#cut to olivia turning that man to stone at the drop of her voice

[augustatheghost]

Law & Order: SVU 24x11 / “Especially Heinous: 272 Views of Law & Order SVU” by Carmen Maria Machado / Law & Order: Organized Crime 3x21

[whitexwingedxdoves]

wretched heart    [request]

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Warnings: Language Summary: Despite ending things with Daryl, you still can’t seem to let go of him. (loosely inspired by Happier by Olivia Rodrigo) A/N: Requested by @srhxpci​ (angst with a happy ending 😊 ) I hope you enjoy. Tags: @chloe-skywalker​ @browneyes528​ Italics = Flashbacks.

-

Your heart seemed to break into a million pieces as you walked away from Daryl, after everything that had happened with Negan and now with the loss of Rick you weren’t prepared to lose Daryl Dixon. You clawed at your chest, hoping it would allow you to breathe but it remained stuck as you left the archer there in the middle of the forest. You had never loved someone so deeply before and it scared you, it scared you to the point of running and hiding – you told him it wasn’t safe for them anymore and that even though it wasn’t your time now, it will be one day and you wholeheartedly believed it. The idea that the world will be well enough one day that you could get back your Daryl was the only thing that allowed you to get out of bed in the morning.

Thing’s got too much for you after you and Daryl went your separate ways and therefore you decided that you needed to venture out on your own for a while, perhaps look for Rick’s body or find out where Anne had disappeared. You didn’t have a set objective but you knew you needed the time to yourself. Tara tried to argue it was too dangerous for you to be on your own but failed to take into account the amount of time you had already spent alone out in the woods before meeting the group. Your trip didn’t provide much new information but you felt you had successfully cleared your mind enough to return back to Hilltop. You had been gone for maybe a month or two, you didn’t really keep track of the time but you didn’t think it could have been longer than that.

Once you reached the gate’s it didn’t take long for them to open, the guards seemed more than happy about your return, you gave your horse a stroke, thanking it for returning you back home safe before trotting past the gates. You watched as a few people gathered as you came to a stop, you looked around, happy to be home until your eyes landed on a far to familiar bike. A lump formed in your throat as you tried to redirect your attention, finally pushing yourself to get off the horse. You managed to send faux smiles at everyone who welcomed you home, allowing someone to take your horse to the stable. You looked around at the small crowd of people before returning your attention to Alden who offered you a warm hug. You pulled away and let your hand land on his shoulder. “Where’s Jesus?” your question seemed to strike unwell with Alden, his head dropped slightly before meeting with your gaze.

“He- erm” he struggled to pull together a sentence attempting to keep you updated on the situation at Hilltop, you instantly wished you were back out in the woods blissfully ignorant to the death of your friend. A small tear rolled down your face but you nodded towards the man, acknowledging his words.

-

You spent the rest of your day in your room, with the news on Jesus and seeing Daryl’s bike you figured that anything beyond your four walls weren’t worth the hassle. No one bothered you all day and you were grateful for that, you cleaned yourself up and got familiar with the comfort of your mattress again. When the sun started to set, you thought you needed to stop moping around, show your face even if its just for a few minutes. Thankfully on your travels you came across a half empty crate of alcohol, a bottle of rum seemed fitting for the situation so you grabbed it by the neck and made your way outside to mingle.

Fires had already started and you seemed to slip into the crowd of people unnoticed, everyone seemed to be in their own little groups or wandering around you unscrewed the cap of the rum and allowed the brown liquid to pour down your throat. You found a quiet spot just off from everyone else but it gave you the perfect view of everyone gathered there that night. Your eyes wandered from person to person until they seemed to freeze. Daryl Dixon. Your heart seemed to crawl up your throat as you watched the man fiddle with his fingers, attempting to master a sign but you didn’t pay much attention to that, instead you admired the way he had aged since you last saw him. Your mind flashing images of a younger archer and you came to the conclusion that he aged perfectly well, you’d giggle to yourself thinking about how he’d always be scared of the age gap you had even though no one else really noticed it nor did they care.

You noticed his smile and then you noticed who he gave it to, you’d never seen her before but you couldn’t disregard her beauty or the way her eyes seemed to shine as she laughed at Daryl’s attempts to communicate with her with his hands. Your heart dropped, it felt like it had completely left your body as you watched the two flirt with each other, your eyes welled up whenever she touched his arms all you could think was how they were your arms and not hers. So caught up with your blind jealousy, you almost didn’t notice that Daryl was now staring right back at you, it made you stumble a little but you shot him a smile before your eyes left him, doing anything you could to keep the tears from leaving your eyes.

The alcohol seemed to help loosen the lump in your throat as you chugged down as much rum as you possibly could before it made you feel sick “Hey” you’d know that gravelly voice anywhere, it sent goose bumps up your arms as you lowered the bottle back to you side, clearing your throat as you looked to your side. Your heart seemed to race at the sight of the archer who stood close by you

“Hey” your voice was much softer as your eyes landed on his shoulders, not brave enough to look into his eyes just yet. The tension could have been cut with a blunt knife, you kicked loose stones under your feet as the southerner struggled to think up a conversation. “How ya been?” he broke the silence finally with a question he genuinely cared to know, he watched you closely as you scoffed at his words. “Fine” despite your short temper, you allowed yourself to look into Daryl’s eyes now sending him a faux smile. “Whatta bout you? Saw you getting on nicely with that girl over there, what’s her name?” you hated how bitter you sounded in that moment but it seemed the alcohol had taken over your entire attitude failing to incorporate a filter. “Connie” Daryl muttered back at you, watching you take yet another sip of your poison. Your eyes widened now you had a name for her face, licking the access rum from your lips. “She’s pretty” the air fell silent around you both now, you tried to fight every urge to shout and scream that he should be with you and not her.

Eventually you couldn’t hold your tongue anymore, you had far too much liquid confidence supporting your toxic words to even think straight anymore “Does this mean you forgot about me?” despite your intentions your words fell soft as you stared into the crowd of people, your leg shaking a little as you awaited his response but you never got one, instead he just stared at you in disbelief “I always thought that one day we’d get back together you know but I can see that’s not on you agenda” you spat at the man, the anger becoming more apparent with every word. Daryl grunted at your words, his scowl creasing his features. “Na, ya the one who ended shit!” he became extra expressive with his movements, his finger pointing in your direction as he paced back and forth. “because it wasn’t safe!” you shouted back in his direction, your face mimicking his “You know what it’s like now as soon as you’re even slightly happy, the thing you love the most is taken from you without warning. I’ve lost too much, I couldn’t lose you too!`` At some point you decided to take a softer approach with your honesty taking a deep breath when you finally split your truth.

The moment fell quiet once more, a tear created a track on your face as you turned away from him you crossed your arms keeping a firm hold on the bottle you babysat all night. “I'm happy you found Connie, you deserve it.” You peeked over your shoulder so that the archer could hear you “I just don’t think I could ever be as happy as I was when I was with you” and with those words you left him there as you made your way back to your room.

When the door closed behind you, you found yourself pressed against the wall beside it, trying your hardest to suppress the tears your eyes held onto. You placed the glass bottle on top of your dresser and attempted to ease your breathing and slow the hard heavy beating of your heart. It seemed to stop completely when you heard someone’s knuckles brush against your door, you stood perfectly still for a moment before you reached for the knob. You slowly pulled it open revealing Daryl stood on the other side, you stared up at him in silence and took in his posture, he seemed a little out of breath, like he had been running which only confused you more. “Me an Connie are jus friends' ' he panted, taking a couple of steps so that he was now fully in your room. You couldn’t deny that your heart seemed to burst with joy at the news but now you were just left completely embarrassed by your outburst. “Ya the only girl for me” you allowed a small chuckle to pass your lips but you wasted no time in wrapping your arms around him, pushing at the back of his neck with your hands to pull him into a soft, sweet kiss. You tried to hide the moan that surfaced as his hands cradled your hips. You were completely weak at his touch, god had you missed the way this felt.

He pulled away slowly, taking in the smile that stretched across your face, allowing a small smile of his own to pierce his stern features “Ya taste like a bar” “I'm sorry!” you winced attempting to pull away from the redneck but he didn’t allow you, he kept you close and pulled you in tighter when you attempted to leave his grasp.

“Na, I like it”

[mm2305]

What Ethan & Olivia AU is this? #OpenHeartAU

An eventful encounter

Pairing : Ethan Ramsey x Olivia Valentine || Rating/Genre : Teen+/romance, general || Warnings / Words : none / 2.8k ||Setting : Alternate Universe - Regency Era || Disclaimer : all characters and pictures belong to the rightful owners

Summary : During one of her trips in town, Olivia meets the newly-arrived Dr. Ramsey.

A/N : Let me start by saying that this has been in my inbox for almost a month and I'm so sorry for the long wait. Secondly, this was something completely new to me, since it's set in a different time and universe, but still very fun to write! No beta, so all mistakes are mine. I really hope this comes out good enough :)

Enjoy!

My masterlist

-/-

Somewhere in the England of 1816

Olivia's pov

"Oh come on you little bugger", a young woman sighed exasperated, looking at her reflection in the vanity. She had been trying for the last twenty minutes to gather her long hair with some pins, but it was difficult to contain all of it in them. Finally, she got ready and rushed down the stairs of her home, Edenbrook Manor.

"Mrs Clarke? Where are you?"

"I am in the kitchens Miss Olivia!", the other woman replied.

Olivia followed the stairwell leading to the kitchen and greeted Mrs Clarke, one of the people who worked in her home. She was more than that to her though, since she was the one who practically raised her, her friend and closest confidant. Her father, Ernest Valentine, was a merchant, quite known for his successful business, but was away from home most of the year, coming only a few weeks at a time. Therefore, her mother, Anne Valentine, was left to manage most of the affairs regarding the estate and surrounding grounds they owned. Both did love her dearly, they just didn't have time for her. Since she had no siblings, she was left with no one's company but Mrs Clarke's ,who in her and her family's eyes had become a member of the Valentine family too.

"Do you need anything else from the market Mrs Clarke?"

"No Miss, that's everything we need. Are you sure you want to go, though ?"

Having grown up close to her, Olivia was always helping around the house in whatever ways she could, even though she wasn't expected or needed to do so. Of course, she didn't neglect her occasional music , embroidery and drawing lessons, even though her true passion was biology, anatomy and science. In another world she imagined herself being a doctor, but since that wasn't possible, she just made the best of the situation at home, doing many things to pass her time.

"Of course! It will be a great chance for me to get some fresh air since I have not been out for a while. I promise I will be careful."

"Alright dear. Then you had better go now, it's quite a walk to the market.Who knows, you may meet somebody worth going to a ball with today."

"Not likely Mrs Clarke. And besides, you know I have high standards."

With a slight wave to Mrs Clarke, Olivia took her basket and headed out of the Manor.

----------

After a long, refreshing walk, Olivia reached the local food market. Rows upon rows of products had filled the sides of the road, the smell of flowers, herbs and fresh fruit invading her senses. People moved at their own pace, some slow and others faster, with baskets of their own at hand and doing their shopping. The whole street seemed to have come alive on that warm, autumn afternoon, creating a charming, quaint picture.

In just a few minutes she had gathered everything she needed, her basket full of herbs, vegetables and fruit. Ready to go home, she turned around, towards the end of the market, not noticing the tall man coming her way and colliding with him, the force knocking her down on the ground.

"I am so sorry sir, I did not mean --"

"Forgive me Miss I --", they both started apologizing at the same time. Olivia noticed she was still on the ground and the stranger offered his hand and carefully helped her back on her feet.

Finally looking up at him, she felt her breath catch in her throat.

The stranger was the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on. He was tall with a strong physique. His hair was a dark mahogany brown color, just visible in his hat, leading to his piercing, ocean blue eyes. He had a sharp jawline with high cheekbones and she was sure that his smile would be just as beautiful as the rest of his face.

His warm hand was still holding hers, the gesture sending sparks through her body. The man, noticing he was still holding her hand, cleared his throat and dropped it gently.

"I am deeply sorry, Miss. I hope you are not hurt.", he said in a deep yet gentle voice.

"I am alright, thank you for your assistance Mr..?"

"Ramsey. Ethan Ramsey. And you are?"

"Olivia Valentine, sir, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"The pleasure is all mine. Oh! You dropped your basket!". He immediately bent down to gather the scattered apples, pears and whatever else could be saved.

"Please allow me, you need not do this…", she also kneeled beside him to gather the items, her hand going to catch an apple at the same time as Mr. Ramsey,their fingers briefly touching. They both locked eyes again, the movement making Olivia's cheeks redden in color. Did he feel that too? Looking away from his eyes for the sake of modesty and back at her now half full basket, she realized that she had to start making her way back home soon, if she wanted to make it before dinner. With a small sigh, she got up and dusted her dress,more than a little disappointed that she hadn't had the time to learn anything about Mr. Ramsey.

"Thank you once more Mr Ramsey. I sincerely apologize for falling onto you. If you'll excuse me, I need to return back home. I wish you a pleasant afternoon. ", she smiled softly at him and curtsied briefly before turning her back to him and starting walking. Hmm… I have never seen him before in town. Maybe Mrs. Clarke knows something about him. She decided she would ask Mrs. Clarke for more information when she reached home. Alas, she had not made it three feet away when Olivia heard him coming behind her.

" Ms. Valentine? "

" Yes? ", Olivia turned around curiously looking at him.

" Would you allow me to walk you back to your house? I… It's the least I could do for you after our eventful encounter", he asked with a hint of a smile on his face.

He really is handsome, she thought wordlessly. Was this her chance to get to know the mysterious man better? Was this a chance for a new friendship to bloom? Maybe something more? "Stop getting ahead of yourself Olivia. You just met this man! He may even be married!", The little voice in her mind warned her, but her heart, full of excitement at the prospect of getting to know him better, had already decided.

" I would love to"

------------------------------

Ethan's pov

Ethan was absentmindedly walking across the stone paved streets of the town he had just moved in. Or rather, his new residence was close to this town. Instead of taking his horse, he decided to take a walk from his house to the town, to get a feeling of orientation around this new place. Being prepared and feeling in control, made him feel more confident in himself, particularly since he was not good at social interactions. Being a man of solitude and always focused on his work, made him unwilling to make any meaningless acquaintances, the frivolous events he was often invited to, being of no essence to him. It was because of his work that he decided to move here.

Immersed in his thoughts as he was, he didn't notice the young lady that accidentally ran directly into him. The force of the blow knocked her to the ground, Ethan immediately apologizing and offering his hand to help her back up.

When the young woman looked up at him, he was left speechless.

This lady, whoever she was, was easily the most beautiful woman he had encountered in all the thirty years of his life. She had golden, blond hair that seemed softer than the most expensive silk and a spotless, alabaster skin. Her big, forest green eyes seemed to be able to see right through his soul and her rosy, full lips were in perfect harmony with her features. She was quite shorter than him, her head just reaching his shoulder and he could guess, even through the many layers of clothing, that she had a lean, feminine frame.

Her hand was soft and small in his and that's when he noticed he was still holding it. Clearing his throat to collect himself, he apologized again to her.

"I am alright, thank you for your assistance Mr..?", she asked him, her voice sounding like the most beautiful of melodies.

"Ramsey. Ethan Ramsey. And you are?"

"Olivia Valentine, sir, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Where have I heard that name from though? Catching himself being so entranced in this lady he just met, he allowed his eyes to wander away from her, when he noticed her basket, previously full of products, now scattered on the ground. He set down to gather whatever could be saved, knowing he must seem like a fool for doing what a gentleman would never probably do. All his thoughts flew out of the window, when he felt that spark again from both their fingers closing around an apple. Olivia's cheeks turned in a color close to the apple she was holding, making her seem even more beautiful than before. What is it that has me totally mesmerized by this woman?

To his great displeasure, their brief encounter would have to be cut short, since she had to return back to her house. Wishing him farewell, she began walking away but before he fully thought about what he was about to ask, his feet were carrying him towards her.

"Ms Valentine?"

She turned around, clearly wondering what he wanted to ask from her. "Yes?"

Taking a deep breath he gathered the courage to ask her what he wanted. "Would you allow me to walk you back to your house? I… -he staggered even though he never did before, looking for a reason to convince not only her but himself too as to why he was doing this for someone he just met - It's the least I could do for you after our eventful encounter", he added with a small smile.

For a few seconds that really seemed to stretch into hours, he could see the wheels in her mind turning, before she looked up at him and said the words he so much had come to want to hear.

"I would love to"

--------------

Olivia's pov

Ethan offered her his arm to take and Olivia weaved hers through it, her hand settled at the crook of his arm.

They began walking and for a few minutes no one said anything, a somewhat awkward silence setting over them. Neither of them seemed sure as to what they should say to break the ice. Finally Ethan, with a small cough, began talking to her.

"Do you live far from town, Miss Valentine?"

"My home, Edenbrook Manor, is about an hour and a half away from here."

"Oh! I actually bought a residence that is, apparently, close to your house."

"So you are the new doctor who bought Kenmore Park!"

"Indeed, I am"

"May I ask what made you choose to come here? I have the feeling you have been offered better and perhaps more, financially speaking, beneficial positions in bigger towns or cities."

He didn't hesitate to answer. "I was offered a position in this hospital and I was instantly aware that here, I could be more useful since there are not many doctors willing to work in a more rural area. Besides, I had missed the countryside. Has my arrival become such a popular issue here? ", he raised an eyebrow teasingly.

"Yes and no, Dr. Ramsey." she put emphasis on the Doctor, teasing him back too.

Ethan lowered his eyes, seeming a little sheepish. "Ah well… I could not find it in my heart to correct you, Miss. I am sorry."

Olivia chuckled, waving her hand dismissively. "You do not need to worry about it, I assure you."

"You see, this is a relatively small town and it is rare that something new happens. People have the tendency to talk. Or rather gossip, if I am being honest. But I actually learnt about you, from my maid, Mrs Clarke. I do not really get out of the house a lot."

"May I ask why?", Mr. Ramsey asked. Then as if considering how indiscreet he must seem, he sucked in a breath and turned to her. "I am sorry, Miss Valentine, it was not my place to ask."

For some reason, Olivia found herself not minding. Normally, she would not be interested in having a conversation with a man, knowing that at her age every move was scrutinized by potential suitors. That is why she remained unmarried at the age of four and twenty, much to society's disappointment. She just could not bind herself to a loveless marriage of interest. However, with Ethan, talking was easy and she felt surprisingly comfortable with this man she only met an hour ago.

"Well. I remain unmarried at the age of four and twenty and people like I said before, tend to talk. I find myself uninterested in what they say but it does make everyday life easier, since I do not have to hear my parents and Mrs Clarke trying to convince me to attend balls at every chance.", she rolled her eyes with what she felt was loving exasperation.

"I honestly could not imagine a woman such as yourself not being asked for her hand in marriage", Dr. Ramsey said, his face carefully neutral at her admission.

"It is not that I have not received any proposals, but it is I who refuses. My father is quite successful at his profession and those suitors were clearly interested in my family's wealth, not me."

"Then yours was a wise decision to make, if you allow me to say this, Miss."

Nodding silently, Olivia contemplated asking the question that had been in her mind ever since they began their walk. Oh just do it already Olivia. Before she could think further about it, she blurted out her question.

" How about you, Dr. Ramsey? Is there a wife waiting for you at home?"

"No, actually. Much like your case, I have no interest in people not caring about the important things in a marriage. That is not to say I stand against the institution. But, there has not been the right person in my life, so far."

A small, imperceptible smile graced her lips at his answer.

"I assume you are quite taken with your job, no? Since you moved to a different area, just because you want to help here…", Olivia changed the topic after a moment, her tone more cheerful and her heart longing to hear how life as a physician is.

"Indeed I am. Of course I owe all the skills I have acquired, to my mentor, Dr. Naveen Banerji head of Solomon's Hospital in London and professor at --"

"Edinburgh Medical School.",she finished with something that could only be described as wonder in her eyes.

" But how do you know?", he turned to her, surprised that she had heard of Naveen.

Olivia's eyes lowered to the ground, knowing that what she was about to say, would make him laugh at her.

"I… I study biology, anatomy and science whenever I can. I know it is something impossible for a woman in our times, but if I had the chance, I would love to take a proper apprenticeship and become a physician. Naturally, I cannot help but be informed about everything surrounding the medical world. And Dr. Banerji is one of the best doctors in the country. "

When she reluctantly looked back into the eyes that seemed to call for her, she saw an emotion similar to admiration in them. What for, she could not understand , but it made the butterflies in her stomach flutter excitedly.

" Miss Valentine, I've known you for just about two hours and yet, I can confidently say that your intelligence would make you an excellent physician. Please, do not hesitate to ask me anything if you have questions, it would be my pleasure to answer them for you.", Ethan assured her, his voice sincere and the opposite of what she expected to hear.

Olivia's face lightened up at that and she started excitedly asking him several questions, for the rest of the way to her house. It had been a long time since she had met someone not dismissing her love for medicine and even longer since she sincerely enjoyed talking to another person besides her family.

"Maybe this could finally really be the start of something worth exploring", they both thought, grinning happily for the rest of the way back, perfectly content in each other's company.

-/-

A/N : if you made it this far, thank you so much for reading!

Tags (let me know if you want to be added or removed and if you want to be moved to another category) :

Perma (all edits and fics) : @romewritingshop @codykosuckmytoe @sophxwithers @actuallybored @potionsprefect @ethansramsey @crystalwillow @gryffindordaughterofathena @kiara-36 @mrsethanfreakingramsey @writer-ish @panda9584 @genevievemd @jamespotterthefirst @queencarb @shanzay44 @nikki-2406 @starryeyedrookie @coffeeheartaddict @schnitzelbutterfingers @mysticaurathings @starrystarrytrouble @lsvdw-blog @izzyourresidentlawyer @silma-words @stygianflood @headoverheelsforramsey @maurine07 @natureblooms24 @a-crepusculo

Fics : @alina-yol-ramsey // Regency era fics : @princess-geek

[storytellerofuntoldlegends]

promise me that you’ll start where i end

A/N: 3rd Life SMP but i make it more dramatic. also i made the mistake of listening to drivers license by olivia rodrigo while writing this and cried. i'd say enjoy but i don't think that's the correct emotion to experience while reading this. (title is from Boreas by The Oh Hellos)

Summary: An argument before Scott's world- one of color, light, and love- falls to pieces and turns dark. And the friend who tries to collect those pieces and bring back a little light to him.

Warnings: minor violence, talk of death, arguing, hugs, crying, canonical character death, grief/mourning, bittersweet ending

-

Scott leaned against the potions table with a sigh. There were too many close calls today. Each brush with Dogwarts nearly cost either him or Jimmy their lives, not to mention that Cleo lost one of her lives trying to escape the Red King and his men. Then there was the whole issue with Joel, his attempt on Scott’s life, and their wall- he wasn’t looking forward to rebuilding it, especially just out of cobblestone or some other stone. A small smile was brought to his face as he remembered how Jimmy instantly wanted to go after Joel, even though the other man was already long gone. It should have been concerning, how fast Jimmy could seemingly switch between being a lost puppy or a feral wolf on his red life. Instead, it was actually sort of endearing. It would be more endearing if it didn’t give Scott a near heart attack every time his husband tried to rush forward into danger. Scott squeezed his eyes shut at the sudden onslaught of memories- Jimmy running through lava for a prize, his eagerness to pick up a piece of tnt and the resulting destruction it caused, Jimmy staring Ren down as he burned the Dogwarts flag (and then himself), Jimmy drawing his bow when Scott was trying to de-escalate a situation and just ask if Dogwarts had anything to do with their wall burning- Scott wasn’t sure if he was proud of or angry at Jimmy’s recklessness. There was one thing Scott knew for certain- he would never be able to erase the memories of Jimmy’s deaths from his mind, and everything he did was to make sure that Jimmy would survive. And himself too, of course, but Jimmy was the one with no lives left.

“Scott?” a voice asked, causing his eyes to snap open. He looked over to see Jimmy stepping through the nether portal. He looked a little shy, and Scott smiled in spite of himself at his husband being in his “lost puppy” mode.

“I’m just working on some potions. Y’know, for future encounters. What’s up?” Scott asked. Jimmy fidgeted for a moment or two, not quite meeting Scott’s gaze.

“Just wanted to check in on you, after uh… everything,” he asked sheepishly, finally looking up at Scott’s eyes.

“Could be better, could be worse. There were a couple of close calls, but that’s why I’m working on potions,” he replied with a shrug. Jimmy’s brow knit in concern, and he reached out to Scott for half a moment, but quickly dropped his hands with a frown.

“It was too close today,” Jimmy muttered under his breath. Scott huffed out a laugh, shaking his head.

“It was, you’re on your last life- you’ve gotta be more careful,” he reprimanded. Jimmy’s sheepish gaze snapped defiantly to Scott’s, and he jumped a bit in surprise at the fire in his husband’s eyes.

“I was talking about you! Martyn’s arrows nearly took you out!” Jimmy shouted, hands gesturing wildly.

“Jimmy, my armor’s better than yours, and I have all my lives left. I would have been fine- you wouldn’t have,” Scott said, a little taken aback at Jimmy’s sudden ferocity.

“Just because you have all your lives doesn’t mean you can throw them away, Scott!” Jimmy protested. Scott gave Jimmy an incredulous look.

“I’m not throwing my lives away, Jimmy. I have good gear, I negotiate and build alliances with other factions, I’m making potions- if anyone’s throwing away their lives around here, it’s you!” Scott shot back, voice coming out more frustrated than he meant it to. A hurt expression crossed Jimmy’s face, and part of Scott wanted to take back what he said, but most of him didn’t regret it at all. Didn’t Jimmy understand what was at stake here? Scott tried his best to look out for him, but each and every time he rushed forward into things he shouldn’t have.

“Scott, I know I’ve messed up. You don’t need to keep reminding me. But I can’t just stay put and do nothing like you!” Jimmy shouted.

“What do you mean, doing nothing?! I’m trying to build up our defences-”

“Going on the offensive is the only thing Dogwarts will understand-”

“I’m just trying to protect you!” both Scott and Jimmy exclaimed at the same time. Both of them blinked in surprise, and all at once things started clicking into place.

“Scott, I’m no strategist like you. I’m not even as good in combat. But I’m on red- I’m the fighter here. So let me fight for you,” Jimmy said softly. Scott made a sound that was half laugh, half scoff.

“Jimmy-”

“I can’t stand the thought of letting you die, Scott,” Jimmy said, refusing to meet his gaze. A bittersweet smile came to Scott’s face, and he took a step closer to Jimmy, tilting his head to try and meet Jimmy’s eyes.

“Jimmy, I’ve seen you die twice. Don’t you think that I can’t stand the thought of letting you die either?” Scott asked. Jimmy finally looked up at Scott, eyes watering. Scott let out a fond little scoff, reaching out to wipe at Jimmy’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Jimmy said wetly. Scott didn’t answer at first, instead reaching out to pull Jimmy into a hug.

“Don’t be. And don’t cry you idiot, you’ll just disintegrate faster,” Scott teased fondly, relieved when Jimmy let out a laugh in response. Jimmy pulled away, wiping at his eyes and smiling. Scott couldn’t help but smile back, happy to see his husband in a marginally better mood.

“We’ll be okay, right Scott?” Jimmy asked, still soft and as timid as before. 

“I’m working on potions, we’ve got allies, and we’ve got each other. We’ll be alright,” Scott said, voice soft but no less determined. Jimmy gave his usual dazzling smile, filling Scott with warmth and light at the sight of it.

-

It was dark when Scott made his way down the hill from Jimmy’s grave. He wasn’t even there when Jimmy had died, he had told Jimmy that they would be alright and they both weren’t. Scott was on yellow now, the gleam in his eyes and the gold shimmering in his hair making that absolutely certain. Scott’s preparedness hadn’t even saved either of them! His potions certainly didn’t do much good as Scott died early on in the battle. Maybe he and Jimmy shouldn’t have allied with anyone. Maybe they should have stayed within their walls and retired, like Scott wanted to. Maybe Jimmy would be alive now. But there was no use dwelling on the “what-ifs”- all Scott had was the now. And the now was crushingly lonely and dim.

Scott jumped at the cackle of a witch, narrowly avoiding a thrown potion. He drew his sword and cut her down without a second thought. She poofed into ash, leaving Scott to stumble forward into the dirt. He drove his sword into the ground with a cry of rage and sorrow.

“I can’t even mourn?!” he cried, shouting at the universe for what he had lost and what he had endured. Scott wasn’t sure how long he had knelt there in the grass, a white-knuckled grip on the hilt of his sword and a hand over his mouth to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape. It wasn’t until the growls and skittering of other mobs approaching that Scott finally picked himself up, yanking his sword from the ground and feet moving on autopilot. 

He soon stumbled through the nether portal to the cave behind it, shaking hands reaching for a book tucked away on one of the shelves. He opened it carefully despite his trembling hands, not wanting to damage what was inside. Between the pages laid a collection of pressed flowers, one of them being the poppy that Jimmy had given him when they first met. Scott finally allowed himself to crumble, falling to the floor and sobbing with the book of pressed flowers cradled in his arms.

“Scott?” a voice asked. His head snapped up and he looked to the cave entrance, heart skipping a beat at a flash of blond and red- but then saw the brightly colored wings and deflated at the realization that it was just Grian. Scott quickly wiped at his eyes, gently closing the book before holding it tight against his chest and standing up.

“Um. Hi,” Scott said, unsure of what to say. Grian didn’t look like he knew what to say either, feathers rustling slightly before he cleared his throat.

“I just wanted to uh. Check in on you,” Grian said. Scott let out a shaky sigh. How many times had Jimmy come in, asking the same thing? Checking in on Scott, making sure he wasn’t overworking himself- sometimes checking in on him wasn’t even for Scott’s own benefit. Jimmy would need reassurance, and Scott would joke and tease to cheer him up. What Scott wouldn’t give to hear Jimmy’s laugh one last time.

“I think you can see how well I’m doing,” Scott said, tone coming off a bit more brusquely than he meant it to. Scott winced as soon as the words escaped his mouth. Grian didn’t deserve to have his grief taken out on him, but frankly Scott wasn’t sure how else he was supposed to respond to that. His friend’s expression twisted in sympathy.

“Sorry. We did avenge him, at least,” Grian said softly. Scott let out a humorless laugh.

“Yeah. I just thought I’d feel some sort of satisfaction from it, or that it would make losing Jimmy hurt less,” Scott replied, voice as hollow as he felt. Silence hung between them for a few moments, before Grian stepped a bit closer. He cautiously reached out to put a hand on Scott’s shoulder, and Scott peered up slightly at the touch.

“It probably won’t help much, in fact not at all, but what if we put a stop to Dogwarts? For all the things we’ve lost- and for Jimmy,” Grian offered. A small, weak smile crept onto Scott’s face. He wouldn’t let Jimmy’s death be in vain- he believed in a world without Dogwarts, a world where he and Scott could live out their days in peace. And even if Jimmy wasn’t able to live it with him, Scott knew that Jimmy would want him to move forward, to the life they had wanted.

“For Jimmy,” Scott said, warmth in his tone for the first time since Jimmy had died. For a brief moment, he thought he felt a hand ghost across his, paired with a reassuring touch on his back and a breath at his ear. The moment was there and gone, and Scott desperately wanted to curl his fingers around familiar ones he swore he had just felt- but it left Scott’s smile a bit brighter all the same.

-

MCYT Taglist (ask to be added/removed!): @corazon10000 @damiensaidno @franticfandomfanatic @space-ace123

[hughjidiot]

Under Your Scars, an Amphibia Fanfiction

(TW for panic attacks. Takes place post-canon with aged-up characters.)

Marcy has been together with Anne for one year now and wants to make their anniversary special, but memories of what happened in Amphibia all those years ago threaten to bring everything crashing down.

Thankfully for Marcy, Sasha is there to hold her together while she falls apart.

AO3 Link

---

The shower knob squeaked as it was turned to the right, cutting off the steady stream of warm water. Steam filled the tiny apartment bathroom as Marcy Wu stepped out of the shower, water dripping down her in rivets, eyes shut tight. Quick as a flash the nineteen-year-old STEM major whipped the fluffy green towel off the bar beside the sink, wrapping it tightly around her torso.

 It was only when she was fully covered that Marcy dared open her eyes.

 She wiped the condensation away from the mirror, brushing her wet hair away from her eyes. She popped open the medicine cabinet above the sink, removing her toothbrush and toothpaste before gently closing the door. As she cleaned her teeth, the mint of the toothpaste tingling against her tongue, Marcy ran though her to-do list in her head. A paradoxical mix of anticipation and apprehension roiled in her gut.

 Today was hers and Anne’s anniversary.

 Marcy still couldn’t believe it had been a full year since she and Anne Boonchuy had officially started dating. A full year since Anne had first taken Marcy’s hands in her own, blushing and stuttering, asking if Marcy wanted to have dinner together that weekend. Not with Sasha as they usually did; just the two of them. Marcy had been stunned into silence, a silence that Anne had initially taken for a rejection that had her stammering out an apology looking close to tears.

 Marcy’s senses had returned to her just in time, and she’d practically screamed yes, of  course she’d go out with Anne.

 In hindsight it seemed natural that the two girls would end up together. They’d been friends since kindergarten, complimenting each other perfectly. Anne would be the one to look out for Marcy and keep her safe, while Marcy would be the one to help Anne with the schoolwork she always struggled with. Along with their mutual friend Sasha Waybright, they completed each other, made each other whole.

 Granted there had been some… complications in their adolescence. Complications that were exacerbated by circumstances that most teenagers couldn’t imagine dealing with. But in the end the three had worked through everything, coming out with a stronger friendship, a  genuine  friendship. A friendship that had naturally segued into romance for Anne and Marcy, with Sasha fully supportive of her oldest friends getting together.

 Now it was time to celebrate one year of their relationship.

 The day had gotten off to a great start already, Marcy waking up to find that Anne had already gotten up and prepared a full breakfast of all their favorite foods. They laughed and joked as they ate, finding simple joy in each other’s presence. They talked about Anne’s work and Marcy’s schooling, and how much they were looking forward to the reservation they’d made at that new Italian restaurant for dinner tonight.

 Marcy felt her face heat up as she finished brushing, spitting the foamy mixture into the sink. Their dinner date wasn’t until eight in the evening, it was a little after eleven now, and Anne would be back from working the lunch shift at her parent’s restaurant around two. Meaning they’d have almost the entire day all to themselves. And Marcy wanted it to be  special. 

 After a year together, after a year of going no further than heavy make-out sessions, she’d decided it was finally time to take things with Anne to the next level.

 Feeling that her hair was dry enough, Marcy retrieved the hair dryer from the cabinet. She closed the door again, and froze at the sight of her reflection.

 Her towel had slipped ever-so-slightly, exposing a triangular patch of pale-pink skin just below her collarbone, extending to underneath the fabric.

 Marcy felt her breath hitch as the memories came flooding back to her.

 Memories of her arguing with her parents on that autumn day. 

 Running from her house in tears, screaming that they were ruining her life.

 Finding the Calamity Box in the pawn shop.

 Remembering the book from the library, thinking it had to be a coincidence, that there’s no  way it would actually work.

 Then, the fateful decision: what’s the harm in trying?

 Marcy felt her hands start to tremble. The memories came faster.

 Standing outside the pawn shop with Sasha while Anne stole the music box.

 Seeing a blinding flash when Anne opened the box at the park.

 Landing in a city straight out of one of her video games.

 Meeting him. The “good king” who took in a confused and frightened visitor from another world. The man who housed, studied with her, gave her a crossbow as a gift and taught her how to shoot. An adult who actually listened to what she had to say, who encouraged her to embrace her own interests rather than force his ideals on her.

 Being made the head of an entire military branch. Going on thrilling missions and daring adventures, just like her favorite fantasy novels.

 Then, meeting Anne again after so many months apart.

 Marcy’s eyes started to burn, welling up with tears. More memories, slamming into her like a physical force.

 Feeling such hope and joy as she was reunited with her oldest friend.

 Showing her the city. Introducing her to King Andrias.

 Doing research on the music box so that the girls could finally get home. Just like Anne wanted.

 Letting her go so she could spend just a little more time with her surrogate frog family.

 Watching Anne dash through the streets, leaving Marcy alone.

 Then, seven words from King Andrias that would again change the course of her life: “I have a proposition for you, Marcy… ”

 Marcy’s legs trembled, and she dropped the hairdryer and gripped the counter to steady herself as she tried desperately to get her breathing under control. Not helping was that the motion had caused her towel to drop further, exposing even more of that damned scar. The memories wouldn’t stop.

 Travelling across Amphibia with Anne and the Plantars on a quest to charge the stones of the Calamity Box.

 Meeting Sasha again after so much time apart, who seemed to have truly grown and turned over a new leaf.

 Lying to both of them about going home.

 Returning to Newtopia with the fully-charged box in tow.

 Watching in shock as Sasha and Grime stabbed them in the back and launched a full-blown toad rebellion.

 Watching in horror as Anne exploded at Sasha, ending their friendship right then and there.

 Thinking that it was fine, this was fine, they’d had their spats before, Marcy could fix this like she always did.

 Working with Anne, the Plantars, Yunan and Olivia to free King Andrias and crush the rebellion.

 Then, the moment everything came crashing down.

  Keep it together, Marcy thought to herself in the bathroom, shutting her eyes tight. She bit her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood as her mind was assaulted with sounds and images. Not today. Not today…

 Listening in stunned shock to Andrias’s delusional ranting.

 Watching the Calamity Box light up the castle, feeling the entire structure rise into the sky as a small army of robots seemed to show up out of nowhere.

 Pleading with Andrias that this wasn’t supposed to happen, this wasn’t part of the plan.

 Standing there helpless as Andrias coldly revealed the truth in front of everyone.

 Desperately trying to explain things to Anne and Sasha. Sasha backing away in anger and disgust. Anne looking at Marcy with such hurt, such betrayal.

  You did that to them, a voice whispered in the back of Marcy’s brain. You tore them from their homes, their lives, put them through hell. It was all you, Marcy.

 Fighting Andrias’ robots alongside everyone.

 Staring in horror as Andrias cruelly dropped Sprig to his death.

 Diving out the window after them, whistling for Joe Sparrow to fly in and save them both. It was the least she could do. He  was Anne’s best friend, after all.

 Returning to the castle with Sprig in tow, watching in awe as Anne laid the hurt down on Andrias, using powers that none of the girls understood at the time.

 Grabbing the music box, using it to open a portal home. Anne and the Plantars rushing through while Sasha and Grime held off Andrias.

 And then.

 Pain.

 Pain unlike anything Marcy had ever felt.

 Looking down to see the glowing tip of Andrias’s sword protruding from her chest.

 Hearing the stone-cold voice of the man she thought she could trust: “Now look what you made me do.”

 Pain.

 Using her last breath to apologize as her body went numb.

  Pain.

 Hearing Anne’s anguished cry as the world around Marcy faded away.

  Pain pain pain such horrible pain-

 Marcy practically ripped the medicine cabinet open, grabbing her anti-panic attack medication. She untwisted the cap and, despite her shaking, managed to get a single pill out and popped it into her mouth. She slammed the cabinet door shut and turned on the faucet, collecting water in her cupped hands and taking a huge gulp.

 Unfortunately, her rapid movements sent the towel tumbling to the floor, leaving that goddamned scar on full display. 

 An ugly, thick, jagged line of pale-pink, starting below her collarbone, crossing down over her heart and ending just below her right breast.

 A permanent reminder of the biggest mistake of Marcy’s life. A mistake that had nearly gotten her killed. Almost got her  friends  killed.  Could have killed them at several points, if things had gone just a little bit differently.

 Aside from the doctors she’d seen when their adventure in Amphibia was over, she’d never shown  anyone the full scar. Not her parents, not Sasha, not even Anne.

 In her mind’s eye she saw Anne staring at her bare chest, recoiling in shock and horror from the sight of the scar. A reminder of the one who uprooted Anne from everything she knew on her thirteenth birthday and dropped her into a hostile new world that had almost killed her multiple times.

 She heard Anne’s words from all those years ago echo in her ears: “How could you?! I’ve been missing my family, my life!”

 Marcy tore out of the bathroom, eyes shut against the sting of her tears. She sprinted to the bedroom and threw herself onto the bed, not daring to open her eyes until she had pulled the comforter over her still-damp form and covered her scar. Her breathing was heavy and ragged, her vision was blurry, her heart slammed against her ribcage, and a sensation of pins and needles settled in her hands and feet.

 Marcy curled herself tight into a ball on the bed she shared with Anne. Sweet, kind, wonderful Anne who was hard at work right now, who would walk through the front door in just a few hours expecting to spend a magical anniversary with her girlfriend.

 That thought did little to calm Marcy down.

 She reached for her phone on the nightstand. It wasn’t easy with her hands trembling the way they were, but she managed to pull up Sasha’s name and hit the call button. Marcy waited for what felt like an eternity as the phone rang until, mercifully, it was answered on the second ring.

  “What’s up girlfriend?” Sasha Waybright asked casually.

 “S-sasha?” Marcy choked out.

  “Marcy?!”  Sasha’s tone changed in a heartbeat. “What’s the matter? Where are you?”

 “Apartment. Anxiety attack. It’s r-really bad this time…”

  “Hang on, I’m on my way!”

 Sasha hung up. Marcy let the phone slip from her hand and she curled up tighter, trying to focus on her breathing.

 Several minutes later, Marcy heard the front door unlock and Sasha’s voice call out: “Marcy?!”

 “In here,” Marcy managed to reply.

 Sasha came rushing into the bedroom. The blond woman took one look at the scene on the bed and gasped, hand going to her mouth.

 “S-sorry to bother you,” Marcy said with a forced smile, craning her neck to look. “I-I didn’t have anyone else to call…”

 “Marcy it’s okay,” Sasha said right away. She crossed the room and laid down on the bed, wrapping her arms around Marcy and pulling her close. One hand went to Marcy’s wet black hair, stroking gently. “It’s okay, just breathe with me. Breathe, Marcy. In and out. In…”

 Marcy took a shaky breath, holding it in.

 “And out.”

 She forced herself to exhale slowly, the tears still falling.

 “In… and out…”

---

It took several minutes, but the combination of Sasha’s comforting presence and the medication managed to calm Marcy down. After making sure Marcy was okay, Sasha laid out a t-shirt and some sweatpants for her before heading out to the kitchen to fix her something to eat. It took every ounce of Marcy’s energy to pull herself out of bed, quickly putting the shirt on first to get that scar covered. She pulled on her pants and shuffled out of the bedroom, moving at a slow and steady pace.

 “Hey Mar-Mar,” Sasha said gently. She was sitting on the living room couch, two bowls of mint chocolate-chip ice cream placed on the coffee table in front of her. “Hope you don’t mind but I raided your freezer.”

 “It’s fine,” Marcy said with a small smile. She grabbed one of the bowls and shoveled a huge spoonful into her mouth. The pleasant taste of mint spread across her tongue as she crunched chocolate chunks between her teeth. “Sasha I’m so sorry for dragging you over here-”

 “Uh-uh-uh!” Sasha said firmly. “I don’t wanna hear any of that junk. You know I’m always here for you and Anne, no matter what.” She paused to eat some of her own ice cream. “So… it was really bad this time, huh?”

 Marcy shuddered as she thought back to her panic attack in the bathroom. “Yeah. I haven’t had an attack that bad in a long time.”

 “If you don’t mind me asking, do you know what triggered it?”

 An image of Anne recoiling at the sight of Marcy’s scar tried to force its way into Marcy’s brain, but she derailed that train of thought.

 “Well… do you know what today is?” Marcy asked.

 “Your’s and Anne’s anniversary,” Sasha answered instantly. She furrowed her brow. “What, did you guys have a fight or something?” Sasha’s eyes widened. “You didn’t forget, did you?”

 “No no no!” Marcy said quickly, waving her hands. “No, everything’s fine between us. And it’s been going great so far: we had a nice breakfast this morning and have a reservation at the new Italian place tonight.”

 “Then what’s the problem?”

 Marcy paused, a blush settling over her cheeks. “Well… Anne gets home from work in a few hours, and then we have a few hours before dinner. I wanted the two of us to have a… special time together. If you know what I mean.”

 Sasha pursed her lips in thought, then her eyes widened and she smirked. “Oh I get you,” she said teasingly. “Finally gonna kick things up a notch, huh? Marcy you dog.”

 Marcy gave a small smile and blushed deeper at Sasha’s playful ribbing.

 “So what are you worried about? Do you need anything ‘special’ to spice things up? ‘Cause there’s a shop like three blocks from here, I can tag along if you’re nervous about going by your-”

 “No, that’s not the issue,” Marcy said quickly before her face could burst into flames. She gave a heavy sigh. “I’m just worried about… this.”

 She grabbed her shirt collar and pulled it down just enough to expose the top part of her scar.

 Sasha furrowed her brow. “Your scar? What’s the big deal about that?” Her eyes widened and she winced. “Er not to say your scar isn't important, I mean! I know that it’s from a major time in our lives a-and I���m not trying to downplay the crazy shit you went through, I just-”

 “It’s okay, I get what you mean,” Marcy said. She sighed heavily. “But that’s… kind of my problem.”

 “Uh, I’m not following you.”

 Marcy sighed heavily. “It’s just… when you get down to it,  everything we went through in Amphibia was because of me. I was the one who found the Calamity Box. I was the one who knew exactly what it would do. I helped you pressure Anne into stealing it, all because I couldn’t face being alone.”

 Marcy felt her eyes start to burn as the tears welled up again, and she quickly wiped them away. “I didn’t wanna be alone, and I ripped you guys away from your lives and families! I dropped you into a dangerous world, a place that could’ve gotten you guys killed!”  The tears welled up again and Marcy’s voice hitched as she went on. “And then I lied to you both about going home! I-I just assumed you guys would want to keep going on adventures with me forever, I never even considered your feelings! I was so blinded by my desires that I didn’t even realize a power-hungry tyrant was playing me like a fiddle! And he… h-he...”

 Sasha’s arms shot out, pulling Marcy into a tight hug. “It’s okay, Marcy,” she said softly. “Everything’s okay. Just breathe.”

 Marcy took several deep, shuddering breaths. She could feel another attack welling up inside her, but the medication kept it in check. Sasha held her for a few more minutes until Marcy felt calm enough to continue.

 “This scar is a permanent reminder of everything I put us through,” Marcy said when she pulled away. She subconsciously traced her hand across the scar over her shirt. “It’s something I’ll be living with for the rest of my life. Most of the time I can’t even look at it without triggering an attack. And I guess I’m just… afraid of Anne seeing it, okay? What if she sees it and remembers that everything she went through was  my fault? What if…”

 Marcy paused for a long while, looking down. When she spoke again, her voice was barely a whisper. “What if she realizes just how horrible I am?”

 Sasha reached out to put a comforting hand on Marcy’s shoulder. 

 “Oh Mar-Mar…” she said gently, a soft smile gracing her features. “You’re such an idiot.”

 Marcy looked up sharply. “Huh?”

 “You really think Anne’s gonna leave you over something like that?” Sasha chuckled and shook her head. “For someone so smart, you can be pretty damn stupid sometimes. Anne is crazy about you Marcy. You should hear the way she goes on about you during our girls’ nights. There’s no way in hell she’d leave you over everything that happened all those years ago.”

 “But I was the one who-”

 “And that’s another thing! You’re putting way too much blame on yourself for that mess. Sure you might have found the box but I was the one who convinced Anne to swipe it. And you’re not the only one who made some big mistakes in Amphibia.” She chuckled. “I mean at least Andrias tricked you. I willingly tried to start a violent uprising to overthrow the government.”

 Marcy rolled her eyes. “And look what happened when we stopped you.”

 Sasha shrugged. “Yeah, but hindsight is a bitch like that.” She gently grabbed Marcy’s chin to turn her head towards Sasha, looking Marcy in the eye as she continued.

 “Look, I’m not trying to downplay your mistakes. Because you made some  big  ones, I’m not denying that. We all made mistakes, but we all owned up to them. We learned from them so we could become better people. And you’re forgetting the important thing of all: we forgave you. Anne and I both forgave you a long, long time ago. Okay?”

 Marcy felt a pang in her chest. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard those words, not by a long shot. But it didn’t lessen the impact one bit. She could feel the storm clouds of anxiety that had been roiling inside her begin to dissipate. “... Really?”

 Sasha smiled sweetly. “Really.”

 She yelped as Marcy shot forward to wrap Sasha in a hug, but quickly returned the embrace.

 “Thank you Sasha,” Marcy said, “I really needed this, you have no idea.”

 “No problem, Marcy,” Sasha said, patting her friend on the back. “You gonna be okay?”

 Marcy pulled back and nodded. “Yeah. I… I think I’ll be alright.”

 “Good. Now before I take off, are you sure there’s nothing you need help with before Anne comes home?”

 Marcy opened her mouth but paused, the gears turning in her brain. She slowly smiled as an idea began to take shape.

 “Actually… I think there is. I’m gonna need some rose petals.”

--- 

The apartment was dark when Anne arrived after work.

 This fact didn’t surprise her too much; Marcy had a habit of gaming with the lights off, much to Anne’s charaign. But when she fished the key out of her pocket and let herself in, she was surprised to see the living room TV dark and the couch Marcy-free.

 “Honey, I’m home!” Anne called out her usual greeting as she stepped across the threshold, gently shutting the door behind her.

 No response.

 Anne frowned as she shrugged her coat off her shoulders. Was Marcy taking a nap or something?

 She was about to call out again when she saw them: rose petals on the floor. They started just beyond the front door and led down the hall towards the bedroom. The door was open just a crack, soft light coming from inside.

 “Well well well, what have we here?” Anne asked herself with a chuckle as she kicked off her shoes. “Marcy Wu, you charmer.”

 Anne made her way down the hall, gently opening the bedroom door.

 Her heart skipped a beat.

 The lights in the bedroom were all off and the curtains had been drawn; the only illumination came from the candles burning on the nightstand. The trail of rose petals continued across the carpet to the bed itself.

 Marcy Wu laid back on the bed, her upper body propped up on pillows with her arms spread out casually. The blanket covered her up to her chest, clinging to the contours of her body, the creamy skin of her bare shoulders tantalizing peeking out from where the blanket ended. Marcy smiled warmly at her girlfriend, giving Anne the sultriest gaze she could muster.

 “Hey Anna-Bananna,” she said in a breathy voice. “How was work?”

 Fire blossomed in Anne’s face as she opened and closed her mouth, which was suddenly  very dry. “Uh… guh…”

 Marcy felt her confidence ebb at Anne’s stammering and she chuckled awkwardly. “Sorry, was this too much?”

 “Oh no no, it’s more than fine!” Anne said quickly. “I mean I was thinking you’d have something waiting for me when I got home, but this…” Anne made a show of tugging at her shirt collar. “This is beyond anything I could’ve imagined.”

 Marcy perked up, smiling shyly as she brushed some of her hair behind her ear. “So you like it then?”

 Anne crossed the space between them in a fraction of a second, joining Marcy on the bed. She cupped Marcy’s chin and leaned in for a long, deep kiss. Marcy returned the kiss with gusto, reaching up with one hand to thread her fingers through Anne’s hair while the other held the blanket in place.

 “I love it,” Anne said when she pulled away, fixing Marcy with a fiery gaze that had her trembling in anticipation. As much as Marcy wanted to start tearing Anne’s clothes off right then and there, she took a deep breath and held herself back.

 She had to do this right.

 “Anne,” Marcy said as she sat up, still holding the blanket up over her chest as she looked into her girlfriend’s eyes, “this last year has been the happiest of my entire life. When I’m with you, everything just feels right. You complete me in ways no one else ever has. You give me strength and confidence, inspire me to be a better person. I love that you’re the last thing I see before I go to sleep each night and the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning. I love you, Anne Boonchuy.”

 Anne placed a hand over her mouth, eyes twinkling. “Marcy…”

 Marcy took another deep breath. “I know we’ve gotten pretty… familiar with each other over these last several months. And if you’re ready to take things to the next level…”

 She let the blanket fall. “Then so am I.”

 Anne’s blush deepened as her eyes traveled downward. Marcy kept her face steady, but some dark corner of her brain was still expecting Anne to pull back at the sight of her scar, reminded that everything that happened in Amphibia - all of her hardships and brushes with death - was all because of Marcy.

 But there was no revulsion, no anger. There was lust and desire in her gaze to be sure. But there was also passion and love. The same spark Marcy saw when she and Anne would get lost in each other’s eyes while eating dinner, or walking in the park, or just cuddling on the couch.

 Anne looked back up at Marcy, then leaned in for a second kiss. Tender and gentle but with a hunger and passion bubbling just below the surface. Marcy melted into the kiss, allowing herself to be pushed back onto the pillows as Anne crawled further onto the bed, climbing on top of her girlfriend. Anne pulled away after several long seconds, both girls breathing heavily, staring at each other with smoldering eyes.

 “I’ve been ready for a long, long time,” Anne said. “I love you Marcy Wu.”

 Marcy felt her heart soar.

 She wrapped her arms around Anne and pulled her close for yet another kiss. The third of many, many more.

[acraftedmistake]

A Person Who Has Never Played MCSM Writes A Story About MCSM Chp. 4

Thank you all for your patience! I was so caught up with school stuff (then had to go a week without internet connection rip)! So with all my free time I wrote about double the amount of words I usually wrote per chapter (about 9 PAGES in google docs DANG)! It was gonna be even LONGER but I’m saving that for chapter 5!

Thanks again for your patience! And I hope you enjoy the chapter!! <3

It had been half an hour of walking It didn’t feel that long to Jesse and Olivia, who were too preoccupied with discussing their current situation, but Aiden and Rose felt every one of those thirty minutes. If they weren’t walking beside each other in an irritated, wordless manner, they’d start talking with each other, which would quickly develop into an argument, which would then result in them giving each other the silent treatment. From a bystander’s point of view, Jesse wasn’t necessarily sure if they were progressing or even reached an agreement at any point, but Jesse was hoping that the two of them wouldn’t act this way during the questioning--wouldn’t want that to be awkward. Jesse turned to his friend who was stressing over what had happened in the last hour; the shrine, the carving of the man, Aiden’s attitude, it all seemed like a lot for her at the moment. Olivia had been rambling incoherently, her words merging together as she spoke at a ridiculously fast rate. Jesse had tuned out Olivia’s maunder while observing her; Her eyes darted around as she tugged a lock of her thick black hair with one hand, gesturing with her other hand, moving it about so much that Jesse thought it’d snap off. “... Maybe I’m just overreacting but do you see where I’m coming from? Jesse?” Olivia quickly asked, her voice cracking a little. Jesse stared at her blankly, trying to recall what topic they were going on about, he looked down in embarrassment and opened his mouth, contemplating what to say when Olivia let out a defeated--and worried--whine. “Were you even paying attention?” “It’s not that--I’m sorry I was just keeping an eye on Aiden and Rose, I kinda got lost in my thoughts.” Jesse shoved his hands in his pockets as his ears turned red. Olivia folded her arms, hugging herself, she shook her head “No, don’t be. We’re both worried about this whole... Mess.” Jesse looked ahead, they were getting closer and closer to the town with each step, though it was quite a challenge to properly examine it. From what Jesse could make out, the town looked like a big, black rectangle with a vague gate shaped structure in front of it, a few tips of buildings were peaking above the structure, but that’s about it. The once colorful sky was consumed by hues of dark blue with white specs scattered about; the moon was full, bright and brilliant, acting like a spotlight for the four; had it not been for that, the town would be nearly invisible in the night’s sky. Breaking the moment of silence, Jesse spoke up, “Sooo... Any theories on where we might be?” he kept his eyes on the sky. Olivia tapped her chin and clicked her tongue, “Well, from what we’ve seen so far--and what we’ve experienced--there’s not too much to work with. At first, I thought we just entered a portal which lead to another temple in our world, but- OH JESSE!” she shrieked, Jesse’s heart stopped for a split second, Aiden and Rose stopped walking and spun around. Jesse felt Olivia grab his hand while he felt his foot reach out, landing on absolutely nothing. He brought his eyes down as the weight of his body leaned forward, mere inches from walking straight into a ravine. The fracture on the world’s surface seemed bottomless, the lava and waterfalls that spewed from the sides would keep running down till they were engulfed in the abyss which hid the ground of the chasm. And while Jesse couldn’t see it, his mind was filled with images of hundreds of monstrous spiders and rotting corpses roaming about, He heard desperate gasps--his own heavy breathing--as Olivia slowly pulled him back to her side, a few feet away from the ravine. Clutching his chest with his hand, he felt himself shake like a leaf, staring at what could’ve been his grave with wide, white eyes. “You okay?” Olivia asked, carefully placing her hand on her friend’s shoulder. Jesse nodded once and mouthed the word “thanks”, he took a couple more steps back before continuing their walk towards the town, remaining close by his friend’s side, the vision of the ravine’s drop still fresh in his mind. “Come on Aiden, we’re almost home.” Rose said; Aiden felt his body relax, his jaw unhinged. He was about two meters away from Rose, he must’ve started running--or at the very least, speed walked--to help Jesse, it happened almost on command; he didn’t even need to think about it, which might’ve been why he didn’t notice. “... Right.” Aiden hesitantly turned back to Rose, taking big heavy steps that’d hit the ground with a thud, not making any other sound. Rose, without even glancing at Aiden, asked “You still have some sorta soft spot for him?” in an unamused tone. He didn’t say anything at first, but soon grumbled “I didn’t want Jesse to die before he got back to our place.” Rose, not knowing whether Aiden was upset at himself or at her, decided not to ask anymore questions. Pushing her glasses up, the two of them walked in silence once again. ~~~~~ “JEEZ, that had to have been the eighth rivine we passed by tonight! It’s ridiculous,” Olivia’s head turned towards Jesse’s near death experience. “So- as you were saying?” Jesse attempted to ask in a casual manner, his heart still pounding in his chest, Olivia looked at him, bewildered. “You almost died and you want to continue our conversation?!” “Would you like to hear what your life flashing before your eyes is like instead?” Olivia hesitated, “Uh... Not yet.” Adjusting the oversized leather jacket covering her body, she backtracked and mouthed the bits of their previous conversation that she could remember until a lightbulb went off. “So there’s not too much to work with right now, but my best theory right now is that we’ve found another portal that lead to Sky City. That could explain bits of how Aiden’s acting, he wasn’t happy to see you but he didn’t... Want to... Stab you?” she shrugged uncertainly at her duff attempt at adding humor to the explanation. She glanced at Rose then back at Jesse, “And it’s the only way I could think of who Rose is and why she’s with Aiden. Maybe when everyone left Sky City and started their new life on land, the two met and bonded?” “But Aiden had Gill and Maya, those two would follow him everywhere like puppies. He wouldn’t ditch those two for someone else!” Jesse pointed out, “I know, but there are so many other possibilities, it’s hard to pinpoint an exact answer.” Olivia’s shoulders drooped as her fingers tapped against the leather sleeve quickly, producing a continuous pattering sound. “Maybe Obsidian Town will give us some answers.” Jesse suggested in an effort to give his friend hope. She chuckled, “I just hope they don’t wanna kill us on the spot.” “Alright you two, buddy-buddy time is over, we’re getting close to the town, we’re gonna need to hold your hands--arms again.” Rose announced, her voice echoing throughout the empty field, she leaned over to Aiden and whispered, “There HAS to be a word for the way we hold it.” “What, why?!” Jesse asked as he kept an eye on the girl with glasses, the moon’s light shining on her pale face, the broad man right by her side. “Because-” Before Aiden could start, Rose cut in, “Because unless you want to get an angry horde of people coming after you--OR make our lives much harder, you have no better option.” Jesse caught a glimpse of how far they were from their next location, and it was safe to assume they were only a five minute walk away from the town’s main entrance. He could make out much more of the place than he did before; a tall, dark wall stood proud and most likely surrounded the town, stretching on for--give or take--half a mile. Two, thin watchtowers were on both ends of the wall with dim lights shining from both of them, barely lighting their surrounding area. There was a large arch shaped gate made up of stone and wood; bits of houses and other buildings could be seen. He brought his attention back to Rose and Aiden, who were getting closer to them. Jesse felt himself instinctively take a step back as Aiden approached them. “Fine but,” he clasped his hands together, “Could you not hold it as hard as last time?” “If you make it easy for us, sure. And you know what?” Rose’s tone took a more optimistic, but clearly mocking, tone “If the idea of Aiden holding your sensitive hands bother you so much, I can do it instead!” Without giving Jesse a chance to respond, she forcefully spun him around and grabbed his wrists, her sharp nails digging into his skin. Jesse gritted his teeth and cringed, holding back the urge to say anything in fear that she’d only shove her nails even deeper into his arm. Aiden took notice of Rose’s little interaction but decided against the idea of commenting, not wanting to spark another argument. He turned to Olivia, who already put her hands behind her back, though her body was facing away from the tall man, her face was tilted ever so slightly to see Aiden from the corner of her worried filled eyes. “Alright, let’s go.” Aiden said as he carefully held Olivia’s wrists together; his grip loose enough that Olivia thought she could slip out of his hands--but that was just a thought. Jesse took the time to get a better look at the front of the town’s large gate, which appeared to be in perfect condition, almost as if it were never used. His eyes drifted towards the thick walls and let out a tiny gasp. The entire thing was made out of “... Obsidian...” he mumbled. He heard Rose make a snide comment under her breath. Brushing aside Rose’s commentary, he noticed that they were slowly leaving the dusky, grassy land, as two beams of bright light coming from the top of the gate--most likely from glowstone--shone down upon them. Jesse squinted, looking up at the top of the gateway, he was able to make out the silhouette of two people, but he was unable to decide whether those were guards keeping watch, or just people who happened to be hanging around. Admittingly, Jesse was looking forward to seeing Obsidian Town and its residents. “Put your head down.” Rose ordered, pushing him down with great force, not giving Jesse the chance to react. A bit of Olivia’s hat covered one of his eyes, he wished he could shift it to a more comfortable position, but all he did was sigh to himself as he stared down at the dirt path below them. Olivia, not wanting to get the same treatment as her friend, zipped her head to the ground. The dirt path ended abruptly at a wooden bridge underneath the gate that overshadowed them and hid the light; after that, the floor underneath them was concrete. Jesse could hear the footsteps of citizens roaming about, conversations in the distance, doors opening and closing. As they kept going on, there’d be the occasional “Hello!” to Aiden and Rose, they seemed to be pretty well known--even liked--in this town. No one had said anything to or about Olivia and Jesse, but he could feel all eyes on them, locked onto them like hawks, but there was nothing that could be done except to continue walking in shame like a criminal being escorted to jail. From what little Jesse could make out, the place gave off a friendly feeling; people out in the evening, the streetlamps giving the area a nice, calm lighting, hopefully him and Olivia will get the chance to explore the site. “I don’t think we took too long in there, did we?” Aiden asked Rose, who thought for a second before shaking her head, “Couldn’t have been more than an hour, maybe a little bit less if you exclude the walk to and from the shrine.” “Hopefully the others didn’t get worried and wander off,” he twisted his head at the gate, eyeing the flat land they had walked through.. She shook her head, “No,” she pushed up her glasses, “Gill, maybe, but I’m sure they’re still waiting. Now let’s hurry up, I don’t wanna-” Rose’s talking came to a stop as she let out a quiet, but elongated groan. “Great...” Aiden brought his attention back to the path in front of him and perked up, holding Olivia with one hand, he waved, “Oh, hey Radar!” Jesse froze, he felt his heart pounding in his chest, a weird sense of relief washed over him, thankful that someone who actually liked him was here. Footsteps approached the four, Jesse wanted to see his good friend, glasses and all, but he kept his head down, only able to see Radar’s black, oxford shoes. “Aiden,” Jesse heard Radar’s high pitch voice began, “Ro-” “We’re not on that level of friendship yet, Radar.” Rose stated coldly, adding an icy glare to complete the sentence. Halting for a moment, he folded his arms and continued “Sorry, Cassie... Rose. Moving on,” Radar kept talking, but his words blurred together, everything became muffled and Jesse felt his palms get sweaty. The nails digging into him no longer bothered him, his heart was pounding in his throat as the sound boomed throughout his head. Cassie Rose--a murderer who despised him--was holding onto him, they’ve been interacting this whole time, and he didn’t notice the red flags. His body tensed up, he wanted to rip his arms out of her grip and knock her down, maybe run, but he was sure that doing so would make the situation far worse. Jesse tuned back into the conversation, trying to take his mind off of the reveal so he could remain calm. “... I’m glad you two didn’t take too long at The Shrine of Eyes; when I heard that a green glow was seen, I knew something terrible had happened. What did you find?” what Jesse found peculiar about Radar was, despite sounding like the prelude of a flute, was very monotonic, never shifting from its flat tone. “We didn’t have a chance to see the portal activated, but we DID find these two kids who apparently snuck in.” Aiden nudged Olivia along and started walking, Jesse and Rose soon following behind, “We’re gonna question them with the others.” Radar got close to them, specifically close to Jesse, he leaned close to him, “Do you believe they’re--” Rose shoved the black haired man away, catching him off guard as his glasses slipped down his nose, “Nope. Not apart of the group. We gotta go now.” she gave Jesse a light kick in his ankle, making him speed up just a bit more, “Rose is right, see you tomorrow.” Aiden added, not looking back at Radar. “But how can you be so sure if-” “GoodBYE, Radar.” Rose ended sternly, leaving him behind as he watched them walk away, confused. After traveling roughly a block in silence, with both Olivia and Jesse’s minds racing all over the place, they began slowing down, approaching a three story house, its shape resembling an octagon. The walls were mostly made up of birch wood with spruce planks--probably--dividing up each floor of the house; double doors were front and centered, with small windows on each side. There was another large window in the middle of the house, a faint light from the room shone through the glass, with a couch and small table visible, but that’s all that could be seen for now. The third floor had a window in the center as well, but it was noticeably smaller and had no light source, looking more like a void than anything else. The roof was also made of spruce wood, parts of it hung off the edge, a cobblestone fence at the top. There was also a nice cobblestone fence that was surrounding a small portion in the front of the house, the front yard decorated with a small handful of tulips, lilacs, and roses. Two glowstone lamps were on each side of the house, a good 5 or so feet away, the group stood underneath the lamp on the left side, talking amongst themselves. “We don’t know who’s where in the house,” Aiden started, “Or who’s even there.” Rose added, “Right, so the best thing to do is to call everyone down and just break the news to them.” Aiden turned towards Olivia and Jesse, “I’ll signal you two when you can come inside, it shouldn’t take too long.” Olivia responded with a “Got it!”, while Jesse nodded, albeit a bit sceptical. Aiden and Cassie Rose began heading towards the front door, the redhead faced them, “Don’t move from this spot.” she pierced through Jesse’s eyes, “If you run off, we’ll find you.” she continued walking, but her eyes were still locked onto Jesse, unblinking. The two stood in front of the spruce double doors, discussing something as Olivia and Jesse watched in the distance, the redstone lamp feeling more like a spotlight than a street light. Jesse lifted his head to get a chance to look at a small portion of Obsidian town; most of the town was hidden in the dark, the lights barely illuminating the pathways, some buildings were much more visible than others. Across from Aiden’s house, there was a row of small businesses: A blacksmith, a general store, a place to enchant items, and a library in the middle of them all. What was peculiar about them was that they were all still open, bustling with activity, lights on or music playing. From what could be seen through the windows, people were talking amongst themselves, reading, maybe snacking, it was quite busy for an evening. “Weird that these stores are still open...” Jesse observed, Olivia shuffled a few steps closer to him, “Are we allowed to stop looking down??” “Oh uh- I just kinda- Stopped. Looking down.” he shrugged but immediately shifted focus, “Wait wait wait! What about Cassie Rose!? How crazy is that??” he whisper shouted.   Olivia’s eyes went wide, “Oh my gosh- right?! Completely out of nowhere, I’m surprised she didn’t strangle us on the spot.” “Maybe it’s because Aiden was with us,” speaking of, Jesse looked back at the house, Aiden and Cassie Rose were no longer there, the doors were wide open, some of the lights from inside were released, dazzling the tiny garden. Olivia watched the door keenfully, she didn’t want to worry Jesse, but her mind had already raced to several different scenarios where the two of them would be attacked, kidnapped, held hostage--though that’s similar to kidnapping--she couldn’t see any good outcome to this situation. And though she hates to think it, she sort of blames Jesse for wounding them up here. She’s not exactly mad at Jesse, he’s a reliable friend, he’s always there to help out or be a shoulder to lean on, making sure his friends were never down, motivating them--but christ can he never seem to plan ahead. He might consider an option or think about a situation for a moment, but afterwards he’ll dally off to whatever piques his curiosity, or say whatever he feels is right for the problem, not thinking about the consequences. This has led them to getting in h multiple times, including this one. While cautiously keeping an eye on the door, she heard the murmur of a voice, but didn’t pay any mind to it. The voice came again, then suddenly, a hand placed itself on her shoulder and shook her. “Olivia!” Jesse said quietly, “Let’s go.” he motioned towards the doors, Aiden’s--well anything above his chest area--stuck out, his legs still in the house as he waved at them in a somewhat secretive manner. Olivia and Jesse speed walked to the front yard, making sure to avoid the delicate flowers as the sound of a bustling conversation grew more and more loud. Aiden quickly signaled them to “Stop” right before entering the building. He stepped into the house again, the once lively chat died down, a few hushes could be heard, the area fell silent, the faint background music barely filling in the void. Coming out again, Aiden nodded, “Alright, come in. Slowly.” adding a hint of emphasis on “slowly”. Olivia was the first to enter; a living room with two large, light green couches, an armchair to match, and a wall covered with bookshelves from top to bottom sat on the right side of the room, shrouded in darkness, none of the lamps turned on. The same couldn’t be said for the left area of the house, a kitchen with it’s own bar table shone brightly, the metal pieces of the kitchen reflected and glared, and the laminated maple wood floor was polished to the point where you could see your reflection. But the interior was not Olivia’s biggest concern when she looked at who was sitting at the bar table-- There was Stella, who was sitting on one of the tall, cool gray bar stools, her back straight, hands folded in her lap while her pure diamond--almost bleach-like--side cut, hair was resting by her shoulder, hanging about. Sitting next to her was Gill, who wore a t-shirt that faded from a dark blue to white; compared to his loose and comfortable looking khakis, the shirt he wore appeared clingy or tight, stretching/straining against his large build, giving it a more refined shape. He was balancing the stool on its two hind legs; his legs crossed and on the table, one hand on his stomach while the other was stroking his short, brown boxed beard, stubbles leading to his buzz cut hairstyle, which was a little fluffy.. Then there was Maya, who, unlike the other two, was sitting on the table itself, arms folded and legs dangling off the edge. Like Aiden, she had a leather jacket of her own, but it was noticeably thinner, the sleeves rolled up, each one having its own little, golden button, which complimented her hair clip and her black boots with gold colored straps. A bold colored shirt, collar being a bright yellow--along with the bottom--with the rest of the article mostly being candy apple red, helped the big, navy blue “E” stand out in the smack center. ‘Great. This is amazing. It’s not like these people despise me, or wanna throw me off a cliff-’ Olivia thought to herself, her breathing becoming unsteady as she kept opening her closing her increasingly sweating hands. The three stared at Olivia, slack jawed, their faces white as a sheet. Their gaped eyes focused on her, as if they encountered a ghost or some otherworldly creature. Olivia licked her lips, and let out a weak, cracky “Hi...”, uncertain whether or not she should say something to break the tension. Stella’s once stiff posture loosened up as she leaned over the table, as if inspecting the girl, her arms slowly moving out of her lap and onto the top, hands flat and stiff. Her mouth was parted, seeking out the right words to say, but nothing came. Gill almost stumbled out of his chair and--had it not been for his quick reaction--saved himself from falling off. He ended up stepping off and standing still, the bar acting like a border between his friends and Olivia. Maya’s eyes flickered, she scooted herself off of the table, stepping closer to Olivia, who stood as still as a statue, her eyes following the russet haired girl with her eyes. “You weren’t kidding...” Maya finally said, leaning close to the black, curly haired girl, who used Aiden’s jacket as a shell to hide in. Staring back at Aiden, who was leaning against the wall by the door, she continued “This is... ‘Shocking’.” Cassie Rose nodded, “We’re not entirely sure if she’s the ‘real deal’ or not, so don’t get too touchy.” “What??” Gill ran back up to the table--scaring Stella--and slid to the top in such an awkward position that the others thought he would fall off. “How could she not be real?! She’s right there! Right in front of us!” “Yeah, I know but,” Rose adjusted her glasses and turned to the front door, “We have some reasonable doubts.” Aiden rose, the two exchanged a look of agreement towards each other. Sticking his head out the door again, Aiden mumbled “Alright, come in.” to Jesse, who had been against the wall, next to the door outside, listening. Jesse mouthed the word okay as he took the green hat off and held it close to his chest, squeezing it tightly. He wasn’t sure what to expect, he could only make out bits and pieces of whatever was going on inside. He stepped in and the second he passed the doorway, he scanned the dumbfounded and dazed faces along with Olivia’s jittery expression. It felt as though a bomb had dropped in his stomach, a sickly, queasy feeling twisted his guts as he could make out Maya, Gill, and Stella, whose attentions were all on him now. Their once astonished faces shifted to a brief flash of confusion, anger, then finally, wrath.

[riseandshinelittleblossom]

Unfinished Business (2/6)

Summary: Today is the day that Renee will become the Queen of Cordonia, but oh how her mind still wanders…

Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters, we’re just having a good time. Also this series will contain smatters of Canon dialogue that I also do not own

Warnings: minor lemons, a bit of language

Part one

Masterlist

Tags: @ritachacha @fullbeaumonty @leelee10898@tornbetween2loves @zaffrenotes @hopefulmoonobject@ownworldresident @alj4890 @writerxdreamer @stiles-o-dylan24@lettersofwrittencollective @speedyoperarascalparty @dcbbw @ao719 @lizeboredom @carabeth 

      The palace staff were bustling about as Renee entered the private dining room, her friends waiting patiently for her to arrive.

    "Would you like something to drink, my love?" Liam asked.

    Renee startled at the question, her mind already beginning to wander. So many warm faces filled the room, people she'd come to think of as more family than friends, but the one face she really wanted to see was absent.

   "Uh...wh- whiskey sour."  she stuttered, facing her fiance.

   "Whiskey? For breakfast? Even I-" Drake began but Olivia's icy glare cut him off.

  "I feel like I need some liquid courage this morning." Renee blushed.

  "Whiskey sour it is then. I'll be just a moment." Liam beamed.

   "Personal service from the king, huh? I do feel special."

   "As you should on your wedding day." Liam told her, kissing her temple quickly before disappearing behind a service door.

    Maxwell held out Renee's chair at the head of the table, while Drake presented her a plate of thick cut bacon over fluffy mashed potatoes.

  "A traditional Cordonian wedding day breakfast." He offered.

  "Bacon is a Cordonian wedding tradition?" Renee balked.

     Olivia explained the significance of the meal, but the bride to be wasn't listening, her whole body beginning to feel numb and hollow as she pushed the potatoes around the plate with her fork.

************

     "This Cabernet is pretty good." Renee mused, swirling her wine glass.

    "That might have passed for a reaction in a dive bar in New York, but in the royal court, you'd be laughed out of the room." Bertrand snapped, the words hitting her ears like venom as she narrowed her eyes.

   She shifted her weight on her stool and crossed her feet at the ankles, sitting as tall as she possibly could. She stared into Bertrand's eyes as she countered,

   "I meant to say...the mouth feel of this cabernet is velvety and full, with jammy stone fruit flavors."

   Renee surmised that Bertrand knew she was getting irritated with him and she watched him purse his lips and cross his arms slowly across his chest. The tension, however was completely lost on Maxwell, as usual.

   "I can almost taste the pretension. It's perfect!" The younger Beaumont exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear.

    Renee and Bertrand continued to hold one another's stare as Maxwell's lively techno ringtone sounded from his pocket. He fished out the device and peered at the screen, smile melting from his lips.

  "I should... excuse me guys."

   Had either of them been paying attention, they would've noticed the seriousness in his voice, but they were still locked in their quasi-showdown, so Maxwell simply exited the kitchen to take his call.

  "What is your problem, Your Grace?" Renee hissed.

  "Would it kill you to take this seriously? Or any of this training for that matter? Despite what you and Maxwell think every bit of this is important- every bit of it. I am trying desperately to make sure you are retaining this, Renee." Bertrand's face was quickly beginning to redden.

   She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him so upset, but she didn't bother to try her own temper starting to flare.

   "I'm retaining it just fine. I answered your damned wine question correctly didn't I?"

   Bertrand's hands balled into fists before he relaxed them and reached up to jerk his coat off. With his back to her, he flung the blazer onto the counter, furiously unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling his sleeves up muttering to himself angrily all the while.

   "Didn't I?" she pressed him, hopping from the stool and rounding the large kitchen island, coming up beside him in a heartbeat.

 "Bertrand fucking answer me."

Renee gripped his now exposed forearm turning him to face her. She could see his eyes were somewhere between shock and sadness but only for a moment before he recovered, anger replacing them.

  "Don't talk to me that way. I am a Duke and the man of this house. What right do you have-,"

  "Save it, Bertrand. I know who and what you are. What I don't know is why this is all so important to you. I proved myself more than capable of fitting in at court time and time again throughout the entire social season with little to no help from Maxwell or from you. The king wanted to choose me, dammit! I impressed the King father and the Queen mother. I was in good graces with the council. So what is all of this really about, B? Your reputation? Does it really mean that much to you that you'd go to such great lengths to make all three of us in this house so miserable?"

   "Yes! I mean...no. Not- not my reputation. Nor House Beaumont's."

   Bertrand's cobalt eyes softened as he peered down into hers, his strong hand covering hers on his forearm.

   "But yours? Milady, I'd go to every length to see it restored."

    Renee's brown eyes darted rapidly between his, her heart hammering against her ribs, cheeks flushing. Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips as she hesitated, not quite sure how he would react. In the end she chose, as always, to dive in with both feet as she grabbed Bertrand's tie pulling him down until her lips crashed hungrily against his.

   His body stiffened at first before she felt his hands come up to cradle her face, his tongue parting her lips as he deepened the kiss. A gentle moan escaped her as she wrapped one hand around his head, fingers tousling the hair at the back of his neck.

   She felt her body slowly melting into his. For months she had been trying to convince herself that she wasn't interested in Bertrand. She'd listened to Maxwell when he'd told her that people often got caught up in the romanticism of the social season, confusing their feelings. However there was no confusing the way her body tingled as she tasted him. The way her nerve endings were set ablaze as his hands traveled over her from her face, down her neck and torso, finally settling on her waist. He bunched the cashmere of her sweater, his fingertips brushing her bare skin as he pulled her hips to his.

    Renee's head spun as she breathed him in deeply, the scent of leather and aftershave flooding her senses.

   Bertrand pulled his lips from hers with great effort, searching her face for any kind of sign as to what he should do next. She bit her bottom lip, peeking up at him through long, lowered lashes silently begging him for more. Bertrand was happy to oblige, his hands rounding her body, taking copious amounts of her backside in his palms, his soft lips finding a home in the crook of her neck.

   Renee fell back against the island, hands gripping the marble countertop as his tongue flicked gently across her skin.

  "B-Bertrand, I-" she tried to find words to tell him the depth of her need in that moment but her thoughts were all scrambled, so she raked her nails down the fabric covering his muscular back instead, hoping the message reached him.

    Effortlessly he lifted her up, sliding her backside onto the chilled surface behind her, his wide hips parting her knees to get closer.

    "Well it's about time!"

      Renee and the Duke jumped at the voice, both looking as though they'd be caught with their hands in the proverbial cookie jar as they turned to see Maxwell slow clapping into the kitchen.

   "It feels like I've been waiting forever for you two to come to your senses. How about next time though, we don't defile the countertop I just cleaned? I mean it's just rude and unsanitary."

******************

     Renee shook her head, dropping her cutlery with a clang. She picked up her napkin and dabbed her mouth, catching Hana's concerned gaze out of the corner of her eye.

      The brown-eyed beauty leaned in close to Renee, dropping her voice to just above a whisper.

    "You alright? It looks like you were just a million miles away."

    The bride nodded, covering Hana's hand with her own. "I'm fine, just a little distracted."

     Hana smiled, turning her attention to Maxwell as he stood with a flourish.

    "Step one, consume food…"

     "Check." Drake remarked, pushing his empty plate away.

     Renee beamed, "And step two is…?"

      "Spa time!" Hana announced proudly.

[thatonecurlygirl]

Bound to You [1]

Fandom: Law & Order: SVU Pairing: Peter Stone x Reader Word Count: 2.7k A/N: This fic will definitely be a mini-series based on the song ‘Bound to You’ by Christina Aguilera, requested by @thebeckyjolene

“Honey, when are you going to put yourself out there? You need to let yourself be vulnerable for once.” Melissa, your close friend asks as she takes the scissors to your eye.

“When pigs fly.” You mumble under your breath, looking up in the salon mirror to catch her eye and she gives you a pointed look. “I mean it’s not like I am actively trying to say out of relationships. I’m just… cautious.”

“I get being cautious, but you are never going to have the chance to have that Hallmark kind of love story,” Melissa says with a sad, half-smile.

“None of that is real, Lissa. You never really know who a person is. You know how tense and terrible my parents' relationship was. All the cheating and the lying from my Dad. I don’t know if I can trust someone deeply enough to risk that, getting my heart broken.” You sigh, shaking your head. “Anyway, are you going to finish or keep talking?”

“You know I am a world-class multitasker,” Melissa smirks. “So, my Uncle is having a barbecue out at his place this weekend, you should come. There will be some guys there, ones that my Uncle works with. They are trustworthy guys, we can just go and have fun. You don’t have to worry about finding ‘the one’ or anything, but I would like to have you with me.” She smiles that big smile of her, the one that she uses when she knows she is about to get her way.

“I don’t know.” You say quietly, looking down at your phone as you hear the scissors snipping at your hair.

“We can go for just an hour, if you decide you want to leave after that, we can leave.”

“Fine,” you huff. “Just an hour.”

“Great, I will swing by your house and pick you up at four on Saturday. Your place is on the way.” Melissa smiles wide, fluffing your hair and setting the scissors down.

You pull your wallet out of your purse to pay Melissa for the trim, but she waves you off with a shake of her head, explaining that you going with her to the barbecue is payment enough. With a smile, and a promise to text her later, you walk through the front, throwing a twenty in the tip jar before heading out the front door of her little salon.

“Bye” you call out as you pull the door closed and walk through the parking lot to your car.

Slipping into the front seat, you groan, closing your eyes and laying your head against the steering wheel. You don’t know why you let Melissa talk you into these types of things. She knows how you feel about relationships. Between the devastation of your parent’s failed marriage and the few relationships that you’ve had that have turned to be epic disappointments, you aren’t really sure if you really believe in the concept of ‘love’. Someone being loyal to a partner for the rest of their life, the whole ‘until death do we part’ bit sounds extremely unrealistic. After your cheating father and the boyfriends that you let use you for sex, you aren’t sure you can ever trust a man to be loyal.

“Damn it, Melissa.” You groan, starting up your car and heading back to your house.

Melissa has been an extremely loyal friend and you know that all she wants is for you to be happy. She knows that ideally, you want that dream life with a husband, kids, and a dog or two, but you have a hard time letting yourself let go and be open to it. She is a great friend and wants the best for you, but she can be a little pushy sometimes. She wouldn’t have let you say no to it, so the only thing you could really do is agree to go.

Saturday rolls around and you are desperately trying to come up with reasons not to go. You really like Melissa’s uncle, he is really cool. You aren’t ready to be in the presence of all those, likely attractive men that she will try to set you up with.

I could tell her that I started my period and I am cramping too bad. You think to yourself, but think better of it, she and you are on the same cycle. I could tell her I’m sick. No, that wouldn’t work either, she wouldn’t believe it for a second. You pace the floor of your apartment, trying to come up with other ideas, not even catching the quiet creaking of your door opening and Melissa walking in.

“Stop pacing like that, you’re going to work up a sweat.” She breaks up your thoughts with a small laugh. “You look good. You ready to go?”

“I thought you said you’d pick me up at four? You’re an hour early.” You look at the clock hanging on the wall.

“I didn’t want to give you enough time to come up with an excuse not to come.” She crosses her arms and nods toward you. “By the looks of the pacing, I came just in time. Let’s go.”

“Lissa.” You groan.

“You promised me an hour.” She looks at you with a look that you’ve seen multiple times. Although she is only three days older than you and an only child, she has the makings of a great big sister.

“Okay, fine.” You grab your phone and purse. “Let’s go before I change my mind and you drag me out by my hair.” You grumble as the two of you walk out of the door, locking it behind you.

“That’s my girl.” She pats your back and the two of you head down to her car.

When the two of you arrive at Melissa’s Uncle Fin’s house, you can see people in the backyard gathered around, laughing and talking, a few kids run around the yard playing games and having fun. You don’t even realize Melissa had gotten out of the car until she walks up to the window, blocking your view.

“You coming or what?” She asks, opening the door for you to get out.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” You groan, unbuckling the seat belt and stepping out of the car, following her to the back yard.

“Uncle Fin!” Melissa exclaims as the two of you walk up.

“There’s my favorite niece, and Y/n, it’s been a long time,” Fin says, hugging the both of you.

“Yeah, about a year. How have you been?” You ask with a bright smile of yours, He has always made you feel welcomed and wanted in the family.

“I’ve been great. How about you?” He asks crossing his arms in the same way that Melissa does when she is wanting the truth from you. It’s as if the pose, the body language is to intimidate the lies tempted to fall from your lips.

“Good. I’ve been better, but I’ve been much worse. Work is going well, I’m happy with it.” You say with a small, honest smile.

“If you need anything, let me know.” He nods.

“Absolutely.” You nod.

“Well, we are going to go mingle. I see Liv is here.” Melissa smile, grabbing your arm and pulling you along with her.

“Whoa, slow down speed racer. Let me catch my footing.” You say which causes her to stop and let go of your arm, watching as you smooth out the cute clack romper you are wearing.

Looking up at Melissa, your eyes find a handsome man behind her, that is walking up to Olivia. He is tall, has a beautiful smile and big ears, but this man — this man is all around gorgeous. Your heart nearly drops to your butt when he glances over at you and catches you staring. You can see the corner of his mouth twitch up slightly in a smile directed toward you, before turning back to Olivia and the conversation that they are having.

“Whoa Nelly, are you drooling, Y/n?” Melissa asks, giggling as she grabs your hand and makes a beeline straight for them. “Sorry to interrupt.” She says as she walks up, looking between the two.

“Oh, no worries.” The man smiles, shaking his head.

“Hi Melissa, it’s great to see you again.” Olivia smile and turns toward you. “And Y/n, it’s been too long.”

“Yeah, I guess I need to stop by more often, huh?” You smile at her, nodding to the kids playing. “He’s gotten so big.”

“He’s a handful.” She smiles, looking over her shoulder at Noah. “But he’s loved.”

“I don’t doubt that one bit.”

“Oh, ladies, this is ADA Peter Stone. Peter, this is Melissa and Y/n. Melissa is Fin’s niece.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Stone.” Melissa smiles, extending her hand to shake his.

“Oh no, please call me Peter.” He says as he shakes her hand and reaches for yours.

Up close, his smile is incredible, contagious really. You smile back, your hand lingering in his for a moment too long before you slowly pull your hand back and divert your gaze down to your feet. You can almost still feel his big, hand enveloping your small one. The warmth of his hand clasping yours radiated up your arm like a warm wave washing over you and. You can still feel it, the warmth, and damnit it scares you.

“I think I’m going to get a drink, anyone want one?” Melissa’s chipper voice, cuts in.

“Oh shit, I left the wine in your car.” You look up at her, opening your mouth to ask for the keys.

“I got it, you stay and chat.” She smiles that knowing smile.

“Thanks, Lissa.” You say, turning toward her, so Peter and Olivia can’t see your face as you glare at her.

“So, how long have you two been friends?” Peter asks, nodding toward Melissa.

“Oh, since we were ten. I was new to the school and she came up to me and said ‘You are my new best friend. Let’s go play’ and we’ve been attached to the hip ever since.” You smile at the memory. “That perfectly describes her personality by the way, bossy, but she’s got a big heart.”

“It’s good to have people like that around.” Peter nods to a few lawn chairs. “You want to go sit?” He asks.

It isn’t until then that you realize that Olivia had also snuck away, leaving both you and Peter alone. You do a quick scan of the yard to see both her and Melissa off to the side talking and glancing over at you. With a soft, humored laugh and a nod, both of you walk to the empty chairs.

“So, you took over when Barba left. How are you liking the job?” You ask, adjusting your chair so you can see him a little better. “Well, let me better word that. Is the SVU driving you up the wall yet.” You smile.

“From day one.” He chuckles. “I believe in their cause, the mission, and their dedication. I’ve learned a lot from them.” His smile is sincere and soft.

“Yeah, they’re good people.”

“Now don’t be so modest, Y/n, you are great people.” She winks at you, carrying over a cup of the wine you purchased last night for this barbecue.

“I bet she is.” Peter chuckles. “So, you know I’m an attorney. What about you ladies?”

“Lissa owns a salon and I am a bartender.” You smile softly, shrugging your shoulders.

“Oh come on,” Melissa rolls her eyes and looks over at Peter. “She is the co-owner, she and her cousin own the place.”

“Really, what bar?” Peter asks intrigued.

“Burrkandy’s. It’s my cousin’s last name. Not my choice or names, but whatever.” You laugh.

“Well, I may just have to stop by and check it out sometime.” You can tell that the smile on Peter’s face is directed toward you, just by the way his eyes linger on yours.

“She’d love that.” Melissa stands up. “Well, don’t let me interrupt.” She smirks and practically skips away.

“Please don’t pay her any mind.” You shake your head, laughing at your best friend’s obvious attempts to hook you up with the handsome Peter Stone.

The both of you spend the next few minutes talking and laughing, really just getting to know each other. When Peter is pulled away and into a conversation with someone else, Melissa comes waltzing up with a guy you’ve not met before in tow. When they make it to you, she smiles that devious smile of hers as she introduces the two of you.

“Derrik, this is Y/n. Y/n, this is Derrik. He is Uncle Fin’s neighbor.” The smile on her lips not fading.

“Nice to meet you, Derrik.” You smile, extending your hand to his.

He smiles back, his teeth straight and white as his beautiful green eyes take in your form. Accepting your hand gently, he lips it up to his lips and softly kisses your knuckles in greeting. His lips linger on your knuckles before he slowly pulls away and letting your hand go.

“The pleasure is all mine. You look absolutely stunning by the way.” He sighs out as if in disbelief. “Melissa said you were beautiful, but that was by far an understatement.”

“Thanks,” You say quietly, quickly shooting a glare at your friend. “Uhm, excuse while I go to the restroom.” You set your cup of wine that you refilled not long ago on a table as you go inside, more so to hide that anything.

Once in the house, you walk straight to the living room and plop down on the couch with a sigh. It’s nice and quiet in here, away from Melissa and the touchy neighbor guy. It’s been over an hour, you can tell Melissa you are ready to leave and go back home, but truth is, fr some reason you aren’t ready to go home yet.

“Ah, I thought I saw you sneak away.” You hear Peter say from behind you.

“You caught me.” You scoot over on the couch to allow him room to sit. “You want to hide with me?”

“Yes.” He smiles, sitting beside you and letting out a long and loud sigh as he gets comfortable on the cushion. “Why did you sneak away?”

“To get away from Melissa and the guy she is trying to hook me up with.” You groan. “What about you?”

“Saw you come in here, wondered if you wanted some company.” His smile small and sincere.

“I guess I wouldn’t mind you keeping me company.”

The evening goes by incredibly fast. Before you know it, everyone is starting to head out, and Melissa has been eyeing you with a smirk for the past five minutes. With a small sigh, you look at Melissa and then back at Peter, standing to your feet with a smile.

“It was really nice talking to you Peter, but I think it’s time for me to go.”

“Yeah, I should probably head out too, I’ve got an early day tomorrow.” He stands up too, looking down at you with the cutest smile. “I’d be nice to run into you again sometime.”

“Yeah, you have a good chance of bumping into if you stop by the bar.” You shrug, suddenly feeling a little shy but muster up as much confidence as you can.

“May just have to do that.” He smiles and gently touches your arm. “Well, I should go say my ‘goodbyes’ to everyone.”

You stand there, frozen, as you try to catch your breath and wonder why the hell you are making such a big deal out of this.  He is just a guy that you enjoyed talking to, absolutely nothing more or less than that. Just an incredibly handsome, tall man with a beautiful smile and likely an amazing…

“Stop it,” You mutter to yourself as you shake your head and make your way over to Melissa who is already giggling.

“I know that look,” Melissa says as her giggles continue and she nudges you with her elbow.  “You were wondering what he looks like n-”

“Shut up.” You groan quietly with a roll of your eyes as you nod toward the others. “We should probably say ‘bye’ and head out.”

“Alright.” She nods, standing up from her seat.

“You want to chill at my place tonight and get drink some more wine.” You smile a Cheshire smile.

“God, I thought you’d never ask!” She smiles just as wide as you.

Tag List: @thebeckyjolene @musicalmedic @carriemichelle2012 @breakawayfromeveryday

[vikingschristiansff]

Chapter One

Cardinal Hamish was fuming in King Ewan office. “Your majesty as your lead advisor I must say that this arrangement could be fatal to the kingdom.”

“I would not be sacrificing my daughters if I was not completely sure of this. I understand the animosity towards the Vikings, but Ragnar was a friend, there is no harm in trying to negotiate with his sons in order to keep my lands from being raided, to keep the people of Scotland safe,” Ewan said confidently, voice unwavering. “They should be arriving any moment now, I suggest you accompany me to the docks to greet them.”

“Is that not what your family is for?”

“Do not get wise with me, I am still your King,” Ewan playfully quipped. “My family also does not know the offer I will be making.” He exited the room, taking long quick strides. Hamish scoffed in disbelief before following the King.

* * * *

King Ewan stood at the docks with Cardinal Hamish, and a few other important advisers and clergymen. Many of the common people also speculated form a distance. Ewan stepped forward as the men began to get off the ships. Bjorn was the first, walking over and grasping Ewan’s hand to greet him.

“You must be Bjorn Ironside,” said Ewan.

“That I am, and you must be King Ewan,” Bjorn smiled. “These are my brothers,” he gestured to the men behind him. “This is Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd, and Ivar.” He then pointed to a fifth man, “and this is Halfdan, brother of King Harald of Norway, and a very dear friend.”

Ewan smiled at the men, “It is wonderful to meet you all. I’m Ewan, King of Scotland, and this,” he gestured to Hamish. “is Cardinal Hamish, the head of my advisors.” Hamish nodded his head in acknowledgment.

The was a thick silence that fell over them, and the common people looked on in disgust, “well, lets head inside, we have the everything set up for our meeting in the great hall,” Ewan was about to turn around before Ivar spoke up.

“Are you not going to acknowledge that the son of the great Ragnar Lothbrok is a useless cripple, your majesty?” he asked, saying the last part with heavy sarcasm.

The king smirked with a light chuckle, “You have clearly never met my son, Gregor.” He turns to walk back into the castle as the brothers look on in confusion.

* * * *

The men all sat at a table in the Great Hall, surrounded by a massive amount of food. It was Hvitserk’s dream. As they all settled and became acquainted a woman entered the room, looking like her rage was about to boil over, and she sat at the end of the table, directly across from Ewan. The Vikings all looked at her strangely.

Ewan cleared his throat, “Gentlemen, this is Queen Edith, my wife.” She looked forward to address Edith. “What are you doing here darling? I told you I had a very important meeting today.”

Edith gave a nasty smirk, “Yes, your brother Ludan told me all about your meeting.” Ewan’s face dropped, her tone told him that she knew exactly what he was going to offer the Ragnarsson, whom of which was looking back and forth between the King and Queen, totally lost. “Why don’t you just skip all the pleasantries and just tell them your offer, they look rather… perplexed,” she said looking at them all with disdain.

The was silence then Bjorn spoke, “What is she talking about?”

Ewan sighed, “I want my people and your people to have peace. I will offer you marriage, to my daughters.”

“How many daughters do you have that are old enough to marry?” Bjorn inquired. Needless to say, the offer intrigued him.

“Six,” Ewan said. “But, because there are only five of you, I am offering my five eldest girls.”

Bjorn smirked and looked over at his friend, “I’m sure Halfdan would like a wife.” Halfdan smirked as he nodded his head, feeling like ‘yes’ was Bjorn’s preferred answer. Edith glared at her husband.

“Why would we want to marry Christians?” Ivar spoke up.

Bjorn looked at Ivar with annoyance, “Tensions with Scotland and France are rather high at the moment. We have a common enemy. This deal will be beneficial to both sides,” he said before turning to Ewan. “We will marry your daughters, and our lands will be at peace.” They both stood and shook hands.

Edith cleared her throat and all the men looked at her, “Now all you have to do is tell the girls, good luck with that,” she stood making her way over to the tapestry that hung from the wall. “But, I have a feeling Elsie and Isla already know.” She moved the tapestry that covered a hidden passage and revealed two beautiful young women. Ewan sighed and shook his head at his twin daughters. They always did this, hide around the castle, eavesdropping, they were very curious and happy girls. However, at this moment they were looking back at their father with a mix of disappointment and disgust. Their stares did not last long before the hooked their pinkies together, something they’d done since childhood, and ran out of the room. “Two down, four more to go,” Edith said as she took long strides out of the room.

A silence fell upon the room before Ubbe spoke, “so whom of your daughters will each of us be marrying?”

“Bjorn will marry my eldest Leith, then Greer with Halfdan, the twins,” the gestured to the askew tapestry. “Isla will be with Ubbe, and Elsie with Hvitserk. Sigurd will marry Olivia, and Ivar will marry my youngest daughter, Bridget.”

“Cardinal Hamish will show you all to your chambers while I speak to the rest of my daughters,” King Ewan walked out of the room quickly, visibly upset by Elsie and Isla’s reactions.

* * * *

King Ewan called Leith into his office first, she was the eldest and most level headed.

“My sweet gir—” Ewan began but was cut off my Leith.

“The twins already saved you some time and told every single person in the palace,” Leith sat in the chair across from her father.

He shouldn't have been surprised, in addition to Elise and Isla having a knack for curiosity, they also were plagued with the need to gossip. “How is everyone handling it?” he asked fearing the answer.

“The twins ran off to be alone, Bridget is roaming the palace angrily breaking things, Olivia is in her room crying, and Greer refuses to leave mother’s side,” Leith explained.

“And what about you?”

Her eyes started to water, “I am absolutely terrified, and I just can not comprehend why you would put all your daughters in danger like this.”

“Their father was a very good man. I would never put you girls in danger, I promise you will be safe.”

Leith stood, finally being unable to hold back her tears, “But we will never be happy. Is that not what you said you always wanted for us?” Before Ewan could speak again, Leith was out the door. He felt awful, but that did not change the fact that he thought he was doing what was right. He couldn't dwell on the situation, he had to make sure everything was in order for tonight. The palace will be hosting a ball, where he will announce his daughter's engagements to the viking warriors.

* * * *

The Vikings sat in the Great Room along with what seemed to be every person in Scotland. Looking around, none of them saw any members of the royal family. All the voices in the room silenced when the announcer sounded for everyone's attention as the Royals would be entering.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you Prince Murdock,” the announcer said as Murdock stepped through the doors. The had neat blonde hair and a shaven face. The ideal Saxon, Ivar thought. The announcer continued with the rest of the family. “Princess Leith,” Bjorn looked up hearing the name of his future wife. She looked more like her father than her mother with her dark hair, and big brown eyes. She managed to look innocent and worldly at the same time. Next was Prince Gregor, which caught everyone's attention due to the King bringing him up earlier, Ivar was the most intrigued. Gregor was sitting, his chair had the legs cut off, and large wooden wheels attached to the side. A large guard pushed him from behind.

“What happened to him,” Bjorn asked Hamish, who was standing close by.

“He fell out of a tree when he was a young boy,” Hamish whispered but was loud enough for all the men to hear. “He hasn’t been able to move his legs since.” Ivar maintained his glare on the young Prince.

The next name called was Princess Greer, Halfdan’s betrothed. She was small and meek, but undeniably beautiful. She looked terrified to just be in the same country as a Viking. Halfdan was not excited about this marriage but, he thought, at least he would have the control.

The twins were next. They looked more put together than they had before, and their beauty was more enhanced. Ubbe and Hvitserk were able to see their faces better now, they weren't on the verge of tears but they faces were softened and delicate. They did not look alike, but they were equally stunning.

“Princess Olivia,” the announcer called after the twins. She looked pretty, Sigurd thought. He didn’t pay much attention, marrying her was a nightmare for him especially since he is still in love with Margarthe, a thrall from Kattegat.

The last Princess was called next. Bridget. Ivar was stunned, she did not look like her sisters or any Viking woman. She was very unique and very beautiful. His awe of her was quickly replaced by anger. Not only was he marrying a Christian woman, but he also had no doubt that she would mock him for being a cripple.

A little boy named Prince Charles followed Bridget, then the King and Queen were presented. The entire family sat at a long table on a stage at the head of the room. They were all stone-faced, peering at the crowd. No one had a good feeling about this.

[mashitandsmashit]

America’s Got Talent: Season 14 - Auditions 6

First of all, Ra’ed was Ra’obbed! They will NEVER have a brilliant singer/songwriter like him on this show again! M. Bison never looked so FABULOOOOUUUUSSSS!!!

Kidding aside, let’s talk about our final audition, and then we’ll reflect on these auditions in general and discuss what to expect moving ahead...

So here goes!

10: The Sentimentalists. I know these two! They were some of the caretakers of the Baudelaire orphans! Boy did Count Olaf have to jump through hoops to trick THESE folks! But seriously, I find them both very entertaining, especially quirky/creepy bellhop lady...But as the judges pointed out, the tricks were lacking, and we’ve seen pretty much everything they had to offer before...They really did feel like the bargain bin Clairvoyants...I hope they improve, because I like THEM...I just don’t like the act yet...

9: Gonzo. He’s come a long way since his Muppet days...And he never looked so good! (Though I do wonder how things are going with him and Camilla...) I guess he’s dropped the usual daredevil stunts to...play the tambourine! Anyway, this was amusing, but I’ve seen other acts this season that had a little more of that silly charm...Still, that stone face and sexy outfit added a lot!

8: Matthew Richardson. Probably the best Cyr wheel acrobat we’ve seen so far...But it’s not like it was such a high bar in the first place! Don’t get me wrong, a LOT of practice must go into all this...It’s just nothing that’s gonna stick with me...This was impressive, just not super-memorable...Though I’m sure plenty of ladies are already getting their phones ready to vote for the good-looking underwear model in the glittery paint!

7: Olivia Calderon. Howie says this isn’t his cup of tea...even though back in Season 7, he gave the Wildcard to that mariachi kid who ALSO sang “My Way”! Whatever, the judges are inconsistent, what else is new? Regardless, while she didn’t hit every note perfectly, I still really enjoyed her singing and look forward to seeing *insert “Coco” reference here*!

6: Luke Islam. Surprise, surprise, Julie’s Golden Buzzer is another singer...I would have liked a LITTLE more variety, just one more non-singer outside the violin kid (and maybe a girl...Kinda interesting that this year’s GBs are proving to be a bit of a sausage fest, seeing that the majority of them are usually female, preferably of the preadolescent variety...) But despite all that, I’ll let Julie have this one, as this kid is both very likable and very talented! He may need some coaching before he’s ready for Broadway, but he’s on his way...Until then, he’s ready for AGT!

5: Kara with a K. Oh look, it’s the Southern Melissa McCarthy! I guess when in doubt, keep talking and sooner or later a joke or two will hit...Also helps if you pack some fast food in your cleavage! Anyway, while this lady could potentially become annoying, for now I would say she gave me the most chuckles as well as entertainment out of all of the stand-up comedians in this round! And she sure knows how to split...as well as fall down!

4: Duo MainTenanT. NOW these acrobatic acts are gettin’ steamy! I bet couples everywhere are watching this and whipping out their notebooks! Only from France, mon cheri! I see a lot of potential with these two, though whether or not they reach that potential is yet to be seen...

3: Revolution Queens. It’s like Malevo, but female and with more screaming! I think Malevo even used that same song in one of their performances...(So is Marilyn Manson, like, a thing in Argentina?) I still hold to my opinion that nothing beats just letting the drums, shoes and whips make the music, no backing-track involved, which Malevo spoiled us with for their first performance...So with that, they peaked too early...As for these ladies, while I’ve mostly seen this all before from Male-vo (Get it?), it is new seeing women do it...And I don’t think I’ve seen any of the men swing a whip with their mouths! Either way, I’m willing to give them a chance!

2: Chris Klafford. Who knew the Amazing Atheist had such a beautiful voice! This man has effectively dethroned Charlotte Summers as the best overall singer of the auditions. “Imagine” is a difficult song to both display one’s voice and make unique, but he pulled it off! I can now officially root for Lamont Landers to get knocked out by this guy (both figuratively AND literally! I mean look at the guy! He’s almost as big as Terry! I’m sure he’s sweet and gentle most of the time, but I would not want to get on his bad side, much less a nerd like Lamont! I wonder what it would be like if he, Terry, Ra’ed and the guy from Bir Khalsa joined into one group! All I gotta say is beware, right? I mean it would make for one hell of a wrestling troupe and-https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dEtm_Q2LK9g Okay, okay!)

1: Robert Finley. Looks like the Masqueraders left a man behind...While the previous entry has a more unique and polished voice, this cool cat also has an impressive voice for his age, plus the bonus of having written the song (and it was a pretty damn good song, if I do say so myself!) And as it turns out, this man is no joke: https://www.amazon.com/Goin-Platinum-Robert-Finley/dp/B076188VCZ Not only is he dropping albums, he’s even been working with the guy from the Black Keys, which is yet more automatic cool points! It’s hard to say how far he’ll make it in this competition despite how awesome he is, because the competition is STACKED! But for now, he took the stage, wrapped it up in bacon, and SIZZLED!!!

This last audition was pretty singer-centric, but I overall really liked all of the singers, and there were some pretty solid variety acts as well! Not quite the best audition, but not the weakest either!

And that about wraps it up (in bacon) for this season’s auditions, and I gotta say, it was quite solid! Everyone who made it (and were concentrated on) felt justified in some way or another...Even the stupid acts were all amusing, and even the singers who I wasn’t big on were at least in some way interesting or special...And what’s more, Simon did a pretty good job weeding out the trite! I guess he’s good for something after all...He just needed a little time to get into the swing of it...

And while the Golden Buzzers weren’t QUITE as varied as I would have liked, they do all have some kind of star quality to them, and I can see all of them earning a place in the finals, assuming they don’t cancel each other out...

But as it is, Kodi Lee IS the would-be winner of the season...While I knew he would go far, I didn’t think of him as the potential winner at first...And then something happened: Everyone kept talking about him! It’s just like what happened with artists like Kevin Skinner and Grace VanderWaal; They won by the power of their influence!

That said, after last season, I wouldn’t rule out the chances of an upset...But for that to happen, there would have to be a sizable backlash against Kodi, like with Courtney Hadwin last season...Again, I’m convinced that Shin Lim was NOT supposed to win...He was probably always meant to be the runner-up or something...But because Courtney got such a backlash by the end, he was simply the next one down...But all the better for him, right?

Anyway, we’ll worry about all of that later...For now, we have Judge Cuts to look forward to...I guess stay tuned for a list of predictions...It seems like all of the acts that appeared in the “Best of Auditions” episode are candidates for Golden Buzzers (especially the ones who already have one)! But that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.

Right now, my best guess for next week is that Brad Paisley will give it to Sophie Pecora, but we’ll wait for the other acts to be announced and see if there is anyone else who would appeal to him...Or he could just pick something unexpected like the dog act or something; I WAS wrong about the other country singer guest judges in the past...

Until then, I’ll keep you all posted on other candidates as the list continues to be updated...

Edit: Okay, the full line-up has been announced! Naturally, there’s no point in predicting any of the acts that were skimmed or skipped over in the auditions making it; Probably the only one who has even a SLIGHT shot is Jecko, but only because we saw a bit more of his act than the others...

Otherwise, I’ve counted eleven acts that HAVE been properly focused on in the auditions, which means that four of them will be eliminated (or more if they actually DO decide to put through some lesser-knowns...)

I guess I’ll start with the singers: There are three legitimate contenders in the category, who are all legitimate contenders for the game in general, each in different ways...We have Sophie Pecora, the soulful songwriter, Chris Klafford, arguably the best overall singer of the season, and Ndlovu Youth Choir, who could potentially go down as the best choir in the history of the show. I’m feeling pretty confident that all three will advance, and for one of them by means of Paisley’s Golden Buzzer...As predictable as it would be for yet another choir to get a GB, I’d say Ndlovu deserves it the most, though I guess I wouldn’t mind either of the other two (that said, Sophie will REALLY have to up her game to justify it over the high bar that the others have set).

Berywam falls under the “If they don’t make it, I’ll be pissed” category, and I’m feeling pretty confident for Lukas & Falco.

And then we have the ones who are in a slightly tougher position...Let’s start with the acrobats: There are three of them in this show, and they all involve shirtless dudes (that’s important!) One of them is sure to make it! That said, Duo Togni is out since we only concentrated on them in the auditions for a second...So that just leaves Matthew Richardson and the Messoudi Brothers. Simon did tell the former that there needs to be more in the next round, which puts some pressure on him. But at the end of the day, I think it all comes down to which of them puts on the best performance...

The Sentimentalists also have pressure placed on them from the criticism they got from both Howie AND Simon...But since they’re competing against one or two other magic acts, and they’re fairly interesting characters, they’ll probably make it regardless...

The same cannot be said for the Emerald Belles who are probably already on Howie’s chopping block...It could go either way for them...

I WOULD consider Kevin Schwartz to be a contender, but I can’t help but compare this season’s comedians to last year’s...This year’s main comedians to consider are him, Ryan Niemiller, Jackie Fabulous and Kara with a K. I guess it’s debatable whether Kara or Jackie is this year’s Vicki Barbolak, and which one’s Carmen Lynch, but Ryan definitely feels like Samuel J. Comroe...and Kevin...feels like Oliver Graves...Maybe they won’t do it COMPLETELY like last season, but I still wonder...

And finally, we have Andy Rowell, who as I said before is at a serious risk of getting pigeonholed...Maybe he’ll find a way out of it, but I’m not holding my breath...

So with all that said, here’s my most educated guess on who will make it next week:

1: Berywam

2: Chris Klafford

3: Lukas & Falco

4: Matthew Richardson/Messoudi Brothers

5: Ndlovu Youth Choir (Golden Buzzer)

6: Sophie Pecora

7: The Sentimentalists

We’ll see how accurate my guess is...next week!

[choicesfanficanonymous]

The Wonder of You

The Wonder of You

The Royal Romance - Drake x MC

Summary: After being married for some months, there is still one thing Drake is keeping from his wife. And she is determined to make him stop holding it back.

Content Warnings: None, this is just silly and fluffy.

Word Count: 2466

Alie’s foot unexpectedly connects with a pair of boots clearly left in the wrong place, making her stumble and almost fall altogether as she makes her way from her closet to her bedroom.

“Shit” she mumbles to herself. Her toes hurt a little from the impact, but it’s not as she has the time to give it any attention. Instead, she focuses on her ears’ reflection on the mirror in an attempt to finish as quickly as possible putting on her earrings. In her mind, Alie promises herself that next time she will start getting ready earlier, and all this crazy rushing and making a mess can be avoided. It’s not the first time she tells herself that, though.

At last, she sighs and steps back to look at herself in the mirror. Looks like everything’s in its place. With her, at least, for she can’t quite ignore the chaotic state of the duchy’s master bedroom reflected behind her figure.

“Wow.” A voice suddenly cuts through the silence of the room.

Turning to look at where the voice came from, she spots her husband, leaning at the door frame with a grin on his face. The gray dress shirt he wore for work accentuates magnificently his broad chest and strong arms, crossed in front of him. She will never get tired of marveling at the sight that is this man.

“Drake! You’re here already!”

He makes an incredulous face. “I texted you fifteen minutes ago saying I was entering the estate.” She can only give him a sorry smile as he approaches her. “Where are we going tonight anyway?”

Alie hides a gigantic smile that threatens to take over her face. She slowly turns her body to him. “Sour Apple… you know, that small pub downtown.” She tries not to show anything in her voice as she speaks.

“The one with the karaoke? Really?” He can’t hold back a slight frown from appearing in his face.

“Yeah, what’s wrong about it?”

“Nothing, it just looks like somewhere Maxwell would choose, not you.”

She doesn’t say a word, but stares at him with her eyebrows shot up.

“Alright, it seems exactly somewhere Maxwell or you would pick for a birthday celebration.” He concedes with an annoyed look.

“Do you not wish to go?” She knew he wouldn’t love the idea, but now she’s afraid he is dreading it.

She can’t tell him her real intentions for choosing that pub. Alie almost feels guilty for preparing a trap for her husband. But ever since she learned about the barbershop quartet he used to be a part of, she practically begged him to sing for her, but he never gave in. So, she had to find the perfect opportunity. And three weeks ago, she devised a plan.

-

“Drake, I can’t believe it!” Alie yells from the kitchen.

The dark haired man appears from the hallway in their estate, only shorts on and barefoot. “What is it?” He had a concerned look on his face.

“Look at that.” She snaps, pointing at the calendar hung up on the wall.

“What is it? I don’t-” He examined the calendar with brows knitted, trying to understand what he is missing.

“It’s been seven months since our marriage, Drake.”

“Oh” He doesn’t know what to say, “I didn’t know we were celebrating-”

She cuts him in again “No, we didn’t plan anything.” She sighs and pretends not to notice the relieved look in his eyes. “I just can’t believe all this time has passed and you still haven’t sung to me.”

“Oh, that again…” He says, closing his eyes and throwing his head back. His wife sure knows how to be insistent. When she hasn’t brought up the subject for months, he truly believed it was finally put to rest. He should have known better.

“Come on Drake… your sister said you were the best of all four. And you know I’ve only heard you guys twice, and it was too quick and in occasions where I couldn’t pay enough attention to it.”, she pleads him.

“Of course she said that, I’m her brother.” His voice grows softer as he steps closer to her and wraps his strong arms around her small frame.

“Anyway, I just can’t understand why, why can’t you sing for your wife?” She pouts. She really hoped he would have no barriers with her now. Maybe it’s a silly thing to dwell on, but Alie wants him to be sure he never have to be insecure with her. She loves him completely.

The duchess doesn’t notice her husband is slowly moving her towards the kitchen counter until she feels her lower back touching the cold stone surface through her robe.

“I will” he speaks softly, moving his body even closer to hers and planting light kisses all over the side of her face, “… eventually.” He finishes, and moves the kissing closer to her mouth.

“You can’t seduce your way out of every subject, Walker.” She presses her palms against his chest, yet barely putting any effort at all to push him away and failing to suppress a smile.

He pulls back just enough to look her in the eyes. “What can I do for you to let it go?” The deep, hungry look in his dark eyes is enough to weaken his wife’s knees. Oh, he knows exactly what he is doing.

“I will never let it go, especially after you just said you’re going to sing to me eventually. But for now…” she pauses, eyeing him up and down and sliding her hands from his chest to his abs, “you can take me to shower.”

-

Drake notices her concern and quickly puts his arms around her waist, bending his head down until their foreheads touch. “Of course I wish to go. It’s your birthday, and anything that makes you happy is worth more than all the gold in this country.”

His words make her smile, and she reaches up to kiss him in the lips. “I love you.”

“And I, you”. He smiles too, as she turns around to take one last glance at herself in the mirror. “Although I would prefer if we stayed here and celebrated only the two of us.” He adds, noticing how beautiful she was in a short yellow dress that showed just enough for his mind to picture the rest of her underneath it.

“Oh, we will.” She forewarns, looking him in the eyes. “But first, let’s have some fun with our friends.”

“Fine.” He grabs her hand in his, pulling her out of their room and down the staircase. “But you’ll have to make it up to me, Walker.”

“If you’re a good boy tonight…” She jokes, thinking about her plans for the evening. Max is almost as excited as her, but Liam is still skeptic his friend would agree to sing alone in front of all of them. Even after several shots of whiskey. “And it’s Smoak-Walker and you know it.” She finishes while he helps her get in the car that’ll take them to her celebration.

-

They are sitting for two hours now in a round table that’s too big compared with the small pub it’s in. Drinks never stopped coming, so all of them are already a bit tipsy, some more than others.

Max had just told a joke that made Alie cry of laughter before a wrinkle appears between Drake’s brows as he looks around. “Where did Liam go?”

Alie looked around too, she didn’t see him leave the table. The pub is small and there aren’t too many people, so it is reason enough to be concerned that the king is missing. Drake’s vision is slightly blurred to begin a search party out of nowhere, and he reassures himself that there is no need to worry, for Bastien has the pub secured with a couple of guards. He decides it’s best to go have a word with Bas, but before he can get up, Hana suddenly begins giggling. Alie, Drake and Max look at her, questioning looks on their faces.

“Oh I’m sorry.” Hana’s cheeks are already flushed from the alcohol, but now they seem to have gotten even more flushed. “Liam went to the bathroom.” She lowers her tone, clearly forcing a serious face.

They all nod at her but still keep looking at her, a bit confused by her behaviour. Alie finds it obvious that she is hiding something and she can’t hold herself back. “Do you need to speak in private, Hana?”

“Oh no, it’s just…” Everybody stares at Hana and she looks back at them like a deer in the middle of the road looking at the shining lights of a vehicle approaching fast. She finally sighs and speaks up “Fine. Liam said he was going to the bathroom but walked towards that hallway in the other side of the pub.” She points to a dim-lighted entrance at the side. “… one minute after Olivia had done the same.” She concludes.

Maxwell’s jaw drops and Alie stifles her own giggles with her hand.

“I’ll drink to that.” Drake’s voice cuts the awkward silence that came up between the friends. He grabs his glass with a smirk on his face and takes another sip of his whiskey, rising his other arm to rest behind Alie’s shoulders.

“Really?” Alie looks up at him. She thought Drake would be a little more reluctant to Liam and Olivia. Of course they knew something was going on, but Drake was always making sarcastic comments about the duchess and talking about their friends’ dates as if it is something temporary. Alie would say he was in some sort of denial. Maybe he finally accepted Liam and Olivia are a great match. Or there’s already enough alcohol in his system. Realizing what that means, she meets Maxwell’s gaze and they both share a knowing look.

“So,” Max begins, “who wants to sing in the karaoke?”

As if summoned, Olivia and Liam instantly reappear at the table, avoiding each other’s gaze, but their flushed faces and the small, almost unnoticeable red lipstick stain on the corner of Liam’s lips betrays them.

Drake has just opened his mouth to make a snarky remark, but, knowing his friend all too well and judging by the look in his eyes, Liam decides to cut him in before any words can be said. “Did I hear karaoke? Who’s singing?”

“Come with me, Drake!” Max stands up, grabbing Drake’s hand, which he instantly jerks away.

“No way, Beaumont.” He doesn’t move, instead takes another sip of his drink.

“I’ll go, Max.” Alie stands up, feeling bold. If she’s gonna make Drake sing, she’s got to play with all her cards.

Once they reach the small stage, Max start picking up a song. “Ooh, I got the perfect one” He says, handing her a mic. “I love duets!”

She laughs, and the song starts playing.

“All my life has been a series of doors in my face And then suddenly I bump into you”

Drake looks at his wife with adoration while she and Max keep on singing and dancing animatedly. She is indeed breathtaking. What did she see in him? Why does she love him? He brushes the thought aside, knowing very well he shouldn’t question fate, especially when it grants him with so much more than he’d ever dreamed of asking for.

“With you With you With you With you Love is an open door”

The song finishes and the few people at the pub, apart from their friends, clap and cheer while they make their way back to the table.

“You were great, baby.” Drake encircles her waist and roughly pulls her to sit across his lap. He is definitely drunk enough.

“Well, I think now…” She moves her fingers over his stubble. “you can be a good boy by granting me a birthday wish.” She smirks at him.

“And what is that?” He looks in her eyes, only to find mischievous ones looking at him. His face falls and he pulls back from her. “What, you don’t want me to-”

“Please, Drake! There’s only your friends here… and those hippie kids or whatever over there. For me?” She makes her best puppy eyes at him. This is it, she thinks. It’s now or never.

She keeps staring at his eyes until he says something. “You better make it up to me for a whole month, Walker.”

Surprised with how little she had to beg and scared of him changing his mind, she doesn’t say a word, only beams with joy, eyes wide open, swiftly sliding off of his lap as he gets up from his seat.

All of their friends cheer while Drake makes his way to the small stage. He gets there and spends a moment choosing his song. Alie can’t help but to squirm with anticipation.

Finally, music starts playing and Drake takes his place in the center of the stage, grabbing the mic and looking directly at his wife.

“When no one else can understand me When everything I do is wrong You give me hope and consolation You give me strength to carry on”

If it’s even possible, Alie falls in love with the man singing these words. Her husband. She already loves him inexplicably so, and now she could swear her heart is ready to combust at any given second. Even with all the whisky he’s had, his voice manages to stay on pitch and is so, so beautiful. She’s not the only one to notice that, as she looks around her for a brief second, she can see awe in her friends’ eyes and some eyebrows raised up in appreciation among the strangers’ faces.

“I guess I’ll never know the reason why You love me as you do That’s the wonder, the wonder of you”

Not able to discern whether it’s the alcohol, simply the words to the song, or the fact that her husband is singing to her - even in front of several other people - with emotion almost audible through the speakers, but tears start falling from her eyes.

The song ends and Drake hears the people cheering and clapping, but his eyes are fixated on her. His legs are wobbly, probably from the alcohol as well as his nervousness about singing alone in front of people. Yet, he makes a straight line to his wife, their eyes never leaving each other’s, until her hands reach for him, locking behind his neck.

Her eyes are glued to him, and in a minute that seems like eternity, if feels as though there is only them in the dim-lighted pub. Her heart is his, and his, hers, completely. Forever. And Drake realizes he doesn’t need to know why.

[unicornmagic]

“Rose Tint My World”

Even more Barson disaster recovery, continued from here, because I was told to make this happen.  Rated T for Took You Two Long Enough, Jeez.

*

Rafael was painting around the door frame when he heard the knock.  It seemed too soon for Olivia and Noah to be back, but maybe time had flown; he'd found painting could be weirdly absorbing.  They'd promised to knock in case he was at a delicate stage of cutting in, or needed to move the ladder.

"That was quick," he said, loud enough to carry.  "Give me one second."  He finished the side he was on, then stowed the brush in the pail.  "All clear."

He heard a man's throat clearing. Then:  "Is Olivia there?  It's Peter Stone."

Rafael froze.  His pulse pitched into higher gear.  He set down the paint pail, suddenly hyperaware of the state of his appearance, his old Harvard sweatshirt's pilled sleeves, now smirched with blotches of Butterfield yellow.  But he had the home turf advantage.  More than that, he had territory to defend.  He leveled his shoulders, pushed up his sleeves, and opened the door.

Stone was in athletic wear, as he'd been last time Rafael had seen him, that miserable day weeks ago at the park.  In one arm he held a catcher's mitt.  It was plain he hadn't recognized Rafael's voice, not through the closed door; on sight his expression went from stupidly blank to chagrined.

"Can I...help you," said Rafael.

Stone took in the evidence of work in progress:  the drop cloth, the displaced console table, the step ladder standing by.  He grimaced faintly.  

"I was looking for the lady of the house."

"Uh-huh.  She's out."  And would be back shortly—a fact Rafael felt no obligation to disclose.  Deadpan, but not without teeth, he said, "Is there a message you'd like me to give?"

"No, no, I.  Shouldn't have come by unannounced, I was just...in the neighborhood.  It's nothing urgent.  I'll talk to her at work."  

"Right," said Rafael.

The silence that followed stretched into a standoff, one that raised Rafael's hackles even more, but Stone's frown seemed to aim more inwardly than out. Finally he said, "Mr. Barba, let me just say—as a fellow prosecutor, I'm sure you'll understand—it wasn't personal."

"Not personal?" mimicked Rafael.  His lip curled.  "No wonder you didn't get the conviction."  It was a good thing he'd put the paint pail down; it prevented him from dumping Sherwin-Williams Sunset over that insufferable square-jawed head.  "Much as I'd like to reminisce, now is not a good time.  I'll tell Liv you darkened her doorstep."

Stone bore the dismissal with as much grace as an overstuffed sack of potatoes could.  "Thanks," he said.  "Good luck with your—project."

Rafael watched him retreat, then shut the door and locked it with a punctuating click.  He stood there for a long moment afterward, empty-handed, making no move to reach for the brush.

*

Eventually he collected himself.  His hands steadied again, enough to let him finish the cutting in.  By the time Olivia and Noah came home, he'd finished rolling on the first coat.

"We got pizza!" yodeled Noah through the door.

"Sweetie, use your inside voice."

"But then he wouldn't hear us."

Rafael let them in, mustering a smile.  "You're just in time," he said.  After the bustle of jackets and shoes being shucked, Olivia turned to regard his handiwork.  She seemed impressed.

"Honestly?  I wasn't sure about the color, but I think I'm sold.  Makes for a warm welcome."  She smiled at Rafael in a way that left him momentarily weightless—weightless and dazed—then set the pizza box on the counter.  "Don't forget to wash your hands, Noah."

"I know!"

Noah zoomed for the bathroom.  Olivia washed up at the kitchen sink.  In the quiet that followed, Rafael trailed toward her as she ferried plates and napkins to the table.  

"You had a visitor while you were out," he said.  "Peter Stone."

She looked taken aback, then baffled.  "You talked to him?  Did he say why?"

"He did not.  Said it wasn't urgent and he'd see you at work.  He was dressed to play ball."  Rafael laid his hands on the back of the nearest chair with false lightness.  "I didn't invite him to stay for pizza."

Olivia shook her head.  "No one was expecting that.  I didn't order enough for four."  She set down the last of the plates, then touched his arm.  "You okay?"

With the touch came a measure of regret, as if she'd infused him with clarity of hindsight through the press of her fingers.  Clarity and better judgment.  His shoulders drooped.  

"I wasn't especially civil," he said.

She puffed a breath.  "Long as you didn't get into a fistfight."

"Around open paint cans?  I'm not that loose a screw."

She was smiling again—smiling with more private amusement than seemed called for.  When he gave her a quizzical look, she said, "I'm not sure how to break this to you, but—"  She lifted a finger.  The finger hovered near enough to his nose that Rafael went cross-eyed trying to track its path.  "You've got paint. Right there."

Her finger tapped.  Rafael blinked, then scowled.  

"You're kidding.  How did I—"  He rubbed furiously with his curled fist.  How long had it been there?  Had he been sneering at Stone with a paint-spattered schnozz?  And now Olivia was laughing, if only with her beautiful dark eyes, almost certainly at him as much as with.  

"Here," she said.  "Let me."

She licked her thumb.  Rafael went still.  

She dabbed wetly at the tip of his nose, wielding her nail just a little.  Its gentle scrape on skin made every hair on Rafael's body stand on end.  Her face wavered, impossibly close.  

When the spot of paint was gone, she went on studying him.  Her hand withdrew, just for a heartbeat, then returned to cup his cheek and jawline, fingers sliding under his ear.  

Her breath ghosted onto his lips.  Some obscure part of Rafael felt relieved at that; at least one of them had the presence of mind to keep breathing.  Her fingers crept into his hair.  

In a whisper she asked, "Is this a bad idea?" 

His eyes shut without impetus from him.  Don't ask me that, he almost said, so as not to face the reasons why it might be, why it surely was a bad idea, chief among them his abject unfitness—but he'd wanted, so badly for so long, and any part of him that might have raised a real objection was upended, lost to the tailspin of body and soul.  If he'd known pink paint on his nose was what it took, he'd have bought a truckload of Sherwin-Williams years ago—and if Olivia Benson had at long last decided he was fit to be kissed, who was he to gainsay her?  

Instead of speaking, then, he shook his head and let his palms find careful places on her sides, just above the rise of her hips.  He tilted his chin.  

Her mouth touched his.

It was brief, and soft, and the warmest thing he'd ever felt.

"Eww," said Noah, from behind his mother's back.  Appalled, Rafael tried to pull away, but Olivia's thumb in his belt loop had hooked him.  Noah turned without concern toward the pizza box, opening its lid to peer inside.  "Eww," he said again, with more violent disgust, "you got olives on it?"

"Only on half," said Olivia.

"They're on both sides!  It's contaminated."

"You can pick them off," said Olivia.  Her hold on Rafael's jeans stayed firm.  

"I'll take care of your olives, Noah," said Rafael, when he could manage (if only huskily) to form words again.

"You like them?  Yuck."  

But Noah lifted a slice onto his plate, seemingly resigned to grown-up grossness.  Bright-eyed, Olivia slipped a hand around to Rafael's back.  For a dizzying moment she pressed closer, leaning into him.  Her lips moved at his ear.

"Later, okay?" 

Rafael nodded, and sat down at the table before his knees gave out.

[tristan-forester]

Soul Searching: Slipping Into Lucid Dreams

[The following is part one of a Collaberative RP involving @tristan-forester, @alas-ward @subjectragnar @allebeithloch and @sayaadoftheforest (Stig). The party is headed into a stable dream constructed by Tristan in a former life in order to retrieve @olivia-lovecraft‘s soul stone.]

Tristan paced the floor on wrapped hooves. He had requested a room on the second floor, one which was rarely used for guests but was far enough from the master bedroom so not to stress Alle out. The walls and furnishings were covered in water resistant tarps under cheaper linen. It was entirely possible that the journey into ‘Helriel’s Dream’ would turn violent when the vision of what he once was discovered their intentions. Wounds inflicted in the Beyond would develop on their physical bodies, so he left nothing to chance or ruin. If someone started bleeding too badly, Quin was to pull them out.

At least, that was the hope.

There was no time for a test run, so while the room was prepared, Tristan was not. He was anxious and conflicted. It was like the hours before a battle, but instead of facing enemies of a state or family, they were facing something he had created. They were marching against the identity that had been forced upon him millennia ago. He knew Helriel’s thoughts, because they had been his. He knew her tactics, because he had honed them.

Before he could obsess over it much longer, though, Alice and Quin arrived at the rear door of the house. He wasn’t there to greet them, but he could sense them before they even knocked.

Quin was as prepared as he was going to be. Reaching out to Alice he smiled softly. No matter what, he wouldn't let her get hurt today. If there was a hint she was in too much danger he had no fear in pulling her out of the dream and holding her tightly.

When he knocked on the door. Alle would be the one to answer. She was still shaken from her councilor's appointment, but she was sure she coudl handle a trip down someone else's worst nightmare.

"It's good to see you again Quin," Then looking at Alice her smile was a bit warmer. "You two are looking well."

Quin had a hand on the back of Alice's back. "Good to see you, your excellency."

"I'm a duchess now," Alle corrected politely.

"And Father must be on a power high," Quin quipped then looked to Alice, he wanted to know she was going to be ready for this.

Alice didn't wear masks like Olivia did, so the fact that she was in a serious mood was written on her features. She held on tight to the strap of her bag, which contained four dreamless sleep draughts, but held on a little tighter to the promise that Quin would save her.

"What is the appropriate address for a duchess?" Alice asked in a whisper, meaning it for Quin but smiling to Alle. "It is good to see you as well. I am so glad you and Tristan can help with this. I just have a bad feeling about what is going on around Liv and I need to know her soul is safe."

She fidgeted a bit. Quin would know she was nervous but intensely focused on this task. In fact, since meeting her, this may very well be the first time he saw her deadly sane and serious.

"Of course." Alle said bowing her head, she stepped to the side so the two of them could come in. "Normally, ‘Your Grace’ is the correct address, but we're friends. I don't make friends call me anything that makes me sound better than them."

Quin was a rock, internally he held worries, but there wasn't anything he could do to comfort himself or Alice about them for now. Instead he stayed as he was a rock for Alice to cling to, but to make sure no one know the fear he held deep in his heart.

"It's still good news, congratulations."

Alle was dressed in a comfortable sleeping dress. It was short sleeved, and Alice and Quin would be able to see two long scars on the side of her arms.

"Stig is here and ready. I'll be taking Cloak with me as well. Let's go upstairs and see how Tristan is doing?"

"Your Grace," Alice muttered, as if to tuck it away like a secret.

Even if Alle and Darsa never demanded it, she was learning what she could of nobility, so she could behave accordingly, whether with them or others she may encounter.

Alice was dressed comfortably but forwent the desire to wear her pajamas while traveling. She intentionally wore a sleeveless shirt beneath her jacket, though, so there would be bare skin accessible if the worst occurred.

Meanwhile, Tristan had resumed his mortal form. Even if the two could be trusted, he felt it was best to stay in practice when encountering mortals. He was well fed and focused on his fretting, so the hungering thoughts were little more than whispers as the group approached.

"I am here," he called out as they got close to the door, making an additional effort to not skulk about and startle anyone. "There are chairs and beds. I wasn't sure what would be more comfortable for anyone."

Alice smirked at last. There was something endearing about a nervous demon.

Cloak would have rolled up to join Alle, climbing up to its owner's shoulders to hold on for the ride. When they came to the room, she looked around to make sure where she would want to sit. "I'll take the floor. Cloak is going to hold me while this happens."

Stig poked his head into the room. The other incubus didn't smile even if he was excited for what they were up to. Looking around first at Tristan, then Alice and Quin he seemed curious by the other two. He was a hulking man, but he kept a good-natured look to cut the tension.

"I do want to say, this is going to be the first time I get to walk someone else's created dream."

Looking at the blond man Quin seemed curious about him for a moment. "You're a…"

"We can say I am a dreamwalker," he said moving to be near Alle but was smiling still.

Tristan was wearing a vest with no shirt beneath, and form fitted leather pants. While he would have preferred to be shirtless, he knew Alle had been tested by her counselor's visit, so this was as undressed as he dared to be for the time being.

"Stig, this is Quin. Quin, Stig," Alice introduced them as she unpacked the draughts.

She wasn't sure if they would be necessary or not, but Tristan suggested bringing them along in case anyone struggled to sleep.

"The dream will feel very real, at least to mortals. I am not sure what to expect for you or Cloak, Stig," Tristan replied as he moved to sit in one of the chairs.

His blue eyes shifted to Quin and he licked his lips as he considered what to say. There was no nice way of putting it to Quin that this could be ugly from his position.

"Whimpers, sobbing, even screaming...those are normal. If she develops wounds, anything more than a scratch or bruise, you should pull her out. We don't know what it will do to Stig, though. I won't tell you how to react, of course, I am just...giving you what I know about it."

Stig seemed the most unconcerned of the group.

"I won't be under the full sleep spell, and at worst, I can make myself look like something else once we're in the dream."

Nodding, Alle had seen Stig work his magic on others. She had allowed him to use his powers on her when she was surrounded by nightmares.

"At worst it means you're ripped out of the body."

"Been there, I've had that happen," he smiled at Quin and Tristan, finally he wiggled a little looking at Alice in the slightly seductive way. "So, am I traveling with you?"

Quin was keeping his gloves on and had brought a few items to work on while he watched.

"I'll be alright, it's not the first time I've...." he was going to say since he heard her scream or cry but knew Alle would probably not want to know that. "…heard screams."

"You'll be hearing it from your mate," Alle said calling out his recovering.

"I'll survive," he looked back to Alice. "And you will be safe, I'll be keeping your heart monitored."

Reaching into his bag he pulled out a small device he had thrown together with Techie.

"These are heart monitors. If each of you can place the sticky pad over where your heart is, it will give me a decent idea what you're dream body is going through."

"Yea. Tristan gave me a bit of a primer on what to expect," Alice smirked as she made herself comfortable on the bed. "I mean in terms of biological response. Pressure on my chest and so forth."

She took the offered monitor and secured it beneath her shirt as she laid back.

"I'm not really sure what you're going to get with my monitor," Tristan admitted as he took the device and followed Alice's lead.

He had a functioning circulatory system, so he had a trackable pulse. However, it remained at a near constant resting rate unless he physically required the elevated blood flow.

"Basically, don't rely on me to tell you when things may go bad."

Alle put the monitor on, but Stig shook his head.

"I'm physically going to be.... inside of her." He said nodding to Alice, though he stopped looking at Quin. "Is it alright.."

Taking a seat Quin nodded.

"It's alright, I understand the connotations of what your dreamwalking is like."

Alle settled down on the ground taking a few quiet breaths before nodding.

Stig looked to Alice and came up to the side of the bed.

"Once you're asleep I'll be there. If you don't mind snuggles, I'll give them after to get you through your wake up."

"I'll hold her," Quin said quietly but firmly. "I don't know what my touch will do to you normally."

"I'll probably look ugly," Stig said taking a seat on the bed.

Alice reached up to caress Stig's face, smiling fondly.

"You're very sweet, Stig. I think I am going to need Quin with this is over," she affirmed before dropping her voice to a stage whisper. "But Tristan could probably use snuggles when this is over."

She looked to the other demon in the room. Tristan was rigid in his seat but made no argument. He knew what awaited them. He knew the horrors he had created. He called it 'Helriel's Dream' but it was all a matter of pen name. He created this pocket of reality, plucking the worst out to keep his former mistress from straying after what he had believed was his.

"I have to sleep last. I have to touch each of you, just my hand on your skin. Quin will attest to where I touch you. Just your arm. It is going to transfer you from your dream into Helriel's dream. Then I will join you. Don't move when you enter."

Alle was the only one worried about the touch, but it was a lingering one, one that she knew she was safe from. Tristan was safe, her family was safe. Nodding she let out a slow breath.

"I'll see you all soon then."

Watching Alice with a similar fond smile he winked at her and started to hum a little. It wasn't magical, but it was a soothing song that might allow the humans in the room to fall asleep.

Leaning back in his seat Quin watched the monitors, checking to see the heart rates starting to drop.

Tristan waited in silence, spending much of his time looking down at his hands and trying to remain calm enough to see this through. Now and then he would look at Quin but dared not say anything. He admired the other man's stern brand of serenity. It was an assuredness he hoped to attain by watching him, but his mind was constantly distracted with his past encounters with him.

It took Alice twenty minutes to fall asleep. She was blessedly able to sleep anywhere at any time. It was a survival skill, getting rest when and where she could. She didn't stir in her sleep, but her breathing was a little panicked and shallow for a few moments before Stig would determine she was deeply asleep.

After Stig made his move, Tristan planned to check Alle.

Once Stig was sure she had reached a deep sleep He quietly, like he weighed nothing straddled her chest. Quin watched as the man leaned over, arms not touching the bed, but all the balance was in the man’s core. For one moment Quin was watching Stig lean in, the next, Stig was gone.

When Tristan came to check on Alle she would have found a sound slumber. Cloak and her were able to share comfort and it was able to pull her into a deep enough sleep.

"I am going to touch her now," Tristan whispered, making sure he had Quin's attention before laying a hand on Alle.

He admired how much she trusted him, and he would do absolutely nothing to betray that trust. However, he was a demon, and having a witness to his actions removed all chance of misinterpretation. The touch was brief, a gentle caress over her arm with his eyes closed. There was a brief pulse of energy between his hand and her skin, just a small jolt to send both her, and Cloak by extension, to the realm he created.

He turned back to Quin and offered a faint smile before moving over to do the very same thing to Alice, sending her and Stig to the dream.

"They won't wake up for loud noises or the touch of anyone but someone like you. I am going to do all I can to keep them safe."

Without another word, though, Tristan returned to his chair and closed his eyes.

He only nodded, not wanting to speak even if Tristan said they wouldn't wake up to loud noises. Still he kept a close eye on Tristan, while Alle trusted him, Quin did remember Helriel. Tristan might be a different man, there was still the seed of the same person there. But he nodded and leaned back in his chair, watching as the incubus’ eyes drifted shut.

[arizaluca]

Day 11: Benders AU

“Hey, Ivor--”

The older man spun around so fast that Jesse almost wondered if he was standing on a dime, hand flying out. Instantly, the liquid from the finished potions that he hadn’t corked yet-- apparently that let it ‘stew’ for a bit-- curled out of the bottle, not even dripping, liquid hardening into ice in midair, before shooting at Jesse.

Jesse automatically flicked their hands up defensively, every single shaft of ice being caught gently in a sphere of air, spinning so quickly that it managed to generate its own little breeze, flipping a few pages of a book.

It took Ivor a moment longer to realize who it was, and his hand relaxed a moment later, drawing the frozen liquids back to him as he returned it back to water and let the potions return to their respective bottles. “Oh. Jesse.” 

“Hi.” Jesse gave a little wave, letting the sphere of air dissipate in a final breeze that made the ends of Ivor’s hair ruffle a little bit. “Um, we have dinner ready upstairs.” 

They can’t help but repress a grin. “And no, Magnus and Axel did not cook, seeing as Magnus seems to like burning everything and Axel just tends to get mud in everything.”

Ivor’s mouth, which had started to open in a questioning way, stayed ajar for a moment longer before he shut it again. He was staring at them in a way that made Jesse wonder if they had something on their face.

So, this just made Jesse start being extremely chatty.

“Um, Petra didn’t cook either. She has a penchant for burning stuff, too. And Olivia tends to metalbend while she’s cooking, which is fine, but sometimes it means she’s not holding onto anything while she’s cooking, so I helped her for most of it. Turns out airbending means I can catch a lot of ingredients.”

Jesse pauses, and then turns their eyes to look at the ceiling of the basement. It’s a rather cold, uncompromising stone. “Lukas isn’t bad at cooking, either, so I had him watch it with Olivia. I think the main reason was that he could extinguish any fire that might pop up.”

Ivor was still staring at Jesse.

“... uh...” Jesse shifted awkwardly, before a thought occurred to them.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a potion that could cure, like... a fear of heights, right?”

Ivor blinked, finally breaking the stare a little bit. “Er... no.”

Another short, awkward pause, before he remarked, reaching up and tangling one hand in his hair, “I mean, it’s a very nice sentiment to ask about it for Soren, but we don’t even know where he is anymore, and it’s not like potions like that exist anyhow--”

“I’m not asking for Soren.”

Ivor pauses again, looking at Jesse as they bring their hand to their mouth automatically, painfully aware of how their voice just cracked slightly, betraying the way they’d been trying to ask normally, calmly, not like... not like they were afraid.

But they were.

Every time they went to bed they were back with that monster, they were inside, being lifted into the air by tractor beams or sucked off of the ground by the Command Block or screaming until their throat was raw as Reuben, their Reuben, their little pig fell out of reach and to his death, because he was dead now.

And it was Jesse’s fault for not trying to put him back on the ground before it was too late, it was their fault for not having one of the others restrain him, it was their fault--

“I’m sorry.”

Jesse paused, blinking, belatedly realizing tears were forming in the corner of their eyes. “Huh?”

Ivor wasn’t meeting their eyes. The potionologist’s potions were starting to ripple uneasily. It seemed he wasn’t even aware that he was starting to manipulate them. “If I hadn’t created the Witherstorm, then... he wouldn’t be dead,” he said at last, in a voice that was uncharacteristically soft for the man.

The air around the both of them suddenly seemed tense.

Literally, as Jesse’s fists clenched in surprise, a breeze springing to life around them in the dead of this dark basement that was barely lit properly. Papers rustled in the breeze, and a few empty glass bottles clinked.

Ivor gave a low sigh, before looking up at Jesse again, with eyes that were tired. Too tired. “So... I’m sorry.”

Now it was Jesse’s turn to stare. The wind around them wasn’t getting any faster, but it wasn’t slowing down either.

Ivor looked up after a moment, opening his mouth again to say something before faltering.

After another moment, he simply lifted his hand and made a brushing motion. Drops of water slid off of Jesse’s cheeks and out of the corners of their eyes, resting as beads of water in Ivor’s palm for a moment before he set them down in a bottle.

Jesse snorted, slapping their hand to their mouth a second too late as some sniggers escaped. The wind momentarily cut off, before dying down to a normal level.

“What?” Ivor’s voice had sharpened.

“Nothing, nothing, it’s just--” Jesse giggled, a rather childish sound that they wish sounded more mature sometimes. They just sound so much like a little kid. “I’ve never seen someone use waterbending just for that purpose.”

Ivor raised his eyebrow. “It’s irritating when people cry.”

Jesse let out another laugh, sidling over and butting their head into his shoulder in a sort of affectionate way. It’s not very hard; their head is about level with said shoulder. “I’m sure it is, Ivor.”

Ivor started at the contact, but when Jesse started to pull apart he suddenly reached out and tugged them back over, wrapping his arms around them in a tight hug.

The short airbender wasn’t really sure what they could do. Sure, they could just push him away using air, but by the way he was awkwardly clutching onto their shoulders and his chin was almost resting on their head protectively but at the same time... well... awkwardly, he almost seemed to be rather surprised by the action himself.

So, they slowly wrapped their arms around him as well, in a rather awkward hug. Judging by the way his stance stiffened, he expected that even less. Jesse’s face was buried in his shoulder, his chin was resting on their head somewhat awkwardly, his arms were tensed, and the hug was awkward and stilted and weird.

It was a wonder that neither of them attempted to pull apart.

“... I’ll be up for dinner in a few minutes.”

Jesse let out a huff of laughter from where they were hugging him, face buried in his shoulder. “Okay.”

[speedsterimagines]

LADYKILLR (Continuous Version)

All Parts, in order, can be read in one continuous post here. DUN DUN.

Summary: Dating a detective certainly has it pros and cons, but when a disheveled criminal is looking to settle a score, he goes after what Detective Carisi loves the most… you.

Word Count: 1270 + 1494 + 1370 + 1554  

Warnings: Violence, Home Intrusion, Head Injury, Serial Killer, Murder Victims, Stab Wound, Blood

(Part 1)

The timer in your kitchen beeped as you slid the oven mitts on your hands. You opened the oven allowing the smell of chocolate chip cookies to fill your small apartment. Fresh, made from scratch chocolate chip cookies, to be exact. The day you told your grandmother you were moving to the big city, she gifted you her secret recipe. According to her, it was a little piece of home to bring to the Big Apple and to be frank, right now you needed it. Work had been hectic lately and it showed no sign of slowing down. So, with your first day off in weeks, you put on your favorite apron and baked to heart’s desire. You placed the already cooled batch of cookies into separate Tupperware to make room for the fresh ones, ready to be placed into your tote bag and brought to the precinct.

You’d been dating Sonny for a little under a year now, but the both of you fell in love fast and strong. As would be expected, dating a detective comes with the understanding that his schedule wasn’t set in stone. There were many a night when Sonny was too busy for a date night, but no matter what, you both still managed to see each other. On late nights when the squad was working overtime, you’d bring home cooked meals or fresh coffee, taking care of his coworkers as if they were your extended family. So, when you found out you weren’t going to be able to see your boyfriend on your only night off in weeks, you were bummed without a doubt. But like always, you’d figured out a way to at least pop-in, hence, the cookie run.

Knowing that Sonny’s work schedule was hectic, you unlocked your phone and wrote out a short text to give a heads up that you’d planned to stop by and drop off the sweet treats.

Surprise, I’m bringing a batch of Grandma’s cookies for everyone. Be there in 30 minutes ;)

You placed your phone on the countertop before looking down to see your clothes were splattered with cookie batter. And that’s why you don’t bake in nice clothes, you thought to yourself and headed towards the bedroom to find a quick change of clothes. You didn’t feel the need to get dressed up, so you picked a simple outfit of skinny jeans and one of Sonny’s Fordham Law sweatshirts. You glanced in the mirror, making sure there wasn’t any more batter, before slipping on a pair of shoes and walking back towards the kitchen to read Sonny’s response.

This is why I love you… See you soon.

You smiled down at your phone and placed it in your back pocket when a knock at the door almost made you jump out of your skin. You weren’t expecting company and if Sonny was on his way he would’ve said so. Sonny’s voice popped into your head, reciting one of the many tips that he’d burned in your brain, as you walked softly towards your door, making as little noise as possible. Relaxation set in after you placed your eye over the peephole to see a large bouquet of flowers.

“Who is it,” you asked through the door.

“Flower delivery for a, uh, Miss Carisi,” he spoke in a thick Brooklyn accent.

You laughed at the name, obviously a mix up, although you didn’t mind hearing it. It’s not like you hadn’t practiced signing it a few times like a school girl in her diary. You unlatched the locks on your door and opened it finding a bouquet so large, that it completely covered the man’s face. Sonny, you have outdone yourself this time. You instinctively smelled the flowers as the man handed them towards you, your view still obstructed by the massive arrangement.

“They’re beautiful, thank you.” You took a step back, reaching out to close the door but the man placed his foot in the frame, effectively blocking the door from closing. Your heart pounded in your chest as he put his hand on the door to open it widely.

“Do I smell cookies?” The man’s voice deepened as he peered past you into the kitchen. His face now visible, showing off his collection of neck and face tattoos. Your heart began to pound even harder, so harsh you swore it might break one of your ribs.

“It’s a family recipe, I was going to drop them off at the precinct,” you said adding emphasis on your last word hoping that he’d get the hint and walk away. Please take the hint and walk away.

“Oh yeah? Special Victims Unit, right?” He said taking another step towards you, now completely inside of your apartment. “That’s where your boyfriend works… Detective Carisi.”

It was in that moment that your heart was no longer thrashing around in your chest, it seemed to stop. Mid-pump, your heart froze in your chest. How did he know who Sonny was? How did he know where he worked? And how did you know who you were and where you lived? You felt your phone buzz in your back pocket, most likely Sonny asking if you were close, immediately feeling like it was miles away.

You felt bile rising in your throat, noticing that he’d begun walking towards you and instinctively threw the vase of flowers towards him. The vase shattered as he swiped it to the side and it made contact with the wall.

“Why did you have to do that sweetheart?” He laughed as he shook his head. “Those cost me a pretty penny. Now you’ve just hurt my feelings.”

You backed up towards the kitchen, refusing to turn your back to the man who lurched towards you. You internally cursed yourself for not keeping your knives on the counter top like normal people. Sonny’s nieces and nephews came over regularly, so it was imperative to keep hidden away. Instead of finding a knife, the only thing in arm’s reach was the bag you had prepared.You threw it with all your might, sending the contents flying.

The carton of milk hit the floor and burst open, just another thing added to the mess on the floor. You had nothing left to fight him off and at this point all you could do was pray that Sonny wouldn’t be the person to find you dead. He knew you were supposed to arrive any moment and when he didn’t get a reply, he’d know something was wrong.

You studied the features of the man in front of you, assuming it might be the last face you ever look at. He had a large scar across his left eyebrow, a thick gold chain bearing the cross, and tattooed boldly on his neck the words, LADYKILLR. As you focused on the man in front of you, you noticed that he’d left the door cracked open slightly. If you ran, he was sure to catch you, but if you stayed put you might as well surrender your life before him. 

Feeling a surge of adrenaline, you followed your human instinct rather than fight you chose flight and you turned to run away. Almost immediately your legs gave out from underneath you as you slipped on the milk that had spread throughout the kitchen floor. The man stood above you as he grabbed you by your hair and slammed your head to the floor knocking you out cold.

The world around you went black almost immediately leaving only enough time for one final thought to rush through your mind. Please, Sonny, don’t find me.

(Part 2)

Sonny had been sitting at his desk for what seemed like the past 72 hours which wasn’t too far from the actual time elapsed. His normally organized work space was scattered with evidence and photos along with old chinese take out and an ice cold cup of coffee. SVU had been knee deep in a serial killer case for almost a month now, but from the beginning it seemed as though they were fighting a losing battle.

Someone was loose in the streets of Manhattan brutally attacking and murdering women at random. None of the victims could be linked to each other in any way, not their jobs, neighborhoods, or friends. The only thing the women had in common was the way they were killed. Each victim was found in her own home, no sign of forced entry, as if they knew the killer or they were welcomed in with a single stab wound to abdomen.

A couple of weeks ago, they came across a lead that seemed promising. An elderly woman claimed that she saw a delivery man at her neighbor’s door the night of her murder. Even though she claimed he had a neck tattoo, her eye sight wasn’t what it used to be and there was no way of knowing what the tattoo was. There were thousands of delivery men with neck tattoos walking the streets of Manhattan, b t there were only a handful that had previous charges, including one man who was on parole.

Hector Beckett, 37 years old, was out on parole after being charged with battery and attempted rape and had been working as a delivery man for the last few months. And as the sole eye witness describes, on the left side of his neck in old-fashioned tattoo font was the word, LADYKILLR. When Sonny came across his name and put all the pieces together, he got the approval from Olivia and made the arrest. During his interrogation he informed Hector that there was a witness that put him at the scene and his violent criminal past wasn’t going to help the situation.

“You know, when I turned eighteen I told my ma I was gonna get a tattoo,”  Sonny smirked from across the metal table. “You would’ve thought I said I was gonna have a limb cut off by the way she reacted. In hindsight, I’m glad I didn’t get it, those things are forever y’know? I wanted the name of my favorite scripture, Proverbs 16:9, in his mind a man plans his course,” Sonny paused for a moment putting emphasis into his words. “But the Lord directs his steps.”

Hector sat straight faced, not interested in the slightest by the detective’s small talk.

“Still would be a pretty good tattoo, come to think of it. But yours? Wow, LADYKILLR? It’s moving, truly touching. How did you choose that one?”

“What can I say? The ladies love me,” he sat back in his chair making himself comfortable.

“I’m sure you love them too,” Sonny spoke sarcastically as he opened up the folder on the table. “I bet you really loved them when you made your way into their homes and stabbed them to death.”

“You got an old lady, detective?” He laughed watching Sonny’s muscles tense at the thought of such an malicious person even thinking about the woman he loved. “Who am I kidding, you’re not really my type, but I know a handsome man when I see one. Maybe I’ll give her a visit when I get out of here.”

“Too bad you’re going to be here for a while,” Sonny stood up exiting the room before he lost control of his temper.

Olivia knew Hector wasn’t going to admit to anything and when he requested a lawyer, they were informed there simply wasn’t enough solid evidence to keep him, and within half and hour Hector Beckett walked out a free man.

Which put Sonny in his current situation now, sitting at his desk, looking over every last detail hoping something would stick out like a beacon that had previously gone unnoticed, hoping to find to anything that would incriminate Beckett. He was tired, he’d had a headache for the last three days, and truth be told, he just needed a break. And as if it was a sign from God, he’d received a text from his girlfriend saying she was stopping by the precinct for a visit. Sonny stared at the clock on the wall watching the hands move so slowly, for a moment he was convinced the battery must have been dead. Knowing that a watched pot never boils, he made his way to the break room and replaced his ice cold coffee with a fresh cup.

“What’s got you smilin’ Carisi?” Fin teased as he held out his mug for a refill.

“My girl’s stopping by,” Sonny grinned, proud to show you off. “And she’s bringing cookies.”

“Oh word, those one’s from the Christmas party?”

“Those would be the ones.”

“It’s about time we got some good news around here,” Fin’s eyes lit up like a child in a candy store.

Sonny put the coffee pot back and returned to his desk, starting the paperwork he’d been avoiding, hoping that busy work would make the time go by faster and it did. By time he’d put his signature on the last sheet, he checked his phone for the time, noticing that you were almost twenty five minutes late. He unlocked his phone and clicked your name to call you but it went to voicemail. He wasn’t sure if it was his own impatience or genuine worry, but he began typing out a message and stared at his phone waiting for a reply.

Are you on your way? Fin’s asked about the cookies twice already.

A few minutes passed, still no reply. Sonny was never the one to double text, he didn’t want to feel like he was bothering someone, but it had now been almost 40 minutes since your intended arrival.

You’re starting to make me nervous, do I need to come over?

When his phone finally vibrated, he practically knocked over his coffee cup reaching to grab it. His brows furrowed as he read the words displayed on his screen.

Sorry I’m L8, got 2 reschedule

He read your words a few more times and couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. If his instinct was wrong, he was worrying about nothing. But it only took seconds to make up his mind and he wasn’t willing to risk your safety in any circumstance. He hurried towards Olivia’s office making sure to knock a couple times before letting himself in. His red scarf was already draped around his neck and he held his tan coat in his hands. Sonny prided himself in knowing you completely, so when he had a gut feeling that something was wrong he wasn’t willing to waste any time.

“Hey, Lieu, I need an hour.”

“Right now? We’re in the middle of an investigation, Carisi.” She looked up at him through the black reading glasses that were rested on the end of her nose.  He was never the kind of person to leave work for a non-emergent reason which caught Olivia’s attention.

“I know, but it’s about- it’s a personal thing.” Sonny was flustered and it showed as he ran his fingers through his perfectly styled hair, not worried in the slightest if he messed it up.

“Anything I can help with?”

“I’m not sure,(Y/N) was supposed to stop by today, but she was running late so I texted her to see where she was.”

“Well, Carisi, that’s not exactly out of the ordinary,” she crossed her arms across her chest.

“I know, but this is.” He handed her his phone allowing her to read his text messages.

“She’s never used an abbreviation in her text messages in the entire time I’ve known her. I also tried calling her and it’s going straight to voicemail.”

If it was one thing Olivia prided herself in, it was trusting her detectives completely. So she handed back the phone and nodded, Sonny’s signal that he was free to go. “Call if you need anything,” she said before he all but ran towards the exit.

“Hey babe, it’s me again. You’re making me nervous please pick up the phone.”

He hung up and shoved his phone in his pocket and made his way through the door, choosing to walk rather than drive. If somehow you were still on your way to the precinct, this is the route you would’ve chose and eventually he’d cross your path. With no luck, he’d made it to your building not seeing you once. The walk hallway towards your apartment felt longer than usual and instinctively he held a hand on his gun. He counted the golden numbers on the doors until he reached yours, noticing the door of 3G was slightly ajar.

He removed his gun from the holster, using it to open your door and scanned your apartment. Flowers and milk scattered were across the floor, signalling that his suspicions were right, and he held his gun at attention. Alone in the middle of the apartment, you were tied to a kitchen chair dressed in only your jeans and bra. Blood and sweat had run down your face and by your foot a small pool had formed from the cut to your stomach. You looked up when you heard the footsteps walking through the door, finding Sonny with his gun pointed towards you.

You furiously shook your head, trying to signal to him that it wasn’t safe for him to enter as the intruder in your apartment had positioned himself beside the door. Not heeding your warning, he took another step forward before Hector Beckett quietly walked behind him.

“SONNY, BEHIND YOU,” you screamed as you saw the man launch towards your boyfriend. “SONNY!”

(Part 3)

Your eyes squeezed tight before you opened them trying to gain a sense of your surroundings. There was a deep throbbing pain radiating from the back of your head, causing you to let out a groan. Instinctively, you tried reaching for the source of the pain only to notice you weren’t moving, you couldn’t. Both your wrists and ankles were duck taped to one of your kitchen chairs.

“Well, well, it’s about time,” a voice sang from the kitchen. You looked up to see Hector searching through your belongings. Most of the drawers and cabinets were open, and your apartment looked like a tornado had spun its way through. “You keep this place organized,” he said helping himself to another drawer. “It was easy to find the duct tape.”

You focused back on your hands, trying to writhe your way out. Why didn’t Sonny ever share the tip of how to escape from the confines of duct tape. It didn’t matter anyway, it was too late.  

“Where are the knives?” He mumbled to himself.

“We keep them hidden away so small children and serial killers can’t find them,” you sneered from the other side of the room.

“It’s not nice to call people names.”

“It’s not nice to tie people to kitchen chairs either.“ You continued to try to free your limbs, but any effort caused the pounding in your head to grow. It only took a few moments to groan in defeat, you were stuck.

The harsh vibration of your phone against the counter caused the both of you to glance up. You knew it was Sonny, you weren’t sure how long you were knocked out, but you knew it was bound to happen. The image began to evolve in front of your eyes. Sonny would grow worried about you. He’d send few texts, which would tun into a few phone calls, and eventually he’d walk through the door to find your lifeless body somewhere in the apartment. You shook the thought from your head, fully knowing that thinking of the worst possible outcome wouldn’t aid the situation at all.

You watched the man pick up your phone and read the text message to himself. “This thing has gone off four times already,” he huffed looking down at the phone. "It’s kinda sweet, he’s worried about you.”

“I need to answer the phone, if I don’t-” you watched him place the phone back where he found it. “He’s going to come looking for me, you know. It’s his job.”

“Let him,” he found the knives and picked his choice. “We’ve met before. You could say we’re acquaintances.” He pulled up another kitchen chair and sat himself in front of you. It gave you a chance to look at him, to really soak in his features. To peep the man who was going to end your life.

His eyes were cold and frigid, paired with deep crows feet wrinkles.  The man that sat in front of you was the kind of person that parents warn their children about. No doubt, that when strangers pass him on the street, they shove their hands further into their pockets and take a step further towards the edge. It wasn’t a friendly face and in this moment, it was so close to yours that you could reach out and touch it. That’s if you could touch it, which you couldn’t, nor would you want to.

“Has he told you about me?” Hector leaned back in his chair allowing a grin to form on his face. You simply nodded, too afraid to talk.

“Do you think I did it?”

You nodded your head once more, as you watched him play with the knife in his hands like it was a toy.

“Yeah,” he laughed. “Your boyfriend thought so too. I’ve had a lot of shit go wrong since he accused me of that.”

The sound of your phone startled the both of you when it began ringing from the other side of the room. He let it go to voicemail and watched the look on face as it stopped ringing. The look of hopelessness and dread knowing that you wouldn’t hear Sonny’s voice on the other end.

“Any who, before I was interrupted… Thanks to him,” he pointed at the phone behind him. “The second my parole officer found out I got arrested, he started threatening to put me back in. I already did 10 years, it ain’t that bad. I’d like to see some of my old friends. Oh and I lost my job. But, that’s replaceable, but you know what isn’t?”

Your ringtone filled the room again, but this time Hector didn’t move. He just sat still, watching you twist your arms against the tape until they bled. You were beginning to panic and it was obvious, but you refused to lose your otherwise collected demeanor.

“My old lady tried to leave me. She said it was the final straw. She could never love a murderer and how was she supposed to know she was next or something like that. I tuned her out halfway through.” Your phone pinged with the notification of yet another voicemail, before he continued on. “I loved her, wrote her every day while I was in Rikers, made her my everything, and she tries to leave after one little thing goes wrong. Ask me what happened.”

You sat silently praying that any moment Sonny would walk through that door to check on you. This was what he prided himself in. Protecting people and knowing when someone needs that protection. He knows something is wrong, you haven’t answered the phone. But when he was going to do something about it.. that’s what mattered.

“ASK ME WHAT HAPPENED,” he yelled causing you to practically jump out of your skin. “What happened,” you asked trying to control the shaking of your voice.

“I let her go,” he returned to his eerily calm demeanor he had only moments before. “I let her go half way through the kitchen before I stabbed her in the heart. She bled out so fast.” His eyes had begun to glaze over as the picture of the memory began to play. He rewatched the woman he had devoted most of his years towards, begging for help. In a matter of moments, she bled out and laid lifeless on the floor.

Your phone rang for a third time and caused Hector to finally break and charge towards the kitchen and throw your phone against the wall. You jumped back once more and caused your chair to scoot back. He threw his hands against his head and began muttering words to himself.

“I lost her, I lost her, I lost her,” he mumbled as he walked back towards you. “I lost her.” He stared at you an uncomfortable amount of time before he spoke again. “I lost her and now he’s going to lose you.” The bile rose in your throat as you registered the words you’d been expecting to hear this entire time. You began to shift your body weight in an attempt to move yourself as far away as possible. But he held his hand out and steadied the chair as he pointed the knife to your chest and dragged it down your abdomen.

You shook watching him hold the knife in his hand, trying to ready yourself for the pain that you were about to feel. You felt the cold blade skate across your skin, searching for the perfect spot, before it slid into your body like soft butter. It didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would, but that was just the adrenaline talking. Every bit of breath you had in your lungs expelled as he retracted the life, leaving a thin hole in your abdomen.

You looked down, seeing the blood begin to seep out, and immediately felt light-headed. You recognized the familiar woozy feeling you felt before passing out followed by the cold rush. Please don’t pass out, please don’t pass out, you repeated to yourself try to retain consciousness.

(Part 4)

You had been floating in and out of consciousness for the last fifteen minutes. The adrenaline had run its course and all you had left was the pure agony that had associated itself with your wound. You’d been staring at the floor, watching the blood pool around your feet, trying to hold on. Any attempt to free yourself at this point would only make you bleed out faster and you refused to allow Sonny to find your dead body.

Your eyes opened at the sound of footsteps at the door of your apartment. You felt your heart rate increase substantially and began fearing the worst. Hector would be on his way towards you to finish you off. You were taking to long to die and he needed to leave. You gathered the courage to look up only to see your front door opening and Hector hiding in the nook beside it.  Things would’ve clicked if you hadn’t lost so much blood, but you still watched confused.

A gun poked it’s way through the door, opening it wide, and revealed the man you’d been waiting for this whole time. You would’ve prayed out loud if it didn’t take so much energy. You watched him scan the room before his eyes landed on you. Sonny’s eyes wide, already showing a large array of emotions, but his defensive stance didn’t falter. You felt a large sweep of relief overcome your body and a small twinge of hope that you might actually make it out of this.

You sat watching Sonny take another step into your apartment before you furiously shook your head, trying to signal that it wasn’t safe for him to enter. Hector had your blood stained knife in his hands, waiting for the perfect moment to attack and it was soon. Sonny ignored your warning and took another step forward before Hector quietly walked behind him.

“SONNY, BEHIND YOU,” you screamed as you saw the man launch towards your boyfriend. “SONNY!”

Your call was Hector’s queue to launch forward and begin slashing his knife every which way, trying to stab the man that had ruined his life. Sonny immediately turned towards his attacker and saw the knife in the air, charging towards him. Without a second thought, his training took center stage and he squeezed the trigger. The bullet entered Hector’s shoulder and caused him to take a step back. He tripped over his own feet and fell backwards, and his head briefly made contact with the counter-top, effectively knocking him out cold.

Sonny walked up to the man that was now laying on the ground and nudged him to make sure he was out. When he was confident that Hector wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon, he turned to you and rushed to your side. He placed his hands on either side of your face, lifting your head to look at him. You were pale, you’d lost a lot of blood, and time wasn’t exactly in your favor. You saw Sonny, but it wasn’t clear. Your vision had begin to blur at an alarming rate.

“I’m so sorry, babe, I’m so sorry,” he stuttered as he used the knife to slice the tape. “I came as soon as I could, I should’ve- I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, you’re here now,” you whispered as you watched him remove the rest of the tape. His shaky hands were now covered in both yours and Hector’s blood as he struggled to get a grip on the last piece.

“I’m gonna get you some help, I’ve got back-up on their way.” He removed the last piece of tape and returned to look at you. His hands lightly grazed your abdomen trying to assess the situation. You weren’t going to last much longer, but he wasn’t going to move you. In his mind he’d already made one mistake, not getting to you soon enough. He wasn’t going to aid in your demise, it would be the death of both you. He whispered I love you’s as he waited to hear any sign of back-up making its way down the hallway.

Steps began behind him and he turned around quickly, “it’s about time, it took you guys-” An unexpected blow hit him and slammed him against the wall. Hector Beckett stood in front of you, no longer focused on you. This was going to end, now. He landed another blow to Sonny’s cheek and threw him onto the floor.Your blurred boyfriend laid on the ground trying to push off the man blowing punches to any part of his body that could be reached. Each hit causing the air to expel out of his lungs against his control.

You sat in the chair, unsure of what to do. If you moved, you’d bleed out faster, but if you didn’t, Hector could win. You took a few moments and looked around the room and listened in for the back-up, but there was no sound other than Sonny gasping for air. Your sight landed on the table, Sonny’s gun sitting where he left it. You took a deep breath and gasped when you felt your muscles expand around your wound. You shook off the pain and stood up, reaching for the gun on the table.

You held the gun noticing how heavy it felt. You’d never held a gun before, let alone shoot one. Hell, you couldn’t even tell if the safety was off. But what you did know, was that neither you nor Sonny were going to die today. You wrapped both of your hands tightly around the base and allowed your forefinger to find the trigger.

“Get off of him,” your voice quivered.

“Or what? You’re gonna shoot me?”

You knew you were weak and you didn’t have time to waste. You squeezed the trigger, forcing your eyes open to watch Hector Beckett fall backwards yet again. He grasped his abdomen, before trying to stand up. You squeezed the trigger once more, this time stopping him in his tracks and collapsing to the floor.

You stayed cemented in place, feeling a numbness take over your body as Sonny rushed to your side.

“Hey, hey, (Y/N), can you put the gun down for me? Doll, give me the gun.” He waited for you to look him in the eyes before nodding and removing your finger from the trigger and handing over the gun. He immediately unloaded the gun and placed it on the floor, before finding the wound on your stomach to apply pressure. “It’s okay, you’re going to be okay,” he repeated to you over and over to not only convince you but himself as well.

The team began to rush into your apartment after hearing the shots, immediately checking Hector’s body for any signs of life. With a shake of the officers head, you felt the blood drain from your body. He was dead, you just took the life of a human being. The room began to fade as you reached towards Sonny’s hands on your stomach and fell to your knees.

“Sonny, I don’t-“ you coughed watching the blood pool around his hands. “I don’t feel so good.” You watched as Sonny’s figure above you began to fade more and more as the seconds passed.

“I need a medic in here now!” Sonny screamed to the officers that had herded into your apartment. “Stay with me, don’t close your eyes!”

You hadn’t intended on giving up this easily, but with every blink you felt your eyelids grow heavier and heavier. Perhaps, this was your time to go. You’d saved Sonny and that’s all that mattered. The pain hadn’t faded, but you weren’t scared anymore. You felt the sense of calm rush over your body, similar to that of a much needed sleep, and looked at Sonny one last time before you allowed your eyes to close.

You were placed onto a stretcher and quickly brought out into the lobby and toward the ambulance that was waiting for this exact situation. Sonny hadn’t been more than a step away the entire path towards the ambulance. Olivia watched on as you loaded into the ambulance.

“Maybe this is finally enough to lock him up,” Sonny spat as he stepped into the ambulance. Olivia didn’t take it personally, knowing all too well that this was an emotional time for everyone.

The day Olivia had to inform the squad there wasn’t sufficient evidence to put Hector Beckett was one of the hardest of her career. She held onto the necklace draped around her neck, thinking about the situation she’d bee placed in. Perhaps God works in mysterious ways. Just because they couldn’t put him behind bars, doesn’t mean he didn’t eventually get what was coming to him.

Sonny felt the same way, but he’d never say it out loud. He only sat silently in the corner of the ambulance, allowing his mind to slip to the thought that if somehow he’d been able to find one more piece of solid evidence, if he’d done his job right, he wouldn’t be grasping your somewhat lifeless hand. His ears wouldn’t be ringing due to the shrill sirens blasting their way through the streets and he wouldn’t be looking down at your unconscious body through misty eyes praying that you’d make it out of this alive.

Request // All Dominick ‘Sonny’ Carisi Jr. Content // Masterlist

Tag List - Tags are listed on the original posts only.

[ace-of-pages]

Coat of Arms Chapter 2

Illegal Activity

Lib’s heart fluttered in her chest as she was led to a door that dropped straight into the floor of the deck, revealing a ladder to the space below. The darkness closed around her as she gripped the rungs. “Is this the part where you throw me in a cell?” she asked Koskinnen.

“How do you know we won’t just kill you?” he replied, looking down at her from the top of the ladder.

She dropped to the floor. “You would have done it already. In the field, or else had thrown me over the side of the ship.”

“That’s probably true,” he admitted, and slid down the ladder after her. She followed him through the ship’s interior, despite her hesitation. People slept here, in a long row on the floor, with more above them on tall cots or hammocks. Koskinnen held aloft a dimmed lantern, and they moved quickly past the sleepers.

The kitchens were still, and the lantern revealed an entire wall dedicated to ovens. Barrels lined another, piled with bread, or onions, or apples. In the center was a large work surface, toward which Koskinnen pulled a chair. Lib sat, and watched him in silence as he adjusted the lantern to brighten the room. He set it on the wooden counter, which smelled of onions and bread and something not quite rancid, and his helmet beside it. Lib kept her hands in her lap, and he found a mug and filled it with something from a barrel and set it in front of her, along with a loaf of bread. The scent filled the space around her. Alcohol.

It had been hours since she’d eaten, and she’d walked for miles. She picked at the loaf, avoiding the parts that touched the counter. He poured himself a mug of alcohol and stood across from her.

“Was your grandmother from another world?” he asked.

“Not that she ever told me, but, you know.” She tugged on the lapel of her jacket.

“Do you think…” He tilted his head to the side, considering her.

“What, that we’re cousins or something? I don’t know, maybe.”

He frowned. “That easy?”

“Why not?” She shrugged. “Honestly at this point either everything’s true or nothing is.”

He shrugged in agreement. “What of your parents? Would they know?”

Her eyes fell for a moment. She must be tired. “Possibly. Oh, but I have this,” she said, and reached into her jacket. She found the pocket easily, and pulled out the journal. “I can’t read it, but maybe you can.” She slid it across to him.

He caught the book and opened it. “The journal of Olivia Kosk.”

“I figured that part.”

He idly flipped through a few pages, then walked around to where she sat, and handed it back to her slowly. “I don’t think I should read this, Girlie.”

She looked up at him from her seat. “Who is to then, if I can’t?”

“I’m sorry.”

She nodded, and took the journal back. “At least I know what language it is. What do you call it, Kinnuvan?”

“Kinnu.” He grinned, and leaned against the counter, propping himself on his elbow. “What’s it like? In your world?”

She thought for a moment. “Not like this. There are cities…” Cities that what? How could she explain it?

“We have cities here,” he said, skeptically.

She flicked her eyebrows. “Right. We don’t have boats. We have no reason for them. And how does that even work?” She gestured to the wall of stoves. “This thing’s made of wood, how does it not burn down whenever you cook?”

“They’re surrounded by stone and ceramic,” he said.

“And that doesn’t sink it? Amazing. You know, I learned in school about boats. Not in-depth, obviously.”

“In school?”

“Because we used to have them.”

“Why no longer?”

“Well, we just use the EMT to get around now. It’s a system of tunnels with trains. Under the ground. There are streetcars, too, if you’re not leaving your city.”

“These are vehicles?”

“Oh, yea,” she said, setting down the bread. “They run on magnetism and electricity. The trains go underground, through the tunnels. The streetcars are attached to cables that go through most streets. There are other cars, too, that can leave the cities, but those are mostly for research. You know, scientists.”

“Okay, I didn’t get… most of that, but, people can’t leave the cities? Only your researchers?” He sipped his drink.

She shook her head. “It’s too dangerous. It’s all… poisoned. But we also have buildings that stretch a full mile into the sky. And better cider.” She lifted her mug, taking the smallest sip.

He laughed. “That’s not cider.”

Lib looked down into the cup. “Oh.” He laughed again, and after a moment she snickered as well.

The door to the kitchen swung open, and Lib leaned to the side to see who entered. Koskinnen straightened as well and turned to face Hamalain as he entered the room, his armor gone. He seemed shorter without it - just a bit taller than she was. His hair was light brown, and combed back, with just a few grays over his ears. “You’re not hungry?” He glanced at the bread.

“Oh,” she said, “I, um, I’ll eat later.” She set her mug down on the counter, and stood to face him.

“Very well. The captain will see you now.”

“Do you need me for anything?” Koskinnen said.

“Get some sleep,” Hamalain told him, inclining his head.

“Thank you, Sir,” Koskinnen said, then, “good night, Girlie.” He nodded to them both, took his helmet, and left. Hamalain picked up the lantern, dimmed it again, and held the door open for her.

“You’re the boss, then?”

He hesitated before he answered, and worked his jaw a bit. “In a sense.” She nodded, and they made their way back above-decks. He must have been in charge before the rebellion, and these other knights still saw him that way. But he doubted. It was rough for him. Politics always was, even in her world. The guilt was a little odd, but maybe that was just knights. Though Koskinnen didn’t seem to bear it quite so heavily.

The captain had a cabin with a door on the main deck, and they were called in when Hamalain knocked. It was a small room, with a bed in one corner, and a window with a narrow desk beneath it. The largest piece of furniture in the room was a round wooden table in the middle of the room, covered in papers, the topmost of which was flipped over, concealing what any of them said. A man stood behind it, waiting their entry. His hair had been black once, but no longer, and his face was lined with wrinkles. Still, he stood tall and steady, and his eyes were fierce and bright. “You are the woman with no shoes?” he asked, and Lib glanced down at the boots on her feet.

“I usually have them.” Not the best first impression.

“As do most. Captain Jokela of the Red Lady.” He extended his hand, taking a step forward. “And you are either a spy, or a great boon.”

“Call me Lib.” Now why did she say that? She shook his hand. At least she could still do that properly.

“I’ll call you Traveler if that’s who you are.”

“Well if my options are that or thrown into the ocean.”

“Quite,” Captain Jokela agreed without amusement. He placed his hands behind his back and turned to pace a step away from her. “If you are the Traveler, we would not presume to hold you here, or bring you harm. However,” he continued, and turned to face her again, his voice growing softer, “I would ask for your help.”

“With the rebellion?”

“If we’re being honest, it’s less of a rebellion, and more of a refugee situation at this point,” Hamalain said, clenching his jaw. Jokela nodded in agreement.

She pressed her lips together. “Assuming I am this person you think I am or want me to be, which sounds crazy by the way, how am I supposed to prove it? And, rebellion sounds fun in theory, but I’m guessing it’s a bit more dangerous in reality.”

“Yes,” Jokela said, expectantly.

“What I’m saying is, it’s almost like a real war, isn’t it?”

“It is a real war,” Hamalain said, a notable bitterness in his tone.

“That would be my concern.”

Hamalain made to speak, but Jokela cut him off. “If you’re not a warrior, we wouldn’t put you to be on a battlefield, but as the traveler, certainly you could help in other ways?”

“Like what?”

The two mean glanced at each other, Hamalain seeming to take on a bit of shock. “Don’t you know?” he asked her.

Jokela shook his head, and waved a hand at Hamalain. “You are new at this. Your ancestor was the holder of the mirror you used to travel here before you?”

“My grandmother was, yes.”

“You disarmed a knight of Kinnuva. You’re not incapable,” Hamalain accused, ignoring Jokela’s direction.

“Did she really?” Jokela said, lifting his brows.

“It was just a trick,” she said. “I tricked him. He still would have killed me if you hadn’t killed him.”

“You stole his sword right out of its sheath.”

Lib sighed. “I don’t know how I’d even help. I’ve never traveled before, except in my own world.” And it was never enough. “And I don’t even know how to get back there. I lost the mirror.”

“That is very unfortunate,” Hamalain said. She glared at him.

“Yes, I know, I’m terrible. How unfortunate for you that I’m maybe not some mystical wandering woman who can save  everything. What bad luck on your part that I lost my inheritance and I’m now stuck in some other world or planet or whatever with no way home, and now you’re probably going to drown me, or cut my throat. Poor you.” Well, that helped quell the nervousness, anyway.

Hamalain frowned. “You’re the traveler, you’re supposed to help. You’re supposed to know how this works, why did you even come here, just for gold? Mother help us you’re just-”

“How can I be the traveler if I lost the mirror?” she shouted. “What are we even talking about? This is crazy!”

“You could try using a different mirror,” Jokela said, shifting forward and throwing a harsh look at Hamalain.

Lib stared at him for a moment, then sighed and dropped her shoulders. “Do you think that would work? I kind of had the impression that that mirror was, you know, special. Magic.”

“It’s been,” Jokela began, and paused before continuing, “forty years since the last Traveler worked in Kinnuva. Your grandmother, I suppose. I was barely a man at the time, and I never knew her, so maybe her mirror was magic. Or maybe it was the coat. Or the woman.”

Lib hugged the flaps of her coat to herself, and Jokela looked over at Hamalain. He hesitated, then - careful to keep his expression flat - reached into his the pouch that hung at his side and pulled out a small wooden box. “I’m sorry I said that. If you can leave again through a mirror, you’re the Traveler. If you are, though, I hope you come back.” He held the box out to her.

“And if I can’t?”

“Then we will have to assume you to be a spy,” Jokela said.

“Oh,” she said. “So no pressure.” She took the box and turned it over. It was oval in shape, with a rusted hinge and no latch, and smelled of strong soap and lavender. She looked up at the two of them, waiting with baited breath to see what would happen. “I can’t believe how badly you want me gone.” She grinned, and opened the box. Her reflection looked up at her from a tiny mirror held within, above a partially dissolved bar of soap, and the world turned black.

Olivia Kosk tested her blood again. She kicked off the dead man’s boots and went to sleep in her magic jacket. She woke up and she tested her blood again. She ate fruit salad with ginger lime sauce for breakfast and caught a streetcar to the train station. She watched teenagers float down the autowalk on their way to school. She ignored the messages from her family and stepped into a bathroom at the station to see if the sword was still in her pocket. It was. She tested her blood again.

She’d left the boots in her hotel room, stood up beside each other at the end of the bed. They were muddy and she had her own shoes and those had belonged to a dead man. What would the hotel staff do with them? She saw the hydroponics tower on her way to the station, and she thought about her own plants, in her condo in Seattle, at the top of a tower, and she thought about the wild grasses of Kinnuva. She got into her train pod, laid back, and selected a bland but soothing playlist. A brief whir interrupted the music for a few seconds, and she was on her way. Back to Seattle. It wasn’t home, but nothing ever was. She’d been around the world, and nothing ever was.

She could have more. The little pink mirror had reappeared in her hand when she’d popped back into her hotel room. When she’d traveled back. She could go back, and probably the shaving mirror in it’s wooden box would be there, in Kinnuva, in her hand. What did it look like when she left, to the people who were there to see her go? If she went back she could ask. If she went back, though, they would want her help.

She was in Seattle before lunch. The familiar buzz of electricity filled the air. The streetcars jangled and crashed along their courses, the hum of coms floated up from the autowalks, and every building sported neon signs that radiated energy. There were no plants, save for the hydroponics towers, and no crickets. Olivia Kosk went to her condo.

She brushed her hand over her plants. She had dozens in pots around the apartment, and they’d come from as many places. When she couldn’t find an extant sample to bring here, she would order a painting or a photograph, which hung above her bed. They didn’t smell like anything, like everything, but it was the best she could do. She missed her plants when she went away. They were the closest she got to home.

“Central, make coffee,” she said.

“Making coffee,” her system confirmed.

“Open the curtains.”

“Opening curtains.” The curtains on the big wall in her living room drew to the side and she stood in front of the glass with her coffee to look out on the city. The sun was bright, the ocean was still through the clear case over Seattle, and the city was alive. It was happy. It was at peace. Nobody carried swords, though a few, such as herself, carried guns.

She took a shower. She ordered kebabs and salad for lunch, and grilled eggplant and potato soup for dinner. She hung the magic jacket in the closet and went to sleep. She had coffee with her neighbor Lace the next day, and they talked about home decor. That evening, she pulled the sword from her pocket and set it on her counter, which was white, and odorless, and definitely not harboring any diseases. The sword was clean, mostly. She ran her finger along it, and it was slick, as though it had been rubbed with grease. She held up her com to scan it. “Sword, steel. Four feet, nine inches in length. No signs of aging. Origin: unknown. Most likely a modern replica.” She put the com down.

She wanted to go back. She paced in front of her counter, and ran her hands through her hair. She put her hand over her mouth and looked at the sword. It was stranger now that she wasn’t in immediate danger, but she could probably learn how to use it. It was basically a really long knife, after all. She shook her head. They didn’t want her on a battlefield. There must be something else she could do to help. And they would pay her for it. In gold. She ate rice and beans for dinner, with a pepper salsa, and took a shower, and went to bed. She dreamed of green fields and red bodies and in the morning she took her gun from her purse and set it next to the sword on the counter.

She stared at it while she ate leftover rice and fruit salad. She had another shower, and took the magic jacket out of the closet. It smelled like the jacket, like Mumu, like cinnamon, like something else. She moved through her house putting things into her pockets, taking care to include her gun. She dressed in dark blue pants and shirt, with flexible shoes that sealed up over the bottoms of her pants, and gloves that sealed over the ends of her sleeves. She pulled the mirror out, and looked around her apartment once more. She turned it over and her reflection was there, smiling at her. It nodded, and Lib was ripped through the dark place again.

She was on the boat. She smelled soap, and sweat, and salt and the rancidness that maybe wasn’t so rancid, but which was somewhat off-putting nonetheless. The room she was in was small, with two cots, and a table between them. Behind her was a large chest dyed with greens and yellows in an almost floral pattern. She put her hand on the wall to catch her balance, and forced herself to start breathing again.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

She jerked her head toward the door. Sir Hamalain was there, looking surprised, a mug of something steaming in his hand. She breathed. “I thought you wanted my help.”

He nodded. “Not here.” He nodded to the room. Ah. “So, you really are the traveler.”

“I guess I am.”

“A bit strange?”

“Yea,” she agreed. “But I think it’ll be exciting.”

“Will you be helping us, then?”

“Yes. I have an idea.”

The tension fled from his shoulders. “The captain will see you immediately. You’ll want to discuss terms, I assume.”

“Yes, but actually, first,” she said, putting a hand on his arm as he turned away. He stopped, waiting. She took a breath. “I’m sorry, too. I freaked out on you last night, but this isn’t your fault, and you’re in a bad way, too. Worse, even.”

The corner of his mouth turned up, and he faced her, considering a moment before he spoke. “The traveler is a legend here. She shows up every few generations, saves the day. You showed up out of nowhere, disarmed a knight, probably saved my life, and I thought.” He trailed off, then shook his head. “That’s not on you.”

“What is on me?” Now why was she asking him?

“Well,” he said slowly, “I suppose for now that will be determined by whatever terms you agree to.” She stared at him for a moment, then chuckled.

“One step at a time, got it.”

“Shall we, then?”

“Yes. Actually, there is something I want from you first.”

He stopped again. “What do you want?”

“I want you to promise that you’ll make sure I get what we agree on.”

“Why would you-” He narrowed his eyes.

“I might not get war, but I do know people. You’re honest, and you’ll make sure I get paid, even if something comes up,” she said, quoting with her fingers.

“Captain Jokela is honest,” he said, pointedly.

“Furthermore, I have no idea how your economy works or how much gold is worth here. It’s worth a lot in my world, but only to collectors. I’d never be able to unload an amount intended to be used as currency. So I want you to promise that I’ll be paid fairly. Enough that I can spend it here.”

He sighed. “Very well. On my word, I swear that any bargain struck here today will be upheld by all parties involved, and that you will receive payment proportionate to the aid you provide. Yes?” He raised his eyebrows.

She grinned. The cheek. “Excellent.”

“Is that all?”

She thought for a moment. “One more thing.”

He took a sip of his drink. “Yes?”

She held up the shaving mirror. “I’m keeping this.”

As had been promised, Captain Jokela was ready to see her right away. His hair was combed straight today, and he wore a blue jacket. Four chairs surrounded the small table in his room, which was now clear, and he stood as she entered. Sir Yorhonen was there in the room with them, and the four of them sat - her across from Jokela, with a knight on either side of her.

“I’m pleased you decided to come back,” Jokela began. “I understand this magic is new to you.”

“Yes, it’s a lot,” Lib said.

“I admit I was not aware that the magic of the traveler was inherited.”

She paused, then smiled pleasantly. So this was her inheritance. “You probably know more about it than I do.”

“She is a figure of legend in our society.”

“That’s what I hear,” Lib said.

“You’re uncomfortable with the idea,” Jokela said.

“Well.” She trailed off. It was crazy.

“Yet here you are,” Sir Yorhonen said. “Just when we need you the most.” She watched Lib with a careful, studied passivity.

“Here I am,” Lib agreed. “And you want my help.”

“What magic can you offer us, Traveler?” the captain asked her.

“I have no magic to offer you, Captain, but I can get you weapons.”

He folded his hands on the table. “What sort of weapons?”

Lib reached into her jacket, pulled out her pistol, and set it in front of her. “They’re called guns. This one’s mine, but I can get more.”

“What does it do?”

“You really have to see it, but it uses polarized electrical charges to propel the ammunition out of the barrel, here.”

“Like a crossbow?” Yorhonen asked.

“Not quite.�� She took the clip out of the gun. “It fires these. Bearings. This one holds sixteen, but I’d get you models with a higher capacity.”

Jokela held his hand out and Lib passed him the clip. “Are they effective?”

She pulled her com out. “Com, play video one-twenty-seven. 3D.” She set the device down on the table as the scene was projected into the air above it. The buzz and click of weaponry filled the room, followed by the grinding and banging as the vehicle frames from antiquity were fired upon.

After a minute, the video ended, and Jokela looked up at her. “What are those, ah, targets made of?”

“Aluminum, usually, but sometimes steel.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You can get us weapons that will break through steel plating?”

Lib nodded. “I can.”

Hamalain shifted in his seat, turning slightly to the side. “Could you provide something that would break through stone?”

She frowned. “Stone? Maybe. How much stone?”

“Three feet,” Yorhonen answered quickly. They all watched her intensely. Lib frowned and ran her fingers through her hair, then laced them together behind her head. They were all breathing lightly, leaning in. The pressure of their situation was showing through the lines in their faces. “I’m not sure. That’s not something you’d use on a person, is it?”

“It would be a siege weapon, Traveler,” Hamalain said softly. She looked over at him, saw the small flexing of his jaw.

“I’m not very familiar with the idea. I would have to check,” she said, turning back to Jokela.

They were silent for a moment before the captain spoke again. “I want to see it myself. If your gun can do what we saw in your illusion, we will pay by the weapon.”

Lib looked at Hamalain, who thought for a moment. “If the demonstration proves your illusion accurate,” he started, gesturing to her com, “you should get a pound of gold for each gun you can provide, and a silver for each piece of ammunition. For the siege weapon, should you acquire one, fifteen pounds, plus half a pound for each round. You must agree to provide instruction on their use and care, of course.”

“Well, for starters, don’t get them wet. But yea, we’ll get to that, once I have them.” She turned back to Jokela. He seemed unconcerned by the amount Hamalain had suggested. Perhaps it was too low, or perhaps it was their desperation making him not care.

“I can provide all that, and a bonus if we win. Do you require a forward?” he asked.

“An advance? Yes, that would be helpful.”

Jokela nodded. “How many guns do you believe you can provide?” Every time they said that word, gun, it sounded odd, forced. They drew it out just a bit too long.

“I should be able to get at least twenty in the next couple of days, but I’ll try to get as many as I can.”

“Will five pounds forward be sufficient, then?”

“Yes, that will work for me.” Twenty-five percent. Trusting, for a first trade. Desperate.

“Traveler,” Yorhonen said, looking paler than usual. “Will this work?” Her eyes were wide, her breaths shallow. Lib looked to the others, who shared similar expressions. They watched her, waiting to hear her response. Her throat clenched. They wanted her to be the Traveler. They wanted her to give them hope. Bastards. She shrugged.

“Probably you’ll win, if you have guns and they don’t. That’s generally how it went in my world. Although, I’m not sure how magic will factor in. Obviously.”

“You said we should expect your return with these weapons in two or three days?” Jokela asked her.

“Yes. More for the siege, of course. That could take weeks, if it even exists.” Of course it does. The ancients built bombs that continued to poison the entire planet. They must have built something that could knock down a wall.

“That’s fast.” Hamalain leaned forward. His hands curled in on themselves, and he forced himself into near stillness. He wanted something.

Lib smiled at him. “Yes.” Jokela nodded, and Yorhonen narrowed her eyes at Hamalain, concerned. Interesting.

“How are deals normally sealed in your world?” Jokela asked her. “I can have a contract drawn up.”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. We’re not in my world, and Hamalain - Sir Hamalain - has promised me that he’ll see that everyone here follows through on this. That means it’ll be done, yes? Is that a knight thing?”

Yorhonen’s jaw slackened. “You trust her for that?”

“I trust me for that,” he said, gently, and Yorhonen shut her mouth, somewhere between placated and admonished.

“Then it’s settled,” Jokela said. “Now, the demonstration.”

It was windy on the deck of the ship, and Lib’s hair blew across her eyes. She pulled it to the side and stared around. People moved around her with purpose, washing clothes, scrubbing the deck, checking ropes, and recording things in small paper books. The demonstration had been fast, and effective. The bearings ripped through the breastplate they set up for her, leaving clean little holes in a circle she’d made to show off. She had sweat a bit, but Koskinnen slapped her on the back in congratulations, laughing. They were all pleased with the results, and Yorhonen had even smiled at her. She had her five pounds in pocket, and a handshake as promise for more.

She made her way to the edge of the ship and leaned on the railing. Was the ocean in her world smelly like this? She’d never smelled it, obviously, though there was a portion of Seattle that crossed over the ocean. The shops there were built on the clear bottom of the case, and you could see straight through the street into the water.

Not that there was anything there to see. Not like here. Were all animals so gooey as the one she’d seen in the tidal pool? Perhaps just the ones that lived in the water. The ones that lived on land must be firmer, like humans. This was crazy. Her muscles wanted to tense up, and forcing them to relax was straining them almost as much. She really was going to sell guns to some rebels in another world. She shook her head, staring out over an alien ocean. Pure madness.

“Enjoying the view, Girlie?” Koskinnen leaned on the rail beside her and grinned, his own hair blowing out several times the distance hers was.

“Is it always so windy here?” she asked him, raising her voice to be heard.

He laughed. “On the water, it is, yea.”

“Why?”

He blinked his confusion. “What?”

She shook her head again. “Nevermind. It’s not important.”

“I can see it, you know,” he told her.

“See what?”

“Your jaw. It’s cut like my sister’s. And you have red in your hair.”

She touched her hair, and looked up at him. She was going to have to deal with this. “Mumu didn’t have red hair,” she protested.

“No? Well, not all of us do.” Us.

She studied his face, tilting her head to the side. “Yea,” she said after a moment. “I can see it, too. You have the same nose as my brother.”

“Unfortunate for your brother.”

She laughed. “Maybe more unfortunate for his wife.”

He put on a pained expression and held his hand over his heart. “And mine, if I ever meet her.” He sobered, then, and nodded past her. Lib turned around to see Hamalain approaching.

“Hey Boss,” she said, leaning back against the railing.

“Traveler.” He nodded. “How do you fare?”

She chuckled. “Just fine. How do you fare?”

“Do you need something? You said you did not require an advance, but something else, perhaps? Or is there something we should be doing? To prepare?”

“If you want me to get a move on, just say so,” she told him. Koskinnen coughed.

“It’s not so much rushing you as hoping to get a handle on your plans.”

“My plans? Actually, I do need you to do something for me.” She could use him to help her figure out more of her magic. He surely knew more about it than she did. He waited, watching her expectantly. “I need you to help me carry the product.”

“I’m sorry?”

“War means you’ll need a lot, yea? And a lot,” she said, pausing to grin, “is a lot to carry.”

“You want me to go with you?”

“That’s right,” she said.

“To your world?”

“Be kind of hit or miss trying to get that many guns anywhere else.” Koskinnen stared at her, his eyebrows raised. “You’re a big strong man, and those are my terms. The gold for the product, and you help me get it here.”

“That’s not what we agreed on,” he reminded her.

She shrugged. “Not really the point if I can’t carry it all myself.”

He narrowed his eyes, considering her. “Is it possible?” he asked. “For me to go to your world?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, and her smile broadened. “But we can find out.”

He worked his jaw from side to side. “Very well, but once this is done, you agree to negotiate another job for me.”

“Ham?” Koskinnen said, standing up from the railing.

“If she can bring someone along with her, that’s all the better.”

“Perfect.” Lib said.

“I’ll don my armor,” Hamalain told her.

“I wouldn’t, actually,” she said. “You won’t need it, and it’ll draw attention.”

“They don’t wear armor, in your world?” He asked, and she shook her head. “No swords either, then?”

“Sorry.”

He nodded, his eyes unfocused as he took it in. “I will let the captain know. I’ll meet you on the forecastle in half an hour.”

“Wow,” Koskinnen said as Hamalain walked away. “That was interesting.”

She looked over at him, and his eyes twinkled with amusement. “I’m curious. About several things.”

“Of course.” He glanced out over the edge of the ship for a moment, contemplating something, then spoke again. “I’m going to go find Heska. She’s going to lose her mind when she hears about this. Can’t wait to tell her.” He chuckled to himself, and gave Lib a short wave as he pushed off the railing.

“Heska Yorhonen? She doesn’t trust me,” Lib said.

“Heska is slow to trust.” His voice dwelled on her name when he said it.

“Are you two together?” she asked.

“No,” he said, just a bit harshly, and stepped past her.

“Wait, Koskinnen, um.”

“It’s Atos,” he told her, pausing.

“Atos,” she repeated. “Where am I supposed to meet him?”

The forecastle, which turned out to be an untranslatable word meaning the front of the ship, was mostly cleared of people when Lib arrived. Yorhonen stood at the very front of the ship, Atos beside her. Her hair was loose, and light, and as long as Atos’s, blowing in the wind around her stormy face. Before them, Jokela and Hamalain waited. Hamalain had changed into plain brown pants and a loose-fitting white shirt.

“Are you ready?” she asked as she approached.

Jokela regarded her with a narrowed gaze. “Is this truly necessary, Traveler?”

She looked from him, to Hamalain, and back to Yorhonen. None of them trusted her. Even Atos looked like he was wavering. She let out a short, sharp breath. “No,” she admitted. “Not strictly. It would be helpful, but I know things are hard here, and I can manage it on my own.”

Hamalain looked at the captain. “It may be helpful to know more about her methods, and three days is not so long.”

“And what if she never returns you?” Yorhonen asked, crossing her arms.

“Then she was never going to help us, and our cause is lost anyway,” he said, plainly. They were really hanging their entire rebellion on her? And Hamalain wanted her to know it. To see how she would react to the pressure, probably. She rolled her shoulders back and kept her face passive.

“I may not be a knight, but I know enough to know how much my word is worth. It’s the one thing I can’t buy back.”

They seemed more or less mollified by that. Jokela glanced at Hamalain. “I’ll leave it to your judgment.”

Hamalain considered her, then nodded. “I will go.”

“So you will.”

Hamalain stepped forward and stood beside Lib. Yorhonen maintained her glare from across the forecastle. “This might be a bit jarring,” she said, and put a hand on his shoulder. He clenched his jaw, and put a hand on her shoulder as well, and when she opened the mirror in front of them, her reflection grinned at him mischievously. He started, but before he could jerk away, they were swept from the world. She felt him beside her, in the darkness, but couldn’t move her head to see if he was there. Was she held, or did she just not have a body in this place? Panic began to swell within her.

They landed in her condo, which brightened upon their arrival. Hamalain looked around the space while Lib caught her breath. She leaned forward with her hands on her knees and glared at him as he showed nothing more than a swift curiosity. “This isn’t what I expected,” he told her.

“Are you kidding me?” She straightened and rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t bother you?”

He looked at her oddly. “Are you alright, Traveler?”

“It’s Lib, and yea, I’m fine. Just horrified by the nothing that isn’t nothing between worlds.”

“What do you mean?” He frowned.

“You didn’t see that?”

“I saw the boat, then this place,” he said, carefully. “Is this your home?”

She sighed. Figures. “Yea. Central, make coffee.”

“Making coffee.”

“What was that?” he asked her as the brewer began its gentle hum.

“That is my voice-activated home management system.”

“I thought you didn’t have magic here.”

“It’s not magic,” she said. “It’s a machine. It runs on electricity.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“What, electricity? It’s, ah, an energy source.”

“And you use it to power these artifacts?” He gestured around her kitchen. “Make things move?”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Yes. But it’s not magic. It’s science. It doesn’t work the same way.”

“I thought you didn’t know how magic worked.”

“Well, that’s true, but, okay, it’s like harnessed lightning.”

“Lightning?” he said, slowly.

“Yea, you know. Storms. Bright flashes of light shooting through the sky. Brings thunder.”

He shook his head. “We don’t have anything like that. Well, storms, obviously. Rain and wind. Snow in the winter. Or magic. No light flashes, though.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You’re kidding.” He shook his head. “No lightning.”

“And this world has no magic.”

“Wait, did you say you have magic storms?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Well, that’s terrifying.”

“It’s a power source, like your electricity. Though, perhaps harnessed differently?” he added, looking around her kitchen again.

She shrugged, and they fell into silence for a moment before she asked, “so, how do you take your coffee?”

“Black with sugar.”

“Right, I’m gonna have to pop in on A to set this thing up, and she’ll give us a pick-up time.” She considered him for a moment. “Maybe it’s not the best idea for you to come for that part.

He looked at her askance. “I’d rather not wait here. To be honest, I feel a bit odd in this world.”

“Well, to be honest, it’s a bad idea.”

“Why?”

“Because you act like a cop. A guard.”

He turned fully to face her. “You’re a thief.” It was neither question nor accusation.

She pursed her lips, and glared at him. “Perhaps. But I am a free thief.” She crossed her arms.

“I will not reveal you.”

She threw her arms out to the sides. “You can’t come.”

He nodded, considering this. “I’m going.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “No. You’ll draw way too much attention, you don’t understand.”

“Because of how I look?”

“Well, sort of,” she said, exasperated. “But also the way you talk, the way you move.”

“What’s wrong with how I move?” he asked, confused.

“You’re always ready to fight. Which makes sense, but there’s no war here.”

He leaned on the counter, propping himself on one elbow, and crossed one ankle over the other. “Noted. What else?”

She glared at him. It was an impressive posture switch. Damn it. She shook her head. “There’s so much that you don’t understand about this world, and it’ll immediately be apparent as soon as you open your mouth.”

“So teach me.”

“What? I can’t do that, we don’t have time.”

“Just the basics,” he said, “and we’ll go from there.”

“It’s an entire world!”

“I don’t need to know everything, just enough for a single meeting.”

“With an illegal weapons dealer!”

“We should probably get started, then.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me. Why?”

“To make sure you uphold your end of the bargain. Traveler.”

She ran her hands through her hair and groaned. “You’re gonna need a change of clothes. Central, open the curtains.”

As light flooded into the room, Hamalain blinked and approached the window. He looked out for a moment, then drew a sharp breath. “We’re in a tower.”

“We call them skyscrapers.” She moved to stand next to him,

“How far up are we?”

“Fifty-seven floors. A bit over a thousand feet, I think.” She clicked the lock on the door and slid it open, then stepped out onto the porch.“Come on.” He followed her out and cautiously approached the rail, touching it with his outstretched fingertips, and peered down over the side of the building. His face paled even further. “Are you scared of heights, Sir Knight?”

He laughed, eying her nervously. “Not typically, no.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Relax. I’m not a murderer.”

“I wasn’t worried about that.”

“Oh, probably. You take your time.” She crossed her arms and watched him.

He leaned slowly forward on the rail, his forearms resting against it. After a moment, he squinted, and craned his neck forward. There it was. She grinned. He glanced to the sides, then began following it up. She watched him until he’d followed it all the way to the pinnacle of the sky. He stared up, not comprehending. “What am I looking at?”

“That would be the case.”

“What is it?”

“Technical term is Life Preservation Dome, but everyone calls it the Case, or the Seattle Case. It’s a barrier between us and the outside. Keeps us safe. Out there, everything is contaminated, as I’ve said.”

He dropped his eyes down to meet hers, horrified. “Why?”

“Something our ancestors did. I can go into it if you want, but it’s pretty horrific, and you’re already dealing with a war.” She shrugged. He looked back out at the ocean, pain settling into his features. “Hey, don’t take it so personally.” She put a hand on his forearm. “It’s just something you ought to know.”

He pressed his lips together and she watched the pain on his face sink, giving way to curiosity, then calculating as he stared through her. His eyes refocused on hers as he brought himself back to the moment. “So don’t talk about going outside of the city. Is this the only city?”

“You’re quick,” she said, a smile coming to her face, despite herself. “And no. There are others. We can get to them through the trains, which travel underground.”

“Trains,” he muttered. “Underground vehicles. What else?”

“Come inside and have coffee. We’ll go over it. For starters, though, stop calling me Traveler. I’m Olivia. Or Lib. And you can’t tell people to call you Sir Hamalain, they’ll think you’re mad.” She left the balcony.

“Kyan,” he said, following her.

Even in normal clothes, Kyan Hamalain stood out in Seattle. He wore brown pants and a muted red shirt that clung to his arms, but even so he looked wrong. He moved oddly, though he made a decent effort not to, and he’d insisted on bringing his boot knife, which was hidden, thankfully, but made the boots themselves necessary. “Would you stop that?” Lib insisted whenever they came to a lull in the passersby.

Finally, they stood in front of a smoke shop called Hannah’s Ring. She glanced at Kyan before she entered, and wondered again, as she pushed her way through the doorway if she should have brought him along. The inside of the shop was lined with a single glass shelf that ran along three of the walls, under-lit with blue light, which displayed a variety of pipes, including one very long glass piece with an apple-shaped bowl that was clearly meant for sharing, an idea Lib found both intriguing and disturbing. She approached the person behind the counter, a bespectacled and freckled man about her age with hunched shoulders and loose-fitting clothes.

“Lib,” he greeted her in his somewhat nasally timbre, surprise pushing his tone up a notch. “It’s been a while.”

“Ben,” she replied with a smile, and leaned on the counter. “It has. How’ve you been? How’s everything?”

“Everything is good,” he answered slowly. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Kyan,” she said. “He’s from out of town.”

“Well met,” Kyan said, and held out his hand.

“He doesn’t look like a smoker,” Ben said, shaking Kyan’s hand bemusedly.

Lib laughed. “We’ll see.”

“So you want your reds?” Ben asked.

“Please,” Lib said, and as he reached for the cigarettes, she continued, “hey, do you boys still play poker?”

“Only until they crack the case.” Ben laughed, and set the cigarettes down on the counter. “You looking to bet?”

Lib nodded and pressed her thumb to the scanner on the glass counter. Kyan watched her closely, his head tilted to the side, thankfully keeping the suspicion out of his face. Mostly. “I am,” she said. “Actually, I’m feeling pretty lucky.”

“Oh really?” Ben said, his eyebrows raising. “Well, we have a game going on now, if you’re interested. You could jump in. Will your friend be joining you?”

She looked at Kyan and raised her eyebrows. “Yea, he will. You like poker, right Kyan?”

“Yes, of course,” he said. He kept his eyes on her, and held tension near his temples. Lib put a hand on his arm as Ben lifted a section of the counter for them.

“Don’t forget your smokes,” he said and opened the door to the staff room.

“Got it,” Kyan said, and grabbed the pack from the counter. They followed Ben through the back door into the staff room, a small room with a single table and three chairs, green walls, and an old coffee pot. There was a door on the far side of it, which was also green, though a different shade.

“Operator, open the basement,” Ben said, and the computer narrated its compliance. The open door revealed a small landing and a set of metal stairs, which Ben took without hesitation. Downstairs, a woman sat in a chair by yet another door, thumbing through something on her com. She had about ten years on Lib and her rapidly graying curls, which had once been quite red, were tied up in a messy bun that left a few strands hanging into her face.

“Lib,” she said, lowering the device in surprise. Even in overalls, caught off guard, her eyes burned fiercely.

“Angela,” Lib greeted her.

“Lib wants to play some poker with her new friend Kyan,” Ben said.

Angela looked at him. “I didn’t think she still played.”

Ben shrugged. “Says she’s feeling lucky. Have fun kids.” He turned and walked back up the stairs, waving over his shoulder.

Angela stood up, and put a hand on her hip. “Well, you got credits?”

“Always,” Lib said.

“That’s what I like to hear,” she said with a grin. “Come on in.” She led them through the door she was guarding and into a long hallway, then through another door into an office. “Take a seat,” she told them, stepping behind a sleek black desk and gesturing to the chairs across from her. “What exactly are you looking for?”

“Gem 13s,” Lib said.

Angela raised an eyebrow. “You upgrading or is this for him?”

“One of them is for him,” Lib said, slowly.

“So you’re buying a pair. Are you in trouble?” She flicked her eyes up as she tapped on the desk’s screen.

Lib glanced at Kyan. “I need about three hundred.”

Angela stopped tapping, and looked up at the two of them. “Excuse me?”

Lib held her expression steady. “That a problem?”

Angela narrowed her eyes. “You trying to work me out?”

“No,” Lib told her.

“This is a set up, then? Who is this guy? He a cop?” Angela drew her hands in close to herself, nearer to the edge of the desk. Kyan grew very still.

“No, he’s not,” Lib told her. Kyan would be fast with the knife, if he thought he had to, but Angela would be faster with the gun.

“Who is he, then?” She didn’t take her eyes off him.

Why hadn’t Lib come up with something to tell her earlier? She’d been out of the game for too long, apparently. “He’s an infinite,” she blurted.

Angela blinked, and looked at Lib, her jaw slackened. “What?” she said. Her face was clear, her eyes hard. “How did you find one?”

“I’m straight, Angela,” Lib said, nodding.

Angela narrowed her eyes. “So where’s he from? I didn’t realize there were any left.”

“New York, but he’s traveled.”

Angela nodded, looking him over. “How do you travel without numbers, Friend?”

“He hasn’t explained it to me,” Lib told her.

“Well I didn’t ask you, did I, Moon?” Her voice was sharp, sweet. Dangerous.

“That’s fair,” Lib said, letting a suggestive smile play onto her face. “But if he hasn’t told me, I doubt he’ll tell you.”

Angela glared at her, then let her expression slip into a knowing smile. “So that’s how it is. Never thought you’d go down this way, Moon.”

Lib sighed. “So you’ll deal me in?”

Angela watched her for a long moment, then sighed. “Fine. As long as you’ve got the credits. The Gems is all?”

“Actually, I was hoping you knew a collector I could visit.”

“For what?” she asked, resuming her tapping on the desk.

“Something that can breach a wall.”

Angela looked like she’d spit out her coffee, if she’d been drinking any, and stood up. “What the hell, Moon?”

“I’ll give you a finder’s fee.”

She lowered her voice, and hissed, “I know you will, but that’s not exactly my first concern.”

Lib pursed her lips. “You’re getting a boost, and you’ll never hear of it again, Ange.”

Angela shook her head. “Not good enough.” Her hands were flat on either side of the screen, turning white around the edges, and she leaned forward.

“I swear it’s got nothing to do with Seattle.”

“Where’s it got to do with, then?”

“Nowhere important.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“Actually,” Lib said, standing up slowly. “I’m not. You just can’t imagine how I could be telling the truth. Come on, Ange. We’ve been through it. I wouldn’t try to pull one over on you.” She stood eye to eye with her, matching her breath for breath.

Angela sat back in her chair again and drummed her fingers on the desk for a moment. “Can I pay you for the information?”

“Maybe someday,” Lib said with a slow shake of her head, and sat down as well. “But not today.”

She nodded, and sat forward again. “Alright, Moon. Don’t make me regret this. Com, send packet fifty-three to device eight-two-seven.”

Lib pulled out her com. “Com, accept packet fifty-three.”

“Well,” Angela said, “shall we work out the gamble?”