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Merry Christmas Happy Birfday, my Mahleigh!
Yes, it's my precious BFF
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baggers's 22nd birthday - as well as her antipoedian counterpart, hobviously. I gave Ash her physical presents today, but tonight! She and Tris get fic.TITLE: Please
FANDOM: Law&Order: SVU (Olivia/
AUTHOR'S NOTES: My first SVU fic, written for my Ash. That's why it's so bloody short, yo. With thanks to
miss_andromache and lizbee.Please
SVU, 27th March 2006
For Mahleigh, on the day of her birth.
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Please don't pretend this is anything it's not.
Please don't hold my hand and say my name, my first name, with convictions and morals when you have a wife at home and an image to uphold.
Please don't dice with death, play with fire, follow me down the rabbit hole unless you understand where we stand. Know this is temporary, a mild fling between co-workers, or don't even bother leaving a toothbrush at my house and your socks on my floor and expect to come and get them later.
Please don't kiss me with your eyes closed, with your hand on my waist suggesting more than naked bodies ever could. It's cold outside and warm in here, and that's our reasoning, no matter what you whisper against my hair as you lead me towards the bed.
Please don't shift and shake and rattle and roll, push me over the edge like a bad romance novel and complete my secret list of carnal desires without even knowing what they are. Don't let my name spill from your mouth like you're allowed to say it like that - panting, crazed with passion and so fucking hot it makes me come at the first damn syllable.
Please don't protect me anymore than you did before; don't project my image on to the dead bodies of rape victims and girls on the bad end of their pimps' wrath. Don't follow me home in your car ("for safety's sake, Olivia") with a spare suit in the back seat for tomorrow and clutch me on the sofa like I'm dying all the time and your life would end if I was.
Please don't make me breakfast, padding around my apartment in my thousand year-old dressing gown I bought with my first ever pay cheque. Don't stand there, mixing eggs in purple quilted fabric, a coffee in your hand and in-jokes from the station on your lips. Please don't bring the station here, Elliot. Please, please, please.
Please, promise me, I won't be the first you call upon when your divorce papers are served, and the two of you are finally severed. I don't like the hope in your eyes and the catch of my breath when you throw the lawyer's envelope on the coffee table and make love to me for the first time as true partners, not illicit late-night lovers.
Elliot, please. Don't pretend, with your fingers laced in mine and your kids running the house, that this is anything, at all, that it is not.
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Fin.
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And now, for
hobviously - I go completely outside of my fandoms and write her Narnia fic!TITLE: Porcelain
FANDOM: The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch & The Wardrobe (Lucy/Tumnus)
AUTHOR'S NOTES: It's really, really hard to write in a fandom you hardly know. For you, Tris - pls don't hate my guts, OKAI.
Porcelain
27th March 2006
For Tris, a new friend who feels like an old one.
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"I love you, Queen Lucy." She touches his cheek and smiles.
"Of course, Mr. Tumnus. And I, you." But he knows her love and his love are different, and under it all his heart breaks - even if he's not sure what that means.
**
"The view is beautiful, is it not?" She turns to him from the balcony, and smiles.
"Of course, Mr. Tumnus. Narnia! And the company is wonderful. What more could you ask for?"
He knows what he would ask for, if ever he was able to ask such a thing, although he knows all she'd ask for is happiness, health and life to all her subjects. He does not understand why a racing pain shoots through his chest, or why suddenly he feels so tired; still, he wishes selfishly for a moment then quickly scolds himself for not wanting anything but the best for Narnia - even if he's not entirely sure why he did.
**
"Let's go on a picnic," she laughs, swelling his pride and pulling his hope to the straining point.
Lucy, Queen Lucy, has grown. Into a beautiful woman with soft lines and skin like porcelain dinner plates; the shadows and images that tickled the inside of his brain from the time they met all those years ago at the lamppost now in living colour, breathing life into everything she touched, including himself.
Her brothers and sisters, already so used to propriety and sobriety, watch as their precious baby sister links arms with Tumnus and leads him to where her horse awaits. He knows they know - whatever there is to know - and he cannot fathom what this means, despite finding his brow creased and the telling shades of blush creeping up his face.
**
"These berries are delicious," she remarks, through a highly un-queen-like full mouth.
"Yes, fresh picked just today." The two of them fall into quiet, comfortable, perfect silence.
A frog croaks. A leaf falls. Time, passes, and their heart beats slow down as their eyes get heavy.
Side by side on the grass, in the middle of a Narnia at peace, Tumnus can feel the warmth of Lucy. Her bare forarm, pressing into his, sparking and sending his oh-so-calm heart and once-so-clear head into disarray.
He does not know what this all means. All he knows is Lucy, their time together and the warmth of her skin against the more human part of his being - and for now, that was enough.
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Fin.
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ZOMG teh fluff!
NO TOUCHING. Love you muchly. ♥ xoxo
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