A/N: Y’ALL! I WAS DUPED! @teakturn puts out a 25 Days of Christmas every year and my dumbass said I would do it too. But I decided to add a little diversity to the culture and we’re doing a Chrismukkah adventure this year on this blog! This is picking up after this request that I got earlier this year. None of this shit is proofread because I am literally just writing by the seat of my pants so read at your own discretion. I will probably end up rewriting this entire mini series in the future. But enjoy it now. If you wanna be tagged, lmk! Also, I know that in In Sight I said there was a cure for COVID. Swap that out for a vaccine y’all. Viruses can’t be cured.
Word Count: 2300
DAY ONE: TANGERINE
December 18, 2022
“Baby you ready?!” Tre called into the house as reached into the basket on his way to the garage. He came up empty handed for the keys to his Lexus. Opening the door to the garage, he saw Sol sitting in the passenger seat of the running car.
Tre walked over to his baby as Sol smirked at him.
“You late again,” she said.
“I’m never late,” Tre said opening the door and climbing in, “You just early as always,” he shot back as he put the car in reverse. Sol playfully rolled her eyes. After two years of being together, this was always their running joke. The first time they’d met, she’d been pacing back and forth awaiting his arrival. Even after finding their own groove, she still found herself being the one waiting for him- but, he always made it worth it so it was hard for her to complain.
Tre pulled out of the driveway and clicked the remote to shut the door. Out of instinct, his hand went to Sol’s thigh when he put it in drive. “Did you grab my yarmulke?” Tre asked as he threw her a glance.
“Please don’t insult me. This ain’t my first feast Nemo.” the indignant manner which she spoke had her and Tre struggling to keep in their bouts of laughter. “Yes, baby. They’re in the backseat.”
“Good. Good. What’s the other name for them again?” Tre asked as he merged onto the nearly empty highway. A five a.m call time could be a blessing and a curse.
“Kippah” is the Hebrew word for the male cap and “kippot” is the Hebrew word for the female cap.” Sol answered on autopilot as she mused on their situation. She was still taken aback that they’d been contacted by Black Juice to begin with. She’d been following them ever since they’d done that feature with Drake talking about how his own Jewish faith influenced his career path. Although she wasn’t as active in her Jewish faith as she’d wished she’d been in recent years it was still a huge victory to be acknowledged by the leading Black Jewish media network. Okay so maybe they were the only Black Jewish media network. But that definitely meant they were in the lead! She wasn’t stupid to think that this kind of opportunity would have come without Trevante in her life. But, she wasn’t gonna knock it either.
This 8 Days of Miracles was the perfect task she needed as she figured out what the next step was for her career. Now that she’d finally finished her academic portion of her career she wasn’t sure how to proceed. So throwing herself into this project and hosting both her family and Tre’s for the holidays was the best distraction she could ask for. This time always gave her hope and made her realize that any kind of bullshit she’d put up with wasn’t in vain. It was her annual reset. New Year’s be damned. It also made her feel closer to her father and there wasn’t anyone in this world she’d loved more. At least that’s what she’d thought. She felt pressure on her thigh from the number one contender for her heart as Tre gave her a slight squeeze.
“What’s on ya mind Sunshine?” Sol looked down at his hand and couldn’t help but cheese. She still beamed every time he called her by that nickname.
“I was thinking about my dad and how proud he’d be to see me reppin his faith,” Sol said absentmindedly touching her necklace. Tre listened attentively as he grazed his thumb against her thigh in a gentle motion. “ I mean, I don’t know if he could have known that all of the years he instilled in us the value of miracles when we were children we’d still be celebrating Hanukkah after he was gone.”
“I’m sure he didn’t know.” Tre started out slowly. He honestly wasn’t even sure if she’d finished her thoughts, “But, he probably hoped you would.” The phone rang as they turned off the street and into the lot. “STEPH 👷🏿♀️💪🏿” flashed across the Caller ID on his dashboard. Tre clicked the answer button on his steering wheel as Sol handed him his badge to show to Nico, the Security Attendant.
“We’re at Security Steph,” Tre answered as he nodded at Nico.
“Okay good. I just wanted to make sure we were starting the day off on time.” Tre and Sol shared a glance.
“Woman don’t start with me. Call time is 5 and it’s 4:39. We don’t play that late shit over here and you know it.
“Well, I also grabbed your favorite donuts from Craft Services so no one else would steal them and I wanted to know how long I had to hoard them for your ungrateful self. I can put them back if you’d like sir,”
“Steph. You can ignore Tre.” Sol chimed in. “We appreciate you and will be walking in the door in exactly 2 minutes. Tre is parking as we speak. We’ll see you soon.”
“Tre, you lucky you have her. Keep her if you want to keep the best managent in town. Bye y’all!!” Steph sang as she hung up. Sol let out a cackle because Steph refused to be referred as anything other than a managent as Tre stood there dumbfounded at how he was being left out to dry. But he knew better than to go against two black women before he’d even finished his morning coffee. He just hopped out the whip and opened Sol’s door so she could do the same.
Once they’d gotten their morsels of food, gone through hair and makeup and snapped a few photos for Black Juice and their own social media accounts, they were back on the road headed deeper into LA. They had a cameraman in the backseat filming their every move, one car guided them to their location and another followed them as they maneuvered through the cars that were poppin up for their morning commutes. Sol was on her IG live and answering any questions that popped up about where they were headed and her Hanukkah festivities. She watched as the number quickly jumped from 5,000 viewers to 13,000 and counting. She wasn’t sure what this many people were doing up at this hour but she wasn’t complaining. Tre’s mama was of course one of them. He was a mama’s boy through and through and she was always there to support him at any opportunity she could. Sol made sure to greet her specifically. Tre bopped his head to some Jill Scott- being careful not to let his yarmulke fall. Sol sipped some hot cocoa from her thermos and sang off key with him. As soon as they turned on a residential street, she felt awash in a new warmth that the hot chocolate couldn’t touch. She shook Tre’s arm enthusiastically.
“It’s time!!” she beamed, “Are you ready?!” Tre chuckled at her immediate change in attitude. The car in front was already parked and the camera crew was out on the sidewalk.
“Yes Sol. I’m ready to spread some holiday cheer. Let’s go make somebody’s day he said. Before Tre could even put the car in park, she was reaching for the handle”
“AHT AHT AHT” Tre barked out loud causing the cameraman man in the backseat to jump,“ Tre was already exiting the driver’s side and pointed his finger at her as he crossed in front of the car “Don’t even try it.” Sol rolled her eyes and pouted as she waited the few seconds for him to open her door.
“Thanks Tre,” she stuck out her tongue. She was like a kid in a candy store and was ready to full out sprint to the front door. The IG live comments were flying.
Okay Daddy Tre! I need a mans to talk to me like that. 🥵🥵
Did this man just bark at her? 🐶
Loook so long as he handles this backdoor he can open any other door that he pleases sis!
Y’all females is wylin as usual.
Sol glanced at them. “Imma need y’all to stay out of grown folks’ business and just enjoy this holiday work we are puttin in okay” She handed her phone to another crew member and grabbed Tre’s hand to drag him to the front door.
She pushed the button for the doorbell but no sound rang out. Tre gave three succinct raps on the door and heard someone rushing down the stairs. The door was flung open by a woman in black slacks and a blinding blue polo emblazoned with a nametag that ironically labeled this young woman as “Tangerine”. She couldn’t be more than 25 years old and the toddler saddled on her hip only added to her youthful appearance.
“Hi Tangerine,” Tre began, “My name’s Trevante and this is Sol,” he gestured to Sol at his side.
“Hi?” Tangerine answered confused at this couple and the cameras that followed them.
“We’re here today with Black Juice, a local Black organization that highlights the experience of the Black Jewish community and we’re doing 8 Days of Miracles,”
“Okay..” Tangerine said not sounding any less confused. “ I’m not Jewish.” Sol took over as she could tell that Tre’s efforts weren’t getting them anywhere.
“We’re here because your friend Kira sent in a letter telling us about how great of a mother you are. She said that you’ve been working two jobs here to support you and your daughter.” At this, Sol smiled at the baby, “She told us that the second job you have is for daycare expenses alone. We wanted to come out here today and let you know that we see what you do and how hard you go to make sure you give your daughter the best. So, we wanted to help you out and give you this. “ Tre gave her the envelope he had in his hand. It read “Day 1: Tangerine”
Tangerine took the envelope as Tre explained. “We’ve paid for your daughter’s child care for the next two years so you can give yourself a break.” She opened the envelope to see the receipt from Tiny Tots Kindercare and didn’t even know what to do.
“I don’t know what to say.” She paused for a moment as what this truly meant registered in her mind. “I can quit this job and actually spend more time with my baby and focus on my candles.”
“Your candles?” Sol asked.
“Yeah. I make candles by hand. I took a few classes and have played with a few scents. Some friends have asked me to make them some and I’ve been waitin to be a little more secure with my money before I start at it.” she answered exhaling deeply.
“Do you have any candles right now?” Tre asked peeking a little further in her apartment. Sol slapped his arm.
“Could you be any nosier?” she chastised with love.
“Yeah I have some. Do you mind holding Layla?” she asked but she practically threw the child into Sol’s arms as she ran to grab her stash of candles. Sol put on her sweetest voice and spoke to Layla about how old she was and if she liked her friends at daycare. When her mom came back Sol could see the sheer joy that she had when showing off her handiwork.
Tangerine went through all six of her candles and their various scents with them and by the end Tre had bought each one. She was floored and couldn’t do anything but cry at the way her morning was turning around. It wasn’t even 7:30 and she’d already gotten 2 years of childcare, a reason to quit her grocery store job and someone who actually wanted to buy her candles.
Before they left, Tre made her promise to hit him up when her site and IG were live so he could get more candles and share it with all of his friends. Sol returned Layla to her mother saying her goodbyes and grabbed Tre’s hand to head back to car. She leaned on his shoulder and he could see the contentment in her eyes. Sol almost forgot her phone before a crewmember handed it back.
She came back to the IG Live trying not to get too emotional. “Look at that y’all! Day one of Hanukkah is off to a start and we’ve already proved that miracles happen! Y’all better stay tuned in over the next week so you can see who we pop in on next. You never know if it could be you! Thanks to Black Juice for giving us this opportunity to turn someone’s ordinary day into something smile about. Y’all betta check them out so you can see the full footage of what we’ve got goin on! Bye y’all!
“Bye y’all!” Tre called out. They answered a few more questions with Black Juice, said their goodbyes and climbed back into their car.
“Can we go back to bed now?” Tre asked as he pulled back onto the main road and his hand founds Sol’s thigh again. Sol laughed.
“I mean if that’s what you prefer we can. I had some other things in mind.” she suggested.
Tre raised his eyebrow. “I swear you see one baby and you always go 0 to 100”
“Look, I just believe in practicing all aspects of having a child! Even the making part.”
Tre threw his head back laughing. “I’m wit it babygirl”
DING!
“That’s me” Sol said. She looked at her phone screen. A text from “Mama Rhodes” popped up. She’d sent some Pinterest looking bible verse again.
This was the third one this week. It dampened her mood immediately and caused her to groan. The text read:
Seeing you with that little girl made me so happy for the good Christian grandbabies that you and Tre will be blessing me with in the future. I thank Jesus for the miracle of you and my baby everyday XO.
“Tre, I got another one from your mom. When are you gonna talk to her?”
Tre sighed. “I promise. I’ll talk to her soon and it will definitely be before your Chrismukkah Extravaganza. Don’t sweat it baby.”
Sol did her best not to think about how pushy his mother was being about this raising Christan grandbabies nonsense ever since they announced they’d be partnering with Black Juice. All she could do is trust Tre and do what she was best at: wait.
Pairing: Army Pilot!Poe Dameron x Nurse!Reader (1940s AU)
Summary: It’s the 1940s, Army pilot and Captain Poe Dameron is flying on missions for the United States Army in Europe. After being shot down off the coast of France, Poe wakes up in an Army hospital in England, to find you, a nurse, taking care of him. Throughout the process of his recovery, Poe finds himself falling for you, and even though you, for the most part, maintain a professional relationship with him–you’re falling for him as well. Both of you know the risks of falling in love during a war, but then again, both of you have never cared much for being cautious.
This took me so long to find my muse for again! But here is the next park, it’s pretty heavy on the angst. The taglist is still open if you’d like to be added! Just let me know🥰 I hope this was worth the wait❤️
It was dark when you woke up. You could smell motor oil, fresh rain, and blood. It took a few seconds, but you finally recalled what happened--the sniper taking out the driver of your Jeep, the crash--the sniper’s boots.
Shaking, you managed to crawl out of the passenger side of the over turned Jeep, slipping and sliding in the mud. The sniper must have thought you dead too--or decided to leave you for dead--either way, you were lucky. It only would have taken one shot from his rifle to kill you.
You didn’t know how far from base you actually were or if anyone actually knew you were missing. Poe will know.
It was obvious that some time had passed since the crash, but you weren’t sure how much time had passed since the crash or how long you had been unconscious. Even without having a formal examination by a doctor, you were pretty certain that you had a concussion. Your vision was slightly blurry, you felt dizzy, but you couldn’t stay out in the French countryside for the night. There could still be other enemy soldiers lurking around that wouldn’t hesitate to kill you.
But when you got to the road, you discovered you had a problem--in the dark you didn’t know what direction to go in. Your chest tightened in panic, you felt absolutely alone, and headlights were approaching you on the wet, muddy country road.
Swallowing a sob, you managed to crawl behind a large tree and hide behind it, waiting for the car to pass. It didn’t pass. Instead it came to a stop near by. Panic surged within you. What if they found you? What would happen to you? Would you be killed on the spot? Taken away and used to sexually please the enemy until they had no more use for you? Thrown into one their awful camps?
“Lieutenant?” a voice questioned into the dark.
The deep voice was familiar to you, however, the panic had overtaken your body and you had convinced yourself that your mind was playing tricks on you. It was not someone you knew out looking for you, it was the Nazi sniper coming back, coming back to kill you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you muffled your sobs in your knees.
“Y/N?”
Poe! Scrambling on your hands and knees, you crawled out of your hiding spot, gasping his name.
Immediately he was by your side, as was Iolo, and together the two men helped you out of the ditch you had hidden in. Poe took your face between his hands and gently swiped the tears the away. “Shh, sweetheart, it’s okay; you’re okay. Arana and I are going to take you back to the base, have the doctor look at you. Fuck, darling, you had me so worried.”
You wanted to apologize but the only sounds that came out of your mouth were gulping sobs. Poe and Iolo carefully helped you to your feet, each man eyeing you in the moonlight and the little light provided by the headlights of their jeep--checking to see how serious your injuries were. When your jeep didn't arrive to bring supplies to Doctor Skywalker he called into base concerned for you and the driver.
No one on base seemed to have the time--or the urgency--to go look for a driver and nurse, so Poe and Iolo had gotten permission from their superior to leave the base and go look for you.
“Easy, sweetheart,” Poe said, gently guiding you to the seat.
“Everything hurts,” you whimpered as he sat next to you.
“I know, darling. Let’s go Arana.”
“Poe, I want to go to sleep. Can I just go to sleep now?”
His hands gripped your shoulders and he gently nudged you as the Jeep sped along the French countryside road. “No, Y/N! You cannot go to sleep. I know you’re tired... but you need to stay awake, okay?”
You wanted to follow his wishes but you were so damn tired. “Please, Poe, please, just for a few minutes. I’m so tired...”
Poe was begging you to stay awake, but you just couldn’t. As the Jeep pulled into base, everything else faded away around you into blackness.
-----
“Dameron, you gotta sleep,” Iolo admonished him days later.
“I have slept,” Poe argued.
“What? In that chair by her bed?”
“Sleep is sleep.”
Arana glared at him. He’d been concerned when Poe didn’t turn up at the barracks for the third night in a row--one of the younger pilots who the squad had nicknamed Yolo, had said he saw Poe by your hospital bed. Sure enough, that’s where Arana had found him. “She’d yell at you if she knew you were sleeping in a chair.”
Poe ran a hand over his face, feeling the five o’clock shadow. He really needed to shave and shower but he did not want to leave you. It was an entirely irrational thought but he was afraid that if he walked away you would never wake up. “I’ll sleep back in my bunk once she’s awake.”
Sighing, Arana shook his head. “Poe, you heard Doctor Skywalker--she might never wake up. Christ, there have been rumors that they’re arranging her transport back to the States so she can die at home with her family. I know it has to fucking hurt, but ya gotta let her go.”
“No!” Poe shouted, jumping to his feet. He shoved Arana back, tears in his eyes. “She’s going to wake up! She’s not dying! I won’t... I won’t let her!”
“There are some things out of control, Captain,” Arana said, softly, thinking about Snap’s dying shortly after their flight on D-Day. “Try to think about what she would want. Would she want to die here, without her family at her side? Would she want die alone?”
Poe gritted his teeth. “She’s not dying.”
Arana sighed, once again. It was pointless to argue with him. “I’m going back to the bunks.”
“Fine. I’m staying here.”
“Try to sleep, Dameron. Heard we gotta fly soon.”
He wasn’t paying attention; Poe had turned his back on his friend and sat back down next to your bed not bothering to say good-bye to Arana as he left. Taking your hand in his own, Poe brought it to his lips. “Please, sweetheart, please wake up. I’ve lost so many people that I love and care about because of this fucking war--I can’t lose you too.”
Your eyes stayed closed and your chest rose with steady breaths. Poe let his head drop. Doctor Skywalker was optimistic that you would make a full recovery, however, he was also a realist--there were people that suffered these types of injuries that just didn’t wake up. “I never told you--about my mom--about how I got that ring you’re wearing. She... II was eight when she died; she left the ring with my dad with instructions to give it to me when I was old enough.”
Swallowing his tears, Poe looked at you again, using his free hand to brush your hair back away from your face. “She died alone in a room just like this; my dad was busy on the ranch and didn’t get there in time. I was at school. There was no one there to hold her hand, no one there to say it was okay to let go--sometimes I catch myself thinking about how she was feeling in that moment. Was she sad? Was she angry that my dad wasn’t there? Or...was she relieved?Often...I think about this after someone I serve with is killed...”
Snap.
Poe pushed thoughts of Snap away. His death still had been the hardest. If he were to lose you... No. You’re not losing her. She’s not dying. Letting the tears fall freely down his cheeks, he choked back a sob. “I knew what I was signing up for, I knew it wouldn’t be easy... I knew that I would watch good people give their lives for something they believed in so strongly... I don’t know how much...how much more I can take... if I lose you...”
He couldn’t speak anymore, overcome with so many emotions. Perhaps Arana was right--he did need to sleep in his bunk. Poe dropped his head beside you, the familiar sleeping position he had taken up for the last several days. All he could think about was if he went out on a mission and came back and you were gone...
...and then he felt fingers lightly carding through his hair. Poe raised his head to see your eyes half-open, glancing at him. His heart leapt into his throat as he leaned forward and pressed soft kisses to your forehead. “Hey you.”
“How long...how long was I unconscious?” you whispered.
“Few days,” Poe replied, relief washing through his eyes.
“What...what happened?”
“Your driver was shot; you suffered a concussion in the accident.”
“How...how did I get here?”
“Arana and I found you.”
Your eyes filled with tears. “I don’t remember. Why don’t I remember, Poe?”
Poe hushed you and stroked your hair. “Doctor Skywalker said you could have some short term memory loss. Darling, it’s okay. You’re okay. You’re here...we’re together...everything is going to be fine now.” He got off the chair and positioned himself on the bed with you, wrapping you safely into his arms.
Snuggling against him, you took comfort in the warm familiarity of being in his arms. “Poe,” you sighed, “can you tell me more about your mom?”
“You... you heard that?” Poe asked, shocked. “I didn’t think...I didn’t think you’d be able to hear me.”
“Yes, I heard you.. I’d like to hear more about her,” you replied, imagining what his mother must have looked like. “She sounds like she was important to you and your dad.”
His fingers idly stroked your soft skin. “She was,” Poe whispered, “I was only a kid when she died, but I remember how much it effected my dad--he drank a lot more, never laughed or smiled. We almost lost the ranch if it weren't for some good family friends helping to bail my dad out.”
You pictured the Dameron’s ranch in your mind. To you it was peaceful there, quiet. “What was your mother’s name?”
“Shara.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“So was she.”
“Would she have liked me?” you questioned, anxiously.
“She would have loved you,” Poe assured you.
You wished you could have met Shara; you were thinking about this when Poe shifted on the bed and started to move.
Carefully, he dislodged himself from around you and got off the cot. Leaning down he pressed his lips to yours. “I’m going to find the doctor, let him know you’re awake. And then go punch Arana.”
Shocked, your eyes flew wide open. “What? Why?”
Poe smiled at you, crafty. “He had the audacity to tell me to let you go.”
The brothers knew when Solomon spent the night, it was hard to not notice honestly. Asmo wasn’t exactly quiet when he brought someone home.On more than one occasion one of the brothers found themselves pounding on his door asking him to keep it down (not that it did much). In more recent centuries Asmo had been going home with other people. Maybe all of his brothers’ interruptions had gotten to him, or maybe it had been the long conversation he’d had with Lucifer.
The one exception to the rule was Solomon. Solomon usually spent the night at Lamentation when RAD was in session. It wasn’t an unusual sight. After all, he’d had a pact with their brother for millenia. Of course they were friends with benefits. No one was surprised about that.
What did surprise them was when Solomon came down that morning. Plopping himself down at the breakfast table, he ran his fingers through his bedhead and offered the brothers a tired good morning. Before anyone could ask him anything, Asmodeus came tumbling down the stairs. He was much more put together than the sorcerer and had a comb in hand.
“You could at least let me fix your hair! It’s almost as messy as Mammon’s.”
“Oi! My hair’s always just the way I want it!” Mammon interjected.
Asmo rolled his eyes and started combing through Solomon’s hair. His morning hair was cute, but it certainly wasn’t presentable to the outside world. Besides, something as adorable as a sleepy Solomon should be reserved for his eyes only!
Solomon groaned and tried to push the comb away. “Asmodeus, please. Let me have my coffee first,” he mumbled.
Before Asmo could whine any further, Lucier cleared his throat. He certainly hadn’t remembered Solomon coming over, nor did he remember him spending the night. Even if it was someone he knew, he had talked to Asmo about sneaking others into Lamentation. Especially when said guest spent the night. Asmo shrunk back, but only slightly as his attention turned to Lucifer. He knew.
“Asmodeus,” his voice was even and stern. Yes he knew Solomon, but that didn’t change the fact that Asmo had broken rules he’d set in place. “I certainly wasn’t aware we had a guest.”
All eyes were on Asmo now as he quickly searched for an answer to give the eldest. His face had paled, and if he had had any appetite to begin with this morning it was most certainly gone now. Lucifer’s fingers drummed rhythmically against the table as he waited. His energy was nothing short of dangerous. But before he could utter a word, Solomon stepped it.
“I’m afraid it was my fault,” he said, voice unwavering, “I hadn’t meant for Asmodeus to break any rules you set in place. We had a little project to work on, and some studying, it took longer than I anticipated. I apologize.”
Lucifer and Solomon held eye contact for a moment. The eldest leaned back in his chair and folded his hands, looking at the pair through lowered eyes. “ Studying hm? ” he asked, raising an eyebrow, “Just studying?”
“ And a project,” Solomon reminded, Asmodeus still remaining uncharacteristically quiet by his side.
“Well then,” he directed his attention back to his younger brother, “Studying and working on a project instead of participating in your usual activities? Well done Asmodeus, I’m proud of you.”
Asmodeus let out a visible sigh of relief as his normal glow returned to his being. Lucifer’s praise was rare, and it certainly wasn’t something to take for granite! “Oh! Thank you Lucifer!” he chirped, smile stretching from ear to ear, “Solomon was a big help last night! I don’t think we’ll get anything less than high marks!”
“However,” Lucifer stopped Asmo in his tracks, “I will be notified the next time there is even the slightest potential of anyone, including Solomon, being with you after hours. Especially if they spend the night. Understood?”
“...Yes, Lucifer…”
The rest of breakfast went rather smoothly. Asmo was back to his chattering self and soon Solomon was occasionally joining in with discussion with the brothers. Mostly he stuck to chatting with Satan and Levi. Solomon and Satan often swapped books with each other, and he often participated in Levi’s nerdier activities. Lately though, Asmo had been popping up more and more wherever Solomon was. No matter which brother he was with, Asmo would find him. Sure Asmo was a little clingy, but this was a bit much, even for him. After his third cup of coffee, Solomon even let Asmo fix his hair a little bit, which made the demon more than happy. After everyone had settled down, and Beel shoveled away the rest of the food down his mouth, Asmo stood. His arms were wrapped firmly around Solomon’s who was dragged up with him.
“Well, we’re gonna head out for the day! We have quite a few errands to run!” Asmo sang, snuggling ever closer into Solomon’s side.
All Solomon could do was chuckle, “I thought you said you just wanted to go look at some cute clothes-”
“Anyways we won’t be back till late! Buh bye!”
******
“You guys don’t honestly believe that bullshit Asmo was spoutin earlier, do ya?” Mammon asked with a huff and leaning back in his chair. It was a rare day when a few of the brothers had gotten together just to hang out. Or rather, it was an odd day where they were consumed so much so by their boredom, that they all decided to go out, and there was nothing that could cure boredom quite like a trip out to town. Mammon was still replaying breakfast in his head. There was absolutely no way they were just studying . “I can’t believe Lucifer believed ‘em. Solomon and Asmo just studying ? Hah! I don’t believe it.”
Satan nodded, albeit a little reluctantly. “He does seem to be acting a bit attached . Even for Asmo. Levi, has he been inserting himself into your times with Solomon as well?”
Levi huffed and slumped back into his chair. “Don’t even get me started ! I was trying to show Solomon this new show that just came out, we’d been keeping up with the mangas, and the next thing I know Asmo is in my room and on his lap. Fml could he be more of a normie? Like I couldn’t even look at the two of them! Ugh,” he groaned shaking his head, face hidden in his hands.
“Asmo has to be breakin a few of dearest older brother’s rules with Solomon. Like, they gotta be friends with benefits right?”
“It does seem like something Asmo would do…”
Beel had finally looked up from his burger. He wasn’t really participating in his brothers’ gossiping, but he did seem to notice something just beyond them. He tilted his head to one side, then the other. “I’m no expert,” he said in between bites, “But that looks like a little more than just friends with benefits to me.”
The older three turned around to follow where Beel was looking only to see the duo. They were coming out of a little candy shop on the corner. Asmo rummaged around in the bag for a moment before pulling out a bon bon and placing it against Solomon’s mouth. They could all hear the squeal of delight that left him as Solomon brought the candy into his mouth. He gave his nod of approval before sliding one arm around Asmo’s waist and pulling him close to his side. Asmo’s excited chatter getting softer the farther they went down the sidewalk.
The duo had been entirely oblivious to the five brothers sitting across the street from them.
“Blehg,” Levi gagged, “And here I thought Solomon wasn’t a normie at all…”
“I mean that could just be Asmo-” Satan chimed in.
“But Solomon also made a move,” Beel added.
Belphie moved slightly and opened his eyes, “Who cares ? If Asmo and Solomon want to be weird that’s their problem.”
All of them were silent for a moment. Normally this wouldn’t matter. Normally they would chalk it up to Asmo being clinging and wanting Solomon’s attention.
“We could follow them.. Ya know, just ta make sure the ever shady Solomon doesn’t have anything up his sleeves,” Mammon said slowly. Each head around the table seemed to perk up with interest. It was a slow day…
“Well we should hurry if we don’t wanna lose ‘em, right?”
******
This little trip seemed to be more than clothes shopping. Asmo did try on an ungodly amount of outfits to show off to Solomon. Each time he would twist and twirl around waiting for the man’s approval before changing once more. Some outfits seemed to catch Solomon’s eye more than others. Every now and again Asmo would come out with matching outfits or pajamas and hold them out rather excitedly. Sometimes he would giggle, hiding something he’d already bought behind his back in a bag.
“Well this is boring,” Belphie huffed, leaning against Beel’s back, “Isn’t this what Asmo always does when he goes out shopping? He’s just showing off and looking for-”
“Shh,” Levi huffed, “They might say something that gives them away.”
“Gives what away?” the youngest growled, looking down at Levi from his perch on Beel’s back, “Like I said, if they want to be weird together that’s their problem.”
“Is he getting anything special? Anything that looks fancy?” Satan asked, turning towards Mammon.
He shook his head, “Nah, just… Normal stuff, unless there’s something good in the bags he has. Oh wait!”
Mammon pointed down at one of the bags on the floor. It was a light shade of green and wrapped up in all sorts of fancy ribbons. It was a small bag, but tall. Golden cursive letters curled around the front.
“That’s some real fancy demonus they got right there. Like the good, expensive stuff,” Mammon grinned, eyes locked on the bag, “Worth a pretty grimm.”
“Chocolates and demonus?” Satan mused, mirroring Mammon’s grin, “Perhaps Asmo has another study night planned.”
If that wasn’t damning enough, Asmo held up his finger, whispering something quickly toSolomon before quickly typing something onto his D.D.D. Each of the brothers’ devices buzzes with a single notification from their group chat.
Asmo: Won’t be at dinner tonight, I have some very important plans that require my absolute attention. Try to have fun without me 💖
With that, Asmo started to pick up some of his bags and waited for Solomon before they left once more. The brothers waited for a bit before exiting the store after them. Honestly it was a miracle they hadn’t been caught yet. Maybe it was due to how caught up Asmo seemed to be with Solomon. It was difficult to hear what he was chattering about without getting closer, but they couldn’t risk getting caught. The celestial realm knew the hell Asmo would raise if he discovered that his brothers were snooping in his life. The pair stopped and checked the time before hailing a driver.
Then they were gone.
*****
The twins departed from the other three almost as soon as they got home. Belphie was quite clear about his disinterest in whatever was going on between his brother and Solomon, and Beel felt a growing discomfort at following Asmo around the way they were.
So, the remaining three brothers waited patiently for Asmo’s return. The front door opening and closing was followed by giggles and hushed whispers, and then feet quickly running up the stairs. They waited for a moment, then two, then three.
Nothing…
Asmodeus wasn’t one to be quiet. Perhaps it was a ruse of sorts? Them pretending to come home only to disappear somewhere else? It was possible, especially if Asmo was trying to pull one over on Lucifer.
Creeping upstairs, the brothers stood outside of Asmo’s door. They all stood completely still, waiting for something, anything… But nothing came.
“Do… Do we go in?” Levi asked, looking from Satan to Mammon, “I mean… It’s possible that they’re not there… Isn’t it?”
Mammon placed his ear against the door as Satan shook his head, “It’s still Asmo’s room. I don’t think-”
“ Shhhhhh ,” Mammon hissed, “I think I hear somethin.”
“Wait really? What is it? I want to hear!”
Soon, all three were pressed up closely to the door. Unfortunately, Asmo’s door wasn’t shut properly, and the three went tumbling into Asmo’s room. They were greeted by a yelp and the scent of vanilla candles all around the room, as well as a glare from Asmo. Both Solomon and Asmo were currently on his bed. Demonus poured into glasses, and both chocolates and bagsfrom Ristorante Six were around them as they were curled close together. Honestly, Asmo didn’t look too threatening with one of Solomon’s shirts and a blanket wrapped around him, but his anger was still present.
A well manicured finger reached out to pause the movie they were watching. “ What are you doing ?” he huffed, eyes narrowing in on his brothers.
“What are you doing? Ow! Levi watch it!” Mammon hastily stood up and put his hands on his hips.
“What am I doing? What am I doing?! ” Asmo shrieked, “You mean my date ? Is that what you’re asking about? My date, with my boyfriend, in my room?”
“Date?” Levi chirped.
“Boyfriend?” Satan asked looking at Solomon.
Mammon took a moment, gears turning in his head as he met Asmo’s glare. Then it seemed to occur to him. “Oh… So you two aren’t just fucking?”
Asmo groaned and hid his face with one of his pillows, “ You moron .”
Solomon coughed and spoke up, “No… No we aren’t. Asmodeus, have you honestly not told your brothers?”
“I thought it was obvious!”
The whine made Solomon chuckle, and he carefully ran his fingers through what was visible of Asmo’s strawberry-blonde locks.
“So, you two weren’t studying last night?” Satan asked, cocking his head to the side.
“Oh no, we were studying. This little date is actually a celebration for a job well done,” Solomon said, motioning to the scenery around them, “We haven’t been able to have a proper date night in a while. So if you wouldn’t mind-”
“Say no more!”
“Ugh, I’m done with this gross normie stuff.”
Satan grabbed one of Mammon’s arms, and Levi the other and dragged his dumbfounded self out of the room. Solomon used a bit of magic to close the door tightly before pulling the pillow off of Asmo’s face.
“I just want one nice date! Solomon don’t you see how mean they are to me?” Asmo whined, pouting up at Solomon. Solomon chuckled and scooped Asmo up into his lap and kissed his forehead.
“We could have had a date sooner , if a certain someone hadn’t insisted on more kisses and attention when we were supposed to be working.”
He kissed Asmo’s lips before he could pout any further and held him there until he felt him relax. Thin arms wrapped around his neck, and Solomon reached out to unpause the cheesy move they had only half been paying attention to.
“You did at least tell Lucifer that I’d be staying over yes?” he asked when Asmo pulled away, “I would hate for you to get punished and tied up because of me.”
“You usually don’t complain when I’m tied up darling.”
“You know what I mean.”
Asmo hummed and snuggled closer, eyes falling back onto the movie and popping another chocolate into his mouth. He was allowed to have some sweets when he was on a date. “I did, I sent him a text message when we went out. So he should know.”
“Good, that means we can have a nice little date without worry,” he smiled, wrapping his arms around Asmo tightly and leaning in for another kiss.
His hands felt rough against the smoothness of her skin. Though the weight of them on her stomach grounded her, allowing her to focus on something other than his beautiful profile.
Nevada had been impressed with how quickly she had bruised, though if she had received the blow from one of his men, his surprise would simmer to a shrug. He knew the kind of muscle he paraded around the neighborhood with, it was the sole reason he had chosen them. Yet, he didn’t want for a moment to think his men had done this deliberately. He knew they were only trying to protect her. They were doing the job Nevada paid them to do.
First, he examined the bruise. Making sure she hadn’t been hit anywhere else, he pressed on the pit of her stomach, feeling, and hearing her wince and hiss in discomfort. His fingers danced effortlessly across her abdomen, his eyes never once attempting to stay fixed on her stomach instead of her rising chest.
“No cracked ribs,” he mused.
He then turned on her couch, sliding his ass almost completely off of the seat to slightly hover over her. He touched his thumbs together, pressing gingerly into the bruise.
“Nevada,” she protested, closing her eyes, and biting her lips in tandem; her right hand coming to grip at his sturdy bicep.
Nevada husked his chuckle, chewing on his gum smugly. “Cualquira diría que te lo estoy metiendo,” he snickered when she glared at him, knocking his hands away from her body.
“Ya, I let you bring me home, and you’ve checked my stomach; you can go now.”
Nevada narrowed his eyes at her, “What makes you think I’m done?”
Mariana stood, scoffing as she disappeared into her bathroom, “I can take care of myself, Nevada.”
“Not what I asked,” he said lowly with a shake of his head.
He was positive she had heard him. It’s not like she lived in a huge apartment. It was a studio, comfortable for her to move around and maybe host two or three friends.
She had a small sofa at the foot of her bed and a rug covering the area, a small glass coffee table and three poufs scattered around. Her TV was mounted to the wall; Nevada noticed that if so she chose, she could watch it from her bed or her sofa. The kitchen was what took most of the space in the small apartment and he enjoyed how she had managed to fit a two-person table in it.
It felt cozy, homey to say the least, but Nevada didn’t see himself living in such a crammed space. He’d worked hard enough to not be in this predicament ever, ever again.
His thoughts were interrupted when Mariana returned from the bathroom; “You’re still here?” she spoke. Not giving Nevada a chance to continue she added: “Of course you are, what am I saying?” she said with a shake of her head. She plopped herself down on her bed, lifting her shirt once more, “Bye!”
Nevada snickered, turning on his waist, and snatching the first aid kit from the bed. He stood, walking around to her, “Stop being so fucking stubborn.”
“Nev—” her protest died on her lips when Nevada lifted his intimidating green stare towards her.
He knew she was still in shock, he could see it in her eyes, and she wouldn’t leave her in this state. Not her. Not his Chiquita. Anyone else, sure, but she needed him right now, and he’d be here for her, come what may.
He’d found the arnica ointment and discarded the kit besides her, squirting some of it on three of his fingertips. He waited for her protest, but she was only regarding him in silence.
He smirked, propping his knee besides her thigh. He used the back of his hand and pushed on her shoulder, effectively making her prop her upper body on her elbows. She sighed, and he saw her belly deflate and inflate as she breathed in deeply. He looked up at her, again, waiting for her hesitance, but she had closed her eyes, hiding whatever emotion lain there from him.
When he pressed his fingers to the large bruise, she winced, her brow furrowing and her lip trembling.
He knew what that felt like, but his body had slowly become numb to whatever type of physical pain it endured. Everyone knew you couldn’t hurt Nevada physically. Not anymore, anyways. Maybe when he was a young boy, but the world had seen many winter storms since Nevada had been a little boy and possessed the innocence to back it up.
Not that he ever was a green kid; Washington Heights had been far too unapologetic when it came to his innocence.
Now the only way you could hurt this shell of a man was to directly aim at his heart: his niece and his sister, the only family he had left on this Earth.
He worked morning, noon, and night to provide them protection. He had moved them nearly out of the neighborhood to a… safer part of the borough and Nina and Sofía never moved a muscle without being escorted by one of his men. He knew that they could never be completely safe from whomever wanted to hurt him, but they would have to go through a few of his goons before getting to either of them.
He looked at Mariana once more, feeling his heart flutter momentarily, and he growled, shaking his head. He couldn’t possibly bear the thought of anything happening to her at that warehouse.
What the hell had possessed her to do something so… ludicrous?
He spread the ointment as carefully and gently as he could muster, pausing shortly to squirt some more in order to cover the entire forming bruise.
He could see the pain etched on her forehead and he couldn’t take the discomfort any longer, “This will teach you to listen to me when I say, ‘wait here’.”
Mariana sighed, releasing her bottom lip from the hold her teeth had on her flesh, “Technically, you said, ‘ten minutes’.” Nevada pressed on the bruised flesh, eliciting a whimper in response. “Fuck you, Nevada,” she said breathily.
Again, he chuckled, finding amusing everything that was happening, “You didn’t answer me earlier.” Mariana opened her eyes, focusing her brown eyes on the slope of Nevada’s nose, “I asked you something.”
Okay, remind me again what it was, she thought inwardly, making a face at his silence.
If she wanted to know what it was that he had asked, she would need to think… hard, because she was learning, Nevada doesn’t repeat himself.
She sighed, going through everything that happened when she had decided to march in the ware—“You’re talking about the warehouse?” Nevada gave a clipped nod, working the ointment on her skin, “Something wasn’t right.”
His hand stopped moving briefly and he moved his gum inside his mouth. He had four men unaccounted for, but Miguel and Pucho would figure that out, he wouldn’t worry her with that right now, “So, every time something doesn’t feel right I should expect you to wave a fucking gun around?”
Mariana opened her mouth to protest, but instead she giggled. Hearing what she had done aloud had put some things in perspective, “It worked, didn’t it?”
Nevada smiled wryly, slowly lifting his gaze to hers, “Never pictured you one to wield a gun.”
He stopped, lifting his leg from the bed, and turning to the bathroom to wash his hands. He heard her shuffle on the bed and when he turned around, he was temporarily stunned. She had removed her shirt and he couldn’t help but stare at the slight spillage her breasts had over the cup of her bra.
He heard her scoff, “You’re such a pig, Nevada. At least pretend you don’t want to devour me.”
He snickered, “Wouldn’t you love that, huh, Chiquita?”
She glared at him, standing to walk the short distance to her kitchen. She ripped paper towel from the dispenser, turning to find Nevada within inches of her. At this distance, he was slightly taller than her. Of course he wasn’t the tallest man ever yet everything he exuded screamed being gargantuan. The inevitable pull he had on her made every fear of hers grow.
Nevada was a dangerous man; she had known this from the beginning unlike with Ricky. Ricardo had snuck his meanness in a span of months of their developing relationship. Why she chose to stick with him time after time of him showing her what a conniving and unscrupulous man he was, she had no idea of, yet with Nevada it all felt so… different.
The more time she spent around him the more she understood why everyone hated and respected him all in one breath, yet she could smell the slight façade he kept on for the sake of appearances.
She had seen him, at his most vulnerable, napping on his sofa whilst Sofía and her read quietly inches from him. She had seen the way his eyes would glisten when Sofía let slip that familiar Ramirez wit.
Nevada Ramirez was the world’s biggest softy and she wanted nothing but scream it out her fire escape.
No one would believe her, not even if she had proof, and it’s why she chose to keep his secret. She would find comfort in knowing that he had divested himself of that front he put up for the rest of the neighborhood to see and revel in the knowledge that Nevada was and had been his true self around her.
She watched his mouth as it curled into a half smirk, God how she hated his cockiness! His eyes danced effortlessly down her face and across her chest, unabashed and with no qualms. Her breathing had significantly slowed and she waited for his next move.
“A tattoo?”
She furrowed her brow. “What?” and she saw when Nevada tilted his chin slightly, pointing at her inside elbow. She smiled, taking in the lines, shades, and stippling of her snow-capped mountains with creeping sun behind them. “Yes, overcoming the past and how a new beginning always waits behind the sorrow and pain.”
Nevada had brought his hand up to wrap his fingers around her elbow, carefully thumbing the ink etched in her skin.
How fitting, he thought.
Snowfall on mountains… if he believed in coincidences he would’ve made this one of them.
Why had she chosen snow on the mountains? He would ask her later on, now he just wanted to enjoy the prickling of her skin underneath his touch and how ragged her breath sounded for no apparent reason.
He chuckled to himself, shaking his head slightly. He was her new beginning and he would make of that a true statement, come what may. He will make it his life’s mission to see her happy and safe… that was the priority now: her safety.
“Tomorrow at ten,” he said without context.
Mariana shook her head, “What’s happening tomorrow at t—Nevada, what are you going to do?”
He looked at her and smiled, “Nada, Chiquita, relax. I’m picking you up. Wear something… nice,” he said with a slight predatory stare as his eyes lingered on her chest.
Mariana clicked her tongue, stepping away from him and turning before reaching the rug that marked the beginning of her living/sleeping area, “What makes you think I want to go anywhere with you?”
Nevada’s arm was still raised to where he had previously held her arm mere seconds ago. He cocked his head and turned, “Be ready, you know I don’t like waiting.”
His jaw had started to flex as he renewed the vigorous chewing. He slipped his sunglasses on and sniffled, “I’m not going anywhere with you until I know where you’re taking me. Look how well that turn out for you this time.”
He narrowed his eyes behind his shades, not helping the growing smirk his face now sported, “Out, and that’s all I’m saying.”
She rolled her eyes going to cross her arms, but instead winced when her aching muscles reminded her of her bruise. She looked down at her stomach, regarding her glistening skin. She brought her fingers to it, touching Nevada’s handy work. She was still tender and she’d been glad she had… acquiesced to Nevada checking her out.
She looked up when she heard the soft click of her door as it closed. She scoffed, shaking her head. Of course he had escaped the conversation by walking away. Nevada did what he wanted and he took what he wanted and his word was law, but not with her… right?
She found herself smiling, despite of how furious she was with him, and she frowned when she heard Jess’ words reverberate through her apartment, loud and formidable near her ear. She would have a conversation with Jess later on, she needed to know that she was thinking about dating—she snorted loudly, turning to approach her bed.
“Nevada doesn’t date, Mariana,” she reminded herself.
She would think of proper term later on. At this point, it didn’t matter what they would call this after tomorrow night because, even though she hadn’t spent too much time in Washington Heights, she knew that once she was seen out in public with Nevada Ramirez, she would immediately be off the market for any other potential suitor.
He had sent a bandage dress with matching shoes and purse to her door a little after noon. She hated the fact that he now knew her apartment number, but what she hated even more was that he’d been able to figure out her sizing without doing much work.
How he’d managed to figure out her shoe size was not the problem. He hated shoes past a certain point in his apartment, so she could attribute that to him being nosy, but her dress size? I mean, he could’ve enlisted the help of his sister, but she hadn’t interacted with Mariana that much for her to have an idea of what her taste was let alone her dress size.
She studied her form in front of the body-length mirror she had hanging on one of her closet doors. It was a red bandage dress with vertical satiny stripes that elongated her torso. The built-in shape wear on the bodice gave her shape appraise and the flounced hem at her knees balanced her beautifully. The plunging v-neckline and thin straps at her shoulders added to the provocative allure she exuded in the dress.
Her shoes were a neutral nude shade that matched her clutch, “Lord help me,” she mused to herself when she heard a knock on her door.
She shook her head, running her fingers through her tousled hair and made a start towards the door. She didn’t know what to expect, but she definitely was not expecting Miguel on the other side of her door. He smirked, giving a sideways nod to signal her down her hall. She grabbed the keys on the small nail next to her door and sighed, sending a prayer above for infinite patience.
“He couldn’t come and pick me up from my door?” she asked as they settled in her building elevator.
Nothing. No response.
“Is he in the car, at least?”
Silence.
Mariana grunted in frustration, “Are you allowed to speak?”
Miguel chuckled, “The more I speak, the more chances I have of fucking up and getting on his bad side, and you don’t want to see his bad side.”
“I thought all sides were his bad side,” Miguel snickered, shaking his head, and Mariana felt a little bit of pride to know that she had gotten the man to break his front.
They stepped out into the cold evening air. She didn’t know why she hadn’t brought a coat—oh wait, yes she did. She had left it in the back of his SUV when she had been in a rush to leave him behind the day prior. Of course she was now paying for it, but it had been short-lived before she was securely inside of the waiting SUV.
Miguel had been quick to reach the other side and start the car, it was only them two, and the loud huffing of the heater through the vents.
The silence was uncomfortable and damn near unbearable. At least when he would drop her off after Sofía’s tutoring sessions he would be with Pucho and she could have the comfort of hearing them speak. Or mumble.
She snickered and he lifted his gaze to regard her with a confused expression etched between his brows, “Can you talk to me, at least? Nevada doesn’t have to know, you know.”
Miguel shook his head, “Nevada always knows, señito. He always knows.”
Mariana smirked, “You can call me Mariana, Miguel. I’m not one for formalities.”
“But el jefe said—”
“El jefe can kiss my ass,” she said with a smile. “He can bicker all he wants with me about it if he has a problem with it.”
Miguel focused on the road once more and Mariana saw the traces of a smile from his profile. She was surprised. None of these men were what they portrayed. Of course their job was far from ideal, but they were real human beings underneath it all. They probably all had their woman... or man at home, some might even have kids too!
She crossed her legs, feeling the SUV glide through the snow-covered streets of Washington Heights. Everything seemed and felt so different from the Washington Heights she came to love during the day from the one that existed at night. Every few blocks she would see girls nodding at Miguel, boys giving clip nods or scattering around.
They all knew what that SUV meant: Nevada was watching.
The women that she saw working the corners seemed well-kept, well-fed, and overall, well-dressed. If they were high on product, Mariana couldn’t have known, because they all seemed to be completely in their senses.
There were no kids running around. There was no day-life lingering in the streets, no sign of the daily life and culture you could see roaming around. No happiness. No smiles. No music. Everything was dark, withering, and cold—almost like death had taken over and completely showed her the other side, the real side of Washington Heights when she was in a warm cocoon back in her apartment.
Miguel came to a stop in front of a door she now recognized as the club where she had met Nevada. The line outside of shivering bodies attempting to find warmth was almost to the corner.
She popped the door opened when Miguel spoke, “Stay here, gotta check on something first.”
She turned, nodding slightly and closing the door back up. She saw through the heavily tinted window Miguel approach the bouncer posted up to the right side of the door. He leaned over him to whisper something in his ear and the man nodded, pressing a finger to his ear, and turning his chin to his shoulder. There were several heartbeats before the man turned back to Miguel, grinning, and clapping at his back.
Miguel shook his head and turned towards the curb, reaching, and opening Mariana’s door within steps, “Come on.”
Mariana slid out of the SUV, landing safely on her heels. She shimmied her hips as she accommodated the skirt of her dress, shivering simultaneously. She felt Miguel’s presence behind her and as she passed the bouncers, she heard someone shout, “Who the fuck is her?”
She wanted to glance back, but Miguel had already pushed past her once inside the lively club.
It was packed. Beyond packed and she glanced up to the VIP balcony where Nevada had been that first night, only this time, he was not. Nina was there though, sitting on some stranger’s lap and there were a bunch of other men and women lingering around the area. She scoffed, shaking her head.
What ever had possessed her to believe that just because he had sent a—probably—pricey dress, shoes, and purse to her door, asked her out, sent one of his most valuable men to pick her up tonight that she had a chance with him?
She sighed, approaching the bar, “Sazerac.”
The bartender nodded and smiled, turning to start working on her drink and when he turned, he paused slightly, gently placing the drink in front of her. Mariana furrowed her brow, but before she could turn, Miguel was tugging on her arm.
She sucked on her teeth, rolling her eyes in the process, “Can you tell me where you’re taking me or is that going to get you in trouble too?”
Miguel chuffed, “I’m taking you to Nevada.”
Mariana looked at the man. With the heels she had on, she was exactly his height, “So, he is here already?”
Miguel nodded and directed her towards the stairs. Mariana glanced back at him, raising a brow. He rolled his head and eyes in one motion, “If you don’t trust Nevada, that’s fine, but at least trust me.”
She hummed, smirking as she took the first step. She held the glass tumbler with the auburn liquid near her chest, her thumb lightly grazing her gold nameplate. She reached the VIP area that was manned by two men she had never seen before and as she made her way towards them, Miguel placed a ginger hand on her elbow.
He nodded to the other side of the upstairs section: a hallway. She nodded and took a sip, following Miguel down the dark hallway that opened into a small open area above the bar. There were multiple bottles, glasses, and other stock for the bar and when she turned, there were two of the men Nevada was always with standing in front of a dark door.
Miguel offered them a nod and knocked on the door, opening it quickly after. He glanced back at Mariana, “Venga señito, don’t make him wait.”
She smirked, turning her shoulder as she squeezed between the man and the jamb, “Mariana, Miguel, I won’t tell you again.”
Miguel lowered his head as she passed him by, and when Mariana turned, she saw Nevada, perched behind a desk. Pucho was at his right side and in front of the desk were four men, looking… poorly by the second.
Mariana took a sip of her drink, eyeing Nevada over the rim of her glass, “You couldn’t pick me up?”
Nevada smirked, “I did.”
“No, you didn’t. Miguel did,” she said with a small smile. She saw an impeding challenge behind his eyes and he eyed her ensemble carefully, “What am I doing here, Nevada?”
He lowered his legs from his desk and waved a hand towards her. She took a step forward, watching him circle around in front of Pucho. He tapped his fingers on the desk, pushing some stuff out of the way.
Mariana quirked a brow, “I’m not your… trophy, Nevada.”
He snickered, shrugging. “Haz lo que te dé la gana, entonces,” he said propping his thigh on the now empty space. He tapped his fingers absentmindedly next to his thigh and lifted his head, “Now that my Chiquita is here, we can start. Where the hell were you when all hell broke loose?”
Mariana took a step forward, lowering her arm by her side, “Nev—”
Her musings were put to a stop when he turned his glare towards her. He waited for her to continue and grew impatient when she didn’t speak, “Out with it.”
“I—I—” she turned her eyes towards the trembling men and Nevada seemed to catch on.
“Oh,” he scoffed. “Don’t worry about them, Chiquita. Ninguno de estos cabrones is gonna do anything to you,” he turned. “I’ll break their fucking kneecaps if they so much as think of doing anything without my say so again.”
Mariana released a shuddering breath, wrapping her fingers around Nevada’s forearm. He turned, taking in the duress in her eyes, “Take me somewhere private.”
Nevada smirked—just for show—and stood, biting his lip. He leaned sideways, grabbing her glass tumbler and leaning towards her ear when she tensed, “Play the part.”
She leaned into him, bringing her free hand to his chest, “Let’s not give them a show… b—baby.”
Nevada kissed her cheek, grunting as he drove her body into his. “I wouldn’t dream of it, mami,” he said, lifting the hand with the glass tumbler and bringing it to his mouth. He hummed at the taste, “What is this?”
Mariana wrapped her arms around his torso, underneath his leather jacket, laying her palms flat against his shoulder blades, “Sazerac.”
He took a final sip, chucking back whatever was left with a grunt. He held the liquid in his mouth, turning on his waist to press the glass with a forceful thud on his desk. He turned towards Mariana, letting his hands roam her sinuous waist when he swallowed and groaned at the burn the liquid left lingering in his throat.
He took a moment to feel her against his chest, underneath his hands, and all the proximity she currently had on him. Nevada could feel her thumping heart, she was nervous, and he chuckled, smirking at the amused pout her lips held. With the shoes he had bought her, she was exactly his height so nothing was stopping him from leaning forward and claiming her lips, yet something told him that if he wanted it to happen again, he needed to play this right.
“Nevada,” she husked, swinging her head slightly.
He sighed, releasing her hold, feeling her hands trail across his ribs and down his stomach until they dropped to her sides. He turned towards Pucho. “I’ll be back, keep them… entertained,” he said, walking past Mariana, but not before grinning sardonically towards the four other men in the room.
Mariana followed Nevada with a close step to somewhere above the bar.
She had an idea of what he meant when he had ordered his right hand man to ‘entertain’ his guests. She was learning, Nevada liked to take his time; he had a flair for the theatrical, whether it was his entrance, the way he paraded around the neighborhood, his expressions… everything had to be an event of sorts for him. And, he would let those four fester and simmer in their fright just to teach them a lesson.
It was part of his bravado. He enjoyed keeping everyone guessing. No one knew what he was ever going to do. He could threaten you with something, but do the complete opposite instead.
He took her to a dimly lit area, some sort of balcony, where he had a complete view of everything. It was like his watchtower, somewhere where he could escape the boisterous noise, the smoke, the sweaty bodies, and the responsibilities. He came here to forget, to hope for a better life, a better outcome, a better way...
Mariana leaned on the railing, watching as he curled his hand near his face to light his cigarette. He turned, taking a long drag before utilizing his fore and middle finger to remove the stick from his lips, offering it to her as he released the smoke. She shook her head; smiling as she did so and watching him shrug and provide another drag.
There was silence between them for a few moments; all that was audible were Nevada’s sighs as he blew out the smoke of his cigarette. If he were anything like her father, he wouldn’t want to be disturbed whilst enjoying his vice. She studied his profile, watching the urgency to which he took his drags and when he was done, he tossed it to the floor and stepped on the butt.
“You know something, don’t you?” he asked without preamble.
Mariana sighed, leaning her hip on the railing, “I do.”
He gripped on the railing and pushed on his shoulders, turning his head slowly, “Who took those cars, Mari?”
“Nevada,” she shook her head, crossing her arms in tandem.
“Betrayal, Mariana, something I can’t have in my circle,” he eased into the conversation. “I need to be able to trust my men. If I can’t do that, how am I supposed to protect those that I love?”
“Nev—”
“Do you think I like walking around with people hanging around me all the time?” he pushed himself off of the railing, standing straight. “Do you think I don’t know how many targets I have in between my eyes and on my back?” he motioned with his fingers over his shoulder and forehead as he spoke.
Mariana took a step forward, “Then, end this.”
He scoffed, smiling in amusement, “I will… as soon as you tell me which one of those hijos de puta caused you to have a bruised stomach.”
Mariana sighed.
What were the odds of this ending differently?
She knew this day was to come, she just didn’t know that it would be so soon. She had thought Nevada to be a methodical man, someone who enjoyed the plotting and analyzing of a situation; the proverbial ‘measure a hundred times, cut once’ type of guy, yet he had surprised her with his impulsivity.
She eyed his profile and studied every little detail. The way his jaw would clench at the sight of something going on at the dance floor, the slight tilt his chin would give when someone recognized him, the wry smirk when he recognized ‘his girls’ working the room, and more specifically, the way his eyes shone when Mariana would twitch or make a sudden movement.
The silence wasn’t uncomfortable; there was no need to fill it with words, still he ached for an answer. He wouldn’t drop this, not until he knew for certain. And, the longer she stalled, the more ‘entertainment’ he would find for those four men in his office.
“If I tell you, what are you doing to them?”
He turned his head, narrowing his eyes at her. He didn’t respond, but his upper lip twitched a little, and he could read in her face that she had an idea what would be happening.
“Nevada—”
“Chiquita, as many times you’ve said my name tonight…” he trailed off, raising his eyebrows in amusement.
She smacked his arm playfully, shaking her head. “If I tell you, what guarantees me that they—or someone else—won’t come after me?” she voiced with concern. “I’ve spent the last couple of years of my life hiding and, and in fear,” she furrowed her brow, biting her lip as she thought of what else to say. “I don’t want to live like that anymore.”
Her brown eyes shone bright at his equally mesmerizing green ones. I know that son of a bitch hurt you, Mari, he thought as his eyes danced across her face. “As long as I’m around, nada ni nadie te hará daño.”
Honesty.
Interest.
Passion.
Respect.
Humility.
Attraction.
He turned before she could discern any other fleeting emotion across his eyes. Her eyes didn’t lack emotion, it was there, burning raw and real behind her cocoa spheres, and even though she tried hard not to show it, he picked it up quick. As quick as shooting star.
They were both feeling all these emotions at a visceral level and it was futile to try and hide it, but Nevada couldn’t let her in.
He needed to protect her, and if that meant keeping her at arm’s length and pushing her away at every chance he had, he would do exactly that, because he would rather have some type of something from her, than not have her at all.
He quickly fumbled with his jacket, lighting another cigarette. “I’m putting all my cards on the table, Nevada,” he turned, pinching the cigarette with his left hand fingers.
He slowly let his hand fall to cover hers. He could feel the tremble in the anticipation for touching her deliberately yet he couldn’t have felt more secure in the decision when her hand turned in his and she let her thumb slowly graze the skin of his wrist.
He looked up at her face, seeing the small smile of satisfaction grace her features. She was beautiful, oh so beautiful in the dim lighting, and he knew then: she would be his downfall, his eternal blindspot, and he didn’t care.
●● is that DEEPIKA PADUKONE? no, that’s just NIRA LAGHARI, the 34 year old CISFEMALE who is a LAWYER. some say they’re NITPICKY & DEFENSIVE, but their family and friends will swear they’re RESPONSIBLE & INDEPENDENT. when i think of them, i think of caffeine headaches, sticky notes, an air of importance, overbooked schedules. i wonder if HER neighbors knows that SHE GAVE A BABY UP FOR ADOPTION. ●●
it’s lena again, back w my fourth and final child. uhhh this is nira and she is Great, below is some information about her- plz love us (((-:
tw: death
background:
- nira and her family immigrated from india when she was seven
- they settled in a suburb of boston
- she’s the oldest of three, she has two younger brothers
- grew up practicing hinduism and speaks fluent hindi
- she actually likes her parents and had a p good relationship w both of them (a real shock when it comes to my muses tbh wow)
- her parents worked a lot to provide for the family so a lot of times she acted like a second mom for her brothers
- was super involved in high school: captain of the tennis team, yearbook editor, class treasurer, in hella clubs so that her college app looked good- idk she was That Girl
- went to college and majored in history and political science on a pre-law track
- in regard to her secret (added this part last bc i am stupid and forgot, like, one of the most important parts), when she was like a sophomore in college she got pregnant and it was like the One mistake she’d ever made- she was the perfect child and human before then, mistakes??? she didn’t know them. but, she got knocked up by some ugly ass frat guy after a one-night stand
- she had the baby, but knew she couldn’t take care of it, so she put her up for adoption
- her daughter is, like, 15 years old now and she’s never met her, but her adoptive parents send nira pics and updates every now and then and they even gave her nira’s middle name (saanvi) so that she could still be ~part~ of her in a way
- nira lowkey wants to meet her, but also kinda doesn’t SO; also, doesn’t want anyone to know bc she’s kinda embarrassed and sad about the whole situation //:
- tw death: only one of her brothers knows about the pregnancy and she stayed way from home for almost a whole ass year to hide it from her parents; her mom died liiike six months after she gave birth and she feels horrible and guilty af bc she wasn’t home for so long and her mom was sick SO very sad
- then after all that obvi went to law school
- she works for a pretty reputable firm in boston and she is GOOD at her job
- and this is how she came to meet samantha donovan- sam needed a lawyer for one of her clients, got connected w nira, they fell in love and got engaged (i am sad and soft)
- then, of course, Sad Girl Hours; sam’s brother died and she had to take care of the kids and they decided that it would be better to not be together
- so, uh, nira is still chillin in ashcroft and being kinda sad but kicking ass in the courtroom bc she’s using work to avoid her feelings oK
personality:
- type a !!!
- VERY organized
- she lowkey seems super stuffy and uptight, but that’s mostly in the courtroom, underneath all that she’s just a softie who wants to care about people
- it’s just hard to get to that layer bc she exudes so much Bad Bitch energy (tiffany is shaking)
- definitely has resting bitch face
- runs on caffeine and cannot go without several cups of coffee a day (mood)
- a perfectionist
- pretty particular
- will fight u if you come for her or someone she cares about (and will come for you with fully-formed, GOOD arguments bc law school baby hell YEAH)
- uhhh just wants to be loved and cherished (mostly by sam bUT i’m sad now so bye)
- hard to get to know, but worth knowing
possible connections:
- friends: she’s a Good friend, but you gotta get to know her blah blah etc.
- exes: pre-sam exes, college exes, early twenty-something exes (all of these are pretty much synonymous idk i’m an idiot)
- one-night stands/hookups: uhhhh she is still very sad, but maybe she’s hooked up with a few people in the past year or so idk- she’s bi so anyway
- clients: i know all y’all heathens here in ashcroft need a lawyer so hit her up
- literally ???? anything idk, give me drama n shit xoxo
ANYWAY, like this or hmu is ya want to plot w this gal, let us love u down !!!! byeeeeee
Summary: Izzy has started college. Poor Bucky is having a hard time letting his baby girl leave the nest. Part 1 sets the stage for the mayhem that ensues in Part 2!
Pairings: Daddy!Bucky x Izzy x Jillian Barnes OFC: Little Stevie, Nat, Wanda, Steve, Sam, Tony, Maddie
Word Count: 1,440
A/N: Thank you @shy2shot for the writing prompt. Part 2 delves into the actual incident. I hope you’re pleased!!
Prompt: “While at a party, you hear screams coming from the main floor and you see flashing lights out of the window. You assume the party is getting busted. What walks through the door is much worse than a police officer.”
Isabella Marie Barnes, 18, entering her freshman year at Columbia University, majoring in Computer Science. Bucky and Jillian weren’t ready for their ‘baby bird’ to leave the nest. You have no idea how many times Izzy’s uncles and aunts tried to dissuade her from living on campus. Bucky even went as far as threatening to get an apartment near the school and hire an undercover officer to tail her!
Jillian called for a family meeting for EVERYONE before Izzy left. Grumbling could be heard from Steve, Sam, and Bucky. Nat and Wanda gave Izzy a crash course in self-defense. Tony donated a rather generous gift to the university anonymously for a new state of the art security system; especially Izzy’s residence! “Okay, listen up.” Jillian’s voice was low and stern. “I know you love Izzy, but this is important to her. I’m not ready for my baby girl to leave home either. This will be good for her to experience life outside of here. Please allow her to be her own person.”
Bucky started to speak but Jillian shot daggers at him. Sam chuckled; Steve simply shook his head, feigning innocence. Izzy understood her overprotective family and she loved them, but it was time to enjoy life away from Stark Tower.
Moving in was an absolute nerve wracking experience. Bucky and Steve donned the tightest t-shirts known to man, accentuating their bulging muscles; Sam deployed Redwing hovering over the campus; Nat and Wanda had menacing scowls on their faces and one of Tony’s Mach WHATEVER stood near the moving van at Hartley Hall.
Izzy wanted to crawl under a rock and hide forever. Understanding her plight, Jillian took her aside for a mother/daughter chat. “Mom, I’m gonna die. Would you please tell them to stop?”
Hugging her distraught daughter, “Sweetie, after today, you’ll be on your own. They love you so much and only want the best for you.” Izzy smiled tightly, “I love them too, but I’m never gonna have a social life, dad and uncle Steve are scary. Look at them.”
Steve carried in a desk, Bucky chose the mattress and box springs. It was a show of strength just in case anyone messed with their Izzy. Parents and students alike marvelled at the sight of the Avengers on campus.
Pulling her Columbia University hoodie over her head, Izzy and little Stevie, now 14, ducked inside to her room. She and Maddie were magically roommates. Kayla opted to leave New York for the University of Georgia, but vowed to keep in touch with her ‘sisters.’ Maddie’s parents were elated when they found out Tony paid her tuition for 4 years, room/board, and set up a student bank account in case she needed to pay for books just go shopping.
After the last item was brought in, Bucky stood at the window of Izzy’s room, staring into the university courtyard. He remembered the times she called him “Daddy Buckwoo.” Now a freshman in college, Bucky really had a difficult time grasping the concept of his Sugar Plum leaving home. He didn’t try to hide the tears rolling down his chiseled jaw.
Izzy walked over and wrapped her arms around his thick waist. “Daddy, thank you for loving me. We’ve been through so much, but you still love and take care of me. I’ll always be your Sugar Plum. You’re an excellent dad. I couldn’t ask for a better one. The best day of my life was you marrying mom and adopting me. Thank you!”
Bucky and Izzy stood there crying. He raised an intelligent, responsible young lady.
“Take care of yourself okay? I’m only a phone call and quinjet ride away.” Izzy laughed through her tears. “Yes dad, I know.”
One by one, Tony, Sam, Steve, Nat and Wanda said their ‘good-byes.’ It was quite the spectacle seeing Earth’s Mightiest Heroes reduced to blubbering messes.
Little Stevie hugged his sister, “I’m so glad you’re gone. Now I’ll be the only child at home. Jk, Imma miss you Izz.” Pulling him tight against her, Izzy teased her brother. “Yeah, you may be the only child at home, but I’m the smart one. Take care, squirt.”
“You too big sis. I love you.” Little Stevie kissed Izzy on the jaw and walked out with his head hung low.
Jillian waited until everyone was out of the room. She walked over to her daughter half smiling, half crying. “Isabella Marie Barnes, I’m beyond proud of you. Being your mother is one of life’s greatest joys. It’s time to leave the nest so spread your wings and fly baby bird.” Jillian embraced Izzy one more time before she left. Maddie was outside with her parents.
Izzy waved at her family. Bucky appeared to be frozen in place. Jillian and little Steve grabbed his hands, pulling him to the car.
Maddie came in and hugged Izzy. “Well Izz, we’re college students now. Let’s unpack and meet our sophomore mentors.”
Their dorm room was decked out in purple, blue, pink and white. It was quite festive. Maddie and Izzy’s desks were filled with family pictures; the latest Hp laptops (gifts from Uncle Tony); a small refrigerator filled with snacks, soda and water and Columbia University flags. Izzy was creative with her bedding; blue sheets, a purple duvet and Bucky Bear on her pillow. Maddie chose pink sheets paired with a pink and white polka dot duvet. She had a Falcon bear!
Even though she missed her family at Stark Tower, Izzy knew it was time to fly solo.
Meanwhile, at the Tower, little Stevie moped around. He sat on Izzy’s bed. They fought like brothers and sisters usually do, but their love was unshakeable.
Bucky, Steve, Sam, Nat, Wanda and Tony sat in the common room, enjoying a drink, reminiscing on Izzy’s childhood. She literally grew up before their eyes. Thor came bearing gifts for Bucky and Steve; Asgardian mead.
Looking at her somber husband, Jillian walked over and gave him a kiss atop his head. “Babe, she’ll be just fine. I know you miss her, so do I.” Returning the hug, Bucky replied, “What if she forgets about me?”
“My love, Izzy will never forget you. I’m going to check on little Stevie. When I walked past her room, he was sitting on her bed.”
Nat and Wanda, thoroughly enjoying a couple of dirty martinis, couldn’t contain their laughter. “Bucky, you act as if Izzy’s gone off to war,” Wanda slurred. Nat added, “Look, Izzy’s a good girl. We all need to trust she’ll do the right thing.”
Referencing his namesake, Steve chimed in, “Little Stevie is not allowed to leave home until he’s 30. Buck, let’s lock him up now.”
Raising his glass, Bucky mused, “Good idea.” Jillian pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. Two brawny super soldiers succumbing to “my daughter’s in college” syndrome.
Bucky’s phone rang. He saw Izzy’s name and panicked. “Sugar Plum what’s wrong?! Do I need to suit up and come get’ya?”
She had him on speaker phone. You could hear Maddie laughing in the background. “No dad. I’m fine. We met with our sophomore mentors, got a mini-tour of the campus and had dinner in the dining hall. I met other freshmen. Dad, it’s unreal.”
“M’glad you’re having a good time baby. I miss ya.”
“I miss you too. Just wanted to call and say goodnight and I love you so much. Tell mom and Stevie I love them too. Smooches.”
Maddie giggled, “Goodnight Mr. Barnes.”
“Goodnight Maddie. Hey, Izzy. Thanks for calling. I love you too.”
After the call ended, Bucky sighed. No, he didn’t want Izzy to grow up but it was inevitable. One of the greatest gifts he’d ever received was being a dad. Having a wife, son and daughter proved more than he could fathom.
James Buchanan Barnes’ life was complete. He went through hell and came out on the other side.
The tantalizing music made the smoke and warm currents in the room quiver as the patrons of the lonely bar slowly swayed. The singer pretended the room was empty as slow tones penetrated the hearts of any who actually listened to foreign words that felt like a river of molasses in a blue moon-soaked forest on the verge of catching fire. The pianist tried to just keep the melody alive, as it took twists and turns that no one, not even the players themselves really expected. But they were a team, the singer and the pianist. They fit and were almost one being as they produced sounds that would fill the room now but just be a hazy and warm memory for the patrons later.
This was no special night. This hadn´t been a special week. The bar on the hectic street seemed the same as always. The guests were the same mix of regulars, new faces and lonely ghosts that drifted in every few months or so. This was no special night. It had no plans to become extraordinary either. So… what was this sense of foreboding? The bartender, a man with a history of knowing events before their time, took a moment to determine the nature of this shift of feelings. He poured himself a glass, determining there was no danger coming, so he may as well let himself be surprised by the present, not the future.
His wine distinctly tasted like a dry summer day. He was slightly weary. The city that never slept certainly had streets asleep in the night. This bar was in a limbo between reality and dream. So, it was no coincidence that everything was in a tight balance. There were the humans whose presence kept the slightly less human patrons in check. Ambrosia looked like white wine after all. The bar had sprung up in the city of New York quite some time ago, but no one really had kept a record. The duo playing never changed in that time, but thanks to a hazy atmosphere hardly anyone noticed or care. The duo was related to the muses in some way, at least the singer, the pianist might have some blood of one of the graces and even Apollon. But like it was said, no one really kept a record of things around here. The owners liked their small reputation and lack of any bigger deities, since that kept things from getting messy. They liked the easy atmosphere and heavy air. The casual mixes, may it be the drinks or the patrons. In their whole times they hardly had any problems here. Creeps were swiftly dealt with and fights were stopped with a flexing doorman´s arms.
So, their dismay was big when they felt the aura of one of the bigger deities enter their little haven. Of course, they still had to be hospitable. But every head in the bar turned. The reality won over the dream. The river of molasses turned clear. The dream was over. And the deity looked ignorant to the attention.
All eyes, may they be obvious or subtle, were on his person. He seemed almost unsure now, but still made his way to an empty bar stool. The music continued, but now painted a different picture. It was clearer, like salty foam covering green rocks with grey paint strokes that disappeared in seconds. A cautious yet beautiful melody, slightly distracted as the pianist kept his eyes on the new-comer. Whose hair, like molten silver, and occasional flash of gold in brown eyes made his out-of-this-world-ness obvious. The beauty of eons on a youthful face was fascinating. Yet the natural aura of old power had all the other patrons keep a healthy distance from him. Luckily the bartender seemed brave enough to approach him. They couldn´t afford pissing him off, it didn´t matter that he looked like he wouldn´t hurt a fly. The elusive stranger smiled an honest ray of sunlight as he ordered the sweetest cocktail on the menu with extra ambrosia.
The bartender, a quiet soul that exuded warmth from his very being, let the stranger talk a water fall over him, answering in gestures more than in words.
The bar settled down and only some of the not entirely human guests were still tense.
“I like this bar… Are you open every night?” the voice was surprisingly nervous, a slight accent playing at the edges of words. It made the powerful deity more sympathetic in the eyes of the bartender.
“We- we mostly play it by feelings, so we don´t have set opening times…. Your highness?” the added title was a careful question, meant as a subtle invitation for the stranger for an introduction. The deity laughed and waved him off.
“Please! Call me Steven, we´re at a bar, not the Jade Emperors palace.” Steven laughed, a throaty but melodious sound, and took a sip. At least the question of his pantheon was now cleared. Steven leaned closer as if to share a secret, false worried sketched in his face, “But be honest… is it that obvious? Do the others here know?”
The bartender quirked a lip under his warm beard.
“Well let´s just say, even the mortals noticed you, and they are blinder than the fates without their eye…”
“Oh noooo” Steven laughed again and turned some heads in the process. Intelligent and old eyes on a young face kept his gaze of the bartender though.
“And your name, Mister Bartender? It´s only fair to exchange names”
The bartender raised a strong brow but had to smile at the deity’s antics.
“Well, I go as Adam around here” they both knew the names, Steven and Adam, weren’t their original names, but it was hardly important in these circumstances. They felt right enough.
The music had been slowly transforming its tone during their slow conversation. It reminded of a hazy lilac sky whose orange stars slowly fell and left shining streaks in their wake. Adam knew, the duo would take a break soon. The bar and it´s staff developed their own rhythm and non-verbal language over the decades, and Adam recognized starry melodies as the duos need for a break.
Steven seemed enchanted by the music. And Adam felt more talkative and jolly than normally: “What do you see when you hear it?”
Steven pondered the question with closed eyes and slightly parted lips as he listened more closely.
“It feels like flying. And falling? I think? It´s just- I see the night sky and I am- the stars are slowly descending, but not in a threatening way. It´s peaceful…”
Adam smiled slightly, is this a clue? Did he have a star sitting across him? Or even a constellation?
Steven almost shined with glee as Adam recounted his own music-fueled visions.
“It´s truly amazing how music can do that!”
The duo ended their song, though it didn´t sound like a real ending and bowed swiftly as the whole bar clapped and whooped. The pianist came over, while the singer chose to get lost in the crowd. He made himself comfortable next to Adam and started mixing himself a drink. Towards the deity he gave a slow nod, that may have been an implied bow, not daring to not recognize the presence of someone with that kind of power oozing into their natural aura.
“You play wonderful! I´m quite enthralled! Do you play every night?” Steven leaned forward and gave a glinting smile, accidently showing sharp canines in the process. The pianist looked pleased at the praise and nodded his head as thanks, while never leaving his eyes from the golden orbs of the deity.
“Mostly, we try and have live music every evening. But sometimes Jazzmyne just sings alone, or I try my hand at solo-playing. Sometimes we also have guest players” almost breathless after saying so much, the pianist gulped half his drink of scotch down, suddenly unnerved by the molten gaze.
Steven kept his gaze springing between the two, who, well aware of the attention, while they tried getting busy with bartender obligation. Their effort at keeping busy had it´s origin in an uncertain feeling they got when meeting the gaze of the deity. A warm sensation usually found when feeling truly at home. Steven tried to not let his disappointment show.
“Hey ho Adam-bro, can ya get me something?” A tall lanky figure leaned on the bar next to Steven, in his arms a much smaller more solid built male. Adam sighed and put a glass down that he was cleaning.
“Sure Shane, what do you want?”
Shane smiled innocently while sitting down on a bar stool next to Steven. The other male, once in Shane arms, seemed annoyed but still sat on the other side of Shane and linked their hands.
“Go and surprise me, bar-man!” Shane’s companion let out an annoyed huff and lightly kicked the others shin.
“You always say that and then you complain about the flavor and I have to drink it!”
“You love trying new things, Ryan! And Adam has no idea of good taste!”
Andrew glowered at Shane and forcefully set down a glass that was filled with a clear fluid. Shane grinned and raised his glass in salute. He took a sip and immediately spit it out. He would have looked furious, if Ryan hadn´t ascended into giggles and wheezes, inspiring the same reaction in him.
“Did you just give me fucking lighter fluid?!?”
Andrew shrugged nonchalant and possessively put his arm around Adams waist; “You shouldn´t insult Adam.” Though blushing Adam pinched Andrew and escaped his grip to clean up the mess.
Steven observed this all with an unreadable expression. He fiddled with the orange wedge of his almost empty drink and looked forlorn into its depts. His melancholy was interrupted as a refill was presented to him by Adam.
“Don´t worry, no lighter fluid in this one… It´s on the house” If Steven didn´t know better, he would have thought the bartender winked. Adam was rewarded with his trouble by an honest twinkling smile that made Andrew also stop in his tracks and just watch. For a moment Steven was glowing from within as he gave some heartfelt thanks. Now Shane and Ryan and even some nearer stand-byes just watched in slight amazement.
The night slowly ended and as the bar emptied more and more until even the tipsy bickering of Shane and Ryan got quieter as they walked down the street homebound. Soon it was only the employees left. Andrew and Adam talked quietly among themselves as they cleaned up the bar and surrounding areas. Their conversation seemed to only turn around one particular deity though.
“I think Steven might be a star-deity” Andrew stopped mopping the floor to muse on Adams words.
“He did shine like one earlier…” Adam nodded fondly at the memory.
“We´re lucky to have seen that”
“We´re lucky the mortals stayed oblivious”
“Don´t pretend that you didn´t think that that might have been one of the prettiest things you have ever seen.”
Andrew leaned on his mop while grinning flirtatiously: “How can that be, when I get to see your eyes every day?”
Adam threw a towel after him while his ears burned: “Go mop the floor, lover-boy!”
Despite golden light slowly filling up the air in the bar, these two were not particularly tired anymore.
Nicky Lee was surprisingly happy with his decision to open a small flower shop in St. Louis, Missouri.
After an ‘unfortunate’ incident involving his former squad leader caused Nicky to take leave of his position in the army, it was decided that he needed a quiet job where he could have some level of control and not be around too many people that he would fight with, so a small suburb with a small but steady stream of foot traffic seemed good, even if it meant leaving the safety and familiarity of his home in Brooklyn.
Today was a quiet day, only a teenage girl getting a bouquet of marigolds to help her with asking her crush out and he wished her luck as Maria sounds like a wonderful girl.
He was quietly stimming with the petals of a lily when someone barged through the door and slammed a few notes on the counter causing Nicky to jump and accidentally rip off one of the petals of the poor flower.
“How do you passive-aggressively say ‘fuck you’ with flowers?” The man asked angrily looking off to the side and not directing his anger towards the quietly panicking shop owner.
“Ahh-aaah.” Nicky was trying to speak but the shock of the man’s entrance had him going non-verbal.
The man looked at Nicky and took a few deep breathes in an attempt to calm his anger.
“I’m sorry.” He said in a quiet tone, “My old bigot high school football coach is having a get together for the old team tonight and I hate him for all the shit he gave me.”
Nicky flapped his arms during the explanation, not caring how weird he looked, then grabbed a book from under the counter and flipped through the many bookmarked pages trying to find what was needed.
“Sorry, I don’t handle jump scares well.” Nicky finally said once he was verbal again, before grabbing a basket, handing it to his customer and leading him around the store to grab the flowers for the arrangement.
“No it was my fault, I’m Conrad by the way,” The man said, obediently following the other around the store, “but most people call me Duke.”
“I’m Nicky, these are geraniums meaning stupidity.” Nicky explained as he grabbed a few white and orange stalks of the flowers and placed them in the basket, “And these are meadowsweets for uselessness.” A few stalks of the white flower puffs, “Orange lilies for hatred.” Another few stalks with a brief brush of the petals, “Yellow carnations which mean ‘you have disappointed me’.” A few more puffs added to the basket before moving towards the back of the store.
“I’m impressed that fuck you bouquets are an actual thing.” Duke said as he studied the array of flowers, brushing the lily petals as Nicky did before.
“Maybe I should have it as a pre designed thing, would be popular.” Nicky mused as he looked at the assortment of foxgloves for the right colours before picking a few pale orange bunches. “And finally my personal favourite, foxgloves for insincerity and they are also poisonous.” A smile graced his lips as he placed the last flowers in the basket and headed towards the counter with Duke in tow.
He took the flowers and started on the bouquet, focusing on the placement of the flowers, filling it out with foliage, wrapping it with matching paper and cellophane, and finishing it up with a ribbon.
Nicky finally turned his attention back towards Duke handing him the bouquet.
“It’s beautiful and quietly bitchy.” Duke smiled as Nicky found the money that was forgotten on the counter and got Duke his change.
“Mind if I ask how long you’ve been in?” Nicky asked, motioning to the dog tags around Dukes neck.
“Eight years, I’m a sergeant.” He answered as he collected the change, not really wanting to leave just yet.
Nicky nodded then realized that he should reply. “I’m a field medic, on extended leave for reasons.”
Duke nodded but didn’t push, preferring to study the rather attractive guy in front of him, he was about to say something else when a teenage girl came flying in, knocking him out of the way and grasping Nicky’s hands in hers.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She yelled happily, bouncing as she did.
“She said yes! We’re going on a date on Friday and it’s all thanks to you!”
“I just sold you flowers, you did everything else.” Nicky said a little shocked at the gratitude.
“But you gave me the courage to do it! Thank you!” She hugged him before running out of the shop.
It took a few minutes for Nicky to collect himself after the flurry of happiness and ‘thank you’s.
“Well that was something.” Nicky muttered before realising that Duke was still there. “Do you need anything else?”
Duke spaced back in at the question, “No thanks, but I’ll come back tomorrow and let you know how the flowers go down” He smiled as he headed towards the door.
Nicky laughed “Can’t wait, take care.”When Duke left, Nicky thought about the exchange before grabbing his phone and sending a quick message to his best friend, a question nagging at the back of his mind.
Yo Snakes, what’s the name of your Sargent?
A few minutes later came a reply.
Conrad “Duke” Houser. Why?
That helps make sense.
He came in to buy a bouquet that said ‘Fuck you’. Should I sell those readymade? Also he’s hotter than you described.
He puttered around, straightening the shop while he waited for the messages to come in.
They would sell faster than thanksgiving turkey. He’s single, really good with accommodating for mental illness in a sincere and realistic way, and if you date him, I won’t have to worry about losing Shay to him.
Shay loves you and wouldn’t leave you for some boy scout. Like I have a chance with him.
You know what being a soldier is like, you take care of people without sugar coating, your ideal date night is staying home, watching TV, gaming, and cuddling, something that anyone would love, if someone talks shit to you, you dish it back tenfold, and you’re pretty hot when you have energy to put into your looks.
I don’t have the energy to forward all the counters my brain came up with, but thanks.
You seeing him again?
He’s coming in tomorrow to tell me how the flowers go.
We’ve been given a few weeks leave, is it ok if we come down tomorrow? I miss you and Shay wants to try and get you on the team.
I could use the support. I’m not going back just yet, it’s only been three weeks. You can hug me but don’t get in my way. Love ya.
Don’t work too hard. Love you mouse.
Nicky smiled at the obvious worry in the messages then spotted the time, he closed up shop before heading up stairs to bed and going through his nightly routine.
Based on this prompt, http://autistic-mouse.tumblr.com/post/145854078786/flower-shop-au
I couldn't resist, and I may continue this or not, see how I feel.
