#agatha looked like a such a loser with that shirt ..and i need her

[evgar]

this came to me in a dream

[carry-on-snowbazzing]

My 5 best of 2020 (in 2021 😂)

1. A summer day ☀

"Well, Baz! Do you want to move?" Penelope yelled, already in the car (a certain MG dated 1967).

Simon studied his own reflection in the rearview mirror, running a hand through his bronze curly tuft and resulting in even more messiness.

"A minute!" was the answer from a few floors above the apartment.

Penelope rolled her eyes and picked up her Iphone.

Shortly after, hurried footsteps were heard coming down the stairs and Baz, after closing the door, got into the car.

Simon leaned out of the back seat and kissed him on the cheek.

He smiled and, starting the engine, exclaimed:

"Destination: fun!"

  Later there were four of them getting out of the car: Baz with a beach umbrella over his shoulder, Simon struggling with a giant inflatable pink flamingo, Penelope with a cooler bag, and Agatha with another bag, containing beach towels and sunscreen.

"The weather forecasts were right; today’s a perfect day for the sea," Penelope commented as she slipped off her flip-flops and dropped her bag into the sand.

"Edward shines like a fairy!" Simon yelled, putting on a pair of sunglasses and pointing to Baz.

"Stop it, Snow," he laughed, "and give me my glasses back; all this sunshine stuns me."

Trying to ignore them, Agatha took off her cover-up and began to rub off the protection angrily.

"Whoever dives himself last is a pixie!" Simon yelled, throwing his t-shirt and starting to run towards the sea with Penelope at his heels.

Several splashes and laughter later, the two returned wet, smiling and hungry.

Meanwhile, Baz and Agatha had dedicated themselves to crossword puzzles and to the horoscope.

"Agatha, there must be some butter and turkey sandwiches in the cooler," Penelope said as she wrapped herself in her towel.

"I couldn't find anything better for you than beef carpaccio," she said to Baz.

He smiled making 'OK' with both thumbs.

"And for me?" Agatha asked, offended that her friend hadn't thought of her too.

"Fruit salad" she replied. "I know you're on a vegetarian diet."

Agatha blushed feeling a little guilty and muttered something like "Oh, thank you".

Everyone literally devoured their lunch, because, as Simon ruled on his fifth butter sandwich, "The sea makes you hungry."

They gossiped a bit about their old classmates, wondering if Gareth still had his belt buckle as a wand and if Trixie had a fight with his girlfriend.

  They lost track of time after falling asleep in the early afternoon sun.

It was the sound of a notification that woke Agatha, who, after seeing her mother's message ('Where are you? Coven party tonight!'), made a shrill sound that woke the others too.

"Damn, I'm in mega-delay!" she complained, sitting up and hastily gathering his things.

Seeing her so agitated, no one dared contradict her and they hurried too.

Before leaving for the return, all already in the car, Simon took out a Polaroid from the trunk (not an easy feat, given the bulky mass of the flamingo) and urged them:

"Wait! Say 'cheese'!"

Everyone posed, waiting for the flash.

Once the picture was taken, Simon reached for the film that had just come out of the instant camera, but found himself clutching a slice of Emmental in his fingers.

Baz couldn't help himself and laughed uncontrollably.

"Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch!" Simon bursted, but he couldn't bear a grudge and joined in the general laughter.

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2. Shopping (Big & Little) 🥄

"They'll be emptying the mall, those two" Agatha commented, looking at the clock on the kitchen wall and adding another egg to the bowl.

"Probably" replied Penelope, who was handling the curry risotto.

"They've been away for three hours!" Agatha insisted, "and with two credit cards!".

Penelope gave her a look like 'what can we do?' and again consulted the handwritten note attached to the refrigerator with a magnet (shaped like a scone).

"Oh, I forgot the onion!" she moaned after a quick glance, "my mother would kill me if she knew!".

She went back to the stove and for a few minutes they remained silent, one intent on vigorously banging the whips, the other busy slicing the bulb.

Once Agatha had baked the chocolate cake (wiping a non-existent sweat with her glove) and Penelope had remedied her mistake, the girls dropped onto the sofa.

They were just debating which movie to watch that night when they heard the key turn in the lock and Simon exclaim from the entrance:

"We’re at home!"

The two joined them in the living room and Baz asked:

"Curry and chocolate?"

Penelope nodded.

"Sometimes I wish I was a vampire; just smell a dish to understand if the doses are right or wrong," she sighed.

"Shopping?" Agatha asked, looking at the numerous envelopes they both had in their hands and casting a reproachful look at Simon.

"There were the sales" he tried to justify himself, shrugging his shoulders.

"Hurry up; you’ll show us your spoils of war after dinner" Penelope ordered.

  "What do you think?" Simon began, smugly showing a set of jeans for Baz and a giant jar of sour cherries scones.

Penelope seemed to try not to roll her eyes.

"I stayed on the intellectual side" Baz said, pulling a stack of books and a pack of pastel highlighters out of a bag.

"I need them for the college" he explained to Agatha, who was trying to get hold of the markers.

"And you haven't seen the piece of resistence!" Simon shrieked, grabbing a smiling Baz by the wrist and dragging him into the nearest room.

They came out moments later walking backwards (in what was supposed to be an imitation of Michael Jackson's moonwalk), so they could only see their backs.

"3, 2, 1 ..." Baz counted.

"Ta daaaan!" Simon exclaimed as they turned at the same time.

They wore matching gray sweatshirts; both had a black molded spoon.

'Big' was written on Baz's, while Simon's 'Little'.

"Awww" the girls screamed in unison, in the grip of a fangirl attack (which managed to make Agatha look adoring too).

"We have a pair for you too" Baz said, handing Penelope a black t-shirt with 'Brownie' on it, while Simon gave Agatha a white one with 'Blondie' on it.

"Thanks, guys" Penelope murmured moved and Agatha initiated a group hug.

photos references

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3. Anniversary 💞

here

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4. Ops! 🧴

 Simon knocked for the tenth time on the bathroom door:

"Occupied!" Baz yelled for the tenth time.

"And sorry, but I can't hold it anymore anymore ..."

Simon abruptly released the handle, abandoning his irritated tone.

He let out a cry, muffled by the hands that he immediately brought to his mouth.

Baz was shirtless in front of the mirror, glaring at his own reflection.

Everything was perfectly normal, except for his hair: it had turned from raven to red.

Fawn red.

"If you tell anyone about this, Snow, I will end you" he growled menacingly.

Simon stood there, speechless. When he had regained the use of his mouth, he barely stifled a laugh and intoned:

“Weasley is our king

he always lets the Quaffle in ... "

From Baz's look, he knew it would be wiser to stop, so he did it.

He approached cautiously and asked gently:

"What happened to you?".

"I wish I knew; I was taking a normal shampoo shower" sighed Baz.

Meanwhile Simon had reached the sink and was looking closely at the bottle of the citron and bergamot scented blend.

"It doesn't seem to have anything strange" he then ruled, placing it back on the shelf.

"Indeed; I went to get it from my home in Hampshire; Daphne can only find it in our town's herbalist's shop," Baz replied sadly.

"I really can't explain it" he went on, unable to get over it.

"My sister gave it to me ..." he stopped suddenly.

He clapped her forehead and turned on the lock screen of his smartphone.

"Today is April 1st," he murmured.

He took the vial in one hand and, with the ivory wand in the other, exclaimed:

"Show me your secrets!".

The writing on the label changed from 'Shampoo with citrus notes' to 'Permanent color intense red'.

"MORDELIAAAAA!" he screamed as Simon rolled with laughter.

"April Fool!" he managed to exclaim between a laugh and another.

That’s totally inspired by a fanart of @vkelleyart​ 💖 :  that 

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5. Trick or treat? 👻

 "Well, Baz! If you don't move, we'll only have the sub-brand candy left!" Simon railed.

With all the peace of mind he could, Baz went down the stairs and joined his screaming boyfriend, who was immediately silent at his sight.

"Morgana, Basilton; you really mean it" Penelope commented, watching him as she lit another candle to put in the Jack o 'lanterns carved by Simon and Baz (which occupied all the flat surfaces of the apartment).

"I've been doing some accurate researches over the last week" he began, making a theatrical gesture in his vampire cloak.

"You even have the same jacket as Gary Oldman" she observed excitedly.

He, in response, gave her a perfidious look, baring his fangs.

Simon was still in his silence and couldn't take his eyes off him.

"What's up Snow, the cat got your tongue?" Baz asked, amused.

He answered with a tongue sticking out and approached him with a raised eyebrow (in perfect Baz style).

"Wow" he commented after kissing him on the cheek.

"Enjoy yourselves!" Penelope exclaimed as they came out hand in hand.

  "Where do we go now?" Baz asked.

Simon moved with great ease between one bell and another, meticulously illustrating the specialties offered by each house.

His phrases were: "Here you can always find top quality stuff", or "No, better to avoid an indigestion".

After scouring all the houses on the first five blocks, Simon had an epiphany.

"For a thousand snakes! Baz, we absolutely have to go to the 'Spooky night' party!" he screamed, making him jump.

"Crowley, Snow! Calm down!" he retorted irritably, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt.

"You don't understand," Simon insisted.

"Our loot is loser when compared to everything you can find there; Strawberry Blood Drip, Every Flavour Beans, Pumpkin PIE, Butterbeer and, hold on ... Oreo with Orange Cream!"

Baz, seeing him so excited ('like a child', he thought), couldn’t say no to him (although he wanted to go home more than anything else; his feet protested against Count Dracula's boots).

"And where would it be?" he asked, trying not to smile.

"A couple of blocks from here; hurry up!" Simon urged him, taking him by the hand and starting to run.

  "A delusion!" Simon snapped, leaving the bag full of sweets on the doormat.

"What happened?" Penelope asked Baz, who had just closed the door behind him and limped desperately as he headed for the sofa.

"In short at that damn party they had finished everything and told us our costumes sucked" he explained.

Simon was with his arms folded, all sulking, sitting in the armchair.

"Look at their costumes! And let me have something to eat, rather!" he barked.

Penelope approached him and, looking at him tenderly, reassured him:

"We always have our repertoire of horror films."

Simon shrugged, hitting the nearby lamp.

"And I was prepared for any eventuality," she went on, snapping her fingers and popping up a pack of Oreos with orange cream.

Simon's face cleared, illuminated by a huge grin.

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Ty @letraspal​ for tagging me 💕

That’s all; hope u like it!  💜

Happy new Year! ✨

[angelsfalling16]

Hiii I love your writing and I'm in LOVE with 5 Times it Doesn't Mean Anything and 1 Time it Does. Thank you for blessing us with that masterpiece. Do you think you could do 9 and 22 for the cliché tropes and prompts? Thank you in advance :)

Hello! I am so glad you like that fic, and I hope you like this one!! :) So, I thought that it might be fun to combine these prompts into one fic, so I hope that’s okay, Nonnie. Also, it’s a little over 2k (might’ve gotten a little carried away...) so I’m putting it under a cut.

9. There’s only one bed and we sleep as far away as possible from each other but wake up cuddling

22. You’re my new bodyguard and you’re cute.

***

No one ever comes to Simon's door except for his friends, so when he opens it to find a complete stranger, it comes as a bit of shock.

The man is standing there with his arms behind his back in dress pants and a button up shirt. It looks like what might be considered business casual, but there doesn't seem to be anything casual about the guy.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Is that how you always answer the door?” the guy asks, quirking a perfectly groomed brow.

“No, but you shouldn’t even be able to get in through the gates. So, again, I ask, who the hell are you?”

“Your bodyguard.”

“I don’t need a bodyguard.”

“My employer thinks otherwise.”

“If my father thinks I need protection, why wouldn’t he tell me? How do I know that you’re not just some random guy pretending to be a bodyguard so that you can get close enough to kill me?"

"I am certain that there are much easier ways to kill you. Besides—.”

“Forget it,” Simon interrupts him, not really interested in what he has to say. "Come inside."

He turns and leads Baz through the entryway and into the kitchen where he was just about to eat the scones he baked. Simon doesn’t look at him as he spreads a mound of butter on one, closing his eyes as he takes the first bite.

He finishes that one off and eats two more before he says anything more.

“What is your name?”

“Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch at your service.”

Simon wrinkles his nose.

“What kind of a name is that? Sounds made up."

“It's my name, and I have the birth certificate to prove. If it makes you more comfortable, you may call me Baz if you would like.”

“Not necessary. I am going to call my father and have him ask you to leave. That would make me more comfortable."

“He thought you might say something like that, so he asked me to give you this letter," he says, pulling it from his back pocket.

“Of course, he did because he can’t be bothered to call his own son.”

Simon takes the letter but doesn't read it. It won't change anything, so it looks like he is stuck with this complete stranger following him around.

He spends an hour wandering around his house, straightening things and killing time. 

“Are you planning on putting a shirt on any time soon?” Baz asks at one point, and Simon turns to him, surprised at his sudden outburst.

“I’m good. I run hot, so this is more comfortable.”

Baz frowns, but there's something underneath it. Discomfort but also something else that Simon can't quite figure out.

“Why? Do you not like what you see?”

“That is not my job. I am only here to keep you safe.”

“Ugh. You are no fun.”

“That is not my job either.”

Simon groans. “Whatever. I’m going out to meet up with a friend soon. You can stay here. Make yourself at home. I will be sure to tell my father that you were a most unpleasant bodyguard but did your job.”

“I cannot leave your side.”

“My father will never know.”

“I would. And what if something were to happen to you?”

“Nothing has happened to me yet. My father is just being paranoid because he likes to have dealings with bad people.”

“Still, I must stay with you wherever you go.” 

Simon sighs. Are all bodyguards like this? Annoying and insistent on saving people’s lives? Why would anyone want to go into business to do something like that?

“Fine, you can come. But you have to give me space. I don’t need my friends thinking that I have a babysitter.”

***

Simon spends the day trying to ditch him, but Baz is very good at what he does. At least he's nice to look at.

Simon meets up with Agatha late in the afternoon in front of a little sandwich shop that they like to frequent. Her blond hair is pulled back into a high ponytail, a few strands hanging loose to frame her face alongside her bangs, and she’s got pink streaks in it today.

She’s got on her combat boots, bringing her almost eyelevel with Simon. It’s paired with black skinny jeans and a white top.

The only jewelry she has adorned herself with today is a bracelet that Simon made her with purple, white, grey, and black thread back in junior high when everyone was learning how to make friendship bracelets. The thread has begun to fray, and she could afford to buy something better, but she still insists on wearing it every day.

They hug as soon as she sees Simon, and she whispers in his ear, “Who’s your stalker?”

“Just some loser I can’t seem to shake. My father sent him.”

“Gross,” she says with a grimace, pulling back but keeping her hands on Simon’s arms. “Want me to help you get away from him?”

“I already tried. It didn’t work.”

“I have a few tricks we could try. Her look is mischievous, and this is exactly why they have been friends since childhood.

Simon considers it for a moment before shaking his head. “It’s not worth it. He’s already practically holding my hand like I'm a child."

“At least he’s good looking.”

“Shut up,” he hisses, nudging her with his elbow. “But yeah, you’re right. If he wasn’t working for my father, I might try to seduce him.”

“Okay, that’s disgusting. I’m done with this conversation. Let’s go get lunch.”

“Great idea. I’m starved.”

***

Fortunately, Baz grabs his own table when they get lunch, and now that Simon is with a friend, he gives him a bit more space, but not enough that it isn’t obvious that he’s following them. He follows them the rest of the day, and they part ways when Agatha says she has plans to meet a friend for dinner.

Simon would usually go home at this point, but just to irritate Baz, he decides to spend the night in a club dancing with strangers and pretending like Baz’s eyes on him for an entirely different reason.

When he’s finally grown bored and a little too tipsy, he stumbles his way over to where Baz has been leering at him.

“You should stop staring at me or people might get the wrong idea, you know.”

“And what idea might that be? 

“That you’re interested in me.”

“Maybe that’s my cover." He smirks, and Simon is even more aware of just how attractive he is. "Are you ready to go?”

“Yep. I’m heading straight there, so you can go home now.”

“I won’t be going home. My job is to stick with you day and night.”

“So, you’re moving in with me. Cool. You could have at least bought me dinner first.”

“I will buy you dinner on the way home if we can leave now.”

“Sure. But we aren’t going home.”

“What else could possibly be open this late?”

“A hotel.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head. Your partner hasn’t got anything to be worried about.”

“I’m not seeing anyone.” Good to know, Simon thinks. “You still haven’t told me why we’re going to a hotel.”

“I’m too drunk to get home, and there’s a nice hotel down the street.”

“I could drive you home.”

“No, thank you. I have to be somewhere early tomorrow morning anyway, so this will be easier.” 

Baz sighs. He’s been doing that a lot since meeting Simon this morning.

“Alright, but I’m still driving.”

***

The hotel has only one vacancy, and of course, that room only has one bed. It doesn’t bother Simon too much, but Baz is obviously discomfited by it.

“We can share the bed,” Simon suggests. "It’s plenty big.”

“I’ll just stand guard. I’m not tired.”

“You’ve been chasing me around all day. Of course, you're tired. You need some sleep if you plan to do it all over again tomorrow. Now, shut up and get over here.”

“Your father will fire me if he sees us like that.”

“My father never comes around to check on me. Isn’t that why you’re here?”

“What will your girlfriend think?”

“What girlfriend?”

“The blond you spent half the day with.”

Does Simon detect a hint of jealousy? Surely not.

“She is just a friend, and I doubt she would mind. Now, get over here.”

He purses his lips then sighs. “Fine. Let me go change.”

***

Simon sniggers when he sees Baz's pajamas. They’re dark green and silk, the most proper pajamas he’s ever seen. He didn’t think people actually wore those kinds of things.

Baz glares at him, pressing his lips into a tight line.

“Nice pajamas,” Simon finally manages to say through a laugh.

"Is that what you're wearing?" Baz asks, taking in Simon’s boxers and t-shirt.

Simon shrugs. “You didn't seem to like it when I wasn't wearing a shirt, and we don’t all keep a change of clothes in our car.”

Baz doesn’t make any more comments after that, silently climbing into the bed and scooting as close to the edge as possible. Simon does the same, and it isn’t long before he falls asleep.

***

When Simon’s alarm goes off in the morning, he groans and pulls the blanket up over his head. He doesn’t want to get up. His head hurts, and the sun is far too bright. Maybe he’ll stay in bed all day.

He’s about to reach over and turn off the alarm when something shifts against him, or rather around him.

He pries his eyes open and comes face-to-face with Baz’s silver-grey eyes. It takes him a moment to realize that he and Baz are wrapped up together, their arms holding each other and their legs entangled.

It takes another moment for Baz to jerk away, nearly falling out of the bed in his attempt to get away.

Baz clears his throat, his cheeks heating up as he stares down at the bed. "My apologies, sir."

"Sir?" Simon asks, a little taken aback by the formality.

"This was highly unprofessional of me. I promise it will not happen again."

"Oh, shut it would you?" Simon says, rubbing a hand over his face.

"I'm sorry?"

"I don't care how professional you act. You're hot and in bed with me and all I could think about last night was kissing you. I'm not in the least bit bothered by a bit of cuddling."

"I see. So, is this what you do with all your bodyguards?"

"No, you're my first."

Baz's eyes widen just a fraction and Simon feels his face warm. That isn't quite what he meant.

"Bodyguard I mean. You're my first bodyguard."

"Great and I'm doing a rather shit job of it, aren’t I?"

"I wouldn't say that. My body feels pretty safe right now, but you know what would make it feel even better?"

"What?"

"You," Simon whispers then he grabs a fistful of Baz's silky pajama shit and yanks him back down on the bed.

Baz grunts as he half lands on top of Simon and he pushes himself up on an elbow so that his face is hovering above Simon's.

"Can I kiss you?" It surprises them both when Baz is the one who asks this.

"Yes," Simon breathes.

Baz leans down and captures Simon’s lips in a desperate kiss that has Simon groaning involuntarily. Simon pulls on Baz and shifts his legs so that Baz is now fully lying on top of him his legs resting between Simon's.

Simon starts rubbing Baz’s stomach, and his fingers slip between the buttons of Baz’s shirt sliding over his soft skin.

“Wait,” Bad says, jerking away from him. “I thought you had somewhere to be this morning.”

“I can cancel.”

“I will need to speak to your father, tell him that I can’t keep being your bodyguard.”

"Could we please not talk about my father when we're in bed together? Or ever?"

"But he has to know that I can't work for him. It would be a conflict of interest."

Simon groans. "Seriously. You're ruining this moment."

"Fine. We'll talk about it later."

"We'll see about that," Simon says with a grin. Then he kisses Baz again before he can say anything else.

[flutteringphalanges]

Summary:  It is public knowledge that Zoe Van Helsing is the last of her blood line. Not to mention that, in a sense, Count Dracula is too. However, after an unexpected night of passion, both their lives dramatically change when Zoe becomes pregnant. Two unconventional parents, one extraordinary pregnancy. What could go wrong?

Rating: M 

Pairings: Zoe Van Helsing/Dracula & Agatha Van Helsing/Dracula

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: I love baby stories. I feel like Oprah in that sense- "You get a baby! And you get a baby! Everyone gets babies!" So yeah, here's another Dracula baby one shot. Forgive my sex scene, I'm not the best at writing them. I've only attempted a few times, I need to work on it. Anyway, I hope you like it! Please let me know your thoughts and if this silly thing is worth continuing! -Jen

                                             Chapter One

Sex. An act of intimacy between two individuals. Passion. Fury. Lust. Hunger. Sometimes animalistic. One might lose their mind, their sane mental processing. Their rationality. A fierce battle where there are a pair of losers or victors. It was in such a position, high on the blood of her enemy, that Zoe Van Helsing found herself in the nest of her greatest enemy.

"I shouldn't be here," she breathed, her lower back pressed against his table. "Why am I here?"

"You tell me," Dracula murmured, arms tight around her body. She could smell his scent, the earthiness behind it. It was almost pleasant. "I'm not the one who consumed my blood. That was you. You drew yourself here, dear doctor."

Zoe's arms wrapped around his neck as he lifted her up. It was like being in a haze. Euphoric. She was aware of her surroundings and yet, despite her detest of the vampire, she hadn't felt the urge to go. As he sat down, Zoe straddled on his lap, she could feel the heat beginning to pool in her core. Sanity be damned.

"Easy, doctor," he purred, amused as her fingers fumbled at undoing his shirt's buttons. "You seem rather rusty. When's the last time you've been with someone?"

She nearly protested when he pushed her hands aside, his own fingers nimble as he undid them himself. Zoe didn't want him to have the advantage over this, her primal needs ignoring her calm collective manner. Dracula's shift slid off with ease revealing his pale, toned chest. When the tips of her fingers ran across his muscles, the heat within her grew.

"My turn."

Zoe yelped in surprise as Dracula flipped her onto the mattress. He grinned devilishly, looming over her. In a matter of seconds, her own shirt had found its way to the floor. His fingers lingered over her bra, his smile growing wide as she squirmed underneath him. The vampire found the snap, pausing momentarily when he did.

"We can stop," he suggested. "Your choice really."

"No," she growled heavily. "Quit being a tease."

"I apologize," he smirked, a twinkle in his eye. "It's in my nature."

The bra was discarded in the direction of her clothes, something Zoe was not too concerned about at the moment. An unexpected hiss escaped her lips as the count lowered his head and began to kiss her bare flesh, lingering over her jugular. Her hands, as if with a mind of their own, found their way into his thick, dark hair. The doctor arched her back, biting her lip as he stopped just above her waistline.

"Pants are such an inconvenient thing," he whispered, his index finger tracing around her navel. "Wouldn't you agree, Zoe?"

"Fuck you."

"I can always call it a night," he suggested casually. "I'm in no rush."

"You're an asshole."

"Over five centuries and counting."

Zoe rolled her eyes, trying to remain posed as his fingers curled around her slacks. Slowly, he edged them down, letting them fall to her ankles. Momentarily, he looked up, his gaze dark and mischievous. Gingerly, he slid his hand inside of her panties. The doctor gasped, bucking her hips as she felt his caress. Her nerves were shockwaves, lighting up throughout her body.

"Please," she whimpered, grunting as his touch became more firm. "I need...need…"

"Hm?" He inquired, almost innocent. "Speak more clearly, Dr. Van Helsing, you aren't making much sense."

"Out of my head," she gasped breathlessly. "Out of my head and in me."

Dracula chuckled as Zoe attempted to push his own pants down, using her feet to press against the belt. He shook his head, clicking his tongue. It was amusing, watching her squirm. Now she was his prisoner. No see through cage, just a mattress in bed frame.

"What's the magic word?"

"I don't…" she moaned, feeling his fingers tease. "Please…I...invite you in."

The vampire grinned, leaning in close, lips brushing against hers. "You needn't ask twice…"

For the first time in her life, Zoe felt a sensation she'd never experienced before. Ecstasy.

"You're pregnant."

Zoe blinked, looking at her oncologist in confusion. She'd just come in for routine blood work to observe the progression of her cancer. Her doctor, Dr. Elliott, gazed down at her chart, not seeming to notice how in shock her patient was. After all, it wasn't as if she was aware of Count Dracula's existence or even the fact that Zoe slept with the vampire for that matter.

"That's impossible," Zoe said, much louder than she had intended. "I can't be pregnant. The test results…"

"Very strange actually," the other woman continued. "Not only did your blood work show accelerated hCG levels-something we look for in pregnancy, but your cancer...it's almost like it's going into remission," Dr. Elliott smiled. "Look, I don't want to cause you any sort of alarm, so I'm going to set an appointment up with a gynecologist. I want to make sure this isn't some fluke. Do you know when your last period was?"

"They're irregular," the doctor muttered. "Ever since I started chemotherapy. But I assure you, there is no way I could be pregnant."

"Have you had sex?" Dr. Elliott inquired, an eyebrow raised.

"Well…" Zoe thought back for a moment and then the realization hit her. A dread that crawled from the depths of her stomach, up her throat, and left a bitter taste in her tongue. "Five weeks ago, but it can't be. His genetics...he's supposed to be sterile."

"You'd be surprised, Zoe," the oncologist stated. "The human body works in mysterious ways."

"Not if you're not human," the woman growled. She sighed, massaging her temples. Migraines had been becoming constant lately. Anything threatened to set them off. This included. "When is the soonest I can have an appointment?"

"Based on your given condition, I think it's safe to say we can expedite things," Dr. Elliott said, returning to her chart. "Can you do tomorrow afternoon? After we see how things are, you can come back down to oncology and discuss matters there."

"The earlier the better," Zoe huffed, gathering her things. "Gynecology?"

"Twelve o'clock," the other woman responded. "I'll call if anything changes."

She nodded, a frown etched across her features. Not exactly what she had expected to hear today. Anger. Confusion. Fear. Battling cancer, being terminally ill at that, was one thing. The possibility, extremely high as it was, of being pregnant by her worst enemy, no less, was positively horrific to think about. The fact that he was undead didn't help matters either.

As she left the hospital, she desperately tried to push it all into the back of her mind. She didn't want to think about it. Pretend that it was a dream. A nightmare. There was no way. Simply no way. The tests were wrong and that would be proven tomorrow. Until then, she needed a drink. Wait, should she drink? Did she even care enough to consider the idea of what damage alcohol would cause? Dammit. Count Fucking Dracula.

Zoe found herself pulling into a drug store a few blocks from her apartment. It was as if she was on autopilot. Through the sliding doors, she immediately found herself in front of the feminine products. Pregnancy tests. Either a reassurance or a dreaded accuracy to her condition. Not knowing, or caring, which was better, the doctor pulled a few from the shelf and headed to the checkout line.

"Congratulations," the young clerk smiled. "I'll keep my fingers crossed!"

"I don't think we see eye to eye," Zoe muttered, sliding her card. "Plastic please."

The hallway was empty as the doctor made her way down to her door. The bag in one arm, she shoved the key into the lock with a little more force than necessary. Flipping the lights on, she walked over to the counter and dumped the boxes out. Morning. That was the recommended time. Screw it. She pulled a glass from her cabinet and began to fill it with water. A full bladder. She needed answers now.

Positive.

Zoe groaned, hurling the stick into the nearby trash can. She lifted another, her eyes flickering from the test to the box's instructions. Same result. Same outcome.

Positive.

She hunched over, holding her head in her hands. A migraine. So it began. This situation, all of it, was not helping. If anything, Zoe had begun to realize that she had the capability of despising Dracula even more than she already did. How could she've been so stupid? To drink his blood. To take it like some jello shot at a fraternity party. Nearing forty years old and still having foolish moments. As she was just about to look at her third positive test, her phone buzzed.

"No longer with the Foundation?"

She didn't need caller identification to know who it was.

"How the hell did you get my number?"

"Social media is a fascinating thing. Or, I took the liberty of confiscating your little friend, Jack's, phone. I just realized I had yet to reach out to you. How are you doing?" -Dracula

She shouldn't respond. Zoe knew she shouldn't. But her fingers began to type anyway.

"You couldn't have picked a better time." -Zoe

"Do I detect sarcasm? Forgive me, I have a hard time reading emotion over text. Emojis are wondrous things. You should try them." -Dracula

"Where are you? Out draining the blood of some innocent person?" -Zoe

"Home, actually. You should come over. I quite enjoyed our last visit." -Dracula

Not a good idea. It was an absolutely horrible idea. But her blood boiled and fight over flight took over.

"Yes, I think I will come over." -Zoe

"Oh? How spontaneous! I'll get the wine ready. Will red suffice?" -Dracula

But Zoe had left the conversation. Fingers clenched so tightly into her palms that they turned white, she headed for the door, grabbing her purse and keys on the way out. Her mind was far from thinking clearly and she was okay with that. Things needed to be settled now. It was only a matter of time before they would anyway.

She gripped the wheel tightly as she zoomed through the traffic lights leading to Dracula's home. Thankfully it was late enough that there were not many cars out. Parking, she stomped up the steps, her ever present migraine throbbing in her temples. Before she had the chance to knock, Dracula had already swung the door open.

"Ah, Zoe, what brings you to my humble abode?"

There it was, his smile. That grin. That ever present mocking face as if he was always right. Always having the upper hand. God, did she detest him. Their eyes were locked, his head tilted just slightly to the side as if trying to read her expression. Zoe frowned, fist tight as she took that brief moment of chance.

"You got me pregnant you asshole!"

And with all the strength she could muster, Zoe Van Helsing sucker punched Count Dracula in the face.

[imagine1sweetlove]

Song: Vises: Mothica (This’ll be posted in two parts since it’s long - Part A)  WARNING - There is Content of Sexual themes, Alcohol, Abuse READ AT OWN RISK. 

---

 “W-Wait… I was just joking… She-She wanted to make me look bad so I thought I would play along..” Deborah stumbled out in shock only to be interrupted by Rosa.

“Oh come off it, there's no use trying to lie now. What do you really think we’re that stupid?” She said extremely pissed off

  “Wha-What? No, that’s-that’s not what I-” She trails off then turn towards Castiel who has been silent this whole time “Kitten you-you gotta believe me” She said acting like she was about to cry but anyone could tell that it wasn’t real and as she looked around she realized that no one was falling for it and her tears quickly turned to anger.

“Ugh! You know what! Fuck you all! Who needs all you losers.” She yelled as she stormed off. As she was leaving all I could do was stare at her. 

  I can’t breathe, I thought that after exposing Deborah to the school and clearing my name would make things better. So why do I just feel empty?  I haven’t felt this kind of emptiness since… since after my older brother's funeral, the whole reason I moved here. As I was looking around at all the students of Sweet Amoris High School, people who I thought of as friends and who I thought felt the same, many of whom had a regretful expression, I wasn’t sure anymore tho. And then there was Castiel, He’s face was one that could shatter a heart. 

Rosa started walking towards me but I couldn’t think straight. I started to slowly back away shaking my head. I can’t breathe. I could see Alexy talking to me with Lysander nearby but it was like I couldn’t hear what he was saying. I can’t breathe, so I did what I could. I ran. I ran out of the school, I could tell that there were people following me but I didn’t care. I just had to find somewhere to breathe. 

Next thing I know I’m falling to my knees. I try and look around and can barely make out the park near my house when I get hugged from behind. I would have freaked out if I didn’t recognize the perfume, Rosa. I turn into her hug and I can’t hold it back anymore. Next thing I know, I start crying. Tho I’m not sure why. Maybe it's because I feel empty, or my heart feels like it was shot but either way, she lets me cry into her. After what feels like hours but is probably only 20 minutes I calm down enough to stand.

“Are you ok Emmaline?” I look to my left and see Lysander, Alexy trailing behind him. I can only nod, not fully trust my voice. “Do you want us to walk you home?” He asked walking a bit closer as if he was afraid I would brake again.

“It’s ok Lysander, You should probably go check on-on Castiel tho, he needs his best friend right now. And I have Rosa and Alexy.” I said trying to sound convincing tho the look on his face tells me it’s not working very well. He takes one look at Rosa, who nods her head and puts her arm around my shoulder.

“ Ok, Rosalya text me when you get her home, please. And tell Leigh that I’ll probably be home late,” he says looking a little apprehensive but didn’t say anything.

It thankfully didn’t take Rosalya, Alexy, and I long to reach my apartment building after we left the park. And thankfully they didn’t force me to talk because I don’t think I could have without crying again. After saying goodbye and going inside my apartment I noticed that my Aunt wasn’t home yet.

The empty feeling still hadn’t gone away and as I was looking in the kitchen for something to eat even though I wasn’t that hungry I noticed the bottles of vodka in the back of the freezer. I thought for a half a second before grabbing the half-empty one. I looked at the bottle as I walked to my room and locked the door. As I walked in I turned on my laptop and started playing music then sat down on the floor next to my bed and opened the bottle, and took my first drink in a long time.

It’s been four days since what happened and I was thankfully able to talk Aunt Agatha into me staying home for a while. Yesterday she told me that she had to go away for a business trip and would be gone for four days, at first she was worried but I told her that I would be ok. So here we are, Auntie had left this morning and left my more than enough money to last me her being gone. Not long after she had left the emptiness came back. I looked at the clock as it just turned 2:15 pm. I decided to take a shower hoping that it would help.

Once I got out of the shower I put on a pair of white skinny jeans and a plain black t-shirt. I then grabbed my wallet, keys, and my hoodie and went to the nearest corner store, having just turned 18 during summer break I no longer need my old fake ID, not that I even have it anymore as my aunt took it day 1 of moving in with her. As I walked in I went straight to the alcohol at the back of the store, as I’m walking past the window to the back I noticed Rosalya and Leigh walking passed. I put my hood up and my head down hoping she doesn’t notice that I’m in here. I went to the fridge full of the little shot bottles and grabbed three of every type I could see. If I’m going back to school tomorrow I don’t think I’ll be able to make it without something in my system. I’m lucky enough that Agatha hadn’t noticed the alcohol missing from the freezer. 

I'd decided that I'd had enough to hold me over. I walked up to the counter checking to make sure that the coast was clear. The cashier was a tad skeptical and of course, asked for an ID. I obliged and pulled it out for him to check once nodding in approval he rang up my drinks. I hadn’t even flinched at the price. I took the paper bag in my arms and started off in a direction. I wasn’t quite ready to lock myself in the darkness of my room just quite yet. The streets were kind of empty. Everyone was at school at the moment, well everyone besides me and Rosalya and her boyfriend, however, it’s normal for her to not always go to school. I shook my head not wanting to think about them at the moment. I clutched the bag tighter seeing a small park I used to go to when I’d visit my aunt as a child. Walking up to it I saw that no one was there… Kind of sad how things turn out. Kind of like myself… 

I sat on one of the swings, I snagged a shooter from the bag and broke the seal with a satisfying click. Throwing my head back I felt the raw burn as it slid down my throat. I couldn’t care less at the moment. It was better than feeling nothing, and I’ve been feeling a lot of that recently. I bought enough to get me through the school day tomorrow since it was a Saturday, thank god it was a half-day, still torture none the less. I felt something well up but I pushed it back down with another shot. I felt myself fading a little more, with each drink that slid down my throat seemed to make the emptiness fade. Anger? Pain? I wasn’t feeling anything. Who’s fault was it? No one but my own, pathetic and worthless. My parents always told me I wouldn’t amount to anything and the person who I looked up to the most was now gone. No, one cares at this point… now that he’s gone… what is left for me to feel? The alcohol as it slowly consumes me… 

I threw another one back before I stood up and began to stumble back to my apartment. It was getting dark and a single girl, tiny and defenseless was never a good option after dark. I clutched the bag to my chest as my vision blurred a little. Careful to avoid most people, since school was out I could run into someone, or at least have a higher chance. I’m not quite prepared yet, not to talk with anyone. I just can’t… Took a little longer than usual, I made it back and just collapsed on the stairway of my apartments. I couldn’t… I couldn’t bring myself to go inside. It made the emptiness come back in full swing. I pulled out some Gin and guzzled it down like it was my life force. It burned… good… I deserve this… 

I heard something, no someone approached me from behind. Perhaps a passerby, perhaps a neighbor. I know it wasn’t my aunt, she was gone for another day and a half. A voice spoke, I froze… No, not right now, not yet. I’m not ready. 

“Emmaline?” A sweet yet concerned voice said. “Emmaline!?” the female, that every other woman envied was hovering over my semi-conscious body. “What are you doing? What are you thinking!?” She snapped at me, worry evident in her voice, a slight twinge of anger held in there. “Why wouldn’t you tell me that something’s going on! Why won’t you speak to us?” I could tell she had tears, her voice cracked as she called Leigh over to help her carry me inside. I felt my body being lifted and I clutched my bag closer to me. The jingling from my keys could be heard as we ventured into the apartment. “Emmaline, where’s your Aunt?” Her voice once again cracked seeing me in such a state. I was too far gone to respond. I felt myself being placed on what I’m assuming was the couch. Leigh tried to take the bag from me, a glare shot his way. Retreating his hands he stood by Rosa, his lips pursed. “Are you going to school tomorrow?” She said quietly… unsure of herself. 

I nodded my head not wanting to talk, more of trusting my voice to speak coherent words. Perhaps this was enough to settle them, to get them to leave, and let me wallow in my own self-doubt and destructive manors. 

“Emmaline, talk to us what's going, honey?” Rosa asked me kneeling on the floor next to the couch Leigh sat me on. I could only look at her as my eyes got blurry with tears. Rosa got up and sat next to me as I cried into her shoulder. It wasn’t long before I fully lost consciousness. 

Rosalya’s POV: 

I saw her fall asleep and pursed my lips laying her down, covering her with a blanket. I stood up and walked over to Leigh and sighs. “I don’t know what has gotten into her. She’s… she just won’t talk. I thought it was her I saw in the store but she didn’t say anything so, I let it slide. I knew I should-” My voice cracked as I hugged Leigh tears falling. It broke my heart seeing her in such a state

“I’ll talk to Lysander. Perhaps he can talk to Castiel for you…” He said trailing off holding me, while I was breaking in his arms. He kissed the top of my head. I know he hated seeing anyone in a state like either of us. I nodded in agreement. I didn’t really want to leave her but I had things I needed to finish at home. 

Emmaline’s POV:

It was about quarter 7, I woke with a splitting headache, Beautiful, a beautiful way to start the day… I vaguely remembered what happened the night before, talking to Rosa, and my drinks. I looked at the brown bag that fell out of my arms.  I looked at the clock once more and decided to go to take a shower. Gathering my clothes for school I hopped in letting the hot water scaled my aching muscles. Hopping out I dried myself off and got dressed throwing my hoodie with the kangaroo pocket. I shoved a couple of shooters in the pocket hiding them as I downed two. I looked at the clock and it was about 7:30 at this point. Sighing I decided it would be time to start walking to school. 

Thankfully the walk was rather uneventful, on top of the fact I didn’t run into anyone I knew. So otherwise a peaceful morning. The rest of the day, however, I’m not sure if it would go as smoothly. It was in between periods and right before lunch. I decided it time to take a couple more drinks. I took my bag with me into the restroom, locking myself into the stall. I had my headphones in my ears and my music played. I cracked open a Jack Daniels and threw my head back welcoming the burn that soon followed. Then a Gin, Vodka, Rum, I needed to feel it, So, I finished the 4th bottle. I leaned back letting everything flow in my veins. I breathed in deeply and sighed softly shoving a mint in my mouth hoping to mask the smell of alcohol. I closed the empty bottles and threw them in my backpack. Heading out of the bathroom, I think I was going to skip this next period. I just wasn’t feeling it. I pulled one ear but out encase a teacher caught me. 

“Emmaline…” I heard a stern voice call out to me. It was a voice I know all too well… Castiel… I kept my head low and just kept walking. He grabbed my shoulder to force me to face him “Leigh told Lysander to come talk to me… He said that Leigh and Rosa found you practically half-dead on your steps. What the hell?” He demanded from me. I just couldn’t meet his eyes and turned away again. “No… Look at me!”  He growled lowly and spun me again making the full vodka bottle fall from my hoodie pocket. He carefully leaned down and picked it up, turning back to me… I accidentally looked up and met his eyes and bit my lip. There was something there… In his eyes. Hurt? Betrayal? I couldn’t fucking tell and it was pissing me off. My voice was returning. 

“Fuck off… You don’t fucking own me, and your not my fucking boyfriend...:” I snapped. This was it, anything that was left holding on to the void was here, like an imploding black hole. I was gone. “You don’t fucking care about me and you never fucking did. Don’t fucking try and pity me or get pissed like you know me...because you don’t fucking know me.” I turned on him with a small smile upon my rosy lips. My eyes hollow and soulless, I felt myself snap. 

“What the fuck are you talking about Emmaline?! Why would you go and fucking drink yourself to this?! What does this fucking prove?!” He asked rather… Distraught? I didn’t fucking care anymore. I laughed…

“Well it didn’t fucking matter to you when she was fucking tormenting you, I wasn’t going to fucking watch you self destruct.” I laughed again and pushed him away. “And since I don’t seem to fucking matter to you since you know ROSA’S BOYFRIEND had to fucking tell his LITTLE BROTHER TO fucking TELL no… I bet BEGGED your sorry self to come fucking find my worthless, low and pathetic ass and “TALK” to me… Well you know fucking what? Fuck that, fuck you and fuck off! I don’t fucking care.” I spun on my heels leaving a stunned male in the hallway. Teachers walking out to see what the commotion was. I took off. I left this place. I couldn’t handle this not right now… My aunt is gone for two more days. Perfect. I kept running till I reached my place, as I came upon me building I slowed down.

“Emmaline!” I heard a voice from behind me, looking over my shoulder, about ready to yell at them when I noticed that it’s Lysander. I slowed down a little bit more to let him catch up as I walked into the building. It wasn’t till I was at my door when he stopped me with a hand on my shoulder and turned me around slowly. Looking up I noticed he was at eye level. 

“Emmaline, what's going? Rosa was over at Leigh’s and I’s place last night scared for you and now blowing up at school? This isn’t like you. Please, talk to us.” Lysander said with concern in his eyes. I stare at him for a moment before nodding my head towards the door, indicating to go inside first.

After we got inside I sat him down and explained the reason I moved to Sweet Amoris, my older brother Jace’s accident, and how I started drinking to cope with his death. How I felt empty after due to him being a huge part of my life even though he was 10 years older than me, he practically raised me with our parents almost always being gone for work. How after moving in with my Aunt I started to feel better little by little. How when Deborah showed up and started making almost everyone turn against me, the empty feeling started to return till it got too much. I watched as Lysander silently listened to what I had to say, everything I had been through. When I was fully done I lowered my head trying to keep the tears from once more falling. 

“Perhaps…” He started and looked at me with concern in his eyes “Perhaps instead of using alcohol as a way to deal with it, I know something I use is writing. Have you ever tried writing a poem or something? It may be a better way to cope with the grief you’re feeling.” He said, patting my head. For an odd reason, I found slight comfort in his actions. 

“Alright, I suppose… I can try it…” I said hesitantly. He gave me a reassuring smile. 

“I promise it’ll be okay, if you need anything let me know, I’ll do what I can for you.” He said standing as he walked to her apartment door. Looking over his shoulder he said, “again like I said, try poetry, it’s a great way to escape.” He said once more and then proceeded to leave gently closing the door behind him 

“Poetry huh…” I said frustration apparent in my voice. I grabbed my notebook and a pen before heading out to a nearby park. Perhaps I can do this. I sat on a park bench, the sun shining over me. I closed my eyes and shivered. “I can’t believe it’s been this long already…” I said feeling my cheeks become wet. I looked down, staring at the paper before I took a breath and just began writing. Everything I felt, and was currently feeling, Every pain I had was being spewed onto this paper before. 

“All these vices.…” I mumbled to myself and took a shaky breath. I shook my head and rubbed my face. I’ll have to admit it definitely came out more like song lyrics than a regular poem. I hadn’t noticed the person who walked up to me. It wasn’t till I felt a hand on my arm did I jump and notice Rosa. 

“How are you feeling?” She asked softly, almost as if she was afraid to break me. I sighed and took a deep breath. 

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” I told her. I stared at the notebook, the words written deeply into the pages. I watched as Rosalya was peeking over my shoulder. I was hesitant to let her read it but I guess since I wasn’t able to portray what I was feeling in words maybe she could understand through this. 

“ oh wow…” She started off before hugging me tightly. I shuddered and leaned into her. I guess I missed this. “You should sing this. I know a place that allows open mic on Sundays, you should come…” I looked at her like she was absolutely insane. 

“Are you crazy?!” I started, I looked like a gasping fish out of water. “I-I can’t do this in front of people…” She looked at me with a bright smile on her face. 

“I know you’ll be great come on. Pleaseee?” she begged me slightly, I sighed and gave a small smile to her. 

“Fine, fine, I’ll go…” I agreed and hugged her leaning on her shoulder. I guess, the stress of everyone… Turning on me again had become too much. “Thank you”

“Anytime Emma, now it’s getting late. How about you go home and I’ll come get you around 4:30 tomorrow.” Rosalya said, smiling brightly. After a quick hug from Rosa I started on my way home, I can’t believe I let her talk me into singing tomorrow, she’s going to be the death of me. I shook my head and walked into my apartment. I know I felt drained, honestly since it was already late afternoon, I may just head to bed. Which is what I did.

[overlord-off-record]

Welp, I’ve started my new new job, and it’s actually a lot less stressful so far, but I still have major timeline work to do on my book before I resume writing it. So anyway, here’s the second half of that scene from last time.

---

Gil made his way back to the Castle in relative peace. Suspicious, he peered into every shadow. Even now, perhaps especially in Mechanicsburg, he questioned the unreasonable quiet. He passed few people for so early in the evening, and his sense of unease grew. No Jägers loafed in the streets. No contraptions of questionable structural integrity thrummed outside the storefronts—owing more to the time of day than some sinister plot, but it still contributed to the eerie sense of quiet.

As he approached the Castle, a figure unfolded itself out of the shadows. "There you are!"

Gil froze, his suspicions soaring ever higher. "Zeetha!" He leaned away, trying to evade a hug, but she she caught him with an arm about the shoulders and pulled him tight against her side. "You're back!"

"Sure am! Phew!" She shoved him away again, making a face. "What did you do, steal Tarvek's pillow?"

Even Zeetha could smell Tarvek's hair oil on him? Gil thought rather involuntarily of Tarvek's fists in his hair, keeping him close, keeping their foreheads pressed together. "Oh. Um…"

"Rhetorical." Zeetha jabbed a finger at the tip of his nose. "Do not answer. Violetta warned me about you." She wagged her finger in mock admonition. Gil blushed obligingly.

"When did you get back?" And when did changing the subject ever help?

Taking a fistful of his shirt, Zeetha dragged him up the steps. "A few hours ago. Tarvek said you were probably hiding out at the seediest dive in town. I said I didn't think you'd even met Stan."

"I was at Mamma's," Gil objected, knowing that didn't help his case much.

"Come on," Zeetha said, grinning. "Violetta's making coffee."

Gil liked Violetta's coffee. She always added something that gave it an extra kick. Zeetha continued to half-drag him through corridors and up stairways, until at last she shoved him through the door into the second floor parlor and weaponry cache. Gil stumbled, caught the back of a chair, and threw himself into it as though he had intended to do so all along. Unconvinced, Zeetha arched an eyebrow at him.

"Oh, you found him." Violetta dripped a small amount of a clear liquid into each of the cups before she poured the coffee. Gil accepted a cup and spooned in an unreasonable amount of sugar.

"He needs all that sugar because he's so bitter," Zeetha said, and Violetta nodded her agreement. Two against one. Gil shook his head at them.

"Where have you been hiding out?"

"I wasn't hiding," Gil objected. Then, because he had reservations about lying to Violetta, he added, "I was talking to Ognian."

"Oggie's a sweetheart," Zeetha said with absolute authority. Gil thought of him smacking Maxim with a barstool, and he hid a laugh behind a sip of coffee.

Violetta gave him a reproachful look. "You don't still think you're a monster," she said, her tone clearly indicating that she disapproved of the possibility that he might.

"You'd better not." Zeetha nudged Gil with her elbow, then downed her entire cup of coffee. "You're only a little bit of a Chump."

This time, Gil failed to disguise his chuckle. "Less so than I have been."

Violetta fidgeted with the latch that opened the compartment of knives beneath the table. Zeetha reached across to pour herself more coffee. Looking at both of them, Gil wondered if he should have kept his damn fool mouth shut.

"You know you're a loser," Violetta began. "Don't you?"

Gil's heart sank. Maybe they wanted to tell him that they thought he wasn't good enough for Agatha. He struck preemptively. "Look, I know no one’s actually good enough for Agatha, but—"

"What? No. I mean, you're right, but now you're also an idiot, and you know how I hate to agree with my cousin."

Fair enough.

"I heard about the ducks." Zeetha grinned broadly. Groaning, Gil sank down in his chair. "Seriously, why would you mess with the ducks?"

"Because I'm a loser?" Gil ventured, hoping to come close to the correct answer. Apparently so, for Violetta laughed, slapping the tabletop in her mirth. The gesture reminded him so powerfully of Bangladesh DuPree that for a moment Gil felt both suspicious and cheated. If DuPree were here, she would heartily endorse provoking the local waterfowl.

"That's probably the best explanation we're going to get." Zeetha nudged him with the toe of her boot. "Don't take it to heart. It's not your fault you're self-destructive."

Gil accepted a second cup of coffee, into which Violetta added those mysterious clear drops again. As he scooped sugar into it, he considered the one fact that had gnawed at the back of his mind since he had seen her: Zeetha's arrival should not have made the city so eerily quiet. Even the Castle had left him to his own thoughts. It was unnatural.

"What did I miss today?"

Zeetha and Violetta stared at him. "You mean," Violetta said, "you don't know?"

That sounded ominous. Gil wondered if she had said it that way on purpose. "I don't know what I don't know unless you tell me."

"Don't fall for that kind of double-talk," Zeetha objected. She grinned, though, as if she found this entire conversation the best of sport.

"Agatha found the Castle's secret stash of those tacky statues you made," Violetta said, ignoring Zeetha's admonition. "They're gone now."

Gil connected the facts. The Castle had most likely spent hours sulking quietly to itself. The locals had all busied themselves in hauling off the rubble, probably to the Hospital District for repurposing into the construction there. And Agatha… "Is she angry?"

"Nah, she had a great time smashing them up."

Oggie hadn't mentioned that, but then, Maxim had interrupted their conversation. "Do the Jägers gossip about me often?" he blurted without meaning to.

"Gossip?" Zeetha snorted. "They have a betting pool."

"Ah, of course. About what, exactly?"

Both women gave him pitying looks. Gil took that as his cue to push back from the table and stand up.

"I see," he said, rather more curtly than necessary. "Thank you for the coffee."

Violetta smothered a smile. Nursing the sting of old wounds for the second time that evening, Gil retreated. He never would have thought it of Violetta. She had always seemed so genuine with him.

He wandered the corridors, not wanting to ask the Castle for anything, not wanting to speak to anyone. They were all laughing at him anyway, the old insecurities whispered in the shadows of his memories. No one could be trusted. Well… Almost no one.

By the time he found Agatha and Tarvek, he looked glum enough that they immediately gave him their full attention. They sat together in one of the tiny outer rooms connected to the master suite. Tarvek insisted that it was for dressing, but Agatha had turned the space into a little private library. Tonight she curled halfway into Tarvek's lap, holding a book they appeared to be reading together. Despite his foul humor, Gil's heart gave a little flutter at the sight of them.

"Gil," said Agatha, lowering the book, "what's wrong?"

He wanted to lie and say that everything was fine. "Is everyone secretly laughing at me?" he blurted. Well sure, that worked too, he supposed.

"What?" Genuine confusion gave way to a flash of rage. "Who's been laughing at my Gilgamesh?" Sparky notes crept into Agatha's voice, and she set the book aside. Probably to get it out of harm's way.

Agatha's protective wrath made Gil feel just a little better, a little warmer. Then he saw Tarvek's face. Not anger, not pity, not even mockery. Wearing a look of anguished understanding, Tarvek reached one hand toward him, beckoning.

"I don't know," Gil mumbled. He accepted Tarvek's hand. Agatha moved a little to the side, giving not quite enough space between them, but Tarvek tugged Gil down into the little gap anyway. He halfway sat on Tarvek, and Agatha did not bother waiting for him to get settled before she attached herself to his side. "The Jägers are even placing bets." About what remained a mystery.

"Well, they do about everything," Agatha said, plainly confused.

Tarvek helpfully supplied, "Vanamonde von Mekkhan is their bookie."

Of course he was.

"Violetta, too," Gil mumbled, reluctant to cause her trouble but still stung by the Smoke Knight's reaction. "She was amused when I thanked her for coffee."

"Oh. Um…" Tarvek shot a glance over his head at Agatha.

"Did Violetta add anything to the coffee?"

Gil felt his suspicion choking him. "Doesn't she always?"

Agatha took his hand in both of hers. "Violetta neutralized the caffeine," she said, her grip testing, measuring his reaction.

Gil frowned. "Why would she do that?" He knew why. He just had some objections. Many objections.

"Obviously, because she does not trust you to maintain a healthy sleep schedule." Tarvek, always overeager to help in these situations, gave him a brief squeeze. "She never gives you caffeine after sundown."

Gil felt a bit cheated. He had been drinking Violetta's coffee at all hours for ages. "Oh," was all he said. Still, she had no good cause to laugh at him.

Tarvek shifted a little, leaned in. "That doesn't mean she's mocking you," he pointed out, his breath tickling Gil's ear.

Gil considered. He remembered how Violetta had smirked at him over an unknown quantity of absinthe. "She likes having the upper hand."

"Of course she does. It's nothing personal." Agatha tipped her head to kiss Gil's cheek. "Have you been in Tarvek's hair oil?"

Tarvek helpfully choked on a laugh.

"Not exactly," Gil said, glaring at Tarvek.

"He was in my room last night."

Gil froze, every sense strained to catch Agatha's reaction. He needn't have bothered. Her hand slid up his arm and across his chest in a caress that felt just a bit like a reward for good behavior. "Really?" Agatha purred into his ear, and Gil tried to care that she sounded like the Castle when she did that. Mostly he cared about her warm breath rushing across his skin.

"His pillows are soaked with the stuff," Gil said, terse the only tone he could manage without sighing in pleasure. Tarvek, of course, grinned at him.

Agatha steered his face to hers for a kiss, another apparent reward. Sliding both arms around her waist, Gil tugged her into his lap. Agatha yielded with enthusiasm.

Tarvek let the kiss go on for several long, blissful moments before he said, "Would my lady care for details?"

Sputtering, Gil broke away, turned away. His eyes closed, his cheek pressed to Agatha's shoulder, he fought to steady his breathing.

"Hm," Agatha said, in that tone that meant trouble. She twisted free of Gil's embrace, stood, and took a step back from them. When Gil dared to look up at her, she regarded her two consorts with the same expression she wore when assessing her workbench. Like they were spare parts. Gil swallowed an urge to reach for Tarvek's hand.

"No," Agatha said after letting them stew for entirely too long. "Not details." Reaching down, she dragged both of them to their feet. She grinned broadly. "The Heterodyne requests a reenactment."

With that, she propelled her blushing consorts toward the bedroom.