#been sitting on this one for (checks calendar) oh no two months.

[vapidlemon]

snap your friend out of his spiraling by shocking him with a bizarre callback

(a necessary sequel to this)

[daphwritesworld]

#23 A. Russo— all to you. 

content: face sitting(A receiving), thigh riding (r receiving), scissoring, lots of kissing lol, fingering (r receiving), kinda public sex(only for a short flashback), lovey-dovey type shit, top!Alessia, bottom!reader

warnings: bathroom sex in a flashback, Alessia humping your face should get its own warning so there you go, hitting your knee like an idiot, talks of marriage, Alessia in a "kiss the cook" apron lol

synopsis: After spending two months away in The States with your family– you’re finally flying back home to England. To your Alessia.

word count: 4.6k

!! MINORS DNI!! 18+ CONTENT

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The sunrise bleeding in through the cracked blinds is what you notice first. The little beams of light interrupt the first real night of sleep you’ve gotten in the past two months. You’ve been away visiting your family. Two months usually wouldn’t have been that bad…if you were in the same time zone. keyword: ‘if.’

Going back to the States wasn’t bad— you love it back home. Being so close to your family, old friends, old stomping grounds, the completely different scenery, and the nostalgic restaurants all hold a special place in your heart. You’d of course enjoyed yourself on the trip, but nothing can compare to the longing of wanting to be back in Alessia’s arms. The days spent away were counted down in matching pocket calendars– one for you and the other for your girlfriend. Little notes of encouragement, inside jokes, and love poured out onto each date you’d be separated. You both decided to write them for each other and switch at the airport before you boarded your flight, promising not to look until the next day to check a box off. 

The day you came back to her finally arrived yesterday. She’d waited at the airport with her family, a cheesy sign with your name written on it and balloons attached. As soon as they saw you it was screams and hollers. Alessia moving so fast you felt her before you even had time to lift your head to their greeting. You let out a small yelp as she hoisted you into the air, her arms wrapping around your waist to keep you secured against her. Your hands cupped her cheeks and you leaned down to place a soft kiss on her lips, pulling away after a couple of seconds— much to your girlfriend’s dismay. She pouts at you before trying to chase after your lips again, this time being met with your hand and a whispered shout, “Alessia Russo, I am not letting you shove your tongue down my throat with your family 15 feet away!”

She rolled her eyes at that, setting your feet back on the ground before latching her arms back around you. Pulling you closer to her as a small smile broke out across her lips, “Oh, but you’ll let me finger you in the bathroom at Christmas, is that it?” 

Your cheeks heat up instantly at the mention of the memory. Alessia had invited you over for Christmas with her family three years ago (when you two were “just friends”). You’d been left all alone in England since your flight was canceled due to bad weather, nowhere else but your empty apartment to go. And she couldn’t let such a pretty girl stay alone on such a joyful holiday, so she called her mom and made sure there was a plate set at the table long before she’d even convinced you to come that night. You’d both been dancing around each other for months: flirting, nicknames, and basically eye fucking at practice, but so so oblivious to the other’s intentions. But two glasses of Advocaat and some hanging mistletoe is all it takes for her to get you in the bathroom of her childhood home. One hand covered your mouth as the other fucked three fingers into your pussy, while the sounds of Christmas music and living room chatter drowned out to the both of you in your own world.

Before you can reprimand her with more than a soft whack to the shoulder, her brothers are running over to wrap you in a hug and telling their sister to stop “hogging the favorite.” her parents wrapped you up in a hug, too. Telling you how miserable and grumpy Alessia had been since you’d left.

“I-I was not!”

 You just smiled at the sounds of her siblings and her arguing as you all walked your way out. So happy to finally be back where you belong. Your real home– right here with your Alessia. You felt her hand slip into yours as you approached the doors. You said your goodbyes and promised to visit soon before she was leading you off to the car. The entire ride home was spent telling her all about your months spent back in The States. The phone calls when one of you would stay up late or wake up super early just to speak for an hour or less didn’t do enough justice. Her hand rested on your thigh the entire way, rubbing circles and little patterns into your skin as you spoke. She could listen to you all day, just happy to finally hear your voice in person and not through a speaker or her headphones. They could never pick up the true essence of your laugh or the crinkle in your nose when you do. 

Now in the comfort of your own bed, your hands search out across the sheets on instinct— a frown gracing your features as you feel the cold bed beneath your fingertips. You crack your eyes open, blinking a few times as they adjust to the daylight. You stretch your arms out as you sit up, the cold breeze through the house lighting goosebumps across your skin. You shiver as you hop off the bed, reaching down for Alessia’s oversized shirt that was thrown to the floor the previous night. The memories come flooding back in flashes as you slip it over your head. Your freshly hardened nipples sensitive to the material as it brushes against them. 

You barely had time to get through the front door before she had you pressed up against it. The way her lips were glued to your sweet spots, her hands gripping every part of you they touched, and how you two stumbled up the stairs because you wouldn’t pull away from making out on the way to your bedroom. The candles lit around the space, the pink and white rose petals sprinkled across the duvet, and the way she kissed her way down your whole body as she tore your panties off with a loud rip. She never was very patient...especially when it comes to your pussy.  

You flash back to the present as the smell of bacon hints in your nose. Your feet move and your stomach rumbles as you quietly make your way downstairs. Seeing Alessia in her “kiss the cook” apron, making a tray of food for you. It almost has you sneaking back up into bed so she could surprise you, but the growling monster in your stomach wins as you slowly come up behind her, wrapping your arms around the taller girl. 

“no no no! I was gonna surprise you with breakfast in bed,” she whines with a pout on her lips as she turns around to face you. Her hands resting on your hips as yours go to wrap around her neck, pulling her down for a morning kiss.

“There, that fixed your face!” you say as you pat her cheek before stealing a piece of bacon from behind her on the counter. 

“I’m serious, Amore mio! I wanted to treat you today after being away for so long.” 

“You still can though, Baby,” you say as she sits you up on the counter beside her as she cooks. “Don’t gotta get your knickers in a twist,” the awful British accent leaves your lips with a giggle as you swing your foot to hit her on the butt. 

She puts her spatula down to bring her fingertips to your sides, tickling you relentlessly as you squirm around laughing loudly. The tears welling up in your eyes a clear sign of not being able to escape her assault, “Okay! Okay! St-Stop! I’m sorry, Less– I’m sorry!” 

She pulls you into her chest, arms wrapping around your middle and stepping between your knees. The big smile on her face never falters as she just rests her forehead against yours, taking this intimate moment in and soaking it up for all it’s worth. Her eyes are scanning across your face, and you wish in times like these you could read her pretty mind. Just wanting a glimpse into what’s behind those crystal blue eyes that enchant you every time they gaze into yours. 

“How’d you manage to get even more gorgeous whilst away?” It’s barely above a whisper when she says it, her hands coming up to lightly trace over your face. Her fingers run across your cheeks, lips, and jaw. It’s all too much for you at the moment, so overwhelmed with love for her. So you lean forward and place your lips on hers, and it takes both of your breaths away. It’s different than the ones you shared last night. There’s no urgency in your movements and no harshness behind them. Her tongue slides into your mouth when you gasp from the way she lightly nips at your bottom lip, still moving at a slow pace. The smell of burning food breaks you back into reality a bit, trying to pull away as she chases your lips closely.

“The food, Alessia,” you manage to get the words out between kisses, never fully able to get her lips off of yours completely.

She groans out into your mouth before backing away, turning off the stove eye, and moving the pan to rest on a cold one. She doesn’t even say anything before she brings a hand behind your neck to pull your mouth back onto hers. The fire in your belly is roaring, begging for her touch and to touch her. 

“Mmm, upstairs,” It’s not a question when you say it. She supports your middle with her arms before hoisting you off the counter, your legs wrapping around her waist on instinct as she carries you to your destination. 

When she reaches the bed there’s no throwing you down, and clawing your clothes off. She’s connecting your lips as she slowly lays you down on the sheets, following your body with her own. A hand comes up to caress the back of your neck as she deepens the kiss. Your knees spread for her body to align with yours like a puzzle piece, fitting together perfectly and in rhythm with one another. The hand behind your neck starts slipping around front, keeping a loose hold on your neck as she pulls back just enough so you can both breathe for a second. 

“Please fuck me, Baby,” it comes out airy and breathless as your chest rises and falls rapidly. 

“No.” 

You feel like your world’s crashing down. No? Did she tell you…No? Like as in N-O.. no?

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” she says it while holding your face in her hands. You think she’s being cruel, punishing you for a stupid joke accent, or the fact you woke up early and spoiled her surprise for you. Pulling you back into a mind-reeling kiss, and desperately searching for a reason she’d tease you and wind you up like this just to leave you high and dry. 

“I’m gonna make love to you,” your eyes snap up to her. Mind quieting and drowning out all your worries and complaints. Your breath hitches as she says it and you swear your heart swells up twice its size. “Let me show you how much I missed you, Amore mio.” 

You’re nodding your head as a quiet moan rolls off your tongue at her words, connecting your lips once again as her hands start rubbing up your sides. They slip under your (really her) shirt draped over you, the only thing separating her from your naked body. Goosebumps rise behind in the path of her hands, your skin feeling electric from her touch. She moves down your body as she gets up on her knees, untying her apron and throwing it somewhere into the room. She’s lifting your shirt as she peels it off your body. Her lips leave kisses in the journey up as your flesh is being revealed. She nips a little harder on your soft spots, leaving behind love bites in her wake. Little reminders of where she’d been and how her love poured out of her and onto your skin. When the shirt is being brought over your head and blocking your view, she brings one of your nipples into her mouth. Your hands go to the back of her head to bring her closer to your chest, arching into her mouth. The pleasure only multiplies when she laughs around your bud, pulling back as you whine out from the feeling. 

“Move your hands for a second, Love. Lemme get this off you,” there are kisses left on your boobs as she says it. Taking your hands into hers as she places them beside your head, and leans down slowly to almost connect your lips. But she just hovers over them for a second, breathing in the same air as each other. She pulls back with a smirk when you try to push yourself up, and then she slips the shirt over your head, throwing it back to its home on the floor of your bedroom. 

Her lips are on your collarbone as she slips a knee between your legs, resting against your naked pussy. Wet kisses are tracing back down to your other nipple this time. The warmth of her mouth around it is intoxicating, your tits extra sensitive since they’d been neglected for so long. She looks up at your face once she notices your body has a mind of its own, grinding up against her thigh as sinful sounds flow from your mouth. Another laugh rips through her, and to both of your surprise, it sends you into an orgasm. Not a super hard or intense one, but still enough to have your eyes closing and your legs trying to close around hers. 

Alessia looks down and groans loudly at the sight. Your creamy cunt making a mess on her sweatpants, some white cum streaking the grey fabric along with the giant wet stain taking up a majority of her thigh. 

She’s entranced by the sight, jumping when she feels your hands on her neck. You’re pulling her into a searing kiss as her hand comes up to play with your messy pussy. “No, Less. Wanna make you feel good, too. Please baby,” you break the kiss as your hand stops hers. 

“How do you want me then?” 

“Wanna taste you, please.” 

So she hops off the bed and strips herself naked, but you don’t expect her to push you back down as she climbs up onto your body. Usually, she’d just guide your head with a hand in your hair against her cunt, but not today. Oh no. Today she’s resting her knees beside your head as she massages your scalp for a second. 

“Ready, Love?” 

“Hurry up and sit on my fucking face!”

She laughs out a cackle a that, a true hearty laugh. Then she’s sinking down onto your awaiting mouth, resting her weight down onto your face. You swear you could die right now between her legs, and they’d find you with a smile on your face. The taste of her sets off a primal moan to take over you, your eyes rolling back as she grinds down onto your tongue. Alessia always makes the prettiest noises while getting fucked, you could spend hours pleasuring her body and you’d cum just from the sounds she makes alone. Her hands find your hair as yours find her thighs, both squeezing and holding on for dear life as she speeds up her movements. The beds starting to squeak, reminiscent of how she knocked the headboard into the wall last night and left a small indention. 

Your hands move up from her thighs to her tits, rolling her nipples between your fingers as her clit starts humping repeatedly into your nose. Every one of your senses is overwhelmed with just “Alessia” as you take your tongue and start fucking her with it, drunk off the idea of getting her to cum like this. The view is breathtaking above you; Alessia with her head thrown back, back arching as your hands work magic on her chest, and her toned stomach flexing with every roll of her hips above you. 

It’s then when you moan again into her pussy that she’s cumming in your mouth, letting the nastiest words roll off her tongue, “La mia piccola troia, swallow it all! Take what I give you Carino mio.”

Wanting to please her, you make sure to suck up every drop that comes out of her. Your tongue slips out of her to clean up, an extra flick to her clit as you finish. She’s pulling away after that, flopping onto the bed beside you trying to catch her breath. One arm pulls you onto her chest, placing a kiss on your hairline as she rubs your bare back. “You did so good for me, Love. Made me feel so fucking good. Better than anyone ever has  .”

​​

You lift your head at that, a blush on your cheeks from her words. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, Baby,” It’s let out with a smile gracing her lips and a twinkle in her eye. She’s throwing her head to the side with a loud sigh after a moment, “Fuck you’re so pretty! I can never get enough of you, you know”

You sit up at this, straddling her lap as you swing a leg over her. Taking both of her hands into yours as you interlock them, and bringing them up for a tender kiss to her knuckles. “You’re prettier, Lessie. A worldwide splendida ragazza.” you were praying you didn’t butcher the pronunciation, having spent those two months away studying Italian every night. 

You see tears welling up in her eyes and you instantly frown, opening your mouth to apologize for upsetting her. “I’m sorry, Less. I thought I could learn it-” but you’re cut off by her soft lips on yours. All the emotions and pent-up frustrations from missing each other poured into this one shared kiss. 

“Ti amo, Amore mio bellissimos.” She says it right against your lips, a few of her tears running down between your lips. The saltiness only adds to the passion of the lip lock. “Ti amo tanto,” you reply to her. As you’re lifting one of her legs and slipping one of yours beneath it, you drop your cunt against hers. Both of you let out a moan at the sudden contact. Alessia’s hands find your hips as she starts guiding your movements, controlling your body because she knows it better than you do. Your fingers couldn’t make you cum while you were away, nothing could. Because she has ruined you for anybody else, your pleasure is only loyal to her now. “Look at us, Amore mio. Look how messy we make each other. How much we love and miss each other.”

You look between you, the way both of your thighs are covered in slick. Your puffy clits bump together with every roll of your hips. You feel too far away from her, even though you’re so close. So your hands reach out and pull her closer, lips finding one another again. They’re red, swollen, and sore at this point, but neither of you cares. Too lost in each other to even register the slight pain. 

Your legs start getting tired as your orgasm approaches, slowing down as the pain of that at least catches up with you. Alessia notices and pulls away from your lips, “Wrap your arms around me, Love.” And you do it without question, no idea why she wants you to, but trusting her completely anyway. 

Within seconds you’re squealing as she flips you two over on the mattress, blonde hair cascading down to frame her face perfectly. You swear with the sunlight shining in she looks like a proper angel, a halo surrounding her head in the morning daze. Her hands lift and situate your body exactly how she wants it. She’s got her hips slamming back into yours in no time, the sound of skin slapping and the words of praise passing between the two of you fills up the room. Your arms are around her neck pulling her down to be chest to chest with you, just wanting her to suffocate you honestly. If you could crawl into her skin you would, but alas this is the closest you’ll ever get. You swear you can feel your hearts beat in synch like this, the thumping of your them so loud in your chests it’s making your body tingle. Her hands find your hips, rubbing circles into them as a way to ground you. Her lips leave kisses up the side of your neck, stopping to nip at your jaw. 

“Cum for me, Love.” her lips trail down to your ear, letting out a groan as she tugs on your earlobe with her teeth, “La moglie futura mia.”

Finally understanding the term of endearment is what does it for you. You’d heard her call you that a million times and never thought of it, having slipped your mind with all the other nicknames she gives you. Your legs start shaking and your grip on her neck tightens, making sure she stays pressed against you the whole time. “My Future Wife,” replays in your head over and over as the pleasure from your orgasm wrecks through your body. Screams of “Te Amo!” “I love you” and “Less” all come out mixed as the wires in your brain start crossing the two languages and the girl who speaks them.

You can’t stop the butterflies from exploding in your tummy as you realize she said that to you for the first time at her family’s Christmas all those years ago. That’s how she’d introduced you to them as they welcomed you both in the door, a big grin on her face. “This is, (y/n). La moglie future mia.” Now all the hugs and promises to return each year as you two were leaving make a little more sense.

She doesn’t stop her hips, chasing her own high as she feels it approaching. “Come on,” she rubs her hands on your forearms gently, “Let me see your pretty face when I cum, Darlin.” You whine a little at the thought of her pulling away, but nonetheless let her guide your arms away. She reconnects your hands together and lays them above you, eyes focusing on the way your mouths open and panting for her. The sweat dripping down your brow and all the small details in your face show off the way she’s making you feel. All of it’s rolling in her stomach, the pit of fire growing by the second. 

“Cum for me,” it’s breathless as you say it, her eyes instantly finding yours. “La moglie futura mia,” it’s a sentiment that you’re only now able to return. The weight of the words and the fact you spoke them back to her is overwhelming. Her hips stutter into yours, and her eyes shut as she crashes her lips back down onto yours. Moaning into your mouth as her orgasm washes over her, rolling in waves as she slows her pace to a stop. 

For a while you’re both just lying there, her head on your chest and your fingers playing in her hair. The sounds of you both trying to regain a normal breathing pattern is slowly trying to lull you to sleep. So at peace in the comfortable silence and the safety of having Alessia in your arms– exactly where she should be. She lifts her head up, trailing some kisses down before resting her chin on your stomach. “Can I bring your tray of food to you in bed now?” 

It’s all really a blur till then for you. Your body is so so tired, your eyes getting heavier as the minutes tick by. You’re almost fully asleep by the time she comes back, only responding to her in grunts and hums. She chuckles at you as she moves your body to sit up against the headboard, propping a pillow behind you for extra comfort.

 “Alright, at least eat your toast or drink some juice. Your body needs some energy after that,” It’s soft when she says it. Her lips press feather-light kisses to your face as your eyes start to crack open. She’s got that damn apron on again and you shake your head at that, a laugh bubbling out of your lips. Your Alessia– butt naked except for her “Kiss The Cook” apron wrapped around her body. The tray placed over your legs takes your attention next. Despite being sleepy you are super hungry, even more than when you first ventured downstairs to steal a piece of bacon. You shake your head in agreement before reaching towards your plate, but your fingers hit something velvety on the edge of the tray stopping you. You focus your eyes a bit, squinting till the sun adjusts for your sight, and that’s when you see it. The small blue box is set right before your plate. Your heart rate picks up and you look over at Alessia with a confused look on your face. 

“Open it, Caro.” She says it with so much endearment you can’t help but smile. 

When you open it up it’s a beautiful ring. A gold band adorned with the gemstone of your birth month. Your eyes widen at the gesture, tears filling them before you turn to face your girlfriend. She’s wiping them away with her fingers, reaching down to take your hands into hers.

“Marry me, (y/n). It doesn’t have to be now, in a year, or even five. Just promise me that you’ll be la mogile futura mia.”

“Of course, I’ll marry you, Less!” You’re gasping and jumping up– right before your knees hit the tray you forgot about and you’re letting out a cry of pain from the commotion. Your hands come up to hide your face, a blush deepening as embarrassment sets in. “Shit! That seriously fucking hurt!” 

You’re only met with a laugh and her hands pulling yours away from your face. You look back at her when you feel the ring being slipped onto your finger, her eyes never leaving yours as she does so. “Looks like you’re inheriting the Russo family clumsiness already, Love.” 

She takes a second to move the tray of food off of the bed before returning. Her lips come down, kissing your knees where they’d been hurt as she rubs soothing shapes into your calves. Once she’s satisfied with her work she moves back up and throws her body on top of yours, wrapping your limbs around each other as the reality starts to set in: You’re engaged to be married. 

“I can’t believe we’re gonna be a family, Less!” it’s a whispered shout– the excitement doubling as you bring your hand towards your face to get another look at your ring. But before you can tell her how beautiful the ring is, she’s cupping your face and pulling it closer to hers. Her eyes render you speechless, looking into yours like the galaxy is hidden inside them. “We’ve been a family for a while now, Vita mia. I’m only just now growing the nerve to make it official.”

[hyuckiefluff]

drunk in you | mark lee

pairing: mark lee x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers word count: 1.9k ish warnings: alcohol consumption, cursing, suggestive language, reader is down bad for mark (aren’t we all), implications of drunk sex summary: was Mark Lee’s new haircut really the drop that would tip the glass over and make you spill how you really feel about him?… Well, the haircut and also the alcohol. author's note: i’m backk!! srry for disappearing for *checks calendar* two months lol this has been sitting in my drafts since mark cut his hair aaand i wanted to post it for his bday so let’s pretend im not 3 days late! HAPPY BDAY MARKIEEE <33 it’s a bit short cuz i felt like i’d have to make a second part if i wanted to add smut to yknow fully get into it lol idk but consider this a little teaser and if it doesn’t flop I’ll post a second part :)

part 2

A sudden burst of bright light pierced through your closed eyelids, jolting you awake from the deep sleep you were in. As you gradually became aware of your surroundings, you couldn't ignore the soreness in your muscles and the strange stickiness between your legs. However, it was the foreign hand resting right on top of your ass that sent alarm bells ringing through your mind. Your eyes shot open, and regret instantly washed over you as a pulsating pain hammered at your head.

"What the fuck..." you groaned, attempting to focus your blurry vision and make sense of the situation. Upon looking around, you realized that you were in the guys' dorm, more specifically, in Mark's room...

Then it hit you like a ton of bricks.

If you were in Mark's room, then that hand... and the body it belonged to, had to be...

Oh my god, what happened last night?

8 hours earlier…

Drinking with your friends after a grueling week at uni wasn't anything out of the ordinary for you. In fact, it'd be weirder if you were cooped up at home worrying about midterm grades instead of laughing your head off at whatever Jeno just blurted out. First sign that you were drunk, the boy wasn’t even that funny. His neck and ears were flushed crimson, a clear sign that he, too, had indulged in one too many drinks. And there was Jisung, practically glued to Jeno's side, oozing a whole lot of gooey affection that he would vehemently deny once he sobered up. 

Renjun and Haechan were locked in a heated argument on the floor, their voices rising in the air over some trivial matter that would probably be forgotten by morning. Surprisingly, though, they seemed to be the least intoxicated among you. 

Meanwhile, Jaemin was frantically rummaging through the kitchen, his frustrated groans and curses echoing throughout the room. It was clear that his search for more alcohol was proving to be a fruitless endeavor.

Beside you, Chenle was on his phone, engrossed in a replay of the Warriors game. At first glance he doesn’t look drunk, but you knew better. If he were truly sober, he'd be shouting and cursing at his phone screen, venting his frustrations as his beloved team struggled to keep up. Instead, he was lazily sipping from his nearly empty cup while his glossed over eyes remained glued to the screen.

Mark Lee was the only one missing from the group. You sent him a few voice messages letting him know that if he didn’t arrive in the next 10 minutes you would eat his portion of the kimchi jiggae you’d ordered earlier. He responded within seconds with a funny GIF that showed a man running and tripping.

Mark stumbled through the door just a few minutes later. He was soaked from head to toe, his hoodie covering most of his head. He was panting and his shoes were muddy and wet, he got rid of them in the entrance and looked up, clearly out of breath.  But you were already stuffing your face with his food anyways. Whoops. 

Though as soon as he pulled down the hood a chunk of food went down the wrong pipe. You coughed uncontrollably, your chest heaving as you desperately tried to regain your breath.

"Dude!! Are you seriously eating my food?" he exclaimed.

But when he noticed your struggling state, his words trailed off, replaced by genuine worry. "Yo, are you good?" he asked, walking closer to you and patting you in the back.

You managed to nod weakly, staring up at him. 

"Why’re you so late? Oh, new haircut?" Haechan chimed in from the floor.

"Yeah... what's the verdict?" Mark asked, turning his head to the side to better show off the lines of his undercut, his gaze lingering on you. 

So many thoughts raced through your mind but you were unable to form a single word. Mark had had long hair for quite some time now, and it was you who had encouraged him to let it grow. You enjoyed styling it, braiding it, and adorning it with charms—Mark gave you the freedom to do whatever you pleased with his hair. You had grown fond of his long hair, especially after helping nurse it back to health from the damage caused by bleaching and dyeing. Yet now he was sporting short hair and an undercut with edgy designs on the side, and you couldn't help but openly ogle at him. 

He looked hot as fuck.

It’s true that you harbored feelings for Mark that went beyond friendship but you were always able to hide it well and it worked out better this way for both of you (or that’s what you liked to believe). Needless to say you liked him a lot and had for a while so the sight of his new look had sent your emotions spiraling. He showed up merely minutes ago and you already felt so weak at the knees and your brain was fuzzy even though you hadn’t drank that much yet.

"Don't like it," you muttered, hoping your words would deflect attention from the clear shift in your expression. Turning around, you sought refuge on the couch next to Chenle, placing the bowl of food aside. Your stomach was turning weirdly, making it impossible to swallow another bite.

You scolded yourself inwardly for being so dramatic. It was just a haircut. But, god, he looked so good.

In an attempt to calm yourself down, you chugged your cup with soju and let out a big groan after emptying it. The sound catching Chenle’s attention as he peered curiously from his phone. You offered him a closed-lip smile, prompting an intrigued eyebrow raise from him.

Mark was awkwardly standing on the same spot. He was a bit taken aback by your sudden coldness. He definitely picked up on your strange reaction the moment he walked through the door. But he brushed it off.

"Okaay… Well I was late 'cause I was getting the good stuff," Mark explained, his frown replaced by a grin as he pulled out a beer from the bags he was carrying.

"Let's goooo!" Jaemin yelled, returning from the kitchen right on cue as if he some sort of alcohol detector. He eagerly snatched the bags from Mark and made a kissy face to the boy.

The tension eased a bit with Jaemin's infectious enthusiasm, and you decided to not focus on whatever Mark was making you feel right now. The drinks were here, and the good times were about to roll. You made a mental note to sort out your feelings later.

~

Alcohol definitely did not make your situation better. The more you drank the harder it was to keep your thoughts at bay. Mark was now sitting on the single couch in front of you and every little expression or movement he made had you either biting your lip or pressing your thighs together.

Talking about thighs… the shorts he was wearing displayed his muscular legs in a way that was making it quite impossible for you to not devour them with your eyes. God, your brain had turned into that of a hormonal teenage boy. Were you seriously staring at his thighs and imagining how it would feel to ride them?

Haechan came over to you and filled your glass with more Soju. You downed it as soon as he was done pouring it, earning you a weird look from Chenle who had been eyeing you ever since Mark arrived. 

"Okay, what's with you?" Chenle mumbled, the words escaping his lips just loudly enough to capture everyone's attention. Considering you had the noisiest group of friends, all eyes turned your way, including Mark's.

Mark seemed to be getting tipsy; you could tell by the way his big, expressive eyes shimmered even more than usual and the faint blush that adorned his cheeks and neck.

"Hmm?" you managed to reply, your gaze still fixated somewhere on Mark's face. You were completely unaware of the intense amount of attention you were giving him, but Chenle, who was relatively more sober than both of you, picked up on it.

"You're literally looking at Mark like you want to eat him," Chenle chuckled, teasingly calling you out.

"Yeah, what's up with that?" Renjun asked, suddenly intrigued by the topic.

"I am?" you replied, sounding genuinely confused, though your heart raced with thoughts you were about to voice out loud. "Uhm… yeah I kinda do..."

An audible gasp followed, and you knew without looking that it came from Haechan.

Mark's expression remained unreadable, his half-lidded eyes locked on yours, revealing no discernible emotions. Was he weirded out? Normally, you might have felt self-conscious about blurting out something like that, but alcohol had significantly lowered your inhibitions.

"That's a wild thing to say," Haechan interjected with a mix of shock and amusement. "Do you actually wanna tap that?" He pointed at Mark, who was still gazing at you.

"Very much so," you replied nonchalantly, as if discussing the weather, even though you were openly talking about hooking up with your best friend in front of all your other best friends.

"Why don't you come here then?" Mark's words caught you off guard, and you couldn't help but notice the way he shifted, his legs spread invitingly.

You burst into laughter assuming he was only joking to tease you. However, the lack of a reaction from him made you realize he was dead serious. Your eyes locked on his own, reflecting the same desire you had been giving him just moments ago.

The idea of getting up and walking to him, straddling his lap, and kissing him flashed through your mind.

But the moment was interrupted by a voice that snapped both of you out of your trance. "Gross!" Jisung whined, hiding his face in Jeno's back, the older one lazily laughing and patting Jisung's thigh. "Okay, c'mon, I think we've all had enough to drink," he declared, getting up, with Jisung clinging to him. Chenle follow suit also giving you two a slightly disgusted stare.

"Yeah, one more drink for me, and I'm afraid the kimchi jiggae I had earlier might end up all over the carpet," Haechan chimed in, rubbing his stomach before disappearing upstairs.

Renjun also stood up and playfully messed up Mark's hair while saying, "By the way, happy birthday."

You glanced at the table clock and realized it was already 12:01. You had been so excited about Mark's birthday earlier in the day, but the alcohol and the tension between the two of you made you totally forget about it. Gathering your courage, you approached him. He remained sprawled with his legs out, but now he looked up at you, his lips slightly wet, distracting you momentarily.

"Happy birthday, silly," you smiled and awkwardly patted his head, hoping he didn't notice how you pressed your thighs together, trying to ease the uncomfortable ache between your legs.

"What did you get me?" he suddenly asked, and you blinked a few times, your brain struggling to register the extremely flirtatious tone he used.

When you didn't respond immediately, he continued, "Because I can think of one thing I want the most right now," lightly grazing your leg with his hand. You didn't flinch or move away.

"R-really? What is it?" you found yourself stuttering, a reaction that would have made you cringe if you were more sober.

"Come here, and I'll show you," he smirked and with little protest from you, he pulled you onto his lap.

a/n: i have a smut scene ready for this (well it’s in my brain but I’ll squeeze it out if u guys want that second part) soooo comment or simply like this so i know the audience wants it

also yes i did change the title of this but pls disregard that lol

© hyuckiefluff

part 2

[discordantwritings]

Rock Hard (Rock Band! Cross Guild x Reader)

Pt. 3 The Guitarist

Prelude // The Vocalist // The Guitarist // The Drummer

Warnings: NSFW 18+ MDNI, gn afab! Reader, semi-public sex, Buggy is a Problem, possessive Mihawk, fingering, oral sex, no Crocodile yet but soon

WC: 2.4k

Summary: So, you slept with the main singer of Cross Guild, who is also your boss. It’s fine. No one will know.

Except Mihawk, Mihawk finds out pretty fast.

Notes: I got distracted for (checks calendar) 2 months but I swear I’m not abandoning anything

Tagging: @keiva1000

“And then you have the meeting with possible collaborators at the end of your day.”

“And why am I doing that instead of Crocodile?” Mihawk asks from behind his desk.

“Because he is busy scouting concert venues.” You explain, clipboard held to your chest.

“And Buggy?”

“I think why we know Buggy isn’t doing it.”

He pauses, rolling his eyes. “We do. Fine. But make sure I have the recording studio booked for Friday and nothing interrupting it.”

“Of course. Any other schedule requests?” You ask, jotting down his demands.

“No just that.” He waves a dismissive hand and you politely nod and head to the door.

“Oh- one more question.” His words stop you and you turn on your heels back to him.

“Are you fucking the clown?”

You nearly drop your clipboard in shock, brain trying to process the absurd question before it quickly turns into a sharp embarrassment. There isn’t time to get out any words before Mihawk is speaking again.

“That answers that then.” His voice is flat but you can hear the slight edge of disappointment.

“It was only once and I swear it will never happen again.” It was the truth- since your moment with him in his office a few weeks ago nothing has happened. Sure he would grab your ass when no one was looking but there hasn’t been a spare moment where the two of you could do anything more.

“Look, I don’t care who you sleep with. As long as you don’t let it interfere with your work it’s fine.” You would feel relieved if you still weren’t drowning in embarrassment. “I’m just surprised.”

“I’m sorry.” Is all you can manage, unable to look him in the eyes.

“Don’t be. It’s unbecoming.”

You can only nod as you slip out of his office in shame.

The next few days everything is normal, and neither you nor Mihawk acknowledge the brief conversation that had happened. You felt the information prickling at the back of your brain every time you were in the vicinity of Mihawk though, knowing how much he was judging you for you indiscretion.

But true to his word he didn’t seem to care as long as it didn’t affect your work. You treated Buggy the same as everyone else, even if his hands and gaze wandered constantly. So, while you remained professional, Buggy didn’t. It wasn’t a surprise to you but an annoyance as he grew bolder and bolder with each passing day.

Like now right now, while you’re sitting down for a meeting with all of The Cross Guild and some investors. You and the band are all sitting on one side of a long table while three business men sit across from you. Today you’re a glorified note taker as Crocodile handles most of the business, sitting and writing between Buggy and Mihawk. You don’t mind it too much- at least until Buggy starts to fool around.

You wanted to stab him with your pencil the instant you felt his hand creep onto your thigh. Restraining yourself you instead shoot him a glare which falls painfully short of your intended effect. The clown just smiles at you as his hand creeps further up your leg. Your hand tightly clasps on top of his to stop his movements but he’s more nimble than you give him credit for, easily sliding out of your hold and darting to what he can manage to grab of your ass.

You’ve missed a minute or so of conversation so despite the hand on you, you try to focus back in on the conversation- only to find Mihawk staring at you. There’s a long moment of eye contact before his gaze darts down to where Buggy’s hand is and back up to you. You’re mortified and try your best to silently convey to Mihawk that you’re sorry and it’s all Buggy’s fault.

There must be something he understands because you feel him look slightly beyond you to where Buggy is sitting and glare- hard. The hand quickly retracts and you’re able to relax slightly and focus back in on your work. You manage to figure out most of what you missed and the meeting is quickly finished much to your relief. You need to go scream in an empty room.

After politely shaking hands with everyone and handing over your notes to Crocodile you dart out into the hallway to go back to your office- only to be stopped by a hand grabbing your wrist. You turn around and see Buggy with a shit eating grin plastered on his painted face.

“We running off somewhere?” He uses his hold on you to pull you in close.

“Buggy I swear to god-“ You look around, making sure no one else has come out of the room yet. “If anyone sees us-“

“Then what?” He moves and you back up, your back hitting the wall. “You’re good at your job- you won’t get fired. Besides, everyone will blame me.”

It’s true- everyone will blame him- but that doesn’t stop you from distinctly remembering Mihawk’s words only a few days ago. He would kill both of you if-

“Clown.”

Suddenly Mihawk is looming over Buggy and you watch as his face pales to the same white shade as his makeup accents. He slowly releases his hold on your wrist before sliding out between you and Mihawk so he can turn and face him.

“Mihawk, buddy, great meeting today. I was just checking in with our manager on the- uh- the-“

“Don’t pretend you know what the meeting was about.” Mihawk then looks at you and you fight the urge to meld with the wall. “Come with me.”

You hang your head and follow Mihawk, not looking at Buggy as you pass him. You go down a few hallways, brain trying to find some kind of excuse to save you. Caught up in those thoughts you almost run into his back when he stops abruptly and flings open a door you’ve never seen before.

Mihawk’s hand pushes lightly against your back and you’re ushered into the newly opened room. It’s dark and small and you realize as he shuts the door behind him your in a storage closet. You’re not fired. Mihawk’s going to just kill you.

“What was the one thing I asked?” He asks, body pressing against you in the narrow space.

“That I didn’t let my relationship with Buggy affect my work.” You admit, pressing your back against the wall to try and not be as close to him.

“Is it a relationship?” He asks, voice low.

That wasn’t where you thought this discussion was going, but it was a fair ask. “I’m not sure. I don’t think anything is ever serious with Buggy.”

“No, nothing ever is.” You’re suddenly very aware of how close Mihawk is, how he’s bending over you slightly and caging you in. One of his arms is bracing against the wall next to you and his other brushes up against your hip. “He’s immature. Unfocused. Did he even make you cum?”

“He did.” You confess, fighting every urge to press against him.

“Surprising.” He hums, hand now fully gripping your waist. “Well if you’re not in a relationship with him you should have no problems seeing what other people could offer you. The pleasure other people could give you.”

“What other people?” You ask breathlessly, still searching for confirmation that this is somehow real.

“I think you know.” Deft fingers undo the clasps of your pants and slip past your waistband.

“Yeah- I think I do.” Your head falls back against the wall as Mihawk’s knees push your thighs apart.

His hand is slow as it moves down, pushing past fabric and gently skirting over your folds. Mihawk hums into your ear when he finds the wetness seeping out of you. “I wonder… is this for me or for him?”

“You!” You answer quickly, desperate as you fight the urge to move your hips down closer to his fingers. “Started when you dragged me away from him.”

“Really now?” That must have been a good answer as one of his fingers rubs along your clit.

His mouth moves to your neck and you tilt your head to give him better access. You whine as he sucks a bruise into your neck, determined to mark you. The possessive act has you melting even further into his touch, relying on his strength to keep you upright against the wall.

One long finger presses into your entrance as his thumb stays firmly on your clit. Your hands are balled in fists at your sides as you fight the urge to touch Mihawk- afraid of ruining the tense moment. That doesn’t stop you from moaning when a second finger quickly joins the first and skillfully curves inside you.

“So noisy… do you want someone to hear you?” His words make you suddenly very aware that you’re still just in a closet in a hallway anyone could be walking down right now.

One of your hands flies up and covers your mouth as his fingers curl again, muffling another moan. Mihawk chuckles as his fingers somehow find spots you could never hope to hit with your own digits. You resort to biting down on your hand when he finally hits that delicate spot deep inside you.

You had watched his fingers move over his guitar, effortlessly playing rhythms your mind couldn’t even keep up with, but you never let your mind think of the other uses those skilled fingers could have. He plays you just like his favored instrument, strumming inside you to get you to sing for him. Now you don’t think you can ever watch him play without these feelings washing over you again.

You’re so close to your orgasm as his fingers make a mess of you but right as you’re about to fly over the edge his fingers still completely and you almost scream. Your eyes find his in the dark and you can barely see any gold in them.

“Say you want me, not him.” He says, voice barely above a whisper.

So close to your edge, you probably would have said anything to get his fingers moving again.

“Mihawk- please I need you- I can’t even think about him when you’re- fuck your fingers are so good please Mihawk-“ You plead and beg, voice pathetic in the small space.

“That’s right.” His fingers move again and your knees give out as he massages the spot deep inside you while pressing against your clit.

If you were in your right mind you’d be embarrassed at the wetness soaking Mihawk’s fingers and your underwear but in the throws of your orgasm you couldn’t give a damn. His fingers work you gently through it, pulling out only when your own legs can hold you up.

“Open.” You obey his command without a second thought and fingers covered in your juices slip onto your tongue.

You leave your mouth hanging open as your tongue swirls around his fingers, making sure to clean every last drop of you off. He’s fixated on the way your tongue moves and you try not to let it get to your head that you have a man like Mihawk captivated. When you’re done you slowly pull away and stare into his eyes, patiently waiting for his next command. You don’t have to wait long.

“Knees.” You drop to the floor so fast you’re sure your knees are going to be bruised but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Your hands quickly work at his belt and shove down his pants, letting his hard, red cock spring free. Bringing his tip to your mouth you let pooled spit drip down, coating his length. One of your hands moves to pump his length as your spit eases the way as your tongue swirls around his tip. You take him into your mouth and hear him groan above you.

Looking up you see him almost doubled over you, one arm holding him up against the wall as his head hangs down to look at you. When you finally catch his gaze his free hand runs through your hair, surprisingly delicate.

“Just like that love.” His hand holds your head but doesn’t force you down further, allowing you to keep your own pace.

You work slowly, forgetting the fact that at any point in time someone could walk in on the two of you. The feeling of him sitting on your tongue is intoxicating as you take him into your mouth inch by inch. Breathing in through your nose you push him into your throat, eventually getting his whole length inside.

You feel his hand grip you tighter as he moans above you. “Fuck you’re good. Can you- just hold right there-“

You listen and don’t move, swallowing around his length and feeling the way his cock throbs in response. You hold like this for what feels like forever until your throat starts to get tired and you slowly push back against Mihawk’s hand. He lets you pull off and you gasp for breath, thick lines of spit still connecting you.

Mihawk’s hand guides you to tilt your head back and he brings his other hand off the wall to furiously pump his own length. You let your mouth fall open as his guides his tip to your tongue. You make sure to look at him as hot ropes of cum fall onto your tongue, making sure not to swallow.

“Let me see.” He crouches down to your level, hand holding your jaw so he can find the perfect angle to see his cum pooling in your mouth. “That’s right- now swallow for me.”

You do so- glad to get the salty taste from your mouth and also glad to see how much Mihawk likes your obedience. He watches your face for a few seconds before pushing forward and capturing your mouth in a needy, sloppy kiss. Despite it only lasting a few seconds, you’re breathless when he pulls away and stands up.

He quickly tucks himself back into his pants and zips himself up before reaching a hand down to you to help you up. He takes care of your pants as well, pressing one last kiss to your neck as he does so.

“See you tomorrow.” He says, a slight smile on his face as he slinks out the door of the closet, leaving you alone in the dark.

You’re seriously fucked.

[woozivrse]

Hiding the Truth, Pretending I'm Fine

Jeon Wonwoo x gn! reader

Genre: Hanahaki AU, college AU, fluff, usual angst that comes with the AU, happy ending!

Words: 4k and some change!

Warnings: vomiting, doctors, surgery mention(doesn't happen! don't worry<3), implied depression? reader feels down and i kinda wrote it in a way that it could be read as depression..., death mentions(one a joke at the start, and the other being apart of the whole AU thing..., cursing, my ocs Mai and Kimi(ok my friends oc...) use different pronouns, Mai(She/He) and Kimi(She/They), blood

Notes: sooo... if you've read this before you are either 1) a friend i had read this for school or 2) you are my old english teacher, in which, hi. why are you here. please leave. please. aka i am repurposing this for tumblr, because i am pretty proud of it, meaning please be gentle on me. i am just a tiny tiny child. but tell me what you think! tell me if i missed any warnings, and stuff like that! also, stole the title from bittersweet. you'll see why! enjoy<3

You had been in love with Jeon Wonwoo for who knows how long, but you hadn't known it. Until you started coughing. You wish it had been easier.

❀DAY 1, SUNDAY 8:30AM, YOUR APARTMENT

“Ooh my baby,” You cooed. “How's my little baby~ Hm? How are you Hoshi? What about you Byeol~~ Thank you for the gift~~”

Kimiko, your high school friend slash roommate, burst into your room. “Stop being a crazy cat person! Get up and out, Wonwoo is waiting for you,”

“Already? I just woke up–”

“Oh, no he's not here, here. He's just waiting for you like, in general y'know?”

“Die,”

“Not how you talk to your bestest friend in the world,” She pouted.

“That would be Wonwoo,”

“Bestest roommate in the world?”

“Mai.”

“Fuck youuuu,”

❀9:25AM, ROCKET CAFE

Sitting down, Wonwoo placed an iced latte in front of you. Every Sunday, the two of you met at either the library or the cafe to plan your week out together. This week was the cafe. He stared at you, watching you work.

“Stop watching me, creep,” you grinned, tapping your foot against Wonwoo. “C’mon, I know I’m pretty ‘n all but you really should stop staring at me,”

“So full of yourself,” He teased. “You’ve got something, here I’ll get it.”

You rolled your eyes at Wonwoo pretending to fix your hair. Always trying to “fix” something, your hair, your clothes. You knew you weren't a messy person. What you didn't know was why Wonwoo did it. Sighing, you just let him fiddle with your hair. As he did that, you stole his phone, unlocking it to check his calendar for the week.

“Boo,” you pouted. “We barely match up this month, outside of class. Look! We don’t match this week and next week we match once, on Friday night,”

Seemingly done with your hair, he checked your planner. “Oh, you’re right. Isn’t that during the get together Cheol is holding?”

“Oh I think it is,” you sulked. “No free time for just us! Oh I am in pain, jail for a thousand years!”

He chuckled. “It’s fine, we can sneak some time in,”

“Not at a Cheol party. I’m gonna be tipsy and you’re probably going to be on babysitting duty,”

“Babysitting you,”

Grumbling, you stood from the chair and fell onto Wonwoo's shoulders like a lump of nothing, smacking him a little. Vernon, your mutual friend who worked at the cafe, took a picture and sent it to their group chat without the two of you, followed by a text saying “yo right in front of my salad?”. The group chat exploded with messages with variants of “they’re seriously not dating?” and one text from Joshua, one of the other workers at the cafe, saying “get back to work!!”.

❀DAY 4, WEDNESDAY 12:30PM, ON THE WAY TO CLASS

This, you decided early on in your college days, was your favorite part of college. Walking with Wonwoo to whatever class you two shared, was great(unless the two of you didn't share a class, in which he would walk you to whatever class you had after the two of you had lunch).

You looked at him, seeing him staring at you, again. “Hey, what's with you looking at me so often, huh?” You raised a brow. “What, do you like me or something?”

He smiled, “Sure, something like that,”

Your face warmed, you could just feel the heat go to your ears.

You whipped your head away from him before saying. “Oh– oh just shut it! Don't even joke about that, Wonwoo!”

And then you started coughing, which granted, the weather had been getting colder, but you started coughing hard. Leaning down, you started coughing into your elbow before pulling away and seeing… petals? Bloody, purple flower petals. You quickly grabbed them before shoving them into your pocket.

Wonwoo put his hand on the small of your back, rubbing it. “Woah, hey, are you alright? Do you need water, anything? I’ll take you home if you need,”

You nodded, your throat still feeling a little raw. “Um… yeah, water would be nice, please,”

He handed you his water bottle, yours being at home. “Here, just drink from it. I’m fine without it for now,”

You sent him an appreciative look before downing the water. “Okay, I think I’ll be good for class now,”

He looked at you, obviously worried. “If you're sure… but I’m taking you home if you start coughing like that again,”

❀1:47, CLASS

You started coughing again.

There was no reason for it, you had just caught Wonwoo once again looking at you weirdly, causing your heart to flutter just a bit before you had berated yourself, thinking, Stop it, stop it! He doesn't like me…he just doesn't. And then the coughing happened again.

It had been so bad that the professor had stopped class and asked if you had needed to go. Wonwoo answered that question by grabbing your stuff and taking you out of the class. Oh well, you thought, Guess going to that class was for nothing.

Once you had finished coughing, you again found bloody petals. What the fuck…

“Hey, are you sure you're okay?” Wonwoo looked really worried now, placing a hand on your forehead, then cheeks. “You certainly don't seem okay, but you’re not warm or anything,”

You shook your head. “I think it might be the weather. You know I get a little iffy around this time of year,”

He hesitantly accepted your reason, knowing it was true, just usually happened later in the year. He shrugged his jacket off, placing it on your shoulders. “Well, keep this on until we reach your place, I don't want you actually getting sick,”

❀2:07PM, YOUR APARTMENT

Sitting on your bed, your eyebrows scrunched up before you sighed. Just, what was happening to you? Coughing up flowers– that's something out of a storybook, not real life.

Your heart fluttered when you thought about Wonwoo, but why. Why was your heart doing this, why, why, why. Wonwoo was so sweet to you, that's why, you reasoned. Right? You…didn't like him, did you? You couldn't.

You started coughing, again. Running to the bathroom, you knelt over the toilet.

❀2:34PM

Kimi sang. “Your favorite dancer is home~”

Kimi stepped into the kitchen, dropping her bag into the floor, before calling your name. “Hellooo?”

Silence filled the apartment, which left Kimi worried. Walking through the hallway, Kimi knocked on your bedroom door, opening it when no noise happened. Nothing.

“What the…” Kimi muttered. “Ugh, where’d I put my phone… dance practice you thot!”

Dragging herself back to the kitchen, she shuffled through their duffel bag. Calling your phone, rings came from the bathroom. Making her way to the bathroom, Kimi barged in. There you were, in all your shitty, sweaty glory was you, throwing up into the toilet.

“Fuck!” Kimi dropped to her knees, rubbing your back. “You should’ve told us you were sick. One of us would’ve stayed home for you,”

You whined. “Kimi… it’s fine both of you were busy, I couldn’t let you guys stay home. Besides, this happened during class.”

“The one you have with Wonwoo?”

Nodding, you straightened. “Mm… he brought me home,”

“What happened?”

“I… um… started coughing up flower petals…” You muttered.

“You what?”

Sighing, you reached your hand into your pockets and brought out the bloody flower petals.

“What the– Why are they bloody!?”

“I started coughing these up,” You started to explain. “Look, they’re in the toilet bowl too. I… I asked Sayu, before I went into the bathroom, she said they were bittersweet or something like that…”

“You should go to the ER! Or at least the doctor– you don’t know what this is,”

“I will, I will. I was going to call her after this whole…fit,”

❀DAY 6, FRIDAY 1:15PM, SEOUL DOCTOR

“So, what’s the reason for this appointment?” Doctor Kim asked, checking the files in hand.

“Um…so the other day, Wednesday, I uh… started coughing flower petals,” You explained, pulling the petals out. “They were um, bloody.”

Clicking her tongue, Doctor Kim examined a petal. “Oh dear…I see,”

“Why’d it happened? How’d it even get in my body?”

Doctor Kim sighed, pulling up an article on the computer in the room. “I’m afraid there’s not much research on this. I’ve never personally seen it but I know doctors who have diagnosed it. We’re calling it hanahaki, from the Japanese words 花 and 吐く, flower and to vomit. We’ve noticed that it’s from unrequited love,” she glanced at you and then the flower petals, “Do you…do you love someone? Do you believe they don’t love you back?”

You played with your hair, suddenly the floor looking interesting. “Um…I…I guess,”

“You guess?”

“I do. I…kinda just realized it and then spiraled for a little. On Wednesday, when I first coughed them up.”

“I see. I’m going to give you options and I will definitely push you towards a specific one. But I want you to know that it is entirely up to you, what you want to do,” sighing, she leaned onto her knees. “You could confess, and if your feelings get reciprocated the flowers will leave your body through a few days. If they don’t, then your lungs will grow with flowers faster and you’ll suffocate. If you do, come to the ER immediately.

“The last option is surgery, we remove the flowers and any roots in your lungs. But it’s a complicated surgery, and if successful you lose all memories of said person and you’ll never feel anything for them ever again. It’s a last resort for a reason, and if you even think they return your feelings, confess. I mean it, you need to confess.”

❀DAY 8, SUNDAY 11:37AM, YOUR ROOM

Laying on your bed, you pulled your blankets over your shoulders, tucking yourself in. Getting up seemed to take up so much more energy these days, it was so much effort, effort you couldn't seem to put in.

Your phone rang, and you left it. It stopped for a few seconds before ringing again. You sighed as it stopped again. It pinged a few times, two followed by one more before your phone silenced. You couldn't bring yourself to check, even though you knew it was Wonwoo, you set his notifications to have a special ringer. You were just… tired.

Nonu ❙

Hey, are you okay?

??? Hello??? You always answer, are you sick??

??? I’m coming over.

❀12:42PM

Wonwoo knocked on your door, before opening it. Seeing you still tucked into your bed confused him.

“I know I've asked this a couple times, but are you okay?” He sat on your bed, patting your leg. “Hello? Have you not woken up just yet?”

You hummed lightly. “No…I’m tired,”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to be alone? You seem…well tired,”

You hummed again. He couldn't tell what you were feeling, facing away from him and barely saying anything.

“I’ll go, but I hope you feel better. I’ll get Mai and Kimi to take care of you,”

❀DAY 10, TUESDAY 11:23AM

Knocking on the door, Mai entered the room after a beat.

“You haven’t woken up yet?” She questioned, sitting on the bed. “You ok? I haven’t seen you wake up later than 9 since we were high schoolers,”

“Maiiii,” You whined. “I’m so TIRED, I can't even explain why!”

“The petals?”

“Of course, it's the– How do you know about them?”

He shrugged. “Kimi told me a little, sorry.”

“It's fine. I mean, you would've found out anyways,”

“Yeah, I would've. What happened, like why are they a thing? Kimi only mumbled something about petals and blood and purple– good color by the way,”

“I mean, the doctor said it's this stupid thing called hanahaki–”

“Like, hana as in 花, as in flower?”

“Uh, I think– STOP you're distracting me!” You jumped out from the covers.

“Yeah, but that got you out of bed. That was the goal~”

“You are the worst,”

Pulling you by the hands, Mai led you to the dining room.

“Our zombie lives!” cheered Kimi.

Flipping Kimi off, you pried yourself from Mai’s arms. “What was that for? I was gonna get out of bed eventually, it's only–”

“Only 11:23!” Kimi cut her off. “You are two hours late youngster!”

“To what?”

“To civilization! You have never–”

“Once woken up after 9, yes I am aware,”

“So you are aware we were worried, right?” Kimi huffed. “Now, eat! You are a growing child, no child of mine will starve!”

“I'm 20. We are the same age,”

“And,” Mai cut in. “I'm 21. I say you eat and get yourself freshened up. We are having a roommates day out,”

“What happened to my childhood friend,” you sulked.

“She has gone nowhere, I have always been your mother,” Mai chided. “Now eat, you actually look like a zombie,”

❀12:15PM, HALF MOON CAFE

“So, young child of mine,” Kimi started, placing the group’s order down. “Why have you been coughing up a storm, and why are there bloody flowers everywhere? You only mumbled something about them, and I want to know why!”

The three of them were in a small cafe they frequented often, mainly due to your part-time job there.

“Still can’t believe you guys got me here on my day off,” you sighed, playing with your drink. “It’s nothing. I already went to a doctor, she said it was ‘Hanahaki’ or something,”

“Hana as–”

“Yes hana as in 花, as in flower. Why did you both ask the same question?”

“I needed clarification,” Kimi shrugged. “But like, what’s the haki part? Like what even is hanahaki?”

“The haki is 吐く, like to vomit,”

“It’s a disease where flowers grow in your- in your lungs?!” Mai read from his phone, head whipping to you. “And you could die?”

“Not so loud– lord why did we go here,”

“I’m sorry– you’re upset I’m being loud? You could die, do not tell me to be quiet?”

You sighed, “Look, this is why I didn’t want to tell anyone! They get all dramatic, it’s not a big deal. It’s due to unrequited love, so all I have to do is unfall in love.”

“Uh, speaking as the person who’s in a committed relationship,” Kimi injected. “Impossibly hard. Like, I’m talking insanely hard. I mean–”

“We get it,” Mai said, cupping her face. “Look, it even took me a while to get over my first ex, and he stalked me! I’m with Kimi, there are easier ways to do this.”

“Except there’s not! It's either I unfall in love, confess, or get surgery! And, mind you, that surgery will remove all my memories of said person and remove all my feelings. It’s not like I can do that. I can’t lose someone I’m in love with– and I can’t lose my feelings! How am I supposed to live without being happy, or sad, or–”

“Then confess! They’ll reciprocate them, I’m sure.” Mai held your hands. “Please, I can’t lose you. We can’t lose you, you’re too important to us.”

“I am not confessing–”

“Confessing?” A voice cut in, Wonwoo. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“Wonwoo! No, no! I haven’t been avoiding you, I’ve–”

“Been busy.” He rolled his eyes. “Look, if this was over some guy, you could've told me. I would've gotten it and backed off,”

You stood up. “It is not! Look, we went over schedules– we were both booked! You cannot say I have been ignoring you,”

“Does that mean you can’t answer my texts? Or calls?” He argued, walking away from you and out of the cafe.

“Oh don’t act like you don’t do the same to me. How come you’re acting like I’m doing it on purpose!” You followed.

“I haven’t ghosted you, never for days on end!”

“Oh sure,” You stopped and rolled your eyes. “I’m not arguing about this, not in public,”

“Oh so you’re running away, like always?” Wonwoo turnt around. “Like you always do when something happens, like the coward you are?”

Your eyes watered as you stumbled back like you were struck. “Fine! Yes, I’m running away, just like you said! Just like I always have, according to you, but don’t you dare try to come talk to me.”

❀DAY 13, FRIDAY 7:37PM, CHOI SEUNGCHEOL’S APARTMENT

You and Kimi walked into Seungcheol’s party, being eagerly greeted by Kim Mingyu.

He cheered both of your names. “Let me get you drinks, come in! I’m not allowed to help you with your coats, Cheol is worried about me breaking something again.”

Laughing, Kimi pat him on the arm. “It’s fine! I’m here to be sober, drunk watch and all that,”

“Mai forced her to be my babysitter,” You sulked. “Like I’m gonna get drunk off my ass or something…”

Mingyu and Kimi gave each other a knowing look. Like you hadn't been upset since the fight. Kimi pushed you further into the house, hearing the chatter of the others. Mai and Kimi figured it was best to get you to talk to someone, and what better way than to get her drunk with friends?

❀11:34PM

Bad idea. Mai and Kimi both forgot one important thing about a drunk you. You were an emotional drunk. Meaning, right now? You were sobbing your ass off, drunk, over Wonwoo.

Kimi could barely understand you because you were muffled by–

“Fuck,” Kimi muttered, launching herself towards you. “Spit them out, I fucking mean it you drunk fuck. Spit. Them. Out.”

You listened. Saliva and blood covered petals fell into Kimi’s hand. You fell into Kimi’s arms, still sobbing.

“He hates me Kimi! He does. He hasn't talked to me in 3 days! The longest we’ve gone is probably around a couple hours! Never this long,”

Kimi sighed, petting your hair. It pained them all to see her like this.

“He doesn't hate you, yknow,” Mingyu said, also patting you on the back. “He’s just upset right now. He’s probably also crying right now,”

“I don't want him crying over me!” You sobbed even harder.

Seungkwan hit Mingyu away, clicking his tongue. “Ignore him, Mingyu’s dumb. We know this. Wonwoo’s upset, but he’s not crying. He's probably thinking about what happened and trying to figure out how to apologize to you,”

“But he doesn't have to apologize, I was the one being a bitch!”

“All of you leave her alone,” Jeonghan swatted everyone besides Kimi. “Sweetheart, honey, drink this,”

He handed you a cup of water, urging you to drink. You tried to drink it, but instead a full flower came out of her mouth.

“FUCK,” Kimi shouted. “Fuck fuck- where’s their phone? Hurry one of you, give it to me!”

Kimi dialed your doctor, explaining that you had actually coughed up a flower. “C’mon hun, c’mon. Get up, we have to visit someone,”

“What's happening?” Mingyu questioned. “Kimi– what was that? Why did a flower come out of their mouth? Kimi?”

“Don't, don't worry. Just call Mai for me, tell her we're at the hospital. She’ll know why,” Kimi explained. “Sorry to bring the mood down,”

“Don't be. Now go, go! It seems urgent,” Cheol pushed the two of you out of the apartment.

❀11:48PM, SEOUL HOSPITAL

Your doctor sighed, closing the door behind her and facing Kimi and Mai. “I’m to assume you two are their roommates, meaning they told one of you at least a little?”

“Uhm, yeah,” Kimi fidgeted. “She told me a little, just like, uh she was coughing flowers cuz of something called hanahaki? Uhm.. and that it was a disease caused by–”

“Unrequited love, yes. However, that’s not something we’re entirely sure about,”

“What do you mean, not entirely sure about? Did you tell her something incorrect about a disease that could kill her!?” Mai shouted.

“Yes and no,” Doctor Kim sighed. “Look, ladies, hanahaki is rare– we’re not sure about everything. But, there's a theory, that I have personally searched into, that it’s not unrequited love. More like, insecurity in the afflicted. The flowers, do you know what they are and what they mean?”

“Oh! Uhm, I think I remember our friend saying they were bittersweet? And that they meant truth? Truthfulness?”

“Then, there. They likely need to tell the truth, if the theory holds up. Either way though, one of you should get whoever they’re crushing, or in love with, here as soon as you can. I will make an exception for you three, and only you three, to be here after hours if they have not gained consciousness. The other should stay with them. I don't want any surprises,”

❀11:57PM

“Where are they!?” Wonwoo bursted into the hospital lobby.

Ignoring the onlooking staff, he went straight towards Mai.

“Mai, you cannot call me, say my best friend is in the hospital, and then not give me context,” he said, holding the dead tired girl by the shoulders.

“You hung up on me right after I said they were here! I’m not calling you back and getting you into an accident– we do not need that! Now, come. I'll bring you to them, your job is to get them to actually tell you the truth. I don't care what it takes, they have to.”

Leading the barely taller man, Mai opened the door to your hospital room. Pulling Kimi out, Mai quickly pat you on the head with a quiet, “Confess,”

“Wonu?” You croaked.

“Hey,” He sat on the edge of her bed. “What happened? Why are you here– why have you been avoiding me? I thought we told each other everything,”

He looks heartbroken, you thought, heart clenching at it. “It- it wasn't your fault, Wonu. I just- if I told you, I’d lose you. I can’t do that,”

“But you're here, in a hospital. Mai said you could die. Why do you think I can live without you?”

“I-”

“Please. You’re my best friend, I can’t lose you,”

Bursting into tears, you sobbed. “Exactly! I’m your best friend, that's all I’ll ever be! Wonwoo, have you ever thought I wanted to be more than friends with you?”

“Wh–”

“It’s you, it has always been you! I just had a shitty way of finding out, and now I’m dying! I don't want to die. I want to live out my life with you, and Mai, and Kimi, and and just– everyone! But if I get the surgery I lose my best friend– the love of my life! It's either I lose you by confessing, or I lose you by forgetting you, or I lose everyone by dying! I don't want this–”

“Hey, hey,” Wonwoo wiped the tears from your face. “Who said you’d ever lose me? Remember, I will always be here for you. Always. Besides, I’ve loved you ‘since forever’. You have nothing to fear,”

Your eyes overflowed with tears, and your mouth, flowers. Calling a doctor, Wonwoo was quickly kicked from the room. Worried, he quickly walked to the lobby.

“Wonwoo!” Kimi exclaimed, bouncing anxiously towards him. “Where- where are they? Why are you out here?”

“Well, I got kicked out. We confessed but then they started coughing again and–”

“You finally confessed? Like, for real none of that ‘I love you, as a friend’ bullshit?”

“Yes– why is that what you're focusing on? They started coughing flowers again, Kimi,”

“I know, I know, but I’ve been waiting for this since I met you two. That was our first year of high school!”

“Stop fighting you two,” Mai butt in. “What happened? Why are you out here?”

❀DAY 14, SATURDAY 12:21AM

After explaining everything, the three of them went to hunt Doctor Kim down. Meaning, they were waiting outside of your room.

Walking out of your room, Doctor Kim turnt around and jumped. “Oh, you three scared me. Sorry, sorry. I should’ve told you to go home. But, they're fine. They’re resting now, you can visit when the hospital opens up again and you can see them then,”

“We can’t leave her!” Kimi whisper shouted, still aware of the fact that you were likely sleeping.

“No, you can’t but you will. I understand you’re scared about them, but they’ll be fine. They’ll have to stay here for another few days, but it’s just so we can monitor them. You can visit, but only during visiting hours. Now shoo, you are college students here on a Saturday,”

❀1:19PM, YOUR HOSPITAL ROOM

Wonwoo walked into the room, with a bouquet of aster flowers. Chuckling Wonwoo put them on the bedside table.

“Sorry, I know it’s a little soon,” Wonwoo sat. “but I asked your friend, um, Sayu? She said you thought they were pretty, the flowers, that is. Aster, she called them.”

You laughed softly. “It’s ok Wonu, they’re lovely. I love them, thank you,”

He smiled. “I’m glad. I know we only just established everything but I want to ask, can I be your boyfriend?”

You laughed, and Wonwoo pouted at that. “Sorry, sorry I’m not laughing at you. Never at you. Yes, of course you can be my boyfriend. Why’d I ever say no, I don’t know.”

THE END<3

[severussquick]

Welcome to my little fic rec event that I just made up! I have decided to put together a month of fics that I really loved and share them with you - one per day!

Each day of the week is themed, and you can see what kind of a story is coming from the calendar below. I'll keep this post updated with links to each rec post as they come out, so if you miss one you can always check back here.

The posts will go out at 8am NZDT/11am PST/2pm EST/8pm CET which means that for most of you I am posting from the future! Don't worry about it, you'll catch up!

The Themes!

I have chosen these themes for the fics I want to rec because when I looked through my bookmarks, subscriptions, and history there were some definite patterns. Many MANY fics are still sitting in my to-rec pile so if you all like this let me know and I'll do another.

Bottom Snape

Self explanatory! It's Snape as a bottom, I adore this and very much wanted to share my favourites with you!

Time Travel

Oh Boy Am I A Sucker For Time Travel Stories!!!!! It's so bad I actually had to draw the line and disqualify Time Loop stories from consideration or else you'd have gotten a Month Of Time Travel! I'll do the loops next time.

Voldemort Wins AU

I really like these, they're always so fascinating with how they portray 'victory' for the Death Eaters (spoilers - it always sucks So So Bad). Most of these are pretty Dark so heed the tags.

FemSnape

Snape! But a woman! That's it. That's the category. These particular fics I'm recommending are classic gender-bends, not Trans Snapes, just FYI.

Marriage Law

Probably only second to Time Travel in terms of Tags I Am On The Hunt For. I am a sucker for these. It's a bottle episode, but the bottle is a marriage! Love that!

Genfic

Stories focused on Snape and only Snape, character studies and such. I love these and they can be hard to find!

Long Reads

Over 100k and not falling into another category. I like to read epics so I cannot promise that the other categories AREN'T long....

Severitus

Named after the host of that one challenge way back when, this tag means that Snape is Harry's parental figure or mentor. Some feature a pre-Hoqwarts Harry, some don't, but in all of them Harry and Snape have a father-son style relationship.

Week 1:

Monday - Bottom Snape: When Dreams Come True

Tuesday - Time Travel: Elective Affinities

Wednesday - Voldemort Wins AU: The Snidget

Thursday - Marriage Law: Legislation

Friday - Genfic: Two Hours Late

Saturday - Long Read: Chasing the Sun

Sunday - Severitus: Grease & Lightning

Week 2:

Monday - Bottom Snape: Where Have You Been

Tuesday - Time Travel: Time Mutable Immutable

Wednesday - FemSnape: Equal and Opposite

Thursday - Marriage Law: The "not-so-little" Problem

Friday - Genfic: Repast at the Table of Glorious Toxins

Saturday - Long Read: Assisted Living

Sunday - Severitus: Time Left Today

Week 3:

Monday - Bottom Snape: In Perpetuity

Tuesday - Time Travel: Falling Apart

Wednesday - Voldemort Wins AU: A Fighting Heart

Thursday - Marriage Law: We'll Fall Quietly

Friday - Genfic: Where Loyalties Lie

Saturday - Long Read: Come Once Again and Love Me

Sunday - Severitus: O Mine Enemy

Week 4:

Monday - Bottom Snape: Tonight

Tuesday - Time Travel: How Should I Greet Thee

Wednesday - FemSnape: Lady Lazarus

Thursday - Marriage Law: Happily Ever After The Fact

Friday - Genfic: Penultimate Acts

Saturday - Long Read: A Dream Carved In Stone

Sunday - Severitus: Far Beyond a Promise Kept

Week 5:

Monday - Bottom Snape: The Second-Youngest Professor

Tuesday - Time Travel: The Bat Effect

Wednesday - Voldemort Wins AU: In his embrace

[raineandsky]

A Date in Exchange

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7)

My parents are asking if you’ll come over again. Are you free this week?

That’s the text message the villain received two days ago. They’d checked their calendar, only to find a lack of an excuse. They’d replied after a minute of racking their brains for a way out, only to send back a short i guess

So the villain is, rather stupidly in their mind, getting into the hero’s car for a second trip. It’s only a matter of time before this backfires and they get dropped off right outside the agency doors.

“Hey,” the hero greets as they slump into the seat. It’s the kindest greeting the villain’s ever gotten. “Surprised I didn’t have to promise you a banquet for this one.”

The villain slams the door behind them, careful to keep their gaze pointed out of the window. The reflection boasts the tinge in their cheeks at the insinuation. “If there isn’t one I’ll rob them again.”

It’s the hero’s turn to blush, a lot harder to hide. “And look how that turned out last time.”

-

“It’s so lovely to see you again!” the hero’s mother greets the villain, as if this is all some pleasant surprise and not an event practically planned by them. “Please, both of you, inside.”

The villain truly cannot believe their last visit here hasn’t put the hero’s parents off. It was hilarious to watch the hero fumble to correct their nemesis’s phrasing, but bringing the whole ordeal to an end would’ve been a nice bonus. It’s a shame that they clearly took the villain’s insanity in their stride.

“How’re the physics classes coming along?” the hero’s father asks when the pair of them are ushered into the living room. “Blow anything up yet?”

Ah, yes, the villain’s ‘studies’. The hero had mouthed sound smart! at them, and they did exactly what they’d asked. “I’m studying physics at the city university,” they’d told the hero’s parents, but that garnered too much praise, so they’d added: “Gonna learn to blow things up with science.”

“Still working on that,” the villain tells him with a grin. “Professor won’t let me. Not yet, at least.”

The hero looks genuinely relieved to find a small buffet set at the dining table. “Thank god we can get you fed, my love,” they say with a friendly pat on the villain’s shoulder, and from the slight raise of their eyebrows the villain knows they have no chance of nicking anything a second time. The name makes their stomach churn in a way that has little to do with the food in front of them all the same.

“How’re things between you both?” the hero’s mother asks sweetly once they’re all settled at the table. “You look well.”

Clearly the villain’s agitated undertones are going unnoticed. That’s consolation to the hero too, from the way they throw her a smile in poorly hidden relief. “Yeah, good. Still going strong, aren’t we, my love?” the hero asks, and plants a quick kiss on the villain’s forehead for realism.

The villain laughs tightly to avoid giving away the heart attack they think they might be having. “Yeah, strong as anything.”

“How long's it been? We only heard about you recently,” the hero’s father comments idly.

This was not a question either of them had discussed answering. The two sit in silence in case the other starts answering, the villain pretending to do the maths and the hero staring thoughtfully into the distance.

“About five months,” the villain says when it’s clear the other isn’t going to say anything.

“Five?” the hero’s mother echoes in disbelief. “Why, your father was giving me a ring as big as my hand by five months. What’re we waiting on?”

“Oh my god, mother,” is all the hero says in defence.

Suddenly this whole plan just expanded from a few months to years. The villain’s brain is close to shutting down suddenly planning out the rest of their life from this point forward. The hero says something but they don’t hear it, already imagining the sacrifices a life of lies would entail. A hand settles on their shoulder, and the touch startles them to their feet.

“[Villain]?” the hero asks, and the barefaced concern in their voice tips them over the edge.

“Sorry, I, uh…” Fuck, they’re stuttering. When have they ever been this uptight? “I just remembered I have a, uh, appointment soon, so I, ah–”

They’re at the dining room door. They’re not entirely sure how they got here. The hero’s parents watch with wide eyes, the hero themself already on their feet. All they hear is a pissed “Why would you say that?” before they shut the door behind them and make their great escape.

(Next part)

[b-afterhours]

AOS Neon: Sinner's Paradise (oneshot)

SUMMARY: ‘90s. It’s the aftermath. Jaded, Bill and Alma navigate their new lives as they try to drag themselves out of the dark debacherous trenches they had once ensnared themselves in. It’s easy to forget their evils when a silver lining introduces itself into their lives but can they create a less hedonistic life that would be just as satisfying?

WARNINGS: adult content, mature readers only.

Author's Note: one of two oneshots to fill in some gaps before we saw their ending. Enjoy! sidenote: currently updating the masterlist to this full series but most are already linked at this time!

March 1995

A little over a month before their late April wedding, the family was in the office of their Seattle home during the evening. Bill sat on the armrest of the brown leather couch, looking over one of Alma’s event planners, one of many planners she owned. Alma stood before a large paper calendar hung on the wall, chewing on the end of a marker in thought. She had accidentally booked a show during the week they’d be in Vegas. Both the shop and the club would be closed to the public so that friends and family could join them.

Using his pinky finger as a guide, he read through what she had jotted down in the planner and paused at a specific date block.

“Put them here,” he stood up, grabbed the marker Alma held, and scribbled them on a date. “Second act. We’ll ask them to cut a song or two. Headliner will just go on a little later.”

“Yeah, okay.” Alma agreed, pushing her large-frame glasses up the bridge of her nose. 

“Better to reschedule than cancel.” He softly massaged the nape of her neck with his free hand, but only briefly. With the same hand, he quickly flipped to May, making sure she hadn’t scheduled anything over their honeymoon on the Amalfi Coast, but she color-blocked the row with a red marker. 

Alma noticed Bill checking the time on the big vintage wall clock. He had a phone meeting with Bianca. They often spoke on the phone, but twice a week they talked business. 

“Thanks for helping me.” She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. “Tell Bianca I said hi.” 

He pulled her in and grabbed her ass while kissing her again with more passion. They would be making love later, hoping to get pregnant. They started in December, just as she had promised him. So far, they haven’t been successful. They weren’t trying to stress so much about it and rather enjoy themselves. Yet, there was still a little nagging, disappointed voice in the back of their consciousness. Wondering why creating Echo, though not planned, just seemed to happen so easily. Without even a thought, no less.

Alma gently pushed him away, with a lustful, knowing twinkle in her gaze. “Echo,” she turned to her. “Are you done working over there?” 

Echo had been sitting at the head of the large office desk, scribbling on loose sheets of paper, mimicking her parents at work.

“Almost.” She said, making them chuckle.

“Oh, c’mon on, E’. Let’s get ready for bed. Say nighties to Daddy. And I’ll meet you later, Daddy.” she said with a cheeky wink.

Echo slid out of the big office chair, stumbling a bit, but ran into her father's embrace, and off they went, leaving him to his second job on the other coast. 

The phone call lasted nearly an hour; half of it only pertaining to Trigger Finger, until they began speaking about their personal affairs. 

“The street the record shop sits on is having a spring block party. All the other businesses put stuff out on the sidewalks. It’s basically a little festival.” 

“What are you doing? Live music, I guess?”

“Yeah.” He said adjusting a crooked frame on the opposite wall from the desk. 

While sitting at the desk, he had been staring at it for a while and finally decided to straighten it out. Alma had created the gallery wall in the office using frames and wall decor she’d found at yard sales, thrift stores, or things within the boxes she shipped from Strathburg. Amid the ceramic jackalope head, small framed prints, and mirrors, there were personal effects included in the montage as well. A few concert photos and some artistic shots Alma had taken of Echo were on display. 

One photo showed Bill and Alma as teens; Bill leaned against a post with one foot flat against it, a cigarette between his fingers, while Alma stood in front of him. In the photo, their heads were turned toward the camera. Bill had a slight scowl on his face, while Alma wore a sweet smile. Despite the fact that the photographer had obviously called for their attention, neither could remember who had taken the photo. They were at a football game, though they never sat on the bleachers to watch, but rather hung out behind them with others who also came just to have something to do on a Friday night. Nearby was the rosary Alma's father, Antonio, had given her, filled with some of her sibling's ashes. She hadn’t known what to do with it for a while until Ulyssa, with her crafty ways, suggested displaying it inside a shadowbox.

“But we have this narrow alleyway that separates us from the main set of buildings,” he continued, walking past an antique armoire that housed Alma’s cameras behind glass cabinet doors. He took a seat at the desk once the frame was no longer a bother. “We hired a muralist to paint an image of Echo on the wall. This gel print in neon pink and yellow that Alma made for me a few years ago for Valentine’s.” 

“Oh, yes! I’ve seen that on the mantel at the penthouse during Thanksgiving.” 

“Yeah! I brought it back this way. It’s the last thing we're doing to the building. Once we had the marquee up in front of the entrance, I kinda found more to do.” He chuckled. 

“That looks fantastic! I saw the photo of you and Alma in front of it in that local magazine she mailed to me. Offbeat?

“Oh, the grand reopening article.” He leaned back in his seat.

“You said like two things in it, but I enjoyed what Alma said. About community building and such. She’s pretty natural with that.” 

“Well, she’s more familiar with the guy who wrote it, so.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” She playfully dismissed. “So. Are you ready to get married next month?” 

“Are you ready for Vegas?” 

“Abso-fucking-lutely!” She exclaimed. “I’m betting my luck as soon as I land. I’m shopping for my outfits later this week! I’m gonna be sparkling like a damn disco ball honey.” She laughed. “Lorenzo is excited with him being twenty-one and all, but of course, Giancarlo has been fussing because he’s not eighteen yet.” 

Bill chuckled. “Yeah, I know. When I told him the wedding date, he asked if I could wait another year until he was.” 

“He did not!” Bianca said, appalled, that her son would even ask such a thing. “That boy, I swear!” 

“Ah, he’s just saying what any kid his age would say.” 

“Still! As if you two haven’t waited long enough. I’m glad it has been a short engagement, even.” 

“Ah, yeah. Me too. I’m happy Alma suggested Vegas.” He said, scribbling on a sheet of paper Echo had been scribbling on herself. However, he did notice some kind of attempt to spell her name. 

“Might as well just do the drive-thru marriage there. I heard they do that too!” She laughed. 

“Quick question, do you know what kind of dress Alma picked out?” He softly muttered so that his voice wouldn’t carry out the office.

“Why in the hell do you think I’d tell you that?” She laughed.

There was a tone on the phone indicating he had another call. He glanced at the clock; it was too late to receive calls at his home at this hour unless he was expecting them. 

“Uhm, I have another call coming in, B’.”

“Okay. I gotta go back down to the floor.” She said as she was in the club loft speaking to him. “Send my hello to Alma, honey. I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Later.” He said quickly, putting the pen down and hitting the blinking call-waiting button. “Hello?”

“Hey, uh, it’s Gustaf.” 

“What’s up? Someone needs bail money.” He joked, but there was no laughter on the other end. The silence felt unusually unsettling. “W-what is it?” 

“Uhm…” He sighed. “I know, you couldn’t give a fuck, but you should know. Dad’s gone.” 

Bill sat stunned, and the way his heart sank conflicted with his true feelings. After having a short moment to process, all he could muster out was, “Okay.” 

“Okay?” 

He could feel himself becoming angry, making him sick to his stomach. “What the hell do you want me to say? He’s, he’s been—” He paused. What he wanted to say was that he’d been dead to him the day he left Strathburg.

“Yeah, okay. I understand. I know he was awful, but—”

“There is no, but.” 

“Yeah, okay. Shit,” he loudly exhaled. “I’m sorry, brother. We left you behind a lot; you were too little to deal with that alone. After mom, he changed.” 

Emotion overwhelmed Bill suddenly as tears fought to escape his eyes. “Yeah, well. That’s that, right? C-could I call you later?” 

“Sure. Sure, yeah.” 

The frame he fixed had gone crooked again, and Bill didn’t know how long he had been blankly staring at it. He hated the feelings of grief that were running through him over his abusive father. He couldn’t give a shit, yet the loss felt great. He was now an orphan in the world, and as much as that felt isolating it just felt—strange. Getting up from his seat, he poured himself a glass of whiskey from the bar cart, and then something possessed him to grab the shoebox of photos Gustaf had given him on his very last visit to his hometown. Which he had never opened since receiving it.

From the closet he took the items back to the desk, he took a big swig of the drink and then ripped the top off as if something would jump out of it. Inside, little cheap toys were accompanying the photos. Green toy soldiers, marbles, and jacks. He examined some of the cooler glass marbles at first and then set those aside. Picking up the handful of old photos, he flicked through a series of him as a little boy. He couldn’t recall his childhood well, but the feelings he was experiencing indicated that these were times before it all got so bad. 

It was one particular photo he reached that pained him. It twisted his stomach. Staring back at him was a little confused boy with a hollow look in his eyes. A little boy he knew was internally screaming for help. He sat back in his chair to collect himself for a moment and then laid that photo face down. He continued. Some of him and his older brothers were photographed on an orange couch with their mother. He may have been around four. Then one of him and his mother in a happy embrace. Those photos gave him great comfort; they felt like a warm hug. Maybe that’s what compelled him to look through the box. Not to reconcile with the death of his father, but because he wished he had his mother’s comfort.

He reached a few photos in which his father was in, but he just felt numb. Having his own child, he just couldn’t comprehend the abuse he had experienced. It never made sense then, and it especially didn’t make sense now. There were times he tried to understand. Until he realized he was just rationalizing his abuse into justification. Where there was none.

The last time he spoke to his father was on the phone a month after he found out he had a child of his own. He was drunk and alone, still hurt by the reveal, but he was also scared. Scared that he’d be just as bad, that it would bring out a monster in him that had risen within his father. Even drunk, he came to his senses, reminding himself and promising to whatever God existed out there that he would never be that. He shouted at him, telling him that he got it all without him. That he made something of himself. That he’d lay down dead before he ever put his daughter through what he had experienced. 

All his father said on the phone was a condescending, “Good for you, son.” 

“Fuck you!” He screamed, slamming the phone down before tossing the whole unit across the room. 

Alma spritzed herself with a soft, sweet vanilla marshmallow perfume before she began tiptoeing down the hallway in a skimpy baby doll négligée. She peered in, hoping to surprise him, but was taken aback. He sat at the desk with his shoulders bobbing and his head in his hands, crying. Everything hit him simultaneously: sadness, anger, relief, and even some happiness. However, he just couldn't deal with his conflicting emotions any other way. The last tears he would ever shed for that man.

“Bill?” Alma said softly, concerned.

“Fuck.” He choked out, pressing his palms into his eyes.

She quickly approached him, and he wrapped his arms around her while burying his face into her side like a child would. She could feel his tears seeping through the thin fabric of her négligée. Not daring to say a word, she rubbed his back to settle him while thinking the worst. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs to their full capacity, and slowly exhaled. 

“I need a smoke.” He sniffled, sitting back and searching for his pack in a desk drawer. 

Alma watched him, red-eyed and flush-faced, lighting it inside the office. A forbidden act, but Alma wouldn’t dare to reprimand him for it. He stood up and began heading out to the balcony. 

“I’ll wait for you,” she said, unsure of what he wanted of her. 

“Come.” He walked back, taking her hand. “I want you with me.” 

Anxiously picking at the hem of her négligée, Alma sat on a cushioned outdoor chair, while he stood leaning on the balcony railing, looking out toward the woods. He was muttering curse words under his breath while he puffed away. 

“Fucking son of a bitch.” He snarled, flicking his cigarette away as opposed to using the designated glass ashtray. 

“What…” she bit her lip when his head snapped in her direction. As if he remembered she was there all along. “Uhm.” 

He closed his eyes and did his best to soften his demeanor. She was sitting there looking pretty in the sheer black négligée, which he could see the hi-cut panties through. The vibe was all wrong, though. She just looked at him, deeply concerned. 

“He,” pausing, he put his hands on his hips and looked out at the yard again. “My dad’s dead.” He announced it flatly, without looking at her. 

“Oh my god,” she softly gasped. She didn’t have any good thoughts or sentiments for the man, but she knew Bill hated him with all of his guts. Rightfully so. In all honesty, she pictured him popping a bottle of champagne at the news of his passing. However, she knew there were more nuances to his complicated feelings all around. 

“Yeah.” He nodded.

“What, uhm, what can I do?”

“Nothing,” he sighed. “It’s just,” he said, spinning his pointer finger by the side of his head. “I just can’t fucking believe it. I want to be happy, and a part of me is, but… I don’t know.” 

“Yeah,” she stood up and wrapped her arms around him, and he relaxed as much as he could into it. “I love you.” 

“It’s done.” He said, repeating the same sentiment he uttered about Craig when he lay lifeless before them. 

“It’s done, babe. I’m sorry. I’m sorry you ever had to go through that.” 

They held each other silently for a while before Alma led him back inside so they could relax and just put this moment behind them for good. 

Bill watched the skirt of the négligée swish across her bottom, reminding him of where the night was supposed to lead before that epic damper of a call he received. To her surprise, he spun Alma around and pulled her close. She had suspected they’d just go to bed, not wanting to push anything more on him tonight.

“Fuck, you look sexy in this.” He picked her up effortlessly onto his waist. 

“Do you still want to?” She asked, inspecting his eyes with a hand on his cheek. There was a deep sadness she wished she could take away.

“I do. I need you.”

…

Sinner’s Paradise

The following month, they landed in Sin City. Alma ran around the entire penthouse suite, her laughter echoing as she leaped onto the main bed. It was big and round, covered with a purple crushed velvet duvet with an abundance of similar-colored silk pillows. With a gleeful smile, she noticed the ceiling above the bed was mirrored, her image staring right back at her. After checking the loft space out, Bill descended the curved steps to join her.

“Hurry up!” Alma urged, taking her top off and baring her breasts. 

He laughed with delight, taking his off while making his way to join her. 

Later, they waited around the sitting area impatiently, freshly showered and wearing hotel robes. Alma had taken another pregnancy test, and they were waiting for the results. They had taken one before traveling, which results were negative. This one was only precautionary. She wanted to have some fun while in the desert city but needed to know just how much fun in case. Though she hoped for a miracle, she also hoped this would be her last hurrah before the sober nine months came.

“I’ll check it,” Bill patted her thigh before sitting up. It had to be more than enough time now.

He quickly flipped the test around that lay face down on the bathroom counter. He sighed, disappointed. Negative. He tossed the test in the trash; he would just tell her. When he exited the bathroom, she knew immediately by the look on his face.

“No?” 

“No.” 

“But we–we knew it would be, you know.” 

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Let’s open that champagne now.” 

They arrived in Las Vegas ahead of their guests, who were scheduled to trickle into town the following day. Echo would join them with Yolani and Ulyssa at noon, and though it was hard to leave their daughter behind, they trusted their chosen chaperones. Having two caregivers eased some of their nerves, even for Bill, who had always struggled with leaving her behind in the past. However, he took comfort in knowing that Alma was with her, so this time was different. Soon, they would be separated for much longer on another continent during their honeymoon, so they had to accustom themselves to her absence. 

They did a bit of sightseeing, walking the Fremont strip from end to end in the desert heat, then took a taxi back to the hotel to get ready for their dinner reservations. Bill watched, amused, as Alma hung dresses and other items she had brought into the closet of a spare bedroom. They were all pretty skimpy.

“You do remember your dad is coming too, right? Do you have anything—normal?” 

Alma turned to him and cracked a smile. "Yeah, yeah. Imagine if he saw me in this, though?" she chuckled, holding a corset top against her torso before hanging it up. "Or this," she added, pulling out the white bachelorette two-piece party dress. The tight skirt was made of sheer layers of fabric.

“I think he’d be upset with you and me. But are you wearing a bra with that?” He furrowed his brows. 

She flashed him a look of annoyance. “Bill. No.” 

“I don’t care how you wear it, but… I’m not going to be with you. It’s Vegas, Alma.” 

“What are you trying to say? That I’ll look like an escort?” He didn’t answer; instead, he continued tying the thin laces of his dress shoes. “Give me a break. I’m wearing the Versace Bondage dress you gifted me tonight. What the hell do you think people will think of you walking around with me in it?” 

He flashed his cheeky, dimple smile at her. “That I’m the luckiest man in the world.” 

Alma blushed, but then rolled her eyes when he chuckled smugly, knowing she expected him to give a more unsavory smart-ass reply.

After dinner, they found themselves on the casino floor of their hotel. Bill strolled her around, showing off how stunning she looked before they settled at the slot machines. He handed a fifty-dollar bill to a waitress, who left them drinks as they tried to hit big on a promising machine. Alma sat in his lap in a very relaxed manner, his hand resting between her thighs while he smoked a cigarillo. Together, they watched as the hundred-dollar bet in the machine slowly increased in small increments.

“Quit nickel and dime’ing it,” he said. “Just hit it.” He slapped the max bet button and met her annoyed glance. Suddenly, the machine began flashing lights and sounding out; they had won ten free spins. “See!” He kissed her shoulder.

They watched the machine spin for them, and it hit several times, bumping their overall total to closer to five hundred dollars. Alma hit the cash-out button and then took a big swig of her drink before standing up. 

“Let's go to the lounge now! I’ll buy!” 

They found themselves in a lounge bar, The Daisy, which had an art deco speakeasy atmosphere. They were there for a while, drinking and enjoying each other's company while a live jazz band played. It was a rarity they were ever really completely alone, and they found it quite nice. They discussed their honeymoon destination while a novelty dry ice drink fogged and bubbled before them. Excited about finally utilizing their money for a relaxing trip for once.

“You know it’ll be so much prettier than the pictures in the travel brochure. I’m excited about all the pasta.” And she really meant that, tired of the salads and carb’ restriction these past months. “We’re going to gain like 10 pounds.” She giggled. 

“I want to take a boat around. I saw that they rent them out there.” Alma side-eyed him playfully. “I wouldn’t go out so far we couldn’t see the shore. I don’t want to be that responsible.”

When they stood up from the round booth they had occupied, the liquor smacked them. Being experts, they composed themselves enough and went on to their scheduled nighttime limo ride to see the city and all its neon lights and glittering bulbs on the strip. It was lit up like a debaucherous, adult arcade slash circus.

Bill took photos of Alma, seated in the back of the limo with her smooth legs out, holding a glass of champagne. He passed his sunglasses to her to wear on the end of her button nose for the next few snapshots. The drinks kept flowing in the limo, and their behavior loosened even more. They made out, forgetting the city for a while. Then, as more champagne was being poured, Alma found herself out of the sunroof and then suddenly ducked back in when she felt him bury his head between her thighs. The action caused her to fall back on a seat, giggling with him. She playfully chastised him before going back through the sunroof and made room for him to squeeze through with her. Once he joined her, they kissed while the desert air blew their hair back, and then they cheered elated out to the packed pedestrian-filled strip, and they—being just as drunk—cheered back. 

The next morning, they struggled to wake up. The events after the limo, it was a bit of a blur, but there was evidence that they had gone back to the lounge to drink, as there was an ornate goblet in their room. Obviously, Alma had walked out with it, effectively stealing it. 

Bill was lying bare in bed beside Alma, while she only wore a pair of panties. They weren’t certain if they had sex, but there was an implication that they had attempted to at the very least. Bill’s lips were a bit sore as if Alma bit them while making out, which told them that’s all they did before passing out. There was no way he could have gotten it up with the hangover he was feeling. He wasn’t a hero; after a certain amount of drinks, it simply wasn’t going to happen.

“Shit,” Alma groaned, still feeling a lingering buzz. 

“What time is it?” Bill muttered into his pillow.

“I don’t know. Nine?” She said, stumbling her way to the bathroom. “Shit!” When she had pulled her panties down, they were spotted with blood.

“You okay?” He muttered from the bed, and when she told him she was, he closed his eyes.

She showered quickly, returned to his bedside in a robe, and began dialing Bianca. She was bringing her wedding dress from New York, but she also had tricks to combat an unwanted period. She and all the dancers usually had something up their sleeves when their time of the month became inconvenient for work. Luckily, she caught her just before she left for the airport. 

Bianca quickly listed the things she’d need. “Ibuprofen first. And if it starts for real, take vitamin C. That’ll kill it quicker. Uhm, and you know,” she said, hushed since her sons were close in wait. “You could use sponges.” But her sons overheard and shared a look of disgust. 

Alma’s face shared the same expression, miles away. “Ew, I’m not worried about that. I’m worried about my dress and dealing with this shit on top of that.” 

“Worried about what?” Bill muttered as he lay there with his eyes closed, half listening. 

“Ah, yeah. I understand. It’s gorgeous, by the way. The tailoring is perfect! I’ll take real good care of it while we travel.” 

“I’m worried it won’t fit. I haven’t tried it on since February.” 

“It will, honey. Don’t worry. I’ll see you soon!” 

“Okay. Safe travels.” 

“Worried about what?” Bill reiterated. 

“I started my period.” 

“For fuck's sake!” He grumbled.

If he hadn’t had his forearm draped across his eyes to block the searing sun shining through the decorative curtains, he’d have seen that she flipped him off. Instead, she pinched his nipple, and he sucked in air between his barred teeth while he rubbed the soreness away. 

He begrudgingly rose from the bed and sat on the edge with the sheet across his lap, scratching his head. He watched Alma dialing on the phone and put the receiver to her ear. 

“Go shower; you’ll feel better.” 

He studied her for a moment, sure he had upset her by misspeaking, but she seemed too preoccupied with the phone to react. She was worried about Echo and had called down to the front desk to check if any messages had come in while they were knocked out. There were two, both from just over an hour ago. One was from Yolani, informing her that they were at the gate, waiting to board, and the other was from her father, letting her know he'd arrived at his layover in Denver. They would converge in proximal time to the city.

Bill and Alma cuddled on the couch, watching the local news in the sunken sitting room, trying to nurse a hangover and get rid of a period. They were dressed, waiting around for their daughter, when Alma suggested that maybe they could wait in the lobby. Bill understood she was anxious, as was he, but he suggested that they wait there instead. Give their three-year-old a little independence and put some real trust in their friends, who so kindly took on caring and traveling with her.

There was a knock on the door, and Bill was the first one up to answer. He had been concealing his own anxiousness. As soon as he opened the door, Echo darted past his legs and straight into her mother's expectant arms. 

“Hey, baby!” Alma hugged her daughter tightly, while Bill thanked Yolani and Ulyssa as they came inside. “Was she good? You can be honest.”

Yolani lightly laughed. “Of course, she was good! We did some coloring sheets, and she took a nap.” 

“For real?” Bill asked because she seemed to hate sleeping on a plane. 

“Yeah!” Ulyssa co-signed. “She even got herself comfortable and everything. This room is nice!” She said, scanning the large suite. 

“Would you two like to take a look around?” Bill asked.

“Uhm, well, we kind of want to put our things up,” Yolani said, pointing at their luggage with her thumb by the door behind them. 

“Yeah, go ahead,” he said, walking them out and grabbing the luggage they had packed for Echo at home. 

“We’re probably going to check the strip out right after, so…” Ulyssa said while turning to her friend.

Alma smiled. “Yeah, have fun!” 

They left, but they could hear the sisters giddily laughing as they jogged down the corridor to their room a few floors down, which Bill had paid for. 

Soon, Alma’s father arrived with his wife Connie, and they all went to have lunch. Alma, of course, dressed appropriately in his presence, but he noticed both of them wore dark-tinted sunglasses and were drinking down their glasses of water washing down their greasy burgers. Antonio was looking at his granddaughter between them, eating fries with ketchup, which she licked off before eating, but was happy to see that she wore the basket earrings he had gifted. He learned they had taken her to get them pierced at a parlor after hours. A professional Ulyssa knew agreed to do it for a favor—free entry to any show she pleased. 

Antonio and Connie would care for Echo while his daughter and Bill enjoyed their respective bachelor and bachelorette parties that evening. After lunch, the elders were very much looking forward to relaxing a little and hitting the slots before duty. 

They wrapped up lunch and began walking back to the hotel room wing. Alma walked ahead, speaking amiably in Spanish with Connie, pointing at slot machines that seemed lucky. Bill held onto Echo and kept pace with Antonio as he walked with his cane. 

“What are you doing tonight?” Antonio asked, trying to create some small talk with his son-in-law. 

“For real?” Bill peered down at him. “Well, we're going to a luchador wrestling match and hitting up a high roller casino afterward. Then both our parties will converge to hang out.” 

“Lucha libre, huh? Hmm, I saw a few of those a long time ago in South Texas.” 

“Yeah? It’ll be my first time. I was hoping there would be a real boxing match to catch, but no.” 

“Your gentleman friends didn’t want to go to a gentlemen's club?” He ticked a bushy salt and pepper brow at him.

Bill cracked a smile. “Nah, it’s a bit redundant, don’t you think?” 

Antonio chuckled. “I suppose. Uhm,” he cleared his throat. “I heard about your—” 

“Oh yeah,” Bill interjected quickly, not wanting to hear any condolences for his father. “It’s fine. Thanks.” 

“Right. I get it. Uh, my father wasn’t good to me either.” He revealed, much to Bill’s surprise. “But, uhm, you know you’re marrying my daughter, so in that sense… for what it’s worth, right?” 

Bill nodded appreciatively, understanding what Antonio was trying to convey. He could tell Antonio was putting his pride aside to let him know that he saw him as a son and accepted him. However, in Bill’s cynical mind, he couldn’t help but wonder if the old man was simply settling. Perhaps Antonio, aware of his mortality, recognized that Bill was the only family Alma would have left.

…

Bianca arrived after, as well as others who were going to rooms and relaxing before joining in on the late-night festivities. Bill answered the door for her, and she told him to close his eyes, even if the dress was concealed in a white garment bag. Though he did notice there wasn’t much heft to it. Eventually, he was unceremoniously kicked out of the room, which he didn’t mind; he’d just find where Theo was.

Alma was before Bianca in two pieces of layered shapewear, while she carefully helped her step into the white dress. Echo was sitting on the bed, curiously watching on. After adjusting how the dress lay on her body, Bianca slowly zipped a short zipper at the hip. Alma sighed in relief that the dress fit perfectly.

“Oh my god! It looks better than the last fitting you had!” Bianca beamed. “And with the veil! You’re gonna look like a dream, baby!”

“Thank fuck. I literally just had the biggest burger I’ve ever had in my life for lunch. But fuck was it nice to eat that burger,” she giggled 

Bianca laughed. “Bill mentioned on the phone that you’d be out in the sauna twice a day.” 

“Not that much.” It was an exaggeration, but she was in it often, as well as running the treadmill in the evenings in their small gym in the basement. She tried working out with Bill, but after two days of it, she quit and stuck to the regime she created for herself. He wasn’t a great workout partner, as their fitness goals were completely different. 

“What do you think, Echo? Is it pretty?” Alma asked, turning toward her.

She gasped, placing her hand over her mouth dramatically. “Pretty Mama!” She giggled bashfully. 

“You love it?” 

“I love it!” She squealed. 

“You could wear this with just one shapewear, Alma,” Bianca said, pulling out the train to smooth out the fabric. “The alteration they made to it snatches you just right.”

Bianca carefully helped Alma out of the dress now that her worries had vanished. Alma took her on a little tour of the penthouse until they plopped down on the couch together after making themselves a cocktail. 

Bianca took a large sip of her drink and let out a loud, satisfied sigh. “You doing better since you called me?” 

“Eh, it’s a lighter flow. So that's something.” 

“Why…” she paused to sit up a little. “You know you don’t have to take the placebos in the birth control pack, right?” 

Alma rolled her eyes as she stated the obvious. “Yeah, B’. I know.” She looked at her daughter, guiding a hot-wheel truck along the marble floor. “We’re trying to have another baby.” She said it in a hushed tone. 

Bianca’s eyes widened. “Oh my god! That’s so great, Alma!” 

“It hasn’t happened, obviously. And not the month before or the month before that one.” She said hopelessly, crossing her arms.

“Don’t stress—don’t stress!” She gestured with her palm out. “It’ll happen. Since when, the beginning of the year?” 

“Since December.” 

“Christ.” Bianca rolled her eyes and slouched down on the cushion again. “Give yourself some grace, honey.” 

“Yeah, but you don’t see how disappointed Bill looks every time the tests come out negative. He’s so good at concealing his emotions, but never then?! He looks like someone kicked his fucking dog!” 

Bianca laughed. “That man is fucking ridiculous sometimes. He wants to mope when he’s getting unlimited pussy?” Alma laughed then. “Don’t worry about him, either, babe. Just keep doing what you do. Keep your legs up for a while after, or something, but it’ll happen.” She rubbed Alma’s shoulder. “Now. I gotta get ready for tonight, and so do you!” 

…

When Bill returned, he clapped his hands together and announced that everyone should take a nap. He and Alma were still combating their hangover from last night, and they had to go and do it all again. They took some Pepto-Bismol, an OTC pain reliever, and while lying in bed, he was trying to ask Echo what Alma’s wedding dress looked like. 

“Tell him it’s a secret,” Alma said, tapping the side of her pointer finger to her lips. 

“It’s secwet!” She snickered. 

“But we’re not supposed to have secrets, E’,” he said, kissing her cheek, before wrapping his arms around her tightly. “Is it at least white? 

Echo looked up at her mother while resting her head comfortably on her father's chest, her hazel eyes seeking permission to spill. “Mhmm and pretty!” she said, sharing all she was allowed to reveal.

After their much-needed nap, Bill was dressed in a black Prada button-down he layered a blazer over and was helping Echo put on her shoes. He was taking her down to Antonio’s room to save Alma from doing so in the outfit she was currently wearing. It was skimpy, and the chiffon fabric revealed the cheeky white panties underneath, but he appreciated that the top—while thin—was at least opaque. Alma was slipping on her heels, which featured fluffy feather details on the toe straps.

“I’ll see you later,” he said, leaning down to kiss her. His hand ran across her thigh and reached around to grip her butt cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” And then she said goodbye to her daughter, who was in his arms. “I’ll see you later.” 

“Remember,” he peered down at her before slipping on his sunglasses. “What happens in Vegas—” 

“Stays in Vegas—yeah, yeah,” she chuckled.

“Watch out with who you talk to tonight!” He playfully warned before closing the door.

“Watch out, mommy!” Echo parroted.

…

Alma’s bachelorette party found themselves in a high-rise VIP section above the dance floor of a large warehouse-style dance club. Lights of all kinds flashed and swept around them. They were sitting down, taking a break from the dance floor, and having more drinks served by smartly dressed personal waiters.

Bianca returned from the bathrooms with Queenie, both of them sniffing and rubbing their noses. Alma glanced at them knowingly. She knew what they went to do, but didn’t like how she wasn’t privy. She wondered about Bill then until Ulyssa nudged her excitedly when the DJ dropped a good hit. She tapped glasses with her, which created a domino effect of tapping glasses, and the women cheered excitedly. 

The drinks were flowing so heavily that Yolani was finally convinced to hit the dance floor by Ash. Yolani typically liked to dance, but the floor was so packed with mashed bodies that it was a bit daunting. Ulyssa excitedly followed suit, bringing Jennifer along. Which left Alma with Bianca and Queenie in their section. 

“So?” Alma turned to them knowingly.

Bianca rolled her eyes. “It’s Vegas, babe.”

“Yes. But why leave me out? And where did it come from?” 

Queenie scratched her head uncomfortably and sat back, sipping on her drink, to let Bianca explain and distance herself from potential drama. 

“That fucker.” Bianca muttered, shaking her head. This wasn’t her responsibility; it should have been the man she was set to marry who explained. “We didn’t mean to leave you out on purpose! Bill and I know the owner of one of the strip clubs here. It's a courtesy for people like him and me to check in.”

“Yeah. Like Atlantic City.” Alma said knowing Bill has had to call in there before. Alma always felt it to be a bit dramatic; it felt like politics that should belong in cartoonish mob movies only. 

“Exactly. Anyway, we’re good with the guy. And well, he knows Bill is here to get married, and so he threw in some party favors. Theo picked up.” 

Alma consumed the rest of her drink and picked up another she had in wait. 

“Well,” she sighed. “I don’t know why Bill didn’t say anything to me?” 

“Maybe… he forgot?” Queenie shrugged. 

“Really?” Alma tilted her head doubtfully. “Fuck it. Pass me the bag, I’m going to the bathroom.” 

Alma stepped out of that stall with more vigor and liveliness than she’s had in such a long time. A very long time. To say she didn’t miss it would be a lie. In fact, there were times out with friends from Seattle where she almost suggested they score somewhere to have an even better time than they were already having, but they just preferred their weed. After all, it was cheaper. Ulyssa, who wasn’t so shy about dabbling, didn’t prefer it, so for years until now she was SOL. 

While Alma danced her way through the dance floor to get back to the VIP section, she encountered her old friend, who had been running late. 

“Carla!” She hollered, waving a hand in the air. “Over here!” 

“Oh my god!” She hollered, carefully running over in her modest heels and embracing her old friend. “This is wild!” She was wide-eyed, scoping the scene as gel-colored lights, doing figure eights, swept across them. 

Alma led her to VIP, where Bianca sat talking to a young guy until she dismissed him when they approached. Carla and Bianca were quickly introduced, and the three sat together, speaking. 

“Yes!” Bianca pointed at Carla with a long red fingernail. “I read that one! Alma’s been slowly getting me to read the novels she does! So damn steamy!” She gushed.

Carla laughed. “Alma used to sneak them to me when we were kids! Growing up, I was kept on such a tight leash, but she showed me a different world. I left for Houston after college and met my husband there! He’s a firefighter, a lieutenant, actually.” 

“Kids?” 

“Yeah, four!” 

“Four!” Bianca exclaimed incredulously. “Those books must have taught you a thing or two!” She teased, making Carla bashfully giggle.

“Aw, that’s all you, though, Carla!” Alma smiled, appreciating her previous sentiment towards her.

“Maybe I was a little inspired. But oh my god, Alma! You’re getting married to Bill! He was so in love with you when we were kids, my god!” She playfully rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out. 

“Was that obvious even then? Why the hell couldn’t I see it?” 

“Because you loved him too much to believe it, probably!” 

“Miss Carla,” Bianca let out an exhausted sigh. “You wouldn’t believe how they were when I first met them.” 

“Oh god,” Alma grumbled. “That’s so long ago.” 

“Let’s just say, thank heavens, that’s over. And cheers to them getting married, finally.”

…

The bachelor party had left the Lucha Libre match and headed up several floors of another casino to play with the high rollers. They were all laughing and recalling the absurd wrestling moves they saw. While Bill didn’t have high expectations, he was glad that it was very entertaining for everyone, even him. 

“That table was supposed to break when he landed on it from the ring, and it didn’t!” Scotty laughed. 

“Did you see how he got thrown off, though?” Darby laughed.

“Honestly, it would have killed me!” Scotty replied, which made Bill laugh. 

The men slightly split while on the casino floor, checking out the playing tables to feel out where they felt lucky. Bill rounded a table and met Darby, who motioned for him to follow.

“Hey, uhm, Jenny and I really appreciate the wedding gift from you and Alma. It was incredibly generous. I wanted to give you this myself.” He reached into the inner pocket of his blazer and produced crisp five hundred dollar bills.

“No, no,” Bill said, pushing his hand away. “I mean, thanks, of course, but I can’t take that.” Not only would he not accept it, but he and Alma had explicitly stated on the wedding invitations that gifts were not expected of their guests and that their presence alone was more than enough.

“Dude, it’s no big deal, really. It’s for you.”

“I know, but—it doesn’t feel right taking it, Darb’. I’m your boss. Don’t give your fucking boss money; that’s bullshit.” Darby stood there perplexed for a moment, but he did have a point. Why pay the guy who’s paying him? “I appreciate it. I really do.”

“Right, right.” Darby nodded. “Jenny is going to wonder why I still have it, though.”

“Gamble it.” He raised his brows.

A devious grin spread across his face. “Shit. Yeah, over there,” he nodded his head toward a roulette table.

Theo’s path converged with theirs as they approached the roulette table, where Darby bet all the money.

“Bet on black,” said Bill. 

“Always,” said Theo. 

They watched the ball spin rapidly until it began losing momentum. They anxiously watched the ball in the roulette bump and stutter as it circled the wheel. Indelicately, it landed on black, twenty-four. 

“NO shit!” Darby exclaimed. 

“Is that what you chose?” Theo said in disbelief. 

“Actually, you know, I wouldn’t mind accepting your gift after all.” Bill laughed, patting his shoulder. 

Bill split off again and found his friend Scotty at a blackjack table, coolly smoking a cigarette and checking cards under his palm. 

“I’m going to hop on the next one,” Bill said, sipping on a glass of whiskey he acquired. 

“Hell yeah,” he said, tucking a lock of hair that escaped the tousled slick back style he was sporting back behind his ear. “The table’s hot, brother.” 

…

At the nightclub, the bachelorette party was on the dance floor together. Alma danced behind Ulyssa as a buffer because too many random men kept trying to dance with her, which she didn’t appreciate. Alma experienced the same, but she could handle it better than her friend. Either by dancing away or just looking at them like they were crazy. 

The crowd of bodies swayed them a bit, and they were now underneath the high-rise DJ booth. The beats were thumping, the bass rattling their bodies, and deafeningly loud, but they were too buzzed or high to care. A few couples over, she spotted Bianca dancing between two guys, and she laughed while spinning out of a stranger's grip on her hips. It was when she noticed she was dancing alone, as Ulyssa and Yolani held each other's hands over their heads and danced together. Looking around, she couldn’t spot anyone else from her party, but it was also difficult to tell with the gyrating crowd and electric lights. She swayed her body through a group of people wielding glow sticks and decided maybe it was time for a break. Dancing through the crowd, she had to squeeze through, making less than savory contact with others. It was just unavoidable. She felt a hand on her hip, which she brushed away and continued.

A loud puff sounded from the synthetic fog cannons, which made people pause long enough for her to gain some more paces closer to the VIP booth. Again, she felt a hand on her hip and felt it travel up her waist, seemingly trying to snake high enough to touch her breast. She pulled it away until she felt another hand take a full greedy grab of her ass cheek. Her brows furrowed at the complete audacity. 

“Hey!” She quickly whipped her head back. “Chill the fuck out!” She yelled loudly.

Bill stood there mischievously grinning as he peered down at her. She wasn’t expecting to see him until later. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her under the bouncing green laser lights. They swayed together for a moment to the beat of the music, with his hands rubbing on her bottom. When she turned to lead their way off the dance floor, he held onto her waist to remain flush to feel her bottom bump and rub against his crotch. The DJ switched tracks to a remix of Love My Way by The Psychedelic Furs and Bill followed the sways of her hips as she danced them off the floor. 

He closed his eyes and a memory came to mind of Alma in a bare-wall New York City apartment they lived in. Wearing a tight tank top and panties with slouchy socks, and a cigarette between her fingers, dancing to the same song in front of the record player. Just enjoying the melody and the moment while he watched contently. 

“What are you doing here?” She asked as they ascended the stairs to the VIP booth. 

“Where the fuck did you get this cowboy hat?” He asked, plucking it off her head and placing it on his.

Quickly, he ordered drinks and sat down next to Alma, admiring her frosty white eyeshadow under the club lights. Now that he wasn’t standing, she took the opportunity to take the hat back while throwing her legs over his lap. 

“Where’d you get that?” He asked again, rubbing his nose. 

“Some old cowboy.” 

“Let me see it again.” He motioned for it. He checked inside the hat for the brand, noticing how well-crafted it was. “Alma…” he peered at her knowingly. “Did you steal this?” He laughed. 

She laughed, taking it back to put it on her head like a crown. “Who said I stole it?” 

“That’s fucking expensive!” He laughed harder. 

“What are you doing here?” She asked again once they settled their laughter a bit.

“Ah, well—some of us weren’t doing too hot, so we bailed.” He winked, taking their drinks from a waiter. 

“How much?” 

“Hmm?” He hummed, sipping his whiskey. 

“How much did you lose?” 

He tutted with offense. “I won some. Started losing it, so I had to call it.” 

“Sure,” Alma smirked. 

He reached over to touch the bridal sash, emblazoned with cursive text on it that said, Bride To Be. The bachelorette party bestowed it upon her before they took the night. He smiled just before kissing her fruity cocktail-tasting lips. 

The wedding party all trickled back to the VIP booth and unanimously decided that they would head back to the hotel to decompress while enjoying a nightcap together, where they were originally supposed to reconvene. 

“I’ll see you back in the room,” Bill said, wrapping his arms around to lift her off her feet for a kiss. “Don’t steal any more shit!” He laughed. 

The girls left together after gathering their personal effects. Unfortunately, they still had to walk to their limo, which felt like an eternity on sore, raw, blistering feet. 

“Shit,” Carla hissed. “I gotta pee so bad!” 

Alma looked at her friend and told the rest to go on, while she accompanied Carla to the nearest toilet they could find. Bianca had discreetly slipped a baggie into her palm in passing, and off they went.

“Sorry,” Carla said once they entered a bathroom inside a cocktail lounge. “You have so many kids, you can’t hold it anymore! My feet kill too.” 

“Mine too. Are you having fun?” 

“Oh my god! Yeah! I was so excited to come because you’ve always known how to have fun!” She laughed while entering a stall, while Alma took the next available a few stalls down. 

While given the opportunity, she took a few bumps mounted inside an acrylic French almond nail on her pinky, snorting them between toilet flushes. Initially, she lightly groaned at the sting of it before it turned into a moan of satisfaction when she felt its effect. They left the bathroom, trying to hustle out the establishment before they were badgered by bartenders. Only paying customers could use the bathrooms, but Alma lied, saying they would order once they got out.

Alma gently pulled Carla’s hand, urging her to pick up the pace. An older, well-dressed gentleman held the door open for a brunette with chunky highlights, letting her through before stepping aside to let the two women exit. Alma squinted in recognition, unsure at first, until the woman, who had been smiling brightly, suddenly turned her head towards Alma. Her expression fell, replaced by a look of absolute disgust and contempt.

“You’re fucking kidding me?!”

“Fuck!” Alma said with wide eyes full of disbelief as her blood ran cold. 

“Oh yeah,” Blondie, who was no longer blonde, nodded her head. “Bet you thought you’d never see me again, did you, you fucking cunt!?” 

“Hey!” Carla said, appalled. “What’s your problem?” 

“It’s okay, Carla,” Alma said, putting her hand up to back her away.

“Oh, Carla,” Blondie mocked with a pout. “Do you know how much of a fucking bitch your friend is?” She glanced at the bridal sash she was wearing with a look of disgust. “You’re marrying him, aren't you? Aww, he finally chose you.” she mocked. “Jesus fucking Christ.” She sneered, her disdain palpable. 

“Blondie—”

“Shut the fuck up! Hope you two both rot in hell!” She spat on the ground between them and took the gentleman’s arm, who was just as shocked and confused about her sudden outburst. “Tell Bill—that small cock motherfucker—that he can go fuck himself!” 

Alma stood there, biting her tongue so hard she could taste blood. She was seething with the urge to yell at her back, but at the same time, it felt deserved. What could she say to a woman she had presumed dead for years now? That was all she could deduce, considering she was an accomplice to her boyfriend Craig's murder. While there was faint relief in knowing she was still breathing, the fact that she was responsible for Blondie’s life as an escort in Vegas left a bitter taste. She was a cunt, once upon a time. 

“Alma, what the hell was that?” Carla asked when they swiftly exited the lounge.

“Uhm,” she thickly swallowed the acrid cocaine drip. “It’s nothing, Carla.” She sighed. 

“Did Bill date her or something? She’s nuts!” 

Alma’s eyes cut at her friend. “Yeah…” she rolled her eyes. “They sorta dated.” She wanted to spit on the ground herself, stating that. “She’s always been fucking crazy.” 

“Well, it’s nothing, right?” she asked, noticing her friend's discomfort.

“This was a long time ago.” 

“Mm, okay. I just can’t believe she called you the C-word, I could never.” Carla shook her head in disbelief. 

“Cunt?” Alma giggled incredulously. “Could this stay between us? If-if Bianca hears about this, she’ll personally kick her ass so…” 

“Oh yeah. Yeah, I won’t say a word. Not even to Bill, I’m your friend first.” 

“Ah, thanks.” Alma smiled, putting an arm around her friend's shoulders. “But don’t worry, I’ll tell him myself.” 

…

In the suite, the men were all bantering, sipping on glasses of whiskey. Bill lit a cigarette and comfortably slouched on the couch while he watched Darby take a key bump from a baggie covered in red puckered lip prints. 

“Next?” He asked, holding the bag and a key out to him.

“Nah, I’m okay, for now.” He glanced at the hotel door, anxiously waiting for his fiancée and wondering if she and the girls would come like they said they would. “Remember to put it up before the girls get here.” 

“Oh, I will.” Darby raised his brows. “Jenny’s not into this shit.” He chuckled.

The girls all arrived at the penthouse suite shortly, kicking their heels off sore feet by the door, and went on to the ensuite bar, where Queenie began to pour shots of tequila. Alma lagged behind a bit, and Bill noticed how she was dragging her feet to join them. 

“Everything alright?” He peered down at her. 

“I need to talk to you.” She whispered, peering up at him with a serious look on her face. 

Fuck, he thought. He licked his lips, rubbing his palms on the sides of his trousers as he looked at everyone preoccupied and chatting at their nightcap party. 

He took a deep breath. “Okay, come.” He nudged his head towards the spare room, where they could close the door and have some privacy. She tossed the cowboy hat off on the bed rather harshly, which didn’t ease him for what was to come. He gently closed the door behind him and prepared himself. “Okay. I should have told you.” 

“What?” 

“I mean, I kind of tried with the—what happens in Vegas bullshit, you know. But I should have been more upfront.” 

Alma rolled her eyes. “I don’t give a fuck about the coke.” 

“Oh?” He said, taken aback. “So?” 

“I saw Blondie.” He stood before her with an incomprehensible expression. “Veronica.” 

“Yeah! Yeah, I know who you’re talking about, A’. But what the fuck?!” he said in disbelief. “I thought—well, I mean no, I guess that makes sense…” he pensively rubbed his forehead with his fingers.

“They trafficked her…” She said he had told her his theories on what could have happened to her during a late night hanging out in their private sitting room. They were the cause of her disappearance, but they didn’t know what depraved act the Russo's committed to make that happen. 

Bill frowned. “Mhmm. But Alma, we couldn’t have known that. Don’t take that shit to heart, love. At-At least she is not, you know.” He uncomfortably scratched his head, looking away in thought. 

While he used the word “we,” it was really Alma who had asked him to get rid of her. She wasn’t well at the time—they were both strung out on coke and whatever else they could get their hands on. However, he did listen to her, so he wasn’t completely without fault. What happened with Craig was definitive, but they always silently wondered if that wasn’t their only body. 

“Right, sure.” She frowned. 

“Fuck. Did she say anything to you? Did Bianca see her?” 

“No. Just Carla. But uhm, she wasn’t happy to see me, obviously. You can imagine what she said.” 

“What did she say?” He placed his hands on his hips, demanding to know.

“You’ll just get pissed off.” 

“Just tell me.” 

Alma sighed, rolling her eyes. “She said that you can go fuck yourself,” Bill dismissively shrugged at the insult. “And that we can both rot in hell.” She recounted matter of fact. “That you had a small dick.” 

“That fucking liar!” he scoffed.

“And called me a cunt!” 

“What the fuck? She called you a—that?!” His nostrils flared, getting angry like she knew he would. 

“Well, Bill, I mean, could you blame her?” She shrugged. 

“Yes.” 

“That’s not the point. But yeah. Just wanted you to know.” 

“Are you okay?” He asked carefully. “I mean, that sucks that you ran into her.”  

“Yeah…” She rubbed her forehead, feeling her irritation rising. “What a fucking bitch! A cunt!” Finally, she let out the frustration she’d been holding in. “She of all people has to show up during my bachelorette party? And that’s your fucking mess! Not mine!” She inhaled deeply, then began giggling incredulously. “Okay. Yeah. I’m better now.”

“You didn’t say shit to her when you saw her?” He tilted his head with surprise. Alma shook her head. “Well. A first for everything, then.” He rubbed his nose and sniffled. 

“You should have told me about the situation,” she said now, referencing how he acquired cocaine. 

“Yeah… but that’s technically my mess,” he lightly joked. “I figured if Bianca kinda brought it around you instead of me then…” 

“You thought I’d get mad?” 

“I don’t know—Yeah, a little. I wasn’t sure. I guess I should have said something.” The cocaine was causing him to ramble.

“Just this time. It stays in Vegas, right?” 

“Yeah! Of course. You’ve done some?” Alma nodded. “Want to do some more?” 

He cut two fat lines on the sink counter in the adjoining bathroom, while she quickly changed her tampon on the toilet nearby. He passed her a rolled one hundred dollar bill and held her curled hair back for her to snort half a line in one nostril and the last half in the other. Bill repeated the action and picked up residue on the pad of his middle finger to rub on his gums. They could feel their hearts thumping in their chests and relished in the hit of pure energy coursing through them. 

“God damn,” Alma gasped, pinching her nose.

With two fingers under her chin, he tilted her head back, checking to see if she had any visible residue on her button nose. Suddenly, his knee pushed between hers, locking her in place against the sink counter when their lips met. While they made out, Alma could feel her lips and tongue going numb in some places. He kissed down her salty neck, and she watched him do so while peering in the mirror behind her. It had been years since they had done this together, and they’d be fooling themselves by denying how much they liked it. Not to mention how sexy it made them feel. 

They settled themselves as best they could from their sudden impassioned impulsivity. When they emerged from the room to join the party, they didn’t bother to apologize or explain why they stowed away. No one dared even to ask; they just continued as if their presence hadn’t been missed at all. 

While floating around the party, Alma ran into different conversations. One was between Ulyssa and Scotty when she was replenishing her mixed drink. Ulyssa had earned her degree, but her career field pivoted. She was working for a small label searching for talent. A job she enjoyed because she was able to travel to a lot of popular music hubs in the nation. Up until a few weeks ago, she was in Atlanta.

“Yeah, a guy from your label came to us,” Scotty said. The band he managed was recently signed, so he was still on a high note from the success of it. “But you know, Atlantic seemed like the way to go.” 

“More money,” Ulyssa lightly giggled. 

“Oh!” He raised his brows. “Callin’ us sellouts?” 

“I mean,” she shrugged playfully. “I’m just kidding, I get it! That’s fucking awesome!” 

“Hey!?” Ash suddenly exclaimed. “Where the fuck is Matt?” 

Darby’s head peered down from the loft. “Fucker missed his flight!” He laughed. 

Ash facepalmed at the news. “Not surprising.”

Bill had always wondered if Ash and Matt had something going on, but as he got to know them, it became clear that their relationship was strictly platonic—they behaved more like siblings. Matt was really everyone's dopey little brother. Darby came down the stairs with Jenny on his arm.

“He’ll be here sometime tomorrow,” Darby informed. “He’ll miss breakfast, though. But uhm, I’m taking Jenny to bed, but I’ll be back.” He winked. 

“I think…” Carla spoke up where she sat next to Alma on the couch. “I’ll head out too. I gotta find my husband; he’s been on the slots too long for my liking.” She lightly giggled. “It was good to see you, Billy.” She leaned forward to say as he sat on the other side of her friend. He smiled appreciatively at her until Scotty butted in. 

“It was good to see you too, Carla.” He winked while chewing on a toothpick and leaning forward on a table. 

“You know,” she pointed at him. “I remember you.” 

“You do?” He straightened up, intrigued. 

“Yeah. Still obnoxious.” She teased.

“You sure about leaving? I’d like it if you stayed and talked to me like that some more.” 

Bill pinched the bridge and tried to stifle his laughter. “Shut up—she’s married, dude. Goodnight, Carla.” He said with a nod.

“Oh shit. I’m sorry I didn’t know,” Scotty said apologetically to her. “I’m a dog, but not that kind of dog.” 

“Whatever,” Carla playfully rolled her eyes. “I’ll see you at breakfast,” she winked. 

She kissed Alma goodbye on the cheek and joined Darby and Jenny who offered to walk her out. They weren’t the first to leave, though. Yolani had already excused herself after two drinks. Bill and Alma barely caught her goodbye as they left the room. Yolani wasn’t one for long parties. If it were up to her, she would have gone to her room right after the nightclub. As a nurse, she cherished downtime and sleep.

Alma remained seated next to Bill in the sunken living area. Since the squares left, they felt more free to openly chop lines on a coffee table photobook about desert flora. Bianca took on the task of dividing lines neatly and evenly.

“Where the hell did you say they went?” Bianca asked Bill as he sipped his drink. 

“I don’t know.” 

“They went to the match with us and then said they were going to walk the strip,” Scotty spoke up for his friend.

“Hmm.” She was worried about her sons. “There is not much for Gian to do, though.” She wondered out loud. 

Bill and Scotty shared a knowing look and smirked while Bianca was occupied. Gian showed them his fake ID. They guffawed loudly when the fake claimed that this Brooklyn boy was from the cornfields of Iowa and that he was twenty-five. He didn’t look like a teen boy very much anymore, but he didn’t look twenty-five at all. Giancarlo claimed his mustache helped him look older, but the men laughed again because it wasn’t all too impressive. 

“Ah, we’re just messing, G’.” Bill digressed when he saw his young friend's face fall. 

“We believe in you tonight, buddy!” Scotty said, patting him on the shoulder. 

Typically, Bill would report Giancarlo’s indiscretions to Bianca on principle, but he was a young man now. Mommy didn’t need to know everything. 

“They said they’d meet back here, so,” Bill gestured to her, working the lines on the book. 

“I’m done, punk!” She said to his impatience before doing a line and passing the book around. 

She chopped up lines for everyone there, but only Ulyssa declined. However, she did consider it when Theo unknowingly passed the book to her. While they were chatting, a heavy rap on the door made every one pause. 

“I’ll check it out,” Theo said, straightening his back and broadening his shoulders. 

Bill quickly palmed the coke bag and the rolled-up bill lying on the coffee table. Darby walked in; he changed out of his button-down into a plain white tee. 

“Christ!” he exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at them. “You should see the paranoid look in your eyes right now!” 

They all laughed and continued on with the party. Heavily chatting and laughing, with some light karaoke between Ulyssa and Ash. Queenie poured heavier drinks, and Alma cut more lines with a cigarette pressed between her lips. Theo requested a ballad to sing, which surprised the friends who knew him well, as he was fairly introverted and reserved. When he began singing in a smooth baritone, it gave everyone pause, captivated by how effortlessly he nailed every note of the song. When he finished, he was met with their shocked, silent stares. 

“Sheesh, if it was bad, just say that.” He dismissively swatted a hand at them. 

“Theodore!” Bianca exclaimed. 

“Where the fuck did that come from?” Bill said in disbelief. 

“Okay, okay,” Theo bashfully rebuffed. “Once upon a time… I used to be a choir boy.” He shrugged.

“That was incredible!” Ulyssa said, clapping her hands, which prompted the party to follow suit, as it was more than well deserved.

When the boys inevitably arrived, "Shimmy Shimmy Ya" by Ol’ Dirty Bastard was playing on the stereo, and it felt as though they had missed out on something based on how everyone was acting. Their safe arrival, however, only marked the end of the party. People began to trickle out one by one. Bianca and the boys were the last to leave, and Alma's eyes grew heavy, having gone without any substances to keep her going. 

After seeing Bianca and her boys out, Bill stumbled his way to bed. Scotty kept pointing out the “fuck mirror” above the bed, laughing to himself every time. Bill disrobed down to his boxer briefs as he made his way there. His shirt had been half unbuttoned through the night when undoing the rest before tossing it toward the living area. When it landed, he heard a faint whine from the direction it had fallen, prompting him to turn his head. He didn’t notice anything at first, but after taking a few more steps, he saw a foot with metallic blue painted toenails peeking out from behind the couch.

“The fuck?” He said, slowly approaching, and there lay Ulyssa, passed out with his shirt concealing half her face between couches. 

She was breathing fine, but he nudged her foot with his in case, and she recoiled from his touch. 

“What?” Alma muttered against her pillow when she heard him lightly laughing. 

“‘Lyssa is fucking passed out over here,” he said, scratching his lower belly. 

“I thought she left?” She asked, sitting up. 

To have better access, he began pushing the couch away from her. “Well, she has a twin who left way before,” he stated sarcastically. “If she did some blow, she wouldn’t be like this right now.” This was true; she was going drink for drink with people so high they weren’t feeling the effects of it. 

“That’s how I want to be right now.” 

She watched as Bill pulled her by the ankles, but he paused when he noticed her skirt riding up too far, revealing the bottom end of a red dragon tail tattoo on the side of her thigh. He could only assume the rest of the image continued up the side of her torso. Instead, he pulled her up by the wrists, sitting her up slightly to wrap an arm around her, and lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the spare room to lay her down for the night. When he returned to bed, Bill checked the digital clock before lying down—4:12 AM. He groaned, shaking his head before nuzzling it into Alma’s chest, only covered by a shirt.

…

When they woke up, just barely in time, their heads were pounding, and the after-party anxiety began to set in. Alma shuffled to the spare room to check on Ulyssa, but the bed was empty. All that remained was a note saying she’d meet them at breakfast. 

They sluggishly made it to their reservation, where Antonio and Connie were already sipping coffee, with Echo sitting between them in a bubbly mood scribbling on a paper children's menu with a waxy purple crayon. When she spotted her parents, she let out a joyful screech. While they were delighted to see her, the sound was piercing, ricocheting in their skulls.

“Just you two?” Antonio smirked, setting his mug down.

“Uhm, probably,” Alma adjusted her sunglasses on her stuffy nose and then sighed. “How was Echo?” 

“Good.” He said, looking down at her with a smile on his face. “She really likes to dance, doesn’t she?” He said recalling her having him rewind to some needle drop on a children’s movie to listen to over and over. “And your party?”

The couple before him looked so visibly miserable; it was amusing to him, but also he thought they could at least sit up a little. When the waitress poured them a cup of coffee, they both took a sip of the black water without a care for it scorching their tongues. 

“Fun.” Alma nodded; she wasn’t up for many words. 

“Too much fun. Uhm,” he cleared his raspy throat as he scratched his stubbly neck. “I think we’re getting too old to recover like we used to,” Bill chuckled, but there wasn’t any energy behind it. 

Soon the party came to join, but they all looked lethargic at the table. All, except Bianca, dressed with a face of sleek makeup and high hair that would survive a hurricane. This was Antonio’s first time meeting any of them. Finally, faces to names he had only ever heard on the phone before him as they all greeted him respectfully before taking a seat. They had a gaggle of interesting-looking friends, to say the least. 

“I am so sorry,” Ulyssa put a hand to her mouth, embarrassed after everyone put their orders in. “That’s like the second time you’ve had to carry me.” 

“The third,” Bill said, holding three digits up. 

“What?”

“Our housewarming party.” 

“I thought I just passed out in the den by myself.” She was horrified. 

“No. It’s fine. It happens.” He shrugged. 

Yolani cut in to say how much she enjoyed their shared hotel room all by herself last night and thanked him and Alma again for it. People were cross-talking while they enjoyed their food, which was helping everyone soothe their hangovers. 

“I heard you two had a baby?” Bianca asked the Darbys. They had known each other for a long time, but it was nice to finally meet and speak in person, especially with Darby himself.

“Yeah!” Jenny said happily. “She’s seven months now.” 

“It’s our first trip without her. I kind of wish we brought her, but she’s too little, I think. Family is taking care of her and our cat, Garbo.” He chuckled. 

“What’s her name?” 

“Zowie,” Darby and Jennifer said together. 

“So precious!” 

“Thanks,” Darby said before taking a sip of his coffee. “Your sons, uh, are very polite! Bill talks about Giancarlo every now and again. We’re excited for him to come later in the summer to work with us.” 

"Oh, trust me, he’s excited too. Do me a favor. Give him the bullshit grunt work so he doesn’t start getting ideas about moving to Seattle, would you?” She winked.

Echo slid from her seat, under the table, stepping over people's feet to crawl into her father’s lap. He was in the middle of eating his omelet, but he paused to help her up. 

“Hi, GiGi!” Echo lightly snickered at Giancarlo.

“Hi, Miss Echo.” He lightly waved from across the table. 

Bill glanced over towards Bianca, who was now speaking amiably with Antonio and making him chuckle bashfully. “What did you do last night?” 

“Uhm,” he peered over at his preoccupied mother cautiously. “Walked around some. Got into a club,” he whispered with a smirk. “It was fun. Lots of cute girls here,” he said with flushed cheeks.

“Don’t forget to tell Mr. Skarsgård that you yaked in a bush before we came back to the hotel, though.” Lorenzo teasingly nudged his little brother, which he sneered at him before the embarrassment settled in.

“Don’t mix your drinks, you know. Uhm, after we wrap up here, could you stick around? Alma and I wanted to talk to you.” 

“Sure,” Gian nodded. “Of course.” He said with certainty. 

“Okay, cool.” His attention shifted to Echo, who was picking at his omelet, and offered him a bite. He ate from her hand before kissing the top of her head.

…

Alma was holding her daughter as she discussed the plans for the day with her father. She intended to go to the spa to relax and recharge before the big day ahead. The ladies were also invited to join if they wished. Otherwise, it was a free day for everyone to enjoy as they pleased.

“She’s staying with Yolani tonight after our dinner,” she informed her father of Echo’s arrangement. 

“Well, Connie and I will have her while you’re at the spa. We can watch her then too.” 

“Apá, go do something fun for yourself.” 

“That’s fun for me,” he argued. 

Meanwhile, Bill finished smoking a cigarette, stomped it out, and fist-bumped Darby and Scotty before dismissing himself while they discussed gathering a group later to shop the promenade. 

Bill walked through the casino and spotted Giancarlo sitting on a bench by the lounge, sipping on orange juice from a foam to-go cup. He tiredly exhaled loudly, taking a seat next to him. 

“So, pretty girls, huh?” He asked, peering over his sunglasses while slumping in his seat.

Gian lightly laughed. “Yeah! Older too.” 

Bill laughed. “Well, no shit! So what? Blondes? Brunettes? Redheads?”

“I don’t think I’m in a position to be so picky. But—Brunettes.” 

“Good choice.” Bill nodded, resting his finger-laced hands over his waist.

“I got a number last night.”

“Did you?” Bill raised an eyebrow at him. Gian rolled up his shirt sleeve to reveal smudged ink-written digits on his flexed bicep. “Jesus Christ!” Bill laughed. “Well… you’ll have to wait a year to call her, though.”

“Whatever!” Gian laughed.

Suddenly, he felt a tap on his shoulder, causing him to turn his head, only to hear a pleasant, girlish laugh coming from the opposite direction. Alma had faked him out, and he fell for it.

“Did you ask him?” she inquired, looking down at Bill, who was beginning to sit up.

“I was waiting on you,” he replied, wrapping his arm around her waist. “Alma and I wanted to ask if you’d be our ring bearer.”

Gian looked at them with surprise. “For real?” 

“Yeah for real!” Alma giggled. “So would you?” 

“Yeah!” He brightly grinned. “Of course, Miss Alma.” He stood up to hug her, thanking her. While in wait, he was worried that they were going to tell him that his visit to Seattle would no longer be happening. 

“It was always going to be you,” she said, squeezing his hand appreciatively. It still felt strange that she now had to look up at him. Whenever Bill spoke about him, she still pictured a little boy that he no longer was.

“We just wanted to ask you in person.” Bill stood up from his seat. 

“Thank you, Bill,” he put his hand out to shake, but Bill pulled his hand so that they could embrace instead. 

…

“Bianca is quite funny,” Antonio said with a chuckle. “She called me, babe, at breakfast. I don’t think Connie liked that too much.” 

Alma lightly giggled. “That’s just how she talks. Babe, sweetie, honey. I think it rubbed off on Bill a little. If I ever hear him say ‘cosette’, he’s gone too far.”

“Mm. And the guy with the panther tattoo on his neck?” 

“Darby?” 

“Yes, he dresses like I did in the 60s. He’s nice and your friend with the short hair too.” 

“Ulyssa.” 

“Mhmm. She’s Echo’s godmother?” 

“She is. And your friend Bianca, too.” She lightly joked. 

“Echo has two?”

“Yeah. She, uh, Ulyssa was there when Echo was born, but since Bianca and Bill are close, we just agreed that they would both be the godmother. Two is better, no?”

“I think so,” he lightly smiled. “So, you ready for tomorrow?” Antonio asked his daughter, who was shaking dabs of hot sauce into her shrimp cocktail. 

They were at a Mexican restaurant off the strip together. Alma was about seventy-five percent back to normal; a good night's rest was needed to get to one hundred percent. After lunch, she and Bill enjoyed a couple’s massage before splitting up to separate spa areas, each enjoying some time to themselves. Bianca, Ulyssa, and Yolani joined Alma at the spa, and they chatted a bit before eventually falling silent. Everyone wanted a chance to decompress and unwind, undisturbed.

She smiled. “Are you?” 

“Mhmm. I’m happy you invited me,” he joked, taking a sip of his beer.

“Really? You might have a point, though.” 

“Oh?” He raised his brows. 

“Bill brought up eloping in New Orleans at first. But uhm, I know you walking me down an aisle one day was something important to you.”

Antonio appreciated her thoughtfulness. “But Vegas, mija?” 

“You know, we like to have fun,” she smirked. “Entertainment work has been our life, so it’s nice to be on the other end. I book and attend shows constantly. But—I know you’re aware of what Bill does for work in New York.” Antonio paused and put his flauta down before he could take a bite. “You didn’t think Bill would tell me he told you?” She tilted her head, amused.

“If you knew, why didn’t you say anything?” 

“Why didn’t you say anything? I’ll be honest, he didn’t tell me that he did for a few months.” 

“Well, I wanted you to tell me yourself. But also, that’s between you two. He’s going to be your husband tomorrow, but you have a daughter together. You bought a house together. You work together.” 

“We’re basically married already.” She stated for him. 

“Yes. So of course you have to listen to him. You do what he does.” 

Alma put her fork down, looking displeased. “Apá, yeah, I listen, but that’s because he listens to me too. We respect each other. It’s not like the old ways.” 

“No.” He sighed. “You two have never been with the old ways, anyway.” He digressed. “He takes care of you. Because of Echo, it helped me see him differently than what I thought of him.” He admitted. “He takes care of both of you. That’s all I wanted for you because I’m old. I don’t know how long—” 

“Oh god,” Alma looked away. “You’re going to be an old, old man. I don’t like it when you talk like that. Bill’s dad passed, and I just think about,” she lowered her gaze, shaking the thought of her own father’s inevitable passing out of her head. 

“Okay, okay. I shouldn’t be talking like that after something like that has happened. Doesn’t matter who the man was.” 

“I get sad for him. For Bill. It’s just complicated for him, you know.” She mournfully sighed. “He’ll be okay, though.” 

Antonio just listened; it was rare for her to share anything about Bill this way with him. She usually only spoke with clear facts whenever he had questions about him. They both did this—preserving and protecting each other by sharing just enough but not too much with anyone inquiring about them when the other wasn’t present.

“Uhm,” he cleared his throat. “Are his brothers coming for the wedding?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded. “He’s probably with them now having dinner. They’re actually both doing pretty well right now. Well, despite, you know.” 

“Mhmm. That’s good.”

Alma popped a shrimp in her mouth. “Gustaf got a better job, and Alex kind of cut his bullshit. He’s been with his lady now for like eight months! That’s a miracle.” She laughed. “They have two kids together. The oldest boy is eleven, and the youngest is seven. So they’ve known each other for a long time.” 

“But they’ve never been together before now?” Antonio took a sip of his beer, trying to understand. 

“No,” she laughed. “Only been together for however long it takes him to make two kids.” 

“Alma!” Antonio scoffed, surprised she’d make a dirty joke in front of him. 

“Sorry,” she said bashfully, loudly biting onto a tortilla chip. 

… 

In a nice steakhouse, the brothers sat together in a booth. The place was dim, but a pendant light above their table forced the tall men to slouch a bit in their seats so they could talk without the fixture obscuring the top halves of their faces. They kept the conversation light, sharing funny life anecdotes. Bill became a topic of discussion, and he mostly talked about the record shop, as it was the focus of his work these days.

“Well, I wasn’t there because if I was, it would have been a different story,” he said. “But the band was trying to set the fucking drum kit on fire.”

“Some gimmick,” Gustaf said, following along. 

“Gimmick my ass! The whole place would have burned down! Security kicked them out, and Alma called every venue in Seattle and warned them.” 

“Ooooh, blacklisted,” Alex said. 

“Yeah. They can play in fucking Tacoma,” he laughed. “There’s always something though, some bad, some not so bad, some bad but kinda funny. Between the shop and the club, but that's what it is, so.” 

Alex checked his wristwatch and scratched his head with pursed lips. Bill and Gustaf shared a curious look. 

“You have somewhere to be?” Bill asked. 

“Jodie wants me to call her and the boys before they go to bed, their time.” 

“Oh.” Hearing his brother speak like that was strange. He was so serious about it, too, like he really gave a shit for once. 

“Or is she making sure you’re not doing what you’re not supposed to be doing?” Gustaf quipped. 

“Don’t you think Lorna might want a call from you too?” Alex narrowed his eyes at his brother.

Gustaf wagged a disapproving finger at his brother. “Yeah, sure. She can put Tate on the phone so he can say hi to you.” 

Bill deeply inhaled, rolling his eyes under closed lids. “I thought you two were over this?” He said, glancing between both of them and becoming aware they were just being terribly petty because they could. 

They both digressed and apologized to their little brother to keep the peace. 

“But actually, I do have to call Lorna.” 

“Right now?” Bill clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Call them when we’re done. I’ll get on the phone and vouch for you two. If they don’t believe me, Alma will.”

“You’re lucky your girl doesn’t get jealous!” Alex said, taking a bite of his steak. 

“Eh, she does sometimes. But she doesn’t keep me on fucking leash like your ladies do.” 

His brothers both scoffed, clearly offended, but it was true. Jodie had her reasons for expecting a call, but Lorna was just as paranoid because of Alex, whose behavior had created a complex that strained her relationship with his brother, Gustaf, at times.

“So, I don’t give a fuck but,” Bill took a deep breath. “Where did you put him?” He asked once dinner had wound down.

Gustaf scratched his head. “His ashes are in a box, you know. I just—I just put him up in the attic. So–” 

“Hmm,” Bill nodded, satisfied with that. “That’s all.”

“He was tough as balls,” Alex said. “I think, uh, he’s a source for a lot of our issues, honestly. Women issues,” he pointed at himself. “Alcohol issues,” he pointed at Gustaf. “And,” he pointed at Bill. “I don’t know. Cryptic douchebag issues.”

“Shut up,” he rolled his eyes. 

“I’ll take that more than women's issues.” 

“I think we’ve all had issues with women,” Bill said honestly. “But that’s on account of us literally being motherless fucks.” 

“Well, that’s certainly a way to put it,” said Gustaf, facetiously. 

“Even with tomorrow’s wife?” asked Alex.

“Mhmm.” Bill nodded with puckered lips. “Let’s just say she put up with a lot from me.” 

“Well, I hear that. Congrats, brother,” Alex raised his beer glass. 

“Congrats,” Gustaf said, raising his glass of water. “You got a good one, brother.” 

 …

Alma was alone in the penthouse suite, lying in bed with a thriller novel for a change. Carla had handed it to her in passing after she left the spa; it was part of their two-woman book club. Echo was with her grandfather, and at his insistence, Alma didn’t mind. He didn’t see Echo often, so it was best that she stayed another night with him and Connie. Before being left alone, Ulyssa had been with her, watching a rerun of The Real World on MTV and chatting a bit. 

“So he’s not coming?” Ulyssa asked, a bit anxious over seeing Gregory. They hadn’t worked out and with her new career, she called it quits, not wanting to be in a long-distance partnership when things had already been wavering. Instead, they agreed to remain friends, but she could tell he wasn’t so keen on the idea. 

“Nope. He did RSVP, but when he came to drop off some posters last week, he told Bill he wouldn’t be able to make it.” She said, biting into a juicy chocolate-covered strawberry. They were sharing a platter of them that had been gifted by Theo.

“He's so damn flakey!” 

Alma lightly chuckled. “He still asks about you. But I heard through Darby that he’s dating a girl at the print shop he works at…” She looked over at Ulyssa carefully, she looked a little hurt but at least it didn’t come off as devastated.

“Well,” Ulyssa tutted. “He should quit trying to call me then!” 

The telephone on the nightstand rang, and she laid her book down to crawl to the other side of the big round bed to answer. 

“You up?”

Alma smiled. “Booty calling me?” 

Bill laughed. “Hey, uh, I forgot my toothbrush.” 

She rolled her eyes. “You did that on purpose,” she giggled. 

“I swear I didn’t!”

They had agreed to spend the night before their wedding apart. Bill arranged to stay in his brother Gustaf’s double bedroom. Although not particularly traditional, they chose to see each other for the first time at the altar. However, it made Bill terribly nervous. As the day approached, the more his emotions played with him. Seeing Alma in her bridal gown for the first time in front of everyone, he wasn’t sure how he would react, and he didn’t want to show his emotions in front of so many people.

“Just go in the spare room and close the door. I’ll be in and out.” 

Bill was rummaging around the room while she waited for him to leave. It suddenly felt kind of silly to spend the night separately. There was a light rap on the door, causing Alma to turn to it while sitting on the spare bed. 

“I got it.” His voice was slightly muffled speaking from the other side of the closed door. 

“Okay.” She stood up, approached the door, and had to stop herself from turning the handle. “Goodnight.”

She laid her hand flat against the door, and it felt as though she could sense his energy through the wood. 

“Kind of wild, huh?” He spoke after a pause. “We’re getting married.” He heard Alma’s light giggle from the other side of the door. “Are you ready?” 

“Are you?” She quipped back. 

“Yeah,” he smiled. 

“Yeah, me too. Who knew we’d be here after meeting in shitty detention?” 

“Mhmm. It’s not the first time I noticed you, though. It was just the first opportunity I had to talk to you without your bitchy little friends around.” He heard Alma laugh a bit louder. “We had that class together. Your hair was long, and then one day you walked in, and it was hacked off.” 

“That was terrible.” She grimaced, remembering how bad of a job she did. 

“I was shocked. It was so, so long. I wanted to ask why you did that, but I was too shy.” He chuckled, recalling how long it was and how she would gather it to one side to give her neck some air while picking at split ends. “Also, I wasn’t too sure if you were like your friends, either. You’re not, by the way.” 

“You were new, so I noticed you the first week of school. But I would have noticed you regardless because you were also so much taller than everyone, even when you walked with a slouch. I dressed like such a nerd back then, and you looked so cool.”

Bill turned and pressed his broad shoulders against the door before sliding down to take a seat on the floor. Alma could sense his movements and did the same. 

“I guess I was a little cool.” He playfully bragged. “Uhm, we haven’t really had any time to ourselves since we got here. But, um, yesterday? When you ran into—you know. Are you sure you’re okay? I hate that—that happened.” 

“I guess?” She scratched her head uncomfortably. “She… I feel bad.” 

“Well, if you didn’t, there’d be something wrong with you.” 

“Thinking of her still makes me angry.” She admitted as she could feel herself becoming irritated. 

Bill picked at the inner seam of his joggers, feeling a bit uncomfortable himself. “Mm. I was an asshole. I should have never used her to push you away like I did. It was shitty. I wonder… how we even had an open relationship.” 

“We could hardly do that right.” Alma quipped.

“It literally pisses me off even thinking of doing that now.” He shook his head to shake the thought of it. “You’re mine.” 

Alma smiled. “I am.” 

“And also, sorry for being an asshole because your period started. Didn’t mean to—” 

“Eh, it’s whatever.” She sighed. “I love Echo. Maybe—well, I mean, I’m an only child?” 

Bill frowned and crossed his arms, uncomfortable with what she seemed to imply—that they would only have one child. He didn’t like that she was accepting defeat so quickly. He could be a little better about his reactions, he thought, it wasn’t helping her optimism. His disappointment didn’t lie with her but rather with himself. 

“But did you like being one?” He asked rhetorically because he knew of the deep loneliness she experienced because of it. 

“No.” She answered after a long pause.

“Well then… there’s your answer.” He chewed on his lip for a moment and begrudgingly stood up to go. “I love you.” He pressed his forehead against the door. 

“You’re leaving already?” She said, standing up herself. 

“Well, it’s kinda late. Don’t you need to get up super early?” 

“Yeah…” she lamented. “Do you still think it’ll be fun?” 

He raised a brow, confused over what she was asking. “Do I still think—what?” 

“Sex.” 

He tilted his head, still perplexed, as his brows pulled together. “Sex?” 

“Yeah. Do you still think it’ll be as good as having sex in sin?” 

A smirk crept across his face when he heard the door unlock. They hadn’t been intimate since they arrived, having been so busy with friends or family, or being drunk or too hungover and everything in between. 

“Are you inviting me in?” He asked, wanting to be certain despite his hand on the handle already.

“Bill. If you don’t open the fucking door.” 

She jumped back when the door immediately flew open, and before she knew it, he was tackling her into the soft bed, making her yelp before she giggled with elation. 

…

The Wedding Day

Bianca was meeting Alma that morning, bringing the bridal dress with her. Her hair was in large rollers, and she wore a baby pink velour tracksuit with matching furry slippers. Alma had given her a spare key to the room the night before, but Bianca still knocked—several times. After a loud sigh, she fished the key out of her bra and opened the door to let herself in.

“Alma? Wake up, babe!” She announced when she entered. 

Rounding the corner, she could see Alma lying on her side in the large round bed with her bare back facing her. She paused. Something didn’t feel right, which caused her to look more closely. 

“Oh, for Christ’s sake!” She groaned as she quickly turned around. 

She noticed Bill on the other side of Alma, lying on his stomach with his bare ass to the world. He stirred and turned his head, and his eyes went wide, seeing Bianca in the room. 

“Shit!”

“Huh?” Alma woke up looking at him bleary-eyed. 

“I’ll wait outside. My god!” She said disgusted, stomping away. 

“Oh my god!” Alma exclaimed in horror, having been caught because they overslept. “Damn it!” 

“She’ll be okay,” Bill chuckled as he got up to search for his discarded clothes. He kissed her goodbye just before she stepped into the shower. “I’ll see you later.” 

She smiled, feeling butterflies in her belly suddenly taking flight. “I love you.” 

Bill met Bianca in the hallway, where she was waiting impatiently. She shook her head, disapproving of the smug smirk on his face.

“Sorry.” 

“You weren’t supposed to be in there.” She raised her brow. 

“No. But,” he shrugged. “What’d you see? My ass?” He laughed. 

“It’s not funny!” She laughed. “Your ass probably gave me the evil eye, for all I know! Evil—Evil ass!” They both cracked up. “Okay, okay. You go get ready, honey.” 

“Alright,” he said, looking at the garment bag in her hands. 

“I’m not going to show you,” she said, shooing him away before he could think to ask. 

…

Chewing on a piece of nicotine gum, Bill sat on the spare bed he was meant to sleep in, half-dressed. He wore long black socks, a stark white dress shirt, and white boxer briefs. His perfectly pressed trousers still hung in the closet where he had left them. He was concerned about putting them on too soon and wrinkling them.

“Yeah. I think it sounds alright.” Gustaf said, handing back a sheet of notebook paper. 

“Alright?” 

“Well, it’s not me you’re writing to, is it? It’s good!” He assured. “From the heart.” 

Bill just nodded and nervously folded the paper closed. Gustaf noticed his little brother sighing deeply while he checked the time and watched him rise from his seat to his soft leather toiletry bag for a comb and some hair products.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Gustaf asked while digging in his duffle bag for a pair of long black socks. 

“Hmm?”

“Being in love?” He turned to his anxious brother with a smirk before sitting on the edge of his bed.

Bill resisted the urge to roll his eyes, instead side-eyeing his brother skeptically. He wasn’t sure what he was trying to get at. His brother was married, but not to a woman Bill thought one would want to fall in love with—especially knowing she’d been with their oldest brother. However, Bill wasn’t much better, considering he slept with his hippie girlfriend. Still, Gustaf was married, and there was something he knew that Bill would only understand in a matter of hours.

“Well—of course.” He muttered. 

“You don’t have to play so cool all the time.” He lightly teased. “If you want to be like that, then your letter will make you look lame then!”

“Yeah, yeah.” He groaned as his nerves bubbled up. 

… 

Echo had finally joined her mother while she was having her makeup done by a professional. Alma was sitting in a chair wearing a black fluffy robe and chatting with her father, who had brought lattes for everyone from the café in the lobby. All the while, a photographer was capturing the preparations. Their lens was focused on Bianca, who was helping by curling the little girl’s hair. Echo kept turning her head to watch her mother’s transformation, causing Bianca to pull the hot tool away several times to avoid burning her.

“Let’s turn the chair, yeah?” Bianca suggested, poking her button nose. “So you can watch your mommy turn into a princess just like you?” 

Echo smiled bashfully. “Mama! Mama!” She said once she was facing her. 

“Yeah, baby?” Alma peeked over at her, creaking one eye open. 

“Can I? Have some?” She asked while the makeup artist bounced a power brush on Alma’s face. 

“Oh, here we go,” Antonio lightly chuckled. 

Alma and the makeup artist exchanged a wink before she picked up an unused makeup brush and approached the little girl. The women in the room gasped in awe as the soft brush swept across her cheeks, and she naturally blushed at all the praise.

“I’m going to check on Connie and get ready, mija,” Antonio told his daughter as he got up from the couch with the help of his cane, letting out a low achy groan. “You look pretty,” he said, kissing the top of his grown daughter’s head. “You hardly need it, though,” he added, pointing at the makeup kit beside her. “Here, for you,” he said, pulling a thin, square box from his tan bomber jacket. 

Alma opened the box to reveal a pair of diamond earrings with teardrop pearls dangling elegantly. She was speechless—they were beautiful—but conflicted. Her father had already insisted on paying for both her wedding dress and Echo’s, and now he had spent even more on these earrings. It felt like too much, and she wasn’t sure how to express her mixed emotions.

“Don’t mention it,” Antonio said, easily reading his daughter's thoughts from her expression. “Just say you like them.” 

Alma gave him a small appreciative smile. “They’re gorgeous.” She stood up to hug him tightly. 

Before leaving, he gave his daughter another box that housed two small button pearl earrings for Echo to wear, just as pretty.

“Bye-bye, Bwello,” Echo said, doing her best to pronounce “Abuelo,” as she waved at him.

“No, see you later, mija!” he told her with a wink. "Bye" felt too definitive of a farewell for him.

“See later!” She giggled. 

“Later, Mistah Lucio,” Bianca winked at him, causing him to discreetly raise an abashed brow at his daughter, who responded with a smirk.

Ulyssa arrived shortly, still half-done herself, with her short mod haircut perfectly texturized, but she needed to deliver the Juliet cap she had made for Echo to go with her outfit. Alma’s hair was being sprayed with hairspray when she entered. It was slicked from the middle part into a low, sleek, intricate bun. The stylist was working on laying down the baby hairs in their natural growth pattern, creating soft leave-out curls by Alma's temples.

“Oh my god, Alma!” Ulyssa said with a hand to her mouth. “You’re getting married, bitch!” She laughed. “You look so gorgeous!”

Alma bashfully laughed. “Thanks, ‘Lys.” 

“And you too, pretty girlie!” She pointed at Echo. 

“Look my blush!” She said excitedly as she touched her cheeks. 

“I love it! I’ve brought you something,” Ulyssa said, presenting the lace cap. “Do you like it? Your Aunt Bianca will help you with it.” She handed it over, as Bianca was already working on pinning Echo’s hair. Alma reminded Echo to say thank you to Aunt Ulyssa, which she did.

Ulyssa spotted the wedding dress hung high in waiting. “It’s so pretty, Alma!” She complimented.

“I’m about to put it on. Do you want to stay to see?” 

“Oh, I want to, but I have to finish getting ready. I’ll see how it’s meant to be seen—next to Bill.” She winked. 

“Right, right,” Alma blushed. “Later.”

…

Bill was adjusting his suit in the full-length mirror, stepping back to assess it while shaking his arms out. He then pulled the sleeves of his button-down shirt to add silver love knot cufflinks. A light knock on the door prompted Gustaf to rise and answer, while Bill nervously nitpicked his suit.

“Oh! Hi, I’m Bianca.” She greeted him. 

“Papa!” Echo said happily.

Bill quickly turned and saw his daughter running toward him with her arms outstretched, giddily. She was wearing white stockings and a white dress. A bright smile spread across Bill’s face as he caught her and lifted her into his arms.

“You’re beautiful, baby! Look at you,” he lightly tickled her side, kissing her cheek. “You missed me?”

Echo laughed. “A little.” 

“A little? You’re so honest sometimes it hurts,” he lightly laughed. “You had fun with your grandpa then?” 

Echo nodded; she did indeed; he hardly had rules. “So handsome, Papa!” She said, placing her hands on his high cheeks. 

“You think?”

Bianca stood back to give them space while Gustaf dismissed himself to look for Alex, whom he suspected was wasting time on casino slots below. Bill turned his head, remembering that there was another presence with them. 

“This is the best you’ve ever looked!” Bianca lightly teased. “No, really honey, you look so nice in white!” She said, taking note of the suit jacket he wore. 

“Yeah? It feels a little hard to get used to,” he said, gently sitting Echo on the bed. “Do I look like a butler?” 

“No,” Bianca shook her head as she laughed. “No tie?” 

“I have one, should I put it on? I did at first but–”

“No, no,” she interrupted before he went on an anxious tangent. “Wear it how you want to. Trust me, you look great. I wouldn’t lie; you know me. Uhm, Alma wants to see you.” 

Bill licked his lips, nervously smoothing his slicked hair down. “Right now? Is–is everything okay?” 

“Yeah! You already saw her this morning. What’s stopping you?” 

He put a hand on his hip. “She’s not like, changing her mind or something?” 

“Don’t be silly, Billy!” She laughed. 

“Alright. Uhm, are you going back to your room?” 

“After I leave Echo with her grandpa. Why?” 

He reached into his pocket and handed her the wedding bands. “Just hold on to these for Gian. Alma’s band is her mother’s, so it can’t be lost.”

"Got it, don’t worry. I’ll give it to him at the chapel, then.” 

She examined the precious metals in her palm. Alma’s gold band was engraved with simple, delicate florals, while Bill’s softly hammered platinum ring was thick and much heavier. He watched as she tucked the rings inside her bra and then patted her chest.

“Really?”

“It’s the safest place they could be,” she winked. “Now go.”  

… 

The door to the suite creaked open slowly and ominously, making Alma’s heart race as she waited for Bill to step in. Although she wished he would come through the door with the same eagerness he had shown when he opened the bedroom door last night, she knew he was nervous and anxious. However, she was too. So instead of revealing herself at the altar, she decided they could have this private moment together one last time before they wed.

Bill took a hesitant step into the room, his heart thumping hard against his chest as he rounded the corner. He peeked briefly before straightening his back as he took a deep breath before proceeding. She stood by the window, her back facing toward him—her bare back. The dress was sleek, with no frills or fluff, chic and elegant against her curves. The square neckline was held up by thin straps, and the smooth white fabric hugged her bodice before it cascaded down. A high slit exposed one of her smooth legs as the rest of the fabric lay in a long train behind her. All of this underneath a veil compassing her, just as long.

She turned her head to meet his gaze, and he suddenly stepped back, clutching his chest, completely enamored. She was breathtaking. Alma thought the same of him, looking dapper, tall, and clean in his white suit jacket and slicked hair. 

Their eyes finally met after scanning each other up and down in stunned awe. Big smiles were on both their faces before they began giggling uncontrollably. Completely tickled that soon they were to be husband and wife. That this was really true. 

“You look so fucking beautiful,” he said, lightly touching the fabric of the veil that kissed her shoulder. 

“You look so handsome!” She slipped her hand under the veil, noticing he was having trouble figuring out where to place his hand, and gently held it. “Is it what you imagined?”

He looked her up and down again. “It’s better than what I imagined, honestly.” He chuckled. “So much better. I want to kiss you.” He looked at her plump lips, tastefully covered in soft nude pink lipstick. 

“Not yet.” She said in a hushed tone. She wanted him to remove the veil for the first time at the altar. 

He nodded. “Let’s go, then. I don’t want to wait any longer.”

…

Their ceremony at the chapel was straightforward and prompt. There wasn’t an Elvis impersonator—though the absurdity would have cost extra—but a smartly dressed minister officiated. They chose not to have a bridal or groom party, as deciding whom to include was too difficult. Only three people had specific roles in the ceremony: Antonio, who walked Alma down the aisle; Giancarlo, who delivered the wedding bands; and Echo, who scattered white rose petals along the walkway. Despite running out of petals halfway through, she completed the task and even took the liberty to bow before everyone, earning amused snickers from the guests with her charming gesture.

So they stood before their guests and family. Some friends, like Marcy, Marco, Julia, Simion, and Marina, had arrived early in the morning, as well as Lewis and his wife Helen, both nicely tanned. All guests had been asked to wear black to the ceremony, as explicitly stated on the black wedding invitations they issued. For Bill and Alma, it was rare to deviate from their usual preference for dark colors, especially white. This time, they took the opportunity to stand out in a sea of onyx.

They repeated the stereotypical vows after the minister as they exchanged rings. For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part… 

The minister announced their official bond and quickly stepped aside, allowing the couple to kiss as husband and wife. Bill lifted the veil from Alma’s face, taking in her beauty fully for the first time. He smiled brightly at her—so stunning—and gently cupped her face in his hands, kissing her deeply. His arms wrapped around her body, pulling her closer, while she hooked an arm around his broad shoulders. He turned and dipped her, their lips remained connected—a move they had practiced at home and executed flawlessly. 

After signing the marriage certificate, they began giggling again, still in disbelief. As if they were just a part of some elaborate delusional prank. But it was real and now official. 

Many pictures were taken at the end of the ceremony outside the chapel steps, including shots with family, friends, individuals, and the minister. As they were finishing up the last few photos, their car arrived to take them to the venue—a Tuscan-inspired tavern restaurant that, while a charming eatery by day, was available for private events.

They made their way to Bill’s dream car—a 1965 Mustang Fastback coupe, all black with chrome details. It looked as though it had driven straight off the magazine page he’d pinned to the thin walls of his childhood home, right next to a photo of Raquel Welch in a bikini. The driver stepped out, clad in a clean mechanic’s shirt, which struck Bill as unusual attire for a chauffeur. Alma glanced up at him, biting back a smirk.

“Congrats,” the driver said, handing Bill the keys to the vehicle. “And congrats on getting married.” 

“What?” He looked down at Alma with surprise. “What the fuck?” 

Alma laughed, delighted by his astonished reaction. Happy that he was genuinely shocked. She took his hand, guiding him to the car so that they could get inside it. Bill admired the black leather interior and its intricate details with wide-eyed appreciation, looking like a child lost in wonder. It was even better in person than the mediocre photos Alma received in the mail.

“Do you like it? It’s my wedding gift to you.” 

“Are you for real? How?” 

“My old house money.” Her childhood home was bulldozed, and now a parking lot took over the space for the strip mall. As if it never existed. 

“Right, but–” 

“Darby. I asked for his help to find this.” She explained. Darby knew old cars and where to help with the search and knew what was fair. “We were able to call around and found this in Reno. And it’ll be shipped to Seattle.”

“Holy shit…” he said, sitting back in his seat in disbelief. “It’s mine. For real?” 

“For real!” She laughed. 

He reached over to kiss her deeply again. This time it was a bit more sexually charged. Making out in the Mustang he now owned. In his dream car with his dream girl. They broke apart, but their foreheads remain linked. 

“I want to eat your pussy so fucking bad right now.” He said, pecking her lips while she giggled. “Right here, I don’t give a fuck. You’re my wife now.” 

“Let’s take it for a ride first and… see where we end up.” She winked.

…

After their reception dinner in the intimate, candlelit venue with stone walls, they had a bouquet toss on the outdoor patio, which Ulyssa ended up catching, making Bill laugh. Afterward, some of the men from the party joined Bill outside, wanting a tour of the Mustang. Bill took a puff of his cigarette and thanked Darby for helping Alma. 

“Yeah, man anytime.” He said, lighting his cigarette. “I’ll admit I was getting nervous, thinking I wouldn’t find anything through my connections. We’ve been searching since, uh, October,” he said with uncertainty. “Yeah! October. It looks damn good.” He said, fist-bumping his boss. “That weekend I asked off in February, I was in Reno test-driving it”

“Hey, brother, could I get one?” Scotty said, straightening up after peering into the car through the rolled-down window. “The ‘Stang is sick, by the way.” 

“I’m gonna see what the old boss is up to,” Darby said, dismissing himself.

Standing at the altar in the chapel, Bill scanned the guests and noticed Scotty sporting a black eye. He gave his friend a curious look, pointing at his own eye in silent question. Scotty, seated in one of the pews, simply signaled with a gesture that he'd explain later. 

“Care to explain now?” He asked, passing him a cigarette. 

“Let me light this, and I will,” Scotty said, pulling out a matchbook from his back pocket—a wedding favor with Bill and Alma’s names around an anatomical heart and the wedding date underneath. After taking a deep drag and exhaling the smoke, he continued, “Someone punched me.”

“Yeah, no fucking shit!”

“I didn’t start it, man. I was out with everyone on the strip but Ash and I–” 

Bill plucked his cigarette from his lips. “You and Ash?” He raised a brow at him.

“It’s nothing like that. She’s cute, but I got something going on with Kiara. That’s another thing completely. Anyway, we got separated, so we were weaving around the crowds to try to catch up, and she bumped into some Texas-sized asshole! Like bulls ride him kinda shit, right?” He animatedly gestured. “And well, he got real agro about it, and I-I’m not going to repeat what he said,” he shook his head, taking another deep drag, still pissed.

What the man uttered was reprehensible, but coming from a hick town, it wasn’t the first time he’d heard ugly words about someone’s color, unfortunately. He’d fought about it as a young punk then and continued into his young adulthood confronting skinheads at underground shows. With his daughter being half-black, he didn’t hesitate to push the man back harshly when he heard those remarks directed at Ash.

“It’s not something that should be coming out of anyone’s fucking mouth.” He spit on the ground with disgust. “But yeah, Ash tried to pull me back, and in doing so—I got clocked. Didn’t mean to look like shit at your wedding, man. Sorry.”

“Nah, fuck that guy. You get him a few times at least?” Bill asked, stomping his cigarette out. 

“Yeah, dude. I kicked him in the chest, and we ran off,” he laughed. 

“And what’s going on with Kiara? You two got back together?” 

Scotty took a deep breath, looking a bit put out. “Well, no.” He scratched his neck, clearly debating whether he wanted to share. “You know, I hear it’s rude to announce stuff at other people’s weddings, so—”

“You’re not announcing shit. You’re just talking to me.” 

“Well, then, Kiara is pregnant. It’s mine before you think to ask.” 

Bill raised his hands defensively. “Get out of my head.”

“Shithead,” he said playfully, stomping his cigarette out. “Yeah… we’re having a boy.” 

“Oh! So this isn’t a new thing?” 

“No, she’s almost 6 months pregnant, yeah. She didn’t want to tell me, though. She just threw the 12-week ultrasound picture at me one day. Can you believe that shit?” 

“Kinda,” he quickly muttered. “You nervous?” Bill genuinely asked. 

“Fuck yeah,” he sighed. “I don’t think—well, you know, we have a kid, but it’s been seven years since then. But when I saw the ultrasound picture, I physically felt my dick shrink! I don’t think there’ll be a time when I’m not wanting to shit a brick.” 

They began making their way back inside, like the others who had gone before them. “Yeah, I guess, I get that.” 

“You know, being guys, we don’t know what that’s like. Your girl is pregnant, and there’s not much you can do but watch. Then sometimes, when she’s having a rough day, you, like, feel guilty for doing that to them.” He glanced at his friend, who seemed visibly uncomfortable. “Ah, damn, man. I shouldn’t be unloading all this on you, not right after you just got married.” He patted his friend's shoulder. 

 “I’m just—just listening.” Bill scratched his jaw.

“Alright. Well, what’s next, the garter toss?” 

“Hell no.” Bill laughed. “I don’t want any of you guys with that shit.” 

…

Bill stayed back to take in the memorial table Alma had arranged with their wedding planner. It was beautifully decorated with ornate frames, bouquets, and twinkling lights. Among the framed photos was one of Alma’s mother as a young woman, standing before a rose garden. Another featured his own mother, her long hippie hair cascading around her shoulders, wearing round-frame sunglasses, and leaning against a car with a cigarette between her fingers. The last was a portrait of Myrna from her vaudeville days.

He turned his head at Alma’s loud guffaw, which cut through the music playing at a mellow volume. She was by the back patio, sharing a cigarette with his brothers. It looked like Alex had managed to get a laugh out of her. Bill scanned the room, taking in their eclectic mix of friends and family. His eyes settled on Echo, on her tiptoes and poking a finger into the wedding cake for a taste before darting across the room with a white bunny stuffed animal clutched under her arm to fist bump Matt.

“Is that Miss Myrna?” A voice said from behind him. It was Giancarlo, coming back from the bathroom. 

“Uh, yeah.” Bill nodded. 

“Wow. She was pretty.” He was a little boy then but remembered how she applied blue shadow to her wrinkly lids and red rouge to her jowly cheeks in a clownlike fashion. “I remember she made me and Lorenzo call her Mama.” 

Bill laughed. “Yeah. She made me call her that too. Funny lady, huh.” 

“Very. And this,” he pointed. “Your mother?” Bill nodded in reply. “She was a hippy!” 

“Yeah, kinda.” He scratched his ear uncomfortably. 

Gian glanced over at Bill and recognized he was maybe being a bother. “Uhm, I heard Alma was waiting on you. For the dance?” 

“Oh?”

“You dance?” Gian playfully teased. 

“I might surprise you. I just kinda get shy,” he admitted to him. “I don’t like to do it in front of everyone. At least sober.” 

“Oh right! The second Christmas dinner you ever came to!” Gian pointed out, recalling the memory of Bill, wine-drunk, dancing with his very Italian family. 

“That’s not a great point of reference.” He grimaced. 

Before the dance began, Bill discovered that guests had the opportunity to make toasts, with one stipulation—they had to wear the cowboy hat Alma had stolen. In reality, the couple mostly got roasted, and Alma cringed at times, especially knowing her father was in the audience hearing things she’d never admit to him. Despite the playful jabs, each speech ended on a favorable note. The wedding planner crouched beside the couple, who were sitting so close that Alma was nearly in his lap. The planner checked in to confirm their chosen song for their dance and then hurried off to inform the DJ.

“Uhm,” Bill sat up. “One sec’ before you do,” Bill said after the planner. Alma glanced at him curiously. She worried that maybe he was too nervous to do it at all. “I just want to say something,” he said, rubbing Alma’s thigh under the table reassuringly before he stood up. 

Straightening his back, he cleared his throat, prompting the room to fall silent. Echo, sitting between Yolani and Ulyssa, waved at him, and Scotty raised his cowboy hat, playfully suggesting he wear it. Bill shook his head with an amused smirk, then crossed his wrists in front of him and took a deep breath. He didn’t need the note he had written, tucked away in the inner pocket of his suit jacket—he remembered every word by heart.

He had opened his mouth to speak, but the planner had quickly come over to give him a mic. He took it and suddenly felt awkward. The room wasn’t so big that his voice wouldn’t carry well, but now he was stuck with it. 

“Uhm, okay.” He licked his lips. “Hey, everyone. Thank you for being here with us tonight. I just wanted to take an opportunity to speak some words to my wife,” he glanced down and smiled at her. 

She looked nervous, having no idea what he was about to say in his speech. She felt a pang of regret for not writing one herself. When they discussed their vows, they opted for simplicity, agreeing that they had already expressed everything they needed to say to each other. 

“Um, growing up, I didn’t know where or even who I’d be,” he began. “I never really had the best outlook for myself. I didn’t dream. I just was focused on surviving. I wasn’t dealt a promising hand. When I met Alma, it changed me in a way I just could not accept at the time. I didn’t see myself in the best light then, nor did I think I deserved to be in the presence of her light.” 

He felt Alma take his hand that hung by his side, and by that small comforting gesture, his rapidly beating heart settled. “But being around her showed me how I could be different. That dreams were real and didn’t have to remain dreams. And that those dreams could also become so much more.” He paused for a beat, feeling he might have said the word “dreams” too many times. “She made me feel good about myself; she made me feel like a man. She would come into my life every time I needed her most. And when she wasn’t, I would search for her in any way I could—a letter, a note, a bobby pin left behind, the scent of amber and vanilla, the melodies of songs I associated with her, and through my words to anyone who would listen to me talk about her.” He cleared his throat, feeling a lump form as he had gone a little off-script. “Uhm, it has taken us some time to get here; we’re both stubborn to a fault. As everyone in their speeches pointed out, which frankly just sounded like whiny bitching.” He said, earning a chuckle from everyone. “But I’m glad it’s finally come. I can’t believe how I could be so lucky. If today means that my luck has run out, that’s fine because it means everything was worth it in the end.”

He turned his gaze directly to Alma. Her eyes were glassy, clearly struggling to hold back tears. “Alma,” he said, his voice soft but full of conviction. “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.” They shared a deep understanding, gazing. To everyone, it might have sounded like the sappy words of a husband in love, but to them, it was profoundly true. “I love you. You’ve given me more of everything you are, than most could do in a lifetime. You’ve shown me who I could be, and you inspire me to always be better. Until my last breath, my love.” 

“Hear, hear!” His brother Alex could be heard over the applause. 

Alma rapidly blinked, her lip quivering as she fought back tears. Bill squeezed her hand before guiding her to her feet to share a kiss. She was shocked he would be so brave to express what he had in front of others. Given his aversion to having people pry into his life, it meant a great deal to her that he would open up so candidly. By revealing a side of himself he usually reserved for her alone, Bill allowed their guests a glimpse of the man she had fallen in love with. Vulnerability didn’t come easy to him, but that he let the wall fall showed just how much of a man he truly was. 

With his hand behind his back holding hers, Bill guided Alma to the outdoor patio. The DJ cued the music perfectly as it began right as they situated themselves. Choosing a song for their first dance had been a long and frustrating process. The task had begun to irritate them, but they ultimately settled on a song. However, Bill would listen to it and just didn’t think it was right. Secretly, he kept searching.

He was home with Echo, who he had just put to bed for the night, while Alma was busy supervising a neofolk show at the record shop. At the top of the mezzanine, he pulled a few records from the shelf at random. After discarding a few due to their genres being ill-fitting, he was left with two. He listened to the first record, but was unsatisfied with any of the songs, while he had been flicking through some self-therapy book Alma checked out of the library. 

He laid it down exactly how she had it on a side table in the den and went to change records. Bored through half of the record, he made space to do push-ups while the TV played the nightly news on mute. As he transitioned to sit-ups, he noticed the needle nearing the center of the record. A soft melody of guitar notes and a tambourine began to sound from the speakers when he got up to take the record off. He paused, listening to the lyrics. Although the song had a slower tempo, the lyrics were just right.

Alma came home that night as he was watching a movie. He paused the film and listened as she entered through the side door leading from the breezeway. She sighed loudly, kicking off her Doc Martens and dropping her tote on the bench in the mudroom. She made her way toward the den, to take the secret private room to the bedroom for a shorter trip. 

“Oh,” she said, shaking out her sweaty hair from the tight ponytail she had it in. 

Hey,” he greeted after she leaned down to kiss him while he lounged on the sectional.

“I’ll be right back. I’m going to take a quick shower.” 

“Wait.” He said, catching her hand before she walked off. “I found the song we’re going to dance to at the reception.” 

“I thought we already picked one?” 

“No. It’s good; don't get me wrong, but it’s not it,” he said, getting up to play the record he left on the turntable.

She saw the cover for it right by. Just a yellow pop art banana on a white background. The Velvet Underground and Nico. It was an old record from her collection that she had shipped from Strathburg. Seeing where he had placed the needle, she knew the exact song that would play before it touched the grooves. I’ll Be Your Mirror. 

[mabelstone]

Try Me

trey parker x reader

based on the song/lyrics of try me - the weeknd

CW - cheating (with trey), fwb, minor 18+

i want to preface this with I DO NOT CONDONE CHEATING

i was gonna make the boyfriend matt but i just couldn't bring myself to... i am a matt girl through and through 😔

got this idea while driving... enjoy, trey nation <3

Your phone buzzed loudly on your kitchen table where you and your boyfriend were preparing dinner. You’d be lying if you said your relationship wasn’t getting a little boring. You’d been on and off dating for four years, and struggling to keep the relationship strong... and exciting. Tonight, he had suggested you prepare dinner together over a bottle of wine like you used to in the beginning of your relationship. There just didn’t seem to be much of a spark anymore. He was a treat to the eye and the kindest, most loving man you’d ever been with, yet there was nothing special about what you shared. Truthfully, the sex was painfully average. He was good at it, sure, but you loved to try new things. He wasn’t one to spice things up and your known-to-be hungry libido was beginning to starve.

That’s why when you saw the alias name ‘Belle,’ flash across your phone screen. Heart pounding, you made up the excuse, “oh, sorry, honey. One of the girls from work is having couple troubles and I told her to reach out. Gotta take this.” He smiled in understanding, giving you a nod. He really was a wonderful guy. You lovingly squeezed his arm and walked to your bedroom, quickly pressing the phone to your ear, feigning loud enough for your boyfriend to hear, “Belle! How are you?”

“Oh, he’s around, is he?” You heard the dark voice on the other line ring out as you shut the door behind you, sitting on the edge of your bed with excitement accelerating through your veins.

“Yeah,” you whispered meekly into the phone, eyes trained on the door nervously. “Gotta make it quick.”

“Do you miss me, baby?” He cooed down the line, his voice warm and raspy, the way it was every time he’d pound into you from behind, roughly pulling your head back by your hair, forcing you both to relish in the sight of what you did to each other.  

“Mhm,” you bit down on your lip hard, reminiscing on the most recent night you’d spent together a few months ago. Images flashed through your head like a film strip; the way he’d touch you in ways your partner never had. The way his grip around your throat made you struggle to say his name every time he commanded you to. The way you knew it was so wrong, yet you couldn’t stop yourself from going back time after time.

“Leave him,” Trey would always try and convince you, but every time you’d tell him you couldn’t.

“I do love him,” you’d explain, trying to selfishly push down the guilt for the sake of scattered nights of pleasure. “You’re the best I’ve ever had. I’m not ready to give it up just yet,” you’d tell him, yet truthfully, you were just trying to make yourself feel better for being a pathetic girlfriend and a kind of terrible person.

"So when are we doing this again?" He cut to the chase fast, well aware of the time constraint the two of you were confined to after your many rendezvous over the years.

You hummed in thought, letting Trey know not to speak as you were going to check the calendar. You headed to the kitchen where your boyfriend gave you a sweet smile from the stove. You reciprocated, a pang of guilt hitting you. You swallowed it down though, speaking sweetly into the phone, "umm... you can stay here on the 14th... can you wait that long? I know the situation is hard, but I know you can tough it out, Belle. I'll make it worth your while."

You walked into the living room, clearing your throat to signal he could speak now. He'd learnt all your cues by heart now, knowing what a cough or hum meant depending on the pitch.

"See you then, baby girl," he confirmed, your cheeks heating at the nickname, even though you knew it was only used to get what he wanted. Well, what you both wanted really.

You hung up with a sigh, craving his touch so badly, it was crippling.

"I'm not feeling too good, honey," you walked into the kitchen, putting on a bit of an act for your boyfriend. You were partially telling the truth; you did feel really nauseous every time you did this to him. You wrapped your arms around his waist, reaching your head up to place a kiss to his shoulder. "I'm gonna go have a bath, okay? I'll be quick."

"Okay, sweetheart," he frowned sympathetically, turning around to place a soft kiss to your lips. "Take your time. I'll have dinner ready for you when you get out."

You smiled weakly at his gesture, feeling incredibly bad for what you were about to do. Not bad enough, clearly, as you walked into your ensuite and shut the door behind you. The guilt quickly dissipated as you ran the bath, flicking a quick text to Trey that read,

thinkin about you x

He replied almost instantly, the message sending a jolt of electricity straight to your heat.

You do indescribable things to me baby

god me too, just hearing your voice

You responded just as quickly, his next response eliciting that addictive excitement that kept pulling you back in for more. You were greedy for him, and regret didn't exist in your vocabulary when it came to Trey. He was the most fulfilling aspect of your life... which is quite sad when put that way.

Show me.

Without a second thought, you stripped down to nothing, too turned on by his demands to even consider the consequences you'd face if your boyfriend walked in. You leant against the edge of the sink and opened your camera, your hand finding it's way up to one of your breasts. You squeezed it roughly for the photo, only your bitten lip and below visible in the image. You sent it immediately, climbing into the bath as you awaited his response. You hadn't spoken in a month or two, let alone slept together. You were pent up for him, so dissatisfied in your relationship. Trey made you want to leave your boyfriend for him, but you knew that you were nothing more than a friends with benefits. Trey just wanted you to leave him so he wouldn't feel so guilty.

Fuck I need more. Bend over.

You throbbed at his message, immediately obliging. You set up the camera on the bath ledge, hitting record on your phone. You slowly stood up, soapy suds dripping off your body as you followed his instructions, bending over in front of the camera and looking over your shoulder.

You were depraved, you could admit it. You liked a man that could take control, and unfortunately, that man was not the one in your kitchen, but the one getting off to you behind a little screen.

You stopped the video and cropped the ending before sending it through, your heart pounding lustrously as you waited.

I cant fucking wait for the 14th

He attached an image that caused your mouth to water, and a kaleidoscope of butterflies to erupt in your stomach. God, you had missed his cock. But mostly, you had missed him. The realisation that you were catching feelings hit you, and you had to stop that immediately.

you know where to find me x

You then completed the routine of sending him a '.' to let him know not to message. You then proceeded to delete the messages, and take care of yourself privately.

note: i think i may make a part 2, let me know if u want that

[multiplefandomwritings]

I’m sure you’ve seen Pierre’s BEREAL, can I request you write a fic where him and his girlfriend are having sex in his BEREAL notification goes off during and their doing doggy style so he takes his BEREAL where he’s pulling your hair and their friends react to it?

(If ur comfortable)

Let´s BeReal

pairing: Pierre Gasly x reader

warnings: smut, 18+, swearing, established relationships

summary: Pierre´s new obsession is BeReal. As his fiancée, you experience this first hand.

disclaimer: English is not my first language. Feel free to leave comments and/or feedback. Also, a like and reblog is always appreciated <3 this is my first time writing smut, so please let me know how i did!

notes: @princessbetsy123-blog thank you for the request, i altered it a bit, i hope you still like it :) <3

word count: 2.5k

You sit in the back of the conference room, watching the press conference Pierre was attending. This wasn’t your first press conference, it wasn’t going to be your last one, so you didn’t really pay attention. You check your phone to look at the calendar, checking where Pierre has to be after the conference. You were scheduled to film something for the social media of Alpha Tauri with Yuki. You smile – you like the man.

Everyone joked about the close relationship Pierre and Yuki had, but the truth was, you and Yuki are even closer. He is like a little brother to you, your partner in crime, your best friend. His sometimes-childlike behaviour never fails to make to smile. Most of the time the two of you can be seen laughing and goofing around. Also, often enough you were up for mischief, pranking Pierre or whoever crosses your path.

If people didn’t know better, they would have even said that you and Yuki were more than friends. But that isn’t the case. You are the woman on Pierre Gasly´s side, and that for already more than five years. Just two months ago he had asked you to marry him, and you had happily said yes. So, you are his fiancée, and fans and the media handle you as “the dream and power couple” of Formula One.

You had been Pierre´s manager and friend before you had started dating. It had one major advantage: You could come to every race, because you worked with him. Before you realized, you were a fixed part of the Formula One world, and most of the paddock considered you their friend. Your gentle being made you pleasant to be around, and you always had an open ear for whoever. So, many times, one of the drivers knocked at the door of your room for advice, help or just a quick chat.

Pierre had never mind with most of them. And even though you shot down every flirting attempt from the other drivers, some of them did just never really stop. Daniel, for example. But Pierre didn’t mind that – it was just the way Daniel was, and after all, Daniel was his friend as well. So, all around, everything was good.

You are ripped out of your daydream when one of your colleagues, Anne, who is also a close friend of you, nudges you in the side with her elbow. “What the hell is he doing?”, she whispers, and you look up at Pierre who fumbles his phone out of his pocket. You cock your eyebrow. Confused, you watch your fiancée taking his phone out and playing with it, until suddenly your phone vibrates in your hand.

“Oh my god!”, you laugh quietly and show your coworker the notification. “He did not!”, she chuckles and shakes her head. You motion to her that you are leaving the conference because you had somewhere to be. She nods and signals you that she is coming as well.

Once outside, you let out a laugh. “BeReal is Pierre´s new obsession. It´s funny, but sometimes it is pain in the butt!” Anne grins at you, which you retort crookedly, “I swear, soon he will even answer the notification when we have sex!” Anne shrieks and then brakes out in a fit of giggles, which you join.

Together, you walk to the Alpha Tauri garage, where your ways part. You wait for Pierre and Yuki outside and check some mails until you are ripped from your concentration.

“Hey y/n!”, says Esteban and jogs over, “How are you? You look great today by the way!” You smile politely at the man. You were on civil terms with him, but you didn’t like him that much. He made you a tiny tad uncomfortable, as you could never tell if he flirted with you out of fun, like Danny, or if he did it with the actual intent of stealing you from Pierre. Pierre had agreed to your concerns and had developed a dislike for the French man. “I am good, how are you? Excited for the race next week?”, you kindly try to make some conversation, as you don’t want to be impolite. You might be a bit uncomfortable, but never in a million years did you want to be impolite or make Esteban feel bad. Because maybe he was just actually trying to be nice. “Yeah, I am. I´ve got a good feeling I won´t finish too bad next week, maybe even before your boyfriend!”

He had just winked at you when you feel two arms sneak around your torso. “Dream on, Ocon”, Pierre retorts, “And I am her fiancée, not her boyfriend.” The French driver lifts his hands in mock defense. “I was just trying to make conversation with your fiancée, Gasly, as she was here all alone. Maybe you ought to keep a better eye on her in the future! Have a good day”, Esteban turns around and walked away. Pierre wants to yell something after him, but you shake your head.

“It´s not worth it, Pierre.” Your fiancée shakes his head once again, but his salty mood is soon blown away when he looks at your face. “You are too good for his world, mon coeur”, he taps your nose, and you stretch out your tongue, “Come on, lets meet Yuki. He already texted me complaining that he didn’t see you yet, I swear, he misses you more than –“ Pierre is interrupted by a high-pitched scream from you when you see Yuki and immediately sprint in his direction.

Your friend looks up for his phone and screams as well when he saw you. He jumps off his chair and runs in your direction. The two of you meet in the middle, grabbing each other’s hands and then you dance around in a circle. Pierre just walks past you to one of the Social Media managers that shakes his head. “Trust me, I have no idea what is wrong with them. I swear, they share one single braincell together, and that braincell hasn’t slept in 5 days!” The guy laughs and looks at you – Yuki and you are now laying on the floor holding your stomachs while you laugh hysterically.

After five minutes you are only giggling still, and you have managed to catch your breath enough to get up. Pierre and Yuki sit down on set. You take a spot in one of the corners, but every once in a while, Yuki makes eye contact with you and has to start laugh. So, after a few minutes, the Social Media team orders you in front of the camera as well. That was nothing you, they occasionally had you in the videos as well, because most fans loved the dynamic between you, Yuki, and Pierre.

You start the video again, this time you take over the moderation. “Hello and welcome everybody to a new video. Today, Pierre and Yuki are going to answer some of the fan questions. The first question is: What was your highlight off and on track so far this season?” Pierre and Yuki both answer that they were happy with the car and that they were glad to be standing in the points more often than not. Yuki´s personal highlight was a travel home to his family, while Pierre names your engagement, which makes everyone in the room go “aw”.

Pierre and Yuki answere a few more questions before one question on Twitter caught your attention. “What was Pierre doing on his phone earlier?”, you read out loud and Pierre blushes a bit. “I can actually answer this”, you say matter-of-factly, “He used BeReal. This man is addicted to the app, I am witness to that!” You grin, and so does Yuki. Pierre shoots you a glare but laughs as well. You end the video.

Afterwards, the three of you go out for an early dinner before you have to catch your respective flights to your home. Pierre and you are going back to Milan to your shared apartment. You had purchased it two summers ago, and you loved it. However, you are also currently looking more or less seriously for houses. Recently, you had found yourself talking about the future, and the possibility of having kids one day. So, the two of you decided that a house with a garden would be better for little kids.

You arrive in Milan at nine in the evening and a friend of yours had kindly offered to drive you home from the airport. When you get out of the car, you wave your friend goodbye and make your way into the apartment building. Pierre unlocks the door to your flat and drops his bags as soon as he set steps in the hallway. “Oh!”, he groans, “it is good to be home!” You laugh and agree.

The bags are quickly carried in, and the two of you cook an easy pasta dish for dinner. Taking the plates to the couch, you eat quietly while watching a movie. When you finished eating, the movie is paused, the kitchen cleaned, and you go back onto the couch to finish the movie. You cuddle into Pierre´s side, he wraps his arms around you and continues to watch the movie.

The notification going off from Pierre´s phone startles you. “Sorry, mon ange”, Pierre softly speaks and reaches for his phone. “Let me guess, its BeReal?” Pierre grins and nods. “It´s from Charles! You wanna see as well?” “Of course!”, you answer and sit up to look at his phone as well. He opens the app and then the picture and…

You shriek. “Oh my god, what is this?” Then you look at Pierre in shock and the two of you start laughing. Charles had sent Pierre a picture of him sitting on the bed, naked. Charlotte kneeled between his legs, only in underwear, face towards Charles´ private part. It was very clear what the two of them were up to. “This is scandalous!”, you exclaim in between giggles, “Does he always send you pictures like this?”

Pierre shakes his head no. “Never before… However, I might have provoked that…” “How?” Pierre blushes and looks at you with puppy eyes. “Please don’t be mad, but I might have bragged about our sex life to him, and I think he might have felt inferior and hurt in his manliness?” You look at him shocked for a moment, then you start to laugh again.

“Well, I guess we better show Charles then, instead of you continuing to brag!”, you tease seductively. Pierre gulps. “Mon Coeur, we don’t have to if you don’t want to, I mean, what I am trying to sa-“, you cut him off when you press a soft kiss to his mouth. After breaking it, you leave a trail of soft kisses from his mouth over his jawline to his neck. You can hear his breath hitch in his throat, and you smile before you begin to gently suck on the soft flesh of his neck.

Since the position has become uncomfortable, you fling your one leg over Pierre and settle down on his lap. His hands immediately find your ass and he starts to knead your flesh. His breath becomes ragged, and you start to grind down on his crotch. Feeling his growing reaction this close to your core elicited a moan from your mouth. “Fuck, ange. I am not even really touching you yet and you already make those wonderful noises for me. Makes me want to fuck you!” “Well, how about we move this to the bedroom then?”, you say and before you finish, Pierre grabs your thighs, stands up and carries you to your bedroom.

He throws you on the bed, and before he climbs on top of you, he pulls of his sweatshirt and shirt in one shift motion. You observe him closely. “More than five years and you still don’t get enough of me shirtless, huh?” You grin. “Never. And now get here, Gasly!” He laughs and climbs on top of you. Immediately, his lips are on yours, kissing you like he needs it to be able to breach. His hungry kisses made your heart flutter and your core dripping. One of Pierre´s hand digs into the flesh of your hip, the other is tangled in your hair.

“Pierre, I am hot!”, you complain. “Yeah, you are. But I agree, its time you lose some clothes!” You wiggle free from under him and stand up from the bed. Seductively and slow you pull your shirt over your head and take your pants off.  Pierre’s mouth falls open when he sees that you are wearing his favourite set of lingerie. “You wore this the whole day and didn’t tell me?!?”

He takes off his pants and you can see by the bulge in his boxer shorts that he was already hard. It makes you proud, that even after all these years you still had that effect on him. You wink at him. “Well, you can spend some time looking at it now, no?” Pierre shakes his head. “No, mon ange, while it is a beautiful view, I missed feeling you even more, so you better get here!“

You crawl back into the bed, and Pierre wastes no time. He grabs you by the waist, pulling you on top of him. While he lays down, you sit on his lap, and he admires the view for a moment before you grind down on him and a groan leaves his mouth. You bent down to give him a kiss and Pierre’s hand finds the back of your head and pulls you closer to him. His other hand rests on your back, and with swift fingers he unclasps your bra.

He throws the piece of clothing away carelessly and breaks the kiss to occupy one of your nipples with his mouth instead. You moan and grind down on his lap. Pierre sucks on your nipple, while his hand plays your other tit. It drives you nearly crazy. Your head falls back and after a while, you swing your left leg down from Pierre. You loop your thumb under the waistband and pull down his pants and his underwear in a swift motion.

His fully erect cock springs free and you can’t help but feel your mouth water. But today was not the day for a blowjob. Today, you wanted him to fuck you hard. So, you get on all fours and Pierre takes the cue. In not more than a second, he is behind you and pulls your panties to the side. You gasp in anticipation when he runs his dick though your already wet folds.

“Pierre, don’t be a tease!”, you whine and in that moment his BeReal notification goes off. “Well, you are lucky!”, he chuckles and in one swift motion he buries his dick deep inside of you. You gasp and Pierre gives you a moment to adjust before he starts to softly thrust into you.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls your head back a bit which makes you moan. In his other hands he takes the phone, and you can her the click when he takes the pictures. You assume he presses send, because the next moment you hear his phone hit the pillows and he pulls you up so that your back touches his chest. “And now, mon ange, we will make the rest of this all about us!”

[baileypie-writes]

~Panchito and José Celebrating Pride Month with You~

~~~❤️~~~🖤~~~💚~~~

Fandom: Legend of the Three Caballeros, The Three Caballeros

Fanfic Type: Headcanons

Reader: Gender neutral, lgbtq+(identity not specified)

Relationship: Romantic, throuple, polyamorous

Characters Included: Human!Panchito Pistoles, Human!José Carioca

Genre: Fluff

Rating: PG

Warnings: Tiny mention of alcohol(no consumption though)

Requested By: @shadowblaze001

~Masterlists~

~The Three Caballeros Masterlist~

Guide: Panchito’s dialogue is red, José’s dialogue is green and Reader’s dialogue is uncolored.

~~~❤️~~~🖤~~~💚~~~

~ When you told Panchito and José that you wanted to celebrate pride month with them, they were so excited! They love parties and festivals, so they were already looking forward to it. But now that you’re joining them, it’s much more fun!

“There’s a pride festival happening next week. You guys wanna go?”

“Is that even a question? Of course! Oh (name), we’re going to have such a good time!”

“I agree. I’m so happy you want to celebrate with us!”

~ José looks up every pride event beforehand. The three of you choose which ones to go to, which could be all of them if you wanted! The events are all marked on the calendar, decorated with rainbow doodles(courtesy of Panchito).

“Okay, so these two events are back to back. Do you guys want to go to both, or just choose one?”

“Both! We’re going to party until June is over!”

“Haha! Just don’t push yourself too hard, Panchito.”

~ For each event, they encourage everyone to dress up colorfully. José even paints everyone’s pride flags on your cheeks, as well as other random designs all over your body.

“Panchito, Caro, sit still.”

(Translation: Dear)

“I’m trying! The paint is just so cold…”

“C’mon, it’s not that bad.”

“(name), you were squirming more than him.”

~ Both boys make sure all of you are enjoying each activity to the max. If there’s a sign that any one you aren’t having fun, they stop, and ask if a break is needed. If someone does need a break, there’s no complaining, they just sit down and rest.

“You alright amor? You look tired.”

(Translation: Love)

“Yeah, I kinda am. And my feet hurt…”

“That’s okay! There’s a bench over there, so we can go sit down.”

“Here’s some water. Take it easy for a few minutes, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks guys!”

~ Of course, safety is a big deal. All three of you plan out some things to do in case of emergencies. This includes if you have any health or mental conditions. They make sure you have all supplies, and if you have a routine for emergencies, they memorize it. They don’t want anything going wrong when you’re all supposed to be having fun!

“Remember guys, if anything happens, meet at that store over there. Got it?”

“Got it. Do we all have our phones? I have mine.”

“I got mine!”

“Mine too.”

“Alright, then it looks like we’re all good.”

~ Other than parades and festivals, there are sales and special offers during pride! And José knows all of them! Whatever stores any of you like, he checks if anything special is going on during the month. And if there is, you know he’s going!

“Guys, the our local bar is selling this special cocktail only during June! We have to go!”

“Ooh, yeah! That sounds good!”

“Yeah, why not?”

~ If you’re new when it comes to these kinds of events, don’t fret! Because these men have enjoyed their fair share. So they give you the run down, and tell you what to expect. Just follow their lead, and you’ll have a good time!

“You’ve never been to a pride parade before?”

“Nope, never.”

“That’s okay! Just follow us, and you’ll be just fine!”

“Yeah! I promise you, you’ll have lots of fun!”

~~~❤️~~~🖤~~~💚~~~

~~baileypie-writes

[vodika-vibes]

Yearning

So, because there is a tragic lack of Monnk fics, I decided to write one. So. Ta-dah~

Pairing: Commander Monnk x Reader

Word Count: 1366

Songs: I recommend Je T'aime by Kelly Sweet

Warnings: None

Prompt: "...say it again."

You hum happily as you slide down the hallway in your fuzzy socks, stumbling to a stop in front of the calendar. There, marked in vibrant yellow, were the words, ‘Monnk returns’.

Your friend, your best friend, has been gone for close to six months now, and he sent a message several days ago that he was finally returning to Coruscant with his Battalion.

Oh, you’re sure that he’s going to have things to do before he makes his way here. After all, you’re just friends.

You scan the corkboard thoughtfully. It’s completely covered in pictures. Pictures of you and Monnk. Pictures of the pair of you at the aquarium, posing in front of a giant squid. Pictures of you at the communal pool, both of you in your bathing suits.

Pictures of Monnk teaching you how to surf, though you’re really bad at it. And pictures of you teaching Monnk how to snowboard, he’s really good at it annoyingly.

Actually, all of the pictures on the corkboard are of you and Monnk.

But that makes sense. You’ve been in love with him for years now after all.

You smile as you pick up one of the pictures, one of you and Monnk having a picnic. His arm is flung over your shoulder and his chin is resting on your shoulder while you take the selfie. It’s your favorite picture of the pair of you. The same picture is framed next to your bed…and sits on your desk at the office.

Your chrono chimes a warning, and you curse. You’re late. You’ve been late all morning. And now you’re extra late. You toss the picture on the counter and run down the hall, to the closet where your shoes are kept.

You balance on one foot, topple over, ignore your throbbing elbows and quickly pull your shoes on, before scrambling back to your feet and running out the door.

Your boss is going to have your head. Well, unless you bring her Caf.

Thank the Force for easily bribed bosses.

12 hours later, your boss finally releases you for the day. Sometimes, being a personal assistant sucks. Like today, when you spent the majority of the day arguing with closed-minded people about whether or not they were allowed to talk to your boss.

And then there was the jerk who decided that punching you was a clever way to force his way into your boss’ office. All it got him was a one way ticket into a holding cell and blacklisted from the business in general.

You prod the bruise under your eye with a pout. Your boss had been incandescent with rage when she saw that you were hurt, but had needed you to remain for the rest of your shift in spite of your injury.

Still, she gave you the next two weeks off, as payment for being assaulted while at work, so you figure you came out on top. Even if you are bruised and tired and hungry.

You absently check your com, no messages - but you really didn’t expect Monnk to message you until tomorrow at the earliest. You consider sending him a message, but ultimately decide against it.

No need to be annoying. You’re just friends after all.

So instead you pull up the app to your favorite restaurant, order enough food for two people, so they would deliver to your apartment, and you head for the taxi stand to catch a ride home.

You arrive at the apartment complex at the same time as the delivery droid, and you cheerfully ID yourself and pay the droid, before you enter the building and take the lift to your floor. 

You check your mailbox, and are pleased to see that there aren’t any bills in the box at all, and then you enter the code to your apartment. The door slides open, and then slides closed with a quiet chime, an upgrade that Monnk added for you when you mentioned that you hated how quiet the door was.

And the first thing you notice is the armor neatly stacked near the front door.

Armor painted a deep yellow color.

You toss your jacket over the familiar helmet, and kick your shoes off, “Monnk?” You call as you head towards the kitchen, now noticing that some of your lights were on.

“Yeah, I’m here,” You step into the kitchen and smile at Monnk. Taller than you, and broader, with dyed blonde curly hair. And you knew that under his shirt was a massive sea serpent tattoo that you guessed covered the majority of his body.

“Welcome back,” You say warmly, smiling at the back of his head, “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you until later.” By the smell, he was brewing caf.

“Yeah, well…” He shrugs a single shoulder, “I wanted to see you and didn’t want to see my brothers.”

You laugh, and set the food on the counter, “Good thing I ordered enough for two, then.” 

He pauses, “Oh? Expecting company?” Monnk asks, his voice just a little too casual for it to be true.

“Of course not,” You reply, “You know I’m horribly unlikeable.” You joke as you move around the kitchen and grab some plates, “I didn’t feel like picking up food, so I ordered enough to get it delivered.”

“Lazy.” Monnk chided, though there was amusement in his voice.

You sniff, “I had a rough day, Monnk. I’m allowed.”

He finally turns away from the brewing caf, “Yeah? Did someone ye-” He stops mid-sentence, his golden brown eyes locked on the bruise on your cheek, “Someone hit you.”

You shrug, awkwardly, “Yeah. Like I said, I had a rough day.”

He crosses the room in three large strides, and lightly grips your chin to tilt your head so he can see the bruise better. “Were you seen by a medic?” He asks, as he lightly prods the mark, apologizing silently when you wince.

“No, I needed to stay-” You explain, smiling softly when you see the look of indignation sliding across his face, “It only hurts when I touch it, Monnk, really.”

“It shouldn’t have happened at all, cyare.” He replies under his breath, “It doesn’t feel like anything’s broken at least.”

You hum in agreement. He’s right, of course, it shouldn’t have happened, but it did. “You’ve called me that before. Cyare. What’s it mean?”

“Didn’t I tell you to look it up?” Monnk asks as he finally releases your chin and heads back to pour himself a mug of caf.

“You really think Mando’a to Basic dictionaries are common here? Come one, throw me a bone, Monnk.” You say as you start divvying out the food.

“Nope,” He sets his caf at the table, “What do you want to drink?”

You pout at him, but he just grins and leans against the counter, so you huff, “Some of my water please.”

“As you wish,” He replies easily, with a sketched bow. 

You watch him straighten and grab a glass from your cabinet, and you watch him pour a glass of the flavored water you prefer, and you smile. “...I love you,” You say.

Monnk freezes mid-step and he stares at you wide eyed. “You…what?”

Your stomach flips with anxiety, but in for a credit, or so they say. “I said I love you.”

He sets your glass on the counter and walks over to you, his hands come up and cup your face, his gaze locked on your face. “...say it again.” He breathes out.

“I love-” You’re unable to finish the sentence as his lips crash against yours. He kisses you hungrily, like he needs you as much as he needs oxygen. “-you.” You finish as he breaks away.

“In case it wasn’t obvious,” Monnk murmurs against your lips, his breath hot against your skin, “I love you too.”

You don’t know what to say, and instead you lean up and kiss him. And you’re not surprised when he immediately deepens the kiss, and tugs you closer. You have a ghost of a thought that dinner was going to get cold…but then he nips your lower lip and you realize that you don’t care.

[moon-quq]

Dabi x Fem!Reader : P1

Depending on popularity of this one I'll post P2, like I did with my Loki fic, but for now here's for my Dabi sluts <3 Note: this doesn't follow actual mha works or timestamps, so don't get angy at me

Warnings : Slow burn, kinda sad ngl

" Touyaa!! Give it back- This is the second time you've taken it from me! " You screeched, stomping the ground while glaring up at Touya Todoroki, your best friend in the world. " Oh cmon! I know you can get it! " He snickered, placing his hand as high as he could while watching you jump to try and grab your toy. Eventually he caved and handed it back while grinning. " You're a meanie for that. " You huffed, holding the toy tightly too you while he ruffled your hair and replied. " But I'm your meanie pipsqueak. " This made you smile with utmost happiness.

TimeSkip : 18 Years Later ➜

Your alarm blared loudly off beside you but,, you didn't dare move, just layed face down in your pillow wishing the day would fuck off again but alas.. it did not so eventually you drug yourself out of bed and towards the bathroom to get ready for work. " Y/N you're late again. " Shit. You were late by 20 mins this time. " I'm sorry Enji.. I didn't hear my clock in time, this week has been pretty rough. " You muttered, grabbing your coffee while walking past the big burly dude. It had been years now since Touya disappeared and this week marks yet another off the calendar. Enji of course refuses to have any acknowledgment of it, maybe it's too painful for him.

There was another villain group sitting in the city today, leaving everyone on high alert that they may end up trying something, but of course everything stayed queit all day until evening where there was reports of blue flames appearing near the high school which caused every goody two shoes in radius to flock there as fast as possible. You were there first due to your quirk but looking back on it now, you wished you were last. The entire woods beside the school was on fire, burning in bright blue flames.. And right in the middle was some guy in a long coat with burn scars and black hair. " Hey! Stop right there! " You called loudly, looking around slightly to scope your surroundings before back at the male who now turned to face you giving you a look at his face and you thought you'd faint.. He looked like Touya, but also didn't.. His eyes were Touyas.. But his hair and skin looked nothing like the boy you once knew, no he was dead.

By the time you knew it, you did infact actually fucking faint,, now slowly waking up in a hospital wing you groaned from the pounding in your head.. the familiar old lady waddling in to smile up at you. " You havent been sleeping well have you dear? " She asked quietly, causing you to shake your head no and lay back down. " Too many nightmares again. " She only clicked her tongue and pulled your blanket over you while beginning to speak again. " Maybe getting some new friends would help you get over the feeling.. I see you every year during this time, and it's no wound I can heal. Only you can. " You knew she was right but you also were terrified if you let the memories of your Touya go,, he would be forgotten forever.

TimeSkip : A week later ➜

Ever since that day in the woods you'd been stuck thinking,, wondering if that was infact Touya.. and the longer you thought on it, the more invested you became until the point you caved and decided to go against your every promise and try and find the league thats plagued the city for months now.

First you began at the local corners where gangs hung out, making sure to pull your hood over your head enough to not be noticed but,, the blue flame boy was nowhere to be found, so you decided to check any other shady areas you could think of.. to yet again, no avail. And by the time you called quits it was already midnight.. But you felt the most defeated you'd ever been in a long, long time so of course your body made a b-line for a nearby bar that was mostly empty, now stepping inside to see a handful of people around the place. A shadow like man behind the bar greeted you in almost a confused way. " Hello Miss, what can I get for you tonight? " You noted that his voice was slightly anamatronic while speaking, maybe he was just nervous.. The other people around looked like normals, teens with no life or adults wanting to drink their life away. " Whatever is the strongest. " you replied while scooting into a stool at the bar to be comfy while you wait. " Is she that hero who fainted during the villain fight??? " You heard someone speaking behind you which caused your eye to twitch,, fucking paparazzi caught you fainting in the middle of the flames on camera.. and you were not exempt from Enji yelling at you and forcing you to be a desk worker instead of in the field. " She shouldn't be a hero if she's going to collapse in the middle of a fight, pathetic. " And that, one snide comment is what hit you over the edge, now shooting the shot you were given before turning around. " If you have shit to say you can say it to my face instead of gossiping about someone else's life you ungrateful fucking cunts. " You spat, glaring towards the back corner full of teen girls who stared at you in disbelief of what you had just said.

" What seems to be going on down here? " A low cold voice called while stepping down the stairs towards the back, the girls instantly fangirling while looking at whoever it was.. Except when he came into your view you froze, and so did he. " Get out, all of you. " He spat, glaring at the girls before back at you.. But like most girls they didn't listen the first time. " I won't tell you again, get out. " And with that final boom they finally stood up and left, along with everyone else who was a bystander. " Touya.. " You whispered, staring at him for a moment longer before darkness yet again covered your vision and you collapsed to the ground.

Sometime later,, you didn't know how long as your phone and watch were gone, as was your keys and whatever else you had on you. You were still in the bar, just looked like a more run down exact copy of the one you were just in. " Hello? " You called out, groaning at the pang in your head as you sat up fully. " You aren't supposed to be here Y/N. " Someone in the distance called while another giggled. " So this is that childhood chick you always talk about huh? " And then another more strained voice croaked. " She's a hero and knows him, she's bad news to even be here. We have to get rid of her. " And with that your fear piped up, now panicking while looking towards the voices which instantly made your blood run cold, you were infact infront of the entire league of villians. " No! You cannot kill her, I won't let you. " The one you believed was Touya now stepped infront of you, glaring at the other members who stared back. " You would keep our greatest risk alive.. all because of a childhood fling?! I think I'm starting to question your loyalty Dabi.. " The man who looked mostly dead seethed, but you were too focused on the name Dabi.. He was one of the main villains you were trying desperately to catch. And here he was, right infront of you.." I'll keep her. I'll train her not to say anything, I'll break her to be nothing but a loyal dog. " He spat back, this wasn't Touya.. this wasn't the boy you loved, this was some cold demon who just threatened to turn you into a slave.. However, the man who seemed to be the leader only hummed and nodded, looking away now whilst Touya turned to grab you by the shirt and pull you along towards the stairs. " Cmon doll, we got some fun to be had. "

[weirdthoughtsandideas]

Writing advent calendar 2023 Day 18

Prompt: Sport

Aka: Luna and Ramiro compete on who's the best babysitter

Read on ao3 or under the cut:

Ramiro had declared himself the best babysitter, and was sure Jim and Yam's daughters agreed. Though, Jim and Yam said Luna also was a very great babysitter. Ramiro shook his head, and decided to put this to the test. He called Luna.

"Well, why not make it a competition?" Luna chuckled.

Jim and Yam also thought this sounded fun.

They decided to put it to the test at the mansion. Jim and Yam dropped their daughters off there, and they would be babysat by both Ramiro and Luna. Though, they also needed to babysit two extra kids: Luna's recently adopted daughter Lucia, and Simón and Ámbar's newly born little daughter. Ramiro had only met her once when she was just born, but now she was around 3 months. When Luna told Simón and Ámbar about this babysitting competition she had with Ramiro, Simón had immediately handed over their daughter and went "babysit her too while you're at it, and report everything about Ramiro losing to me".

"Yes," Ámbar added, "She's been having tummy problems, and if I know my daughter correctly, she's gonna make sure to have a blowout as he's holding her."

"Or on me," Luna chuckled.

"Well, you know how to handle her. He doesn't. It's gonna be hilarious," Simón said.

They waved off all the parents. Lola and Charlie, Jim and Yam's daughters, were mesmerized by the large living room, especially as it was decorated for christmas. They were chasing around Lucia, who was just as energetic and curious as her mom. Almost as if they were biologically related.

"So, what's first to do?" Ramiro asked. 

They heard a cry from the other room. Simón and Ámbar's daughter had woken up from her nap.

"I'm gonna go get her. You try to not let them wreck the christmas tree."

"That'll be easy..."

He checked on the three toddlers. He knew Lola and Charlie better than Lucia, but he had met her a few times by now. They were about two meters from the tree.

"Hey dudes, you wanna come over here?"

"Look at the tree!" Lola exclaimed.

"Yes, it's pretty! But we need to be careful to not knock it down. You're big, little dude, you can ask the younger to come over here."

Lola nodded. "Charlie, come! Lucia, come!" 

The two one year olds followed her lead.

"You're a natural leader, little dude!"

"Why do you call her 'little dude'?" Luna asked. She was carrying the 3 month old baby, rocking her carefully.

"Funny story... I thought she was a boy before she was born. And Jim and Yam never corrected me, and... well. Now that's her nickname. And when Charlie was born, I decided I needed a nickname on-brand!"

"Mama..." Lucia mumbled, toddling up to Luna and clinging on her legs.

"Right, I need to make a good on-brand nickname for your kid, too. And that baby."

"Baby!" Lola pointed out.

"Yes, it's a baby."

"Pima!" Lucia said. She was trying to say 'prima'. 

"Yeah, it's her little cousin," Luna said, walking towards the couch to sit down. 

"Is it really?" Ramiro asked. "You and Ámbar are... kind of cousins, but you're not like, actually related."

"She's the adopted daughter of my biological aunt, so yes, we are cousins, even though not biologically. That makes our children second-cousins, even if they also aren't biologically related. Also, we're raising them both in the same house, so they're kind of raised as siblings in a way."

All the toddlers gathered around the baby. 

"Pet," Lola said, petting the baby's head.

"Yes, you can pet her, if you're gentle."

"What's her name?" Ramiro asked. "I don't think I remember."

"Oh, it's-"

Luna was interrupted by Charlie letting out a random scream.

"Wow, you got some lungs! Anyway, her name is-"

They were interrupted by another scream. This time from all three toddlers, as Lola and Lucia thought it was funny to scream as well.

"Lucia, you know we don't scream. It scares your little cousin."

"About that," Ramiro said, "If we're gonna do this babysitting competition, I think you have an unfair advantage because your actual daughter is here."

Luna nodded. "Yes. I think you should take care of her today."

"Who are you gonna take care of, then?"

"You can take care of the 1 year olds, and I'll take care of the baby and three year old. At least in the first round."

"What is the first round?"

"Snack time!"

They headed to the kitchen. There was a high chair for Lucia, and Ramiro figured he'd simply have to have Charlie on his lap.

"Lola, you like yogurt?" Luna asked.

"Yes!"

Luna poured up some yogurt for her and served it with a little spoon. Then she grabbed a bottle and sat down, feeding the baby. 

"I found some bananas!" Ramiro said. It was one banana already chopped up in tiny pieces. He gave a small plate to Lucia and then one plate to Charlie.

For a moment, all kids ate in peace. Luna and Ramiro exchanged smiles. This seemed to be running smoothly.

Then Lola noticed the 1 year olds eating bananas, and she immediately teared up.

"I wanted bananas!"

"Oh, I didn't know..." Luna said.

"I want bananas, too!" 

Ramiro immediately got up (still holding Charlie), and got a little plate with banana pieces. He then slid them across the table. "Here you go, little dude!"

Lola immediately stopped crying. Quietly, she started to eat, very pleased.

"One point for Ramiro..." Ramiro whispered. Luna squinted at him, but smiled teasingly.

Luna finished feeding the baby and started to burp her. At the same time, Lucia started to throw her bananas at Ramiro.

"Hey, we eat, not throw!" he told her.

Lucia giggled and threw another banana at him.

"Luna, raise your kid."

"You're the babysitter," Luna said. 

"But you're also a babysitter!"

"I'm not a babysitter to my own child, Ramiro."

Lola also started throwing her bananas at Ramiro now. Charlie was giggling. She couldn't throw herself, as Ramiro was holding her, but she was enjoying it.

"No throwing food!" he said, which only encouraged them to throw more.

"You still want that point?" Luna asked.

They went upstairs. The mansion had a lot of rooms, and a certain room they had converted to a playroom. It would probably be more used once the children grew up a bit more, but the toddlers seemed to have fun. Luna put the baby down in a baby bouncer.

The toddlers started to run around excitedly, examining and throwing all the toys around. The baby was looking skeptical at the scene in front of her. Luna could see Ámbar's genes in there. Judging everyone by her look.

"I'm sure once you grow up you'll join in the fun, nena." She kissed her on the forehead. "You wanna know how I know that? Because you got Simón's genes, too."

Lola had found a toy that, when you pressed a button, a song started playing. All three of them started dancing. Or, well, swing slowly from side to side or bounce their legs.

Lola thought this was very fun, and as soon as the song ended, she pressed it again, so she could hear it once again.

"She's gonna play that like 50 times, won't she?" Ramiro asked.

"Probably," Luna said. 

Charlie and Lucia had shorter attention spans, so they stopped caring to dance pretty soon. Charlie grabbed a doll, which had already lost a bit of hair due to Lucia being very "kind" to it. She then started to pull the hair, and put her mouth on it.

Lucia meanwhile was on her way to play with something, but then it was like she got a sudden realization, and she ran to the curtains and hid behind them.

"What is she doing?" Ramiro asked. 

"Hiding," Luna shrugged.

"Do you think she put something in her mouth that she's not allowed to have in her mouth?"

"No, we would have seen that. She was holding nothing."

"Then what is she doing?"

Luna gave him a look that said she knew exactly what was going on, but she wasn't going to tell him. "She... just needs some privacy. She'll come out soon."

"Lola, let's not play that song anymore," Ramiro said, grabbing it from her.

"Noo!" she protested.

"But the toy needs to sleep! It needs to rest!"

Lola seemed to accept this explanation. However, she then proceeded to sing on the song the toy had played.

"Unbelievable," Ramiro sighed. "I don't get how she don't get tired of singing or dancing."

"She's the daughter of Jim and Yam."

"Ok, that's true."

Suddenly, the baby started to let out frustrated whines and grunts. 

"What's up now?" Ramiro asked. 

Luna knew the face the baby was making, and she turned to Ramiro. "Why don't you pick her up, while I watch over the Sanchez girls?"

"Ah, yes. Kid switching."

"Exactly."

Ramiro picked the baby up. "Sch... maybe you need to move around a bit... it's so boring just sitting in that chair... yes." The baby was growing fussier by the seconds. Ramiro stroked her back, walking around a little. 

"Why she cryin'?" Lola asked.

"She's just having a tummy ache," Luna explained. 

The baby started to cry louder. Ramiro wasn't sure what to do.

"Sch... yes... it's gonna be fine. It's good to cry. We all cry. Let it all out."

As he said that, it sounded like someone released an explosion.

Lola and Luna started laughing. Ramiro frowned, not sure if to feel disgusted or surprised. 

"Was that the baby?" he asked.

"I told you she had a tummy ache," Luna chuckled. "But I'm sure she let it all out."

"Don't tell me she crapped on my shirt."

"No... she seems to have succeeded in not making a total blowout. Though... judging from that sound, she's gonna need a big diaper change."

Ramiro immediately wanted to hand her over. "You do it."

"Why? You don't want to?"

"No. Please."

Luna tutted, and grabbed the baby. "Well, she's three months, so we're probably gonna change her multiple times before they come home. You're gonna do it next time. Meanwhile, you can change my daughter."

"Your daughter? How do you know she..."

"She always goes behind the curtain."

Lucia wandered up to them right at that moment.

"Hi, sweetie." She bent down and checked her. "Hm, seems like you need a change." She pretended to be surprised.

"Wait," Ramiro said, "What about the others? We can't leave them alone here."

Luna looked at the Sanchez siblings. "Lola is potty trained, although she'll probably need to use the bathroom. I can help her with that. You can change Charlie, too."

"Does Charlie also need a change?"

"Charlie, is your diaper dirty?" Luna asked. Charlie, in response, started to run out of the room. Luna and Ramiro exchanged looks, and nodded in unison.

"All cleaned up!" Luna exclaimed, taping the new diaper on the baby. She then turned to Lola. "Need some help over there?"

"No, do it myself!" Lola replied, and flushed the toilet.

"Alright, let's go wash our hands."

It was not going as smoothly for Ramiro. 

"Lay still! Please!"

The toddlers thought this was a game, and tried running away all the time.

"No. Stay still!"

"One point for Luna," Luna mumbled to herself.

Ramiro had a whole wrestling match with both of them, but after a few minutes, he finally had managed to change both of them.

"Luna, can I ask you something?" 

"Yes?"

"Why don't you potty train your child, so I don't have to change her?"

"She's 1."

"So?"

Luna shrugged. "I got her 5 months ago, Ramiro. I've been busy just getting to know her, and making her comfortable in her new home. She's just getting used to living here and having me as her mom, she's not quite ready to stop wearing diapers."

"Well... ok, that's fair. Jim and Yam however, have no reason to not potty train Charlie. They keep her in diapers just to tease me, I just know it."

Luna shook her head.

Suddenly, the baby started crying again.

"What's up with her now?" Ramiro asked.

"I think she's tired," Luna said. 

"She just had a nap?"

"2 hours ago. She's 3 months old, she needs lots of naps every day."

"I wish I was 3 months old so I could take lots of naps..."

"Well, you know, this is perfect, because it's time for Lucia's nap too. We can probably get the Sanchez sisters to get a nap too."

"I don't need naps!" Lola yelled. "Mama said I didn't have to take naps!"

"Which one?" Ramiro and Luna asked.

Lola stared at them dumbfounded. "Mama. She said that."

"Well... you can help me put the little ones to bed?" Luna suggested. "We'll sing them lullabies."

"Okay!"

Luna gave Ramiro a wink.

They went to a little room, where there was a spare crib and some mattresses on the floor. 

"So you just have a room for naps?" Ramiro asked.

"I'm the heiress of a giant fortune and this house has too many rooms. Of course I have a room dedicated for naps."

Lucia and Charlie did not seem to keen on going to sleep. 

"Ramiro, hold the baby, I know how to get the toddlers to calm down."

She made the room darker, the only light being the nightlights that were placed in random spots, like someone who plays the sims and just places lights in a room wherever. 

"Should we sit down a bit?" Luna asked, sitting down next to two mattresses. Her daughter sat down next to her, putting her head in her lap. Luna started humming. 

"I'm gonna lie down here," Lola said. 

"Do that, I'm gonna sing a little lullaby for the little ones. You wanna listen to it, too?"

"Mm."

Charlie lied down on a mattress, closing her eyes. So did her older sister, and Lucia was start to doze off in Luna's lap.

Ramiro was almost surprised by how good she was putting them to sleep. Then the baby in his arms started crying, causing a disturbance to the other kids.

"Ramiro, go out with her in the hallway," Luna said. "Rock her a bit, she's gonna fall asleep soon."

Ramiro went out in the hallway. He rocked the baby. 

"You're so tired. I can see it on you."

The baby's cry turned into more of a whine. She seemed a bit irritated. 

"I get it, you're trying to sleep and you can't. But don't worry, you're gonna fall asleep eventually. And I'm gonna be here until you do."

She started to whine less and less, turning calmer. 

"Aww... you're so cute, I wanna give you a hug. I'm gonna do that, ok?"

He let her head rest on his shoulders, as he stroked her back. She went quiet, only letting out relaxed breaths.

"There we go... you're all calm."

He put her in his arms again. She seemed like she almost was sleeping. He smiled at her. He nailed this. 

Then she scrunched her face up slightly and let out a sound that could only be compared to someone dropping a heavy object on a creamy cake.

"Seriously?!" Ramiro muttered, "We just changed you, are you doing this on purpose, bubba?!"

He had no idea where he got "bubba" from, it just came out. He looked at her. She seemed to have fallen asleep with a rather pleased face.

Ramiro walked into the room.

"Has she fallen asleep?" Luna asked. The two one year olds, and Lola, were almost sleeping, but they still hadn't fallen asleep fully.

"Yeah, she crapped herself again and then she fell asleep on me. Is she doing this on purpose?"

Luna snickered. "Well, it's your turn to change her."

"No thanks."

"Ramiro, I'm busy with the others. If you change her, you get two points in our babysitting competition."

"Really?"

"One extra if she pees on you during changing."

Ramiro raised an eyebrow. "I thought that was only a problem with baby boys..."

"Nope. Every baby."

"Oh. Well, that's fun."

He came back about 15 minutes later. The toddlers had fallen asleep, and Luna was petting them.

"How did it go?" she asked. "Did she pee on you?"

"No... she was sleeping through the whole thing."

"She sure is Simón's kid. Sleeping is her favorite hobby."

He put her down in the crib. "There we go, bubba."

"Bubba?" Luna giggled.

"Yeah, it's a nickname that just came to me."

"That's nice." Lucia was still resting her head on her lap. Luna tried to move, but her daughter started letting out worried grunts if she did.

"Your daughter is really cute," Ramiro said.

"Thank you. On her behalf."

"Is it gonna be fun celebrating christmas with her for the first time?"

"Oh, of course! I've bought so much gifts to her. She's so spoiled... they both are! Ámbar and Simón are out right now buying christmas gifts, and I am sure 70% of those are just for the girls."

She kissed Lucia on the forehead.

"We're good babysitters," Ramiro said.

"We are." 

"And you're a good parent."

"You, too. If you ever had children."

Luna then tried to get her daughter to lay down on the mattress. However, that resulted in her waking up.

"Shh... go back to sleep, baby..."

"No," Lucia whined.

Luna sighed, but smiled. "Alright." She picked her up and carried her as she and Ramiro walked out of the room. 

They sat on the couch in the living room for about 20 minutes, just talking about anything. Lucia had fallen asleep again in Luna's lap.

"Why are they so cute when they're sleeping?" Ramiro asked.

"Aren't they cute when they are awake?"

"Of course. Your daughter is really fun. She's a champ!" After uttering that sentence, he gasped. "Champ! That's gonna be my nickname for her!"

"Well, ok!" Luna laughed.

"Hi, champ!"

Suddenly, Ramiro's phone buzzed. "Oh. Jim and Yam are coming back soon."

"We better wake up their kids, then."

"I'll do it. I want some babysitting points."

Luna chuckled. "How many points do you have right now? I've lost count on mine."

"Same... anyway! I'm gonna wake them up."

Lola and Charlie quickly woke up, and seemed to soon have all the energy back. 

Jim and Yam soon came home, being welcomed by their daughters running up to them for hugs.

"Hi! Has everything gone well?" Yam asked. 

"Yeah," Luna said, petting Lucia's hair, as Lucia was slowly waking up.

"Hello!" Simón announced. "Oh, we arrived at the same time?"

"It seems like it!" Ramiro chuckled.

"Where's our daughter?" Ámbar asked.

"Sleeping," Luna said. 

"Did she...?" Simón asked.

Luna gave him a smug face as she mouthed "twice" and simultaneously held up two fingers.

"Well, how did your competition go?" Jim asked. "Who won?"

Luna and Ramiro exchanged looks.

"It seems like there was a tie!" Luna exclaimed.

"No, I'm sure I got more points," Ramiro said.

"No, but you don't know how many points you got. We also forgot to give out points some times."

"It doesn't matter," Jim said, "Because you're both amazing babysitters."

Luna and Ramiro did a high five. 

Who won, according to you? ;) I haven't come up with a good name for Simbar's daughter yet, but maybe one day.

[teacherintransition]

Six Months Young; Six Months Old

Observation of the transitions for …uh, the teacher

The repetitive, merry go round cycle of time spins again and it’s the holiday season. (Bah humbug) Yes, surely I jest, a little; but the calendar turns and our behaviors are dictated by it. A good/bad kinda thing happening. One of my goals when embarking upon retirement was to free myself, to the degree possible, of the time obsessed routine of our lives …you know, free your ass and your mind will follow. It’s a tougher task than we realize. For two years, our cycle had an unplanned, but very welcome change when Kim and I embarked on a eureka path of traveling the country and the world thirteen weeks at a time. Oh it’s a scene man; fun, exciting, challenging, adventurous and we love it!

Being an anxious over thinker, I will on occasion deconstruct events in a way that most folks do not. Great perceptions and observations? Yes, please. Worries and anxiety on the side? Sorry, no substitutions, you can’t have one without the other. Over analyzing this may be, but it seems that I’m able to experience what life would be like based on certain choices. Allow me to elaborate: choice one, hitting the road and seeing sights and countries that are new to us; choice two, settle at the homestead and do my Nacogdoches stuff. We’re doing both. I can see what the two lives are like and how different I am in each situation. Neither are intrinsically bad, but very different.

Kim gets two thirteen or more week gigs a year; which is twenty six weeks and we are home twenty six weeks. That’s half a year each broken up every three months. They do differ. Three months at a time we are in Nacogdoches and life slows its pace. We walk our same walks, cook at home more, sit in the swing with my pups, visit our kids and grandkids often; pretty much routine. I grab coffee at the same coffee shops I’ve patronized for years, enjoy cigars with my fellow middle aged and older dudes at our lounge and engage in common conversations. We check on my aunt and one of my best friends often and it’s the same ole same ole. Routine and tradition can be a good thing, but …but while here, I feel my age. I don’t feel bad, but I’m aware of a downward slope in things. I’m not fooling myself, I know I got more behind me than in front of me. It’s ok, but I’m not ready to slow down so completely. I’m lucky it’s only three months at a time.

How does choice one differ from being in Nacogdoches? It differs magnificently. For three months at a time Kim and I are seeing, living at, experiencing things and places we’ve never been. Everyday is something different. Do I get coffee at a local establishment? Of course, I’m a civilized man. Beyond that lifetime routine, it’s an adventure daily. Mountains to see and trails to hike, museums to visit, Art to see, people to befriend, pubs to crawl, cities to explore, art to make, new restaurants to try …it’s exciting my friends… oh, very exciting. Yes, we get a little tired and homesick at times but it makes us feel young and adventurous …like I said, it’s a scene man. We never thought we would ever have the guts to do life like this.

I’m certain you’re expecting me to say which is my favorite approach. Apples and oranges, both different, but I do like oranges a bit better, but enjoy apples too. Traveling is the orange. Yessir and all the tangy, sweet flavor that goes with it. It’s movement it’s not sitting still, it’s growing as a person, it’s finding new worlds to explore and share. It’s not being a slave to routine just visiting it once in a while for rest and stability. I remember watching “World War Z” with Brad Pitt. In a scene where he’s trying to get a family to leave with him to escape the zombies, Brad tells them, “we gotta go …movement is life.” Keep moving, keep growing, keep seeing and don’t let the zombies get you; or the rocker, avoid the rocking chair. Again, let me say there is no self delusion here, but we’re gonna squeeze all we can out of our days for as long as possible. This is good advice for our younger folks too. Don’t chain yourselves to routines… keep moving!

[joshfuckingkiszka]

『one: roomies』

I'm just a little scoundrel. thanks to @maverick-rose​ for reading and giving incredible feedback!

THIS SERIES IS 18+ MINORS DNI

chapter warnings: lil angst here an there, mentions of alcohol and drug usage, the boys as teenagers

from the playlist: it’s nice to have a friend - taylor swift / ceilings - lizzy mcalpine

series masterlist

✮

Sunlight poured in through the blinds you didn’t remember leaving open. If almost blinding you wasn’t enough, your alarm deafened you momentarily, alerting you that it was 6 in the morning. You mumbled some choice words as you pushed your comforter off of you, ready to start a mundane Wednesday.

As you pushed yourself through your morning routine, you were reminded of the little event on your calendar you’d been waiting months for: Josh would be coming home from tour that evening. He’d made some short visits home, and you’d gone to a show or two in the closest states, but he would be home for good. Well, as good as waiting for new tour dates to come up. Nevertheless, you missed him - and the other boys. More than anything, you missed the spectacularity that came with having Josh as your roommate. When he was home, there was never a dull moment.

You ate a quick breakfast and rushed out to attempt to get to work on time. The day seemed to drag on, as time does when you’re expecting something. You sat at your desk, checking the time every five minutes, only to be disappointed when only five minutes had passed. Anxiously sitting through various meetings, attempting to listen to what was being discussed was becoming increasingly difficult.

“So, Josh comes home tonight…” Tara was utterly convinced that you and Josh had some sort of ongoing secret rendezvous, when that was definitely not the case. He was your best friend, and roommate, who just so happened to be a man. You loved your coworker, but she would not let it go.

You scoffed lightly. “He does.”

“So I suppose you’re not going to…I don’t know…get all dolled up for him?”

“First of all, stop living vicariously through me. Second, no, I’m not. We’re going to do what we always do when he comes home: watch old movies and drink and he’ll tell stories of his wild adventures.”

She quirked a brow at you suspiciously. “And if one of these ‘wild adventures’ happened to involve another woman?”

You’d actually never thought of that. Josh tended to keep his relationships relatively private, not that he’d ever actually been in one during the course of your cohabitation. You’d been friends since childhood, so of course he’d had crushes and girlfriends, but you only ever found out through one of his brothers.

Josh was being weird. Well, he was always weird, but now more so than ever. He’d never been a great liar or keeper of secrets, but he was trying his damndest, apparently. When you’d asked if the two of you were still on for your weekly movie night in his basement, he stuttered out that he couldn’t make it.

“I have plans.”

“But, you never make plans on Fridays.” It had been tradition for four years at that point that Fridays were off limits for plan-making. Even at 15, you never expected him to break it, seeing as he always claimed it was his favorite time of the week.

“Well, this time I did.” You were taken aback at his attitude, but you’d never been very confrontational.

“Oh, okay. I-I guess I’ll just…hang out with Ronnie or something.” Josh’s gaze softened at the way your eyes were cast down at your shoes, and he felt bad.

He sighed. “I’m sorry, next week, I promise.” His finger lifted your jaw to look at him, and you saw the sincerity in his eyes. You could never be upset with him for long, it was impossible.

When you’d arrived at the Kiszkas’ that night, you received a strange look from Karen - but a hug and a welcome, nevertheless.

“Sweetie, I thought you canceled movie night, Josh is even on a date right now.” It hit you like a punch in the gut.

“Huh? He - he’s the one who canceled. Josh told me he made plans…” A date was the plan, evidently.

Her face suddenly hardened and she muttered something under her breath that you couldn’t quite catch. She called Ronnie down, who was happy to hang out with you. In fact, she was mad at her brother too.

“I just thought she was my friend, but apparently she just wants to…make out with my brother,” Ronnie ranted as you ate ice cream on the floor of her room.

You questioned, “I thought she had a thing for Danny?”

She scoffed, “Apparently, she’s into ‘older men’ now. He’s not that much older than us!” The two of you laughed.

Despite only being a few months older than Ronnie, you and Josh had quickly become close at your first mention of John Denver. He learned quickly that you had many shared interests, and that you didn’t throw things or yell at him when he paused a movie to talk about it.

“You’re like…a cool little sister,” you remember him saying.

Swallowing thickly, you managed, “I’ll be happy for him. He deserves to have fun while he’s young.”

“Sure, sure. But what if this time is different. I mean, he meets thousands of girls on tour, who’s to say he hasn’t met the One?”

Oh. That thought had also never occurred to you. Your main concern was your living arrangement. If Josh found love, what would happen to you?

You waved her off, not wanting to stomach any more possible life altering questions about Josh. Tara smirked at you, and you both knew she had won this time.

With her words on your mind, time seemed to fly by, and now you wished it would slow back down. You didn’t think you could physically handle it if Josh was going to tell you about a beautiful woman he had fallen in love with on tour. However, there was nothing you could do to stop it, either. You would have to go home and see him, starry eyes and all.

“Bye, babe!” Tara’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, “Have fun with Josh!” There was no double meaning to her comment. As much as she prodded you about the “situation”, she truly loved how happy you were around him.

Then, you realized her goodbye meant it was time to leave. Time to go home, and wait for Josh. Dread filled your brain with all of Tara’s previous comments and questions. You sighed heavily, turning off your computer and grabbing your stuff.

The drive home was silent, as music would have only reminded you of him. Your library consisted of his music, things he had introduced you to that you immediately put on a playlist. It was played during every drive, no matter how long, even when he wasn’t there - not that you would ever tell him that.

When you walked in the door, you were almost relieved that he hadn’t beaten you home. Pouring a glass of wine, you made your way to the bathroom, hoping a hot bath would ease the stress.

After almost an hour, you climbed out, almost slipping over the side of the tub in the process. Your skin was red from the heat, and the wine wasn’t helping your dehydration. Donning a shirt that had once belonged to Josh, and some sleep shorts, you sprawled out on the couch, watching the minutes pass by as you waited for his arrival. When you thought back to Tara’s words, you realized that even if you were in love with him - which you weren’t - you would never be anything in his eyes than the little sister he lived with.

You hated the fact that Josh could talk you into anything. The last place you wanted to be on a Saturday night was at a party with him and Jake. Ronnie had convinced you it would mean hanging out with cute Senior boys, but in reality you just wanted to spend your time with Josh. If that meant being suffocated by the body heat of 50 strangers, so be it.

He was leading you through the halls as if he lived there. In the basement, there was a circle formed and you could see the flicker of the end of a joint. It made you uneasy, but with a little squeeze of your hand, your nerves settled.

“Wanna play a little truth or dare?” Josh asked you and his twin.

Jake scoffed, “I’m not 12, thanks.”

There he was though, arms crossed as you sat in between him and Josh.

Before you could register, the bottle had landed on your best friend.

“I dare you to kiss, uh, her.” A finger was pointed in your direction and Josh spilled out your name.

“No, no way. She’s…she’s like my sister, man!” You laughed along with him - and everyone else in the circle - but you could feel the burning suggestion of tears in your eyes.

You leaned into Jake, “I’m - I’m gonna get a drink.” He nodded and Josh didn’t even notice your absence.

You didn’t recall falling asleep until you were suddenly awoken by an attempt to get into your apartment. Keys jingled in the lock until you heard them fall to the ground, followed by a quiet “fuck”. Knowing it was Josh by voice recognition alone, you hurried to open the door for him, only to have him fall into you.

“Oops, sorry, mama,” he managed through obviously drunken giggles. “Oh, hey, I haven’t seen you!”

You laughed softly. “You’ve been on tour, Joshy.”

“I have, haven’t I? Now I’m home. With you!” He hugged you and you suddenly remembered that he gave the best hugs. His arms were warm around you and you could feel his light breaths on your neck. It made you shiver.

“Cold?” You nodded, even though you were perfectly warm.

“Let’s get you to bed, rockstar.” He giggled at that, once again.

As you waited outside his bedroom for him to put on pajamas, you could hear him fall a few times and laugh as he did it. You knocked just to be sure he was decent before opening the door. Placing a glass of water and some Advil on his nightstand, he grabbed you from behind, pulling you into his chest.

“I missed you, Red,” he whispered.

The instructions on the box had told you that the color would fade gradually in 2-3 washes. You vividly remembered that as Ronnie read them to you in your bathroom, at one in the morning on a Saturday, with a towel draped around your neck.

“How long are we supposed to let it sit?” You’d asked, sitting upright in your bed to avoid staining your sheets.

“Um, I think it was 30 minutes.” You both laughed and hoped she was right.

Your nerves the next day skyrocketed in the presence of school. You were nearing the end of your junior year, and your only claim to fame thus far were Jake and Josh, the seniors who everyone loved.

“Oh my god.” You heard Sam’s exclamation before you saw him. Jake stood beside him, hand over his mouth, hiding a smile, as he looked at your new hair color.

“It looks…”

“Dumb, I know.”

“I was gonna say…different,” Jake hesitated, and you knew he didn’t exactly love it. Who cared? You had done it for you, not Sam or Jake Kiszka.

However, at a party at the end of that week, you sat alone in the corner of the living room, nursing a cup that held something absolutely repulsive.

“Y’know,”

“God, Josh! You scared me. Can’t sneak up on people like that.”

He seemed to ignore you, “Y’know, I never gave my opinion on your new hair.”

Josh’s forefinger and thumb took a small section of the brightly colored locks in between themselves, twirling them around as if they were on his own head. It was only then you noticed how he towered over you in your sitting position, as you forced yourself to look up into his eyes.

“And?” You hoped he couldn’t detect the waver in your breathing.

“I like it, you’re like…my Little Red.”

In a moment of weakness you whispered back, “I missed you too, Joshy.”

He kissed your cheek from his position and you could smell grapefruit and whiskey on his breath. You blew a kiss in his direction, just to return the gesture, and turned around in his arms.

“I’m tired.” Smiling, you gestured to his bed.

As you pulled the comforter around him, you made the last minute decision to kiss his forehead. Before you could pull away, his hand caressed your jaw. He pulled you in gently, laying his lips ever so slightly on yours.

“I love you, Red.” Josh spoke against your mouth.

〚taglist〛

gvf: @doodle417​ , @brokenbellz​, @gretavanfleas​, @pyrojoshy​, @greta-van-chaos​, @xserenax-13​, @hayley1623​, @kdarling1​, @autumns30, @keighoe, @chalametpwk​, @sammysvanfeet​, @shawnsthighs​, @gretavanbitches​, @sammiejane22​, @gretavanbestie, @jordierama​, @alexxavicry​

josh: @prophetofthedune​, @loofypoofy, @gretavangrace​

this series: @arnoldperlsteinishot​, @maedesculpaeusoubi​