And then, chaos.

Reverse cards were thrown like daggers. Draw Twos stacked higher than Alex’s legal briefs. Y/N cackled when she skipped Alex for the third time in a row.

“You’re evil,” Alex muttered.

“And you’re losing,” Y/N sing-songed.

But then, Alex played a Draw Four right when Y/N had one card left.

Her smug grin vanished. “No. No, no, no. You don’t have to do this.”

“Oh, but I do,” Alex said, smirking as she slid the extra cards toward Y/N.

Y/N scowled, snatching them up. “This is a betrayal of the highest order.”

“Should’ve thought about that before bullying me into playing.”

The game stretched on, both refusing to back down. At one point, Y/N attempted to subtly throw a card under the table, but Alex caught her mid-act.

“Did you just cheat?”

“It’s called creative strategy.”

Alex stared at her, deadpan.

Y/N sighed. “Fine. I may have bent the rules slightly.”

Alex shook her head, laughing. “You are ridiculous.”

“And you love me.”

“That is debatable right now.”

Eventually, after an unfair amount of Draw Twos, Alex won.

Y/N gaped at her. “You cheated.”

“I played legally,” Alex corrected, smirking as she stretched. “And now, I return to work.”

“WHAT?!” Y/N gasped. “You can’t just win and leave!”

“That was the deal.”

“You monster.”

Alex chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to Y/N’s forehead before heading back to her laptop. “You’ll survive.”

Y/N crossed her arms, stewing.

And then—

“I challenge you to a rematch.”

Alex didn’t even look up. “Not happening.”

“Best two out of three!”

“Still no.”

Y/N groaned dramatically, flopping back onto the couch. “I hate dating a lawyer.”

Alex just smirked. “No, you don’t.”

Y/N wasn’t one to accept defeat gracefully. No, she thrived on revenge. And if Alex thought she was going to just sit there quietly while she went back to her boring lawyer things, she had severely underestimated the level of chaos Y/N was willing to unleash.

For a moment, Y/N considered flipping the Uno table. Full, dramatic rebellion. But then she realized it wasn’t a table - it was the dining table. Their dining table. The very expensive, very heavy dining table that Alex would absolutely murder her for damaging.

So, she had to be smarter.

Quietly, Y/N slipped away into the kitchen.

Alex was back to typing, her fingers moving fast over the keyboard. Completely immersed.

Y/N peeked around the corner, watching. Waiting. Calculating.

Then, she snatched a bag of chips from the cabinet, opened it as loudly as humanly possible, and started munching with the crunchiest bites ever.

Alex froze. Slowly, she turned her head.

“Are you doing that on purpose?”

Y/N, mouth full of chips, gave her the most innocent look she could muster. “Huh?” Crunch.

Alex exhaled through her nose, the way she did when opposing counsel said something particularly stupid in court.

Y/N shoved another handful of chips into her mouth. Crunch, crunch, crunch.

Alex took a deep breath, visibly practicing restraint. “Y/N...”

“Oh, don’t mind me,” Y/N said, plopping down dramatically in a chair. “Just eating my feelings after being brutally betrayed by the love of my life.”

Alex pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s Uno. You lose in Uno.”

“You cheated.”

“I played by the rules.”

“Your rules are evil.”

Alex shook her head, turning back to her laptop. “Go find another hobby.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. Alright. Desperate times, desperate measures.

She stood, stretched, and then she flopped onto Alex’s lap. Fully. Bonelessly. Limply.

Alex made a very undignified oof sound. “Jesus, Y/N!”

“You left me no choice,” Y/N said, flopping her arms dramatically over Alex’s shoulders. “You work too much. I am merely redistributing your priorities.”

“By crushing me?”

“It’s called love.”

Alex sighed. “You are the neediest human being alive.”

“And yet, you chose me. So who’s the real fool?”

Alex pursed her lips, trying - and failing - to hide a smirk. “Move.”

“No.”

“I have important things to do.”

“Is it more important than me?” Y/N asked, batting her lashes.

Alex sighed, long-suffering. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love me.”

Alex glanced down at her, eyes softening just slightly. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Y/N grinned. “Then play another round of Uno with me.”

“No.”

“Best three out of five.”

“Absolutely not.”

Y/N gasped, placing a dramatic hand over her heart. “So you don’t love me?”

Alex rubbed her temples. “That is not what I said.”

“You implied it.”

Alex stared at her, clearly debating whether or not this battle was even worth fighting.

Y/N turned up the puppy eyes—full-force, desperate, devastating.

Alex sighed, defeated. “One. More. Game.”

Y/N beamed, leaping up. “You just sealed your fate.”

Alex chuckled, shaking her head. “If it means I get some peace after, then fine.”

Y/N cackled as she shuffled the deck.

Alex should have known.

She should have expected Y/N to pull some unholy nonsense.

Because five minutes in, Y/N was grinning like a villain.

“Why do you look so smug?” Alex asked warily.

Y/N laid down a Draw Four.

Alex narrowed her eyes. “You’re a menace.”

“Pick. Up. Your. Cards.”

Alex begrudgingly picked up four more cards. But as soon as she got rid of a few, Y/N hit her with a stacked Draw Two.

Alex’s jaw clenched.

Y/N smirked. “You mad?”

Alex gave her a flat look. “No.”

“Because it seems like you’re mad.”

Alex took a slow, deep breath. “Play your next card.”

Y/N played another Reverse.

Alex’s nostrils flared. “You just want to see me suffer.”

“Would you not do the same to me?”

Alex didn’t answer. Because she absolutely would have.

And then, the worst betrayal of all—

Alex had one card left.

Y/N played a Draw Four.

Alex stared at her, jaw tightening, fingers tapping against the table.

Y/N grinned. “You were saying?”

Alex inhaled sharply, picked up her four cards, and exhaled. “I’m dating an actual gremlin.”

“And winning,” Y/N added.

Alex shook her head. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Extremely,” Y/N agreed.

Alex sighed, dropping her cards. “Fine. You win. Happy?”

Y/N beamed, throwing her arms around Alex. “I knew you’d see reason!”

Alex shook her head, kissing the top of Y/N’s head before pulling away. “Okay, now can I get back to work?”

Alex had gone back to her laptop, once again convinced that she had won the battle and secured her productivity for the rest of the day.

Y/N, however, was nothing if not determined.

She had tried being annoying. She had tried cheating in Uno. She had tried physically attaching herself to Alex like an overgrown koala. But clearly, all of these tactics had only resulted in temporary victories.

So, she had to be smarter.

More strategic.

And thus, the most diabolical plan formed in her mind.

She decided to go for a run.

But not just any run.

A very intentional run.

She changed into the tightest pair of leggings she owned, leggings that had once made Alex walk into a wall when she first saw Y/N wearing them. Paired it with a sports bra that left very little to the imagination. And, because she was committed to the cause, she even pulled her hair into a high ponytail, knowing full well that Alex had a very specific weakness for that.

Then, without saying a word, she grabbed her headphones, shot Alex a quick innocent smile, and left the apartment.

Alex didn’t even look up.

Perfect.

Now, all she had to do was get really sweaty.

About forty minutes later, Y/N returned, successfully looking like she had just finished competing in the Olympics.

Her skin glistened with sweat. Her leggings clung to her like they were painted on. Her sports bra was damp. She was slightly out of breath, strands of hair stuck to her forehead. She looked like one of those insanely attractive people in workout commercials, except this was all very real.

And she knew it.

She strolled inside, tossing her keys onto the counter, stretching her arms up with an exaggerated groan.

Alex still didn’t look up.

Fine.

Time to turn up the heat.

“God,” Y/N sighed dramatically, walking toward the fridge. “That was a good run. I’m so hot.”

Alex hummed absentmindedly, still typing.

Oh, we’re gonna fix that.

Y/N grabbed a water bottle, twisted the cap off, and tipped her head back, drinking in a way that was entirely unnecessary. A few drops dribbled down her throat, over her collarbone, disappearing beneath her sports bra.

Still, Alex. Did. Not. Look.

Fine. She wanted to play it cool? Y/N would break her resolve.

She grabbed a towel, walking right past Alex’s chair as she started patting down her sweaty chest.

And then – finally - Alex’s typing paused.

Y/N had to fight every instinct not to smirk.

“Good run?” Alex asked, voice suspiciously even.

“Mmm,” Y/N hummed, stretching again. “So good. I feel amazing. But, ugh, I got so sweaty.”

Another pause.

Y/N casually leaned against the table, stretching one leg behind her, subtly accentuating things. “Gotta cool down. Maybe take a long shower.”

Alex exhaled through her nose.

Y/N smirked. Gotcha.

She walked around the table, standing directly behind Alex, hands landing on her shoulders.

“Wow,” Y/N murmured, kneading gently. “You’re so tense. All that work stressing you out?”

Alex stiffened slightly but didn’t react.

Y/N leaned in closer, her lips dangerously near Alex’s ear. “You know, exercise is great for stress. You should join me next time. We could work up a sweat together.”

Alex’s hands paused on the keyboard.

Y/N smirked. “Or, you know, I could just shower alone.”

Alex slammed her laptop shut.

“You’re insufferable,” she muttered, turning in her chair to finally look at Y/N.

And oh, the way her eyes darkened as they swept over her? Y/N felt victorious.

“Something wrong, Counselor?” Y/N asked, all fake innocence.

Alex exhaled sharply. “You planned this.”

“Planned what?”

Alex leaned back, arms crossed, a tiny smirk playing at her lips. “This. The whole running, sweating, stretching, looking like that.” She gestured vaguely at Y/N’s entire existence.

Y/N shrugged. “Can’t a girl just get a workout in without being accused of crimes?”

“You do nothing without an agenda.”

Y/N beamed. “Exactly. So, what’s it gonna be? You back to work? Or are you gonna let me kick your ass in Monopoly?”

Alex sighed, running a hand through her hair, gaze lingering on Y/N’s abs for a fraction too long.

Alex let out a long, long breath.

Then - without a word - she stood up, grabbed Y/N’s wrist, and started pulling her toward the bedroom.

Y/N blinked. “Wait. Where are we going? Monopoly’s in the living room-”

Alex shot her a look.

A very dangerous look.

Y/N gulped. “Oh.”

Alex smirked. “You wanted my attention? You’ve got it now.”

Y/N grinned.

Game. Set. Match.

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mentally-unstabler · 3 months ago

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Recovery

Elliot Stabler x Female Reader

TWs- Canonical SVU violence/themes, mention of possible rape (no descriptions or imagery)

AN - this will definitely have a few more parts to it. Check out part 1 here (Disposed). Also we kinda jump around POV-wise this chapter so hopefully it’s not confusing at all.

Masterlist

— 1.1k wc—

Olivia paced back and forth in the waiting room, agonizing over the lack of answers regarding the conditions of her fellow detectives. Despite it being the middle of the night, the whole SVU squad had rushed down to Mercy Hospital as soon as they got the call. None of them had slept in hours.

They’d lost contact with you and Elliot around 6pm the day before, which instantly triggered alarm bells. The raid on the traffickers house was supposed to go down that night and as hours passed without contact, the squad knew something was wrong.

Olivia was the first to raise alarm to the situation. The rest of the squad reserved their worry for a few hours, hoping the two of you had just been caught up and weren’t able to call at the scheduled time.

Eventually, Fin and Munch did a drive by of the target house. When a neighbor commented the occupants left quickly after dinner, they immediately phoned the Captain.

An APB went out on the radios for the missing detectives but no leads panned out. It wasn’t until 2am that Cragen received a call from the Coast Guard, informing him that there were two individuals being pulled from the water. There had been no updates since.

Olivia looks up as a nurse enters the room. The squad was preparing themselves for bad news, seeing as there had been no updates since the initial call to Cragen.

“Is Captain Cragen present?” the nurse asks, scanning the room. She pulls the Captain aside and briefs him on the conditions of his detectives.

Cragen’s face looks relieved as the nurse gave the update, giving Olivia hope that your conditions weren’t as bad as she feared. Eventually Cragen thanked the nurse and returned to where your squad was sat.

“Elliot is recovering from exhaustion and hypothermia,” the Captain explains. “The doctors think they were in the water for over an hour.”

“What about y/l/n?” Fin asks.

“She’s in surgery,” Cragen sighs. “She took a bullet to the shoulder. The nurse said the surgery will be a few hours due to the damage.”

“Ouch,” Fin replies, grimacing at the idea of shoulder surgery.

“But they’ll both be ok?” Olivia asks, worried for her friends.

“They believe so,” Cragen assures her.

All they could do at this point is believe.

IAB showed up at the hospital shortly after dawn. The Captain briefed Tucker on the status of the detectives but explained neither of them was able to give a statement at the moment. Tucker was agitated at the lack of evidence regarding the prior nights events but declined to press for further information out of the Captain.

As soon as Elliot was awake, Olivia and the Captain went to visit him. Fin and Munch hung back in case the nurse had updates on your condition. Also, they didn’t want to overwhelm Elliot, and they needed to keep an eye on Tucker.

“Hey El. How are you feeling?” Olivia asks her partner as she enters his room. The Captain hangs in the doorway, allowing Olivia the time to talk to Elliot.

“Like I got hit by a bus,” Elliot groans in response. “How is she?”

“Y/N’s in surgery,” Olivia replies, sitting on the edge of his bed. “They’re working on her shoulder.”

“I don’t know what happened,” he said. “One second we were talking with the traffickers and the next second they had us bound in the back of a truck.”

“It’s ok,” Olivia reassures him. “We can figure all of this out later. Right now you need to rest.”

“Hey Elliot,” Cragen chimes in. “IAB needs a statement but I let them know you’re still resting. Munch is going to hold back Tucker as long as he can.”

Elliot nods in understanding, his eyes threatening to close in exhaustion.

“I thought she was dead,” he mumbles to Olivia. “She passed out. She wasn’t breathing.”

“How long was she out?” Olivia asks, worried about your condition.

“Too long,” Elliot replies. “I was swimming as fast as I could but she wasn’t moving. She was so cold and limp.”

“She’s going to be alright El,” Olivia states, giving her partner a reassuring smile. Elliot and you had always had a special bond to say the least. It seemed like everyone in the world could see it except the two of you.

“Do you want me to call Kathy?” Olivia asks Elliot.

“Sure,” he replies quietly. “I don’t think she wants to see me but it would be good to let her know I’m ok.”

Kathy had walked out on their marriage months ago and they weren’t exactly on the best terms. Elliot still held onto hope that their marriage was fixable, but was unsure how realistic that outcome was.

Olivia agreed to call Kathy and left Elliot to rest, turning his lights off before shutting the door.

On the way back to the waiting room, the Captain was intercepted by a nurse with a clipboard. Olivia went to join him but Cragen quickly asked her to go update the squad and call Kathy.

Cragen can tell by the look on the nurse’s face that it wasn’t great news.

“Mr. Cragen are you aware that Y/N gave you power of attorney in situations where she is incapacitated?” The nurse asks.

“Yes I’m aware,” Cragen responds. You didn’t have any family and so when you joined SVU a few years prior, you gave Cragen power of attorney in case of this exact situation. You trusted that he would make good decisions on your behalf.

“She’s out of surgery but still sedated,” the nurse explains. “But we need your permission before we can do the rape kit.”

“Rape kit?” Cragen asks, confused.

“The surgeons noted recent vaginal trauma whilst prepping her for surgery. We would have done the kit sooner but she was losing too much blood,” the nurse explains.

“Of course,” Cragen responds somberly. “You have my permission to do the kit. Can one of my detectives be in the room when you perform it? I know she’s unconscious but she’d want someone she knows there.”

The nurse allows Cragen to fetch Olivia from the waiting room, agreeing it may be best to have a female present. Olivia was also your best friend and an older sister of sorts, so she was the obvious choice for the task.

“Captain what’s going on?” Olivia asks worriedly as soon as they leave the waiting room.

“I need you to go in and sit with her while they do the rape kit,” he explains to her.

“Rape kit?” Olivia asks in shock. “Was she…”

“They think so,” Cragen sighs. “I’m going to go and give IAB an update. They may want Elliot to get one too given the circumstances.”

Olivia nods and follows the directions to the exam room, hoping you’d be ok.

#elliot stabler #l&o svu #law and order svu #olivia benson #svu x reader #svu fanfiction #svu fic #odafin tutuola #fin tutuola #john munch #captain cragen #mentally unstabler #elliot stabler x reader #stabler x reader #stabler

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luizd3ad · 11 months ago

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So I started watching SVU and all I have to say is.. John Munch 😮‍💨 I got an idea for a soulmate au for him and I just ah I needed to share

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mrs-adabarba · 5 months ago

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Barba: why is there a tree covered in shit in my office?

Amanda: we get each other presents and stuff?

Fin: yeah, for Christmas?

Olivia: and sing songs!!

Barba: well that sounds stupid

Carisi: oh.. do you not like it? I thought you might want to celebrate this year...

Barba: I love it so much I’m so excited Merry Christmas everyone!

#law and order svu #rafael barba #svu #l&o svu #incorrect quotes #olivia benson #amanda rollins #dominic carisi #sonny carisi #odafin tutuola #fin tutuola #barisi #incorrect quotes law and order svu #law and order svu incorrect quotes

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safficranger · 1 year ago

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Don’t look at me in that tone of voice

#john munch #odafin tutuola #fin tutuola #svu #law and order svu

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x-bluefire-heart-x · 1 year ago

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Forever and Always

So first I owe an apology to @autumntheblogger who requested a sequel to Our Family. It has taken me a while to write this and be happy with it. But it is finally here and I really hope it was worth the wait.

I recommend reading Our Family first, which is linked below but you don't have to.

Warnings: None. Just good old fluff.

Masterlist

Prompt List

Our Family

You smiled softly as Rafael whined low in his throat as you slowly moved out from under his arm that was wrapped tightly around your waist. You wiggled out of bed looking back at him as you sat up, his forehead was wrinkled as he reached out to you in his sleep. You huffed out a laugh putting your pillow in his reach before leaning over and pressing a kiss to the furrow in his eyebrows. It was a similar event every time you got up before him, it was rather adorable, although a little bit amusing at the same time.

You swapped your shirt for the one of his that was sitting at the end of the bed as always before you padded down the hallway, checking in on Noah before continuing to the kitchen. Rafael had had a long night, a difficulty in a case causing him to stay later than he normally did these days, so you wanted to cook him a nice breakfast before he had to head into the office.

You were half way through cooking waffles and some egg and bacon when you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist and lips on the back on your neck before Rafael buried his head in the crook of your neck.

“You could have slept a little longer babe,” you whispered.

“Hmm, I could have, but you weren’t there,” Rafael whispered pressing kisses up and down your neck. “There is no point sleeping in if you aren’t with you.”

“Sook,” you teased.

“You are so mean to me, Carino,” Rafael whined, you could feel him pouting. “Don’t make me tell Liv on you.”

“Ooh, bringing out the big guns huh?” you asked lightly running your fingers along his forearm. “You know she would be on my side right?”

“Fine, I’ll tell Finn,”

“Also on my side,” you turned your head enough to kiss him on the temple before you pulled out of his arms to plate up the rest of the food. “Could you get our son?”

“I can go get our son,” Rafael grinned sneaking in one last kiss before going to get Noah. It didn’t matter how much time had passed since you had told him that Noah was his son as much as he was yours, he would always get so happy to refer to Noah as “his” or “our” son. You shook your head a little as you brought the plates to the table, being sure to grab Noah’s sippy cup with his juice and Rafael’s cup of coffee. You could hear him coming back down the hall, humming softly to Noah.

“So, what is the plan today?” he asked, getting Noah settled.

“Hm, gotta drop Noah off at day care, then I have a meeting with a client that’s probably going to take all day,” you sighed, already feeling the headache that this day will induce.

“Wait, is this that guy that keeps changing his mind?” Rafael asked raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, after we agree, he calls and then says he doesn’t want it that way anymore, it is doing my head in,”

“Next time he tries, tell him your boyfriend is a lawyer,” Rafael grinned. “A verbal agreement is a legally binding contract.”

“Mhm, my boss will love it if I subtly imply that I will sue one of our top paying clients,” you roll your eyes.

“Well, the option is there,” he placed a kiss on your forehead as he stood up. “Thanks for breakfast I gotta get into the office.”

“Have a good day!” you were too focused on helping Noah eat to see the look on Rafael’s face. His hand went into the pocket of his pants and stayed there as he headed out the door, looking back once to the scene at the kitchen table before closing the door.

---

Rafael stood outside the station one hand in his pocket fiddling with the box that he had been carrying around for months, since you had told him that he was Noah’s father. He had been standing there for a lot longer than he ever wanted to admit.

“Counsellor?” Rafael jumped at the sound of Nick’s voice behind him. “Are you going in?”

“Yes, need to speak with Liv about the new case you lot have dumped on me,” Rafael cleared his throat attempting to cover up how nervous he was.

“We haven’t given you a new case,” Nick raised his eyebrow as he followed Rafael inside. “And you’re jumpier than normal, it’s too early for you to have had enough caffeine to make you like this considering your tolerance.”

“I hate detectives,” Rafael muttered.

“You’re nervous,” it was not a question as Nick’s eyes traced the movement of Rafael’s in his pocket. “Congrats.”

“Not a word…I haven’t even told Liv yet,” Rafael pointed his finger at Nick. “And I want to ask for Liv’s blessing…and Finns.”

“My lips are sealed,” Nick promised as they entered the bull pin.

“Why is one of my detectives telling you that his lips are sealed?” Liv questioned, her eyes narrowing as she catalogued every movement Rafael made before her eyes zeroed in on his hand still in his pocket. “My office. Finn, join us.” Her tone left no room for argument.

“Good luck,” Amanda winked as both men followed Olivia into her office. Rafael felt his heart pick up speed, he knew Liv would notice straight away, but he had not considered her tone to be that specific one, it was her Lieutenant voice. And the way Finn walked ahead of him was the same way he walked into the interrogation room.

Olivia closed the door behind the two of them before she walked around her desk, Finn taking his spot right beside her as they both stared Rafael down. It was rare for him to be on the receiving end of those looks, at the same time. He now knew how a suspect felt when Liv and Finn would team up. Rafael felt sweat start to build on his forehead as he took a deep breath.

“I am aware that the both of you already know what I want to ask,”

“Well, you aren’t very subtle Counsellor,” Finn mused. “You’re more wired than I have ever seen you.”

“Have I mentioned lately how I hate detectives?” Rafael asked trying to buy himself some more time. He had originally had it all planned out but he found himself struggling to remember everything he had practiced.

“Quit stalling Rafa,” Liv teased, which helped Rafael relax a little. “I wanna hear what you have to say.”

“I wanted to ask for your blessing to ask y/n to marry me,” Rafael forced out. “I love her with my entire heart and soul. I could not imagine my life without her. Or without Noah, the two of them have changed my life for the better. I mean I have a life now, before I wasn’t really living but y/n and Noah brought light and love to my life. They helped me to live again.”

Olivia’s lips twitched as she struggled to keep her face neutral, she didn’t want to break too early but her eyes gave away everything. They brightened with happiness with every new word that left Rafael’s mouth. She knew the two of them would be a forever thing from the moment they started seeing each other but to hear how much her sister had impacted Rafael’s life was another thing entirely, especially when she already knew how much he had impacted her life as well. Finn on the other hand had no issue with holding strong. He needed to rib the ADA a little.

“Not our permission?” Finn raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that normally what people ask for? Not blessing?”

“My carino is her own person and I don’t believe she would appreciate if I asked for someone else’s permission to marry her as if she was property,” Rafael pointed out. “But to have the blessing of her sister, who raised her and your blessing Finn, who has been such an important person in her life. That would mean a lot to me, to know that the two of you trust her heart to me.”

“Well,” Liv said her voice a little heavy and if Rafael peered a little closer he could have sworn that he saw some tears forming.

“I got questions,” Finn demanded, still not giving in but his demeanour had softened. Rafael fought so hard to not roll his eyes but Olivia did not.

“Of course you do, one would forget that I was the one who raised her,” Liv muttered.

“Alright, Finn,” Rafael sighed before squaring his shoulders. “What questions?”

“When are you planning to pop the question?”

“This Saturday, it’s the anniversary of when we met,”

“I am trying very hard to restrain myself right now,” Olivia muttered as she stood up and walked around to stand in-front of Rafael, she pulled him into a tight hug which he returned in kind. “I whole heartedly give you my blessing to marry my sister. I know you will continue to make her happy and that you will continue to be an amazing father to Noah.”

Finn kept his arms crossed as he moved to stand in-front of Rafael, his eyes narrowed. He stared Rafael down but Rafael did not waver as he held the detective’s stare. He had never wavered before and he definitely wasn’t about to start now. But the stare down didn’t last long before Finn’s tough shell broke, his lips pulling back into a smile as he threw his arms out wide.

“Well, that’s all I wanted to know,” Finn grinned. “Was just pulling your leg, there was no way I wasn’t giving you my blessing to marry Little Benson, she would have throttled me.”

“Good to know that is the main reason,” Rafael muttered shaking his head.

“I mean of course I think you’re good for her as well,” Finn shrugged. “But she’s a Benson.”

“Little unsure if I should feel complimented or insulted by what that implies,” Olivia narrowed her eyes at Finn before deciding it wasn’t worth it. “I want all the details. Now.”

“Of course you do,” Rafael had resigned himself to this the moment he bought the ring.

“I was thinking, this Saturday I could take little Noah for an aunty/nephew sleep over, it’s been a while,” Liv stated as the two of you were getting your nails done. It was a little earlier than normal but Liv had insisted on changing your appointments to Friday instead of the Saturday two weeks from now. And Liv had insisted on choosing your nails, and for you to choose hers. You narrowed her eyes at your sister, tilting her head to the side before you looked at the calendar on the wall and saw the date.

“He’s proposing,” you didn’t even ask, you just stated.

“…damnnit,” Liv cursed. “I really thought I could have gotten this past you.”

“You might be the detective but I was raised by you,” you shrugged. “Plus, these nails are like fancy nails. Not to mention you and Amanda taking me shopping yesterday and insisting that I try on really pretty dresses and to get the one that is almost the exact shade of Rafael’s eyes. And tomorrow is the anniversary of when we first met.”

“I now understand why Rafael always says he hates detectives,” Olivia laughed shaking her head. “I didn’t realise you had picked so much up from me.”

“Yeah well,” you just shrugged again. “You were always my hero Liv, of course I wanted to be able to do what you do. Plus you did drill into me to be observant and then Finn even started teaching me recon shit.”

“Part of me wants to offer you a job but the other part of me definitely wants you to stay as far away from police work as possible,”

“As if I would take it anyway,” you rolled your eyes. “No offense but I like my job too much and I get paid really well. Plus I don’t get shot at so.”

“Yeah, yeah alright,” Liv grinned. “So, I get Noah on Saturday, and Sunday until lunch, then his dad gets him while, you and I go out for dinner and you tell me everything.”

“Liv, I don’t think you’re going to want to know everything,” you giggled, your heart fluttering in excitement. You may have been nonchalant when you stated what this was all about but truthfully you were nervous. Even knowing what Rafael had planned you had no idea how he was going to do it.

“You are a terror,” Liv rolled her eyes.

“Little sister’s prerogative,” you shrugged. “But yes, I agree, you can have Noah up until Sunday lunch, which we will all have together, and then you and I will have a dinner in? I doubt I will be up for going out.”

The two amazing women who always did yours and Liv’s nails both giggled at that.

“I remember when my husband proposed to me,” the one doing Liv’s nails sighed. “We didn’t leave our room for days.”

“Liv showed me the dress you will be wearing,” your technician grinned. “These nails will go beautifully with it.”

Liv had chosen a golden base for your nails, that simmered gently, with a pale green swirling pattern overlaying it. The pale green was almost a perfect match for your dress and Rafael’s eyes. You smiled softly holding your left hand up in-front of you, imagining the ring that will be sitting on your ring finger tomorrow night.

“Have you seen the ring?” you asked.

“I have,” Liv nodded. “It’s gorgeous and very you. Rafael did a good job choosing it. And that is all you get from me.”

You pouted a little but knew you would rather have that as a surprise. Since you technically ruined the surprise that he was proposing to you in the first place.

---

“Come on! We want to see,” Amanda sang as she held Noah on her hip, with Oliva beside her.

You stood in-front of the mirror in Olivia’s bedroom, brushing down the front of your dress. Amanda had volunteered to help do your make-up when Liv mentioned that you had worked out what was happening tonight, and she had done an amazing job. It was a beautiful subtle look that managed to empathise your cheekbones and bring focus to your eyes. Olivia had curled your hair and pinned the sides up, so nothing obscured your face.

“Alright, alright! I swear you are more excited than I am,” you laughed walking into the lounge room, blushing at the looks on the two women’s faces. “Is it too much? Will he know that I know?”

“You look beautiful,” Liv whispered her eyes tearing up a little.

“I don’t think he will care,” Amanda smiled. “Not when he sees you. What do you think little man?”

Noah cooed clapping his hands and reaching out for you. You allowed him to latch onto one of your fingers as your stepped forward to place a soft kiss against his chubby little cheek.

“I hope you have fun with your aunties tonight,” you smiled.

“Oh, don’t you worry,” Liv wrapped an arm around your waist holding you to her side. “Manda, Noah and I will have lot’s of fun tonight.”

“Though not as much fun as you,” Amanda wiggled her eyebrows. “He’ll be here any minute.”

You giggled, holding in the small squeal that wanted to escape when a knock sounded on the door.

“Make that any second,” Liv squeezed you before going to let the man of the hour in.

“Breathe,” Amanda whispered kissing you on the cheek as Rafael walked into view and you felt your air in your lungs leave you in a rush. He was wearing your favourite suit, which thankfully complimented your dress perfectly.

“Carino,” Rafael breathed. “You take my breathe from me.”

“Well, you two need to get going,” Liv started pushing the two of you towards the door when you failed to say anything in response. You couldn’t, you found for once you had no words. This was the man you were going to spend the rest of your life with and tonight was the start of the next chapter of it.

---

“Rafael, this place is beautiful,” you whispered as the hostess led you to your table. Which was in a quiet corner, lit candles decorated it, and a bottle of expansive red wine was breathing next to a vase filled with peonies and lilac. Your favourite flowers.

“Tonight is a special night,” Rafael pressed a kiss to your temple as he helped you into your chair.

“The anniversary of our first date?” you asked tilting your head to the side as he poured glasses of wine.

“Exactly,” Rafael grinned, you could see the nerves that he hid behind that smile. You reached across the table and grabbed his hand squeezing it once, as a gentle smile pulled at your lips.

“You always spoil me Rafi,” you pulled your hand away to focus on the menu in-front of you. “You look especially handsome tonight. Amanda had to remind me to breathe.”

“Turn about is fair play,” Rafael teased. “Everyday I must remind myself to breathe, when I wake up with you in my arms, when you smile at me I feel the world stop.”

You felt your heart squeeze as your stomach fluttered before it stopped, contentment settling over your body as Rafael pulled a box out of his pocket.

“I was going to wait until dessert but I found I can’t,” Rafael chuckled, as he slid the box to the middle of the table. “Carino, everyday that we have been together has made my life better, happier and brighter. The day you told me you loved me I knew that I would know no better happiness, until you told me I was Noah’s father. You have given me a home, a family. I know that your love has made me a better man and I promise you that everyday I will be sure to be deserving of your love, of your heart and of our son. You are my heart, my soul and the very breathe in my lungs. I wish to wake with you in my arms every day. Carino, my love, will you marry me?”

Rafael opened the box as you tried to stop the tears that fell down your cheeks. Nestled in blue fabric was the most beautiful ring you had ever seen. It was also far from a traditional engagement ring but it showed that Rafael knew you. For you never wanted a traditional ring. It was a black band twisted around itself, with lines of silver and gold entwined along it. Three gems sat in the band, the middle one held above the others by the twisting of the band, wrapping securely by the gold and silver. It took you a moment to realise what the gems represented, and when you did your heart ached with love. They were your birthstones, Noah’s, Rafael’s and yours.

“Rafi,” you breathed holding out your left hand for Rafael, he lifted the ring from the box holding it just over your ring finger before he slowly slid it down. “Yes, always.”

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