#overtime she’d use the right products

[veggieharumaki]

Time Capsule

erm my take on fem dream oops

[modstarfell]

Ise Corporation

Working for your parents sounds like it would be a breeze right? Not quite. Kana was never really a morning person but boy was she up when she saw the first light of sunlight trickling into her bedroom through the curtains. When Kana first showed a talent at being able to do all sorts of voice impressions, her parents took the opportunity to use her voice for commercial usage as it was free at the time. Kana didn't get to grow up making friends like the rest of the kids, she'd come along to various auditioning places with her family where they wanted to find their next actor or actress for product demonstrations. While Kana was left to do the voices behind screen. All Kana did was read off a script and it was boring. She often found herself sneaking off to talk and hang out with those who were auditioning. Her parents didn't mind as much as "the voice should match the face", which needed both the model and voice behind it to get along anyways. gradually overtime though, Kana became more stubborn of wanting to meet new people, go outside and have fun! She wanted something that they didn't think she was ready to have yet. At the least they agreed to finally set Kana up to go into middle school with the new-coming class. Prior she was entirely home schooled... Although thy made her promise if her grades to slip even once she'd come right back to studying from home and working for them. Trying to maintain a good average and work at the same time was difficult for Kana. Eventually she had enough of it when she noticed she had began getting physically ill. They were going to try and take her out of the school anyways with how sick she was going so she made a deal with them. A proper contract for her voice work. Once it was done, Kana would become a free lance voice actress and do things her own way. This was the start of the bubbly Kana Ise, a famous internet star with a wide range of voice roles behind her who was officially noticed by the academy as the Ultimate Voice Actress.

[purplesurveys]

1654

What is one change you need to make in your life this month? A month? That’s super short-term...erm, maybe trying to figure out a new position when I sleep? I’ve been waking up with very sore shoulders and numb arms lately. What was one good thing about today? My mom finally started using what was my Christmas gift to her – a portable, foldable bathtub hahaha. She always said she’d set it up once the climate gets warmer, and now that summer’s started she stuck to her word and used it for the first time today.

What’s been tugging on your heart lately? The whole sticky situation of mine and my friends’ fate regarding Yoongi’s concert. It’s too complicated to explain in full, but basically a major part of it is that Angela was lucky enough – and was the only one in our group of 4 – to secure 1 ticket (Reena didn’t get one from the ticketing website but quickly got to snatch one from a seller, so she’s covered), and she said she’s willing to turn it over to me while she and Hans can just go around Bangkok on the day of the concert. It’s a very conflicting situation on my end because as much as she says that she picked me and genuinely wants me to go, she is also my best friend in the world and I don’t want to enjoy the show knowing that I got in with a ticket she got, in a show she should be enjoying.

I’m super 50-50 about it right now because I’m heavily leaning towards just selling the ticket so neither of us go, but anyway that’s the reason why we’re still trying to chase extra tickets from people selling theirs – we want to be complete, and we want all of us 4 to get to watch the show. We’re starting to get offers from people willing to sell their extras, so we’ll just have to see where this takes us.

Are you comfortable with who you are? Have you accepted who you are? I’m at least more at peace with myself than I was, say, three years ago. I’d say that’s as good as it would get. There’ll always be things to work on and I don’t think I’ll ever get to say I ‘accept’ myself fully.

All the money you ever need or someone to spend the rest of your life with? Money; I don’t need a lifelong partner. Decided on that a long time ago.

What is the last thing you did that made you feel guilty? THE YOONGI THING UGH. I feel both guilty and bad about it. Of fucking course I want to see Yoongi, but I don’t want it to come from a place where my friend would have to give up her ticket for me. Worst case scenario none of us go and of course, honestly speaking, that would be a huge bummer.

Would you have sex with the last person you texted? Can’t remember the last person I texted but probably not.

What was the last thing you received in the mail? Just bills for electricity and water.

Who did you last creep on? Like...stalk? Just influencer profiles I had to review to see if they’d be a good fit for one of the campaigns I’m working on.

What country would you most like to visit in the future? I’d love just to go back to Korea. One day in Jeju is too short a time to be there.

At your workplace, are you required to wear a uniform? Nah, just a dress code.

Who is the last person that gave you butterflies? I had this minor crush on a girl I had to work with for an ad/commercial shoot. She was like production manager or something like that and anyway she fit what would typically be my type...but then that all ended when our most recent shoot ended up a disaster and we had to go like...9 hours overtime. It was a very stressful situation at work and I’d rather not get into detail but anyway that marked the end of any butterflies I had for her lmao.

Do you consider weed, marijuana, pot, etc. a drug? Well, yeah.

Are you planning on kissing anyone tomorrow evening? Nope. Do you require a lot of private time? Um, not really. I like being around people, and having weekends to myself usually suffices as me-time already.

Have you ever done something humiliating while drunk? Yep.

Have you ever told a guy you were a lesbian to get him to leave you alone? Kind of? What I did before was stick closer to my partner at the time and wait for them to get the hint.

If you have a favorite television show, who’s your favorite character? Gus Fring.

-- a lil two-in-one again for this round --

Hi, Your name is? Robyn.

What was the last thing you ate? Aligue pasta.

Do you hold the singstar microphone with your right or left hand? The...what?

What’s the best part about flying? The views at the start and end. The flights themselves can get so boring, but I still gun for the window seat as much as possible as views of the city always get me in the feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeels.

Who did you last have a deep and meaningful conversation with? Andi. I talked to them about my struggles with enjoying wrestling these days, and how I was starting to come to terms with the fact that I can’t actually digest technical wrestling and mostly watch shows for their entertainment/storyline value. Very WWE way of doing things – which is why I’ve always struggled to get into other promotions. It prompted Andi to open up and they got into this whole spiel of what technical wrestling is really all about, and taught me some mental notes to take note of the next time I watch wrestling so I can get into the in-ring chemistry more. They gave me some sample matches to watch too, just so I can understand better what they meant with their tips. Really loved that conversation. 

Any vacations planned? Yeah I’ve now got two in June. Bangkok with friends, and then Kuala Lumpur with family that same week. The latter has me going CRAZY because my mom booked it to be the same week I’m flying back to Manila from Bangkok :((((( So basically, I arrive in Manila from Bangkok on a Tuesday morning; then Friday evening I’ll be on a plane again en route to KL. It’ll be such a hectic couple of weeks for me lol.

Who were you last in a car with? Mom and siblings.

Do you play any sports? Table tennis.

Which friend have you known the longest? Angela and I have been friends for 18 years.

Do you drink the recommended 6-8 glasses of water per day? No. I drink a lot of water in a day, but not up to 8 glasses.

How many times have you been to Wet'n'Wild? What’s that?

Did you ever watch Sailor Moon? No, not into anime.

Chocolate or Vanilla ice cream? Honestly neither since I find chocolate to be too strong a flavor and vanilla too bland; but if I didn’t have a choice I might just go with chocolate.

Do you have a facebook? Yes.

Favourite shop? Ncat, hahahahaha.

What was the last thing you brought on ebay? I’ve never bought anything from eBay.

Did you know that Deli Lama is actually a person and not a Llama? Deli Lama??????????

Do you think Merryl Streep can actually sing in Mamma Mia? Idk I’ve never seen that movie and am not interested.

What gym do you have a membership to? None.

What do you want for Christmas? Damn, I have to pick this early? Hahaha at this point, if anyone asked me I’d probably just ask for Yoongi tickets.

Do you think hiptops should be called “shit tops”? I have no idea what this question is talking about.

If you had to get glasses would you wear contacts? I can’t stand anything being put near or in my eyes, so no. I’ll always prefer glasses.

Are Mac’s really better than PC’s? I’m sure both have their strengths but having experienced both, I prefer Macs. My old HP laptop lagged all the time and was a hub for viruses and it was all generally just very stressful for me lol.

Favourite drink? Just cold water.

Have you ever been to the snow? No, I’ve never seen snow.

New Year’s Plans? No clue, it’s too early to plan for that.

Would you agree that Sex and The City is the best show ever? I’ve never seen it but I’m pretty confident there are tons of better shows.

Do you call your friends with red hair “ranga’s”? No?

Should Paris Hilton consider running for president? No.

If you were to go to prison for one thing, what would it be? Idk man. Maybe disrespecting police because ACAB and because I realistically would have no problem doing that when push comes to shove, and especially if I feel disrespected first.

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Hi, can I get a hurt/comfort scenario of ganyu with the prompt “There it is, there’s that smile!”? Thank you so much

“There it is, there’s that smile!”

Characters: Ganyu x gn!reader

Genre: comfort

This post is part of my 800 Follower event. If you'd like to read more fics belonging to it, you can find them on my blog under the tag #JustASimp'sSimpingEvent

a/n: I had to force myself to hold back a bit, since I kinda forgot how much of a Ganyu simp I am. But can you blame me? I mean- look at her! She's literally the cutest being in universe- ...I think I should stop myself before it's too late.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Ganyu

Whenever Ganyu smiled it was nearly impossible for you not to do the same, no matter what had happened before or how bad your day had been, the moment you saw her smile you’d temporarily forget about anything bad that happened and instead wanted nothing more than to see her continue to do so.

Seeing her be happy enough to smile was your favourite thing in the world, so whenever she came home from work, exhausted and still feeling stressed by all the work she’d have to do once she went back, you’d try your best to cheer her up, no matter your own mood up until that moment, for both of your sakes.

The moment you opened the door to your home your eyes immediately landed on your couch as your whole-body b-lined towards it before collapsing onto it. You only remained in your state for a few minutes at most before you heard the door open, meaning that Ganyu had finished work earlier than usual and actually chose not to do overtime this once. Before she even had the time to lay her eyes on you, you had already sat up and were smiling at her, your grin being not entirely faked.

“Oh, Ganyu. You’re here sooner than expected, did anything happen at work?”, your curiosity immediately got the better of you, causing you to ask straight away. The half-Adepti immediately shook her head before closing the door behind her.

“No, nothing happened. I just finished my work early and since my co-workers took most of the extra work there was no need for me to work overtime”, she answered, and while most would be happy about something like that happening, Ganyu’s worried tone made it pretty obvious that she thought something else.

“Sounds like they didn’t want you to overwork yourself, that’s nice of them”, you commented with a smile, hoping that it would be enough to make for her to forget whatever negative thoughts she had at the moment, only to internally sigh when the same worried look remained on her face. “You don’t look so happy about it, you can talk to me about it if you’re comfortable with it”, you inquired further before signalling her to take a seat next to you.

“It’s not that I’m not grateful that they look out for me, but what if… Liyue no longer welcomes a half-Adeptus as me when I’m no longer useful to them?”, she hesitantly responded after sitting down next to you, only for you to immediately take her into a hug. Part of you wanted to chuckle at how ridiculous her worries seemed to you, but you knew better than to laugh at someone’s fears, no matter how stupid you thought them to be.

“Ganyu, you could work half as much as you do right now and would still be twice as productive as me and my co-workers combined. I know you love to say that you need more experience, but there is literally not a single soul in Liyue with more work experience than you”, you re-assured her while softly petting the back of her head.

“But isn’t Liyue now in ‘the time of humanity’ since Rex Lapis left? What if they don’t want a half-Adeptus as secre-”, she was about to continue worrying, only for you to cut her off.

“Don’t forget you’re half human too, and my favourite human at that. I know I sometimes complain about working with idiots, but not even they’d be dumb enough to dislike you because of something like that, and if they did, I’d have a nice little chat with them”, you may not have meant the last part 100% serious, but you instantly noticed her ears turning slightly red, your words seemingly working as Ganyu fell silent, thinking about them. “And who would name all the dogs in Liyue if you weren’t there”, you eventually joked while looking at her, only for her lips to curl into a smile, causing you to instantly do the same.

“There it is, there’s that smile! Now if you excuse me, there’s a special dish I have to make for a special someone, and don’t even think about stopping me”, you stated before pressing a kiss on her forehead, letting go of her and marching into the kitchen, leaving her to relax on the couch.

[lumosandnoxwriting]

Taking Control - Fred Weasley

Title: Taking Control Paring: Fred x Fem!Reader Warning: NSFW!!! Fem!dom/sub!Fred, teasing, dirty talk, blindfolds, bondage, face riding/female receiving oral, sex toys, unprotected sex, edging orgasm denial. Summary: Fred has been busy with work, and Y/N is determined to make him slow down and relax, even if she has to take matters into her own hands. A/N: for the anon who wanted some fem!dom with lots of teasing!! This really is like 2% plot but what else is new when it comes to my smuts haha. Anyway, feedback is always welcome!!!

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Getting Fred Weasley to slow down is no easy feat. His mind seems to be moving a mile a minute, with his body not that far behind. It’s what makes him the perfect prankster, since he’s always one step ahead of everyone, and it’s what initially attracted Y/N to him back when they were teenagers. Every day with Fred is different and unpredictable and she loves the way he always puts his all his energy and focus into whatever task is at hand. Especially when that task involves giving her attention. But lately Fred’s focus has been elsewhere, and it’s left her starved for his touch and his presence.

The joke shop has been getting busier and busier as time goes on, and Fred has been working overtime with his brother to keep up. They’re on the verge of launching a whole new line of Wonder Witch products and are planning a store expansion on top of their usual workload, meaning Fred has little time for her. And while Y/N can’t blame him, in fact she’s insanely proud of him, she just wishes he would slow down a little. She may be aching to be close with Fred, but every day the bags under his eyes get bigger and Y/N can tell he’s struggling to keep up. She just wishes there was something she could do to get him to relax, and after a few weeks of thinking she comes up with the perfect plan.

“Knock, knock,” Y/N singsongs as she pushes the door to the office open. It’s a Saturday, which means it’s the shop’s busiest day. Normally on Saturday’s Fred would come back upstairs to have lunch with Y/N, but with how crazy things have been he’s been working through his lunches to catch up on paperwork. And Y/N knows that means he doesn’t actually eat much food, so she’s taken it upon herself to deliver him lunch personally today to make sure he does.

“Hey, baby,” Fred greets, putting down his quill. He pushes away from his desk and invites Y/N to come and sit on his lap. As soon as she does he wraps his arms around her waist and presses his face into her neck, taking a deep breath in. “God I miss you,” he mumbles, pressing a soft kiss to Y/N’s neck.

Y/N’s hand tangles in the hair on the back of Fred’s head and she slowly starts to scratch at his scalp. He melts at her touch, and Y/N presses a kiss to his temple. “I just saw you this morning,” she teases lightly.

“You know what I mean,” Fred drawls, pulling away so he can look at her. “The only time we get to cuddle like this anymore is when we’re both asleep.” Fred grabs Y/N’s chin and tilts her head down so he can kiss her slowly. “I miss spending time with you.”

“Take tonight off,” Y/N suggests, kissing Fred briefly. “You’ve been working so hard, Freddie. I just want you to relax for a bit.”

Fred raises his eyebrows at the sultry tone Y/N has. She very clearly has plans for him, and Fred can feel himself already getting hard. “Oh? What do you have in mind?”

Y/N bites her lip as she winks at him. “That’s for me to know, and you to find out.”

-

“Y/N? Where are you? I’m home,” Fred calls out as he shuts the front door. As soon as George closed and locked the door behind the last customer Fred was running up the stairs, and he’s still slightly out of breath as he kicks off his shoes and heads towards their bedroom. He’s let work take over far too much of his life, and he’s excited to see what Y/N has in store for them.

Fred walks right into the bedroom, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion when he finds it empty. “Baby?” Just as he’s about to turn around to leave the door shuts behind him and he feels Y/N press against his back as a piece of cloth covers his eyes.

“Hi Freddie,” Y/N greets quietly. She ties the blindfold tightly around Fred’s head as she starts to press open mouthed kisses to his neck. “You’ve been a naughty boy lately.” She moves around to Fred’s front slowly, letting her hand drag down his back as she goes.

Fred grins as a shiver runs down his spine. “Have I? he asks, his tone playful. Fred can already feel himself getting hard as Y/N pushes his suit jacket off of his shoulders. Not only has it been weeks since they’ve had sex, but Y/N has never taken control quite like this before. Usually Fred is the one in control and he loves being dominant with Y/N, but he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t find her even sexier for taking the lead.

“Mhm,” she hums as her fingers start to work at the knot of his tie. “It’s been far too long since you’ve last touched me, Freddie.” Y/N tosses his tie to the ground and starts to unbutton his shirt. She leans forward and blows a stream of air on Fred’s neck before nipping and biting at the goosebumps that erupt on his skin. “I’ve had no choice but to take care of myself.”

Fred’s cock twitches in his trousers at the thought of Y/N getting herself off in their bed, and he lets out a moan as she starts to suck on the sensitive part of his neck. The fact that he can’t see what Y/N’s doing just adds to the experience, each touch is unexpected, and it intensifies the pleasure he feels. “I’m sorry, baby. Let me touch you now to make up for it.” Fred goes to place his hands on Y/N’s bum, but she steps away before he gets the chance.

“Only good boys get to touch, Freddie. Gonna have to tie you up, aren’t I?” Fred groans at that, and it goes right to Y/N’s core. She steps forward again and finishes taking off Fred’s shirt. Once it lands on the floor with his other clothes, she starts to run her hands up and down his torso, letting her nails lightly scrape at his skin. “Such a dirty boy, wanting to be tied up,” she teases, flicking at one of his nipples.

Fred whines, and he has to clench his fists to keep from touching Y/N. He’s fully hard now, and as Y/N starts to fumble with his belt he can’t help but shove his hips forward. “Please,” he begs, though Fred isn’t entirely sure what he’s asking her for. He gasps when Y/N suddenly brushes the tent in his trousers, his hips lurching forward to try and follow her touch as it goes away. “No teasing,” he pleads. “Need you so bad, Y/N.”

“Such a needy boy, Freddie.” Y/N undoes the button and zipper on Fred’s trousers, and she sinks to her knees as she pulls them down to his ankles. She presses a few kisses to his cock through the material of his boxers, reveling in the noises it pulls from his throat. “But only good boys get what they want. And what have you been, Fred?”

“A naughty boy,” Fred answers. His voice is shaking from the pleasure coursing through his veins and he can feel precum bubbling on the tip of his cock. He gasps Y/N’s name as she suddenly pulls his boxers down, feeling terribly exposed for her.

Y/N bites her lips as Fred’s cock comes out, resisting her urge to lick the precum on the tip. Her core is dripping, but tonight is about Fred finally relaxing. She lets her finger lightly trace the vein on the underside of his cock, practically drooling as it twitches. “That’s right, Fred. You’re a naughty boy. Do you know what naughty boys get?”

“Punished?” Fred asks, swallowing thickly. He hears Y/N chuckle as she stands up, and suddenly her hand is wrapping around the back of his neck and pulling him into a hard kiss. Fred kisses her back eagerly, just barely catching himself before he grabs her hips. Every cell in his body feels like it’s on fire, and even though he knows it’d be easy for him to overpower Y/N, he wants her to keep going.

“That’s right, baby. They get punished.” She grabs Fred hand and slowly guides him over to the bed, helping him to lay down on his back in the middle. Y/N grabs her wand off of the nightstand and gives it a wave, watching in awe as red silk ties wrap around Fred’s wrists and tie them to their headboard. The red fabric contrasts against Fred’s milky white skin perfectly and she can’t resist her urge to reach out and tug on the restraint. Y/N leans down and presses a soft kiss to Fred’s mouth. “You know what word to use if it gets too much, yeah?” Fred nods, and Y/N pinches his nipple hard, watching his mouth drop open to moan. “Use your words, Fred.”

“Yes, yes. I know what to say,” Fred says hastily.

“Good boy,” Y/N praises, stroking his cheek gently. She sets her wand back down and opens the drawer of the nightstand, reaching in to grab the toy she’d purchased in preparation for tonight. She sets it down on the bed before starting to get undressed herself. Y/N gets naked slowly, watching as Fred starts to writhe on the bed. Most of his body is flushed red, and a sheen of sweat has started to appear. His cock is rock hard, and the tip is beat red, and Y/N watches as a bead of precum oozes out and slowly drips onto his stomach.

Once she’s naked Y/N crawls up the end of the bed, settling down in between Fred’s splayed legs. She rubs his thighs slowly, watching his hips raise up in search of friction. Y/N starts to trail kisses up Fred’s thigh towards his crotch, just barely letting her lips brush his cock before kissing back down the other thigh.

“Please,” Fred begs, tugging on his restraints. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard in his life, and he’s desperate for his release.

“What do you want, Fred? Good boys use their words instead of begging like a desperate slut.”

Fred swallows thickly, trying to decide what to do. What he really wants is for Y/N to stop teasing him and let him fuck her into the mattress, but he has a feeling that asking for that will only further her teasing. “Touch me, please.”

Y/N bites her lips, watching Fred’s chest heave with deep breaths. “Touch you where, Freddie?” She runs her hand along one of his shins. “Here?” Y/N then reaches up to trace his ab muscles. “Or maybe here?” She pinches one of his nipples then and she has to press her thighs together for relief when he lets out a deep moan. “How about there?”

“No, no. Not there,” Fred pants.

“Then where, baby?” Y/N asks, raking her nails down his torso. “Be a good boy and tell me where to touch you.”

“Touch my cock please, Y/N,” Fred begs, licking his lips. “Need to feel your hand on me. Wanna be your good boy.”

Y/N smirks and grabs Fred’s cock with a loose grip. “Such a good boy, Freddie,” she coos, starting to stroke him slowly. “Being such a good boy for me.” Spurred on by Fred’s moans and whines, Y/N reaches for the toy she had set aside earlier and keeps one part of it in her hand while she places the other part down next to her. “Feel good, baby?”

“Oh,” Fred gasps as Y/N’s hand twists the base of his cock. His hips are slowly rocking up to meet her thrusts, and he can already feel his orgasm building in his abdomen. “Feels so good, Y/N. Thank you, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, baby. Being so polite.” Y/N strokes him a few more times, before deciding it’s time to enact the next part of her plan. “You’re being so good, Freddie. Are you ready for more?”

Fred nods wildly. “Yes please. Need more.” He figures Y/N is about to take him into her mouth, and he wishes she’d take the blindfold off so he could watch. Seeing his cock disappear between Y/N’s lips is his favorite sight and with how turned on he is it would probably push him over the edge.

“Okay, baby. Here it comes.” Y/N slowly rolls the silicon ring in her hand down Fred’s cock and as she settles it against the base of his cock she picks up the remote control with her other hand. “Ready?”

“Ready for what? Y/N what is tha- oh holy fuck,” Fred moans, his hips lurching off of the bed. Whatever Y/N has put on his cock is now vibrating at top speed and his whole body feels like it’s thrumming. Just as quickly as it started it, all of the vibration stops, and Fred lets out a long whine. “No, please. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’ll be a good boy, please,” Fred babbles, tugging on his restraints.

Y/N chuckles and rubs Fred’s thigh to try and soothe him. “You are being such a good boy for me, baby.” Y/N presses a button the remote and the toy starts to vibrate again, this time at a much lower speed. Fred starts to let out breathy moans and pants, and the sounds go right to Y/N’s core. She can feel her wetness on her thighs, and she decides it’s time for her to get some pleasure as well. “You sound so pretty, baby. But I want you to do something else with that mouth, okay?”

“Yes, yes. I’ll do anything you want, just give me more, please.” The vibrations speed up slightly and Fred lets out a long groan. He can feel his orgasm steadily approaching, and he silently prays that Y/N lets him cum.

“Good boy, Freddie,” Y/N praises as she crawls up the bed, watching his body squirm and writhe from the pleasure. She settles on her knees next to his head and starts to untie his left hand. “Listen to me, Fred.” When Fred only nods Y/N turns the toy off again. “What do good boys do, Fred?”

“They use their words,” he responds. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Wanna be your good boy, I’m listening, I promise.” When the toy starts to vibrate at the same speed again Fred moans loudly. “Thank you,” he gasps.

“You’re welcome, baby. Now I’m going to untie one of your hands, but that doesn’t give you permission to touch okay? I’m going to sit on your face so you can worship my cunt with your tongue, and I want you to be able to tap out if you need to.” Y/N finishes untying Fred’s hand, but keeps it held against the headboard. “You’re going to keep it right here. Understand?”

Fred lets out a low moan. “Yes, I understand.” Y/N releases his hand then, and Fred’s desire to be a good boy must outweigh his desire to touch, because he doesn’t move it at all. Y/N rewards him by pressing another button on the remote, and the toy around him starts to pulsate. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Fred groans, his hips moving faster. “Can I eat your pussy now? Please, Y/N. Want to taste you. Want to show you what a good boy I am.”

Y/N can’t help the noise that comes out of her mouth and she straddles Fred’s face, her core hovering just above his mouth. “So eager to taste me, Freddie. Eat my pussy like a good boy and I’ll let you cum inside me.” Y/N lowers herself down then, and Fred’s tongue is immediately lapping at her wet folds, causing both of them to moan.

Fred starts to eagerly lick Y/N’s core, alternating between slowly fucking her with his tongue and flicking at her clit. Fred groans against her as Y/N starts to move her hips on his face, and she rewards him by increasing the speed of the vibrations. Fred lets his tongue rub and massage the folds of her pussy, collecting all of her juices. He moans at her taste, before starting to eagerly fuck her with his tongue. His hips start to buck wildly as his orgasm approaches, and just as he feels it start the vibrator is suddenly turning off again.

The whine Fred lets out when Y/N turns off the vibrator reverberates through her whole body, and she grinds down against Fred’s face harder. Her legs and arms have started to shake, and she can already feel her orgasm starting to build. “Sorry, baby. Can’t have you coming yet.” Y/N moans as Fred starts to nibble lightly on her clit, and she turns the vibrator on to its lowest setting.  “Fuck baby. Eating my pussy so good. Showing me how much of a good boy you are,” she praises.

Spurred on by Y/N’s praise, Fred starts to fuck her entrance again, wiggling his tongue around to try and bring her as much pleasure as possible. His hips start to move again, and Y/N increases the speed of the vibrator. Fred lets out a long moan as his orgasm starts to build again, but it quickly fades when the vibrator shuts off again.

“Such a good boy, Freddie,” Y/N moans. Her hips have started to work against Fred’s face quicker, and the way his tongue is massaged her walls has her close to orgasming all over Fred’s face. “So close, baby. Make me cum and then it’s your turn.”

Fred sucks Y/N’s clit between his lips, alternating between flicking it with his tongue and lightly nibbling on it with his teeth. He can tell that she’s about to cum from the noises she’s making, and Fred wants her to release into his mouth.

Y/N tosses the vibrator remote aside so she can grip the headboard with two hands, her hips now moving against Fred’s face with reckless abandon. Fred moans against her clit again, pushing Y/N over the edge. “Freddie,” Y/N moans as she comes, her whole body shaking as the pleasure washes over her. Fred’s tongue fucks her slowly as her hips slowly come to a stop, helping her to come down from her orgasm. Once she feels like she can move again, Y/N slowly gets off of Fred’s face and sits down on the bed next to him. His chin and mouth are wet from her juices, and she leans down to kiss Fred messily.

“You were such a good boy, Freddie. Made me cum so hard,” Y/N praises as she ties up the hand she had released before. She straddles Fred’s waist then and leans down to kiss him slowly. “Are you ready for your reward?”

“Yes, please,” Fred begs, bucking his hips up against her. He can hear Y/N chuckle, and suddenly she’s pulling at the blindfold around Fred’s face. When it’s finally off his face Fred squints, blinking a few times to readjust to the light in the room. The light behind Y/N makes her seem like she’s glowing, and Fred tugs on his restraints, desperate to touch her naked body.

“Sorry, Freddie. No touching allowed yet,” Y/N teases, leaning down to kiss him again. She reaches behind her to grasp Fred’s cock, slowly stroking him as she takes the ring off. “You ready for my pussy?” she asks, moving down Fred’s body so her entrance is hovering just above his cock.

“So ready, Y/N. Please fuck me,” he begs. “Need to feel you around me. Need to cum inside you.”

Y/N teases Fred’s tip at her entrance for a moment before slowly sinking down onto his cock. His cock stretches her out in a good way, and they both moan as Fred bottoms out inside of her. “Fuck, Fred,” Y/N whines as she starts to slowly roll her hips. “Such a big cock. Always filling me up so good.”

Fred’s hips twitch under Y/N, and the feeling of her walls fluttering and twitching around him makes his eyes roll into the back of his head. It feels like he’s been on the verge of an orgasm for hours, and his whole body aches with need. Y/N starts to lift herself off of him, and Fred places his feet flat on the bed, fucking up into her as Y/N slams back down.

“Did I say you could do that, Freddie?” Y/N asks around a moan. She works her hips faster against Fred, already able to feel her orgasm building again.

“Sorry, sorry,” Fred pants, stilling his hips. Watching Y/N’s breasts move as she bounces on him has left Fred breathless, and his hands keep clenching and relaxing in his restraints. “Just want to be a good boy and make you cum,” he groans, forcing his hips to stay against the bed.

Y/N waves her hand and Fred’s restraints fall away, and she collapses against his chest. “Go on then, baby.” Not needing to be told twice, Fred’s hands immediately grip Y/N’s hips tightly and he starts to fuck into her, chasing both of their orgasms. “How does my pussy feel, baby? It’s been so long since you’ve fucked it.”

Fred groans as Y/N clenches around him sporadically. “So tight, Y/N. Feels so fucking good. Missed your pussy so much, missed fucking you. Fuck I’m close.”

The tip of Fred’s cock drags against her g-spot with every thrust, and the movement of their bodies creates just enough friction against her clit to drive her crazy. “’M gonna cum, Freddie. You fuck me so good, baby. Come on. Cum for me. Fill me up Freddie, please.”

Y/N’s words push them both over the edge, and with a moan of each other’s names, Fred’s cock twitches as he releases inside of Y/N, her walls pulsing and fluttering around him as her orgasm shoots through her body. They both lay there together panting as they come down from their highs. Y/N winces as Fred pulls out of her, and he rubs her back slowly, keeping her pressed close to his chest.

“I fucking love you,” Fred chuckles, wiping some of the sweat from his forehead.

Y/N giggles and tilts her head up so Fred can kiss her. “You fucking love me? Or you love fucking me?”

“Can’t it be both? Cause it’s definitely both,” Fred responds with a cheeky grin. “It was really hot, you know. You tying me up and having your way with me. Maybe I need to be a bad boy more often.”

Y/N rolls her eyes and kisses Fred again. “You better watch yourself, Weasley. The ring I bought is supposed to make you cum, and the next ring I buy, will keep you from cumming,” she teases with a laugh.

[letsunity]

The Lucky Batch ☘️

Cold Lullabies

With the information that Raffle delivered, Kenlha wanted to hear their side of the story. However, she struggled to muster the gut to do so, knowing the pain they must feel.

Every day, Kenlha misses Morast, wishing that she’d never been their padawan. Maybe the Clawdite would still be alive if Kenlha was dumped with another master, someone like Kit Fisto or Ki-Adi Mundi, the latter being a sociopath. Mundi was better than Mace Windu, the prick.

She has an idea how they feel. Though instead of losing one, they’ve lost many. Not only their batchmates but prior mother-figure, Master Bastet. 

Master Fisto, Master Koon and Master Kenobi believed that she was best for this squad, they trusted her to care for them. In order to do that, she needed to know as much as possible.

Not only that, but share as well. They’ll be fully open to each other, no secrets between them. That’ll build trust and maybe make them almost competent. 

The twins, however, are crafty bastards. 

Foxy would direct the conversation in one of his many attempts to flirt. Thumbs would egg him on while Ballast laughed. 

Pepper, being the only medic, could say that he was busy with one of his idiot brothers. Given how often this lot gets injured, she can’t argue that he’s was a busy guy. 

It was a waiting game. She’d have to ambush one of them, get them comfortable with her. 

This togruta space witch is even craftier than these twins.

While trying to mentor Brisk and Luna, she’d wait. 

Eventually, Kenlha’s time came, just not how she wanted it to. 

On one of the missions, Pepper was hurt, the fool more focused on protecting Foxy. He got an infection from the wound, even contracting a virus. Foxy was adamant that they not go back to Kamino, leaving them to follow Pepper’s fevered orders. 

It inspired her to start practicing medicine, only for her to realise how complicated it was. 

With perseverance and a visit from a clone named Kix, Peps was on his way to getting back on his feet. 

Since he couldn’t run away, Kenlha would take advantage of the only moment she had. 

“Looking better by the day,” Kenlha complimented, sitting next to Pepper’s bed. “You’ll be giving out stickers any day, buddy.”

“Goose will be thrilled,” the medic continued, wondering how high it’s body count was now. “Ryder needs a new Nexu sticker. Then I can make the hot Cheetos dipped in mashed potatoes scratch and sniff for him.”

It was sweet to see the new Ryder bring such a gift to Pepper, he adored it. 

“Is it alright if I ask you something?”

“You can always confide with me, Ken. Doctor patient confidentiality ensures your secrets are safe with me.”

He was a soft boi, a good brother to her and an excellent doctor. When she looked into those mismatched eyes and his soft smile, it was easy to forget what he’d endured. What both twins went through together. 

“I’d like to know about before me and before Master Bastet. I’m a Jedi, I can sense your instinctive caution around me, even though you don’t show it. As your General, your sister, I want to be there for you as you are for me.”

Perhaps it was the fever, maybe it was exhaustion, but he gave somewhat of a summary of what transpired with Master Laverna. She could feel the trauma, especially regarding the force-choke.

He had to hold his neck, recalling the events as though he was re-living them again. 

Raffle forgot to mention that the Jedi’s death was an accident, but in her opinion, he deserved it. While she’s biased, being their sister, she can’t stand people mistreating the clones. 

Being so close with the twins, she’s disgusted by that dead Cathar.

“I... sometimes I don’t think Foxy should’ve gotten involved,” the medic sighed, like a weight was lifted from his chest. 

Understandably, Kenlha was surprised, though she wouldn’t voice it. He was sharing with her, she can’t ruin this. She can understand him more, and by doing that, she can be a better sister. 

“He had a padawan, a girl, possible 11 or so, named Teles. I cut off her leg, but didn’t cut high enough, and she died, likely septic shock. I held her hand as that light fell away. Nothing he could’ve done to me would compare to feeling her going limp and cold.”

He felt responsible for her. He did everything he could and she still died. It’s a pain that Kenlha empathised with more than she wished she did. Her eyes burned as salty water seeped through her ducts, dribbling down her yellow skin.

“I often feel that I killed my master, Morast Tane. They were strict, but they were better to me than anyone before. They tried to guide my energy onto something productive and constructive, kind of like a parent to me,” Kenlha started, recalling the events herself.

“It was on a hot planet called Nevarro, magma and volcanic ash littering the ground. While fighting an army of droids, some damned flyers shot from above, causing the ground to become unstable.

I didn’t think. I jumped into the air, slicing through those bastards. One that I bisected fell, crashing into that unstable ground and causing Master Morast to fall. I tried to pull them up, but they fell into the lava. 

The only word they could muster was Run before the cries started. Being outmatched, outgunned, we had to leave. There wasn’t even anything to bury them,” Kenlha sighed, the sensation of something clawing at her throat adding to the tears. “I know the pain of being responsible, even when others tell you it wasn’t your fault.”

The medic absorbed her tale, allowing her a few moments to recollect herself. The togruta held his hand, supporting herself and him in the emotional moment. 

There were days she wished it was her instead of Master Morast.

“Do you remember the Endeavour, that ship that crashed down, killing two-thousand troopers?” Pepper started, his voice trembling. “I... could’ve stopped that from happening.”

She waited, feeling his grip tighten around hers.

“At Geonosis, while Foxy, Mozzarella, Springer and Locke were fighting droids, I and a few others were sent back to look for surviving Jedi. Instead, I found someone with my face, only far younger.

I knew who he was, everybody did. The Maker’s chosen child, the payment for his involvement in making us. The one that he named Boba, raising as his own.

If I’d just taken him in or hell, even shot him, then all of those clones would still be alive. Master Windu and Master Skywalker wouldn’t have been hurt. Instead of that, I let him go, lying to my fellows that I didn’t find anybody.”

“While the Endeavour was a tragedy, I think you did the right thing. They were only a child, weren’t they? Even by Mandalorian standards, he was a kid, right?”

“Master Bastet said something similar. And she’s dead too. I tend to have bad luck regarding Jedi.”

He was afraid to get close to her in case she died. It’s an understandable fear, she was terrified of ever having a master again.

Kenlha was scared to even be a Master, worried that she’d never live up to Morast with her young girls. Brisk and Luna were outliers too, so she had an advantage there, but still. 

There are days where she wondered if Morast would’ve been better for them.

“I won’t promise that I’m not gonna die. We all die eventually, many earlier than they should. What I will promise, Peps, is that I’ll be here for every day that it gets hard. During the days it feels like there can’t be a tomorrow, I’ll be right here to listen. All of us, even Goose.”

“Foxy’ll need an ear, too. He’s an idiot, but he’s my idiot.”

“He was adamant that we steer clear from Kamino. Would I be pushing it if I asked why?”

She watched those green and brown eyes ponder, thinking over her question. As with before, he chose to share.

“Foxy and I aren’t just twins. There’re loads of twins, Echo and Fives from the 501st for example. We, however, are literal twins. Our clump of cells split and we grew attached at the shoulder,” he explained, motioning to his tattooed shoulder. “The Kaminoans, having not seen it often, experimented on us to prevent it from happening again. Our earliest memories have made us dislike them, especially the one named Nala Se.”

It made sense and she could agree with it.

“Then to ensure that we don’t go, I think I’ll have to learn some doctor lessons from you. I’ll be your, um, what’s that dumb thing Jackal says?”

“P-to-the-wan?”

“Yep, I’ll be your medic padawan,” she smiled, earning one from him as well. It was a beautiful thing, given his experiences. “Have a sleep, pal. We’ll give you a few minutes of peace.”

“There’s tape in Boots’ room,” he chuckled. She smirked, knowing that it would be for Ballast. “It... was good talking with you, Ken.”

“You too, Doctor Bro.”

Kenlha will talk with Foxy as well. She’ll talk with all of her siblings, assuring them that she’s there for ‘em. Not just her clones but her padawans, too. 

She wasn’t going to lie, it felt good talking to Peppy about her feelings as well.

Feelings aren’t accepted in the Jedi Order, so he made her feel valid. It was something she desperately needed from someone, and she was happy it was from Peps.

This is a good family she’s found.

Love you guys!

Tags: @lynnpaper @just-another-dreamerr @maygalodon @radbatch @oo-hazel-oo @foxlock​ @lusiawonder @catboy-tech @cosmicghostie @monako-jinn-stories @namesmox @generaltano @lavenderstaars @mango-peachjuice 

I am evil, yis 😈😈

PS - it’s 3:23am lol brain is working overtime!

[dessarious]

Guilt and Consequences Pt3

Okay, so I am still working on my other stories I just haven’t been able to get much down. I’m working a crap ton of overtime at the moment and I’m just fried when I get home. I’d say hopefully I’ll be more productive on the weekends but right now I’m working Saturdays and and Sundays are becoming catch up on sleep days. So sorry for the delays, but I’ll try to get back into a headspace where I don’t just want to pass out whenever I’m not at work. Oh and I think I got everyone tagged who asked but let me know if I didn’t or you want to be added.

AO3   Beginning   Previous   Next

The silence stretched on and Lila could only sit there. She knew the others were likely staring at her. Wondering what she’d done to make her mother react like that. She just wished she had an answer for them. Even before everything with the schools they’d never been close. Her mother pretty much only talked to her to tell her what she needed to improve. As the atmosphere became more and more uncomfortable Lila finally broke the silence.

“So… would you consider that a yes or a no?” More silence before M. Dupain cleared his throat.

“Marinette why don’t you go with Lila to pack an overnight bag? We’ll get dinner and some treats started. Is there anything you can’t eat or something you’d like to have?” It took her a moment to realize that last part was aimed at her. When she managed to look up his expression matched the gentle tone of his voice and she just got even more confused.

“No sir. I’m not picky.” Her mother rarely made it home to eat with her and even then it was always take out. She’d gotten used to left overs or eating whatever random things were in the house.

“Make sure to pack all your medications as well.” Madam Cheng’s voice sounded a little strange but when Lila managed to look up at her she wasn’t glaring and she didn’t look annoyed. She was definitely more stiff than she’d been before though.

“It’s okay if you don’t want me here anymore. I get it. Even offering is more than most people would have done in your situation.” She still had no idea why they did either. After everything that had happened to their daughter because of her they should be throwing her out, at the very least. The woman’s expression turned to one of motherly concern and it honestly made her more nervous. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had aimed that kind of look at her.

“You’re welcome here, anytime you need somewhere to go, as long as you stop all this lying. There are better ways to deal with your problems.” Lila could only hang her head and mumble another apology. While she agreed that the lying in this situation wasn’t a good idea, it normally didn’t backfire like this and she had tried other things first. Maybe it was different for other people. She heard the woman let out a frustrated sigh. “You two go on, we’ve got to finish closing up the bakery before we start on dinner.” She let Marinette pull her out of her seat and down the stairs. She was still too busy trying to understand what was happening to even consider arguing.

“Did your mom really put you on medication just to keep you in school?” She glanced at Marinette. There was no accusation in the question. More like she just couldn’t understand how someone could do something like that.

“Yes but I don’t take it. Well, except one of the anxiety meds every once in a while when I can’t sleep. As she said on the phone, she thinks I should be responsible for myself so she just assumes I’m actually taking them.” She hadn’t understood at first why her mother would work so hard to get the meds and then not bother to monitor their use. She’d come to the conclusion it was so that when the school finally called about her ‘behavioral’ issues she would have a paper trail to be able to sell them on the fact that Lila was just sick and needed special accommodations. That or she really didn’t think Lila would disobey her on this.

When they got to the apartment building Lila wasn’t really paying attention. She heard something that sounded like a cough but kept walking towards the elevator until Marinette tugged on her sleeve. When she looked over at the other girl Marinette motioned to the side and Lila saw three rather annoyed looking staff members.

“Guests have to be signed in.” She blinked at the woman who spoke, not really processing the words.

“I’m sorry, what?” The woman just rolled her eyes.

“This is a high security building Mlle. Rossi. All guests have to be signed in.” Oh, right. She vaguely remembered something about that from when they’d first moved in. She just had never actually brought someone home before.

“Sorry, I forgot. Umm… how exactly do I do that?” The woman just looked exasperated now, but the man behind the desk offered a smile and motioned them over. There was a clipboard on the desk and he handed her a pen.

“You just need to put your name, apartment number, and your guests name.” He pointed to each column in turn . She filled them out as he asked and handed the pen back. “Thank you Mlle. Rossi, have a nice day.”

“Thank you, you as well.” She could still see the disapproving look on the woman’s face as they continued to the elevator and couldn’t help but wonder how she still had a job if this was how she normally treated tennants. Personally she couldn’t remember any of the staff and didn’t really interact with them. Generally once she was in the building it was a habit to keep her head down and get to her room as quickly as possible. She’d found that the less interaction she had with people the fewer things her mother had to lecture her about. Her social interactions were always lacking in some way and she could never be certain what her mother would latch onto.

When they entered the apartment Lila noticed Marinette frowning as she looked around. She couldn’t really blame her after seeing her house. The apartment was clean bordering on sterile due to the service her mother had come in daily. There weren’t any personal touches either. No pictures, no nicknacks, nothing that said people actually lived here. She didn’t really think about it. It had been this way as long as she could remember.

“Your place is nice…” Lila actually grinned as she watched Marinette try to come up with something good to say about it. “Lot’s of natural light.” Lila let out a snort of amusement. The girl was the essence of cheerful and that was all she could come up with. It was a bit sad really.

“My room’s this way.” When they entered Marinette perked up immediately. Lila could only assume it was due to all the pictures on the walls since it was the only real difference between here and the rest of the house.

“Wow, these are amazing! Do you collect them?”

“They’re not that good. Just pictures I’ve taken to remember where I’ve been.” She liked taking pictures, especially of nature. She found it soothing and having something to look back on made her feel a little less disconnected. Marinette was staring at her in what looked like awe.

“You took all these?” Lila just nodded. “These are amazing! I’ve seen professional photographers whose work doesn’t look this good.” Even knowing Marinette was just being nice, Lila couldn’t help but bask in the complement for a moment. But only for a moment.

“So what exactly should I be packing? I’ve never done the whole sleepover thing before.” Suddenly Marinette was looking at her like she’d kicked a puppy and she couldn’t figure out why.

“You’ve never had a sleepover? Ever?” Lila just shook her head. Wasn’t that what she’d just said? “Oh my gosh! We have so much to make up for. Obscene amounts of junk food and games and movies and makeovers and ghost stories and-” She just kept going. Lila had no idea what she was rambling about and it didn’t answer her question at all. Marinette finally paused to take a breath and she was able to break in.

“Okay, but what should I actually pack?” Marinette paused to think it over. The expression on her face seemed far too serious for such a common question.

“Your most comfy pajamas, whatever you want to wear tomorrow, and a toothbrush. I’ll take care of everything else.” Well that sounded slightly ominous. Regardless, she packed what she was told along with all her medications. Dumping those in the bag got a strange look from Marinette, but she wasn’t certain why. Maybe it was just how many there were. In less than ten minutes they were back out on the street, headed towards the bakery.

“Lila!”

“Shit.” She said the word under her breath as she looked behind her. Of course it would be Alya. They’d been on the street less than five minutes, only her luck could be that bad. She tried to use her body to block Marinette but she wasn’t quick enough. Alya’s expresion turned sour as she tried to reach around Lila.

“I thought we made it clear that we wouldn’t tolerate you bullying Lila anymore!” Lila grabbed the girls wrist before she could grab or slap Marinette. That stunned her enough to let Marinette get some space.

“You touch her again I’ll break the offending appendage.” Lila didn’t recognize her own voice in that deep threatening tone, but Alya just rolled her eyes.

“This is why we didn’t tell you what we were doing. You’re too nice and let people like her get away with anything.” She wanted so badly to just slap some sense into the girl but honestly she didn’t think it would work.

“I’m not nice, and you’ll find out exactly how not nice if you don’t stop harassing Marinette.”

“But if we don’t do something she’ll just keep bullying you!” Lila could only sigh. How many times was she going to have to have this conversation.

“Marinette is not now, nor has she ever bullied me. Which I already told you.” Alya let out a patient sigh, like she was explaining something simple to a small child. Yeah, someone was going to get hit before this conversation was over.

“She’s constantly calling you a liar and trying to turn everyone against you. Why would she do that?” Yep, the kindergarten teacher tone was definitely a good way to piss her off. Lila, of course, defaulted to sarcasm.

“Oh gee, I don’t know maybe because I was lying?” Alya looked like she was about to argue but Lila just kept going. “If you had bothered to look up literally anything I said you would know that.”

“An absence of proof is not proof of absence.” It took a minute for the words to penetrate as Lila was just getting even more annoyed by Alya’s self righteous tone but when they did she had to stop herself from lunging at her.

“Are you saying that you looked up my claims, found absolutely no proof and still took my word over Marinette’s?” Her voice was soft, more because her throat felt like it was closed in rage than anything else.

“There wasn’t any proof that you were lying either.” Alya’s smug tone finally snapped something inside her.

“Have you lost your damn mind?! Jagged stone has said in multiple interviews that he doesn’t even like cats. And in what universe would my mother’s PR team not have it in the news that I do charity work? She’s a public figure Alya, anything that can make her look good would have press releases for days. That in and of itself proves that I was lying.” The girl seemed to ponder this for a moment before she sent a glare to Marinette.

“What did you threaten her with to make her agree with you?”  Knowing that she’d been right about who Alya would blame for this was a small consolation.

“Lila you need to calm down.” Marinette’s voice was soft, soothing even but she was in no mood to pay attention.

“I will not calm down! This wanna be reporter couldn’t find the truth if she fell into a river of it. You should consider a career in fiction by the way since anyone with journalistic integrity will simply laugh you out the door.” Alya was still glaring at Marinette, like all this was her fault. What was wrong with people? Marinette actually grabbed her arms and forced Lila to face her.

“Please. You really need to calm down. Just breathe with me okay? You don’t want to get Akumatized again.” Those words acted like ice water. Yes, this was beyond stupid, but it wasn’t worth that. She calmed her breathing as Marinette asked but made sure to keep a line of sight on Alya as well. There was no telling what someone like her would do at this point.

“We should head back to your house, your parents will start to worry.” She had no idea if that was true or not but she hoped it would get Alya to back off. Pretty much everyone agreed that Marinette’s parents were great people, but they were also scared shitless at the thought of pissing them off. After their talk earlier she understood why. It did the trick too. Alya mumbled something about finding out what kind of dirt Marinette had on her so Lila could stop pretending she’d been lying as she left at a brisk walk. She’d read about willful ignorance but she’d never expected to encounter it to this degree. She was starting to hope it did have something to do with Hawkmoth, but considering some of the things people were willing to believe she wasn’t very optimistic.

AO3   Beginning   Previous    Next

Ko-Fi

Tag List

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[vadaschiquita]

Chiquita | Ch.15

Chapter 14

“This can all end, Jimmy, if you just… tell me where she is,” Nevada said in a singsong voice, levering Jimmy Mucci’s head by tugging at his hair.  When no response came, Nevada gut-checked him forcefully, feeling his knuckles ache behind the blow.

It’d been like this for a fortnight.  Nevada being reckless, coming close to burning bridges that had taken years to build in a angered frenzy in an attempt to find out Mariana’s location.  Pucho could barely keep up with the requests for meetings, and word around the city had spread quickly as soon as Nevada had crossed the Queensboro bridge into Long Island City where the Asian mafia had met his wrath.

Reckless things like that could cost Nevada a lot in the long run, and unfortunately, Pucho had not been able to save him from this one.  He’d moved in on them without properly vetting the situation, and now, he had a target from them in a borough that had nothing to do with him and his product.  He had no business in crossing over to Queens, and Pucho had been more than clear when attempting to steer Nevada from that side of the bridge.

Pucho’s words had been for deaf ears, because until Nevada had Mariana in his hands again, the recklessness would continue.

Nevada feared no one, and his temperament and mental well-being were hanging on by a thread.  He had all the guys working overtime and had the girls coming in with false allegations with the promise of a big reward.

“No one,” Mucci heaved, attempting to lock his remaining good and open eye on Nevada’s face.  “No one here knows where she is,” he swallowed, smirking, and Miguel, who’d been standing by knew that his fate was about to get much worst by whatever he was about to say.  “And, even if we did… she looks like a good lay,” he chuckled, the sound quickly converting to a pained cry once Nevada connected his fist with the bloodied flesh that was Jimmy’s face.

Blow after blow; grunt after grunt was all that reverberated back from the walls of the warehouse.  No one said anything.  No one dared interrupt until they knew it was time.

Nevada stepped back, winded, and slightly dizzy.  The distinct copper-like smell from the blood on the backs of his hands was clouding his nose.  He’d beaten Jimmy Mucci to a pulp, and now he’d toss him somewhere where the Greeks and the Irish could see him, and the Russians up in the Bronx could hear about it, too.

He’d already weeded out the Irish.  They hated the Italians, and if they’d done this just to get Nevada to step into their little pissing competition, their fate would be far worst than the one Jimmy Mucci had just met.

Nevada flexed his fingers, wincing slightly once he felt the bones in his hands rearranging.  “Drop him off where everyone can see.  Let this be a fucking warning.  I want my Chiquita, and I want her now,” he growled, his eyes an unnerving color.

Miguel nodded, signaling the other men to do as Nevada had bidden, and quietly he followed him out.

If anyone knew what Nevada was going through, was Miguel.  He’d been his driver and immediate hand for as long as he could remember.  And, even though he hadn’t voiced it as of yet, Miguel did feel somewhat responsible for Mariana’s current fate.  If he hadn’t been pre-occupied with something else, he would’ve been the one picking Mariana up, instead of sending Dylan to run an errand that placed him nearest to her.  If Miguel had known that she was coming home, he’d had volunteered to pick her up instead.

Nevada had slammed the door shut, quickly examining his knuckles and twisting his face in slight disgust.  He hadn’t seen his hands bruised like they were since before Mariana and him had begun dating.  He never succumbed to the violence unless completely and utterly necessary.  He had guys willing to dirty their hands in lieu of a steady paycheck.  Nevada got his problems solved and they stayed out of jail by doing what they needed to do in order to get the message across.

Two times, already, Nevada had dirtied his hands for the woman he loved, and he’d do so again without hesitation if it meant her safety and that of their unborn child.

Mariana winced, feeling the baby press at her ribs.  It was always during this time of the evening where the baby was the rowdiest, but as soon as she shifted, there he was, inching closer to her body in order to bring his hand to her belly to ease the pain across her ribs.  It was like he knew or he was synched with the life growing inside of her.  He’d whisper softly to the baby, talk them down and out of her ribs until she could breathe easily again.

She’d resorted to sleeping in a slant so that when the baby would ease itself towards her ribs, she could easily slide into a sitting position.  Nevada had surprised her with a change of headboard, one that was comfortable against her back.  It gave the room a feminine touch and it let anyone know that her presence in his life was more permanent than not.

Now, all she had for support were two flat pillows.  She sighed, feeling the prickling sensation forming across her nose.  A telling sign that her resolve was not as strong as she’d thought.  She cleared her throat, swinging her feet off the mattress and onto the cold floor of the storage room she’d been kept now for thirteen days.  She placed her elbows on her knees, leaning forward as much as her belly allowed her to go, attempting to coax the growing life inside of her down.

“Mi amor,” she whispered quietly.  “Mi amor, por favor,” she said, running her fingers through her scalp.  “I know you miss your dad, but baby please, let me rest.”

She could feel the pressure increase on her ribs and she heaved her sigh, coming to a careful stand.  Her captors had bargained with her, if she didn’t attempt to run or scream or attack them in any type of way, the chain around her ankle would come off.  It’d only taken a couple of days before she’d begged them to take it off as the pins and needles sensation of her foot was growing to be painful and annoying at the lack of circulation of her swollen feet and ankles.

She placed her hands to her belly, massaging the hardened area just like Nevada did.

“Papi will find us,” she said softly.  “Papi won’t rest until we’re back where we belong.”

She hummed and smiled at the fluttering coming from within.  Whatever activity her child was doing inside of her, had brought more than comfort to her.

The first couple of days locked in darkness had been beyond stressful.  Everything she consumed was brought back up within minutes of consumption and her once over active child had turned silent.  She’d cried and prayed, begged the baby and the heavens above for a sign of movement to no avail.  And, now, though she highly disliked the discomfort, she would choose it instead of the agony of not feeling them move within her.

Lost in her back and forth pacing, she didn’t notice the door open, let alone the body that had entered the space.  When she turned around, she tensed.

“Ricky,” her voice wavered.

He smirked.  “Si llego a saber que el culo te iba a crecer, I would’ve gotten you pregnant sooner,” he took a step forward, forcing her to take a step back.

“And, you think I would’ve honestly kept a pregnancy being with you?” she retorted back, softly, but filled with contempt.  “There wasn’t a day where you didn’t beat me… belittle me to such a point—”

“Ay, you deserved every single one of your beatings, Mariana.  You and that fucking mouth of yours!”

She flinched at the sudden influx of his voice.  “If I recall, you loved fucking my mouth, and you never complained when you did,” she responded with a snarl.

Ricky chuckled, taking a step towards the three-legged table.  In his hands a bag of supplies that he emptied atop the surface of the table.  “Here,” he said, sorting the items scattered on the table.  “I got you some underwear and vitamins.  I asked the lady at the pharmacy, she said these are the ones you need.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“What?”

“This,” Mariana gestured with her hands around her.  “Why do you have me here?  What do you plan on doing, Ricky?”

Ricardo sighed.  “Your fucking thug lets you give him this much lip?  ‘Cause from what I’ve heard, motherfucker is crazy.  You’d think he’d fuck you quiet, or at least into submission,” he turned, searching for the bucket.

“You’ve no right to talk about Nevada that way,” she said between clenched teeth.  “He’s ten times the man you could ever think of being.”

Ricky snickered, “Mariana, don’t test me.”

“Or, what?  You’re gonna beat me up?  Kill me?  I’ll fucking take my chances!  You’re nothing but a coward, Ricky!”

Mariana knew her words had been too much.  She’d known as soon as he’d turned around and reached her in a couple of steps.  He grabbed her hair in his hand, yanking her head back with force, and dug his fist into her belly.  She felt the flutters of movement coming from her child and the whimper of fear won over the wince of pain.

“No,” she mewled, clawing at his forearm to stop.  “Ricky, stop!”

In his eyes she could see his enjoyment when it came to inflicting pain on another being.  Many a time she’d looked into his piercing stare wondering where it had all gone wrong, who had hurt him, and if that would be her future forever.  This was a power move.  He thrived on being on top, and when anyone threatened his made believe throne, he was like a fierce hyena protecting the trash he called his home.

He dug his fist deeper into the center of her belly and Mariana spat at his face, gaining in return his hand around her neck.  She gasped, not foreseeing the hand he’d played.

“Do it,” she said between breaths.  “Fucking do it,” she smiled, feeling the pressure of his hand against her windpipe.  Ricky furrowed his brow, confused at her willingness, and he eased on the pressure behind his grip.  “Coward,” she rasped.

“Bitch!” he shouted, tossing her onto the bed.  Mariana’s hands came to wrap protectively around her midsection as she watched him pace the length of the small room, yanking at his hair.  “After everything I’ve done for you, this is the thanks I get!  You—You… why are you this way?” his voice was a plea of sorts and Mariana fought to catch her breath.  “Why don’t you love me!”

Mariana looked at the broken boy at the foot of the bed, red at the face with bulging eyes and veins.  She felt… sorry for him, but he still didn’t have her sympathy.  Ricky wasn’t right in his head, and it would take more than a breakdown for her to forgive him.

“You—You’re wrong in the head, Ricky,” Mariana coughed, feeling her throat scratch with pain.  “You need—need to let me go and—”

“No!” he shouted, launching himself forward, and landing a punch to Mariana’s pretty face.

She immediately felt her bowels churn and her brain rattle in her skull.  It’d been a long time since he’d touched her like that, and growing used to someone not beating you rather quickly, she saw stars clouding her vision when another blow landed across her jaw.  Her body fell back against the mattress, her hair covered her eyes, as she felt the darkness rapidly enveloping her.

“You’ll always be mine,” she heard faintly before she finally slipped into the safe confines of blackness.

Nevada sat on his couch, a frown on his face, an ache in his heart, and a diminishing handle of whiskey in his hands.  Eighteen days without her, the greatest pain in his ass, the object of his every day distraction… the mother of his unborn child: the love of his life.  Eighteen miserable days and eighteen agonizing nights where everything felt blurred.  Blurred because he didn’t know when one thing started and another thing ended.

Had he eaten?  Had he kept up with his hygiene?  Was his business thriving?  He couldn’t know.

For eighteen days he’d known that had it not been for his big ass mouth, she could’ve been here.  If he’d just… shut up and listened to what she was saying, if he’d just seen the situation from her point of view instead of always trying to have the last word, this entire mess could’ve been avoided.

He sniffled loudly, distracting his brain from his eyes, bringing the handle to his mouth for a prolonged sip.  He didn’t even wince at the sharp sting the whiskey had on his throat, he didn’t deserve the luxury of feelings knowing that his Chiquita was out there, fighting for her life, fighting to stay alive for their kid, just to have the opportunity to be able to return home almost unscathed.

“Tío,” he heard Sofía’s soft voice approaching the couch.

He’d dismissed his men for the continued search of her.  Whatever it took, he’d have her back.

He scrambled around, caught off guard by the sudden appearance of his niece.  He checked his wristwatch, noticing the time, “Sofi—Sofi, it’s late, mama.  Go back to bed.”

Sofía climbed the couch, crawling towards her uncle, and once she reached his side, she knelt next to him.  “Are you sad because of Mari?”

Nevada hung his head, hiding the shame of his tears from his niece.  He sniffled once more, exchanging the handle from his right hand to his left, bringing his face to his inner elbow to wipe away his face, and wrapping his arm around Sofía’s small frame.  How was he to explain what was happening to his soon-to-be seven year old niece.

His chin trembled as he faced the confused stare of the young girl in front of him.  “Princesa,” she blinked, tilting her head in curiosity, and he cleared his throat.  “I am sad because of Mari, but,” he added quickly, “I’m so happy that you’re here with me.”

“Well, Mami said I had to take care of you!” she said in a fit of laughter, dodging Nevada’s fingers against her side.

“She did?” Sofía nodded, brushing her hair out of her face.  “What else did she say?”

Sofía’s smile faded and she lowered her head, “You said those are bad words…”

Nevada hummed.  “Bueno, si las dices bajito, they’re not as bad,” he winked at the girl, attempting to coax out of her whatever words his sister had used in her presence.

“Mami said that this could’ve all been avoided had she not been a puta.”

Nevada chuckled softly, “Well, I can’t argue with your Mami on that one.”

Sofía looked… perplexed, not really understanding what her uncle had meant by his statement.  Nevada shook his head and she took the opportunity to settle against his side, curling her legs close to his ribs.

Nevada brought the handle to his lips once again, looking out to the city, and letting his self feel the love that radiated out of the little body that was Sofía Isabella Ramirez.

As the handle depleted so did his eyelids and when he next woke, Sofía lain fully across his lap, bundled underneath his jaw as her gams wrapped around his back.  He groaned, throwing his head back against the couch’s edge, fighting the spinning room.

He brought his wrist towards his face, squinting to better focus the hands of the watch face.  They’d been there all evening and now he could see the sun attempting to creep through the bundle of clouds in the horizon.  Nevada dropped a kiss to his niece’s messy head of hair, toeing off his shoes to lay the length of his couch when his thigh vibrated.  He groaned, maneuvering around Sofía’s body.  He slid out his phone, once more squinting at the blurry, jumpy letters across his screen.

The message would’ve been ignored had he recognized the number, or at least been part of an area code that belonged to any of the five boroughs that comprised the New York City area, but it didn’t.  Nevada prided himself a great businessman and as any businessman, it was his job to know and study the market he was in.  Any true and native Newyorker could tell you 212-, 718-, and 917- were the true New York City area codes, but the one displayed on his screen was 551-.  Whoever this was, either had the wrong number, or was looking to start some trouble.  

He had reason to ignore the message—he had more than one reason to ignore the message, the primary being: there was no business to attend to at this time of day knowing he’d set fire to too many bridges over the course of the last eighteen days.  He’d been watching those slowly burn from afar and as he sat and watch the fires grow, he’d given thought to the ones he did want to salvage, but not right now and certainly not at this time.

As he contemplated whether or not to open the message from the unknown number, another one came in.  He furrowed his brow, resting his cheek against Sofía’s head.  He couldn’t read what the messages said; he had to unlock his phone before being able to do that, but two messages almost back to back from the same unknown number.  Who else could it be?

He hesitated, pressing his thumb against the screen to unlock his phone.

Text Message: [551-908-5344] 06:21 a.m.

           I have something you want…

Text Message: [551-908-5344] 06:23 a.m.

           Wanna see?

His stomach clenched and his reaction almost made him drop Sofía onto the couch like a lifeless object he had no care for.  Instead, he stood, gathering every raging force to carry Sofía to his bed.  The girl would find more comfort knowing that at some point, her uncle had moved her to his room as opposed to hers, and even if a lie, she’d still think she’d had the opportunity of sleeping in his bed.  As he exited his room, shutting the door behind him, he pressed the phone number, bringing his phone up to his ear.

It rung several times and when his patience was beginning to thin, he heard the cynical voice on the other side of the receiver, “Huh, I thought you weren’t intrigued enough…”

“Who the fuck are you and what do you want?”

The person on the other side snickered, “I already have what I want, Nevada.  I was just letting you know that she is mine.”

Nevada clenched his jaw, feeling his lips go numb with anger.  “Yours?” he snickered.  “Tú lo que eres es un palomo.”

“Un palomo que tiene lo que quiere,” he retorted.  “You should hear how she begs me—”

“Rick—Ricky, please,” Nevada heard Mariana’s faint, exhausted voice.  “Plea—Please,” she sounded winded, tired, and her voice sounded like it needed a touch of water.

Ricky hummed as he chuckled.  “What the fuck are you doing to her?” Nevada growled.

Ricky huffed, “Nothing, nothing, just… tuning her up.  Since, since, you know, you’ve let all my good work go to waste!”

“Mira, pedazo de cabrón, you put your hands—” the sudden, yet audible smack that rang loud in his ear almost made him lose his balance.

Mariana grunted, groaning softly.  Ricky sniffled, “I’m the one that has the upper hand here, Nevada.  All right?”

Nevada clenched his jaw, attempting to reel his anger in order to try and get more information out of him.  Ricky had already slipped up and allowed for pride to get the best of him when he messaged Nevada without blocking his number.  Now, even though cocky, Nevada wouldn’t allow his self to believe that Ricky hadn’t taken some precautions when getting a cellphone, burners did sell out of every bodega he knew.

Now, he just needed to exercise his infamous gift of gab and keep him on the line long enough for him to figure out where exactly was he keeping his precious Chiquita.

“Look at you being a fast learner,” he mocked.

“What is it that you want?” Nevada said through clenched teeth.  “Money?  Name your fucking price, but you can’t have her.”

He heard Mariana hiss, as if Ricky had yanked her by her hair, “Here!”

“Vada—Vada.”

“Chiquita,” he responded quickly.  “Mami, are you ok?  Are—Are you eating?”

“Vada—Vada,” she swallowed, and it was almost as if he could her smile.  “Yes, and keeping myself hydrated, too.”

“Mari—”

“Hush!” she swallowed once again.  “I’m counting on you to—”

“You’re counting on him to what, Mari?  To come rescue you?  No!  We are leaving here together!” Ricky yelled and Nevada could hear a faint echo as he yelled.  “I didn’t call to make this a fucking family reunion.”

“Why exactly did you call, huh?” Nevada’s patience had been running on low and listening to Ricky slap around the mother of his child had completely ran that probe out.  “If you didn’t call to ask for money, what did you call for?  Because, to flaunt her off, that’s not very… manly of you, Ricky.”

Nevada could hear the ragged breathing coming through the ear piece and he hoped he hadn’t pushed Ricky too far to the point he’d do something stupid like put his hands on Mariana once again.

“I mean, ¿tú no eres el más machito?”

“I called—I called, because I wanted you to know that I won—”

“Did you really win, Ricky?  You’re the one that’s going to end up raising my kid, not the other way around,” he smirked.  “Yo te debería dar las gracias—”

“No!  No!  I know what you’re doing and it’s not going to work.”

Nevada huffed his laughter, “Is it not?”

Ricky pondered his next move.  When he’d heard that Nevada was not to be messed with he understood who exactly he was going up against, and truth be told, he’d never would’ve accomplished this had he not found Dylan at that bar talking to the pretty bartender that had happened to mentioned his name.

He hadn’t been stupid enough to show his face near Manhattan any longer, Dylan had told him as much.  The search for Mariana was very much ongoing and active, and now having been off the handle, he’d done something that would now put a complete and active target on his back.  Now, Nevada knew that this hadn’t been done by any of the other powerful families in the city, but by him.  And, if he hadn’t have met Dylan, getting to Mariana would’ve been impossible.

He needed an out, an easy escape to be able to leave the city with Mariana.  If they needed to run for the rest of their lives, then run they shall, because Mariana would never leave his side again.

“I want money and I want your men out of my way,” he demanded, sniffling.

“You want money and for my men to back off,” Nevada repeated.  “So, you want my money, my Chiquita, and for my men to… cover for you?” Nevada laughed heartily.  “You better hope my Chiquita has dealt with you before I find you, because your faith will not be the same with me.”

“Nevada,” Ricky begun, feeling the cold air of fear sticking to his neck, “your own men don’t do as you say, what makes you think I will?”

“What—” Nevada glanced at his phone.

What had Ricky meant that his own men didn’t do as he said?  Had this been an inside job?

“Motherfucker,” he sighed, all signs of sleep and rest out the window by this point.

Nevada had thought out many a scenario, had made up countless possibilities in his head as to whom would dare do this, but none of them had involved someone from under his command.  It made perfect sense!  Who else could have access to her whereabouts, his whereabouts, and all in all the perfect excuse to monitor both him and her than someone on his payroll?

The more he thought about it, the more he felt his anger increase within him.  This could’ve been resolved sooner, had he gotten his head out of his ass for a second and actually put to use the mass between his ears to capacity.

No one really knew she wasn’t spending the night at Nevada’s, only the guys from the inner circle knew.  Only a select few from the select few knew where Nina lived, and if in fact Dylan had gone to pick her up to not find her there, then there was only so many people he knew could be behind this.

He nodded as he paced, piecing together his every move like an avid chess player planning and predicting his opponents move beforehand.  

This would not end well for whoever had dared cross Nevada Ramirez.  This in fact would end up with more blood on his hands and another death in his conscience, but for her, he’d burn Hell just to get her back.

tags: @imjustreallynosy​ @bananas-pajamas​ @scarletsoldierrr​ @katierpblogg​ @angelicdestieldemon​

[userarchive]

Unexpected Circumstances Ch 12

Warnings: Language, talk of the job.

The heavy knock at the door caused you to stir, body trying to fight the urge to wake up as Olivia’s voice gently called through the room.

“I know you’re tired, but it’s time to get to work.” Thankfully, she dropped a pair of NYPD sweats and hoodie on the cot next to you while you groggily unwrapped yourself from Sonny’s arms, giving him a soft shove with your elbow to wake him up. You tugged the sweats on half under your dress, pulling your mussed up hair into a top knot, not even caring about your feet, not wanting to shove the heels back on, padding out to the squad room. You were more than thankful at the Starbucks that Kat handed you, giving her the brightest smile you could muster, humming in satisfaction over the taste of the latte.

“Okay.” You started, “Obviously they fucked up by busting the ring tonight, we would’ve had a lot more people on cuffs on the 31st, but at least we have the books.” You shuffled through them, handing one to Fin, one to Kat, and one to Olivia.

“These are huge.” Benson commented, amazed at the attention to detail.

“Yeah.” You replied, “Everything’s colour coded in that one. Perps who got violent have the black dot beside their ID, ones that we kept on a short leash are red, the ones who wanted underage girls are pink, dirty cops are orange, undercover cops are green. Pimps are marked with stars, underage girls are pinks, trafficked girls are yellow and the pros are purple.”

“You did all this?” Sonny looked up at you as he leafed through the book.

“Thank Theresa for dragging me to that scrapbooking class.” He practically snorted at that, knowing how much you despised spending an entire weekend cutting out little photos and decals with his sister.

“These are all suppliers…” Fin commented, looking up from the book you’d handed him. You knew he used to be in narcotics, figured he’d be the best to start tracking down those leads.

“Manhattan royalty. Can’t have our drugs laced with garbage, we refused to deal with dealers or buy off the street, we needed the purest product a supplier could get.”

“That Martinez’s idea?”

“Nah, I convinced him to switch over after I started. Said I didn’t want any dead bodies turning up on my hands ‘cause of the spike in Fentanyl.”

“We could shut down at least a third of the drug operations in the city with this.”

“You’re welcome.” You smirked, turning back to Olivia, “I’d start focussing on the stars, pink, yellow and black from there. Find whatever evidence you’re gonna need for arrests or warrants, we’re in this for the long hall.”

“This one’s all arms dealers.” Kat commented.

“Yeah, it’s not as much, we didn’t deal much with ATF type stuff, but I figured I may as well document it too.”

“Martinez was okay with you taking all this down?” Sonny asked, shocked that anyone was willing to give you this much information if they were coming to a party, you had drivers licences scanned into the book for more than a few people.

“It helped us keep track of everything, especially people we didn’t want coming back to another party.” You shrugged, “Besides, the more people in the book, the more people we could flip on if we were ever arrested, these things are a fucking gold mine. Alejandro was more than okay with having someone else to throw under the bus.” Elliot’s voice was the next to break through the room, much to your annoyance.

“Well he’s not about to flip on anyone. 6 hours and he’s not saying a word.”

“He lawyered up?” Olivia asked.

“No.” He sighed, “Just refuses to talk.” You groaned outwardly, knowing just how damn stubborn the man was, knowing the only way out of this. You tugged your dress down over your hips, kicking off the sweats, shoving your shoes back on, hands extended in front of you to Stabler.

“Let me talk to him.” He cocked his brow at you, “As a perp.” You insisted, “Trust me. He’ll flip.” Elliot shrugged, reaching for his cuffs as you turned to Sonny. “Please…remember anything I say in there is not true.” His brows furrowed at your comment, watching you give your body a shake as you slipped into character, Elliot leading you to the interrogation room. 

Alejandro’s head shot up at the motion of the door opening, nearly jumping up from the table at the sullen look on your face, not to mention the split lip and well forming bruise from the pistol whipping he’d witnessed. 

“What the hell did you do to her?” 

“I’m fine! Please.” You calmed him quickly, urging him to sit back down.

“She just wanted to talk to you.” Elliot folded his arms across his chest, leaning back against the wall, watching the way you nearly timidly sat down at the table, your eyes softly meeting Alejandro’s. 

“I need you to talk…please…” The shake in your voice was convincing enough even Stabler would’ve fallen for it, “Alejandro they’re threatening me with fifteen years.” Tears had sprung into your eyes, his hands grasping yours across the table, your voices hushed, as if that would make them not heard by the ones you knew were watching.

“Chiquita…just throw a couple names out, they’ll let you walk like they always do.”

“It’s not like that this time, they’re not offering me a deal. Organized crime is here too, there’s no escaping this, they’re throwing me in jail!”

“You’ll be okay, trust me.” You nearly choked out a sob.

“Please…I can’t go to jail! Alejandro… I’m pregnant…”

“What?!” His eyes shot up to you, full of worry and concern, watching the tear roll down your cheek. “I didn’t even know you were seeing someone.”

“I just found out….I swapped the champagne for sparkling cider at the party. “He…he was a new guy, I’d only seen him a couple of times…” You sniffled back a cry, “I…I can’t go to jail..the baby..child services’ll take it away right away and I’ll never see it again. All I ever wanted was to be a mother…you know that. I ca—I can’t lose this baby…” You did the best to wipe your face with your cuffed hands, “I already gave them the books, but they claim they want your confession.”

“You gave them the books?!”

“I had no choice.” You sobbed into your hands, Alejandro quickly moved around the table, a hand softly rubbing against your back.

“It’s okay, you’re okay, they can’t put you away.” He looked up to Elliot, “Get your lawyer in here, we’ll make a deal.” The sergeant smirked at his words, watching him move back around the table, tapping the glass for Sonny to come in. 

“Mr Martinez. What exactly do you want?”

“You keep Rose out of jail.” His arms folded over his chest, “I’ll give you anything you want, anyone you want. She stays out of the trial, out of jail, charge her with a misdemeanour fine if you must and let her walk. She just did the books, she had nothing to do with the ring.”

“And the gun?” Sonny replied, you had to give it to him, he was doing a good job at keeping your cover.

“It wasn’t hers! It was Declan’s!”

“Oh and the drugs also happened to not be hers?”

“Her Dad died of an overdose, she’d never touched the stuff. I’ve known her seven years and never seen her even go near any of it.  It’s all mine. Let. Her. Go.” Sonny looked between the bodies in the room, 

“We’ll keep her here until you’ve given us enough information to make that deal, you understand that?” Alejandro begrudgingly sighed at that, nodding in response, giving you a soft look. 

“Thank you.” He nearly flinched at the rough way Elliot tugged you up from the table, leading you from the room. You were thankful he waited until the door was closed before he spoke.

“Where’d you go to acting school?” He half joked.

“NYU, double majored.” You shoved your wrists in front of his face, “Now un cuff me.” He rolled his eyes at you, undoing the cuffs, “You’re welcome…” You teasingly replied, heading back into the squad room.

**

You were thankful when Alejandro’s case went to trial quickly, and that Sonny didn’t need you to take the stand, not that you’d be able to do anything other than plead the 5th on the off chance the jury found him not guilty. The trial was set to start today and you were currently leant up against the wall of the courthouse, one knee bent, heel on the wall while you scrolled through your phone. 

“What’re you doing here? Is the defence calling you?” Sonny’s soft voice rang through the space as he approached you. You gave him a cold once over,

“Mr. Carisi…” He then realized you were definitely here undercover, which he should’ve realized with simply the way you were dressed. “I’m simply here for moral support. He is offering time in jail to save me and my unborn child from having to go.” He chuckled at your joke, moving closer to you, dropping his voice to not be overheard.

“Ya know, you’ve got a weird relationship with Martinez.” You laughed, 

“And you’ve got a weird little relationship with Carl Rudnick, don’t you?” You smirked at his baffled reaction, “I’ll see you in there Counsellor. Nice suit.”

**

“Hey, how’d it go?” Amanda asked as you and Sonny made your way into the bull pen.

“Guilty.” You replied,

“He’ll do 15 for promoting prostitution, 8 for the drug charges, served concurrently.” Sonny spoke, placing his briefcase down into an empty chair.

“That little for all those drugs?” Fin questioned, 

“He flipped on nearly all of the suppliers in the book, gave us proof that he bought from them regularly.” You dropped down into your chair, pulling out the pile of papers while spinning to face the whiteboard. “Where are we with the rest of ‘em?”

*

All in all it would end up taking months to track down enough substantial evidence to arrest as many people as you could from the books, focussing on collaring the most dangerous ones. It was overtime for nearly everyone, finding placement in shelters, foster homes, low cost apartments for the girls, helping those who would admit to needing it to find the proper therapists. Grilling perps, and dealing with one hell of a lot of defence attorneys, everybody was ready to try and throw someone else under the bus, problem was, you already had everyone. You ended up having to testify in multiple trials, some of them simply pleading the fifth, some of them you were able to give your true testimony, explaining in explicit detail about the work you’d done undercover, and everything you’d witnessed. The trials took even longer, some of the higher privileged clients sure to pull out every stop possibly, dragging things out as long as they could, using their status and power in the city to try and get out of the charges. The entire squad was not only exhausted but on edge, careful to watch their backs, Sonny had insisted on a protective detail on you, especially once you started testifying. (Which of course you rolled your eyes at). You knew it would take ages to work through the books, and there were still a large number of clients you had yet to nail that were still out there, able to target a new group, a different girl, and at this point there wasn’t much you could do about it.

*

It was the original night of Alejandro’s trial that you got home, later than expected, not surprised to find Sonny in the kitchen, spatula in one hand, pen scribbling on a legal pad in the other. You greeted him with a soft kiss on the cheek, knowing his scrunched face meant that he was at least attempting to concentrate, before moving down the hall to change into comfier clothes.

“Sorry I’m late.” You started, taking a seat across the island.

“S’okay, I didn’t get out on time either.” He scribbled something out on the pad, giving a hefty sigh as he tossed it aside, returning his attention to the stove.

“You did great today, really crushed it in there. You’ve grown into such an incredible lawyer Sonny.”

“Thanks.” He tossed you a warm grin at the praise, “Can’t say I wasn’t worried, that Martinez sure is a smooth talker, there was definitely more than one sympathetic juror.” He paused to pull down two wine glasses, passing one over to you, “Doesn’t help that they all think he took the fall to protect his pregnant co conspirator.” You cocked a brow, sipping on your wine.

“I did what I had to do to get him to talk, and that’s what we needed.”

“You couldn’ta just told him you were a cop?” 

“And blow my cover? So when he gets out, probably in less time than his sentence and goes straight back into the sex ring world we won’t have an immediate in?”

“You really think he’ll go straight back into what got him thrown in jail?” You shrugged, 

“It’s all he knows. He grew up surrounded by that world, took over the ring when his Dad died, he was barely 25. Deems himself too good to deal drugs, hell I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already wrangling up new customers at Greenhaven.”

“Too good ta deal drugs, but he’s fine selling women for sex? Seems a bit outlandish.” You gave a small laugh, knowing just how ridiculous it all was, “You exchange a lot of personal information with each other?” Carisi stopped briefly, plating up dinner.

“I was working with him for seven years, we couldn’t exactly keep the conversations to the weather and local sports teams…I padded my story as thick as I could before I went under.”

“Ya told him about your Dad…” Your eyes darted up to meet Sonny’s, 

“Felt like it was an big enough excuse to stay away from the drugs…” You sighed, “Listen, when you’re under that long, little bits of the truth end up slipping out, you can only lie about so many things before you start to forget details. It’s easier to just let the real you shine through into your character.”

“Well you two certainly seem comfortable together.” You froze your movements at that, waiting for him to meet your eyes across the island.

“What exactly are you insinuating Dominick?” You felt a ball of rage slowly building in the pit of your stomach.

“I’m just sayin’, seven years working sex rings together, lavish vacations in the downtime, you never once slipped up? Slept with your mark?”

“Dominick!!” You rolled your eyes, “If I WAS to have had sex with anyone while under it certainly wouldn’t have been a federal criminal!! Where the fuck is this coming from? Just cause I went to the trial?”

Sonny had been annoyed at that fact all week while Alejandro’s trail went on, he somewhat understood your intent behind it, but he didn’t like it. He also didn’t like the way Alejandro’s eyes lingered on you in the court room, the way that he was so quick to flip for you in interrogation, the way that he’d comforted your tears, things simply seemed a little to close for his comfort. He knew that he technically couldn’t blame you for anything that happened while you were under, thinking you were dead, he’d tried to move on a few times, but it was a punch to the gut watching the way the two of you interacted.

“More like because that prick is going to jail for you! He’d face 15 years just so you wouldn’t have to? There’s just somethin’ there that doesn’t seem just as black and white as coworkers.”

“We had separate rooms at that penthouse, in opposite wings. The closest thing you could compare it to would be if he was my, non-sexual, sugar daddy!”

“That man is wrapped around your Goddamn finger so tightly I can’t just ignore it. There’s no way he doesn’t have some kind of feelings for you!” His anger was building up, he hadn’t wanted to fight about this, just wanted a straight answer, “Are you telling me you never once slept with him?”

“Never! He takes care of his company, but not like that. He nearly always had a pro on his arm!” You huffed, mirroring his position of folding your arms on the counter, “Are you telling me you never once slept with Rollins?” He faltered at that, should’ve known better than to attempt to fight about this with you.

“I—no.” He hung his head ashamed, “There was one time that we…almost..but-“

“I already know about West Virginia…she told me, long before you even thought about it.” You pushed off the island, moving to stand, “You had a thing with your partner, who’s now my partner, at least now I know which one of you has my back!”

“You’re tellin’ me that in seven fuckin years you didn’t once touch anyone?” He was standing now too, anger consuming him as he watched you grab your coat.

“Sonny! I was working in a fucking sex ring! The things I had to deal with, the things I saw?! Those poor girls getting beaten, getting raped on a regular basis, the ones who were so young they’d barely hit puberty being forced to have sex with men three times their age! Getting hooked on fucking drugs?! You know how many I saw turn up dead of overdoses ‘cause they’d gotten a bad score? You know how many times I personally had to pull a John off a girl ‘cause they were being too rough, ‘cause they weren’t doing what the girl had consented to? How many times I’ve had to drop off Jane Doe’s at the E.R. cause they were on the brink of alcohol poisoning, needed a stomach pump for all the drugs they’d shoved up their nose? Or the ones I had to bring in to get treatment for internal bruising or tearing in places I didn’t even want to think of? Do you really, seriously think that while I was witnessing all that horror that my mind even wanted to THINK about sex in a intimate way? I was just doing my best to keep those poor girls alive!!” You wrenched open the door, 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” 

“Amanda’s! We’ll finish this when you’ve got your head on straight.” With that the door was slammed shut and you were gone. 

You knew that coming out of undercover wasn’t going to be easy, especially after such a long stint, and especially with the baggage of your past. You’d been slightly amazed that Sonny hadn’t moved on, that he wanted to work things out, that he was still able to love you as much as you loved him. He was a true gem, always had been and always would be, and you knew he belonged in your life, otherwise why would it have thrown you back together like this? 

Sonny dropped back into his seat at the island, sighing heavily he shoved the plate of food away from him, opting instead to top up his wine glass, taking a hefty swig. He’d been so pent up and distracted at Martinez’s behaviour towards you, knowledge of all the gifts he’d gotten you, he’d forgotten about the other side of the op, the side of actual heinous crimes. You’d probably seen more horrible things than half of SVU combined, and while they dealt with the aftermath, you dealt with it in real time, witnessing the crimes, and then still attempting to piece back together the broken girls afterwards. Only thing was, you weren’t putting them back together to stand trial or to press charges, they weren’t getting any justice, you just needed them back in working form as fast as possible. It was probably complete torture for you, every single one of the upcoming cases from this bust was probably weighing you down so heavily you were barely afloat anymore.  

[alarawriting]

52 Project #4: Rand Mart

All I wanted to do was buy a gallon of milk, a loaf of bread, and ham. But I’d been to four cash registers already, and no one had been willing to ring me up yet.

The first cashier – a girl with dyed black hair, a tattoo of a dove on her cheek, and nose and tongue piercings – informed me that she’d ring up my bread, but she was morally opposed to the consumption of animal products, so the conscience clause permitted her to refuse to ring up my milk and ham. The dark-skinned woman with a red dot on her forehead, at the next cash register, would ring up my ham and bread, but told me that the American milk industry was unconscionably cruel to cows, who were beloved in the eyes of Brahma. The woman with the light blue scarf around her mouth, nose and hair, at the third register, was willing to ring up the bread and milk, but thought that pigs were unclean and their meat banned by the Prophet. And the fourth cashier, a bearded man with a yarmulke, wouldn’t ring up any of my goods, because it was Saturday.

There was a self-service lane, of course, but it wrapped around the entire cash register area with about forty people queued up in it because no one wanted to go to a cashier-operated register. I’d thought that the fact that so few people were lined up at the registers meant that I’d get through the line quickly. I should have known better.

There were two other cash registers open. On one, a painfully thin woman was haranguing a slightly overweight woman over her choice of sodas. “High fructose corn syrup is pure poison!” she was shouting. “It’s murder! If I let you buy those Sprites I might as well be putting a gun to your head!” At the last cashier-operated register, the clean-cut young man behind the counter was ringing everyone up for all their products… as long as they accepted Christ as their personal lord and savior.

Screw this. I abandoned my groceries in one of the many, many baskets set outside the cash registers for exactly that purpose. The baskets were overflowing. I wondered how the supermarkets made any money anymore.

And then I did what I’d sworn I’d never do again. I got in my car, and I drove to Rand Mart.

***

Rand Mart was infamous for being a terrible employer. It abused its employees, forcing them to work unpaid overtime, failing to give them health care coverage, busted any attempt to unionize, and fired them for absenteeism if they were ever sick at all. I wouldn’t have been caught dead there under any other circumstances. But I wasn’t willing to lie my way into the Christian-only grocery stores, and the service at the secular grocery store was getting steadily worse.

Ever since the Conscience Clause Laws, created originally to allow pharmacists to get out of filling prescriptions for drugs whose purposes their religions disapproved of, were expanded by Supreme Court decision to allow any person to refuse any duty in the course of their work, provided that they had a “heartfelt moral objection” to performing it… more and more people were discovering the joys of sticking it to their employers (and customers) by developing heartfelt moral objections to any number of things. Their employers weren’t allowed to fire them for it, either.

Originally it had been based on religion, until the vegans sued, claiming that just because their belief that meat was murder was not based on the teachings of a god, it was no less heartfelt or moral. The Supremes bought that, deciding that when the Founding Fathers said that Congress should establish no religion, which had been extended to Congress not infringing on any religion, that any heartfelt moral belief counted as a religion for the purposes of not being infringed on, because it wasn’t the business of the law to decide what was and was not a religion.

Corporations weren’t allowed to practice religious discrimination in hiring unless their own heartfelt moral beliefs would be compromised. So the Christian-only stores could get away with hiring only Christians – which had made them very, very popular lately, even though they’d only let Christians shop there, because most Americans are Christian at least in name and most Christians didn’t have a religious objection to selling anyone anything, as long as it couldn’t be used to allow women to enjoy sex without guilt. But a secular store couldn’t demand that its employees actually do their jobs, because no one had a heartfelt moral belief that employees should do work, apparently.

Except for Rand Mart.

Rand Mart had successfully won the right to discriminate against any employee of any religion who wouldn’t do their job on the grounds that their heartfelt moral belief was Objectivism. They believed (heartfeltedly and morally, it seemed) that the government should not interfere in contractual matters between employee and employer, or consumer and vendor, and that therefore they had the right to sign their employees to contracts that stated that they accepted the inability to raise a religious objection to anything as a condition of employment, and make it stick. They used the Hobby Lobby case as precedent along with the Conscience Clause decision to prove that a corporation had the rights to adhere to the heartfelt moral beliefs of its owners even if doing so trampled on the rights of its employees.

As a result, you could get absolutely anything at Rand Mart that they felt they’d make money on selling to you, and no one could raise any sort of objection. Guns? Sure! The Second Amendment and the Conscience Clause meant that they didn’t have to do background checks, because that was government interference with their relationship with their customer, and they believed they shouldn’t have to abide by that rule. Abortifacients? You betcha! They weren’t the only ones – sex shops frequently invoked their heartfelt belief in the right of all humans to sexual pleasure and control over their own bodies to sell things like birth control, Plan B, and actual abortion drugs, without prescriptions, and no one could really stop them because they had the names of everyone who’d ever used a credit card to buy sex merchandise, which included most of the fine, upstanding citizens who tended to protest abortion clinics. But Rand Mart was the one you would go to if you didn’t want to walk through displays of lingerie and dildos to get the pill. Marijuana? Rand Mart didn’t believe in anti-drug laws, and while they were sane enough not to provoke the government on stuff like meth and heroin, they sold weed quite openly, and the Feds were more likely to bust a legal California grower of the medical grade stuff than Rand Mart.

Obviously, given their willingness to sell such culturally controversial stuff, you could get any of the basics at Rand-Mart as well, and none of their employees were allowed to refuse to sell to you. So I drove over there, because I really, really wanted my bread, ham and milk.

As usual, Rand Mart’s parking lot was a zoo. True confession time: this wasn’t the first time I’d been driven to have to go to the place. Every time I went here I swore I’d never do it again, and while my abhorrence of their treatment of employees was one reason, the behavior of the other customers was another. Pedestrians were everywhere, because why should they have to follow rules like the presence of crosswalk markings to make life convenient for drivers? They had the right to walk and they were going to walk, dammit. This, of course, made the drivers of the other cars frustrated, and when you considered how tiny the parking spots were and how quickly they got snapped up, you had frustrated, angry drivers rapidly turning into slavering, starving beasts who’d savage each other for a parking spot. Road rage deaths were not unheard of in Rand Mart parking lots, including incidents where folks used their brand new Rand Mart guns to put a hole in a fellow shopper for fender bender accidents caused by overeagerness to take a parking spot. I parked all the way out at the end of the lot and walked, careful to avoid the cars who were taking out their aggression against the thick clouds of pedestrians in front of the store by nearly running down the ones walking to or from their cars.

The way Rand Mart is laid out, you have to walk through an entire aisle of really cheap impulse buys and sales items before you can even get into the store proper. Then the groceries are all the way on the other side. Shoppers inside Rand Mart are every bit as considerate as the ones outside, which is to say, I had to dodge a lot of folks who were walking straight at me as if I wasn’t even there, or as if they wanted to play Store Aisle Chicken. I was really, really glad I needed so few things and didn’t need to push a cart, because there were so many endcaps and stands of merchandise and random pallets of restock that I couldn’t see how a cart could get through half the aisles.

I plugged my metaphorical ears to the siren song of really cheap electronics, and really cheap DVDs, and really cheap winter jackets, and really cheap kitchen appliances. (I’m a bachelor. I don’t really cook. I do, however, make a lot of use of rice cookers, and toaster ovens, and single-serve coffee machines, and I own lots and lots of other kitchen appliances that promise to pretty much make my food for me, despite which I still never use the damned things.) In what seemed like a long and peril-fraught journey, but was actually probably about three or four minutes, I got to the grocery aisles and started looking for the stuff I’d come for.

And then I ran into Emily. Wearing a Rand Mart uniform, and stocking yogurt cups onto the shelves.

Emily used to be my manager. I work in IT, where the controversies are few; as long as we don’t hire any Amish dudes, we’re not likely to get saddled with deadweight. However, the hours are long, and Emily decided she wanted a new career that would let her spend more time with her young son, so last I’d heard, she’d opened a day care. Considering that this was Saturday, I supposed it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that this was her second job, but Rand Mart was infamous for giving their front line employees really egregiously varying schedules with totally inconsistent amounts and times for hours, so they weren’t generally compatible with having, or being, a second job. “Hey, Emily!” I said. “How’s life been treating you?”

“Oh, hey, Brad. You’re looking pretty stressed. They giving you a hard time at work?”

“Oh, no, no, I’m just stressed because I had to come to this place,” I said. “Six cashiers at the Allfood, and none of them willing to ring up a simple purchase of ham, milk and bread.”

“Don’t I know it,” Emily said. “The other day I was in Curtains and More with my son, just trying to get him some new bedsheets, and they practically threw me out of the store because I wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. I told them I don’t wear it because my circulation’s not great and my fingers swell up, but they didn’t believe me. I had to show them my wedding picture in my wallet before I could buy a damned thing, because they thought I was an unwed mother, and that’s sinful. Do you know every single employee in that place is a pregnant woman?”

“What, do they fire them if they’re not pregnant?”

“The owner’s into some odd Christian sect where you’re supposed to have as many babies for the Lord as possible. So I guess they’re not always pregnant, but they’re always either pregnant, on maternity leave, or they’ve got a little baby. It’s crazy.”

Her story reminded me that I needed to get cups for my coffee machine, and that as far as I knew coffee wasn’t against anyone’s religion. Maybe I’d drop by Curtains and More myself. I was a single guy without any kids, so I figured I wouldn’t run into the problems Emily had. “Are they one of those places where you have to be Christian to get in?”

“Oh, no, no. That’s what tripped me up; I was completely not expecting to run into an issue like that. They looked secular.”

“So why’re you working here at Rand Mart anyway? Still doing the daycare thing?”

She shook her head sadly. “No… I couldn’t keep it going. I hired a couple of extra workers, trying to expand – you know, the state’s very strict about how many children you can have per working adult. Well, it turned out that one of them had a strong Christian belief in ‘spare the rod, spoil the child.’ Apparently it’s a central tenet of her religion that you have to beat kids.”

“Oh my god. Really?”

“Yup. Obviously I couldn’t let her anywhere near the kids – she made it clear that if she saw them engaging in bad behavior, she had to follow her moral beliefs on how to ‘train them up’, rather than my instructions. Well, I could have lost my license for allowing any corporal punishment at all on my premises, so I couldn’t let her anywhere near the kids, but I couldn’t fire her, because Conscience Clause. So I had her running errands, but what I really had needed was someone to watch kids. Without being able to take on the extra kids that her watching them would have allowed me to take, I couldn’t afford her salary.”

I shook my head. “Unreal.”

“I managed to eventually fire her for taking too long to run her errands, but I had to document it for months so she couldn’t claim it was an illegal termination on religious grounds. By then it was too late – I was too far into the red to recover. I had to declare bankruptcy. I couldn’t get hired back into IT management because I guess making a sudden shift into running a day care made me look flaky? Or out of touch, anyway. So, you know, I’m still looking, but I’ve got to pay the bills, so…” She shrugged. “Here I am.”

“That sucks. I’ll check the internal postings, see if there are any openings at the company. I’m sure they’d love to have you back.”

“That’d be great,” she said. “But listen, I gotta finish this and clock my task completion time so they don’t dock me for excessive inefficiency.”

“Oh, yeah, I understand. I gotta find my groceries, myself. See you around!”

“Sure, see you,” she said, and went back to unpacking yogurts, this time pulling them out of the box in stacks of three and shoving them onto the shelf as fast as she could go.

Once I had my groceries and I was checking out, I ran into my old friend Ryan, who was working the cash register. “Ryan! You’re working at Rand Mart too?”

“Sad but true,” he said.

“Thought you were working at that hipster coffee place.”

“Went out of business last month,” Ryan said regretfully. “We hired this one guy who would not stop aggressively proselytizing to the customers, and people just felt really uncomfortable ordering coffee from someone who kept insisting that they embrace the Lord. The owner tried to keep him in the back, but you know, small coffee joint. There’s not much to do that isn’t in the front, customer facing… he’d do unloading and garbage runs but the rest of the time there was nothing for him to do but work out front.”

“Yeah, I just heard about my old manager’s day care folding because she hired the wrong person.”

“It’s bad, all right,” Ryan said. “The small businesses can’t take it, and even the bigger ones are starting to feel it. That’ll be $15.99.”

For a pound of deli ham, a loaf of bread, and a gallon of milk? I goggled at the receipt, glad I hadn’t tried to get the coffee single-serving cups here. Well, Rand Mart never pretended to have the lowest prices on groceries; they’ll just sell you anything you want without a hassle, and that’s enough of a draw that they can charge out the wazoo. That and all the cheap impulse buy stuff creating the illusion that the store’s prices were overall low. “You guys are definitely cleaning up on it though,” I said as I swiped my credit card.

Ryan snorted. “I’m out of here first chance I get. There’s a new burger joint down the road, Charley’s. I put in an application there and we’ll see where it goes.”

“Is that one of those places where you have to wear flair?”

“Naah, flair is corporate now. They do have all the kitschy plastic toys all over the ceiling though.”

“I’ll have to check them out.” Maybe today. A burger sounded good. I was getting kind of hungry.

As I walked out of Rand Mart, I swore to myself that this time, this time, I wasn’t coming back.

***

Charley’s was a low-key kind of place, dark wooden beams and light brown wallpaper showing great sports stars from the entire 20th and 21st centuries, despite which it was actually not a sports bar. It was rare to find a burger joint that was neither excessively corporate, nor did it have 25 television screens showing different subchannels of ESPN. Their menu said they were all about the social experience, implying to me that one lone dude like me was probably not their target customer. On the other hand I’ll do a lot to avoid the black attention sucking hole that is large television screens with no sound. I’m not into sports nearly enough to want to see Ukrainian men’s field hockey or whatever ridiculous crap they show on ESPN17, and especially not enough to want to see it with the sound off and no captions.

I was pleasantly surprised by how fast my server collected my drink order and came back with my Coke. She was a cute brunette with curly hair. “I’d like to get a Works Cheeseburger, hold the spinach,” I said.

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, sir, I can’t do that.”

I blinked at her. “Are you out? I don’t have to have all the toppings—“

“No, I mean, a cheeseburger isn’t kosher, so I can’t put that order in for you. Sorry.”

Oh, not this again. “Come on. You’re working on Saturday. You can put in a cheeseburger order.”

“No, I really can’t. I have to work on Saturday because I need the hours, but I do keep kosher.”

I sighed. “Can you get me a different server, then? I came here to get a cheeseburger.”

“I could get you a cheese veggieburger… the tofu ones taste really authentic.”

“No. I want a cheeseburger. Made of beef, and cheese. Are there any other servers who’ll take my order?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t refer you to any of my colleagues,” she said. “If it was just a matter of you preferring a different server, that’d be one thing, but I can’t get a different server for you when I know that I’m enabling you to get a cheeseburger.”

“Okay, I’m not going to order a cheeseburger, but I don’t like you and your sanctimonious attitude, so just go get me a different server because I don’t like you.”

“No, sir, I know you’re lying and you really are going to order a cheeseburger if I do that.”

I glared at her. “Look, I know enough about Judaism to know that you don’t need to enforce the kosher laws on non-Jews, so what justification do you have for not letting me order a cheeseburger? Don’t the kosher laws just apply to Jews?”

“Yes, but I can tell you’re actually Jewish.”

I blinked. “No, I’m not.”

“Well, of course you’d say that, sir, since you don’t keep kosher and you don’t keep the Sabbath, but I know a Jewish man when I see one.”

I had a roommate who was Jewish once, and that was the full extent of my connection to Judaism. “Look, I’m not. Really. I’m allowed to eat a cheeseburger.”

“I sincerely believe that you probably are, and you’re lying to me because you want a cheeseburger.”

So I gave her two bucks for the Coke, which was $1.99, and told her to keep the change. If she was hungry enough to take Saturday hours despite being dedicated enough to her faith to enforce kosher on non-Jewish customers, maybe a spate of 1 cent tips would persuade her to let customers order a cheeseburger in a goddamn burger joint. Or maybe they’d cause her to quit. What the heck was someone with a religious objection to cheeseburgers doing working in a burger joint anyway? I bet she wouldn’t have let me get a bacon burger either.

To be honest, I was pretty sure she was enforcing kosher laws on a non-Jew because she could. Used to be that every store treated its employees more or less the same way Rand Mart does. Long hours, low wages, and if you didn’t take the customer’s abuse with a big smile, you could lose your job, no matter how unreasonable the demands. Nowadays, the hours were longer and the wages were lower – businesses couldn’t stay in business with all the deadweight they were forced to carry if they didn’t exploit the hell out of their workers – but employees could get away with nearly anything if they expressed a heartfelt belief. In fact, I’d read an advice article online that suggested that as soon as you got a job in retail, you should come up with some religious reason to deny a customer something, because then if they tried to fire you for anything else, you could sue them on the grounds that it was retaliation against you exercising your First Amendment rights.

Dammit, I was really, really not in the mood for McDonalds’ or something. The last time I’d tried to go through a drive-thru, I’d found out that the fry cook on shift that day disapproved of the high carbon footprint left by cars, and was refusing to allow any of the fries to go out via the drive-thru. Plus, I’d really wanted a good burger. Rand-Mart had one of those snack bars that they have at places like Target, but I was pretty sure their burgers were at best a single step in quality above McDonald’s, if not the same or worse.

I decided to go to Anomie. Their food wasn’t the best, but the good thing was, you put in your order through an electronic kiosk, swiped your card, and people you never saw in the back, who never saw you, would take whatever orders they felt they could morally accept. Then the food would be slid to you through a numbered slot, kind of like the idea behind the old Automat. You never had to see a single person that worked there.

***

After a mediocre cheeseburger I managed to obtain without interacting with a single human being, I felt somewhat up to going and getting my coffee. It’d be cheapest at the grocery store, but I wasn’t going to go back there if I could help it – even though I was pretty sure none of the cashiers I’d run into would actually prevent me from getting coffee, except maybe the Sprite Is Poison lady, I still didn’t feel like paying any of those people’s wages. So I decided to try Curtains and More. If they weren’t the kind of store that would try to check my religion before letting me in, what was the worst that could happen?

Ten minutes later I was standing in front of a security guard who was saying “I’m sorry, sir,” while blocking my entrance to the store. “You can’t go in there.”

I stared at him. “Why not?”

“Well, you’re a man, sir. Men aren’t allowed in Curtains and More.”

“…My friend just was here and she never told me men aren’t allowed. She brought in her son.”

“Boys under the age of 10 are allowed, but men aren’t. Our corporate policy at Curtains and More is that men and women shouldn’t mingle socially, so they shouldn’t shop at the same stores.”

“So is there another curtains store that just sells to men?”

“I wouldn’t know, sir. I don’t make the rule.”

“But you’re a man.”

“Yeah, I have to stand out here all day. I’m not actually allowed in the building.”

“So how do you punch your time card?”

“There’s an app for that. I have to do it with my cell phone.” He sighed. “Kind of dumb, if you ask me, but what’re you going to do?”

“Shop somewhere else, I guess.” I shook my head. “I thought these folks were Christians.”

“They are, but they’re some weird sect that thinks men and women shouldn’t see each other unless they’re family.”

“And that women should be pregnant all the time?”

“Didn’t know that, but I’ve seen employees go in through the side door, and yeah, most of them are pregnant. Is that why?”

“That’s what I heard,” I said glumly. “Why do they let women in and not men, I wonder? Most of these kinds of places discriminate against women, not men.”

“I don’t know, but I don’t have to turn too many guys away. I guess men don’t shop for curtains as much.”

“Guess not.” It was as good an explanation as any. “I’m gonna have to go back to Rand Mart, aren’t I?”

“I hear they’ve got a pretty good selection,” the security guard said.

***

I figured I’d probably end up back at Rand Mart, but I had to at least try to avoid it, so I tried a few other coffee places; most coffee places sell pods for coffee machines, after all.

I tried Starbucks, and walked right back out as I heard the cashier refusing to serve unbelievers. I didn’t even know what they were unbelieving in, and I didn’t care. The Dunkin Donuts was run by someone who professed a sincere and heartfelt belief that children should work in the family business, and I didn’t want to be served by an eight-year-old again. There was a hipster coffee joint, but they wouldn’t let me in because my belt looked like it might be made of real leather, and they believed strongly in veganism. I considered leaving my belt in the car, but then my pants might fall down in the coffee shop, and I wasn’t risking that. Besides, people like that might give me some song and dance about single-serve coffee pods being terrible for the environment, or something.

And that was how I found myself going back to Rand Mart, about an hour after declaring I was never going back again.

I passed a group of employees on smoke break on my way in. They were holding “HOMELESS AND HUNGRY – PLEASE HELP” signs. I gave one of them a five. For all I knew my friends might be there next month.

Then I dodged around an excessively aggressive cart return guy pushing a conga line of wheeled death, and slipped into the store. I was beginning to come to the conclusion that no matter how many times I vowed I’d never come back here, I’d never be able to keep that promise.

[rokutouxei]

the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

ikemen vampire: temptation through the dark theo van gogh / mc | T | [ ao3 link in bio ]

The challenge seemed pretty simple: to try to befriend the university bookshop’s most sour employee, Theo van Gogh. As a literature major with a boatload of book recommendations on her back, it ought to be a simple task indeed. But as she uncovers what lies between Theo’s pages, the more she finds it harder to become closer to him without having to put the feeling directly into words. What can she learn from Theo about what it means to stay—and how can she teach Theo about what it means to let go? | written for ikevamp big bang 2020!

[ masterpost for all chapters ]

CHAPTER 8 OF 22

And how impossible it still is: to train the heart to sit. - "The Kindest Thing She Almost Did", Blythe Baird

--

The College of Arts’ student council has rotating schedules on who gets to organize the university-famous Halloween party. This year, it was the Literature Department and the Film Department that paired up to choose a theme, decorate, and make sure the party is getting smoothly—and the very specific, not-required but entirely funny, theme this year was “Film or Book that you’d love to be turned spooky, but isn’t exactly spooky.”

This is why she thought of coming in as characters from the Night Circus. The black and white stripes matched with red really gives off a very Halloween vibe to begin with, but all the circus-y magic that goes on in the book itself also makes it very viable for the spooky vibes.

She’s now standing in front of the College of Arts’ event hall, where the event is set to happen. She tugs at the locks of hair dangling at the side of her face, the ones she couldn't get to obey her planned updo, even with all the bobby pins.

There's something about scavenging a costume on your own that is so nerve-wracking. There's something more when you're portraying a character from a book someone introduced to you. It feels like it's a duty to get it right. She couldn’t find any entirely matching dresses in the thrift stores she went to, so this was the best she could do: some sort of modern but 1890s-inspired fortune teller mash-up of a costume. The dress was fashioned out of this dizzying deep blue-black velvet fabric, with little speckles of silver glitter like stars across it; she wore a striped black and white petticoat underneath it to give it some volume since the dress ended around the knees. She’d re-sewn the sleeves and the neckline to be similar to that of the era, revealing a nice V along her back and a nice, wide boat collar. Then, she’s put on a small, decorative hat with some red flowers on the corner of her head, and then draped a sheer black scarf with little rosy red designs on the ends over her shoulders. Then she put on some knee-high lace-up boots to add a little grunge to the entire attire. Lastly, she had a few Rider-Waite tarot cards in her pocket (The Chariot and Temperance) just for the vibe of it.

(All this costume preparation was really to wind herself down after submitting her initial requirements to the scholarship selection committee earlier that week.)

Just as she begins to spiral in her thoughts, “Sorry I’m late,” she hears Theo’s familiar voice call out, and she looks up from staring at her shoes and gasps out loud.

Theo’s wearing his hair a little curlier than usual, a lightly-tinted pair of green contacts on his eyes and—as he’s promised—a well-tailored suit, in black and white and red, to suit the general aesthetic of the circus itself. She figured he would come in a suit, but—she wasn’t expecting him to take the extra effort with the hair and the eyes, either. She could even see the little silhouette of a journal peeking from underneath his jacket—he’s obviously prepared even to the smallest details! Maybe, maybe he does look like the Marco in her head. Just a little. Maybe if his hair was darker. She finds herself staring at him for a ridiculous amount of time, so much so that he has to cough to get her attention again.

"The green eyes look lovely on you," she comments softly, hand curling up to gently press his finger at his cheekbone near instinctively, allowing her to observe his eyes better. Theo feels himself flinch in surprise, but he does not pull back.

"Thank you, grey-green was a very specific color."

She nods. "I do prefer your usual blue though." Her hand falls back to her side. "Too bad I can't magic it back?"

"You see it blue all the time. Stop complaining when this was your idea," Theo says, but he offers his arm anyway.

"So sour," she pouts. "How unbecoming of you, Mister Alisdair," she says, as she slides her arm into his.

Theo only snorts; he does not hide the half-smirk. "Only to match you, Miss Martin."

--

The event hall is lavishly decorated in some sort of spooky, old vampire mansion vibes, with all the matching spiders and fake candles. It is a little silly to see the DJ on the far end of the hall, with his set-up on top of what seemed like a desk older from three centuries ago. The caterers set up the food on a buffet table—also beautifully decorated, how many fine arts majors did the production team get to bully into helping them out?—to get it ready before dinner at six.

But the bar—the bar is open.

“Do you drink?” she asks casually, already one foot towards the bar.

He takes a nervous gulp she pretends not to notice. “Not a lot,” he answers.

“Then a glass will be alright. I told Arthur we’d meet at the bar. Come on!”

Because her college stupidly attempts to seem puritan, official drink menus are not allowed to actually say out loud that they contain hard liquor, so instead have really creative names. This time, they are references to different, random books and films, with fine-print descriptions of what it is. She orders a glass of Pride and Prejudice and Theo gets a serving of Kafka on the Shore. Both of them had just received their drinks when her phone begins to ring, and with a short excuse me she heads to a quieter part of the room and answers the call.

“Dazai?”

“Hello, Toshiko-san. I’m waiting outside the hall, but you’ve entirely forgotten that I haven’t actually met who I’m bringing in.”

Oh! “Well, I told him to wait on a stone bench there… Dark blue-ish hair, blue eyes, a mole on the side of his lip? He responds to ‘Arthur’.”

“‘Responds?’ Are your bookstore friends all a bunch of dogs?”

“Well, this drools at the sight of meat,” you say, unapologetically. “I didn’t see him there yet when I was still out, but—”

She hears a shuffle from the other side of the line, and Arthur’s familiar voice through the phone, a small “Hello, could you be Dazai?” and her friend’s very, very meaningful pause—she can almost see Dazai looking Arthur up and down—before he answers, “Yes, and you must be Arthur.”

The phone call ends and she grins for only a half a moment before realizing what she’d done.

She walks ever so slowly back to the bar, letting it sink in. But once she’s got her glass in her hand, she downs it in one go, surprising both the bartender and Theo. She shakes her head and then sits back down on the stool, half-laughing.

“Something happen?” Theo asks.

She groans. “I may have made a mistake with Arthur.”

Theo takes a sip of his drink, just the littlest bit smug. “Everything is a mistake if Arthur is involved.”

“I didn’t think he’d—”

“Hello, lovebirds,” says the devil, Arthur coming up behind them with—

With Dazai glued to his hip.

She’s known Dazai for a few years at this point, and because they’ve known each other for so long, there are little things she knows Dazai does that may not seem obvious to the onlooker.

First: Dazai is not fond of touching, but he is rather great at tolerating it. It usually takes a few months before Dazai is fine with being touched by someone. Even she took around half a year before Dazai would allow her to hug him freely. When he’s being touched by someone he does not particularly like, he clenches his hands and fits them into his pockets, so it’s not as noticeable.

Observer’s note: Arthur’s got his hand around Dazai’s waist. Dazai’s hands are wide open, resting at his hip.

Second: Dazai is also good at having his practiced smile. He says he practices it in the mirror, did it every day for a year until it became natural to him; it looks genuine and otherwise believable, that is, if you haven’t seen his actual smile. And even if you have, sometimes it’s still hard to tell. His actual, genuine smile, that goes up to his eyes, crinkling the sides of it, and he flushes sometimes too; it’s so wide it reveals the little dimple on his cheek.

Observer’s note: Dazai’s dimple is very, very visible right now.

Third: Dazai has this thing where the longer he considers a person, the less he becomes attracted to them, for some reason, even if the extended thinking time only makes him feel like they’re a better match by the second. Dazai is only genuinely, passionately, instantly attracted to people he knows will pose him some sort of danger and excitement.

Observer’s note: Dazai met Arthur today.

She bites back the groan that’s bubbling out her throat and grins. “Hello, Arthur, Dazai. Having fun?”

“Where’d you been hiding this cutie all this time?” Arthur teases, squeezing Dazai closer to him. “Much fun now that he’s here. I see you’ve started drinking ahead of us.”

“Just a little,” she says. “Shall we find a table?”

The four of them choose a table in the middle of the chaos—Arthur’s suggestion—somewhere midway the bar and buffet. The tables are for six, and the number makes her remember.

“I couldn’t get Isaac to come.”

Dazai shakes his head. “I told you he said he wasn’t interested. Must be working overtime like he usually does.” He nods towards her direction. “Good attempt, though.”

She frowns. “He should really let loose sometimes… I know he’s good at what he does, but a little, one-night-a-year party isn’t going to hurt him is it?”

“Ohoho, what’s this, have another cute friend I have to know?” Arthur interrupts.

Dazai taps Arthur’s nose gently and she wants to vomit. What has she done. “Isaac Newton, a Ph.D. student from the physics department. Too serious for his own good.”

Surprise fills Arthur’s face. “My, isn’t that Newt? Teaches classes sometimes?” She and Dazai nod. “Small world!”

“Next year we’re really finding a way to drag him in,” she says.

To which Dazai laughs, “you won’t be here next year, Toshiko-san.”

There’s a small sliver of silence that settles in between them, just long enough to be felt but not for the conversation to come to an abrupt halt. It makes Theo flinch a little.

“Then it’s up to you guys, isn’t it?” she takes her second glass of literary cocktail—she doesn’t even know what’s in this one, just pointed at the menu, it was titled Wolf Totem—and downs half of it in one go.

“Maybe if a girl came around to bring him, he’d be more persuadable,” Arthur teases, “Look at my chap Theo over here.”

“So you’re Theo, huh?” Dazai purrs. She throws a glare at him that goes ignored. “Nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Theo only nods as a response and she takes the chance to get the conversation back in a direction that makes her a little safer from their teasing. “But no, really, Isaac? Coming for a girl? You don’t know him at all, Arthur.”

“Oh, even the toughest guys fall back to romance, don’t they, Theo?”

Theo throws a glare towards Arthur; it is shrugged off as the newly-formed suddenly-a-couple laughs in unison.

--

Despite the ruckus, the four of them still have some good fun at the party. Arthur Arthur’s non-stop insisting that they play the party games has them rewarded with many things: a stupid award here or there, minuscule amounts of cash that could be used in the future for dine-outs, and even a nice bottle of high-end “water”—it was definitely vodka, the organizers just couldn’t announce it out loud. She and Dazai had to stand up a couple of times to go meet their college-mates in their department, but the four of them stayed mostly together until past dinner—that is until the dance music started to rev up, getting ready for the long night ahead.

“Excuse the two of us, we’re going to do some actual dancing, like people do at parties to have fun,” Arthur says, but his face is already littered in glitter from the poppers and his face is dusted pink from all the alcohol. Obviously, dancing isn’t required to have fun at all. Taking Dazai’s hand like a gentleman, sliding his arm around the other man’s waist, Arthur makes a comical bow to which she makes a face. The two disappear into the crowd of people dancing on the dance floor, and the sight of them so obsessed with each other makes her lean back on her chair to take a sip on her—fifth? Sixth? Ah, who is counting?—nth glass of alcohol.

Wary of being the killjoy, Theo gently asks, “Don’t you want to dance?”

“I mean… you don’t want to, do you?” she asks, facing him properly, glass still in hand. “I just felt like it’d be great to hang out with you here and if you’re not up for dancing…”

“If you want to we should go.”

“I’m not going if you’re forcing yourself to.”

“No, I’m not, so—”

“Theo, sit down!” she says, laughing. The alcohol’s given her skin a beautiful pink flush, and her smiles have turned wider, more relaxed. “It’s okay, I promise. Just sit here and drink your—drink. It’s just nice to have company.”

He nods as she turns back to watching the crowd. A smile still settles on her face as she watches the mass of people dancing and shouting to the music. Theo asks, “Do you always go here with someone?”

She shrugs, taking another sip from her glass. “I came alone the first time, and then the next I went with Dazai. He’s pretty popular—when he’s alone, without anyone slung on him, you know? Lots of people dance with him.”

“And you?”

“Me?” she asks, forehead wrinkling. “I’m normal. I sit and drink until my liver begs me to stop. And then dance until my legs beg me to stop when I’m drunk enough.”

He scoffs, but only in that friendly way of defeated acceptance. “Sounds like fun.”

“So much more fun with you around though,” she asserts, tilting her glass to him. “Cheers?”

“For what?”

And she’s quiet for a moment, before she raises her glass again, saying, “To friendship and literature, of course.”

Theo thinks that’s good enough. They clink their glasses gently and then drink.

For the slightest of moments, Theo considers asking the one question that had been on his mind since she invited him to the party. Preparing the clothes to wear to the event only made his curiosity even stronger, but at the same time, he didn’t feel like he had the right to ask. Theo feels content sitting in his uncertainty, the mystery of it hanging in the air.

But the alcohol has made him a little more courageous.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot!”

“Why didn’t you go as Celia?”

It’s common for a pair of people to attend a costume party in matching outfits with characters that are paired as well. Celia is Marco’s natural pair in the book. Isobel is not. Why didn’t she go as Celia? Theo would not have minded if she did. Celia was fiery and romantic and could see through Marco’s every disguise.

And Isobel longed and longed and never got what she wanted.

“I kind of felt for Isobel, you know?” she answers, in that hesitant way that makes the asker wonder if it’s because of the embarrassment or because of the half-lie. “She was running away, after all. Didn’t you say that was what I was so fixated on?”

And Isobel is only the circus because she was the way for Marco to get to who he loved. Even before he knew who he loved.

“Wouldn’t have expected that from you,” Theo remarks, taking out his little Marco-journal to dust it away idly. “You seem like the type who always feels extensively for the protagonists.”

It takes a moment for the words to sink in, but then, suddenly, her eyes widen brightly. She puts down her glass and quickly swipes the journal Theo kept with him before pulling him up by the wrist. “C’mon, let’s do the photo booth?”

“What?” Theo staggers up. Why so suddenly? “Who’ll watch over the table?”

She places her little hat on the table. “That’ll save it, let’s go.”

Theo can feel his pulse thrumming under his wrist where she’s holding on to him. Theo does not have the will to argue as she drags him to the makeshift studio on the far end of the hall. Instead, he focuses on her—the way her hair’s held up in an intricate braided bun on her head, the fall of her dress over her shoulders, the feeling of his hand around his arm.

She’s such a weird girl, he thinks.

When they get to the end of the line—a short one, bless the universe—she takes out the two tarot cards in her pocket and hands them to him.

“Switch props for the photo,” she explains.

When they get to the photo booth, they opt for two photos; one for her to keep, and another for Theo. They don't even bother with the poses, both half-drunk, holding up their character props as the cameraman fixes the shot. She settles, standing by his side, arms twined, head leaning toward him as the camera flashes once. And Theo can’t help himself when he turns to face her because of that, and before he knows it—the camera flashes once more.

She’s too far into her drinks to have time to think why Theo’s so concerned about seeing the photos first and choosing which one he wants to keep for himself.

--

 It is just a little past midnight when she, Theo, Arthur, and Dazai hop out of the hall. She insisted that it would be better to wait until the end of the night before leaving—making most of the ticket, or something—and the most that they had gotten out of that was a free coupon to a fast-food chain.

That, and this:

She’s half-slung over Theo when she yells at Arthur and Dazai, who are very obviously becoming a little too comfortable with each other, handsy as they huddle together. She shouts: “Jesus, guys, get off each other!”

“Hmm? Right now? Sure, we’d love to, if you don’t mind—”

“NO! NO NOT LIKE THAT!” she yells, pushing away from Theo to nudge Arthur away from Dazai. The new lovebirds just laugh mildly at each other as she huffs and frowns, falling back into step next to Theo. “Oh god, I’ve made the worst mistake of my life.”

“Best mistake of my life,” Dazai says with a slurred laugh, leaning against Arthur. She makes a gagging motion, to which Theo snorts.

Relative to everyone else’s lodging in the university, the van Goghs’ apartment is the one closest to the hall, so the four of them make their way to it, drunk feet stumbling on uneven pavements all the way there. Arthur and Dazai are walking ahead of them—Theo doesn’t know how Arthur knows where he lives, not when he’s never brought him there; that’s a question for a more sober time—and she and Theo walk side-by-side a few feet behind.

She’s not entirely drunk, no, but she’s a little closer to drunk than tipsy, and it shows when she speaks. “Did you have fun today, Theo?” she asks, ignoring the little misstep her conversation has cost her.

Theo has his hands in his pockets, but they’re only seconds away from grabbing her by the arm to steady her. Any minute now. “It was okay.”

She grins. “Great! That’s all I want.” She looks back up in front of them, and Arthur throws one glance upon hearing their conversation, but then quickly looks away. “It’s kinda, uuuuh,” she squints, the words lost. “Different, to hang out with you with ‘thur and ‘zai around.”

See, this is exactly why Theo capped himself off at three drinks. Look—he’s long accepted his less than average tolerance, but to have to babysit a group of drunk college kids… “Bad different?”

“Nuh-uh,” she says. “Jus’ different. Used to only us. ‘t’s nice being alone with ya.”

I don’t want to take care of a drunk you on my own, she hears in her head, and she isn’t quite sure if Theo had actually said it or if it was just a figment of her imagination.

Soon enough, the four of them stumble onto the van Gogh’s front porch, Theo just not-drunk enough to get the key in through the hole. With a click, the four of them are greeted by the bright light of the living room. Arthur must have been the one that hissed. They stagger in, Dazai slamming onto the sofa, Arthur right after him, and she, heading to the refrigerator for some water.

Theo disappears for a moment to check on Vincent in the studio and to tell him that he’s brought his unfortunate group of friends to sober up, and it’s a good thing the drunkards aren’t around with him because the brightness of Vincent’s smile would have knocked them right out.

“I’ll go take a shower,” Theo announces to no one in particular, shouting down the hall as he disappears into his shared bedroom with Vincent. She tries not to think of what that would look like, blaming her wandering thoughts on the alcohol. She’s about on her second glass of water when she spots Vincent headed to the kitchen.

She beams. “Vin-ny~” she reaches out to him and Vincent catches her before she falls.

“Did you have fun at the party?” Vincent asks, half-laughing, as he helps her to sit on the counter—which was what she was trying to do. “How much did you drink?”

She raises her hands up to her face and tries to count, fully knowing she stopped counting after the second glass. “Enough to make me happy,” she answers instead, smiling dumbly at the older van Gogh. “Theo was so grumpy.”

“He was so excited to go, though,” Vincent says, standing next to her. Of course he has no qualms ratting on his younger brother like that. “You should have seen him, preparing for his costume. Did he look just as you imagined?”

“…And better,” she admits, before taking a sip of the water again to sober up a little more. The ice in the glass is helping her brain to chill. “I’m not sure if he had fun, though. I feel kind of bad.”

Vincent hums. “He looks like he had fun. He wouldn’t have brought you guys here otherwise.”

“You think so?” she asks, eyes wide. The blond man laughs.

“I know so.”

By the time Theo comes out of the shower, he’s a little more dressed down, in jeans and a button-up shirt. He looks at Arthur and Dazai, both already long out like a light on the couch, and sighs.

“I suppose you’re sleeping here too,” he asks, looking toward her. She shoots him an awkward grin.

“She can sleep on my bed,” Vincent offers, but Theo shakes his head.

“She can sleep on mine. You sleep on your bed tonight, Vincent. I can sleep in the studio. I’ll just pass by the drugstore a few blocks down for some…” he frowns at Arthur and Dazai, “…Ibuprofen, for tomorrow.”

“Take care on your way out,” Vincent answers, taking a scan at Theo up and down to see if he’s sober enough to go out. Theo really didn’t drink a lot—purposefully, he knew this was going to happen—so he’s standing pretty straight. He nods and makes his way out, the door closing with a gentle click.

After that, she slouches next to Vincent, like she was just holding herself up to seem a little put together for Theo. Vincent pats her on the head gently, like a little child.

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

She sniffles a little, looking down at her shoes. “I was just thinking h’much I’ll miss this.”

“Are you going away?”

“Maybe,” she says, idly. “I want to. Don’t want to. Want to.”

Vincent smiles, the kind of disappointed-but-not-surprised, non-judgmental, gentle smile of an older brother one would give to a younger sibling. Carefully, he hooks her arm around his shoulders, saying, “C’mon, let’s get you to bed,” as he leads her to his shared room with Theo. She is pliant in his arms, legs wobbling but still planted with a balance onto the floor.

The costume she’s in doesn’t look entirely too comfortable to sleep in, so he offers her a loose shirt and some sweatpants to change into. It takes her two minutes too long to fumble into them, but right before he begins to get worried that she’s gotten stuck in the fabric, she knocks at the door to tell Vincent she’s done. He walks in with a glass of water.

“One last before you sleep,” he says, assisting her in drinking. “I hope you don’t have a headache tomorrow.”

But she’s intoxicated, and her brain doesn’t follow along with Vincent, so as she’s drinking the water her eyes are wandering the walls, where various canvases are hung. All of them are Vincent’s, and most of them are unframed, and perhaps have never been seen by anyone besides Vincent and Theo. Once the glass is empty, she turns to Vincent with a glazed look in her eye.

“Do you think there’s going to be something greater for us outside of this place?”

He blinks, taken off guard. She has officially transitioned from clingy, whiny drunk, to having an existential crisis, philosophical drunk. He only laughs lightly, placing the glass on the bedside table as he coaxes her into bed, tucking her under the blanket.

“I sure do hope so.”

[ariannjs]

AUNTIES OF KONOHA | A SasuSaku FanFic (One Shot)

This was a sudden idea but it was fun to write! The idea entered my mind when I saw a tweet by one of my friends in the SS fam wherein her mom and tita (aunt) stalked her crush. Haha. And then poof, I suddenly thought of incorporating the “Titas of Manila” vibe in it! 

If you’re a Filipino and you consider yourself a “tita” regardless of your age, I hope you enjoy this!

Cla, thanks to you, this was born! This one’s for you! I hope this fic would make you smile! Stay happy!

Disclaimer: I don’t own Naruto, nor any product, franchise, or establishment mentioned in this fic.

————

“Hi, Mars!” A high-pitched voice called the attention of Mikoto Uchiha while she was seated at one of the aesthetic tables of Cafe Mary Grace.

“Mare! You’re here!” Quite surprised, she stood up and leaned closer to her new companion to give her a beso on the cheek. “Kushina told me you might not be able to come, so I thought it’s going to be just the two of us.”

Mebuki Haruno slightly chuckled as they both sat down. It was also a surprise to her that she was able to attend their monthly hangout. Originally, she had somewhere else to go to, but she didn’t want to miss out on the updates with her amigas’ lives so she had to find a way to be able to meet with them. “Well, Sakura doesn’t have any classes so she took over all of my tasks for Sunlife today. Anyway, how are you?”

“Well, actually…” Mikoto suddenly picked up her Longchamp from the chair beside her and started rummaging its pockets. 

“What are you looking for?”

“My White Flower.” She sighed. “Actually, I was having some sort of a migraine this morning and it’s quite hitting me again now. Wait, where is it…”

Rolling her eyes, the caramel-haired woman clicked her small pouch open and gave Mikoto what she was looking for. “Here. And I thought Kushina was the forgetful one.”

“Oh, thank you!” Mikoto chuckled bashfully. “You’re still always the girl scout! I think I forgot mine somewhere at home since I used it right after I woke up too.” Opening the lid of the tiny bottle, she placed a finger on its mouth and waited until the liquid that could somehow miraculously heal all kinds of aches dampened the tip of her finger. She applied it on her temples and repeated the process until she felt the soothing sensation that she needed. “Tch. How I wish these headaches would stay away from me, but it’s returning every now and then.”

“Is that a sign that even at eighteen, Sasuke could still be a kuya?”

A subtle gasp escaped Mikoto’s lips as her gaze landed on Mebuki. And with the way the other woman wiggled her eyebrows at her, she couldn’t help but blush. “N-no, that’s not the case!” She cleared her throat and straightened herself on her seat. “Not at all. We don’t need more babies at home, Mare. Besides, I already have lots of baby succulents in my garden.”

Mebuki chuckled at how her friend struggled to keep her composure. “But 43 is not that bad, Mars. I’ve heard it’s still okay being pregnant at our age!”

“I don’t think Sasuke would appreciate having a sibling that is enough to be his own child.”

“Oh well, that could probably make your son more soft, you know? He’s so much like Fugaku! Imagine him taking care of an infant. I bet he needs that. Like a practice!”

Her laughter only received an eye roll from Mikoto. And if Mikoto hadn’t seen another familiar woman by the restaurant’s door, she was sure she’d have to endure Mebuki’s insistence on the matter for a couple of minutes.

“Kumares! Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry I’m late!”

Mikoto knew the newcomer wasn’t quite sorry at all, but she only grinned due to its familiarity. “It’s fine, Mars. We haven’t ordered yet.”

Kushina Uzumaki rounded the table and gave the two a beso before placing her grocery bags on the same chair where Mikoto’s bag was. “That’s great! Oh well. I wasn’t able to stop myself from dropping by at Watsons after I bought some groceries!”

“Who would be able to resist the temptation of Watsons? I could relate to you! I’m sure Mikoto could, too. Did you buy anything?”

“I wasn’t intending on buying anything, really.” The redhead chuckled. “But then I saw a new shade of this famous supermatte lipstick and I knew I needed to have one while it’s on sale!” She opened a small paper bag to reveal its content. Quickly removing the cap of the cosmetic, she twisted its body and showed the lipstick to her friends. “It’s gorgeous, dattebane!”

“Wow, that’s good for you! I’m kind of becoming lazy in shopping at malls recently. I often just hoard some stuff on Shopee and Lazada or ask Sakura to do the shopping for me. Besides, that’s kind of her thing nowadays too.”

Mikoto groaned slightly. “The joy of having a daughter.”

Mebuki chuckled. “Oh yeah, I remember you’ve always imagined that Sasuke would be a girl when you were still pregnant with him. But don’t worry, isn’t Itachi about to get married early next year? You’ll have a daughter-in-law soon!”

“You’re right.” There was a sparkle in Mikoto’s eyes upon hearing the idea. “Wow. You’re right! I didn’t realize that! Izumi’s such a sweet girl and I can’t wait for her to be officially part of the family soon!”

“My, my! I can’t believe things are going too fast! Just a little bit longer and you’re already going to be a lola, Mikoto!” Kushina’s unabashed laughter filled their side of the venue, but the redhead woman didn’t care about the heads turned towards her.

On the other hand, her statement made the Uchiha matriarch glare at her, and for a second, she somehow thought that she saw her eyes became red.

“I’m kidding, ‘ttebane! You know you’ll still be as charming as me and Mebuki regardless of our age! Anyway, why don’t we order first?”

“Good point. Cha! I’m starving. It’s almost lunch time anyway. Waiter?” Mebuki raised a hand to one of the waiters who instantly handed menus to them and asked for their orders.

Kushina was the first to respond, “I’ll get the signature ensaymada – kindly heat it, okay? – and please prepare a dozen of Cheese rolls for takeout. How about you, Mikoto?”

“Mine is...hmm, Chicken Inasal Sandwich with Tomato and Wansoy Salsa.”

“That’s all for you both? Alright, for me—wait a sec—ah, this! Dory and Saffron Cream Pasta and Mary Grace Hot Chocolate. You guys don’t want to add anything?”

Kushina shook her head, but Mikoto turned to the waiter once more. “Please add a cup of tea for me. Thank you.”

“We’re all set then!” The redhead hummed with delight once the waiter left for their orders. “So what’s up with you guys recently?”

“Nothing much, really. Same old, same old.” Mikoto huffed. “Fugaku still has lots of businesses he needed to attend to. But recently, he often brings Itachi to his trips, as training, he says. I don’t even see them much anymore until they came home last week.”

“Still the busy man, huh? Minato’s the same! I called him out about it. Just because he’s the Mayor doesn’t mean he needed to stay at his office and have overtime!”

Mikoto crossed her arms on the table, smirking in amusement that Kushina had the guts to call out her own husband. “That’s the First Lady of Konoha for you. And what did he respond to that?”

“Gladly, he’s been going home earlier lately. It makes me happy that I could prepare dinner for him again. The thing is, it’s quite difficult to tolerate him because it feels like he’s another teenager in the house!” Kushina massaged her temples as her friends snickered. “I’m not sure if he’s just messing with me or he’s trying to practice being sweet again.”

“That’s why Naruto isn’t maturing,” Mikoto quipped.

“You’re right, though. He used to tell me that Naruto got much of his traits from me, but maybe the immaturity actually came from him!”

“Oh well, what is it with our husbands and their busy lives? Kizashi opened another shop in Suna last month, so he hasn’t returned since then.”

“How fun! I mean, missing your husband sucks, but the all-girls company seems fun, ya know? With just you and Sakura at home!”

“Yeah. You and Mikoto are missing out.” The Haruno matriarch chuckled, and then he proposed, “Perhaps we could invite you both soon for dinner?” 

“Sounds good to me. Sometimes I can’t stand Sasuke’s brooding at home.”

“Count me in, too! Oh, hey! Food’s finally here.”

True enough, the waiter returned to their table with the meals they have ordered, making them pause to say a prayer and then instantly devour their food. 

“By the way, have you heard about this thing going on with Hiashi and Tsume?”

Two pairs of eyes glanced from their food to Kushina.

“You’re not talking about a romantic thing, right?” Mikoto asked.

“Actually, that’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

“That seems like a joke, however.” Mebuki laughed before wiping her lips with a table napkin. “With how reserved Hiashi is, and how...how bold Tsume is, that seems like an extreme contrast.”

“I’m still not sure if it’s true. But we all know how Hiashi lost his wife to cancer so many years ago. And how...Tsume’s husband left them because she allegedly scared him, right? They probably need some romance once again.” Kushina shrugged while slicing her ensaymada. “Oh, well. It’s kind of being passed on to their kids because Naruto complained to me days ago about how Kiba seemed to be hitting on Hinata recently.” She snickered.

“But aren’t Naruto and Hinata together now?”

Kushina nodded with glee. “Yes, Mare! I was pretty surprised my son even had the guts to ask a girl out! Especially the Hyuga!” She laughed. “But yeah. Hiashi suddenly had a soft spot for dogs, and it seems like he often brought Hinata with him whenever they dropped by at the Inuzuka’s Petshop to have their pup checked up. And as told by Naruto, Hinata often mentioned how Kiba tried to spend more time with her.”

“Jealousy, huh?” Mikoto laughed. “Ah, young love.”

“I know! Naruto was pissed! I could remember how I was a bit like that – or worse – when a few girls hit on Minato back then!”

They all laughed, remembering how all of them were present in some of those encounters wherein girls threw themselves on the town’s young-looking mayor.

“Our husbands quite have the knack to attract girls, don’t they? Good thing Fugaku’s the kind who never even glances at his fangirls. To think that he still has lots until now! I’m not sure if I’d actually be bothered by the fact that Sasuke seemed to have gotten such attitude too.”

Mebuki bit her lip to stifle a giggle, mind lost in a memory that she wasn’t sure at first if she should share with her friends. “Speaking of Sasuke, I wasn’t able to mention this earlier but…”

Mikoto turned to Mebuki at the mention of her youngest son’s name.

“Well, how do I begin...I’m a bit bothered about why my daughter wasn’t introducing any guy that wants to court her. She wasn’t even talking about any crushes ever since, like every other girl! I was quite afraid that Sakura already became a plant or something. But weeks ago, I’ve tried asking her if there’s a guy that she likes and then – poof! – she went all red!”

“I think I know where this is heading…” Kushina snickered, but Mikoto only raised an eyebrow, wondering if she wasn’t catching up on something.

“She never mentioned the name of the guy. But…” The Haruno smiled mischievously, causing her two friends to lean closer as if a top secret information was going to be revealed inside the decorated walls of Cafe Mary Grace. “She described him – weird hairstyle, dark eyes, fair skin; also...quickly annoyed, rarely talks to others but engages in conversations with her especially through chats, and the one she often tags in memes despite knowing that he wouldn’t find it so funny.”

“So you’re thinking that it’s Sasuke?” Mikoto placed a hand on her mouth, unsure about what she should feel. “But we can’t be sure on the last descriptions!”

“The thing is...I’ve stalked my daughter online.”

“Stalked.” The raven-haired woman gave her a pointed look.

“Yes.”

Kushina guffawed in her seat while waiting for the next revelations of her friend.

“You stalked your daughter, Mebuki? Don’t teenagers dislike it when we invade their personal space?” Mikoto mentioned with her fingers forming quotation marks in the air. “That’s what Sasuke usually tells me whenever I ask him who he’s always chatting with on––” And then she gasped.

Mebuki and Kushina were looking at her now, pairs of blue and green eyes shining with delight at the notion that their friend seemed to have puzzled the pieces on her own.

“Oh, goodness.” Kushina chuckled once again. “I haven’t heard anything from Naruto, to think that they’re all best friends! This is great, ‘ttebane! But you haven’t told us yet what you’ve seen when you stalked Sakura.”

Mebuki laughed before she even got to say anything, almost making a vein pop on Mikoto’s already throbbing head. Because, how could they understand the story if the teller was laughing midway? 

“Well, I didn’t see her tag Sasuke on any meme.” The caramel-haired woman restrained another cackle.

“So how were you—”

“It was actually the other way around! I don’t know how I landed on that random Facebook page but I saw a comment of Sasuke tagging Sakura on one of those doctor memes albums. And then my daughter replied with ‘HAHAHA you’re the one who’s annoying, Sasuke-kun! I won’t be like this to my patients one day!’”

Kushina and Mebuki giggled like teenagers then, leaving the Uchiha matriarch at a loss for words.

“Who would have thought, Mikoto? We might end up as co-mothers-in-law!”

“I didn’t...I didn’t expect this. I’ve always known Sasuke to be the shy one. Although he always seems aloof, he’s actually just shy. I never even realized he and Sakura have developed such close friendship...or more. I used to think that only he and Naruto are the ones who are very close in their team.”

“Well, I was surprised with Sakura too. I know she adores both her bestfriends, I just never imagined she could adore Sasuke in a different way. If anything, I’d actually be glad if my assumptions are true.” She winked at her amigas. “They basically grew up together. And Sasuke grew into a fine gentleman with great values, props to you and Fugaku.”

“Alright! We must do something about this then!”

The other moms faced the redhead, each with an eyebrow lifted inquisitively due to her sudden declaration.

“Remember when we were helping you and Fugaku pass on letters to each other in class?”

“Oh my goodness, Kushina, that was a long time ago!” A crimson stain appeared on Mikoto’s cheeks as she remembered how her two best friends and their then boyfriends (now husbands) actually contributed to the relationship between the campus heartthrob and their batch’s top student. “I don’t think we could do such a thing for Sasuke and Sakura though.”

Kushina scoffed. “Of course we wouldn’t do the exact thing! For one, you and Mebuki should allow them to go out. Like, alone.”

“Actually, I’m fine with Sakura going out. She even usually goes out for some shopping with Ino. It’s just that I have a curfew for her. Hmm...maybe I could extend that whenever she’ll be out with Sasuke.”

“The thing is, knowing my son, he wouldn’t be straightforward in asking her out even if he wanted to. He’s so subtle at everything! I think he actually needs some push.” Mikoto nodded to herself as if she already has a to-do list of her own. Her two other friends grinned at each other, noticing the determination in the Uchiha’s eyes that seemed to be filled with hesitation moments ago. “You know what? This is actually a good idea. I don’t want Sasuke to end up being alone. He’s already getting a bit lonely now that his brother is not always around. And Naruto already has a girlfriend to give much of his time to.”

“Exactly!” Kushina clapped her hands, thrilled that they were going somewhere with this SasuSaku mission of sorts. “Those are great contributions, Kumares! I guess mine would have something to do with my son. Let me see...oh! Wait a minute! What if I ask Naruto to invite Hinata, Sasuke, and Sakura for some sort of a double date? Oh my gosh! That would be so sweet, dattebane!”

The three women gazed at each other with silly grins on their faces. They only wanted to hangout and talk about life in general, what they didn’t expect was that they would end up strategizing as if they were gearing up for a school project, much like their High School days.

“Cha! It’s getting cold here.” Mebuki suddenly complained, immediately getting her small pouch that seemed to fit every possible item in it, which included a shawl that she brought out. Placing the shawl around her shoulders, she heard a familiar voice from behind her and for a second, her friends gave her meaningful looks that she didn’t quite catch at first.

For the one who had just entered Cafe Mary Grace was none other than her beautiful (and single) daughter.

“Oh, Sakura! You’re done meeting with everyone for their Sunlife insurance?”

“Yes, mom. I also picked up your box of Vitaplus goods,” the pink-haired maiden said while handing a package filled with health drinks.

“Wow. I didn’t know you’re into that.”

“Nah, Kushina, I have no time for networking, really. But I wanted to help a friend who’s into this, so I sometimes buy their big bulk. Besides, my future doctor here is kind of obsessed with these healthy stuff!”

Sakura only shrugged before greeting the other women in the room, “Hi, Tita Kushina and Tita Mikoto!” She then approached them with a beso on their cheeks. But for some reason, she was stuck in place when the Uchiha matriarch surprisingly hugged her, leaving her wide eyed.

“Great to see you, Sakura!”

She chuckled shyly as she pulled a chair from an empty table near them. “Um, thank you, tita. You too.”

“It’s so nice of you to help out your mom today, Sakura. Thanks to you, we were able to catch up with Mebuki today!” Kushina said. And then she smirked. “So how are you and Sasuke?”

Mebuki and Mikoto threw glances at each other while stifling their laughter. As always, it was Kushina who would do things right off the bat.

Sakura parted her lips in surprise, eyes blinking as all the titas in the table leaned closer to wait for her reply. “I...I’m fine? I think Tita Mikoto would know about Sasuke-kun, though.” She scratched the side of her head.

“That’s not what we mean, dear.” Mikoto smiled, grasping her hand from across the table.

“Right. How are you and Sasuke?” Her mom asked this time.

Her eyes widened at the implication of the hanging question. She fidgeted in her seat, looking down with the hope that the blush on her cheeks wasn’t prominent for them to see. “H-how are...we? But...t-there’s no such thing, mom.” 

The three women’s shoulders slumped, excitement suddenly leaving their system. Sakura was still trying to grasp the reason behind the on-the-spot interrogation when someone’s phone buzzed.

Saved by the bell, she thought.

It was Mikoto’s. A smile graced her lips when she saw the name on her caller ID. “Hello, Sasu-chan? Yes, we’re still here! Oh, you’re already right outside? Alright, thank you. I’ll be there in a bit.” She returned her phone inside her Longchamp before facing her friends with a beam. And for some reason, Sakura didn’t know if that was a good thing. “My son is there to pick me up. Let’s go?” 

Definitely not a good thing.

The other women agreed, settling their bill and gathering their stuff before exiting Cafe Mary Grace.

Once outside, they all saw a black Audi with Sasuke leaning casually against its side. Kushina, Mebuki, and Mikoto couldn’t help but grin like Cheshire cats. Sakura, on the other hand, shifted her weight from one foot to another, gripping the Vitaplus box in her arms even tighter.

When Sasuke sensed their presence, he glanced at their direction, eyes slightly widening at the presence of someone he didn’t expect to be there. But he quickly brushed it off and approached his mom, giving her a kiss on the cheek before gently lifting Kushina’s hand and pressing his forehead against it. He repeated the honoring gesture to Mebuki, which the woman responded with a cheery “Bless you!”

For a brief moment, it was as if the three elders were holding their breaths, bracing themselves while they waited to see how Sasuke would greet Sakura. 

Would he hug her, kiss her, hold her hand, or what?

Their expectations have faltered, however, when Sasuke simply turned to Sakura’s direction and gave her a nod. 

A simple, small nod.

That’s it? Mikoto blinked in surprise, slightly disappointed with her own son. He definitely got that from Fugaku! 

Sakura smiled in response at his raven-haired childhood friend, grinning a bit wider when she noticed the tinge of pink dusting his cheeks. Thankfully, their moms and aunt failed to see it.

“Do you mind if we give them all a ride?” Mikoto then asked once she recovered.

Sasuke – being Sasuke – simply shrugged and unlocked the car, opening both doors for them before assisting Kushina with her grocery bags to be placed in the trunk. As Kushina and Mebuki entered the back seat, he returned to get the box that Sakura was holding so he could also place it beside Kushina’s groceries.

He found his mom standing by the passenger seat then, with a hand on Sakura’s shoulder as if stopping her from going inside the car beside her mother. “Mom, what are you waiting for?”

“I’m actually thinking that Sakura should take the passenger seat so I and your titas could still talk at the back.” 

Sasuke quirked an eyebrow at her. “Couldn’t you do that with you in the front seat?”

“No!” Three voices startled him and Sakura, though he was just asking the question to his mom.

“Well, you see, they agree with me.” Mikoto grinned. “I mean, I just really missed your titas, Sasuke-chan.” She intentionally completed Sasuke’s name to better gain his favor, well aware that he hated being called with his childhood nickname in front of other people. “Besides, while we talk, you and Sakura could have some—I don’t know—catch up or something.”

There was a pregnant pause after that as Sasuke weighed the predicament, sensing something strange. But when he realized that there was no point discussing a petty thing, he finally nodded at his mom and waited for her to get inside the car beside Mebuki. He closed the car door and waited for Sakura to enter the front seat next, before closing her door as well and rounding the car to go to his side.

Internally squealing, the three women at the back seat gave each other knowing glances that Sakura was able to catch through the rearview mirror.

Her neck suddenly felt warm the moment Sasuke entered the car. There’s this weird pressure of being this close to him and having the elders behind them, watching them carefully contrary to what Mikoto said that they would still converse with each other.

She busied herself with her phone then. And upon unlocking it, she noticed the latest Facebook notification that appeared on her screen: Sasuke Uchiha mentioned you in a comment.

Biting her lip to fight her smile from growing, she threw a glance at the man beside her. What made all her tension go away was the fact that he was also surprisingly looking at her with a smirk playing on his lips.

And then Sasuke drove off to bring the titas home.

————

June 2019 | @AriannJS

————

Some terms that might need definitions:

Mars/Mare/Kumare - (Tagalog; derived from a Spanish word) appellation for a female close friend; appellation for your child’s godmother 

Kuya - (Tagalog) big brother

Lola - (Tagalog) grandmother

Tita - (Tagalog) aunt

Amiga - (Spanish/also used sometimes in the Philippines) female friend

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think! :D

[flutteringphalanges]

                                             Mirabile Visue

Summary: Sister Agatha Van Helsing discovers she’s in over her head when a competitive game of chess ultimately results in her becoming pregnant with the child of her worst enemy, Count Dracula. Now tied by a bond deeper than blood, the two must learn to coexist and adapt in a world that could be potentially hostile towards their offspring. Parenthood has never looked so batty.

Characters: Dracula/Sister Agatha Van Helsing

Chapters: 1/7

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N:  So this is my first Dracula story and I hope I do the show some justice. It will be broken into three chapters just as the show, or first season, was broken into three episodes. Without further ado, let’s begin. (Oh, Mirabile Visu is Latin for “Wonderful to See”).                      

                                                Transylvania, 1897

                                             Count Dracula’s Castle

“You’re pregnant.”

Agatha could almost visualize the vampire’s wide grin as he spoke, her head turned towards the wooden bucket she’d taken to vomiting in. She hated him at that moment. More than usual. But she knew he was right. No matter how hard she didn’t want to believe it, she knew.

“I’m dying,” she inhaled, not moving to meet his gaze. “Just like all of your other victims. I thought you of all people would recognize the signs.”

“And I thought you of all people wouldn’t agree to sex after losing a game of chess, but I suppose we are all full of surprises.” Dracula watched with amusement as the nun turned to glower at him. He raised his hands in playful defense. “Now I am no man nor creature of God, but I must ask, exactly how many rules did we break with your sisterhood-”

“Shut up,” the woman groaned. “Just…how? I didn’t think this was even possible. In all of my research…stupid, stupid…”

She was mumbling to herself now, cursing her mind that had been so hellbent on knowing everything there was to know about Count Dracula that somewhere along the way she had been seduced by the beast himself. How could she have been so inattentive?

“While I am flattered you find me so seductive,” the Count’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. “You are equally to blame Sister Agatha Van Helsing of St. Mary’s Convent, Budapest. Pointing fingers now is, well, how would one put it in Romanian? Frecție la picior de lemn? A rub on a wooden leg.” His smile was gentler now. “Useless, Agatha. Now, how’s about you get cleaned up and I’ll fix you something to settle your stomach? No blood, you have my word, and we can discuss things.”

The nun seemed hesitant as she watched the vampire from her spot in the room. She’d been at the castle for weeks now. First it had been against her will, seeing first hand what Jonathan Harker had. But it was this knowledge that had changed the castle from a prison into an exploration that she so desperately sought. Dracula and his companionship was a bonus in its own way. If he had yet to extinguish her life then, he most certainly wasn’t planning to now. Especially if she were carrying his child.

“Fine,” she agreed. “But if you think I’m going to incubate your spawn-”

“I was thinking peppermint tea,” Dracula interrupted. “But your sour attitude is saying…lemon?” When she didn’t respond, he nodded thoughtfully. “Lemon it is.” And with that he closed the door.

Agatha eyed the entrance way to the room for a few seconds before collapsing onto her bed. The bitterness from her stomach bile still lingered on her tongue as she looked over to a nearby night stand where a dress sat neatly folded. Whose it once was, she wasn’t sure, nor cared to dwell upon, but it appeared clean and warm. Her own religious habit had become dirty overtime, particularly because she chose to wear it in Dracula’s presence to spite him. But now graced with the sensitive nose of an expecting mother, she could hardly stand the smell. Body odor, mildew, and earth. Not that it mattered now having broken her vows with the Church. She was as good as excommunicated.

I’ll add it onto my ever growing list of confessions. The woman thought to herself as she began to change into the fresh clothes. I do hope God accepts memoirs.

Her fingers brushed carefully across the stone walls as Agatha made her way down the staircase and into the dining room. Halting in the archway, she found herself slightly taken aback by the display before her. Fat logs of oak lay aflame in the fireplace, the heat beckoning her closer from where she stood. The table was set for one, an ornate glass filled with some sort of fruit juice and a plate thickly sliced toast with scrambled eggs.

“See? No blood, as promised.” The unexpected voice caused her to jump slightly as Agatha turned to see Dracula watching her intently. “At least for now. We don’t know what they crave. You see, Agatha, in all my four hundred years of life, this has never happened to me.” He gave a small smirk that made the former nun’s skin crawl. “If I believed in God the way you mortals do, I’d say this is why fate brought us together. A blessing in disguise.”

“A curse,” she retorted. “A lapse in judgement. And now I am to pay for my sins apparently.”

“Again, it takes more than one to make the beast with two backs,” he smiled. “William Shakespeare’s Othello, have you read it?” Dracula waved his hand dismissively. “Never mind that or the arguing, sit and eat. Your food is getting cold.”

Though she wanted to fight it, Agatha couldn’t help but feel tempted by the meal before her. One moment she was nauseated like a sailor sick at sea and the next, the feeling was almost ravenous. With great reluctance, she walked over to the table and sat down. The woman tried her best to ignore the Count’s eyes as he watched her begin to consume her meal. Even more so when it tasted so delicious she could feel the corners of her mouth attempting to twitch into a smile.

“Good?” He inquired curiously, moving to sit across from her.

“Edible,” she replied, placing down the nearly empty cup. “So, Count Dracula has achieved something that no information speaks of. Reproduction of the sexual nature. You must be very proud of yourself.”

“Can’t I be for the both of us?” He shrugged, straightening up in his chair. “I mean, I’m not alone in this. You are its mother. Whether you like it or not, Agatha Van Helsing, my offspring is yours. And before you go threatening to throw yourself out a window or do something silly and stab impale yourself with a stake, we both know you wouldn’t do that.”

“End my own life?” Agatha snorted, eyeing him with slight amusement. “Why would I have any qualms about my own demise?”

“Because you aren’t just dealing with your own existence,” the vampire answered. “You have a weakness, Agatha, and it’s both charming and utterly annoying depending on the circumstance. You are a protector. A guardian. Someone who is willing to throw away themselves for the benefit of the rest. And that is why you won’t harm the baby.”

The baby. The baby. Her intestines seemed to writhe and knot at the very thought of it. She was pregnant, carrying the child of the one person on Earth she despised the most. A disgust that took her on a journey after him in the hopes of learning all of his secrets. Secrets they ended up sharing. Whispers and fingers intertwined, bare skin against fabric sheet, the copper taste lingering on his tongue. A Vampire’s Kiss without the bite. The forbidden act between Beast and Daughter of God. And now, growing in her very womb a product of that.

Agatha stood up so suddenly it caught Dracula by surprise. Mouth pressed into a firm line, she tossed her napkin onto the table and turned away. She was out of the room and halfway up the steps by the time the man had reached the bottom.

“Agatha,” he called after her, his voice mildly concerned. “What on Earth are you doing?”

“Getting some peace and quiet,” she called back, swallowing thickly. He wasn’t to see her cry. No weakness. “I suggest you leave me be and go…go slaughter an old maid. I don’t care!”

Dracula was still attempting to hold some form of conversation when Agatha slammed the bedroom door in his face. For a brief moment, she half expected him to come barging in, proclaiming something that would surely upset her more. She listened carefully as if the vampire would even bother to make himself known if he was spying. Finally, confident that she was alone, the former nun retreated to her bedside and sat down. Sighing, she ran a hand through her hair.

“I don’t understand why this is happening to me, nor am I sure if there even is an answer.” Her eyes fell down to her stomach as she spoke. “But for some reason you decided to come to life-if you are alive.” Tentatively, Agatha moved her hand so it rested just under her belly button. “I don’t know what you are, or who you are, but you made a mistake. You chose the wrong people to be your mother and father.” She paused before inhaling sharply. “Especially your mother. I left my family, you know. I left to be a nun. Gave up marriage and motherhood.”

Her eyes flickered down to the corner of her bed. Tucked just slightly from view, Agatha’s eyes set upon her old crucifix. She reached down and grasped it, studying the metal. Hungary. Mother Superior and her Sisters. So many people she cared about, loved, all dead. At least, she hoped they weren’t anything more than that. In that moment, Agatha Van Helsing, former Sister of St. Mary’s Convent, Budapest, made her decision. Setting the necklace down, she returned her hand to her stomach.

“Alright,” she exclaimed. “I suppose we can explore things. But if you are under the impression that I will kill and feed on human blood for you, you are highly mistaken.” The corners of her mouth twitched into a small smile. “I am a fan of meat though if that’s any consolation.”

Agatha stared peacefully down at her stomach, feeling a new sense of purpose she had yet to truly understand.

                                                              XXX

Two evenings had passed before Agatha finally chose to face the Count again. One would’ve suspected avoiding another in such an enormous palace would’ve been an easy feat. But no matter where she turned, the former nun could feel the eyes of the vampire following her. Silent, but ever present. A shadow of sorts. But unlike hers, it required no light.

She ignored Dracula’s inquisitive expression as she walked over to the embellished table he occupied. Steam seeped from a porcelain bowl filled with a soup that caused her stomach to rumble lowly. For someone who only consumed blood, the vampire was well versed in cooking. But having a meal was not the top priority matter on the woman’s mind, no matter how lovely its fragrance was. Instead she remained standing, now mere feet from him.

“There will be rules,” Agatha stated emphatically. “Many if this is to occur.”

“Rules? Like a contract?” Dracula met the woman’s gaze with a mixed expression of amusement and slight shock. “You want to settle upon a guideline…over a baby?” When she remained unmoved, the vampire merely shrugged. “Alright,” he breathed, settling back in his chair. “Enlighten me.”

“No one dies for the baby. Or for me, if you’d even consider that. You survive as you normally would, feed as repulsively as you like, but no doctor is to be touched with the intent on gathering information on the child.” She inhaled, folding her arms over her chest. “Which means no outside medical help. We can learn from what is in books. No one else is to be involved.”

“I’m a count and a vampire, Agatha, not a doctor.” Dracula replied, the grin fading from his face. “Just because I love science doesn’t mean I am well versed in it enough to deliver a baby.”

“Then it’s quite a fortunate thing we have, at least I hope, months to educate ourselves before then.” Her lips parted into a sardonic grin, Agatha enjoying the man’s realization of the leverage she currently held over him. “Are we in agreement then?”

For a long moment, the vampire said nothing. It was only when Agatha opened her mouth once more, about to voice her conditions, that Dracula shook his head and clicked his tongue quietly.

“Even when I thought it no longer possible, you never cease to amaze me, Agatha Van Helsing.” He quietly snorted and met her stare. “You have my word. My, how intrigued I am to see how the roots of motherhood will snare you.”

“If you are even capable of feeling the emotions of a parent yourself,” countered the former nun. “I suppose we will see how our true faults form together.” She turned on her heels and began to walk away.

“Yes,” the vampire agreed, smiling once more as he looked on. “I suppose we shall.”

                                                                   XXX

“You’re reading that book again?”

Dracula peered up from his copy of, Tokology: A Book For Every Woman, looking almost slightly insulted as Agatha watched him from where she stood in the doorway. Her stomach had started to swell, and from both their rough calculations, she was three months, give or take a week.

“Well, you aren’t exactly allowing me to consume the blood of any physicians, so my grasp of understanding pregnancy is limited.” He waved the book in her general direction. “Just one man, that’s all I need and then I wouldn’t have to read about any of this. Or,” he lifted a finger in suggestion. “A woman? A midwife perhaps?”

“No,” Agatha said firmly. “I know I cannot stop you feeding, but we did agree that no one would die because of this pregnancy. No draining doctors, just books.”

“But what if something were to happen to you,” the vampire ventured, eyes following the woman as she moved to a seat nearest to him. “Do you really want to risk your life, Agatha?”

“Then forget about me and save the baby,” the former nun snorted, shaking her head. “Honestly, Dracula, when did book knowledge become less of a value to you?”

“You do realize you’re pregnant with a child who is half vampire, yes?” The man countered. “And yet, despite knowing everything I’m capable of, you show no sign of fear about what it could do?”

“Like violently tearing my vagina?” She grinned when she noticed the surprise on his face. “You’re not the only one who’s read that book.” Sighing, Agatha rested her hands on her stomach. “Women give birth every day and I will be joining their ranks soon enough.”

“I won’t let it hurt you.”

The words were so quiet that Agatha almost missed them. The former nun’s eyes flickered to meet the dark irises of the Count. For the first time since she entered the room did she pick up the severity of his mood. He seemed off, not that he wasn’t always pouring over medical texts and journals now. He, like she had, had taken to this idea of a child from such a scientific approach. Continuous research, needing to know more. And it was that that had been bringing them together. But now he seemed concerned, genuinely so, for her safety.

“You’re reading too much,” she finally responded, breaking the silence. Rising to her feet, Agatha walked over and gingerly took the book away from Dracula. “I’m a lot stronger than you think. I’ve survived you, yes?”

The two exchanged small smiles, a rarity that was growing more shared as time went on. Agatha glanced towards the stairs, arms folded over her chest. It was getting late and she was getting tired.

“I’m going to go turn in now,” she sighed, turning to Dracula. “If you must go out and-”

“No doctors, you have my word.”

“Then I’ll see you in a few hours?” Agatha inquired. “Unless you meet the sun or end up staked?”

“It’s a Tuesday,” he replied smirking. “It’s unpredictable.”

Without much thought, he reached forward and placed a hand on Agatha’s shoulder. Much to his surprise, instead of pulling away, the former nun let her fingers brush against his. They stood there for a moment, both equally silent. Agatha smiled softly and turned away.

“Good night, Count Dracula.”

The vampire watched as the woman went up the staircase and disappeared. The ancient vampire sighed before moving to smother the fire in the fireplace.

“Sleep well, Agatha.”

                                                               XXX

Agatha watched Dracula expectantly as the vampire moved around her. While she was curious about what the man was doing, her true wonder fell on the brown object in his hands. It was oddly shaped, sort of like an instrument. A horn. He hadn’t said much when he called her into the parlor, just to recline as best and as comfortably as she could in one of the seats.

“It’s called a Pinard horn,” the vampire answered before Agatha could ask. “It’s for listening to the fetus’s heartbeat and no,” he held his hand up in defense when he saw her express. “I didn’t kill or steal for it, you’re welcome. I bought it because I wanted to confirm that the thing I’ve been hearing is the baby’s heart.”

“You’ve been hearing its heart?!” Agatha’s tone was mixed with shock and aggravation. “I’ve been pregnant for six months and you are just now telling me that the baby has a beating heart! That it’s living, living?!”

“To be fair, you didn’t tell me immediately when you felt it kick for the first time.”

“Because it was the middle of the day and you were sleeping!” She exasperated, propping herself up on her elbows. “Do you realize how often I’ve sat on this exact spot and worried about if I was giving birth to an undead baby?”

“My apologies,” the vampire expressed, tone lacking actual sympathy. “But what’s done is done and now we can both be assured that the baby does have a beating heart.”

He reached to lift up her dress, but was immediately stopped when Agatha grasped his hand. Their eyes met and Dracula let out a long, irritable sigh. Releasing his hold on the fabric, he motioned to the horn with his free hand.

“It works best on bare skin,” he exclaimed.

“Perhaps you should put down the medicine books and pick up one on manners, Count Dracula,” Agatha expressed. “It isn’t very polite to lift a lady’s dress without her consent.”

“I’m perfectly fine not confirming my heart beat theory…”

“Just let me help,” Agatha grumbled, rolling her eyes as she hiked up her gown. “There, now do what you must.”

Choosing not to bicker further, the vampire eyed the woman’s distended stomach carefully. Her pale skin stretched to reveal roads of thin blue veins that had previously been hidden. Though he knew what flowed through them, he was surprisingly not tempted. Tenderly, he brought his fingers down to rest upon her flesh pausing only when he felt her shiver.

“Sorry,” he gave a half smile. “I suppose you could say I have low circulation in my hands.”

“Your humor died a long time ago,” Agatha smirked.

“And yet you still laugh,” Dracula replied, resting the horn right under her belly button. “Now give me a moment.”

The vampire carefully leaned an ear to the opening of the device. He didn’t need to look up to know that Agatha was holding her breath. Of course, that was unnecessary as the thrumming resounded almost instantly from within. There was no denying it. A heartbeat. A living, beating heart that had no reserves for making itself well known.

“You’re smiling,” Agatha’s voice pulling him from his concentration. “Is that a good or a bad thing? I can’t ever tell with you, especially if you’re being quiet.”

“I believe it is safe to say it physically inherited its mother’s heart.” When the former nun didn’t seem to put two and two together, he added, “…it has a beating heart.”

“There is a God,” she breathed in relief.

“Let’s keep religion out of this,” Dracula replied. “We can deal with opposing views when it’s actually born.”

Agatha’s arms unceremoniously wrapped around Dracula, the horn falling from her stomach and to the floor. Bewildered at first, he remained motionless. The woman wasn’t exactly one to show affection. Especially when it came to him, despite them learning to coexist with each other. But he too allowed his guard to slide and embraced her back.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Well it’s no gem encrusted necklace, but it proved its worth,” Dracula chuckled, looking down at the horn. “You’re welcome.”

They remained in each others’ arms for a few long moments before Agatha broke away. She was smiling, a genuine grin that held no form of hostility. But when she opened her mouth to say something to Dracula, she decided against it, leaving the vampire to wonder what else she had to offer.

“Agatha,” he ventured. “I was planning on taking a stroll through the castle. If you aren’t too busy being bothered by mortal things, I would like to offer you the invitation to join me.” He gave her a grin. “You can bombard me with all of your usual vampire inquiries.”

“I’d like that,” the former nun smiled.

“Then it’s settled,” the vampire said. “A walk around the inside grounds.”

Where there once would have been refusal, when Dracula offered Agatha his hand, she took it. Without a second thought, the pair began to walk down the stone hallway. For now, they would just enjoy each other’s company.

                                                           XXX

It was late into the night and she was already well into her seventh month of pregnancy when the craving first hit. Well, the craving had long been building up, she’d just had been ignoring it. It was midnight when Agatha was hit with an episode of sorts brought on by fighting the urge to consume blood.

Dracula had found her thrashing in her bed sheets, fingers digging into the mattress as she pressed her face into the pillow and howled. The thirst burned in her throat and twisted in her stomach. She was frustrated, miserable, and the idea of death seemed more and more welcoming.

“Please,” she whimpered, a hand falling to grip her stomach. “Stop, stop, stop!”

She could feel the baby more than ever as if it too was suffering from her infliction. That her ignoring her craving for blood was upsetting it. It jabbed, poked, and prodded. At this point, blood wasn’t needed for survival-if they had made it seven months in without it and were still present, then it wasn’t a necessity. Nevertheless, that didn’t make how it felt any better. Like detoxing from a severe addiction.

“Agatha?” Dracula asked worriedly, moving to her bed. “What-”

“Get out!” She screamed, biting down hard on her lip. The copper last of blood melted on her tongue, but hers wasn’t what her body wanted. “Get out! I can smell it on you! Get out!”

Of all the nights for him to have fed. He silently cursed himself as he moved towards Agatha. It frightened him really, seeing her like this. He knew something was off by the way she had been acting lately. Now he realized why.

“Agatha,” he said gently. “You need to drink.”

“No!” She spat back almost immediately. “No blood! We…we had a rule…no one dies…” Their eyes met and Dracula saw how red they were from tears. “I can fight this,” she whispered. “I can fight this…I can fight this…”

“You don’t have to,” Dracula insisted. “Agatha, one doesn’t even need to be killed for blood, there are-”

“I will not have my baby become a monster!”

The anger and fear that laced her words struck out at the vampire like whip’s rope soaked in venom. They hurt. It was such an odd sensation that he found himself staring absently at the former nun. Agatha had said things, proclaimed that he was the reincarnation of the Devil himself, and yet it was a single outburst about a baby no less that tightened the long dead muscle in his chest.

“So what if it is?” He asked coolly. “What if the baby is a monster? A full fledged vampire? Then what? You wish to kill it?”

“No,” Agatha swallowed thickly, still visibly trembling. “You don’t understand…”

“I don’t?” Dracula nearly hissed. “Because from where I stand, Agatha, your hatred for vampires has manifested even more so since we first became acquainted in Hungary! So due forgive me for becoming offended that your motherly concern is that our child will-”

“I just want to protect it!” The former nun screamed.

“From what?!” Dracula snapped. “Me?!”

“EVERYTHING!”

Once more the vampire found himself at a momentary loss for words. Agatha had now shifted into an upright position, her expression one of false stoicism. The way her arms wound around her middle, Dracula no longer saw a nun seeking to slay that of which was unholy, but a mother desiring nothing more than to protect her child.

“Crosses. Holy water. The sun…” She shook her head, a sorrowful smile crossing her features. “What is said to hurt you, to kill you, has it not occurred to you that this baby could be equally if not more vulnerable?” Agatha sighed and peered down at her swollen stomach. “I got so far, I hadn’t craved blood up until this point and now…” Her eyes flickered to meet his gaze. “If I’ve experienced one vampire characteristic, who knows…”

“Then we experiment with me,” Dracula said. “Tomorrow we’ll open the curtains-”

“No!” Agatha said sharply. “I don’t want…” The former nun seemed to struggle with the next words that left her lips. “I can’t lose you either.” Her eyes narrowed at Dracula’s silence. “Well, go on then. Make a mockery of me. Agatha Van Helsing who has spent most of her life trying to stop Count Dracula actually cares for him. The irony.”

Dracula was quiet for a moment. “Well, I suppose it’s true what they say. Lubirea trece prin apa, nu-i e frica ca se-neaca.” He smiled softly. “Love will go through stone walls.”

“What does that-”

Her words were captured by a kiss as the Count joined Agatha at her bedside. She didn’t fight back, nor attempt to protest in the slightest. Instead, she let his cool hands rest on either side of her face. Her mouth moved hungrily against his, the scent of blood still lingering off him. The last time either had shown this level of romance was the night their child had been conceived. Just as the nun let her hand trail down the vampire’s chest, he stopped.

“There is something we can try.” Dracula said suddenly, pulling away. “But you aren’t going to like it.”

“Then why even suggest it?” Agatha inquired irritably, secretly annoyed that the affection ended so quickly. “I told you, no humans.”

“It’s a good thing pigs are beast then.” He stated quite proudly. “Their blood is closest to humans-not that I can drink it. But perhaps the baby won’t require human blood. Maybe animals will suffice.”

“You want me to drink a glass of pig’s blood?” She asked skeptically.

“You’ve made it clear the alternative is a no,” he shrugged. “There’s a farm not too far out that breeds the loveliest hogs.” At Agatha’s frown, he merely smiled and gently touched the side of her face. “I’ll make sure to use a cup that isn’t transparent. Now try to get some rest. I’ll take care of everything.”

Dracula kissed her forehead and lovingly patted her stomach. Even after he vanished from the room, Agatha found herself wide awake with her thoughts. Nun vampire hunter to vampire, dare she venture, lover, who also was pregnant with his child. Just in a seven month span. If there was a God who accepted her for, well, her, she hoped he’d have a large allotted time slot set out for her to explain everything when she died.

                                                          XXX

“I think my water just broke.”

At first, Dracula wondered if he heard the woman right. They had been sitting by the fireplace together, Agatha on her second glass of hog’s blood, when the declaration was made so calmly. She was heavily nine months pregnant so it shouldn’t have been a surprise. But it took the former nun nearly doubling over in pain from a contraction to snap the vampire from his trance.

“You’re water broke?!” He asked, sounding unnervingly panicked.

“Smell the amniotic fluid for blood and tell me,” she said through clenched teeth. “Now help me get to the bedroom. You’re going to need to get…” Agatha inhaled sharply and closed her eyes. “…You’ll need to get the supplies, I’m afraid I won’t be much use going up and down the stairs.”

Dracula had felt many things in his centuries of existence, but never had he felt such overwhelming worry and raw excitement. Diligently, he moved to sweep Agatha up-who protested that she could still walk-and brought her up the steps. She winced as he set her down, but the initial contraction seemed to have run its course.

“You should’ve let me drink a physician,” the vampire said, unable to pull his gaze away from the laboring woman. “Or even bring one here!”

“No,” sighed Agatha. “No, we’re fine. We’ve prepared. Stop being so nervous, you’re making me nervous and I’m the one who’s going to be pushing it out.” She sucked in a breath, trying to remain collected. “Go find some towels and fill a pot with water. It’ll need to be boiled, so maybe start with that. And a watch to time the contractions.”

“Perhaps you chose the wrong profession,” the Count responded. “Maybe the role of a midwife would’ve been better suited.”

“And you a librarian,” Agatha retorted. “You could replace the stones in your castle’s walls with books from how you collect them.” Her lips twitched briefly into a teasing smile before another grunt of pain abruptly severed the mood. “If you would be so kind and hurry back, I would…highly appreciate it.”

The more time he spent with her, the more Dracula found himself learning about humans. Especially when it came to women and their reproductive cycles. After getting everything Agatha had requested, he returned to find the former nun pacing around the room. Every so often, she’d stop and lean against a wall, her breathing heavy as she anchored herself in place riding out each contraction that hit.

“No,” she hissed, eyes squeezed shut as she waved him away. “Don’t touch me! Let it pass!”

As the hours wore on, it became clear that her contractions were not only getting worse, but growing closer together. And while Dracula did love the smell of fear, he was far from enjoying Agatha’s. No longer did she object to his closeness as he moved to where she knelt on the ground by the bed. She could feel the pressure from within her, the weight of it telling her body that it was time. And yet, Agatha felt very unready. She was scared. Terrified. Powerless.

“Breathe,” the vampire instructed softly. “I’m going to move you to the bed.”

“I’m perfectly fine right here,” but the weakness in her voice betrayed her. “I don’t think moving is such a good idea right now.”

“You and I both know that you don’t want to deliver this child on the floor.” Dracula tilted Agatha’s chin so that her wide, fearful eyes met his reassured stare. “So let’s get you comfortable.”

A pang of guilt hit the vampire as the woman let out a moan when he lifted her from the floor. Already strands of her hair stuck to her sweaty forehead, exhaust looming over like a storm. With his aid, Agatha sat propped up against the headboard, a pillow cushioning her back. Towels were laid at the end of the bed towards her feet, her gown pulled up to her hips. She already knew before Dracula checked her what was happening. The pressure. The urge.

“The head,” he sounded so mystified. “You’re beginning to crown!”

Agatha was too exhausted to think of a snide remark in response. Instead, she tensed as another contraction hit, crying out as it reverberated throughout her abdominal region. Nine months she had planned, prepared for this, and now in the midst of bringing life into the world, confidence turned into dust.

“I can’t do this,” she whimpered, shaking her head. “This was a mistake!”

“You need to push,” Dracula instructed gently. “You can do this, Agatha. Let go, I’m right here.”

She didn’t want to. But the civil war she fought with her body to ignore the urge, the more intense they came. The baby was coming and there was nothing she could do about it. When the next contraction hit, she sucked in a sharp breath and bore down as hard as she could. No longer was there just pressure, there was burning. An extreme, inextinguishable fire. She screamed.

“Good girl,” the vampire coached. “Keep going, Agatha, you’re doing marvelously. Focus your energy, that’s it.”

Nothing sounded better than a stake through the vampire’s chest each time pushed. The agony. The burning. She felt the tearing. This had all been his doing. So she focused her energy on anger. An emotion that was suddenly forgotten the moment she felt something small slip out from her body. In seconds, an infant’s wail sounded in the room. It was the most beautiful sound Agatha had ever heard.

“A girl,” Dracula beamed, holding the squirming baby gingerly for her mother to see. “A perfect daughter.”

“Let me see her,” Agatha whispered, holding out her arms as he placed their baby into them. “Is she healthy?”

The two marveled at the tiny being before them. She looked exactly as any normal human newborn would look. Ten fingers and ten toes. A small crop of dark hair. Agatha gingerly opened the baby’s mouth with her finger to reveal two sets of toothless gums. Suddenly, every single thing that had ever gone wrong in her life was meaningless. Nothing mattered except the good that had led up to that moment.

“You were incredible.” Dracula grinned.

“I suppose you could say that I had some help,” she smiled, leaning into him when he sat on the edge of the bed. “She needs a name.”

The vampire seemed to ponder for a moment. “Someone so beautiful deserves a name that is just as equal. In my four hundred years of life, up until this point, the most beautiful thing I know of is something I cannot see.” He looked down and tenderly touched the baby’s face. “Sorina. In Romanian, it means Sun.”

“You want to name our daughter after something that could kill you?” Agatha asked, sounding slightly amused. “You don’t find that a little silly?”

“Or fitting,” the vampire mused. “Unless you have another idea?”

“Hm,” Agatha hummed, nodding her head thoughtfully. “Sorina…” With a smile, she gazed lovingly down at her new daughter. “Welcome to the world, little one. There is oh so much to tell you…”

A/N: So as I was writing this, I kind of realized that in this first part, if I ever wanted to make separate one shots based on events throughout Agatha’s pregnancy, I could. That’s why there were “snap shots” rather than make the whole story about her being pregnant. Not sure if anyone would be interested in that. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! Part two shall have more romance. Reviews are greatly loved and appreciated! Until next time! -Jen

[omgviolette12]

After Hours - Chapter 13

Previous Chapter

Summary: After sex, comes the bliss... right?

Chapters: 13/?

Words: 2800+

Warnings: None

Tags:  @milkymaidme @dangertoozmanykids101@alexakeyloveloki @little-moonbeam-666  @marvel-ous-fics@clovermariear@lynnesm@bitchyikes@moon-child-of-a-poet, @allthecraftandthings@bubblegumspitt @shockwavee @blondekel77 @nerd–nirvana @valdemarismynonbinarylove@nightrose64 @pastelhexmaniac @iistormii

If you’d like to be added, let me know. I’ve also posted this on AO3

A/N:  Sorry for the delay, still in the midst of final projects. Motivation to complete work/writing has been a bit slow, and I’ve been trying to think up new plot points. I’ve been stuck, lol. Anyway, enjoy!

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

Evelyn should’ve expected this, but she had no idea that she would be this sore.

 After the shower, they both became somewhat insatiable. It was as though Loki couldn’t get enough of her, and she of him. The taboo of their relationship spurred on their lust, the need to be connected to each other in every way possible great. So like he had promised, he fucked her into the late hours of the night.

  While she was grateful that her first time was far from terrible...she made a mental note to learn her limits. She thought the idea of getting fucked silly by the man she pined for would be a dream come true - but the effects on her body afterwards was kind of a bitch.

 Evelyn hopped and limped all the way to Loki’s car when they left his house early in the morning, wincing with every step. She attributed the amount of pain she was in due to the fact that she was simply not used to sex, and her professor’s size was considerable. 

 Perhaps the more they did it, the less pain there would be overtime?

Just the thought of a ‘next time’ in Loki’s bed was enough to set off another wave of butterflies inside her stomach. Whatever pain she was in right now, it was worth it.

 Loki, however, had long noticed Evelyn’s plight - in fact, he even had the gall to tease her about it, offering to carry her up the steps to her door like a princess once they reached her apartment.

 He sounded pretty serious about it too, so Evelyn couldn't help but blush even though she knew he was just messing around. It was going to be a challenge getting used to his playful side…

 Evelyn promised him that she'd stop by his office later on in the day, to resume her duties as his TA. Since she wouldn’t be able to attend the Monday lecture to help out this time around for obvious reasons, the least she could do was grade some exams. 

 She dreaded grading, especially since it was math( another reason why she skipped meetings in the beginning…) but now that the dynamic between her and Loki has changed considerably, she was actually looking forward to being productive in his presence.

  They parted with a kiss, and Evelyn made her way to her apartment door slowly. Now, she just had to try to walk inside like there wasn't a stick up her ass.

To Evelyn’s surprise and dismay, Candice was waiting for her on the couch, a cup of hot cocoa in hand as she watched her hop through the front door.

 Evelyn was secretly banking on the fact that she had left for work already, since Candice mentioned offhandedly that she took up more shifts at her hospital.

  But alas, the shit-eating grin that was plastered on Candice’s face meant that she must’ve called in sick to witness Evelyn’s limp of shame, first thing.

 “Well! I’ll be damned,”

 Evelyn stubbornly ignored her in embarrassment as she limped past the couch to head to her room, but Candice set down her mug to follow her, giggling like a fool, “He busted that cherry so hard he got you hoppin’ like a bunny! Sheesh...”

 "Not now, Candice…" Her face felt hot, desperately wishing her sister had some sort of filter.

 "Did y'all use a rubber? Did he hurt you? Because if he hurt you Eve -"

 Candice was going to badger her until all was answered, so Evelyn relented with a grimace, hoping she would leave her alone after she was satisfied,

 “ No! He didn’t hurt me...and yes, we used protection. Each time.”

 “Each ti- each time?! How many times did y’all fu- ”

 Evelyn cut her off before she could finish, “I’ll answer all the juicy deets later, okay!? I didn’t have time to shower before we left, and I wanna do that now. Please?”

 Candice realized she was being a bit overbearing, backing off a bit. Evelyn was extremely fun to tease and make fun off, but she knew her sister had limits,

  “Sorry, sorry. My baby sister never seemed the type to be interested in sex or anything before...so to do it with a professor of all people for your first time! And a kinky one! Don’t blame me for being interested and concerned...”

 Evelyn ignored the kinky comment, limping inside her room as she replied, “I mean, is the professor thing really that big a deal? I’m technically just a former student of his...”

 “Not really, you already know how my hoe phase was. Fucked a few teachers in my college days. But you have to be careful with these older men Eve, since you’re new to this sort of thing. Don't get attached. Especially if his dick game’s good, he will manipulate the hell outta you,”

 "...Speaking from experience?"

 "Yep. Found out this guy was a whole married man and I still went back to fuck. Good dick messes with your morals sis,"

 Evelyn had a hard time taking her words seriously since Candice lacked morals in the first place, but pretended to agree so she could leave her be,

"I'll make sure to be careful, okay? Can I shower now?"

 "Yeah yeah, we'll talk more later. Remember what I said, hmm?"

And with that, Candice left her room with a skip to her step.

 Evelyn didn’t bother processing her sister’s warning, going straight to the shower to relieve her sore muscles.

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

 By the time Evelyn made her way unto the campus, the pain had lessened considerably. She still had to walk a bit carefully, but she didn’t feel as raw as before. While she showered, she also noticed bruises alongside her hip and waist - she even had to use more than a bit of makeup to cover the new ones Loki had ‘affectionately’ placed in plain sight on her neck.

 She was especially hard to bruise, so she was baffled at the amount she currently had.

 Evelyn thought that she should at least feel miffed about it, but somehow the thought of being marked as his, in any way, sent a thrill through her being. Even when he was rough at some points...

  I had sex just once and I’m already a deviant…hehe.

 Evelyn was quite busy daydreaming about the naughty events from last night, that she didn’t see the tall figure standing in her way as she headed towards Loki’s office.

 ‘Oof!’

 As expected, she collided straight into the person’s side, yelping in the process.

 “Oh shit - I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention…”

 She looked up apologetically at the woman in front of her - lithe and pale, with narrowed blue eyes that accentuated her intimidating presence. 

 Perhaps because she also had dark hair and sharp facial features, she saw a vague resemblance to Loki.

 “Obviously, you weren’t,” the woman replied curtly, before giving a tight smile,

“But, I’ll forgive you if you were to lend some assistance.”

 Her tone carried a sort of cold arrogance, as Evelyn shrunk underneath her stare. She even had Loki’s accent…

 “Uh...of course! How can I help…?” Although she was in a bit of a rush to get to where she needed to be, she did not want the woman in front of her to be any more pissed off than she already seemed to look.

 She showed Evelyn a map of the campus that was in her hands, pointing at the building she wanted to head to, “This map is much too complicated for me, and I’m trying to look for this building. I need to find someone, and this is where his office is apparently.”

 “Oh, I’m actually heading there!” Evelyn was glad that the woman pointed towards the science department - the campus was fairly large, and she barely knew half of the map. “If you don’t mind me asking, who’re you trying to find? I can show you to them directly…”

 She didn’t have to go the extra mile, merely walk with her to the building. But Evelyn had always been a people pleaser.

 “Ah, I’m looking for my brother. Are you a student of his, perhaps? I do know that he teaches here…Loki Odinson. Or Laufeyson, whatever he wants to go by nowadays.”

 “Brother? You’re Loki’s sister?” Evelyn asked in a surprised tone, voice elevated. He did mention he two had siblings during their date, but he never went into detail about anything.

 The woman looked at her oddly, a small chuckle leaving her lips, “Well, you certainly sound quite familiar with him.”

 Evelyn realized her mistake, hastily rushing to fix it. Loki was fine with Candice knowing everything, but she still wasn’t sure about his side of the family. 

 “Oh, about that...I usually just call all the professors by their names, haha…”

 “My brother really dislikes being referred to in an informal manner, so I find the idea of him allowing that unlikely.”

 “.....”

��Evelyn was momentarily speechless, akin to a deer in headlights. 

 “Uhm, you see, I -“

 “No need to explain,” the woman stepped closer, a bit too close for comfort as she scrutinized Evelyn’s face, “You’re his exact type, you know. Short, timid, pretty. He’s probably quite taken with you...” 

 As she looked her up and down, a spark of realization lit her eyes..

 “Miss...you’re stepping out of line here.”

She was assuming way too much, for just a minor slip up. And who spoke like this to someone they just met? 

 “Oh, It's just harmless teasing,” she stepped back, her smile starting to look a lot more natural. 

 She pulled out her hand for a handshake, “ Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Hela. Hela Odinson. And you?”

 Evelyn gave a momentary look of reluctance before accepting the handshake, “Uhm, Evelyn Monroe. Nice to meet you, I guess?”

 Hela’s smile became broader, “Let’s walk and talk, hmm?”

 Evelyn was very uncomfortable, but started to walk regardless.

 As they made their way towards Loki’s office, Hela, surprisingly, insisted on making small talk. Evelyn pegged her for the cold and silent type like her brother, but she was entirely the opposite. She asked general questions about what Evelyn did, her age, etc. But unfortunately, she also kept asking suggestive questions, hoping for another slip up on her end.

 “I haven’t spoken to my brother in a while, so I’m clueless as to how he’s doing. Does he treat you well, Evelyn?”

 Hela began adopting a familiar and warmer tone, softening Evelyn’s first impression. It succeeded in lulling her into a sense of minor comfort, “Oh, he treats me very well. I mean, he’s pretty nice to all of his students, most times...” 

 “Hm, that’s surprising. His personality is treacherous, so I expected the opposite.”

 Evelyn looked at her quizzically. For his sister, she sure spoke like she disliked him to a large degree.

 “Since I like you, I’ll give you a bit of advice,”

Hela turned to look at her then, meeting her eyes,

“Don’t get too attached to a man like Loki, especially if he thinks you’re a temporary plaything. He gets... annoyed, quite easily. You weren't the only one he happened to fancy so much in the past...so I'd know.”

….?!??

“Excuse me, but what -“ Evelyn started, but then the dark, pissed off voice of her professor sounded from behind them.

 “Hela,”

 His face was pulled into a tight scowl, trained directly at his sister, “ What nonsense are you spewing?”

 Loki appeared behind them suddenly out of thin air, startling the wits out of Evelyn. Before she could ponder the possibility that he had magical powers, she realized they just passed the lecture hall where his class was, on the way to his office.

 “I took time out of my busy schedule to see you, dear brother...one would think you’d sound a bit more affectionate. Hasn't it been a year since we last spoke?”

 “Slither back to whatever hell you came from, woman.”

 “Well, I suppose that’s close enough.”

 Evelyn looked back and forth between the two, the tension thick and uncomfortable. They were in the middle of the hallway and students still wandered about, so she decided to make an exit. She wanted no part in whatever mystery family drama that was unfolding...and she needed time to ponder over Hela’s words.

  I’ll ask just him about this later...

 “So...um. I’m gonna go ahead to the office, okay? Grade those papers...yippee…”

 She added awkwardly, slowly backing away.

 Loki looked at her then. She hoped his face would soften a bit, but it didn’t. 

“I’ll be there shortly. This won’t take long.”

His answers were short and clipped, so she knew he was pissed. 

She didn’t do anything wrong to her knowledge, so she blamed his mood all on his sister. 

 Before Evelyn left, Hela addressed her one last time.

“It was lovely meeting you, sweetheart. I’m sure we’ll see each other again…”

 “Oh. Uhm, yeah. Nice meeting you too…”

Evelyn didn’t waste anymore time, leaving the pair once she saw Loki’s worsening expression.

 ---------------------

Hela’s words from before repeated inside her head, filling her with a sense of paranoia. But, she had no reason to be paranoid, right? Loki said they were exclusive, after all. He said he wanted her to be his woman. No, she was his woman. And he made sure of that last night.

 Evelyn stubbornly pushed her anxieties aside into the far crevice of her mind, reassuring herself with his words. Although Hela was his sister, she and Loki clearly weren’t on good terms. She could’ve said that in order to sabotage their suspected relationship.

  God, this is giving me a damn headache...

 She settled in Loki's office, taking the stack of exams from his desk and got comfortable on the couch. She hoped grading and correcting complicated equations would fry her brain enough to stop the fretting, as she waited for him to come.

 Loki appeared after about fifteen minutes, and Evelyn bolted upright once she heard him enter.

 “Oh, Loki! I went ahead and started…”

She paused mid sentence when she saw his expression.

“...Grading…”

 Why did it feel like she was in some sort of trouble? The heck?

His face didn’t change much from when he spoke to Hela, so it made her nervous.

 Evelyn just opted to stay quiet for now. She’d ask about Hela later once he looked a little less pissed off. She was his girlfriend now, but she still felt his authoritative presence especially when they were on campus.

 Well, she was going to stay quiet, until his deep voice resounded inside the room.

 “I'm curious about something, Evelyn.”

  Uh oh. Why's he using that voice?

 "How did that...woman, know that we were involved with each other?"

 "Uh...woman? I mean, I thought she said she was your sister…?"

 "That isn't the answer to my question."

 Inwardly, Evelyn felt whiplashed. Everything was so dandy this morning and last night...so how did things take such a strange turn so quickly?

 "Look, when she told me she was your sister, I said your first name on impulse. That's literally it! She assumed stuff based on that one thing…"

 Evelyn put the papers on her lap to the side, feeling frustrated, "And…it really isn't that big a deal, right? You said that people outside the school could know. You were fine with Candice knowing, so why not -"

 He cut her off before she could finish,

"Darling, let me say this in a way that you can comprehend," 

  In...in a way that I can comprehendddd? Did he just call me stupid eloquently?

 Evelyn was stunned into silence as Loki spoke, and he moved to stand above her as she sat rigidly on the couch. "Such a simple mistake, regardless of who it was, is monumental. Your words weren't what gave you away, Evelyn. But your body language. You're entirely too expressive for your own good,"

 He sighed a disappointed sigh, moving away to pinch the bridge of his nose, "At any rate, I can live with Hela knowing...but for future reference, avoid her. At all costs."

 Loki looked at her then, eyes stern, "Do you understand what I'm saying? Or should I elaborate further?"

 Evelyn was honestly a bit speechless. She felt extremely put off and mildly hurt… that he spoke to her like she was a child, rather than his lover.

She really hated herself right now. Was she actually about to cry? He would seriously think she was childish, if this was how she was going to react.

 Tears wouldn’t do her any favors, especially once he was in this kind of mood anyway.

Why am I so fucking sensitive?!

She sighed shakily, swallowing the knot in her throat as she replied, "Yeah...I got it."

 "Good, then." 

 He moved casually to sit behind his desk, attempting to soften his tone with his next words, "You can work for maybe half an hour, then I'd like to treat you to dinner. Seeing that woman left an unpleasant taste… but spending more time with you should remedy that."

 She didn't reply, and only stared at the floor.

 "... Evelyn?"

 When she glanced up, he saw that her large, hazel eyes were shimmering with unshed tears.

”I’m... I’m going to use the restroom, okay? I’ll be back,”

 She got up quickly. And before he could properly react, she promptly went to exit the room.

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

A/N:  Your thoughts bring me joy, I greatly appreciate each and every one! Please let me know what you thought :)

[hunter-the-sad-skeleton]

Chapter one “Frights, Scaremera, Ectoplasm!!”

“Whose Laptop is that? I think I know.

Its owner is quite sad though.

It really is a tale of woe,

I watch her frown. I cry hello.

She gives her Laptop a shake,

And sobs until the tears make.

The only other sound's the break,

Of distant waves and birds awake.

The Laptop is Cold, Small and deep,

But she has promises to keep,

Until then she shall not sleep.

She lies in bed with ducts that weep.

She rises from her bitter bed,

With thoughts of sadness in her head,

She idolises being dead.

Facing the day with never ending dread.”

It had been a rough day; she hadn’t slept at all last night, she snapped at her teacher for snapping her out of spacing out, she snapped at her best friend, her mom had been rougher than usual, there was no way that the day could get any better. She remembered where it was stored: third drawer on the bedside table her dad bought her one year for her birthday. It wasn’t fair, she thought. It wasn’t fair how one person’s actions could send one other person’s life spiraling down the drain like a small rubber duck down a toilet. She noted how when she picked it up, her shoulders grew heavier than earlier. She knew what she wanted; she wanted the pain to go away. So why was she hesitating? She took a deep breath. She knew the door was locked, so she could do as she pleased. She shut her eyes tightly, bringing the ‘42 up to the edge of her head, and-

BANG.

“NOVA.” Hellen barked, slamming a fist down on the desk Nova had been stationed at.

Nova yelped in surprise, falling out of the chair she accidentally fell asleep reading in, book falling onto the desk. Hellen sighed heavily, not surprised in the slightest. Nova sprung up, standing up straight. “Miss Hellen, ma’am! I was working, I promise!” Nova blurted out.

Hellen shook her head. “Nova, we’ve talked about this.” She sighed heavily. Nova frowned, looking down at the tip of her tail.

“I...I know, Ma’am...I swear it wasn’t that busy…” Nova whimpered. Hellen tilted her head to the side.

“Yeah, because everyone saw you asleep, so they went over to me!!” Steward snapped. Nova winced, sliding down in her seat at the raised voice. “I missed two breaks, Nova!! TWO!!!” Steward sighed.

“Steward, that will do, I will see that this is dealt with immediately.” Hellen assured. Nova whimpered, backing up slightly. Hellen held her hand out, gesturing at the book Nova was reading.

“Mmm…...But…” Nova whimpered.

“Hand it over, Nova.” Hellen ordered. Nova whined, reluctantly handing it over. “Thank you. You will get this back in a few weeks. No sooner.” Hellen said.

“A FEW WEEKS?!?” Nova choked. That wasn’t fair!!! She’d JUST gotten back to reading it!!! “That’s not fair!” Nova accidentally snapped.

“If that’s how you feel, you won’t get it back.” Hellen bit back, clearly experienced with the reaction. Nova started tearing up. No, no, no, no, no!!!!

“What do I need to do to get it back?!” Nova blurted out. Nova slammed her hands over her mouth at the sudden outburst, cursing herself under her breath.

“To get it back?” Hellen asked.

“Yes! I-I’ll do anything!!” Nova cried out in desperation.

“Well, if you say so~!” Hellen hummed.

This STINKS. They could have at least given her the smell eliminator spray. Nova sighed heavily as she mopped up the women's restroom, having accepted her fate of not having her book back.

“Ya missed a spot, bud~!” A Goob grinned. Nova growled under her breath.

“Back off, Fludd.” Nova hissed.

“Aww, did I hit a sore spot~?” Fludd taunted.

“Just leave me alone, Fludd.” Nova hissed, now almost angry.

“Or what~?” Fludd grinned.

“Ya won’t like it.” Nova warned.

“Won’t like what~?” Fludd teased.

“I’LL RIP YOUR ECTOPLASM OUT OF YOUR TAILHOLE AND THEN FLUSH IT DOWN THIS TOILET, IF YA DON’T SHUT UP!!!!!” Nova yelled.

“AHEM.” Nova gulped, knowing that if she weren’t already dead, she certainly would be now! “What are you doing?” Steward asked coldly, knowing exactly what was happening.

“Fludd won’t leave me alone!!” Nova explained.

“Just ignore him.” Steward said flatly.

“He keeps bugging me!” Nova whimpered. Steward rose an eyebrow.

“And? Keep going.” Steward ordered. Nova huffed before getting back to mopping.

As Steward left, Fludd grinned widely. “ ‘S a shame, really~!” Fludd grinned.

Nova ignored him, speeding up her pace.

“I mean really, you’re dead at-what, 16? And you’re already wastin’ away~?” Fludd hummed.

Nova growled under her breath, trying her best to remain calm. Fludd got an idea and went to put it to work.

“And I mean really, who leaves their stupid, unloveable, single, worthless sister alone with their abusive mom anywaays-!!” Fludd yelped as Nova lunged at him, intent on harming him.

“SHUT UP ALREADY!!!!! YOU DIDN’T KNOW HER, YOU CERTAINLY DON’T KNOW ME, AND YOU ABSOLUTELY HAVE NO REASON TO KNOW EITHER OF US!!!!!!!” Nova shouted, not caring if anyone heard. Fludd whimpered, struggling to escape her grip, but it was iron-clad.

“NOVA, THAT IS QUITE ENOUGH!!!” Steward snapped. Nova couldn’t hear him, nor see him; all she could see was red. Pure. Red. How DARE he insult her sister?!? How DARE he call her those horrible names?!? How DARE he feel as if he had ANY right to speak of her, let alone KNOW ANYTHING about her?!? “NOVA, GET OFF FLUDD THIS INSTANT!!!!!” Nova snapped out of it and scrambled up to her tip-tail. “I am VERY disappointed in you, Nova. I thought you would be better.” Steward scolded. Nova’s head drooped in guilt and shame. “You may leave now.” Steward dismissed. Nova nodded, not wanting to push her luck today and floated off to floor 8; her usual relaxation spot. The sounds of the production area were oddly calming.

Nova floated out of the elevator as she reached her destination and realized she forgot her notebook downstairs by her desk. Damn. never getting that back. She sighed in disappointment and settled for just watching Morty and his crew work for the day. It always calmed her down. She silently floated in, catching the crew as they started, she shut off anything on her that could play any form of noise or otherwise disturb filming. She smiled softly as she saw Morty’s enthusiasm. Morty was different from everyone else at the hotel, Nova noticed, in that whenever he smiled, it was practically common courtesy to smile as well, lest you put him down. His smiles were practically contagious. Nova spaced out for a few moments before she was scooped up in a warm hug.

“Nova, mon bon ami!” Morty grinned. Nova jumped at the sudden contact before hugging back and smiling. “How are you today?” Morty asked, grin never faltering. That was when Nova’s smile faltered slightly. He noticed and his bright smile seemed to almost dim a bit. “Tout va bien?” He asked worriedly. Nova didn’t respond. “Quelque chose est arrivé?” He reworded. Nova sighed.

“Trucs de travail normal.” Nova grimaced.

“Ah. That Coincé Steward annoying you again?” Morty asked. Nova shook her head no.

“It wasn’t him this time.” Nova chuckled nervously.

“Mademoiselle Gravely?” Morty asked.

“Mademoiselle Gravely.” Nova affirmed.

“That little Chi-I mean-” Morty started.

“I know what you were gonna say, Morty, don’t censor yourself on my behalf.” Nova said nonchalantly.

“What did she take away?” Morty asked.

“A book I only recently picked back up. Now I gotta work myself down to the bone to get it back and I may not even WANT to pick it back up afterwards!!!” Nova sighed heavily.

“Hm. a typical case of Jeu de puissance.” Morty mumbled.

“Of what?” Nova asked.

“Power play. Putting another in their place, example being, her taking something you treasure from you if you don’t work diligently.” Morty explained.

“Ah.” Nova nodded. A blanket of silence fell upon the room, silent except for the machinery running in the background. Nova checked the time and jumped. “Sorry to run out Morty, break’s over in five minutes!!!” Nova yelped, running to the elevator.

“But the elevator takes-” Morty started.

“Ten, I know!” Nova yelped, hurrying to the elevator and spamming the button, running in as soon as it was open and pressing the button for the lobby floor.

Nova bobbed nervously, speeding out and slamming into something as soon as the elevator doors opened, launching her, and whoever she slammed into, into a pile of luggage. She rubbed her head as she slowly got up. “S-Sorry, s-sir...I was just-” Nova started before looking whoever it was in the face. Oh no. Blue eyes. Blue face. Bellhop cap...MERDE WITH A CAPITAL ‘M’.

“Late for work again is what you were.” Steward winced, getting up and rubbing his head. Nova opened her mouth to explain, but he held his hand up to hush her. “Stop with the excuses and start with the owning up.” Steward snapped.

“I-I know sir, b-b-b-b-but-” Nova started.

“YOU HAVE BEEN SLACKING OFF FOR A FEW MONTHS NOW, NOVA!!!! I’VE BEEN WORKING OVERTIME AND AS SUCH, MY STRESS HAS BEEN THROUGH THE ROOF!!!” Steward snapped. Nova broke eye contact. “YOU CAN’T KEEP DOING THIS, NOVA!!!” Steward barked.

Nova whimpered. “I……….I understand….” Nova whimpered. Steward sighed, pulling Nova into a hug.

“I’m sorry I lost my temper...I haven’t had any good rest for a few months and it’s really starting to get to me, ya know?” Steward apologized. Nova melted into the hug, hugging back.

“I know...It’s been unfair, how long I’ve been slacking off...I’m sorry…” Nova apologized. “Ya know what? I’ll make it up to ya! I’ll work extra hard to make up for it!” Nova grinned. Steward laughed.

“Really now?” He chuckled. Nova nodded violently. “Ya sure?” He humored.

Nova puffed her cheeks out and he laughed loudly. His first genuine laugh in a while and it was at her work ethic?!? How DARE he?!? “I CAN work hard!” Nova dismissed. Nova looked around, gaze landing on a large tan piece of luggage and grinned, floating over and struggling to pick it up. Steward chuckled as she struggled to pick it up, but froze completely once she spoke; “it’s a little heavy, but nothin’ I can’t handle!” He panicked and rushed over, grabbing it instead, obviously struggling to carry it. “Stew? What gives?” Nova asked. He set it down carefully, taking a deep breath.

“Let’s...Start smaller...Huh? That seems too much for ya, so let’s do something smaller!” Steward sputtered.

“You okay, Stew? You’re shaking and stuttering, bud.” Nova asked, worry evident in her voice. Zut. Why’d she have to be so caring?!

“I-I-It’s nothing, Nova! Just typical jitters, yannow?” Steward grinned, sweating nervously. Nova frowned.

“Ya sure, bud?” Nova asked. As Steward was about to shrug it off again, Nova stepped out of her comfort zone, grabbing his hand and holding it softly. “I know when something’s wrong with you.”

ZUT. Steward’s face turned a bright blue at the sudden contact and it seemed in that instant, all his years of knowing how to speak fluent english had gone out the window with a single, simple action. “I-I….” Steward stuttered, words failing.

“Is it relating to…?” Nova implied. He winced before nodding slightly. Nova nodded slightly, letting go of his hand and sitting back. “I understand. I get kinda nervous about talking about that stuff too…” Nova chuckled. Steward thought for a moment before taking a deep breath.

“Remind me-if you’re comfortable with it-how did you die again?” Steward asked. Nova froze. She couldn’t tell him!! He’d FREAK!!

“I…….Stair accident.” Nova lied.

“Stair accident…?” Steward repeated slowly as though asking a child to repeat what they just said.

“Yeah, slipped and fell, hitting my head on the last step. It hurt.” Nova lied.

Steward winced, rubbing his head despite it not being sore or hurting. “Ouch...I’m sorry.” Steward winced. Nova shrugged.

“Maybe that’s why I’m so forgetful and nap-prone!” Nova joked. Steward’s jaw dropped.

“How can you make a joke like that?!” Steward gasped.

“Sometimes ya just gotta laugh at yaself, bud!” Nova explained. Steward’s face grew skeptical.

“Nova, look-” Steward started.

“Pardon me, Lovebirds, but we gotta delivery for floor two!! It’d be wise to hurry it up!” A Goob called.

Nova’s nonexistent stomach dropped. Floor two; Amadeus’ floor. He was the boogeyman of the hotel, everyone would joke. Nova took a deep breath before standing up. “I got it.” Nova said walking over.

“Ya sure…? I don’t want ya getting hurt, Sugar.” The goob worried. Nova smiled, chuckling softly.

“I’ll be fine, Faith, I promise!” Nova smiled softly. “Where’s the delivery?” Faith handed it over. “New notebook? Figures; the dude goes through ‘em like a lightning bolt!” Nova joked, floating over to the elevator.

“Are you sure ya don’t want me to come with ya?” Steward asked shakily. Nova scoffed, shoulders sagging.

“Come ON, Stewy! I can handle it!” Nova sighed.

“I know, but Amadeus is a LOT stronger than he looks! He could SERIOUSLY Hurt you!” Steward warned.

“Stew, I’ll be fine!” Nova assured as the elevator doors opened. She stepped back into it. “I’ll only be gone a few minutes, bud! Then I’ll be back ASAP! Promise!” Nova waved before hitting the button for floor two.

Steward’s hand dropped as the elevator left. He knew she could hold her own in a tussle with the Goobs, but against Amadeus…? He hoped that Nova would be careful in there.

Ding!

“Are they done yet, Gamma?” A little brown haired girl asked. Her grandma chuckled.

“The timer just went off, sweetheart! They’re still going to be hot, you know!” She laughed. The girl whimpered.

“But it’s already been a hour!” She whimpered. Her grandma laughed again.

“If you want one, go ahead, but be careful; they’re still hot!” She smiled softly. The little girl grinned, grabbing one and taking a bite. “Well? How are they?”

“Milk!! Hot!!” The girl wheezed. Her grandma chuckled again.

“You’re so precious, Nova, you know that?” She smiled.

“I’m not prec-pwe-adorable!! I’m fiewce!” Nova retorted.

“Of course, dear!” Her grandma chuckled.

After the cookies cooled, the two enjoyed them with freshly made iced tea.

Ding!

The elevator pulled to a halt and Nova was shaken back to reality.

Nova stepped out of the elevator and heard a piano being played in the distance. She floated around, trying to be as quiet as possible. She eventually reached the door that seemed much larger than last time. Had it been built taller for intimidation? If there were extremely tall ghosts? Or had she gotten smaller? She shook it off. She weighed her options; leave it by the door? Death, he’d complain it was delivered late. Knock? Interruption, death. Waltz in? INTERRUPTION, DEATH. Wait until he was done? Refer to first option. Nova steeled herself and quietly opened the door, slipping in and shutting the door quietly. As the music got louder, Nova’s nonexistent stomach dropped further and further. She kept her breathing stable, but quiet; failure was not an option with this. She eventually reached the main stage and waited.

“What do you need?” Amadeus demanded.

“O-Oh, s-sorry sir, I-I was just delivering y-your new notebooks…!” Nova stuttered, grabbing the box she was meant to deliver.

“Finally. I was thinking I forgot to order them.” He scoffed. Okay gloomer.

“Sorry it took so long, sir.” Nova apologized. What?!? NO!!! Why are you apologizing?!? It wasn’t your fault!!

“Apology accepted.” He shrugged. As Nova was about to turn around and leave, Amadeus asked something. “You were so quiet entering; why?”

Nova froze. “I...I-The piano-it uh...It reminded me of my grandpa…” Nova explained. He scoffed.

“Of course. Nova, you’re sweet and all, but you put the ‘Pathetic’ in ‘Sympathetic’.” Amadeus scoffed.

Quick Nova, think of a quick and witty response, show him what you’re made of!!

“Okay gloomer.”

WHAT.

WAS THAT?!?

“What did you just call me?” He chuffed, raising an eyebrow.

“G-Gloomer…?” Nova stuttered.

As soon as the frown appeared, Nova became like a jet and zoomed right out to the elevator. She spammed the button to open the doors and zoomed in as soon as they opened, slamming her fist down on the lobby button as soon as she could. She caught her breath on the ride down and as soon as the doors opened, she went to find Steward; he could protect her, right? Lanky arms, thin figure-okay, maybe he wasn’t the most OPPORTUNE protector, but any protection is better than none!

“Nova? What’s gotten you so spooked?” Steward asked.

“Mind if I hide behind ya for a bit?” Nova asked, desperation apparent in her voice.

“Okay…?” Steward said, confused.

Nova tensed as she heard the elevator ding. Oh boy.

“Wolfgeist? You never come down here unless-oh no.” Steward sighed.

“I’m just here to talk it out with Nova.” Amadeus growled.

Nova whined, hiding behind Steward more.

“Back off, Wolfgeist. She probably didn’t mean it.” Steward defended.

“H-He said I put the pathetic in sympathetic an-and-and-and-and I just said I enjoyed his music, that’s all…!” Nova stuttered.

“You called me Gloomer!” Amadeus snapped.

“Out of FEAR!!” Nova peeped.

“Leave her alone, Wolfgeist. She. Didn’t. Mean. It.” Steward growled.

Amadeus sighed heavily before going to return to his floor. Nova nearly collapsed, shaking violently.

“It’s okay, he can’t hurt ya anymore.” Steward assured, hugging her tightly. Nova tried hiding a hiccup and Steward hugged tighter.

“H-He-H-H-He reminded me of m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-mom…….!” Nova whimpered. Steward froze in shock.

“Mom?” He asked.

Tag List: @bccfggffbgv, @new-account-sam-christy-456, @anaanswersstuff(Hope Ya Don’t Mind The Tags!) If Ya Wanna Be Added, Feel Free To Ask! Reblogs Are HIGHLY Appreciated, So Please Spare One If Ya Have The Time Or Posts To Spare! I Worked SUPER Hard On This, So I Hope Y’all Enjoy!

[amyscascadingtabs]

deep blue but you painted me golden

alternative title: and for god's sake, protect the neck! /

amy learns about one of the downsides to staying over at her boyfriend's place.

read on ao3

Amy Santiago is a woman of her word.

Therefore it falls naturally that when her boyfriend of four and a half months switches his lumpy dumpster mattress for a brand new model, she stays true to her promise and starts sleeping at his place more.

A lot more. Definitely more than she'd been aiming for. Had it not been for her pet fish and absolute refusal to wear a clothing item with any type of stain to work, the detective is certain she'd manage a full workweek without glancing her own apartment.

To her defense, there are plenty of smart benefits to how much she's staying there. Jake's apartment is closer to work, has a surprisingly good shower, and if she manages to motivate him, sometimes he’ll even cook. It’s a tempting and clever option, perhaps even a professional one when she’s worked overtime on a demanding homicide investigation and has to be back at work early the next morning, and she repeats these reasons under her breath whenever she judges herself for having become the cheesy girlfriend who spends each and every night at her boyfriend’s place.

Though of course, she’d be lying if she said there weren’t other benefits associated with staying at the Cobblestink studio. 

Sleeping alone in her own apartment doesn’t allow her the sight of her newly awakened boyfriend moving around in the apartment looking for clean clothes with sleep-ruffled hair and nothing but boxers on, nor the heart-melting view of how he’ll hog the no-longer-shared duvet and roll himself to a sleepy blanket burrito when she gets out of bed first, not the way he’ll smile so wide without opening his eyes when she places a cup of coffee on his nightstand and a light peck to his forehead. Last but not least, staying over at Jake Peralta’s apartment gives her the opportunity to use her most efficient and doubtlessly favored techniques in the art of rousing him from sleep. She'll do this with kisses, starting as soft presses to the exposed skin near his neck before growing more serious when he hums and wraps his arms around her, one of her hands playing with his hair while the other one lightly skims his waistband. He'll react with his hands moving under and up her shirt, fondling as their lips, then tongues, meet.

The ways in which she can make her boyfriend go from deep asleep to fully awake in a few minutes are few, but they are foolproof.

As reliable a tactic and as effective a morning mood-booster as it is, there are inevitably occasions when it backfires and they’re forced to rush in order to arrive at the 99th precinct on time. Amy Santiago adores her boyfriend, but she also adores coming to work on time. She’ll be damned before she willingly arrives less than thirty minutes before the morning briefing.

This Wednesday, however, is the first time she’s been late since the god-awful morning there was a problem at the bank.

“Fifteen minutes before briefing is not late”, Jake insists when she complains to him after they’ve stepped into the elevator. “My standard, if you recall, is five.”

“I do recall”, she mumbles, adjusting a wry button on her periwinkle blouse, buttoned in all haste after the morning. “And I refuse to sink to your level of untimeliness. Me being your girlfriend doesn’t mean you get to corrupt me.”

A proud grin appears on his lips. “You’re my girlfriend.”

“I’ve been your girlfriend for four months.”

“I know”, he says with the same sunshine smile. “It’s still cool when you say it out loud.”

Dork, she wants to tell him with a chaste kiss. She leans in, touching her nose with his, but the universe is not done playing tricks with her - right as she’s about to go for it, the elevator doors fly open and the couple breaks apart in an instant. Charles high-pitched squeal remains loud enough to make the entire floor aware of their arrival.

~

Despite the near-tardy arrival and humiliating elevator-incident, Amy does manage to be productive once she gets a start on her workload for the day. She replies to four emails, adds a few points to her to-do-list for the day, and listens attentively to Terry’s briefing even as she senses Charles’ looking at her throughout. At one occasion she glares back at him, finding him with a delighted smile on his lips and tears in his eyes. Weird, Amy thinks to herself - her and Jake are not even sitting together and she's made sure her outfit and hair looks immaculate despite her getting dressed and fixing her hair in under ten minutes. Then again, Charles has a tendency to get teary-eyed whenever her and Jake as much as sit next to each other at Shaw's, so she brushes it off as a classic case of Boyle Obsession.

She grows suspicious when it doesn’t pass. Most days, the 99’s detectives will start working on their cases and whatever insignificant details are interrupting their focus will with time seem less interesting than new leads or ideas. Jake and Terry leave for a couple hours of door duty where there's been a recent string of B&E’s. Hitchcock and Scully order six different pizzas to try and settle a bet on who's more lactose intolerant, and everyone else in the room moves as far away from the pair as possible. Captain Holt instructs Gina on organizing a file cabinet and she moves three folders before returning her attention to her phone. Amy and Rosa go through witness statements from the same alluded case of drug trafficking they’ve been working for a week. Her workday is moving at its usual pace, yet she can't shake the feeling she's being watched. Every now and then Gina looks up at her with a snicker and a scrunch of her nose, and all the way from her desk, Amy can feel the intense looks Charles keeps aiming at her.

She tries to ignore it. She really does. No matter what judgeful comments Gina has to offer about her outfit or what she's done to invoke Charles obsession-high today, Amy has a job to do and she's certain they must stop at some point. First when it's been an hour of their knowing gazes getting on her nerves, does she shoot them both a warning look that appears to pass them by.

She turns page, tapping the neon yellow highlighter against the paper and trying to focus on the transcribed statement, but her curiosity has officially shifted from the case to the question of what on Earth about her is making people stare.

“Rosa?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“Do you have any idea”, she treads carefully, “why Charles and Gina are staring at me like I went to work wearing a clown mask? It’s distracting.”

Rosa doesn’t look up from her papers, her deadpan expression intact. “Nope. No idea.”

“You’re not even looking at me.”

Her friend sighs, closing the stapled stack of papers using the pen as a bookmark and looks at Amy for about three seconds before she snorts, holding her fist to her mouth to muffle a subtle bout of laughter.

“Now I have to know”, Amy insists. “What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on!”

“You really want to know?”

“Of course I do”, she wheezes, leaning in. “What’s making people stare? Tell me!”

“I’m no expert, but it could be the obvious hickey on your neck.” Rosa grins, touching a spot an inch below Amy’s right ear. “There.  Probably wasn’t visible when you wore your hair down, but you put your hair in a ponytail before the briefing, so…”

“What?” She reaches for her phone, opening the camera to selfie mode so she can see for herself, and sure enough, there’s a bruise. It’s a distinctly non-ambiguous one at that; a dark red-and-purple mark where she, if she thinks hard enough, can remember Jake’s mouth being earlier that morning. She doesn’t remember being aware of him sucking hard enough to leave a mark, which shocks her especially since he’s aware of how unprofessional she considers visible hickeys, but she supposes it’s plausible they were both too... in the moment, to notice.

It doesn’t matter to her now. She’s still mad at him.

“I’m going to kill Jake when I see him”, she asserts, rubbing at the bruise as if that would make it go away. “I swear. I don’t even have concealer with me.”

“Oh, don’t do that.” Rosa’s already returned most of her attention to the statements. “Captain Holt’s already complaining about how homicides are up, meaning we’ll all suffer the consequences if you do. Not cool, Amy.”

“That’s your issue with it?”

“Nah, but it’s fun to see you flustered when you realize the whole precinct can see you got laid this morning.”

“They can’t see that, technically -”

“Nope, but you didn’t deny it.” Rosa looks up again, looking smug as ever before doing some kind of wink at Gina which Amy can’t really interpret, and Amy feels her cheeks heat while she dreams of sinking through the floor.

~

Despite her fierce temptation to call up her boyfriend and yell at him immediately, she realizes it’s not the best of options. She has to be professional, which is why she takes out the ponytail and tries to keep her hair covering the bruise.

Unfortunately, the damage has already been done.

“Amy”, she hears a familiar voice when Rosa leaves for a break - it’s unclear what she’s doing, but Gina seems to have left with her - and she’s alone at her desk, leaving every chance in the world for a wild Charles Boyle to appear. “Oh, Ames.”

“Please don’t”, she mumbles. “I already know.”

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of”, the detective assures her. “The opposite. Honestly, I think you two are doing the world a favor with your lack of fear to openly display your love for one another.”

“It was an accident.”

“Nothing is ever truly an accident.” Charles has a daydreaming look in his eyes. “Not with the intimate, burning, flawless love you and Jake have. In fact, I think you should show it openly much more often. I strongly believe it would make the world a better place.”

She glares at him. “Back. Away.”

“Oh, but you know I’m right”, he shrugs, and then waltzes off with more confidence than she’s ever seen in the man.

It’s afternoon by the time Jake and Terry return. By afternoon, Amy has been given an exorbitant amount of affectionate glances aimed at her neck from Charles, a few more snickers from Gina, and even the odd glance from a passing-by beat cop who must've seen the bruise peeking through her hair. Therefore, when the familiar figure pops down in the chair at the desk across from hers and is all gleeful smiles the moment he sees her, Amy’s rightfully annoyed. Her being teased is his fault and she's furious.

“So I just solved a pretty epic case on my own”, he brags, putting his hands behind his head and leaning back. “Well, pretty much solved. Pretty much on my own. Terry helped, and we’re not totally-totally done yet, but whatever. You impressed by me?”

She looks up at him with reluctance, meeting those coffee-colored eyes immune to seeing the mess on his own desk but so capable of seeing through her. His hair is messier now than this morning, and when she doesn't reply to his question immediately he leans forward to put his elbows on his desk, scrunching his nose and putting his fists under his chin to grab her attention.

It's utterly adorable. She wouldn't admit it publicly and doesn’t either, remaining focused on her computer screen instead, but seeing him again after a few hours makes her want to forgive him in an instant.

“That's great, Jake.”

He narrows his eyes at her short response. “Is something up?”

“Meet me in the evidence room in five”, she whispers, giving no further explanation. Jake gives her a curious look, as if he’s not sure whether she’s going to make out with him or yell at him based on the poker-face she’s working hard to maintain. To be fair - when he smiles at her in that specific, adoring way, Amy’s not sure either.

~

The way he swoops in and checks the door behind him before walking up to where she’s standing reminds her of their first real kiss. Although this room is also the location of them startling and consequently killing a man with a genetic heart condition, not to mention a part of her workplace where she’s spent enough hours for it to feel unremarkable and habitual, it’s always, in a way, going to be their room. She wonders if he’s thinking the same thing.

“Hey there.” He keeps his hands in his jean pockets as he leans close enough to peck her lips. “Did you want to talk about something? Or simply have a moment in peace with your unbelievably hot, super-sexy boyfriend? Remember”, he says with a raise of his eyebrows. “As we once so tragically discovered, they do have cameras here. “

Amy rolls her eyes, shaking her head at his jokes and how desperately they make her want to give into laughter, then pulls her hair aside to point a demonstrative index finger at the hickey. “What in the world, Jake Peralta, is this?”

“What? Oh, ohhh. I see.” He looks down at the floor, blushing as he rubs one hand along his neck to adjust the collar of his flannel. “Shit, Ames. I’m sorry.”

“You should be”, she mutters with a pained grimace. “Gina’s been laughing at me all day, and Charles is over the moon, which is nearly as distracting.”

“I didn’t even notice it‍.”

“Yeah, well, neither did I before I put my hair up and everyone started teasing me. Either way -”, she puts a finger to his chest, “it’s your fault.”

He grins, running a hand through his hair before holding hers with it, their fingers intertwined against his heartbeat. “I’ll make it up to you?”

“You better.”

“If it matters, I think it’s pretty cute.”

“Shut up.”

“Hot too, for that matter.”

“Shut. Up”, Amy wheezes, though this time partly out of frustration over the effect his faked innocent smile has on her, how looking at him so close when it’s noone but them (and a few cameras) still makes her legs a little shaky, pulse a little higher.

She squeezes his hand tighter, and because she’s not in heels today, she stands up on the tip of her toes when she kisses him. His hands rest on her upper back, holding her as she lets herself melt into him for a couple seconds, giving his lip a light bite to remind him he’s not forgiven. It’s unclear whether it serves his purpose, because he just smiles against her lips and technically she’s still annoyed with him but he’s kissing her like that and her annoyance can wait.

First when she realizes how she’s lifting one of her legs, her knee moving towards his waist, and how her hands are tempted to wander strictly non-work-appropriate places, does she make the agonizing decision of pulling away and separating them. They’re almost panting as they do, taking deep breaths to get themselves back to reality.

“So”, he mumbles, chuckling lightly. “I take it I’m forgiven?”

“Oh, no. I’ll get my revenge.”

“Somehow I don’t doubt you on that.”

She does get her revenge a few days later. Amy Santiago’s a woman of her word, after all.

(She wouldn't admit it out loud, but it's totally worth another day of Charles giving them both lovesick glares for hours on end.)