#she literally drove a time cop insane

[div-divington]

#JanewaySweep2023

It's a difficult choice but search your feelings. You know Captain Janeway takes the dub.

"She's not even a mother!" WRONG! She and her helmsman turned into weird lizard/axolotl things and had like three alien-lizard-space-babies so canonically she is a mother by technicality :)

TESTIMONIALS

"hottie WITH AN AXE. making winona ryder an 80's mom was the choice of THEE century. also innovated a new communication device (string lights) to find her son. and she found him bitch!!!!! joyce did that!!"

"She's in command. sh'es cunning. she's done warcrimes (affectionate). she flirts with everything, including herself. and And it is a crime they never let her dress in age of sail costumes or wear a stetson. but if they had that may have broken the internet. If she stepped on me i would get a tattoo of the boot print."

[weemssapphic]

Hi how are you? I hope well! so i really like your writing actually ur my fav writer here on tumblr ;). So i had this idea for a fanfic by Miranda Hilmarson x reader. It was about Miranda being a traffic cop sometimes too and then she ends up giving the reader a ticket in one day and the reader gets really mad and even fights with Miranda, and then they end up meeting again, but what Miranda didn't know was that the reader would be her new boss!! From there I leave it to you, it can even be an enemies to lovers, you know.

I just had this silly idea, maybe you'll like it and I'd be super happy if you wrote it.💗

another thing! English is not my language, I'm literally writing this through Google translator so if something seems strange to you, you already know ☠️

A/N: thank you sooo much, that is so kind of you! I really liked this request and enjoyed writing it - it's my first time writing for Miranda so I really hope it's okay <3 just gonna post this and go hide now ahhhh

not your fault

Words: ~7.4k | ao3 link in title

Content/warnings: slight enemies to lovers, mentions of Adrian Butler (ugh), reader has a temper - poor Miranda is on the receiving end, mentions of cigarettes and alcohol, employee-boss relationship, angry Miranda, but also adorable puppy Miranda, nsfw (smut) - vaginal fingering, cunnilingus

“Are you fucking kidding me…” You groaned under your breath as you snatched up the little piece of paper stuck between your windshield wipers - a parking ticket. You were already running late thanks to your cat having puked all over your carpet that morning, and thanks to the barista at the coffee shop who’d taken ages with your latte - and now you were going to be even later.

You whipped your head around, looking for the officer who’d given you the ticket. A tall, blonde woman in a police uniform was strolling down the line of parked cars, handing out tickets to each one. The officer turned as you stomped over, eyes widening as you advanced on her until you were standing right in front of her. You had to crane your neck up to look at her - in any other situation, you might have found this insanely arousing, but right now you were far too pissed.

“Care to explain this?” You waved the paper in her face - she went slightly cross-eyed as her eyes followed your movements. 

“Uh, that’s a parking ticket, ma’am.” The officer swallowed visibly, taking a step back.

“I park here every goddamn day,” you hissed.

“I’m sorry…” She seemed a bit dazed and distracted for a moment as she regarded you, her eyes darting between your own, before straightening her posture and clearing her throat. “There’s, uh, a festival downtown this weekend, they’ve closed most of the parking zones until it’s over. There’s a sign at the start of the road.” She nodded her head over to a single sign set up at the next intersection, one that you had clearly missed in your rush.

You were seething, a billion arguments ready on your tongue, but the clock was ticking - and in the end, she was right, no matter how pissed you were.

“You know what, fucking forget it. I’m already running late! Thanks for nothing.” You stomped back to your car and crumpled up the parking ticket, tossing it on the passenger seat and groaning in frustration - the officer stood rooted to the spot, watching as you drove away.

~~~

Not wanting to get a speeding ticket in addition to your parking ticket, you took your time driving to the police station for your first day on the job. You’d just moved to Sydney to replace Adrian Butler as he left his position to “focus on his marriage” - you hadn’t even started yet and had already heard rumors of his extramarital affair with a constable. Men are pigs, you thought as you strode into the station and took the elevator up to the third floor, half an hour later than you’d planned.

The room was buzzing when you walked in but as soon as you cleared your throat and made your presence known, everyone went silent.

“I’ll spare you all the usual ‘first day’ speech - you should know who I am. I’m sure we’ll all get to know each other well over the course of the coming weeks, but for now I already have my hands full with everything that Detective Sergeant Butler so generously left for me.”

Your eyes landed on an empty desk near the center of the room. “Who usually sits there? Are they out sick?”

Some of the men began to snicker - one in particular answered your question. “Oh, that’s Hilmarson.” He smirked and took a sip from his coffee mug as he leaned against the side of the copy machine.

You raised an eyebrow. “And? Where is Constable Hilmarson?”

The elevator doors opened behind you and you turned around, eyes widening as you were confronted with the tall, blonde officer who’d given you a ticket. Her own shocked expression mirrored yours.

“That’d be her.” The man - Constable Brown, you’d later come to learn - chuckled, his smirk widening.

“Constable.” You glared pointedly at Constable Hilmarson. “My office, now.”

She frowned and followed you to the small office at the side of the room. You closed the door behind her and took a seat behind your new desk, gesturing for the officer to sit. She scrambled rather clumsily towards the chair and sat down, looking like a child about to be reprimanded.

“Constable Hilmarson, is it? Miranda?” You regarded her carefully. Her cheeks were rosy with embarrassment, her eyes wide as saucers. And, God, were they blue. They were mesmerizing. Miranda bobbed her head up and down in answer to your question, a bit of her pale blonde hair falling in her eye. She raised a hand to her head, dragging long fingers through her hair to brush it back - you had to physically shake your head to stop yourself from getting distracted by her movements.

“I like to be prepared, Constable. So I was having a look at your file the other day, you see, and I was under the impression that you are currently on a homicide case with Detective Griffin. Or am I mistaken?”

“Yes - I mean, no, you’re not mistaken.” Miranda shook her head furiously. 

“Then pray tell, Constable - why on earth did you spend your morning handing out fucking parking tickets?” You couldn’t keep the venom out of your voice as you questioned Miranda - something about her was pissing you off (or maybe it was just the fact that you hadn’t even been able to drink your coffee yet), and you were having trouble reigning in your emotions.

Miranda’s face was bright red and her hands shook slightly. “I lost a bet,” she mumbled, unable to meet your gaze.

“Louder.”

She cleared her throat, her eyes locking with yours. “I lost a bet. I had to take over Constable Brown’s duties for the morning.”

You sighed, raising a hand to pinch the bridge of your nose.

“I’m not here to play games. Do you understand that?” Your voice was sickly sweet, bordering on condescension - it was not lost on Miranda, who was starting to look like she wanted to argue.

Evidently, she thought better of it at the last second, for she simply nodded as she glowered at you.

“You’re here to do your job, not Constable Brown’s job. And I expect you to do your job well. So, seeing as you’ve not only made me late, wasted your entire morning, and wasted even more of my time with this silly conversation, I would appreciate it if you could get to work. Now.”

Miranda stood abruptly, sending a stack of papers flying from your desk as she stormed from the room. You rubbed your temples, wincing at the force with which she closed the door behind her - you were already starting to develop a headache, and it wasn’t even 10 am.

~~~

As the morning went on, you found yourself growing more and more agitated, unable to focus on anything. You realized as your stomach growled for the fourth (or was it the fifth?) time that, in your rush, you’d skipped breakfast. 

The second the clock hit 12 for your lunch break, you were on your feet. You’d have to work through much of your break to catch up, but you could afford to take a few minutes to grab a coffee and a granola bar from the vending machines in the lobby.

Passing by Miranda’s desk, you noticed that her chair was empty - the sight made your blood boil. You took a deep breath to calm yourself down - it was her lunch break, too, and she had every right to leave her desk during that time. Her messy, cluttered desk… You clenched your fists and headed for the elevator.

That wasn’t the only time her desk was empty, however. Throughout the afternoon, you would look up from your paperwork (you found that Adrian had been terrible at properly filing paperwork, making your job that much harder) every so often - and more times than not, the constable was nowhere in sight. With a frustrated sigh, you stood and strode over to open the window - you desperately needed the fresh air if you were going to make it home without strangling someone.

The sight of Miranda smoking a cigarette in the alley next to the station, just under your window, had you clenching your jaw, nostrils flaring. You couldn’t help yourself - you immediately headed towards the elevator and took rapid steps out of the station, rounding the corner and advancing on the constable, whose back was turned to you.

“Hilmarson!” you barked - Miranda flinched as she turned to face you.

“What did I do now? Am I not allowed to smoke or something?” She sounded agitated, and that made you even angrier.

“This is your fourth smoke break in the past two hours alone. If your habits are going to get in the way of your job, then I suggest you-”

“You know, you’re really stressing me out!” Miranda yelled back, gesticulating wildly as she spoke. “I’ll do my damned job, okay? You’re just really not making it easy.”

You laughed - it was hollow and sarcastic - and took a step closer to Miranda. Your face was inches away from hers now - this close, your eyes were drawn to her lips, soft and plush, trembling slightly with anger. A little scar adorned her top lip and your gaze lingered there for a moment, arousal pooling in your core - until Miranda brought the cigarette back to her mouth to take a drag.

Torn from your trance, you plucked it from her grip and dropped it to the ground, crushing it with your boot.

“Talk to me like that again and I’m sending you home for the rest of the day. Now get back upstairs.”

Miranda pushed roughly past you, her shoulder bumping into yours as she headed back into the station. You leaned against the wall and let out a loud groan, your eyes fluttering shut. Why was Miranda determined to make your day as difficult as humanly possible? 

With a heavy sigh, you opened your eyes and pushed off the wall, following the constable back inside.

~~~

Your second day on the job started out significantly better than your first. You managed to eat breakfast, get coffee, and make it to work on time, all without getting a parking ticket or arguing with a certain constable. Miranda had been at her desk when you’d walked past it and, mercifully, hadn’t said a word to you - though you could feel her eyes on you as you disappeared into your office.

When you left your office for your lunch break, you found the main office empty - you figured most of your officers were taking their lunch break as well. You strode over to the little kitchen, reaching for the handle when the door swung open in your face - your body colliding with a much taller one. You heard a gasp above you and looked up to see Miranda standing directly in front of you, eyes wide, mouth hanging open in shock.

It was then that you realized your shirt suddenly felt a bit wet - your eyes fell to the half-empty bowl in Miranda’s hand, then to your torso, which was covered in milk and little pieces of cereal.

“Oh you have got to be kidding me,” you growled, pushing past Miranda and ignoring the apologies that poured profusely from her mouth. You grabbed a fistful of paper towels and dabbed at your shirt, quickly realizing that it was no use - you’d have to get changed.

You spun around when you felt a hand on your arm, glaring up at Miranda who looked down at you apprehensively. At your furious expression, she pulled her hand away as if burned. “Do you need help?”

Sighing, you closed your eyes and attempted to reign in your temper. “No,” you grit out. “It’s fine, you’ve done enough. I just have to go home to get changed, I guess.”

“Well if you don’t have a shirt with you then you can borrow mine?”

Your eyes flew open, meeting Miranda’s soft gaze before flickering down to her torso. “W-what?”

“I mean, I have an extra shirt in my locker.” Miranda gestured back towards the elevator with her thumb, a faint smirk playing upon her lips - the fact that you had just basically ogled her chest was not lost on her, apparently.

You could feel your cheeks turn red and you looked down at your own shirt, clinging to your chest - it had turned slightly see-through, and you could see your bra through the thin fabric. The drive home would cost you your entire lunch break, and Miranda did owe you for this… You sighed heavily.

“Yeah, sure.”

Miranda smiled, her eyes lighting up and crinkling at the outer corners - it was the first time you’d seen her properly smile, and it was beautiful. She crossed the kitchen and peered out the door into the office.

“The coast is clear,” she said with a grin, gesturing for you to follow her. You rolled your eyes and the two of you headed down to the empty locker rooms.

“I always bring something to change into after work,” Miranda supplied as she busied herself with opening her locker. “It might be a bit big on you but at least nobody will be able to see your bra.”

You started to unbutton your shirt, feeling Miranda’s eyes on you as you did so. It was hard to focus with the constable in such close proximity - you struggled with the buttons as you found yourself growing more and more flustered.

“Here, let me help,” she murmured, and before you could stop her, her hands were on the buttons of your shirt. Her fingers brushed against the swell of your chest, just above the fabric of your bra, and you shivered visibly, your mouth going dry.

“T-thanks but I got it,” you mumbled, gently pushing Miranda’s hand away. “Could you turn around?”

Miranda furrowed her brow, her face flushing. “Oh, sorry!” She placed a baby blue t-shirt on the bench next to you, then turned and studied the bare wall with great interest as you got changed.

“You can turn around again,” you said, clearing your throat. Miranda did as she was told, her eyes getting stuck on your chest for a moment before meeting your gaze. Your anger had all but dissipated, replaced with an unfamiliar and somewhat unsettling tension as you looked at Miranda, your stomach flipping.

“Uh, thanks,” you whispered. “For the shirt.”

Miranda’s lips curled up into a smile. “Yeah, of course. You know, I’m really excited to have another woman on the force. Last night I was looking into your case in Auckland before you got promoted - I talked to Robin about it, even she was impressed.”

For once, you were left speechless. For all the crap you’d given Miranda since meeting her, she seemed so genuine and excited to be speaking with you in that moment - you could feel yourself get flustered again, and all you could do was nod your head as she spoke.

“Oh, my lunch break is over so I have to go meet Robin but, uh, I’ll see you later, yeah?”

You nodded absentmindedly, stuck on the way Miranda’s hands moved as she spoke and the brightness of her eyes. She shot you one last grin before turning and taking long strides out of the locker rooms, leaving you to stand there in a daze, holding your wet shirt.

~~~

It was finally Friday and you’d been invited to go to the bar for drinks after work to celebrate the end of your first week - you stood in the lobby of the station, waiting for Robin to join your group before heading out. 

Since the little cereal incident, you were trying to actively avoid thinking about, looking at, or talking to Miranda, but she was making that damned near impossible. When you’d returned her shirt back to her, freshly washed, she made sure to allow her fingers to brush against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. She wasn’t at her desk much throughout the day, off investigating leads with Robin, and for that you were grateful - but every time you saw her desk, littered with empty takeout containers, paperwork, coffee mugs, you felt a twinge of annoyance, followed by a sinking feeling of guilt that you couldn’t quite place. As a result, you spent much more time than you wanted sitting at your desk, dissecting your feelings for the blonde but coming up empty.

The door to the station opened and a civilian walked in with a small goldendoodle on a leash. A gasp sounded to your right and you couldn’t help yourself - your eyes followed the sound just in time to see Miranda crouch down and extend her arms towards the dog, which jumped excitedly up at her, trying to lick her face. 

You couldn’t tell who was more excited about the interaction - Miranda, or the dog. The blonde was letting out little squeals of delight, cooing at the dog as she buried her fingers in its fur.

“Pull yourself together, Constable,” you grumbled, annoyed mostly at yourself for the way your stomach was reacting to the sight of Miranda cuddling the dog. It was childish and unprofessional… You most definitely did not think it was cute. Not even a little bit, no… You blushed and looked away as Miranda stood up, missing the look of disappointment in her puppy-like eyes.

After that, though, you found you couldn’t even enjoy getting drinks with your colleagues - your mind was going in circles and you were unable to shake off this weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. You sat at a booth near the back of the bar, nursing a beer as everyone around you joked around and slowly got drunk. 

You couldn’t keep your gaze from wandering towards Miranda, who was seated at the opposite end of the table. She sipped her beer, smiling occasionally at something one of the others said - your eyes, once again, got stuck on her smile. The upward quirk of her lips, the subtle scrunch of her nose, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. When she caught you staring, however, she quickly looked away, the smile sliding right off her face.

It affected you more than you would care to let on - as soon as her smile was gone, you wished for it back - desperately. And it was stupid, really - she’d somehow managed to sour your mood every single day this week, and yet your body was reacting to her in ways you hadn’t felt in a long time. With a sigh, you drained your beer and ordered a second one - this was going to be a long night.

~~~

If you’d thought your second week on the job would start better than the first, well - you’d quickly find out just how wrong you were.

Monday morning started like any other - you strode into the office with your coffee to-go cup, passing by Miranda’s empty desk. There was a half-empty bowl of cereal at the edge, stacks of manila folders and paperwork strewn over the surface, an empty, crumpled paper bag from the local bakery that had been tossed unceremoniously onto the computer keyboard. It stirred up a twinge of annoyance in you, but you tried your best to shake off the feeling.

Looking up and seeing the blonde standing at the coffee machine in the kitchen, you quickly averted your gaze and hurried to your office.

Your mind began to wander as you answered your emails and a flash of blonde through the window in your office caught your eye. Miranda walked back to her seat, a mug in her hand. She reached her desk and distractedly looked up, talking enthusiastically with Robin as she placed the mug down on a teetering pile of papers.

You looked on in horror as the pile slowly toppled over, spilling coffee all over her desk - you couldn’t bear to watch anymore, dropping your head into your hands in frustration as you heard Miranda let out a gasp.

Not my problem, you thought, trying to take steadying breaths. It wasn’t your desk that she’d spilled her coffee on, after all. 

You stood and made your way to your office door, calling out for Robin.

“Yeah?”

“Did you manage to get a copy of the autopsy results already? I really need them.”

Robin shifted slightly from foot to foot, a frown growing on her face - you really didn’t like the look of that.

“Actually, I sent Miranda to get them this morning.”

Raising an eyebrow, you looked past Robin at her colleague, who was frantically wiping up the spilled coffee from her desk. “Hilmarson, can I get those autopsy results?”

Miranda looked up, freezing in her movements. Her eyes darted between you and her desk and her cheeks were rapidly turning pink. “They, uh… Got a bit soggy.” She strode over to you with a piece of paper in her hand. You took it gingerly, a look of disgust forming on your face as the entire thing was brown and dripping wet.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” you growled. Miranda shrugged sheepishly and muttered out an apology - you glared at her in return. “I need you to get me a fresh copy by this afternoon.”

Miranda opened her mouth to speak but you interrupted her, balling your hand into a fist and crumpling up the paper, tossing it on her desk. “And tidy your fucking desk like a grown up,” you snarled.

Miranda’s face was red as she turned sharply on her heel and stormed out of the office, taking large strides towards the elevators and disappearing from view. 

“She grows on you,” Robin supplied quietly, watching you watch Miranda. You snorted.

“I doubt it.” Your stomach churned uncomfortably even as you said those words. Why did this woman have such an effect on you?

“She’s been having a rough time, ever since the breakup with Adrian.” Your eyes widened at this piece of information - you’d known about Adrian’s affair, of course, but you’d never thought it would be with Miranda. “They were going to have a baby together, you know.”

You coughed, choking on your own saliva. “They what?” You couldn’t picture Miranda as a mother - she was far too clumsy and chaotic… and goofy. And generous. Okay, maybe you could picture it, a little bit. Your stomach churned uncomfortably - you didn’t know the details of the affair, but breakups were rough - you’d moved across the country after your last breakup. You suddenly felt ashamed for being such a bitch to her. 

“Yeah, well…” You cleared your throat awkwardly. “I have a lot of work to do, so if you don’t mind…” You forced a smile and Robin raised her eyebrows, nodding and leaving you be. You tried to focus after that but you couldn’t, your mind wandering quite insistently to a certain constable. Guilt began to gnaw at your insides after having been so harsh with her. You’d have to - you wanted to - apologize for your behavior.

You locked yourself in your office and finished replying to your emails. Even half an hour later, Miranda was still not at her desk - nor was she in the kitchen, the locker rooms, or the alley under your window. You finally found her behind the station, looking out over the water and smoking a cigarette. 

“Hey,” you called, your heart clenching when you saw Miranda flinch as she turned to face you.

“Oh fuck. Look, I’m sorry, okay, I-”

“I’m the one who should apologize. Robin told me it was you.”

Miranda’s face scrunched up in confusion. She dropped her cigarette and took a step towards you. “Sorry?”

“You know, with Adrian.”

Recognition flooded Miranda’s features and she dropped her gaze to the pavement. “Oh.” She let out a hollow chuckle and turned again, walking towards the water and lowering herself to sit at the edge. You followed and took a seat next to her, leaving a healthy distance between the two of you. 

“Men are pigs, you know?” Miranda said after a moment’s silence. A loud snort escaped your lips, causing Miranda to laugh - you hadn’t heard her laugh so freely before, but it made your heart soar and you thought it might be your new favorite sound in the world. It wasn’t quite melodic, not necessarily akin to birdsong - it was loud and unabashed and very Miranda, and for some reason you found you really liked that. You couldn’t help but laugh, too.

“You’re alright, you know that, Hilmarson?” you said with a grin, gently bumping your shoulder into hers. Miranda’s laughter slowly died out but the smile remained on her face, accompanied by a faint blush.

“Thanks. You are, too.”

~~~

“Hilmarson.” You slung your jacket over your shoulder as you strode past Miranda’s desk the following day around noon. Her eyes grew wide and she dropped the pen she was holding, straightening her posture. “Come with me.”

Miranda scrambled to get up, slipping her phone into her pocket and following you to the elevators and out of the building. 

“Where are we going?” she asked, confusion evident in her tone as she scurried after you. You bypassed the parking lot, heading down the street instead.

“You’ll see,” you said with a smirk, wordlessly offering Miranda a cigarette. She fumbled around in her pocket for a lighter but you were quicker, holding up your own. “Hold still,” you murmured, holding the lighter up to her cigarette and lighting it for her, your eyes catching on the way her long, slender fingers held it, as if it were a delicate thing. 

Your destination was a nearby coffee shop, and you held the door open for Miranda to step through. “After you,” you purred, smirking at Miranda’s wide eyes. After a moment’s hesitation, she scrambled into the cafe, waiting awkwardly for you at the counter.

“It’s on me,” you said before ordering yourself a latte and a sandwich. “Get anything you like.”

Minutes later, you were sitting together at a little table in the corner.

“Look,” you started with a sigh. Miranda tilted her head. “Can we start over? I haven’t exactly been fair to you. You aren’t the reason I was late last week. I was angry and took it out on you, and that was really shitty of me.”

“I did spill cereal all over your shirt, though,” Miranda murmured with a sheepish grin, her cheeks turning adorably rosy.

“Yeah. Yeah, you did,” you said with a laugh. “That’s not the point, though. You’re too good to let yourself get walked all over, you know that?”

Miranda shrugged, unable to fully meet your gaze and focusing instead on her panini, out of which she took a huge bite.

“Not by me, not by Constable Brown, not by Adrian - you’re a solid officer and you have potential, you just need to stand your ground more.”

“Oh god,” Miranda spoke through a full mouth, her voice slightly garbled, her eyes wide. “Is this a performance review or something?”

You laughed, your stomach flipping as her blush deepened. “No. I just…” You hesitated, biting your lip and looking away. I just really like you. “I just wanted to apologize. I want us to work together, not against each other.”

“Really?” Miranda grinned, her eyes sparkling - the hope written across her face nearly made your heart stop, and you nodded. “I was so scared when I found out you were my new boss. I really thought you hated me.”

“I did, too,” you said with a laugh. “But… for the record, I don’t. I hope you don’t hate me.” 

Miranda’s cheeks puffed out as she chewed and she smiled widely. “I don’t.”

~~~

Ever since your lunch “date”, your feelings for Miranda were only growing. Your heart skipped a beat when you caught sight of her at the station, your stomach fluttered when you heard her voice. You even found yourself timing your smoke breaks with hers, just so you would have an excuse to chat with her and bask in her presence.

The following Friday at the bar, Miranda chose to sit down next to you. She placed a beer in front of you and offered you a wide smile - you felt your face flush as you muttered out an uncharacteristically shy “thank you”.

The two of you listened to your colleagues talk and banter - or rather, perhaps Miranda was listening, but you definitely weren’t. You were far too focused on the constable and your close proximity to one another; the way her shoulder bumped yours every so often, the way her hand flexed around her beer bottle, the way her throat bobbed whenever she took a sip.

Miranda laughed, throwing her head back, her shoulders shaking. She looked to the side, meeting your gaze - you couldn’t help but grin giddily back at her, chuckling a bit, and you could see her cheeks turn red as she returned your grin. 

After your third beer, you started to feel a little daring - you placed your hand gingerly on her thigh, your touch feather light as you were afraid of crossing a line. To your surprise, Miranda placed her own hand on top of yours - it was warm and soft and large, and you could feel your pulse pick up as her long fingers curled slightly around yours. When you dared to steal a glance in her direction, you could see a soft smile playing upon her lips.

~~~

“Hey.” A low voice coming from the doorway to your office caused you to look up from your laptop. A smile involuntarily spread across your face seeing Miranda leaning awkwardly against the doorframe, her hands clasped behind her back.

“Hi,” you replied - Miranda hadn’t come into your office proactively since you’d started working at the station, but you supposed a lot had changed in the past few days. “Do you need something?”

Miranda shook her head. “No, I, uh, I actually wanted to ask if you’d want to come over to my place for a beer or something tonight?”

“Oh.” A swarm of butterflies erupted in your stomach at the prospect of spending one-on-one time with the blonde - who was looking increasingly like she was about to throw up, the longer you took to reply. “Yeah, yes, I would love to.”

Miranda’s eyes widened. “Okay, great. I’ll send you my address. How’s 7?”

“7 is perfect,” you said with a growing blush, chuckling as Miranda rushed back to her desk to grab her phone - your own phone pinged with a text moments later: an address.

~~~

You showed up promptly at 7, your heart pounding fiercely against your ribcage as you knocked on the door to Miranda’s apartment.

The door swung open to reveal the tall blonde, wearing the blue shirt she’d loaned you after spilling cereal all over you, as well as a pair of shorts. 

“Blue is definitely your color,” you said before you could stop yourself. It really was, though - it brought out the blues of her eyes, making them shine and sparkle against her pale skin. 

“Thank you,” Miranda said with a laidback grin, gesturing for you to enter her apartment. It surprised you to see that it wasn’t as messy as you’d have assumed it to be - it was definitely lived in, but it was clean and had very home-y vibes. More than anything, the first thing you noticed was the smell. It smelled like Miranda - light and clean, but with the faint scent of cigarettes clinging to the air. Her shirt had smelled like that, too, when you’d borrowed it, and though you never would have admitted it back then, you’d buried your nose in the fabric more than once before begrudgingly washing and returning it.

Miranda offered you a beer and guided you to her living room, settling on the couch and motioning for you to join her. The couch was relatively small and though you tried to leave some space between you, your knee ended up pressing lightly against Miranda’s thigh.

Despite your nerves, it somehow felt right to be in her space. You felt as though you were able to see a whole new side to Miranda - a side that you really liked. As the two of you engaged in some timid small-talk, you couldn’t help but wonder why she’d invited you - you hoped it was for the same reason that you’d said yes.

“God, I was so nervous to ask you to come over,” Miranda said with a cackle, shaking her head at herself before taking a swig of her beer.

“Were you?” The thought amused you greatly, and it gave you a shot of confidence. You dropped your voice an octave and leaned forward. “Do I make you nervous?”

Miranda looked like a deer caught in headlights, her eyes widening. Your eyes flicked briefly to her lips, to her wet, pink tongue darting out to lick them, and you found yourself leaning even closer. 

“What would you do if I kissed you right now?” you murmured, scanning Miranda’s face for any sign of discomfort. Miranda’s pupils dilated and her lips parted slightly.

“I would kiss you back,” she whispered, her gaze landing on your lips.

“Yeah?” you whispered back with a smile. Miranda nodded slowly.

“Uh-huh.” 

You closed the gap, your lips meeting hers - she tasted like beer and cigarettes, and her lips were impossibly soft. She kissed you back eagerly, whimpering a little as your tongue darted out over her lower lip.

You pulled back, your cheeks covered in a light blush.

“I’m sorry, I hope that wasn’t-” you started, but Miranda interrupted you with a second kiss, this one deeper and hungrier than the first as her hands grabbed your cheeks, holding you in place. Her tongue licked greedily at the seam of your lips, which you immediately parted for her. You let out a deep groan as her tongue slipped into your mouth, dancing with yours in near-desperation.

“You taste so good,” Miranda moaned, her voice low and sultry, and desire pooled in your core.

“Mmmh,” was all you could reply as your hands gripped at Miranda’s waist and you swung your leg over her lap to straddle her. Her hands slid down to your waist, then your hips, then came to rest on top of your thighs. She gave them a squeeze and you found yourself involuntarily grinding your pelvis into her lap, her touch sending your body into overdrive.

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered, Miranda swallowing your words as your bodies pressed against each other, a steady and suffocating heat building between the two of you.

The constable’s hands slipped under your ass and she turned you onto your back - breaking the kiss only briefly to position herself above you. One of her knees came to rest between your legs and she pushed it against your core, drawing a groan from your throat. The pressure was delicious against your aching sex and you bucked your hips to get some much-needed relief.

Miranda’s lips left your own and began to trail down your chin, your throat, your chest, stopping at the top button of your shirt - hot, wet, needy. She lifted her head and you looked down to meet her gaze - her pupils were blown wide with lust, her cheeks gorgeously flushed, her hair tousled.

“We- fuck,” you started breathily, finding it almost impossible to think as Miranda’s knee pressed against your clit. “We should slow down.”

Miranda nodded, her eyes widening and her cheeks bright red as she reluctantly pulled her leg away from your cunt. You bit down on your lower lip to stop a whine from slipping out at the loss of friction.

The constable settled half on top of you, leaning against the back of the couch and propping her head up on her arm. She closed her eyes as she tried to steady her heavy, ragged breathing. “Right. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you whispered, your voice hoarse with want. “I just don’t want to take advantage of you.”

Miranda’s eyes snapped open and she met your gaze, a slow, easy grin spreading across her face. “You’re not. I want this.”

“I don’t think I just want this,” you mumbled, closing your eyes and swallowing hard. “I want you.” 

“I want you, too.”

You opened your eyes and met Miranda’s bright, eager gaze, searching her face for any hint of doubt or hesitation. “Are you sure?”

Miranda nodded and you lunged forward, your lips crashing into hers as your hand snaked its way around the back of her head, holding her in place. Your fingers threaded through her hair - it felt like silk under your skin.

Your other hand settled on her waist, tugging her on top of you - her body weight pressed you down into the couch and you groaned at the feeling. You needed more, you wanted more, so your hands found the hem of Miranda’s t-shirt and you slipped underneath it. Her bare skin was impossibly smooth, and you felt electricity coursing through your body at the feeling of her soft hips in your hands. Your hands found their way up her back and you raked your nails over the expanse of it, pleased with the hungry growl that escaped Miranda’s lips.

Finding the clasp of her bra, you unclipped it, slipping a hand around to the front of her torso and under the loose fabric to palm her breast. She grasped desperately at your waist as your warm palm rubbed over her nipple, rolling it into a hard peak. Miranda let out a breathy sigh and sat up, straddling your waist and pulling her shirt off. Her bra followed, and both were discarded on the floor behind the couch. 

You felt the air leave your lungs as you stared up at Miranda - your mouth going dry. Her rosy nipples contrasted against her pale skin, her abdomen rippled with every heaving breath that she took. You couldn’t help but reach out and touch her, caressing her hips, her stomach, her breasts - flicking your thumbs over her pert nipples and watching them harden further.

Sitting up, you hungrily took one of the rosy buds into your mouth, sucking greedily and soothing your tongue over it as you felt Miranda’s hands thread through your hair. You repeated the process on her other nipple, thoroughly pleased with yourself when Miranda let out a soft, breathy moan - one that was so deliciously pornographic that you felt a wave of arousal course through you, your panties growing damp.

You released Miranda’s nipple, your hands drifting down to the buckle of her belt and making quick work of undoing it. Miranda took the hint, removing her pants in a hurry and then focusing her attention on your own clothes. Your own shirt was unbuttoned and tossed aside in an instant, your pants tugged down your legs and dropped onto the floor with the rest of the clothing.

Miranda’s bare skin was hot against your own and you pulled her back down on top of you, your pussy throbbing as her nipples brushed against yours. You kissed her with hunger and passion, your left hand palming her ass as your right hand found its way between your bodies to cup her pussy over her underwear.

The constable groaned, immediately grinding against your hand - you noticed that she’d soaked through the thin cotton of her underwear. You pulled the fabric aside and curled your fingers against the length of her slit, letting out a gasp as you felt her dripping for you.

“I need you,” she whined, shuddering as your fingers explored her folds - letting out a strangled whimper when you smeared her wetness over her clit and began to draw lazy circles over the bundle of nerves.

Miranda turned out to be as loud as she was sensitive - you found it easy to bring her to the edge, time and time again, your fingers applying a gentle pressure to her clit and pumping easily in and out of her, her slick walls drawing your digits in and clenching tightly around them. Her unabashed moans filled the air, echoing off the walls of the living room and having you wondering - only briefly, though - how thick those walls were.

After her fifth orgasm, when the stimulation finally became too much for her, Miranda whimpered and shifted her pelvis away from you. Taking the hint, you pulled your hand out of her underwear, your fingers shining with her arousal. You lifted them to Miranda’s face, smirking when she immediately opened her mouth and allowed you to place your fingers on her tongue. She sucked them clean, her flushed cheeks hollowing out, her kiss-swollen lips wrapped around your knuckles. 

You leaned forward to kiss her as she released your fingers, eager to taste the remnants of her orgasm on her tongue. The taste was heavenly - you were almost sorry that Miranda was so overstimulated - you’d have given everything to go down on her.

She pulled back from the kiss, her hot, heavy breath ghosting over your face as she rested her forehead against your own, trying to steady her breathing. A bead of sweat had collected on her forehead and you reached up to wipe it away, tucking a strand of mussed hair behind her ear. It was too short, of course, and immediately fell back into her face - it made you smile, and Miranda smiled - no, beamed - back, her eyes sparkling.

“I hope that wasn’t too much,” you whispered into the silence - Miranda blushed and shook her head no. Her fingers danced along the waistband of your underwear, lightly at first as she leaned in for a languid kiss. Then her fingers curled under the waistband and began tugging, her lips trailing down your jaw, your throat, your sternum, your stomach - soft, warm, wet, hungry. She tugged your underwear down your legs, her lips immediately replacing the fabric as she pressed kisses to your mound, to your inner thighs - finally disappearing between your legs. 

You felt her tongue lap hungrily at your folds, little noises of pleasure coming from between your thighs and vibrating against your cunt. It was both adorable and extremely hot at the same time, how eagerly Miranda ate you out - sloppy, yet determined (and very skilled, you noted mentally, letting out a filthy groan as her lips latched onto your clit, her tongue flicking at the sensitive little bundle).

By the time Miranda was finished with you, your thighs were trembling and your breathing was ragged. The constable pressed one final kiss to your clit, before sitting up and grinning goofily down at you. Her chin was coated in your slick and her cheeks were flushed, and you couldn’t help but loop an arm around her neck and pull her close, licking your own arousal off her face before meeting her lips in a slow, sensual kiss.

After what felt like hours holding each other, kissing and regaining your breaths, you felt your eyes begin to grow heavy and you sighed.

“I should probably get going,” you murmured, your voice slightly hoarse.

“Yeah - of course.” Miranda blushed as she pushed herself off you. “Can you just wait here?”

You nodded, furrowing your brows as the constable stood and walked out of the room. You heard the tap running, then she came back with a wet washcloth.

“Is it okay if I…” Her eyes darted down between your legs as she took a seat next to you.

It was your turn to blush. “Yeah, that’s okay. Thanks.”

Miranda cleaned you up with great care, being extra gentle as she soothed the washcloth over your clit. When she was done, you got dressed in silence, then allowed Miranda to walk you to the door. She paused with her hand on the doorknob.

“Would you want to…” she trailed off, not quite able to meet your gaze.

“Are you busy Saturday? Would you like to go on a date with me?” You couldn’t help but smile as Miranda’s eyes widened and she began to nod, a look of relief washing over her face as her lips curled upwards.

“Yeah - I’m not busy, I would love to.”

“Good.” You smirked, leaning in to press your lips to Miranda’s - her breath hitched in her chest. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

You turned to leave, exiting the apartment and walking down the hall. Turning around to wave goodbye, you could see Miranda smiling as her head poked out from behind the door. 

That night, you fell asleep with a soft smile on your face and a warmth in your belly - already mentally planning your date.

x

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[cinematicnomad]

4-7, 17, and 18

004. a film you could watch on repeat for the rest of your life? answered :) but some others i could def rewatch forever: apollo 13, spotlight, a few good men, catch me if you can, almost famous, jaws...

005. what’s the very first film you remember watching? ooooh. difficult! it's hard bc my family are big movie watchers, so i've been watching movies for longer than i can remember. it's kind of hard to pinpoint a specific "ONE"? like, i know for a fact that apparently as a toddler i drove my aunt insane by making her rewind and replay 101 dalmatians over and over again (in her words: 101 times, until she lied and told me the VHS was broken lol). it's a cop out, but i'm gonna say i don't remember.

006. a film you wish you hadn’t watched? this might be mean, i'm sure i've watched worse and more problematic films, but spielberg's the BFG (2016) made me want to gouge my own eyes out. my brother got us free tickets bc he was working at a theatre at the time, and it's the only time i ever remember repeatedly checking the time as the movie dragged on and literally begging for it to be over. i missed out on reading roald dahl as a kid, so i really had like. NO nostalgia for the story and i could not stand the effects that were used in the movie.

on a similar note: oh my god, the polar express (2004) is a literal uncanny valley hellscape?? another movie i saw in theatres and was baffled by.

007. a film you wish had a sequel? there aren't a lot of movies that i wish would get sequels tbh. if anything, i wish there were fewer sequels in the world.

not quite on the same level, but i wish sam raimi had gotten to do spiderman 4. he had a whole plan for 6 spiderman movies and from what he's said about them, i was honestly very intrigued (mainly bc he always approached it as peter and mary jane's story and then figured out what was going on with spiderman to fit in with those arcs, which is just more character driven and compelling to me). it's a bummer the series had to end on a down note like spiderman 3 which really got taken over by the studio who demanded elements be added to the story that raimi wasn't interested in telling and it's v evident. if he'd been given free reign to take back the series, i'd like to have seen where things went.

017. which cinematic universe would you like to live in? none, this universe is hard enough to navigate without magic or supervillains or aliens or whatever.

018. what’s your favourite biopic? recency bias makes me want to say oppenheimer (2024) which i saw in theatres three times. maybe catch me if you can (2002) in terms of which i've rewatched the most.

🎬 film ask game 🎬

[deadweight-at7am]

So, I'm not sure if anyone else is the same but I wrote in an online journal for years and years of my life. I got LiveJournal in 2004, before that I had Diaryland, and literally wrote in it almost every day until about 2011-2012 and then more sporadically. So, much of my life as a teenager is completely documented.

When I tell you... the insane amount of shit I used to get myself into, the things I used to do with my friends, the never-ending drama, all the stuff I did... it's really no wonder I am good with having a very simple life now. I read it for fun sometimes when I'm bored or I want to take a walk down memory lane.

I got myself into so many scary situations that adult me would never want my kids getting themselves into. I drove to West Virginia one evening (with friends) and told my mom I was sleeping at a friends' house locally. I was not. I was at some guy's house who was throwing a huge party. I lied and my mom figured it out when I didn't arrive back home in the morning - she called me 27 times. I showed up at my house at like 11am with NO SHOES ON. I remember my mom screaming at me that she thought I had died.

I threw a huge party at my townhouse while my Mom was away and the cops were called. I was detained in my own home while they breathalyzed everyone. There was a squad of like 10 police officers in my house. I got an alcohol citation as a juvenile. I remember when the cops were coming people jumped - yes, JUMPED - off my back porch onto the grass and ran through the neighboring townhomes to get away. (My mom was mad about this for weeks).

Was anyone else also an insane idiot at that age?

[belladonnafleur]

I rarely ever reply to posts but I have a story my friend told me that basically proves this post right.

My friend from high school liked vintage cars; she drove a red Corvair. She's a really safe driver; I have never felt unsafe in her car, not once. One time, she was driving in her town, and a cop pulled her over. She had no fuckin idea why, but she was freaking out because she had no idea what she did wrong; she told me that she was almost crying because she still lived at home and her mom would've killed her. The cop goes up to her window and asks her "What year is it?"

She had no fuckin clue what he meant at the moment, then she realized that he pulled her over only to ask what year her car was from. She got pulled over because this cop, probably meaning well, thought her car was cool and wanted to know how old it was.

It's insane to me that cops have no idea how much power they have. She could have been fined at best and dead at worst when she literally did nothing wrong.

I have a hard time talking about American law enforcement, because I have ptsd (like a therapist told me this and everything) from my own experiences with cops and because it's so balls quaking insane.

Like, a cop in the United States can pull you over for any reason. Which is a nice way of saying no reason, because literally anything can be used after the fact as justification. A cop can say its cuz you looked at him, or didnt look at him, or it looked like you were holding something, or looked like you were driving too perfectly for it to be natural. It's insane.

There are apparently no circumstances where a cop can't just kill you. The line the courts have applied is "reasonably believed" you were a threat, but that's such a nebulous nothing limit that people get shot for reaching for their license, having their phone in their hand, you're running away with no weapon, not being able to follow conflicting commands, like anything. And cops are almost never charged, because every court is going to believe he could "reasonably believe" he was threatened. Fuck, if you give me enough time, I can make any situation seem juuuuust plausibly threatening enough to pass that bar. It's insane.

A cop can just rob you. Like tell you to give him your wallet, take all the cash out, and just walk away with it. Exactly like you would imagine getting robbed in an alley would go, except no one can help. And he doesn't even have to hide it, he just drops it in a box at the station and they put it in their bank account. It's legal. You can't prove it wasn't drug money. I can't prove any money wasn't at some point drug money. It's insane.

If a cop just walks in your front door and says "I'm here to kill you and your entire family" YOU ARE GOING TO PRISON IF YOU STOP HIM. There is no positive defense for assaulting a police officer in the United States, and doubly so if you kill him. You have effectively no defense against a homicidal cop, which happens same as any other job. Unless for some reason you have cameras all thru your house and clearly caught the audio of him saying that he's there just to kill you, you have zero chance of not going to prison, probably for life. And that's assuming you aren't killed "resisting arrest" while being taken into custody. It is a crime, in this country, for you to defend yourself under any circumstances if the person you're defending yourself from is a cop. That's insane.

You don't have civil rights if a cop says so. You have the right to have a gun, right? A lot of states have open carry. A cop can shoot you if he sees you have a gun. Doesn't matter if you have a license and everything. So you effectively don't have the right to bear arms if a cop can shoot you for exercising it. You have the right to protest. Unless a cop tells you to stop. He doesn't need a real reason to tell you to stop. And if you don't stop, you can be arrested or shot. So you don't really have the right to protest, do you? A cop cant just search your car or house, right? Unless he claims he heard something, or smelled something, neither of which can be proven. So a cop can search whatever he wants, as long as he pretends there was a "reason". So you dont have protection from unreasonable search and seizure, do you? These are no longer rights- they're things the cops allow.. for now. But legally, those rights have already been found to not actually be rights, because any random cop can decide to take that right from you, for any reason. It's insane.

These aren't like crazy things that I'm just making up, these aren't some weird twisted way I'm looking at something, these are all very real things that we all just.. ignore? Police abolitionists and the media bring these things up all the time, and the overwhelming response to it is: so what? Don't break the law and it won't matter. Blue lives matter. More police funding. Cops should have tanks. It's insane. And I always feel like im just rambling and sound insane when I say this kind of stuff because if you wrote a book and had the dystopian government doing the stuff that the police in this country do every single day, those same people who "back the blue" would line up to say stuff like "*Books government* wouldnt have a chance before us real americans stopped them" on twitter and not even get a hint of the irony.

[burningexeter]

Bebe's Kids: The Aftermath

She didn't know what to do now at this point and that's what worried her the most.

All of this started when she received the news that her boss for the past five to six years, Walter, had passed away. It took her by complete surprise as although he made quite a lot of enemies, he was always respectful to her and treated her well as a secretary - though she wondered if it was mainly her looks as to why.

At his funeral, she and Walter's wife were pretty much the only ones shedding any tears as everyone else there was laughing and having a good time. Everyone was glad he was dead, Walter did not really have a lot of friends as he owed god knows how many people a ton of money. But it was there that she met someone that she now ever regretted meeting in the first place - Robin Harris.

Looking back, she didn't know why she let him smooth talk to her. He was less charming and more schlubby than anything but maybe it's because she was too nice to turn him down on the spot. He did very quickly grow on her and when Robin told her that "Dakota Staton's playing down at the Regal Room next Friday", basically trying to ask her out on a date, it then turned into her proposing that if he wanted to get better acquainted with her and her son than he should take them somewhere more appropriate..... like Fun World.

To which he said 'no problem, I'll pick y'all up Saturday at 10'.

The result turned into what has got to be the most insane first date that she's ever been on and one that she'll never forget. Top it off, Jamika ended up making a last minute decision that didn't turn out so well — she brought along Bebe's kids with her.

Bebe had been a special close friend of hers ever since middle school, way back before Jamika had that tanning accident.... which we'll get to.

But the point is Bebe was the most loyal, best of the best friend you could think of. She was always there for Jamika growing up through not just middle school but high school, college and adulthood and it was always returned and repayed by Jamika herself, especially when Bebe fell on hard times that she's still struggling through for a couple of years now.

However, the one downside to Bebe for everyone else ever except for Jamika was her three children: oldest so far of the bunch LaShawn, the middle-child Kahlil and the youngest Reggie.... or as he went by his nickname Pee-Wee and trust her, he was definitely no ordinary baby right down to the fact that he spoke perfectly and had the voice of a gruff old man or rapper that chain smoked. The three of them were and still are nefarious troublemakers beyond anything anyone else could imagine. They were literally known almost everywhere and not in a particularly good way as most went "Oh no! It's BEBE'S KIDS!" and proceeded to flee in terror.

And yet despite all of that, Jamika had a strong soft spot. She knew that they were just still kids who were products of their environment growing up, that they were like this because of how they were unfortunately raised. Bebe always did her absolute hardest and best to be a good mother and was a good, caring mother.... it's just that there were still so much that she had to deal with that her kids ended up having to raise themselves. Reminder that these were the same kids that not only hijacked a pirate ship at Fun World but also caused the entire amusement park to collapse into smoke and rubble as they drove off at the end of the day. Even cops were and still are terrified of them but Jamika couldn't even blame them for that.

If there was one positive to come out of all of this is that it now seems like her son Leon and Bebe's kids are friends, Jamika had always known about LaShawn's crush on her son so she knew deep down it was a long time coming. Leon had even started telling her a crazy story about robots they encountered before LaShawn put her hand over his mouth on the drive-back.

Now with all of that said, none of what happened today came close to HER showing up and re-entering her life and Robin's life too.

She remembers the day she first met her and unlike Bebe, it was in high school. Jamika (which that WASN'T even her NAME back then) was trying out for the cheerleaders, something that she had wanted and practiced for for a long time. Today was that day she had been waiting for and she knew that she had it in her, that is until it was her turn to come up and show them what she's got. Jamika froze with all eyes now focused on her and her only. But the sharpest ones that stung her the most in the chest was the captain herself, she was the richest girl in school and the most popular.... and the most snobbish and stuck-up. Drop dead gorgeous golden blonde hair that went past her shoulders, black eyes just like Jamika's, a flexible and slender body boys would get an erection over and a black mole on her right side of her cheek. She was watching Jamika directly like a hawk waiting for her to do something and was chewing the end of a pencil impatiently, Jamika then made the dumb mistake of making or rather trying to failing and failing miserably at making a joke on cheerleading which upset and annoyed the captain to where she growled. She scrambled to get herself ready there, knowing she was embarrassing herself in front of plenty including the squad. It was when the captain put her fist down on the judge's table and yelled at her to "Just get on with it!" to which it snapped Jamika in place, she took a huge gulp and began. Jamika still doesn't remember what happened, she must have blacked out there as her mind just couldn't take anymore but when she was finished, breathing hard and on the floor with her arms and pom-poms up and had done a cheerleader split, the whole auditorium applauded and the captain had bit off the end of the pencil and spat it out. The other two judges were immensely impressed, the rest of the squad were impressed by none were more impressed than the captain who reacted interestingly to when the cheerleader judge to her left said "I think she could actually be better than you" and the captain replied with "Oh, really?" and had a sly smile on her face.

It wasn't until years later and especially now that Jamika had realized after she said that, she licked her lips in a flat-out sexual way at her slowly and savory.

Jamika had made the team and yet was about to learn the hard way it would lead her to where she is now all these years later.

Quickly, she rose up the ranks of the squad and soon enough became tied for the star cheerleader along with her captain. And strangely enough, her captain didn't seem to mind at all in the slightest bit. At least the "being tied" part. The two of them had become high school rivals not just when they were out cheerleading but in their school lives as well. She took every opportunity she could to either undermine or worse, publicly humiliate Jamika. Even when the two of them ran into each other at the mall, they'd go at it in front of everyone including shoppers. Their rivalry had gotten so bad that they ended up getting into their fair share of catfights as well. It was then everything changed on the night of their school's football championship that Jamika had finally decided to give her a big taste of her own medicine when in front of not just the squad but an entire stadium of students, she pantsed her captain in front of everyone exposing her panties for all to see. To hell with being kicked off the squad for good, at this point for her it was worth it.

So when the game was over, their team had won for the fifth year in a row and Jamika was all alone in the locker room, the last thing she ever could've expected was her captain coming up from behind, spinning her around and kissing her big, fat and long on the lips.... and yet that is exactly what ended up happening.

Jamika couldn't believe what was happening as she felt her captain's tongue moving about in her mouth.

But it didn't stop there, after she was done kissing her, the captain proceeded to pull down Jamika's cheerleader skirt and panties and fingered her vagina until she came.

The following day and the day after (Saturday and Sunday) came and went for Jamika as she spent those days absolutely stunned and speechless at what had happened. She kept thinking again and again "Did that actually happen?", should she tell someone like her parents, what's gonna happen the next time when she sees her captain, she just didn't know at all. Not one bit. But the biggest shocker for her.... is that it felt.... good. It wasn't just her first kiss but her first ever sexual act.

It was then on Monday morning when walking to school, a car appeared out of nowhere right in front of her and in it driving in the front seat was none other than her cheerleader captain who told her to "get in". Jamika obviously didn't know what to do but her captain wasn't taking no for an answer. Next thing you know, she was in the car, in the passenger seat and what an actual surprise, surprise — when Jamika got out of the car, they weren't at school.... instead they were at Fun World! Her captain told her then and there that they were ditching and about to have some fun together as she put her arm around Jamika's arm.

And it turned out that they did have fun, going on all the rides without a care in the world, eating cotton candy and popcorn, going to the plays and shows. It was when by the end of the day when they went on the Tunnel of Love ride together that it finally set in for Jamika in that this wasn't an outing.... this was a DATE!

But before she could say anything, her captain gave her yet another big, long and wet kiss on the lips and as quickly as they could, the two had sex on the boat.

Her captain and rival had just become her girlfriend.

After that day, even though they kept their relationship secret from everyone even their parents, the two of them were almost inseparable. Whenever one was in trouble, the other was there to get them out in one way or another.

And it was like that not just through the rest of high school but college as well, her girlfriend had convinced her to go to the same college as her and somehow managed to convince some higher-ups to let them be roommates. Her girlfriend was incredibly charismatic and could talk herself out of anything as well as convince anyone of anything.

However, as genuinely loving as they could be, that doesn't mean their relationship was by no means perfect. In fact, at times it bordered on flat-out abuse. Her girlfriend had a rather quick and nasty temper and there were lots of times where she let it out on Jamika, one time when Jamika had made a huge mistake in going behind her girlfriend's back and join her friends over coming to her girlfriend's dance recital, her girlfriend found where Jamika was and literally dragged her by the nose all the way back to her house and locked her in the closet for the whole night.

With all of that, you're wondering how the hell would Jamika still stay with her girlfriend?

Because there were and still are several times throughout their relationship where her girlfriend showed and even went out of her way to prove that she did indeed love Jamika. Hell, she went as far as to dig up blackmail on one of her college professors so that he could give Jamika straight A's in the class since Jamika was struggling to catch up in the subject and was in complete danger of flunking the class.

It was after college graduation that her girlfriend full-on proposed to her to which Jamika without a pause said "Yes".

Her girlfriend had become her wife.

Now this leads to what was before today, the strangest and this time actual-life changing day of Jamika's life.

After spending their honeymoon, her wife had gotten the not-so-bright idea of entering the two of them in a swimsuit competition, seeing the prize as enough money in order to get them a stable home and that their beauty and gorgeous bodies were one-way tickets to winning. Being a master of not just charisma but top of that, manipulation, as well, she managed to convince Jamika into it.

Unfortunately, because of her wife tampering with certain behind-the-scenes mechanics in order to give Jamika the spotlight she deserves, something went horribly wrong and the next thing you know on the night of the competition, the bright lights would short out and end up permanently tanning all of the models including Jamika and her wife.

Before Jamika was a caucasian female with black eyes, smooth skin and beautiful brown hair that reached past her neck and shoulders.

Now Jamika had dark black and shortened hair and was so tan it made her look like she was light skin black woman.

Her girlfriend was the same.

Before she was the same drop dead gorgeous blonde she was since high school and now both her hair and body were as orange as can be.

Recognizing the clear and obvious fact that they look absolutely nothing like what they did before, the two of them decided to change their names, their hair and yes, even noses since those were disfigured as well.

Lucy Sinclair became Jamika Smith.

Rachel Gordon became Dorothea Smith.

It was at that point in their life after that where their complex relationship took a turn for the worse.

Their marriage had become increasingly rocky over the next few years as Dorothea became more and more unpredictable and got the two of them into plenty of financial problems. She was a huge wild card now more than ever and worse is that her abusive tendencies came boiling over horribly.

Dorothea would hit Jamika's hands with a long ruler like she was a cruel schoolteacher, she would grab her by the hair, kick her, flick cigarettes at her but the worst one of all was whenever Dorothea would get really upset, she would drag Jamika by the collar of anything she was wearing and lock her in an old cupboard in the back of their bedroom for an entire day.

Dorothea would always show immense guilt and regret over anything she's done especially the worst punishment, Jamika could tell by her facial expressions and speech, but it was way too late to even merely apologize for it.

It was the day that everything changed for her.... for the better.

But it didn't start out that way.

In no way, indeed.

Jamika had accidentally discovered when cleaning collections of gambling debts that were hidden from her. An outraged Jamika confronted Dorothea on what the hell were these.

The latter was forced to admit that she had been gambling in order to get the money to last them a few years but has failed again and again and now owes an incredible amount of debt.

The two of them proceeded to have an intense yet epic catfight where Dorothea came out on top and locked Jamika in a closet for three days straight. It was during that time where Jamika finally realized that it won't get better from here on out, it'll only get worse. At the end of the third day, Dorothea let Jamika out and with a great big smile and bordering tears in her eyes with a cracking voice, she revealed to Jamika that she did it. She actually won. 500,000,000 in cash. Enough to not only pay off their debt but also give them the life they deserve. Dorothea kissed Jamika and proceeded to have sex with each other but unfortunately for her, Jamika had already made up her mind. She couldn't take this anymore, she was officially leaving Dorothea. But she knew never in a million years would Dorothea ever agree to or sign a divorce so Jamika had no choice but to leave as fast as she can and by that, she meant that NIGHT.

Said night, Jamika quietly as can be packed whatever she needed up and didn't wake up Dorothea who was fast asleep.... or so she thought.

As she was about to exit their bedroom, Jamika stopped dead in her tracks and stood there with gritted teeth when the light instantly turned on and she heard "And where do you think you're going!". She turned her head around and saw an angered Dorothea no longer in bed and instead standing near her behind her back.

Without saying anything, Jamika made a run for it as Dorothea lunged at her. Finding the front door locked, Jamika has no choice but to use the pet door. Only her ass is so big that it can't fit through, Dorothea catches up and instantly sinks her teeth into the right side of Jamika's ass cheek. It's because of this and the intense pressure she puts on it, Jamika manages to pull through and escapes in her car.

It was after this incident that Jamika took a turn for the absolute better — staying with her long-time friend Bebe, she managed to get her life back in order, using some of Dorothea's money to buy a new house, getting a job as secretary to a man named Walter and even did something she never thought of before in her life.... she adopted a child. A sweet and good hearted African-American boy by the name of Leon.

Jamika suggesting Fun World to Robin was pretty much her sticking it to her still-wife Dorothea so what was an even bigger shock than her appearing in the ladies room was her lies about Robin that tricked her.

To be continued....

[lesbianjackies]

okay i have a concept: eddie dating reader- but readers parents are cops

I LITERALLY LOVE THIS CONCEPT SM OML

this'll be like- right before season three, bc i wanted hopper to be her dad teehee (adopted btw- cause ik not everyone looks like hopper :))

"I don't want you anywhere near that Munson boy." Your father crossed his arms, looking at you sternly.

You huffed, blowing a strand of hair out of your face. "For the last time, Dad, Eddie and I are not dating. We don't even talk. He gave me a ride home once, because you were at work and I didn't have a license and there was no one else there to drive me home."

Hopper ran a hand over his face. "You better not be lying to me." He pointed his finger at you. "There will be severe consequences if I find out you're lying to me."

You threw your hands up in frustration. "I'm not lying! Gods, I'm gonna take a drive. El, do you wanna come?"

Your little sister poked her head out of her room and nodded.

"Is that all right with you, Dad? Am I trustworthy enough to drive?"

Hopper pursed his lips. "Yes. I trust you very much. Is that what you want to hear?"

You nodded, pleased with yourself. "Yes. Thank you." You grabbed your car keys off the rack and Eleven followed you out the door.

"We are not going on a drive," she said.

"Mm-mm," you agreed, sliding into your car.

"You are going to Eddie's," she said, sitting next to you in the passenger's seat.

"Mhm." You started the engine.

"Friends don't lie," she said nervously.

"Nope, but daughters do when their dad is the chief of police and their boyfriend is a drug dealer." You turned and grinned at her.

She smiled back. "Are you taking me to see Mike?"

"I'll take you wherever you want. No rules with me, you know that."

"I want to see Mike."

"Then I'll take you to see Mike." You flicked on the radio and sang along as you drove to the Wheelers', giving your sister a fist bump and telling her you'd be back in an hour before heading to Eddie's trailer.

"Hello, my dearest," Eddie greeted you with a grin after you knocked on his door.

"Greetings, my beloved." You kissed him on the lips and he picked you up and carried you inside. "We have an hour," you told him, straddled on his waist as he laid on his bed.

"That's enough time for me," he said, stroking your cheek. He flipped you over and hovered above you. "Fuck, you're gorgeous."

"Shut up and kiss me."

Eddie obliged, capturing your lips in a kiss so heavenly you felt you were floating. His mouth trailed down your chin and neck and attached to your collar bone, leaving a mark that would be a struggle to hide from your father. You gripped his hair and gasped out his name, eyes shut as he took you to paradise with his lips.

"I think next time we should go to your place," he murmured, painting another bruise onto your skin.

"You're insane." You shuddered from the pleasure.

He looked up, grinning. "Maybe. But there's something about kissing you senseless with your cop dad in the other room that turns me way on."

[bruhstories]

Flowers and Vinyls

Summary: You and Porco are neighbours. You also despise each other. Pairing: Porco Galliard x Fem!Reader (modern AU) Warnings & Content: language, softdom!Porco, softsub!Reader, thigh riding, unprotected sex, spanking, oral sex (male receiving), alcohol abuse, enemies to lovers Word Count: 2.2 k

A/N: Porco deserves some love, too! I also really wanna give Connie some love, too.

You hated him, you loathed him.

To you, Porco was the most insufferable person to ever walk on this earth, strutting his pushed back hair, with his stupid undercut and his silly little upturned nose. You wanted to gouge his eyes out, but that would only land you some time in jail. He was your next-door neighbour both in terms of accommodation, and in terms of work. You owned a small flower shop at the ground floor of your townhouse, he owned a record store placed strategically wall-to-wall with yours — naturally he lived above it. Marcel, Porco's brother, was seemingly a nicer person, but he wasn't always there when you needed him to shut his little brother's mouth — or music. Not only were you two bickering like petty children, you were also complete opposites — he was edgy and brash, you were dainty and solemn. He always wore dark colours, you were dressed in pastels. And to make matters worse, he was best friends with your best friend!

Pieck was completely oblivious to the fact that you two hated each other, both bitching to her, unaware of the other's complaints. She always told you, separately, that perhaps you just need to get laid with one another and get over it. Impossible, for you despised each other. And when Pieck invited you to a small party at her place, you were not expecting to see Porco there. At first, you wanted to turn around and leave, but your friend talked you into staying, promising that Porco was actually a good guy, and that you didn't know him well enough. Oh, how wrong she was. He was evil incarnate, he vandalised your shop after you called the cops on him. Nonetheless, you stayed at her party, opting to spend some time with Reiner and Colt, avoiding Porco at all costs, because if looks could kill, his would smite you.

What you didn't know was that a conflict was taking place inside his tipsy brain — should he kill you or fuck you? Despite your differences, Porco couldn't deny that you were a very alluring woman, hips swaying every time you walked and an ass that could raise the dead. And he saw Colt glancing at that ass, prompting him to drink some more. On the other side of the room, you told Pieck all about how your date stood you up and you were quite sad, opting to drown the empty feeling in your chest with cheap vodka and tequila, and that combination did a number on you. You weren't shitfaced by any means, just drunk enough to feel the music better, taste the liquor better, smell Porco's perfume better whenever he walked past you. God, he intoxicated you more than the alcohol could, and you were beginning to wonder if Pieck was right — maybe you didn't hate him, maybe you needed to fuck him, relieve the sexual tension. But how? What if he did hate you and you'd only make a fool of yourself? The questions were grinding your gears and no amount of tequila could help you get them out of your system. You settled on ignoring them.

"We're gonna split a cab." Porco explained, a bored, inexpensive look on his face.

"Hey, 'm not poor, aight? I can afford a f-fuckin' taxi." You poked his chest with your index finger while losing your balance and falling into his arms. He quickly released you once you regained control of your legs, his eyes drifting elsewhere, crimson creeping to his cheeks.

"We literally live next to each other, but if you wanna go all by yourself, fine!"

"I haaaaate you, Pokko, d'you know? I especially hate that cute nose! Boop!"

He was so done with your attitude, your gestures, your voice, his brows furrowed and lips pursed. But Pieck really wanted to make sure you got home safe, and Porco didn't want to disappoint his friend by letting you loose in a stranger's car, especially since you were drunk and vulnerable. He was an asshole, but he wasn't that bad. Not that you could realise that, anyway.

"Just get in the car, Y/N." He rolled his eyes and opened the door once the yellow taxi pulled over. You stopped between him and the car, nose and cheeks pink from the alcohol, and leaned closer to his face.

"D'you also know I really, really wanna ride you?" You whispered in his ear before stumbling inside the cab, giggling like a schoolgirl. "Ah! Evening, mister!"

"Jesus Christ..."

The entire way home you drove Porco insane with little touches, whispers, obscene proposals. He could feel his cock twitching in his pants but he didn't want to take advantage of you. Yet the more you looked at him with hunger in your eyes, the more he couldn't think rationally — he, too, was drunk, after all. When you got out of the car you almost fell face first, but luckily, he caught you, your hand accidentally brushing his thigh in the process. God, he hated you.

"Come inside!" You looped an arm around his neck for better balance. "I gotta give you your money b-back."

"It's fine."

"No, no, I insist."

"You're so annoying, you know that?" Porco walked with you, perfectly aware of how much he'd regret this night.

"Close the door behind youuuu!" You kicked your shoes off and grabbed the collar of his leather jacket, practically dragging him through the hallway, into the living room. "Sit!"

He could say no. He could just walk out. But he didn't want to. Not anymore.

You rummaged through a drawer looking for some cash, taking your sweet time to do it. The way you were bent over, the tight skirt revealing just an inch of your red panties, sent Porco down a rabbit hole of dirty thoughts. Every gesture, every word uttered so nonchalantly by you made you both forget the turf war you both started, the atmosphere slowly becoming more intimate and sensual. You swayed your hips from side to side, opening another drawer and digging through the clutter.

"Hey, Pokko? Do you think 'm pretty?"

The question caught him off guard as you turned around, no money in your hands. He raised his gaze from your skirt to your eyes, frantically nodding his head.

"Yeah."

"Then why did I get stood up?" You pouted, walking to the couch. Porco swallowed hard when you took a seat on his thigh, his fingers digging into the sofa. "If 'm pretty, why don't men want me?" Your hands rested on his shoulders as your hips slowly rocked back and forth.

"I- I don't know." He pursed his lips, unaware of what to do. Usually, he wouldn't have any issues with situations like this. But it was different this time because he really wanted to shut your srupid mouth up — or maybe Pieck was right and all he needed to do was fuck you.

"Do you want me?" You asked, head tilted, movement stopping.

"God, yes." Porco grabbed your nape and pulled you into a sloppy kiss, his other hand desperately tugging at your tank top strap. You could feel your panties dampening under his rough touch and hot kiss, your hands removing his jacket as quickly as possible. "I'm gonna fuck you on that table first." He picked you up and slammed your ass on the dining table, earning a moan out of you. "Then we'll take it to the bedroom." Porco removed his shirt while you pulled your underwear down.

"Fuck me wherever you want, just fuck me!" You begged, legs spread and lust in your eyes.

"Shit, I knew you were a little slut under all that soft girl crap." He unzipped his jeans, letting them fall to the ground while he pulled his cock out. You took a good look at it, teeth digging into your lower lip.

"Aren't you gonna finger me first?"

"You didn't do anything to deserve it. But I'm in a good mood." Porco sneered before he spat on your wet cunt. The disgusting gesture made you purr like a kitten, proving him more that you were indeed a filthy whore. He dragged the tip of his cock up and down your slit, slowly pushing it between your folds as you threw your head back in pleasure. "Fuuuck, you're so tight, so wet."

"Oh my God, go deeper! Please!" You pleaded, voice low and seductive.

"Look how good you're taking it." Porco praised you, fingers digging into your skin before he started rocking his hips. It truly felt that your pussy was made just for him, the silken walls clenching around his hard cock making him grunt with every thrust. Your legs wrapped around his waist and you both realised just how much you needed this, the hate you had for each other melting away, replaced by lust and desire.

"So b-big 'nd hard-" You mumbled incoherent words while one hand found your neck, calloused fingertips squeezing the skin.

"You've no idea how much I wanted these hands around your neck." Porco groaned, his thrusts faster and harder. "Who knew I wanted to fuck you, not kill you?" His thumb parted your lips and you hollowed your cheeks around it, sucking on it like a lollipop. "Good girl. Bedroom, now." He pulled out and you almost cried at the empty feeling between your thighs. You took his hand in yours and guided him to the room — just as pastel and cute as your personality. Porco spun you around, giving your ass a firm slap before bending you down. He pressed hot kisses on your hip and lower back and you threw your head back to look at him.

"Stop t-teasing me!"

"Jeez, aren't you greedy? I thought you hated me." He laughed into your skin, the vibrations tickling your flesh. Porco couldn't abstain any longer, one hand grasping your hip, the other pushing his cock back into you. Inch by inch, it disappeared and he let out a satisfied groan.

"I still h-hate you!" Teeth sunk into your lip to stifle a moan.

"Oh, really?" He thrusted so deep that you lost control over your arms, head falling onto the mattress. Another deep thrust and you shot back up with a growl. "Talk shit and I might not let you finish." His threat alerted you and you bucked your hips, walls clenching around his cock.

"It would be a shame if you f-finished first." Your voice was cocky, targeting that huge ego of his. It was effective — Porco's hand travelled between your legs, fingers rubbing your swollen clit and you moaned in extasy, adrenaline rushing through your veins.

"N-not fair!" You squirmed and whimpered, tears of pleasure pooling at your eyes.

"We're not playing fair." He wrapped his other hand around your neck to pull you closer, back hitting his chest. The room smelled of sex and jasmine incense and it drove you mad with lust. "Oh, what's the matter? Are you coming already?" He mocked while fucking your desperate cunt.

"Yes! God, yes!" You cried out, the climax blurring your vision.

Despite your pleas that you couldn't take it anymore, Porco kept thrusting deeper into your numbing pussy, his fingers bruising your skin, his teeth sinking into your shoulder. He was an animal, everything about him was instinctual and filthy and you hatedloved it. Your silken walls clenched around his cock again, and he was impressed that you still had some fight left in you.

"That's right, milk me dry, you dirty whore." His disgusting words reignited the dying fire inside your core and you bucked your hips against his, the friction and pressure making you come undone a second time.

"Fuck!" Was all you could say before collapsing onto the mattress, body limp and exhausted.

"Damn it, Y/N. I said milk me dry." Porco grabbed a fistful of hair and turned you over, yanking your head back to shove his cock down your throat. How on earth did he have so much stamina? You hollowed your cheeks and triedto suck, but it was him actually fucking your pretty mouth. "Are you gonna keep being a little bitch?"

"Nu-uh!" You shook your head, the word muffled by his girth. Your cheeks were burning from the lack of air, your eyes watery and red.

"Good." He groaned, thick, hot strings of his seed shooting down your throat. "Swallow." Porco held your head back as he slowly pulled out, the bitter taste lingering on your tongue.

You laid on the bed and pulled him next to you, unaware of what to do or say. Your body relaxed when he looped an arm around your shoulders, your head resting on his chest.

"Do you still hate me?" He asked.

"It depends. Are you gonna blast music at three in the morning?"

"Yep."

"Well, there's your answer." You laughed and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Listen, I'm not sorry you got stood up tonight. I mean, I am, but I'm not-"

"Porco, stop talking. It was never going to work out with him, anyway."

"Fair enough." He shrugged, lips pursed and eyes narrowed. "What if I take you out?"

"Like a date, or a murder?"

"It depends. Are you gonna call the cops on me again?"

"I'll try not to?"

"A date, then."

[hislittleraincloud]

Audio Teaser.

Read Satisfying Afterburn on AO3

Valentine Special: To the Letter (Explicit, Tumblr-only erotic letter from ABW to Donovan dated 2/14/23)

Read Under Virgin Circumstances (Miller's Girl Chapter 1) here + Read the whole thing on AO3

Under Virgin Circumstances Soundtrack (+ bonus Cairo narration from UVC) (Age Restricted bc of her narration at the beginning)

UVC Short Audio Play: "If You Asked Me To/Where You Want to Be" (Scene from Chapter 1, + 30 seconds of Project Drop Down)

Afterburn Extras: Soundtracks

Satisfying Afterburn: The Soundtrack

Satisfying Afterburn: The Birthday Soundtrack

"Bonded" (AB Wednesday sings Bond themes)

Gates Mansion Secrets Soundtrack (feat. Nine Inch Nails and the Lords of Acid)

Afterburn Extras: Audio Plays

Excerpts from Satisfying Afterburn utilizing AI audio programming

"The Kiss" (Chapter 3) MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY

"The Truce" (Chapter 4) T16+ AUDIENCES

"It's Going to Be Okay" (Chapter 7) T16+ AUDIENCES (language warning only)

"Winter 2023" (AB Wednesday sings Tori Amos + Scene Chapter 7 Part 2) T16+ AUDIENCES

Afterburn Extras: Moments

Moments from Satisfying Afterburn in comic form (some day it will be coherent and complete)

"How It All Began" (Chapter 1)

"Misbehaving" (Chapter 5)

"Nice to Meet You, Mr. Serious" (Chapter 6 Part 1)

"May the Gods Be All Damned" (Chapter 6 Part 2)

Netflix Canon Corrections:

When I see something blatantly wrong in Wednesday fic that isn't labeled AU

Wednesday's birthday is not in mid-October, it's in mid-November/She MUST be a Scorpio, not a Libra (scroll down the post to my reblog text)

Sunlight is not dangerous for Yoko

Writing Tips/Advice:

I'll probably want to expand on the languages thing but right now I'm busy

Gomezifying Wednesday: French Pet Names

Short bio under the cut! 🫠✨

Short Bio:

Me: I'm old af and probably one of the oldest writers in this fandom. I could probably guarantee it, given the amount of uhm..."young" writing I see all over this place. (ETA 9/24: I was born in the 1970s.)

I'm a 🏳️‍⚧️ man (AFAB), and my mustache is probably older than you are. 🫠

I'm a pervert, obviously. I don't care what anyone thinks of me or my ships.

I like donuts and Cool Blue Gatorade...I might as well be a cop. 🤦🏽‍♂️

I like older men and younger women. But these days, mostly older men/greying men (Daddies...real ones, not the 35 year old 'daddies' that the teacher crush community swoons over). The young ones drove me to literal insanity, and I take PTSD medications because of one, but the one before that...was everything and nothing 🫧🫠🫧

My OTP is Wednesday x Donovan. No matter how much I will pair her with others in other series/branches of my writing (and I will, eventually), Wenovan will always have that #1 spot. ETA: Because of my unwanted muse (REALLY! I DON'T THINK SHE'S ALL THAT! She was fucking mediocre as fuck in her last two movies where she tried to play a grown up...and she ain't gonna be looking any more grown up for the next 15 years no matter what she does to her face, so she better buckle in on playing 'the girlfriend' or non-leading lady for at least that amount of time) my other OTP is Jonathan Miller/Cairo Sweet. Fuck Jade B. I hate the compromises you made. NEVER MAKE ANY COMPROMISES WHEN IT COMES TO THAT KIND OF SEX OR VILLAINY.

Mejia's bastardization of Wednesday Season 1 canon is not canon. Fight me and lose.

ETA 9/2024: My NOTP in Wednesday is Wyler. I would rather pair her with Joseph Crackstone's reanimated corpse than pair her with Tyler. 🤢 I prefer Tyler with Laurel anyway...because Laurel Gates is hot, and with her he can be the outcast hating bigot he's always been. They can hate crime together! LOL Edit: I still hate Wyler, however the little Wenclairs who have permanent ship goggles on have made me start to hate that ship more. Good job, Wenclairs. You have me defending a fucking outcast-hating bigot's 'relationship' (🤢) with Wednesday.

Other ships that pique my interest: Gatesmonster, Wenjax (Coldstone), Biancaday, Enjax, Honeywolf (Eugenid), Kent/Ajax...basically some rarer pairs that get ignored bc people here are too busy drooling over Ortega to be able to think more creatively. Wavier and Wenclair under the right conditions.

TEASER

Satisfying Afterburn, Chapters 6 through 8 Teaser

[icollectyoursins]

Holy shiiiiiiit! Asnsks, I love your blog! Thank you for this amazing content! 😍❤️ Could I please request an Abbacchio x fem! Reader, where she tries to convince him to role play as a police officer for her? Thank yooou! (also, I'm sorry for my terrible English) 💮

No, absolutely I can write that! I have no idea how to do role play (which, you would think as someone training to be an actor, I would, but I just don’t get it.) However, I also said I didn’t see the point of liking Kira and after writing that I discovered so many things about myself. I hope this doesn’t awaken anything in me, ahah.

Update as of finished writting: This awakened something in me, hence the length. Oops.

You may have bitten off more than you can chew with asking Leone Abbacchio to dabble in robber/cop role play. Your fantasy has become a reality, however you’re starting to think the power is getting to his head (in the best way possibly, of course).

Have a character, but no idea? Prompt list here!

Looking for more? Master post here!

WARNINGS: Role play (obviously), handcuffs, man-handling, fingering, making the reader taste their own uh... juices?? (I don’t know what to call it), spanking, dildos (not masturbation, but used on reader, I just can’t remember what it’s called), rough sex, cream pie.

Word Count: 1794

Oh, dear.

     “Oh, come on! It could be fun,” you wrapped your arms around Abbacchio’s waist, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. Trying to convince him to role play with you was proving harder than expected. He was more than apprehensive to indulge in your fantasy, but the look in your eyes and the sway of your hips had him weak, only one more word away from breaking to your will. “What could go wrong? Me, in handcuffs, helpless. You could do whatever you wanted.”

     He huffed, looking away from you, clearly blushing. You would look so good bare in front of him, hands behind your back, ass red from smacking it so much. He could already feel something churning in him. “Fine.”

     Your face lit up at your victory, standing up on your toes to peck him on the lips. “But, no clothes.” You furrowed your brows in confusion. “I’m going out, I want you to be here. All day. No clothes. Try not to do anything suspicious.”

     Oh... oh, no. Warmth spread through your core as well as on your face as you nodded, grinning. 

-----------

     True to your word, you spent the entire day after that wearing nothing, opting to spend most of the time under a blanket until he sent you a message saying he was on his way. At that point, you walked around the house, putting things out of place, hiding things, you know, normal criminal stuff.

     You were in the kitchen when he gets home. The minute he steps in, you can feel energy change in the air. It’s serious all of the sudden, sending excitement down your spine. There was no mistaking, he’s going to be hunting your ass (possibly quite literally). In a spur of the moment decision, you hide behind one of the walls so you’re out of view. You can hear his footsteps as they walk into the living room, away from you. A breath of relief rushes through you, but you can’t help shaking, whether it was the cold or excitement, you don’t know, but you hoped he couldn’t hear you.

     Abbacchio looked around his living room, noticing little bits and bobbles missing. Whoever “broke in” to his house left the valuables, thank god, at least in this room, perhaps he should check in the kitchen? Soft, slow footsteps made their way towards your hiding place. You couldn’t help shyly covering yourself when you heard him round the corner, stopping at the entrance.

     He knew were there, but just to tease you; make you wait, he looked the other way towards the window. Hands in pockets, he walked over to it, closing the curtains. It doesn’t take long to notice the clinking of metal on his hips as well as the shine. Handcuffs, proper handcuffs. You also noticed the bag hanging off his hand. From what you could make out in the plastic, there was something very long and very pink.

     Leone hears a shift behind him, then turns around to see what made it. The sight he saw would have knocked any other man onto his knees. He knew better. A woman he had never met standing in his kitchen completely bare. She hadn’t even had the decency to properly cover her tits. He narrows his eyes, sighing.

     There was something in the way he looked at you that made you feel so small and afraid. You broke into a run, turning around the corner and up the stairs, holding your breasts so they wouldn’t slap. God knows that is the last need you needed. A sore chest from-

     Hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you into something solid, then pinning you against the wall. You’d only made it to the bottom of the stairs when he caught you. He placed a firm hand between your shoulder blades, snatching one of your hands, twisting it behind you. You let out a mix between a gasp and a moan as he growls in your ear.

     “You’ve got some nerve,” he trailed a hand across your back, down your side and then to the front of your crotch, lightly teasing the outside of your lips. “Were your hoping I wouldn’t be home? Thought you could take what you wanted and then leave, thief?”

     “I’m not a-”

     “Don’t deny it. Do you know who I am?” Abbacchio presses into you, lips brushing against the crook of your neck.

     “N-no.”

     “So, you don’t know you’re stealing from an officer? And poorly, at that.”

     “Uh-no.”

     “Tch, pathetic. What? Did you decide to get off while you were here? Thought you’d have time?”

     “This is an abuse of power,” you say shakily. He laughs lowly.

     “No. This is an abuse of power,” he grabs your other hand, pinning them to your lower back. You hear the clinking of metal and then a cold around your wrist. Instinctively, you tried to move; to escape, but he was too strong, pushing harder into you as a warning. You’re trapped now, there was no way to get out of this. What was your safe word again?

     Leone’s hand returns to your vagina, from the other side this time, groping your ass cheek on the way down. You hadn’t even realized how wet you were until you heard the squelch of his finger pressing into you lightly. He chuckles again, pulling his finger back, putting it in his mouth. He hums at the taste. 

     “What a tasty thing you are, thief. Is this what you wanted? To be bound and fucked? What a whore.” He turns you around, quickly lifting you up over his shoulder. You kick your legs for a bit, but soon discover that it’s pointless. He’s going to do whatever he wants with you and you fucking love it.

     He walks into the living room, stopping at the arm of your couch, setting you down and then flipping you around, pushing you over it so your ass is in the air. You hear some shuffling behind you, then in mere seconds, his fingers are back on your slick entrance sliding up and down, putting extra attention in to your little bundle of nerves, pushing harder against your clit. Occasionally, he changes the direction, keeping his rough fingers on your bud, swiping back and forth before returning to your wet, needy hole.

     You moan loudly, pushing back against him. Your moan is met with a firm smack against your plush cheeks. Abbacchio wraps his hand in your hair, pulling you up so your back arches. 

     “Do that again,” he growls. You furrow your brows and are about to say something when you feel something large against your entrance. It’s cold, plasticy. He’s not going to-

     Your thought is cut off by the thing pushing into you, making you mewl. The tip goes in, but then he pulls it out, only to push it back in, deeper. The process repeats until what you now know is a long dildo is almost fully in you. Your face is red and your scalp sore from how long he’s been holding you there. He lets go, letting you flop to the soft cushions. 

     He moves to your side, bringing the dildo to your lips. You open your mouth willingly, eyes rolling back at the taste of yourself on it. Abbacchio mumbles something about you being a whore, but you’re not sure, not that you’d mind. At this point, it was well past being confirmed. He smacks your ass again, then gropes it which makes you jerk forward, taking just a little bit more of it in your mouth. His hand continue to come down on your cheeks until they’re red and there’s a visible bulge in your throat. 

     The dildo is removed from your throat far too soon, a string of drool still connects you to it. You pant, barely calling out his name when he walks behind you, tossing the pink thing away. The sound of his clothes coming off is unmistakable. You’re already so out of energy, but there’s something in you that never wants this to end. He rubs his thumb down your slick again.

     “Is this what you wanted, puttana?” You whine, nodding your head. “I better make this worth your while, then, shouldn’t I?”

      You nod again. “Please.”

     You feel the tip of his cock tease your entrance. “Please what?”

     “Please~ah. Please fuck meee~” He chuckles darkly, then slams his length into you in one quick motion. You scream, voice cracking. His hands wrap around your handcuffs, using them as a handle while he pounds into you, pulling out completely, then filling you again. Eventually, his thrusts are so powerful that he’s using your own momentum to fuck you. 

     You’re not aware of what you’re saying, but you know words are coming out of your mouth, babbling like an idiot as he fucks out every brain cell you have. Abbacchio hears every word, though. And he loves it.

      “Ah! Yes, yes, yes. Fuck me, please. Oh, don’t stop. God YES, don’t stop! Abbacchio, ~uuuh.~ Leone!” Fuck, he was getting close. All he wanted to do right now was fill your walls with his seed. He groaned. Thinking of our cum dripping out of you drove him insane. He let go of the handcuffs, doubling over you, picking up the pace of his hips.

     The feeling of his cock pounding into your walls over and over and over again quickly drove you over the edge, orgasm washing over you in a white sheet. Your walls spammed down on Abbacchio, clamping down on him tightly, your juices flooding over the side and down his leg sent him flying into his own release, spilling into you. The combined feeling of your cum and his leaking out of you had both of your heads spinning. 

     To him, it was everything he imagined it would be. He pulled out, breathless at the sight, not even realizing he was moaning at it. Your handcuffs were undone, not that you noticed. You were too fucked out at this point. After he briefly cleaned you up with a warm towel, he pulled you into his arms, keeping you close to him while you relaxed on the couch, eyes fluttering closed.

     Guilt started to settle in his chest as he kissed your forehead. 

     “You’re on the pill, right?” He asked, trying to hide his concern.

     “IUD, but yeah. Don’t worry about it.” You felt him relax as you said that. You opened your eyes a crack, then laughed.

     “What?”

     “The curtains were open,” you laughed dreamily. Leone looks over and sure enough, your curtains were wide open and the window was open just a crack.

     “Shit.” He grumbled. He was never going to hear the end of this.

----

Translations:

puttana = slut

[rizlowwritessortof]

Meant To Be - Chapter 3

Dean and Jordan are each trying to escape their painful pasts. Their chance meeting and a dangerous encounter begins a relationship that may give them both a new start.

Pairing: Police Detective Dean Winchester/Jordan Taylor

Word Count: 2038

Warnings: None.

Aesthetic by @editsbymichele on Instagram; Dividers by @firefly-graphics​ 

Jordan rolled over and shut off her alarm, yawning and stretching. The last few days had been a whirlwind, but she was starting to get used to waking up in her new surroundings. Donna’s apartment was bright and sunny, pretty much like the woman herself. She had welcomed Jordan with open arms, literally, and immediately installed her in the second bedroom, down the hall from Donna’s room.

After taking a week to settle in, at Sam’s insistence, she was ready to start her new job at Winchester Law. Sam was picking her up in a couple of hours to get her acquainted with the office and do all the annoying paperwork involved, so she climbed out of bed and headed for the shower. As she got ready to step in, she remembered that her tiny sample shampoo had run out the morning before, and she sighed, grabbing a towel to wrap around herself as she headed out to look for her new roomie.

She walked into the living room as she called out,  “Hey, Donna, do you have any shampoo I could borr…” The front door swung open as she was in mid-sentence, and Dean walked in, stopping dead in his tracks as he saw her. “Oh…shit.” Jordan clutched the towel around herself a little tighter, blushing to the roots of her hair. “Dean. Hi. I’m so embarrassed right now.”

Dean, however, looked incredibly pleased with himself, a slow grin spreading across his face, his eyes full of mischief. “Don’t be embarrassed on my account. I’m good.”

“Dean Winchester!” Donna’s voice scolded as she rushed by Jordan and directly over to her partner, turning him around and shoving him to the door. “What are you doing in here?”

Dean turned his head, a confused scowl on his face as he was forced into the hall. “What?! I always come in when I pick you up… coffee...”

“Go back to the car and wait for me, I’ll bring your coffee. You can’t just walk in here now, I’m not the only one who lives here, Dean. For Pete’s sake!”

“Sorry! For fuck’s sake, stop shoving me!” He turned around to grin at Jordan again. “It was really nice to see you, Jordan,” he said with a wink as Donna slammed the door closed in his face. They could hear his laughter as he headed down the hall, and in spite of her embarrassment, Jordan couldn’t smother a little smile.

“That man! I’m so sorry,” Donna apologized. “He has always just let himself in and got his coffee here, but I’m always up, dressed and ready to go before he gets here and it’s just a habit. I didn’t even think about it.”

Jordan shook her head. “Not your fault, I shouldn’t be wandering around in a towel. I just forgot my little bottle of shampoo ran out yesterday. Can I borrow some until I can get to the store?”

“Oh, honey, help yourself to anything you need from my shower! When I get home tonight, we’ll make a run to the store, get you stocked up.” She put a hand on Jordan’s shoulder. “I’m really sorry – are you okay?”

Jordan smiled, her cheeks still flushed pink. “I’m fine. I’ll just probably never hear the end of this.”

Donna nodded, her dimples showing, a sparkle in her eyes. “Oh, yeah, count on it. He’ll never let this one go. Well, I’d better get going. I’ll see you tonight.”

Dean shoved his desk drawer closed a little harder than necessary, and his partner shot him a look, shaking her head. “What? I hate desk duty.”

“Oh, I know. Which is why you have such a pile of paperwork there. Why don’t you just settle in and do it, get caught up while we’re stuck in here.”

He glared at Donna, then at the pile of papers on the corner of his desk. “Hate paperwork,” he muttered under his breath as he grabbed a handful of unfinished reports and opened his laptop.

“Just think how good it’ll feel to get all of that work finished and out of your hair.” Donna smiled, unfazed by the baleful look Dean shot her way.

“Leave it to me to get Miss Mary Sunshine as my partner,” he grumbled, and Donna’s smile grew wider.

“You’re welcome,” she grinned back at him, then went to work on her own stack.

Jordan jumped as a knock echoed through the apartment, rushing to the door and peering through the peephole. “Sam! Oh, Sam, you didn’t have to come up here and get me! I thought you’d just text me or something.”

Sam smiled, his dimples winking as he stepped inside. “I thought I could at least come up the first time I picked you up. Didn’t want to just sit outside and blow the horn.” Jordan laughed, grabbing her jacket from the couch.

“Ok, I guess I’m ready. I wasn’t sure how to dress...” She had debated for an hour, finally putting on a pair of dress slacks and a blouse, and she looked up at Sam for his approval.

“You could honestly wear whatever you want, I usually wear jeans. Whatever makes you comfortable, it doesn’t matter to me. In fact, a lot of the time you can probably just work from home if you want, after we get the office organized again. It’s kind of a disaster right now, sorry.”

“We’ll get it all sorted out, no worries. Once you fill me in on your filing system and how you want things done, I’ll get it taken care of.” She smiled up at him, ever amazed at how tall the man was. “Well, boss, we’re losing daylight.”

“Great. I hired a slave driver,” he teased, and they made their way out of the apartment together.

Jordan flopped onto the sofa with a satisfied smile, letting her head drop back as she let her mind wander over her day. There really was a lot of organizing to do in Sam’s office, due to his lack of help for the last few weeks, but she had made a pretty good dent. After this week, she could probably work out of the apartment most days, maybe go in one day a week to do filing and such. Sam was such an easy-going guy, he was going to be a dream to work for. And his fiance, Sarah, was so nice – she had stopped in during the day, and they hit it off right away.

Her phone rang and she grabbed it, smiling as she saw Dean’s name. “Hope that new boss of yours isn’t too much of an asshole,” he teased.

“Oh, he’s terrible! Even meaner than his brother.”

Dean laughed. “Yeah, I hear he’s a real jerk.”

“Well, nobody’s perfect,” she giggled in reply. “So what’s up, Detective Winchester?”

“Donna and I wondered if you’d be interested in going out for a couple of beers, maybe some pub food? Then we can stop off at the store so you can pick up what you need.”

“That sounds great – what time?”

“We’ll be there in about – 45 or so? If you can be ready by then.”

“No problem, I’ll be waiting, just give me a yell and I’ll come down.”

“Awesome. See you later.”

She sighed happily as she laid her phone back down, letting her eyes close for a moment. Dean’s face was right there, his eyes shining as he smiled at her, and she silently scolded herself. He wasn’t interested in her like that, and she needed to get a grip on her feelings before they carried her away. He was just a friend, and daydreaming about him wasn’t going to get her anywhere. “Slow your roll, Jordan,” she told herself firmly, then got up and went to her room to change.

Dean drove to Dooley’s Pub, the normal watering hole he and Donna frequented. It was a cop-friendly bar, the owner was a retired police sergeant, and he called out a greeting to them as they walked in. The three of them grabbed a table, ordered a round of beers and started chatting about their day, munching pretzels from the bowl the waitress had dropped off. “So, how was it working for my brother?” Dean asked, and Jordan smiled.

“He’s going to be an awesome boss. I think we’re gonna get along great. How was desk duty today?”

Dean rolled his eyes, and Donna laughed. “You should have heard him whining all day, you’d think they made him clean the toilets or somethin’.”

“I wasn’t that bad,” he fired back, and his partner shook her head, then looked at Jordan.

“He was like an overgrown three-year-old, Jordan. Don’t let him fool ya. He can pout with the best of ‘em.”

Jordan grinned. “Awwww… it’s only for two weeks.”

Dean huffed out a frustrated sigh. “Two weeks is gonna drive me insane.”

“Short trip,” Donna quipped, and the girls laughed again, Dean failing to completely smother the smile teasing at the corners of his mouth.

“All right, all right – just for that, I’m gonna kick your ass at darts.”

“Oooh, I’ll play the winner – or the loser. Whatever,” Jordan offered, and they moved over near the dart board.

Dean easily beat Donna, and she punched him in the shoulder as she moved back to the table. “Go get ‘im, Jordan. Somebody needs to wipe that cocky smile off his face,” she teased.

“Yeah, that’s probably not gonna happen, but… I’ll do what I can,” Jordan answered, taking the darts from Dean’s hand.

“After you,” he offered with a sweep of his hand, and Jordan stepped up, taking aim. The first dart hit the floor, and he laughed as she swore under her breath. The second barely hung on to the board, finally falling out as her third buried itself in the wall beside the dart board.

“Epic fail.” She shook her head with disgust, and Dean went to retrieve her darts.

“Okay, let’s call that practice. Here…” He reached towards her, then stopped, looking into her eyes. “Is it okay if I...”

“Yes, please, help,” she laughed. He laid his darts on the table and turned towards her, and her breath caught in her chest as he gripped her hips in his hands, turning her slightly to adjust her stance.

“Now, when you throw, you should kind of snap your wrist to give it a little more speed.” He made adjustments to her arm and her grip on the dart, and she was beginning to wonder if she’d have the presence of mind to throw the damn thing when he was finished touching her. “Okay, give it a try.”

She glanced up at him and nodded, then focused her eyes on the board. The first two landed in halfway decent spots, and the third buried itself right next to the bullseye. She cheered and turned to throw her arms around his neck in an excited hug, then backed away, blushing. “Sorry, I just never thought I’d get it!”

Donna was grinning as she watched them. “You got it, girl! A little practice and you’ll be kicking his ass!”

They played their game, Dean winning, of course, and Jordan finished the last of her beer before heading to the bathroom. “I suppose, if we’re stopping at the store, we should take off. We all have to work tomorrow. But first – the little girls’ room.” She plopped her glass back on the table and took off, and Dean sat down, finishing the Coke he had switched to since he was driving.

“So…” Donna said, a knowing smirk on her face.

“So… what?” Dean’s confused frown made her giggle.

“I saw you. You’ve got a thing for her.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Look, I was just helping her with...”

“Save it, partner. You are falling for her, and she’s definitely into you, so what the hell are you waiting for?”

Dean dropped his head and glared at her from under his frowning brow, the dimples above his mouth deepening. “Shut up.”

Donna laughed softly, complying with his request for the time being since Jordan was headed back their way. “All right, you two – let’s hit the road.”

Chapter 4

[alirhi]

jfc FINALLY

Ugh. I have been fighting with my muse to get this done for two months. And I was actually going to stretch it to line up more or less with the movie's timeline, but honestly... I'm just so burnt 😂 So this is what you get.

Title: Monday Chapter: Oneshot Fandom: Monday Rating: R/NC17 (I mean, have you seenthe movie?) Pairing: Mickey/OC Summary: What if, instead of Chloe, Mickey met a woman that night who was actually good for him and whom he was compatible with? WARNINGS: swearing, sex (not explicit; I rarely if ever write smut, but still) Notes: I hate Chloe. Omfg I hate her so much. So I fixed it XD Yes, I literally rewrote the entire movie with a different love interest. Well... most of it lol. I get bored, okay? Lol. Oh, and the girl is actually a character I yanked from one of my original stories lol. I didn't make her up on the spot for this (I'm too lazy for that XD). Tweaking her to fit the setting was kind of a bitch, as she's from a fantasy series, so if she seems kind of Mary Sue-ish...sorry.

“You have a nose for American cheese!”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Come on, that girl looks insane!”

“What?” Looking surprised, Argyris turned and looked where his friend was pointing, and then laughed. “Not her, you idiot! The ginger-snap over there!”

The girl in question, a lithe, pretty thing with a wild mass of red hair that she constantly shoved impatiently out of her face was dancing alone a few feet away from the angry-looking blonde Mickey had thought he'd been talking about. She was gorgeous, he had to admit.

“Go and talk to her, man!”

He pointed to the turntables in front of him, impatiently reminding Argyris, “No, I'm working!”

“Come on,” the other man taunted, “I know your playlist inside-out! It's the same R&B shit, and then a little bit of disco!”

“It's not R&B, and it's not disco!”

“This song is twenty fuckin' minutes long! Come on!”

“Hey!” Mickey grimaced, hastily yanking his headphones off and setting them down as he was dragged off toward the redhead. “Fuck!”

All puffed up with pride – and way too much to drink – Argyris pushed Mickey when they drew close to the girl, so that he slammed right into her. Laughing, he patted her shoulder, but his mirth was short-lived. She grabbed his hand and twisted his arm up behind his back.

“Put your hands on a girl you don't know again. I dare you.”

Mickey covered his mouth with one hand to hide his laughter as his friend writhed in the deceptively delicate-looking girl's grip.

“Alright, alright! I'm sorry!” Laughing as he was released, Argyris went to put a hand on each of their shoulders, took one look at the girl, and just hung off of Mickey's shoulder, instead. “You're an American... You're an American! You're a man, you're a woman! There you go!”

“Yeah, crazy kismet,” she snapped, rolling her eyes. “Two Americans out of their natural deep-fried, flag-waving habitat at the same time! Imagine!”

Undaunted, the drunk Greek simply shrugged and flounced off with a flippant, “Whatever. Have fun!”

“Sorry about him,” Mickey said immediately, smiling when she turned and smiled at him. At least she didn't seem to be judging him by the company he kept.

“Friend of yours?”

“Argyris? Yeah.” He grinned. “He's kind of an idiot, but he's a good guy.”

She laughed. “I'll take your word for it. Aren't you the DJ? Should you be over here?”

“No,” he admitted with a laugh, “but I'm fine for a few minutes. You wanna dance?”

“I'd love to.”

She was tall, he realized as he spun her around; in the little barely-there heels she was wearing, they stood eye to eye. Clearly drunk, though, she lost her balance every few seconds and crashed into him with a laugh, occasionally giving up on righting herself and just resting her head on his shoulder.

Mickey grimaced as he heard the song beginning to wind down, but the girl hanging off of him only smiled and patted his chest. “Go on! Get back to work. I'll be here when you're done.”

“Any chance I could convince you to come around the other side?” He gave her his most charming grin, and felt a little warm inside when she laughed.

“Why, so you can stare down my top the whole time?”

With a shrug, he admitted, “I've been doing that anyway, so why not?”

“Honesty!” She grinned and kissed his cheek. “I like it. Alright, you gorgeous lech! Get back up there. We'll see what I can do about your view.”

He only made it another hour or so, with the girl coming up to him every few minutes with another drink, and occasionally flashing him from the spot she'd found in front of him. Queuing up enough songs to play through the end of the party, he hopped down off the podium and ran over to her, tugging her close for the kiss he'd been dying for since Argyris had first pulled him over to her. “You wanna get out of here?”

“You sure? What about-”

Mickey shook his head, smiling. “It'll run til they all pass out. No one'll touch my stuff, not here. Come on!”

“Okay, yeah.” She shrugged and laughed, allowing him to pull her through the throng of dancing people and away from the party. “Fuck it. Let's go!”

The next morning, naked, hungover, and covered in sand, they were nudged awake by a police officer while an angry lady yelled about their indecency. The officer waited for them to scramble back into their clothes and then cuffed them both, ushering them into the back of a cruiser.

Despite the situation, Mickey couldn't keep the silly smile off of his face. At least the cops had been kind enough to cuff their hands in front of them, allowing him to hold his out to the girl beside him. “Hi. I'm Mickey.”

She laughed, the realization that they'd never introduced themselves clearly dawning in her bright green eyes. “Beck.”

“Nice to meet you.” He shook her hand, but couldn't hide his slight confusion. “That a first name or a last name?”

“It's short for my first name.” She was still smiling, but there was a dangerous glint in her eyes as she added, “Call me 'Becky' once and I'll be facing real prison time at the end of this ride, and you'll be missing body parts.”

With a slightly nervous laugh, he nodded. “Alright, noted. Beck it is!”

“And, nice to meet you, too.”

There was the briefest of conversations at the police station, the sandy couple signed themselves out, and then Mickey persuaded one of the officers to give them a lift back to the beach.

“You want a ride?”

Beck grinned, one ruddy eyebrow arching up. “I still need to clean up from the 'ride' last night.”

Laughing, Mickey shook his head. “I'll never say 'no' to more of that, but that's not what I meant.”

“I know.” She shrugged, snarky grin turning into an almost bashful smile. “And yeah, I'd love a ride. Thanks.”

He loaned her his helmet and, after getting directions from her, drove her to her hotel. It seemed like that would be the end of it... and he hated that thought. “So, what're you doing tonight?”

“Packing and sleeping,” she told him with a laugh, leaning against the building. “I gotta be on a plane Monday morning, and I hate leaving things to the last minute.”

“You're leaving?”

With a grin and a snarky air kiss, she teased, “Missing me already, lover boy?”

Mickey shrugged, grinning. “Maybe I am. I like you, is that so bad?” He beckoned, and was somewhat surprised when she walked right over to him. Still smiling like a fool, he grabbed her by the waistband of her shorts and pulled her close for a kiss. “Come with me tonight, for a proper sendoff.”

“Come with you where?”

“I'm DJing on an island.” Thumb sliding under her clothes to slide over her hip, he wheedled, “Come on. Come with me.”

“I need to shower. I'm all sandy and sticky from last night.” Beck gave him just long enough to deflate, and then she smirked and nipped his jaw. “Care to join me?”

“Fuck yes!” He was off his moped in a flash, following the laughing redhead as she took his hand and tugged him into the hotel. Giggling like hyenas, the pair made their way up to Beck's room, stopping every few steps for one to yank the other close for another kiss. Mickey was on cloud nine. This girl was fun, she was sassy and wild, and he couldn't get enough.

It seemed she couldn't get enough, either. They'd barely stepped into the shower before Beck was on her knees in front of him, her hand on his ass and his hand tangled in her hair as she sucked him off. He leaned back against the wall, tugging lightly on her hair and shuddering as he felt her moan around him.

“Fuck... oh, fuck, you're good at that! Holy shit... Stop. Stopstopstop!” With a little half-smile at her look of confusion, he tugged her back to her feet and kissed her. “You're fucking amazing. God damn, you are good with that mouth! But that's not what I want.”

Beck grinned, a playful glint in her bright green eyes that made him weak in the knees. “That's not a good idea.”

“Oh, no?” He backed her up against the wall, nuzzling her neck as his hand drifted down between her legs. “Funny... You don't seem to really believe that.”

“I definitely want you to fuck me til I can't move,” she assured him, shaking as she tried desperately not to laugh. “But it's not a good idea-” Her words turned into a startled whimper as Mickey hoisted her up by her thighs and slid into her to the hilt.

“I think it's a great idea,” he purred, biting her shoulder. Then he almost dropped her, and they both cracked up.

“The wall's slippery! This isn't smart.”

“No, it's definitely not smart,” he agreed, turning so that he was holding her up in mid-air instead of bracing her against the wall. “But that doesn't make it not a good idea.”

Beck laughed, clinging to him for dear life. “You're just gonna hold me up?”

“Yep.”

“The whole time?”

“You don't think I can do it?” Mickey grinned, bouncing her a few times just to prove her wrong. “You weight nothing, baby girl. I got this.” She was surprisingly light... but she was also a grown woman almost the same height as him. His pride would never let him admit it aloud, but there was no way he was going to be able to fuck her like this for long.

Just as he was wracking his somewhat foggy brain for a solution, he saw light dawning in Beck's eyes and waited. “Counter!” She nodded toward the sink, and only then did he realize they hadn't even closed the shower curtain, and the bathroom floor was getting soaked. “Put me on the counter.”

“I thought we were supposed to be getting cleaned up.” Even as he teased her, he was carefully stepping out of the tub, blessing her foresight when she grabbed a towel and threw it down just before he set his foot down, and carrying her across the bathroom.

Beck snickered and kissed him. “No point getting clean until we're done getting dirty. Shut up and fuck me.”

“Yes, ma'am!”

A little while later, they stumbled across another logistical issue Mickey hadn't considered.

“You are not putting dirty clothes on a clean body!” Beck insisted, prying his – pretty nasty at this point, he had to admit – clothes from his hands. “That's disgusting!”

“Well, what the fuck else am I supposed to wear? Clearly, I can't just run around naked. We got arrested for that this morning!”

“Pity,” she teased, eyeing him in a way that made him wonder if they were ever actually going to leave her hotel room. “You're the best view in Athens.”

“Maybe they arrested us out of jealousy, then.” Mickey shook his head, though he couldn't help chuckling a little, despite his frustration. “Either way, I'm kinda stuck. It's either be gross, or don't go anywhere.”

“As much as the thought of keeping you trapped here as my sex slave appeals to me...” With another mocking grin, Beck turned and started going through her dresser drawers. “I think I can help you out.”

“I'm not wearing your clothes.”

“They're less flamboyant than what you do wear.”

“They won't fit!”

She tossed him a tee shirt and a pair of cargo shorts that proved him very wrong. They were huge. At his questioning stare, she shrugged.

“I always pack a couple of cute outfits when I travel, and the rest is super baggy; at least three sizes too big. I like to be comfortable.”

“Convenient.” He stared at the shorts in his hands, and then at the belt she handed him a few seconds later. “Am I supposed to wear your underwear, too?”

Beck snorted and walked away, patting his shoulder as she passed him. “I don't wear underwear.”

“Then I guess I kind of am wearing yours.” Even as the joke was tumbling out of his mouth, he knew it was lame, but they still both laughed. Then he glanced at his watch and winced. “Shit, we gotta go.”

“What?”

He waited for the dress she was pulling on to settle into place and then wrapped his arms around her, tugging her back against his chest. “We gotta go. If we don't catch the next ferry, we're gonna be late.”

She flinched. “Okay, two seconds.” The girl moved like lightning. Mystified, Mickey watched as she yanked on a pair of canvas sneakers, grabbed her wallet and cell phone – which she then stuffed in the pockets of the shorts he was wearing – grabbed a hair tie, and ran for the door. In no time, she'd strangled her wild red curls into submission in a low ponytail. They hadn't even reached the elevator yet.

“How did you do that?”

“Do what?”

Handing her his helmet, Mickey shook his head. “I think you got dressed faster than I did! I thought girls always take forever to get ready.”

Laughing, Beck rolled her eyes. As she settled on the back of the moped and tucked her skirt around her legs for decency, she told him, “I spent two years in the jungle with nothing but what I could fit in a backpack. Low maintenance is kinda my thing. The fewer steps to getting ready, the less time it takes.”

“That explains so much.” He stared at her for a moment, and then shook his head and grumbled as he slid into place in front of her and started the moped, “And raises so many more questions!”

“Full disclosure: I will probably answer none of them, as I'm very likely never going to see you again after tonight.”

Well, that was a depressing dose of reality he wasn't ready for. Not one to dwell on things, though, Mickey simply decided to have as much fun as he could with this girl while she was around, and treasure the steamy memories.

They made it to the ferry just in time. Making sure there was no one else around, Mickey smirked and tugged Beck into his lap, one hand sliding up her thigh. He moved slowly, giving her plenty of time to push him away if she wanted; she simply arched an eyebrow at his questioning look and grabbed his wrist, tugging his hand closer.

“Why do you think I'm wearing a dress?”

Fuck, he loved this girl!

They were pretty much attached at the hip the whole day – literally, when they could steal a few minutes alone. While he was DJing, she was dancing like a lunatic, front and center. Those piercing green eyes never strayed from him; he knew, because he couldn't look away from her, either. Once he was free, they danced together for a little while, but it didn't take long for Beck to grow bored and yank him down the beach, away from the party. They found a dark, hidden nook to be alone, spent the night hopelessly wrapped up in each other, and then cuddled as they watched the sun come up.

“Gods, this place is so beautiful!”

Mickey chuckled at the plural, but didn't ask about it. He had a more important question for her: “You really gonna leave all this behind?”

“I have to.” She didn't sound any happier about leaving than he was about letting her leave. “I gotta get home.”

“Where's home?”

“Boston. You?”

He grinned and nudged her. “Athens, baby. Been here seven years!”

“Okay, but where before here?” she prodded with a laugh. “You're obviously not Greek; you don't even speak it!”

“Do you?”

Beck sat up a little straighter, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “Nai.”

“Showoff.”

“One word is being a showoff?” Beck laughed, shaking her head. “You've been here seven years, and you don't know a single word of the language?”

Mickey scowled, feeling defensive. “Everybody speaks English!”

“Wow.” She wasn't smiling anymore. She actually looked and sounded pretty pissed off. “That is astoundingly arrogant. And completely American, so clearly your obnoxious friend with no boundaries was right; it's not just a funny accent, you actually are American.”

“You're an American, too!”

“By birth,” she snapped, “not by choice. And I fucking hope not by attitude. I don't go stomping around foreign countries with absolutely no respect for their language or customs, expecting everyone around me to cater to my laziness.”

He rolled his eyes, scooting away from her. “Give me a break! Learning another language is hard!”

“Impossible, if you don't even try.”

“Yeah? How many languages do you speak?”

“Fluently?” She held up her hands, ticking each one off on her fingers as she listed them. “English, obviously. Korean, Irish Gaelic, Italian, and German. Passably? Japanese – I can speak it fluently, but I have trouble reading it; the kanji is a nightmare – Greek, Spanish, Portuguese, and Swedish. I can read Latin and Old Norse, and I'm learning Mandarin, but I admit I'm struggling with that one. Mostly for the same reason I can't read Japanese; the writing system.”

Gaping at her, Mickey couldn't formulate a response for a long moment. When his brain finally started working again, all he could think to say was, “Jesus, what the fuck are you, a robot?!”

“I'm an archaeologist,” she told him flatly, still looking irritated. “And I've been traveling since I was seventeen. Been studying at least one language other than English since I was ten. I definitely had an advantage, starting when I still had a little kid's spongy brain, but it's not impossible to learn at any age, if you actually care enough to try.”

“You sound like my ex.” Hoping to distract her from that comment he hadn't meant to make, he hastily asked, “If you love to travel so much, why're you in such a rush to get home?”

Beck sighed, turning to stare out over the water. “I promised my daughter I'd be home in time for her birthday.”

Huh. They had more in common that he'd thought. “You have a kid?”

She nodded. “Two. Two girls.”

“How old?”

“Alice is five,” she murmured, pulling her knees up to her chest and crossing her arms over them. Head pillowed on her arms, she added, “And Madeline's about to turn fourteen.”

“How the hell old are you?!” He hadn't meant to ask so bluntly, but he was so stunned by her daughters' ages that the question just kind of blurted itself out.

Mercifully, Beck laughed a little. “I'm thirty-three. I'll spare you some math – I was nineteen when I had Maddie.”

Mickey shook his head, not sure how to react. In all honesty, she didn't look much older than that now. There was a shadow behind her eyes that he was dying to ask about, but even as thoughtless as he could be, he knew when to just not go there. Instead, he told her softly, “My son is six.”

“What's his name?”

He smiled. As much as the situation with his ex sucked, he loved his son, and thinking about him always brought a little smile to Mickey's face. “Hector.”

The look on Beck's pretty face as she watched him like a hawk made him blush, though he wasn't sure why. There was just something about that direct green gaze that made him feel like she could read his mind. “He's the real reason you don't want to leave Greece, isn't he?” A spot-on guess like that certainly did nothing to dispel the notion.

He nodded. “Yeah. Yep. His mom hates my guts, but I don't care. There's nothing I wouldn't do to stay in his life. I actually, um... I have a room for him, at my place. If she'll ever let me take him, you know, just for a weekend or whatever... His room is ready and waiting for him.”

“All you can do is keep trying. Put in the work, be the best dad you can be, and hope for the best.”

Unsure what to say to that, Mickey changed the subject with an awkward smile. “So... Alice? She blonde, like Alice in Wonderland?”

Beck snorted, shaking her head. “No, she has black hair, like her dad.” She paused and then shook her head again with a bemused smirk on her face. “Actually, both of my girls look like their dads – dark hair, big blue eyes.” Smirk turning into a grin, she nudged him. “Guess I've got a type.”

“'Dads,' huh?” He grinned, too, and nudged her right back. “Plural?”

“You gonna get all judgy on me, now?” Her tone was light and teasing, but her eyes promised a whole lot of pain if he answered wrong.

Mickey just laughed. “Nope, no judgment. I think you've seen enough of what I'm like this weekend to know I wouldn't have the right.”

“Good answer.”

“I don't want you to leave.” He watched her go rigid and sighed, shaking his head. “I'm not gonna try to stop you. If you were leaving for literally any other reason, I might, but I'd never dream of trying to keep a mom away from her kid. I just... I really like you, and I wish you didn't have to go.”

She shrugged a little, staring out over the water again. “To be honest, I don't wanna go, either. I mean, I'm dying to see my girls again, being away from them is always painful, but... This place is so beautiful. I would love to stay a little longer.”

Not a single word about whether or not she liked him. That stung, but he did his best to ignore it. “Why don't you bring them with you when you travel?”

“I used to,” she admitted. “When it was just Maddie, I brought her everywhere with me and tutored her myself. I tried to keep it going after Alice was born, but it was rough. They got tired of always being on the road and not having kids their age to play with, so now I leave them with my sister when I'm away.”

“Wait, you taught her yourself?” He laughed, shaking his head in dismay. “Are you sure you're not a robot?”

Beck laughed, too, rolling her eyes. “I'm sure. There's more down time than you think in archaeology; plenty of time to keep an already smart girl from falling behind in her schooling.”

“They must take after their mom. I mean, you speak a zillion languages, so you gotta be pretty damn smart.” She was so reckless and carefree, it was hard to picture this woman digging in the dirt for broken clay pots, or wrangling two children to teach them math. From what he'd seen, it felt like Beck was describing a completely different person. He didn't want to offend her, so he refrained from pointing out that she came across less brilliant, multilingual career woman in her thirties and more Girls Gone Wild: Athens.

“Cheapann tú gur leathcheann mé.” He had no idea what the hell she'd just said, but he could tell from the look on her face that he hadn't been as good at keeping his thoughts to himself as he'd hoped. She looked both offended and darkly amused. “Pensi che una ragazza non possa essere intelligente e libera? Eísai vlákas, Mickey.”

He didn't bother asking for a translation; her tone told him he didn't want to know. “How many languages was that?”

Beck grinned. “Three. Gaelic, Italian, and Greek. I sometimes mix a few in the same sentence – I constantly mix Japanese and Korean at home; it makes my girls laugh – but I figured I'd be nice.”

Mickey opened his mouth to say he wouldn't have noticed the difference, and then stopped. He had noticed the difference; the lilt of her voice changed dramatically with each language. That was how he'd realized that she'd been speaking more than one in the first place. “I kinda wanna hear that mix, now. Are the languages that similar?”

“No.” She laughed. “Not at all. They share some slang thanks to pop culture, and both borrowed a lot from China, but they're structured differently, and the way they're spoken is different.”

“Then how do you mix them?”

“I speak them both,” she said with a shrug and another laugh. “If you speak more than one language well enough, they don't have to be similar to still flow. Like...” She smirked, leaning against him and batting her eyes. “Kimi wa baboya, demo... mada jowayo.”

“Showoff.”

“Yes.” Cracking up, she pulled him back to lie on the warm sand with her and cuddled close. “That time, absolutely.”

“Do you think you'll ever come back?” He'd been trying so hard to avoid the subject, but he just couldn't get his mind to budge from the fact that he didn't want her to leave.

With a fond smile, she kissed him before teasing lightly, “You gonna miss me, honey?”

Mickey grinned, hoping she couldn't see that he was feeling more melancholy than amused. “I think mostly I'll miss the sex. It's hard to find a woman who can keep up with me.”

“Oh, is that so?” She laughed and tickled him, making him squirm. Then she stopped, a warm, almost wistful smile on her face. “I'm gonna miss you, too, you know.”

Forced playful grin turning into a soft, genuine smile, he pulled her closer and kissed her. “I was beginning to worry you didn't like me.”

Beck grinned and nuzzled his neck. “The past twenty-four hours wouldn't have happened if I didn't like you.”

Feigning shock, Mickey gasped. “You mean you don't fuck strange men all over Greece indiscriminately?”

“No, that I do all the time,” she joked, hand sliding up one leg of his borrowed shorts. “But I only let the really special ones wear my clothes.”

He laughed, glancing down at himself; he'd forgotten for a second that they were hers. “Right. We should stop at my place so I can change and give these back before I take you back to your hotel.”

Beck sighed, snatching her hand back as if he'd burned her. “Right. Yeah, we should get going.”

Though he still hated that she had to leave, he kept his word and didn't try to stop her. Argyris tried to convince him to make some grand gesture at the airport, but Mickey shut him down with a grumpy, “It's her kid's birthday. I'm not that much of a selfish asshole.”

“I can't believe you're in love with this girl!” Hooting with laughter, Argyris slapped his back. “I'm a fuckin' matchmaker! Who knew?”

“Fuck off, Cupid!” Mickey grinned and shoved him away, hoping the other man couldn't see how shitty he really felt. He moped for a couple of days, barely paying attention to the world around him, just missing the crazy girl with the temper as fiery as her hair.

Then he answered an unexpected knock at his door and was baffled by the sight of a cute, petite brunette with huge blue eyes staring up at him. “Um... Can I help you?”

“Huh.” One dark eyebrow arching up, she called back over her shoulder, “You really do have a type.”

A familiar laugh made Mickey freeze in shock as Beck stepped into view behind the girl, another one in her arms. “I made the mistake of telling Maddie that I met this awesome DJ in Greece-”

“And since I have no friends anyway,” the girl, who he finally realized was Beck's older daughter, Madeline, cut in, “I figured there'd be no problem moving my 'party' somewhere more fun than my aunt's house. For the third year in a row.”

“Jesus, you might look like your dad, but you sound just like your mom!” The words slipped out before he could stop himself. While Madeline rolled her eyes, the little girl in her mother's arms – Alice, he figured – giggled.

“Yeah,” Beck agreed with a grin, moving closer and leaning past her daughters to kiss him. “She's got my snarky attitude. Gods help me. Thankfully, this one's still innocent.” She squeezed Alice tighter against her side, making her giggle again.

“Mommy! You're squishing me!”

“Her? Innocent? Did auntie tell you what she did to my stereo?!”

“It was an accident!”

“My butt it was!”

Wincing, Beck glanced at Mickey and mouthed, 'I'm sorry.' “Girls, enough. What have I told you about bickering in front of strangers?”

“I mean, you also tell us not to spread our legs for strangers, and yet...”

“Madeline Fiona O'Brien!”

“What?!” Eyes wide and looking frustrated, Madeline gestured to Mickey. “I'm kinda right!”

He couldn't hold it in anymore. Leaning on the door frame to stay upright, Mickey burst out laughing. God help this woman, he thought as he struggled to get his breath back. Her daughter's exactly like her!

Face even redder than her hair, Beck grumbled, “I did not tell her we slept together.”

“You couldn't shut up about him and your clothes smelled like dude. Doesn't take a genius.”

“Maddie, couldja stop? I kinda wanna see more of Greece than two buildings. If mom drags us home early cuz you're being a jerk, I will kick your seat the whole way back to Boston!”

“I'll let her.”

Mickey had just about gotten his laughter under control. Still chuckling, he yanked Beck into his arms and gave her a long, slow kiss. “You are dreaming if you think I'm letting you leave again.”

“That doesn't sound kidnappy at all!”

Laughing again, he released the blushing redhead only to trap Madeline in his arms and tickle her until she squeaked. “And you, little miss Queen of Sarcasm!” With a grin, he kissed the top of her head and released her, pleased to see that she was smiling. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks.”

As he stepped aside to let them in, it finally dawned on him that he'd never actually worked a child's party before. He was used to crowds of rowdy drunk Greeks, not two innocent little girls. He didn't even know any kids, besides his own! He glanced helplessly at Beck, who snickered and kissed his jaw.

“Just do whatever; I can keep an eye on them. Maddie was more interested in the change of scenery than an actual party.”

“Does she really have no friends?”

She shrugged, turning to watch her daughters awkwardly settle on the couch and begin nudging and poking each other repeatedly. “She's never been the most social kid in the world. Around their own age groups, Liss is the bubbly extrovert and Maddie can't be bothered; she wanted to hang with kids her own age until she realized they annoy the hell out of her.”

“Argyris might know some people with kids...” He rolled his eyes. “He'll think I'm nuts, trying to hunt down teenagers, though.”

Beck laughed and shook her head. “No, really, don't worry about it. We don't even have to actually throw a party-”

Cutting her off with a kiss, Mickey insisted, “Oh, she's getting a party. When is her birthday, anyway?”

“Today, actually.”

He flinched, glancing at the clock, and then relaxed. It was still pretty early. “She's getting a party,” he repeated firmly. “She's fourteen! That... has no special significance in any culture I've heard of, but the kid still deserves some fun on her damn birthday. Especially if the last few have been disappointing.”

“The day after is pretty significant in our culture,” she murmured, so softly he almost didn't catch it.

“Is it?” Wasn't she American? He seemed to recall a whole conversation that almost turned into an argument about it. “Since when?”

Beck blushed again, looking uncomfortable. “Never mind.”

“...Girls, make yourselves at home. I need to talk to your mom for a minute.”

“You're talking now.”

He almost wrote that off as another snarky response, until he realized it had come from Alice. Looking innocently confused, she stared at him with almost comically large blue eyes, and he smiled. “In private,” he clarified as gently as he could as he grabbed Beck's wrist and tugged her down the hall toward his bedroom.

“Door open at all times!”

With a huff, Beck dug her heels in and spun around to glare at Madeline. “Who's the mom, here?”

“Sometimes I wonder.”

“Madeline.” Wrenching free of Mickey's grasp, she crossed her arms over her chest and stared her defiant offspring down. “Who's the mom?”

Glowering right back, Madeline mirrored her pose and grudgingly admitted, “You are.”

“Good. Now that we've got that cleared up, how about you show our host a little respect?”

Madeline's face was red as a tomato, but she still looked more angry and resentful than contrite, until she took a deep breath and turned to Mickey. With a surprising note of sincerity, she grumbled, “Sorry, Mickey.”

“Jet lag gets the best of all of us. Maybe you two should take a nap while your mom and I talk.” He didn't know what the hell else to say. He couldn't say 'it's okay' and undermine her mother, and 'you're forgiven' sounded kind of dickish. With an awkward smile, he waved and resumed dragging Beck down the hall.

As soon as the bedroom door was closed behind them, Beck sighed and leaned against it, looking worn out. “I'm so sorry about her. She's been so bitchy lately; my sister said she was even copping an attitude with her, which she almost never does.”

“She's probably just tired and been missing her mom.” In truth, he thought Madeline's sass was funny as hell, but he wasn't about to step into the middle of a mother-daughter war. Instead, he focused on his own curiosity. “What 'culture' celebrates the day after a birthday?”

She winced. “It's nothing, Mickey. Forget it.”

Weird. “What's the big deal? I'm just curious.”

“Alright, fine.” Looking and sounding resigned, she muttered, “If you're gonna judge or laugh, might as well get it out of the way – I'm a witch.”

Mickey stared at her. Whatever he'd been expecting her to say, it wasn't that. “...A witch?”

“I don't ride a broomstick and I can't turn you into a toad.” Oof. Defensive. Judging by her tone, she'd had this conversation before, and it hadn't gone well. “My sister's a witch, too, and so are my girls. There's an old tradition in the craft; at thirteen we find our deity, if we're meant to serve one, and a year and a day later, we pledge to their service.”

Light dawned. “Oh, that's why you always say 'Gods' instead of 'God'! That makes sense.” Who was he to judge? He wasn't particularly religious, but was any one religion really any weirder than the next? Curiosity abated, he brushed it off and tugged her into his arms. “My very own Sabrina.”

Beck snorted and dropped her head onto his shoulder. “Sometimes I feel more like Sarah Sanderson.”

“You really want me to throw a rager for your fourteen-year-old?” He didn't know what to say about her Hocus Pocus reference – 'horny and ditzy? Sounds about right' was...probably not the right thing – so he decided to just jump back to the original topic.

She shrugged. “I honestly don't know what to do for her. Coming back here was her idea, but I kinda doubt it had much to do with her birthday. She wasn't kidding about wondering which one of us is the parent; that kid's been trying to take care of me since she was little.”

“Why?”

Sighing, she stepped back out of his arms. She looked so sad and broken suddenly that he wished he'd never asked. “I would love to say that it's just who she is – and it is, to a point. Some people are just natural caregivers, and Maddie's definitely one of them. But I was a mess before Liss was born. Maddie's had to deal with a lot of bullshit, and it made her grow up too fast.”

That settled it in Mickey's mind. As he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket with one hand and opened the bedroom door with the other, he told her again, “She's getting a fucking party.”

Three hours and a lot of yelling at Agryris to get him to stop laughing later, he was setting up speakers in front of his apartment building, surrounded by what looked like every kid in Athens between twelve and sixteen, along with their parents. It definitely wasn't his usual crowd, to say the least, but they were friendly enough. Most importantly, Madeline was already smiling and laughing.

Remembering the posters he'd seen around town, he pulled his phone out again and called a number he hadn't used in quite a while. “Well, well. So you're in Athens. What do you know? I have a favor to ask you...”

“OHMYGOD! BASTIAN!”

Mickey grinned. Clearly, he'd made the right call, and it was earning him hugs galore. For the first time all day, Madeline was acting like a teenage girl, bouncing up and down and screeching with joy as Bastian made her way through the party. With a bright smile, she hugged the birthday girl and smoothed her dark curls back off of her face before approaching Mickey and hugging him. The second she moved back, Madeline launched herself at him, squeezing so tightly he thought she might crack a few ribs. And then her laughing mother replaced her, and he'd never felt so popular.

“Hell of a dad move,” Beck teased, grinning at him as she stepped aside and Maddie barreled into him again.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!”

Laughing, Mickey lifted her up and kissed the top of her head. “Happy birthday.” She was too light; idly, he made a mental note to ask what the hell Beck and her sister were feeding these kids, or failing to feed them. Then he realized he sort of was acting like Maddie's dad and he blushed, setting her down.

As she ran off to dance with her little sister, he pulled Bastian up onto the platform and picked up the mic. “First of all – let's hear it for the birthday girl!” He pointed, and grinned when the revelers around him cheered, making the brunette blush. “Maddie O'Brien! You said you have no friends back in the States-” Boos echoed around them, and her color deepened. “-So I thought, what could make a better birthday present than a couple hundred Greek friends?”

The crowd cheered again, and a few “YEAH, MADDIE” shouts made the girl in question laugh, covering her face with the hand not holding tight to Alice's little wrist. Mickey noticed that she did that a lot; whenever the younger girl wasn't in her mother's arms, she was in her sister's tight, protective grip.

“What do you guys think?” He shouted into the mic. “This girl's really cool, right? You wanna be Maddie's friends, and show her how much better everything is here in Greece?”

The cheers were deafening. Mickey was grinning like a fool, and was pleased to see that so was Madeline. Big blue eyes shining, she stared up at him like he was her hero, and for a minute, life was pretty damn good. He'd die before admitting it aloud, at least so soon, but he could easily see a bright, happy future where he was stepdad to these two beautiful little girls, and they doted over their step-brother Hector, the way Maddie doted over Alice. He glanced at their mother, and couldn't help getting just a little choked up when he saw an identical look of joy and appreciation on her beautiful face. Man, it was nice to be the hero.

Before he could get too emotional and ruin the party, he pointed to Bastian. “You guys know who this is, right?” Another enthusiastic roar; he was a little jealous this time, but shoved it down and smiled. “Well, she's gonna take over for a little while, so make sure you give her some love, alright?”

Yanking her into one more tight hug, he handed the reins over to Bastian and hopped down. Beck immediately threw her arms around him and kissed him. “You are amazing, you know that? I descend on you unannounced with a grouchy teenager in tow, and you give her the best fucking night of her life!”

“All in a day's work,” he joked, squeezing her. “She seems like a great kid; they both do. I couldn't just do nothing and let her be miserable.”

“Hector is lucky.” She was grinning so wide, her face hurt; Mickey only knew because he was doing the same. “He's got a really great dad. If you'd do something like this for a kid you've never even met before, I can only imagine the lengths you'd go to for your own.”

“Think you can pass that praise on to my ex? Maybe she'll actually let me see him.”

Smile fading, she gripped his head with both hands and pulled him down to press their foreheads together. “If you want me to, I'll help you fight for him. You deserve to see your son, and he deserves to know his dad.”

“How long are you staying this time?” He didn't want to talk about Hector suddenly; not at a party surrounded by strangers and their children.

Seeming to sense his mood, Beck smiled and glanced at her giggling daughters. They were hopping around like lunatics to the music, surrounded by kids Maddie's age. She looked like she was having the time of her life. “From the looks of things now? Forever.” Mickey thought she was joking, but the look on her face stopped him from laughing it off. “I've never seen her so happy. Athens might just become home.”

“I hope so.” He shrugged, forcing a chipper smile to hide the desperately hopeful one he couldn't quite keep in. “It did for me!”

“We'll see.”

Unlike most of the parties he'd worked, this one started winding down fairly early as kids hugged Maddie, wished her a happy birthday, and were ushered home by their tired parents. Alice was asleep in Mickey's arms, her tiny body limp as a rag doll and her silky black curls tickling his nose. As the last of her party guests wished her well and left, Madeline hurried over to him and cuddled up to the side not currently occupied by the dead weight of her sister.

“Thank you, Mickey.”

“Did you have fun?” She nodded, and he smiled softly, stroking her dark hair. “Good. Let's get inside and get the little one into bed, shall we?”

She glanced around, frowning a little. “Where's mom?”

“Already upstairs.” Grinning, he watched her for a reaction and added casually, “With Bastian.”

Bright blue eyes widening, she gaped at him. “She's staying?”

Mickey laughed. “For tonight, at least, yeah. Come on.”

As they trudged through the door of his apartment a few minutes later, Mickey found himself wishing he'd stayed outside.

“No way!” Beck whipped around to gape at him while Bastian laughed. “You didn't tell me you were in a band!”

“Oh lord,” Madeline grumbled under her breath. “Get something pierced and she'll propose to you by midnight, I swear.”

Choking on a startled laugh, he lowered Alice into her sister's waiting arms. “Put her in Hector's bed. You and your mom can take mine tonight.” As she obediently wandered down the hall to tuck the younger girl in, Mickey flopped down on the couch beside Beck and tugged her into his arms. “That was a long time ago. Then she got her big break and got all famous, and she didn't need losers like me anymore.”

“Oh, that is such bullshit!” Laughing, Bastian stretched out to kick him. “We got a break. We got a deal. You were every bit a part of all that!”

“Oh, please!” Mickey rolled his eyes. “You never needed me. It was the Bastian Show, and we were just-”

“No! No, what happened was...”

They bickered for a while, going back and forth over who was to blame for Saint Claude's ultimate demise. After a few minutes, Beck excused herself and left the room, leaving the two old friends to catch up. When the argument showed no signs of ending, Mickey huffed and stood up, muttering something about getting a drink as he walked away. He loved Bastian, but damn she could be stubborn!

“What the fuck are you doing?” A glass in each hand, he stared at her as she laid out lines of cocaine on her phone's screen.

“What the fuck does it look like I'm doing?”

“Oh, god.” He grimaced, glancing toward the bedrooms. All quiet, but he didn't know if Beck and Maddie were asleep, or just hiding from the debate. “Come on, let's go in the bathroom.”

“The Brat Pack's asleep. Don't worry about it!”

“You don't know that,” he hissed. “Come on.”

Bastian rolled her eyes, but she allowed him to usher her into the bathroom. “You're paranoid. You barely even know these people! What do you care what they think?”

“I care,” he snapped, though he didn't refuse when she offered him a line. He'd just finished, was still hunched over the phone, when the door opened and he was faced with, basically, his worst nightmare: Madeline was standing in the doorway, hand on the knob.

They both froze, staring at her like deer in headlights. Face completely expressionless, Maddie looked at each of them, then at the line of cocaine still on the phone, and then straight at Mickey. "I just wanted to thank you again for today." Without another word, she calmly turned and left the room, closing the door behind her.

"Shit." Ignoring Bastian's drug-fueled giggle fit, Mickey was on his feet and chasing after the teen in a flash. "Maddie!"

Though her face was still a stony mask, there were tears in her eyes when she whirled around to face him. "I need to talk to you. Now."

"Okay." He gestured to the couch, but she shook her head.

"Outside. I don't wanna wake up mom or Alice."

Nodding, he followed her without another word. At first he'd thought she meant out in the hall, but she didn't stop until they were outside the building. "Maddie, listen-"

"Let her go." Mickey's heart broke when she turned to face him again. Tears running down her cheeks and lower lip trembling, she stared up at him with those huge blue eyes and he almost started crying with her. "You have to let her go. Mom's loyal even when she shouldn't be. She'll never break it off."

"Maddie, I don't want-"

"I only exist because my dad drugged and raped her!" Wiping furiously at her face while he shrank back in horror, she continued more calmly, "She doesn't know I know that, or that he tried to kidnap me a bunch of times when I was little. Auntie told me. She still stayed with him for almost a year. Will hit her, Owen was a toxic psycho, Alex was a racist jerk... Alice's dad was always really nice to us all when he came around, but he almost never did. And I don't know what he did, but he's in jail for life now." With a bitter grimace, she spat, "And you're a druggie."

Maddie's had to deal with a lot of bullshit, and it made her grow up too fast.

Beck's soft voice, so full of pain and regret, echoed in his head as Mickey sank down to sit on the steps and tugged Madeline into his arms. "I'm not a druggie," he assured her as she clung to him and broke down sobbing. "One time thing, kiddo, I promise."

"Like you'd say anything else!"

The little whimper that escaped her as she scooted up his leg to get closer and dropped her head onto his shoulder very nearly made him start crying with her. For all that she insisted he get the hell out of her life, he could tell that she was desperate for someone decent to stay. This poor kid was fourteen going on forty after watching her mom date a string of losers; no wonder she had no faith in men, or in her mother's ability to make sound decisions. He squeezed her a little tighter, not sure what to do or say.

"Mickey, I'm tired," she croaked, making his heart ache for her even more. He knew she didn't mean sleepy; she was tired of being the mature one, and he couldn't say he blamed her. "I'm so tired..."

"Shhh, it's okay, baby," he whispered, rubbing her back. "You can rest now. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. You're my little girl now, okay? And I won't let anything happen to you, or your sister, or your mom. You don't have to take care of her anymore, honey. I will. You just take a breath and be a kid while you can."

"How can I trust you?"

Well, that hurt, but he got where she was coming from. Pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head, he murmured, "I gotta earn that." He pried her loose and pushed her back a little, just enough to be able to look her in the eye. "Do you think you can give me a chance to?"

After a pause that felt like an eternity, Maddie sniffled and nodded. "Okay. But if you hurt her, I'll kick your nuts back up inside."

Laughing, Mickey nodded and smoothed her hair back. "Noted.” A thought occurred to him and he frowned. “Why did you aunt tell you all that? Putting that weight on a kid... That's cruel.”

“I asked,” she admitted with a shrug. “I asked why mom was such a mess, and why I didn't have a dad. So she told me.”

I'd have made some shit up, damn. Even high, he was smart enough not to say that. He chose not to say anything at all, and just held her for a while as the cool night air soothed their frayed nerves and her breathing slowly returned to normal.

“Mickey?”

“Hm?”

Voice a small, timid whisper, she asked, “Do you really wanna be my dad?”

Smiling softly, he kissed her head again and hugged her just a bit tighter. “I am your dad.” When she tensed and let out a frustrated huff, he explained, “I'm in love with your mom, kiddo. And I already love you and your sister. We're family now, and I'm not going anywhere. I promise.”

“You're weird.” He could hear her teasing smile in her voice, and he smiled, too, relieved. “You don't even know us.”

“I know enough. Come on.” Though all he wanted was to sit there and cuddle with her all night, he gently pushed her off his lap and stood. “It's getting late. You should get to bed.”

Sending her off down the hall to his bedroom when they got back upstairs, he collapsed on the couch and sighed. He'd known when he met her that Beck would make his life more interesting... he just had no idea how interesting.

A laugh beside him reminded him of his other guest and he reluctantly opened his eyes. Judging from the way she was twitching and snickering, Bastian had finished the rest of the coke. “That was intense!”

Mickey closed his eyes again. “If it's not already gone, get that shit out of my house.”

“Oh, come on!” She shoved him, grinning impishly. “Don't try to act all virtuous now! You were right there with me, until that kid walked in.”

“'That kid'?” Annoyed now, he sat up and glared at her. “My kid.”

“Not really, though.” Confused, she twisted to glance down the hall, and then back to stare at him. “...Right? I mean, shit, she does kinda look like you...”

He shook his head. “No. Biologically, no, but I don't care. I'm not gonna add my name to the list of guys who've hurt her.”

Bastian snorted, rolling her eyes. “Mickey, you can't just decide to play daddy to this random kid on a whim just because your ex won't let you see your own. She's not yours, and changing your whole life and personality isn't going to change that.”

“I haven't touched that shit in years. I'm not changing on a whim; you just don't know me anymore.”

“Enough,” she challenged, settling back in her seat and staring down her nose at him. “I know you well enough to know this is never gonna work.”

“What isn't?”

“This!” Bastian gestured vaguely around them. “This whole self-domestication shit. You're not some house husband and stepdad – you're a musician. You belong on the road, Mickey! Not shut up in some old lady's apartment playing House with some crazy chick and her walking, talking reminders of past mistakes.”

“Beck,” he snapped, glaring at her. “'That chick's' name is Beck, and her gorgeous daughters are Maddie and Alice. They're not mistakes. Alice is adorable and so smart, and Maddie is fucking awesome and she's been through Hell. I haven't seen you in years and you think you're gonna sit here in my house and tell me who I am and what I want? I don't fucking think so, Bastian.”

“Alright, alright!” She held up her hands in surrender, eyes wide. “Chill. I just miss you, okay? I want you to come on tour with me, like the old days, not sit here and rot away in some mediocre domestic life. You could have so much more!”

Mickey sighed, staring off into space for a moment. Some part of him was drawn to her offer, but that wasn't him anymore. He didn't actually want to tour with her, he just hated feeling settled; at some point in his wild youth, stability had begun to feel like stagnation, and now he found himself often desperate to avoid it, even if it came with everything he truly wanted.

He thought about Beck, and her bright smile and her two beautiful, lonely daughters, and he thought about Hector. Beck had been spot-on; as much as he did love Greece, Mickey had really only stayed this long because of his son. He wanted to be in Hector's life. Now he wanted to be in Maddie and Alice's lives, too. He wanted a family.

And for the first time, he was willing to fight for that family.

“You're right,” he admitted slowly. “You're right, I've been hiding here, just floating around aimlessly.” Before she could get all triumphant, he stood and growled, “But that's not what I'm doing now. Now, I'm finally seeing a life that I want, and I'll be damned if I'll let anyone take it away from me.”

That said, he walked away without giving Bastian a chance to argue. He peeked into his son's room to check on Alice, smiled when he saw the way she was sprawled, half hanging off the bed, and he quietly closed the door and headed to his own room. Hopefully Maddie wouldn't mind; he'd originally intended to crash on the couch, but he couldn't stand to be in the same room as Bastian, and couldn't quite bring himself to kick her out, either. Moving slowly, so as to avoid waking either of the bed's other two occupants, he slid in next to Beck.

She immediately rolled over and cuddled close to him. At first he thought she was just fidgeting in her sleep, but then she whispered, “Don't let anyone change you or tell you who you are. Not even me.”

“I won't.” He tried to smile, couldn't quite manage it, and kissed her, instead. “Goodnight.”

“Night.”

It wasn't quite a seamless transition. Mickey's place was too small for a family of four, and he didn't exactly love the idea of moving a bunch of heavy audio equipment down those winding stairs. Though he wanted to jump right into living together, he didn't put up much of a fight when Beck started looking for her own place.

It helped that she didn't spend a lot of time at home. Once the girls were enrolled in school, their mother started dropping them off and then going straight to Mickey's place. She helped Argyris translate for Mickey and his clients, which both men had thought was a terrible idea... until they saw her in action. The short fuse he'd become so familiar with in their first couple of days together was nowhere to be found. Around even his most difficult clients, Beck was the embodiment of charm and professional courtesy. Mickey quickly found that while Argyris was better for direct translation, he was no match for Beck when it came to diplomacy and deescalating a heated argument.

“You haven't seen 'difficult',” she teased, “until you've been a woman in a male-dominated field arguing for funding. This is nothing.”

Mickey laughed, yanking her into his arms. “Where have you been all my life?”

She flinched, closing her eyes and pressing her fingertips to her mouth for a second. It was the briefest of moments, and then she was smiling again and joking, “On my knees in the dirt, mostly,” but he refused to ignore it.

“You okay?”

With a little shrug and a nod, she admitted, “Been a little queasy and lightheaded lately, but I'm fine. It never lasts long.”

“You are so American.” She glared at him and he grinned, pleased that he knew how to get her attention. “You're not in Dystopia anymore – go to a doctor.”

“Did you not hear me? I'm fi-”

“I heard 'lately,'” he countered, poking her side and immediately regretting it when she cringed. Right; queasy. Maybe don't mess with her stomach, Mickey. “'Lately' means this is not normal. It means you're sick, so go to a doctor.”

She shook her head, winced, and dropped it onto his shoulder. “I don't need a doctor.”

“You can't even move without turning green.”

“I'm fine. I don't need a doctor.”

“Why are you being so stubborn? You're supposed to help me with stubborn people, not be the Queen of them!”

“Am I your girlfriend or your lawyer?”

“That's not what I meant and you know it. Don't change the subject.” Rubbing her back, he insisted as gently as he could, “Please just go get checked out.”

“I don't need to. I'm fine.”

“Look, even if it's minor, do you wanna suffer or find out what's wrong and get better?”

“I don't need a doctor to tell me what I already know!”

What she already knew? He frowned, more confused than ever. “Is it some kind of chronic-”

“Mickey, I'm not sick – I'm pregnant!”

He froze, gaping at her in shock. She started to pull away, but he tightened his grip on her waist before she could stand up. “You're what?”

Looking nervous and uncomfortable, she mumbled, “I was trying to find the right time to tell you; we've just been so busy with that 'make it more Greek' asshat...”

“You're really pregnant?” When she slowly and carefully nodded, Mickey grinned and hugged her as tight as he dared. “That's fantastic!” He finally let her up, only to stand with her and frame her face with both hands. Between frantic kisses all over her face, he gushed, “That's incredible! Have you told the girls yet? Oh, Alice is gonna be so excited to be a big sister! And Hector! I can't wait for Hector to meet his little brother or sister!”

“Mickey...”

He glanced around, smile dimming just a bit. “Damn, we gotta get a bigger place.”

“Mickey.”

“I wonder if Agryris' grandmother had-”

“Mickey!” Shoving his hands away, Beck got a tight grip on his hair and forced him to turn back to face her. “Do you really think we can do this?”

He blinked, taken aback by that. “Don't you?”

“Three kids, and fighting for joint custody of a fourth?” She shook her head, looking at him like he was an idiot. “The thought that we might be in over our heads crossed my mind, yeah. I was struggling with just two!”

“Well, now you have me.” His cheeky grin didn't seem to comfort her as much as he'd hoped it would. “You were struggling 'cause you were alone; now you're not.”

“A single mom with two kids really isn't all that different from two parents with four,” she pointed out, releasing his hair and crossing her arms over her chest. Seeing the hurt he tried to mask, she sighed. “Look, I'm glad you're excited, I am. And whether we're ready or not, the kid's on the way, I just... I just wish I shared your optimism. I'm not excited, Mickey; I'm scared to death.”

“Well, get excited,” he jokingly commanded, pulling her close for another hug. “We'll be fine. Besides, it's not like Aspa's ever gonna give me full custody, so it's not really two to four. Maddie's old enough that she doesn't need constant hyper-vigilance from us, so it's really just two to two-and-a-half.”

Finally, finally, Beck laughed. It was quiet and weak, but a laugh nonetheless. “Jesus, you're like sunshine in human form. Does anything ever get you down?”

He shrugged. “Sure, but I try not to let it for long. And I see a new baby as something to celebrate, not freak the hell out over.”

“See, you get to see it that way because you don't have to push it out,” she teased. “It's not so perfectly sunny from where I'm standing.”

“No one said life is perfect.” Still smiling like a fool, he kissed her. “Whatever you need, I'm here. You're not doing everything alone anymore. We got this.”

“I love you.”

It didn't seem possible, but somehow his smile got even wider. “I love you, too.”

“Speaking of Aspa, though...”

“Oh, god, what?”

With a laugh and an apologetic smile, Beck ventured, “I don't think you should come today.”

“What?”

Her smile immediately faded; apparently, he was really bad at hiding it when he was confused and offended. “Baby, you're chaos incarnate. It's one of the things I love about you, but it's not exactly conducive to a civilized conversation with a woman who probably kind of hates you.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“I just think I might have better luck getting through to her, single mom to single mom.” She looked like she was waiting for him to hit her, which only made him feel worse. “I know how hard it is, and how, whether we mean to or not, we tend to villainize our exes-”

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, well, with the stellar guys you've dated, it makes sense. It's not really villainizing if he's already a villain.”

“Exactly how much did Madeline tell you?”

Uh-oh. She was mad. Knowing he was in trouble no matter what and refusing to drag his stepdaughter down with him, Mickey hastily changed the subject. “Do you really think I'll fuck things up that badly if I go?” Why was he even asking? Offended or not, he knew she was right; Aspa hated his guts.

Thankfully, Beck let the dig about her exes drop and her steely expression melted back into one of gentle sympathy. “I just want you to have the best chance possible of getting to be an active part of Hector's life. I want him to know you, to sleep in that bed you bought him before he outgrows it, to meet his new sisters. And I think your feelings towards Aspa, and hers toward you, are probably too raw and volatile right now for a face-to-face meeting to be a good idea.”

“Alright.” Forcing a faint smile, he nodded. “Alright, go. You've got a point.”

“I'll tell you all about it when I get back, okay?” She promised with an equally strained smile, kissing his cheek.

“Can't wait.”

When she came back a little while later, she was laughing. Mickey's hopes that it meant things had gone better than expected were dashed, though, when she managed to gasp out, “She really hates you!”

“Yeah, thanks.” He shook his head. “I knew that much.”

“I'm sorry.” Still giggling, Beck wound her arms around his waist. “She was just such a bitch. I kinda respect the hell out of her.”

“What did she say?”

“That you're a baby,” she dutifully recited, “and you're irresponsible, unreliable...”

“Why is this funny?!”

“Because, Mickey... Mickey, honey...” Framing his face like he had to her earlier, she told him, “It's nothing I didn't already know. You're flighty and you're a big kid; this isn't news. She was floored that I love you anyway, and my god, the look on her face when I went off about how that childishness is what makes you such a good dad, and you're great with the girls... I haven't been able to stop laughing since! Pretty sure she hates me now, too.”

“Great!” Failing to see the humor, Mickey jerked free of her light grasp and moved away, beginning to pace the room. “So instead of helping, you just alienated her from us both!”

“We're going to see him on Saturday.”

“What?” He spun to stare at her; she wasn't laughing anymore. “Are you serious?”

Looking rather proud of herself, she nodded. “Supervised by Aspa, of course, but yep. You get to spend time with your son, and I finally get to meet him. It doesn't matter what she thinks of either of us, as long as she can see that you give a shit; that we're safe to be around Hector, and can be trusted to think of him first. Show her how much you love him, that even childish and flaky you can be reliable, that you want to be reliable, and a supervised visit might turn into father-son weekends, without your ex underfoot.”

“I... wha... how...?”

She shrugged, smiling faintly. “Mother to mother. We came to an understanding.”

Overwhelmed by emotions he couldn't even identify, Mickey closed the distance between them and lifted her up. “I fucking love you, you know that?”

Beaming as he set her down, Beck leaned in for a kiss. “I love you, too, baby.”

“That's not cute anymore.” Despite his protests, he was grinning as he backed her toward the bedroom. “Now I just feel like you're calling me a baby. That sucks. Don't do that.”

“I'll call you what I want,” she teased, pulling him down for another kiss. “And you can't stop me!”

With a hand on her belly, he joked, “How about you call me 'daddy'?”

“No.” She laughed and shook her head. “I physically cannot do that. I'll puke.”

“Well, morning sickness is pretty common.”

“No, this is pure disgust.”

They were both laughing now as they reached the bed; he almost playfully shoved her back, but then remembered the baby and thought better of it. Instead, he flopped across it himself and beckoned for her to join him. “We're gonna be okay, you know.”

Beck winced as she settled gingerly on the edge of the bed. “It's just such bad timing. I don't...”

“Hey.” He tugged at her arm until she stretched out beside him, and wound his arms around her. “It's all gonna be okay. No matter what life throws at us, we'll deal with it together, okay? I want this baby. I know you want this baby. The rest is just details.”

“Pretty big fucking details. I was supposed to go to Mongolia next month.”

“Then go.” God, he didn't want her to, but he was determined to show her that they could be together, be a family, without completely derailing her life. When she looked at him like he'd lost it, he gave her a bland 'are you kidding' look right back. “You're not really gonna try to convince me that you weren't still going on digs when you were pregnant with Alice, are you?”

She blushed. “My team didn't know...”

“So don't tell them this time, either.”

“Mickey...” Pushing his arms away, she sat up. “You really have no idea how physically demanding my work is, do you? I almost lost Alice.”

For a second, he floundered, wondering what the hell to do or say. Then he brightened and sat up, as well. “You speak a million languages; just work as a translator until you're safe to go back out into the field.”

“...I do love it,” she conceded, making him perk up. “And maybe I can finally teach you some Greek so you can talk to your son more easily.”

Mickey chuckled. “I'm not getting out of that, am I?”

“Nope.” She grinned and settled back against his chest as he leaned against the headboard. “Not until we're both fluent.”

“Alright, I'm in.” He smiled, kissing her jaw and lacing their fingers together. “New home for us, new job for you, learning a new language...”

“New baby on the way.”

“New baby on the way,” he parroted, pressing their linked hands to her belly. “New chapter.”

“Here's to a new life.”

Mickey nodded and leaned down for a proper kiss, murmuring against her lips, “Together.”

[ilooklikeaburntchickenugget]

Runaways

A/N: I actually got this idea from a Wattpad one shot I read but they didn’t continue the story after Gerard gets home so I was like “I’ll just continue it then”. So here you all go, hope you enjoy. Pairing: Criminal!Gerard x F!Reader Word count: 1569 Warnings: Steamy scenes, not actual sex description though

Gerard was one of the sweetest men you knew. At least when you actually knew him.

That fact only made life that much duller when he was sentences to 10 years in federal prison for running a state wide drug ring. You still remember sitting behind him in the court room as they jury announced their verdict. It wasn’t nearly as bad as the initial 25 years (thanks to the great attorney he had hired), but it was still a slap to the face.

You looked at him and he looked at you. Tears had already began to flood your eyes as he mouthed “I love you”, and was taken away.

So two years later you still had your office job and a new small apartment. Nothing much had changed, you still had no one other than your best friend who lives five states away. She was the only one who didn’t disown you after finding out about your relationship with Gerard.

You had a bin in your closet, filled with letters from your lover who was locked away. He wrote to you at least once a week, and you would always write back. They didn’t let anyone visit him, it was that isolated. So the only way you even got remote contact was via mail.

But he wrote the sweetest things. Talking about how he thought about you for hours on end everyday, would sometimes stay up all night staring at the photo he had of you. You didn’t doubt it for a second, you and Gerard has such a raw romance it all made sense.

Every letter ended with “I will come back to you. I promise.” You never doubted that either, but eight more years without him seemed nearly impossible to imagine.

You had decided to make some pasta and vegetables for dinner. Everything had become tasteless at this point, so it didn’t even matter what you had in your pantry at the time. Whatever it was, you would eat it just to get some nutrition.

Sitting down in the beige living room you had on the leather couch, you turned on the TV to see what politicians were bickering about and what local events were going on. You began eating, when a breaking news alert came on. Great, you thought, some fire or something.

“An estimated amount of over 50 inmates have escaped from Greentown Federal Prison today, police are on the lookout for all the convicts. Law enforcement encourages citizens to stay inside, and to not go outside unless it’s an emergency.” Your eyebrows shot up as you smirked at the news.

“Finally something interesting.” You smirked. Of course you didn’t think of the obvious at the moment, until only a few minutes later there was a knock on the door.

You got up, wiping your mouth with a napkin and setting your plate on the counter. You weren’t expecting anybody, it was around eight at night. You went to the door and opened it, but before you could register anything you had arms wrapped around you and a long kiss on your lips. Gerard?

You kissed back instantly knowing who it was by his touch. “Gee?” You asked finally pulling away and looking up. He looked around the same, his hair a little longer and more tangled than before.

“Yeah, babe.” He smiled.

“Oh my-” You weren’t sure what to say, so naturally you began crying, “It’s you.” You hugged him again.

“Shhh,” He cooed, hugging you back and rubbing your back, “I know, sugar, I know.”

“Gee, what are you doing?” You asked, looking up at him and cupping his cheeks in your hands.

“I broke out.” He said, sighing. “Which is why we need to go.” You froze for a second, “You there?” “Yeah, I just, I um-” You began, shutting and triple locking the door, “Shit! Gerard the police are going to be here any fucking minute! Are you insane?” “No,” He said, “I have a plan.” “Do you?” You asked.

“Yes! Now grab a bag and pack some shit and go.” You ran to the other room as you hurriedly put some clothes in a duffel bag. You could hear Gerard looking through some boxes before you shot out.

“What’s wrong?” You asked him as he began grabbing some stuff from cardboard boxes you had never opened (he had told you not to).

“Thank you for not opening these.” He sighed, “These will help us now.” He grabbed your free hand and ran you out of the apartment, down the stairs, and into a black car you had never seen before. Both of you got into the back. “Ready boss?” The driver asked and Gerard nodded.

The vehicle drove away and down two streets as you heard distant headlights. You froze, until you realized it was just the cops arriving at your apartment, which has now been abandoned by you and Gee.

Most of the way it was silent between the four of you in the car. You didn’t speak because you had no clue what to say. Your whole world had literally just been turned upside down, yet that still couldn’t sink in.

“I missed you.” He whispered from where he sat next to you, placing his hand on your thigh.

“I missed you too.” You lightly smiled, placing your hand on his.

“You’re nervous.” He said. You nodded. “It’ll be alright babe, okay? We have a plan.”

“Gee, I just-” “I know.” He stopped me, “I know you don’t want to get involved. And trust me, I didn’t want you to either. But the cops were going to come for you either way.” You nodded knowing in the end he was right. It wasn’t like you could necessarily turn to anyone else.

After only a few more minutes of driving and entering a completely wooded forest, you pulled into a driveway. “Boss, we’re here.” The guy said. The two of you got out, retrieving your bags from the back. He nodded at the driver and the passenger as they drove off and down the road.

“Where are we?” You asked him, he held you tightly with his arm around you.

“About 10 minutes away from the safehouse.”

“Safehouse?” You asked. He lightly laughed.

“You really think I would’ve done this without a safehouse, sugar?” He kissed the top of you head, “I’m not that stupid.” “I could list a few times where you were-” “Oh hush.” He rolled his eyes, “This is going to be relaxing, alright?” “Relaxing?” You asked, “Gerard, you just escaped from fucking prison-” “Not so loud sugar.” He hushed you, “We don’t need any body else knowing that.” A short walk on the dirt road later and a small wooden cabin appeared.

“This is it?” You asked and he nodded, “It seems pretty nice for a safe house.” “Well that’s the point isn’t it?” He turned to you, “You know I would only give you the best.” You lightly smiled.

“Yeah, yeah I remember.” He grabbed your hand and led you in, shutting the doors and locking them immediately after. He looked at you in the dark from where you had put your bags down at the end of the hallway and smiled, you smiled back. Within seconds his lips were on yours again, this time more soft and gentle, not as needy or impatient as the first one.

“I missed you.” He engulfed you in a hug, kissing the top of your head.

“I missed you too.” You smiled and hugged him back.

“I’m so glad you waited.” He pulled away. You gave him a confused look.

“Of course I did Gee,” You caressed his cheek with your thumb, “I wouldn’t dream of leaving you. You’re all I have.” “I love you.” He smiled, giving you another kiss.

“I love you too.” As tough as Gerard seemed on the outside, he was a real softie. At least with you, and family of course. Which is one of the reasons you loved him so much, because he was his truest self while at his most vulnerable point.

And of course, that played into that night’s activities, specifically in bed. The safe house reminded you of a small cabin in the mountains, which it sort of was. No heating and no electricity, the warmth you had was from each other and the fire place which Gee had graciously gotten going within minutes upon your arrival. The entire night with him was magical. He spent his precious time with you, worshipping every inch of you and letting your name melt off his tongue like a prayer. He spilled out praises like a waterfall, not giving you time to let them sink in before moving onto the next one.

And of course this happened for hours and hours, both of you finally giving out at five am, right before the sun began to rise. Your arms were over his chest, and his hand drawing mindless shapes on your back. Your head was comfortably tucked in the crook of his neck, his head on top of yours. “Go to sleep, darling.” He murmured, his fingers playing with a few strands of your hair. “I’m right here.” You hummed in response, moving slightly closer to him to absorb his warmth.

“Gee?” You said lightly, closing your eyes.

“Hm?” He responded.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, sugar.”

[bloodandpaintchips]

Superhero

Tagging→ Andrea Sheldon Time Frame→ Earlier this year, 4 years prior Location→ Sangren, somewhere in mid-America General Notes→ What Andrea’s been up to.  

Somewhere in Indiana. That’s where she was.

The van was smoky and Andrea was spread out on the blankets in the back, ashing a cigarette into a solo cup and staring at a spread of papers in hyperfocus. Her only light source came from an assortment of Christmas, Halloween and “fairy” lights from the discount bin, giving the inside of the vehicle a bit of a red-orange glow she hoped would look creepy enough to keep passersby away. Today her stomping grounds were beneath a bridge next to a garbage riddled creek, so the chances of being snuck up on were minimal anyway.

The papers in front of her were police reports, mostly stolen, a few pictures of her mother she’d never seen as a child and a note that just said “I think I’m over it,” in scribbled handwriting. Audra’s handwriting. She tried not to romanticize it and compare it to her own and get lost in their similarities. Instead she kept saying the words. The small note, on crumpled looseleaf was procured from the only still living girlfriend of Audra, the one remaining puzzle piece to the night she went missing.

For years, Andrea told herself there was a chance her mother was alive, but there was no chance she was safe. Otherwise wouldn’t she have come home? She had a husband and a young daughter and a big house and a studio. Andy didn’t feel the pang in her heart that she used to looking at images of her mother; just a curiosity and loyalty she couldn’t shake.

Plus, the more time she spent searching for Audra, researching her, researching that night, the more human it made her feel.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving the old man,” Frank Sheldon tsked, shaking his head in the walkway of his house, arms folded in playful disappointment. Andrea couldn’t help but smile.

“I think it’s time for both of us to get a life, Dad.” Despite her words, she strode over to him and closed the gap between them in a tight hug. She held it for a moment, eyes burning and trying to make the moment last longer in her head. He was so warm and familiar. He was home. She couldn’t be home anymore.

Wiping her eyes, she stepped back from him, laughing once she realized they were both misty. He chuckled too, waving away a stray tear and pointing to the blue van. “Same color as Susan.”

“Yeah, well I may be leaving her with you but I had to have some familiarity out there,” she replied, shrugging and taking the keys out of her back pocket. She got the van at an auction after withdrawing all of her savings from those years as a busboy. Maybe she could have gotten it another way, but she wanted to do it straight. Less lies for her father, less guilt as she still struggled to accept the scope of things she was capable of now.

“Is it...safe? Oil changed? Air in the tires? All that?”

“All that,” she said. 

“You know I’m just a phone call away, right? And I know it’s embarrassing to have to call your dad for money while you’re out trying to...see the world or whatever, but don’t hesitate. You’re all I got, kid. If I can help I always will.”

When Andy finally drove off, she felt so empty. She was sad to leave her dad, but it was more than that. She wanted to feel afraid to hit the road in a way that she knew she’d be if this was months ago. She’d spent so much of her life crippled by anxiety and being alone and leaving home that when these things didn’t overwhelm her heart now, it felt wrong.

She guessed she wouldn’t feel right for a long time. But as far as Frank knew, she just needed to “spread her wings.” She told him she was 25 and she had to leave the nest and see what else was out there. He accepted it easily, thinking she was totally logical, and that was great but a part of her wanted there to be more to it. Maybe because there was so much she couldn’t tell him, the whole thing just felt like a dismissal. It wasn’t “dad I need to get away,” it was “dad I’m no longer alive and looking at you just makes me think of everything I’ve lost and everything I will lose.”

She broke from her thoughts to make an incredibly sharp turn, realizing she’d almost missed the GPS prompting her to do so. Moments later, she pulled into a residential area. Parked in front of a green shuttered house, she looked down at the address scribbled on her inner arm to confirm she was in the right place. She’d gotten the information from reports of her mom’s disappearance. She actually tried to track down every friend her mom went out with the night it happened, but most of them had either moved or died. Except one.

The woman who opened the door was colorful -- literally draped in an afghan the colors of a peacock with bright red lipstick. At first Andrea may have pegged her for a witch based off of the energy alone, but once invited inside she realized the woman just loved color and knick knacks. She was led to the living room to sit on a couch across from her in a chair.

“I haven’t really thought of Audra in years, which is insane considering how vividly I remember that night.” Her name was Tammy (short for Tamera) and Andrea could not tell at all how this woman felt about her mother. Whether she missed her or truly didn’t care whether or not she was taken. The woman was kind eyed but hard to read.

“You remember it vividly?”

“Vividly enough. I remember the cops, I remember dancing, I remember our talk…” Tammy trailed off, shrugging and dragging an acrylic nail along the embroidery on her couch. 

“Your talk?”

“It’s no big deal. Audra was always a little discontent it seemed, but it didn’t mean she wanted to disappear. Police try to spin things,” the older woman mused. Andrea didn’t want to make the woman rehash too much and on a more selfish level she was hoping to be brief because the house smelled like piss kind of.

“She talked about being discontent?”

“Oh, all the time. But that was Audra.”

Andrea had read the interviews. She’d read how her mom went to the bathroom and never came back, but she’d never heard anything about what happened before all that. Just drinks, laughter, disappearance. Hearing her mother was like that “all the time,” made her feel weird. It didn’t align with anything she thought in the past.

“How so?”

“She missed being young. But God, don’t we all?”

“I think I’m over it” was originally stuck to the back of a photo. Tammy said she’d forgotten all about it, saying they used to write cheeky inebriated notes to each other about things they couldn’t say to their husbands. She was promised that “Audra probably wasn’t talking about family.” But she wondered.

Regardless, Andrea had been through several states looking for things that smelled like Audra or sounded like her or had the faint essence of her, but she met nothing but dead ends until recently. 

Before now, if you asked her if she was sure her mother was alive, she still would have answered with a “hope so,” but now, the closer east she got, the more it became apparent this chick was actually alive. Or at the very least if she was dead like everyone believed she was, she didn’t die in Sangren. Crust punks in supernatural-heavy areas would look at her photos and nod like they knew her well for a time, but no matter who she met, the words “used to” were always used. Audra never seemed to stick around anywhere.

“What the fuck was she running from?” Andrea asked the question to an empty van, her cigarette ash being almost the length of a finger since she’d been too distracted to ash it.

This near manic 5-year search for her mother felt like it was culminating somehow but it still felt like she could be looking for another 5. But what else was she doing? If she were being completely honest with herself, she hoped some kind of heartfelt reunion with her mother would be cathartic -- some kind of loophole for her to feel like she had a soul again. 

In a dark way, she hoped Audra was in danger. Because then it would give her vampirism purpose. Like, sure maybe her autonomy was ripped away and she’ll never know what it’s like to be human again, but perhaps she was destined to be extra strong, fast and manipulative in order to save her. Maybe this was destiny.

She knew it sounded stupid out loud, like she wanted to be a superhero. But finding her mom and maybe saving her felt like some sort of full circle destiny that would justify all of the trauma. Even if the woman ran away, it didn’t mean she planned to stay away. So many pieces of the puzzle weren’t there yet. She felt so close and on the other hand like she only had a handful of old photos and an ominous note that may or may not have made it seem like she wanted to leave. It was maddening.

Sighing and rubbing her temple, Andrea tossed the cigarette butt into a pop bottle and closed it. Tired of staring at the same stuff for hours, she turned over and laid on her back against the blankets so she could look up at the lights.

This gave her purpose, and she liked that. That’s what she kept saying.

[bang-and-a-blintz]

Through the Darkness

CHAPTER SEVEN - RED AND BLUES

Fandom: Dracula (2020)  

Relationship: Dracula/Roxana(OFC)  

Rating: Mature  

Warnings: None  

Word Count: 3,708

In hindsight, Roxana probably shouldn't have had three strongly poured bloody marys. She should have switched to something less filling after a big meal; like a vodka soda, if she felt like keeping to the same liquor, or a gin and tonic to stir things up. Unfortunately, all the tomato juice and grits and bread and sausage and eggs did not mix well with the sight of someone's throat being literally torn open.

It was nasty, but at least now she could jot down 'successfully grossed out a five-hundred-something-year-old vampire' in her list of lifetime achievements.

"Well, that was…unexpected." Dracula said after a moment, his hands hung in the air like they were held up by marionette strings, "Revolting, yes, but I have to admit, this is a first."

"I…um, I would apologize, but -"

"Yes, you should be sorry! This is an Ermenegildo Zegna." He growled lowly and the Italian name slid off his tongue in such a way that it sent shivers down her spine. Not entirely unpleasant ones, she'd be loath to admit.

"Who cares about a suit? You just ended that man's life!" She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and took a few steps back to distance herself from the vampire. "Besides, you clearly can afford another one."

Dracula rolled his eyes and sighed, his hands now working on their own accord as he began to carefully peel the ruined jacket away from his body. "It's not about the money, Roxana, it's about the craftsmanship and quality of the items; think of the countless hours spent meticulously sewing and sizing each individual article of clothing. All of that dedication and hard work tossed away just because you can't stomach a little bit of blood."

"Unbelievable." She began to pace in a small circle, dragging her nails quite viciously and repeatedly through her unruly locks. "You care more about some bits of fabric than a human being's life."

After shaking off the chunks from the coat, he placed it sloppily over the corpse and started working on his vest. There was that ferocity that he recognized in her, it reminded him of Agatha, and it was that Van Helsing fire that was not so easily snubbed. "You will come to learn, my dear, that death is part of the journey. It is the finished masterpiece. Think of it as your magnum opus! It is the very thing that defines the meaning of every life and is nothing that you should be afraid of."

"You're missing my point completely and, for the record, I'm not scared of death."

Dracula was relieved to find the button-up shirt underneath his vest to be unscathed, but also a little more than slightly intrigued by her statement. He would, how they say, put a pin in it and return back to that later. "Then why are you so upset? It's not like you knew him."

She groaned and threw up her hands in exasperation. Roxana was not about to try and teach an old vampire new moral tricks, that was well above her pay grade.

Rolling up his sleeves, the Count set out to retrieve his belongings from the pockets of his jacket and then fitted the dirtied clothes onto the dead body. For the final touch, he slid his Ray Bans over the man's glassy eyes. "Ah, good enough, I suppose."

Dracula took a step back to view his handiwork while absentmindedly wiped the remaining blood from his face. Roxana stopped her pacing to stare dumbly at the sight before her. The mugger was propped up against the wall with his head drooped down to the side, covering the neck wound so it looked like someone who had little too much fun and passed out on the sidewalk. Not an entirely uncommon sight in this city.

"Please tell me you're not just going to leave him here."

He looked at her with raised brows, "And what would you have me do?"

"Clean up after yourself!" Roxana cried out. The adrenaline rush she got from witnessing a murder had not completely dissipated so now she was left grasping a bout of minor hysteria. "I would think that would be obvious!"

Dracula laughed, "That's rich coming from someone who just upchucked her dinner all over one of my finest suits!"

"Because you decided to floss your teeth with some dude's carotid artery."

"Why are you surprised? You know what I am!"

"Well, excuse me if I was a little caught off guard because it's a hell of a lot different seeing a vampire up close and in action as opposed to a tiny, shitty computer screen!" She was nearly shouting, oblivious to the desperation in her own voice as he drew closer. Her neck craned upwards to try and boldly keep eye contact while his grin grew to make him look like the cat who caught the canary. "Stop smiling like that!"

"Make me." His tone was teasingly low, those eyes wicked and sharp. She noticed how lively Dracula looked after he fed. It was unsettling.

WHOOP! WHOOP!

They jumped apart as sirens suddenly yipped at them and a bright flashlight waved back and forth between their faces. The dark street was instantly flooded by the red and blues spinning on top of the police car.

"Oh, fuck me." She murmured with wide eyes. Her hands instinctively started to raise a little before she forced them back down, reminding herself to act casual.

Dracula leaned over slightly, "Is that an invitation?"

"Please shut up." She hissed back, shooting him a glare. "And no, it's not."

He made a facial shrug and then smirked, tossing her a casual little wink just to rile her up. The short, frustrated huff he got in return was satisfying enough.

"Everything all right here?" The cop rolled down his window and peered out at them. "And how about your friend over there? He's not looking so great."

The light shined over the dead guy leaning against the wall and the pair froze, glancing at one another.

This was her moment, she could tell the officer about the murder and maybe he could protect her against…the vampire. Oh, who was she kidding? Dracula would quicker snap her neck and drain the officer before risking the chance of exposure like that.

Meanwhile, her inner moral soldiers battled fiercely inside her brain over whether or not she should even say something about the murder. On the one hand, the count was a vicious blood-sucker who killed a man in a blink of the eye without any remorse, but on the other hand, it was technically self-defense…on her behalf anyway.

Logic eventually won when she realized that even if she did rat him out, it was highly unlikely the cop would even believe the truth. She would sound like a crazy person. The mental image of Dracula laughing and waving while she, hands uncomfortably cuffed behind her back, watched on with teary eyes as he grew smaller and smaller in the distance because the cruiser she was detained in drove off to the nearest prison…or an insane asylum. Whichever was closest.

Be killed or incarcerated? Neither were ideal. So Roxana went for door number three instead.

Dracula saw the look on her face. The look of a scared little rabbit getting ready to bolt. He had already tensed in preparation for her to make a sudden move but, to his surprise, that peculiar look vanished and Roxana smiled.

"All good here, officer! And yes, unfortunately this drunk pleb is with us. We were just about to get a ride back to the airbnb, sir." She shrugged her shoulders with a laugh. "It was his first time on Bourbon Street."

"Yes, I do believe he had one too many bloodys," Dracula was pleasantly surprised by her change in demeanor and happily played along. "Poor man vomited all over himself before we could find him a bin. Such a lightweight."

The officer squinted a little and they waited with bated breaths as he took a moment, which really felt like ages, to decide whether or not he believed their story.

"Alright then," He said at length and pointed to Dracula, "You make sure they get home safe now, ya hear?"

Roxana's eyebrows rose in disbelief while the Count grinned toothily, stepping over to her. She felt his hand slide up her spine and rest in a light grip around the back of her neck. "Of course, officer. I'll take care of them."

With a nod, the cop turned off his lights and drove back down the street, making a left at the next corner. Roxana let out a breath she didn't know she was holding and dropped her shoulders.

That was a close call.

"My, my, your heart is racing, Roxana." Dracula murmured into the darkness that had enveloped them once more. His thumb brushed over her pulse point and he was thrilled when it spiked at the touch. She went to move away but halted her step when she felt his grip tighten, those claws threatening to make a cut. He turned her to face him and firmly, but gently tilted her head back to force her to meet his stare.

"That was your chance. Why didn't you say anything?"

"Please," She scoffed and jutted her chin out defiantly, "We both know it would've been pointless."

"Still," He spoke softly, his head angling back as he observed her, "You could have told the police officer the truth."

"And have you kill us both? I think not. Remember, the foundation showed me those videos and I know you're immune to bullets. So what good would that have done me?"

Dracula stared at her for a moment and then wetted his lips slowly before speaking, inching closer and closer towards her face. "For the last time, I'm not killing you yet because I wish to get to know you, but if you keep bringing it up, I might feel inclined to change that timeframe."

"Well are you going to be this intolerable all the time? Because if so, then just get on with it, I'm in no mood to play a long con here, big guy."

"No, I do believe the fun has just begun."

"Great. Just great." Roxana was truly done. She could still taste the bile on her tongue like acid, it made her feel disgusting, and she wanted nothing more than the day to end. "Now, if you'll let me go, I'm in desperate need of a shower, a toothbrush, and a bed. Maybe a nightcap too because the last twenty-four hours of my life have been absolutely fucked."

Acquiescing her request, Dracula released his grip and allowed her to distance herself from him once more. He watched as she dragged a hand down her face and heaved a sigh; her blue eyes almost shined in the darkness up at him as she gave him a tired half-assed glare. She then turned and started walking towards Canal Street.

"Where are you going?"

"Home." She called over her shoulder, her manners be damned. "Goodnight, Dracula."

The Count gawked when she didn't even give him a second glance and he did nothing but watch as she made her way to the end of the street and disappeared around the corner. He truly did not understand that woman. Perhaps it was ingrained in the Van Helsing blood to be habitually nonplussed by his vampiric prowess.

He pulled out his cell phone with a sigh as his thoughts drifted to the dead man wearing his now-ruined five-thousand-dollar suit and about a quart of said Van Helsing's DNA. Dracula needed to get rid of that evidence before it came back and bit him in the ass. No pun intended.

"Hello, my lord, how was your day today?" Renfield sounded chipper as ever.

"I need you to dispose of a body."

Dracula grinned from ear to ear as he listened delightfully to the unfiltered frustration in Frank Renfield's long-suffering sigh.

—

What a day, Roxana thought as she shuffled onto the streetcar and plopped down in one of the wooden seats. With a lurch, the machine squealed and rattled as it moved forward along the track. She winced; the benches on these particular modes of transportation were incredibly unforgiving on one's posterior.

Blankly, she stared into nothing, not paying attention as the buildings passed by. The events of the night played on repeat in her mind. A real vampire killed a real person right before her eyes. Was this really real life now? She was too exhausted to try and figure it out.

She felt like an outsider looking in on her body as it ran on autopilot. Her hand pulled the string to stop the car and somehow her feet managed to take her all the way to her front step without incident.

Fifolet meowed at her incessantly by the door but it sounded muted and far away as she unlocked it. Robotically, she made a beeline to the bathroom and shed her clothes along the way. Not even waiting for the water to warm up, Roxana stood unflinchingly under the cold spray and began to clean herself as the temperature increased to the cusp of scalding. She scrubbed and scrubbed until her skin was red and raw. When she was finished, she pressed her forehead against the tiled wall and closed her eyes, simply listening to the water roar around her.

Without thinking, she lifted her hand up to gently wrap her fingers around her neck and couldn't stop her mind from wandering…from remembering the distinct sensation of another hand. His hand. She could almost still feel the vast expanse of his palm grasping her jugular and those impossibly long fingers curling nearly all the way around. Or how he leaned so close until he was just a breath away and anytime she would inhale, those fingers would tighten ever-so-slightly against her flesh.

Roxana's eyes shot open and she dropped her hand like it was on fire. Goosebumps lit up her arms and legs, despite the scorching water. Slamming the nozzle off, she threw back the curtains and began to dry off with furious gusto.

He was a vile creature. A feral beast. Not even human. The mere memory of his hands on her should be enough to appall her entirely. It must be delirium, she thought stubbornly, shaking the abhorrently traitorous images from her mind. She wrapped the towel around her head and strode towards the bedroom.

"I just need to go the fuck to sleep." Roxana muttered to herself and swiped the half-empty bottle of bourbon from the counter on her way. She collapsed onto the bed once she reached it, but sleep did not find her. Instead, she laid awake through the early hours of the morning, watching the ceiling fan spin on and on and on. She steadily knocked back the remainder of the liquor until the corners of her visions blurred and her eyelids became too heavy to keep open.

By the time the sun had risen in the sky, the bottle had rolled underneath her bed, long since emptied, and her light snores could be heard along with the chirping birdsongs. Fifolet patted over and curled up next to the woman, resting her paw gently on her outstretched arm and knowing that her human would be needing comfort now more than ever before.

—

The rest of the week flew by without any sort of batty drama and Roxana was grateful for it. She had a light workload with only two dinners scheduled and each went off without a hitch. All felt to be back to normal within her world. The weather wasn't comfortable yet, unfortunately, so she spent most of her free time relaxing at home. Not that she was using the cold as an excuse to stay inside and away from a certain someone. Nope, not a chance.

After that night, she had woken up with a righteous hangover and truly believed she had made up everything that had occurred in those twenty-four hours, but the textual evidence on her phone proved otherwise. Dracula had messaged her just once, to make sure she had made it home after their encounter, which she had to begrudgingly admit was rather sweet. Other than that, she was surprised to hear nothing more from the Count.

Roxana was cherishing the peace and quiet while she could. She knew that this whole interaction with Dracula was almost one-hundred-percent going to end up with her premature death. It wasn't hard to understand that hanging out with vampires and certain mortal peril basically went hand in hand. Not to mention the pesky fact about her being directly tied to a bloodline of women who had quite a lot to do with this ancient warlord and, spoiler alert, both of those women were killed...by him. So she intended to enjoy the calm before the storm.

Her phone went off next to her as she was boiling a pot of water for her own dinner and she saw an unknown number flash up at her.

"Hello?"

"Ah Miss von Hels, this is Keres Grimaldi. How I appreciate you taking the time as I am sure you must be terribly busy." The cold, feminine voice on the other line was not who Roxana had expected.

She blinked and then glanced around. The only plans she had this evening were drinking a bottle or two of wine, eating pasta, and watching some mind-numbing sitcoms. Yes, she was terribly busy. "Oh, no, not a problem at all. What can I do for you, Miss Grimaldi?"

"I would like to go over some of the details for this upcoming dinner." Keres' tone was icy and authoritative, leaving no room for nonsense or frivolous chatter. Roxana had a hard time imagining this woman throwing any sort of convivial party. "First, I believe you are aware of the delicate situation I am in, as head of the council, and the reason I chose your restaurant as the location once more is that I know that you will handle these delicacies with the same discretion you do with all of your soirees. Your clientele is famous and you appear to have the subtlety to maintain secrecy."

Roxana could not tell if this woman was being deliberately facetious or if she just always had the demeanor of a robotic bitch. Realizing very quickly that she wasn't about to get many words in, the chef put the phone on speaker and began to record the conversation so she could go back over it later to write the details down in her schedule. Work smarter, not harder. With a smile, she continued stirring the sauce as Keres plowed onward with her demands.

"The dinner will take place on the last Friday of the month, just two weeks before Mardi Gras. We shall be seating ten and you will provide meals for only five. It will be just you there and no other employees during the dinner, absolutely no exceptions."

"Okay, I'll have them leave before the clients arrive. You understand that includes my valet, right?"

"Yes, the transportation will be taken care of, therefore parking will not be an issue."

Strange, Roxana thought to herself while pouring the pasta into the strainer. "That works. Anything else? Dietary restrictions?"

As the words left her mouth, she winced and silence filled the room. It was a perfectly normal question under any other circumstance, but perhaps not this one.

"I noticed the other night that you seemed to be familiar with Mr. Balaur."

"I…um," She wasn't sure how she should answer the woman, "It was the first time I had met him, but I guess you could say we have mutual acquaintances."

"Miss von Hels, you are aware of his vampiric nature, are you not?" Well, Keres was certainly not tiptoeing around the subject.

"…Yes."

"Good, that's one less tedious explanation. I will provide the necessary dietary requirements, so you need not worry yourself over that. As for the mayor and his partners, you will want to contact them and decide on a menu that will suit their needs."

"Easy." She poured another glass of wine and took a long drink. "Anything else?"

The line was quiet for a moment and she had to check to make sure the call hadn't ended before Keres spoke up, "No, that will be all for now, Miss von Hels. Thank you for your time."

"Thank you for calling, Miss Grimaldi, I hope you have a great rest of your evening." Roxana really appreciated clients who were straight to the point, for it was often a headache to deal with indecisive people.

"One more thing," Keres' voice made her hand stop midway from pressing the end button, "Watch yourself around him. I've spent some time with Mr. Balaur in the last few years and I have never seen him look the way he did at you and this concerns me, not for your wellbeing of course, but for the future of our council. I will not have him go feral again, not under my watch, so if you know what is best for yourself, I would advise you to attempt to maintain a distance and use the utmost caution."

This caught Roxana off guard and her brows furrowed, "Then why are you having the dinner at Sanguine, if you are so concerned about this?"

Keres let out a laugh and it was anything but joyful. It lasted a beat too long for something that couldn't even be considered humorous and continued to send chills fluttering down Roxana's neck with a foreboding sense of danger.

"Oh, I know better by now than to try and take his toys away."

Taglist:

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[keithsguitar]

Why is Anita problematic...? I had absolutely no idea 😬

this is a very contended topic i suppose... it’s problematic to say she was problematic bc people say it’s misogynistic. i agree that talking about her faults (like all people have) can have sexist undertones so she shouldn’t be judged solely for the acts of alcohol/drug abuse, cheating, bad parenting, etc bc whatever bc the boys did too. but here is just some stuff:

with cheating, we all know the story: she was with brian then she got with keith while they left brian behind on a trip. but she still “saw” brian in bedrooms after...?? even though they had been in an abusive relationship..??? also while with a hopelessly in love keith, she did a movie with mick that had a sex scene and they chose to actually have sex, even when they knew keith was quite literally going insane?? she acted to keith like he was being a bad sport about her job even though she was doing exactly what he was suspicious of. she was very much aware how much it was affecting keith to know she was cheating and lying about it but didn’t care anyway. and that’s why he developed his heroin addiction...

with kids... another tricky subject... she wasn’t The best mom. to my knowledge, she wasn’t really working most of the time she was with keith yet keith took marlon on the road with him and not with anita... with angela, it was decided she would be better off with keith’s mom and her own. (but it wasn’t like keith was a saint either. marlon’s job was to make sure keith didn’t crash bc he drove on drugs and then wake him up when cops came or he was about to be late). but there is other substantial evidence he tried a little more to be functional for their kids....

finally with drugs. it’s common fact that keith tried for a veeeerryyyyy long time to get clean. literally all of his junkie years were him trying to get clean, then falling back harder. and let’s just end it with this quote from keith: “I tried to clean up loads of times, but not anita. she would go the other way.” i’ve read it was borderline tempting keith but whatever.. i can’t confirm the validity of that statement.

misc: nazi undertones......also when she was 37, a 17 (underage) boy died shot himself (with a stolen gun) and died at keith’s new york house... all while marlon was downstairs. this was also the reason keith called it quits even though they were had been separated for a little.

but then same goes both ways... i also think some things keith did to/while with anita were not cool at all...and there are parallels as well. his spiral with her movie with mick parallels to her spiral at the end of their relationship. she also had her own problems that made things hard for her; and she did really cool things and had her share in making stones history. i think she, along with all the stones did very problematic things so it’s not just against her. and keith didn’t harbor any hard feelings towards her after they split, so all’s well that end well